Tuesday, June 20, 2006
For the heck of it..
So, what did I do when I was bored? I started another blog! :) I don't promise that it is interesting or profound. But just something to put my thoughts in.
Friday, June 16, 2006
The Vancouver Diaries - VII
Sir Lancelot conquers the Enchanted Palace!
When you know what you're doing, life is uninteresting. But when you are bumbling along from one thing to another, wondering what other embarassment is in store for you right around the corner, then you don't have time to think of "boring"! :) Sometimes I felt like Sir Lancelot riding into a land full of demons, ogres, wicked sorcerers and enchanted palaces.
My personal enchanted palace was the "Vending Machine". First time I encountered it at school, I looked at it curiously. I gingerly stepped up trying to figure out what I should do.
Okay, drop coins first. I fumbled in my bag and found a bunch of coins.
Which one is a toony? ($2) Hmm...let's see...go through it one by one...ah, got it!
Okay, now drop it in and pick your drink. Now, why isn't it coming out? Hmm..
I tried hitting a couple of buttons but it didn't work. I gazed at the vending machine with awe. The sesame had chosen not to open this time. Maybe some other time.
It wasn't until one day that I saw a girl kicking the machine as hard as she could before she took out her drink, I realized that the machine was errr...a bit temperamental..:) I had to kick it to free my treasure from this enchanted palace! Aha! First victory for Lancelot!
*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Pole Star Subha!
My father's 'Enchanted Maze' was the highway system. First time we stepped out on the highway, it felt like we were going in a never ending loop!
Help! The Maze had swallowed us.
We weren't used to highways and exits and ramps and perpendicular, intersecting roads. So we went on a lovely merry-go round reading signs after we'd passed them, seeing exits after the fact, not knowing how to loop back to the highway etc... Finally, after a very interesting day, we figured out the highway system. Or I should say my father did because I was a bit late on the uptake.
Each time we missed the route and went the wrong way, my dad would ask,
"Okay, Subha. Which way do we go? Right or left?"
"Hmmm..right."
My dad would promptly turn left and that'd be the right way! So, in a way, I was kind of like the pole star leading the way unerringly, albeit in the wrong direction. If not for me, my family would still be debating whether to turn right or left. But hey, people could rely on me to take the right direction, right?
Right?
Right?
I don't hear you say "Yes, Subha. You're the best!". Humph. You are as bad as my dad. Humph.
*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sanitized Containment Rooms a.k.a "Malls"
We went to Metrotown mall and it seemed so deserted and bereft of people! Coming from the crowds of Paris corner and Ranganathan street, I felt that it looked like a sanitised hospital! Even the floors smelled of disinfectant and cleaning liquid. All stores were symmetrical and same with white walls and polished floors. Not at all distinctive unlike the "Nadar kadai" down the road in Madurai with the name board hanging at a quirky angle or "Murali Maligai Stores" with sacks full of rice and grains stocked up at the front and the unmistakable smell of red chillies tingling your nose or the Chettiar store with the smell of new, beautiful Mangalagiri cotton sarees holding the promise of a beautiful experience. I had been with my mother and grandfather to Nalli's, Kumaran's, Vairamaligai etc...in T.Nagar and they always knew my mom! I got Goldspot or coffee or tea as I chose and the owner would fawn over me and suggest things for me to buy. But this was so impersonal! Sanitinized Containment Rooms.. yeah, that'd be more appropriate than "Malls". I didn't like it!
And then, there was the first encounter with the escalator. All of us looked at it like it was some alien out to grab us and trode gingerly on it. And 5 minutes before the escalator even hit the landing, we'd mentally prepare ourselves for the landing:
Ok..one..two...one leg forward...go with the flow...don't jump...yaaaay!
Besides, once we had a Seinfeld-ian episode. Metrotown mall has huge, different levels of parking. We parked in some level and got into the mall. We wandered around happily for a while and got out at some other entrance. Then we realized we had parked somewhere else and that a mall can actually have more than one entrance. Aha.
Lesson# 1: Remember your parking level and spot number.
That'd have saved us half-an-hour of wandering around the parking lot like grumpy nomads.
*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Travel bug!
We visited Penticton one summer. It is an amazing holiday resort on the shores of Lake Okanagan. They even have their own version of the Nessie called the Ogopogo. How's that for romantic, huh? :) There are beautiful orchards all around the Okanagan area. They even have harvest festivals. Wine from the orchards there is supposed to be the most delicious.
We went to Victoria, capital of BC on a ferry across the Pacific. One thing to be said about British Columbia: it definitely is the most beautiful place on earth! What with mountains and rolling valleys and virgin forests everywhere you look, it is a sight for sore eyes. Butchart Gardens in Victoria has the most beautiful flower show. During the summer, you can see miles and miles of roses of all colors (red, orange, yellow, white) stretching as far as your eyes can see! I hadn't seen such fields of roses anywhere except in movies. It was breathtaking! There's also a wax museum nearby. The Pacific around the Vancouver Island area boasts of a lot of whale schools in its waters and you have rides that take you whale watching! An experience worth its money!
The US border was a couple of hours off Vancouver. We crossed over many times to shop in Bellingham, Portland, Seattle etc... But a stark difference at the border: Canadian authorities were always more polite and friendly than US authorities! :)
And we met a lot of interesting folks! There was a desi guy in Vancouver who held a M.E. in Mechanical Engineering and was driving cabs for a living. You'd be surprised how many well-qualified Indians end up doing menial jobs abroad! It is a pity, really. And then there was this really dynamic lady who ran the "Rim Jhim" radio station in Vancouver. We had interesting visitors too. One guy from CBI, India came to stay at our place. He looked like actor Raghuvaran..:) We heard rumours that the guy behind the Kanishka bombing in 1982 resided in Vancouver. We even met him once! He had come to my dad's bank to do some business and he seemed like such a normal, sane person. He was arrested later but I have no idea what happened to him now. We heard stories where wannabe-immigrants tore up their passports, flushed it down the airplane toilet before disembarkation and claimed refugee status. Canada is a very immigrant-friendly country and grants asylum to refugees easily.
Oh, there are so many stories, so many stories! Which one do I tell you?
*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Idiot Box beckons!
We were fascinated by the TV. Partly, because we were making do for the first few months with an old, antique TV that looked like it had been purchased in the 40s. My father’s predecessor had left it and it continued on for sometime till we got a new one. By “we” I mean the collective consciousness of my brother and I. My parents very rarely watched TV.
“Xena – Warrior Princess” was our topmost entertainer! “Hercules” followed and then came “Zinbad the Sailor”. We went crazy over these mythological figures even though the screenplay was so twisted and far from the actual myth! J But it was fun. My brother was a cartoon-maniac. He used to watch I-know-not-what shows some of which included “Banana man”! J Besides, we ended up watching Seinfeld (my once-nemesis). I think it used to air every Tuesday at 7 PM and I diligently used to clear up my homework before that so I could watch it!
*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Main Street
Main Street was our Indian street. Vancouver has a very thriving Punjabi population. And on Main Street, you'd find lots of Punjabi stores, restaurants, shops etc... We went grocery shopping there. We used to go to a Sri Lankan store for Indian groceries. Main Street was quintessentially Indian - with its smells, trash, dirt. But it was also home to many of us expatriates - where we to go to get a whiff of home! The only memorable event I had in Main Street was that I bought a length of very good quality, baby pink velvet there! Later on, in Bangalore, a designer turned it into a beautiful sharara. I still have it! :)
*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Diary will flip its next page very soon...
When you know what you're doing, life is uninteresting. But when you are bumbling along from one thing to another, wondering what other embarassment is in store for you right around the corner, then you don't have time to think of "boring"! :) Sometimes I felt like Sir Lancelot riding into a land full of demons, ogres, wicked sorcerers and enchanted palaces.
My personal enchanted palace was the "Vending Machine". First time I encountered it at school, I looked at it curiously. I gingerly stepped up trying to figure out what I should do.
Okay, drop coins first. I fumbled in my bag and found a bunch of coins.
Which one is a toony? ($2) Hmm...let's see...go through it one by one...ah, got it!
Okay, now drop it in and pick your drink. Now, why isn't it coming out? Hmm..
I tried hitting a couple of buttons but it didn't work. I gazed at the vending machine with awe. The sesame had chosen not to open this time. Maybe some other time.
It wasn't until one day that I saw a girl kicking the machine as hard as she could before she took out her drink, I realized that the machine was errr...a bit temperamental..:) I had to kick it to free my treasure from this enchanted palace! Aha! First victory for Lancelot!
*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Pole Star Subha!
My father's 'Enchanted Maze' was the highway system. First time we stepped out on the highway, it felt like we were going in a never ending loop!
Help! The Maze had swallowed us.
We weren't used to highways and exits and ramps and perpendicular, intersecting roads. So we went on a lovely merry-go round reading signs after we'd passed them, seeing exits after the fact, not knowing how to loop back to the highway etc... Finally, after a very interesting day, we figured out the highway system. Or I should say my father did because I was a bit late on the uptake.
Each time we missed the route and went the wrong way, my dad would ask,
"Okay, Subha. Which way do we go? Right or left?"
"Hmmm..right."
My dad would promptly turn left and that'd be the right way! So, in a way, I was kind of like the pole star leading the way unerringly, albeit in the wrong direction. If not for me, my family would still be debating whether to turn right or left. But hey, people could rely on me to take the right direction, right?
Right?
Right?
I don't hear you say "Yes, Subha. You're the best!". Humph. You are as bad as my dad. Humph.
*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sanitized Containment Rooms a.k.a "Malls"
We went to Metrotown mall and it seemed so deserted and bereft of people! Coming from the crowds of Paris corner and Ranganathan street, I felt that it looked like a sanitised hospital! Even the floors smelled of disinfectant and cleaning liquid. All stores were symmetrical and same with white walls and polished floors. Not at all distinctive unlike the "Nadar kadai" down the road in Madurai with the name board hanging at a quirky angle or "Murali Maligai Stores" with sacks full of rice and grains stocked up at the front and the unmistakable smell of red chillies tingling your nose or the Chettiar store with the smell of new, beautiful Mangalagiri cotton sarees holding the promise of a beautiful experience. I had been with my mother and grandfather to Nalli's, Kumaran's, Vairamaligai etc...in T.Nagar and they always knew my mom! I got Goldspot or coffee or tea as I chose and the owner would fawn over me and suggest things for me to buy. But this was so impersonal! Sanitinized Containment Rooms.. yeah, that'd be more appropriate than "Malls". I didn't like it!
And then, there was the first encounter with the escalator. All of us looked at it like it was some alien out to grab us and trode gingerly on it. And 5 minutes before the escalator even hit the landing, we'd mentally prepare ourselves for the landing:
Ok..one..two...one leg forward...go with the flow...don't jump...yaaaay!
Besides, once we had a Seinfeld-ian episode. Metrotown mall has huge, different levels of parking. We parked in some level and got into the mall. We wandered around happily for a while and got out at some other entrance. Then we realized we had parked somewhere else and that a mall can actually have more than one entrance. Aha.
Lesson# 1: Remember your parking level and spot number.
That'd have saved us half-an-hour of wandering around the parking lot like grumpy nomads.
*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Travel bug!
We visited Penticton one summer. It is an amazing holiday resort on the shores of Lake Okanagan. They even have their own version of the Nessie called the Ogopogo. How's that for romantic, huh? :) There are beautiful orchards all around the Okanagan area. They even have harvest festivals. Wine from the orchards there is supposed to be the most delicious.
We went to Victoria, capital of BC on a ferry across the Pacific. One thing to be said about British Columbia: it definitely is the most beautiful place on earth! What with mountains and rolling valleys and virgin forests everywhere you look, it is a sight for sore eyes. Butchart Gardens in Victoria has the most beautiful flower show. During the summer, you can see miles and miles of roses of all colors (red, orange, yellow, white) stretching as far as your eyes can see! I hadn't seen such fields of roses anywhere except in movies. It was breathtaking! There's also a wax museum nearby. The Pacific around the Vancouver Island area boasts of a lot of whale schools in its waters and you have rides that take you whale watching! An experience worth its money!
The US border was a couple of hours off Vancouver. We crossed over many times to shop in Bellingham, Portland, Seattle etc... But a stark difference at the border: Canadian authorities were always more polite and friendly than US authorities! :)
And we met a lot of interesting folks! There was a desi guy in Vancouver who held a M.E. in Mechanical Engineering and was driving cabs for a living. You'd be surprised how many well-qualified Indians end up doing menial jobs abroad! It is a pity, really. And then there was this really dynamic lady who ran the "Rim Jhim" radio station in Vancouver. We had interesting visitors too. One guy from CBI, India came to stay at our place. He looked like actor Raghuvaran..:) We heard rumours that the guy behind the Kanishka bombing in 1982 resided in Vancouver. We even met him once! He had come to my dad's bank to do some business and he seemed like such a normal, sane person. He was arrested later but I have no idea what happened to him now. We heard stories where wannabe-immigrants tore up their passports, flushed it down the airplane toilet before disembarkation and claimed refugee status. Canada is a very immigrant-friendly country and grants asylum to refugees easily.
Oh, there are so many stories, so many stories! Which one do I tell you?
*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Idiot Box beckons!
We were fascinated by the TV. Partly, because we were making do for the first few months with an old, antique TV that looked like it had been purchased in the 40s. My father’s predecessor had left it and it continued on for sometime till we got a new one. By “we” I mean the collective consciousness of my brother and I. My parents very rarely watched TV.
“Xena – Warrior Princess” was our topmost entertainer! “Hercules” followed and then came “Zinbad the Sailor”. We went crazy over these mythological figures even though the screenplay was so twisted and far from the actual myth! J But it was fun. My brother was a cartoon-maniac. He used to watch I-know-not-what shows some of which included “Banana man”! J Besides, we ended up watching Seinfeld (my once-nemesis). I think it used to air every Tuesday at 7 PM and I diligently used to clear up my homework before that so I could watch it!
*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Main Street
Main Street was our Indian street. Vancouver has a very thriving Punjabi population. And on Main Street, you'd find lots of Punjabi stores, restaurants, shops etc... We went grocery shopping there. We used to go to a Sri Lankan store for Indian groceries. Main Street was quintessentially Indian - with its smells, trash, dirt. But it was also home to many of us expatriates - where we to go to get a whiff of home! The only memorable event I had in Main Street was that I bought a length of very good quality, baby pink velvet there! Later on, in Bangalore, a designer turned it into a beautiful sharara. I still have it! :)
*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Diary will flip its next page very soon...
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
If.... if incase you HAVE TO switch fields once in every 5 years between your 30 to 50 yrs of age assuming that your monetary needs are taken care in upper-middle class standards, what (4-5 professions) you would wish to do (and say few words about it) ?
Priya had tagged me and here are my choices:
I've always had this secret wish of being a journalist. I enjoy writing and it'd be a dream come true to cover exciting happenings. Maybe, like Burkha Dutt, I'd get a chance to be at the warfront etc...Beats sitting at a computer all day long, in any case!
Second, I'd like to pursue music more seriously. It has always received short shrift from my end when priorities conflicted. I gave up formal Carnatic singing many years ago and after that, I just practice off and on. I’d devote 5 years to music!
Third, I wish to backpack across Europe. I love seeing new places and some of my friends who have done backpacking call it an unforgettable experience. I think I'd like to earn money as I go, do small jobs in different countries and move on.
Fourth, I’d like to spend my old age in Srirangam. Just go to the temple, listen to music, sit in on parayanams, harikathas, eat well and be at peace on the banks of the Cauvery! :)
Priya had tagged me and here are my choices:
I've always had this secret wish of being a journalist. I enjoy writing and it'd be a dream come true to cover exciting happenings. Maybe, like Burkha Dutt, I'd get a chance to be at the warfront etc...Beats sitting at a computer all day long, in any case!
Second, I'd like to pursue music more seriously. It has always received short shrift from my end when priorities conflicted. I gave up formal Carnatic singing many years ago and after that, I just practice off and on. I’d devote 5 years to music!
Third, I wish to backpack across Europe. I love seeing new places and some of my friends who have done backpacking call it an unforgettable experience. I think I'd like to earn money as I go, do small jobs in different countries and move on.
Fourth, I’d like to spend my old age in Srirangam. Just go to the temple, listen to music, sit in on parayanams, harikathas, eat well and be at peace on the banks of the Cauvery! :)
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
The Vancouver Diaries - VI
Left: A picture of Burnaby, BC. The mountains in the background were my view when I walked to school everyday. Courtesy: WikipediaRain, Rain Go Away...
The one thing you'd have to hate about Vancouver is the incessant damp, rainy weather. You have rain 300 days of the year! The only time you can catch a peep of the Sun God is during the summer months of July-August (if you're lucky!). Someone told me that Seattle has the highest suicide rate in the US of A because of its rain. I am not surprised. Vancouver, just 3 hours away from Seattle, used to drive me crazy!
The entire weather system used to confound me. Being a typical Indian, I was only used to Hot, Hotter and Hottest seasons. I was witnessing the four seasons - Winter, Spring, Summer and Autumn - for the first time! My walk from my home to school took me 20 minutes and I used to love that walk during Autumn! Bright red, green and yellow maple leaves strewn on the road creating a carpet of colors were a novelty to me! The snow capped mountain peaks formed a background to the hilly, curvy road leading to my school. I used to savour the fresh, mountain air as I walked to school everyday! It was heaven.
Winter was not really that bad. The warm currents of the Pacific kept us reasonably warm. During winter, the sun used to rise at 8.30 AM and set at around 3.00 PM. Darkness descended within 3.30-4.00 in the afternoon. I was gloomy and upset because of that. During the summer, it was the other way around. The sun was around till 11 in the night sometimes and it rose as early as 4.30 in the morning! I used to feel extremely awake by 6 with sunlight filtering through the blinds prodding me to get out of bed! I hated that.
My brother and I were dying to see snowfall. We were a bit disappointed early on when people told us that Vancouver never received that much snow. Our prayers were answered. Vancouver had the heaviest snowfall in decades during the Winter of 1996. Our driveway, lawn and backyard were fully covered with 6-9 inches of snow. All of us stayed up at night to watch the magic of falling snowflakes covering the ground in a robe of pristine white.
Huh. We didn't know what awaited us next morning. My dad sounded the alarm first.
"Uhh..hey guys, want to come down for a minute?"
My brother and I looked sleepily at each other and dragged ourselves downstairs. Mom was busy cooking.
"What?"
"Look at that!"
My father pointed dramatically to the front of the garage. We followed his gaze and gasped. Foot high Snow had piled up outside the garade door! There's no way my dad was going to get the car out unless he happened to be Moses parting the red seas.
My nose, meanwhile, was getting red in the cold. I rubbed it slowly and said,
"So what do we do?"
"We take a shovel and clear the driveway."
"Noooooooooooooo"
My brother and I cried in unison. But there was nothing else to be done.
So we donned our winter jackets, cap, gloves and all of us went to work on the driveway. We dug out a shovel from somewhere in the garage , my father took out a packet of salt and off we went to work like little soldiers. I realized that day that having a huge, long driveway overlooking a big lawn doesn't only look pretty; It means a LOT of work. For some 40 minutes we laboured to carve a path.
"Whew. You wish for more snow?" I asked my brother.
He shook his head huffing and puffing.
"No snow. I don't want to spend all my mornings like this!"
After we cleared the drive, we even took a triumphant picture in front of our garage. I don't have it with me here. It is in my parents' album. I looked at it even this time when I went to India..:)
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**
The Godfather
School stinked for a while. I had no friends, no lunch partners, nothing in common. Zilch. Zip. Nada. I was under pressure on the academic side as well. I shed a lot of silent tears wondering why in the world I was going through this. But I realized soon enough crying wasn't going to solve my problems. I got in this despondent mood especially after Physics 11. I was getting out of Physics class one day, my shoulders hunched, head down - the picture of misery.
Darn. I'd have to take another long route to go to the North Building.
I had to avoid the bully guys. As if all my troubles were not enough, I was in trouble with the Italian boys "mafia". We called them the school "mafia". They tried to look typically Italian - lots of grease on their hair, an arrogant gait, fast cars. In retrospect, I think they were inspired by John Travolta's "Grease". They used to bully and tease a lot of "uncool" people (as they called them). I was sitting in the cafeteria one day doing some homework with a Chinese friend. These guys walked in and sat at the next table.
"Hey, she looks new!" One of them called out pointing at me.
I kept my head down, my heart pounding.
"C'mon, less go talk to her!"
By now, my head was deeply buried within my Math book. If I could've dug a hole through the pages, I am pretty sure I'd have stuck my head inside it.
"Hey, who are you?"
"Err.. I am Subha" and I stuck out my hand as a greeting.
One of them snickered and waved my hand away.
Yeah, sure. You dumbass.
The first guy was tall and dark with so much grease on his hair that I thought it was going to drip on me. I stared at him.
He grabbed my Math book.
"What're you doing?"
"Homework."
"Will you buy us all lunch?"
My heart raced.
How do you answer this question? Do I say no? yes? Oh God!
"Err..I don't have that much money", I answered truthfully.
"Hey, listen guys. She doesnt have money. What're you doing to eat?"
"Err..I was thinking Apple Pie.."
"Go get it.."
Am I getting away so easily? Thank heavens.
I moved to the counter and got my apple pie.
"Come here...", they called.
I took my apple pie with me, shivering a bit. After all, 6 huge, muscular guys do seem scary especially when you are 15, new, small compared to them and they're busy bullying you! :) A very unnecessary, unseeming comparison popped into my head.
I am a midget. An insect in a world of mammoths. Whatever! Why am I trying to make a metaphor out of my misery?? Shut up, brain! I don't need your literary eloquence now. Oh gosh, now I am talking to my brain. How sad is that?
"Sit."
I obeyed. Other students in the cafeteria were now watching the drama unfold. The next moment the tall guy picked up my fresh, new Apple pie and smacked it on my face.
I heard racuous laughter as they left the cafeteria. I burst into tears more out of shame and embarassment than anything else! I ran out the cafeteria, tears blinding me, looking for the washroom.
I HATED SCHOOL!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I meet a friend
After that, I avoided those guys taking circuitous routes to my class. Thinking of that incident, I went to my locker and was getting ready for another class when I saw a familiar face nearby. M was in two of the classes I was taking. She had raven black hair styled in a boycut and soft, European features. I knew she was deadly smart because she cracked some of the tough homework problems in Physics. And the other reason I remembered her was because she always had a green apple with her.
She called me in thick, accented English.
"Are you going to Math?"
I nodded my head looking at her curiously.
"Can I walk with you?"
Sure. God, you're actually listening to me. Now I don't have to cross mafia territory alone.
Outwardly, I smiled and said yes.
For the first time in 3 months, someone actually wanted my company! I cannot tell you what a relief that was. Of course, I talked with a lot of other students. But none of them were what you could call friends. All of them were "hi-bye" types. I felt a happy warmth pervading my body despite the winter cold.
Maybe, I can be friends with her.
You want someone to care if you don't turn up for class one day. You want someone to share lunch with you and sit and talk of mundane things that happened. You want someone to share your crush on that cute guy down the hall. Above all, you want to belong. I think the reason I cried in the cafeteria after the bullying session was because there was none who would come to me and comfort me after that. There was none who would lend their shoulder to me and say, "Hey, its ok!".
I know I make meeting a new friend sound a big epic victory. But then, that's how it was with me back then! I was glad MJ walked with me to Math class that day.
The Diary will continue to write itself....
Friday, June 02, 2006
After a very long hiatus, I posted in Tamil today! It is a pleasure to write in Tamizh! Happy weekend, people! :)
Monday, May 29, 2006
Dayton Temple
Vancouver Dairies -6 will be out in a couple of days...:) Till then, here's some photos I took over the Memorial Day weekend....
Dayton Temple - retouched in Photoshop
Dayton Temple - With a Pastel Shades filter in Photoshop
Dayton Temple - retouched in Photoshop
Dayton Temple - With a Pastel Shades filter in PhotoshopFriday, May 26, 2006
Ella Enchanting!
I have wanted to listen to jazz music for a while but I never got around to it. B made me a CD of "Ella in Rome - The Birthday Concert". I had never heard of Ella Fitzgerald until B mentioned her. On a really cloudy, rainy Thursday evening, I popped this CD in and turned up the volume. Tired as I was, I just sat back, closed my eyes and relaxed.It turned out to be the perfect music to listen to on a slow, rainy evening! :)
For a 1958 live recording, the sound is amazingly clear. In today's music, with all the synthesised sounds,voices and instruments, sometimes the real voice of the singer is hard to hear. Not so with this album. I could hear Ella's beautiful voice loud and clear in all its vibrancy. I could feel her enthusiasm and emotion in singing every song. A few lyrics - "Stomping in the Savoy" and "The Lady is a Tramp" - cracked me up ( you can hear some people in the crowd laughing too) . "Angel Eyes" and "I Can't Give You Anything but Love" were my favorites. Another thing special about this album (maybe because it is live) is that you can feel the spontaneity. Spontaneity, especially in the singer, is truly infectious. I have seen it in SPB's concerts where he totally enjoys the nuances of a song as he sings it and the crowd gets in step with him..:) Ella reminded me of SPB.
Overall, it made for an excellent music experience. Do try to listen to it if you get a chance. Thank you, B! :)
PS: Strangely, what started all this off was a monotone, B &W picture of Unnikrishnan on one of his CDs. I was listening to it and B thought the image resembled Ella! Strange how music around the world connects...:)
For a 1958 live recording, the sound is amazingly clear. In today's music, with all the synthesised sounds,voices and instruments, sometimes the real voice of the singer is hard to hear. Not so with this album. I could hear Ella's beautiful voice loud and clear in all its vibrancy. I could feel her enthusiasm and emotion in singing every song. A few lyrics - "Stomping in the Savoy" and "The Lady is a Tramp" - cracked me up ( you can hear some people in the crowd laughing too) . "Angel Eyes" and "I Can't Give You Anything but Love" were my favorites. Another thing special about this album (maybe because it is live) is that you can feel the spontaneity. Spontaneity, especially in the singer, is truly infectious. I have seen it in SPB's concerts where he totally enjoys the nuances of a song as he sings it and the crowd gets in step with him..:) Ella reminded me of SPB.
Overall, it made for an excellent music experience. Do try to listen to it if you get a chance. Thank you, B! :)
PS: Strangely, what started all this off was a monotone, B &W picture of Unnikrishnan on one of his CDs. I was listening to it and B thought the image resembled Ella! Strange how music around the world connects...:)
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Confessions of a pinkaphobic!
"Confessions of a Shopaholic" by Sophie Kinsella is maddeningly addictive. When RS lent me the book, the very pink cover seemed to shout "Stay away" to me. You see, I hate pink (Ahem..Why do girls have to like pink anyway?).
I expected a girly-girl book and it was sachcharinely so! All Becky Bloomwood seemed to do is shop, shop, shop. So much so, that all her days seemed pretty much the same to me. I flipped a few pages and I was going, "Huh? Is she nuts?". Then I flipped some more pages and I got bored. Becky seemed such a far cry from myself and anyone else I could relate to. Do such utterly irresponsible, disorganized, confused, aimless, shopaholic people exist in this world? :) (I admit I am pretty confused myself but I do know to stop shopping if I have a $5000 debt on my Visa card! And I very definitely won't hide my bills in a drawer and hope that they'd go away.) I couldn't take the overdose of shopping at one go. I put the book aside.
A couple of days later, I went home for lunch and saw this book lying around. Hell, I'll read a couple of pages just to keep me entertained (Yes, I do have this very bad habit of reading while eating. My parents tried in vain to correct me. But alas..). And before I knew it, I kept reading a couple of pages every day and now I am hooked. :)
Despite being a pinkaphobic, Becky has successfully gotten my attention. I hope to finish it off this weekend.
I expected a girly-girl book and it was sachcharinely so! All Becky Bloomwood seemed to do is shop, shop, shop. So much so, that all her days seemed pretty much the same to me. I flipped a few pages and I was going, "Huh? Is she nuts?". Then I flipped some more pages and I got bored. Becky seemed such a far cry from myself and anyone else I could relate to. Do such utterly irresponsible, disorganized, confused, aimless, shopaholic people exist in this world? :) (I admit I am pretty confused myself but I do know to stop shopping if I have a $5000 debt on my Visa card! And I very definitely won't hide my bills in a drawer and hope that they'd go away.) I couldn't take the overdose of shopping at one go. I put the book aside.
A couple of days later, I went home for lunch and saw this book lying around. Hell, I'll read a couple of pages just to keep me entertained (Yes, I do have this very bad habit of reading while eating. My parents tried in vain to correct me. But alas..). And before I knew it, I kept reading a couple of pages every day and now I am hooked. :)
Despite being a pinkaphobic, Becky has successfully gotten my attention. I hope to finish it off this weekend.
Friday, May 05, 2006
The Vancouver Diaries - V
"Class, we're going to have an ice cream business as our business project... .."
I've always struggled for a balance between knowledge and ignorance. Knowledge means growth and growth is always painful. The more you know, the more you question, the more you think. A refined thought process is said to make one a better person. But there are some moments when I stop to ask myself: is it really worth going through some experiences or gaining knowledge? It is like the concept of 'Maya'. Knowing that all the world is just an illusion and there's a higher truth behind it all doesn't give you peace. Somehow the idea that the world around you could be an illusion is a shattering thought, isn't it? It means that all you believed is not true. So, you seek more, question more....But people who haven't even bothered to think of this idea can be peaceful, happy simply because they are ignorant!
"....We are going to run this business for one month. Representatives from this class are going to be executives and I won't interfere for the course of the project..."
Of course, my experience was nowhere akin to seeking some higher truth..:) But if I hadn't gone to Canada, would I have been for the worse? So what if I didn't know how to survive in another culture? How was any of this going to help me out? How different was I going to be from my friends back in India? Wouldn't it be awesome to be naive, ignorant, trusting and simple?
"....We will see how well you can apply business principles and the profit we make is going to be turned over to charity.."
The fact was that I was stressed, lonely and irritated and I was searching for meaning behind having to deal with all these things. I'd have so preferred to be a normal school kid in India with her friends, her own small circle of people she could depend on, familiar faces, familiar places, a set path for life....How nice would that be!
I was lost in the contemplation about...er..as corny as it may sound, the meaning of Life (I do sound so confused like Becky Bloomwood from "Confessions of a Shopaholic"! Eeks!) when someone prodded me from behind. Startled, I half-rose from my seat.
"Okay, Subha, you want to be VP of Finance?"
"Huh...err..ahem," I mumbled with embarassment. What was going on? I had tuned off Mrs. B's voice a long time back. VP of Finance? I turned around and glared at Barbara who sat behind me.
"Why did you poke me?" I whispered fiercely.
She mouthed, "Its ok." and gave me the thumbs up. I rolled my eyes.
"Anyone else interested?", Mrs. B asked.
Jenny, who sat in the next row, was the "cool" girl of the school. She was quite popular, involved in a lot of projects and generally nasty to everyone. She uncrossed her legs gracefully and stood.
"Okay, Jenny. You want to run for Finance too? We'll take a vote."
I got a haughty, condescending look from Jenny.
Oh, you are so sure of your popularity! How I wish I could punch you in the face!
Needless to say, she won and I was left red-faced and annoyed. I did end up with VP of Personnel but that wasn't much of a consolation to me! That should teach me to philosophize during class! Hell, I thought, why did Barbara have to startle me?
*************
"Hey, you should try smoking once."
Eva and I were talking between brush strokes in our painting class.
"No Eva, I am okay. Not curious to try."
"No, I insist", she leaned toward me and whispered conspiratorially. "It is AMAZING. I do it with my bf all the time."
She giggled. I stared woefully at my dolphin. I wasn't getting the shades right. Darn! I forgot what Mrs. Tobin said about mixing charcoal grey and white! Hopefully, I should get a B at least. It would really stink if I got a "C" in Drawing and Painting.
"So?"
I looked up distracted from my reverie. Eva was looking at me eagerly, her eyes dancing mischief.
"Uh..Eva, I think I am going to skip. I have to go somewhere this evening."
She made a face at me and laughed.
***************
Physics 11 was my nightmare. The first day I walked in they had a "quiz". I was handed a piece of paper and some 20 questions on Newton's laws. All of them were numerical problems. I was used to the theory oriented methods of India and the jump in syllabus was really pretty startling. Totally taken aback and unprepared, I did horrendously. I was ready to burst into tears. But then, what's the point of crying?
Vicky used to sit next to me in Physics. She was a very friendly, helpful soul. But I disliked the number of "likes" she used in her sentence. In fact, I had a problem with that everywhere in Burnaby North. She, for her part, said,
"You know, you should like slow down. Like your English is just too fast and I, like, can't really get it. We are not like used to Queen's English."
Okay. Whatever.
****************
English literature and English were my favourite classes for a while. I was comfortable with Mrs. T and Mrs. S. It was fun and I was in my elements. I enjoyed the way Shakespeare was taught. There were discussions about style, allusions, metaphors, oxymorons, contextual influences etc...We even got to act out a part of King Lear! I was supposed to be King Lear and I got the famous "Howl, howl, howl..." finale of Lear. I was afraid that if I messed up, I would be the butt of jokes. But everyone was much more tolerant than what I imagined. All kids made some mistakes while presenting and they shrugged it off. There was no expectation of giving a "perfect" talk or presentation. Mistakes were normal and you learnt from them. I liked that about Burnaby North. People were so casual (unlike India where you'd be the butt of jokes even if you made one silly error in front of class)!
Mrs. S was amazing with the Romantic poets. Byron, Keats and Shelley came to life in her soulful reading and dreamy interpretations. I can still remember, word for word, her reading of Shelley's "Ode to the West Wind". I still catch my breath when I remember the experience!
******************
My brother and I were tickled to death with social courtesies. It was so unlike India. If you went to a desi party, the kids were consigned to a separate floor of the house (it was either the basement or the attic) while the adults talked shop and had fun. My parents really did not understand the philosophy behind this segregation and didn't see a reason for it. We, for our part, were quite unused to being hustled off to a basement as soon as we entered. One time we went to a party, we were dutifully in the basement of the house with 6-7 other kids. The host's son was a particularly short and thin kid of about 7-8 years of age. He, for some reason, took a dislike to my brother. He pulled all sorts of weird faces and expressions till my brother wasn't sure if he was having some kind of a spasm or if this was his normal state of being.
"Subha, what's with this guy?"
"I don't know", I whispered back giggling uncontrollably.
The conversation was unlike anything we were used to. The question of the evening amongst the other kids seemed to be this: Which is more gross? Picking one's nose or peeing in public?
"So what do you guys think?"
My brother and I looked at each other's faces struggling to keep our laughter contained.
"Err..I think its fun to hear you guys discuss it...", I said keeping my face straight. My brother was totally red in the face with supressed laughter!
To add to my brother's misery, for the entire length of the evening, the-kid-who-hated-my-brother kept asking him,
"Can I punch you in the face?"
The joke was that he was nearly half-a-foot shorter and skinnier than my brother! :)
"Subha, can I punch him? I can easily just floor him. He is driving me nuts!!"
"B, no way! You'll be in trouble with mom and dad. Shut up."
"Grrr.. I can't stand it anymore! Why do they have to shut us up in the basement with weirdos like these? I want to go upstairs and have some decent conversation."
And we were mightily relieved when the "party" was over! :)
Of course, not all parties were like that. The guy-who-hated-my-brother later became my brother's good friend. We began liking parties later on. But it is always the rite of passage that's interesting....:)
I've always struggled for a balance between knowledge and ignorance. Knowledge means growth and growth is always painful. The more you know, the more you question, the more you think. A refined thought process is said to make one a better person. But there are some moments when I stop to ask myself: is it really worth going through some experiences or gaining knowledge? It is like the concept of 'Maya'. Knowing that all the world is just an illusion and there's a higher truth behind it all doesn't give you peace. Somehow the idea that the world around you could be an illusion is a shattering thought, isn't it? It means that all you believed is not true. So, you seek more, question more....But people who haven't even bothered to think of this idea can be peaceful, happy simply because they are ignorant!
"....We are going to run this business for one month. Representatives from this class are going to be executives and I won't interfere for the course of the project..."
Of course, my experience was nowhere akin to seeking some higher truth..:) But if I hadn't gone to Canada, would I have been for the worse? So what if I didn't know how to survive in another culture? How was any of this going to help me out? How different was I going to be from my friends back in India? Wouldn't it be awesome to be naive, ignorant, trusting and simple?
"....We will see how well you can apply business principles and the profit we make is going to be turned over to charity.."
The fact was that I was stressed, lonely and irritated and I was searching for meaning behind having to deal with all these things. I'd have so preferred to be a normal school kid in India with her friends, her own small circle of people she could depend on, familiar faces, familiar places, a set path for life....How nice would that be!
I was lost in the contemplation about...er..as corny as it may sound, the meaning of Life (I do sound so confused like Becky Bloomwood from "Confessions of a Shopaholic"! Eeks!) when someone prodded me from behind. Startled, I half-rose from my seat.
"Okay, Subha, you want to be VP of Finance?"
"Huh...err..ahem," I mumbled with embarassment. What was going on? I had tuned off Mrs. B's voice a long time back. VP of Finance? I turned around and glared at Barbara who sat behind me.
"Why did you poke me?" I whispered fiercely.
She mouthed, "Its ok." and gave me the thumbs up. I rolled my eyes.
"Anyone else interested?", Mrs. B asked.
Jenny, who sat in the next row, was the "cool" girl of the school. She was quite popular, involved in a lot of projects and generally nasty to everyone. She uncrossed her legs gracefully and stood.
"Okay, Jenny. You want to run for Finance too? We'll take a vote."
I got a haughty, condescending look from Jenny.
Oh, you are so sure of your popularity! How I wish I could punch you in the face!
Needless to say, she won and I was left red-faced and annoyed. I did end up with VP of Personnel but that wasn't much of a consolation to me! That should teach me to philosophize during class! Hell, I thought, why did Barbara have to startle me?
*************
"Hey, you should try smoking once."
Eva and I were talking between brush strokes in our painting class.
"No Eva, I am okay. Not curious to try."
"No, I insist", she leaned toward me and whispered conspiratorially. "It is AMAZING. I do it with my bf all the time."
She giggled. I stared woefully at my dolphin. I wasn't getting the shades right. Darn! I forgot what Mrs. Tobin said about mixing charcoal grey and white! Hopefully, I should get a B at least. It would really stink if I got a "C" in Drawing and Painting.
"So?"
I looked up distracted from my reverie. Eva was looking at me eagerly, her eyes dancing mischief.
"Uh..Eva, I think I am going to skip. I have to go somewhere this evening."
She made a face at me and laughed.
***************
Physics 11 was my nightmare. The first day I walked in they had a "quiz". I was handed a piece of paper and some 20 questions on Newton's laws. All of them were numerical problems. I was used to the theory oriented methods of India and the jump in syllabus was really pretty startling. Totally taken aback and unprepared, I did horrendously. I was ready to burst into tears. But then, what's the point of crying?
Vicky used to sit next to me in Physics. She was a very friendly, helpful soul. But I disliked the number of "likes" she used in her sentence. In fact, I had a problem with that everywhere in Burnaby North. She, for her part, said,
"You know, you should like slow down. Like your English is just too fast and I, like, can't really get it. We are not like used to Queen's English."
Okay. Whatever.
****************
English literature and English were my favourite classes for a while. I was comfortable with Mrs. T and Mrs. S. It was fun and I was in my elements. I enjoyed the way Shakespeare was taught. There were discussions about style, allusions, metaphors, oxymorons, contextual influences etc...We even got to act out a part of King Lear! I was supposed to be King Lear and I got the famous "Howl, howl, howl..." finale of Lear. I was afraid that if I messed up, I would be the butt of jokes. But everyone was much more tolerant than what I imagined. All kids made some mistakes while presenting and they shrugged it off. There was no expectation of giving a "perfect" talk or presentation. Mistakes were normal and you learnt from them. I liked that about Burnaby North. People were so casual (unlike India where you'd be the butt of jokes even if you made one silly error in front of class)!
Mrs. S was amazing with the Romantic poets. Byron, Keats and Shelley came to life in her soulful reading and dreamy interpretations. I can still remember, word for word, her reading of Shelley's "Ode to the West Wind". I still catch my breath when I remember the experience!
******************
My brother and I were tickled to death with social courtesies. It was so unlike India. If you went to a desi party, the kids were consigned to a separate floor of the house (it was either the basement or the attic) while the adults talked shop and had fun. My parents really did not understand the philosophy behind this segregation and didn't see a reason for it. We, for our part, were quite unused to being hustled off to a basement as soon as we entered. One time we went to a party, we were dutifully in the basement of the house with 6-7 other kids. The host's son was a particularly short and thin kid of about 7-8 years of age. He, for some reason, took a dislike to my brother. He pulled all sorts of weird faces and expressions till my brother wasn't sure if he was having some kind of a spasm or if this was his normal state of being.
"Subha, what's with this guy?"
"I don't know", I whispered back giggling uncontrollably.
The conversation was unlike anything we were used to. The question of the evening amongst the other kids seemed to be this: Which is more gross? Picking one's nose or peeing in public?
"So what do you guys think?"
My brother and I looked at each other's faces struggling to keep our laughter contained.
"Err..I think its fun to hear you guys discuss it...", I said keeping my face straight. My brother was totally red in the face with supressed laughter!
To add to my brother's misery, for the entire length of the evening, the-kid-who-hated-my-brother kept asking him,
"Can I punch you in the face?"
The joke was that he was nearly half-a-foot shorter and skinnier than my brother! :)
"Subha, can I punch him? I can easily just floor him. He is driving me nuts!!"
"B, no way! You'll be in trouble with mom and dad. Shut up."
"Grrr.. I can't stand it anymore! Why do they have to shut us up in the basement with weirdos like these? I want to go upstairs and have some decent conversation."
And we were mightily relieved when the "party" was over! :)
Of course, not all parties were like that. The guy-who-hated-my-brother later became my brother's good friend. We began liking parties later on. But it is always the rite of passage that's interesting....:)
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Pandora, Tindora etc...
I am a sucker for Indian style vegetables. I only say "Indian style" because we use it a lot in our cooking. True to being a proper Tamilian, I like pumpkins, senaikizhangu, seppangizhangu, sakkarai valli kizhangu, chow-chow etc... Now, I don't know the English equivalents of many of these veggies. To me, they will always be in Tamizh.
I found 'kasturi manjal' in the grocery shop this past weekend. I got so excited that I shrieked,
"Is that kasturi manjal?"
I have no idea why I was so elated because I never use it anywhere! Maybe because it was a whiff of home?
So my friend sniffed around a bit and confirmed my deduction.
So, in true Indian style, I pinched off a teeny tiny bit of kasturi manjal (That's all you buy, you know. I am pretty sure none will buy 2 lbs of kasturi manjal!) and dropped it in a biiiiiiiiig grocery bag. And humming happily, I finished the rest of my shopping and headed off to checkout.
The checkout person almost thought it was an empty bag (He was a rather cute college kid. You know, the ones with a cute, lost expression?). Then he fished around the bag and found my teeny, tiny bit of kasturi manjal. He gave it a rather curious look.
"What's this?"
"Ummm..I don't know."
A pause. What could you call kasturi manjal? I was quickly thinking of a translation for "kasturi". Ok, maybe I could translate "manjal" easily. "manjal" is turmeric. So it is kasturi turmeric? He was looking at that tiny piece from different angles. Like it was going to yield an answer if he looked at it from a 47 degree angle! I could sense the "Lady, you don't know what you're buyin'??" hovering in the air.
So I hastily covered it up with a,
"Ohh..I know what it is but I don't know the English equivalent!"
"Uhh..ok..Hey Cathy, you know what this is?"
Cathy now turned around. I was feeling like a terrorist who was passing customs. She looked at it and thought for a few moments and said,
"Oh, that's Tindora. It is an international produce."
I sighed with relief. It had a name, after all. So, people, its tindora! :) It is sitting in my fridge and I haven't touched it since the day I got it. But I like having it around...:)
I found 'kasturi manjal' in the grocery shop this past weekend. I got so excited that I shrieked,
"Is that kasturi manjal?"
I have no idea why I was so elated because I never use it anywhere! Maybe because it was a whiff of home?
So my friend sniffed around a bit and confirmed my deduction.
So, in true Indian style, I pinched off a teeny tiny bit of kasturi manjal (That's all you buy, you know. I am pretty sure none will buy 2 lbs of kasturi manjal!) and dropped it in a biiiiiiiiig grocery bag. And humming happily, I finished the rest of my shopping and headed off to checkout.
The checkout person almost thought it was an empty bag (He was a rather cute college kid. You know, the ones with a cute, lost expression?). Then he fished around the bag and found my teeny, tiny bit of kasturi manjal. He gave it a rather curious look.
"What's this?"
"Ummm..I don't know."
A pause. What could you call kasturi manjal? I was quickly thinking of a translation for "kasturi". Ok, maybe I could translate "manjal" easily. "manjal" is turmeric. So it is kasturi turmeric? He was looking at that tiny piece from different angles. Like it was going to yield an answer if he looked at it from a 47 degree angle! I could sense the "Lady, you don't know what you're buyin'??" hovering in the air.
So I hastily covered it up with a,
"Ohh..I know what it is but I don't know the English equivalent!"
"Uhh..ok..Hey Cathy, you know what this is?"
Cathy now turned around. I was feeling like a terrorist who was passing customs. She looked at it and thought for a few moments and said,
"Oh, that's Tindora. It is an international produce."
I sighed with relief. It had a name, after all. So, people, its tindora! :) It is sitting in my fridge and I haven't touched it since the day I got it. But I like having it around...:)
Monday, April 24, 2006
The Vancouver Diaries- IV
Days that were really important to me - the day I stepped into my first school, the day I met my best friend, first crush, first love, first major disappointment, first job, prom, graduation - have all been surprisingly very ordinary, mundane days! No firecrackers in the background. No razzmatazz. No appropriate ambience (rain on a disappointing day, sunny when I have a crush etc...). No background music. Just ordinary, sometimes even boring, days. Funny how appearances can be so deceptive! Little did I know back then that the nondescript rainy, grey day I stepped into Vancouver was going to be the beginning of a rich set of experiences, one that'd mould me in ways I'd not even imagined....
We were put up at the Tropicana Motor Inn on Robson Street for the first three weeks or so. I was recovering from severe jetlag. My dad had to go to work almost the next day. My brother and I had to wait for two weeks before we could get our student authorization and go to school. So my mom, brother and I spent our days sleeping, eating, watching TV. TV watching is a funny experience when you can't follow the accent that well. We used to religiously watch a series of programs just to understand the accent!
10.00 AM Charlie's Angels
11.00 AM Remington Steele
12.00 PM Mission Impossible
[break for lunch]
3.00 PM Spiderman
and so on!
There was a wonderful Icecream place on Robson (not sure if its there now) called "Cows". The icecream is just heavenly there. I was still on a rigorous diet while my brother enjoyed icecreams and annoyed me. I had just graduated to eating rice with saltless dal.
*************************
"Ummm...what is this?"
"Dear, this is your class schedule. Okay?", my high school counselor, Mrs. Gioia, said.
I was staring at a piece of paper that looked something like this with a legend underneath:
Monday A B Lunch C D
Tuesday E F Lunch G H
Wednesday B A Lunch D C
Thursday F E Lunch H G
Friday A B Lunch C D
"These are your blocks for today", she continued.
I was mystified. For me, blocks were something that two-year-olds played with. What in the world were blocks? And what was with the confusing schedule? It seems so simple now but back then, it was a huge effort for me to figure it out!
I staggered out the door heading for Block F in Room 203, North building. I had no idea where North Building was.
"Uh..excuse me. Where's the North building?" I asked a huge, straggly giant with a spiky hairdo.
He gave me a weird look that had "Dude, where are you from?" written all over it and wordlessly pointed at a door.
I was already late for class. I ran around looking for Room 203. I didn't know 203 would be in the second floor..:) I had to figure it out by trial and error! When I finally did find it, huffing and puffing, it was locked. There was none there. I was near tears. I ran back to my counselor. She made a couple of phone calls and directed me to go to the library. Class had adjourned there for some project.
I went to the library (this was another big Crusade for me to find the library) to find a bunch of students in different states of poring over some textbooks. I looked around wondering what to do all the while, quite aware that 20-something people were staring at me furtively. An old guy with spectacles walked by and said,
"Can I help you?"
"Yeah..uhh..here for Social Studies. I am new.."
He stared at me over his glasses and directed me to a table where three other kids were already seated. A girl looked up and said a bright hello. I was a bit relieved. I smiled slightly.
"Your assignment - a report on Pierre Trudeau. Class has already been working on it the past two weeks. Due on Friday. Must be typed and two pages long." He barked.
Who in the world was Pierre Trudeau? Report - what sort of a report? Typed? I don't have a computer as yet. Where do I type it? Great, Friday is tomorrow and I have no clue what all this is!
*********************************************
"Okay, kids, today we are going to watch a comedy piece. You've been given a questionnaire. I expect you to turn it in end of class. All questions are from this piece we are going to watch. Ok?"
Mr. Bain was my Career and Personal Planning teacher.
What is CAPP? They have classes for this?!!! What in the world....
I was mystified. I was sitting at a table with 6 other Chinese kids. They were all chattering away in Cantonese ignoring me completely.
Jeez, did I come to Canada or China? Why are they not talking to me?
I tried a feeble "hi" to the girl next to me but she turned her face away. Great, I thought. Just what I need.
Meanwhile, Mr. Bain rolled a TV into the class and turned off lights.
Is this even a class? We are going to watch TV inside a classroom?? Ok, let's see..
A tall, lanky guy with weird hair zooms into an apartment. He says something to a short, fat, bald guy called George.
What in the world? I can't understand the accent at all! Why is everyone laughing?! Just because the guy walked in the door??!
Tall, lanky guy opens refrigerator and takes a drink. Jerry looks at him.
Everyone's laughing again?? Why am I so dumb? I can't figure out anything! Oh my god, I can't relate to anything/anyone here! How am I going to survive?
At the end of the class, I hadn't really latched onto one single dialogue. I didn't find anything funny and I was staring desperately at the questionnaire in my hand wondering how to complete it. It was for 10 points which made it even worse.
That, ladies and gentlemen, was my first introduction to Seinfeld! :) Oh and I'd have to be the first kid in Burnaby North to have scored a pathetic 3/10 on a quiz about a Seinfeld episode..:))
And thus began life at Burnaby North Higher Secondary School!
********************************
All these memories are like wine - the older, the better! One of my best friends, Monica, once gave me "That Boy is Mine" by Monica and Brandi as a birthday gift. In "Angel of Mine" from that album, there's a line that goes, "Now I know why they say that the best things in life are free..". I think its true. Would I be what I am today without all those experiences? Would my life have been the same if I hadn't met some wonderful people in Vancouver?
The diary will flip its next page soon...
We were put up at the Tropicana Motor Inn on Robson Street for the first three weeks or so. I was recovering from severe jetlag. My dad had to go to work almost the next day. My brother and I had to wait for two weeks before we could get our student authorization and go to school. So my mom, brother and I spent our days sleeping, eating, watching TV. TV watching is a funny experience when you can't follow the accent that well. We used to religiously watch a series of programs just to understand the accent!
10.00 AM Charlie's Angels
11.00 AM Remington Steele
12.00 PM Mission Impossible
[break for lunch]
3.00 PM Spiderman
and so on!
There was a wonderful Icecream place on Robson (not sure if its there now) called "Cows". The icecream is just heavenly there. I was still on a rigorous diet while my brother enjoyed icecreams and annoyed me. I had just graduated to eating rice with saltless dal.
*************************
"Ummm...what is this?"
"Dear, this is your class schedule. Okay?", my high school counselor, Mrs. Gioia, said.
I was staring at a piece of paper that looked something like this with a legend underneath:
Monday A B Lunch C D
Tuesday E F Lunch G H
Wednesday B A Lunch D C
Thursday F E Lunch H G
Friday A B Lunch C D
"These are your blocks for today", she continued.
I was mystified. For me, blocks were something that two-year-olds played with. What in the world were blocks? And what was with the confusing schedule? It seems so simple now but back then, it was a huge effort for me to figure it out!
I staggered out the door heading for Block F in Room 203, North building. I had no idea where North Building was.
"Uh..excuse me. Where's the North building?" I asked a huge, straggly giant with a spiky hairdo.
He gave me a weird look that had "Dude, where are you from?" written all over it and wordlessly pointed at a door.
I was already late for class. I ran around looking for Room 203. I didn't know 203 would be in the second floor..:) I had to figure it out by trial and error! When I finally did find it, huffing and puffing, it was locked. There was none there. I was near tears. I ran back to my counselor. She made a couple of phone calls and directed me to go to the library. Class had adjourned there for some project.
I went to the library (this was another big Crusade for me to find the library) to find a bunch of students in different states of poring over some textbooks. I looked around wondering what to do all the while, quite aware that 20-something people were staring at me furtively. An old guy with spectacles walked by and said,
"Can I help you?"
"Yeah..uhh..here for Social Studies. I am new.."
He stared at me over his glasses and directed me to a table where three other kids were already seated. A girl looked up and said a bright hello. I was a bit relieved. I smiled slightly.
"Your assignment - a report on Pierre Trudeau. Class has already been working on it the past two weeks. Due on Friday. Must be typed and two pages long." He barked.
Who in the world was Pierre Trudeau? Report - what sort of a report? Typed? I don't have a computer as yet. Where do I type it? Great, Friday is tomorrow and I have no clue what all this is!
*********************************************
"Okay, kids, today we are going to watch a comedy piece. You've been given a questionnaire. I expect you to turn it in end of class. All questions are from this piece we are going to watch. Ok?"
Mr. Bain was my Career and Personal Planning teacher.
What is CAPP? They have classes for this?!!! What in the world....
I was mystified. I was sitting at a table with 6 other Chinese kids. They were all chattering away in Cantonese ignoring me completely.
Jeez, did I come to Canada or China? Why are they not talking to me?
I tried a feeble "hi" to the girl next to me but she turned her face away. Great, I thought. Just what I need.
Meanwhile, Mr. Bain rolled a TV into the class and turned off lights.
Is this even a class? We are going to watch TV inside a classroom?? Ok, let's see..
A tall, lanky guy with weird hair zooms into an apartment. He says something to a short, fat, bald guy called George.
What in the world? I can't understand the accent at all! Why is everyone laughing?! Just because the guy walked in the door??!
Tall, lanky guy opens refrigerator and takes a drink. Jerry looks at him.
Everyone's laughing again?? Why am I so dumb? I can't figure out anything! Oh my god, I can't relate to anything/anyone here! How am I going to survive?
At the end of the class, I hadn't really latched onto one single dialogue. I didn't find anything funny and I was staring desperately at the questionnaire in my hand wondering how to complete it. It was for 10 points which made it even worse.
That, ladies and gentlemen, was my first introduction to Seinfeld! :) Oh and I'd have to be the first kid in Burnaby North to have scored a pathetic 3/10 on a quiz about a Seinfeld episode..:))
And thus began life at Burnaby North Higher Secondary School!
********************************
All these memories are like wine - the older, the better! One of my best friends, Monica, once gave me "That Boy is Mine" by Monica and Brandi as a birthday gift. In "Angel of Mine" from that album, there's a line that goes, "Now I know why they say that the best things in life are free..". I think its true. Would I be what I am today without all those experiences? Would my life have been the same if I hadn't met some wonderful people in Vancouver?
The diary will flip its next page soon...
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
The Vancouver Diaries - III
It is one of the facts of Indian life that you get sudden “importance" and "value" if you are going "abroad". This is true especially with family. People who never used to listen to you even if you were making a very valid point start paying attention. Suddenly, you have relatives fawning over you and showing off.
"Oh yeah, she is my niece! You know, she's going to Canada."
"You know, Vasan is going to Canada!"
"Appadiya? (Is that so?). Viji is also going?"
"Lucky Viji!"
"Maybe we should call them."
You go to dinner at a relative's place and you find that you are being given extra servings, extra attention. They even go to the trouble of finding out your favourite dishes! :)
"Innum konjam saappidu. " [Eat some more].
"I made your favourite rasam today just for you."
I even have a jealous relative who fell at elders' feet asking them to bless her saying, "May you go abroad!". Not everyone is like that, of course! But the ones that are the most supercilious are the ones that are blog-worthy..:)
Though most of them are amusing, they can give you some small moments of anxiety also.
"Vasan, are you taking Subha with you?"
"Yes."
"Perhaps you shouldn't. She is just 15 and you know, that's a very impressionable age. The culture there is so different. We will be happy to take care of her for you."
I remember staring at my dad terror-struck, wondering if he was going to leave me back.
"No", my dad responded calmly, "She's coming with me, no matter what."
Whew.I was relieved.
****************************************
My first love...
We went shopping to get winter jackets. I saw a beautiful light pink, suede leather jacket on display. It was light but warm.
Me: "I want that one."
Mom: "It is very light colored. Are you sure?"
Me: "YES." (Typical teenage behavior)
Mom: "Uhh..ok. But I don't think you will have it for long."
I still have it but my mom was right. It was tough maintenance and two years down the line, a drycleaner who didn't know much about cleaning suede ruined it..:(
****************************************
Woe is Me!
I had been down with jaundice for a month or so. One day, as I returned from my usual boring class at Computer Point, I was racked with severe stomach pain. My mom had gone out somewhere. She found me doubled up in one corner of the bedroom. We found it was jaundice. I lay in bed for the next week or so completely drained, tired and racked with pain from time to time. I drank the bitter "keezhanalli" juice religiously every morning. It was more like forced down my throat..:) I was on a strict liquid diet - only orange juice and water. No salt. No spice. No sugar. No curd. No rice. Basically, zilch!
I got bored and annoyed with the food I was getting. But my tantrums didn't get me anywhere. So I was resigned.
***************************************
The Flight
We were flying Malaysian Airlines to Vancouver via Kuala Lampur and Tokyo. My brother and I were majorly excited about our first flight. I don't remember the immigration formalities because dad took care of everything (How I wish it was like that now! sigh). I was wearing an ice-blue jeans and a yellow T-shirt. We had a mini-fight over who got the window seat. I wanted to sit next to my dad and have the window seat. But in the end, my mom and I sat next to each other.
I didn't like the whole flight. First off, Malaysian Airlines looked like an oversized bus. There was a flight delay at Kuala Lampur and lots of stranded passengers were sleeping on the floors in the lounges. To me, it looked like a more refined version of Chennai Central. To top it all off, my dad didn't let me eat anything except orange juice. I thought that I could by-pass my dad and tell the airhostess to get me something. My brother was busy gorging on all sorts of dishes and taunting me. The chocolate mousse especially was tempting me very much. I tried whining to dad a bit but it didn't work. I tried the airhostess route when I thought my dad was asleep. But he woke up at just the right time, shot me a dirty look and said firmly,
"She is just recovering from jaundice. Don't get her anything."
I couldn't sleep because my tummy kept rumbling. So, all in all, it was lousy. I was beginning to think it wasn't a good idea to leave all my friends behind and go to this Vancouver place. We had a rough landing at Tokyo Narita and my brother had airsickness. I was devilishly pleased..:)
*****************************************
Vancouver, at last!
After sitting through 10 hours of the unending Pacific, I was ready to jump off the flight. I was sore, tired and sick. As the pilot circled for landing, I tried leaning out the window. I saw nothing but grey, cumulonimbus clouds muffling the terra firma underneath. I was hoping for a glorious landing where I could see the beautiful skyline and tall skyscrapers. Then I'd walk out the airport into gleaming sunshine and pleasant weather. Instead, what greeted me was grey skies, rain and an unfamiliar city....
[The Diary will continue to write itself...]
"Oh yeah, she is my niece! You know, she's going to Canada."
"You know, Vasan is going to Canada!"
"Appadiya? (Is that so?). Viji is also going?"
"Lucky Viji!"
"Maybe we should call them."
You go to dinner at a relative's place and you find that you are being given extra servings, extra attention. They even go to the trouble of finding out your favourite dishes! :)
"Innum konjam saappidu. " [Eat some more].
"I made your favourite rasam today just for you."
I even have a jealous relative who fell at elders' feet asking them to bless her saying, "May you go abroad!". Not everyone is like that, of course! But the ones that are the most supercilious are the ones that are blog-worthy..:)
Though most of them are amusing, they can give you some small moments of anxiety also.
"Vasan, are you taking Subha with you?"
"Yes."
"Perhaps you shouldn't. She is just 15 and you know, that's a very impressionable age. The culture there is so different. We will be happy to take care of her for you."
I remember staring at my dad terror-struck, wondering if he was going to leave me back.
"No", my dad responded calmly, "She's coming with me, no matter what."
Whew.I was relieved.
****************************************
My first love...
We went shopping to get winter jackets. I saw a beautiful light pink, suede leather jacket on display. It was light but warm.
Me: "I want that one."
Mom: "It is very light colored. Are you sure?"
Me: "YES." (Typical teenage behavior)
Mom: "Uhh..ok. But I don't think you will have it for long."
I still have it but my mom was right. It was tough maintenance and two years down the line, a drycleaner who didn't know much about cleaning suede ruined it..:(
****************************************
Woe is Me!
I had been down with jaundice for a month or so. One day, as I returned from my usual boring class at Computer Point, I was racked with severe stomach pain. My mom had gone out somewhere. She found me doubled up in one corner of the bedroom. We found it was jaundice. I lay in bed for the next week or so completely drained, tired and racked with pain from time to time. I drank the bitter "keezhanalli" juice religiously every morning. It was more like forced down my throat..:) I was on a strict liquid diet - only orange juice and water. No salt. No spice. No sugar. No curd. No rice. Basically, zilch!
I got bored and annoyed with the food I was getting. But my tantrums didn't get me anywhere. So I was resigned.
***************************************
The Flight
We were flying Malaysian Airlines to Vancouver via Kuala Lampur and Tokyo. My brother and I were majorly excited about our first flight. I don't remember the immigration formalities because dad took care of everything (How I wish it was like that now! sigh). I was wearing an ice-blue jeans and a yellow T-shirt. We had a mini-fight over who got the window seat. I wanted to sit next to my dad and have the window seat. But in the end, my mom and I sat next to each other.
I didn't like the whole flight. First off, Malaysian Airlines looked like an oversized bus. There was a flight delay at Kuala Lampur and lots of stranded passengers were sleeping on the floors in the lounges. To me, it looked like a more refined version of Chennai Central. To top it all off, my dad didn't let me eat anything except orange juice. I thought that I could by-pass my dad and tell the airhostess to get me something. My brother was busy gorging on all sorts of dishes and taunting me. The chocolate mousse especially was tempting me very much. I tried whining to dad a bit but it didn't work. I tried the airhostess route when I thought my dad was asleep. But he woke up at just the right time, shot me a dirty look and said firmly,
"She is just recovering from jaundice. Don't get her anything."
I couldn't sleep because my tummy kept rumbling. So, all in all, it was lousy. I was beginning to think it wasn't a good idea to leave all my friends behind and go to this Vancouver place. We had a rough landing at Tokyo Narita and my brother had airsickness. I was devilishly pleased..:)
*****************************************
Vancouver, at last!
After sitting through 10 hours of the unending Pacific, I was ready to jump off the flight. I was sore, tired and sick. As the pilot circled for landing, I tried leaning out the window. I saw nothing but grey, cumulonimbus clouds muffling the terra firma underneath. I was hoping for a glorious landing where I could see the beautiful skyline and tall skyscrapers. Then I'd walk out the airport into gleaming sunshine and pleasant weather. Instead, what greeted me was grey skies, rain and an unfamiliar city....
[The Diary will continue to write itself...]
Monday, April 17, 2006
There's something to be said for co-evolution. As users and hackers get more sophisticated/knowledgeable, so do service providers and companies. Its like 'Alice in Wonderland'. You have to keep running to stay in the same place! I have too many passwords to remember. I keep hitting the "Reset Password" link in most websites. If the website had a voice, I am sure it'd shout at me. If in some evil moment, the company/website decides to get back at me for not remembering the password (well, this might seem like an exaggeration but then who knows?), how would they do it? Exactly the way one of them is doing to me: send me a snail mail letter each time I reset my password. I get 4-5 snail mail letters/ week because that's how many times I forget that darn password! Each of them reads:
Dear Customer,
We have reset your password as per your request..blah blah blah.
So if I don't want to deal with so much junk, I guess I'd have to remember my password. Simple.
------------------------------------------------------------
I read Michael Crichton's 'Prey' over the weekend. It was okay. I was reminded of Jurassic Park the way he'd organized his story. Anyways, I think I am bored of the "machines taking over the world" theory these days.
Dear Customer,
We have reset your password as per your request..blah blah blah.
So if I don't want to deal with so much junk, I guess I'd have to remember my password. Simple.
------------------------------------------------------------
I read Michael Crichton's 'Prey' over the weekend. It was okay. I was reminded of Jurassic Park the way he'd organized his story. Anyways, I think I am bored of the "machines taking over the world" theory these days.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
It seems so cliched to say "Time flies by!". And yet, I don't have any other phrase to describe my student days at the Univ of Kentucky (UK). Feels like now when I transferred from Louisiana to UK and arrived in Lexington on a cold, blustery day (Dec 13, 2003). I loved Lexington and UK from that moment on! I liked the pretty campus, the laidback atmosphere of Lexington, the rush to classes, endless assignments, night-outs at WT Young Library etc...
Tomorrow, I defend my Master's. It is a big moment and I am happy. But somehow, it feels sad to give a final closing line to the student chapter in my book of life. Somehow, having the "student" tag however nebulous your relation to school might be, gives a sense of belonging, of community. And its weird how I still see people who've graduated out of UK and moved onto jobs as students first (Case in point: R and K)! Maybe because that was our primary point of identification when entering the US of A!:)
Anyways, I guess I could still say that I am a student till first week of May when I have my graduation walk or maybe even till end of August, when I get my official degree! :)
Tomorrow, I defend my Master's. It is a big moment and I am happy. But somehow, it feels sad to give a final closing line to the student chapter in my book of life. Somehow, having the "student" tag however nebulous your relation to school might be, gives a sense of belonging, of community. And its weird how I still see people who've graduated out of UK and moved onto jobs as students first (Case in point: R and K)! Maybe because that was our primary point of identification when entering the US of A!:)
Anyways, I guess I could still say that I am a student till first week of May when I have my graduation walk or maybe even till end of August, when I get my official degree! :)
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
அன்பு வாà®´்கென் றமைதியில் ஆடுவோà®®்,
ஆசைக் காதலைக் கைகொட்டி வாà®´்த்துவோà®®்;
துன்பம் தீà®°்வது பெண்à®®ை யினாலடா!
சூரப் பிள்ளைகள் தாயென்à®±ு போà®±்à®±ுவோà®®்!
[Let us dance in serenity in praise of Love,
And applaud in praise of loving Eros;
Woman annihilates man's woes!
Let us acclaim her the mother of heroic children.]
-Mahakavi Bharathi in praise of women
I felt a stabbing pain when I read
this article about parents giving away female children to Cradle Baby centres. As a girl, it affects me that baby girls are given away primarily because of the economic burden that has come to be associated with them; it annoys me that an event like marriage that happens 24-25 years after a baby is born determines its fate in childhood; it annoys me that people are so resigned to the eventuality of dowry even a quarter century from now; Above all, it absolutely pains me to see healthy parents consigning a newborn to a life of loneliness, misery and the pyschological feeling of not being wanted! If parents can do this to a child, what sort of faith would anyone have in love??!
Ironic how it goes against all the virtues of love, affection, motherhood that Bharathiyar celebrates in his poem in praise of womanhood! :(
ஆசைக் காதலைக் கைகொட்டி வாà®´்த்துவோà®®்;
துன்பம் தீà®°்வது பெண்à®®ை யினாலடா!
சூரப் பிள்ளைகள் தாயென்à®±ு போà®±்à®±ுவோà®®்!
[Let us dance in serenity in praise of Love,
And applaud in praise of loving Eros;
Woman annihilates man's woes!
Let us acclaim her the mother of heroic children.]
-Mahakavi Bharathi in praise of women
I felt a stabbing pain when I read
this article about parents giving away female children to Cradle Baby centres. As a girl, it affects me that baby girls are given away primarily because of the economic burden that has come to be associated with them; it annoys me that an event like marriage that happens 24-25 years after a baby is born determines its fate in childhood; it annoys me that people are so resigned to the eventuality of dowry even a quarter century from now; Above all, it absolutely pains me to see healthy parents consigning a newborn to a life of loneliness, misery and the pyschological feeling of not being wanted! If parents can do this to a child, what sort of faith would anyone have in love??!
Ironic how it goes against all the virtues of love, affection, motherhood that Bharathiyar celebrates in his poem in praise of womanhood! :(
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
The Ctrl + Alt + Del Life
These are the keys that save the life of a computer user everyday. Computer doesn't respond? Hit Ctrl + Alt + Del. Long running process tying up the UI? Hit Ctrl + Alt + Del. Computer not booting up properly? Hit Ctrl + Alt + Del. Want to switch between processes? Hit Ctrl + Alt + Del.
No, I am not a sales person for Ctrl + Alt + Del but it surprises me how much my life has become like that!:) Since we started multi-tasking, the highest priority interrupt has taken on real meaning!
Work on code. Read documents.
Ctrl + Alt + Del.
Check e-mail. Respond to friends and jolly talks floating around.
Ctrl + Alt + Del.
Manager requested a status update. Do that ASAP.
Ctrl + Alt +Del.
What am I going to cook for this evening?
Ctrl + Alt + Del.
Darn, I forgot to pay my bill! Do it NOW!
Ctrl + Alt + Del.
Ooops, advisor asked for changes to the presentation! Send immediately!
Ctrl + Alt + Del.
Okay, I am going to stop now before you start stoning me. I was beginning to think I was the only one unable to handle information overload. I am glad to see that the lazy geek has the same problem as me..:)
No, I am not a sales person for Ctrl + Alt + Del but it surprises me how much my life has become like that!:) Since we started multi-tasking, the highest priority interrupt has taken on real meaning!
Work on code. Read documents.
Ctrl + Alt + Del.
Check e-mail. Respond to friends and jolly talks floating around.
Ctrl + Alt + Del.
Manager requested a status update. Do that ASAP.
Ctrl + Alt +Del.
What am I going to cook for this evening?
Ctrl + Alt + Del.
Darn, I forgot to pay my bill! Do it NOW!
Ctrl + Alt + Del.
Ooops, advisor asked for changes to the presentation! Send immediately!
Ctrl + Alt + Del.
Okay, I am going to stop now before you start stoning me. I was beginning to think I was the only one unable to handle information overload. I am glad to see that the lazy geek has the same problem as me..:)
Monday, April 10, 2006
The Vancouver Diaries - II
The Interregnum
The initial excitement of going to a "foreign country" wore off. We had 3 months before we left for Canada. We moved to Chennai from Madurai (we used to move every 3 years! So no big deal..:)). We were put up in Indira Nagar (near the water tank). My brother was thrust into Hindu High School for the 3 month period. As for me, I got admitted to Sankara School (I think). There was a lot of bureaucractic red-tape about joining Grade 11 for just 3 months. I forgot what the hullabaloo was about. My parents ended up figuring that I might as well just join Grade 11 in Vancouver directly instead of going through innumerable hassles here. So it was Computer Point , Adyar for me for the next 2 months or so.
I had just finished my Grade 10 and I had excellent results. I'd had ideas of preparing for IIT, BITS etc... Now all my careful plans were getting upset and I was not in a regular "school setting". TVS Lakshmi, Madurai informed me that I had a couple of prizes waiting for me for Class X performance. I was getting royal treatment and was offered whatever group I wanted to get into! I was ranked school third in total marks scored and I had another prize for "Outstanding performance" or some such thing. I couldn't go to Madurai to receive them because my dad was busy with visa/passport business and my mother was busy getting the household ready to leave. Because I wasn't there, the guy who was ranked four got promoted to school third and he was going to get my prize. That chafed me immensely. After all, what's the point of working hard and scoring if you don't get to enjoy the pampering and prizes after that?! Why bother studying at all? Here, in Chennai, I was nothing. None even knew me. It annoyed me even more that my parents didn't think it was an issue worthy of discussion at all! What's the big deal? It is just a prize, right? To say that I was frustrated was the least of it!
What with bored housewives and retired old men who wanted to wet their feet with technology being my classmates at Computer Point, I really wasn't too excited to go to classes. Besides, the instructor was pretty boring and I was learning Lotus 1-2-3. I wondered long and hard about the role of Lotus 1-2-3 and how I was ever going to use it in my life. I really wasn't enlightened. So I just resigned myself to the boring routine. I was becoming fidgety. I missed my friends back in Madurai. I'd studied at Asan Memorial, Egmore before moving to Madurai 3 years back. I'd lost touch with those friends too. What with no e-mail, IM or cheap long distance calling, losing touch was easy back then! So, there I was in Chennai with no company and nothing to keep me occupied full time.
Of course, there were exciting moments in between. Once, a pot-bellied policeman showed up at our door for passport verification. I was excited at seeing a real policeman at our doorstep. I peeped from behind my mom's saree at the policeman and his huge moustache. He asked a couple of questions and left. We went shopping for clothing, suitcases and other things. The logistics for a family of four to go abroad are just too complex! My father used to be very busy all the time. My mother used to be busy packing/disposing household items. My brother was enjoying his brief stint at his school. He used to be roguishly happy about not having to study for his quarterly exams while his classmates were slogging at it. His cockiness stemmed from the fact that we'd leave on September 13 and his exams were a couple of days after that! So he used to go around with an unholy, impish grin on his face whenever anyone mentioned "exams"! :)
On top of all this, to complete my cup of happiness, I ended up with jaundice in August....
[The diary will continue to write itself...]
The initial excitement of going to a "foreign country" wore off. We had 3 months before we left for Canada. We moved to Chennai from Madurai (we used to move every 3 years! So no big deal..:)). We were put up in Indira Nagar (near the water tank). My brother was thrust into Hindu High School for the 3 month period. As for me, I got admitted to Sankara School (I think). There was a lot of bureaucractic red-tape about joining Grade 11 for just 3 months. I forgot what the hullabaloo was about. My parents ended up figuring that I might as well just join Grade 11 in Vancouver directly instead of going through innumerable hassles here. So it was Computer Point , Adyar for me for the next 2 months or so.
I had just finished my Grade 10 and I had excellent results. I'd had ideas of preparing for IIT, BITS etc... Now all my careful plans were getting upset and I was not in a regular "school setting". TVS Lakshmi, Madurai informed me that I had a couple of prizes waiting for me for Class X performance. I was getting royal treatment and was offered whatever group I wanted to get into! I was ranked school third in total marks scored and I had another prize for "Outstanding performance" or some such thing. I couldn't go to Madurai to receive them because my dad was busy with visa/passport business and my mother was busy getting the household ready to leave. Because I wasn't there, the guy who was ranked four got promoted to school third and he was going to get my prize. That chafed me immensely. After all, what's the point of working hard and scoring if you don't get to enjoy the pampering and prizes after that?! Why bother studying at all? Here, in Chennai, I was nothing. None even knew me. It annoyed me even more that my parents didn't think it was an issue worthy of discussion at all! What's the big deal? It is just a prize, right? To say that I was frustrated was the least of it!
What with bored housewives and retired old men who wanted to wet their feet with technology being my classmates at Computer Point, I really wasn't too excited to go to classes. Besides, the instructor was pretty boring and I was learning Lotus 1-2-3. I wondered long and hard about the role of Lotus 1-2-3 and how I was ever going to use it in my life. I really wasn't enlightened. So I just resigned myself to the boring routine. I was becoming fidgety. I missed my friends back in Madurai. I'd studied at Asan Memorial, Egmore before moving to Madurai 3 years back. I'd lost touch with those friends too. What with no e-mail, IM or cheap long distance calling, losing touch was easy back then! So, there I was in Chennai with no company and nothing to keep me occupied full time.
Of course, there were exciting moments in between. Once, a pot-bellied policeman showed up at our door for passport verification. I was excited at seeing a real policeman at our doorstep. I peeped from behind my mom's saree at the policeman and his huge moustache. He asked a couple of questions and left. We went shopping for clothing, suitcases and other things. The logistics for a family of four to go abroad are just too complex! My father used to be very busy all the time. My mother used to be busy packing/disposing household items. My brother was enjoying his brief stint at his school. He used to be roguishly happy about not having to study for his quarterly exams while his classmates were slogging at it. His cockiness stemmed from the fact that we'd leave on September 13 and his exams were a couple of days after that! So he used to go around with an unholy, impish grin on his face whenever anyone mentioned "exams"! :)
On top of all this, to complete my cup of happiness, I ended up with jaundice in August....
[The diary will continue to write itself...]
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
The Vancouver Diaries
It is now nearly 10 years ago now that my dad walked in one evening and said,
"Guys, guess what? We are going to Vancouver!"
He was greeted by silence. Not that we (my mom, brother and I) had any sort of hatred toward Vancouver. We just didn't know what the hell IT was!
My brother looked at me and I at him. We both shrugged and said,
"Err..so where is this place, Dad?"
[I was hoping that it was indeed a place instead of some new restaurant in Madurai!]
"British Columbia, Canada."
There were excited shrieks of "Canada" and in the general medlee of noises, eager questions and shouts that followed, we scrambled to find the long-lost Atlas at home. It was hidden in one corner of a dusty shelf, abandoned and uncared for. :) We brought it back to the center table, dusted it off and eagerly turned the well-worn pages to the Canadian map.
"There it is!" My dad pointed. "Just above the US border, on the shores of the Pacific. Can you see it?"
We squinted and nodded our heads slowly.
"Wow."
"Canada. Is it going to be very cold?"
"So will they speak English or French?"
"Will it be a friendly place?"
"Are we going to school there? How long?"
"Yay! We are going to FLY there? How long is the journey?"
"So can we bunk school for the next 3 months?"
"Will it be safe for the kids to grow up there?"
"You mean, I have to leave my friends here???"
Questions poured in from all directions.
My brother, who was lost in contemplation suddenly said,
"British Columbia. Sounds familiar."
Now, when a 10-year-old makes a statement like that, a responsible 15-year-old like me was bound to respond with a smirk,
"Yeah right. I am sure you were born there!"
"No. I have seen this name somewhere recently."
And with that, he rushed excitedly to the annual SBI calendar for 1996 and turned to September. And sure enough, there was a statue of an athlete with a caption "Stanley Park, Vancouver, BC". The picture looked very pretty with blue skies, a very fine harbour , beautiful yachts anchored and lots of people walking around in the snow.
"So what do you think?", I asked my brother.
He shrugged. "I don't know. You?"
"I don't either."
That day, I remember, the entire family was huddled around chattering excitedly, gathering as much information as we could about Vancouver, British Columbia - our home to be for the next four years or so ....
[The Diary will continue to write itself...]
"Guys, guess what? We are going to Vancouver!"
He was greeted by silence. Not that we (my mom, brother and I) had any sort of hatred toward Vancouver. We just didn't know what the hell IT was!
My brother looked at me and I at him. We both shrugged and said,
"Err..so where is this place, Dad?"
[I was hoping that it was indeed a place instead of some new restaurant in Madurai!]
"British Columbia, Canada."
There were excited shrieks of "Canada" and in the general medlee of noises, eager questions and shouts that followed, we scrambled to find the long-lost Atlas at home. It was hidden in one corner of a dusty shelf, abandoned and uncared for. :) We brought it back to the center table, dusted it off and eagerly turned the well-worn pages to the Canadian map.
"There it is!" My dad pointed. "Just above the US border, on the shores of the Pacific. Can you see it?"
We squinted and nodded our heads slowly.
"Wow."
"Canada. Is it going to be very cold?"
"So will they speak English or French?"
"Will it be a friendly place?"
"Are we going to school there? How long?"
"Yay! We are going to FLY there? How long is the journey?"
"So can we bunk school for the next 3 months?"
"Will it be safe for the kids to grow up there?"
"You mean, I have to leave my friends here???"
Questions poured in from all directions.
My brother, who was lost in contemplation suddenly said,
"British Columbia. Sounds familiar."
Now, when a 10-year-old makes a statement like that, a responsible 15-year-old like me was bound to respond with a smirk,
"Yeah right. I am sure you were born there!"
"No. I have seen this name somewhere recently."
And with that, he rushed excitedly to the annual SBI calendar for 1996 and turned to September. And sure enough, there was a statue of an athlete with a caption "Stanley Park, Vancouver, BC". The picture looked very pretty with blue skies, a very fine harbour , beautiful yachts anchored and lots of people walking around in the snow.
"So what do you think?", I asked my brother.
He shrugged. "I don't know. You?"
"I don't either."
That day, I remember, the entire family was huddled around chattering excitedly, gathering as much information as we could about Vancouver, British Columbia - our home to be for the next four years or so ....
[The Diary will continue to write itself...]
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Google now recognizes my mother tongue?
Now, how in the world did Google figure out that I can read Tamil and post a relevant ad in Tamil? Almost all my mails are in English. Of course, I type in 'Tanglish' but it would take some amount of deciphering by a computer to figure out that is Tamil transcribed in English. Interesting and scary..:)
Friday, March 31, 2006
Google Reader Snippets
Don't ask me why I am writing in orange. Today is Friday and I feel like escaping from the suffocating grayish, sober tones of the workweek and be "springy"..:)
I decided to try out Google Reader after a long while. I've been playing with various feed readers. It's been a sort of a favourite vetti hobby for me. Don't ask me what my fascination is with feed readers! Its like this: I like to have all my news neatly organized, arranged and ready for me to browse with my morning coffee. So I go to great pains to research a feed reader, set up my feeds and go to bed with a satisfied sigh.
I wake up in the morning and think, " To hell with feed readers" and descend into my usual chaotic browsing pattern. And that is basically: "Read whatever catches your eye." Didn't mean to bore you with a lecture on my browsing patterns.
I tried Google Reader a while back and found it confusing, contrary to all popular opinions. It was too chaotic for me with no folders, no option to mark feeds read etc... But recently, after dealing with some complex software, I figured this was easier. And I checked out the "Share" option on my Google Reader. So on the right side of this page, you'll see a box with a bunch of items that I found interesting to read and "Starred" it. Being the optimist that I am, I am going to think that I will keep updating this..:)
I decided to try out Google Reader after a long while. I've been playing with various feed readers. It's been a sort of a favourite vetti hobby for me. Don't ask me what my fascination is with feed readers! Its like this: I like to have all my news neatly organized, arranged and ready for me to browse with my morning coffee. So I go to great pains to research a feed reader, set up my feeds and go to bed with a satisfied sigh.
I wake up in the morning and think, " To hell with feed readers" and descend into my usual chaotic browsing pattern. And that is basically: "Read whatever catches your eye." Didn't mean to bore you with a lecture on my browsing patterns.
I tried Google Reader a while back and found it confusing, contrary to all popular opinions. It was too chaotic for me with no folders, no option to mark feeds read etc... But recently, after dealing with some complex software, I figured this was easier. And I checked out the "Share" option on my Google Reader. So on the right side of this page, you'll see a box with a bunch of items that I found interesting to read and "Starred" it. Being the optimist that I am, I am going to think that I will keep updating this..:)
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