tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-359089952024-02-28T09:04:12.797-08:00Speaking the thousand words..Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.comBlogger84125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-65866814236709400512012-03-30T13:48:00.002-07:002012-03-30T13:51:03.184-07:00How to kill a languageStep 1: Invite a European country to invade and colonize the region where the language is spoken. The Europeans will teach you to regard their language as being superior to yours and you'll start thinking it's cooler to know their language.<br /><br />Step 2: Somehow get the Europeans to leave your region.<br /><br />Step 3: Randomly decide to form a country with a bunch of regions around you. Claim it makes more sense geographically.<br /><br />Step 4: Allow one of the other regions to convince you to adopt their language as the "national language".<br /><br />Step 5: Start teaching your kids the national language in school. Also start watching movies/listening to music in said national language. People will soon follow your example and start changing shop boards and road signs to the national language too.<br /><br />Step 6: You have reached your goal! Your grandchild will know little or nothing about the existance of the language. Tada.<br /><br /><br />And no, this is not about what you think it is. I recently had a conversation with a friend of mine from the Phillipines. She told me a story about the fight of two(and more) languages..<br /><br />See, long long ago, the Spanish colonised the Phillipines. The Spanish are notorious for destroying native traditions. Their dealings with the Mayans and other Central American tribes are well known. When they colonised the Phillipines, it was no different. They made the natives give up their religion, their language, their culture and follow the Spanish traditions. A few of the native tribes put up resistance so they were allowed to keep a part of their religion, but the nice friendly welcoming settlements were converted. Their books and scripts were destroyed. <br /><br />Eventually, Phillipines gained their independence. They decided to group together a bunch of Islands and call it a new country. The question arose, as it always does whenever a new country is formed, on what language to use as a mode of communication. Using Spanish was opposed because, well, they deemed it a "foreign language". <br /><br />Now the capital of Philipines is Manila and all the policy makers are from around there and since they spoke in this language Tagalog, they pushed for it to be the national language. Since only 1/3rd of the population spoke it, they tried to pacify them by invening a new language, "Filipino" which was basically Tagalog with a few words thrown in from other languages and this is the language that is taught in school.<br /><br />My friend says that since there is no written literature for her language (Visayan), she was not taught to read and write the language - the language is passed on from generation to generation, from parent to child by word of mouth. And since it isn't taught in school, people just end up communicating in Filipino and a little in Spanish and English. It's only when they talk to their parents and grandparents that they default to their mothertongue.<br /><br />She says that the difference in the vocabulary of the younger and older generations is quite noticible and the language is slowly dying. She even admits that she doesn't know how to count in her language. She sadly hopes that something could be done and her language and her script could be revived.<br /><br />I hope so too.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Disclaimer: If you are from Philipines and reading this, please note that I did not mean to offend you in any way. I admit I have not done any personal research and everything here was my understanding of a story told to me.Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-29168453279418185722011-01-01T16:55:00.000-08:002011-01-01T20:18:28.762-08:00Winter WonderlandAnybody in my facebook friend's list can tell you how much I hate the winter. I hate practically everything associated with it - the grey skies, the leafless trees, the dried grass, the mushy roads, the slippery sidewalks, the dry skin, the heavy coats.. like I said - everything... except one.<br /><br />A lot of people I know like winter - they talk about the cool breeze, the peace it bring, the holiday season. I have a favorite thing about winter too - the one thing which makes the whole season bearable - the way the landscape changes overnight. Spring comes over a fortnight and it merges into summer. Autumn takes a few months to gradually set it. Winter, though, comes overnight - 3 inches of snow is all it takes to change a barren grey landscape to a beautiful storybook-ish one in a matter of hours. I can go to sleep to a depressing sight and wake up to a 'winter wonderland'. It is the only thing that convinces me to put up with the cold harsh northern winds.<br /><br />After the terrible (read: awesome) snow storm last year, the Pittsburgh municipality has been on its toes to clear the snow ASAP. Though it started snowing by the end of November, I have not been able to see the white landscape so far because by the time I wake up, the streets (and pavements) have already been cleared. <br /><br />However, on the 25th of December, after a late Christmas dinner and a game of Monopoly which ran into the wee hours of the morning, I stepped out to see the road covered with three inches of snow. It was bee-uuu-ti-ful. The snow was untrodden and peaceful and silent - my footsteps ruining the beauty as I trudged home in the cool morning. Sleepy as I was, I was happy to be awake and alone so early in the morning. It was oh-so-peaceful!<br /><br />It was a real white christmas.Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-20559800641880936902010-09-15T23:15:00.000-07:002010-09-16T08:20:56.258-07:00Paneer mazhai puriyum maegangalae..I went to Mathura 3 years ago. It was during a class trip to Nainital. The trip was in August and a classmate of mine was complaining about how she didn't get to celebrate Krishna Jayanti at home thanks to the class trip. Imagine her joy when we found ourselves catching a train in Mathura that night. The bus dropped us at 10.50 outside the station. The train left at 11.05. What followed was (imaginably) a mad rush towards the train. And that is when I got my real taste of North India.<br /><br />One of my favorite books while growing up was Kim by Rudyard Kipling. Not many people like the book since he was highly racist. But apart from that, the book is beautifully written and puts images into your head about what India might've been like once upon a time. Stepping into Mathura Railway station, I saw the images come true.<br /><br />Some bright person in our group had the idea that it might be easier to use the back entrance. What he failed to inform us was that it involved dragging our brand new Samsonite bags through a quagmire for about half a kilometer. Our stuffed bags were of course too heavy to carry. We finally caught sight of the platform and heaved a sigh of relief thinking "we can atleast use the wheels the makers of the bag have so thoughtfully provided us". Boy, were we wrong!<br /><br />If you have been reading carefully (and I'm sure you have), you would've noticed that I mentioned a tiny fact about landing in Mathura on Krishna Jayanti. *Click* The devotees were returning home. And Krishna has a <span style="font-style:italic;">LOT</span> of devotees who want to visit his birthplace on his birthday! Trust me on this. And moreover, they are not the kind who reserve tickets on trains. Very few of them even know which train takes them back home. Hotel rooms of course are out of the question. They sleep, (you guessed it) on the platform. On every inch of it. We had to lift out bags to our heads and walk very carefully. It was no longer a matter of getting our branded shoes covered in mud. If we slip now, we step on someone's face. Literally.<br /><br />There is a movie starring Robin Williams - "What dreams may come". In that movie, he dies and goes to heaven. His wife, unable to bear the pain of his death, goes to hell. The movie about his search for her through eternity. The station with it's eerie yellow lights looked like a scene from that movie where he is in hell and all he can see are faces of people tied down together - millions and millions of faces.<br /><br />We had to get into the train as soon as it came to the platform and lock ourselves in. Like I said, people didn't know what reservation was, and didn't care. You found people seeing our coach was relatively empty and banging the door asking to be allowed in. It was crazy. And scary. It also makes your stomach drop a little with guilt.<br /><br />I suddenly started talking about Mathura because I read that it's facing "the worst flood in recent years". Whatever that means. And also because it's Autumn again where I stay now.<br /><br />Autumn because last autumn, my uncle had taken me on a drive down the heart of Pennsylvania. For the uninitiated, it is a beautiful beautiful state which transforms into something beyond description during Autumn. I took photos (duh!) and sent it back home(double duh!). MY mom enjoyed the pretty photos and told me "Chitra, you're so lucky to have seen this". And that's when it stuck me - I am lucky and I got to see what all those people (hardworking and sweet - most of them, I'm sure) will probably never get to see. It makes one feel guiltier than you can imagine. It also makes one miss their homeland. :-(<br /><br />Note: The title is line from a devotional song praising Krishna. It translates to "Oh clouds which give us sweet rain, please sing about the beauty of our lord". Of course, as usual, a humongous amount is lost in translation.Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-39957917924114659042010-06-28T23:10:00.000-07:002010-06-28T23:13:59.989-07:00Aachi was right."தன் கைய்யே தனக்கு உதவி" she said. I do not know how much she believed in it, but now I think that's about as true as it gets.<br /><br />Translation: "Your hand is the only one that helps you"<br /><br />*Aachi - what I call(ed) my grandma.Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-7315945240087910762010-06-18T18:38:00.001-07:002010-06-18T19:02:54.031-07:00No more excusesNow that Chicken L. is back I decided to make a comeback too. Seriously for the past few months the blog sphere has been dying. And the few 'famous bloggers' who were still blogging seem immature and highly opinionated. They resisted conservatism so much that they ended up being close minded about it! Hence I grew sadder and sadder till I finally gave up coming here until one fine day who should I see posting - but CL herself. That's reason enough right?<br /><br />I made a quick tour though and realised things were the same. Take the discussion on that Priya Ramani's post on India for example. I first came across it on Google Buzz (yes, there are people who actually use it!!!!!) when an aquaintance had put it up as a 'fail post'. I completely agree with him and also think that girl(woman) is an idiot who doesn't know what she's talking about (no, seriously. Where in US did she go if she didn't have strangers on the bus pouring their heart out to her or find people spitting on the road?). But to actually defend the article...!!!<br />Or another famous blogger who thinks posting sensational stuff is what gets her readers.<br />Or the other one who dramatized death! The death of the person close to her was actually the punch line of her post!!! I mean, seriously.<br /><br />Oh and the actually fun bloggers - like PI, Ess, Mads, Mathika, Sayuja, Nikita, DJ, etc.. - they blog no more. Or more rarely than me.<br /><br />Anyway, those were my excuses until CL's recent post.<br /><br />I dedicate my comeback to her.Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-8131086563620645262010-05-29T14:05:00.000-07:002010-05-29T14:33:01.636-07:00The city wars.Ever since I joined MCC, I have been subjected to what I shall henceforth refer to as "City wars". You know what I'm talking about - Chennai vs Bombay/Delhi/Calcutta, etc. This poor blog has also been subject to a few of them.<br /><br />However, I have decided, the wars - they shall stop. Simple because if I have a right to love my hometown with a passion and find every other place pale in comparison, everyone else has a right to feel the same way about their hometown, do they not? <br /><br />On the other hand though, those who do not have a 'hometown' - the ones who do not understand what I'm talking about when I call a city "home", or what a phrase like "Panamarathila vavvala, Chennai kae savvala?" (Seriously, what do you say if someone asks you to translate it? It doesn't make any literal sense but it makes so much sense at the same time!) <span style="font-style:italic;">really</span> means, I do not think there is any point in fighting with them over something they won't (will never) get! I cannot explain to them, why Chennai, with everything they deem atrocious, is still the best place in the whole wide world - to me. It's like explaining why we love rain to someone who's lived in Western Pennsylvania all their life! It just cannot be explained.<br /><br />So over all, the city wars have stopped. For me at least. It's pointless really. <br /><br />In any case, my only real weapon is/was "Chennai is home". That's all I got. That's all that's valid. That's all it takes.<br /><br />Took me long enough to get here, right?Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-69545829161274652622010-02-13T20:49:00.000-08:002010-02-13T22:25:49.148-08:00When dreams come true..When I was a kid one of my cousins got us this little table prop which said <br /><br />"I came to America because I heard that streets here were paved with gold. When I came I learned three things:<br />first: streets in America are not paved with gold;<br />second: streets in America are not paved at all;<br />third: I am expected to pave them."<br /> <br />Yet the reality of the situation does not hit anyone till they actually land here. Each day I'm more and more convinced that good old India (with its 1.1 billion population and it's corrupt politicians and love/worship of cricket) is far more developed that the US is or will be.<br /><br />We've been told that the first step to victory is realising your faults (or something like that..). I think I can safely say no one in India (except maybe the BJP) has any illusions of where we really stand and what we really are. We are a poor developing country with no money and lot - and I mean LOTS of mouths to feed. We know we have the second largest slum in Asia with a 40 storey mansion right at the centre of it. We know we have the Coovum and that 50% of us have TB. We know that the men in saffron are complete maniacs who cause us constant amusement(well, cause <span style="font-style:italic;">me</span> constant amusement - (does that guy honestly think people take him seriously? I want to know...)), we know that our hospitals are not the best in the world.<br /><br />But.. but but but.. our hospitals(the govt one) don't demand you have insurance or pay 5000 rupees for prescribing you an antibiotic. They may not treat you like a princess but you don't have to be rich to give birth in one. You don't have to worry about the smallest tooth ache and how much it's going to cost you if you go to a dentist. And most of all, the government isn't run by insurance companies, is it??<br /><br />Also, since all of us know exactly where we stand, we know the importance and value of hard work. We know what our paybacks are. We see - with our own eyes - what happens if we fail to work hard or if we do not study. The big bad world isn't shielded from us all the time with a shiny pink wrapper like it is in the US. In the US, it's almost as if poor people do not exist. Ask your average kid if she/he knows about the homeless or people on social security. They don't know any such person - have probably never spoken to one and think they're from a different planet at best. The kids are told to dream(which is good) but not what they need to do to make those dreams come true. We aren't told either, but then again, we don't need to be told. We see the ends of both roads in front of us all the time.<br /><br />We're prudent at worst. We don't run up debts buying frivolous things all the time (most of us - not all). That is not saying we don't borrow money at all - but we think twice. And we most certainly don't buy the latest Channel outfit on borrowed money. Our mistrust of anything 'foreign' stops us from using our credit card the first time we get one. We find out what it means, what we have to do and the minute they tell us you have to pay more money if you exceed your limit. We shudder and decide we'll just use cash or debit card unless that stupid site absolutely denies us the use of one! We definitely don't run our whole economy down.<br /><br />We're poor, yes. More than half of the country is below the poverty line, true. But do you realise that when we run out of our natural resources and destroy our planet completely and global warming takes over, it is that half which will survive? Provided they aren't drowned in the rising sea first of course. The live the natural life. No plastic. No CFCs. No space heaters. Just a colour TV in every house to keep them connected.<br /><br />Finally, I believe that America is no longer a land where a child can dream. India is. We have free education. Till one finishes college. Half the kids here don't go to college because they can't afford it. Well, half the kids in India don't go to college because they can' afford it, you say. I say, no that isn't true. There, people don't go to college because they have to work 24/7 instead. College education itself is free (or nearly so). Here, people don't have to work 24/7. In fact they can be 'well off' and still not be able to afford a college education. You know this.. You have an uncle/aunty/cousin/sibling who cribbed about it to you..<br /><br />So, to all those who did/do/will ask me where I want to settle down 'finally', well, the answer's kinda obvious, isn't it?<br /><br />Oh, oh.. not to forget the fact that you just don't get anything which remotely resembles a good cup of coffee on this continent! Also, the spell check keeps insisting that c.o.l.o.u.r is wrong. That's just weird. Most importantly, Americans measure temperature in farenheit *shudder* and distance in miles *more shudders*Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-60832323453505566422010-01-01T20:34:00.001-08:002010-01-01T20:44:07.303-08:00The begining of the cloyingly sweetI did not like 2009. No siree. It was all downs. Right from the beginning. Right from New Years day! The only part of the year I liked, nay, loved, was the summer. It was a lovely 4 months of, well.. nothing to do.<br /><br />Anyway, it's 2010 now. Doesn't feel like a new year though. Watched the ball drop on TV. Whatte rip off. That's not saying I won't spend at least one cold 31st night at Times Sq. I will.<br /><br />My cousins and I - we baked a layer chocolate cake. With chocolate icing and rainbow sprinkles. In every single book I've read, the cake acts as an omen. The Chalet School, Enid Blyton stories, L. M. Montgomery, An Old Fashioned Girl - they all predict the furture/the start of a new year/project/event with a cake baked for the occasion. So I was all "lets see how this cake turns out".<br /><br />And the cake was super sweet. So sweet that my littlest cousin got a sugar high after eating a piece and half.<br /><br />So, I guess this means this year is going to be super-sweet too. At least acc. to the books.<br /><br />Mind you, I ain't complaining!<br /><br />Have a great 2010, you guys!Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-60078634719306513712009-12-26T20:31:00.000-08:002010-01-04T15:59:40.657-08:00Coming back to you...After a recent trip to visit one of my best friends from school, I am missing all my school friends badly. So here's a post dedicated to all of them. :-)<br /><br />There is something about your school friends which allows you to just be yourself. Maybe it's the fact that they know you too well. <br /><br />You don't have to explain names and dates and events or books or teachers or TV shows to them. They went through it all with you once upon a time. They know exactly what(or who) they're talking about. They're just slightly surprised that you also remember that!<br /><br />You don't have to(read: can't) pretend. They'll see right through your pretensions. <br /><br />You don't have to worry about doing or saying something stupid. Chances are you've said something stupider and they still remember to tease you about it!<br /><br />You don't have to worry about a bad hair day when you're with them. They were with you at the parlour when you got the worst haircut ever!<br /><br />You don't have to hold back your opinions when you're around them. They know your reaction even before you do.<br /><br />They don't look down upon you when you stalk people on facebook to find out the gossip. They're merely happy to get the news!<br /><br />The remain some of the most interesting and fun people you have met till date!<br /><br />And most importantly - it doesn't matter that you haven't met them in years (which it was in my case) and you are in completely different stages of your lives (both personal and professional). It doesn't matter that in those years <span style="font-style:italic;">you</span> think you've 'changed a lot'. She doesn't and you guys pick up exactly where you left off and it feels like you're back in your pink and white having lunch under the trees!Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-80235733708131287642009-12-25T20:39:00.000-08:002009-12-25T20:46:55.504-08:00'Tis the season to be jolly!Judging by the number of people going "you haven't updated your blog in a long time... what happened?", apparently a lot more people follow my blog than I thought! Which suprises me, yes. And also makes me extremely conscious of what I'm typing! :-( <br /><br />Therefore, from now on, more neutral stuff. No more angry growing pains problems and silly antics. No more kiddish fights and delights. More serious stuff. More grown up, thought provoking blogs. More science and research and less frivolous coffee tales. That will be my new year resolution.<br /><br />And since it isn't not new year yet, let me proceed to tell you about the snowman we built.<br /><br />So we wake up last saturday morning (alright, afternoon!!) to find that we finally have enough snow to build a snowman. So we promptly proceed to build one. Problem is, none of us had ever built one before and so it was all trial error. So we tossed a few ideas around and settled on building one giant pile and making creases on the side for the head. For resons all too obvious, that didn't work out. So one of the guys flicked a snow shovel from his neighbour(don't ask!) and his other guy took out his wind-shield scraping thingy and together they brought a LOT of snow from else where! Bring the only person with two pairs of gloves (what? I feel cold!) I had to pat down the snow as they drop it. So then we piled a bunch of snow on the ground and I patted it down to make the body. And they piled another bunch on the shovel and someone else patted it down to make a hemisperical head and we put one on top of the other and used the scraper to make the hemisperical head to almost sperical head. Then we took someone's scraf, carrots for eyes, stick for nose and hand and berries for coat buttons and voila, we made this.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoERui3_tVBfSwTMhbt61CL0hysn_a4R422Y51-UHNmrxbicMH0h0Dnbi5Ws8joeZxWl68vbEs_v9QUKJS7KBze8j4g4oyjXyRTZgT1LzRNZ9jDHH7yfOn88CT4o3nNIgJp7vp/s1600-h/IMG_0848.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoERui3_tVBfSwTMhbt61CL0hysn_a4R422Y51-UHNmrxbicMH0h0Dnbi5Ws8joeZxWl68vbEs_v9QUKJS7KBze8j4g4oyjXyRTZgT1LzRNZ9jDHH7yfOn88CT4o3nNIgJp7vp/s400/IMG_0848.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419401166252514498" /></a><br /><br />Je te presente Flakes! :-)<br /><br />Isn't he adorable?<br /><br />Oh, and the cap, that's mine. And no, normally, it isn't covered with snow! Somebody *glares in the person's direction* decided it might be fun to douse me with snow as I worked hard on the snowman. *more stony glares*<br /><br />Understandably, a snow fight ensued, but since they made me prime target, an account of it would not potray me in a good light, so why would I want to put up a belittling image of myself?<br /><br />Anyway, we understand that that is by no means the best way to make a snowman and would be greatful to anyone who could tell us tropical creatures, how exactly to make one!!<br /><br />I guess, I shalt bid you fine people goodbye, leaving you with the thought for the day:<br /><br />You know those few seconds when you're on a flight and decending but haven't yet touched the ground? And then you hit the ground and you're going super fast? And for a fraction of a second you hold your breadth and when you see yourself slowing down you start breathing again? Do you think the pilot holds his breadth too at the same time? Kinda like when you jump off something high and wonder if you're going to fall unhurt, even though you kinda are in control? Or when you make a turn in a curvy road?<br />*sings*... and I wonder..<br /><br />Since I know now a lot of people miss me on the blog-o-sphere, I promise to be more regular.Maybe you will get lucky and even get a blog on the Carolinas!<br /><br />But for now, that's all folkes!Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-86481202185213188822009-07-29T09:21:00.000-07:002009-07-29T09:25:51.385-07:00The poll (again)So, aparently the poll on my blog (it's on the left - a little down) closed sometime back, can the winner was Calvin and Hobbes. So, what else is new? Calvin ROCKS! Anyway, in celebration, here's one of my favorites:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTeYI08DYIyb5YNbQnz6Kb2Qt3IpsiXoODSx9oWdvoZxiKR2YrTEzlfjO7KqPw_g6mTPPwBMbyaVVhaFPeixyuvvP0BqILePf343E7Sedn45pZkkqSBVY1IHiHTJCGsI98-cRd/s1600-h/Newton.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTeYI08DYIyb5YNbQnz6Kb2Qt3IpsiXoODSx9oWdvoZxiKR2YrTEzlfjO7KqPw_g6mTPPwBMbyaVVhaFPeixyuvvP0BqILePf343E7Sedn45pZkkqSBVY1IHiHTJCGsI98-cRd/s400/Newton.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363918926879857170" /></a><br /><br />Anyway, new poll will be up soon. As soon as I figure out another fun topic to take a poll on. Any suggestions?Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-49541501727159932932009-07-21T03:47:00.000-07:002009-07-21T04:52:44.749-07:00We are the Curies, powerful race!Remember when you were in school, split into 5 (some schools had four) different houses. Remember how your activities revolved around your house - your favorite colour was (and in some cases, still is) your house colour (I have a senior who apparently colour coded her whole wedding to be green - green invites, green decor, green sari, etc.. - just because she was in the green house!), there was no one cooler than your house captain and prefect, winning the sports/dramatics cup was all that mattered!<br /><br />In my school, the houses were named after famous women. I was in the Marie Curie house (I was a 'Curie', how cool is that?). We had, of course a house colour, a house slogan, a flag, a banner - you name it. <br /><br />The slogan was a funny one. It went:<br /><br />"Alpha, Beta, Gamma Rays<br />We are the Curies, powerful race"<br /><br />How cool is that? Of course, i didn't really understand what it meant or the connection till I was in High school, but now that I think about it, whoever framed it was a genius!<br /><br />And what is the point of this whole post?<br />Why, none as usual. DJ and I were talking about our schools yesterday, and turns out that everyone identifies people with their house. As in "Do you remember so-and-so? She was in Kellers(the red house - named after Helen Keller, of course!)". And the house(colour/name/symbol) always holds a special place!<br /><br />So, I just thought I'll post about it since it's been long since I posted!<br /><br />Until next time then.Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-77292255923604477542009-07-03T09:40:00.000-07:002009-07-03T10:06:52.302-07:00Talking of Garden City..Is it just me, or is Chennai really going green? There is a garden/park in every spare bit of land in the city. There is even a garden tucked into the Gemini flyover!! And Hadder's road has it's own petite garden - right next to the Oxford bookstore. And the garden at the end of Cenetoph's road - that's pretty too - overlooking the river and all. And as Mutt put it - Tiru.V.Ka park looks like a fairy land if you drive past it in the evening!! Do try to drive past it - even if you live on the other end of the city - it's totally worth it! <br /><br />And apparently there is this huge 17 acre park coming up somewhere near the beach. And they're going to convert Woodlands drive in into a botanical garden as well!!<br /><br />Not to mention the roads - GST as well as the first part of OMR are now a sight to behold! (I'm not gonna mention ECR, because the pretty parts start only after you leave Chennai). Oh and the tambaram bypass too - though, again, I dunno if you can call it Chennai! <br /><br />I know we have miles to go, but not a bad start, eh? I'm so proud of our corporation. I mean, yeah, they do stupid things like put a flyover in Cenetoph's road (seriously, what's with that?!) and Sardar Patel road(which noone uses!), but then they also build something like the Kathipara junction (which I'm totally in love with, btw).<br /><br />So now, it's singara chennai yet again! :-)Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-781935308022750622009-06-24T01:36:00.000-07:002009-06-24T01:49:08.422-07:00A city I once loved..Once upon a time, when it was called Bangalore, this city had wide roads lined up with beautiful, giant, green trees. The trees used to be so thick that they used to block the sunlight to a large extent. The roads were wide - or maybe they appeared wide to a 10 yr old me, and the traffic used to be so little that they used to allow us to run across the road. The weather so cool, that fan used to considered a luxury - used by the rich during two weeks in the summer. <br /><br />Once upon a time, you could go from one end of the city to the other end in less than an hour, and MG Road meant lots and lots of bookstores.<br /><br />Once upon a time, we used to catch a double decker bus and sit on top and ride all the way to Majestic every time we wanted to 'go shopping'. There wasn't a mall every ten yards then, see?<br /><br />Once upon a time, my mental images of Bangalore used to be covered with green trees and mist - lots of mist. Actual mist - not smog.<br /><br />Once upon a time, Bangalore used to be called "the garden city".<br /><br />And now...?<br /><br />It took us two and a half hours to drive from Mysore to the edge of Bangalore (Mysore road) and another two to drive from there to Koramangla.<br /><br />That's all I'm saying.Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-57002087811377714532009-06-09T02:23:00.000-07:002009-06-09T03:22:28.516-07:00The HierarchyI have long been reproached/teased/mocked/looked-at-curiously/made-fun-of/etc.. fr claiming to have 18 best friends. (Yup, the count is out, and the number is 18.)<br /><br />I shall give you a few examples:-<br /><br />a)My testimonials in orkut - Almost all of them mention this fact.<br />b)I've always wanted a small wedding (I know, I know - too much Hollywood), but my mom wants a biggg one. So my sister, tells my mom "Don't worry, there is no way it will be small. She will have to invite all her best-friends, remember?". Yeah. Humph. We'll see. x-(<br />c)My RG proclaims "She will wake up before 11 in the morning during weekends only if she has a date with one of her 716 best friends" :-P<br />d)Every time I mention someone - <em>any</em>one, Mutt demands if that person is a best friend.<br /><br />And of course there are many more.. <br /><br />So, for once and I've decided to quell all doubts and explain to all and sundry the hierarchy. I've even drawn out a picture. Look:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPld4aIyzpiWkj5h5kucDvalsgXtGqQBSMZi53L-8pDtwaOFr-U3QLNe3ykl4GzkbBOYYQh7Ji0Q1esN_Qo6XBG4C-DG4Ygn6IOLUjDk1EiVE4YMNWL8irFDCnpWBv48DTMXev/s1600-h/hierarchy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 285px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPld4aIyzpiWkj5h5kucDvalsgXtGqQBSMZi53L-8pDtwaOFr-U3QLNe3ykl4GzkbBOYYQh7Ji0Q1esN_Qo6XBG4C-DG4Ygn6IOLUjDk1EiVE4YMNWL8irFDCnpWBv48DTMXev/s400/hierarchy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345261804644234722" /></a><br /><br />So, like I've shown, you can have only one bestest friend. Mine, is Samie. Why you ask? Well, she is a sweetheart and we did have the pact (I know I broke it, but still..). Also she's the only one who, like me, is enthu for everything under the sun and has a gadzillion best friends. More than me, believe it or not.. Also, she's the only one who doesn't have another bestest friend. <br /><br />All my other best friends do.. Like Chicken has De (yeah, gurl, you do. She is you bestest and you can't escape that)(and vice-versa), Kosu has R, Mr.A has Joe, MM has Pumpkin(I tell you, it's an exclusive spot), Mutt and Kitty have each other, Assie has Vasu, Sug had A and Mads has B, The girl, RG and Pipe have gotta work it out amongst themselves, and Tea has Ash, Blue angel has that girl whose name I forgot (sorry! :-( ), the Sista has well.. i dunno a million people other than me.<br /><br />See? This is what I mean. If you ask any(or at least most) of these people, they will tell you that I am indeed a best-friend of theirs. Even those idiots who tease me mercilessly. Yet, they all have a significantly closer best friend. Who becomes the bestest. And the rest remain in "best".<br /><br />So, anyway, for the newcomers, let me explain the terms.<br /><br />1.Bestest friend: The person whose house is your second home. Whose parents know your favorite dish and who you tell (or can tell) everything to! Who will fly down from the other end of the world if you need them to(Hear that, Samie?). Who completely understands why you're doing what you're doing.<br /><br />2.Best friend: Much like the bestest friend, but not quite. Their house need not be a second home necessarily, but more often than not, that is the case. They will also be willing to do the flying down in case of emergency thing, but you don't need 20 people with you during an emergency, so you ask most of them to stay put. They are people who you can call in the middle of the night if you're feeling miserable, wake them up and crib till dawn (Indeed, that has been done to all many times)- even if they have an exam/presentation the next day(this has also been done. They know what you are up to currently.<br /><br />3.Good friends: These people are usually people you were very close to for a short (short can be up to 2 years!) while - maybe over a project, or a course together. Maybe you stayed together in the same hostel, or were roommates at some point or the other. For that short period, you knew each other very well, but over time, you've kinda lost touch. Yet, those events bound you together so hard, than even years apart, you can still call them and ask them a favour without any qualms. These are people who actually do know you and your family. Your mom will recognize the on the road even when you're not around. They will drop by when they are in the neighbourhood without fail and more often than they know your food preferences and your many ailments.<br /><br />4. Friends: This is every single person you can ever count on. Who you can relate to in someway or the other and who you can call without having an excuse to do so. Most of your old classmates who you played with on the swing, your current one whose notes you borrowed come under this category. These are people who you're happy to meet on the road, and if you do, you'll ask them to have a cup of coffee with you. These are people whose numbers are there on your phone and email IDs are there on your Gmail contact book.<br /><br />5. Acquaintances: Like I said, this is practically everyone who you have ever met who remembers you and who you remember. If you have a reason to call them, and do so, they should be able to recognize you the minute you introduce yourself. This is a HUGE list because it includes almost all your classmates from every school/college you attended and friends of friends you hung out with.<br /><br />Having said all that, let me conclude that there is no hard and fast rule which divides the classes and this is just the definition I give.<br /><br />Disclaimer: This post was put up in a state of extreme joblessness and in order to clarify a few doubts friends of the author had.Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-50973403451602328372009-05-31T01:17:00.000-07:002009-05-31T03:40:20.404-07:00The 'M' wordSince I am nearly [insert age + 1], the extended family has started mentioning the M word to ze parents. My parents, who were initially taken aback (my dad especially - he was quite at loss as to what to do), have learnt how to deal with the.. er.. proposals, thankfully and bug me no more with funny anecdotes which they think are cute but I think are just plain irritating..<br /><br />Like the one where my uncle, who was woken up from his sleep, forgot my existance and claimed there was no such girl.. Okay, that one was actually funny!<br /><br />And the other one, where a certain grandaunt said something to the effect of "I'll find you a really good guy who will let you study further.. don't worry". Hang on there.. <em>let</em> me??? <strong><em>LET</em></strong> me? Whoa! Boy, do these people not know me at all!!<br /><br />Oh, and not to forget the "if you study so much, how are we gonna find a guy who's stuided as much"!! Sheesh!<br /><br />You know, that's what really strikes me. How little these people (not my parents and their siblings - they thankfully suffer under no such illusion) know me, yet suffer under the impression that they do. They think I'm a CSIG (I am, btw.. at least according to the Mutt) who will listen to her parents, get married at [insert age], to a guy in the same caste who they pick out for me - probably some 2nd or 3rd cousin, and I will actually listen to what the guy will tell me to do, suffer under the whole "kal aanalum purushan" thing, and have two kids as the age of 25, etc...<br /><br />And the worst part is, I do not know what I can say to make them understand that the world has evovled very much since they were kids and that is not how people do stuff anymore. I mean, I can be a lesbian and they wouldn't even understand what that means. They'll probably think it's 'a phase'.<br /><br />It's funny actually. And quite sad too. Funny because, lets face it, people stuck in the past are funny. Sad - because people stuck in the past means there will be no progress..Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-57550751031110811832009-05-24T02:22:00.000-07:002009-05-24T02:24:52.121-07:00KeeraiMy words of great wisdom for the day: Parents are like spinach - boring, uncool and distaseful - but very good for your health!<br /><br />* waves to the cheering crowd * <br />Thank you. Thank you ver' much.Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-60115154986406879342009-05-21T22:34:00.000-07:002009-05-22T09:42:27.877-07:00The 1st supper.I cooked dinner last night. The whole of it. As in chapatti as well as curry. I know what you're thinking, but no, everyone at home is quite alright, thank you very much!<br /><br />Last night was lesson no.1 in my mom's "teach daughter to be independent as far as food is concerned thingy".<br /><br />Anyway, I made this very simple tomato curry thing whose recipe I'm gonna put up here for people who have only 15 mins to prepare themselves a nice meal.<br /><br />So you cut up some tomatoes in small pieces and some onions - say about one onion and two tomatoes. Two green chillies are also cut up. (if you don't get green chillies, you might wanna use chilly powder. If you like spicy use more. Don't use less than two, it becomes too bland). Cut up some ginger also (again as much as you want for taste. I'd say some 10 small pieces (small being .5 cm sided cubes approx). <br /><br />Next, you switch on the frying bowl and put in about 3-4 tea spoons on oil, and wait for 30 seconds. Then, you put in half a tea spoon of mustard and half a tea spoon of black gram dal(ulutham paruppu) and fry for 15-30 seconds. Then add the cut up onion, ginger and chilly and fry till the onion starts developing a tinge of brown. Just a tinge, mind you. And then add some salt. 3/4th - 1 teaspoon. Depends on you, actually.. Then add the tomato and fry for about 5-10 mins and voila, you have your tomato curry.<br /><br />15 mins max. And you can garnish with coriander if you want, but if you're cooking for yourself, I'd say "don't bother". Unless of course you like coriander.<br /><br />Oh, and I made chapattis as well. Not that that's new - been doing that since I was 'eah high.. but the mother seemed to have forgotten that. She bought me my own rolling in and rolling board when I was about 5 which she has no recollection of! Which was good in a way. She was all in raptures when she found out I could roll chapattis. Ah, whatever. These mothers, I tell you...!!<br /><br />Oh, and tip: Once you roll said chapatti, fry it immediately, else they become dry and hard. At least cover it up.<br /><br />Okay, enough cooking lessons for the day. And do not fear, this is not going to be a cooking blog, but since the mother is set on her "my-daughter-independent-blah", a few recipes might pop up every now and then. So be warned.Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-32109840453813681602009-05-16T13:14:00.000-07:002009-05-16T13:19:21.792-07:00On being followed!Mathika finally taught me how to use a reader today (yes, I needed to be 'taught'), and guess what I found? There are 24 people who subscribe to it! How 'bout that?? 24!! And to think that less than 2 years ago, I actually was <a href="http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2007/07/in-desperation.html">here</a> and now I have 24 subscriptions and 5 followers!! <br /><br />Someone's really come on in life, eh?<br /><br />On the down-side though, it means I get 24 less hits everytime I write a post because those people just read it using a reader and many of them(my sister for starters) are too lazy to comment! x-(<br /><br />Ah, well!! Still.. 29!! Yay!<br /><br />My new target is 50. So tell one, tell all, people!Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-4965614215457958542009-05-16T03:16:00.000-07:002009-05-16T03:30:22.633-07:00Red HotMy mom recently commented on how the guy I marry will have a hard time putting up with my temper! Let us at this point take a moment to mourn for him..<br /><br />* silence *<br /><br />But on a serious note, I do find myself getting irritated for the minutest things. It can be anything - like my dad refusing to write down the address and insisting jot it down, Debo rapping hard on my door unnecessarily, my friends fussing about going somewhere, people not calling me back, the politics in the department, someone telling me "you <em>should </em>know hindi", meaningless debates (like the ones on the blog) where the other person is thick headed and refuses to see reason and goes off in a tangent, my friends proposing on having a drink during a journey (I wasn't even going with them and I still got irritated!), some guy making eyes at me on the bus/train, people not returing my books, people not realising how much trouble I get into for breaking a curfew and treating it frivoulously, people pretending to be know-it-alls, etc..<br /><br />I know that most(if not all) these reasons are valid enough, and most people get mad, but I do not think any of them experience a flare of anger rush through them and their heart starts beating fast demanding justice!<br /><br />I usually either give the look that might kill or ignore them completely. but more often then not, I yell.<br /><br />Maybe BP is my thing. I always thought it would be diabetes.<br /><br />Whatever.<br /><br />Beware of me. I bark.Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-29734990908136327242009-05-07T23:55:00.000-07:002009-05-08T00:19:43.765-07:00On RGness*Is an RG still and RG if he/she doesn't realise he/she is RGing? Just a thought..<br /><br /><br /><br />* RG is a term used at an insti for people who don't share their notes/assignments/or teach you concepts. They do that because the grading system here is Relative Grading (hence the term RG), so your grades depend on how everyone else performs. So, the worse everyone else performs, the better you perform. So many people don't share ideas, etc.. because they want to get good grades by supressing the others. I think the system sucks, but then again, who am I to judge?Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-21047444785039724122009-04-25T11:37:00.000-07:002009-05-08T00:20:23.874-07:00Cutting off..Eventhough I'll be 22 soon, the way some of my friends behave, I feel I never left high school! They gossip, they bitch, they get hurt when you don't choose sides, they hold grudges and refuse to let go of them and basically make your life hell.<br /><br />I don't think my parents aprove of my feeling so strongly about this, but I hate it when one friend of mine bitches about another. What I hate more is when one of them goes all "Oh, we should <em>so</em> meet up sometime and catch up - all of us" and doesn't turn up for any party you arrange, even if the party is so scheduled just so it matches their schedule! I hate it when they cite parental permission as a reason for not coming but manage to get around their parents when it comes to meeting their boyfriends/girlfriends.<br /><br />And you know what else I hate? If they call one of my close friends names and claim he/she(person X) just "uses people" even though I know very well that it is no so and X was the only person there for me through a certain mini crisis when all of them weren't even acknowledging my existance.<br /><br />I hate it that they can be so insensitive about my friends and how I'd like to hear such things about them.<br /><br />Yesterday, Mutt was cribbing about how a friend of hers "cut her off". (You know, doesn't pick up/return calls, emails. Always busy, the works.) And I was all "why would anyone want to do that?". Now I am seriouly considering it. Not that it'll take much effort mind you, considering I'm the one who calls most of the time anyway!<br /><br />And why am I not doing so? Because they're most of what I have left from a certain period in my life and to let go would mean.. I dunno.. Failure? <br /><br />P.S: I am writing this in a lot of rage, sorry about that. And if you're wondering about what happens if one of them reads it (because it's pretty obvious who the people are), then my answer is, I'd like it if they did. I wouldn't have any explaining to do.Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-34915354315794823092009-04-09T09:24:00.000-07:002009-04-11T12:40:33.470-07:00No more Mr. Nice GuyChicken Little recently said "Being nice is extremely under-rated and rare. And outdated".<br /><br />Yet it a 'nice guy' that every mother wants for her daughter; every sibling for their sister and every person for their friend. A nice guy is what every grandparent blesses their grand kids with and every girl hopes for when she is 10! Then why is it, that the minute she turns 18, she does an about turn and looks for everything except nice in the man she seeks?!<br /><br />Save a handful, I find that I do not approve of the guys my bestfriends/friends/acquaintances are dating. Not because these guys aren't 'well-settled' or good-looking (my friends are pretty wise to those!), but because (I feel) they don't treat these girls the way they should be!<br /><br />Every girl I know, has gone for a guy who is dashing, plays slightly hard to get, is flirty and has 'attitude'. Put 'em together and what have you got? Your mother's nightmare! <br /><br />These otherwise smart and sucessful young ladies are blind to the fact that these guys are the ones most likely to break their heart and the least likely to help them build the home they dreamt of when they were 10 - which, lets face it, is what every girl still wants!<br /><br />The truth being, these nice guys do exist. I have met them, even befriended a few of them. And while doing so, I realise that is highly unlikely that they will ever get the attention of the kind of girls who deserve them simply because they will not take the risk! These boys will probably end up marrying some lucky girl who their mommy picks out for them!<br /><br />That is not to say, all hope is lost. Break-throughs have happened in the past and are quite likely to happen again! And if that does happen to you, I paraphrase the second part of what Chicken Little said and advise you: "Hold on to that one."Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-51406829642733778922009-03-28T10:45:00.000-07:002009-04-11T12:43:44.124-07:00The request.<span ><span style="font-family:georgia;">I wonder if any of you have bothered to read what is written on the front page of an Indian passport. Wanting to do <em>anything</em> other than study for my quiz, I recently flipped it open and this is what it says:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">"These are to request and require in the name of the president of the Republic of India all those whom it may concern to allow the bearer to pass freely without let or hindrance, and toafford him or her, every assistance and protection of which he or she may stand in need."<br /></span><br />Isn't that sweet?<br /><br />So, next time they refuse you a visa, remember, they aren't just refusing you. They're refusing the president's request. (I just realised president means Ms.Patil and there goes my vision of a strong leader heading our republic.)<br /><br />Only I didn't know that we are called "Republic of India"! I mean, I knew we were a republic, of course, but I didn't know that was the name of our country. Why are we listed under 'I' then?<br /></span><br />Also, does anyone know why all official sentences are so long without much punctuation?Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-80198731390539602942009-03-21T11:49:00.000-07:002009-04-11T12:41:19.276-07:00Note of thanks.Don't you love it when someone calls you up in the middle of the night and tells you you're a great friend, and thanks you for being one?!<br /><br />Much as you know you completely don't deserve it, it's in the top ten "best feelings".Spicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592noreply@blogger.com5