It was one of those hot Chennai afternoons. Half the day was over and not even a single Professor had stepped into our class. But, after hours of playing UNO and sharing gossip, I realized that I was officially bored. I needed to get out of that classroom. So, I decided to go get a drink of water and like any proper Tamil girl, I summoned my two girl buddies to accompany me to the water fountain. God knows what dangers lurked on the way to the water fountain so it was only rational to take the pals along.
Thats when a couple of guys in our class suggested it. I didn't want to at first but they made it sound so wonderful and fun. They suggested that we sneak out of college and go for a movie. I don't think I even asked for the name of the movie- I don't think I cared. After having been stuck in college for so long, even sneaking out to see T.R Rajendran gyrate on screen would have been welcome. So I began the difficult process of trying to recruit other girls for the movie- because as mentioned with the water fountain incident, we girls always moved in flocks. I wasn't too successful because I managed to get just one other girl to agree to the plan- so the four of us, two girls and two guys started for the movie.
'Naanga naalu paer- engalaku bayamae kidayaadhu' - That would have been the caption if Gautham Menon had seen us walking out of college that afternoon. We prepared stories to tell the watchman in case he asked why we were leaving in the middle of the day. Having never bunked college before and having heard stories of unsuccessful bunkers and bunkees doing hard time at the Principal's office, I WAS scared, though I tried hard not to show it. But, luckily, the watchman was missing at the gate and we happily ran out to freedom and the freeway. We then traveled by van, bus and foot and reached the theatre one and a half hours later, drenched in sweat and slightly drooping due to the weight of our backpacks.
We decided to watch 'LOTR- Return of the king' but found that we had just 50 rupees among the four of us. So, we decided to buy the 10 rupee tickets- you know those first row wooden planks pretending to be chairs. There was a different line for the 10 rupee tickets and a completely different entrance- and both were dirty, grimy and tiny. I walked in trying not to touch anything and thinking how my mom would have never approved. Once we got in, the guys had yet another brilliant idea- they suggested that we go and occupy some of the 60 rupee seats in the back, the empty ones. We agreed. So there we were watching the movie in the comfort of those 60 rupee cushioned seats when suddenly, we saw a large man with a cane running towards us. He took one look at our seats and our guilty faces and chased us out of the seats with several thrashes of his cane- I think it might have made contact with the two poor guys! We ran down the aisle and crawled into our first row seats, pretending that it was perfectly natural to run like spooked cattle in the theatre. The rest of the movie, I watched with my bum glued to that rock hard seat, craning my neck up at the most awkward angle and surrounded by wonderful smells of sweat and cigarettes.
After the movie, we parted ways - Our necks were permanently stuck at an upward angle, our egos were bruised, we were still seeing spots after having seen Aragorn up so close, and we all reeked.... but I thought that had been the best college day yet....and for some reason, that movie and that movie experience ranks among the best for me. I walked to the bus stop to wait for the bus home and smiled to myself, thinking of how such a lousy way to spend 50 bucks could still be so much fun ... when I suddenly realized that I was all alone, without a single gal pal... all by myself at the crowded bus stop. Oh the horror!! The horror!!
Note: This story goes to show what a boring goodie goodie two shoes I was in college but don't worry, I improved tons after this incident. Also for those who don't understand Tamil, bear with me- next one will be all English.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Sunday, November 25, 2007
American gangster- yet another gangster movie?
I saw a new movie yesterday- American gangster starring Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe.
The movie depicts the crime scene in Harlem, New York during the late 1960s- when American gangsters slowly began to replace the classic Italian mafias. The movie follows the life of one such heroin kingpin, Frank Lucas (played by Denzel Washington). In the midst of Prohibition and heavy drug abuse in the US, Lucas goes to southeast Asia to buy pure heroin directly from the growers and finds an ingenious way to transport it back to New York. Because of his unique means of supply and transport, he is able to sell the drug in a very pure form for a much cheaper price than the competitors. He calls it 'Blue magic' and it becomes the rage among all the junkies in the city. Lucas quickly becomes a wealthy and powerful drug lord in Harlem.
Russell Crowe plays an honest detective battling against the corrupt New York police department to identify the gang behind 'Blue magic'. He forms a team of small-time but honest detectives and they cleverly investigate the Harlem drug scene.
The story might seem like the usual cop vs. criminal story, but the screenplay is very powerful. It brings out how one man, an African American man slowly takes over the New York drug scene using his clever capitalist ways, leaving the Italian mafia and the police department stunned. The movie succeeds in depicting the gritty underbelly of both the city's crime scene and the police department. Most of the movie is shot in tones of browns and yellows, giving it a musty, raw and almost dirty feel- leaving the viewer with a real sense of what it was like in Harlem at that time.
Having said all that, I also have to confess that the movie did put two of my friends to sleep. If I managed to stay awake, it was partly due to my self control but mostly due to the lack of decent heating in that god forsaken theater. Can't sleep when you are constantly cold! The movie, in an attempt to realistically depict the life of an American gangster, stretches longer than required. Out of the 2 and a half hours, the first half is slow moving; some scenes are unnecessary and almost hinder the storyline. The second half though is gripping and makes up for the first half.
When voting for which movie to watch, I voted against American Gangster- it was my two friends, yes the ones who fell asleep, who picked the movie. I entered the theater thinking... 'Oh gosh, here goes another violent and bloody gang movie where everybody dies in the end.' It was a gang movie and yes, there was some blood and gore, but ironically behind the premise of all that violence, there was a very positive message. A gangster who rises to power in a world where no other man of his kind had ever gained such power; A police officer who solves the case despite all the other corrupt fellow officers standing in his way... If that doesn't say 'you can do whatever you set your mind to' I don't know what does!
Friday, November 16, 2007
My shiny red moment
There are times when life imitates the movies... when one of those cheesy cinematic moments that make you go 'awwwwwww' actually happens to you! Usually those feel-good movie moments make me think 'Please, does that ever happen to normal people?' But when it does happen, I think it's the Universe's way of conking me on the head and reminding me to quit being so god-damn negative.
Well, I got one such conk recently. I arrived in Omaha, Nebraska two days ago to visit my dad. It was a typically cold Omaha evening and so I was ready to run inside the house the moment my dad parked the car. But, instead of taking me inside, my dad took me to a nearby parking spot and handed me a set of keys. And there in the parking spot sat... a shiny red Honda Civic! MY shiny red Honda Civic -my very first car! It was beautiful and I, well lets just say I had to stop myself from hissing 'My Precioussssss'! You should have seen my face at that moment- I had a smile wide enough to make any Colgate representative proud. My hands were jittery- though that could have been because of the cold. I found a large orange ribbon tied around the car and I cut it open, feeling like a total celebrity. The inside of the car was decorated with several bows (again shiny red) and I found attached to the steering wheel a card. It read
'Congratulations on all that you've achieved. We are so proud of you' and it was signed by my mom, dad and sis.
It gave me goosebumps to read the card. By now, the smile was a little less prominent on my face- I turned away from my dad just in case a few tears suddenly appeared as they so often do with me, revealing the total softie that I am. Now, for those who are wondering 'why the heck are they congratulating her now?', I suppose some background information would help. The congratulations were for me having completed my Masters and having found a job.
Though my dad had told me that he was looking for a car for me, it was just an awesome feeling to be told by my family that they were proud of me...and in this way. After 2 years of living by myself and struggling with the pressures of a masters degree, I felt aptly rewarded.
This incident reminded me of that full house episode where DJ gets a red car with bow and all for her 16th birthday...and of course the studio audience cheers and claps, oohs and aaahs, all in chorus. Well, I imagine that if there had been a studio audience present that cold evening when I got my car, they would've definitely let out at least a tiny 'awwww' for me...and my shiny red moment! :)
Well, I got one such conk recently. I arrived in Omaha, Nebraska two days ago to visit my dad. It was a typically cold Omaha evening and so I was ready to run inside the house the moment my dad parked the car. But, instead of taking me inside, my dad took me to a nearby parking spot and handed me a set of keys. And there in the parking spot sat... a shiny red Honda Civic! MY shiny red Honda Civic -my very first car! It was beautiful and I, well lets just say I had to stop myself from hissing 'My Precioussssss'! You should have seen my face at that moment- I had a smile wide enough to make any Colgate representative proud. My hands were jittery- though that could have been because of the cold. I found a large orange ribbon tied around the car and I cut it open, feeling like a total celebrity. The inside of the car was decorated with several bows (again shiny red) and I found attached to the steering wheel a card. It read
'Congratulations on all that you've achieved. We are so proud of you' and it was signed by my mom, dad and sis.
It gave me goosebumps to read the card. By now, the smile was a little less prominent on my face- I turned away from my dad just in case a few tears suddenly appeared as they so often do with me, revealing the total softie that I am. Now, for those who are wondering 'why the heck are they congratulating her now?', I suppose some background information would help. The congratulations were for me having completed my Masters and having found a job.
Though my dad had told me that he was looking for a car for me, it was just an awesome feeling to be told by my family that they were proud of me...and in this way. After 2 years of living by myself and struggling with the pressures of a masters degree, I felt aptly rewarded.
This incident reminded me of that full house episode where DJ gets a red car with bow and all for her 16th birthday...and of course the studio audience cheers and claps, oohs and aaahs, all in chorus. Well, I imagine that if there had been a studio audience present that cold evening when I got my car, they would've definitely let out at least a tiny 'awwww' for me...and my shiny red moment! :)
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Tagged by Anu!
I've been tagged for the first time and I'm actually quite excited about it. Does that make me a big dork, if being tagged on Blogger is the highlight of my day? Anyways, here goes:
"The Challenge: Make a list of five strengths that you possess as a writer/artist. It’s not really bragging, it’s an honest assessment (forced upon you by this darn meme). Please resist the urge to enumerate your weaknesses, or even mention them in contrast to each strong point you list. Tag four other writers or artists whom you’d like to see share their strengths.”
This is a tough one for me because I'm not the world's most positive person, not even close actually. So, talking strengths is not my thing. Also, the question kinda makes me feel like I'm sitting for a job interview- almost want to open up my file and start brandishing my certificates! I bet you didn't know I was 'student of the month' in 6th grade! Anyways, despite all my apprehensions, I gave this tag some thought and here's what I came up with:
1. Honesty and simplicity: Honesty is a quality that's very important to me. So, I try to keep my stories honest. I like writing that is simple and true. No pretensions, no flowery language, no fancy words! Its another issue that all the GRE vocabulary that I crammed into my head never made it past my short term memory- so I cant use fancy words even if I wanted to. Oops, did I 'enumerate my weekness'? Did I break the rules? Told you that I didn't have a single positive bone in my body!
2. Appreciation for humor: I really appreciate writing that's humorous, especially if its subtle, sarcastic and witty. Though this may not count as a strength in my writing, I think this appreciation helps improve my writing. I think writing humorously without overkill is extremely difficult and so the few who are able to write like this, just know 'I bow to thee!'
3. Endings : I like stories with powerful endings- I'm a big fan of O'henry because all his short stories have powerful and unpredictable endings. So, I attempt to write stories with endings that either surprise or neatly connect all the pieces of the story together.
4. I try: I think the fact that I try to write is a strength in itself. I've always loved to write. When I was little, I used to watch my grandpa sit in his chair and write every night. Maybe I bothered him too much and he just wanted to give me something to do, but one day, he gave me a notebook of my own. I used to sit beside him every night and write little stories in that notebook. Despite the fact that they all started with 'Once upon a time' and ended with 'happily ever after', I was so proud of these stories. Every poor visitor to our house was forced at gunpoint to read them! During middle and high school, I went around telling anyone who cared to listen that I wanted to become a journalist. I became a writer for the school newspaper, attended journalism seminars and even wrote for the city newspaper. But nothing much happened of that dream as I followed the 'path most taken' toward conformity and Computer science. After that, I never really wrote much until I started blogging. So, the fact that I started blogging and have been trying to write again is by far the strength I'm most happy about.
There... thats a challenge successfully completed. Yeah, I know I was supposed to list 5 strengths, but I can't put up with any more positive-ness and really, how long can a person talk about herself?!
I would like to tag:
G - He's exploring his passion for photography in the midst of a busy schedule and I would love to hear about 5 strengths he possesses as a photographer!
Mansi - She's one of those funny and witty writers I love.
my sis, Sowmya - She's an awesome writer but refuses to start a blog. Maybe this will help start her off.
"The Challenge: Make a list of five strengths that you possess as a writer/artist. It’s not really bragging, it’s an honest assessment (forced upon you by this darn meme). Please resist the urge to enumerate your weaknesses, or even mention them in contrast to each strong point you list. Tag four other writers or artists whom you’d like to see share their strengths.”
This is a tough one for me because I'm not the world's most positive person, not even close actually. So, talking strengths is not my thing. Also, the question kinda makes me feel like I'm sitting for a job interview- almost want to open up my file and start brandishing my certificates! I bet you didn't know I was 'student of the month' in 6th grade! Anyways, despite all my apprehensions, I gave this tag some thought and here's what I came up with:
1. Honesty and simplicity: Honesty is a quality that's very important to me. So, I try to keep my stories honest. I like writing that is simple and true. No pretensions, no flowery language, no fancy words! Its another issue that all the GRE vocabulary that I crammed into my head never made it past my short term memory- so I cant use fancy words even if I wanted to. Oops, did I 'enumerate my weekness'? Did I break the rules? Told you that I didn't have a single positive bone in my body!
2. Appreciation for humor: I really appreciate writing that's humorous, especially if its subtle, sarcastic and witty. Though this may not count as a strength in my writing, I think this appreciation helps improve my writing. I think writing humorously without overkill is extremely difficult and so the few who are able to write like this, just know 'I bow to thee!'
3. Endings : I like stories with powerful endings- I'm a big fan of O'henry because all his short stories have powerful and unpredictable endings. So, I attempt to write stories with endings that either surprise or neatly connect all the pieces of the story together.
4. I try: I think the fact that I try to write is a strength in itself. I've always loved to write. When I was little, I used to watch my grandpa sit in his chair and write every night. Maybe I bothered him too much and he just wanted to give me something to do, but one day, he gave me a notebook of my own. I used to sit beside him every night and write little stories in that notebook. Despite the fact that they all started with 'Once upon a time' and ended with 'happily ever after', I was so proud of these stories. Every poor visitor to our house was forced at gunpoint to read them! During middle and high school, I went around telling anyone who cared to listen that I wanted to become a journalist. I became a writer for the school newspaper, attended journalism seminars and even wrote for the city newspaper. But nothing much happened of that dream as I followed the 'path most taken' toward conformity and Computer science. After that, I never really wrote much until I started blogging. So, the fact that I started blogging and have been trying to write again is by far the strength I'm most happy about.
There... thats a challenge successfully completed. Yeah, I know I was supposed to list 5 strengths, but I can't put up with any more positive-ness and really, how long can a person talk about herself?!
I would like to tag:
G - He's exploring his passion for photography in the midst of a busy schedule and I would love to hear about 5 strengths he possesses as a photographer!
Mansi - She's one of those funny and witty writers I love.
my sis, Sowmya - She's an awesome writer but refuses to start a blog. Maybe this will help start her off.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Trick or treat
I landed in the US on the 30th of October, 1993, a day before Halloween. I was 10 years old and I believe I spent my first day in the US with a dopey grin permanently plastered on my face. Everything was so different and to a kid from a middle class Tamil family, everything appeared so wonderful. The wooden floors that creaked slightly when I walked, the big beds and the fluffy comforters, the thin sheet of snow on the road- all of it amazed me. As if all this wasn't enough, I was told of another glorious event that was to happen the very next day- Halloween! When visiting some friends of my dad's, their two daughters took me to their room and talked in what seemed like a foreign language. They spoke of wonderful things- of costumes and candy, of beautiful princesses and ugly witches. Though I couldn't understand everything they said, I knew that Halloween would be a wonderful holiday and I was thrilled when they invited me to celebrate it with them. Halloween night came by and the two girls' carefully dressed me as a cat. They each put on their costumes and transformed into a fairy tale princess and a native American girl. They then handed me a basket and took me outside. I watched as they knocked on each door and yelled 'trick or treat'. I also noticed that when they yelled this phrase, the house owners responded by dropping generous amounts of candy into their baskets. So, I followed suit and we walked from house to house doing the same. I returned home with a basket overflowing with candy, some of which I shared with my poor sister. Having been left at home with a severe case of jet lag, she listened as I described Halloween and all its glory. I felt like the entire night had been magical and I thanked profoundly, the genius who had come up with such an incredible holiday.
Every year after that first Halloween, my sister and I waited eagerly for October 31st to come by. We planned our costumes weeks before, we bought and decorated baskets to carry candy in and got a group of friends together to go 'trick of treating'. We spent the night before Halloween unable to sleep because of what we aptly named the 'I-can't-waits'. We used this time to come up with clever strategies of how to visit the generous households more than once without being found out. No matter how cold or dark, we never failed to go trick or treating. After all the rounds, we came back home and spent hours going through the night's collection. I believe both of us learned much about the age-old barter system because of these nights. We spent many hours making offers and trading candy. My sister, being a fan of sour candy always took my sour gum balls and sweet tarts in exchange for coconut and nut filled chocolates. Though I never told her, I always had a sneaking suspicion that I was getting the better end of the deal. I enjoyed the candy for days afterwards, careful to save the best ones for last and making sure not to finish my stock before my sister finished hers.
This continued till I turned the ripe old age of 14- I had officially become too old to go trick or treating. But I refused to let my age come in the way of my fun, so I still put on some gruesome makeup, stuck my vampire teeth in, spread some fake blood around my mouth and walked out the door confidently. I didn't care if I was too old- I was going to rebel. Everything went fine till I knocked on one of my neighbor's doors. A lady walked out, took a look at me and asked casually ' Hey, aren't you too old to be trick or treating?' That was all that I needed- the floodgates opened and I ran home crying. With all my makeup smeared, my teeth hanging out and fake blood all over my face, I gave my mom 'a real Halloween fright' when I walked in the house. That was the last time I ever went trick or treating.
The way I see it, that day marked the end of an era. Yes, I still celebrate Halloween- even for this one, I went to a haunted house and paid good money to get scared out of my wits and to scream my guts out... but its not the same! I hear kids in the US say all the time that they want to be 'grown up' and that they want to be treated like adults. I don't understand why. If you ask me, I would give anything just to be that little kid in the cat costume, running around from house to house, yelling happily- 'trick or treatttttttttttt'!
Every year after that first Halloween, my sister and I waited eagerly for October 31st to come by. We planned our costumes weeks before, we bought and decorated baskets to carry candy in and got a group of friends together to go 'trick of treating'. We spent the night before Halloween unable to sleep because of what we aptly named the 'I-can't-waits'. We used this time to come up with clever strategies of how to visit the generous households more than once without being found out. No matter how cold or dark, we never failed to go trick or treating. After all the rounds, we came back home and spent hours going through the night's collection. I believe both of us learned much about the age-old barter system because of these nights. We spent many hours making offers and trading candy. My sister, being a fan of sour candy always took my sour gum balls and sweet tarts in exchange for coconut and nut filled chocolates. Though I never told her, I always had a sneaking suspicion that I was getting the better end of the deal. I enjoyed the candy for days afterwards, careful to save the best ones for last and making sure not to finish my stock before my sister finished hers.
This continued till I turned the ripe old age of 14- I had officially become too old to go trick or treating. But I refused to let my age come in the way of my fun, so I still put on some gruesome makeup, stuck my vampire teeth in, spread some fake blood around my mouth and walked out the door confidently. I didn't care if I was too old- I was going to rebel. Everything went fine till I knocked on one of my neighbor's doors. A lady walked out, took a look at me and asked casually ' Hey, aren't you too old to be trick or treating?' That was all that I needed- the floodgates opened and I ran home crying. With all my makeup smeared, my teeth hanging out and fake blood all over my face, I gave my mom 'a real Halloween fright' when I walked in the house. That was the last time I ever went trick or treating.
The way I see it, that day marked the end of an era. Yes, I still celebrate Halloween- even for this one, I went to a haunted house and paid good money to get scared out of my wits and to scream my guts out... but its not the same! I hear kids in the US say all the time that they want to be 'grown up' and that they want to be treated like adults. I don't understand why. If you ask me, I would give anything just to be that little kid in the cat costume, running around from house to house, yelling happily- 'trick or treatttttttttttt'!
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
ATTACK!
She couldn't sit straight. Her legs refused to cooperate with her. They were doing their own version of the jive under the table. 'Damn it, Why did I have to wear a skirt today?', she thought.
It didn't feel like the middle of December anymore. She started to feel hot and soon felt like ripping off the sweater she was wearing. Her hands became clammy and droplets of sweat started making their way down her forehead.
Her mouth went dry, her lips felt like they were stuck with super glue. Her heart began to pound... it started slowly at first, but soon she could feel the palpitations occurring more rapidly. She became concerned- she wondered if she should cry out for help.
She started feeling short of breath. Though she tried to breath through her mouth, she couldn't. It almost seemed like she had forgotten how to breath. She felt faint and every breath became more difficult to take. She was sure she was going to fall off her chair any moment. She only hoped that her fall would be dignified. What if her skirt flew up in the air when she fell! The mere thought was mortifying. She felt her eyes glazing over, her vision blurring when...
Suddenly, a thundering roar interrupted her thoughts. She thought it must be a storm outside. But when she looked around, she realized that it was a a big round of applause! She could hear her name being called and looked up to find her professor calling her and announcing to the audience'And now, we have my graduate student who'll be defending her thesis today. She'll be presenting the work she has done for the last two years.' She took a deep breath and walked up on stage. 'Lets do this!, she told herself. 'Its gotta be better than fainting and having my skirt fly up in the air!'.
It didn't feel like the middle of December anymore. She started to feel hot and soon felt like ripping off the sweater she was wearing. Her hands became clammy and droplets of sweat started making their way down her forehead.
Her mouth went dry, her lips felt like they were stuck with super glue. Her heart began to pound... it started slowly at first, but soon she could feel the palpitations occurring more rapidly. She became concerned- she wondered if she should cry out for help.
She started feeling short of breath. Though she tried to breath through her mouth, she couldn't. It almost seemed like she had forgotten how to breath. She felt faint and every breath became more difficult to take. She was sure she was going to fall off her chair any moment. She only hoped that her fall would be dignified. What if her skirt flew up in the air when she fell! The mere thought was mortifying. She felt her eyes glazing over, her vision blurring when...
Suddenly, a thundering roar interrupted her thoughts. She thought it must be a storm outside. But when she looked around, she realized that it was a a big round of applause! She could hear her name being called and looked up to find her professor calling her and announcing to the audience'And now, we have my graduate student who'll be defending her thesis today. She'll be presenting the work she has done for the last two years.' She took a deep breath and walked up on stage. 'Lets do this!, she told herself. 'Its gotta be better than fainting and having my skirt fly up in the air!'.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
SISTERLY ACT
Kalpana and Sangeetha were sisters,just a year apart. Both were tall, had powerful brown eyes and long black hair that curled up into little ringlets at the ends. They were beautiful girls and were mama's pride and joy since the day they were born.
But the two sisters never got along. They fought constantly. When they were little, they fought over toys. When they became a little older, boys replaced toys. They constantly competed with each other. In school, both girls competed to get the better marks; they competed to get more prizes than the other in all the cultural shows. The girls competed for their teachers' praise and for their mother's attention. They were ruthless to each other; friends who knew them wondered how sisters could treat each other this way.
For instance, for Kalpana's sixteenth birthday, she was throwing a huge 'sweet sixteen' bash at home. She had planned for it for months and was very excited about it. But Sangeetha wasn't- she despised the fact that her sister would be the center of attention at the party instead of her. So, the night before, when Kalpana was sleeping, Sangeetha crept into her room with a pair of scissors and got to work. It was a good thing Kalpana was a sound sleeper. The next morning, the entire house was woken up by a piercing scream from Kalpana's room. When her mom ran into the room, she saw Kalpana sobbing on the floor, with hair all around her. Her crowning glory was gone; her beautiful long hair mangled. Instead, she was left with frayed locks of hair, some that reached down to her shoulder, some to her neck and some only to her chin. Kalpana's sixteenth birthday was ruined and there was a pall of gloom all around the house except in one room... where Sangeetha slept peacefully, with a smug sense of satisfaction.
More than 10 years passed like this. Kalpana got married and started teaching at a local arts school. Sangeetha went the scholarly route which meant that after doing her bachelors and masters in Chemistry, she was now pursuing a PhD and doing top-notch research in the same field. What this really meant is that at 28, Sangeetha was still single, still dirt poor, still living in a small apartment with roommates and was spending her 5th year doing research that no one gave a flying rat's ass about. Though both sisters lived in the same city, a huge distance had crept between them. Several bitter fights had completely ruined their relationship. After their mother passed away, the only unifying thread between them was gone. So they never met or spoke to each other again.
One day, Kalpana got a phone call from her sister. She was very surprised and didn't really know what to say. Sangeetha asked if they could meet and they agreed upon a local coffee shop for the meeting. That evening, Kalpana walked into the coffee shop to find Sangeetha sitting quietly at a corner booth. But she was unrecognizable- she looked thin and frail, her face pale and her cheeks hollowed. After greetings were exchanged and coffees were ordered, they began to talk and Sangeetha had some shocking news. She said that she had been diagnosed with Stage II Lymphoma a little over two months ago. She said that the disease was progressing, but that she would be starting chemotherapy from next week to fight it. She said these things in a calm, almost emotionless manner- it terrified Kalpana. They spoke about it for over an hour and at the end of the meeting, Sangeetha asked if Kalpana could come sit with her for some of her chemo sessions; she said that she really needed family now. Kalpana agreed without hesitation.
The next week, Sangeetha started her chemotherapy sessions and Kalpana showed up at the hospital as promised. Sangeetha watched her sister enter her room and thought she looked different somehow. She was wearing a red salwar kameez but she had draped her dupatta over her head- maybe it was sunny outside, Sangeetha thought . But, when Kalpana removed the dupatta, it was Sangeetha's turn to be shocked. All that beautiful black hair was gone- Her sister was completely bald. Kalpana broke the silence and said,
"Once your chemo kicks in, you'll start losing your hair. I've never let you be the first at anything, You didn't expect me to let you be the first in this,did you? So I beat you to it!"
Sangeetha understood and smiled. She reached for her sister's hand, gave it a tight squeeze and smiled.
short story
But the two sisters never got along. They fought constantly. When they were little, they fought over toys. When they became a little older, boys replaced toys. They constantly competed with each other. In school, both girls competed to get the better marks; they competed to get more prizes than the other in all the cultural shows. The girls competed for their teachers' praise and for their mother's attention. They were ruthless to each other; friends who knew them wondered how sisters could treat each other this way.
For instance, for Kalpana's sixteenth birthday, she was throwing a huge 'sweet sixteen' bash at home. She had planned for it for months and was very excited about it. But Sangeetha wasn't- she despised the fact that her sister would be the center of attention at the party instead of her. So, the night before, when Kalpana was sleeping, Sangeetha crept into her room with a pair of scissors and got to work. It was a good thing Kalpana was a sound sleeper. The next morning, the entire house was woken up by a piercing scream from Kalpana's room. When her mom ran into the room, she saw Kalpana sobbing on the floor, with hair all around her. Her crowning glory was gone; her beautiful long hair mangled. Instead, she was left with frayed locks of hair, some that reached down to her shoulder, some to her neck and some only to her chin. Kalpana's sixteenth birthday was ruined and there was a pall of gloom all around the house except in one room... where Sangeetha slept peacefully, with a smug sense of satisfaction.
More than 10 years passed like this. Kalpana got married and started teaching at a local arts school. Sangeetha went the scholarly route which meant that after doing her bachelors and masters in Chemistry, she was now pursuing a PhD and doing top-notch research in the same field. What this really meant is that at 28, Sangeetha was still single, still dirt poor, still living in a small apartment with roommates and was spending her 5th year doing research that no one gave a flying rat's ass about. Though both sisters lived in the same city, a huge distance had crept between them. Several bitter fights had completely ruined their relationship. After their mother passed away, the only unifying thread between them was gone. So they never met or spoke to each other again.
One day, Kalpana got a phone call from her sister. She was very surprised and didn't really know what to say. Sangeetha asked if they could meet and they agreed upon a local coffee shop for the meeting. That evening, Kalpana walked into the coffee shop to find Sangeetha sitting quietly at a corner booth. But she was unrecognizable- she looked thin and frail, her face pale and her cheeks hollowed. After greetings were exchanged and coffees were ordered, they began to talk and Sangeetha had some shocking news. She said that she had been diagnosed with Stage II Lymphoma a little over two months ago. She said that the disease was progressing, but that she would be starting chemotherapy from next week to fight it. She said these things in a calm, almost emotionless manner- it terrified Kalpana. They spoke about it for over an hour and at the end of the meeting, Sangeetha asked if Kalpana could come sit with her for some of her chemo sessions; she said that she really needed family now. Kalpana agreed without hesitation.
The next week, Sangeetha started her chemotherapy sessions and Kalpana showed up at the hospital as promised. Sangeetha watched her sister enter her room and thought she looked different somehow. She was wearing a red salwar kameez but she had draped her dupatta over her head- maybe it was sunny outside, Sangeetha thought . But, when Kalpana removed the dupatta, it was Sangeetha's turn to be shocked. All that beautiful black hair was gone- Her sister was completely bald. Kalpana broke the silence and said,
"Once your chemo kicks in, you'll start losing your hair. I've never let you be the first at anything, You didn't expect me to let you be the first in this,did you? So I beat you to it!"
Sangeetha understood and smiled. She reached for her sister's hand, gave it a tight squeeze and smiled.
short story
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Shoe-ing away unhappiness!
Lily pulled out the cream colored stilettos from the shoe box. They had been kept neatly wrapped in tissue, for a deserving occasion. The shoes were almost 5 years old, but the creamy faux animal skin looked brand new. Looking at those shoes brought back a lot of memories - these were shoes she had worn during the good times, for dances and late night parties, for romantic walks in the park and of course when John proposed to her 2 years back. But those good times were over- what she had with John was over, the relationship she had invested several years on was over. She quickly dressed, picking out an outfit to match the shoes and got into the car.
She could feel the butterflies in her stomach as she walked into the restaurant. Her eyes immediately went to the floor- She started to observe people's feet. She saw hardy leather boots and worn out tennis shoes. Open toed heels and even a pair of bedroom slippers - the kind with a big fat loony toons character on top. Her eyes moved quickly from one pair of feet to another until they stopped at a pair of new brown penny loafers! When she looked up, she saw that the owner of the penny loafers was a young man with deep brown hair and gentle eyes- he was also looking at feet. When he saw her stilettos, he looked up and smiled.
She had been hesitant about going on a blind date- she had been even more hesistant when her date suggested they identify each other by their shoes. But now that she was here, she was rather excited. So she took a deep breath and walked over to her date. This was her new beginning and she was starting it with her cream colored stilettos... hoping for more good times and hoping for much happier endings.
short story
She could feel the butterflies in her stomach as she walked into the restaurant. Her eyes immediately went to the floor- She started to observe people's feet. She saw hardy leather boots and worn out tennis shoes. Open toed heels and even a pair of bedroom slippers - the kind with a big fat loony toons character on top. Her eyes moved quickly from one pair of feet to another until they stopped at a pair of new brown penny loafers! When she looked up, she saw that the owner of the penny loafers was a young man with deep brown hair and gentle eyes- he was also looking at feet. When he saw her stilettos, he looked up and smiled.
She had been hesitant about going on a blind date- she had been even more hesistant when her date suggested they identify each other by their shoes. But now that she was here, she was rather excited. So she took a deep breath and walked over to her date. This was her new beginning and she was starting it with her cream colored stilettos... hoping for more good times and hoping for much happier endings.
short story
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
