From & To Sathish #5 - Page 102

Wonder: was it me or was it my sari?

By Shoba Narayan, Newsweek, March 12, 2000

A sari for a month. It shouldn’t have been a big deal but it was. After all, I had grown up around sari-clad women in India. My mother even slept in one.

In India, saris are adult attire. After I turned 18, I occasionally wore a sari for weddings and holidays and to the temple. But wearing a sequined silk sari to an Indian party was one thing. Deciding to wear a sari every day while living in New York, especially after 10 years in Western clothes, sounded outrageous, even to me.

The sari is six yards of fabric folded into a graceful yet cumbersome garment. Like a souffle, it is fragile and can fall apart at any moment. When worn right, it is supremely elegant and unabashedly feminine. However, it requires sacrifices.

No longer could I sprint across the street just before the light changed. The sari forced me to shorten my strides. I couldn’t squeeze into a crowded subway car for fear that someone would accidentally pull and unravel my sari. I couldn’t balance four grocery bags in one hand and pull out my house keys from a convenient pocket with the other. By the end of the first week, I was lumbering around my apartment, feeling clumsy and angry with myself. What was I trying to prove?

The notion of wearing a sari every day was relatively new for me. During my college years–the age when most girls in India begin wearing saris regularly–I was studying in America. As an art student at Mount Holyoke, I hung out with purple-haired painters and rabble-rousing feminists wearing ink-stained khakis and cut-off T shirts. During a languid post-graduation summer in Boston, when I sailed a boat and volunteered for an environmental organization, I wore politically correct, recycled Salvation Army clothes. After getting married, I became a Connecticut housewife experimenting with clothes from Jones New York and Ann Taylor. Through it all, I tried to pick up the accent, learn the jargon and affect the posture of the Americans around me.

Then I moved to New York and became a mother. I wanted to teach my 3-year-old daughter Indian values and traditions because I knew she would be profoundly different from her preschool classmates in religion (we are Hindus), eating habits (we are vegetarians) and the festivals we celebrated. Wearing a sari every day was my way of showing her that she could melt into the pot while retaining her individual flavor.

It wasn’t just for my daughter’s sake that I decided to wear a sari. I was tired of trying to fit in. Natalie Cole had never spoken to me as eloquently as M.S., a venerable Indian singer. I couldn’t sing the lyrics of Ricky Martin as easily as I could sing my favorite Hindi or Tamil songs. Much as I enjoyed American cuisine, I couldn’t last four days without Indian food. It was time to flaunt my ethnicity with a sari and a bright red bindi on my forehead. I was going to be an immigrant, but on my own terms. It was America’s turn to adjust to me.

Slowly, I eased into wearing the garment. Strangers stared at me as I sashayed across a crowded bookstore. Some of them caught my eye and smiled. At first, I resented being an exhibit. Then I wondered: perhaps I reminded them of a wonderful holiday in India or a favorite Indian cookbook. Grocery clerks enunciated their words when they spoke to me. Everywhere, I was stopped with questions about India as if wearing a sari had made me an authority. One Japanese lady near Columbus Circle asked to have her picture taken with me. A tourist had thought that I was one, too, just steps from my home.

But there were unexpected advantages. Indian cabdrivers raced across lanes and screeched to a halt in front of me when I stepped into the street to hail a taxi. When my daughter climbed high up the Jungle-Gym in Central Park, I gathered my sari and prepared to follow, hoping it wouldn’t balloon out like Marilyn Monroe’s dress. One of the dads standing nearby watched my plight and volunteered to climb after her. Chivalry in New York? Was it me or was it my sari?

Best of all, my family approved. My husband complimented me, my parents were proud of me. My daughter oohed and aahed when I pulled out my colorful saris. When I cuddled her in my arms, scents from the vetiver sachets that I used to freshen my sari at night escaped from the folds of cloth and soothed her to sleep. I felt part of a long line of Indian mothers who had rocked their babies this way.

Soon, the month was over. My self-imposed regimen was coming to an end. Instead of feeling liberated, I felt a twinge of unease. I had started enjoying my sari.

Saris were impractical for America, I told myself. I would continue to wear them, but not every day. It was time to revert to my sensible khakis. It was time to become American again.

Shoba Narayan is an author, journalist and columnist. Besides writing, she is interested in nature, wine, gadgets and Sanskrit. Her lifelong mission is to get fit without exercising and lose weight without dieting.

"I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, and my courage is reborn." Anne Frank

The attendant knocked on the door that announced morbidly " Dr. Madhu, Pathology department. Enter at your own risk " the familiar voice welcomed him ' Enter ' and he did as the owner of the voice peered at him over the thick glasses she was wearing and asked, ' Well?'

' Ma'am, it's my father. He passed away last night.'

His chief and the head of the Pathology dept sighed sadly and whispered, ' I am sorry for your loss, young man. You have been here with me for more than two years now and so you are familiar with death and the dead.'

Pavithran nodded, ' Yes ma'am, and the reason is you. Thanks to your patience, kindness, and incredible knowledge, I am considered a decent Morgue attendant.'

' Humility is all good, Pavi. But don't overdo it. You worked hard and tirelessly and that is why you are where you are today.'

Removing her glasses, she rubbed her eyes and placing them back again, looked at Pavithran, ' I guess you will need a couple of days off for the funeral.'

Pavithran smiled, ' No ma'am, it's just me and my dad and he is here with me or rather here with us.'

Dr. Madhu smiled and removing her glasses used them to point towards the door and asked, ' Oh! He is on our table?'

Pavithran nodded grimly, ' Yes, ma'am.'

Dr. Madhu stared at him, ' Why is he here? How did he die?'

' Natural causes I am sure.'

' Then why the need to open him up.'

Pavithran answered, ' I want to see his heart.'

'What? You want to see his heart. Why?'

' Ma'am, my dad was a strange person. There was something off about him. But, he was always very kind and helpful and I remember my mom telling me that he has suffered a lot due to his helping nature.'

Dr. Madhu got to her feet and smilingly joked, ' Pavithran, it is not about the heart child. It is about the brain that is the root cause for everything.'

Both walked out of the cabin and walked into the autopsy area, and Dr. Madhu stopped and looked at Pavithran, ' You have already opened him up?'

' Yes, ma'am.'

' Then what am I doing here? '

' I need you to take a look at his heart for there is something strange about it.'

Dr. Madhu shook her head and walked towards where the body who had once lived and had had a name lay with his chest cavity wide open like huge a red water lily and peered at the heart that lay still in death.

' He is still warm?'

Her junior replied, ' Yes ma'am. It's only been an hour since he died. '

' Okay ' she said and proceeded to stare at the heart and looked up at Pavithran, ' What was his name?'

' Satish ma'am. Satish Kumar.'

She stared at the thin lines that crisscrossed the heart from top to bottom and sighed heavily, ' I have seen this before, Pavithran. A long time ago. Just once. My senior who is no more told me what could have caused these strange markings lines and markings.'

Pavithran looked up and asked in confusion, ' What did he say, ma'am?

She smiled and removing her glasses, said in a soft voice, ' Tracks, Young man. They are tracks.'

Pavithran's eyes went round and big like tennis balls and his voice went all squeaky, ' Tracks? Tracks of what, ma'am?'

' Tracks of his tears, Pavithran. He did not want others to see him cry through his eyes. So, he cried in private and inside. His heart cried for him and his tears have left behind deep grooves, pathways on their surface.'

Dr.Madhu's eyes shimmered with diamonds and pearls of her own tears and she smiled and said, ' He must have loved someone very dearly. He must have lost that love and it must have hurt him until the day of his death.'

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rKArhXSJjsY

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVU0c27AO3o

Avan, Aval, Adhu 349

“I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common man with common thoughts and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I've loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough..” Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook

Ravi Kumar looked at all of them and in turn, they all looked at him and saw his eyes grow distant as they sought to retrieve memories from the distant past. They all saw his lips slowly bloom and rise with a gentle smile and just when they thought they would join in his light, he spoke about the one person who in their minds was the opposite of life and all things bright and beautiful.

' Meenakshi was not like this. She was a kind, gentle, and brave soul. I remember when we were kids, she used to beat up boys who tried to bully me or push me around.'

He looked at all of them, ' I have known Meenakshi since we were children. We ate together, slept together, and went everywhere together. Many people for a long time thought we were twins from one womb and some even thought that I was her brother.'

Ravi looked at Daksha, ' A parent will never think of doing harm to their child and will even risk their lives to protect their own. The bond between me and my cousin Meena did not have a physical presence or shape but it did have a spiritual and emotional shape that we called friendship and love.'

He hurriedly said, ' No, not that kind of love but still, I can only describe it as love for I have no other word to describe it.'

Daksha shrieked annoyedly, ' Then why did you refuse her proposal? I swear Ravi, honestly, sometimes you really come across as a real psycho and weird person.'

' I know Ducks. I know I am a bit weird but hopefully in a good way ' Ravi replied and then looked at her with calm eyes and bombed her with his own questions in the same calm and serene way.

' Ducks, love between a man and woman does not mean they should get married. What about you and me or what about a mother and her son?'

Daksha was completely blown away by this question and the vein it was asked in, ' what about them?'

' We have known each other for a long time now. For nearly twenty years or more, right.'

' Right. So what?'

' In all these years, have I once misbehaved with you or have made you feel uncomfortable or made you feel like I am a guy and you are a girl? ' and paused and continued, ' But before you answer my question, allow me to answer it myself for then you will feel more comfortable to reply to it.'

Daksha shook her head and said, ' No, Ravi. Let me go first for both our answers are the same. Never, you have never made me feel uncomfortable and have never made me feel like the odd one out. Yes, there have been times when both you and Partha gang up like men and boys do and crack your stupid and silly jokes. But that's about it.'

She smiled and said, ' In fact, I feel so much for you and even feel maternal about both of you, and not just because I am a few years older than you nutcases. But because it comes naturally from my soul and I let it flow its own course.'

Ravi smiled and hugged her and kissed her gently on her forehead, ' Thank you and yes, I too love you very much.'

Then with a smile in his eyes, ' It is the same way with Meena and maybe even more. Today we stand apart far from each other but it is she who has walked away and it is she who ripped the bonds that we shared. Yet, I am not angry with her and in fact, I feel more empathy and sadness for her.'

' Empathy and sadness for her? ' Rasaathi Ammal yelled and Ravi nodded, ' Yes mother. I do and I don't have any other way to better explain my feelings and thoughts about her.'

Sighing, he exhaled his sadness and burden and tried to enjoy the moment, and stood feeling lighter in his soul and body. But, he had to inhale and so he did and they returned, air and thoughts filled with oxygen and filled with ghosts and burdens of the past and the present.

' Love, feelings, thoughts, and what we are cannot be changed overnight and sometimes not even in a lifetime. Meenakshi and I ate on one plate, slept on one mat side by side and even bathed together as children.'

He looked at Dharmalinga Thevar and lowered his head, ' I was there when she came of age and suffered severe abdominal cramps and began to bleed. I was the one who ran and got her a sanitary napkin and when she could not walk because of the pain, I carried her in my arms and brought her home.'

They all saw the tears make an appearance in his eyes like the first rays of the coming sunrise and they all felt their own eyes tearing up and then they did as Ravi spoke on about the love and bond that he and Meenakshi had once shared.

' Meenakshi was strange even then for when we used to go to the temple, I used to pray for everyone but she used to pray only for me and for my well-being. At first, I thought it was a joke but it was not. I secretly followed her many times to the Murugan temple and hidden behind a tree, heard her pray for my health. But all that changed after she came of age and after she started growing up quickly and turned into a beautiful woman.'

Dharmalinga Thevar reflected on his own thoughts and memories, ' Not only that, it was at that time that this lady friend of yours entered your life and all our lives changed because her arrival changed Meenakshi's life.'

https://youtu.be/cB-Ow6DrDig

Avan, Aval, Adhu 350

Daksha spoke without any inhibitions about what exactly others were thinking at that very moment.

' Ravi, in retrospect, I think you might have erred by not marrying Meenakshi. If you only had done that all these problems could have been avoided and you would not have wasted, twenty-five years of your life living inside yourself.'

Dharmalinga Thevar's voice was melancholic and tragic in both its tone and in its expression. ' Iyaa, what Daksha said is true. I know it is too late now but maybe if you had married Meenakshi. you would have made not only her the happiest person in this world but me and my wife would have gained a son along with a son-in-law.'

Rasaathi Ammal sighed loudly and in a bitter voice said that all their lives would have been better off if one person had not entered it.

Ravi looked at all three of them and took his time in doing so and then he asked all three of them, ' What about me? Your son, your nephew, and your friend? What about what I want and need and desire?'

' What about it, Ravi?' Daksha asked him annoyedly and provoked him further by saying that he only had heartbreak, suffering, and solitude to show for all the twenty-five years of being on his own?'

Ravi took a deep breath and smiled serenely and the genuine warmth and emotion in it left everybody thinking that they were basking under the gentle rays of the morning sun.

He first looked at Daksha and playfully winked his eye at her and said, ' Ducks, I know you as well as you think you know me. That's why I felt no hurt when you said that I would have been better off being married to Meenakshi and that I would not have wasted twenty-five years of my life.'

He then let his eyes walk over all of them and spoke to all of them in general. ' Love is a beautiful creation and so similar to a plant that erupts from a seed. A tender sapling that is nourished lovingly by the earth, air, and the sun blooms and grows into a large tree. But, our human love erupts from two seeds. Two souls and remarkably they come together, entwined in their love, ensconced in their emotions, and wrapped in their needs for each other. But, very few bloom, grow, and stay healthy all through their lives.'

Ravi shook his head and then began giggling happily and suddenly he stopped and brought both his hands together and made a loud clapping noise.

' You need two hands to produce a loud clapping noise. You need two souls in sync to create love. A one-sided love will not do and will not stand the test of time.'

His face turned serious and the warmth of his smile that had filled their hearts with comfort a few minutes ago fled from the darkness that now filled it and it reminded everyone of the rain-filled angry thunder clouds that sometimes loomed in the distance.

' All of you think you know me very well. Okay. But, answer me honestly, do you think any of you know Meenakshi as well as I do? ' and glared at Dharmalinga Thevar who bent his head and mumbled, ' I am her father but I don't know who my daughter really is or at least who or what she is inside her head and that scares.'

' Correctly said, uncle. Funnily, she never scared me. She didn't then and does not now although I confess that she always made me feel very nervous when she got moody and angry and that nervousness I felt slowly grew along with Meenakshi's anger after the arrival of Madhu to Kumarapalayam.'

He looked pointedly at his mother and uncle, ' Do you really believe in your hearts that I and Meenakshi would have lived happily after our marriage? If you think that, then I am sorry it is because you are short-sighted and selfish.'

Rasaathi Ammal yelled at her son, ' Dei, Ravi, what is wrong with parents wanting their children to get married and settle down? This is how it has been and is and will be forever.'

' Amma, please for God's sake. Stop talking about tradition, culture, and all that symbolic cr.p. I expect better from you and not these flimsy and cringy lines that actors spit and spew in Television and movies.'

In a raised voice, he addressed all of them, ' What is more important? The marriage of two loving souls or the marriage of two bodies, families, and egos for convenience and for selfish motives.'

His face softened slightly and Ravi said, ' If I and Meena had married, then surely it would have ended in disaster and in death. Either I would have killed her or I would have killed myself. But, I chose the path I am right now and the life that I am living today, and did it deliberately and consciously and regret nothing. Not a moment of it. But, if I had married Meenakshi, I am sure that all of you would have soon realized how miserable both of us were and would have regretted it.'

Rubbing his face with his hands, ' You people think, thought that I should have sacrificed myself for the greater good and needs of all of you. But you are wrong. If I had married Meenakshi, it would have been not for the greater good but to satisfy one person's love and selfish desire.'

His forehead furrowed in anger as if they were trying to act as a pathway for anger to pour from outside and into his eyes which were now grim and also promised more of the same.

' I am not talking about only Meenakshi here but.......................' and he looked at all of them.

Love is not complicated. It just 'is'. The complicated part is finding two souls who are feeling it at the same time in their lives... and for each other. Feeling it so deep that they're willing to fight every second of the day to keep it alive. That's the complicated part. They say if the love is true, then it’s easy. But that’s false. Love is complicated. It’s sticky. It’s bliss and it’s a mix of emotions. It’s not easy.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VNAAaOxh8BA&t=26s

In an ancient temple, a number of pigeons lived happily on the roof top.

When the renovation of the temple began for the annual temple feast, the pigeons relocated themselves to a Church nearby.

The existing pigeons in the Church accommodated the new comers very well.

Christmas was nearing and the Church was given a facelift, All the pigeons had to move out and look for another place.

They were fortunate to find a place in a Mosque nearby, The pigeons in the Mosque welcomed them happily.

It was Ramadan time and the Mosque was repainted, All the pigeons now came to the same ancient temple.

One day the pigeons on top found some communal clashes below in a market square.

The baby pigeon asked the mother pigeon

"Who are these people ?

The mother replied; they are "Human beings".

The baby asked,

But why are they fighting with each other...?

The mother said "These human beings going to temple are called 'Hindus' and the people going to Church are called 'Christians' and the people going to Mosque are called 'Muslims'.

The Baby pigeon asked, "Why is it so? When we were in the Temple we were called Pigeons, when we were in the church we were called Pigeons and when we were in the Mosque, we were called Pigeons. Similarly they should be called just

'Human beings' wherever they go"?

The mother Pigeon said,

'You and me and our Pigeon friends have experienced God and that's why we are living here in a highly elevated place peacefully.

These people are yet to experience God.

Hence they are living below us and fighting and killing each other.

Avan, Aval, Adhu 351

The pain we feel in life always grows. When we’re little, little pains hurt us. When we get bigger, we learn to handle more and more pain and carry on regardless. The more peace we bring into our lives, the more peace we bring into this world.

Finding an answer to the question of which language has the most words is not only a controversial one but a very difficult one and a task and debate that most linguists never get into and run a mile when it begins. But, an answer has to be there and it does not matter if it is controversial at best or arrogant at its worst.

Robert Cawdrey's Table Alphabeticall, published in 1604, was the first single-language English dictionary ever published. It lists approximately 3000 words, defining each one with a simple and brief description.

The first edition of the Oxford English dictionary was published in 1884 under the name of A New English Dictionary on Historical Principles; Founded Mainly on the Materials Collected by The Philological Society. In 1895, the title The Oxford English Dictionary was first used unofficially on the covers of the series, and in 1928 the full dictionary was republished in 10 bound volumes. In 1933, the title The Oxford English Dictionary fully replaced the former name in all occurrences in its reprinting as 12 volumes with a one-volume supplement. More supplements came over the years until 1989, when the second edition was published, comprising 21,728 pages in 20 volumes. In the second edition of the Oxford English dictionary which was published in 1989, there are approximately 600,000 word forms defined.

Since 2000, the compilation of a third edition of the dictionary has been underway, approximately half of which was complete by 2018. Many people estimate that there are more than a million words in the English language. In fact, during a project looking at words in digitized books, researchers from Harvard University and Google in 2010, they estimated a total of 1,022,000 words and that the number would grow by several thousand each year.

In the Oxford English dictionary that was published the word Candid means saying what you think openly and honestly; not hiding your thoughts.

Sorry, but in real life, the word candid also means Daksha who just launched a volley of her own brand of counter answers that bordered on retributions and she ended it with a question.

' Selfish? Do you consider all of us selfish for wanting you to get married and settle down? You think we are being selfish for wanting to see you live a happy and peaceful life?'

She stepped forward and looked up into Ravi's eyes and slashed him down to size with her own sizzler of a question.

' Well master sir, have you given to what Meenakshi will say and do when she learns about the return of your lady friend, Madhu?'

' I have Ducks ' Ravi replied quietly and looked at Dharmalinga Thevar and said, ' I am going to meet her tomorrow.'

His uncle shook his head, ' You will be wasting your time, Iyaa. The Meenakshi you grew up with is gone. Something else is living inside my daughter and there is no way one can reason with that evil spirit.'

Parthiban's voice was desperate, ' I don't understand this. I really don't, Ravi. How can one person do so much damage to others and continue with it?'

Turning to Inspector Sargunam, ' Guna, surely you can do something and somehow control this mad woman?'

' Maybe there is a way, sir. But I have no idea what that is right now. You forget that Iyaa's daughter is politically connected and has friends in all parties and.......'

Dharmalinga Thevar's smile was a mix of wisdom and sorrow and his words were more than that. ' Guna, say it, child. Finish what you were about to say ' and looked at Ravi and said, ' What, our sweet and kind policeman was trying to say but would not and could not say lest it hurt me was that today, right this moment, my daughter's powers and connections are much stronger than mine.'

' But, uncle, you are the ruling party's sitting MLA of Madurai and you also have a lot of financial clout among people with power and people with money.'

' Ravi, all that amounts to nothing for Meenakshi is my daughter. All my money and all my power will be zero for none will stand with me against her. They will retreat saying " Family problem. Personal problem. Let them handle it " and I will be left alone with just all of you for support.'

Daksha true to her name Candid spoke candidly, ' lest you forget, uncle, she speaks better than you and is a far superior orator than you on stage.'

Dharmalinga Thevar smiled and said, ' Correct. Forget what others say, I myself think that one of the reasons why I got so many votes was because, Meenakshi campaigned for me, ferociously and tirelessly. That is why she is considered an important investment for the future of our party by our leaders in Chennai.'

' No need to complicate matters right now and to think so far ahead of the road right now. We will take it one step at a time and move according to that ' Ravi said wearily and turning to his uncle, ' First thing tomorrow morning, I will go and meet her and talk to her and maybe later in the day, we can all gather here and then we can discuss what needs to be done.'

Daksha nodded her head, ' sounds like a decent plan ' and then true to her nature asked Ravi what was going on between him and Madhu.

' Master sir, Why has she come back now? Where was she all this while and why return right now after all these years? Is she going to stay or is she going to leave? Is she married or is she single?'

Parthiban groaned loudly, ' Aiyo ducks, what's with you and your million questions? Just leave him alone to his thoughts and to his privacy. You are acting as if you are some prosecuting lawyer who is cross-examining a criminal in open court.'

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ijdEQlIskGo