My many voices

* (Insert whining voice) Grad school is hard!! Really. I am neck deep into assignments and projects and extra credit homeworks that I need to absolutely do to get a passing grade. And you know I love the internet - blogs, youtube and all. But sometimes when I am working on the Internet Protocols project, a part of me wishes the internet was dead! (Quit whining)

* (Insert happy voice) I am going to Disneyyyyyy in December!! So yaaay! I love toons and I love theme parks, so Disney is like fairy land to me. A New York trip is also in the offing, with skiiing and all (keeping fingers crossed) (That's all the happy I can muster right now)

* (Insert this date that year voice) Today someone was talking about Hyderabad and I really miss it. It was the best 3 years of my life. Friends, money, movies, food .... Happy times (Stop reminiscing)

* (Insert heady voice) Love the remix song from Polladavan. I like the original song better though! (Song over)


*(Insert Eureka voice) The reason I listened to the above song is aahaafm I like listening to Chennai FM, makes me feel as if I am back in Chennai. But ironically, I never listened to FM when I was in India. (Wishing for more Eureka moments in projects and homeworks)

* (Insert angry voice) I hate the female at the Student Health Services who keeps insisting that I have TB though I have shown her the clear X-Ray!!! (Darn paranoid nurses who hate me)

* (Insert sleepy voice) I need a nap. I don''t know if I am getting senile or going back to babyhood, but I do need a nap. NOW (Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz)

And I am backkk!

Dusting the cobwebs away from my blog for the umpteenth time after numerous writer blocks. And grad school isn't helping either. Yup this blog is now brought to you from Raleigh, North Carolina and I now join the bandwagon of the American Desis at whom I directed many blog attacks.

So all ye erstwhile readers and commentors, come back and lounge in here again. (S are you listening)

I will now start off with how beautiful Raleigh is and here is a pic of fall color at a lake in our campus.
And since that is out of the way now, I can talk about what I don't like about the US of A. I hate it that we don't have autos here. I hate having to walk 25 mins or take a bus to get milk. I hate that it is nearly impossible to get good Indian food outside of home. I hate the options or the lack of it that vegetarians have in all restaurants. I hate having to talk in a fake accent to make people understand me. I hate to pay Rs 100 for a good cup of coffee. I hate to wear heavy coats thats difficult for me to lift. I wanna go back to Mummmyyy!

People who take the above paragraph seriously and accuse me of being a hypocrite can go to hell

On a totally unrelated note, what is it with these mommy bloggers who post innumerable pictures of their kids, but guard their identity with their life? If I have a kid, I would be more concerned with protecting her identity than mine. Just one word for you mommies - pedophiles!
So kind readers what's up in your lives right now? Leave me a comment and we can talk about it :-)

The Plumber

Plop …. Plop…. Plop

The drops clung to the sides of the tap and dropped down grudgingly. The old man deftly removed the dysfunctional tap and his myopic eyes peered into the darkness of the rusted iron tube.

“There seems to be some blockage, memsahib. I need to break down part of the wall, try and figure out where the block is and put in new tubes.”

A wave of anger swept across Reshma’s face. Things always seemed to go wrong at the wrong times, she thought to herself, while smoothing down her designer silk saree. Prerna was throwing a back-to-India party and the kids were conveniently enjoying their summer vacation at their grandparents’ place. She didn’t have any time for plumbing problems now.

“How long will this take?”

“I can do this in 1 hour, memsahib”, he intoned in as eager a tone he could muster. “My shop is just a kilometer away, I can go on my cycle and get the tools in 15 minutes. I will get cement and do the finishing so that everything is pucca. You will never have another problem with the tap”

“And how much do you want for this?”

“It will take Rs 500 roughly, if it isn’t an air block”

“500 is too much. Whom are you trying to cheat here?”

“No, memsahib. I will have to get a pump to blow out the block which I have to rent from outside. And I need to buy new tubes also.”

“Reshma, are you ready? I have my car waiting outside to drop us at Prerna’s place” Asha walked into the kitchen.

“Asha, come right in. Your new earrings are lovely and you look positively resplendent.” Reshma gushed. “Just give me a few minutes to finish talking to the plumber here.”

Asha looked at the tiny, thin old man whose torn clothes flapped around him and the rickety old bicycle that was leaned against the kitchen wall.

“I can’t pay 500. I will give 250, you do it if you want, else we will get another plumber.”

Asha looked at him as he was peering through his thick spectacles, trying to convince Reshma to give him his rightful wage and her heart went out to him. She had been very close to her grandfather in her village and had been devastated when they lost him to cancer. This old man reminded her of him, in a vague way. He looked like he was lifted straight out of a poster for HelpAge India and the thought that he still had to work hard to earn his three square meals, brought a rush of tears into her eyes. “Reshma, I think he deserves Rs. 500. We had something similar done at our house recently and our plumber charged even more. So give the poor man his due.” she admonished.

Reshma stared at the man, who seemed looked at her like a five year old would eye a cookie jar. It was getting late for the party and she had no desire to argue with Asha who was ride back from the party as well. She convinced herself that he looked honest and reluctantly agreed. “Ok then, 500 it is. You can start the work right now.”

A small smile twisted the corner of his lips and his face seemed to somewhat melt. Asha danced a happy jig in her mind and even Reshma was glad that Asha came when she did and said what she said.

He started singing as he worked. He was right, there was a blockage somewhere down the pipe and soon water was gushing out of the tap. He cleaned up meticulously after he finished and took the money, making a tidy profit. He bent his head in reverence at the huge picture of Lord Balaji in the living room and cycled out of the mansion.

Then he got home drunk to the gills and beat his wife.

And That's the Way the Cookie Crumbles

Hello hello and hello! Now gimme a minute now to dust these cobwebs away.

Aah, much better now. So how have you all been?

While I stretch my limbs and figure out these knobs and controls at blogger, here are some pictures from Bombay (I call it that still, like Madras and Calcutta).

The first two are enroute to Bombay from Pune via Lonavala.



And then we hit Bombay!!


The ubiquitous taxi and buses




And all these old buildings which seem to make up Bombay. Not so much of a "big" city huh? :-)



The Gateway of India. (Did lots of other touristy things, but no pics)



Velu Naicker's boat :-) Nila adu vaanathu mele :-)

And my impression about Bombay - not so impressive!! Certainly not worth all the hype that people who live there claim. Chennai and even Hyd seems much better. :-) In fact a certain blogger once told me that I couldn't even call myself a city girl having lived all my life in Madras, as he felt Madras isn't as much a city as Bombay. And I was laughing all the time I was in Bombay thinking of that. To each their own! Peace

Ok folks, behave yourselves and you might see another post before you know it. :-)