Perpetually Perplexed

     It is the biggest and coolest mall in Bangalore. Sorry, it is opposite to the mall mentioned. There were 3 different queues each queue filled with anxieties of boys and girls. Hey what is an auntie doing here? Did she come here by mistake thinking here is some sale of Forum. No, her mistake is thinking that she knows a lot and hence she can attend the job interview of Bosch.      This was only the first queue to get the visiting cards to go inside the building. In the building in the reception, there was another bigger queue. But thank god, here we could sit. We sat after dumping our curriculum vitae  on the table. After 15-20 minutes, one of the ladies of the company started calling out the names. Not those of directly selected( I know you are not that foolish). Nor for those who have to go to some hall for interview/test. But names of those who have been rejected by the panel. See, the world is cruel. After another half an hour, one...

  Now I am reading Life is elsewhere by Kundera. This one is not as good as Laughter.... Any ways the title is good. Isn't it? We all think life is elsewhere. Not here. Elsewhere where there are no disappointments, no worries (no spouse?? no kid???) Where there is peace, there is happiness, there is justice, (there is ma???) We are all in search of this elsewhere eternally without knowing where is it.

I am growing. Not only in girth. But in my reading tastes. Reading books whose names and authors' names I have to tell several times to remember.:-) Now this book Me and kaminiski by Daniel kehlmann is about a journalist who wants to write biography of once famous artist Kaminiski and hence achieve success which he had never had so far. He goes and visits the artist and his daughter and realises that daughter will never let him speak to the artist. Then he plots so that servant will go on leave and he can be alone. And then things take a real twist. A good book. About a person who depends on others for his survival but still is megalomaniac.   When I read the reviews of the book, I understood that the book is humorous. I did not find it humorous, nor satirical. May be I am one of those people , who should see the narrator raise his hands when he ends his joke so that I can laugh. :-(

She was again in the limelight. Allegedly for saying that Prophet did not say burqa is compulsory. That caused riots in our karnataka and 2 deaths. Are these people not ashamed of themseleves? Do they want to convert our democracy into a country where the right to free speech is confiscated? Who knows, all this may be an attempt to cancel the extension of her visa in India. Let us not forget that her book "Lajja" attracted the ire of Bangladeshi fundamentalists because it depicted the torture on minority community there. That itself must have been reason enough for India, to accept her with open arms. Plase do visit her website to understand how we are making her life as hell. Should we all say like Sita said " Kadege karanalu raghavanalli tappilla. Kadu papavam gaidu pennagi huttidenna aparadhamam"( No kind hearted Rama did not do any mistake, it is my grave mistake to have been born as woman due to my sins in previous lives)

It was long long ago. My son was 2 and a half years old. Me and him were waiting for his pre-school bus in the ground floor of our building in Muscat.( We were not fighting. Because back then, he did not think his mom and dad are two outdated old people who do not know anything. and who are there for the sole purpose of cooking and cleaning for him and giving him money.) Then there came a sudden cool breeze. My son said, it feels as if we are in Hasaragod. This is the name of native village of my husband. I was surprised, the hawa ko zhoka, reminded him of his country and his place. And he was just 2 and a half. So are we born with pride, longing and respect for our mathru bhoomi? Now like any teenager, he says he will never be in India, after his education. This phase will pass.

I was reading coveted confessions by Nikhil. His memories of my town brought back my memories of my very very small town. We not only gave ellu to neighbours , next day at school, we gave ellu to class-mates, school-mates and teachers(used to touch their feet, we not ellu). Then we would take our ellu dabba and go to other schools where we will give ellu only to teachers. Then to next school, then to next and so on. Why, I do not remember. A small doubt, the word -ellu beeru. Why doesn't somebody do it literally? Knock your neighbours door, when the lady opens the door, take ellu from your dabba and spray it all around!!! You do that and tell me what happened. I will go because all my vessels are in sink because my maid did not come today. And whole day I have been really busy infront of this new Idiot box.