The Voices

A thousand little voices screeching in my head

Jostling with each other to be the first heard

Angry and happy, sweet and snapping

Melodious screams, all overlapping

The stronger ones come to the fore

And claim my tongue, as their own

Oh you think I put them there?

These little voices that trill and tear?

Believe me, it be true, I can only watch

Helpless, they come out as I talk

Sometimes I don't want one but the other

Alas, the ones I need somehow disappear

What choice have I then but to succumb

Yet wish upon wish were I dumb

'Cause even when I hear them uttered

All I want is keep them shuttered.

Crushed crush

You know how back in school you used to have crushes on older girls (or boys if you were a boy)? A hero-worshippy, non-homosexual sort of crush? Does it ever stop at school level you think? For me, it persists. There are two girls at my workplace whom I secretly adore, from a distance. First one is a smart looking girl with close cropped hair and a pleasant and open face. For her I have only adoration. The other is a graceful girl with a long willowy form, beautifully shaped long hair and pleasant voice. For her, though, my adoration is slightly tinged with jealousy. And precisely because of that slight tinge that I'm glad of the thing that happened.

Why are these american bathroom stalls devoid of any privacy? No I'm not digressing. You'll see the connection in a tiny little while. Back to my question. Why again? There's enough space between the divider and the floor that you can even crawl from one to another. A bathroom is the most private place a person could be. Tell it to these people and they scoff and say 'Privacy Schmivacy'!

So one day, I'm taking my break (you do understand euphemisms, don't you?), when I hear noises from the adjacent stall. You know, the usual noises which accompany a person who is answering nature's call - all of them. The entire concert was played for my benefit. You can't help but hear them in the dead silence of an office restroom. If given an option, I would've stopped my ears but that was just not to be. So I quickly make my exit and was shocked to see my crush number two (number two ha ha ha) egress from the adjacent stall. I could hear a tiny 'poof' - the rosy glow of my crush vanishing against the harsh sounds that were still fresh in my mind.

Now I have only one wish for the future - that my smart cookie and I do not decide to answer nature's call at the same time.

"Just Google It"

Most questions these days seem to have one answer - 'just google it'. Really? 


Time and again I have had this said to me by my peers. It is a teensy bit insulting.  I am as Gen Y as you and do you, my peer, really think that I wait for your directive to 'google it' when I want to find information on something? I'm a programmer for pete's sake! How else do you think I survive, if I didn't know 'to google it'? 


So why I do ask you a question that can just as easily be 'googled' or 'wikied'? Because I want _your_ answer. The personal touch. Its my way of connecting with you. Because this too-connected world helps me to stay connectedly disconnected, this is my way of reaching out to feel the human. I want the little tete-a-tete again. And you know what, I don't mind waiting to hear from you. 


And why would I wait days when 'googling' can give me the answer in mere nanoseconds? I'll tell you - with an example. Once, a friend sent a list of new dishes and suggested that I pick one and make it for a party. I asked her to explain the dishes to me 'the next time we meet'. And her reply was 'google it'. And she didn't stop there - she googled and sent the answers to me! 
I refused to read it and told her I'll wait to hear about them when I met her next (because we were meeting soon anyway). And the time when we did meet, she did explain the dishes - accompanied with her trademark expressive gestures, smiles and josh. And we built up a conversation from that. Now tell me, which impersonal, one-way street google result can ever beat that? 


So next time I ask you something, do not, I repeat, do NOT tell me to google it. (I'll ask nicely) Please? 

The Puzzle

It's what Life is. A puzzle. A puzzle that is constantly rearranging.

Every single being who touches your life in some way makes up their own individual little piece. Every single look, every single touch, every single word, everything that matters - every little thing becomes a tiny piece of the puzzle. And that piece is constant. It is always what it is. No other piece can come and take its place. There may be other similar pieces. There may be complimentary pieces. And new pieces are added, when new people are met, new relations are forged, new paths are taken and new lives are created, each piece finds its own niche. It will disturb the other pieces, they will be disturbed, rearranged. This puzzle is not a constant, only the pieces are. And even when millions of new pieces get added, every little one always holds its own. And if it is lost, a part goes out of your puzzle forever. A puzzle shaped blank is created in your universe. Where that piece was, now you stare at nothingness.

Is your puzzle complete? Where have your missing pieces gone?

Sleeping with soap

You wake up in bed and find a piece of dried-up soap under your sheets.

You open the kitchen cabinet and find a toy sheep staring right back at you.

You sweep under the sofa and find four tiny cars.

You go out to the balcony and find a CD case lying for who-knows-how-long in the rain and shine.

You sit on the sofa to be poked by a ball on the cushion or by a spoon wedged between the cushions.

Your bathtub is filled with crayon drawings.

Your patience is tried to the utmost with blatant disobedience.

Your knowledge is put to the test with never ending questions of "what is this?".

You find yourself laughing silly at the crazy songs and dialogs that will be made up.

And if you have a blog, you almost never finish up a post, because you're constantly being interrupted with shrill summons.

Yes. That's what life is, with a two-year-old.

Tripping up the Hills

A few years ago, I had been to the Kallakkad - Mundanthurai tiger reserve and spent a very enjoyable time there.An interest on my part to share the beauties of the place with Hubs and a shortage of time (isn't that always the case?) led us to plan to spend a couple of days at the reserve - more specifically, at this place called Kudhiraivetti.

With directions from Google Maps and numerous people on the road, we reached the foot of the Manjolai Hills, atop which Kudhiraivetti is nestled. The Reserve sprawls over these hills and can be reached two ways - from Papanaasam and from Kallidaikurichi and onto Manjolai. The Papanaasam route is much more eventful, with many falls on the way. But we picked the latter, since we wanted to see Manjolai.

Early morning start

The Reserve is a protected area (read: Red tape) and requires prior permission to visit or stay. We had obtained the permission from Forest dept. We now reached the check post near the Manimutharu Dam where they check if you have really obtained the permission (word of caution: be sure to pay any fees in exact change here. Any change remaining may be kept back as 'tips' ).

Manimuthaaru Dam

Since we had picked July to visit the place, we had to brave the elements to sightsee. First stop was Manimutharu Falls. Here a chain is tied across the bridge over the river, barring your path. A shameless beggar in a forest ranger uniform demands bribe from you here to open the chain. Whatever the season be, apparently we have to brave the pitiful humans too. Passing him with disgust, we also passed by the chance to bathe in the falls since it was raining and also windy, and went on driving up.

Manimuthaaru Falls

A word of caution here. If you are planning to make a trip to the same place, before you start check your car. If it's a compact car like our Chevy Spark, stop right there. Because a few kilometers after the Falls, the roads become extremely pothole-y. We had a tough time with the little Spark! You need a rugged beast of a four wheeler to navigate those roads.

The Bison that posed for us

Another thing to remember is to never ask the locals on those mountain roads the distance to a certain place unless you wish to have hopelessly inaccurate data. Rule of thumb is multiply the number by three to get the approximate distance.

Beautiful Hills and Beastly roads

There is a place called Naalu mukku after the main Manjolai town(?) which literally feeds the guests at Kudhiraivetti. We had to buy supplies for dinner here and carry it up with us.

Nallumukku Postoffice

Village of Naalumukku. Notice the loaded sacks atop each roof - to prevent it flying away!

A branch from Naalu mukku took us to the Kodhaiyar Dam. This place was mist-ifyin to us. No really. It was so completely covered with mists that we might as well have tried to see through clouds. And to think that we had actually spun stories to the forest ranger at the gate to the Dam about a fictional uncle in the Department to make him let us through, to be completely fogged up in the end! But then, for about 10 seconds there was a break in the mist which enabled us to see the beautiful Upper and the Lower Kodhaiyar Dams.

At Kodhaiyar Dam

To strike a balance, the roads were trying hard to cancel out the feelings of joy at the wonderful scenery surrounding us. Imagine our feelings when we heard from a local that the approach to Kudhiraivetti was much worse than this road!
With sinking hearts, we took the road up and found that he had not erred. After a shaky journey, we reached the destination. The place was as beautiful as I remembered and winds were as strong too!

The Kudhiraivetti Watchtower

View from the tower

Finding our compact room ready we thankfully stretched our limbs for a while before heading out to sight-see. Happy we were, for immediately we saw a lone tusker ambling along the hill-face some distance from us.

The pachyderm's picture

After he disappeared down, we found that there wasn't much else to see because again the mist had beat us there first! Next best thing to do was to go to bed.
Next day, all refreshed and ready to tackle the road we went straight down to the Falls for the morning bath. But sadly (for us) it was crowded with tourists so we went elsewhere in search of a peaceful place. Since we were familiar with the area, we went straight down and out of the Reserve and reached a village called Munnirpallam which lies on the banks of Tamirabarani where we could take a dip in the river in peace. After a leisurely and fun-filled wallowing, we started homeward taking with us bittersweet memories.

On the way back, I was wondering what could've made this trip less enjoyable than my first one. Then I hit on it - the first time we took the trip, my dad had taken care of the reservations, the driving and the general planning. My mom had taken care of the food side and the looking-after-the-family side. All I had to do was take/pose for pictures and revel in the wonderful scenery. Now I wonder how my mom enjoyed it then...

What's up Chennai?

Seriously. What is up with you, Chennai? You have changed. Changed much.

Your streets are choked up with an astounding number of vehicles. Your products and services are sending their prices skyward at a speed comparable with our GSLVs. Your residents are multiplying at an alarming rate. And your people...Oh, your people. What happened to them? Where are the friendly ones I used to know? Why is everybody in a foul mood?

The people of Chennai were never a laidback group. In a fast growing metropolis which is competing for attention and businesses at a national level, the people cannot be laid back. They have to be driven. They have to be smartworking. But they were never rude as a matter of fact. Some chivalry was always alive among the Chennaiites. Road rage was never this widespread. The societal values never hit such a low.

I was never hit intentionally by a motorist simply because I had no place to move and he thought I was blocking him, until now. I was never serviced by rude salespeople who couldn't care less if you did not buy a product, until now. I was never shocked with Chennai's notorious autodrivers' haphazard driving and shameless haggling, until now.

What caused this? Is this the payoff for 'Development'? Is this because there are too many people? A few months' stay in the US has taught me to 'blame it all on the immigrants'. Do I do that? Is it because of the immigrants - people who have moved to Chennai from elsewhere in the state and the nation? But, hasn't Chennai always been a potpourri of diverse cultures?

I'm still waiting for answers from you, Chennai. I'm bewildered and saddened at your change. I wish that all these were only a product of my feverish imagination.