Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Name Game - It's All In A Name - From The "Shy Girl Of Manipal"

That book you write,
not read.
That road, with return none,
only lead.
That lane you walk,
not run.
Life with pain,
still is fun.
Life with no name,
Sounds dull & lame.
Fancy naming a new born after a popular Bollywood or Hollywood star? Please do so. What's in a name? Bang onto "What's not in a name?". Remember you might hit a jackpot sometime when bizarre airways offer concessions to selected popular Bollywood character names. Recently the Virgin Atlantic Airways that threw away exciting offers to "filmi named" people. Behold- now say what's in a name? Whether of much use or not, I did muse upon the options on, what if I was named after some "Simran- sanorita"; the popular "pooja beti" the Yash Chopra's Madhuri Dixit; Priya or the bubbly Rani Mukharjee as Tina in Kuch Kuch Hota Hai.
Aargh, well I love my name. not the airlines!
There was a time, my introduction would compulsorily include "shy girl from Manipal!". If that meant a coyish girl, please don't be duped at all. Yes, I did be a lot much pessimistic in  communication and outspoken category. In parallel, there was the big mischief soul inside me that has attempted simpler tricks to horrendous college pranks. To the extent of ragging a senior graduate fellow in university.
Absolutely remember mother often tell me the n number of choices they considered when a fifteen days old "ME" was named. "Sushma", with literal meaning being beauty, perhaps they saw beauty of life in me. I wasn't technically named after any ancestors. But existence of many "Suhmas" in that era, marked a trendy name.
Identity apart, every single person to whom you mean calls you "a name". They symbolize affection. Hence for the past years I must have had numerous names from family, friends and so on. Either the nickname, sometimes a 2nd name, at times an abbreviation of full name. Sometimes a roller coaster of it like "Sushuuuum, suhumaaaa..so on". At times shortened, at times sweetened, at times tasty like "Sushi". The proper noun that I have accepted and adored. All through life as I was brought up almost caned to understand, the beauty was not in the physical appearance, and that perhaps inspired me to see the "beauty" in absolutely everything around me to every action of mine. Even in a few naughty teenage tricks I tried, I found a beauty called fun. If my little girl today calls me "hey your teeth are paint box" for the different enamel colour each has developed over the years, I don't mind. Find it creative. Big joys in small things. Those peppy nicknames that turn out to be relevant identity that ages later an college mate can not recognise you on facebook but marks that nick name as the verification code. Authorised for friendship, call it!

If familiarity to Indian culture strikes to you all or not, we Indians, specially South Indian Brahmins do have a ritual of changing names after marriage. The first name too! With changing world, which is losing its acceptance, yet the tradition was fun. You adapt yourself to your in laws and also change your name. Identity challenged!

"Only Love"- let me declare it so, the noun that identifies you, the name by which you are recognised . While there's a literal sense of "what's in a name", my love for my name is unique. It's the perfect love compatibility match. There is no "rename" option in real life for me. Apparently perceptions of name and identity have some perpetual thoughts beyond the "noun" factor. The identity tag that finds its best love match with the personality. Brought up in "Manipal", I love the place and the name. There's no rename option for it too! I would hate it.

An exotic illustrations of the name game can be hilarious.
How about the "bhagwan ke naam pe de do baba".  Popular slogan meant for unfortunate beggars, with the mention of "in the name of God". Times when the names turn into those of Bollywood stars are heard of too. You see, it's all in the name!
I was taken by surprise when my daughter at her age 5 had declared "Jui" is a childish name. She must change it as she grows up into some adult type! With occasional breaking burps in middle of a dinner I had to answer her, "adult type are not so popular"! Just the trend matters. She is now convinced as she reaches her teens. Take an instance if I had chosen to call my new born "Mukesh" "Aamir"! Or perhaps giving up to "adult types" changed her names to "Kiran (after Bedi)"' or "Kalpana (after Chawla)", what was the probability of the fun in matching the gravity in those names to your whims and choices? When a chord strikes between my name and "Sushma Swaraj" of Indian politics, I ....errr...let me sign off friends. It's Sushma from Manipal and that's how I love my identity tag to be fixed up forever.
Links used:- http://articles.economictimes.indiatimes.com/2014-03-20/news/48401922_1_virgin-atlantic-air-tickets-discounted-tickets

This post is also linked in following blogs:
www.manipalblog.com
http://abcwednesday-mrsnesbitt.blogspot.com/

Saturday, April 5, 2014

My Mud Toed Princess

 The decision was mine! I had paid two hoots to those monstrous mocking  eyes of neighbours tracking me, as my little 22 months plus girl splashed her legs in the muddy rain water flowing across the street of the residential area of Manipal. If, being clean clothed, running around best smelling cosmos garden chasing a butterfly was "nice", fancying the nature's beauty in "ugly form" wasn't a crime. That toddler, today, growing into pre-adolescent times has been maintaining her crown, being "grubby legged". Rains are just one form, that cant withhold her massive love to one the beautiful forms of nature.

One day long ago it was, with heavy down pour, as I stuck to the windows of our house with the little girl, there was an enchanting resonance of melodious mixture of sounds. Aura engulfed by occasional mixing of the sounds of the little one gurgling in thrill and that of water drop off coconut leaves. She had grown talking to the birds in the air, apart from spending few hours with the high end toys. Growing into a toddler she often placed herself in the balcony, throwing pieces of food at the wandering crows or other birds. While I was ridiculed by few why I could not use the baby walker but leave the toddler struggling on the lawn, I mused how one could not enjoy the little child watch a small ant take its tiny steps, with strict concentration or notice the different shades of green  by ones self. I was self flattered by how "I" wanted to bring her up. How her bonding with the nature mattered in the times of plastic world that I term to the numerous options of electronics or other gadgets handled even by toddlers.

 
Treat the little one a best princess way, fathom all branded toys, luxuries, food and stuff. The wings of "plastic joys" makes the colourful life. Protecting her from experiencing nature's playful wings would however be a crime. Nature's wings completes the education. The idea of letting her  secret freedom watching the birds chirp, discover a colourful butterfly in the garden, chasing a big fat cat,  study an creepy crawler or an ant in the sands, or waft away on the calm bouncing waves of the sea, always meant the best games to me.

There are few from many instances to recall. Those of her "Lost-adventures". Prompt encouraging by we parents, my little savoured the nature in very best and at times vanished from my supervisory view!
An 8 months old crawling  baby as she was, all engrossed with tiny sand play-set, in a crowded sea shore. A small gossip as I ended with my counter part, and looked around, the crawling baby was out on a date with the crowd. A instant shocked me, stood up tall and to my relief found the little one held high up in the air by a man shouting " whose baby is this?". I smiled finally. I concluded it was those small white sand crabs playing hide and seek with her in between the sand that dragged her away from us.
Another incident to recall is the one, when at age 5, she dared to sneak out of her play area with cutlery play set, and settle down briefly with a friend making mud pie and sand water juice. One would go aghast, though I had to throw out the frustration, concern and worry with a stern warning, I ended up laughing and reminding her "you mud toed princess" you aren't going to mend your ways, are you!

Most enduring educative toys, the best branded toys and so on were indeed showered on her. An comfort level would however find her settling down with those sea shells collected in a small cup with few broken, some green leaves from the garden along with few flowers and stuff in a "kitchen play set" with left over juice too to play with! What can be more educative than nature itself. How would she otherwise find the beauty of a butterfly and about the life and habits of natural habitats, greens, learn about the seasons better than experiencing over reading about it in beautifully coloured books.  She could even find sun shine delicious!
Times from her toddler-hood till those pre adolescent ones, time and again I catch her mud toed. The journey has been of playing out under the roof of the sky.....

 

Little Girl
www.kissan.in
 
Little instances of the child jotted here, little encounters of her with mother nature do add up as those flourishing memories to a parent. In a parallel, those little encounters  teach lessons to both. There is a child all who respects, understands and loves nature to fullest. An ordinary advice in our earthly existence is to remind ourselves, stay blessed with the best of nature and encourage the hymn of it in children from young age.  Let them free with the nature, who knows there is an inventor in one little mind perhaps!

Read somewhere that -"Earth laughs in the flowers".
I say - Lets laugh with those flowers and greens on the earth. Love nature, save earth and love yourself.
 


This post is dedicated to the best friend - Friend's of Nature..... > www.kissan.in
Is available to view in here too.  http://www.indiblogger.in/topic.php?topic=106 

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Petals Of Love



Wafting petals of love,
 
Abhors the horrendous wind.
 
She, is a beautiful bloom,
 
Held high & cosy in delicate palm,
 
Now withered, from  glory to gloom.
 
Fret, shall be no mercy,
 
Time lost is irreversible,
 
The new bloom on -looked.
 
Shaky petals of love,
 
Abandoned with time,
 
Marred by the wind,
 
Tackling the destiny.
 
She, is a beautiful "life"!

Love it's divine essence!
 
 
An ultimate comparison of life with the rain, clouds, or bloom, and so on.... finds never ending prose & poetry.
 

Sunday, March 30, 2014

What's Aging?

What's aging?
An wandering soul,
Manipulated mind set,
Creaking bones,
On a marathon to an,
heavenly existence,
Ultimately reching hell,
Or the other way!

Why would I age?
A life that's...
A linear progressive discipline,
An army of blood cells,
Marching onto,
Not a, perpetual existence,
Feeding the mind and the body,
Only till the bones grow weak!

I am not aging. Why should I after all?
 

Image Courtesy---> Click Here

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

My "Key Prayer"


 
 
O Lord
I hold a prayer
 
Can you please CUT me
Or try to COPY me
And PASTE me into past

No OPTION?
Is a CONTROL there?
Or a SHIFT option?

There is no RETURN, from where I reached

SHIFT me as least
Give me a ALTernative
CLEAR my way, thoughts

Bring me BACK
Show me HOME
AND shower on me your blessings
 
There is no RETURN from where I reached

CTRL+ALT+DEL is possible?
CUT / COPY + PASTE ?
If not press back HOME
 
O Lord
I hold a prayer

Times when the thoughts flow into words, times when my thoughts run into "keypad" and are stuck !!
Image Courtesy click here--->  Image Courtesy 

Monday, February 17, 2014

Old Voice




Collision a formation
The brawl of thoughts in cacophony
Like beating drums on heavy toll
From the inside of the mind

The mind's factory function hindered
Malfunction could be wrong word
Demon of a noise, gobbling up thoughts
Jumbled up and lost track

Clock faking a move
Two sticks pointing  sad joke of loneliness
The vicinity of thoughts die a plonk
Mind all blank....

Standing stiff around, hands on forehead
Eyebrows, those curious, strained
Stare gaze switch clock to ceiling  to window
The walls laugh aloud

Bones old, hair gold
Age that's old
For a human that's bold
A tale not never told

In life once, stood tall
Yet melting with time, inside wall
Life's memory lane, like sank
With a mind that went "Blank"....

Image Source-  Click here

A blank mind was a fusion of big brawl of the long list of memories, thoughts, untold talks in mind. The above poetry has been an attempt, a trial reflection of stepping into the shoes of an old lonely feeling human. Staying overboard old people's homes could be fun, safe and acceptable. Somewhere resides the residual feelings of a human mind though......

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Year and Again


Along with my blog birthday falls the birthday of my darling hubby. In the  best of my moods, I would workout beautiful beach picnic as his birthday surprise. But the very thought of how he yanks at the other end of the blanket and rolls over it, leaves an angry me. With crossed eyebrows, I decide how we have spent enough last holiday and will not celebrate big birthdays. Soon, the times change. "You are tired dear, don't do so much of running around for chores" when he says, I melt again and the B'Day plans start ringing in my mind. All is well that ends well and yes I do surprise him each year.  


In the perseverance of your identity, you rock and roll. Entire life takes a toll. In the process we do and overdo actions, and at times not do all those things that we want to , don't want to and so on. When these rants sound really absurd, we realize that we have matured enough to gulp in a tough dose of the "life's philosophy". Year and again, we all grow, celebrating the "Happy Buddays" as a ritual. This is the age of mars and spaceships. Birthday's are celebrated of mundane pets, favourite gadgets. Allow me to announce the 3rd "appy budday" of  Sushma's Page.
A s a ritual it is, on the 1st birthday of the blog , I had come up with "The Dream" (click on the link to read it) and on the 2nd Birthday  "It's okay to be greedy" (click on the link to read it), where in I went on with a self quote-" An idea conceived is an idea half achieved". As we all grow, my thoughts are growing too in it's own space.

Surprise surprise surprise. Like the "sale sale sale" boards hovering all over on the shopping areas, the "surprises" are those killer ideas of celebrating birthdays. "Jaanu..what do you want as surprise this B'day" am sure some pappu would have asked this on this earth at least once, if not the Santha or Bantha. Spare Santha. He's very' innocent. Today pappu has taken over the crown from the famous sardar jokes to be the national entertainer. If you ask who pappu is, then I would be diplomatic to say google two words "Pappu, India congress". Now enough of it.
Coming to the birthday celebrations, I gift my blog a scrumptious post on its birthday every year. Last month it has turned 3 years old.


Someone once told that the best of thoughts enlighten us on the toilet pot! Is it?  I have to confess, yes. It does. That's when our mind exercises the dos & donts and meditates for the day. My flood of thoughts takes a form in the mind and then I await to flush them all in my blog. Each time I repeat, how my blog was born, I am reminded of those tiny school diaries where I would write tiny poems, register all my complaints against my parents or the grand-ones. If you are chuckling, let me ask you , one of you sure has tried this our of sheer anger frenzy in school days.  Graduating from small diaries to a blog now look what the "online technology" has offered me. Free unlimited space for  husband bashing
Displaying IMG-20131127-WA0008.jpgWhere else can I crib that it's not the yanking of the blanket that puts me off. Being a good driver myself, yet I hate to face the loaded AK-47 in the form of a husband in my car making every attempt to navigate me. You spend your teen years telling your parents"common am grown up" and then rest of the life you spend yelling at your hubby to leave you alone! Quiz them with few questions on the colour of nail polish, dress, bag, of their wives, or regarding any of the wife's paraphernalia , .....and they will surprise you with the best of adjectives. "No idea at all, absolutely no clue, may be orange lipstick!" Enough is enough, just one question that has every chance of passing test is "how much money does your wives purse contain". No, here too, one could hear like- " few weeks back..errr may be..may be...." . A big deal. I bet every wife material reading this would agree how the husbands would master the art of placing the "towel" after a shower, well on the cot without fail, or leave the glass after a the drink in the study. Someone once asked if husbands troll on your mobile phones. At least here I credit mine, for not doing so.
Now boo boo to all you husband material who are reading this. I know your tricks for treats too. Every time I  catch him running unusual errands for me or cleaning my kitchen I know there could be some favour in turn required. Well, such are the domestic barter gimmicks. When I say "him", it's understood it's that man whom I called "the man who completes me" 14 yrs ago, and now the same man is designated "the man who finishes me!"
With the time machine running successfully, years rolling over however, the "birthday" treats sure bring in those sweetness in life. Those yearly celebrations for those special moments as we celebrate, its justified I celebrate 3rd year of Sushma's Page.

My mind is a factory with irregular production of thoughts. The abundance isn't synchronous with life's economy. There is often surplus, simultaneously times with zero production too. This production goes out of the Pandora's Box wishing Sushma's Page "Happy 3rd Birthday". 


Saturday, September 28, 2013

Wave




A silent storm,
was your invasion,
and petals of life
blossomed into flower,
in my little heart.

The mark of your presence
glows glimpses,
flickers of life.
Moments of faith,
tangled in my little heart.

A hungry soul
you tickled,
Rhythmic cadence,
you sang,
Scent of aura
you kindled,
in my little heart.


Blinded by life
Unstoppable returns
you mark, like wave.
Never to leave,
Roar & live,
Billowing,
in my little heart.

Unconditional relation
of two souls.
FRIEND.
Your eternal life ....
in my little heart.

Friendship - An unconditional relation between two souls. An magic that makes life worth.


Saturday, June 15, 2013

A Name to Honour

Dear readers: This writing referrers to the year 2006 as we bid adieu to India and flew to Qatar finding our bread after the oil here. A comparative presentation of the life in Bangalore and in Doha is what you find here, and with a pinch of humour.

It was that red winged Gulf Airlines that I flew on from the Garden City of  India to this Desert called Doha, my home for past 7 years. (for those who are not aware, Garden City of India is Bangalore.). Only off late I have stopped abusing the airlines that delayed the take off by more than an hour, in  turn logged me in mess of missing my transit flight to Doha. A frenzy 24 hours in two other gulf states, courtesy airlines, with my toddler, feeding her whatsoever available in the airports, finally landed in Doha Airport in the middle of winter February night. The real part of new me in new place began in black and white.

After a hustle bustle of so called journey, the arrival in Doha International Airport even today sends in that very air in me. I can stand there blinking at the very sight that went blur to my sight that day, with same propensity even  now. People weren't running, instead appeared calm, no noise. Huge built Arabs with utmost respect to women like me with child in hand, greeted. Most attires around were either white[men] or full black [women].  Some hardly showed their eyes. My heart fainted with respect shown to ladies, in the airport. Waiver of long queues was big relief. Remember unlike in Bangalore airport not one apart from porter bothered to notice I was managing 12kg handbag with 12kg baby with me.

Once out of airport, and into the  fancy grey SUV, I smiled to myself. Welcome to Doha reverberated in my ears. As we pulled off, felt an urge to use the seat belt at the rear seat too. Nevertheless, eyes stuck to broad, good roads that seemed like neatly laid  car showroom. Only that the cars kept moving. There were hardly any signs of two wheeler, auto rickshaws, or honking over crowded buses or speeding trucks. A short ride took us to grand villa in midst of city.

Operating from Qatar officially. Life was getting normal. New routines volunteered. Mornings were beautiful, be it Bangalore or Doha. But sun was shining more here. Did not like it though. There weren't those crows too. Also, I had started missing the morning milk man who rang the shrill bell at 5 am, I had once hated.
Few days before settling with a job routine, it was uneasy not to find a cockroach, a fly or a lizard to chase. Neither was that strolling street vendor selling  fresh veggies. Hence, the bonus was a brand new car all for myself. I had to proudly show it off to my people in India. Yes.  All for myself, remember.

Shades of life had changed. From colorful India to black and white. From busy streets to calm ones.
It took us few months getting acquainted to their accent and tone. While at times I felt that two Arab men were quarreling, they were actually holding a polite discussion. At times  I occasionally found a car coming to screeching halt on a main road, just to politely make way for me to cross.  This was bliss. A constant fear on the Bangalore roads if a BMTC bus would almost run over me was overcome by the super respect walker received in this Arab country. I liked this, though not the absence of lizards in the house! Phew. I grew up watching them.
 
No easy signs of an easy availability of "maid", so I played the role of one initially. That meant, every night when I had to do away the trash in the exterior of the compound, there were huge pairs of eyes staring me. Never in my life had some huge built cats stared (shall stab you kind of), after all, for throwing trash. Absence of street dogs out in Arab country, made the cats apparently grow too naughty. I had to assume. Or perhaps I did not have much of non veg stuff for them may be, too. However the cats did not bother me much. Lesser greenery did. I payed heaven and hell to actually purchase even grass and soil. Good heavens. Welcome to desert, I told myself.  Closed air conditioned homes and bottled water at times choked me. Forcing me to flee to the peace of the temple environment. But alas. No luck. The monotonous Mosque prayers had started pleasing me. I liked the melody and rhythm with which people prayed punctually 5 times a day. I got used to it to the extent of omitting usage of morning alarm of 4 am. My better half had got used to taking prior telephonic appointments with the barber unlike in India. 

City provided limited entertainment opportunities. Within an 20km radius we would reach desert with vast stretch of the Arabian Sea, on outskirts of the city. En-route got you external view of the Oil refineries, the only existing water desalination plant. This was one unique outing. Rest of them included few parks and malls. City had started taking roots into us as our home. One museum that existed in the city displayed few antiques that were either from Iran, or India. A page of Ramayana excited us a bit. Another worth mentioning issue is the amazingly disciplined Police. They will emerge in front you at the drop of hat, on one call, for any help. Also catch and warn you for being naughty on roads or for breaking rules. I have always fallen in love with the attitude of police here. The coordination and regulation in times of serious traffic jams even in big signals, are worth admiring.  The local Arabs turned out to be very polite and sweet people. In winter they built Marquees here and there and partied with music dance and food. Occasionally as we found people from our hometown, we would be thrilled, I would rejoice with child like excitement. Over years, as we visited India for holidays, the NRI status started sinking into us. Ironically, being in Gulf state sends your residential status on a toss to find you as an NRI in India and a "Permanent resident but Not Citizen" of  Qatar. 

Life moved on,  as we descended from the colourful garden city into the black and white desert. Now, I could put on a badge myself, a name to honour, pat my back and say "I am an Gulfi". At times my heart leaped to Bangalore, but would return promptly at the very thought of the noisy streets, quarrelsome auto drivers, or the salivating street dogs outside your gate.This isn't all. Yet a glimpse of an overview.

Cheers,
Sush


Thursday, May 23, 2013

Life's True Mime

Strong like Banyan
Deep like Ocean
Beckoning two arms
Rising heart’s alarms

Surrender in there
Love in air
Head on them, did rest
Heavy, with thoughts best

Enchanting, magnetic, moment
Those arms into she went
Life’s agony on a vent
Life it meant.

Messenger of love
Imitating the feathery dove
Those arms checked her in
Breath held, raised chin

Faint smile, her ornament
Temptation to gulp the moment
Possessive embrace
….face to face

Clock ticks on
Moment to stick on
A Time
Life’s true Mime


Twelve, struck the clock
…...she fled, off her time lock
Into her world of cinders
Ella, dreams yet of wonders.

P.S. This poem sure seems romantic, nice. Sure has Cinderella as example. Who does not want to be a Cinderella, awaiting her prince charming? Yet, it's not rare to read about young brides bleeding to death these days, in news. They do not live to dream like Cinderella perhaps...........

THE POEM IS WRITTEN AS A PART OF SOCIAL CAUSE, TO SAY "STOP ASSAULTING GIRL CHILD, RESPECT HER. 

Ref: