Viji unplugged

The sleepless nights I had then, 

I had something to dream about, 

Hope waiting at the end of the tunnel, 

The life I loved, waiting out there to live. 

I had known, the dreams won't last, 

Not forever, not for a score, 

Yet, I hoped my hope won't desert, 

Now that it did, I stopped to think. 

The sleepless nights I have now, 

I have nothing to dream about, 

Hope forlorn, no light in vicinity, 

My life I lead, hollow and ridden of life. 

Through centuries kids has been kids. Born in 70s I had witnessed kids of 80s, 90s and millennium.

Starting with a statutory warning, I am not judging and this post is only an observation from a 70s kid.

70s kids

1. We had company.  When we walk down the street we bumped on friends or bullies. The physical them. For survival we made more friends that led to more enemies, (friend's enemies ours too). We took sides, we made some promises, broke some. We crossed our fingers, when we lied. We ran down the street to welcome grand parents, uncles, aunts, unburdened them of their cloth bags or baskets and carried them, wondering about why the bag was heavy and if any sweets, toffees, or if we're too lucky the multi coloured striped rubber balls resting in a corner of the bag.  We shift restlessly till they go to the loo, wash their face, hands, legs, what not...talking all the time to parents, sipping coffee.  We wait not too patiently like a Stork. And when they call your name, you run and stand next to them.  They will remove things one by one and finally hand us a newspaper wrap, that may have some candies or pull the much awaited ball out. We rush out to show the ball eagerly to our friends and they all stretch their hands to receive the ball to admire.   In less than a minute they will start throwing the ball and you go behind them shouting not to and slowly the hours stretch as we play. By night you hijack the torn ball home in the well worn half pant pocket.

2.  With a spring, we were ready to walk any distance.  We just needed a reason to be outdoors and going to nearby chettiar kadai to get 200 grams mustard and 1/4 kg sugar for a 10 paise commission was enough incentive. The ultimate luxury being hiring (h)our cycle and trying to manage the huge bicycle with Monkey pedal. The parents didn't put curfew for their children to play outside, there were kidnappers, murderers, rapists, psychos lurking but it never stopped us from roaming around. Parents asked the children to be careful but they didn't try to instill fear in them.  The children were bold, independent.  All children read together, there were no special schools, we never knew terms like hyperactive, attention deficit etc. There were only three types, intelligent, mediocre, dumb.

3.  If you caught cold, you weren't rushed to hospitals.  There were only 4 vaccines small pox vaccination, DPT, BCG, polio drops.  Once in a year medical checkup in school, the doctor will do eye test just by examining our eyes with torch, check if you have vaccine marks, you were made to remove the uniforms and made to stand with shimmies (shifts) as we used to call then. Boys were checked in different rooms most of them bare chested clutching at their half pants, some of the boys who forget to wear their briefs, their face transparent and their fear  evident, "what if?" I remember there was this element of fear, excitement around.  Flu and malaria was common and we in general used to feel jealous of kids who get typhoid.  Typhoid somehow was looked at as a posh word and taking 15 days leave was really a boon.  The most feared disease was Diphtheria.

4. Ponds or Gokul sandal talcum and in summer days Nycil was the only cosmetics we knew of.  Our hairs parted and combed with oil, our talcum coated faces smeared along with the oil was a common scene.  A lifebuoy soap cut into two pieces lasted almost a month.  We all sang loud while taking bath, our voices gurgling with water poured by a mug, was enchanting.

5.  We never bothered to wash fruits, we brush it on our skirts or trousers and take a bite and offer to
friends, they turn it the other side and take a bite.  Somewhere it all get mixed up.  Moms kept sugar, jaggery on the loft, but we try to take it during noon when they sleep and though we are careful to place it exactly as we took, the CB CID mothers when they wake up, they will turn and ask, "Who opened the sugar dabba?" And we wonder how they knew?

6. When once in 6 months or so visit your native village, eager to meet friends whom you made during past summers, hijacking some gifts some broken toys, withered balls, an old shirt of yours or a broken steel torch light, pencils and feel the happiness spread inside you, when their faces beam with joy.  It is also quite normal, the next day you fight with them and ask the gifts back.  You fight, you make it up.  You walk in the paddy field holding a bunch of leaves like actress Sridevi and try to rehearse the sway of hips and sing, "sendhurapoovae sendhurapoovae, jillendra kaatrae en mannan engae en mannan engae nee konjam sollayo?".  Taking bath in the pump set with cousins and shyly watch if your boy watches you.  The boy who shows attention is Kamal Haasan to your eyes and Nambiar to the other boys.

Years moves on.... You step into 80s...

To be continued

Just like any other day, I couldn't sleep and just like any other day, I was reading, watching a Turkish classic serial.  The grandeur, harem, numerous concubines plotting against each other, killing some, saving some... The majestic palaces, not to forget the most handsome Padishah, his pale green eyes lush as a meadow on a spring gay day, freezing and turbulent on an outdoorsy, angry day... I was so much in love with this Padishah, just like Hurrem Sultanum.  I wouldn't hesitate to poison any woman who gets closer to him. You could say I am in love with this Padishah who lived centuries back.."The magnificent century". Who am I kidding? A man who had a harem full of women, who were prepared for him everyday. Looks like he had so much energy.  Hurrem sultanum who only had two jobs, 1) plotting death on whoever tried to enter his majesty's chamber 2) Announcing "I am pregnant".  While I hated myself watching such a serial, it intrigued me as well.  I got addicted to Turkish. The sing song language.  Started to pick words in Turkish.  No. It's not a romantic serial, it's full of unsolved murder mysteries.

There are times when you are in a haste, slip to mention important people in your life, who made an impact.

I waited for the world to slip by me,
Unnoticed I wanted to let things free,
Inside a black and white world,
I would like to spend my days,
With no great joy or regret that I fear...

Under the tall dark trees, I would take a stroll,
Talking to my shadow, that doesn't speak at all...
I would walk, talk and walk some more,
Until I drop, tired and stop eating at my soul.

The bright white shell at the shore,
I picked, admired but decided to throw.
The waves fierce and loud,
Refusing! threw her back with force ..
She lay on the wet sands gleaming,
Waiting for a wayward wave to take her in...

My shadows grew before me,
Another long dark night unveiled free,
I lay down wishing for oblivion,
Where I could vanish and remain hidden...
The moon beam, reached out to unveil me,
I rushed, retraced and hid inside my shadows,
Waited for the world to slip by me,
Unnoticed I wanted to let things free,
Inside a black and white world,
I would like to spend my days,
With no great joy or regret that I fear...

Art by Vidya Chinnappa I feel honored Vidhya.  Thank you..  Beautifully expressed.

All these years, all those words I spoke if chained, can wrap the world once,
All these years, the love I expressed, if stacked can touch the moon,
All these years, all those dreams of mine, if shot can turn into dozen movies
All these years, the moments of joy, if turned a memoir, another Taj would have born...
All these years,  the tears I shed can become a Diamond, a Diamond tree might have sprung.

Thousands of lines,
Written several nights,
The meaning in the words lost...
Those vacant verses, forsaken lot,
Strewn around, waiting for a read,
A quick scroll, a hasty read,
A nod at some, finger tracing them
A dream forsaken
A dream forgotten
A dream that continues
For months without interference
The day the dreams are awake,
And find me missing,
A wasted dream woven in a life
By a wasted soul, hoping
For a quick scroll, a hasty read,
A nod at some, your fingers gently tracing them...

There are times I give up,
Days like these,
When I stare and think,
Gazing at the wall,
If I am on the right path at all.
The path I see moves on and on..
It stretches before me like desert sand..
All those dreams, I cherished
Slipping away smooth, banning finish.
There are times I give up,
Days like these,
When I stare and think,
Gazing at the wall,
silently cursing the dreams,
I carefully nourished..
Living this life is an end
That continues,
Beyond boredom,
Beyond pain,
Beyond numbness,
Life inching away...
Dreams destroyed beyond repair..
Days like these,
Wishing for optimism,
Fighting boredom,
Fighting obstacles,
To move on,
Till I can postpone...
Another day like today.

When thunders rumbled without any care 
Lightenings crawled through the sky far,
Rain tore its way merciless
Krishna!  The divine child born to this world...
World will never be the same again,
That dark night , carried the tales of an exquisite child,
Those gracious women of Vrindavan, 
Krishna! The divine child brought in joy to so many lives...
Mystical music flowed through the forest,
Wrapping women in myriad tress,
Magical the Dusk,  when moon shone on the river Yamuna, 
Krishna!  The divine child danced on the head of Kaalinga.
He who stole the drapes of Gopikas, 
Draped Krishnaa during her distress.. 
He who measured the universe in three steps, 
Krishna!  Oh!  my divine child you took thousands of steps as a messenger.
You the creator of this universe, 
Yet you stole butter and got tied as Dhamodara.. 
Krishna!  My divine child with two mothers, 
You were still greedy and breast fed happily from Bhutana.

Dear Appa and Amma,

It's your 48th anniversary of your marriage.  You are married for 17,520 days or 420,480 hours or 25,228,800 minutes which is over 1,513 million seconds!  You had witnessed 12 leap years together.

God!  I am loving this statistics,  I feel like taking off from work and get more data.

Did you know you were married on a Friday the 12th? Thank God not a day later.

Do you know,  September 12th is Day of Conception in Russia and the government give couples time off from work to procreate and produce the next generation?  The couple who have a child on June 12th are handsomely rewarded.

Did you have the time to notice the happenings in India during 1969?

Indian national congress split into two factions. One led by Indira Gandhi and another led by Morarji Desai.
Rajdhani Express was introduced in 1969.
14 banks nationalised by Indira Gandhi.
India was close to insolvency in 1969
ISRO was set up in 1969.

Do you know?

By now you have shared about 38,200 meals together which equates to approximately 2 years, 6 months of continuous eating!

I am wondering on how many hours you had spent quarreling.. Or maintain silence? The quarrels or should I call it as tiff were for silliest matters like; appa,  you wanting to cook and Amma refusing to pass on the laddle to you,  claiming you mess the kitchen or use more spices than required or add more salt and it is not good for health....  et al.

You gave us all awesome Diwalis, Pongals, Krishna jayanthis..  The memories you gave us during the festivities will last a life time may be extend for another lifetime or two.

You made our lives beautiful...  When I think about our childhood days,  it's always basked with golden sun shine..  Not once we had been threatened with gloom or stormy days.  As a parent,  I would love my son to feel or experience the same things.

We wish you,  Amma and appa, many more years of wedded bliss and silly tiffs. But,  even those tiffs are full of life and love for us, we secretly smile and enjoy.

Happy wedding anniversary Appa and Amma.

Lots of love from,

Srimathi, Kannan
Srikanth,  Sejal
Aareev and Ani

So, this is your 9th Birthday after we had met?  Not that I am counting... God! you are getting old buddy.

My dear wall ,

For the first time I realise, I neglected you for more than three months.  You had been my best friend, who was always with me, a confidante, for more than 8 years.  I wrote on you my deepest pleasures, I wrote on you my disappointments, I cried on you over my miseries.

What's happening in my life?  It's been a roller coster ride.  Ups and downs.  Forty five is a difficult age.  An age when you are confused if you are young or old?  Just like adolescence there are changes in your body, mind.  One day over the moon, the next deep down the dungeon. You become a misery for people around you. From someone who doesn't expect anything out of anyone, slowly you start to expect some response, a reciprocation of actions, words, gifts.  When they don't materialise, you are deep down the rut, sympathizing with yourself and end up loathing yourself and make them loathe you too.  But, can't help but wonder, why it is tough for people to be attentive, why are they rushing, where are they rushing to?  Why can't they stop and take the time to look or appreciate things on their way? It is only fair or isn't it?  Should not spontaneity be a trait to everyone?

This exactly was why, I neglected you. I don't want my folks or friends to see me like this, after I am long gone,  I want them to remember the cheerful Viji, who takes that extra mile to keep people happy. But, what the hell If I can't talk to you my dear wall, who else can I talk to?

There are some good times too, a new job, few new challenges, new young minds to work along. Life is good in that end.  Family, is good.  My son turned 20, turning into a responsible young man.

Trying out few new things I feel that I truly deserve, a huge silver nose pin for example, getting that was the most beautiful moment.  Seeing my friend's, new born.  Couple of trips out of Chennai.

What more?  Nothing, except the terracotta clay is lying untouched for 2 weeks now. The huge canvas along with paints, lying idle too.  All this blabber, trying to figure out when this phase will pass.  I long to roll in to a ball and sleep for days and never to wake up for few days, weeks, years, decades, maybe a life time. But, I refuse to give that pleasure to me. I refuse to stop.

Dear wall,  I know and I am sorry it is not a happy post or a poem with all those rhymes, that you might feel proud to wear. I know, I bequeath you with a massive frame, with no painting, not a dash of colour, not a sketch, not even an alphabet.  I know if you can, you will delete this post.  But, let it remain.  I want this to be a milestone post, to measure my happiness in the coming weeks.  A yard stick, that will give me the satisfaction to probe and feel the hurt or like a feather soothe the pain, all self created.  This deep rut I had been in for sometime now, the happy face I show to the world is tiring even to me.  God save those people who are connected to me in social networking sites.  It they see picture of a piece of nose sticking out, or the long agony aunt posts, some half boiled photographs... I hope they don't curse me.

So my dear wall, enough of me.  Tell me about you, how are you apart from losing your followers, (a few I remember by names, I don't blame them), apart from feeling neglected, apart from bearing few bitter, sad, melancholic posts, do you feel otherwise good?

Au Revoir friend.  So long... yeah, will be back soon if my spirits lifts up or I won't be back.

Warm Regards,
Viji

Dear Sowmi,

Hope you are cracking jokes wherever you are.. Or wetting the diaper as Asha's baby.

One year since you left us?  Parted ways?  No! I don't think so.  You are with us every festival,  every Utsavam at Parthasarathy koil,  every time we eat vada, bajji or while drinking sathumadhu (rasam)  in tumbler,  while watching TV,  while listening to prabhandham...  Trust me!  I see you,  whenever I see a strongly built,  tall,  very fair,  bald man.

I see you in myself whenever I grin.. I learnt to keep grinning like a fool from you..  I know it automatically brings a smile on others face.  Usha says she remembers you whenever she takes selfie.  Vasu thinks of you as a friend.  Srikanth thinks you are full of fun.  Periamma  and you are the most complete people I have ever known.

How can I forget your temper and "poruthadhu podhum pongi ezhu"  gunam. All those autowalas whom you fought with for their atrocious rates.  Your making us walk miles to catch auto to save some odd 10 rupees.  Your chiding people who jump queues.  I wish you jumped into politics,  you would have easily won,  my charismatic dearest brother.

You know sowmi,  you are one person who talks with perfect intonations, be it Tamil or English.  I still have the Mukesh Kumar cassette you gave me..  You introduced me to few hindi songs.  "mere sapno me rani kabh"..  I love singing them in tamilish hindi.." Maere sapunomae rani kabhu aayaekithu"..

For me and for all your friends and all our relatives,  when we say sowmi,  we automatically smile.  That is all..  As my favorite Bach says.. " your mission is over",  so you have migrated to another land and I am sure we are waiting to get know ur V2. 0 Dhruv.  He is going to bring in more smiles..

I know you are muttering "please stop" and I will stop now.

Unadherumai thangai,  (erumai thaan arumai illa)
Srimathi

Sometimes I wanna wear you like a cloak,
Hugging tight,  as if I am cold...
Sometimes I wanna hang you on a rack,
Feeling sweaty and need some air..

At times I feel you are sweet,
And my diabetes,  makes me wanna eat,
At times, you are a hot 'cross' bun,
I silently drop you till someone takes the brunt.

There are times,  you make me feel mushy,  tearsome,
And at times,  you make me worrysome,
Yet few times,  I feel like kidnapping and demand a ransome.
Other times, I wanna a hold on and pay lumpsum.

It will all be over this lifetime,
So let's do some over time...
Let us laugh, fight, kill and like
Like today is the last day left, of our lives.