My First Pennukanal

This happened last month. My first ‘Pennukanal’ – in a traditional arranged marriage scenario, this is the meeting where the guy goes to see his prospective bride. Normally the guy arrives with an older relative or two to the girl’s house. Over tea and sweets, the relatives discuss the match, the girl is called and the guests see the girl. Then the guy and the girl gets sometime to talk. Now my first pennukanal was quite different from the whole process. Now when I think of it, I really find it amusing.

One Sunday evening, the guy’s brother called up my dad and said that, they would like to go to the office and see the girl. Pennukanal in office – a very embarrassing proposition- but I didn’t have much of an option. So office it is! The most awaited event took place some time around 11. The guy’s brother came to my office and escorted a most embarrassed and nervous me to the entrance, where the guy was waiting.

He: “It’s damn embarrassing to come to an office for something like this. That’s why I decided to wait here”.

Me: smiling most stupidly.

He: “What kinds of work do you have in this office?”

Me: “Software Development, Instructional Designing and Content Migration”

He: “How many offices do you have?”

Me: “4. The other offices are in Noida, Seattle and Delhi” (What exactly is in his mind?? A job shift or a marriage)

An embarrassing silence followed and exactly at that moment my colleague Anand* comes to the office. The moment he saw me he smiled and came over and started talking to me, taking this guy for a friend who has dropped in for a casual visit. Now I’m too nervous and embarrassed and couldn’t explain the situation to him. As I stand there perplexed not knowing what to say, my friend Indu* came out of the office and rescues Anand out of the situation. No one rescued me and I stood there answering and asking a few meaningless questions in between embarrassing silences.

Few minutes later the guy’s brother and father came into the situation and joined the conversation adding to my unease. After that the guy’s brother chivalrously escorted me back to the office – the same office which I enter and leave alone on all working days. That marked the end of my first Pennukanal!!!

NB: That proposal never progressed and I often tease Anand on how he destroyed the bright and rosy future that I must have had with this guy. !!!! :-)

* Names of characters have not been changed to protect the privacy of the individuals.

reinventing people, names.......

This post was inspired by Lenny's post. Being a dreamer and a loafer, Lenny's post brought to my mind , the picture of this milkmaid who I used to know during my childhood holidays spent in mother's village of Chekannur.


She was Janu amma. She was not just any woman, not was she the milkmaid, in spite of being the only milkmaid in her small domain. she was janu amma; not even palkkari (milkmaid) janu amma. Any other janu amma might need a house name, a husband's name, her job or something like that. Say Janu amma and that was her - the janu amma who brings to our houses at 6 in the morning.

She brings milk and gossips to all our houses early in the morning. She is the visitor to all these houses and not sorprisingly, when the first murder happened in Chekannur, Janu amma was the first witness. She was the first one to find out any thing that happened in any of our houses.

Stories about her milk business were many. People used to wonder aloud how she managed to give milk to atleast twenty houses with two cows. Many people say there was more water than milk in the combination that she used to sell. somebody with a creative vein even said that someone got a fish from janu amma's milk in one of those monsoon months when the water canal was too full of tiny fish. She must have added some water, howelse could she feed a large family with those two cows. In spite of the fish in milk, she was the milkwoman for our village.

She was janu amma. I don't remember talking to her. But I knew she had a name, I remeber her aluminium milk pail, I remember her mundu and majanta(she had a partiality to this particular colour) blouse, I remember her giving milk and talking to Vallyamma in the morning......

She was a part of my childhood. She is a part of my memories of the village called Chekannur where I spent many of my school vacations. (well, some of these are shared memories.. I may not have actually known some of these things myself....for instance I couldnot have known how many cows she she had, most of the stories about Janu amma must also have been told to me by my mother.... but they are there in my memory as I have seen them, heard them, lived them ..... stories my mother told of her days in this place... stories of people who surrounded her life, and of Janu amma among them...) Still, she is Janu amma. she is neither 6 in the morning, nor the money i paid her(she belongs to a period when i had not yet started thinking of things in terms of the money they cost me), she is not even the white creamy milk she sold (she defenitely belongs to a period by which i had developed a distaste for milk)... She is just Janu amma.

an experiment

a wery smol post
Jast a smol attempt tu see if ai kan rite sumthing that dosnot maik sens intentionali. Most of the taim ai rite stuf that doesn’t maik mach sens bat that jast happens. Ai don’t put mach efert intu that. this has taken up sum taim and efert. Hop u enjoy reeding this.
This thing is interesting. I jast want tu no hau sum fan kan b brot intu boring office laife. Jast tri reeding this and tel me wat u felt. Ai think it wud b gr8 if v al start riting in such kul ways and end up as incomprehensible as ever. Reed this and post gud coments that do not maik mach sens.

Confessions of a born loafer

I don't belive in any ideology.

I'm neither religious nor political.

I'm not a feminist or a communist.

I'm neither for nor against socialism,

or any other -ism.

I don't subscribe to any particular

eh(whatz it)..... yeah point of view.

I know this world sucks,

but I'm not the one to do

anything about it.

Well, i'm not eagerly and earnestly,

waiting for the Second Coming.

I don't mind if nobody ever comes.

I'm not working for the revolution.

Nor for the Ramarajya.

I don't believe in doing anything,

either for u or for me.

somebody thinks therefore they are;

I don't think therefore I am.

(What difference does it make anyway)

If the great revolution or reform movement

or even an apocalypse

Is gonna come for sure,

What better thing can you do

than lie around and wait for it.

And I'm enjoying everybit of it!!!!!

Men Drivers and their Ego

These Men Drivers…...They can be Really Irritating……
One busy Monday morning and I’m going to the office with a friend who is kind enough to give me a lift. Well this kindness is forced out of him most of the days . We are listening to some FM station partly because he is addicted to this noise and partly because we have run out of conversation. There are two people enthusiastically conducting a ‘discussion’ on “Are women bad drivers?”. My friend is immensely pleased with the topic and is ecstasic that such an important issue is being discussed. And every time a male chauvanist calls up to share his experiences with bad women drivers, my friend gets excited. Then he says, “Women are really bad drivers. I’ve seen women doing make up, combing hair and all that while driving”. I just smile at the occasions where I have seen our hero changing the FM station, searching for his sun glasses, talking over the mobile phone - all while driving. Well he is a man driver and there is nothing gender specific about any of these things that he do. The discussion continues on how women park at the wrong side, jump lights, and make all kinds of mistakes. I’ve seen my very own friend overtaking from the wrong side and giving the explanation “Everybody does that”. Well he is a man driver and it is not a mistake but a calculated risk!
Then some celbrity who was called to offer her views on the matter explains that women are preoccupied with matters of family, children etc so they may not be able to concentrate on driving. Does that mean married men do not think about their families? Or may be men drivers have a way of inducing some kind of Short Term Memory Loss when they get behind the wheels!!
Flash back…..
I’ve just come back from college. And my dad asks, “How did you get to the bus stop?” “A friend gave me a lift”. My dad is not smiling, “Why did you come with her? You know these girls don’t drive well.”
Now to be frank, I do not drive a vehicle. For some reason, it did not occur to me that I should master the art. But I know many women who drive, and who drive pretty well. I always felt more comfortable taking a lift from Biji, an old friend, than anyone else. I remember many people - Biji, Nitya, Miss Savitri and many others - whom I thought where pretty good drivers. I’ve also seen men drivers behaving strangely when they find a lady over taking their vehicle. There are people who take it up as a personal insult and try to regain their position. This display of ego often result in accidents.
Then I decide to do some research. I run a google search on the biggest accidents that ever happened on earth. And found that all of them happened at the hands of men drivers. Then I looked up at accident rates and related data and found an ‘msnbc’ research report which even says that women drivers are much safer than men!!!!
Why then do these men drivers have so many jokes at the expense of women drivers? Why don’t they ever hold an FM discussion on “Are men drviers good enough?” ? May be it is only a fear of loosing their exclusive status. It could very well be their insecurity speaking up.
Whatever it may be, my dear men drivers, the sooner you learn to face the fact, the better for you. And all girls who drive,my dear friends, you are capable of doing a great job. Never let a man driver’s ego to make you doubt your ability. You are really good in this job, may be much better than many of those men drivers. Cheers to all women drivers!!!!!

My Love

My love is no red red rose
Nor am I the fixed end of a compass
Never did he woo me with a flute song or
A ballad sweet by moonlight

And my love from across the seas
Did not cross the oceans
Nor rode a seven horsed chariots
No pigeons ever brought me letters of love

Well I know this will last,
As long as the going is good.
For he is no lochinvar,
And I don’t dream of an elopement.

My love is an early morn dream
Which could be taken for real
And I always fear
The day of awakening

That will come one day
As a rude and shocking jolt
But I try to be as happy as I can
With that smug smile on my face
For a dream is as sweet as ever
Till the moment you wake up.

Walking in the Rain on a Lonely Night

It's quite late in the night
a steady rain is falling
and i'm walking, walking ,walking
walking in the rain on a lonely night
lost in thought or is it lost to thought
i do not know but i'm walking
i can feel the rain as i walk
the raindrops fail to hurt me
we've been like that.. since old times..
we know eachother so welll,
this night rain and me.

What am I doing here
on this lonely night
when the rain falling hard
i'm just walking and walking
walking in the rain.
i'm not dreaming, not anymore
i can feel the raindrops
so it must be true.
and all that brought me out
in the night, late in the night
to these familiar hands of an old friend
must also be true.
But i don't want to think
of any of that now.. later,
later, i'll have time for all that.
Now i'm walking in the rain
i can feel the raindrops
washing away all the sorrow
atleast for the time being.

Then the rain stops, suddenly
without a word, without a farewell.
and i'm all alone
out in the open
on a lonely night after rain.
no comforting raindrops around me
and i feel lost
i feel lost without the rain.

Then i know the sweet feeling of
walking in the rain on a lonely night
cannot stay forever
but the sweetness, the comfort
and the cool warmth of rain
lingers for long,
a chill, a sweet pain, a warmth
that comes back to me often
and reminds me of
walking in the rain on a lonely night.


This is one pleasure i live for,
one memory i always cherish,
the boundless joy of
walking in the rain on a lonely night.