YEAH………LAZY LAZY LAMHE………..

“Why on earth are you two up at this unearthly hour? “ grumbled Hubby Dear snuggling deeper into the blankets. “Not even the birds are awake”! Appu, bright-eyed and bushy tailed at 6 in the morning and all excited about the day to unfold, took umbrage to that. He simply could not understand why his Accha was not “gettuping”. This from a kid who needs to be prised out of bed each morning, using a crowbar. He promptly dived under the blankets and started tickling… bedlam followed.

A bleary-eyed Accha, finally admitting defeat, slunk bleary-eyed to the living room and plunked himself down on the bean bag. “Do I atleast get a cup of tea?” Tea provided, hubby dear wanted to know why we needed to leave for Devrayanadurga this early. “So we are in time for breakfast at the Kamat Restaurant near the hills.” I knew hubby dear had accepted defeat when he did not even question this logic.

Grabbing some water and some stale French fries from the previous evening’s junk food orgy(just in case we got hungry!!) off we went, picking up a friend ‘M’, our guide and mentor on this trip. We made a pitstop at the Kamat Yatri Nivas. Masala Dosas, pooris, rava dosas, innumerable vadas and cups of coffee later, we were ready for the final leg of the drive.

About 20 minutes later, we were at our destination. Devrayanadurga is a pretty place with a number of temples nestled amongst the hills. The one we visited was called the Yogalaksminarasimha Swamy temple(I dare you to pronounce it in a single breath!!). It is set bang into the hillside. Something to be said about the area, it is really well-maintained. None of the callousness or damage one would associate with places of historical importance. We could see the steps being repaired and safety features being added. In addition the place was absolutely clean.

Temple visit over, we decided to climb up to the very top. A lot of climbing and slipping not to mention scratches later, we made it to the very top… to an absolutely fantastic view!! The rock we were on was vertical in some places and we had an uninterrupted view of the countryside. Appu, who had never been to a place like this said in awe, “Wow, you can see so many “countries” from here.” On being asked what those countries were, he promptly replied, “Matralli, hegdenagar and Sooltanpali”. (Marathahalli, Hegdenagar and Sulthanpalya, in case you are wondering). What really made me mad was that I had such a lot of trouble getting to the top, me, the so called avid trekker ; while the three men clambered up without a care, proving their monkey antecedents.

I took to sliding down some of the more slippery rocks and had thorns all over and peeled off skin to show for my trouble, while the three didn’t even seem to be breathing hard!!!

On our way back, we stopped at “Namada Chelume”. This is in the middle of some really pretty reserve forests-text book pretty and poetry inspiring-deep woods, lovely, dark and deep and all that.

To make it even more interesting, legend states that Lord Rama had stopped here and had searched for water to apply the ‘nama or tilak’ on his forehead. When he couldn't find any water, he shot an arrow into the heart of the rock. The hole thus created yielded water!!! Hence the name ‘Namada Chilume’ or spring of the ‘nama or tilak’. Surprisingly this little spring never dries up throughout the year. This legend was recounted to me by a young girl who was selling fresh roasted corn on the cob at the entrance to the forest.

It was time to leave and we soon got back home, muscles tired and hurting; but memories of the fantastic view from the top of the hill and the soul satisfying green of the forest soothed us all into a deep sleep-at 6 in the evening!!!

VIRUS VERSUS VIRILITY

It all started with a TV promo..that of Shahid Kapoor running amongst white horses (in slow motion of course) each well exercised muscle displayed to perfection… now tell me, which woman worth her salt would be able to prevent her heart beats from going into overdrive?

Since the TV promo teased more than it displayed.. I was determined to go see the whole thing come hell or swine flu. Enquires amongst my normally movie-mad friends elicited mixed responses:

“Are you mad? I don’t want to go sit in a theater full of swine flu viruses”. This from someone who doesn’t think twice about gobbling pani puri from the now ubiquitous pani puri stalls right next to a busy traffic signal or drinking from dirty glasses from the omnipresent “wine shops”.

“Why couldn’t you have let me know earlier.?” I’ve already booked the tickets.”

“What’s with you and your sudden desire to watch a movie in a theater?”

Finally, after a lot of arm twisting and cajoling.. hubby dear was sweet enough to get tickets from the nearest theater and was willing to sit through 2 1/2 hours of sheer nonsense (his words not mine!!). I have a strong feeling the words “Quentin Tarantino” in a couple of the movie’s reviews had something to do with this decision!!

Word spread faster than the swine flu and soon we had almost the whole gang, except the linguistically- challenged congregated at the said theater for a late night show, wives and babies in tow.

That’s when they started trickling in.. the ones who couldn’t keep away. All decked out in paper masks and in some cases even the N95 masks. Didn’t they know that all those masks would do was to make them look like Darth Vader’s reincarnations on earth? One look at the mask-clad hunks and all the babies, without exception; set up a holler loud enough to wake any of the hitherto sleeping viruses.

Needless to say, I spent most of the movie looking at all the various kinds of masks on display.. so much so that, hubby dear had to poke me in the ribs when the “Shahid with the white horses” scene came on!!

And as to the movie: I think it would suffice to say that I have been threatened with excruciating tortures if I ever lured anyone to the theater again with the words “Quentin Tarantino”.

OF GODS AND MERE MORTALS

It’s that time of the year again. When devotees of Ayappa don their ‘malas’ and take a vow of abstinence. This is a regular feature in our home, where both the so called grown men of our home (Appu not included)get ready for the annual pilgrimage.
Appu was fascinated with hubby dear’s mala, and with his usual exuberance was trying his best to break it. This earned him a stern reprimand from hubby dear, who usually allows him to get away with murder. I, in all my newly found maternal zeal to explain things to Appu, decided to tell him why he wasn’t supposed to be messing with the ‘mala’.
Towards that end, I tried to convince Appu that his dad was now officially a “swami”. I was prepared for puzzlement. But instead, sonny dear, who never fails to surprise me, asked me with a naughty glint and a mischievous smile… “ Swami?” Like Ganesha? ( that is his favorite deity, since his school has an enormous one in the prayer hall) . So do I now have to call him “Ganesha Accha?”
One look at hubby dear’s face and I hurriedly abandoned all attempts at explanation!! I was too busy trying not to burst out laughing!!!!

Meet Rabia Sultana!!

Another one of those ethnic days at work (yawwwwwwwwwn!!). What do I wear? The same old settu saree? And who was going to help me wear it? I had better get it perfectly right if I did not want derogatory looks and thinly veiled sarcastic comments from the mallu brigade at work.
Then inspiration strikes… or let me reframe it… the recipe to disaster stuck… why didn’t I try one of those Malabar Muslim outfits, especially the ones worn during the “oppana”?.
I shot off a frantic email to friends, enemies and country men… “Did anyone have an oppana costume?” I was laboring under the misconception that anyone who was Muslim and lived in the Malabar region was bound to have one… rather like the ubiquitous ghagras every self respecting fashionista would have in her wardrobe.
The replies I got to the above mentioned email really set my teeth on edge:
“Why don’t u try the Kummattikali costume?”
Me: What on earth is that?
A very cryptic reply: “Ask your darling hubby.” ( I found out later it was a colorful mask dance of Kerala)
The next reply was even more enlightening: “I shall check with my girlfriend.” Err.. you sure about this? What if she thinks you’re a cross dresser?
“Oppana costume?” “What is that?”. And all this while I thought I was the only “fraud” mallu in this group!!!
A very hesitant reply from a body builder types: “I shall check with the womenfolk at home in Kozhikode.” ( I would have loved to have seen the expressions of the said womenfolk when the request was made)
Since it was pretty obvious that a readymade costume was not to be found for love or for money, I set my mind towards making one of my own. That should be simple enough. All I needed was one of those long sleeved blouses, I could use the top half of the settu mundu to make my veil and the bottom half could be worn lungi style…all I would need was a belt to secure it in place…. not much effort I figured!!!
Phone call to R, (my very own yellow pages, I often tell her). “R, do u have a long sleeved top I could use as part of an oppana costume?” “R” by now used to my out of the world ideas, didn’t bat an eyelid and calmly said. “Well I have a green one that my husband calls “a Pakistani flag”. The blouse was perfect, sleeves and length and color… But wait a minute… the neckline.. I was pretty sure the women folk of the said region didn’t wear a plunging neckline like this one had, so I had to regretfully put that one aside.
After two more unsuccessful attempts at finding the perfect long sleeved blouse (one was a bright red kurta that ended at my knees and the other was a shiny black top sewn indiscriminately with plate sized sequins) I decided to see if I could shorten one of my kurtas. I was rummaging in my closet with that in mind when hey presto!! I found an old shiny blue top that I used to wear with my jeans. And I also had a settu mundu to match!!!
Next I needed heavy jewellery to match. “P”, yet another long suffering friend of mine, actually lent me her kundan set that she had used at her wedding !!
Next morning, in a frantic hurry to make it to work on time, I begged and pleaded with hubby dear to please iron my blouse so it didn’t look so disreputable. Off I went to have a quick bath… and that’s when disaster stuck. Hubby dear had used the highest setting on the iron and had burnt a hole in my blouse!!! Looking sufficiently chastened, he did point out that it wasn’t too bad, that my head covering would cover most of the burnt area.
I was mad enough by this time to get into the confounded outfit come what may… The sheer effort I had put into the outfit had to be compensated somehow. After a lot of disaster recovery and camouflaging in the restroom of my office, thanks to friends, I was finally ready.
The rest of the morning was spent in staring down a lot of people, some disbelieving, some shocked, some amused and some plain curious. But the best moment of all came when the news filtered in THAT I HAD ACTUALLY WON THE ETHNIC DAY COMPETITION!!!