Broody hen

A broody hen is one that is ready to set. Broodiness is part of the molting process that is required for hatching eggs. During the molting process, the hen loses the feathers on her breast, so the bare breast can warm the eggs. Her body temperature drops to an ideal temperature for hatching. She will get off the rest only once a day or so. You wouldn't miss a broody hen – she is the one running around the yard with feathers all standing up, clucking to herself. She thinks the whole world is her enemy and she hates them for that, but she has no shame because she is confident that she is the noblest of all.

When sitting on the eggs, she growls at anything that comes near her. She thinks everyone is out to harm her and snatch the eggs. She feels vulnerable and assumes that everyone wants to take advantage of her (as if others have nothing else to do). She is at the height of possessiveness.

Because she stops laying eggs during that period, a hen setting is unwelcome in a farm where she is grown for the eggs. A hen entering the process means about a month of lost eggs. I remember my mother used to try different tricks such as tying the hen up on one leg, hanging her upside down etc. to force her out of the broodiness. I am not sure if these measures helped. It might have, or my mother wouldn't have done it over and over.

If a hen is actually used for hatching eggs, the broodiness continues even after hatching. Now, she has to protect the chicken. That possessiveness comes naturally without any after-thoughts. She would chase anything that comes near her family. If the enemy manages to snatch one of her chickens, she immediately forgets about the lost child and calmly comes back to the remaining flock. Here, the behavior of the enemies is odd too, but our discussion is about the hen, so let's stick to her.

Anyway, why did I talk about the broody hen? If you look around, you can see one or two of them right around you.

Why we write?

Every incident in our life is a nail slammed into our track with one end of an elastic band attached to it. The other end of the elastic band gets attached to us, constantly pulling us back to where the nail is. Our whole life is an effort to leave the nails behind and move on. At times, strong nails with strong bands constantly pulling us back, make it hard for us to move on. The constant battling against the bands builds up heaviness in our chests.

Scribbling down is a way to off load that certain heaviness and feel lighter, so we can continue the battle against the bands. It doesn’t really snap the band, nor does it make it more elastic. It just makes it a little easier to move on.

English Passengers

Matthew Kneale's English Passengers qualifies to be the last book I read without reading glasses. While reading the book, I kept feeling the urge to hold the book farther away than I used to, but I was in denial. The book was interesting enough for me to stick with the denial till the end. It was when I got to the epilogue that I finally realized "Man, I must need glasses" and I bought my first pair of glasses. Well, I think giving in finally was the right move! The epilogue was as interesting as the book itself. Here is an excerpt :-

In 1850 a disgraced surgeon named Robert Knox published The Races of Men, a fragment. This was in many ways a precursor of Hitler's Mein Kampf, insisting that all history was nothing more than a process of racial conflicts (rather as Karl Marx, in his Communist Manifesto of three years earlier, had declared all history was merely a struggle between economic classes). Knox was among the first writers to claim that the various races of mankind were actually different species. He proposed that the Saxon, of England, was among the most exalted. His book was an immediate best-seller. For the first time, it even became fashionable to see the world in these terms. Though such ideas were strongly opposed in some quarters, they continued to gain influence, forming a kind of ugly background background music to the latter part of the century. We are still living with the impact of those ideas.

Even if we recognize that various races are different species, how does one decide which is the most exalted? If I set out to make that grouping, I am certain that there will always be a tendency to try and prove that the species that I belong to is the most exalted. Racism may qualify as the worst curse from the past that we are forced to live with. Racism doesn't just limit itself to color of skin or geographic separation. It also extends itself into things like religious & political beliefs. We have this born inclination to group ourselves based on anything that we can think of. And, we inadvertently (or not) pass that on to our children.

Earthquake...!!

A 5.2 magnitude earthquake shook the St. Louis area at 4:37am today. It wasn’t strong enough to shake the bed, but it did rattle the roof and windows. When I woke up at the sound of the earthquake (and Deepa’s shouting), it sounded as if an overweight mouse was bolting across the attic.

My immediate thought was that it is an earthquake. Deepa was in denial and tried to convince herself that it was probably a huge truck passing by (on Deauville Ct at that hour?).

It was déjà vu for me. Memories of the 1993 Latur earthquake that shook Maharashtra and took about 10,000 lives filled my mind. It was around the same time in the morning and I was staying at the Lobo Mansion in Byculla (Bombay). It felt much more than a mere mouse in the attic. The beds shook for a good 45 seconds. We jumped out of bed and were on the verandah in no time. That was my first experience of an earthquake. The funny thing about earthquake is that it lasts too short to feel the fear during it. What you feel during those seconds is a certain kind of curiosity. The fear comes afterwards thinking about what could have happened, if no major damage happened. If it ends up being a tragedy, the dominating feeling can’t be fear any more.

Our earth is a very vulnerable place. A natural calamity is a very near possibility in almost any part of it any time. When you look at all those forces that are going on in the universe, it is not a remote possibility that the whole earth would get sucked into something or would get smashed against something. Sometimes I think natural calamities are nature’s way of cleaning up man’s ego. It reminds us of our helplessness to act against the bigger scheme of things.

The most interesting remark came from the seven year old while I was taking her to school - “I don’t want to be in this world. It is too scary here”.

Paper and Serendipity

My friend, Suresh had lived in Bangalore until he moved into Perumbavoor and into my class (5A) more than 20 years ago. He spoke very little Malayalam and was learning to speak the language like us. One day he declared to us, “My most favorite word in Malayalam is kadalas. Listen to the sound of it - k.a.d.a.l.aa.s”.

That was indeed true. That word did sound beautiful. It has a certain rhythm that is almost musical. When you speak or hear a word all the time, you don’t always see its beauty (kind of like many things in life). But, when you stop a while and think about it, there are so many beautiful things right around you that you hardly ever notice.

My most favorite word in English – Serendipity :-)

Butter for The Independent

In the early 90’s, a new newspaper named “The Independent” hit the newsstands in Bombay. There were billboards all over the city announcing the arrival of the newspaper claiming non-partisan reporting. There was one particularly interesting billboard near VT that I saw only once through the corner of my eye while riding by. It showed the illustration of a loaf of bread with one slice removed and a knife applying butter to the slice. And, the caption read,

“There is safety in being in a cluster, but THE INDEPENDENT gets the butter”.

It is a caption that I have gone back to, again and again over the last 15 or so years - like going back to a page with a bookmark. This simple billboard sent a very intense beam into me – an intensity that I still feel. Even the flashing, bright billboards in Las Vegas seemed dark and dull in comparison.

It must have been very unsafe to be independent. The Independent didn’t survive for too long on the newsstands.

Foot Note: "It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinions; it is easy in solitude to live after your own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Economy, friendship and wine…

With all this talk about a recession of US economy in the air, it seems like a good time to draw some parallels between economy and friendship. Even though the word “recession” is mostly used in connection with economy, Encarta states that it is “the process of going back or becoming more distant”.

US economy is designed to expect a recession once every few years. A recession is meant to be a time when people get a reality check. It is the reminder that “there is a valley for every mountain”. When the economy is normally moving up, everyone is happy and start taking things for granted. We start losing our senses and finally one fine morning, we hit the peak and start the descent when we are not expecting it. Same holds true with friendships. When people get close to each other, there is always a clip-off of the senses and they like to believe that everything will remain colorful for ever. And then, one day, the reality check appears in the form of a bump around the corner. Just as in the case of the economy, a recession could actually be a healthy bump for a friendship. It jolts you awake. For some, the friendship might not have meant anything in the first place, and so it is an opportunity to get out of the meaningless friendship and start looking beyond it.
For sensible people in meaningful friendships, it is an opportunity to do their self-audits and review their portfolios and make sensible planning for the future. It works a lot like a recession in economy – if the friendship survives the recession, it actually grows further and gets more meaningful.

Most successful, beautiful friendships have gone through many recessions and seasoned well….. like good wine!

The Attic...!!

“Look at a day when you are supremely satisfied at the end. It's not a day when you lounge around doing nothing; it's when you've had everything to do and you've done it”.

Last couple of weekends, I was extremely busy around the house – for two reasons: 1) D and Ruby were gone to India and with the sub-zero temperature outside, it was getting very depressing to remain closed up inside the house and I had to keep myself busy to cure the depression, and 2) There actually were scores of things to be done around.

I installed the sump pump, fixed defective lamps and concealed cables to the basement home theater. But, the one job that brought immense satisfaction was the installation of two sets of recessed lights in the family room. The whole work extended over two weeks. It involved drilling six 6” holes on the ceiling, installation of a new switch and relocation of a switch box.

I spent almost 5 hours (in installments) in the attic wearing the dust mask and doing the monkey walk to make sure I don’t come crashing down through the ceiling. I had worked in the attic before, installing speaker wires and the antenna, but this was pretty intense. At one point, I had to lie on my tummy to connect the lights at the shallow end of the attic. After about 30 minutes of working like that, I started feeling the urge to go insane out of claustrophobia and I had to rush out and down the ladder, cursing. After a while, I started getting used to the solitude and the semi-darkness. There were times when I would sit up to catch breath and look around:

Laser swords of varying lengths created by narrow sun light streaks, turbine caps on the roof creating alternating light effects, and unsettled dust created a spooky yet relaxing effect. It felt like déjà vu. It brought back childhood memories of climbing up to the attic in my Perumbavoor home and hiding in a place that was my own. It was during those moments of solitude that I would become Edmund Dantés and later transform myself into The Count of Monte Christo, or become Ali Baba of the 1001 nights.

The noise of the world not far away, but at a safe distance and the feeling that you are alone and at a place where no one else can bother you, arouses that rare feeling of spiritual unleashing. It is the feeling that everyone needs once in a while. Who would imagine that one can find that kind of freedom in a seemingly unromantic place like the attic?

And, at the end of the day, as Margaret Thatcher said, that feeling of “supreme satisfaction of having done all you have had to do”!

Crossing a line....

Once you cross a certain line in a friendship, it is very hard to reach a sustainable pace. It is not everyday that you come across people that make you cross that line. On this side of the line, things are simple and straightforward. With vast majority of people you meet and interact with, you don’t get anywhere near the line, but then once in a blue moon someone comes into your life and you get lured into crossing the line. Beyond that line, it is stormy and turbulent. Things are not simple anymore. Balancing your priorities becomes extremely difficult. And, your senses start betraying you.

Many a times, there may be no substance behind such a relationship. It could be an attraction based on some words spoken at a first meeting or an attraction based on a material thing or love-at-first-sight. Give it some time beyond that line, and it will eventually crash. Other times, it could be a real practical friendship. Seasoning such a relationship could get very difficult, but once seasoned, it will become a very beautiful relationship.

It is usually people with complex mind constitution (me being one) who get into relationships where you dare to cross the line. It happens out of being “willing” and “demanding” at the same time. Turbulence starts when “demanding” doesn’t always produce anything in equivalence to the “willingness” or vice versa. Once turbulence starts, it becomes a question of pride and prejudice. It is amazing how, even a person who is capable of highly complex evaluations, crumble when faced with turbulences in relationships and react like an average Joe Schmuck.

Sometimes, it may look safe to constantly remain on this side of the line. But, what is life without some turbulence?!

Aborigines...

It is a fascinating coincidence that the news about the Australian Prime Minister's apology to Aborigines (Indigenous people) for past injustices came out today (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/23141944/) just when I am reading Matthew Kneale's "English Passengers" - a novel about the journey of a ship with English Passengers to the island of Tasmania.

I have only reached as far as about 100 pages into the book, but the sections about the lawlessness among the early British settlers and the lack of enforcement of whatever law they had, had generated an interest in me about the Aborigines and the early history of Australia. The news about the Australian's Prime Minister's apology was in the headlines in many newspapers today.

It is believed that the Aborigines have lived in the Australia and the island of Tasmania for 40,000 years. With the arrival of British settlers in the late 18th century, they started feeling the pressure of oppression. The book narrates stories about abduction of Aborigine women by the settlers.

Serenity, the ship is still on its way to Tasmania and I can't wait to read more about what is in store for the English Passengers.

Slights as spurs!

Financial Times reporting the news that the US dealers of Jaguar objected to Tata Motors as a possible owner of the luxury brand, quoted this story:-

When Jamsetji Tata, the founder of Tata Group, proposed making steel for the British-run Indian Railwaysin 1907, Sir Frederick Upcott, a colonial administrator, scoffed. "Do you mean to say that Tatas propose to make steel rails to British specifications? I will undertake to eat every pound of steel rail they succeed in making". A century later, the Tatas paid $13.7 bn to buy Corus, the successor to British Steel.

Interesting! It was even more interesting to read about how the Indian Business Community and the minister of Industry responded to the slights. They didn't try to hide their anger. They lavishly used the word "discrimination" in their responses.

There is a value that is associated to every brand name. Unfortunately, the "India" brand name is still associated with "cheap" and "poor quality". Who is responsible for that? It will take decades or even centuries to change the value associated with the brand name..if it is ever possible. The first step is to recognize it and work patiently towards improving the quality. Emotional outrages are not the way to deal with it.

Home!

It is 2:30am and I think I messed with the jet lag this time by taking a nap during the day. I was tired and decided to lie down reading Prof. Madhusudhanan Nair's "Naranathubhranthan" and the next thing I heard was someone waking me up. It was Suppy.

Earlier, my flight from Dubai was 35 minutes late. The long wait in Dubai wasn't that bad afterall. I got a lot of time to do people-watch. A Lebanese (big) family that had settled down near me provided much inspiration. Very friendly gang, but the show-stealer was a 9-10 year old girl who had a disability under her waist, but had one of the most pleasant and positive expressions I had seen. I took their group picture for them upon their request!

I had my lunch (or dinner, depending on which timezone I was going by) at around midnight local time in a Middle Eastern fast food place in the airport. Chicken, kabab, rice, soup, salad and a hot tea. It was very refreshing.

And, I found the deodorant that Deepa had wanted. I felt good about it!!

Pappu, Appu and Appa (yeah, I am aware of the rhymings) had come to pick me up. I was meeting Pappu for the first time. Very pleasant person!

Ann mol called up in the evening. I called Kuruppampady. I am going to sleep now. Appachan has installed the mosquito nets on the windows. It must make night peaceful.

At Dubai

Landed in Dubai an hour ago after the looooong flight from JFK. The flight was packed and just as Dee had warned me, I got an over-sized neighbor, but I feeling pity for him for being squeezed in a middle seat (I got an aisle seat), I let him take full possession of the hand rest (No premblemonics!). Amazingly, he (and the guy next to him) didn't get up even once during the 13 hours. I managed to get up and walk around 3 times - once to go to the restroom, second time to look for water to quench the thirst created by the Jack Daniel on the rocks and third time to just take a walk!

The flight was smooth. Pleasant stewardesses (I know their expressions are all artificial). I declined the first meal because I didn't want to spoil the taste left behind by Pushpa auntie's feast. Second meal was a brunch (sort of). It was okay.

Ah yes....I watched two movies - one Malayalam movie "Jayakanthan...something" (Boban Kunjakko etc.) and the Hindi movie that I had always wanted to watch - "Mughal-E-Aazam". I must say Dilip Kumar was good. I tried to get some sleep and I think I did manage some. I don't feel very tired now, but I know I am going to get hit with it sometime soon.

Once again...Off to where it all started!

I am at JFK...yet again. Dejavu! Waiting for Emirates flight to Dubai..on my way home.

The flight from STL was great. The ride in the metro before the flight was nice. It lifted the spirits of Pavan.

There were two noisy kids in the seat behind me (one of them occasionally kicking on my seat), but what was annoying was their noisy mom who kep shouting to them to stop. I didn't feel stressed at all. At one point, I even thought of standing up and telling the mom with a smile, "Ma'am I am more annoyed by you". Just couldn't gather the courage to do it because I wasn't sure about being able to wear the right smile on.

Descending to JFK, the cloud formation was one of the best I have seen. Thick pure white with lots of open space in between filled with lots of sunlight with views of the waters below. It was beautiful!

It was chilly outside waiting for Varghese uncle who came with a relative of his - Alex. Went to his home and killed the next 3 or 4 hours eating great food and talking about the state of Orthodox church in US. Blah!

I miss D and Ruby already!

July 4th fireworks..!

It seemed like the July 4th fireworks yesterday extended late into the night. We were woken up by loud thunder at around 2am. The world seemed to be shaking. It sounded as if the thunders were exploding right in our backyard. It was one of the loudest thunder storm that I had heard around here. It had also started raining hard. We carried Ruby to the basement and stayed there till the thunder slowly moved away.

When we came back up, it was still raining heavily. When I looked out, there was a mini river flowing across our backyard that was visible in the occasional lightning. Nature!

Pain of Creation!

I remember reading the biography of Vincent Van Gogh which narrated the pain that he used to go through doing what he enjoyed the most – painting. He used to suffer from delirium attacks and even attempted to commit suicide once. The intensity of restlessness that forced him into the creation of his masterpieces and the intensity of pain that he used to feel during the creation was beautifully narrated in the biography.

I think restlessness is a necessary pre-requisite for creation. There can be no creation without the restlessness. It is a very painful act to convert that restlessness into creation. Tying down your mind and making it slow down is like taming a rough wild horse. Making the mind slow down enough to facilitate the creation, without slowing it down too much, is an exhausting act. That causes the pain of creation. And, after the creation, one feels like a mother who just gave birth to a child – exhausted, fulfilled and with the pain slowly subsiding. It is like the calmness after a big storm….when nothing matters. And, the mind would be slowly trying wake up looking around for reasons for the next restlessness.

When I was very young, I remember attending a programme at FAS, Perumbavoor where Malayattoor Ramakrishnan was being honored for winning the Vayalar award for his novel “Yanthram”. After the speeches throughout which he sat motionless and expressionless, he got up for his speech. He slowly walked to the podium and stood there in a very odd, unattractive posture. Prakash Studio, the official photographer, walked all around him looking for an angle to get a decent photograph. But, Malayattoor stood in the same posture all through the speech, unmindful of the cameraman and delivered his speech even unmindful, it seeemed, of the audience. I don’t remember the exact words he spoke, but his manner of detachment made a long impression in me. I still remember the calmness in which he spoke and the powerful way in which he carried himself around. To the young me, he seemed like a snob, but over the years, his image transformed in my mind. When I later read “Yanthram”, I saw some of the pain that had gone into its creation, but it took me a lot more years before I started appreciating the restlessness and pain that Malayattoor must have gone through, which must have resulted in his aloofness.

I recently read in DC (Kizhakkemury)’s memoirs about how Thakazhi was virtually locked up in a lodge with ample supply of beedis and made to write “Chemmeen” which became his masterpiece. I guess that technique worked in containing Thakazhi’s restlessness and converting it into the pain that made “Chemmeen” possible.

National Fear...!

I was reading a column on how America has become a fear-based community. The columnist wrote about how after her college, she along with a friend went on a tour of the northwest using public transportation and hitch hiking. She mentioned how that experience of travelling without fear enriched her life. It reminded me of how fulfilling my younger days were. When I was in school, right from 1st grade, I often used to walk the 20 minutes to school alone often over empty stretches of road.. In Bombay, I would go to the reputedly dangerous streets in Bombay during the night and roam around with no fear. Or, I would take off on the motorcycle for 3-4 days with no definite plans or destination. I occasionally felt fear, but it added to the excitement and enriched my life. I would have felt empty now without those experiences.

We have come to become a fear-based community, as the columnist pointed out. We get nervous when we see a stranger wandering in our subdivision. The police urges us to call them if we see teenagers wandering abound in the night. When a child is abducted somewhere as a result of a family dispute, there are abduction alerts posted along the highways.

I have to admit that even I have fallen prey to this fear.

Two weeks ago, on the first day of summer school, when Deepa left home with Ruby to walk her to school, I was watching them from inside the house. I saw a big SUV stopping by them. The driver asked Deepa something and the next thing, I saw Deepa and Ruby getting into the SUV and driving off. It was evident that the driver was taking her kids to the summer school, but was lost. Quite expected on the first day of summer school.

But, I got panicked. I tried to call Deepa on the cellphone, but realized that she hadn’t taken the cellphone. I immediately got out and drove all the way to the school to see if they were ok. I couldn’t find them in the crowd at the school, so I returned home and decided that I am going to call the police if Deepa doesn’t return in 5 minutes. Luckily, she came back and I had to vent my anger and unhappiness on her for violating the basic rule of accepting a ride with a total stranger. Looking back, I feel a bit of embarrassment over how I have let myself fall for this national fear. Deepa is a sensible person. I have a lot of confidence in her ability to make judgements, but it was a basic rule that she violated. On one hand, I find myself struggling to defend myself on how I reacted. On the other hand, I am embarrassed at how I overreacted.

Shutting oneself out…

It was a pleasant morning when I left home today, but couldn’t help but notice all those cars with raised windows. Only about 1 in every 10 cars had the windows rolled down. In the beautiful, shaded Creve Coeur, the air is so pure and the wind is so pleasant. But 9 out of 10 people choose to shut themselves away from the beautiful nature. Why? What do these people have against the nature. Or, are their bodies so used to the air-conditioned air that they feel exposed when they roll the windows down?

I have always believed and experienced that depression creeps in when you shut yourself in. It doesn’t matter how big the area that you shut yourself in, is; the moment you close the windows and try to detach yourself from everything that the nature offers you, you have switched on the depression button.

Through the long winter months, we crave for the spring and summer and learn to appreciate the good weather in store, but when the summer is here, we get overwhelmed by it.

An unfulfilled dream..

I think I know the answer to all these restlessnesses inside me. I need to get away. I don’t want to run away, but just get away to some things that have been calling me for a while – I want to spend a day (or days) gazing up to the snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas. I want to sit by the Holy Ganga and muse over the vast Hindu mythological stories watching its gushing waters. I want to walk as a part of the crowd in Calcutta. I want to ride 2nd class in the veins of India, the Indian Railways.

When I was a kid, I used to dream about collecting waters from all the great rivers in the world and saving it in small bottles. I didn’t even do it from the Periyar which was only about 4km from my house. Now, when I look back, a lot of my wildest dreams came true, but some of the simple ones that I could have realized right in my neighborhood still remain as mere dreams. It is almost like I missed a few steps on my way. Personally, it feels like I built something without adequate reinforcement.

Now, at my mid-life and mid-career, this is the time to take a bolder look and revisit those steps. I don’t want to do anything irrational and superstitous like collecting river water in bottles. But, I am very sure I have to do something to quench my lust – the wanderlust. I am aware that wanderlust is something that gets stronger when you try to quench it. If I get into it, I know it is something that can completely engulf me, but I need to do it. I hope I can muster up enough courage to do it. If I don’t, I am always going to look back on my life and regret it.

Luxury’s jealousy factor

A couple of days ago, a friend was telling me he was planning to sell his Lexus because he can’t get used to how all his friends are jealous of him! That is when the question occurred to me – “Why do people go for luxury?”. Longing for comfort is an in-born nature of human beings. The more comfort you get, the more comfort you long for. The other factor is the show-off part. Many of us need to market ourselves for various reasons. Owning a big house or driving a luxury car is an easy way of self-marketing, if you can afford it…sometimes, thanks to the liberal mortgage policies, even if you can’t afford it.

But the problem with luxury is that it alters your personality in a certain way. It makes you an un-interesting person. It is like a girl with passable looks trying to look more beautiful by applying extra make-up, but making herself repulsive in the process.

From an ordinary person’s stand point, a person who owns a Lexus is in a different class. As for the ordinary person who brought the Lexus in hopes of elevating to that different class, he soon discovers that elevating to another class is not as easy as going and buying a Lexus. So, he gets caught between the two worlds. On one end, he is expelled from the class where he belonged to. On the other end, he is not accepted into the class where he longed to belong to. That’s a dispiriting situation. That’s the situation that my friend was in. Kind of like a girl who wears a micro-mini skirt, but keeps pulling it down to hide her nudity.

Well, to set records straight, there is nothing wrong with longing for luxury or elevation to another class. We all long for some amount of progress in life. Some amount of change for the better, and the desire for that change, is what keeps us going. The fact, though, is that you want to ease into a change instead of being abruptly placed into one. You don’t want to feel like a centepede on a soft mattress.

As always, my views at this moment! They may change tomorrow.

Individual Contributor

I am not a motivator. Nor do I have any leadership aspirations. I don't lead. I don't follow. I am an 'Individual Contributor'. That doesn't mean I am a rebel. I like to be friendly, I want to be liked. I get enjoyment out of good company. I get enjoyment out of solitude too. I like the mountains. I like the ocean. I like the desert too. I like cities. I liked NY subway too.

End of a generation.

Vengoor Amma, my last grand parent passed away last night. She had recently crossed 100 (my only grand parent to do that) and her health had been continously deteriorating for a while.

For me personally, she has been a person of least significance, but I have a lot of respect for her. She never forced herself on anyone and was probably the least controversial of my grand parents. As I have mentioned elsewhere, she has always been a shadow in my memories. There was only one thing she used to pray for – a “nalla avasaanam” which unfortunately she didn’t get. Her last days were painful with fractures and bed sores.

But, fortunately, because of her memory loss, she didn’t have to grieve the death of her son and her husband. Also, she didn’t know about her feuding children. May be that was the “nalla avasaanam” she hoped for and got.

Mind with a wander-lust..!!

I have discovered that when my mind starts acting multi-polar, wandering in all directions and I have difficulty in tying it down in one place, the best thing that works is to think about one thing and put that on paper (or…er…MS Word). The very act of involvement with writing calms my mind and settles it down. It is like a horse that is recuperating after a race.

Driving to work is a time when I think about a subject that I should write on, but by the time I get to work, the mind is all bitten by the wader-lust and it is quite an effort to even make it think about going in one direction. I wonder if it is getting worse with age. It looks like the ability to concentrate diminishes with age….with many other abilities.

Turning 40...!!

It has been a day to remember. I was woken up by a call from Maya in the morning. Willy called when I was brushing my teeth. Then, I called Elsa and wished her.

At work, I was surprised to see that my cube was all decorated. It was done by Chris Braun. It was a pleasant surprise. My cube stood out on the stiff 4th floor where, unlike in the Data Warehouse, you never see a decorated cube. It was a good feeling that Chris took the initiative to do it even though I have been gone from the Data Warehouse for nearly 2 years. That made my day. On top of that she let everyone in and around the Warehouse know about the birthday and I got a few mails wishing me a happy birthday.

John, Chris, Joe Hennekes and Kapil took me out to lunch at Chevy’s and I got the Chevy’s Mexican hat too. Now, it is my job to clean up the cube and return all the stuff back to Chris so that it can be used for the next person.

Deepa told me there was a birthday card from Maya with $40 with it. And, Deepa has invited Binu for dinner tonight.

Reflections on entering the 40’s? Well, noticeably, I don’t feel that bad about it. Like all the major milestones in my life, I almost feel nothing. I don’t know how I manage to do it. It is like when I hit a major milestone like graduating or getting a job, some part of mine just goes numb making the moment just another. I think getting older is, for the most part, a good thing if you are content with what you have done so far with your life. I can confidently say I have nothing to complain about. It has been a good cruise. I have had some ups and downs in life, but nothing that didn’t make things better. When, I look back about 20 years and try to recollect what I had hoped to become in life, I think I have nothing to regret about.

It is so true that your future depends on how your past was. I have seen people who had a bad past pushing harder and making the future miserable. I have also seen people who had a great past laze their way into a stagnant future. I have been very fortunate in being ‘assigned’ to a balanced upbringing which has given me a balanced future. But, I have always had a certain amount of restlessness within me which made my life interesting and adventurous. It also kept me from stagnating too much.

I remember my cousin used to make fun of my lack of drive saying that “If you wait for Mahalakshmi to come through your door and give you a good fortune, nothing is going to happen”. But, whatever happened in my life was as if that comment came true. The opportunities that I got were more than what I could handle. With some more ambition and drive, I could have used more of my opportunities and have become more unhappier. I think I had a very fair balance of opportunities and ambition. I think I have built up a good life. As I tell everyone, I have a feeling that I am at the peak of my life now. From here, I feel, I can only go down. I only hope (and wish) my slide down would be smooth.

Al Gore the Phoenix..!

This man is amazing! 6 years ago, everyone thought he was a wash-out. He almost became the President in a contest where both candidates were equally non-convincing. People had no hopes in either of them, so the votes were equally random. For someone who lost an election against an opponent who was equally non-convincing, Al Gore was completely written off. For a while, while he occasionally made his appearances with a beard, it looked like there is no coming back. But silently and patiently, he has been making his moves.

Yesterday, he was the most adulated person at the Academy Awards ceremony with people repeatedly inquiring if he is “going to make an announcement”. And, he was cleverly riding the waves. Financial Times commented that he has finally grown out of his “robotic geek” image.

He claims that the environmental issue that he has been working on, is not a political issue, but a moral one. People have to believe it because he worked hard on it and he deserves to be praised for what he did. The Oscar that he won for his documentary, An Incovenient Truth, was well deserved. You have to admire him even if it is all part of a plan. It shows that he knows how to plan….especially a long term plan. And, now that he got the whole Hollywood at his door step, he can make it look like he was forced into the arena.

Also, it seems like he has decidedly shrugged off Bill Clinton’s shadow which, I feel, was one reason for his defeat in 2000. It will be interesting to see how Hillary Clinton is going to haunt him when he tries to match his newly acquired image against her shaky image.

Freezing World...!

By far, today was the coldest day this winter. Wake up time temperature was 4°F (-14°C). It had inched up to 5°F by commute time. When temperature goes to such low levels, there is a certain kind of frozenness about the air around you. Snow is frozen into fine powder; Ice gets frozen into fine granules. The atmosphere is serene because dirt gets frozen into nothing.

One thing I have observed is that when it gets that cold, it is not usually very windy. I guess even the wind freezes!

Story of generations in India

This weekend I had a ‘rewarding’ thought session in which I concluded that the generation before mine is responsible for all the mess that is in India. That is what I call the ‘Indira Gandhi’ generation – the generation that made up the work force from the 50’s to the 80’s. The fact that that generation includes my parents, their brothers and sisters gives me a particular satisfaction about my conclusion.

Though I want to tell myself that I mean it as a joke, as a matter of fact, I am serious about it. The generations before the Indira Gandhi generation are the ones that won the freedom. Though they lacked the parental capabilities to bring up their children as responsible citizens, I do not have anything against them because they were hard workers and did a lot for the country.

But the Indira Gandhi generation had a free country with lots of opportunities handed over to them in a silver tray. Instead of taking over where the previous generation left off, they let themselves get spoilt by the freedom. The freedom to govern soon turned into freedom to be corrupted and freedom to be lazy. They got too cozy with their easy government jobs and wanted their kids to become engineers and doctors who would make easy money like themselves. Family feuds, corruption, rat races, show-offs, crowded and polluted urban areas etc. are all trademarks of this generation.

In my accounts, the narrow generation that I fall into occupied the work force in 80s and 90s. I usually refer to this generation as the caught-in-between generation. We were affected by the last generation in both positive and negative ways. We were lazy and at the same time wanted to be different. We wanted to get out of home because we couldn’t get along with our parents. We became the gypsies. We unknowingly helped the country to get back on her own feet. We didn’t have any vision, but what we did helped the country eventually.

I have great hopes for the next generation which I want to call the Mobile (or liberated) generation. They have some basic instincts that have been carried forward from the previous generations, but I think they will essentially do good….a lot of good. There is a lot of opportunities for prosperity. Obviously, there are going to be pockets of that generation that is going to be left behind. The only fear that I have is about how balanced that generation will be. The balance between the prosperous and those left behind is going to be a very tcicky one. How that generation manages that balance will determine the future of India.

ChaRa PaRa Mazha

It looks like the monsoon is finally here. It has been pouring in the typical monsoon fashion for the last hour or so. I am sitting in car porch listening and watching the rain and typing this. This is what I have been waiting for all these three weeks. I had brought a rain gauge with me and installed it on the terrace here. We got a 1.5 cm rain 2 days after I reached, then a 5.5cm heavy rain after a week. Outside that, it has been a dry monsoon which, in a way, helped the weekend trips that were the highlights of our visit this time. Finally, the chaRa paRa mazha makes it look more like monsoon.

I just finished reading the Da Vinci Code and am now reading the auto biography of Kunjunni – “Enniloode”. Kunjunni’s book seems to blend very naturally with the Kerala monsoon. They both have the same raaga and thaala.

Perumbavoor [June 6, 2006]

Three days after reaching here, I have already fallen into the life that is characteristic of my vacation. I was a little concerned that due to the long gap after my last visit, I would find it difficult to blend in. No way. I am convinced that my 17 first years in Perumbavoor have left such a mark on me that I need little time to be a Perumbavoorian again.

I love this town. There is something highly charming about this town. Beneath all the cacophony that makes up Perumbavoor, there is a strong thread of harmony – religious and cultural. It is a kind of harmony that envelops anyone who grew up in Perumbavoor and that outsiders (even those who didn’t spend their childhood in Perumbavoor) fail to comprehend. That harmony is stronger among people who went to one of the schools in Perumbavoor.

I have started going to the Boys HS ground for a few rounds of jogging. Though Ashram HS ground is more popular among those in the higher society (which unfortunately I seem to belong in), I find myself more comfortable at the Boys HS ground. The people who come there to run or play foot ball are the normal everyday Perumbavoorians – people who are bound to other Perumbavoorians by that strange bond – not the people who are bound to each other by the power of money and social status.

There is a group of about 10 people of roughly my age who play foot ball in the ground. I knew there would be someone in that crowd that I know, but people have changed so much in their looks and so have I. Moreover, I always have this pessimistic feeling that I may not be able to fit into the shoes of a Perumbavoorian any more. So, I don’t usually make an effort to place anyone in the group. Today on my 4th round or so, one of the guys in the foot ball game called out my name “Eldhose…” and came towards me. Of course, he was one of the guys I knew when I was growing up. (I still can’t remember his name. I must ask someone, may be Shankar, and find out his name). We made some general talks and he had to rush back to his game. Incidents like this make me feel like I will always be a Perumbavoorian.

I am home [June 5, 2006]

I am back home. After a long journey from St.Louis spending 6+ hours each at 3 of the 4 airports that I passed through and the longest flight in my life (13 hours in Emirates flight from JFK to Dubai) and a last-minute planned reunion with Balan who flew with me from JFK to Dubai and spend about 5 hours in Dubai airport, I finally landed into the refreshingly disorganized Indian life at the Kochi airport…. on time.

In the last flight from Dubai to Kochi, I got an upgrade to first class, which I didn’t really care for. The extra leg space and the reclining seat were good, but I have never been a person for luxury and I don’t think I can ever feel comfortable in a first class seat when I see the other folks just like me hauling their Dubai-tanned bodies to the economy class. I feel that I belong better in the economy class.

Anyway, Kerala had her green carpet all spread out for me….”Kaala varshathil thimirthu” as I thought while landing. Once in the airport, the disorganized Indian way of life was visible everywhere. Immigration desks with “OPEN” sign which were actually closed….ones with “CLOSED” sign which was actually open, immigration officials who actually chit-chat with you, the lady at the duty free store who was trying desperately to imitate the American customer service, the girl near the check out counter (with a wide gap between her front teeth) at the duty free store who broke in while I was being checked out and wanted to do a survey (she had a very satisfied smile when I answered her last question about my monthly income) and the 5000 people who had come to receive the 300 people who came in the flight (which didn’t include the 9 people who had come to receive me, because they arrived 10 minutes after I came out)….sometimes I wish Kerala never changes….and it doesn’t seem to be changing much. On the way to Perumbavoor, the much-talked-about widening of the MC Road seemed like something they should have done 15 years ago, still not done to my satisfaction now. But, yeah….there is something charming about the way Kerala changes or doesn’t.

Personally for me, it was very refreshing to see Deepa and Ruby after nearly 3 weeks. Ruby was so glad to see me that she wouldn’t get off my lap. I decided not to drive from the airport (which has been customary thing during my last visits) in order to keep Ruby in my lap. It was very evident that she had missed me a lot.

Invalid date - Feb 29, 2010?

Here is something funny. Today, when I tried to check in at the Delta Airlines counter in St.Louis, their computer wouldn’t accept the expiry date on my passport. The expiry date is Feb 29, 2010. The lady was very patient and tried all over at thrice, then she called another person who looked over it. Then, she went inside and talked to her supervisor about it. Still no luck.

Then, suddenly it occurred to her that this actually may be an invalid date. And it was. 2010 is not a leap year and February has only 28 days. I had thought about it when she was having difficulty, but ruled it out immediately because I had traveled with the passport so many times and I had gotten my green card with this passport.

Again while checking in at Emirates in JFK, they had the same issue. But, the lady at the counter was smarter and she immediately figured out what was wrong. She had to call her supervisor to get permission to enter Feb 28 to let it go through.

It is funny!

How come this was never caught before? I had gotten Italy and Canada visas with this passport and traveled there. I had traveled to India at least thrice with this passport. I had applied and gotten my green card with this passport. Finally, on this fine day, I am beginning to get stopped by all the airlines in the world with this error. First of all, it was silly of the Indian Consulate in Chicago to make such a silly error. And, it was silly of the Italian and Canadian consulates and the US INS to not catch it.

Really beats me!

Now, I know that one of the first things that I need to do is to go to Kochi passport office and get it fixed.

Aftermath of Da Vinci Code

Just got back from church where the priest gave a heated sermon about the Da Vinci Code which has shaken up the whole Christian world. He started mildly talking about how Jesus answered to some of the disciples who wanted to take care of personal stuff before they could go after him. Jesus apparently told them "If you decide to come after me, don't look back". The priest then gradually switched over to the topic of the movie Da Vinci Code and he seemingly got a little too excited and his voice got louder and louder. His point was that this movie is a test for the true believers of Christ and our belief should endure this test.

The way in which he talked was an indication of how much the church is shaken up by the Da Vinci code. Interestingly, just this morning, I was reading the cover story on US News & World Report about how the Catholic Church is on war with Dan Brown's blockbuster book and the movie. Apparently, a poll shows that quite a large number of Christians have started doubting the historical authenticity of the religion.

Now, of course, I find all this funny....!

I don't think generally Christians became Christians after verifying the historical authenticity of the religion. Many of us became Christians because we were born to Christians and started practicing it without an option. Many others became Christians because of the features it offered..... In any case, I don't think historical authenticity was ever an issue. Or was it? Were we all dumb? Did we all jump into a well just because people in front of us had? And now, someone comes up and says, "You are all stupid to be believing someone blindly and jumping into the well" and he states a whole array of reasons why we shouldn't be believing others. Well, this has happened always. There were great thinkers who presented reasons for not believing someone blindly. Stephen Hawking said, "Man is the only animal who is capable of logical thinking. All that he needs to do is to make use of this capability and seek reasons". There have always been atheists who raised all kinds of questions about religions. But, never before was such a sensational direct attack. It again shows how dumb we are. Our logical thinking capability wakes up only when we see something sensational. This dumbness itself should be enough reason for us to be not believing in anything, but I think people basically have this tendency to be believers in something - for or against. And, it looks like, this time the wave of belief is against the direction of the church. The church, I guess, was caught off guard. They tried to ignore it for a while because everyone knew that the church was always based on mere belief. There was never any historical backing for the belief. But now that the logical thinking capability of the dumb masses is awaken by a sensational book, the church doesn't have a choice but to fight back. That makes it even more silly because now it looks like the Christian churches are desperate and are on the defensive.

I still haven't read the Da Vinci Code. I don't know if it is even an interesting read worth it, but I must read it before I write more about it...

Backyardigans - Dave M. Dove and family

With the arrival of spring, our backyard has suddenly become a hub of activities. In the mornings, now daylight breaks by around 5:30. I usually wake up around 6am. It has been my habit to just stand in the living room and watch the life outside for about 30 minutes. We have a bird feeder hanging right outside the window. These days, it gets empty in an average of 2 days. There are at least 10 varieties of birds (crows, robin, cardinal, cowbird, mourning dove etc. and many varieties of sparrows) that gather in our backyard and feed themselves from the bird feeder. Some of the birds (like the mourning dove) that can’t feed directly from the feeder, depend on the grains that fall down when other smaller birds feed from the feeder. It is the same case with squirrels. Then, there are all these rabbits that are still lurking a little far away from the house.

Ruby wakes up at 7:30 and she has gotten into the habit of watching the birds too. Many days, I wake her up telling her something about the birds outside which immediately gets her attention. Last year, I had bought her a book that contains pictures and descriptions of the birds commonly seen in Missouri. She really enjoys watching the birds and identifying them using the book. We have identified quite a few birds (including a hawk that visited us late last year) using the book.

Two days ago, I found this mourning dove that was collecting small twigs from our vegetable garden (which is still bare because it is not yet time to plant anything) and flying into a hidden location on an evergreen tree beyond the vegetable garden. It was building a nest. While I was watching it made several trips carrying twigs. I woke Ruby up and showed it to her. We both stood there and watched the bird for a long time. It was amazing the way it was collecting twigs. It takes a while to select the right sized twig, then flies up to the electric cable that runs next to the evergreen tree, sits there for a few seconds to stabilize and then flies into the hidden location and disappear from our view. After about 15 seconds he flies down to the vegetable garden and repeats the whole procedure over and over. We watched it for about 15 minutes that morning.

By the next day, I think the nest was ready. We could see movements from the location on the tree. We could even see part of the nest with a pair of binoculars. At one point, I even saw the lady dove inside. The husband was still working on the final touches of the nest, though he was spending more time inside now….probably making sure his lady was comfortable.

I can see there is going to be some interesting bird watching for us in the coming days when Mrs. Dove lays eggs and the baby doves are born.

Best Eating Experiences (Incomplete)

Wheat dosai at Tholelil.
Special Birthday lunch (egg roast) at home.
Avil and pazham on the last day of sevana vaaram in Asram L P school.

Planetorial Situation

You must realize that we are all in a planetorial situation where each of us is under the influence of a number of forces being acted upon us. These forces could be forces that are acted upon us, or reaction of forces that we apply on others (Newton's law). Usually we are in a geo-sync state where all these forces are at peace with one another. Whenever there is a business decision to be taken by anyone, we all have to bend a little, apply some forces, react to some forces and then ultimately come to a new geo-sync state. The final state may not be to the liking of each and every one of us, but if we realize and accept the fact that we are in this planetorial situation, we will be fine.

Religion...a strange influence

Once I was at a Hindu friend's place and we somehow started a debate about conversion to Christianity and to my own surprise, I found myself arguing in favor of Christianity and its conversion policy which I, in fact, have always objected to. I later regretted playing into my friend's scheme. That was an eye opener incident to me. It proved to me that when it comes to religion most anyone can be bought out for the right price. Religion is something you have grown up with and is something that is very close to your heart. Depending on your willpower, the persuasive powers of the persuader, you can be made to do things in the name of religion even if it is against your normal will. I guess, that explains what makes a religious terrorist who would fly an airplane into a building killing hundreds of innocent people.

Technology & Me

I have always been a little ahead of many others in embracing new technology - There are a few reasons that cross my mind - Curiosity, affordability, need and just the desire to help technology. According to Steven Hawking, probably the most famous thinker of our times, what makes a human being different from other forms of life is his ability to think and we have to make full use of that ability. Never stop thinking. Always think about what is behind and what is beyond everything you see and hear.

Life Is Beautiful

My favorite movie of all time is "Life is Beautiful" by Roberto Benigni. I am glad I saw this film before I became a parent. To a great extent, it shaped my vision about what kind of parent I want to be which in turn changed my vision about what kind of person I want my daughter to be.

The cultural divide

Originally written on Jan 21, 2003

I am reading this novel "A Passage to India" by E M Forster. It is a story in a town called Chandrapore in pre-independence India. It is really interesting how Forster has narrated the Indian and British sentiments prevalent during the British Raj society. Today, I was reading some revelations that struck me as very true. Forster has stated that Indians are born and live with a fear. A fear towards everything. A fear about the future. A fear of strangers. A fear of new places. I think Forster is absolutely right there. He also narrates the sentiments of the British officials in India. Some of them came to India as administrators, some as teachers and some were born and brought up here. India is a home for them where they never feel at home because of the cultural divide between them and the local people.

I was wondering what really caused that cultural divide. Indians were not slaves to British. Indians were educated and many of them occupied high positions in the government (though the British certainly had an upper hand). The main character of the novel is an Indian doctor who himself is seen in situations where he desperately tries to please his British guests.

I guess the fear factor played an important role in creating that cultural divide. This looks a lot similar to the kind of cultural divide that you see here in US between Americans and Indians who have settled here. Actually, it is true about most of Asians. We have a lot of bindings to our customs and religions that we have been brain-washed with. Any deviation from a custom (for example a vegetarian venturing out to eat meat) makes the person afraid. He does not know what are the consequences to such adventurisms. It is very common that anything bad that happens afterwards is labeled as a result of the adventurism. I think, living in this constant fear of breaking a custom has made us a scared lot forcing us to sulk away into ourselves.

Devon Street

Originally written on July 11, 2005

We were in Chicago last weekend. We went to the famous Devon Ave and the China town on the first day. Went to Navy Pier and watched the fireworks on the second day.

Devon Ave was a disappointment for me. I didn't find anything particularly attractive there. It looked like a place where Indians take advantage of Indians - just like in India. Apparently, there are many Indians (who are taken advantage of) who get this false satisfaction by going there. I have great attachment to India, but I have decided that I don't need any false satisfaction related to anything Indian. I have proved to myself that I can live without my roots if necessary, but as a rule, I intend to keep good contact with the roots because that is where the nourishment comes from. For that nourishment, though, I have no plans to play into anyone's scheme. People who sell "Indian" things (whether it is clothes, food, DVDs or just the Indian atmosphere) are only taking advantage of the desperation on Indians' part to keep this contact with the roots.

Church going

Originally written on Feb 15, 2005.

I have never been a regular church-goer in my life. I kind of take pride in the lack of pressure that I received from my parents about going to church. When I was young (in the early 1970s), I remember a period when on every Sunday, all of us would catch a bus and go to Vaykara where we have about 8 acres of land (rubber and coconuts) and my parents would work on the land when we kids would wander around or sometimes helped them. I think it was very noble of my parents to do that at that time. Those Sundays must have been much more fulfilling than a whole morning spent at a church and an afternoon spent in front of the TV watching some soap operas. Well, there were no TVs at that time, but there were other equally dumb things to do.

I am not sure how those years affected my sisters, but as for me, it completely killed any interest that I would have otherwise had in church. Sometime in the late 70s, the custom of everyone going to Vaykara gradually stopped. It must have been because we kids were growing up and it was becoming a luxury for the whole family to get away for a day in the week. May be my parents started realizing that it wasn't worth for the whole family to spend a day in Vaykara or we kids were becoming more of a nuisance than of any help or we had a lot of studying to do.
Anyway, such trips became less often though every weekend my father would go. He had bought the Bajaj (scooter) in '72 or '73 and by the second half of 70s, the scooter became the primary means of going to Vaykara because the scooter would take us closer to the land than the bus. Worse, the scooter could take only two people. So, it was always either just my father or my father and one of us.

Even after that custom of going away on Sundays slowly died, nobody in the family really had any great interest in going to the church. There was one year when I think we (except my father) made an attempt. That must have been when I was about 10 years old. I was even enrolled into the Sunday school. I joined 3rd std at the Sunday school because I was too old to start with 1st std. I remember I got the 2nd place in the class at the annual exam. Towards the end of the year, I gradually lost interest and with lack of any pressure from anyone, I simply stopped going there. I didn't even go to pick up my prize for the 2nd place. My mother slowly developed the habit of going to church, but my father never had any interest in it. Even though my mother started regularly going to church, I don't ever remember her pressurizing me to go. My respect for her has only increased because of that. I think my father was religious. Or in other words, he had the fear of God, but just didn't have any interest in church. One time when I remember, he asked me to go to church was in March 1982, just before my SSLC exam when the Patriarch Bawa from Damascus visited Kerala and was touring all the churches and he came to the Orphanage chapel that was the church closest to us. This was two days before my exam started and normally, I would have been allowed to go anywhere because I was supposed to sit and study. I think my father thought I will be blessed if I go to the church. I never understood the reasoning, but decided to go anyway. It turned out to be an interesting experience to see the Bawa and about 12 other dummy bishops from Damascus riding a funny bus. The bawa himself looked like a puppet. Dr. Babu Paul had apparently written his speeches in English and Malayalam for each church that he visited. The bawa would, with struggle, read through the English speech and then Dr. Babu Paul would read the Malayalam. It was all a show. For, the first time in my life, I saw the foolishness of the crowd and how religious leader and their coterie took advantage of it and played around with them. That experience definitely didn't give me a spiritual experience. My disinterest now turned to contempt. I just started loathing the whole establishment.

Then, for the next 15 years or so, I never really went to church. In 1984, I left home for Chikmagalur. I went to church only once in my first year. That was a Kannada church which I found very attractive. It was a cold Sunday morning and we juniors were invited by some senior students to go to church with them. Though I didn't understand a word, it was a very pleasant experience. It was a church filled with poor people who all took part in the service and the songs were very sweet. The cold weather must have made it a more enlightening experience. But, it still didn't create an impact big enough to make me go to that church again. Then, I moved to Bombay. I initially lived with my cousin in New Bombay for about 6 months. He was a regular church-goer. I remember going to church with him almost regularly, but never enjoying it. One incident I clearly remember is for a Christmas eve service. I had no idea it was going to go on until midnight before we would eat. The church was very crowded and I felt completely out of place. With the church getting more and more crowded, I deliberately drifted away from my cousin and slowly slipped out of the church and went to a Malayalee restaurant and had a heavy dinner with rice and fish curry before slipping back into the church.

Anyway, after I moved out of his flat, I never went to a church again in Mumbai until about 7 years later when I went to a makeshift Malayalee Orthodox church with my friend Philip and his wife. It was a depressing experience. This was a bunch of Malayalees conducting a mass in the lowest level parking lot of a building that was under construction. For one, it was very very hot. After about 15 minutes in that place, I decided that only a completely brain-washed Christian can attend that mass and I was not one. So, I stepped out and sat in my car waiting for Philip and Sapna to come out after the service. That was towards the end of my stay in Mumbai, so I don’t think I ever went to the church again. Mumbai is very unique in its religious tolerance. All kinds of religions thrive in Mumbai. Religious practices which would otherwise be viewed as funny is viewed by Mumbaits with a passive (dis)interest. I categorize that Malayalee Orthodox service in the basement as such a funny practice. But, for some reason, an average Mumbaite who is not an Orthodox Christian doesn’t view it as funny because he has funny rituals of his own. They all have base in Mumbai – Baptist, Pentecostal, Catholics, Protestants, Anglican, Hare Rama Hare Krishna, Jain, Sikh, Marthoma, Jacobite, Orthodox, Malayalee Hindu, Tamil Hindu – they all co-exist in Mumbai without much of a problem OR so I thought until the Bombay riots broke out in 92-93. I was right in the middle of it. Hundreds of people died around me. Vehicles were set to fire, building were burnt down. All because a small spark ignited the fire of religious passion inside the Muslims and Hindus. Now I know, they all co-exist, but there are problems and all that is needed is a spark.