Vacation conversations in Kerala - Mostly

Hello, when did you come?

How long you are here?

When are you leaving?

How did you travel?

Did you travel alone?

- - - - - - - -


Hello, how long are you here?

When did you arrive?

Is it raining there in Goa?

How did you travel?

When are you leaving?

- - - - - - - -

Hello, how are you?

When did you come?

When did your college close?

How long are you here?

How will you travel to Goa?

When is your college reopening?

- - - - - - - -

Hello, hope you are well.

When did your college close?

Will you travel with your husband to Goa?

Did you travel alone?

How long will you be in Kerala?

- - - - - - - -

Repeat mode for all the days when I meet people.

Kashmir Diaries - II

Bonding over Kahwah and Wazwan

There is no greater equalizer than food, I believe and in Kashmir, the word kahwah is a passport to warmth and unlimited joy. Having read about the magical concoction called 'kahwah,' we were eager to experience the taste of the liquid heaven, after landing into Kashmir. For the first two days, we were unaware of what it would taste like and how the tea would feel in our mouths. The wait proved worth the time when we finally got to taste kahwah! It is not an exaggeration when I say that every cup of kahwah has a story - of how it is brewed what ingredients go into into it and how it is served after meals. I could narrate at least a dozen or more 'kahwah' stories and yes, this is what life is all about - Sipping on a cup of hot kahwah and discussing vital facts such as the brewing of the concoction! And wherever we were served kahwah, we were asked, "Do you like it?," "Has it been made in the proper manner?" "Did you enjoy the drink?" and so on. So much so, even while we were in Gulmarg, there were dozens of men selling kahwah out of a flask to the sing-song tunes of "Hot Kashmiri kahwah." 

Hilal, our lovely taxi-driver and guide

One specific incident which comes to my mind is that of Hilal, our taxi driver quipping, "Kahwah?! Who wastes time and gas preparing the drink? We don't. It's better to drink normal tea than brew kahwah which consumes a lot of time." If you read on the laborious preparation of kahwah, then you will have to agree with Hilal, the taxi-driver. But no worries, you could always buy kahwah powder which is readily available in many of the shops and a penny for your thoughts - We also bought one of those bottles and religiously drink kahwah everyday musing of the lovely Srinagar and the life there.

Now, sipping kahwah after a heavy meal is just the right thing to do and especially after a meal of wazwan. How could we leave Kashmir without letting wazwan attack our taste-buds! Wazwan is an assortment of meats over rice and served in a big thali. The thali (plate) could be shared by three to four people. The place where we were treated to wazwan was recommended by Hilal, our taxi-driver. The waiters who were serving us were quite happy to see us and repeatedly asked us about the food and its taste and of course, they smiled a lot. Smiles and hospitality is something we witnessed in every place that we visited and one frequent question was, "Do you feel safe?" "Were we rude with you?" "How do you feel visiting our state and talking to us?" - These questions and more were a constant reminder of the state of Kashmir and the undercurrents of fear that is always associated with the place. One has to visit the place to understand the ethos of the place and not go by what we see and read in the media.

One of the items of wazwan

Food was always a point of connect for us while we were in Kashmir as everyone's face lit up when they saw us eating their food and talking to them about their food. Next time, you go to any new place, bid goodbye to your staple food and venture out to try the local cuisine - and then come back and tell me the story of your experience.

A boy grating radish for the chutney/raita served with the kebabs

Images: Blogger's own

Memories of a short-lived conversation

When does something become yours?
When you talk to her?
When you hold imaginary conversations with her when she is within?
When you weave future memories in absentia?
When you internalise your motherhood even before you deliver?
When you dream of holding tiny hands and walking around the block?
When you await the smell and smile and imagine them?
When you talk of grandparents and books and music ---

Alas! The memories of a short-lived conversation cuts through my being
Someone who should have been born is gone
~ Anne Sexton

P. S.:- Written for a dear friend S. 

When (modern) married women converse

Ah, it's such a relief . . .

We need to do more of these outings . . .

Such a breather . . .

Retail therapy is soulful . . . Indeed!

Hmmm, how nice to sip coffee outside home . . .

We need our space, you know . . .

Sometimes I feel like shooting that man . . .

Yes, I can understand . . .

Am I taking too much time on choosing . . . nay, after all you are spending money . . .

I feel cheated when the lover has turned into a husband . . .

Sigh!

You feel like this too? (Loud chuckle)

Have the read . . .

We should do a movie and lunch one day . . . next month?

I think I love the way my life is now! . . .

I miss those carefree spendthrift days of College . . .

I miss my mom! . . .

How did our parents manage? . . .

That &*$% son-of-a-gun . . .

Sigh!

A lovely evening well-spent!

We need to do more of these outings . . .

Before sunrise, Before sunset and everything in between

Just imagine, two strangers in a train decide to spend time together walking the streets in Vienna and getting to know each other! The very idea sends a tingle down my spine and fills my mind with a sense of being overwhelmed. And, the same strangers, of course not strangers any more decide to meet in the Vienna train station after six months, and in the interim not exchanging any phone calls, letters or visits. Well, they don't meet but connect after nine years in France. Well, more than the films, what really interested me was the conversation that transpired between the strangers during their first walk around Vienna which lasts until the wee hours of the morning - before sunrise, to be precise. To me the film is an ode to conversation - A conversation which is genuine, frank, occasionally punctuated by the gurgle of a stream, song of a street singer and by the different sights and sounds of the city. A conversation without mobiles, facebook and other usual suspects.

The strangers, okay the actors, Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy converse on an assortment of topics ranging from feminism to climate change to love, sex, popular culture, media, animals and so on. Their discourse is peppered with anecdotes and in the process of sharing thoughts and ideas, they get to know the other quite well and also by the end of the meeting are attracted to one another. The film consists of only walking and talking and there aren't any more characters in the film than the two actors. Reading up on the film, I found that most of the dialogues are written by the actors themselves and that does not come as a surprise!

I wondered at the possibilities of me doing something similar - chatting up with a stranger on a long distance train and impulsively deciding to walk the town with that stranger. The thought did seem quite thrilling to me and I guess I would have done it, perhaps some years ago when I was in my turbulent twenties! Real conversations are definitely a turn on and as the talks go on, layers of our selves start peeling off and unwittingly we reveal our personalities in the intoxication of words. The same transpires between the two on that walk. I find that I miss that sort of real conversation sometimes. Books allow oneself to travel to unknown lands, mingle with exotic cultures and imagine surreal situations but it is a process that is done alone unlike conversation, and here I mean 'real' conversation where I can see into the eyes of the listener, catch the faint smirk, observe the change in the tone of the voice and take in the gestures of the speaker. You get the drift, don't you? And, if the person on the other end has an equally arresting face, body that fits the conversation then it is imperative that sparks will fly but don't get me wrong here. Conversations don't always have to lead to physical and emotional attraction in the form of love/lust. But I don't deny that there is a higher possibility of falling for someone who can hold an exciting and meaningful conversation for hours (This trait is fast dying because of the various gadgets that vye for one's attention throughout the day/night).

If this post on 'conversation' has made you curious, you must watch the films - there are three of them -- Before Sunrise, Before Sunset and Before Midnight

So, are you turned on by a heady conversation sans any distraction?

Image 1: Internet
Image 2: Internet

Stories on a plate

Meal times are usually conversation times, if one is at home and everyone else is also at home. Slowly the first mouthful is swallowed and the stories begin.

You know what happened yesterday . . .

Ears perk up and the mouthfuls become slow and steady. Sometimes, I find it extremely difficult to concentrate on the food and on the equally delicious talk. I love both to bits. Then to add a flavour from times of yore, my mother adds her bits to the conversation that was started by my sister. She adds colour and antiquity to the interesting string of stories. Me, being the teacher starts a string of related student stories.

The conversation flows.

The food slowly but surely finds its place in our tongues. We savour the flavours of the food and the talk.

The plate goes empty. The stories run.

The juices and the remains of the food are slowly polished off clean. The act of polishing serves a double-fold purpose: It cleans the plate and it prolongs the act of eating.

After the plates, it's the turn of the fingers. In between hearing stories that leave us asking for more, the fingers are licked clean. And I don't know why the remains of the food sticking on the plates and the hands are the tastiest bits. The chatter continues non-stop.

And, in a moment of brief silence, the first person who has had enough tries to get up. NOOOO. PLEEEAAASSSE, we protest. Don't get up to wash your hands. If you wash your hands, the mood and the chain of conversation will break. 

My mother always remarks, "The drier the hands get, the juicier the conversation gets."

The person eventually gets up. Ah, we lose interest. The conversation breaks off. The bits of food on the hands and the plate are viewed with distaste. The magic evaporates. We return to life and that is clearing the dishes away and washing them.

(I guess the same happens even while eating with forks, knives and spoons. But somehow for me, eating with spoons does not create the same magic. I have to use my hands and in the end lick them clean. Wow!)

What happens in your meal times while at home with family?

Image 1: Internet

Those awkward silences

A great man once remarked that he regretted his speech but never his silences. Perhaps, he has never faced the kind of silences that I am going to write about in this post. Well, the awkward silence that hangs heavy after a few minutes after being introduced to someone and having completed initial pleasantries; the silence that hovers when you have finished what you want to say but the listener at the other end does not hang up. These silences are something that I am not very comfortable with. And almost every time the person with whom these ‘silent’ episodes occur are people whom we either know very well or people whom we don’t know at all. Let me illustrate.

You attend a lecture by a very eminent person. While reading that person’s work, you feel that you have a lot to ask him/her but when you get the chance and get introduced to that person; you are unable to talk any further than the initial usual pleasantries.

Your Professor, with whom you have good relations with, calls you up for asking some information about the timings of the local library. You give her the required information but she does not hang up . . . she expects that you would like to talk something to her and vice-versa. Silence. It is very difficult for me to pick up courage and say, ‘Okay, then, I will speak to you later’ because you think it is impolite to hang up when someone of that position calls you. Well, one has to wait patiently till the person at the other end gets impatient and says, ‘Okay, then, I will speak to you later.’ Relief.

Now, this has to be the most interesting. You go to a social gathering and spot your friend. The friend who is extra social would like you to meet all his friends. And so, he decides to introduce you to his most exciting buddy. Well, the exciting buddy smiles after being introduced and does not even attempt to make a conversation while you are bursting with enthusiasm to answer his questions. Silence. Help comes in the form of spotting another friend and excusing oneself. Well, you might think that I could have started a conversation . . . Sometimes one is content with the social circle one has and so it becomes a bit boring to initiate these kinds of conversations. After all, don’t I have enough friends!!! (Is there something as enough when it comes to friends?)

Another awkward silence is when I write in someone’s blog and the blogger is oblivious to my presence in her/his blog and is ‘silent.’ The blogger at the other end does not make any effort to acknowledge me by either visiting me or even replying to my comment on his/her blog. Well, I am not complaining for I know that time is always the constraining factor!

Dear reader, how do you tackle silences that are not meditative and reflective?

Image 1: Internet

Image 2: Internet

Sometimes I fear excessive self-referencing

When we are sure that we have a large number of years behind us, say twenty-five or thirty, it is easy to fall into the self-referencing trap unconsciously. I have seen this increasingly in people, and recently to my chagrin, even in me. I guess it is to do with the age. Maybe not. I did not realise that this was something which seems as a parade of the self until I read in a magazine; one of the women had written about how she was annoyed with one of her friends who used self-referencing for almost everything. Now, that article got me thinking. I observed that I did it almost on a regular basis that I started dreading when the word/letter 'I' started surfacing in my mind. Now I exercise caution.

I believe that excessive usage of the personal pronoun 'I' also means that one has certain amount of knowledge and experience on something which is spoken of. But not everyone is as kind to accept that experience makes one use the personal pronoun 'I.' Some of the people attribute it to an extreme case of self-conceit and pride which always points in the direction of ME. How double-edged can simple self-referencing become.

Sometimes the self-referencing could also try to used by attention seekers who somehow invariably turn the direction of any conversation to themselves. "When I did it last time, it was absolutely fine," When I tried that, I had no problems," When I visited Dubai . . ." and so on and so forth. Sometimes I loathe the attention monger who tries to refer to himself/herself all the time. Hello, there are others with experience as well.

I tried to look at self-referencing from two sides and found out that moderation is the key, in this case. Maybe my moderation would be loathsome to some and normal to certain others. All said and done, one should be aware of what comes out of the mouth, I reckon.

Now, what do you think of self-referencing?

Image: Internet

Flirting with intelligence or Intelligent flirting?

I have always believed that flirting is an art which can be mastered only by a few. Though there are many kinds of flirting, one that I subscribe to is the flirting of the intellect which invariably connects to the individual. Talking about music, art, literature and culture is something that I immensely savour and enjoy. Flirting, which involves the above mentioned factors has always attracted and fascinated me. While attraction which involves other means like excessive flattery and unnecessary gibberish which passes off as subtle tools of flirting, flirting of the mind is something which involves intelligent conversation sprinkled with a liberal dosage of names such as Kant, Aristotle, Bach, Monet, Gogh, Shakespeare and the like.

Now don't get me wrong and think that name dropping is intelligent flirting. No. One has to truly know atleast something about the personalities who make up the creme de la creme of intelligentsia. This kind of flirting, I must say, is the playground of only a certain section. Now, I am not berating flirting of other forms. I can only talk about something which I like and believe in.

Flirting via the mind is quite beneficial to both parties. One gains knowledge,has stimulating conversation and of course impresses the equally integellient listener. I guess this kind of flirting comes with age and experience. But one must be wary of imposters who pretend to make intelligent conversations but are actually hollow on the inside.

Sometimes many of us do flirt even without knowing that we do. Maybe intelligent flirting is so.

All said and done, I conclude by saying that flirting (of the intellect), to me, is an art which cannot be mastered by many.

Well, life goes on. What say ye?

Image: Internet

Conversing in the dark

Have you ever had soulful conversations in the dark?

When a friend or cousin comes over to your place and you find yourself wanting to share so many aspects of your life to him/her, you forget that it is time for sleep. Often personal and intimate conversations, for me, happen at night. The darkness is some sort of intoxication which loosens and makes me talk non-stop. I have observed this trait with many people of both sexes. Once there is the shroud of darkness where one can hear only the voice and not see the expression on the face, dark secrets are easier to spill.

I often wonder about conversing in the dark. Why do people feel so comfortable talking in the dark? The individual knows the person sitting beside is a confidant and can be trusted with anything. But still darkness is something which acts as a wonderful catalyst for speaking of the innermost thoughts and feelings.

And while this soulful conversation takes place, one can observe patterns on the wall made by the tiny light orifices. If any vehicle passes outside, the shadow of the objects outside make patterns on the wall. If these patterns interrupt our conversation, we are more than happy to watch the moving figures.

I might have had innumerable such conversations in the dark with friends, parents, relatives, colleagues and students. No matter what the topics were, it flowed seamlessly. Shame, guilt and other strings were cut lose. Sometimes tears which would flow involuntarily were masked by the darkness (ofcourse if the sniffles are absent).

Finally, we never know when we fall asleep. Sleep comes unawares and the next morning leaves us with a feeling of camaraderie -- a process where each other drank freely out of the cup of mistakes, pain, love, laughter and guilt.

I love those conversations in the dark.

Have you had such 'dark' conversations?

Image: Internet

Someone told me . . .

Off late, it has been quite hectic this side which does not allow me to post periodically inspite of bursting ideas and reflections. The meanderings go on but the posts remain elusive.

Observing people and wondering about them often proves quite engaging. I especially amaze at the different phrases that are dropped well-meaningly but unassumingly. The use of the phrase: 'Someone told me' or 'I heard someone telling . . .' has become quite common that it is sprinkled rather liberally in conversations. At that particular time it seems quite insignificant but that phrase is still carried over twice and thrice by individuals who again say: 'Someone told me . . ..' How often we just carry forward rumours and as such on and on.

I honestly believe that the art of conversation has many strategies but the most abused, according to me is passing on information without verification. I know that it is absolutely harmless on our part when we pass on something which we have heard as a second-hand information. But it would do no harm to verify our sources and then carry it on.

My students, especially, excel in this art. They always tell me something and when I interrogate them further, I get sheepish smiles and blank looks. It was then that I realised that even adults are prone to this behaviour. Most of the times these phrases might be the clever concoction of the speaker who wants to pass off something but does not want to be associated with it. Maybe it is a device to appear clever albeit till the conversation ends and a few minutes thereafter.

Well, whatever the motive, dropping phrases and attributing that to someone is not as smart. Or maybe it is smart!

Hmmmmm, so did someone say that conversation is an art and one can have the liberty of saying anything? What do you think?

Image courtesy: Internet

Have you spoken to the moon?

Madness you might say but still many of us do speak to the moon.

Maybe because we want a passive listener to whatever we sometimes have to say. People sometimes always try giving solutions or a very understanding look which does not touch the insides but the moon! It is always there just for what it is. It might be a grand fictive exaggeration of the imaginative mind but still it is a comfort talking to the moon. There is an exclusiveness about talking to the moon. It is only the moon and you! Of course I make up the responses of the moon in answer to my questions and that is the special treat we give ourselves. Isn't it.

I see the moon and the moon sees me 

And the moon sees somebody I wanna see 

God bless the moon and god bless me 

And god bless the somebody I wanna see 

God looked down from up above 

And he picked you out for me to love 

He picked you out from all the rest 

Cause he knew that I loved you the very best 

I see the moon and the moon sees me 

And the moon sees somebody I wanna see 

God bless the moon and god bless me 

I find this old lullaby very soothing. If you have listened to Jim Brickman's version, it transports one to the world where the only members are the moon and yourself. 

Lovers like talking to the moon for they associate the moon to be a messenger of love as the same moon is seen by the man and the woman in different parts of the country. I don't know whether lovers still do all this. They might be . . .

The moon is sometimes represented as a woman and sometimes as a man in different cultures of the world. There are many legends, myths and wonderful tales about the powers of the moon. Scientists also believe that since the moon consists of a high percentage of water, it has the ability to affect humans who also constitute of 70% of water. When one is sad, we become sadder when we see the moon and the same applies for happiness as well.

Whenever I visit any new place which I am not quite familiar with, I wait for the night so that I can sight the moon and feel that I have someone whom I am acquainted with. It is strange how we can associate with inanimate entities like the moon, mountains, trees, stars and water. But somewhere down in my being, I know that they possess life -- not like the one we know but something of a higher order and that moves us.

Next time you see the moon, think of me as I would/will see the same moon from my part of the world!

Picture courtesy: Internet

Facials, sea, good conversation and a nice vegetable salad

Some days are unlike others: They are wholesome, well spent and give the warm feeling of contentment. Yesterday was one such day. Sleeping in late was another addition to the day's activities yesterday. Breakfast was a leisurely act with little food and lots of conversation. A day where all the members (three) of our family sit and meander over the breakfast table. The loveliness seeped through the next part of the day's activity: Going to the beauty parlour.

Now I have a special philosophy when in comes to the parlour. Its a nice way to get pampered, enjoy conversation with the girls who provide the services and also exchange meaningful smiles with the other mates and of course get indulged which falls in line with the pampering. Making conversation and niggling someone with thoughts is something I don't have to struggle much with. One girl there told me how she enjoys giving massages as it involves working with the hands. I shared my fascination for doing things with the hands viz., kneading the dough, handling the clay, mixing salt to the idli/dosa batter and washing vessels. We both (the girl and I) were listing things that involve using the hands to a greater extent. She also told me that she enjoys giving massages and so does it very well as its is something she likes doing.

The hours at the parlour gave way to a lovely meeting with one of my student/friend (It is very rarely that one gets a student who is also a nice friend). We spent the evening talking about seemingly important as well as not-so-important things about life, people, animals et al. The best part is that we both can talk about any random topic and get hundred percent involved as if that meant the whole world. Sitting by the seashore and watching the water gives way to excellent conversation which borders along the lines of introspection and reflection. The day came to an end with the both of us enjoying a lovely veg salad from a place called 'Jelly Belly.'

I came home and hit the bed with thoughts of the facial, sea, vegetable salad and the lovely conversation with my friend.

The last day of the month

The last day of every month fills me with a sense of wonder at the bygone month and subsequently the months passed by. While passing the last day of each month, I look back and think whether the bygone month has made me any better than what I was, whether it has taught me things that I have failed to unravel before, whether I am loving someone less and whether I am loving someone more without that person even having a faint notion of my love. Well, one always tends to focus on the many things that could have been or could have been avoided. My list of things that could have been avoided always exceeds the list where I think that I have been right.

Coming to the things that could have been avoided, are aspects of time, which could have been utilised carefully, phone calls which I could have done without, tears which have been wasted over hopeless things/people, thoughts which have been eating into me (I perfectly understand that I could have mastered these thoughts but then . . .), impulsive text messages which never did what they had to do, repeated conversations which never yielded what I needed, et al.

Along with these are also various lovely moments, hours, days spent with the contented feeling of warmth, fulfilment and love. Examples are again as follows: unexpected phone calls which spelt out a lovely bonding, my dance lessons which fill my being with energy and liberation, sermons in the church every Sunday which enable me to delve deeper into the truths in the word, text messages which evoke love, respect and memories, blogging for me and myself, friends who never seem to tire listening, strangers who smile with great joy et al.

Well, every month is a step forward and backword. Every month has its fair share of joy, sorrows, love, hate, bonding, detaching and many other aspects. One thing: I am glad to have had another month to my existence and as always looking forward to another month with its share of lovely things and not-so-lovely things.

Conversations while traversing on a rainy day in an auto

Reality struck me when the bus halted at the CMBT bus stop entrance and the sounds of Trisulam, Airport filled the air. I was journeying from Madanapalle, a small town in Andhra Pradesh to Chennai by the APSRTC (Andra Pradesh State Transport Corporation Bus). The sounds that jolted me were from an Auto driver who was keen to get passengers and end his day. It was raining and therefore I grabbed the chance and jumped into the auto (My otherwise strong bargaining skills were put to rest by the rain and the urgency to hit home). Then we (the auto driver and I) started the journey towards Meenambakkam, the place where I stay. Five minutes after we commenced the journey, I was accosted with the question from the auto driver (AD, hereafter) "Where are you coming from?" I was once again shaken from my reverie of watching the rain and the landscape that changes after the rains. "Madam, where are you coming from?" I mumbled a vague answer "Madanapallee." He was satisfied and again, "Madam, are you from here or are you from Andhra?" Now I was getting impatient. I answered "Chennai." Then, "Madam do you work here or there?" Me: I am not working, I am still studying. The AD: Madam, are you studying to become a doctor? Well, the truth was that I was studying to become a doctor but not the doctor he was referring to but a doctor of letters. Well, then the AD asked me "Madam, are you married?" Strange questions but I liked the way he struck a familiar and easy way or conversing with an absolute stranger. I answered "No." He started off, "Madam get married a little late and do not have kids until five years get completed after your marriage. Have five years for enjoyng life with your husband. Travel everywhere. See different places, meet people and enjoy doing together the things you like." I was all ears. Then he started, "Look at me, I got children immediately and all plans of me travelling went wasted. I would love to visit many places but taking the kids would cost me a lot and that's why I tell you don't hurry with things." While talking to me he was peering into the rear view mirror to look into my eyes and talk. he know the art of talking with strangers. He spoke quite a lot of things about life, politics, the state of economy, the policies of the government, the family life and an assortment of funny anecdotes and happenings from his immediate life. We were no longer strangers. We knew each other's names. In case, you're wondering about the time . . . Our journey was for about half an hour or more as it was a long drive on a rainy day from Koyembedu to Meenambakkam. When we reached our destination, he gave me his number and said, "Do call me when you need an Auto in Koyembedu." The rains coupled with the vibrant conversation was one unforgettable journey.