துணையைத் தேடி...

நிழல் போல் தொடர்வேன் என்றால் நகைக்கத் தோன்றுகிறது

பகலில் காலைத் தழுவி இரவில் விட்டோடும்
நிழல் நீண்ட நாள் துணையா?
வெளிச்சத்திலா விளக்கை கேட்டேன்?
காரிருளில் தானே கரம் நீட்ட சொன்னேன்?

என்னோடே இரு. என் ஆவியில் கலந்திரு.
என்னை சுற்றி இருக்கும் காற்றில் கரைந்திரு.
என் இயக்கத்தில் ஒன்றாய் சேர்ந்திரு.

ஏக்கத்தில் உள்வாங்கும் பெருமூச்சில் ஒளிந்திரு.

அதிர்ச்சியில் நான் மறந்த சுவாசமாய் நீ இரு.
மரணத் தருவாயில் மீண்டும் ஒரு முறை கூட இரு.
மாய்ந்து மண்ணோடு நான் போகும் போது 
உன் மூச்சில் என்னை உள்வாங்கி கொள். 

நிழலாய் நீ வேண்டாம். நிஜமாய் என்னோடிரு.

பழகாத புதிர்கள்

இருள் பழகி விட்டால் ஒளி எதற்கு?

மௌனம் பழகி விட்டால் மொழி எதற்கு?

பசி பழகி விட்டால் புசிக்க உணவெதற்கு?

தாகம் பழகி விட்டால் தண்ணீர் எதற்கு?

எளிமை பழகி விட்டால் வளமை எதற்கு?

தனிமை பழகி விட்டால் துணை எதற்கு?

பழகினால் புரியாதது இல்லை

உறவுகளைத்  தவிர.

மனம் விட்டு பேசும் இரு உள்ளங்கள்

அண்ணாந்து பார்த்தேன்
ஆதங்கத்தில் கேட்டேன்
ஏன் என்னை வதைக்கிறாய்?
நெஞ்சம் பதைக்க வைக்கிறாய்!

பதில் வந்தது, நான் என்ன செய்ய?
என் வருகைக்காக ஏங்குகிறாய்.
வந்தால் சாடுகிறாய்.
தொட்டால் சிலிர்க்கிறாய்.
தொடா விட்டால் சருகாகிறாய்.

நான் கேட்டேன்
நேரம் பார்த்து வர கூடாதா?
நெருங்காமலேயே விலகுவதா?
வந்தாலும் வைகை புயலாய் 
வேரறுத்து போகுவதா?

சட்டென்று சொல் கேட்டது.
வருவதும் போவதும் என் கையில் இல்லை.
நமது சுற்றும் சூழலும் ஏதுவாய் இல்லை.
எனக்கும் உனக்கும் தடைகளோ கொள்ளை.

நீ தான் எனக்கு ஆதாரம்.
நீயல்லாது விளைவது சேதாரம்.
நீ தான் என் வாழ்வின் மையம்.
நீ இல்லாமல் வெறும் சூன்யம்.

சரி. பொறுத்திரு.
காலமும் வேளையும் கூடி வரும்.
கனத்த மழையாய் நான் வருவேன்.
வாடும் பயிர் உன் கண்ணீர் துடைப்பேன்.
பசுமையும் வளமையும் திரும்ப வரும்.
நாடு நலமும் இன்பமும் பெரும்.

மழை மேகத்திற்கும் மண்ணில் ஒரு செடிக்கும் இடையே உரையாடல்.

Becoming a mother and staying as one.

I must have been 15 when I first went to the orphanage run by Udhavum Karangal (Helping Hands) along with a bunch of girls from Cauvery Guides Group. I went for a few months. I remember two kids very well. Selvi - curly, brown hair with tawny ends, and squarish face. She always held my left hand and clung to it tightly. My right hand belonged to Ramu whose legs were wasted by polio. His parents had abandoned him at Kanchipuram bus station after telling him that they were taking him to the city for medical treatment. Ramu was good at art and I taught him to draw cartoons. Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck and stuff. He had never seen a cartoon in his life. I stopped going there when I had board exams to prepare for. But, their faces remain etched in my heart. They were the ones who inspired me to be a mother and to adopt.

For many years, even before Angelina Jolie went on to make her beautiful, multi-racial family, I had wanted to adopt a child from each continent and have a rainbow family of my own. I remember long chat sessions with my dear friend Rana El-Khatib discussing child names. She suggested one name that I cannot ever forget. Hadeer. She said it was the sound of the sea waves lashing on to the shore. That sounded perfect given my eternal love for beaches, most of all, Elliots Beach in Besant Nagar. I had names for 7 kids of mine. This was back in 2001.

I came back to India to become a surrogate mother to an awesome nephew and adorable niece. Anerudh lived with me for some time. FB memories reminds me that 7 years ago, today, I posted this about what Ane told me.

"I am going to tell all my friends in school today about all the great things in my new home and how nice you are," said Anerudh. Should I take it as "One step for good start and a giant leap for potential success in parenting?"

Whether I was going to get married or not, I wanted to adopt when the time was right. But then, I fell in love, got married with a person who knew I wanted to adopt but then, things don't always work to plan, do they? Adopting, rather accepting another person as your own requires a lot of love, compassion and strength. Many things and people have to come together. Not everyone is geared for attendant concerns and issues. After much deliberation and time, I decided that I had to become a mother. If not adoption, my own at least. I was 40 by then.

It was an agonising decision. My age, my health condition, the risk of having a child with disabilities, not that I wanted a perfect child but the worry about how the child would do in the long run without me around - everything weighed in on my head. I got pregnant but for 5 months till my amniocentosis (which itself carries the risk of miscarriage) could be complete, I just put my head down. On the day I picked up the test results, I cried misinterpreting the results before I took it to the doctor. My friend Ruchika and Sakthi had to calm me down before I reached the Doc's place. No, the child was fine. I wouldn't have to lose the child.

The next few months were a blur with me puking my way through the finish line. Even after the boy was born, till he responded to our voice, turned and looked, crawled, walked and said his first words, there was this nagging fear that my child may pay a price for my love for children and to becoming a mother. As I keep reminding myself every day, I won the lottery in having a child with no health or mental issues.

I endured 8 months of post partum depression with a nearly perfect child. I wept for no reason, avoided even eye contact with people, wanted to die, leap off my balcony or run into a lorry or bus. But, every time, dark feelings overtook me, I reminded myself that I brought my child into this world and it was my responsibility to be there for him. I can't run away. I had to stay put. I had to fight back. I had to battle the demons in my own head. Somehow, I did.

Today, I saw this video https://www.facebook.com/georgehtakei/videos/1425476870852995/ and wept. How lucky I have been so far. The things I take for granted. And, how hard it is for many around me. Every day that I lose my temper, become overwhelmed with being a mother, be impatient and show it on my child, I remind myself of all the mothers with special children. When I worked as a volunteer at the Cancer Institute, I have seen mothers walk in with infants too young to even understand the deadly disease ravaging their bodies. A concoction of emotions - fear, hope, sorrow and desperation shadowed their faces. Every one of those mothers, them with battles of their own that I wouldn't be able to understand, not being able to enjoy all that I still do but marching on with love, patience and sheer determination for their children. I have no bloody reason to complain. Life is good. I just have to keep trying harder and harder and never give up. Ever.

Movies and memories

After a long time, I watched a Tamizh movie, at home though. "Maanagaram." I was busy baking bread for friends, had to be up till 1.30 AM and I needed something to keep me occupied. As is wont, everything in my present triggers memories of my past. Imagine the black and white cyclotron that endlessly loops itself towards the centre, the classic way movies used to indicate that the story line was moving in the flashback. That cyclotron looped in front of my eyes!

Earliest memory of watching a movie? "Moonraker" with my Appa. Yeah, yeah, Moonraker -a Bond movie that my dad took me to when I was barely in my 3rd grade. Wonder what the censors or the theater security would have thought of a 7 year old watching a Bond movie! I didn't understand a word but just remember a lot of flashing action and those girls who barely wore any clothes. I don't think my dad would have worried much about age appropriate moving watching either. I wasn't born in a era of over analysing what children ate, saw or played, only the marks you brought home in your report card mattered. Children were presumed innocent until proven otherwise.

So, it was not unusual when a gang of us girls went to watch movies like "Benji" and "Superman" in the theatres in the neighbourhood. The tickets were probably just 2 or 3 rupees. I also remember that it was during one such outing with the girls that I was pawed by a male for the first time ever. I was a child, barely 8 years old and here was that man, much older than me, had a beard and was rubbing his hand on my thighs! Introduction to sexual harassment began at a movie theatre.

I watched "Billa" and "Ninaithaale Inikkum" in Roxy Theatre near Kilpauk with my cousins. Both were housefull shows, MS Viswanathan's full throated Jagame thandhiram, sugame mandhiram song, Poornam Vishwanathan taunting Rajinikanth with keys of a Toyota car key, Jayaprada's terrible wig and indecipherable head shake are etched forever. Billa was the first of only 2 solo Rajini movies I have ever watched in a theatre but more on that later.

"Shankarabharanam" and "My dear kutti chaatthaan" were the only two movies that we, all 5 in the family, went out together to watch. The boring India news reel, Indira Gandhi getting off a plane, shaking hands with Leonid Brezhnev - you just had to watch it before you get on to any movie. My dear kutti chaatthan was the first 3D movie and it was fun to fumble with the glasses they gave you in the theatre. Appa took me to watch Ek duje ke liye (was a Kamal Hassan fan and always will be) and later "Simla Special," another Kamal starrer, a day after my Chittappa got married. I don't remember if my dad took my brothers out separately as well but I remember watching quite a few movies with him. That run ended when I cried at the climax of "Omar Mukhtar," when a little boy picks up Omar's spectacles indicating continuation of his struggle. My dad vowed never to take me for a movie again and sure as hell he didn't.

ET was a movie I watched with awe, bicycles flying, ET curing wounds with its glowing finger and the unforgettable line, "ET go home." I went with neighbours from our RBI Quarters in Besant Nagar all the way to Albert Theater in Egmore, all by bus.

Many more movie memories come to me.

"Hum," an Amitabh Bachhan movie which I watched with more than 20 girls from the Cauvery Guides Group and the song "Ek doosre se karte hain pyaar hum" became a campfire "must" song for a few years to come.

"Singarvelan" with Stella Maris classmates and boys in Alankaar theatre with a friend Ramya not understanding any of the double entendres in the movie and asking for explanations at every turn.

"Annamalai" with the Leo Club gang, all of us standing up in our row, singing at the top of our voices along with Rajini - "Ade nanba unmai solven."

"Mahanadi" with Viji's father REB Uncle and we were both so upset by the movie and the hardships the protagonist had to go through, Uncle sulked for days after that. Parts of the movie really did hit you in the guts. I also watched Schindler's List with him.

"Rangeela" - downing a pitcher of beer in 45 minutes at Peekos, puking at the grounds of Lido Theatre in Bangalore, I watched (actually, I barely saw anything) that movie slumped on Suman Nambiar's shoulders.

A couple of movies we watched at Prarthana, the only drive in theatre in Chennai with a full crowd of Viji's friends and their parents, her family. Only, Viji was away in the US. We packed a lot of food, menu planning and cooking efficiently handled by her mother. We had a blast of a time.

"Minsaara kanavu" - watched at Albert Theatre with my e-mail pal from the US - Vaidee Mahadevan on his visit to India. This was in 1997. 20 years on, that remains my only meeting with him. Ever.

"Rush Hour" - my first movie in the US. I saw this with Brinda, Naini, Meghnath and Raghu in AZ. I whistled and clapped when Jackie Chan came on the screen only to be met with stern disapproval from Naini, "This is not India. Don't make any noise in US movie halls."

"Lagaan" - The tables turned when I took Faith Ripple to watch this movie in Kansas. A movie hall of Indian, hooting, throwing papers up, clapping and screaming for a make believe cricket match between poor Indian farmers and their oppressing overlords, the British. I told her, "This is how we Indians watch movies."

"Boys" - bullied a colleague to get first day tickets at a theatre all the way at Mayajaal, nearly 30 km from where Satish Chetty lived only because he had to watch this movie before leaving for the US that evening. We walked out within half an hour unable to bear that movie for even that long!

"Spiderman 2" - watched it only after the second half began thanks to Sakthi arriving late. But, a memorable encounter with a little boy was part of my blog post http://vaanmughil.blogspot.in/2009/04/children-of-streets-cheese-balls-and.html.

The last Tamizh movie I watched in the theatre was "Kanda naal mudhalaai" in Abhirami theatre in 2005, if you didn't take into account "Kakka Muttai," which is a children's movie and Surya's first ever outing to a movie hall.

"Udta Punjab" and "Piku" happened thanks to sneaking into movie halls after sending Surya to day care, the former with a friend and the latter with Sakthi, who bunked work claiming to have taken his wife to see a doc. Oh, the things we do to catch a recent flick!

I have watched movies in theatres, with pirated & legit CDs, at home on my laptop or in the TV. Seen some movies alone and plenty with friends and family. I have laughed, cried, cheered and jeered. Many people watch movies and remember the actors, dialogues, songs and some sequences. I remember the many other little things around those movies. In fact, those memories are stronger than what I have seen on the silver screen. What are yours?

Psst... I have never watched a single Star Wars movie, never seen Sholay. And, not a single Rajini movie on the screen since 1992. There. Proof that not all Tamilians are raving mad. 

Bread and Butterfly Effect

Last night, I was talking to a friend and lamenting about not doing much now, no job, nothing happening on TNFES thanks to no fresh infusion of donor funds and how I am trying to keep doing things to stay centred. I told him that I was baking breads for a charity sale, the little I could do. He asked me why I thought like it and proceeded to talk me about the Butterfly Effect, that a small act could mean something more. He quoted some instances and told that what we would never dream of could still happen. I kept thinking about that and it propped me up for a while. 
It was 1985 and devastating floods had hit Chennai. Parts of Chennai were submerged. Velachery truly lived the moniker of Vella-chery or flood-hit town. Our close friends and relatives had to take refuge on the terrace of their buildings even as the clouds showered some more and rising water snapped at their heels. Telephones were not widespread and we barely got to know the ground reality. 
I remember, on the 3rd day or so, a lot of people were holed up in car sheds near the "All in One" stores in Besant Nagar where we lived in. Our locality was spared then as it was 20 years later as well. My mother carried the only loaf of bread we had at home to give to the hungry homeless people there. We didn't have a fridge back then, veggies and fruits couldn't have been stored and we, ourselves as a family didn't have much to go on. Yet, my mother carried that with her. I asked my mother why she was doing that. She told me and I remember that very clearly, Ivaalukku onnume illai, irukkarathu namakku podhum. These people have nothing and what we have is enough for us. And then she added, engeyo, namakku therinjavaalukkum yaaraavathu poduvaanga illa? Somewhere, somebody might help people known to us also, right? Perhaps, she was also talking about the butterfly effect in her own way. That evening changed my life in many ways. 
Years on, I have always been blessed with wonderful friends, family and benefactors who have lent a helping hand and leaning shoulder when I needed. I consider it a privilege and honour to be the recipient of such kindness. I have also done this and that, helped people around me the little that I could.
Yesterday, I posted in a WhatsApp group about this charity sale, so more money could be raised for a worthy cause. Surprisingly, many people messaged me in turn asking me to bake for them. Now, that was some unintended consequence I had not anticipated. I am a novice baker who is still striving to learn and make myself better at this. I may or may not do this but couldn't help wondering about how a small ripple could lead to something more. 
A loaf of bread my mother donated during the floods in 1985 inspired my interest in social service. The floods in 2015 helped me meet this friend who talked about the Butterfly Effect while I was baking breads for a charity. Strange how life comes a full circle. 
Karma, Butterfly Effect. Whatever you want to call it. Send some goodness into the world around you. You'd never know what you'd get in return.

Trees and memories

With both boys away this weekend, I went to practice Kerala mural art with my friends today. When one of them asked, "What shall we practice today?" and gave some options, I spontaneously suggested doing a tree which looked simple enough but just sketching it took 3 hours. We sat on stone benches and tables under the canopy of trees at Venkatappa Art Gallery blissfully shutting out curious visitors, the occasional coos of birds and the little ants which stung when they felt ignored a bit too much.

On my return, my mind raced back to my childhood. Right outside the dining room window, it stood. A tall Millingtonia tree and a stone bench right next to it. Memories came flooding like a movie played on fast forward mode. The tree stood nearly 3 storeys tall. A carpet of white flowers with the most pleasant and yet captivating fragrance. Greenish yellow corolla holding 5 white petals - imagine little snow flakes fallen on a tropical ground. That bench was constantly in demand. Elders who wanted to discuss politics of the country or of their homes, children who wanted to jump around and hide underneath. Over time, the stone wore down and stuck out too. Us girls who were kept out of cricket matches watched the boys smack the balls around, sitting on that bench. That was the bench where I bent dangerously close to a fire cracker and my friend Charu saved me in the nick of time. That was where we both sat and chatted for hours when the ground went quiet with everybody glued to the idiot box. That tree would tell stories of generations of kids, their puppy loves, crushes, hopes, ambitions, fears and jokes if it could.

To this day, it remains my favourite tree. Every morning as soon as I woke up, I would hold the window grill and keep staring at it. I would talk to the tree - the Hobbes to my inner Calvin. My mother would scream in the background, "Anga enna di mandaga podi? Eppa paathaalum verikka paathundu? What are you stalling there for? What are you staring at like an idiot?" I would linger till a whack from my father would dislodge me from there. On rainy days when we were not allowed to step outside, I would hold the window grill and have conversations with that tree or put my Thaatha's easy chair under the window, grab a book to read and occasionally look up to see my tree.

I also had a tree I hated. This was to the rear of my house, visible from the balcony. Everyday, on my grand father's death anniversary, we had to bury a plantain leaf with food supposedly for him, under a tree. That was the designated tree for that. The belief was that his soul would descend and eat the food, bless us and go back into the spiritual world. I always imagined that if my Thaatha would come, other souls from the netherworld would also visit it and may harm me. I know where that tree is, it perhaps is still there, I never bothered to know what it was and I would skirt going near it even during day time. I imagined a million souls living there as the leaves of the tree. Which one was out to get me? Truth was I missed my grandfather a lot and my young heart ached that he never came by but perhaps everybody else but him lived there.

We moved away from that complex and in to our own apartment in 1987. It was a farm land that had been parcelled to make several apartment complexes. Facing the road, the apartment block barely had any trees but just behind my bedroom, where the owner still lived and had chicken, goats and a cow, there stood a stump of a tree with a hollow in which parrots lived. I lobbied hard with my father and took that room. My Rakhi brother and I spent hours and days translating books from English to Tamil, catching a break to look at those parrots up above in the tree with chicken scurrying around beneath it and smoke from food being cooked on a chulha near it. Soon enough, the place was levelled and another ugly apartment complex took its place.

I went to IIMB, lived in a hostel with trees around but I was so lost through the time I spent there, I barely looked up or around me. My only memory of a tree in the US was when we drove north of Kansas for a friend's wedding and I swung from a rubber tire from a huge tree in a ginormously large farm. I felt unexplainable joy and like a child again. The farm house had wooden cupboards with tree motifs carved into them, all hand made by the owner himself.

Years since, I have not come across a tree that I could connect with. It is a spiritual bond. Not unlike going to a mountain, sitting on a precipitous rock overlooking a valley, misty clouds floating by, the air is crisp, a river winding and gurgling its way through, some birds soaring in the sky, the sun playing hide and seek. I could watch a tree, see its woody barks stripping in places, wonder at its age, watch some leaves thrive, while others wither, reminding us of life where you lose some people and others continue their journey with you, the buds teaching you patience and blossoms giving you hope.

Nearly 2.5 years ago, I sat on the bench at Diamond District watching my Sun stumble in the sand pit, I looked up at the giant coconut trees. Looks like a floral bouquet that an invisible bridesmaid holds in her hand. A brown stem, branches radiating out like spokes in a cycle, the leaves grabbing arms on either side like children in a circle singing Ring-a Ring-a roses, coconuts looking like berries at that height, threatening to crack your head and a little glimpse of sunshine peeking through. It is a sight to behold. And, sitting there, I wrote a little nursery poem for my child, my ode to my beloved trees, my faithful companions and keepers of my secrets.

Vaanuyarndha thennai maram
Ilaneerai alli tharum
Kasakkum ilai veppa maram
Veppam thaniya nizhal tharum
Virundhu ilai vaazhai maram
Thandum kaniyum thinna tharum
Thorana ilai maamaram
joraana pazham tharum.

வானுயர்ந்த தென்னை மரம்
இளநீரை அள்ளித் தரும்
கசக்கும் இலை வேப்ப மரம்
வெப்பம் தணிய நிழல் தரும்
விருந்து இலை வாழை மரம்
தண்டும் கனியும் தின்ன தரும்
தோரண இலை மா மரம்
ஜோரான பழம் தரும்.

I sang it for many days & months to my child. I had forgotten about it until today when my pick of an art piece rekindled my love for my trees again. In the movie Hero Hiralal, Naseeruddin Shah teaches Sanjana Kapoor to embrace a tree, scream at her loudest and let go off all her negative emotions. I need a tree like that now. Not to scream at. Just to talk to. To catch up and that's what old friends do.