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Remembering Appa on his birthday

It is Appa's birthday today, and I am a hairball of emotions.  I am thinking about how we celebrated his birthday last year - not on his actual birthday, but when he was here in Boston in July last year. My parents in law were here for the summer, and my sister & family had brought Appa to drop him here, and he was to fly back to India a couple of weeks later. Both his daughters, his sons-in-law, and all four grandchildren were here, and I do not remember the last time this was the case. It was a good occasion for us to celebrate, and we celebrated his 70th, a few months after his (fake) official birthday, and a few months before his actual one. I had to think hard about how  he  would like his birthday to be celebrated, and we settled on doing a puja at home. Lots of new arrangements needed to be done - had to cook for about twenty people, Indian flowers needed to be organized, etc etc. It was super fun and satisfying to do the puja, that we kinda forgot about Appa's birth

An Invitation from the Park Bench

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Hey you! Yes you! Slow down, stop. Come on, have a seat. It will be okay.  Put down your burden, if only for a minute. Your bags are safe with me, you can pick them right back.  Take a deep breath. Take five. Take more Until you know you can breathe. Feel you feet on the ground, feel the breeze in your hair.  Feel the humid air leaving a trace on your skin. Look around you. See the trees move in the wind. See the children playing. See the colorful flowers. The old woman walking her dog. The single firefly. The brook flowing gently. Gushing over some rocks. Listen to the sound of cars. Hear the children squealing. The water flowing. The wind through the trees.  A stronger gust of wind, louder this time.  The man talking shop on his phone.  Observe the universe around you. Bask in its abundance. Feel the embrace enveloping you. Lightly or tightly. Your choice. It's all yours. Exactly what you need. Exactly when you need. Lean into your inner wisdom. It knows. You are welcome here. Ex

Birthday Reflections

It is my birthday in the time zone I was born in, so it is already my birthday. It has been 44 years since I entered this world, and today is a celebration of that fact. How do I feel on my birthday, more specifically, what do I feel? The overwhelming emotion I feel is a profound sense of loss and grief. The two individuals that were responsible for my birth, and to whom I owe this day to, are both gone. It has been three birthdays since Amma passed, and it is the first since Appa passed. That I am marking a birthday without them, feels empty and void.  Amma's passing was all about Amma. The months following Amma's death I missed her so much, I remembered her words, her face, her mannerisms, her food, and everything that I could not have anymore. Appa's passing has been different for me. It is now all about me. That I  no longer have the benefit, the privilege, of having my parents around. That I  am left to fend for myself without the anchors I had taken for granted, that

Representation matters

As a woman and on behalf of all women, I am enraged. Yes we have several reasons to feel shortchanged, what's the immediate cause, you ask? Settle in, we have ground to cover.  I recently read a book on what we know so far about how the human bodies have evolved and how women's lives have contributed to specific organs being the way they are, as well as the evolutionary differences between the sexes. (The book is titled Eve by Cat Bohannon, very well written. Highly recommend.) There are a few takeways from the book, I will mention three. One is that sexual orientation is natural, one is born with it, and shades of queerness have existed through the history of millennia in human existence.  The other is that much of how we evolved, what inherently constitutes humanness, specifically distinguished from our closest genetic cousins, is largely attributable to women. The earliest tools were a product of necessity of the female of our species. Language, that is the most distinguisha

Not-so-guilty Pleasures

 Mangoes are the one upside of summer in India. The various shades of yellow, the pervasive aroma of the fruit, the dramatic differences in texture and taste of the different varieties, mangoes are a truly treat to the senses. The improvement in the supply chain technology has led to an explosion of varieties available in the country. But it was not always like this. Appa would bring a box of Alphonso or Hapus (we called it Aapoos, I had to look it up now to find the spelling :p) when he traveled to Bombay, it was a genuine treat. We would get Neelam, Salem, Malgova varieties locally. A recently available variety that is delectable is the Imam Pasand. Badami is another one that is Alphonso, but can't be called that (it is grown in the contiguous stretch of land as the Alphonso, but called differently because of GI). Banganapalli receives a bad rap only because of it ubiquity in Bangalore,  The saga of mangoes would begin long before the ripe fruits entered the scene. Before the fru

Micro-feminism

On the recommendation of a friend, I watched Laapata Ladies. I had a five hour flight to take, and I downloaded the movie last minute, and had had very little prior context of the story line, or even the genre. I watched about half the movie on the flight, and just concluded the full movie about two days later.  The movie is very nicely done - powerful ideas presented simply and without drama, with a certain yathartham (Side quest - Didn't know the direct English equivalent of the Tamil word, used google translate. Apparently it is the same word in Hindi as well (who knew!) and roughly translates to realism. Realism doesn't completely capture the essence, maybe realism with elegance is better). Directed by Kiran Rao, characters played by not so mainstream but highly talented actors, taut story line, and a dose of everyday humor, the movie is a treat to watch and leaves you thinking. As I watched the movie, the character Manju Maai reminded me of Geetha didi. She worked at my ho

Women's day

We don't need ONE women's day, We need a day to care about women's SAFETY From being fed ideas about her identity and potential From molestation, abuse, torture and death. We don't need ONE women's day We need a day to INDULGE her RAGE Her pent-up anger over centuries and generations To fuel an uprising to restore the balance. We don't need ONE women's day We need a day to RECOGNIZE her unique advantages Evolutionary and honed over thousands of generations That her male counterparts can do with a little more of. We don't need ONE women's day We need a day to CELEBRATE how far she's come In spite of the cards stacked against her In a sexist society. We don't need ONE women's day, We need a day to FIGHT for women's EQUALITY In power, authority and responsibility In representation, grace and compassion. We don't need ANY women's day For great will be a day when she can just BE Existing and thriving, with strengths and contributio

Out for a walk on a windy winter evening

I wanted to go for a walk I didn't want to venture out I dithered and dallied, finally Did decide to step out. The friend I called to speak didn't pick my call. The book I had been listening to didn't call out to me. The song I had recently been binge-ing on sounded wearying. My usual playlist was on infinite skip. Maybe it was the time to just be by myself, with myself. Am I fun to hang out with, time to find out! So off I went, airpods back in case, Walking on, trying to be in the present.  The cold forced me to pay attention, The wind faithfully supported the cause. The occasional car ferrying its driver home, The sidewalks devoid of any people.  My hands found warmth deep in the coat pockets The sliver of skin between the leggings and the boots didn't I kept my head held low, out of respect for the cold, The jacket hood could not keep out the howling wind. With every lamp post I passed I watched my shadow grow longer and shorter Unlocked a core memory Memories carri

Ode to the hard stuff

We talk about and reminisce the fun stuff. The happy times in relationship.  With a friend. With a lover. With a manager. Conversation that just flows.  Music that instantly resonates. When you feel like you belong. When you feel loved. What feels easy. Effortless.  We don't speak enough about the hard stuff. Getting out there looking for a job.  A dream job. Or a job for sustenance. Getting rejected at an interview. Being passed up for promotion. Being fired from or laid off at work. Feeling betrayed by your manager.  We don't speak enough about the hard stuff. Taking your ideas into the world. Finding out they suck. Asking for money. From an investor. A friend. Admitting you screwed up. Not being able to return the money. We don't speak enough about the hard stuff. Opening up your heart. Having it crushed into a million pieces. Having to let down love you cannot quite requite. Having to let go of a relationship that isn't working for you. A breakup. A breakup of a

What's in a name?

 This blog used to be titled "Musings of a self-confessed geek", and the URL "mostlygibberish.blogspot.com". I had started this blog circa 2008, and the blog identity I had created for my writing reflected my self-perception at the time. As I resurfaced this blog last year, I had been feeling that I didn't like the name. It would irk me every time I looked at the title of the blog, or when I would share the URL with you all. I felt that it didn't fully reflect who I am.  Who I am is an elusive concept I am still grappling with, but I know  that I don't write gibberish, and I certainly do not identify with the geek description, much less the self-confessed part of it. Whenever the annoyance increased, I would ask the question - if not this then what?, and I said this would stay until I organically came up with a better one.  Having been raised in a culture that appreciates humility, especially in a woman, it had become a practiced art to show up as less t

Imperfection

Over the last several months, I am feeling a pull towards mindful deeper conversations, and a pull away from surface level interactions that we often fill our life with. The vulnerability as well as the kindness in those interactions have allowed me to be vulnerable and open minded. I have learnt to lean inwards towards self reflection. I am learning to feel all the emotions I go through, to sit with them and truly ask what they are telling me, and to be open to the answers, however unpalatable they may be.  A lot of these behaviors are not surprising, given my MBTI type. I am an ENFP - Extraverted, iNtuitive, Feeling and Perceiving. I do derive energy from interaction with people, focus on concepts and ideas, I lead with the heart and don't play by the rules. As things tend to be, each of these dimensions are on a sliding scale. I tend to be a borderline Extravert (is energized by people, but also enjoy quiet time), fairly strong on the iNtuitive dimension (look to the future and