The house was quiet. As if relatives stayed for a whole month and left. It was so silent all of a sudden. Ammu and I looked at each other. She knew the meaning of that look. S brushed it off in his usual emotionless state. We got into doing our regular chores but the mundane tasks seemed to be even more lifeless.

I would involuntarily call his name for dinner and the Rrr would stop in my mouth and I would swallow it within. I did not want to go to his room and saved it for a little later. That night the daddy daughter duo said, "Sleep peacefully...it's quiet". I know I have all the peace in the world now and all the quietness I always desired for. 

When he was at home, this was how the routine went. We around 9:00 AM before starting our work, "Rushi, get up. It's 9". Then the same scream at 10, 11, 12 ...he would finally wake up and eat cereal before we had our lunch. I would repeat the same thing everyday, "Why don't you eat lunch now when it's already late?" He immersed in his phone would say without lifting his head, "I'll eat at 1". The same words...every day. 

I know he is not far away like other kids in our community who are studying across the coast. I know I can see him in the time one can take a shower and get ready to work. I know he's only a phone call away but still it is not the same.

I wanted to say, Yes, I can sleep peacefully today as no one will be walking over my head at the middle of the night. So y'all must be wondering what the Bathroom Flush of the title is? When we built this house, we extended a bedroom other than what the builder had provided. That extra bedroom is exactly on top of my bedroom. The planner that I am, I planned it for the son and the other corner of the house for the daughter so they have their own privacy and would not get into each other's hair. Little did I know that one day I would be pulling my hair for the rest of the years...

The boy whined a bit that his room is smaller than his sister's but adjusted happily that he gets his own bed, room etc..Now, he was in his 6th grade when we moved. But will kids always stay in 6th grade? Hell No...he grew from a pre-teen to a blood sucking teenager who eventually got a phone who eventually has SM accounts, who eventually spend all his time in that damn thing without lifting his head.

Well! All said and done this is a normal teen life style...then why fuss? because the boy's day starts at the time when I go to bed. He showers for an eternity on top of my head...then eats cereal at midnight, because he hasn't eaten cereal during the day 😲 I think these cereal factories run on families of teens. Then hydrates himself for all the water he missed drinking in the day and keeps flushing the toilet another zillion times throughout the night.

This is what our texts typically look like:

I sobbed into my pillow wishing only if I could hear him walk once, only if I could text him one more time to sleep early. 😒 I went to his room the next day and tidied up all the clothes strewn over on the bathroom floor, made his bed, lifted the blinds; for the room could use some sunlight in ages.

A week passes by quicker than it seems to be. The boy was home and has his cereal first thing after he comes home. The room is messy in no time and the bedsheet all over on Monday Morning. I don't set it that day to have the feeling of him in the house for another day. 

Now, no phase is permanent, right? The boy will come back one day and start the music again. So, I have a plan to take revenge and let's hope at least next time God will be on my side. I told him I am going to switch rooms with him when he and his wife lives in this house and has babies and they have sleepless nights...I would be an old lady who would be using the rest room the whole night and keep flushing to his annoyance and be up by walking and watching movies and laughing loudly with friends across the continents! Sigh!!!!

p.s: Like many other posts, the trigger for this is my Big Mother as I fondly call her who nudged me to read :

MTV, Brats and me | The Cybernag

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Posted By Found In Folsom

In the past 9 or so years I had the blog, I never wrote any gratitude posts, year round up posts, looking back or contemplation posts. But this year has been different for all of us in more ways than we know. Starting from March when the lockdown was announced, we all were struck with fear even to step outside and breathe freely. We washed vegetables and sanitized what not. We all lived in the fear of being alive at one point. 

I saw my immediate family get severely attacked with Covid and how terribly they suffered and survived. This year witnessed the passing away of my grandfather and mom silently weeping his death from here. I don't like this year for many reasons that could or could not be Corona related. Many of my close friends lost their parents. A loss that is not replaceable but a void that cannot be filled as they could not attend for their last viewing.

A dear friend of mine accidentally chopped an inch of her finger and how she braved and survived the entire ordeal and finally able to retain it...I cannot even imagine to bear a hundredth of the pain she had been through. My dear, you raised the bar very high in this regard. Another close friend's mom who is hale and healthy being diagnosed with lung cancer left me speechless. Valli's death left our family with a huge void that's irreplaceable.

Losing our most favorite SPB, a loss that's personal to each of us.. My heart aches and throbs even today if I see his music concerts on TV. I don't remember crying ever over a celebrity's death but he made me weep and how? I believe many of you echo my feelings. 

Apart from all the sad things, this year I did a wee bit of gardening. I did not plan on growing any vegetables owing to CTS for my both hands. A friend gave me a couple of saplings of Dosakaya and I planted them. My neighbors and other friends gave me a couple of Malabar Spinach saplings, Amaranth seeds. I was tempted to buy a couple of tomato plants. The beefsteak variety gave me some produce and other one was not so great. I tried Capsicum too but I couldn't produce the cost of the pots, soil or say at least the cost of the plant :( :( Man, Peppers take forever to grow. I even started a small compost bin and religiously put all the scrapes in it. I joined a gardener's group and got two small beds built for next year. Every evening, going into the backyard and looking at the 4-5 plants I am growing gave me immense pleasure. Pulling out weeds, looking at their flowers, tiny vegetables, hidden vegetables gave me hope for life everyday.

On the personal front, we had a couple of mile stones but we could not celebrate together as a family. My sis in law turned 50, my mother in law turned 70. I still had a job, my son is applying for colleges, my sister is moving to Texas. Finally I get to see my mom after an excruciatingly long year. 

2020 taught us a lot of things we have taken for granted. Planners like me wrote list after list at the end of the month when the vegetables were almost done. People who hated leftovers or thought freezer stuff was unhealthy loaded their freezers. Panic stricken folks hoarded toilet paper, wipes, laundry detergents and every cleaning supply on the planet. Many people I know said they developed stronger bonds with their families. All of our patience and tolerance levels definitely went a notch up. Priorities changed. Everyone learned to find comfort in their zones. Above all, it taught us to count our blessings!

With this, I want to end my reminiscing of the most dreadful year of the Century yet thanking God for still keeping me and my loved ones safe from the disasters and keeping it all together. I wish all my friends and loved ones and the few who read my blog and their families a great year ahead. I wish the vaccine comes soon and there will be a day when Covid is noting but a regular flu. Until then, Happy Holidays and Stay safe, folks!

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Posted By Found In Folsom

The other day while driving, my daughter casually said, "2020! Wow! The first decade of my life went by really quick, Amma." I smiled at her and her thoughts. The first decade of my life? Is she that old to be thinking about how her life has gone by? What about me? Four decades of my life had gone by. What do I think about it? How do I feel about it? Where do I stand?

2020! I remember vividly how and where New Year Celebrations had been for the year 2000. The dress I wore, whose house we were at, the songs to which my sister danced and the feeling I felt the next day, "Wow! 2000. The turn of a century! A Millenium!" I remember wishing each and everyone I met and saw on my way, A very Happy New Year. When CBN used to say, Vision 2020, I wondered many times, where are we all going to be in 2020? Is this man crazy? Is he even going to be alive by then? These thoughts surfaced my mind many times. And see where we are in 2020. I'm sorry, Sir. For dreaming big for us and for we the people of AP having failed you forever. Shame on us and shame on the ungrateful people of AP. This topic was not my main intention of this post; however, I can't help it for my respect for this man.

I think more than half my life is over already. I feel satiated for being blessed with what I have, feel sorry for the relations that cut adrift and have become apathetic to many things in life. It doesn't bother me anymore for the vacations or holidays I haven't taken or the food I haven't experimented with. It does bug me why some people behave the way they do, but one cannot control things, not in one's control.

I stand at this point in life where I don't give a shit to what people think of or who I have to please anymore. I stand at this point in life where I can differentiate the genuine ones from the fake. I haven't mastered the art yet, but I will be there by the next decade may be ;-) I am at a point where I learned zipping the lips most of the time is better than expressing your opinions. I stand at this point where I am wise enough to pick my battles.

Above all, I stand at a point in life where I live each day with the fear of losing my most loved ones. With the fear to protect them by all might. With the fear, if my children will fail; with the fear of how they will be alone in the world when we leave them. Yet, I move on with new dreams, new hopes and small targets, one day at a time. Here's wishing you all a Very Healthy and Happy New Year! 

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Posted By Found In Folsom

I must be in middle school then. Amma used to make idlis for breakfast once in a while. And I literally hated every time I had to eat those white rocks. For some reason, her idlis were as hard as rocks. She would say that they were hard because the batter was made in a mixie and not the rock age method of stone grinding. 

Image courtesy: Here

Amma and I belonged to an era which graduated from stone grinder to the electronic mixer. There used to be an old man who came asking for alms on weekends. Amma thought he reminded her of her paternal grandfather. We used to tease her, Go..attend him..your Appayya tata had come. She would admonish us giving us those looks which we were very much scared of back then. Not now though. That weekend, idli happened to be the breakfast and as usual, we did not complete them and there were enough to give them to him. She happily went and offered them to him and came inside. He stood there looking at her and the white rocks in his hand. Held them and turned them around, looking around and then threw it back on the compound wall and left. We kids roared with laughter at the act and the treatment the poor idlis got from him. From then on, the joke stayed in the family. 

Mom never got better at making idlis until she came to the U.S. (This is our claim, okay!). She would even say, you need to eat them hot..that's when they are soft. When they become cold, they become hard. I always kept arguing that the street side idlis never get hard even when they are cold. 

After I moved to the U.S and had a family of my own, I got the modern wet grinder from India as I learned that's the secret for fluffier idlis. And I would boast to her that my idlis are softer than hers and that I mastered the skill of making idlis. I still did not like eating them as much but had to make it for the husband and the kid. One thing I never understood is when people order Idli in a restaurant. I have this expression that says, "Idli? Who in the world orders an Idli in a hotel? Don't they have anything better to eat?"

Facebook tells me it's World Idli day today. I was speaking to Amma over the phone a while back and she said, they ate idlis today. I told her that it's World Idli day and reminded her of her Appayya tata joke and she claims...Oye...not anymore...mine are as soft as cotton balls now. And I say, Yeah...right!!! Here's a Happy Idli day to all the idli lovers across the globe!

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Posted By Found In Folsom

Read this post by imagining me standing in front of a mike and I am trying to talk like a standup comedian. Just saying! You are at your free will to read it as you like or not read it at all. :)

So...apparently I decide to go on a non-cooking strike. Non-cooking strike?  One must have heard of Hunger Strike. But a No-Cooking strike? Yeah..right. You heard me right. So it started on a Friday night with all my might. As we went to file our taxes and ended up late into the night. We picked food on the way and ate very late. I normally cook for the week ahead and pack in boxes of five. One for each working day of the week. So the husband could grab one a day and go. Cos you know, people in my home are handicapped that way. They need a GPS even in the fridge or say, to serve their food.

Come Saturday and we attend a House warming and lunch is covered. I stand firm and say there is no food at home and we stop by a curry point to pick up some curries for the week. The son eats one of the curries with roti (I didn't make them btw..) and says, this is not so good...it's alright. I tell him, you better get used to it as I am not going to cook this week. What? Why? he exclaims! I didn't respond but got the kick out of it and conclude by, Cos I need a break!

Silence!

It's Sunday and we visit the new Baba Temple. The daughter and I eat the prasad and feel our lunch is done. The son wanted KFC. So, we make stop. The smell of chicken makes us both hungry again. Pizza Hut is right next to it and the husband orders pizza so that he could eat it for dinner too. We hop in.   We come home and eat pizza again while the husband complaints the customer service for being denied of extra pepper. 

       I said I am on a strike right? But what can stop me from entering my kingdom? Though I resisted from the past couple of days, I could not stand it longer but then I really did not want to lose my battle..you see? So I fry some fish ...just because it has been defrosted a couple of days back. I cut the chicken and marinate it for school lunches for the week ahead. You see, these are compulsory tasks I had to finish. I do all of this while watching Marvelous Mrs.Maisel with my Bose Noise canceling headset. Let me tell you, that's the best investment the husband has ever done for me. I open the fridge to store the spices and notice a stack of beer bottles. Don't I remember they were expired? Then wtf are they doing in my refrigerator? I take them out. All of them. Open them one by one. Drain them, wash each bottle and then put them in the recycle bin. I am finicky that way. I put rice in the cooker...poor guys..let them not starve tonight...it's freaking cold outside. And I continue to watch Marvelous Mrs.Maisel. Now wait..Am I starting to sound like her? You see..these things have an impact on you.. The more you watch, the more you tend to talk like them, act like them. I will let you all have a nice weekend before I become one. 

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Posted By Found In Folsom

"Amma...amma, Can I get bangs?"

"No, Nanna"

"But why amma? What is wrong in getting bangs?"

I have no answer. 

"Please amma..." this time folds her hands and lowers her chin"

I tell her to go ask her dad to escape from the situation

"He will say, No. He already said that before"

She sulks and understands that it's not going to happen and decides to move on with her work.

Another family: A father and son at the Hair Salon. The 11-year-old boy asks," Dad, I want to get a Mohawk this time"

"What Hawk?"

"Mohawk"

"No Mohwak...geehok. Just get a regular hair cut."

"Why? What's wrong?" 

To avoid further embarrassment,  the dad starts off in their local language. "If you ask one more time, I am going to break your legs".

The disappointed boy goes and gets his regular hair cut done with one on the sides and two on top.

A group of Moms of Teenagers: "Mine wants an ear pierced"

"Mine wants a Tattoo. A Tattoo! I can't even imagine that. What kind of people get Tattoos?"

"Mine wants to cut her hair super short. What happens to all the effort I put all these years in growing her hair so long?"

"Yours just wants to cut her hair. Mine wants highlights. What are people going to think about her with those red/brown streaks? As if she is going to dance in a club. Color. She wants to be highlighted."

Another sigh! "These kids are just out of their minds. Don't know what is wrong with them?"

How often have we heard conversations like these? Very often, right? If not, at least once in a while. Why are we so rigid as parents? Haven't our parents said 'NO' to one or many more things that we wished we had or wanted to do? How much hurt did that NO cause to our growing mindsets? Haven't we all been kids once? Teens, young adults, and adults now? Haven't we thought, "I am not going to be this way when I grow up"? But then, what changed now? Did the kid in us die on the way of becoming a parent? 

If your little girl wants bangs, get it done. It is, after all, a few strands of hair. It's going to grow back. Tell the boy that he could get a Mohawk for Summer but cannot keep it forever. They get bored with it after a while. No kid can go around with a Mohawk forever. Do the small things for them.

        Let the ear gets pierced. It will close when they remove it. A tattoo. Bargain with them to get in a small size, maybe not so visible. Let them know the reasons behind why and why not.

Did your daughter ask you to take the pain to grow the hair that long? Did she ask you to toil and oil it, wash it and take all that extra care? Kids never do that. We as parents do it as we don't have the extra long tresses that we desire for. Highlights are not permanent. They'll fade away in 6 months. It's hair after all. It will grow back. If the 15-year-old doesn't wear shots, is the mom or grandmom going to wear shorts that are really short? There's a time and place for things in life.

       Kids grow up before we realize, when? While raising them feels like an eternity, they are out of the house in no time. Once they are grown up and look at their pictures, they would definitely recollect the bangs they longed for, those shiny high heels for Birthday, or that cross body pouch for a picnic or jogger pants in high school that we never let them have. They would not remember the $200 Nike shoes you bought them for working out. They wouldn't remember the expensive dinners and Birthday parties you threw for them. They won't memorize or remember all the pain and money you spend on providing them the things you wanted to give. But, they would always remember those small, tiny things you said No for. As parents, we do think they forget it easily. YES. They do. Kids tend to forget that minute or that day itself. But deep inside their hearts, these small NOs pile up and leave a void that none of us can fill. 
       We may live only until half of their lives. They are going to live longer than us and look at those pictures for the rest of their lives. Make memories for them. Memories they cherish. Memories they feel happy about. Memories they fondly want to look at and tell their kids with pride; "See, my dad and I did this together". Not with a disappointing tone that sighs, "I wish my mom let me curl my hair". Let them live their life and not yours!

Here's wishing all my readers a Very Happy, Healthy and blessed New Year! Just realized this is my 150th post. Thank you all for being with me all these years and continuing to show your love in more ways than one!

Images from Pinterest.

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Posted By Found In Folsom

She was there. Before I was born. While I grew up. She was there. She stood there on every occasion as our Mother, Grand Mother, and Godmother of all her siblings, their kids, their siblings, the kids' kids, and their siblings...Being the oldest of eight siblings, she always carried pride, elegance, and charm in her demeanor.

Out of your seven siblings and their kids and grandkids; be it my luck or the bond you share with your youngest sister; you have been there on every single major event of my life, Peddammama. 

You were the first pedda muthaiduvu to adorn my hands with bangles on my bride making ceremony. You were the one to make me seated for my engagement, you always received the first tambulam. For that matter, it coincides that you brought the first wedding proposal to me. I still remember how upset you were when the guy's family didn't respond for a while and how you chided that they send my photos back if the family is not interested in our proposal.

I was always proud that you were the first one to go on a flight when I was my daughter's age. Your stories from Singapore lured us for long years of my childhood. How your sister would boast and I could only see pure joy but not a bit of envy in her eyes. Only you could remember and bring gifts for each and every one of your nieces and nephews. You must have long forgotten what all you bought. The first tiny alarm which had a button to press and not a key. It made the cutest bird sound ever unlike the screechy alarms every one of us carried in our homes. That Gold Citizen watch.. And the Singapore Saris you got for Amma and Chinnakka..I can still remember the color and print on them. Oh boy! They just lasted for a lifetime.

Being the oldest child and the oldest sibling always comes with its own set of perks and drawbacks. Who else knows it better than you? If not for you, how else would pedda mamayya be the family doctor for the entire Moparti Siblings and for generations to come? I always felt sorry for some of your wishes not being fulfilled. I only thought I could have brought her here if she was my own grandma. But what did you not do that my grandma did? I wish I had all the courage, the liberties I have now, back then.  

You longed for people. One phone call and you would rave about it all the time with anyone who visited you. One small visit and it would go for years. I can't forget your amusement on seeing both my kids. We are your sister's grandkids but we were always Jayamma gari santanam. Only you could own certain subtleties. When you were alive, none of us bothered to tell you how much we valued you. I think that's the way of life. We realize and express our feelings only after the person has left us. 

Out of the few pictures of I have of myself; glad to be having some of the most precious ones with you. I know you are no more....I know you won't read this....but I am sure you will hear my ache to touch those wrinkled hands, to take those return gifts you save for us after each function. Your fuss over getting all the fruits plucked and packed for us will be missed. And our trips to Takkellapadu won't be the same again...That feeling of mandatoriness will be replaced by a new Vaccum. Why I write this now? Because I am not sure if I will lead a long life like you, if I will have your memory..I am afraid I will forget telling the stories of these memories to my grandkids....May you live the same grand life in heaven till we reach you one day! With all the love you have showered on us, we are truly blessed to share your legacy. 

 On my bride making ceremony...When I was in
an age when I just nodded my head to what has
to be done next....

Four Generations!

pedda: Oldest

Tambulam: Tambulam

Santanam : Offspring

mamayya: Maternal Uncle

Muthaiduvu: A married woman whose husband is alive

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Posted By Found In Folsom

It was the Spring of 2013 when we lived in Folsom. The Maestro was touring the U.S but was performing only in the Bay area and at NJ. Living so close to the bay, how could I miss this opportunity to listen to his orchestra and all of my favourite singers? I pestered my husband to take me. The basic tickets were sold out and only the pricey ones left. He called his friend who was one of the main sponsors to see the availability. His friend said he had given more than 20 tickets to his staff and others the previous day. Had he called one day before... However, he asked us to come and we would get seated somehow. We didn't mind driving more than 120 miles. We went along with a couple of other music lovers. We reached right before the show started. Unlike all Indian programs, it started on time. We got seated on the main floor of the HP Pavilion that held more than 10000 people. We were only a few rows from the stage.

The husband as usual vanishes into the crowd when he is in the Bay Area and I totally didn't mind his absence as I was lost in the magic of Maestro. He turned up after some time that his friend had one pass which is in the 2nd row right opposite to the stage. He had taken me to sit there and that is such an amazing experience which my words fail to describe. The singers I listened growing up, the singers I craved to see and hear them sing live at least once in my lifetime were there, right in front of me. Just a few feet away. It was one of its kind. It didn't seem fair to me to enjoy the spot alone. We all exchanged that spot as if playing musical chairs each for one hour. All of them equally thrilled. The hangover from that evening lingered on me for quite a long time. Each song that Balu, Chitra, and Mano sang pierced through our hearts. Thanks to my husband and his friend for a once in a lifetime experience. I wanted to write a post on this five years back, but it never happened.

A few months later, the big move to Dallas happened. Fortunately, here I got the opportunity to view them more than once and the thirst only increased. I never missed seeing Balu or Chitra sing. However, when the Maestro toured two years back, I was not so interested as I already had my special experience and skipped the show. Last year, when Balu was doing a Grand World Tour celebrating 50 years in singing, it was a chance to not miss. But fate is it, the day before their show in Dallas, the most controversial copyright dispute arose between the Maestro and SPB. Many people had withdrawn from attending the show as the crowds couldn't imagine SPB not singing Raja sir's tunes. We did miss his tunes for sure but Balu sang some beautiful numbers that were forgotten. That's the day I felt, "There's more to music than Ilayaraja". 

The Maestro was touring this year again and there was a show in Dallas. I was quite reluctant to attend as Balu wouldn't be singing and no one sounds the nuances as well as he does. We didn't even bother getting the tickets. But you see, somethings happen for a reason. This time another friend of the husband happens to be the President of a popular Telugu Association and he happens to travel to this concert. The sponsors are a close associate of his friend. After breakfast, they suddenly asked me if I wanted a photograph with Raja sir. Why not? Who would deny? I changed and rushed to greet him at the hotel and then even got a chance to take his autograph me being the only lady present there. 

With influential friends do come some perks... :-) We couldn't refuse the VVIP seats given to us right in the middle, in the front row, opposite the stage. Deep inside, though I was not ready to listen to any other male singer other than Balu sir, I couldn't afford to miss one chance to see my dearest Chitramma sing. I normally am not attracted to taking photographs with any celebrities. But, I never minded taking a picture along with an author or a singer or a painter. I always wanted one picture with Chitra mam but never got a chance. As Paulo Coelho said, "When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it". Yes, the Universe did conspire this time. Want to know how? The emcee being my friend called me backstage to help her mom being seated. The security didn't let me as I didn't have the badge. Our important friend came to my rescue again and offered his badge. Voila! There I go and ask mam if I can take a picture and she smiled :) Like a new student going on to the stage to sing, the ever-humble Chitramma was practising within her. How lucky am I to have only her in the backstage while all the other singers were already seated on stage?

The evening went on with an outstanding Orchestra from Budapest and India in a meticulous manner. I don't mean to be rude to the other singers by saying this; Balu sir, you were thoroughly missed. We missed you in each and every single song that was sung by other singers. The nuances and subtleties cannot be expressed by anyone else. There is ONE and ONLY SPB. Your show without Raja sir's music was okay, but Raja sir's music without you is Not Okay!

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Posted By Found In Folsom

Whenever I heard the word 'writer's block', I hoped that I would never enter such a phase. Well, I did. Like many of my other blogger friends. I never ran out of ideas or thoughts to write. I still do have lots of them floating in my head. It was not due to the dearth of ideas but stuff happens. 

I was moved to a new project at work and it kept me occupied. I who was not used to working long and extended hours had to spend my late evenings at work. And it just got busier over weeks. Adding to that, the husband had to go on an India trip and I took off from work to manage the kids during his absence. Then it was festive season followed by holidays followed by a lot of eating and lazing around. Begin New Year and the madness began again. Before I realized two months have passed. 

The boy is a teen now and the girl almost a tween. A friend once said, kids grow like weeds. Yes, they do grow very fast. Amid all the craziness, I realized the attention I am paying to their studies is reducing and I could clearly see the effects. The past seven months have been a roller coaster ride for me both personally and professionally. Each time I was on the verge of quitting, I hung in there that it would just get better. While it got a bit better, it would get worse in no time. Finally, I called it quits but didn't have enough courage to do so. After fighting within myself over and over, I planned to take a temporary break from work until the kids' school year ends. Let's see how it goes!

During all this, my blog my child had to take a back seat. I had been randomly reading a post here and there but have not been actively reading or writing. Though there were few times when I had the time on hand, I didn't know what post to write. Which one would break the ice of my silence? I had one of my 'Ammusings' posts that always came to my rescue when I was gone for a while. However, this time I wanted to talk to my readers and my friends and hence this post...I hope you all have been doing great and didn't forget that I still exist. :) I hope to blog often and read more of you....see you all soon!

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Posted By Found In Folsom

Ever watched a movie that's not in your language? Of course, all of us must have watched a movie or a documentary that's not in the language we speak or understand. Then, how do we understand it? Mostly, by reading the sub-titles. Unless one is multilingual. Ever wondered who writes the subtitles for these movies? I haven't ever thought about it. But I can say there were many times I laughed my head off reading the subtitles of songs and some true translations.

When I had to communicate in a language other than mine, English was always the medium of communication or Hindi sometimes. When I read some really good books in Telugu, I would think, how wonderful would it be if this book is in English and vice-versa. I also thought I could translate some essays or articles but the thought never went beyond that.

A couple of weeks back, a very good friend of mine called me out of the blue and says, she needs my help for a stage show they are doing for a cause. I was surprised as of how I could help her as I had already done the monetary contribution for the cause. I asked what it was and she said, I need to write the subtitles in English for the Telugu play. I was laughing at it and her for asking me to do that job. I said, what can I do? I just do some random scribbling here and there once in a while. She says, no you can do it and you must do it. I thought, Okay. Let me try.

When the thought to translate occurred me, I thought it's quite simple and easy to translate if you know both the languages. And also to translate from Telugu to English is much easier as the former is my native language and I have a command on the lingo. It never occurred me how difficult the task of translation is. However, I learned that speaking and writing are two different things. 

Translating a book is different from writing subtitles. When a 200 pages book is translated, it could be translated into 175 pages or 225 pages. It could be a bit longer or a bit shorter. The writer has the liberty to expand or contract. Whereas, while writing the subtitles for a movie or a play, we cannot take those liberties. The subtitles have to be short and crisp. The audience has to read it before the next scene is up or the lag time is really annoying. We should also make sure that all the sentences cannot be converted into true translations. It sounds very comical to read true translations. 

At the end, I would like to thank all those wonderful writers who mastered multiple languages and mastered the art of writing subtitles. Without you, how could I have watched all those national and international movies and TV serials?  Thank you, Manasa for believing in me and giving this opportunity. Hope I didn't end up true translating and write silly lines. All I can say is this experience has given me more satisfaction than writing hundreds of test cases and testing hundreds of defects for my work over the last decade. This has reminded of all the words that I have forgotten over the years and felt wonderful.

Have you ever translated anything? What's your experience? Please share.

P.S: And the cause I am talking about in the post is, Aarti for girls. Please do your bit if you can. All my Bay area friends and art lovers, don't miss the chance to attend a mind blowing performance at  @ Chabot Performing Arts Center, Hayward on the July 8th, 2017, Saturday!

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Posted By Found In Folsom

It was the year 93-94. I was in my Tenth Standard. Our school used to take kids on an excursion once a year. Most of them were one-day trips which were more like a picnic than a tour in itself. The day trips cost around Rs.30-Rs.35. It might look like a meager amount now but back then that was expensive for my family. Every year I begged my mom and she would say we will send you next year. Year after year, I kept waiting for the next one to arrive. Finally, I was in my 10th grade and that was the last year of school. That year the school was taking us to Hyderabad for a couple of days and the cost was Rs.100. I was quite keen on going but very apprehensive in asking mom as the cost was triple the usual price. However, I let my intentions and she agreed to send me that year.

The trip was nothing fancy. No first class train or hi-tech buses. Our school had around five school buses and all the students were loaded into a bus with 2-3 teachers to accompany. The bus would start around 10.00 pm at one central point and drop us back at the same place a couple of days later. So, why am I telling all this? Ah!! Parents were dropping their kids off on two wheelers mostly and the affluent in cars which were a few in number in those days. 

Coming to me, mom was single then. Mom couldn't come to drop me because she had to close her tailoring shop and had to go home late. I think she didn't come as it would be hard to find a rickshaw back home at that hour. She arranged a guy who worked with her to drop me at the location. So, how was he to drop me there? On his bicycle.  And I so didn't want this to happen but I didn't have any option either.

I didn't want my friends to see him nor wanted him to come anywhere near the bus.

I asked him to stop at quite a distance and kept saying, " Anna, I can go. you please leave.. you please leave". We know how responsible this brotherly clan is! Though I insisted I could take care of myself, he deemed that it was his responsibility to not leave me alone and made sure I was with my school people. For some reason, I could never forget that incident. I believe mom gave me an earful later. She must have.

I spent a lot of my childhood not fitting in, in a lot of different ways. 
                                                                                                   ~Wil Wheaton

As a teen, we are not comfortable with things in general at many levels. I believe it is because we want to fit in. Fit in comfortably in the friends' circles, in the society. It feels awkward to be the odd man out. I was already an odd man out for various reasons. For being loud, for not being pretty, for wearing glasses, for being a Tomboy, for being bold, for standing up for myself. For my father coming and meeting us at school which was odd; for fathers came and saw kids at school only for PTI meetings. I didn't fit in for many reasons I cannot fathom.

What reminds me of this trivial incident after 23 years? My son. Another teen in the making. He is embarrassed if I am standing in the queue to drop him off at the movie theater. The other day he said, "Amma no offense but can you stop babying me?"

Perplexed, I asked: "Babying you? Seriously?" He is embarrassed if I play devotional songs while dropping him off at school. He is embarrassed for everything under the sun. Why? Because he is trying to fit in. No matter which year of the century it is, teens are the same. The circumstances could be different, but the Trying To Fit In is the same. Not just teens, don't we all try to fit in in every phase of life?

Fitting in is boring. But it takes you nearly your whole life to work that out.  
                                                                                                                           ~ Clare Balding

Image Courtesy: Clipartfox.com
Quotes: BrainQuotes

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Posted By Found In Folsom

Warning: This post is not intended to target any one person. All the opinions are purely the writer's ramble.

I hate Desis! Oh well, hate is a strong word, they say. Rather, I don't like desis. These days, it's one of the in things. Like wearing pants that show your bottoms, heaps of hair on the top of the head, like growing beards, over sized watches...like many of these things we see and hear everyday, dislike a desi being a desi. I hear this statement so often. Also, I have noticed not all immigrants have this special dislike for desis. There are certain categories. I don't want to single them lest they all file a law suit on me. Anything is possible in this country, you know!

This special section of desi disliking desi disorder can be found anywhere. At your work place, at your common parties, in your community club etc.They do not like to gather with a lot of Indians, send kids to a Montessori with Indian teachers, they don't like to visit Indian doctors (poor fellas work their asses off than anyone else to settle in their profession), don't visit Indian restaurants. Though many Americans love Indian food, this tribe carries their pride in savoring over Sushi and dining at a Lebanese or an Ethiopian restaurant.  For that matter, they have nothing to do with India at all except feel unlucky for being an Indian. (The unlucky part, I made it up :P).

Mom lives with us here and has come across this increasing breed in recent days. That's when a few questions sprang up in our discourse.

1. Aren't we all desis? Aren't we here like any other one of them? To make a livelihood? Then why hate the same breed so much?
2. When you don't like Desis so much, why do you live among them? Why don't you buy a home in a place where there is no Indian population at all? May be go to Alaska..just a thought. I know folks who have done that too, BTW, Not Alaska really...
3. Why do you celebrate Indian festivals? Eat Indian food?
4. If your kid is sick, why do you call your desi grandma and ask for home remedies?
5. Why this touch me not attitude? 

Living among Indians, helped me in many ways. There are times when either of us can't drop or pick our kids from schools. I just have to call one of our neighbors and they do it for us. One of our neighbors had their family visit and all of them wouldn't fit in their car. We were more than happy to lend our van. Last weekend, there was a talk show of my favorite writer and we were wondering what to do with the kids. I just had to knock on a door and drop her there. The same neighbor called mom to ask if she can cook and send something as she was sick for past 3 days. It is mutual. Folks, there is an unexplained camaraderie in the desi community. Many of our organisations are going above and beyond in extending a helping hand to our community. One needn't face unforeseen circumstances to experience it. Next time when you utter: "Oh..Desis!"; Remember! If you aren't tolerant to your own kind, no one else will be!

It's implied that you be a Roman in Rome. One may change the way he dresses, talks, walks, eats but not the way he's born. That doesn't make you any less Indian. 

P.S: Let me admit, this post rose from my own intolerance and how I grew out of it.
P.s.s: I hope you all like this new template...more peaceful and simple compared to my old one.

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Posted By Found In Folsom

Sankranthi, Pongal or Lohri as you may call it, is celebrated as the harvest festival across India on the 13th to 16th of January every year. Each state has their own way of celebrating the arrival of spring. For us in Andhra, we celebrate it over three days. First day is Bhogi, second day is Sankranthi and the third day is Kanuma. 

Starting with the month of Dhanurmasam (Mid Dec - Mid Jan) where the Sun enters the Dhanur Rasi, we start adorning our entrances with colorful muggulu. The muggu powder is made with the sand of lime stone. To give it a bit of smooth and white texture, we add rice flour to it. From amateur lines to huge designs, we progressed as we grew up. The size of my muggu would range anywhere from 5 to 35 dots in length. The bigger it is, the prouder we were. I wasn't a prize winner but I was almost an expert in making these beautiful patterns. Though a child, I would compete with the older ladies of the neighborhood in making bigger designs each day :-).  Mind you, these are not as easy as they seem to be. Getting the dots in a straight line is a challenge in itself. Our news paper would publish a Muggu each day. The first job in the morning is to grab it and practice it on a piece of paper. I would then neatly copy it in the fair muggu notebook that I duly maintained. The muggu would be decorated with Gobbemmalu (Cow dung balls), turmeric, kumkum and flowers. This is the stinkiest part of the whole process. 

Image courtesy: Nechcheli.com

It is a tradition to collect all the old and unused stuff of the house and set a bonfire called Bhogi mantalu in the wee hours of the morning. This symbolises the disposal of the old and the welcoming of the new. In the villages, elders watch out for the naughty kind who grab any piece of wooden furniture that is visible to use for their fire. Girls in teens dance around the fire singing songs in praise of lord Indra.

We take a special shower with sunni pindi (Herbal bath powder) and Shikakai and the entire family wears new clothes.

On the evening of Bhogi, we do a pooja and pour Bhogi PaLLu on the babies to kids. From months to 5-6 year old. Bhogi PaLLU is a mixture of Regi (berries, Indian plum), coins, flowers, sugar cane cubes, black chick peas.  Children are dressed up and they have a merry time collecting all the coins. We don't do the Bhongi mantalu or the Bhogi paLLu in my household though. May be we already grew up by then :-)

I have too many memories associated with the festival. One of the initial ones are the Haridasus that would go from door to door where we would pour rice in the akshya patra that he carried on his head. Like many things cultural, they are also becoming a rarity these days.

Pic courtesy: https://www.flickr.com/photos/rdkumarj/

As a child, I would eagerly wait and run to the main gate to look at the colorful Gangireddu and the Basavanna that went through the village playing their Sannayi. We would hand them down the clothes that are in usable condition. 

Pic Courtesy: https://www.flickr.com/photos/vijay_chennupati

I think I will stop it here for Bhogi and come up with a part 2 for Sankranthi...Thanks to Rachna for her Sankranthi post that triggered all these memories.

Muggulu - Rangoli
Gobbemmalu - Round balls made of cow dung
Bhogi Mantalu - bonfire made with cow dung cakes and old stuff of the house
Gangireddu - A Bull decorated with colorful clothes, bells and it dances
Basavanna - The guy who carries the Gangireddu
Sannayi - Clarinet.

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Posted By Found In Folsom

             Pic Courtesy: Google Images via Pexels.com

Dear Friends, not so friends and all those numbers on my phone,

Apparently, it happens that I am one of those millions of smartphone users. Not denying the fact that social media has shrunk the world big time, we still are not in contact with every single number on our phones.

I realized that I have 524 contacts on my phone. I bet most of you have a similar number of numbers on your mobiles. A few hundred more or a few hundred less. Though Facebook and Whatsapp have significantly reduced the geographical distance between each other, at any given point in time in life, I am not in touch with more than 10-20 people. Tell me honestly, how many of you maintain the communication back and forth?

What I have noticed over the years at each phase of life is, we communicate only with a limited set of folks. Reasons may be different. This is true especially for people like me who have been on the move for the past decade. I started my life in an apartment and made few friends in the complex. I used to be in regular contact with them. Eventually, I found a job and made new friends. Slowly my interaction with my friends at the Apartment complex reduced. Some moved out. Some moved in. But I don't have the time to be friends with new ones. Later I moved out and the cycle continued. This happened again and again with me over the years. I moved places and shifted jobs. Made new connections and lost a few old ones. 

One fine day, a school classmate or your childhood neighbor's son or your school teacher's daughter pops up on the horizon. You talk to them in full gusto for the first few weeks. Exchange phone calls, connect on Facebook, text on WhatsApp, meet for lunch or dinner, or a reunion if possible. After all the hustle-bustle has settled down, we promise to keep in touch and fall back into our routines. 

On another boring day, your smartphone buzzes. You knit your brows and lift the phone debating. You are accused of not keeping in touch, of not calling the other person, of not pinging them often. There is a smile on your face along with a sigh. There could also be a grunt or a grumble. I am sure each one of us must have faced this situation at least once. 

S and I had always had this discussion of keeping in touch. Why don't people keep in touch? Are people really so busy? Why does one feel that he/she is the person who communicates all the time? etc..etc. Above all, why don't people pick up their phones? And let me tell you, no one has a phone smaller or not so smarter than the latest released iPhone. After mulling over it for many months and years.....

Here's the deal. Before you accuse someone next time for not making a call or pinging or texting you; please open your smartphone and check the last time you both communicated. By the way, who contacted who first? If it's you, then don't be sorry. Feel proud for taking that extra step in maintaining the relationship. If it's always you, then think about it. I would continue calling the person or keep in touch only if I care for them. If not, move on. After all, you have one life and it is short. Like them, you don't have all the time in the world...

Yours truly!

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Posted By Found In Folsom

Ten On Tuesday!

Image courtesy: cinebell.com, Google Images

Have you been waiting for three excruciatingly painful years to watch a movie or at least for half a year, like me? Are you waiting to watch your dream heroine as a fairy princess, with saliva dripping? Can't wait to see what surprises your favorite director has in store for you? If all of us movie lovers and movie goers keep a few tips in mind; I am sure your most awaited movie's experience is going to be just as wonderful.

1. Don't read Reviews. Period.! : Okay, now that you have waited for so long; why taste the meal before eating? Just go without any expectations and enjoy it to the core.
2. Early Birds: I know you are eager to watch the movie on the first day,  first show. Well, I cannot afford to pay $30 and wait in line for an hour to sit in the front row. I like to watch after the dust settles down. So if you can kindly keep quiet around enthusiasts like me, we are very grateful.
3. This row is reserved for Found In Folsom: Yes. Please do not put your hand kerchief and block an entire row for your colony. This is not the red bus of your small town. Save one for your wife, two for your kids, two for your parents, I can still bear it. But an entire row, I am going to sit there next time.
4. Is there a way you can arrange for a babysitter if possible? I made this mistake when my son was little and I am thankful to those couple of friends who baby sat him outside the theater during the entire movie. If possible, arrange for a baby sitter. If not, please take turns  in watching the movie with friends at least till your kids are grown up and can keep quiet.
5. Whatsap can wait: Like data, we all have unlimited friends on our whatsap and Facebook. I am sure they can wait for your reply. If you are the CEO and your company is sinking in case you don't reply, there is always an Exit door. Didn't get me? Will you switch that damn thing off?
6. Long legs? Fold 'em: 6 "Ft tall? Long legs? Okay, please push 'em back or sit in a row without seats before you. Don't place them on the front row. This is not your coffee table, darling. Stop Kicking!
7. Newly married? Forever 21? Cannot get enough of each other? How do I enjoy the romance on the screen if a live session is going on beside or ahead of me, my dear lovey dovey couples?
8. If you watched it umpteen times, kindly zip your lips: If you liked the movie too well and it is your second, third or thirteenth time watching it, we know you know the dialogues by heart. Will you please zip your lips?
9. Don't drink, don't pee: Don't gimme that look. I haven't known a person who died of dehydration who didn't drink for every 15 minutes and pee for every half an hour. If you think you do, please sit at the starting of a row.
10. Last but not least, it takes crores of rupees, years of thinking & planning, months of sleepless days and nights, hundreds of people to co-ordinate to make a movie. Please go and watch it in a theater and not online. It won't cost more than a Biryani or a pizza. Stop Piracy!!

Disclaimer: This post is not to hurt anyone's feelings in particular. Any resemblance to persons reading or not is purely coincidental. 

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Posted By Found In Folsom

Image courtesy : Complete Well Being

Incidentally grocery shopping happens to be one of my favorite shopping areas. As some of you know, I have a big weakness for fresh vegetables. When we were kids, mom mostly bought vegetables from the street hawker. I wouldn't say exactly a street hawker a.k.a sabjiwala. Once in a while when time permitted she would go to the nearest market and buy them in bulk. As kids we would tag along on these mini shopping ventures. So, began the art of buying vegetables. 

If you have to buy a tender Bhindi, you snap the edges of the vegetable. If it snaps tick and the edge falls off, you immediately put it in your basket. If you want to buy a Lauki, pinch it and see if your nail digs into it smoothly. Tomatoes have to be ripe but hard enough to not squish by the time you reach home. Greens have to be always green and shiny. So on and so forth...

All this while, the vendors would keep saying, "No Amma..you cannot do it". But who cares or who listens anyway? People would snap and pinch and press till they got the desired color, consistency and quality of the product. It is hard to forego those buying habits and techniques which were inculcated at a very young age. 

However, after moving to the U.S of A; vegetable shopping had been a slightly different affair altogether. There are no more sabjiwala bhaiahs who would shout tomato, mirchi, aloo, beans and the family of it. There are no Raitu Bazaars or Sabji Mandis. There are, only we discovered them much later. Somehow I felt it odd to snap or pinch the veggies any more. All I could do comfortably was to pick those that are fresh, green or shiny. As years passed, even picking each of them seemed silly or ridiculous to me. 

Please don't snap them:

Want to know the trigger for this post? The other day I had been happily shopping veggies for the week. I go to the bhindi table. Who can stop me when there is a heap of fresh, green bhindi? I was stuffing my bag to glory and then noticed a brown hand snap, snap, snap. I know it's not manners to stare at people; but you know I don't have good manners. So, I lift my head to have a peek at the person with brown hands. He stops for a second and continue snapping in a slow manner. The store manager happens to pass by arranging different vegetables and removing empty trays. Not sure if it was the store manager or my stupid gaze, the guy packed a few and left. I kept wondering if he really needed that little and he had to pick them? Whatever. I continued and finished shopping. While waiting in the line for billing, I was doing people watching. A good way to kill time. And here I see our bhindi guy with brown hands and a gold chain happily picking bhindi. Seriously??

Please don't break them:

Another thing that gets on to my nerves is breaking vegetables. Breaking the long vegetables like ridge gourd, snake gourd, drum sticks. Some people break them to fit into bags, which is okay. But breaking them to taste the bitterness or the freshness of the vegetable? NO.

Please don't pinch them:

Whenever people pinch vegetables with their nails to test how tender they are, I immediately feel like pinching or poking them in the same manner. 

Pick 'em up:

Leave about snapping, pinching, pricking and breaking. Let these all be their personal preferences. What irks me to no end is dropping vegetables while putting them into bags. You think it is popping pop-corn into your mouth while watching T.V lazily in your sofa? Come on!

I don't think people would behave the same way or continue the same habits in any American grocery store. Then why abuse Indian stores??

Raitu Bazaar - Farmers Market
Sabji Mandi - Vegetable Market
Sabjiwala Bhaiahs - Our neighborhood vegetable sellers
Bhindi - Okra
Lauki - Bottle Gourd

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Posted By Found In Folsom

Why did I name it The story of small things? I feel every little thing in our life/home has a story attached to it. Right from buying an eraser, a pair of shoes, an iPad to a car, what pattern curtains you have in your living room, why you have the lavender-scented bathroom spray to what you pack in your kids’ school lunch. You name it, and a story speaks.

            Why did I start writing this in the first stance? Because we moved. We moved 8 times, lived in 9 homes in 10 years. Yes, you heard me right; and I am exhausted. Hopefully, the last as it is our own home. So, with each move, you tend to clean the clutter despite spring cleanings throughout the year. That's when you find one of the topaz earrings you snatched from your sister last Christmas. That's when you find a bunch of candy wrappers in your son's closet realizing why the 5 pound Halloween candy bag now feels like a feather. That's when your daughter finds her scented Santa eraser between the sofa seats for which she had been searching an entire year. That's when the husband finds his photograph with the Megastar under the debris of documents he had been carefully safeguarding from the inception of this earth. The list could go on and on...

While we find these amazing secret treasures hidden in cleavages unlimited; there are certain things I found that traveled with me across oceans, countries, and continents. The most ancient thing that tops my head is my Vibhooti box. I had it from 2000/2001. I used to live in a hostel during my P.G days. We had a common room to attend to incoming phone calls. One of those days when I was talking on the phone, I noticed a small box on the desk that had pins in it. I thought it would be so apt to put my vibhooti. Before I am done with my call, the pins were on the desk and the tiny box in my hands. From then, it had been traveling with me to whichever city or house I moved and lived in. 

When you have a boy, your house will be filled with balls of all sizes, shapes, colors, and textures. One thing that makes me super mad is the husband and son playing catch in the middle of the house. Each time the ball hits a plant or a vase I threaten to trash them all. Every single time, I hold the soft orange squishy thing, a warm feeling envelopes me. It was a ball the son caught from the cheerleaders on his first Sacramento Kings' game at the stadium. How can I let it go? 

The husband declares to trash all the junk toys promising to buy them a new set in the new home. Though they may look old, how can I let him throw away the firefighter bear? Bears can be firefighters, how? Our neighbors had a fire accident in Folsom. My 4-year-old stood on the pavement silently. Not terrified. He was very excited to see a fire engine live. He gave a high-five to the FF. The FF took him inside the fire engine and gave him a tiny brown bear. My son thought he almost lost it in his multiple India trips only to find it out in a suitcase after so many years. See, how cute he looks. :) 

This box may not be the cutest one out there to store your novelties but I fondly owned it. My father had a fertilizer business and the pesticide company would give them complimentary gifts of all sorts. These boxes were one of them. While my mom stored tamarind and red chilies; I thought I can put them to use in a nicer way.  Though there are more fancy boxes available now, I still use them to store my daughter's clips. 

I am sure y'all must be having some cute little stories of cute little things in your lives. Thank you, BM for making me complete this post :)

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Posted By Found In Folsom