Sep 23, 2011: Priyadarshini – Remembrance.

My first abiding memory of Priya – cut back to 1986 Stella Maris – she was practising a dance for the annual day. We weren’t very close then – still finding our feet in college in our first year. She went on to win the General Proficiency prize; I won the Academic Proficiency that year. A connection was forged.

By the time we stepped into our second year, we were inseparable. We were five – in alphabetical order – Anupama, Leela, Madhavi, Priya & Tara - & for some unfathomable reason, christened ourselves the Five Pop-Ups. It could be attributed to our tendency to sit in the first bench, right under the noses of our esteemed professors & behave like the most committed of students who also got away with murder. We popped up with the most intelligent answers to questions posed, we also tucked into snacks, made fun of certain professors, & laughed like there was no tomorrow. But we were never taken to task.



So that was how we came together. And we stayed together.

Priya & I continued our lives in Chennai, a city I have come to love & we were the most natural allies, if you know what I mean. We were each other’s sounding boards; it was like some kind of ESP that we shared – they way we sometimes read each other’s mind & completed sentences.



Priyadarshini - her name means dear to sight. That was the tip of the iceberg. She was indeed dear, so very dear – the richest human being I have ever met – rich with goodness, giving, compassion, friendship, intelligence, with, humour, intuition, patience, sweetness, sincerity, love, equity, talent & total humility; grace was her aura, serenity her colour, & calm composure her core.
 Right from our days at college, through the turbulent times of adulthood, be it choice of a career, venting about situations, search for the right man, my dad’s demise, married life, health, life’s purpose, Priya was phenomenal – be it guidance, intuitive help, honest feedback, inspirational thinking, just listening, Priya was there, always there, for succour & support, unstinted & unconditional. Countless days & evening were spent studying together, visiting exhibitions, British Council, coffee shops, bookstores, tailors, discussing life & lessons threadbare – many times to the bemusement of the family around, as to what we were talking & laughing about for so long. After her marriage, we continued our primeval friendship thanks to the wonderfully supportive family that she married into. We loved English theatre & used to go for as many plays as we could. Husband JK played patient parent, sitting in the lobby of Music Academy with a baby Nitin while Priya & I watched the play inside. That is the kind of empathy, love & mutual respect the couple share.


The most enduring attribute of this sterling woman was her ability to strike a chord with whomever she met. We used to host lunches, dinners, birthday gatherings at home, where the guests would be my friends, & my family friends. She had a word for everyone; her gentle humour & grace enveloped every soul at the party. Whoever my sister – Urmila & I spoke to are feeling bereft – they all recall her goodness & wholesomeness. My sister Urmila, who is devastated by this shocking early exit, & calls me every day to talk about her, remembers Priya from the time we were at the printers, submitting our thesis. She told me later; this girl is the most unselfish friend you can ever have.


We discussed everything, laughed about stuff that may shock others, were old-fashioned enough to be shocked at the rapidly changing social landscape & the place of children & young adults in this new new world of generation F (the facebook generation). We were, we are, soul sisters.

For a week since she ascended into the heavens, my People page in my mobile would automatically open to P with Priya JK right in the centre. The first number I would call after leaving office was hers.
I received an SMS from Priya’s phone on Friday Sep 15th at 1.34 pm, saying -Thanks Leela, my back pain is better now, thanks to painkillers - that message was never found in her Sent Items & neither did her sons or husband send it. It was her way of saying, I am right here. It’s the sweetest reassurance that only someone like her could offer.


I feel her presence every day. I am surrounded by her grace, like I know each one of you in this room must be.

Aunty, Uncle, Balaji, Vinitha, Aunty, Uncle, JK, Harsha, Nitin – everyone in the family – hold your heads high that a woman such as Priyadarshini is a member of your family. Such treasures are rare. Whoever has partaken of this treasure is truly blessed. This is not extravagant praise of a friend. This is recognition from the heart of a soul sister.


Nitin, Harsha: you have a great responsibility to honour the legacy of your manifold mother. Listen to her as you step forward in life & you will be secure.


JK: you are the rock she stayed anchored to. My sincerest prayers that you will anchor the family & steer everyone through life, one redolent with Priya’s benign glow & grace.


My darling Priya, you never wanted to leave. You did not even know that the Almighty had such plans. I saw that as you lay waiting for everyone to catch their last glimpse of you garbed in this body.


You rock, Priya. You always will. Be at peace. Know that all of us here on earth are the richer for your presence.

With my love always.
 I would like to read out a poem by one of our favourite Romantic poets – Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Jamming at the Gym!

Some of my friends on fb have been enquiring as to why I have 'silent' on fb of late. The reason is hardly magical, mysterious or morose. It's more in the region of the modern mundane, to wit, evening sessions at the gym.
With other preferred modes of exercise (think, walking & yoga) not making it to my self-motivation list, the walled-in, mechanised exercise drome prepped up by pumped-up men & women professional trainers seemed to be the only way out of a sedentary slide into shapelessness.
Armed with a fair degree of determination I went ahead & enrolled myself in early August. The one-hour fitness profiling undid my hitherto fit feeling the very next day when I was physically tired & mentally groggy. This, combined with work beyond usual hours ensured I dutifully absented myself for over two weeks after signing-up.
Aherm. Conscience, coupled with consideration for the money I had invested in health & fitness, stemming from a healthy respect for well-being, nudged me briskly back into the cool, colourful, steel & glass spaces where professionally trained men & women smiled & gently but firmly took the novices through the paces.
So that's where I have been spending most of my work evenings these last two weeks.

And ladies & gentlemen, boys & girls, I am now ALL admiration for you folks who are in the modelling, film, well any profession where the fundamental premise is prime physical fitness. I see 'normal' (the corporate types, housewives, retired personnel, students etc.) men & women around me doing feats with machines & weights which seem jaw-droppingly formidable. I cannot BEGIN to imagine what professional models, actors, bodybuilders, security agents & the like do to maintain & sustain thier physical perfection.

The trainers (all in their teeming, towering, testesterone twenties, btw) on the floor who assist us wet-behind-the-ears beings tells me in a PT master's tone: "No, no, not 5 pounds, take 7.5'' when I pick up the 2nd lightest dumbells. Feels quite bad. When I go for the machine-enabled routines, I feel even more bemused. The person doing it before me (an average Joe) was attuned to 50 pounds. I set mine to 20 & then quickly to 15. Tell myself "early days yet". And then I think of the comment a personal trainer made (in the trial one-day session) "all loose, madam" & equally quickly sounded "but you have maintained well'. Ha! Loose & well-maintained, indeed! Reminded me of a sagging sack of sodden spuds.

But yes, I have increased my level & pace on the treadmill. yay!!

Increasing speed or level on EFX though is more of a bleak proposition.

Whew, DOES it take serious mindmuscle power & sheer fortitude to grin & bear the pulls & puffs & stretches & weights to pull off a perfect figure - be it brawn or size zero!

Methinks it easier being an intellectual heavyweight than a muscular one. Give me TS Eliot & Beckett anyday!

But yes, more power to all the gym visionaries & the increasing population of trainers. We need more of you now & going forward, as open spaces get more clogged & roads unsafe to take walks in. Keep up the good work & get more of us into shape!

Reflections on Friendship Day

"A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked." -- Bernard Meltzer.

We were slightly cracked, all five of us. Christening ourselves The Five Pop-ups we jauntily jammed into the first row, in the centre of the class, brimming with the bright-eyed enthusiasm & zest for life that only 2nd year undergrad students can truly be said to possess.

Part of the bright & bold brigade, we delved into Donne & doughnuts with equal gusto, right there, in the first row right under the presumably eagle eyes of the esteemed Professors of English Literature at Stella Maris College. We exchanged witticisms, giggled uncontrollably, straightened into seriousness, mimicked faux accents, declaimed Milton, enacted Shakespeare, sung ballads, ‘popped-up’ with the correct answers, delighted profs with our pithy insights and drove them to indulgent despair at our sometimes incessant laughter & irreverent repartees.

It was magic – the way we connected. As if a magician had waved his wand and five young girls from different backgrounds & upbringings clustered as though they were magnets drawn to each other. Acquaintances in the 1st year, we were thick as thieves the following year. This was the beginning of a lifetime (fingers crossed) of friendship.

Each one of us was different (but naturallyL) with unique sensibilities. In alphabetical order, A was a feisty intellect, an Ayn Rand aficionado, full of fun, yet supremely grounded as only Virgos can be. (Yes, those were the heady days of Linda Goodman & zodiac signs, which I understand still remains a college crush). M was a whimsical dreamer pragmatist (no this is not an oxymoron) & a fellow Pisces. P was beautiful, bright, benign & innately helpful. Another Pisces. T was a sensitive soul, consumed with the question of Being, cracking everyone up & being cranky as only Cancerians can be. And then there was moi, mad about books, plays, poetry & stimulating talk, a romantic, funny, with a fancy for the good word & turn of phrase.

Years passed. Everyone moved on. A & M eventually made the US their home, A as a
social activist, M as a professor. In Chennai, T became an acolyte, P an academician, while I joined the corporate workforce. M slipped out of touch for a while, till facebook became the great reconnector! Apart from M, all of us met at my wedding five years ago, moments which infused my special day with a glorious glow. In fact A & P hosted a bridal shower for me with such thoughtfulness & care that it endowed the term soul-sisters with a higher meaning.

The Five Pop-ups share an immutable bond that was forged in the anvil of innocence, of a quest for knowledge, of an unburdening of hearts, of an unlocking of intellect, of practicing for plays under the open skies, of sundry shopping, of poetic raptures, of mad movies in the front row, of a shared high humour & wit which others often found hard to understand, of oh-so-many-big-&-little-things, but most deeply of an empathy where “A friend is one who knows us, but loves us anyway.”

Thank you girls, for all your unconditional support, guidance & love, for lighting up my life beyond ordinary measure.

Happy Friendship Day!

Pls pls relive the miracle moment!

The ring went missing again! On Sat morning. Spent the better part of Sat & Sun mornings looking for it. No luck as yet.
Please help me get it back. It's my engagement ring.
It reappeared last time like a beautiful miracle.
I pray it will again.
I have faith.
God, are you listening?

Hell's Kitchen!

Murphy's Law played out last night while fixing dinner and this morning while fixing breakfast in frustratingly relentless fashion.
Weighed down by a late entry home with hubby and cousin, I was determined to whip up a quick yet tasty (favoured by all) meal. Sambhar was already made. Planned to pressure cook rice and make a neat potato curry as the typical Tamizh way But when the mind and body are distraught [I was trying to keep up my juice fast/diet the whole day & eventually succumbed to Priya's offering of heavenly plum cake in the evening, and ended up with a headache by the time we reached home, thanks to a rich repast after a juice cleansed day :-(] even the simplest things turn messy.
Instead of adding 4 cups of water to 2 of rice, the mind-numbed me added just 2! Needed to cook it thrice over to get it right! Talk about overcooked and undernourished, albeit the intangible kind, as seeing/eating it no one would ever know. Then my still whacked mind told me that maybe the rice was a lil less for 3 men with big appetites, as were the potatoes. So double trouble: one more cup of rice, 2 more potatoes to boil.
Eventually turned out that my original instincts were right. Both the additional rice and potatoes were extra! Not in vain though. Served for one cousin's lunch at home :-).
This morning started just fine. Made a neat carrot-bean upma for breakfast/my lunch, and then set out to make the coconut chutney in the mixie. Phat!!!! A loud whirring sound, coconut pieces all over! Happened twice over. You know why? Cos the pieces were not small enough! Seems pretty simple, but to still wet-behind-the-ears-in-the-kitchen me, it was ... well ... a timely learning.
All's well that end's well. Third attempt at chutney was fine.

Year-end in Calcutta: memories

Misty mornings, crisp chill, mellow sun, flavourful Darjeeling tea, warm buttered toast, aromatic sausage and golden omelette. Woolled-in, walk in the dew-dotted lawn while the sun is still stretching its rays, the cold mysteriously warming the cockles of the heart. An invigorating chill that makes one raise hands heavenwards, smile at the blue skies, sing and dance in an abundance of feeling. Slice of heaven. On earth. In the innocence of non-adulthood. But for me, the age label would be irrelevant. I just know I will still feel this way if I were ever to relive those golden days in Cal. Will I ever grow up? Circumstances around me certainly are overwhelmingly 'grown-up' and I seemingly sway in their embrace. ;-).
Grown-up. That was what I desperately wanted to be when at age 12 I attended my 1st New Year's Eve Ball at the Tollygunje Club and sought reassurance from family friends - the uncles & aunties - that I actually looked 16. I remember an uncle finally obliging. It was a glorious evening, a perfect 'coming-out'/prelude to teenagedom. The huge swimming pool had been evacuated, and was on that magical evening transformed to a glittering dance floor which was exclusively for the youth. There was another even bigger wooden dance floor erected on the lawns which was for everyone to jive on. Chill in the air, aroma of barbecued food wafting all around, lots of interesting people, and I was asked for a dance! And I declined! Yes. Cos the appearance of the gentleman in question was to a girl of 12 - intimidating. He was attired from head to toe in black leather, had jet black hair and a black mustache. I was in a long blue gown trying to look dyed-in-the-wool 16, while my insides were beating to a heart and mind of a 12 year old. While I didn't have my first dance with a tall, dark & handsome stranger, I did have many others with our family friends (read: uncles, aunts ;-). After dinner, we walked ahead towards the course where the tent-pegging (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tent_pegging) was to happen. It's an out-of-the-world atmosphere. Past midnight, a group of dashing horsemen gallop up, attempting to dislodge or hook the pegs which are embedded in the ground. I don't know if they still have it as a NYEve ritual anymore, but it's a powerful touch of the past. After all that equestrian excitement we headed to the big, bright bonfire sinking into the seats in front of the blaze, warming our well-chilled selves and sipping hot chocolate. A true molten gold experience.
If memory serves me right, we also tucked into an English breakfast in the early hours before heading home! ;-)
A treat for the senses, and for a 12 yr old, a Cinderalla-at-the-ball high!

Times of India HEART BEAT concert, Dec 2, Chennai, University of Madras Auditorium

'AWESOME!' My 21 yr old and 18 year old cousins exclaimed in unison. A response which seemed to reverberate unanimously across an audience of disparate age groups & socio/cultural backgrounds.
Yes, I am talking about the Heart Beat concert organised by the TOI (I am a complete convert now and will commence subscribing to the newspaper right away) in Chennai last evening with free passes for the music aficionados of the city. It was worth every minute of the wait in the heart-stoppingly long snaking queue in and around the auditorium.
TOI has been leading the way in organising such events ever since it trumpeted into the city (Chennai). This however, is the 1st time, that I attended one. Thanks in part to some advance notice by a colleague, and a TOI spotted in the office, carrying the advertisement.
Sivamani (drums), Selva Ganesh (kanjira), U Shrinivas (mandolin), Shankar Mahadevan (vocals) & Ustad Zakir Hussain (tabla) took the packed auditorium by a joyous, sometimes mellow, sometimes crashing in crescendos, uninhibited, ravishing musical storm as they merged together and held their own in heart-grabbing, goosebump-inducing perfomances that delighted the entranced souls in the audience. One didn't have to be a connoisseur of music to appreciate the different jugalbandis, solos, and quintet perfomances that rocked the auditorium. One just had to have the senses of sight and hearing and give up them up to this feast. The sheer, unrestrained, spontaneous joy that spread its effulgent glow over each and every musician as they led each other in the concert, their mutual admiration, their individual and collective genius and potent finesse had everyone bursting into applause and rising to their feet every now and then.
Sivamani and Selva Ganesh were possibly the most versatile in terms of the repertoire of sounds they concocted.
Shrinivas & Zakir Hussain played like maestros though the Ustad seemed to take some time to 'warm up' in his solo slot, probably because he was a little perturbed at the sometimes whistling crowd, something not normally witnessed in a classical music audience. He in fact urged the audience to treat music with 'reverence' and not as a panderer of 'cheap thrills'.
Shankar Mahadevan was outstanding as unusual in the guise of a classical musician! I have only ever heard him crooning to popular numbers. Having said that he did improvise on 'Blues from Chennai' which impressed! I was hoping for a 'Breathless' perfomance, but that was not forthcoming. The closing 'Raghupati Raghava Raja Ram, Ishvar Allah Tevo Nam' was beautiful & especially poignant in today's terribly troubled times.
All in all, a heartbeat throbbing mid-week evening.