Sunday, July 18, 2010

of this and that (living the south indian dream)

Today, yet again, I wriggled out of another family thingamajig. Cunning (little?) thing I am. Baby's completed one year so we must have birthday party it seems. Chumma. Showing off much? Obviously, I decline to be a part of such foolishness. As if baby knows what the fucks happening. Poor little thing, cute also I'll bet, dressed up in some frock with the lace around her neck almost choking her, pulling at it in many futile attempts to allow some fresh air.

Like my thatha (who is a very wise man when it comes to social customs) said- " 'As if the baby is saying, I'm turning one, please come to XY hotel'. If we don't go, we'll save them a lot of money. Oru plate at least eranuthi ambathu ruba irukkum." Who can argue with that wisdom? So Ammamma (no, I do not refer to my grandmom as paati (party)) delivered her stock dialogue for such situations: "AamaRendu perukkum manushan ey vaenda. (Yes, for you two, people aren't important)"

So everyone (minus-me, thatha and my brother- the family loafer who was porikking) went off to Hotel Sapphire (if I'm not wrong). It seems the menu included "maal" (matter/non veg) including mutton biryani, tandoori chicken along with chocolate mousse and other such items (which was supposed to make us rue our decisions). Thatha snorted (this is his way of dismissing things others have said), porikki said "yes, aah?" and I ignored. No amount of maal in the world can tempt me to go willingly to a mudaliar event. 

That too in this very marriageable age of mine. The next Mud event I attend will be my own wedding (as if that day will come!) or my brother's, if I have my way. My grand-aunt, referred to by the entire family as Thotha) will periodically call from Madras and enquire about me. Her two questions "Has she lost weight?" and "When are you planning to get her married?". Since the atmosphere is not very conducive to my enjoyment of my youth, I prefer not to find myself in situations where I may lose my peace of mind (what little the lady hitler in my office has allowed to remain).

My grandmom tries to paint a very different picture of me. Relatives were told that I wasn't present because I was keeping Thatha company since he is never left home alone. (Which is a hundred percent true, and a whole lot convenient.) Nowadays she tells everyone: "Vaishnavi's here. Aaama, aamaa, Krishnamurthy &  Co. join panirruka. Kaataalein poyi raatri daan vara. Aama, X (referred to previously) mudal join panna yedum daan. (She's joined K & Co. Leaves in the morning and only gets back late at night. Yes, it's the same place X had started at.)" Having done that, she has announced to the entire mudaliar community in Bangalore that I am here. As my uncle always says "If there is a mudaliar mom doesn't know, he/she is certainly not worth knowing." 

Thanks to my grandparents, I am now abreast of "Tendril" and "Chellamma". Which has the usual poison giving- revenge plotting sister-in-law, and a couple of brothers who stand around uselessly, glancing alternately at each other and then their wives. Tendril has somc complicated love thing happening. I tell you the number of times these serials refer to illegitimacy, living-in relationships and all, my cousins may as well be watching Desperate Housewives. During breaks, we watch Indian Idol. Really, I don't know which is worse.

I am living the perfect, pre-marriage, south-indian life. Except I come home at 9 instead of 5.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Never mind the title

So, I began working last week. It's been almost two weeks. And I don't have as much to complain about as I thought I would. Or would like to. But there is one issue that I would like to address. During my seven legal internships in Bangalore and 2 weeks of employment, I've noticed different styles of work, different vibes. Some firms have a predominantly national law schools crowd, some have a predominantly bangalore university crowd, some have young energetic partners who interact with everyone, some have partners who are the proverbial "blue moon/ id ka chand". Some have an awesome work ethic, some not so much. Some treat interns like one of them, some treat them like the poor cousin. Each of them is different, in a hundred different ways. But over the years I've noticed an alarming similarity among every one of them- they all have, in one corner, the passive aggressive-nearly always avoiding confontation yet getting things their way- disapproving- Real Estate Aunty.

No, I am not being supercilious because I am a corporate lawyer and think we're a cut above. I do think the second is true, but that is not the reason for this classification.

There is a type- a very dangerous type- and it exists. In one corner of the office, unnoticeable behind a computer and a fortress of patta deeds in Kannada/Telegu/Tamil, there lives a real estate aunty. She ALWAYS exhibits the following traits:

  1. Aged between 33-45.
  2. Has a kid between the ages of 8 and 15
  3. Full strong Karnataka accent
  4. Will begin eyeing the clock at 12 and will break for lunch latest at 12:45 (much before the corporate team or the poor litigation guys who only eat after 2:30)
  5. Drives a Kinetic/Activa. No Dio mind you because its obviously not fuel efficient enough or sturdy enough.
  6. Has a name like Savita, Sujata, Vinita.

Real estate aunties will also exhibit the following behavioural characteristics:

  1. They do not approve of your dressing. And god forbid, if you wear skirts, your legs will get the staring down of a lifetime.
  2. They WILL NOT allow you to switch on the fan. And they haven't even heard of an AC. They always feel cold and will always carry a jacket (reebok, polo sport) to work. Yes Bangalore has pleasant weather, but it isn't frikkin South of England.
  3. Their sister-in-law/cousin/aunt twice removed will always be having a child.
  4. At around 4:30 they will receive a phone call from their child/children and will proceed to help them with their homework. Thereafter the constant chatter will be interrupted with "Bee-Yaa-Yell-Yell", "aah, haudu,haudu. Correct appa."
  5. They will mispronounce names-"Gowtham, Kowshik, Gowrav"
  6. Their wallpapers will always, always be flowers/teddy bears/some supposedly cute animal thing.
  7. At 6:00 pm they will promptly pack their bags and leave.
Really, I could go on, but you get the picture.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Guess who's back

As far as I know, there are only four people who have read this apology for a blog, three of whom are her, her and my current blogger crush, her. Lest I should lose my very limited readership, I have decided to make a re-entry.

The thing is, what I write, is nowhere near as interesting or entertaining as what I say, or do. I’m funny in an observing activity, then commenting about it sort of way. Very funny, if I may say so myself. But this, funny business on the internet is just not my thing.

The past month’s theme has been ennui - it’s been tiresome and boring. I have spent it around two persons on the wrong side of fifty & have on two occasions met people my age. (And for a couple of days my brother) Now my parents are not the sort one can have fun with, nor are they the sort who are content to be ignored. They make it their business to have their heads up my ass with the whole sleep at 10:30 wake up at 6:30 nonsense, and the get your driving license & passport and the lets go out (which with them, is rather torturous) and the why can’t you study and the why do you want to work in this Krishnamurthy and why not PSU and company like X cousin (that they prefer me not to associate too much with X because of her lifestyle is of course not relevant here) agenda.  A complete list of matters to their dissatisfaction (especially my mother’s) include:

What is this tail in your hairstyle, kudumi maadri iruku. To which I replied: “veccha kudumi, siraiccha mottai”.
Why can’t you wear jeans? Why these shorts and funny, funny harems?
Why are you insisting on working in Bangalore? Why not here with us in Delhi? We’ll get you a car, driver and everything you earn will be pocket money.
If you don’t want to study why did you enrol in the CS course? (How does one explain that 40 marks are good enough, 90 is absolutely unnecessary and a colossal waste of time & effort?)
Don’t put photos on facebook, someone will see & see like X, you’ll also have problems. Why do you want to get a bad name?
I don’t care about others, Mudaliars are very conservative. Since you are not finding for yourself, I only have to & if you continue to behave like this you’ll get a very bad name in the community.

Now I’m thanking my stars that in 10 days I’m off to Bangalore, where I have plenty of work. I need to find a house, furnish that crap, figure out how to get to work in under 50 rupees a day (it’ll be around a month before I get my car), get gas, internet and all. Tumba kelsa.
Really this Delhi is such a shit city no, I could write a whole book on why I hate it. But that is worthy of having its own post. Suffice to say that I hate it from the bottom of my heart.

Saturday, December 26, 2009

The massacre of the Queen's tongue

Very random this post is, because I have nothing (or too much) to say, but I feel that I must blog. I realise I've spent more time on pimping up my blog than actually contributing any matter.

Topic #1: North Indian English (my pet topic. Also I know that this blog has a predominance of South Indian readers whom I am hoping will join in): Anyhoo, it just pisses me off so much that northies make fun of southie english and then insist that there is no "north indian accent". According to them, there is an Indian accent and there is a south Indian accent. One would imagine, South India isn't part of the whole deal. One really should get my grandmom started on this topic. Surrounded by marus, sindhis and punjabis, she isn't really big on the whole united India thing. To quote her exact words " I hate them from the bottom of my heart."

Anyway, North Indian grammatical faux pas:

1) Not knowing words that indicate plural from those that indicate singular.: "I bought many stuffs at MK Retail." People, I implore you. Stuff is already plural. You cannot pluralise something that is already plural. Much like fish, sheep and hair. "Such beautiful hairs you have yaar!"

2) The whole tomorrow/ yesterday confusion: "Can you please give me day before tomorrows papers?"

3) Direct translation from Hindi: "Close the fan." "I came from bus." "Oh! She has gone on her mother." "She is standing on the door." On the door? Really? Like a pigeon? I could go on, but you get the idea.

4) And my favourite. The pronunciation: "I only use EX deo." "Arey yaar, my AXE, Rahul na, I tall you." "See na, my taddy beer". "I am sitting on my deks" "I have to aks you something."

5) Complete murder of has/have, doesn't/don't: "she doesn't has any brains". "he have my book". "He say that he doesn't has/don't have it." And various permutations and combinations of the same.

Topic #2: English south of the Vindhyas: South Indian English is funny as fuck. Just less annoying because of the lack of arrogance and "I'm so smart and cool coz i'm Singh and Akshay Kumar have said "Singh is King"ness".

1)The whole z and s confusion: "Very bissy ya I am. So more work prezzure is there no."

2) ello, ello, dirty fellow: Res ipsa loquitor.

3) Yes/esss: "Chumma don't do timepass. Tell esss or no." "Aye write spelling ya, YES- YAA- K-H-T-I"
In the same vein- ya, vo, yell.....

4)Malayali special. Not/note: "I want a not on Finance Bill, 2009." "Why Karthik is note letting Tendulkar make hundred?"

Please feel free dear reader, to pitch in.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Singin paens to MT IV

The holidays have been on for faaaar too long now. I'm missing my floor (something that is only heightened because its the very last time I'll be going back). And in all honesty (and modesty) it is the most awesome floor in all of the National Law University. So in a burst of nostalgia, I wrote an ode to my floor:

O' floor under the heavens
hallowed be thy name,
home to an assortment of creatures,
you are our bodhi tree.

Where "knowledge" is empowerment,
and we all talk through our asses,
them anal retentive people didn't make it
up the last flight of stairs.

matters of great importance,
we have deliberated upon
when things aren't quite as we like 'em
they tend to go up in flames.

There exists the corridor of uncertainity
where we- the privileged confer,
at the end of it we spake to thee,
"how, how you wish you were here."

Friday, November 27, 2009


Since right now I have so much to blog about, typically none of it is coming out. So I'm just doing one those random tag things which secretly I absolutely love doing.

8 TV shows I like to watch
The L Word
Family Guy
South Park
Grey's Anatomy
Gossip Girl
Private Practice
Flash Forward

8 things I love about winter
Sweaters/ Jackets/ Warm Clothing
Not having to take 5 baths a day

The cold
Hot chai
Cuddling under the razai with the underbelt on
The wintery feeling

8 things I'm passionate about
Women's rights

Gay rights

8 bands

Iron Maiden
Judas Priest
Within Temptation
Bhayanak Maut
Pearl Jam

8 songs
Under a glass moon- Dream Theatre

Burn- Anoushka Shankar/Karsh Kale
Vellai Pookal- Kannathil Muthamittal
Njan Aara- Avial
Blunt- Wild strawberries
Ee bhoomi- Swarathma
Rasiya- Kurbaan
Aitebaar-Zeb & Haniya
The Gallery- Dark Tranquility

8 movies
City of Angels
Eternal Sunshine of the spotless mind
Boys don't cry
Alai Payuthey
Kannathil Muthamittal
My blueberry nights
Brokeback mountain
Bandit queen