Perpetually Perplexed

In the early days, I was so happy about Grey's anatomy, I even watched few episodes in you tube!! But it is getting lame or I am getting fed up with irrational things in the serial. It is supposed to be about surgeons. So we expect some logic in the plot and no miracles please. First, Meredith is between life and death, literally for an entire episodes, having long conversations with dead people. And then she comes back to life. Then Izzie and George meet, in their almost death moments. Now Derek is shot by an angry husband who holds the hospital responsible for their death. Doctors will be seeing death in a daily basis. Accepted. But how many times will they be part of a shoot out, drowning, ice block falling and almost killing a doctor, a bomb in the body of a patient? All these happening in the same hospital? And why does Dr. Webber drive the shooter Gary Clark to kill himself instead of somehow handling him to police? And how long will the cops take to arrest one aged

I was composing a ribald song and singing it to myself on the road. Shocked? Or thinking you are reading the wrong blog. No, no. See the road is literally in the middle of the field and there is almost 0 vehicles moving. So I had the courage to to create this song and sing. Then cut, the song and my scooty both came to a halt. ದಾರಿ ಎಲ್ಲಿದೆ ? ವೈಕುಂಟಕೆ ಬೇಡ , ಈ ನರ ಲೋಕಕ್ಕದರೂ ಸಾಕು  Vainkunthake beda, a papi bhumiyalle saku. Instead of road which was supposed to be there, these was  a big trench. With a narrow stretch which I can not possibly pull my scooter. Few months back, a new road was made joining Dsouza nagar to road joining Doddi in RRNagar. A brand new road with absolutely no pot holes. And it was a like treat driving in that road. Last month or so, I had ventured alone so I did not know that this luxury called good road was dug up. I have observed this few more times earlier. Why are these roads dug up? There was no house in sight, so it can not be for any utility works. So

All these fanfare The flashy attires and false smiles Hundreds of men, women and children, Rituals  Just for Sanctifying  a relation, elation, stalation and cessation???

The original title of this post was Saree and (poor) me, which would be part of poor me series. But I told myself, the first step of empowering oneself is to think self as strong. So I am not poor me. I will no longer be. But I do not like sarees. Not on me, at least. The gauche  rather artistically challenged me, does not know how to drape a saree into  a beautiful poetry. Suffice it to say that when I wear a saree, I look older and more badly dressed than usual. So I prefer to wear salwar-kurtas which require no effort at all. But I was forced to wear sarees, not one but three of them in the same day.  Tell me the rationale behind this. I am not the bride, nor am I bride's mother, nor am I groom's mother. Then why should I wear 3 heavy sarees on the same day. When the bride is garlanding the groom, why should all the women who sit around should wear heavy sarees and be perspiring? To be reminded of the fact that, this is how their current (add suitable expletive adjectiv

We Hegdes from Uttara Kannada, Dakshina Kannada, Shimoga districts of Karnataka belong to a brahmin sub sect called Havyaka Brahmins. We have some traditions of our own, a language of our own - which is slightly different from kannada. But I am not an authority on the subject, nor have I read any book on comparative analysis of Karnataka brahmin traditions. And as most modern secular Hindus I find it more amusing to make fun of our traditions rather than celebrating them - may be because I do not understand it completely. I attended a marriage yesterday. So let us talk about few of rituals in this marriage ceremony. On the previous day of the marriage called Naandi - which means beginning of any good thing. The groom will wear a simple dress, and a wooden footwear (since we can't conjure up wooden paduka so easily, he will wear foot-wear made from dried skin of areca flower) and with a sack on his shoulder, will declare that  he will go to Kashi. Here he is saying, he wants to

Women are supposed to carry most of the necessary things in their purse. You have a headache. Out comes an aspirin. Your child starts sneezing. Here is a tissue. And  your friend forgot to put bindi on her forehead. She gets 3 different types and sizes of bindis. Some one's feet are hurting. Out comes a bottle of iodex. So you get almost everything except for a kitchen sink. I was reminded of this when I saw an episode of "How I met your mother" where Robin produces everything from a mobile charger to a beer bottle (in a funeral - that is not important). And then I remembered a story where Sonia Gandhi is said to have got her sari torn in some occasion, and immediately Late Indira Gandhi - then Prime minister, pulled out a needle and a thread from her purse!!! These are the perfect women. I am, if anything anti-perfect woman. I take 3 minutes to take out house key from my purse. When I want to give the tailor's receipt. I get a bank challan, I get a medical bill,

I was crying in my mind asking why me, Oh god, why me. I saw her. Her hand was cut, her legs were slightly swollen and she had blood red eyes. May be from loss of sleep over her drunken husband. Still she was chatty and was efficiently cleaning my house. She was telling about her husband who would pull her mangalya to pawn for drinking, her father who would not even come to her wedding and her son who suddenly decided he no longer wants to go to school. She was not crying. Strong women do not cry, but face the world. I felt  ashamed of my imaginary grief.

In my area- Rajarajeshwarinagar, I rarely see the garbage truck. They are certainly not coming everyday. Earlier I used to see their truck once in blue moon. Now I think even that has stopped. So I am using my own methodology. All vegetable and fruit skin, used tea powder etc., I store in an old bucket which I keep covered with tile, to that it won't stink. Once the bucket is filled, I leave it for almost 2 months. In the meanwhile I use a second bucket for storing my kitchen waste. After 2 months, the garbage has changed to nice compost which I use for my kitchen garden. Most of the days, left over cooked rice is eaten by me. Rather than heating it in cooker, microwaving for 3 minutes after sprinkling some water will be better.  And if due to any reason, the quantity of left over rice is too much, I make puliogare with that rice and my husband does not mind. Ideally that should leave us only with dry waste. This I should have given for recycling, but I do not know any one n

We Indians are highly religious people. Our faith in God (whichever God he is) is firm and unshakable and no body can change that and nor can anyone question that. So much so that even if the God himself comes and tells us that "see, you have misunderstood. I am the only one. You call me by different name. AND more importantly I have never told anyone to kill in my name. Please spare me that. I cann't live with that burden". Even if he comes and tells us that, we will push him aside and tell him "Ee, chup raho, sumniru, We will talk about it later. See the OTHER people are coming. Take out all your sickles, and knives etc. NOW!!" PS : I wanted the title to be God and Indians. But was too afraid of us !! I can not afford a self exile or forced exile.