..swimming lessons :)

We live in our papa’s ancestral ‘tharavadu’ and we have our own natural pond, kulam, in the backyard..! During the summers the water dries up to the very bottom, right till you can spot the uruva – the source of the water and during monsoon it fills up with amazingly blue water :) .

(anyone is welcome to check out my kulam, drop into my house during monsoon :) )

view from near motorshed.. :)

Front view.. :)

I would hav got a more clearer focused pic, but i saw a snake, so thought better of it..!!

Papa taught us (me and my brother) swimming. I was in LKG when I learned to swim. In the beginning I was out in a tube, with floaters on each hand, and a sari tied up to my middle, with papa holding the other end. He would then move up to the wall’s of the pond, and ask me to swim a small distance between the walls of the pond. Then, I was made to swim the length of the pond. Then I did it without the tube, then without floaters, and finally without the sari. J

I even used to have proper swimsuit back then. I used to adore it, and wore it on every possible time. I don’t remember what happened to it..! (I probably grew out of it, but probably didn't stop wearing it, so I think amma would have done something sinister to that, to stop me from wearing it..!)

I've always loved swimming underwater as opposed to normal swimming. And, what I loved more than swimming was jumping into the water from all sorts of heights, the walls surrounding, the trees on the edge, from above the motor shed, all kinds of places. I was never allowed to be in the pond on my own till I was in my 7^th or so (I really can’t blame my parents for that, children end up dead in ponds!!). My brother always had to be with me. And back when we were kids, that was not really a problem because both of us loved water!! We played games like hiding coins in the water and seeking it(God only knows how many coins we lost!), who can hold the breath the longest underwater, who can dive the longest distance, who can float the longest distance without moving a limb, and finally, who can stand upside down, under water most perfectly.

 He was the one who taught me jumping, basically I would climb up the wall and look down water, get scared, climb down again, gather my courage, get up again, and the cycle followed for almost 2 days. And I used to be sad because, brother had perfected the jump by then and he looked like he loved it. I begged my brother to teach me, so he came up with me on the wall, asked me to take a deep breath and he pushed me into water without warning. I have never stopped jumping into water after that!! :D

No matter how much we fought, we used to be together when asking our parents for swimming permission. Once we were in the pond, we’ll stay there hours long, till finally, amma comes and pulls us out of the water. We stayed in such a long time that when we got out, our eyes were red, and when we looked on to a lighted bulb, we could see rainbow halos. J

Occasionally, we would be joined by our neighbour’s kids or our cousins. Everyone in our locality learned to swim in our kulam. J

It really takes 2-3 days of continuous rain to fill up the pond. There is a chaal , a small channel on the 3^rd step from the top, so that when the water gets excess, it will flow through this channel into the paddy fields behind our land. So our pond never actually flooded. Even now, when the water fills up, I take a dip, but the fun isn’t there anymore( also because there isn’t anyone to look out, I get scared that a snake would show up and you know, I’d have to suffer the consequences :P). May be when I have kids, they get old enough to swim, the fun will come back J

.. a happy day :)

From time immemorial, I've only prayed or taken the God’s name when things get difficult. Difficult has different interpretation at different ages, at 8 it was when I broke the torch, and stacked it away  in the shelf. At 12, it was when I lost yet again another gold earring. At 15, it was when board results announced and I didn't quite make the mark everybody expected I’d get. At 17 it was when I didn't get through the medical entrance (the aftershocks of which I still experience even now, once in every year my mother reminds me that I could have been doing MBBS, when the fact is that I've completed my B.tech, and that was done really well too). And now, well it defines a whole new set of things..!!

I started writing personal diary a long time back, almost into my 10^th standard. I took up all those diaries and read through it, and what I realized was that all the days I've written something were the sad days. Even then I used to overdo stuff.. the tear stains through the spread ink was very much visible. So, in short, anyone going through my personal diary (like when I end up dead/famous, and the world/nosy kids/grandkids wanted to know the thoughts in the little prodigy me) all they are gonna end up with will be a detailed version of whining me, saying how unfair my life is, how partial my parents are to my brother, how high school musical is never even close to my high school experience, and a detailed description of how my life would have been, had I been born as a princess(I used to, and still have a very vivid imagination..!!).

There was not a single happy day recorded.

But I had plenty of those days. Between my two types of hormones, crappy people, and mind numbing assignments, I have had some of the awesomest days ever. It’s just that I never wrote down anything when I am happy. I don’t need God or my diary when I am happy (that’s a blasphemous thought, but I do not mean it like that.. I do need God when I am happy, I just tend to forget that a bit). So, I am writing this post, to remind me that I had plenty of happy days, and I’m most grateful for all of those.

And, now again I’m happy, because I had a good talking session with another kindred spirit (I fell in love with the word “kindred spirit” after reading Anne Of Green Gables) , someone other than my friend actually read and commented on one of my post, and it didn't rain a single drop today(I love rain, but week-long rain leaves all the clothes damp and hard to dry).

So, that’s it. I am happy. And every single time I come across this post, I will be happy again. J

Things that make me happy:-

1. Good book

2. Good films

3. Good food

4. Travelling

5. Good talking session with my friends

6. Hot maggi and tea on a rainy evening

7. Being home alone

8. Getting control of tv remote

9. High balance on phone+ net offer+ message offer

10. New shoes

11. New clothes, and

12. Black diamond ring ;)

See, I’m a simple person J :P

Life’s little etiquette conundrums..

I’m pretty sure that Reader’s Digest subscribers come across this title once in every month. I borrowed the title from them.. Because I couldn’t think of any other title without any bitterness.

I take things to heart, and therefore even little things like a word or gesture is more than enough to hurt me and make me fret over for days. This is applicable only to things and people I care.

Recently, I found out that one of the teachers, who taught me at school, had not yet accepted my friend request. And yes, I did see this teacher as an important person, and was surprised at this. It must have been atleast a year since I send her the request.

Asking around, I did find the reason. I framed my request in inappropriate terms. As opposed to being a student, when she read my request(you have an option for letting a person who you are when sending a request), she got the feeling that I was in an overly friendly manner, like a familiar friend. Unfortunately I cannot remember the exact wordings I wrote..!!  What I remember is along these lines “ hello maam, how are you? Hope you are doing fine. ”  But definitely there must have been more to it, which must have offended her. Did I mention I do hope you remember me?? I have no idea. But what I do remember is that I did spent quite some time on that request, composing it. Maybe I should have send the request and ended it there..!!

Nevertheless, I was really hurt. And thinking back, there was this incident in which I came straight across her, at the school gate and she completely ignored me. I did try to make her look at me, so that I can smile and say ‘namaste teacher’, but she didn’t even acknowledge me being there. I thought then, that maybe it was because she was late, and there must have been a number of things going around her mind, but now I think it may be because of this request stuff (it’s quite funny, how you think you must have forgotten some things, but at the correct moment they come up.. this usually goes for unexplained stuff, things that was not resolved before..!).

Needless to say, right now I am little mad at her, because she is a grown up and above it a teacher. Maybe she could have messaged me directly reprimanding me, or said something to that effect on that school gate situation, but instead she decided to, I don’t know, give me the silent treatment?? Seriously??!! Had something like that happened I would have emerged wiser, and would have forgotten all about it then and there. Instead, I am sitting here, boiling over, trying to remember what exactly did I write, which offended her so much..!!

And wondering whether I should apologize for it..! But what exactly do I apologise for, and seeing that she did not indeed care enough to correct me, should I care enough for apologising..?I’ve been thinking about it for over a week now and  I reached the conclusion that I do not , maybe she isn’t meant to be in the high pedestal where I used to put her in.

..fish!!

No, this is not the story of any pet fish I had, I am not a pet person actually, get bored with things fast( which means that any fish I have had would have met with a tragic end, probably in some cat's belly..).

This is about my long standing aversion to eating fish, or may be smelling cooked fish, or even seeing raw fishes in the fish markets.

I don't remember how it started, I remember watching my aaya(mother is and was a teacher, so I had personal aaya) cleaning fish. Back then we had fish in our household often enough. I remember sitting on ground next to her, scrutinizing every single detail of gutting the fish, you clean away scales, fins and tail, remove the head,throw it to some crow or cat whichever creature that was present during the ceremony, make a long cut, take out all the innards, throw that too to hungry animals or birds(at regular interval there will be a fight over the piece, they never really got the idea of sharing, or waiting for the next piece, blame the evolution I suppose). She sometimes used to show me the eggs of fishes, and if I remember correctly, I used to eat it, then, way back then.

But somehow, as I grew, the repulsion towards the smell grew, be it raw, cooking, I have a hard time standing the smell. And, since I threw such a fit over it, cooking fish at home became a rare thing (talk about influencing people, I think you can imagine the extend of "fit" I threw ;)).

And, after that I grew up a little more, stopped throwing fits, and the fish came back into the house. But I wouldn't try it, touch it, or even touch the scrubber that had been used to clean the fish dish. And yesterday again, we had fish, so it got me to thinking, why do I hate it so much..! Yes, I am picky eater(that is the single and the only reason why I did not apply to discovery, national geo, tlc channels for hosting those shows where you can travel around the world with a camera person with you, you'd have to sample the local cuisine, I cannot manage the native ones, yet alone the world wide ones :(). I decide whether or not to eat a dish by looking at it, if it doesn't look eatable to me, I will not try it. My mother have tried the line "taste it, then keep away" at me from the time I can remember. But nothing will make me taste it, unless ofcourse it has chicken as main ingredient. Now that I am eligible for getting married off, her favourite line now is "what will you do at your husband's home, they won't let this get by". (The answer to that question is really simple, my future husband's folks, please let me be me. I promise that I will not make you eat anything you don't want to, so please return the courtesy.)

But then again, back to the question, why do I hate it so much? They say you don't need a reason to love something, but when it comes to hating something, you should have a reason. In future, if my husband does turn out to be the fish person, I think I may need to be hypnotized or something, to get me anywhere near fish. Again, but, wouldn't it be easier to give up something than starting something? No, even in writing, that phrase looked weird. mm.. lets hope that my future will be fish free, or maybe I should have a nice counselor's number with me, just in case, any suggestions?

P.S: It's indeed a medical condition. I googled "hate fish". And, weirdly they have fish recipes for people who hate fish..! Seriously, are you kidding me..?!?!?!

..i..me..myself

I am the youngest in a typical nuclear family, papa, amma, brother and me. Being the youngest, I was most pampered and was prone to throw tantrums till I got bored with the whole thing altogether.

Growing up with a brother is something my best friends have always wanted (most of them have elder sisters). To me, well it was survival. I used to be the girl who tells on her brother. I can still remember the immense satisfaction i used to get,when i catch my bro doing something he shouldn't be doing, telling amma,and seeing the result! (but then, i always had to pay for those, brothers always have much more strength! Always!!). So i dropped that practice too. but then, I had a truckload of brothers, one of my own and others being cousins. I remember my summer holidays at my ammoomma's (grandma's) household. I'll be the only girl, and I'd have 9 brothers to play with. so in my childhood i grew up playing cricket (which are again of 3 types), football, badminton and other games belonging to that category. And there used to be a special game, with me against them. maybe it can be named now as teasing the sister.Back then, I used to cry at everything, low marks (even now), cut, scrapes, when someone says something I don't like, everything!  But now, I'd like to believe that I've changed, a bit. my brothers paid a huge role in this development.They'd sit around me and start teasing me about one thing or the other, one would start and the baton gets passed and anyone with nothing else to do can join in. Initially, I cried at everything, but later on I learned to laugh with them and cry less.I'd be always thankful for those summers, because I have no idea as to how else I'd be anywhere today.

I've always been papa's favorite, to such an extend that if anybody need anything to be done by him,
they'd ask me to tell him, even today. I have special sensors which can tune his mood accurately. He's single-handedly responsible for spoiling me thoroughly.

Amma is a teacher. So, she is as expected, strict, responsible and a no nonsense person. But beneath all that she's a kindred spirit.

I grew up with this lot, and you can blame(or in some rare cases, praise; or remain unbiased) them for what i am today. but frankly, I don't think I can get any better lot to be with. Usually, I don't get to stay with other people, but when I did, I hated it outright, and couldn't wait to get back home!

Home is a lovely place to be, provided you don't stay for more than two weeks a stretch, it gets on to the nerves ;)
Then again, there won't be any other place in the world you'll be happy to be alone, because, at the end of the day, you'll know that everyone will be  back, no matter how late.