So much has been said and sung of beautiful young girls, why don't somebody wake up to the beauty of old women?

“It is now time for another write-up”. This thought came up last night when I happened to read one of the short stories of author Sujatha, titled “V.G.R”… a leaf from his collection called “Sri Rangathu Kadhaigal (devadhiagal)”.

I need not elaborate on the story for Sujatha’s fans. But to others like me… it is about a mathematics teacher who lived long, had a very grand death ceremony, is still remembered and has a scholarship program running in his honor in the school where he used to teach. But the sad part was, he had a slow and lonely death with no one near to care for him.

Neither I am a rightful person to throw light on Sujatha’s work nor am I going to do that. As I was reading the story, my thoughts went around my grandparents for a small fraction of time and wanted to write couple of lines to keep myself a little satisfied.

Saraswathi: My dad’s mom. Never knew anything about her. I heard that she passed away even before her 6 children finished school education. Not a pleasant death though. I wonder at times what it would have been like to have a paternal grand-mom around. Dad has one very grainy photo of her. The few features that can be seen remind everyone of my dad’s second younger sister – Bharathi. This meant we were only able to visualize a shadow of how grandma would have looked like. Mom said that on the day of their wedding, dad asked mom to take care of his siblings the way a mother would. I think she did her part well. In fact, mom named me after grandma… ShreeVani (Vani meaning Saraswathi).

Sundararajan: Saraswathi’s husband. My dad’s father. I and my brother were not much connected to him as the other grand children of his. So was my dad. Sometimes it haunts to think how disconnected a family could be. Grandpa passed away this April (may be on 7/04/08). Dad normally sends him money every month. But since he was abroad during grandpa’s last few months, it was my responsibility to send him money every month. And I am happy that I could see to his needs at least in a small way. Even now when I think about him, in spite of all hard feelings, I still tend to have a soft corner for him, the only reason being… he gave me MY dad.

Krishnaswamy: My mom’s dad. I like him for few things and hate him for one thing. Until he got bed ridden two years before he passed away, he was always active as a bee. He would tirelessly stitch nice skirts, blouses, etc for us granddaughters. I don’t remember if the boys got anything stitched by him. And for his age, he would traverse a might distance during his evening walks. And when he visits us, he would at times (very rarely) give us 50np or so for candies. Any given day I would be grateful to him for having altered my school uniforms from the previous year to be used for the following academic year. I will never be ashamed of that because he used to do such a good job with my clothes. These are few things that I liked best in him. Now comes the reason I hate him. He had a darker skin tone… following which each of his alternate born kids (1st, 3rd – my mom, 5th) were not on the fairer side and that resulted in me having a not-so-fair skin tone.

Visalakshi: My cutie pie grand ma. Mom’s mother. Avva (means grandma. I also read on the net that ‘avo’ – pronounced as ava, in Latin means grandma too) from here on, can be described as nothing short of Mother Teresa or Rani Lakshmi Bai or both or simply comprise everyone into Visalakshi. The way she cared for each of us will make any one see Mother Teresa in her. My mom and her siblings will never forget the days (years???) when avva used to put up a fight to meet the needs of the family and how she taught her kids that self help is the best help and made each of them grow up strong and independent. Know what, in those by gone days, avva has been the Counselor of Pollachi. They say she had actively participated in politics until forced by husband and in-laws to see to the welfare of the family alone. Mom has told us stories about how avva had kept the family stable during financial crisis and helped every one moved on. I sincerely believe that she inherited all the good genes from her father – Nataraj. And by the way, avva is very fair toned and her 2nd and 4th kids (both daughters) are fair skinned too.

Being all this and more does not show a trace now in her life at ripe age of 84. All my aunts, uncle and mom say it is really very difficult to take care of her now. No… neither is she bed ridden nor is disabled. The problem is she has taken refuge in watching TV soaps and reading any kind of Tamil novels. She keeps asking for the time with a phantom fear that she might miss a show on TV or if she has not yet finished reading a book within her planned (???) time schedule. Avva is a person who used to be very strict about the way she wears her saree and how she ties her hair bun. But now, she has moved on and has accepted to wear nighties and has a very short hair cut. Tears crept into my eyes when she looked up from her book and said, “See… how short they have cut my hair ” and went back to reading her no-name novel. The last time I visited her on (16/08/09), she said to me,” Ha… after so many days you’ve come to see me. I like Bholi (a sweet) a lot… nice that you bought me some. It has been ages since I tasted once of these”. This time, my knees went weak listening to an old lady remembering that I did not visit her. Does that mean she would have thought about me once in a while in between her TV shows and reading spree? If she could remember me in her not so steady memory line, why don’t I remember her more often and visit her as well. All said and done… I wish I could life a full life like hers and have a family that would care for me if I happen to live that long.

Etiquette please ......

Ha.. Etiquette for everything and most importantly, of the rest room in common places.

During end of last week and the beginning of this week, there were few emails sent from some RESPONSIBLE female colleagues in our floor at my work place.

The first one spoke about the basic etiquette to be followed and pleading the so called, high paid PROFESSIONALS to help maintain hygiene in the toilets. The event that triggered this event was that some unlucky soul had to finish an urgent nature’s call and finally found that the flush not working. I was one of the lucky few who were not destined to face it. SOS :)

After the house keeping guy came to the rescue, we could breathe again. And on Monday again, there were few reminders of healthy habits and requests, a mail on indirect finger pointing and another mail on standing up for self-esteem to say ‘Do not point finger at me. I am as shocked as you are when I witnessed the scene in the rest room’.
All this made me write about the rest rooms we come across in common places like the malls, movie houses, bus & rail stations, etc.

When I used to work in Chennai, me & my roomies happened to go to a very small theater (near Thiruvanmayur bus stop) to catch a much talked about movie "Engal Anna". I could really kill the person who recommended this movie to us, but wasn’t able toL. That being a small talkie, the crowd that normally throngs the place is of the lower middle class or lower class economic crowd. We were very skeptical about going to the loo during the intermission. But we went anyways and were really taken aback. Yeah, you guessed it right. It had one of the most clean and well maintained public conveniences I’ve ever been to. This made me change my perception of judging a place by it size and crowd.

I can go on describing about the numerous public wash rooms we encounter. But I wanted to write about the unpleasant experience I had in hi-fi shopping malls in Bengaluru.
As everyone know, Bengaluru malls give u snap shot view of how a westernized world looks like, of course until you take a peep into the women’s wash room there. The girls waiting to relieve themselves look so pretty with their cute clothes and make-up that it makes people like me to feel totally out of place in a beauty pageant dressing room.

Then you get your turn to use one of the rooms and all the fairy tale images of the models outside and who just left that room crashes with a loud thud as I drop the toilet seat (of course after draping my hands with almost a whole roll of toilet paper). I was reminded of the funny quote about marriage that goes as "Those who are out want to get in and those inside want to get out". The quote was so apt at that moment. These washrooms are the most disgusting places you could find in a so-called modern hang outs. I really pity the housekeeping ladies there and pray that they do not get infected with some horrible disease. And I do not want to imagine anything about the male convenience room at all. It no wonder that many shops keep their washrooms under lock & key and don’t let customers use them :)

I sincerely wished that day that I had a digicam handy to click the mess they have left, to run around all those gals who created it and yell out in front of their friends/relatives about how stupid they are behind closed doors and stick the photo on their face. These people need to be trained at gun point.

I spoke about the small theater in Chennai before to show you the contrast between the people of the supposedly higher class and the normal people for whom going for a movie once a month itself is a luxury. I am a person who usually has a soft corner for the working class and this episode makes me move more comfortably with them rather than with the "models" beautifying the malls’ corridors.