Deep Ties

There is a little creature in most homes who winds herself around your heart, with a winsome smile and makes your knees go wobbly with the power of her charm. She gambols around like a puppy, eyes filled with mischief, and deep secrets yet to be explored. Her hair flies about in wild disarray, her lanky limbs move with coltish grace. She is a piece of your heart; when around, she tries your patience to the maximum, but the moment she goes out anywhere, you miss her desperately. She is as elusive as the pot at the end of the rainbow, and infinitely more precious. She is the girl child. However, the girl child is still looked upon as a burden, a curse, a commodity with a limited guarantee, even in this enlightened age. The delivery date is awaited with great trepidation. The parents-in-law hover over the hapless girl, vultures waiting to swoop in case she commits the grievous sin of delivering a daughter. The husband is all set to prove his manhood, and god save his wife if she proves hi...

So what do you feel about the election results?” my husband jocularly asked our cheerful maid, who goes by the romantic name of Vennila, which means moonlight. She often jokes about her name: “My mother gave me this name, little realising that I would be so dark complexioned!” She smiled at my husband’s query, and replied: “What difference does it make to us, sir?” What followed was a revelation to us. “I wish we could pour out our woes before Amma. Nothing trickles down to our level anyway. You go to the government hospital for free treatment, and there you find a huge hundi, where you are expected to put money even before the treatment begins.” Vennila works in a number of houses, and she is a willing worker who puts her heart into her work. My house shines like a new pin, and lights up with her beaming smile, even when she is in the doldrums. She has two daughters, one of whom has just finished her engineering, and the other doing her graduation. She claims no credit for the achieve...

After a euphoric trip, I sipped at my cup of tea, reminiscing over the days spent in England, when a thought struck me. Every spot of national interest or tourist importance had an entrance fee that went towards its maintenance. This fee, albeit hefty, was used prudently. While it ensured the place was all prettied up, it also kept casual loungers and the frankly disinterested away! Student concessions were also offered. In many places, we saw artists with their sketchbooks or easels, frowning in concentration. What impressed us most was the fact that everywhere, special ramps had been created for the differently-abled, over which they could roll their wheelchairs. Consequently they could go everywhere on their own, without having to face the embarrassment of being turned away. This is not the case in India. I recall reading an article titled ‘Are Public Places made to Suit the Needs of the Physically Challenged?’. Not really, I would retort. Builders turn a blind eye to making structu...

I had heard of a couple of shoppers’ paradises in Purasawalkam. My sisters and I needed to buy some steel plates and so in we trotted into one of the biggest stores which boasts of branches all over Chennai. The crowds were daunting, which only proved that the sales were skyrocketing. What put us off totally was the attitude of the salespeople within, who had most certainly made a habit of getting out of the wrong side of their beds! They wallowed in their misery, not a smile or polite remark cracking their grumpy exteriors. When we asked for the plate section, we were pointed towards an even grumpier soul. Miles and miles of plates littered the area, but not the kind we were looking for, mom being rather particular about her choices. Meanwhile I had bought something small, and I made my way out to call up Mom to ask if we could pick up some other plates. Cell phones have a nasty habit of switching off at inopportune moments, much like the staff within the store, and even as I made my...

God created the art of questioning to make people enquire and acquire knowledge, to go ahead in life, all cylinders firing. Today, questions have evolved into tiny pinpricks that fester when constantly touched! Fasten your seat belts, for here are some embarrassing questions people love to ask... At large gatherings, a delicious lime-mint cooler in hand, you turn to hear an omniscient voice, “Do you know me?” You gawk at the large lady/ old uncle, as the words stick to your roof of your mouth. You hem and haw, and finally nod in affirmation. The next question blows you away! “Then tell me who I am!” Man, if you don’t know who you are, how on earth do you expect me to know? Go see a memory analyst! However, that response never comes out at the opportune moment! “You have put on weight, haven’t you?” There is no right answer for that, ever! Your daughter turns eighteen, and the chorus begins. “Aren’t you looking out for a good boy for her?” No, I am waiting for a Martian to come down t...

The candles flickered as the whole house wore a festive look. Rose made sure that every one of them was lit as it was considered bad luck to let a candle go out. She bustled around, taking care to see that all the ornaments on the Christmas tree were secure, along with the brightly coloured gifts wrapped with the shiniest paper she could find. After all, didn’t the children love gifts... even if her son Deepak was grown up now! The guests would be arriving shortly. “Ramu, have you kept the snacks out?” “Yes, madam, and I have wiped all the glasses as well!” came the smiling reply. Ramu knew how annoyed she could get at the sight of a cloudy glass. Joseph came in jauntily, as smart as ever in his pin stripes. “Everything in order, dear?” he asked, as his eyes softened at the graceful figure of his wife. She looked lovely as always, except for the finger that twisted the pallu of her sari, betraying her nervousness. “There is no need to be tense. They are all old friends, after all!”...

Ask me what it is that I detest most in the world and my answer would probably be, “My glasses!” Myopia was what I was born with, and will die with, one day! These glass barriers appeared over my orbs not because I had blinding blackouts or terrible headaches. One day, I tried on Dad’s spectacles, something which was forbidden and so all the more doable, and found the world a crystal clear one! Gone were those blurred outlines, those hazy figures and ghostly shadows that populated my world. Earlier it was quite natural, when I was watching a movie, to mistake the hero for the heroine [they didn’t have size zero then except in Rwanda!] Of course, things were not as comfortable at school when I was given the honour of reading from the blackboard, and I kept insisting that I could not possibly read off an empty board. And the worst was when I walked home after school, fervently hoping that I would not meet anyone I knew, because I would be unable to recognize them from a distance. May a t...