Lazy Don't Save Me

It's all cloudy. I'm picturing a desolate beach(the white sand variety) under green palms( do those exist?) swaying under a tempestuous breeze to the sound of the waves.
According to K, I shall find this in Kerala. In all probability, yes. But I'm highly sceptical owing to my memory of the place my Mum dragged me to 3 years ago. It was hot and we spent all the time temple-hopping (which was not as bad as I thought it would be. Except for the time I stepped into fresh cowdung and had to wipe it off with newspapers and grass. Repeat after finicky-me, EW.)
So, well, basically I never got to experience desolate beaches of any kind, kathakali dances, boathouses (though we did get to boat on the Vembanad Lake) or those other 'God's own country' things which I drool over in travel advertising features. It was a learning experience, though and made me realise how much of a city slicker I am. It didn't manage to make me to feel any connection with my so-called Malayali blood (does it exist if you don't believe its existence?) But it was good. Remind me to tell you about it, some other, more proactive time.
Well, I hope I encounter some of those dreamy imageries when we go on our class excursion at the end of this month. (It aches to think Naveen won't be there with us. It's so strange how life has to move on. Sigh.)
Back to my dreamy state of existence. It's a lazy Saturday afternoon, almost Sunday-like, but only with a vague expectation of activity. I wonder if I will ever get up to it. Have been dreaming of long TV hours with a mug of cold coffee (No one makes the way I LOVE it like Mum does)
Have an exam on Monday-Mass Communication Theories. (Honestly, it's more interesting than it sounds). Got a pile of notes to rifle through. But all I want to do is dream of picture-postcard beach and listen to the alt songs under the playlist I titled 'Moments' in my iTunes. Listening to Rabbi's new album now. Nowhere as great as his debut album, but appropriate for my current mood.
Oh, did I tell you about the Strings concert I went for last Saturday? It was absolutely beautiful. Sure, Parikrama was great ( I especially loved their own comp 'Am I Dreaming?'. Man I wish I could get my hands on that song) but when Strings came on, they brought such a precious, positive energy to the atmosphere. I totally lost myself there. The music, the lyrics, the melody and the sweetness in their performance. Just thinking about it makes me smile. I've always been in love with their songs 'Sirkiye yeh pahar' and 'Anjaane' (have mentioned the lyrics in my previous blog post of favourite lyrics) but their new one 'Koi Aaney Wala Hai' is adorable as well. I love the lyrics. It's about expecting an angel. And they depict that in the video too, with John Abraham as an angel. Ha ha ha. But I prefer imagining it in my own way. Bilal (oh he's so cute!) and Faisal(oh he's so sweet!) are angels enough.
Well, I'm going off for now before I ramble any further. This has been a long, aimless one-sided conversation (oh God!! That reminds me of the criticisms of the dominant paradigm of Development Communication. Don't. Even. Go. There. My exam's over today and I don't wanna think about it all over again. Though it is highly interesting...google it if you're interested. I taught 4 different people about it, including myself and my mandatory student, J.)
OK. BYE FOR NOW. (Someone gag me!)

Indications of my Tamil-ness

The beat of ‘Veyilodu Vilayadi’ makes me nostalgic for paddy fields and blinding sunshine for some reason despite the fact that I am as rural the Gemini flyover. However, the chorus of ‘Mustafa Mustafa’ can make me more misty-eyed.
I watched ‘Sivaji’ more than once.
When I want to be affectionate without being mushy, I call someone ‘da’.
I always change to Sun Music after VH1 and Zoom.
Vada sambhar, sambhar-rice, bisi bela bath. Call me.
I grew up on a staple diet of Prabhu Deva’s baggy pants, funky dance moves and with swells of pride while listening to each newest A.R.Rahman creation, each marking a new season in my life.
Marina beach may be the dirtiest, most crowded, most overrated place in the city but it’s still our beach.
I wanna dance like Vijay!!
Pongal brings so much hope even though I don’t own a cow and dread the increase in sunshine from that time of the year. And salty Pongal..is..so..yum.
‘Dai’ can be used in so many contexts ranging from blind fury to playful greeting. Why, it’s even in my phone’s messaging dictionary (though probably as the starting of the word ‘dairy’. Hmmm. Never mind)
The Tamil slang is so open to other languages. Conversation is easy for anyone. (“Ippo straight, ippo right, ippo left!)
I love shouting out when spotting familiar places in Kollywood movies. ("Spencers!!!")
Tamil comedy is something else altogether…

I complain on and on and on and on about the heat but I don’t go anywhere.
My best friend knows your aunt’s sister’s son/daughter.
Only in Chennai can you go to a Café Coffee Day and wind up meeting 2/3rd of your graduating class from school.
Lungis seem so comfy…Dhaavanis look so pretty… :) even though you hardly see them anymore.
Sure, it’s sleepy but after all that sun, that’s all you really want to do.

I love my Madras. :D

Culturally challenged

Yes, I'm culturally challenged.
No, it's not that I have no respect or understanding or interest in culture of any kind. It's just that I have an affinity for ALL of them!
Wait let me explain...
My paternal side of the family is Telugu, with origins way back in Rajasthan...
My maternal side is Malayali but with settlements all over the North of India...
My cousins are half-Bengali and half-Himachali each (with the confusing mix of Malayali blood and Delhiite upbringing thrown in)...
My language of thought and most speech is the colonial inheritance, English (with a medley of Tamil, Hindi, slang and whatever language is closest pulled in)...
My poetry! The language of my heart is Spanish, for its poetry in every phrase, in every word and its capability of expressing my soul (though I barely speak it anymore)...
My music! Music speaks to me most strikingly through Arabic-the whispers of the desert, the wind in the qanun and the hypnotic beat of the derbouka...
My movies! Bollywood and the Hindi dialogues, songs and dances of its films envelop me in their profusion of warmth and colour...
My food! Has to be spicy and colourful and vibrant and over the top. I cannot live without some dose of Andhra food...
My school! Sanskrit was my second language. My reverence for the holy language was a bit dented after 5 years of non-understanding texts that advised me to not hang necklaces around a snake (No offence meant)
My college! French was always a language I appreciated for its exquisite accent (which I practised much on my friends, much to their er..concern for my sanity) and also because it so resembled Spanish.

You would wonder how I survived these many years without tripping over my own tongue. Linguistically, culturally, emotionally... I have no clue where I stand.

What is my mother tongue? (er, English)
What are you? (er, human)
Where are you from? (er,Mommy?)

Oh my, you don't speak Telugu, what a shame. You don't speak Malayalam either? Tsk, tsk.
No I cannot feel pride welling up if I see coconut trees and backwaters. Sure, it's pretty but it isn't mine.
I love my 'mudu-pappu' and mango dal like crazy but I cannot follow a word of the Telugu language and as much as I try to feel guilty about it, I really don't.
And I just don't have a soul to practise Spanish with. It's not much fun being pointed at while you speak to yourself in a 'foreign' language.
And my spoken Hindi shows no improvement despite my Bollywood fixation and the fact that it was my general elective this semester!

So where do I fit in? Where is that home, the place I belong? Where everyone goes on holiday and comes back with unified stories of family, tradition while I take a pinch of nearly everything. I want to understand jokes in Malayalam slang and want to understand the lines to inane Chiranjeevi songs (Big Boss!!!).
I want to speak perfect Hindi and not just ‘hahn, hahn’. I want something to call my OWN. And it’s too late to invent a language. (already did that in Std I…until concerns for my development made me stop)

Maybe that’s why I created Estarra. Hmmm. :)