Author: nourishncherish

Everytime I laid hands on a straw I sincerely indulged in the task of blowing bubbles into the glass. Actually, I may need to re-phrase that from the past-tense to the present continuous tense. Age has restrained me in more ways than one, and this is one thing I now hesitate doing in Public – though my companions cringe on the occasional bubble bursting forth in Public.

Today, I gave into the callings of the child in me, and decided to blow bubbles of air into a hot glass of tea. One would assume that the bubbles would be spherical/circular in nature, but shape changes to hexagons when the concentration of the bubbles grew. I withdrew slightly, and the shape of the bubbles came back to their original circular shape.
Blow again: Hexagonal
Withdraw slightly: Circular
Blow again: Hexagonal ….. You get the drift. (It has been a while since I observed bubbles with interest. So, pardon me)

I’d like to hear other’s opinions and thoughts on this topic after trying out the art of blowing bubbles into one’s cup. If the act is performed in the midst of adults, you could all accomplish the following:
1) Provide mild entertainment to those staring overtly at you
2) Lay the foundation for future claims of instability due to stress
3) Gather members to your “Bubble-club” by taking those who admit shyly to you that they like blowing bubbles too.

Having this observation safely tucked in, I wondered whether the shape of honey-combs when it is being built is circular, and as the concentration grows becomes hexagonal.

A theory given by D’Arcy Wentworth Thompson, is that the shape simply results from the process of individual bees putting cells together: somewhat analogous to the boundary shapes created in a field of soap bubbles. In support of this he notes that queen cells, which are constructed singly, are irregular and lumpy with no apparent attempt at efficiency.

Well, well…….Kutty Columbus! Get back to Work!

Eeeeeeeeeeeyoooooon
Eeeeeeeeeeeyoooooon
Eeeeeeeeeeeyoooooon

The incessant alarm got the better of my drooping eyelids, and I willed them to open, before half-heartedly leaving the cozy coves of my bed in the middle of the night. As it turns out, somebody’s car alarm had gone off, and would not stop. Evidently, this was not the owner. But how do we decide what to do?

In the safe confines of our home, the course of action was unanimous: Go out and see who it is. I hold the supreme glory of casting doubts over everybody’s aura of confidence by suggesting that the thief may be armed, could even have a gun, since guns are so easy to procure in the country. The story was now different – I watched the cloud of doubt waver and hang thickly over our heads. From brave strides, I watched the strides diminish to stealthy tiptoes, and “see who it is” deteriorated to “sneak a peak“!

The security agency was summoned, and I went to bed, musing about another episode, that had an entire street out in the early morning cold when a thief frequented our home in Chennai.

Belonging to the water-starved population of Chennai, my mother-in-law was extremely sensitive to the sound of gushing water. This unfortunate thief stumbled upon a pot of water, and set off that exact alarm. It was around 5 a.m., and soon the household was abuzz with trepidation.

“AHOI! AHOI!“, screamed the menfolk into the darkness of the night, obviously in a bid to frighten the thief away.

The men conducted a meeting downstairs to gauge the movement and whereabouts of this fellow, while I was a silent observer of the goings-on from the balcony above. I observed that the men who proclaimed the loudest, that the best option was to storm into the backyard, were the ones farthest away from the backyard. Furthermore, they showed no signs of budging from their positions of command. The self-proclaimed early riser was busy defending his stance that he was up at usual at 4:30 a.m., and did not hear anything.

After a while, I heard a faint rumble. It grew louder and louder: I was alone upstairs, and had not much choice. I made up my mind on the next course of action, and briskly walked towards the dimly lit kitchen.

My stomach could stand the rumblings no longer, and I treated myself to a couple of hot dosas while the commotion slowly died down.

With the dosas in my tummy, I mused about the unfortunate plight and high stress levels of the career paths of thieves. They also share a queer relationship with society: Society fears them, and they fear Society.

I stopped short in my tracks as I headed into my workspot the other day. There she was – shopping around again in the same stores as I have! And, she has to buy the same colour too! So, there we were looking like 2 peas in a pod, while folks gleefully took note and asked us whether we had been planning this event. You see the same thing had happened twice in the same week!

* What’s the big deal? *

Just this, I have spent a good part of my non-uniform clad childhood days wearing the same clothes as my sister and mark this: the girl next door! So, I react pretty much like a scalded cat when I see people dressed in same clothes. My father belonged to an elite clan of shareholders of a textile mill: so much so that when we walked into the showroom, all salesfolk came to personally attend to us, and served us with coffee and tea! (My theory was that, all salesfolk need to attend to the sole customers in the store, don’t they?!)

The cloth purchased there was fantastic – there are no doubts about that. Some of the clothes have neither faded nor sport a tear after all these years! To top this, they had better rates for wholesale goods i.e. LOTS of cloth. My father – the economist who, would consume 3 cups of tea if they were offered for Rs.10 as opposed to Rs 5 per cup, bought into this scheme, and realms of cloth used to make their way home.

So, it was arranged for the rest of our childhood days that my sister’s salwar kameez, my frock and my neigbour’s frock would all be tailored from the same cloth. In fact, I even remember one instance when a cotton skirt for me, a salwar kameez for my sister and a curtain in our home were from the same cloth. Everytime I wore that skirt, I would pray that guests were not observant enough to match up the curtains and my skirt.

I wonder if my next-door friend remembers the clothes as vividly as I do! For me, I remember every tiny pattern on the clothes – how can one forget if we all looked like peas in a pod?!

My name is spelt as “Esssssssssssssssssss-a-u-m-y-a“

Twas the time when the milk teeth was a vanishing brood, and power cuts were the order of the day. The candles would be lit, and they would bring forth light (not enlightenment as is evident)As you don your mask of innocence, and say the letter “S”, the family would watch on in dark glee as the candles fluttered, before dying out in the wind….”OOOPSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”

I remember hearing with awe the fact that a powercut in Mumbai made it to National News! This morning, as I beat the morning yawns and legged it to the office – I was told that there had been an unexpected power outage, and we were welcome to go strolling in the park till power was restored – unless of course we had some work that did not require a computer! A generation ago that would have meant work as usual. But for us, it meant childlike glee!

Off we went gallivanting around town, picking flowers and sipping coffee before our world turned dim by the arrival of bright lights. Sadly, there were no candles to say the letter ‘S’ in front of.

I’m sure people would call me a spoilt brat when it comes to exposure to sports – way more than a lot of children in India can afford. The School I grew up in had 14 large playgrounds, 7 tennis courts, a huge gymnasium, a swimming pool and even a squash court on the premises. Not that I accomplished much with all this, but I loved Sports, and have spent many an enjoyable evening on the playground.

Considering all of the above, you would consider me a decent “Couch Sporter”(a term I just coined to refer to those who immensely enjoy watching sports), wouldn’t you?!

*Shakes head remorsefully* Tut Tut!

I simply cannot bring myself to watch a game. I attended the Lakers Vs Mavericks Game in a Stadium, and loved the experience! There were lots of people, pop corn, a complimentary clapper to create a ruckus in the name of clapping and a bunch of enthusiastic friends who were explaining the rules of the game to me.
Verdict: I enjoyed the acrobats’ performance in the break-time more than anything else.

My office has been abuzz with the Super Bowl over the past couple of days. Many an American wife have I heard whimper that her hitherto affectionate partner will transform into a partially deaf person with a beer in hand on this particular evening. I banished my past apathy to sport viewing and tried again – I sat with my affectionate partner during the Super Bowl, and watched people ram into each other, while he explained the game to me.
Verdict: I found the advertisements more intriguing.

Cricket, a sport that has wooed countries of people fails to charm me as a watch-worthy Sport. This is one sport that enthralls all sections of people in our Society – yet, I find the game lackadaisical. In fact, many an ignorant year have I spent not knowing the difference between a “Six” and a “Four“. When I did want to know, I held back cringing at others’ perception of my own ignorance! One day, I braced myself for the worst, and asked a classmate of mine. I am sure he reserves better stares for worms before he crushes them under his foot. He tottered, and his speech stammered before he finally enlightened me!

I didn’t even try watching this game, since it spans a whole day!

Oh what better method to ignore the chores at home, turn a deaf ear to all the ramblings, and shove in the bad calories that accompany the good snacks? Well…I will just have to live with the fact that Couch Sporting may be one of those gifts that I am not endowed with!

1) Name Concatenation (Regional deviation for South Indian Names)

My own explanation for name concatenations is that people try to appease the Gods by naming their offspring after them. Alas, the ratio between Number of children produced: Number of Gods they love is seldom 1:1. So, to appease all the Gods and themselves, they give the hapless one all the names rolled into one.

My Grandfather was an extremely pious man – I still remember him to be one of those people who was constantly chanting the name of God. An altruistic philanthropist, his love for God was imminent in the names he bestowed on his children. But he had too many Gods to please and the younger ones bore the brunt of taking on more name baggage. Why else would my youngest uncle be saddled with a name like Siva-Rama-Krishnan Kalyanam-Iyer?! (Because Shankara, Srinivasa, Subramania and Narasimha Gods were all duly honoured. By the time the 9th child was born, it was probably clear that 3 more boys may be a bit of a difficult target, and he settled for “Siva-Rama-Krishnan” instead.)

Apart from the aforementioned sons, he had 4 daughters, who he named as *Lakshmi. The Goddess smiled at his gesture, and gave him his daughters-in-law named bearing the remaining *Lakshmi names. So, we had 9 *Lakshmis in the immediate family –

(Santha, Maha(2 in number), Vijaya, Subbu, Raja, Seetha, Muthu, Jaya) * Lakshmi

2) Pretty Names

I, for one was hoping my sister would have three daughters, because I loved the names of 3 pretty sounding chemical names in my Chemistry lesson when she was pregnant.
“Oceana, Galena & Publica“, I proclaimed, “would be their names”. She could call the first one, “Oshi”! I have spent many an enjoyable afternoon taunting her with these names. It must have been at this juncture that she fervently prayed for a boy instead of giving her children horrendous chemical names! Thankfully, I matured out of this phase before my own daughter was born!

3) Names inspired by Someone/Something

The successful character in the Novel you read, that sweet daughter of a friend – they all play a role. During the time we were selecting my brother’s name, I was actively involved in the process. I would bring to the dinner table all names I fancied. The name of my classmate who was kind, the name of my best friend, the one who caught a worm – anybody!

“Tony“, I proclaimed one night. The truth was Tony had lent me a sharpener that day, and I saw no reason why anybody would not want to name my brother “Tony”. Aforementioned pious Hindu grandfather’s son got a jolt, and the name was dropped!

4) Rhyming Names

If you do want rhyming names for your children, would you need to take that aspect into consideration while naming the first child, or would it be a consideration when naming the second one? In any case, it does sound nice when sisters tell you their names are “Savitha & Kavitha” or “Archana & Aradhana”

Point to Ponder: How do you know which one is being referred to when parents bellow the whole name? Probably not prudent to question the foghorn at this juncture. The wiser thing to do would be to wait for the next broadcast before responding would be my guess!

5) Crocodile Names

There are more ways than 1 to get creative while naming children. My greatfather, decided to play the Crocodile game while naming his offspring:

Sethuraman
Ramakrishnan
Krishnaswamy
Swaminathan

Ah well….what’s in a name?

Boots, Clogs, Lace up (Oxford Style & Derby Style), Mocassin, Mule, Sport Sandals, Casual Sandals, Monks, Pumps, Sport shoes – running shoes, tennis shoes and sneakers. To this impressive list, I have the honor of adding a new genre. The latest entry into the footwear world is trend-setting, and multi-functional. I chanced on this model quite by accident. For people seeking asymmetry and anatomical variations for ideal fit, this model is surprisingly scalable and what is more, one size fits all!

Ladies & Gentlemen: Welcome the PLASTIC COVER!!

My prized discovery stems from an act of nonchalance. I had decided to wear a pretty pair of slippers to work that eventful day. I was waiting for my train to arrive, while I toyed with a pebble on the platform. I decided to clear the platform of this menace by kicking it onto the tracks. Not only did I get the pebble out of the way, I also sent my slipper along for company. I watched the trajectile motion of the slipper before it landed with a dull thump on the tracks over 10 feet below. The innocent pebble seemed to mock me from below – I ignored it’s daunting gaze, and willed my slipper to climb back on.

Things were happening fast now – my train pulled into the platform, and I was forced to hobble into the train with one foot in a slipper. At this juncture, I can describe exactly how prized asses must feel: there is a tingling sensation in the barefoot, the body tilts at 10 degrees, ears flush and cheek colouring approaches crimson. Add to this, the exclamations from well-dressed commuters in Business attires and embarrassment is replete!

Well meaning co-commuters were questioning how I had managed a thing as daft as throwing out my own slipper. Fellow passengers who had witnessed the event at the station volunteered with more information for those not within hearing distance of my own explanation. Let’s just say I blushed all the way home! Some people even advised me on the pragmatic use of shoes with laces!

As my station approached, I was touched by the number of people who offered me a ride home. One lady offered me a sock that she had bought that day. I politely declined the offer. Soon, I was presented with the perfect solution – the plastic cover. “At least, you won’t step on gum!” as one commuter put it! This plastic cover requires no frills – only a pant under which to tuck the cover so that it does not slip off.

Speed and dexterity are minor compromises to be endured in this model. That apart, I sailed home like a sailboat on a perfectly windless day!

We had been to Point Reyes (a point on the scenic Pacific Coast in California, where whales are spotted with relative ease). However, the highlight of the visit turned out to be cows! The one-year old Fauna Research Crew Head in our team was fast asleep, exhausted from the long drive there, and her Grandmother practically had a hyper-tension attack everytime she missed another 4-legged creature. Normally, my mother is not excited enough to steer all conversations towards cows, if she chances upon a couple of them sitting by the roadside.

Every time an individual reacts in a certain way, there should have been a Cause i.e. the Cause-Effect Phenomenon. As it turns out, the reason for the exalted proclamations on seeing cows was an innocent visit to the Zoo a few weeks earlier. We had endeavoured to show our little daughter 3-dimensional creatures, since she loves the 2-D versions of these that she sees in her picture books and Baby Einstein DVDs. We planned a day to the Zoo, and arrived there with a Picnic hamper full of Goodies, and had a hearty meal before embarking on the Zoo tour. We practised the Lion’s roar, and the Elephant trumpet for good measure.

Four enthusiastic adults accompanied the toddler into the Grand Zoo. We had been to the sprawling Zoological Gardens in Mysore & Hyderabad, and my parents were eagerly looking forward to this visit. We went in, and saw the following animals:
1) Cow – 1 number
2) Donkey – 1 number
3) Horse – 1 number
4) Goats – 5 numbers
5) Sicilian Donkey – 1 number
6) Parrots/Tropical Birds – 5 numbers
7) Jaguar – 1 number (The only “Zoo-worthy” animal as my Father would say!)
8) Some Squirrels (I couldn’t bother counting them **BORED FACE**)

By the above standards, every street corner in India was a Zoo! We had been to a Petting Zoo (I figured that out later of course!)

So, when my parents saw cows minding their own business and grazing quietly, they could not stomach the fact that we paid to see 1 cow, while this many cows were there for no fee. Thankfully for them, the little one got up, and drank in the scene! She even had the good fortune of seeing a newborn calf that day.

I would have been happy if they had saved their enthusiasm for spotting Whales at Point Reyes – but Female Whales or Mother Whales are called Cows, so I’ll just have to settle for that!!

We had been to Point Reyes (a point on the scenic Pacific Coast in California, where whales are spotted with relative ease). However, the highlight of the visit turned out to be cows! The one-year old Fauna Research Crew Head in our team was fast asleep, exhausted from the long drive there, and her Grandmother practically had a hyper-tension attack everytime she missed another 4-legged creature. Normally, my mother is not excited enough to steer all conversations towards cows, if she chances upon a couple of them sitting by the roadside.

Every time an individual reacts in a certain way, there should have been a Cause i.e. the Cause-Effect Phenomenon. As it turns out, the reason for the exalted proclamations on seeing cows was an innocent visit to the Zoo a few weeks earlier. We had endeavoured to show our little daughter 3-dimensional creatures, since she loves the 2-D versions of these that she sees in her picture books and Baby Einstein DVDs. We planned a day to the Zoo, and arrived there with a Picnic hamper full of Goodies, and had a hearty meal before embarking on the Zoo tour. We practised the Lion’s roar, and the Elephant trumpet for good measure.

Four enthusiastic adults accompanied the toddler into the Grand Zoo. We had been to the sprawling Zoological Gardens in Mysore & Hyderabad, and my parents were eagerly looking forward to this visit. We went in, and saw the following animals:
1) Cow – 1 number
2) Donkey – 1 number
3) Horse – 1 number
4) Goats – 5 numbers
5) Sicilian Donkey – 1 number
6) Parrots/Tropical Birds – 5 numbers
7) Jaguar – 1 number (The only “Zoo-worthy” animal as my Father would say!)
8) Some Squirrels (I couldn’t bother counting them **BORED FACE**)

By the above standards, every street corner in India was a Zoo! We had been to a Petting Zoo (I figured that out later of course!)

So, when my parents saw cows minding their own business and grazing quietly, they could not stomach the fact that we paid to see 1 cow, while this many cows were there for no fee. Thankfully for them, the little one got up, and drank in the scene! She even had the good fortune of seeing a newborn calf that day.

I would have been happy if they had saved their enthusiasm for spotting Whales at Point Reyes – but Female Whales or Mother Whales are called Cows, so I’ll just have to settle for that!!

Caution: This article may contain details that could offend the shakers in our midst. If you are really passionate about shaking your legs – proceed with caution.

What is with shaking one’s limbs? I was on the same seat as a born “shaker” the other day, and I landed up getting motion sickness (not from the motion of the train)

Shake Shake Shake-a-shake Shake Shake
Shake Shake Shake-a-shake Shake Shake

I was trying to read a book, but the whole seat was reverbrating with the shaking legs.

I walk into a meeting, and find a person bobbing up and down while merrily shaking his legs! I am unable to shake this thought out of my mind while sharing the same room with them. My mind wills me to hold their legs and stop them from shaking, but decorum demands I ignore it.

There are different kinds of leg shaking too:
(a) The vertical spring shake: This shake has the shaker bobbing his leg up and down, while vigourously shaking the chair, and occasionally the table too.

(b) The horizontal sweep shake: This shake has the shaker freely moving their leg from left to right, with each knee moving away from each other and then, toward each other again.

(c) The cross-legged foot shake: This shaker has the shaker sitting cross-legged, and only shaking the foot of the leg on the upper leg.

Of the categories above, the most engaging kind of shaker is the horizontal sweep shaker, in my opinion. You sit next to this person, and you are constantly sizing up the distance between your leg and the farthest point in the shaker’s pendulum-like swing with the corner of your eye. You need to be prepared to move your legs swiftly if the situation demands it, right?

But, just look at a person intently shaking their legs, and you will notice that they seem to be enjoying their routine quite a bit – Well………………one of these days, my alter ego is going to pop out, and stop those shaking legs!!!