The road not taken.....

Two days back, we went to this theme park in one of my favourite lil quaint town. (Sea world in San Antonio)

Honestly, Im not a big fan of theme parks because of the monster waiting to jump at me from unexpected quarters-Roller coaster rides. 'I hate them' is an under statement. I loathe them. I feel as if I am under constant pressure- whoever is with me probably would like to ride them and I act as the proverbial spoilsport in their pursuit for pinnacles of torture (or adrenaline rush as they like to call it) and make me feel like the ultimate coward wherein reality, I am just being smart. Who would want to pay and puke- Not me atleast. I guess partly its also because I like to stay in control or rather try to. And surprisingly, I am super excited about the much more dangerous adventures- like bungee jumping or paragliding. My better half says, I have suicidal tendancies which would explain the obvious discrepancies. Well, All Geniuses were suicidal.:P Go figure that out!!

So considering all that, I was quite relieved to hear that there are equal number of shows to keep my companions occupied and distracted from those junkie rides and literally ran to the first show- Believe. It was basically 'killer whale' acrobatics with the fittest aquatic trainers overloaded with some goose bump influxing inspiring music. I couldnt find a seat.So I stood, with my mouth wide open. And Im sure I wen through every single emotion which the creators of the show intended for the audience to undergo- Surprise, disbelief, awe and then to the feeling that nothing is impossible. I totally fell in love with the killer whales. They were so beautiful and err,is the word athletic appropriate for the whales?.By the end of 25 minutes, I had underscored it in my mind that I do want to see the show once more and being the meticulous planner I am planed the rest of the day revolving around that second show.

But then, you are not meant to be in control at all times and sinister plans of the universe made sure that I didnt catch up the show for a second time. And thank God for that. We did make it to the grand finale with the same killer whales in another show. I was totally pumped up about it wanting go through all that fancy emotions which I went through the first time I set my eyes on those wonderful creatures. But sigh! I was bored. The only thing which actually went over my head was-This was the same trick as in the first show.I sat there lumped in the best seat of the show horrified at the realization. Something which inspired me less than 5 hours back was now boring to me. And I thought, Something is definitely wrong with me.

As I drive back the 200 miles home, I sat there thinking what the hell went wrong. And slowly yet surely the realization dawns. The age old adage- 'Familiarity breeds contempt'.
Deja vu sets in. The unsurpassable desire to dine in a seven star restaurent and how it feels so empty once the exhilaration wores out. How had that precious piece of jewellery doesnt really interest you anymore. Did it really matter that you went to that fancy place with a bevy of tourists to add another conquest on your to do list-Will you do it again??No wonder, the rich and the famous dont really think twice about what the lesser mortals see as privileged luxuries. The enchanting with the passage of time becomes mundane and boring.

But on the other hand, there are those things- the good things rather, the best things in life- which no matter how many times you experience leaves you wanting for more----

A walk in the beach, a heartfelt hug, a childs smile, smell of the rain, a movie lazed in the couch, a steaming cup of coffee with a favourite book.....a kiss which melts away all pains.

No wonder they say- Best things in life comes for little price or no price at all.

Small mercies!!!

When you are a child, the world is not so cruel.It lets you dream about the myriad possibilities and makes you even believe you can do it for a long time.
Dont you remember the time when you wanted to be a pilot or an astronaut?A lorry driver or a train driver?Archaeologist and forensic pathologist?
The more you grow, the less fancier the name comes to be and more practical it evolves.

I too dreamed of a couple of things-And I almost did most of them except a couple of totally outrageous ones which I shall venture on sometime soon.

Meanwhile, many of my friends who know me wonder about why I ran away from a particular some subject which i was passionate about- Psychology.
For the unitiated, I am trained counselor who had been privileged enough to have a wide range of clientele with a wide range of fancy labelled mental afflictions.And to be fair,as long as I was in it I enjoyed every bit of it and they say Im fairly good at it. And Im friends with a lot of my former clients which I guess is a great honor for a shrink..:P

Arrgh Im digressing with self praise.So considering the fact that, psychology or rather human mind and psychics and ghosts and the lot fascinated me ever since I could remember. And what better than becoming a psychologist to get deeper into the grave. And people who knows me kind of wonder, why did I leave it at its peak?

Well, by peak I mean or rather they mean, why did I leave it even before I entered my quarter life crisis?Well, read the torn pages of the diary of a fraud psychologist.

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They say I dont look the part. Maybe I should try wearing spectacles- the soda glasses the 80s heroes used to wear. Maybe that will make me look the part. And worse they say, the words which come out of my mouth feels like some 'out of body' experience. Now Im sure I was meant to be a god woman and somehow got mistakenly placed as a counselor.

He looks at me as if Im some creature from the alien world or maybe he took the wrong turn and ended up in the nursery. Either ways, it was obvious that he is not going to 'open up' to a 21 year old 15 year old looking girl. Gosh! Why didnt my teachers take the first class on how appearances matter, rather than empathy and trust and the rest of the works.
Well, our first 'conversation' didnt go too bad-We talked about cricket, Mumbai and rains.Atleast I know of his passions.It would have been nicer if I could know of his insecurities,fear and weaknesses.

........................ Hah, from the you-are-my-sister-I can/cant tell you-anything phase we have slowly transformed into some level of counselor client relationship. He must have realized I have learnt something right in college.:P.He talks freely and more openly....................................................

Today we set the milestone in our sessions.And well, the root cause of all problems too.Freud must have got this always right. It must be extremely difficult for someone to discuss their sex life with a total stranger (Well, counselors are technically not, but still).And now he goes on and on..And for the first time I am stuck. I clearly have no clue or control on where my session is going.
I read up on techniques and innovative therapies to deal with it. But well, I just know that- the theory. And who the hell knows how it is for a 45 year old man?.And having an overseas boyfriend doesnt exactly help either.

Maybe just maybe I should hand it over to a more experienced person.

****************************************************************************************

And in the end, I did- For the very same reason, why I think nuns shouldnt be lecturing on sex education in pre marriage counseling classes- How meaningless it can be.

There are things which are beyond your control....And sadly, sometimes age and appearances do matter--

Or you should be a godman or woman..:P

Kamala Suraiyya-Kamala Das-Madhavikkutty (1934-2009)


The Looking Glass


Getting a man to love you is easy
Only be honest about your wants as
Woman. Stand nude before the glass with him
So that he sees himself the stronger one
And believes it so, and you so much more
Softer, younger, lovelier. Admit your
Admiration. Notice the perfection
Of his limbs, his eyes reddening under
The shower, the shy walk across the bathroom floor,
Dropping towels, and the jerky way he
Urinates. All the fond details that make
Him male and your only man. Gift him all,
Gift him what makes you woman, the scent of
Long hair, the musk of sweat between the breasts,
The warm shock of menstrual blood, and all your
Endless female hungers. Oh yes, getting
A man to love is easy, but living
Without him afterward may have to be
Faced. A living without life when you move
Around, meeting strangers, with your eyes that
Gave up their search, with ears that hear only
His last voice calling out your name and your
Body which once under his touch had gleamed
Like burnished brass, now drab and destitute.

-- Kamala Das

Who am I to offer a tribute??
I am just a silent reader who balanced between shocked delight and wavering faith.
'Looking Glass' is from her book 'Descendant' and was the first of her works I read when I was in school. Each line I looked up stealthily to see if anyone is coming as if the lines were written on my forehead. Later, I chuckled at the nuns ignorance in the content of the books in their oh so prized library.
But it was much later,I could finally see the vulnerable strength in those words.I devoured them with a never felt passion. Filling my soul with hope and giggles.

I am nobody to offer a tribute. I am just one of those fortunate souls who could read her, live in her lifetime and be inspired to be atleast an inch of a woman she was.

And there are tears in my eyes...but even those would never be enough for you....

To you..with love..for you were one of the few who really understood the word

Unconventionally daring or plain ole treachery.

The so called Indo American cuisine offered by the upscale,ubercool INDIKA in Houston, with a desi looking swirl on top of the I is just that.
And definitely not the 'you will either- hate it or- love it' cliche will be judicial enough to label it. Its somewhere in between them. You end up loving and hating it at the same time and precisely for unequivocally similar reasons. Indika challenges our preconcieved notions of what is India and if not anything its dangerously daring at it.

Proudly spotted at one of the most expensive areas in the city, Indika has a sleek, soft lighted ambience which is delightfully fussy. And just maybe, you need reservations on weekends, but well we managed to get in without one. It gives you the mirage of a crowded busy place, all thanks to probably the so engineered acoustics.And thanks to that, you will many a times hear guffaws as roaring laughter.As long as its not a shriek or a cry, I am guessing you dont have to worry. Dont forget to dress for the part. In our city hopping formals, we definitely looked very much the part of under dressed Gandhi followers, well not literally..

I must confess, that the chef whoever it is has real imagination to conjure up the ecelectic menu which sorta look like Indo American fusion with a British twang. Take a look at the menu and you will get the picture. But dont be intimidated by it-Its a place with sophisticated food, but surprisingly with no whiff of daunting arrogance with it. The staff is not condescending and actually listens and offers suggestions and answers your queries patiently. The menu is more coherent, more of a piece. It doesn't take ethnic sides. But it fairly consistently mines a middle ground between Indian new American, timeless recipes of India carefully represented with the sassy touch of American cuisine.And Im supposing the menu changes with seasons to be included with more delightful varities of fusion recipes.

We tried on the tandoori chicken chaat salad, which was kind of interesting though I didnt really fancy the tandoor part of it. It was cold yet inspiring enough. The appetizers looks as if they can be ordered as entrees and I guess its your choice on whether to or not.For the main entree, both of us shared 'Local free range chicken in a coconut, cardamom and white pepper curry, sauteed greens, brown basmati khichri' with complimentary sides of dal and raita. The chicken was a disappointment for me, but Sibz liked it.So I am guessing its a matter of sensitivity to certain tastes. But what blowed me off was the sauce/curry and the greens. It was bare minimum to tickle your tastebuds,but surely it was one of the most wonderful sensations of gustatory heaven I have had in a long time.

We rounded it off with 'Spiced guava, coconut and mango sorbet' as dessert and was definitely a savory reward befitting its precedents. It completely was an explosion of spices which is quite unlikely for a dessert. I have never fancied spicy desserts, if such a thing exist-but boy, this sorbet was something out of the world. It was succulence of mango,tenderness of coconut and sublime softness of guava heavily laced with sweet,sour and tangy. I have no clue on how the chef managed such a feat, but Im guessing it also owes to the blueberry pickle sauce he gave on side. I mean ,who gives pickle sauce with a dessert?The dessert was not something you go ooh lala from the start. You are heavily scpetical with the first dole and slowly yet firmly the taste grows within you and you are glad that you experimented.


The dishes, individually and all together, strive for a quality that might well be called wholesomeness and we were just the right amount of 'full' without feeling queasy or sick about it.They also offer variety of teas which we decided to try next time. The prices are quite on the higher side which Im sure is not for the food, but for the place. But, it can very well be those once in six months type of restaurent where you can go when you feel rebellious and wanna do something different mode.They call themselves 'progressive Indian with local ingredients' and well, I will probably fullheartedly agree with the progressive part.I wont say, its one of the bestest I have ever been-but its definitely worth a try.

Disclaimer:Before you confuse the picture with me, please read on below.I am perfectly fine!Please dont go tell my mom, Im suicidal



I got a mail couple of days back.

"Hello Jina,

My mother passed away. I learnt computers."

Prayers and love,
E

It was one of those mails which shake you out from the dreary mundane life.The ones which disturb you for days until you cannot hold it within yourself anymore.

E was one of my clients whom I used to work with in the mental health day care where I worked during my field work days in college. E was brilliant, capable and ran almost most of the errands of the day care. E could brighten up anyones day with his easy charm and spontaneous wit.
But some days E goes into dull anger and gloominess which would affect each and everyone of us around. He was a sweetheart to all of us. And it was not easy for a normal eye to detect that E had bipolar disorder.

Bipolar disorder is also known as manic depression which is a kind of mood disorder which alternates between abnormally elevated moods and severe depression. Sounds familiar?? Yeah!!Normal is not so different from abnormal.

On his days of insane happiness, he would drag each one of us into a waltz or sing aloud old English country songs. He was a treasure trove of anecdotes and humor tidbits. When he drowns into the gloomy depression, he would sit alone disturbing no one in his own world painting his minds woes into abstracts.

Each student got assigned cases and E was mine. And I was totally happy about it. He was as perfect a patient you could ever get.He listened to me, he would even enquire about my home sickness,pat me on the shoulder when I get tired with an encouraging nod. He was my sanity anchor in an insane world. In the world of psychiatry, there is a term called 'transference'.According to wikipedia, Transference is a phenomenon in psychoanalysis characterized by unconscious redirection of feelings for one person to another. You see it often in movies, where the patient substitutes the doctor or the counselor as a father figure or lover or emotional anchor. In our case, we were under mututal transference. A relationship with no definition. We just knew, we were there for each other. It is a professional NO NO. You are not supposed to emotionally get involved with a client.It offends the very core of counseling mantras.But sometimes, when you cross the boundaries, you are rewarded with something extremely special. That was what the friendship I enjoyed with E.

I never really knew how old E was. Sometimes he was a hyper active 30 year old. Sometimes he was the all wise 50. All I know, is his real age was something between the two. One of the best parts being in a mental health institution- Nobody really cares about age. When you are stuck in time forever, what is the significance of it? Those trivial pursuits are for us- the more insane ones who are stuck in perpetual rat races.

So when my supervisor told me I need to go to E s house to meet his guardian, I was super enthused. I had always wanted to see E 's mother who was his guardian. The rest of the patients always have someone or the other coming to the day care for days of celebration or enquiring about their general well being. I have never seen anyone of E's coming for that. Not that he needed any moral boosting enquiries. But still, I was concerned. Deep down in my heart, I had prepared for a confrontation-to shake out the hard hearted to see the soft side.Most often, its extremely difficult for the family of a mentally ill person. Especially when they stay with you. You need to treat them as an equal but at the same time take care of them. If you ask me, thats the worst fate any family can endure. Seeing one of their own teetering in the brink of insane worlds.Sometimes you lose your temper knowing you are helpless. We sneer at the evil sister or mother who have to take care of a 'crazy' person in the movies and do a pathetic job of it. But to endure it day in-day out, without losing your own mind is a near never feat.

But I was still naive and movies have colored my perceptions of reality and I lived in a world of stereotypes. When I knocked E's door, I was expecting the cruel witch version of a mother and sister who couldnt take care of their baby son/brother. And that day, I learned to be free of prejudices. Though that is the first lesson a counselor is taught in class, it was the first day I would embrace it and seal it in my soul. She is fragile- Thats the first thought which crossed my mind. E's mother looked as ancient as it can get. A withered frame with a lifeless body which was held together by an enormously spirited mind. She offered me water. But I couldnt bear to see her limp into the kitchen just to get water for me, I ran ahead into a strangers kitchen and helped myself. I couldnt look up without staring in awe. She was almost in her mid eighties. But she got up every morning, made break fast and lunch for E and his less neurotic but more than firece sister, packed it and send them off for day care and work place, clean the house, and do a whole lot of things. E 's sister also has a slight distrubance of the mind, but she is capable of teaching at a primary school. E has another brother who stays in Australia with his family and would take his mother also to be with them in Australia, but only if she would leave E and his sister behind. And she chose her insane offsprings over her capable son.

I went there to chide her into coming more often to the day care and taking care of E. And I left there with no sense of pride for going in for that. The mother was a living Goddess. Ofcourse, you can argue she is their mother and she is supposed to be like that. But----how much a human being can endure??She was left alone when her husband died in the early days of their marriage. She raised all the three kids alone and is supposrting them with the meagre pension she receives.
And for the first time, I could make sense of E's recurring suicidal inclination. In the deep recesses of his cluttered mind, he realizes his mother might die any time soon. And the day that happens, he is alone in this world with no one to care.

It had been 3 years now, since I left that house. And now, the inevitable has happened. I fear for E. He was not happy that I went to his home and stopped talking to me that day. And this si the first time, I recieved some kind of information about him after I left the day care. Maybe someone else sent it in behalf of him. I kept toying it in my mind picturing different possibilities in my mind- trying to zero in on the rosier one.

But I know for sure what is going to happen-And like a brute, I am sitting here waiting it to happen-trying to forget everything. Maybe shedding some tears, but ultimately moving on.
Yeah, such is life!!!
But if it is, its bloody unfair!

Tell me if there s another way!!

Repeating every day and night to myself doesnt seem to be helping!
Maybe putting it down in a public forum might push some validity and urgency in my head to put it into a workable deal.

-Getting up at 6 am and going for the marathon training.They say,first day of the months are a good time to start.And what better 1 st than may 1st- Start with some labour on labour day

-Making breakfast,however simple that is-make something.poor Sibz has been going without breakfast and though I have been feeling guilty, I was pacified by his reassurance on my need to sleep and the neo feminism of husbands also can cook. Yes, he can cook.But the point being I should be awake to have the breakfast together.

-Reducing my paper to do lists-I put it in every piece of scrap paper I find at home, and by the end of the day is struggling to tick off items from each one of them. Yeah, stop the obsession!!

-Reading atleast half of a book-Amidst the tests,writing assignments and mails, i am sure my eyes are gonna pop put if I go ahead with it.But I might as well as try to do it in the day instead of doing it in the night which is the root cause of all the needs for the above pointers

-Watch one sitcom a day atleast-Nobody would believe, I dont have time even when I am sitting at home vella.I so wish there was more than 24 hours at my disposal.

So there it is...Hopefully this helps!!!

Pareltank has tagged me with this Honest scrap tag and has managed to get me on cloud nine with the so called 'award' description.Whoever wrote it-Bless you soul!

Pareltank is a blog which I read with a mixture of awe and inspiration. Some years down the line, I hope and aspire to be like her.So I am jumping at this tag like a kid getting balloons from a circus fair.

“This award is bestowed upon a fellow blogger whose blog’s content or design is, in the giver’s opinion, brilliant.”

“When accepting this auspicious award, you must write a post bragging about it, including the name of the misguided soul who thinks you deserve such acclaim, and link back to the said person so everyone knows she/he is real. Choose a minimum of seven (7) blogs that you find brilliant in content or design. Or improvise by including bloggers who have no idea who you are because you don’t have seven friends. Show the seven random victims’ names and links and leave a harassing comment informing them that they were prized with Honest Weblog. Well, there’s no prize, but they can keep the nifty icon. List at least ten (10) honest things about yourself. Then pass it on!”


Since I have done a couple of 10 things-25 things about me-random unknown facts-I am not so sure about the preservation of originality of the tag. I guess I would stick with embarassing but not necessarily sad or bad honest things about me.

- Perfect Strangers

I have this nasty or delightful (open to subjective interpretation) habit of meeting perfect strangers.They might be people I met online, or through blogs or friend of a friend of a friends cousins friend (you get the idea). And surprisingly or not, I have made great friends through this adventure rides. Most of my current 'good friend' list belongs to this category.
Read about one of those encounters here by Nariyal Chutney. Though I have always read of frightening accounts of how these meeting random strangers can be disastrous- I so far have had only the best of experience in this.They are all gems of gems.So much so that, I even married a 'once upon a time perfect stranger' whom I now can vouch for as my bestest friend. Talk about counting blessings.:)

-Impostor disaster

I was called prank queen by my friends in college and hostel.And used to do things which is normally 'thallukollitharam (rowdyism for lack of better word). I have impersonated voices on phone, fooled many enchanted romeos, wrote love letters for a fee-I even had an impostor name-Jasmine an all pervasing- all religion name to fool all alike.All these were harmless pranks, till one day a guy actually was so enamoured that he was going to bring his parents and grandparents to the hostel to meet his muse and fix an engagement. That day 'Jasmine' died and with Jasmine my pranks too.

-Mal-english

During school and pre grads, I was very much into debating,quizzes,elocution and stuff and kind of used to win something or the other. Since prizes involved money, there was even a mock association called 'Prasanga Thozhilali Union'(Elocution employees union)in which I was one of the youngest members.During my Predegree days, I went onto win almost all of the elocution competitions in Kerala at that time and raked in quite a bit of moolah. This did quite a bit of polevaulting of my ego and I was superconfident about my oratory and literary skills when I went to bangalore for my grads.And boy! What a reality check it was.I was under culture shock for the initial few months to even utter a word let alone orate.To lessen the insult to the injury, lets say I am still known for my exquisite Mallu English in one of the most esteemed and high profile "Englishized' colleges in Bangalore. And I have given upon it since then. Sometimes it takes failures to take away illusions of pride. Im still a work on progress on my English language skills.

-Identity Crisis

I didnt quite choose the familiar doctor-engineer path and doesnt know how to quite explain it to people. I have a background in psychology,economics and sociology and did my Masters in Medical and Psychiatric Social work-with first work experience in the behavioural change communication and later on in social development projects-Now planning on to extend studies in global policy,legal empowerment and communication. And by the time, I reach to this point, I would have lost my audience.Actually I lose them from Psychology onwards.:P. Though, I am proud of doing something I love, I am quite embarassed about not being able to tell a layman about what exactly is my profession.

-Clueless crackpot

I am quite clueless on things like clothes,jewellery and so on. I kind of pick up the first thing that catches my eye without really analyzing it.And many a times, I feel my personality projection suffers because of this. I can go in rags to a business meeting and not even comprehend what I did wrong till someone spells it out to me.

-Can I skip?

I would love skipping careers given a choice-like one month, I would want to be a journalist, another an arcaheologist, another a diplomat, another a peace corps volunteer another a traveller ....the list goes on.Yeah-I dream one day people can actually hop skip and jump when they want to their desired careers.Rite, dream on!!!If only the world was less cruel.

-Fat v/s Thin

Once upon a time, I was stick thin so much so that I used to get swayed by a strong wind. I so wanted to be fat at that point of time. Nobody really recognizes me now because of that since I have considerably gained weight. And now, I am scared whether I would be called Fat. Guess grass is always greener on the other side.


-I miss India

Though I try to see the bright side of being an NRI, I think of and miss India every single day. I am ashamed of the fact that I have never voted and probably would never be able to since I still dont have my voters card. I question my eligibility to wonder and dream about a better India and is quite embarassed to tell anyone that I live in US now.

-Fairytales

I am quite fascinated by fairytales and firecely believe on a happy ending to every woe. For the same reason I am fascinated with movie stars and movies.Like a child, I force myself to believe they live fairy tales in real which contributes to the nonsense habit of reading Times of India gossip page.


-Freaked out

I am quite freaked out now about not knowing who is reading my blog.One of my neighbors read some random post of mine and went and told my mom that Im suicidal.:(...Eventhough, I do have the option of making it anonymous by changing the title or open to only invitees, I dont really feel like doing it. Et tu Brutus, I am gonna get ya!!

I pass on the award to these awesome bloggers

Akila- In appreciation of your energy and creativity.Go look for more blue doors

Anitha- To make you write more, because I simply know you would make an awesome blogger

Bombay dosti- I love the strength and poise of your words

Daughters of Tomorrow- I dont know whether you can be more honest than you already are.But Still...

Nikhil For being one of those awesome perfect strangers

Sandeep and Preetha
Its my wedding gift for you both. I know-what an annoying gift!..:P

Sorry guys!!!