Musing about the lost art of Namaskaaram

Where art thou O salutation with the clasped palms? A question that rang repeatedly in my head as my husband and I traversed the Cambodian countryside. Wherever we went, we were met with broad smiles and palms clasped together, close to their chest. “This is how we welcome people”, they said. It was a familiar gesture. Something that was an integral part of our culture back home. The ‘Namaskaraam, Namaste, Vanakkam and many other welcome salutations in every language in the sub-continent. But no matter how familiar it was, it still took an effort to bring our palms together and reciprocate. It got me thinking. The last time I vividly remember this graceful gesture being used was by airhostesses who worked for an airline whose ambassador was a mustachioed, turbaned man who bowed down rather slavishly to people who chose to patronize the airline. An enduring image of bowing down to other people’s whims and fancies. Could that be why our very Indian mind started rejecting the gesture? ‘Cos it indicates extreme humility which is something that we have largely started to regard as something that we don’t need to possess? Is that why we brushed it aside to open our arms wide to the handshake? But why is that even the tactile feel of the handshake does not touch you as much as a simple namaste with joint palms does? Despite the touch, it remains impersonal.

So many questions and not many or any concrete answers. And believe me I did put the question to many an Indian… Some believe its natural that we don’t use it anymore. After all, in times where married girls shun sindoor as its not fashionable to display the red dot of culture on our foreheads and men have relegated dhothis to the deepest, darkest corner of the wardrobe to be taken out only for ‘ethnic day’ in office or for a buddy’s traditional wedding, it’s but natural that we’ve said goodbye to the good old namaskaar. And so while its cool to own up to being part of the country where kids from slums can make it big on reality shows it seems that doing the namaste does not have the same effect. This doesn’t seem to be stopping every third westerner from adopting it though. And I kid you not, when I tell you, that of all the people who came up on our wedding dais to wish my husband and me, only one greeted us with a namaskaaram. And that person happened to be my husband’s American friend from New York!

Back in India, as I see more and more people, in what are hitherto undeveloped parts of Kerala, extending their right arm to greet one another, my heart sinks by just another notch. But then something a very wise man told me made me smile again. Apparently, namastes and namaskaraams are all on their way back! A cultural renaissance of sorts you might think? “Not really”, he smiled, “It’s all thanks to H1N1… Suddenly no one wants to extend their hands for a firm handshake or open their arms for a friendly hug! So its back to arms length and the namaskaaram!”

Well, so there’s at least something that swine flu can be thanked for!

Common sense where art thou?

It’s been a week and a half of tracking the skies and following weather reports and living on the verge of panic attacks. After the typhoon brought the city to its knees, while it did result in a surge of volunteerism, yet another thing it has led to is people losing it completely. And taking others with them in their downward spiral as well. Read that as yours truly.

So the day of the flood, we frantically search for news of any kind to pass on in terms of help lines or contact numbers of volunteer organizations. There we were sifting through the very many threads of information that we could pick up from Facebook and Twitter. The local media organizations seemed to be following their lead to get to many of the affected areas. And then I chanced upon the tweets about the mountain snakes. I froze. Now, please note that this was not something that the news channels were talking about. I have no idea where the information came from. But irrespective of that little detail, there were some very motivated individuals who were tweeting about it. And panic stricken souls who were picking it up and then repeating it, ad nauseum! At this point I must confess, that I too was one of those hapless frantic souls, though I did add a question mark at the end hoping that I managed to at least veil my dread. Why is this so stupid, you may ask? Simply because, I am yet to see a crow or a stray dog in Metro Manila let alone something as humongous as a mountain snake. The panic would have been well founded if we lived in a region near the mountain, but losing my head over snakes in the concrete jungle we lived in… God! But wait that wasn’t the lowest point in my loss of reasoning. That came the next day.

As the floodwaters abated, twitter was abuzz with more creature related news. This time it was crocodiles. Three crocodiles were reported to have escaped from a nearby nature park and were supposedly frolicking in the waters. I checked where the nature park was and nearly got a heart failure as I noted that it was less than five kilometers away. It was my shriek that woke my husband up. Though he tried to laugh away my fears saying it was an unsubstantiated story and more importantly that we were FIVE kilometres away, I refused to believe him. I sat down and read up all night about how far they could walk or swim, waddle or whatever it is they do. A childhood memory of seeing a film about a crocodile crawl up a toilet seat left me constipated! Literally! You will know how serious I was about researching on whether they actually crawl up toilet seats when you see the kinds of images I found in the course of my terrified research!

Anyway, all this was despite the fact that we live several floors above the ground and it would take a majorly mutated crocodile or one of the superhero variety to actually crawl up for some exposed posterior.

Anyway so in a nutshell I’ve been basically running around like a headless chicken. Worrying whether that mild breeze is going to turn into the whistling, roaring kind or hating the gentle drizzle and willing it away, imagining it transforming into a pounding monster downpour. I’ve been driving my husband nuts with it (well, more than I usually do) and generally bugging him to be a homebody talking about mysterious instincts and general funny feelings in my stomach and so on and so forth.

And then I had a conversation with a very wise woman (Read that as my mother) who told me, ‘you’re not living if you’re living in mortal terror. No one knows how long we all have. Might as well make the most of it. So what if a crocodile snaps you up, that’s still better than staying at home and dying of a panic attack’. Now that’s what I call plain common sense that I hope to acquire as the years pass me by. But till that happens I have decided to lean back and take her advice. Its better than heeding to the Twitterati anyway!

After Typhoon Ondoy…

It’s around six am and the sun’s slowly making its way up across the skies of Manila. A Manila that seems to be slowly limping back to normalcy... Last weekend, the city was caught up in the throes of a totally unexpected visitor, Typhoon Ondoy. Wreaking a path of massive destruction, the typhoon brought the city to its knees last week. The resulting floods were even up to 10 feet deep in parts of the city. The waters rushed through Manila and other provinces claiming life and personal property as its own.

Around two hundred and forty are dead. At last count around four hundred thousand were reported to be homeless. Like many natural disasters, the typhoon was an equalizer affecting both the poorest areas and the richest with equal force. The nation is shaken by this tragedy. But there is no time to sit and play the blame game. There will be ample time for that after we give a helping hand to those in dire need.

For more information on how you can volunteer or donate please go to the following links

http://www.redcross.org.ph/Site/PNRC/wtd.aspx

http://www.redcross.org.ph/Site/PNRC/Default.aspx?S=48&SS=972

http://www.myayala.com/ondoy/

http://www.google.com/landing/typhoon-ondoy.html

A pain in the …

Legs, people, Legs!!! C’mon, lets think out of the box once in a while shall we? [:P] But coming back to the subject at hand, my legs are killing me, and they seem to be convincing my back to join their “Lets Kill her with pain” campaign. And if you’re wagging your finger at me saying, too much of tottering around on heels and this is what will happen, I’ll have you know, you’re wrong! Well, not completely! Yes, heels were involved, but they were not the only ones.

It all started, with the rains in Manila staying mainly… away from the city on a Sunday. There we were, the prospect of a bright, sunny day and nothing in particular to do till around 8 in the evening. And we did what any self-respecting foreigner in Manila would do, head to the walled city armed with a camera and our walking shoes. In my case, this meant my nice, squeaky-clean sneakers that are actually branded (The one that urges you to go ‘Go do it’, in case you’re wondering). Now a little background about the shoes! These were amongst my first acquisitions since moving here. Excited about going jogging with my then brand new husband, I’d bought it after a quick pull-on and try. I was also excited that I got them in a size 6 and a half. I’d never come across the half size funda back home. But then that’s probably ‘cos I was a die-hard Bata fan back then. Anyway, moving on, the shoes have been lying neglected since the rains began. So this was a reunion of sorts with them. So there we were in Intramuros, the old walled city, traipsing over cobblestones, clambering over slippery slopes, cautiously making my way into clammy dungeons… you get the picture. So there we were strolling happily away on paths that were very much traversed before, when suddenly I felt a pinch. Later on I started suspecting whether miniscule lobsters were nesting in my shoes holding my toes in a death grip. Images of iron vices also came to mind. Suffice to say, that four hours later, it was with a pronounced limp that I walked into my apartment, dreading to think of what the evening meant for my poor, already maimed feet.

As the clock struck or rather showed 8:35, already half an hour delayed, I had no option but to squeeze my feet into my pointy high heels. (I couldn’t go for a party that was being covered by MTV in my floaters!!!) (Also, the shoes are not that bad on ordinary days!) With a quick wince and an attempt to blot out the sudden red film of pain that flashed in front of my eyes. I followed my husband out of the door; after all there would be alcohol at the party right?

But guess what, whoever wrote that drinks take the edge off pain, has obviously never had to stand for 5 and a half hours in 4 inch heels. Or maybe I should have read that phrase out to my feet before I left. Anyway, by the end of the night, my feet felt like something that had been poured out of a grinder…with metal blades for good measure. Today, it’s the feet and the legs that seem to hate me with a vengeance. Every step is traumatic with shooting pains from the tips to my knees. I don’t exactly blame them, after what I did to them yesterday. But really now, trying to get my back in cohorts with them is a bit much. Not sure of what I’ll have to do in the days ahead to effect a compromise. Anything other than throwing my shoes away though, ‘cos even if my legs decide to give up on me, they’ll at least still look pretty!

Sigh!

Random Chatter…

Also sometimes known as simply speaking. And by virtue of the blog being named that way, I can get away with posts as random as this one is going to be. The last week has been hectic, filled with events and work and celebrations and while I’ve been living through it all, it’s been hard to organize my thoughts into this week’s blog. So I figured that this week’s theme could be random chatter, much like the conversations we have at parties. Especially the conversations the hosts have at parties, it’s a little bit of this and a little bit of that, so that you get to talk to all your friends that have come over. This means jumping from unoccupied chair to the next to attempt to talk to everyone, so that no one goes home thinking ‘the food was good, but she should have just packed it and sent it, if she didn’t want to talk to me!’ I love random chatter, ‘cos this means that I get to talk about Disney movies, Harry Potter, hotel management, TV reporting, my wedding, moisturizing lotions, Sambar recipes and much more in the span of less than a few hours. No, this doesn’t make me a fish with an attention deficit disorder like Dory from Finding Nemo! But it does make me as smiley as her, ‘cos I get to talk to everyone. And by the way, the topic examples given above are not from the posts on this blog, they are real life examples from the conversations I had last night at an Onam dinner at our house.

Speaking of Onam, which was early this week, this was a special day for my husband and me. Apart from it being Onam that is reason to celebrate on its own, it was also our first Onam after getting married. This called for proper festivities. There was a hitch though, we were in Manila and it’s slightly tough to come up with a pookalam or even drumsticks in the sambar when they are just not available. However, we overcame that as we always did, after all if Indians don’t do jugaad, who will! Onam was fun and we managed to get all nostalgic after hogging on the feast. A full tummy always manages to bring back some nice memories. Mahabali must have left our home happy after seeing the blissful smiles on our faces.

Much like the kids at one of my friend’s daughter’s birthday party yesterday. It was all face painting and clowns and cake and uproarious laughter. Though it’s impossible to trick kids these days. I’m pretty sure I was the only one who was ‘Aahing’ over the flying table trick, while all the kids were just sitting there with a cynical expression, one eyebrow raised at the poor grown up who was ‘attempting magic.’ I don’t remember being that smart as a kid! Or having owned so many earthly possessions at that age for that matter! Between the twenty odd kids in the room, the eldest must have been around ten … I saw MP3 players, iPods and of course the ubiquitous mobile phones. This last being proof that if you nurture random chatter enough, it can be used as a foundation for successful life-changing products!

Random thoughts anyone?

Dear Anon,

Yes, you read that right. This one’s for you dear Anon and your ilk. Now before I launch into the letter, a little background for the others. Some of you might have noticed that last week’s post made quite an impression on a Mr/Miss/Mrs who came back repeatedly to comment. While it started off with a valid point, the commenting later degenerated into random unrelated psychobabble style judgments. And what was most striking was that, while this anonymous commenter found the time to come back four times and comment in epic like proportions, he/she still did not find the time to leave their name to validate their opinions. Now while this letter is specifically addressed to that particular anon, it is also generally addressed to anonymous commenters across the world. And to make it clear, I am not judging all those who comment anonymously on blogs or news sites and move along. That’s a one-time slip, maybe you didn’t have time, or maybe you were just too lazy to log in to make a random comment on some site, you doubt you would return to. But if you are one of those, who make a business of returning time and time again, stubborn under the cloak of anonymity, this one’s for you.

Also, to the anon who was around last week, if you really believe that you could sneak around spewing judgment without leaving cyber footprints in this day and age, you are also for the want of a better word ‘slightly slow’.

So why all the secrecy? Is it because you have opinions but you are simply missing something called convictions to express them? Or because you simply do not believe in what you spout, but you think you are achieving something by leaving them floating around in cyberspace, nameless and identity less? Comments that are by very virtue of their style low on credibility? If you think that sort of thing defines you and your style, umm, sorry to be the one that breaks your bubble, but there is no ‘you’ as long as you don’t own up to it and put a name to your stuff, remember?

Now, if any of you anon’s have any illusions about you being masked crusaders cruising the cyber world, correcting blogger’s world views and educating the logged on public- I have one word for you – “Delusional”. Superman and Spiderman never left anonymous letters on sidewalks saying that the ‘world needs to be saved’.

Now all you anons please do take note, this is a personal blog that talks about personal experiences and the comments section are for people who’ve had similar experiences or not at all and want to put in a word about it. They are for your thoughts on the subject that occur to you after you read the blog. The space left for commenting is not for you to fill up with your random ranting and bitterness at the space the world has accorded to you. I sympathize with you, but I make it a point to reply to all the comments here and I really do not have the time to reply to nameless pontifications. Also, all you nameless wonders might be wondering why I’ve left the anonymous commenting option as it is? That’s ‘cos I believe in democracy and at the end of the day, it’s up to you to put down your thoughts and identify them as yours or not. But whether to consider you as persons with serious identity issues or not is up to me.

So in conclusion, this is Shweta Ganesh Kumar, the author of this blog. And you there, what was that you were saying again? The paper bag over your head muffled your voice. Take it off and we might be able to have a proper conversation, and you might just be able to earn yourself a little respect.

Why all the drama?

Now that’s just another dialogue from Sex and the City. But it’s something that has been playing in a loop in my head ever since I got married. Sure, seven months is not the longest time to be married, but the clichés I’ve been hit with ever since justify the rant. Its been brewing for a while, but what prompted the post was this last week, where I read not one, not two but five different posts on the subject of marriage. Three from women, two married, one single, one from a married man and the last from a guy on gay marriage! Marriage obviously seems to be on the top of the trending topics this week. And I find myself returning to the same phrase at the beginning, “Why? Why all this drama?”

To start with, a familiar phrase in articles on the subject is ‘Marriage is an Institution that needs to be revised.’ Now this leads me to ask, How? And more importantly who will do the revision? And also, do you really think we can lay down general rules for married people across the globe? I never quite understand, what they mean by this. A marriage, according to my humble understanding (yes, I tend to get sarcastic in the face of ignorant statements) is a relationship between two individuals. And that’s all it is. It is hopefully a lifelong relationship, sometimes unfortunately it is not. You could fight with this other person, you could get along real well. You could have those proverbial days when you know you still love the other person, but you might not be high on liking him or her. Sometimes you get irritated by the slightest things and you stalk off to find your personal space. But then if all is well, you come back to share your personal space with that person you’ve chosen to be married to. Now to me, this doesn’t seem like an institution. It seems pretty much like the bond that I have with my best friends or even my parents. Except for the fact that you cannot choose your parents. (But that’s another debate) How does this become an institution, which in my mind conjures up an image of a dusty grey building with crotchety old librarians? So does this mean that the people who believe this to be an institution are the ones who feel that all their personal interactions are institutions? If not, then why only marriage? Would love to hear from some of these people. I kid you not!

Second and unrelated to the above, yet still about marriage, and I’m sure my friend P would agree on this grouse is the one that we married people are subject to; And it goes, “You do not look married enough”. Now, I understand, ‘you’ve put on weight’ or ‘you’ve lost weight’ or even, ‘Good God woman! What have you done to your hair!’ But what is ‘You do not look married…’ and sometimes after the gap ‘Enough’ So how are we supposed to respond? No, really tell me O wise ones, how! I am yet to figure it out. (Note: the author is researching on a secret society that has ferociously guarded the secret of the Married enough rating scale. Though she has received death threats, she is still tenaciously pursuing the same. Watch this space for a book release on the subject)

Next come the clichés. This is something all of you can try out. Type in ‘Cliches on marriage’ and take a look at the lines that come up. I even found one site which had around 900 cliches and one-liners only on the subject of marriage. And really corny ones, I must add. It seems like after blondes and Sardarjis, it’s the brides and the grooms and the husbands and wives who are subject to maximum cringing, thanks to the really cheesy jokes out there. And do not even get me started on the cracks on in –laws. Really people, why, oh why all the drama?

To me, at the end of the day, marriage is just another relationship between two human beings who’ve chosen to be together through the highs and the lows of living. And even if it’s not Disney perfect, these two people here below seem to be proof that there is hope for the rest of us. Provided the others stop with their pontification and try and solve other problems. Anyone up for a solution for world hunger?