Tibetan Ornate Doorway

Click image to enlarge. Copyright 2005 Arati Rao

being a couch potato...

for that is what i am :)

and what exactly do i do on the couch? when i am not researching the asic industry or designing the logo for socialvillage.org, i spend time with the idiot. the idiot box, that is.
and irrelevantly i realize ... it's been ages since i saw Bush.

it's true. there is none of the obsession with chimps here (perdoname, republican friends), there is only a passing interest in iraq. chirac and susilo bambang yudhoyono appear more that the ubiquitous bush, and michael jackson got one sound bite lasting 3 minutes on the news. so what do you get here?

the world is rightfully more than the US, Afghanistan, israel, the waronterror (was that one word? i seem to remember it like that!) and the axis of evil. the left-wing BBC actually mentions mongolia, bolivia, wangaari maathai and yes, even TIBET! they give equal time to matters of economy, environment, politics and sports. the best part of it is that it is 24 hours of intelligent TV. as is CNN international with 'inside africa' 'world report' and other such stellar programming. and then there is prannoy roy's NDTV 24x7 for everything indian and foreign. remember growing up with "the world this week?" this is more of the same , all day. excellent pieces of reporting.

so yes, the news channels are a boon for information junkies like me.

on the flip(pant) side, india is obsessed with emaciated, emancipated (from the restriction of clothes) 34-24-34 salon produced women. the same arch of eyebrows, the same band of eyeliner skirting vacant eyes. oh and if those vacant eyes are green or blue, 'snap!' you're lapped up by the latest TV serial producer and branded as the next pretentious Rai. straps and scarves are all the rage... and where are they worn? not on the shoulder or head. let your imagination take over now. what used to be once the realm of ramps and those that frequent them, now has spread to H Siddiah road, no less.

and no lower age limits exist for these women. some look barely out of grade school. and they are everywhere. DJs, VJs, anchors, comperes, actresses, models, school girls, and the average akka on the road. where once half-saris were the bangalore choice of dress, now half-tshirts and quarter-skirts have taken over. the biggest and brightest pictures in the supplements of the Times belong to similar pseudo-glitzy wannabe-glamorous types.

and so you see that on TV too -- there is a whole channel dedicated to inanity.

ZOOM, it is called. who is doing what, who said what, who was seen with whom, what is Ms. Zinta wearing, why Ms. Rai was replaced by Ms.Rani. of course, you've seen the song videos... kaal-type, bheegey honth-type. where virtually nothing is left to imagination anymore, much to the delight of youngsters. and old farts as well, who are reveling in this sudden shed of victorian prudishness for american style skin culture.

ok, enough b&**^%ing.

the sports stuff is AWESOME. imagine a sportscenter with all the sports you care about. tennis, especially! and hours of live french open and wimbledon, not spoiled by tape-delayed NBC coverage. and for manish, sanat, vishal, viren: live cricket is free and all day long here!

rather unlike me, i admit, but i am addicted to some serials on indian TV. they are run of the mill revenge-filled wronged women exacting their dues, mystery-shrouded indentities and the afore-mentioned scheming in-laws. but enough to keep your passing interest in half hour slots each day and ending with some intrigue that has you mildly hooked on for more. if you are a movie addict, there are channels devoted to that too... only the choice is not anything to write home about, except on the weekend, when all good ones sit on top of each other in multiple channels and you end up watching nothing.

all in all, being a couch potato is not difficult with about 90 channels in various tongues to choose from. you are well taken care of, should you choose the company of an idiot albeit intelligent in parts ;)

reverdure

the rains have come -- not bombay style -- but soft, gentle, noiseless... even sprinkle is too strong a word...

it is as wendel berry has said... i love his poem... see if you do.

Reverdure
by Wendell Berry

1.You never know
what you are going to learn.

2.The wintering mind turnsinward,
like the earthwintering. Beneath frost
it keeps future and pastalive. In spring it rises
from its deeps, folds outagain to light. Mind
and leaf unflex in shine.

3.How to get in
and out of your mind?
The way in prepares
the way out.
The groundhog, who turned
his tail to the cold, now
sticks out his face.

4.In the first warm morning the black calf walks down
to the river, the light irised
in his hair. Over his back
leap the shadows of willows
leafing. The good sun
makes him go easy.

5.The phoebes have come back.
The drums of the woodpeckers ask and answer.
The blue of the bluebird
is in the leafless apple tree,
new breath.
The redbird sings
O let it come, O
let it, let it.

6.An old grandmother
a little surprised
to be waking up again,
the ground slowly remembers
the shapes of grassblades,
stems, leaves, birds,
cattle, people, songs.

7.The slope whose scars I mended
turns green now.
Healing becomes health.
Reverdure is my calling.

8.One thing work gives
is the joy of not working,
a minute here or there
when I stand and only breathe,
receiving the good of the air.
It comes back. Good work done
comes back into the mind,
a free breath drawn.

9.Though I came here
by history's ruin, reverdure
is my calling:to make these scars grow grass.
I survive this fate and labor
by fascination.

10.I want to fence the thicket-ridden field
unused all my life, and turn in the calves
to browse the vines and leaves in May.
They will begin to open it, eating
the low growth, letting vision find its way
in among the close-standing trunks.
And then in the winters, as I need,
I will thin the trees, leaving the walnuts,
poplars, ashes, oaks, burning
what I cut to heat the house. Springs,
on the frozen mornings of early March,
I will sow the opened land. Slowly
good pasture will widen over the slope
in the shade of scattered tall trees,
change doing the ground no harm.

11.And so, in the first warmth of the year,
I went up with saw and axe to cut a way in. I made a road, I made
a thought-way under the trees, up
the slope, and that was ancient work.
In rhyme of flesh with flesh, time
with time, act with act, I made my way
into the woods, leaving an order
that was mine, a way opening behind me
by which I came out again.

12.Above that thicket growth
the hillside steepens,
the trees are old. The farm
reaches one of its limits
there, and finds its example.
No leaf falls there that is lost;
all that falls rises, opens,
sings; what was, is.
And this steep woods will be left standing, a part
of the farm not farmed,
its sacred grove, where we
will have nothing to do.
The trees live in eternity
and they live now. Their roots
are in life and death.
They have the earthly health
whose signature is song.

13.And there are ways
the deer walk in darkness
that are clear.
It is not by will
I know this,
but by willingness,
by being here.

14.It is time again I made an end to words
for a while--for this time,
or for all time. Any end may last.
I love this warm light room, where words
have kept me through the cold days.
but now song surrounds it, the fields
around it are green, and I must turn away
from books, put past and future behind,
to come into the presence of this time.

... isnt it wonderful? maybe reverdure is my calling too.

different shades of bronze

emerging from a weekend with mixed feelings :)(

adarsh palm meadows had treated us to surreal living in the boondocks (whitefield) only for the dust road to puncture our tires... TWO flat tires!! as we waited for ramesh to resourcefuly call a friend and get the situation taken care of, we baked in the clay earth oven, late by an hour for rasheeda's party.

but that adarsh palm meadows was something else. 11 models to choose from made the community look non-homogenous, which was refreshing. while the houses rubbed shoulders with each other a little too much for our comfort, the club house had us sold (well, almost). that place is better than a 5* hotel, complete with indoor and outdoor pools and everything else you can imagine or wish for... yes, tennis courts included.

all this for a price of "wonly 2.8 crores, sir. registration is 10% more." $700,000+? was this london? pinch, pinch! this was whitefield. to get here we crossed a hen's neck of a bridge, clogged with inertiatic, coughing traffic and bobbed along on roads that made our teeth rattle. "it will all be done up sir." yeah. "there is old madras road side approach also, sir." ok. but get this. there is nothing (eat-outs, malls, coffee shops, bookstores -- nada) here. only houses. remember queen creek road in 1995? yeah -- you get it. only difference was, those QC houses were going for a 5th of the price. "too inflated. it's going to crash." everyone says. but those very people are looking to buy as well. in sum, the agents are sitting pretty on fat sums of colored notes.

and we are still wondering. to buy or not to buy.

saturday afternoon: a sumptious lunch at rasheeda-hozi's had that sepia quality to it. light rain and the sun squinting thru the clouds glazed the afternoon and cast the players in a lovely bronze light -- the same color as the yummmmmy caramel pudding rashee had made. add to that the gauze dresses the kids sashayed in, in a mock fashion show... little faeries they all seemed like. the conversation was light and fun -- you know one of those relaxed lunches where time also lazes and you don't feel like leaving. but leave we had to and by 4:30pm, our black accord was ferrying us back home.

then life outside our tinted glass windows happened. (to me.)
on the way back from DD (diamond district, where hozi-rashee live) our car balked to a halt in traffic on richmond road. i looked outside my window casually and saw two small eyes looking back at me behind an outstretched grimy hand.
one hand: to give?
other hand: no... dont encourage.
one hand: but what will they eat?
other hand: no, they have to give the money away to some goon anyways.
one hand: and if they dont have the money at sundown? will they be beaten?
both hands: hmmm... to give or not...?

my hand pulled out a Rs.2 coin and my window rolled down as the hand bronze with grime came forward in anticipation. as i gave the coin, the hand touched mine. in a flash that food-filled fun, the lush club house and tennis courts, those 3/4M dollar houses morphed... that afternoon had just been colored a different bronze.

as the real india collided with my coccoon.

for oft when on my couch i lie, in vacant or in pensive mood ...

Click on image to enlarge. Copyright Arati Rao 2005

my baby...

Copyright 2005 Arati Rao. All rights reserved

driver vs. driver ... and an elopement, no less!

just like we have 2 maids, we have 2 drivers now. ok, we had (past tense) -- and not both at the same time. but enough for us to start comparing. moorthy is so obliging vs. ramesh has his own ideas. "he has too many things going on." moorthy has a bike (and thus a ride home) so can stay late. and ramesh? "cannot get auto at after 9pm sir. no bus sir from here, sir. need auto fare -- 1.5 times sir"

... but, but, but... moorthy cannot find the way to his nose if he tried! "so what! what's most important is that he can work sundays and late nights." thus sprach herr. rao. afsos, moorthy is gone and ramesh is back. if ramesh had too much going on before his vacation, check this out...

... he just ran away and got married (eventful 5 day vacation, uh.) so where we had a busy driver earlier, now we have busy driver with new wife. oh and wait, there's more! both families have disowned them and they are out on the streets, looking for a house, shacking up with friends (separately), finding time to meet... i catch snatches of "seri, naa varey... ippo varey.... ille, dont worry, naa 20 minutes nall varey" ... and all... at 7pm.

so mr. rao is not happy. other expat legends speak of drivers staying all night at their beck and call, partying until wee hours and drivers crashing in cars until day break... and our stories speak of anxious newly-weds badgering their half-oranges to come home at 7pm. mr. rao, having tasted the moorthy apple, now finds the ramesh variety wanting. "we've got to get a moorthy somehow."

now hiring! a driver for mr. rao. must have no life. no wife. just bike.

mr rao went to squeeze again. yikes, that sounds strange. but the outcome was pretty cool... i thought. want to see? here you are...

Copyright 2005 Arati Rao. All rights reserved

squeeze time again...

so with lots of gel in exchange for a lighter pocket (and a lighter head... "a girl cut my hair. she was pretty good looking." a-ha!) , mr rao came home happy on a saturday morning. sanjana was jumping with joy... waiting for her grandparents. they arrived, we had some left over aloo-tikki chhole and pao bhaji topped off with lots of mangoes and then everyone was happy. and asleep soon after.

and so here i am. a snoring household (including the maid, yes) and a furiously typing me. i look around a very red room (red curtains, red bedsheets, red divan -- even the flowers on the tree outside are red in happy coincidence) and i question... where to, now? and once these artful dodger-type thoughts crawl in and occupy mind space, you've lost the peace. so now i have to think about it and woe betide me if i dont DO IT.

"do what?" you are wondering (if you got this far). begin my dream project. start something and make it happen.

i'll tell you if i do it. and i'll tell u if i dont.

one month on...

indeed. 1/12 months up. i feel like cinderella here. at the stroke of midnight on the 365th day, the house, the car, driver, maids ... poof. all gone. hindi film ishtyle i will be out on the streets, bags packed and tossed out.

get back, get back, get back to where you once belonged.
get back, jojo.
*grin*

but today, i will enjoy the party.

so what do i like, not like?
i'll give it to you in all its gory glory. some of it is intensely mine and irrelevant to the casual reader, so bear with me, while i bare... my thoughts ;)

i like...

1. no, i love, the country. just the thought of being in india. but that is not measurable, right? ok. so not a valid point but one made nevertheless. india can take a 1.0 on that.
2. my parents being close by, my in-laws being close by, my grand parents being close by.
3. the wildlife sanctuaries being at driving distance and the nilgiris a viable weekend getaway.
4. the food. everything, absolutely everything tastes awesome. ok, you guys knew that.
5. the weather. bangalore is bliss right now. no fan needed. A/C? i have stopped calling the guy to get it fixed (it is not yet fixed, by the way.)
6. tennis on TV. tennis in the newspaper.
7. shopping. there is eye candy all around, even while grocery shopping.
8. sanjana learning kannada. still only at words right now, but phrases are slowly coming on.
9. my kannada improving.
10. weekends. yeah! i can see sanat for more than a few minutes ;)
11. clean kitchen after cooking and no, this time it is not sanat doing the cleaning!

i miss...

1. my space. while shopping, while cooking, while traveling.
2. time with sanat. carpooling back and forth in chandler, chatting all evening... nada. not happening here.
3. my friends. aka you guys. believe me. even heaven can be boring without good -OH buddies to hang out with. especially if you are a choosy cranky dreamy idealist piscean holding dear friendships brewed over many years ;)
4. working. yes, i do miss it. i want to start doing things, but with sasha at home, quite impossible. so am thinking of starting some art projects i always wanted to do. Ha! now that i have said it aloud, i will procrastinate and do nothing, i'm sure ;)
5. my bookshelf. this is not in order of priority obviously... i long for my bookshelf everyday. didnt realize how much i just casually looked thru so many books, especially my stash of NG magazines.
6. being able to trust (u know what i mean.... it's been blogged).
   OK... now the cranky part...
7. having the luxury of the pool, tennis courts, anything. if i were at home like this in the US, i would have put sanjana in some summer school, resumed playing tennis myself, been swimming every evening.
8. being able to drive screws into the walls myself. have all these decorative pieces lying around with nowhere to put them.
9. MY house. living in a rented apartment is a re-education. living in a community has its own restrictions (can't do work after 7pm, between 2-4pm; write a letter for allowing delivery vans, write a letter for A/C guys, write a letter for internet access.)
10. having power outlets every 8ft.
11. NPR, linkTV and democracy now. i need my left wing new media!
12. being able to order things from amazon, on the net in general.
13. michaels, home depot and target. never thunk i would, but i do. i am not yet sure of where to go to get a rope, ribbons, to get a good memory box... you know what i mean!
14. handy toilets with assured water suppy, soap and clean towels! i dread 3 words from sanjana each time we are out..."mommy, wanna potty."

now that i have sounded like a complete spoiled firang, let me say this. in spite of #1 - #14 "i miss..."es, i do not regret coming to india. not one bit. i just need to start doing stuff i love :)

.. and i need you guys to start visiting... and better still, join us!

a mysore gujju buying greens 

mysore palace: indo-saracenic at its best 

keeping lemons looking fresh 

ooh that knife looks sharp ;) 

asters in all glory 

colorful rangoli powder lining stores 

where time stands still...

Mysore. where, in a large, many-roomed house, live an able and efficient 'nani' with hundreds of recipes up her sleeve and a gentle 'gran' (for grand dad) with as many stories up his. where large mango trees dot the garden and loud koels (cuckoos) infringe rudely into many an early morning conversation. where the tea is milky and the milk is slightly salty. where the rasam is redder and just a little tastier than my ma's. where the masala dosas have to be the color of tiger's skin (huLi banna, in kannada) and dehra dun friendships are stronger and more sacred than god. where cricketing days and club tennis rule empty electricity-less moments on the front porch steps... and the aroma of toasting fresh bakery bread and khara bun steal slumber each morning from the weariest of eyes.

yes, mysore is like that for as long as i have known it. the house has changed now to an older one (rk narayan used to live in this one) and the mango orchard is next door, but the conversations, the smells and the activities are still familiar and well beloved.

and so i headed to mysore for it was my nani-gran's 64th anniversary. yeah. 64th. amazing, no?
and i loved the fact that little had changed. my trip is never complete without a trip to the city market. a teeming, obnoxiously dirty place with rotten fruit, vegetables and floral refuse of all kinds at your feet, thank you. but i love the place. i shoot to comments like "hello, madam. where u from?" and i answer in kannada to their bewilderment. "nodo, picture naale paper nalli baratte." (look, man -- the picture will be in the papers tomorrow). no, no paper will be carrying the tomato seller's picture, sorry. i move on... a flower-seller eating from under a basket while she sells strings of jasmine to women and bargains at the same time. a basket of un-stalked asters of all colors sat right next to unnamable garbage, also of all colors. rows of rainbow hued rangoli powders skirted shops selling everything from diyas to supari. bananas on stalks hung from the ceiling on vines sanjana yelped in delight on seeing... "mummy, look! vines for swinging." no, doll. "mummy look! oranges. please buy some mommy, please please please." ok, Rs. 40/ kg. she ate 6 at home :) well worth it, no? she was tired tho and i aborted the trip and walked out home, making a mental note to come back one day with covered shoes to walk each aisle.

there is a change in sameness as well. each time i see mysore i notice more, something i did not pay attention to, before. this time it was the mosques. wow, didnt realize there were so many! mental note 2. come back and look at this side of mysore at leisure.

i loved looking down small alleyways in china & tibet. somehow i found evidence of reality there rather than in the manicured roadside houses. and i find myself having retained those eyes here in india too. small gullies fascinate me. mental note 3. collect all gully pictures and shoot more.

t.s. satyan. hey -- if you havent seen his photographs, i suggest you do. i went and met him. bought "alive and clicking" -- his autobiography and he autographed it for me. i was thrilled to bits. even at 81, his eyes danced and ideas skimmed in his head, igniting inspiration in me. "dosa in lhasa?" he asked, referring to my recounting... "you must write about it." mental note 4. write about the tibet trip before you forget. for those of you who were with me in tibet -- remember the little diary i was constantly writing in? well, i lost it. rats.

june 4th. time to get back to bangalore. sigh. mental note 5. come back to mysore with more time and more battery life in your camera.

and while i was away, many milestones happened.
June 2: Suche-Ashu and Shruti-Manish: Happy Anniversary!
June 3: Leya dolly, happy birthday -- wow, you are 2!

i guess time doesn't stand still for long.

wherefore paranoia?

Main Entry: trust
Pronunciation: 'tr&st
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, probably of Scandinavian origin; akin to Old Norse traust trust; akin to Old English trEowe faithful
a : assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something
b : one in which confidence is placed

i couldnt sleep much last night. or was it this morning... or whatever that inbetween time is called. dont ask why 'cause i cannot help you.

random thoughts walked proprietarily across my restless mind (and hungry stomach, i irrelevantly realized). we leave for mysore tomorrow. driver in tow. maid left behind. driver said his Avis pay was very less. again. he said so before. takes him Rs.75 to get home by rickshaw. ok, was that a hint? he seems nice enough, but do i trust him yet?

what is trust anyway?

the maid -- can i leave her behind? she seems timid, almost scared to be by herself. will my 'live-in' be influenced by the other one to leave the house?

why is sanjana so trusting? she talks so innocently to everyone. "what's your name?" to the furniture delivery guy, dhobi, security guard, everyone. she loves the driver. "it's ramesh!" with a big smile. hand in hand, she happily goes with him. he is courteous beyond a doubt and very helpful too. what should i teach her? to be friendly or suspicious? the maids & the driver are ubiquitous. they both seem 'trustworthy' ... but circumstance...? can i trust circumstance?

i didnt even know where maria (our bi-weekly maid in phoenix) lived. all i had was a fickle cell phone number. and still i trusted.

then why not ramesh? shanta? prema?

trust. what is it anyway? so fragile and yet so strong. my mind wandered lazily around analogies.... like glass? like elastic? hook's law? does trust shatter, snap or simply deform slowly? do i have to learn to trust? blindly? on what basis? and above all, who?

it bothered me enough to wake me at 4:15am and keep me awake. i gathered sanjana close and hugged her. her soft breathing comforted me.

but made it all the more difficult for me to trust.
anyone.