Divine Intervention: A Story of God's Guidance

I want to share a remarkable experience that showcases God's mysterious ways. After my arranged marriage, I discovered that my in-laws owned an apartment in the city, and my best friend's mom owned the apartment below them. Five years later, my brother-in-law's plans to move abroad were stuck due to a missing document: The Approved Building Plan.

The search for the document began, and I reached out to my friend and her mom, but they didn’t have it. We then contacted other apartment owners, a local doctor who knew some residents, and even the builder’s company, but all efforts were in vain. The builder had passed away, and his company didn’t respond to our queries.

In desperation, I started going through the papers we already had and found two names. I searched for one of them and found an architectural firm with the same name. Their founder had worked on the project, but they needed at least four days to find the document, which was impossible given the tight deadline.

My husband and I then approached the city planning authority, but they only had documents from 2009 onwards. That’s when I remembered that Chennai was Madras in 1994, the year the building was constructed. We began searching documents from the 1994 archives, but without success.

Then a memory from over a decade ago resurfaced—my friend’s mom had casually mentioned visiting the building site when my friend was two months old. This hinted that the site might have been chosen in 1992 as my friend and I are around the same age, and the building plan would have been prepared around that time. It made sense, as the builder wouldn’t have shown prospective buyers the site without a plan. So, the plan should have been around in 1992 itself.

With renewed hope, we started searching documents from 1992. Within minutes, we shortlisted 15 files that had either of the names we were looking for. To our surprise, the fifth document turned out to be the building plan we needed!

God’s guidance was evident in this journey. My friend’s mom’s remark, made years ago without any context, proved to be the key to finding the document. There’s no way she could have known her words would help me, her friend’s husband’s family, years later.

We gave copies of the document to all the flat owners, and many were thankful, as this document had been a blocker for them too. This experience taught me to trust in God’s plan and timing. Sometimes, He works in mysterious ways, and we might not understand the bigger picture—but in hindsight, it all makes sense.

To those who believe their God is the only true God and others are wrong, I want to share that my friend, who was instrumental in this search, is a Christian. We are Smarta Hindus, and some of the people who were thankful for the document are followers of Islam and Jainism. This experience has shown me that God is ultimately one, and there is surely a divine force guiding us all, regardless of our faith or background.

Let’s focus on the divine guidance rather than the differences in our beliefs.

I travelled from Bangalore to Chennai for this document search. While the memory with my friend’s mom could have resurfaced while I was still in Bangalore and spared me the trip, it didn’t—and I was thankful. Though the travel left me fatigued, since we found the document on the first day itself, my husband and I got to spend some quality time with my grandparents 😁.

I’m grateful for this experience and the opportunity to share it. May it inspire others to trust in God’s guidance and timing.

A Tapestry of Tradition: Growing Up with Four Grandparents

Growing up, my brother and I had the privilege of being surrounded by all four grandparents. My parents, brother, and I lived with our paternal grandparents, while the maternal folks resided just a short drive away. We visted and spent a lot of time at our maternal grandparents place, the house our mother grew up in.

Despite belonging to the same community and celebrating the same festivals, our households (Yes! We were part of both) boasted distinct traditions.

Take Pongal, for instance. At our paternal home, it was all about the sweet chakarai pongal paired with vadai, while our maternal folks opted for a subtler venpogal with an onion/garlic-free gotsu or sambar. As kids, we simply followed our mother's lead, reveling in the culinary diversity—a bowl of chakarai pongal here, a piece of vadai there, fully aware that the next course awaited at our maternal grandparents'.

This dichotomy wasn't exclusive to Pongal; it defined our Saturdays too. In the morning, our paternal grandparents hosted a 'Sani Kizamai Pooja' with neivedyam featuring vadai and a sweet, doubling as breakfast. Meanwhile, our maternal grandparents hosted the same pooja in the evening, treating us to sundal as prasadam—a delightful pre-dinner snack.

What I failed to recognize as a child was the incredible convenience and richness this duality brought to my life. Conflicts (two poojas or functions happening at the same time) were rare, and we grew up intimately acquainted with both families, immersed in their cultures, and, most importantly, spoiled with good food.

My brother's exclamation, 'It has been a good food day,' became a regular refrain for both him and I, after indulging in the culinary delights of both houses.

As for understanding Tamil months and their sequence, well, that was a mystery until I was around 8. 

What I did know was that there was a month of evening lamps (Karthikai), followed by Margazhi, during which my paternal grandmother's early morning temple visits turned our into a wake-up alarm for the entire locality owing the the wails of our pet dogs who didn't want to be left behind at home and wanted to accompany her in her walk to the temple. Seeking refuge at my maternal grandparents' meant avoiding the canine commotion and waking up to the exquisite kolams drawn by my grandmother or the lovely househelp, Saroja.

Margazhi, with its early morning bhajans and vibrant kolams, eventually led to the pinnacle of our festivities—Pongal, marking the end of a month-long celebration.

Reflecting on those years, I realize how seamlessly the traditions of our grandparents intertwined, creating a childhood steeped in love, diversity, and, of course, delicious food. It was a privilege—one that has left an indelible mark on the fabric of my past.

The Wizard of Happiness

Guess what made my day brighter today? Brace yourself for a heartwarming tale of unexpected kindness and mangoes! So, picture this: I've been battling a whole army of troubles, feeling grumpy and down in the dumps. Wait, I am not going to complain, because a sprinkle of magic came my way!

Enter my incredible household help, the superhero who cooks and cleans. She arrived today gleefully swinging a basket (that had a lid to stop that magoes from falling out, duh!) that contained not just one, not two, but three kili mooku mangoes! I was ready to pay her for this fruity delight, eagerly reaching out for those juicy treasures. Little did I know, a surprise was cooking up in the kitchen.

After wrapping up all her chores, I heard a delightful commotion emanating from the little kitchen. Curiosity got the best of me, and I rushed to the scene of the culinary crime. Lo and behold, my amazing helper was concocting a batch of mango pickle just for me! How did she know? Well, she remembered that a friend had once showered me with this delectable treat, and she thought it would lift my spirits.

Grinning from ear to ear, I instinctively reached for my phone to compensate her for the mangoes by making a deposit to her account. But wait, she had other plans! She put her hand up, stopping me, halting my generosity in its tracks, and shared the most heartfelt story. Turns out, her dear departed dad had planted that mango tree because he believed it would bring joy. And boy, was he right! The entire family continues to revel in the mangoes' glory. So, she insisted, "No need to pay me anything. Just savor those mangoes and bask in happiness."

Talk about being deeply moved! This remarkable lady has never taken a day off without letting me know in advance. She's always given notice, and if she has to travel, she even prepares food in advance, ensuring I won't starve. Sometimes, she goes above and beyond, leaving behind a delicious gravy so I can add veggies to it when she's away. Cherry on the cake: When I had a nasty cold, she went the extra mile and bought Sorakkai to whip up a comforting soup, all while juggling her regular duties. No complaints whatsoever!

Let me tell you, this extraordinary woman has been a saving grace for many families over the past ten years. The only reason she's had to bid farewell to a few households is due to their unfortunate relocations. But her entrepreneurial spirit never wavers, and she effortlessly balances caring for her six daughters and mother without uttering a single complaint. She even works in a mid-day meal kitchen and collects the excess food from the school canteen to serve other malnourished kids. She does this without having any formal education whatsoever! Can you believe that? Oh, and did I mention that she once borrowed 3k from me for her daughter's hospitalization? Well, bless her sweet soul, she insisted on deducting it from her future paycheck. Of course, I couldn't bear to take a single penny from this darling woman who deserves nothing but the best!

Today, my friend, I found happiness in the simplest of gestures, wrapped in the sweetness of mangoes and delivered by a superhero in an apron. Life's challenges may have been tough lately, but moments like these remind me that kindness exists in the world, waiting to brighten our days and put a smile on our faces.

Sometimes god does send superheroes to help us. This time it was a ladle-wielding, bundle of joy who made my day, and even my week perhaps. 

She is perhaps a magician whose wand is a ladle. Maybe, she's a happiness-bringing wizard who doesn't use a broom to fly, but instead uses it to sweep away sadness, one swish at a time.

Each one to their own

My phone buzzed continually as I tried to sleep, a debated Whatsapp exchange was going on in a group. I muted the phone and fell asleep. The next morning, I woke up to over a hundred messages. Most of the people referred to a particular Tamil promoting politician as hypocritic as his daughter ran a school where Hindi was taught. I began to wonder whether it was such a big deal at all, as the politician and his daughter are two different individuals, with different ideologies and mindsets. Having a child, whose ideology does not necessarily subscribe to yours, doesn't make one hypocritic. Going back on one's one ideology is what makes one hypocritic.

I wear dresses to work, and my mother wears salwar kameez. My grandmother on the other hand believes that saree is the most appropriate attire for a woman and only wears sarees. While my grandmother believes that sarees are comfortable, my mother and I do not feel particularly comfortable in sarees and do not wear them on a daily basis. 

Does that make my grandmother hypocritic? Does it make me or my mother hypocritic ?

It absolutely does not, because my grandmother believes in her principles and sticks to it. She does not enforce them on her children or grandchildren. It doesn't make me or my mother hypocritic, because we follow what we believe in.

If you are still unconvinced, let me give you an example. Hiranyakashipu was a Rakshasa who tormented people, who had a humble son named Prahlad. Lord Vishnu took the form of Narasimha to kill Hiranyakashipu and save Prahlad. We consider Prahlad a hero, despite being the son of a Rakshasa. If we can accept this, why can't we accept the fact that a politician and his daughter can have entirely different mindsets. 

Why can't we agree that all of us are different from our parents and each individual has his or her own beliefs and we need not subscribe to the exact same values and beliefs as our parents?

Each individual is entitled to have her or his own beliefs, motivations and ideologies. While some of these are imbibed from the parents, other external factors such as school, friends and media have a role to play in shaping a persons mindset. This in turn influences the person and makes each individual a unique entity.

The next time you criticise someone for being hypocritic because his child or parent does not subscribe to the same ideology, just remember that you and your parents, or you and your children do not necessarily subscribe to the same beliefs. If this does not make you hypocritic, it surely does not make them hypocritic either.

The cold bitter-sweet truth

As I closed the tank, I felt an icy chill passing through my hand and the rest remains a haze. I got into panic mode, washed my hands several times and then finished my work. Half and hour later, my fingers felt numb and I couldn't move my hand. I rushed to the hospital and on the way bumped into an acquaintance. That day, I did not realise, that she would one day become a very good friend. She checked on me every few days, and bolstered me in the recovery process. It taught me that acquaintances needn't always be distant, some can be friends too.

While checking into the hospital, the receptionist asked me to sign a set of forms. My hands were numb and could barely hold a pen, I called a friend, who worked less than fifty metres away to help me sign the forms. He merely said "It will be okay" and cut the call. This was the end of the supposed friendship I shared with him. I held the pen and scribbled my name with my non-dominant hand is an unintelligible fashion. That moment, taught me to cut away people who use you and do not step up when you need them, even if it is not particularly difficult for them.
My supervisor, whom I feared (co-supervisor actually), turned out to be a great ally who ensured that I received the best medical treatment possible in Singapore. My lab safety lead and my counterpart in lab (two different people), ensured that I was well fed and took my medicines on time. They made me realise that the best in people is hidden and comes out only when needed.

Three of my friends in Singapore became my sources of support and champions. One of my friends would patiently unknot my hair and plait it everyday, another would cook and feed me, while the third would continually tell me that everything would be alright soon. 

My world changed significantly, leaving me dependant on people for a weeks and I am actually thankful for the accident as I realised that all friends, aren't 'Friends' and surrounding yourself with the goodness brings prosperity and incidents like these actually help you remove the parasitic weeds and retain the good people in your life. Those who realise you are wounded and cannot help them will leave, while those who truly care, will stay back.


My hand was exposed to cold liquid nitrogen, and I was exposed to the cold bitter-sweet truth of reality.

Until Poor Connectivity Do Us Part

A robotic voice says "Tu mangi il pane." I press the button to hear the same voice repeat the same sentence, in a much slower pace this time. I hear it right and key in 'You eat the bread', and hit the submit button. The 'ting' sound is heard and a green tick pops up on my screen. I click next and it proceeds to the next question.

Duolingo, is the only voice I hear apart from that of my parents and best friend (all of them over WhatsApp) on daily basis. Duolingo isn't my exotic friend or housemate, it is the language app that teaches me Italian and Hindi. For the last year, Duo (that's the actual nickname) has been one of my best friends. When I don't show up on the app for a day, Duo will buzz me, and even emails me to remind me that he misses me (how lovely!).

A few years ago, I considered myself anti-technology. I believed that technology puts people in a virtual world and makes them connected to an artificial space that doesn't exist. However, my opinion on technology today has taken a diametrically opposite turn. I truly believe technology can keep you sane. In an environment where the drop of a pin can be heard, where the nearest mall or train station is many miles away, it is this technology, the voice of my loved ones on WhatsApp, Duo's voice and Cortana's voice (the Android assistant on my phone) that makes me feel connected to the world around me.

Technology has occupied every sphere of our urban lives. From the alarm, to the voice that reminds you to get off at your designated station, everything in today's world is controlled by technology. My best friend can view my manuscripts ten thousand miles away and suggest changes. I can see the picture of my cousin's baby from three thousand miles away.

People say that we have become slaves of technology, yet I strongly believe that we have not become slaves but have started to consider technology as an indispensable part of life. A hundred years ago, electricity was not an integral part of life, now most people can not imagine a life without it. The same applies to Wifi, smartphones and other devices. 

This bond between man and machine cannot be undone so easily. Unless poor connectivity does us part, we will be tied in this relationship. A relationship that brings us close ones closer, when we are apart. 

Vijaya Dashami

Vijaya Dashami or Vidhyarambam is believed to be an auspicious day to start anything new. It is believed to be the anniversary of Rakshasa King, Ravana's death. The festival is celebrated across India in different ways. While the North Indians, Celebrate by burning effigies of Ravana, South Indians mark the day by beginning something new or catching up on things they have missed, making a promise to be regular until next year. As a child, I loved this day and dreaded it at the same time. I loved the fact that I did not have to go to school on that day and dreaded the long journey to my Music Teacher's house. 

The Music teacher, a sprightly lady in her forties lived halfway across the town. My aunt, her two daughters (who also happened to be students of the same teacher), my mom, a chauffeur and I would travel ten kilometers through Chennai's choc-a-bloc traffic to reach her house. The hatchback meant for five, needed to accommodate six. I being the youngest (despite being taller than my cousins) had to sit on the lap of either my mom or aunt for the entire journey. The car would be super crammed yet I would endure it as I knew that I would not be visiting the teacher's house for another year.

Post the bumpy car ride, we would return home to visit other teachers. Each teacher, including the art teacher and the lovely neighborhood Aunty who taught me mathematics would be presented with a cut piece of cloth (to make a blouse) and a bag filled with coconut, two bananas, a couple of betel leaves, some turmeric and betel nuts. The teacher would then bless me and the other students and would take a short five minute lesson to mark a good and auspicious beginning.

This year, unlike the previous 24 years in my life, Vijaya Dashami started on a quiet note. I did not have any teachers to visit. I made a list of all the activities that I needed to do. It had been a while since I had played my ukulele and I wanted to start playing it again. I wanted to update my blog and visit my lab to begin a new set of experiments. As I woke up, I remembered my to-do list. I opened my laptop to write a post, but ended up with a mild bout of the writer's block. I played the ukulele for precisely five minutes and went to the lab to run a couple of experiments.

Writing has been my favourite activity for the last three years. My blog has been my constant, intangible companion for the last three years. I wanted to write more frequently and wanted to start doing so on this day. Hence, I thought and decided to open the blog and write about the first thing that came to my mind. I decided to write about Vijaya Dashami itself and this is the post. the next thing I need to do, is to get the blessings of my blogging mentor and former roommate. 

I just want to say 'I love you'

It was a Friday and I was eagerly waiting for the clock to strike six. I was going to meet a friend for dinner and then head home to get some much needed sleep. I was in virtual bliss and my reverie was cut short by a call from my mother. Assuming that she was calling to have a simple chat, I cut the call. She texted me back requesting me to call immediately. My paternal grandfather had passed on, and my mom wanted to inform me over a call, rather than by text.

That moment, was the longest in my life. I was dazed beyond words and could not cry. It took me a few seconds for reality to hit hard. All of a sudden, like a tonne of bricks crashing on me, I could not hold it any longer. Tears streamed as I booked my tickets to my hometown to see him one last time. That night was long and never ending. My friend (God bless him) gave me company and reassured me for a dozen hours. 

My grandfather was an amazing man. Anyone who turned to him for help, would never return empty handed. He was the epitome of hospitality, who invited every person he met for a meal. He exemplified the phrase 'Strangers are friends we have not met'. He took me around on bicycle ride, bought me an aquarium, taught me a bit of science and engineering. He preserved his notes for over five decades. His grasp of Tamil, English and Sanskrit was impeccable. He was a Gentleman in every aspect and was definitely a 'Grand' Father to me, my brother and cousins.

Twenty five years if memories ambushed my brain. I wish I had told him how much I had appreciated him and loved him. My interaction with him over the last four years had been limited to meeting him during vacations and singing to him. I knew that despite my schedule, I could have made a little more time to tell him that I loved him. It was too late to feel bad.

Now, I try to tell those who mean something to me that I love them. I sometimes tell them a few times a day. Though I know that it might be an over kill, I no longer mind. Its better to be swathed in an overdose of love than not giving any love at all and regretting it later.

To my mother, my father, my brother, my grand parents, other relatives, room mates and my dear friends........

I just want to say 'I Love You',

I just want to show that I care, 

I want you to see my love for you,

I mean it from the bottom of my heart.

Tank Full of Memories

Narrow steps lead to my realm,
Jade green water reflects light,
Ducks or swans, they saunter,
My Grandmom holds me tight,
I wish to touch the water,
But permitted I am not,
'Goodbye Mylapore Tank'.

The shops that dot the mini lake,
Are abuzz with the sound of life,
Glass Bangles tinkle off my hand,
The task to buy a board and knife.
I wish to touch the water,
My mind is there not,
'Goodbye Mylapore Tank'.

The bus is late, I'm in a haste,
The trees between us dance,
Lotus leaves and buzzing bees,
The sight throws me in a trance.
I wish to touch the water,
But time I have not,
'Goodbye Mylapore Tank'.

The engines soar, flight ascends,
My tank is but a green square,
The train runs along the the side,
A view to behold up in the air,
I wish to touch the water,
But reach it I cannot,
'Goodbye Mylapore Tank'.

Sit Beside Me

A white food box lay on the table we now shared. I looked at her in the eye and she opened it to give me a idly coated in garlic chutney. The aroma of garlic wafted through the class and I wolfed down the idly and smiled.

She had been my bench mate and best friend for the last six months. Her eyes sparked and a little dimple appeared on her cheek as she smiled. She was my sounding board and I wondered how class would be once we parted ways. I was going to be the only girl in my new course and wondered if I could survive it.

My Premonitions were sadly right!

 Seven dozen men sat in a room, discussing the days lesson. No one gave a second glance to me as I entered the class. Tiptoeing to my lonely front bench that could seat five, I sat down. Placing my rucksack beside me, I pulled out a Teddy bear. It had been a year since I joined this class and my only bench mate was the teddy bear attired in a fading blue shirt. I felt like an untouchable and wondered why the a mere absence of a 'y' chromosome made me despicable.

The Lecturer had not arrived and despite being surrounded by so many people, I felt alone. I had not spoken to anyone but family in months. My attempts to make conversation with the others in her class had been shot down by cold glares and silence. I had given up and resigned myself. 

I sighed as I felt that day would be no different. I turned to the window and stared out into space, counting the trees to keep myself occupied. I knew the number of trees visible and where they stood. I could even notice if one of them had been cut. One hundred and eight, I told myself for the fifth time that week. The lecturer had still not arrived. I placed my head on the desk for her five minute nap.

The buzz of the class silenced down and I woke up with a start. The lecturer had arrived and I stood up as a mark of respect despite not wanting to. Fifteen minutes into the class I realised that my teddy bear was gone, and where it sat was a person attired in a black shirt. I could not help but look at his face as he turned and shot me a smile. His eyes sparkled and a little dimple appeared on his cheek as he smiled.

A small step from him marked a major change in my life. I was not alone in the battle. I was neither an untouchable not a foe. I was human and was finally being accepted as one by those around me. The invisible glass walls that enslaved me had fallen. 

A bit my lip to stop a tear from escaping. Just like her, he had accepted me into his fold. He turned and pulled out a hamper from his bag.

A white food box lay on the table we now shared. I looked at him in the eye and he opened it to give me a idly coated in garlic chutney. The aroma of garlic wasted through the class and I wolfed down the idly and smiled.

Dedicated to my favourite twins Aarthy and Arjun.

Two Angels sent together from above.
Twice the Smiles, Twice the happiness and Twice the Love

Note : The post has been slightly exaggerated from what actually happened.

Educate and Encourage

The clock struck six and my fingers began to tremble. I had five hours left for my flight to Singapore. My mom squeezed my fingers and reassured me that everything would be alright. This was the big moment I had been waiting for for years. She packed my belongings into two suitcases. She packed clothes and several bottles of pickles and other long shelf food items.

Amma had been preparing for my shift to Singapore way longer than I had. She and my grandmothers had painstakingly prepared Sambhar Podi, Rasam Podi and Puli Kaichal. I had requested my Paati to make my favourite Carrot Halwa, this was packed into a tin along with the other goodies. I had requested Amma and Appa to buy me a pair of Gold Jhumkas to wear on a daily basis in Singapore. I loved the way they dangled every time I shook my head. 

While the society appreciated my parents for everything they gave me, the same society put down girls who asked for 'Seedhanam' or a token of love by calling it 'Varadakshinai' or dowry. This was evident in a talk show named Neeya Naana. 

I am a hardcore feminist, who is against the practise of Dowry. Yet, I could not help but empathise with some of the requests made by some of the girls. One of the girls on the show, requested household goods and furniture and was criticised and I completely empathised with the girl. She did not ask for jewelry or any luxuries but mere necessities and comforts. While the sambar podi and puli kaichal were essential for my survival in a new home, the appliances she requested were essential for her survival. The only difference being, I was going for education and she was going for marriage,

While I would not ask my parents to give me anything for my wedding, I do not see anything wrong in the requests made by these girls. This is because my parents have given me something that most of the other girls in the show did not have. My parents gave me education and the strength to stand on my own feet. The education provided to me, gave me the sense of security that most of the girls on the show lacked. The girls on the show, felt inferior to their male counterparts, namely their husbands and brothers as these males were better educated. This translates into an inferiority complex among the women, who want wealth as a means of elevating their status amongst their counterparts.

Another sentiment echoed on the show was that 'Marriage' was the most important event in the life of a woman. Several girls had been taught to believe that marriage was the Single most important life changing event in the life of a woman and this is a wrong notion. Personally, I would look forward to my wedding for the companionship it brings rather than enjoying it as a show of luxury and wealth. Till date, the day I left home and moved to Singapore has been the most important day in my life. I tasted Independence and freedom shrouded in responsibility for the first time and it was a bitter sweet yet memorable experience. In all likelihood, this day may be more memorable than my wedding and I have absolutely no regrets about it.

A common observation that I have made amongst my friends is that, while parents treat their daughters in an acceptable manner, the sons are treated infinitely better. In several cases, I have observed parents telling their daughter that they may not go on vacation with their friends, but have allowed their sons to go abroad, taste independence and stand on their own feet. When their daughters ask for permission to go on a vacation, they tell them to get married and go on vacation with their husbands while allowing their son to do as he pleases. This results in a situation where the daughter views marriage as a liberation and hence hurries up and looks forward to marriage as light in the end of the tunnel.

I am merely a twenty something year old, who has seen only one perspective of this issue, yet I believe that many have not seen the side I have seen and wrote this post with the hope that someone somewhere may see my side of things.

A man was once bored and took a printout of the world map on a piece of paper. He sat down and cut it into pieces and tried to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. He struggled to piece the world together, but after a while noticed that there was a picture on the back side of the picture, by putting that picture together, he was able to place the world map. His wife on returning home asked him how he put the world together, he sheepishly turned the map and on the other side was a picture of his daughter. By putting his child in perspective, he had placed the world together. If each person gives their child, irrespective of gender the ability to stand on their own feet, the entire practise of dowry and looking forward to marriage as a means of attaining freedom would end.

Chappal Buddies

I wanted to buy her a dress. I went into every shop on the street and could not seem to find the perfect one for her. If the dress was nice, I was unsure if it would fit her. I finally settled for a shoe instead of a dress. I came up with several reasons as to why I was giving her a pair of shoes instead of a pretty looking dress.

The blue sneakers looked cute. It wasn't an exquisite gift but it looked sturdy. She could use them for at least a year or two. It was more functional than a ballerina shoe.

On my way back home, I came up with a million excuses. I told myself that her shoes did not seem to be in good condition (her shoes are in good shape). Google came in handy with shoe statistics. While an average shoe is worn about 300 times, dresses are worn only 20-30 times. 

I reached home and gifted her the pair of shoes. She tried them and thanked my profusely. I noticed that she was wearing a new dress gifted by another friend. Without her even asking I told her the actual reason I bought her a shoe.

We both had the same foot size. By buying her a dress, I was unsure if the dress would fit her well. On the other hand, If I tried the shoe on myself, it would be a perfect fit for her. This would save either her or me an additional visit to the shop.to exchange the shoe for a new one. On hearing my explanation, she burst out laughing and said that it was indeed a good idea. 

That is my room mate for you. She is crazy, intelligent, humorous and artistic all at the same time. While some people have Chaddi Buddies, I have a Chappal Buddy, I never need to worry about a torn shoe as hers will always fit mine.

One of my favorite memories of our friendship is when we had gone to visit a few friends. I was wearing a beige dress with black slippers and she was wearing a black dress with beige slippers. While travelling on the MRT, we suddenly noticed the mix and match and exchanged slippers much to the amusement of those around us.

As our glorious stint as a room-mates comes to an end, I know that I will miss her, but will remember her often, especially when I see or buy a brand new pair of shoes. I have always wondered the confusion that would have happened had either of us been Cinderella.

A family that eats together, stays together....

Friends who share shoes, remain friends forever.....

When the Tides Change

It was a pristine white apartment. The hall led to a little corridor with rooms on either sides. The two inhabitants on the left side of the corridor were my friends. I wanted to scream out in my excitement to meet them, but did not as the inhabitants on the right side of the corridor were strangers I scarcely knew.

I knocked at their door and was greeted with a hug from one and a fist bump from another. We chatted for a while and then proceeded to go out for a meal. We had a lovely time pulling each others legs. As I returned to their apartment that evening to collect my belongings, I said a 'Hello' to the inhabitants on the right side of the corridor. They smiled and we exchanged pleasantries.

Friendship is a funny thing, you meet someone and strike off a conversation. You spend more time and get used to their company. You think of some as close enough to be your brides man (Bride's maid isn't a good term to use on male friends). When you just begin to have some hope out of the friendship, something happens and you start to question your judgement (or lack of it).

As for my two friends, my friendship with them came to an abrupt halt. One had other priorities and replaced all the people in his life in a sudden swift move over a weekend. He did it with such sharpness and efficiency. I had gone home for the weekend and came back to find a lost friend. The other stayed friends for six more months before he drifted off and cut me off his life.

They aren't enemies nor are they friends. They are strangers with memories. The difference between a stranger you haven't encountered and a stranger with memories is that the latter makes your heart strings tug at each other when you brush past them. You are unsure if you should say hello (They aren't enemies) or whether your should brush past them with an air of unawareness (they aren't friends either).

It is said that if people know each other for seven years, it signifies that the friendship will last a lifetime. While I initially believed that time is not a parameter to last the strength of a friendship, I have come to believe that it is a parameter. Friends from school whom I have known for almost two decades continue to remain friends though I seldom meet them. They might be distant but they are still friends.

Despite my initial reluctance to get out of my comfort zone and make friends again, I have found the process of knowing a person and sharing your time with them enjoyable. I have made new friends. The invisible scar of being cut off abruptly has healed and I have come to terms with the fact that not all friendships are meant to last several years, let alone a lifetime.

Today, at the same white apartment (no longer very pristine), I stand at the corridor. The hall leads to a little corridor with rooms on either sides. The inhabitants are the same. The two inhabitants on the right side of the corridor are my friends. I wanted to scream out in my excitement to meet them, but did not as the inhabitants on the left side of the corridor were strangers I knew. They were Strangers with Memories.

Note : While the story remains largely true, some facts have been mildly exaggerated or removed for the sake of putting across the point.

The Social Butterfly

I looked at the watch on my wrist and realized that I still had 45 minutes to be at the next appointment. It was 11.30 AM and the restaurant was crowded. The famed MTR Bise Bhele Bhaat was taking its own sweet time to arrive and I was getting late. Ten minutes to wolf down the Bise Bhele Bhaat; five minutes to say my goodbyes and dash to the Train station and half an hour to reach my destination. The plan seemed perfect.

A few minutes later I glanced at my watch and it still said 11.30. Noticing that something was amiss I opened my phone and realised that the watch had stopped working. I had thirty minutes to finish my lunch and make it to the next appointment. I could not leave without eating as my companion for lunch had waited for my food to arrive.

At that very moment the food arrived. Without thanking the waiter I quickly ate and went to the train station to catch the train for my next appointment. I was meeting a long lost friend after half a decade and didn't want to be late.

I managed to reach my destination three minutes late. I had rehearsed my apologies and my  friend was no where to be seen. I had two and a half hours for the next appointment and figured out that I had ample time to finish this appointment before running for the next.

I am a weekend social butterfly. It make up for the isolation during the week, I fix multiple appointments during the weekend. I meet a friend for breakfast, another for lunch and yet another for tea. By the time it is dinner, I am full and tired but calling off social engagements is against my ethic and I end up meeting four people a day. I do not complain as I love meeting new people and being a social butterfly is something I brought upon myself.

People who have known me for decades are surprised at the metamorphosis I have undergone into becoming this butterfly. Some of my friends have known me almost all my life and believe that I place more emphasis on making friends rather than exploring the depth of friendship. Sometimes even I believe that flying from gathering to gathering has made me superficial. This in some cases has prevented me from forming meaningful friendships and relationships, which was something I did during my caterpillar and cocoon stages of life (i.e. School and College).

Despite being social and having multiple appointments in a day, I have managed to build some friendships while the vast majority of them have been superficial. Being a social butterfly has its share of perks and pitfalls. Meeting many people is a definite plus. Being able to meet people and choose whom you want to hang out with in the long run is another.

Lastly, the advantages of being a social butterfly outweigh the negatives that this possesses. It gives you the opportunity to get to know people. Good things begin small. The best of friendships and relationships begin with a humble smile and acknowledgement.

Mystery of the Missing Surname

An elegantly dressed man in a white suit came on the screen and in his imitable manner said "I am Bond, James Bond." Several of my friends copied his style and prefixed their Given names with their surname. However, I could never do that as I did not have a surname.

A decade ago I got my passport renewed and for reasons best known to the person issuing my passport they made my name "AISHWARYA BHARGAV" and left the surname blank. The gap between Aishwarya and Bhargav was negligible and it looked like a single name. I knew I needed a surname, but the idea of standing in a serpentine queue to get it changed did not appeal to me and I left the name as it was. This led to a series annoying moments where I had to explain the lack of a surname. 

Worse was situations where I had to fill automated forms that would simply not accept the lack of a surname. Messages that read "Surname is a compulsory field. It can not be left blank" would pop up on the screen and I would have to either fill the space with a 'NIL' or call up a customer service representative to get the issue sorted out.

My best friend in college also faced the issue of a non-existent surname (no points for guessing why). He had applied for a driving license in USA. The authorities at the transport office called out the applicants by surname. The clerk at the office called out 'Smith','Brown' and then looked surprised as he looked at the applicants. He then scratched his beard for a moment and then called out 'None'! The other applicants were amused and giggled. My friend stood up red faced and went to check whether they were calling for him. Most certainly they were!

In Singapore communication is informal as most people are called by their first names. If one does not know the other persons name they either call them auntie or uncle (if the person is older) or simply refer to them as La! As a result I did not face any issues with the absence of a surname. 

The only time I had a problem was when I tried to do an early online check in for a flight. I tried several permutations and combinations comprising the two names that were blended together in my portmanteau name. No combination worked and I finally gave up and opted for the conventional check in at the airport. The next time I was flying, my friend offered to try his luck at web check in. He once again tried all the permutations and combinations and an idea struck him. He filled the surname box with the word 'Miss' and was able to proceed to check in.

I was 'Aishwaryabhargav Miss' according to the boarding pass. While some friends remarked that it sounded like an endearment referring to a teacher, others joked by asking if I would have to fill 'Aishwaryabhargav Mrs' once I was married.

A few weeks ago, I needed to fill out a form for a Visa. this form would simply not take a blank for an answer. I was at my wits end and called up my father who suggested that I change my passport and get my name corrected. I went to the Indian passport office at Singapore and requested them to make my name 'Aishwarya Bhargav' for the sake of convenience. The officer behind the desk requested for a proof of name. I explained to her that in my PAN Card and other documents there was no separate field for surname and the only thing mentioned was 'Name : AISHWARYA BHARGAV' with a negligible gap between the words. She was unsure of what to do and asked whether she could renew the passport as it was. I explained that I needed a surname and not changing my surname would simply render the act of changing the passport pointless. The officer was unsure as to whether my request could be considered and asked my to write a letter to the High Commision of Singapore.

I wrote a letter saying 'I, Aishwarya Bhargav would like my name to be listed as Given Name : Aishwarya; Surname: Bhargav in the passport as the absence of a surname is not accepted in some places. I kindly request you to grant my request'. I hope my name gets changed and I eagerly look forward to the day I receive my brand new passport with my new name.

I can then say " I am Bhargav, Aishwarya Bhargav".

TGIF : Thank God It's Friday

Over two decades ago, bunch of toddlers sat on a bamboo mat and chattered away as they waited for the bell to ring. It was Friday and they eagerly waited to go home. They packed their bags and looked up at their teacher. The teacher, a twenty five year old and a novice at the profession lamented loudly that the class sounded like a fish market and cleared her throat. In chorus the entire class said :

"Thank you God for the world so sweet,

  Thank you God for the food we eat,

  Thank you God for the birds that sing,

  Thank you God for everything!"

They scarcely listened to the fish market remark. The class then excitedly thanked their teacher before they ran out to enjoy the weekend. Their faces brightened up as they saw their mothers. The children enthusiastically discussed the days happenings with their mothers and waved goodbye to each other. 

I was one among those toddlers. I waited for my mom and my eyes lit up the moment I saw her. I clambered into the front seat of my mom's car and turned on the radio. My mom pulled the seat belt and secured me to the seat. An old song played and we sang along to it as we went to fetch my brother from school. 

The moment my brother saw me sitting in the front seat of the car, he would yell and wail. I would insist that I being the elder child had the right to sit in front and he would say that I had been around for four years before him and hence sat in the front for four years more. One of us would give up. In the occasion that we didn't our mother would either yell at us or would let him sit on my lap and secure us together in the seat. My brother and I would then entertain each other till it was time to have dinner. We would then wholeheartedly appreciate and eat whatever our mom served us and then go to sleep. I would even thank god for giving me the front seat in the car.

Three days ago, I found myself working on my Desktop one Friday evening. I was irritable and snapped at anything and everything that came my way. My colleagues gave me fist bumps and said 'TGIF' as they left the office. I shut down the desktop and wolfed down a packed sub as I walked home. I whined to myself about all the opportunities I had missed and the level I had reached in life as compared to friends.

I called up my brother and parents on the way home and gave monosyllable answers to their questions. I had two papers to submit, a dinner to attend, a few mails to send out and the abominable fear of losing out or missing out loomed large over my head. I went home and mindlessly watched a few videos as I typed out a few mails. I had a terrible headache and requested my room mate to press my forehead. I ranted about how terrible my day was. .

I woke up the next morning to a throbbing pain and spent the next day trying to finish the pending work. The entire day went by in a jiffy and I went back to sleep with the chronic headache. 

On Sunday morning I woke up and trudged to attend my Project Bhakti Lessons, an engagement program where I and a few other volunteers mentor and teach a few children at a temple. I contemplated bunking the lesson but decided that I might as well have some fun with the children I mentored . My dear friend was conducting the class for the day and I did not want to earn her ire. The lesson for the day was 'Appreciation' and I muttered 'yeah right' as I entered the class.

My friend gathered the students and made them sit in a circle. She asked each of them to tell one thing that they were thankful for. Each child came forward and said what they were thankful for. The first child said that he was thankful for having tasty food. The second appreciated colors and said that she was thankful for crayons. The third thanked her younger brother for making her life more meaningful. As each child said what he was thankful for my heart began to pound. I started to feel smaller and smaller. 

We then asked a boy in our class who was notorious for bring naughty what he appreciated. This boy got yelled at at least three to four times every class. With a chuckle he replied that he was glad that he could still be naughty. He did not take teachers yelling to heart and looked at what he felt was positive. He forgot all the negative things, the scoldings, the wound on his knee and said what he was truly happy for.

When my turn to appreciate came. I was at a loss for words. I couldn't not say a thing. I swallowed the lump in my throat and said that I loved to travel and appreciated god for giving me the ability to travel.

That day I forgot all the things I felt deprived of. I forgot the work I needed to finish. I erased the sad thoughts of the lost opportunities I had. I met my friends and had a lovely day with all of them. Just like the children disregarded the fish market remark and thanked the teacher for the good lessons and for her time, I disregarded all the pessimism around me.

As the day drew to a close, I told myself......

"Thank you God for the world so sweet..."

I thanked god for my amazing parents, and grandparents, my doting brother, the children at the class who made me understand what happiness and appreciation truly is.

"Thank you God for the food we eat"

I appreciated the prasadam I ate at the temple. I was grateful for my friend Hari's mom who doted on us and prepared lovely food for us that morning.

"Thank you God for the birds that sing"

The animals, the trees and everything around me that had life 

Lastly.....

"Thank you God for everything"

For the friend who conducted the lesson, my friend who cheered me up with a cheesecake, my friend who teaches me Hindi despite my aversion to it, to make me feel less alone among my other Indian friends, my friend's mom who taught tried to simplify Hindi by translating it into small bite sized lessons for me. My room mates who bolster me and my 3 am friends around the world who never hesitate to cheer me up. Lastly, I thanked god for that friend who dislikes being thanked but still listens to my thanks (while mentally counting them and imposing a fine for it).

I fell asleep peacefully and woke up to yet another Monday morning. A Monday morning minus the blues. 

This Friday I am sure I will fist bump and say TGIF with more enthusiasm.

Home Alone

Being alone at home for an extended period of time is something I always dreaded. I managed to avoid it for 24 years and then bham! It hit me like a truck on my face. My room-mate went abroad for three weeks and I had to face the monsters under the bed all on my own. I expected the three weeks to be terrible. I put up a count down of days. Andddd..... The three weeks weren't too bad.

The days were jam packed with work and fortunately I had to spend only half the day alone. Here's what I did for approximately 18 days (nights actually).

1. Visit Friends : After having been in Singapore for three years, I had made quite a number of friends. Yet I kept meeting the same group as it was just more convenient. Not having my roomie and friends around made me get up and go out to visit some of my other friends.

2. Play Host: My friends from college and my relatives happened to be visiting Singapore and I took the opportunity to host them and play tourist guide. I got to invite them home and cooked for them. That way, I got to play host and also got some company.

3. Paint Away : I bought a few jars of acrylic paint and a few t-shirts from the thrift store. I painted them to my hearts content. Time seemed to blissfully fly when I was painting t-shirts.

4. Scrub and Shine : The lines between the tiles were filed with grime and I just wanted to see them go away. A brush, a bottle of floor cleaner, a mop and a bucket of water and a whole night was all that I needed to clean the kitchen floor.

5. Educational Trip to Sheng Siong : Sheng Siong is one of Singapore's most popular departmental stores. It stocks a lot of stuff starting from vegetables to household electronics. Until the last week, I had no clue about the variety of things Sheng Siong had. Instead of running in and grabbing some groceries, I spent a little time looking at the racks, searching the ingredients and picking the best choice.

6. Cook : I am someone who loves to cook for people and abhor cooking something elaborate for myself. Playing host to my friends nudged me to search Sheng Siong and Google and whip up some recipes.

LESSONS I LEARNT:

1. People will come and go and it is up to each person to make their life worthwhile.

2. Never hang around with a single group of people. Make friends everywhere. It will help you and you can help them with your networks when the need arises.

3. Always have time for your passions. They will give you a sense of achievement.

4. Keep your family and a few friends close. They are the ones you can annoy without the fear of losing them.

5. Learn to embrace loneliness. It is perhaps the only companion you will have for life.

The legacy left by Mr.Newman - The Secret to Happiness!

Our home had eight occupants, six human and two canine. However, on many occasions there would be eight to ten people living in the house. My grandfather, who had lived in England over six decades ago, would play host to his friends who would visit Chennai for their vacations. We would learn about their culture and gain knowledge from their vast experience.

Among our guests, the Newmans', from a town named Redditch visited us every alternate year and each time they came, they spent two months with us. Eileen Aunty and Derek Uncle were almost family to us. They used to tell us stories, eat with us and took us to a fantasy world in England, a world we had never seen, yet seemed so familiar. While Eileen Aunty was a kind grand motherly person, Derek Uncle was a youthful person who could regale anyone be it a little kid or someone his age with his humor. Derek Uncles speech was accented and only a half of what he said could usually be understood, yet he would laugh at his own jokes and make the other person laugh in the process. We loved the Newmans' and every time they left, we felt a lacuna in the house and eagerly awaited their next trip.

The best thing about them, and Derek Uncle in particular was his love for life. He loved people and loved life. He always did things that made him and the other people around him happy. He was a plump man who was excessively overweight. He emphasized the fact that he would rather be overweight and happy rather than live a sad and thin life. Once when he walking on the street a fitness trainer approached him and told him "Want to be thin? Ask me how! " and he replied "Want to be happy? I will tell you how!". The fitness trainer was taken aback and walked away.

In another instance he walked into the marriage hall across the road. He wanted to see an Indian wedding and felt that as long as his presence did not cause any disruption, it would be alright. The wedding party were more than happy to have him and offered him a meal. He returned a few hours later after having had a full filling meal.

He had a mug of beer before dinner, one during dinner and a couple of mugs after dinner and had the perfect beer belly. He never cared for what others thought of him and enjoyed himself to the maximum. He had fun and ensured that it never compromised or affected others life. 

Obviously he suffered from hypertension issues and other conditions associated with obesity, but he lived to the ripe old age of eighty two. He never let hypertension and stress rule over his Eutopia of happiness. When he left this mortal world to become a part of eternity, he did not leave it as a sick and stressed man but a happy man drinking beer, with a pot belly doing the things he loved most.

He did not leave behind a huge estate or a millions of dollars stashed in the bank.

He left us with hundreds if not thousands of good memories.

He left the world with a legacy - The Secret to Happiness!

Foot Prints on the Sands of time

The alarm would scream 'Wake Up Wake up' and I would open my eyes to face a pastel pink wall. The day would progress slowly and at the end of the day I would go to sleep facing the same plain wall. To spruce up the wall and add some color to it, my buddy and I went to an art store, picked up a roll of satin ribbon, a few miniature clothes hanger clips and hooks.

Being a person who loves company, I wanted to do something that would remind me of all the wonderful people I have in my life, who are geographically distant, but close at heart. We decided that it would be best to put up photos of family, and friends whom we do not meet on an everyday basis. As we selected the photos we recalled the memory behind the photo. The time I first met a friend on a bus ; The reason why someone is missing from the group etc were discussed and what started as an hour long project to spruce up a wall, ended up being an evening long project full of memories.

We are an average of the people around us, those who make our lives. They may not be near and it might be almost impossible to talk to them on a daily or even monthly basis. Yet when we look at our lives, we will see that they have left their impressions on the sands that we have trudged. There are some whose foot steps may coincide with ours again, some we may never see again, some are yet to tread these sands with us.

When we feel forlorn we can see and derive inspiration from the footprints of those who tread with us. When we look ahead and see a vast expanse of sand and no foot prints on it, we should remind ourselves to hold strong and walk the path and realize that there are others traversing the sands whose paths will coincide with us.

Lives of great men all remind us 

        We can make our lives sublime, 

    And, departing, leave behind us 

        Footprints on the sands of time ;

    Footprints, that perhaps another, 

        Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 

    A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 

        Seeing, shall take heart again.

    Let us, then, be up and doing, 

        With a heart for any fate ; 

    Still achieving, still pursuing, 

        Learn to labor and to wait.

 - Henry Longfellow

Good Things Thing That Happen When your Roomie is a Life Science Major

I have had the honour of being the room mate of not one but two Biotechnologists at different points of time, Both amazing people. After having lived with them, I know for certain that they make good ( best actually) roomies. Here are some of the up's of having a Bio-girl as your roomie.

1. Cockroaches and Lizards don't freak them out. They have seen stuff that is grosser. If they see a dead insect they will merely pick it up and throw it out. If it is alive, it will receive a blow from the broom before it is thrown out.

2. They help you improve your vocabulary. While a layman will call a swollen tongue "A Swollen Tongue", they will call it Glossitis. Terms like tumefaction will no longer sound like latin. A simple sentence like "An insect bit my cheek" will sound more sophisticated and romantic when euphemized.

3. They know what is wrong and will tell you when you need to overcome a habit. Have a stomach ache and your roomie will explain the complex mechanism behind why the stale potato chips you had two days ago caused the ache.

4. Compared to an average human, Biologists are more patient and forgiving. Drop their plate and break it or use their expensive shampoo, they will not flinch. They are empathetic and have seen it all. They have seen the fruit of hard work go ripe and rotten. They have repeated experiments hundreds of times. Simple mistakes and follies no longer matter to them.

5. Disciple is synonymous with them. They are used to working long hours in the laboratory. The awareness that they need to work everyday since that particular day might be their EUREKA day is ingrained in them.

6. They have a childlike curiosity and passion that never dies. Be it baking or cooking or reading a book they put their 100% into it.

7. Observance Skills and Biology go hand in hand. Observing minute details and spotting false positives is easy for them. If you try to hide your happiness by putting up a fake smile they will see you through it and ask you what is wrong.

8. You might see them only for a few hours each week, but the time you spend with them will be good. They will offer you insights into several things that you overlook. Their thinking box has no boundaries. 

9. They are ever willing to teach and learn. The process of learning and giving is familiar to them. They know that exchanging a good thought with someone gives each person an extra good thought. They share lab tips and tricks with their colleagues and life tips with their roomies.

10. At the outset they look like geeks, but beneath the log books and experimental data, is a person who is as human as we non-biology folks are. You can not help thinking of them as your family away from home.