And so it came to pass

And the world had changed

imperceptibly

until one day it was time

A time of peace

and of pandemonium

when the soul was rent by happiness

and splintered by pain

and uncertainty

And slowly it faded

like a waking dream

though the haze

still remained

Those days

I often think about the days when I was in school. Flashes of brilliantly clear images sometimes over power my mind, and then I am lost to the world for a while, thinking about days gone by.

My earliest memory of school is me sitting somewhere in the corner of a class room in lower kindergarten listening to the teacher call out names from her register. For some inexplicable reason, she used to ask a girl called Preeti to sign somewhere. I used to then fervently hope and pray that my turn never came, because, I hadn't the faintest idea how to wield a pen, least of all, affix my signature at a desired location on paper. It was many days later that I found out that the girl's name was Sai Preeti, which my nasal sounding teacher had pronounced 'sign'.

I remember frantically announcing at home once, that I needed money for a 'Tinders Match Box'. Although I did not know what it was, I had been convinced by my teacher that failure to cough up at school would have disastrous consequences, such as being made to kneel down the whole day. No amount of questioning or coercing by my exasperated parents could decipher what that cryptic phrase meant. It was later discovered that I was to take part in the School Sports Day's 'Toddlers March Past' and the matter was successfully resolved.

I was also the owner of a fiery temper, which albeit slow to rise, was explosive in nature. In the fifth standard, during morning assembly, a fellow classmate called Aravind, rather unwisely tried to insert his little finger into my right ear. I dont know why, but at that moment I was blinded by rage and remember lunging wildly at his face, restrained by several classmates. He clapped his hand to his mouth,spat out a bloodied front tooth and staggered off somewhere. I then found myself standing in front of the class teacher. Staring at me with barely concealed amazement, she tried her best to put her thoughts into words with an extremely inadequate "Why did you break Aravind's tooth?" I just stood there without answering, beacuse I realized that whatever I did say at that point, would almost certainly, be the wrong answer.

There were teachers who loved me and teachers who loathed the very sight of me. One particular English teacher unashamedly favoured me over every other student, solely because I was a fellow Malayalee. In her eyes, I could do no wrong, and this notion was extended to grading in tests, selection of the class leader and the greatest schoolteacher-extended honour, being the chosen one to carry the class work books to the staff room. At about the same time, there was a Hindi teacher who used every opportunity she had to beat me to within an inch of my life. I once forgot to bring my Hindi Workbook to school three days in a row. I still have nightmares about those three days.

There were many strange creatures who inhabited my world at that time. There was a boy who at the tender age of seven assured me that if i didn't believe in Jesus Christ I would go straight to hell. A classmate whose pastime of choice was to 'crack' the knuckles of other people's fingers. A fellow who refused to eat with me whenever I brought non vegetarian food in my luch box. A chap who insisted that the only other country in the world was France and every other country was a part of that (apparently) great nation. There were science teachers who refused to teach sex and evolution because it went against their religious principles. There was a history teacher ( I am not joking) who said the Prophet Muhammad's flight,'Hijra' was the name of the airline he flew in. A physics teacher who in eleventh standard warned me against talking to girls as it was a bad habit. A mathematics teacher who exclaimed when I was contemplating joining the commerce group 'Commerce! I thought you were good in studies!'


I do miss school very much. I miss the carefree innocence of our youth. I miss the fact that the worst thing which could happen in class was being made to go out. I miss the long corridors, the western classical music played at morning assembly, the tree tops outside the windows, the much awaited games periods, the excitement of new school bags and contents of lunch boxes, the science and history text books, winning prizes, field trips and friendly teachers. School was fun.

Somewhere I belong

This is a post about me. About something that has been rankling for sometime. Apologies to my readers (both of you), if the mood of this essay is not conformant with my previous pieces(both of them).

I belong to a Malayalee family, which, like millions of other families left Kerala in search of a new life elsewhere. My parents came to Chennai in the eighties,found their respective jobs and have remained in the city ever since. As a result, my sister and me have been brought up in a cross-cultural environment encompassing two states and four languages. I speak a combination of English and Malayalam at home. I spoke a combination of English and Tamil at school. I answered Hindi(my second language at school) answer papers in a combination of all three languages(which is probably why my Hindi teachers were not at their most polite best while in conversation with me).

The outcome of this has been that I cannot, in all honesty, confidently say that I feel completely accepted by any of the above mentioned groups. My Tamil classmates although extremely friendly, know that somewhere, deep down I am a 'Mallu'. Any true-blue Malayalees who I chance upon, regard me suspiciously because of my fluent Tamil. In college, I have been called 'Peter' ( a slightly derogatory Chennai term used to describe an English speaking person).When a Malayalee introduces me to another Malayalee he always does so with a disclaimer - "This is Ashwat, he is a Malayalee, but has lived in Chennai all his life." The other Malayalee immediately starts talking to me in English, assuming that there is no way in hell a person who has lived in Chennai all his life can ever speak passable Malayalam.

Another disturbing aspect is the pride of position given to the colour of your skin. Disregarding the fact that all Indians are coloured varying shades of brown, we have a tendency to slot people into 'black', 'white' and for some obscure reason 'wheatish'. I, and some friends, have been called 'Vellakara'(white man) owing to a combination of our English skills and fair skin. When a friend of mine retaliated by calling the person who had given him this sobriquet a 'Karuppukaara'(black man), he was accused of being derogatory and insulting.
Funnily, several North Indians labour under the delusion that anybody who is fair skinned is from the North. Many of them come and address me in Hindi confident that I would reply in their language.

It is therefore no surprise that most of my closest friends are people who primariy speak English as well. This is often percieved as being elitist or snobbish. I beg to differ; although I speak good English, I belong to this country and perhaps have a greater understanding of its diversity than the people who stick to their vernacular.

So am I a true global citizen or do I belong nowhere? I prefer to believe the former.

Chennai to Bangalore

I am one among the hordes of people who have moved to Bangalore upon graduation. Bangalore, being in close proximity to Chennai, makes it incumbent on me to duly travel home every weekend. I must impress upon my readers that these frequent trips home are solely because of the impassioned pleas of my family and friends and not due to home-sickness, loneliness, craving for home-food or a necessity to get my clothes ironed.

This post is about the people on the train home. They all fit into one type or the other. I shall now proceed to descibe the various types to you.

The IT Guy
This type of person, as you might have guessed, works in one of Bangalore's many software engineering firms. His main characteristic is the laptop which hangs from his left shoulder. A Deccan Airways tag will also faithfully adhere to his luggage. Every time he wants to visit the bathroom he will point at the laptop and say loudly"Please take care of my laptop, I will be back in a few minutes" This is in case he feels his fellow passengers have mistaken his laptop case for a shoe bag. This type of person also looks upon all non IT people as beneath contempt, unable to understand why someone would choose a profession that will not take them to the USA in three years of joining the company. When I inform him that I work in civil engineering, he expresses his condolences and sincerely hopes that I will be soon able to find an IT company to take me on.

The Maama/Maami
These are the standard issue elderly folk on the train. As soon as they enter the train, they request you for your lower berth. Upon the train leaving the station, they immediately open two Dabbas of curd rice which they then proceed to polish off with relish. Once this is done, they transfer their attention to me. Questions follow about my job, accomodation, salary, and address. All my answers will be compared with their son who usually is the above mentioned IT Guy, albeit living in the USA. When I tell them that I work in civil engineering they usually stop talking to me assuming that I did really badly in the Tamil Nadu State Board Examination.

The Babe with the Cellphone.
This type of person is female and is usually good looking. A boyfriend usually drops her off at the railway station and. Upon the train leaving, she calls him up again. The conversation then lasts long into the night, neither too loud so as to enable eavesdropping and neither is it too soft to ignore. If this person happens to occupy the berth adjacent to yours, any chance of sleep will be disrupted by continuous giggles (if the relationship is in its infancy) or snarls (if it is a few months old). Does not usually care if I work in civil engineering.

The New Parents
These type of people are a young couple with a baby in their arms. Their immediate task upon entering the train will be to close the windows so as to protect their precious baby's ears from the wind. They will then look at you expectantly, waiting for you to comment on the baby's intelligence/cuteness/smile. In case you do not oblige, (or in my case scowl violently) they will affix you with murderous stares and the mother will hug her baby closer to her breast, making you feel like a child molester.

The No Ticket Guy
This type of person is one who has ommitted to book his ticket prudently in advance. He will give you a sycophantic smile and sit half his butt on your seat. He will then glance up and down the corridor nervously in anticipation of the ticket examiner. Upon the TE's arrival he will start talking to him in hushed tones, maintaining the oily grin with considerable difficulty. In case he is lucky, the TE will give him a seat. Once this happens he drops the grin immediately, becomes brusquely irritated with his fellow passengers and puts his feet up on his allotted seat and hums a tune.

These are the most common of the train travelling types on he Bangalore-Chennai route. More on living in Bangalore in further posts. Stay on the edge of your seats, readers.

How to survive the British

I think it is now an appropriate time for the mysterious second owner to make an appearance on this newly launched blog. Thanks are due, to my literary partner(currently in Norway on holiday for a couple of years) for taking the initiative and transferring this blog from our imaginations to the virtual world.

I have just found my way back home after a trip to the British Isles and have decided to share my recently gained knowledge on how to survive in England, for your benefit. To make easy reading I have posted the following in bullet points.

• Talk about the weather.

If you ever find yourself in a situation where you are introduced to a Britisher and then left alone, do not panic if you have nothing to say. Look out of the window and gaze at the sky with a contemplative expression. Rub your chin if necessary. Then say "Hmmm, looks like it might turn to rain soon." Your companion's eyes will immediately sparkle and there will follow a lengthy and informative discourse on the climatic conditions of the area for the past eight weeks. At the end of it, you will find yourself being showered with invitiations to the pub and would have made a friend for life.

• Never accept a compliment gracefully.

If your British boss praises your work, never take credit for it. Become embarrassed, shuffle your feet, turn red in the face and look at the floor. Say it was nothing, cite the circumstances being extremely favourable and play down your achievement. This will please him immensley and you will soon be first in line for that promotion.

• Talk about the Empire benefitting your nation.

Say this in a tone of admiration"Oh British rule was the best thing that could ever have happened to our country. Of course, all our money drained to Britain, our industries died, people were killed and the Kohinoor diamond was stolen. But does all that really matter when the British gave us railways? What an amazing country!" Before you know it, you will be plied with beer and surrounded by friendly English faces nodding and smiling in agreement.

• Comment on how expensive things are in England.

Verbally abuse the government in power and blame it for the high cost of living in the country. Then hold your audience spellbound with tales of how cheap things are in India. Exaggerate as much as possible. "I can't believe this pair of shoes costs 50 pounds. In India three pairs will only cost me 7 pence" Their wonder and amazement will be a constant source of merriment and entertainment for the remainder of your stay.

• Make fun of the French.

Make up jokes involving the French President/ football team/rugby team/citizens/landmarks/language/cities/appearance/etc. This will elevate you to iconic status amongst your British peers.

Upon religiously following the above guidelines you will find yourself much liked and extremely popular with your British colleagues and will have an exceedingly pleasant stay.

Until next time, Cheerio.