Remainder = Happiness

When your favourite movie is" The pursuit of happyness" and when you like the happy page on facebook , you got to have a high score on a happiness quotient test, right? Nah, I didn’t want to want to go through one online. Instead I decided to make list on what keeps me happy and going.

I am no Matthieu Ricard to be the happiest person on earth or Gautama Buddha to not crave for happiness. It is not always that choking happiness that keeps you awake all night, sometimes it is just that feel good happiness that gives you sleep and at times dreams.

Happiness is, a good book, good music, good weather, sometimes all the three.

Happiness is, getting lost at the beach with the deep sea and its roar, aww the infinity.

Happiness is, sleeping late to watch the night sky.

Happiness is, waking early to catch the sunrise.

Happiness is, new plants in the garden.

Happiness is, a yummy meal with leftovers.

Happiness is, a balloon which tells me- you have places to go.

Happiness is, the smell of wet soil and drizzle.

Happiness is, helping someone rebuild their walls, with sunshine.

Happiness is, reading your thoughts in someone’s poem.

Happiness is, writing letters.

Happiness is, life’s second chances.

Happiness is, dreams, sometimes without vision.

Happiness is, memories.

Happiness is, not racing with the clock.

Happiness is, chair in the balcony.

Happiness is, library.

Happiness is, travelling without destination.

Happiness is, getting lost in conversations and silence that follows.

Happiness is, surprising someone.

Happiness is, someone noticing your absence.

Happiness is, scars of healed wounds.

Happiness is, child’s laughter.

Happiness is, an old couple on their morning walk.

Happiness is, a motivating story.

Happiness is, reading someone’s thoughts.

Happiness is, a window seat and breeze through your hair.

Happiness is, mending a broken toy, sometimes a broken heart.

Happiness is, the favourite song in the radio.

Happiness is, a thank you card.

Happiness is, shower.

Happiness is, an unexpected rainbow.

Happiness is, intelligence.
Happiness is, innocence.

Happiness is, a new hobby.

Happiness is, colour pens.

Happiness is, a new language.

Happiness is, sharing food.

Happiness is, writing and ink stained fingers.

Happiness is, sitting under a shady tree.

Happiness is, planning someone's wedding.

Happiness is, having my own business.
Happiness is, doodles.
Happiness is, stationery.
Happiness is, sound of waves.
Happiness is, home made food.
Happiness is, music till sleep.
Happiness is, love with words.
Happiness is, art.
Happiness is, honesty.
Happiness is, understanding an unknown language.
Happiness is, long train journey.
Happiness is, endless discussion,
Happiness is, dreaming.
Happiness is, lunchbox.
Happiness is, school bell.
Happiness is, laughter.
Happiness is, stranger's smile.
Happiness is, rain without umbrella.
Happiness is, mental dialogue.
Happiness is, running.
Happiness is, being ordinary.
Happiness is, atlas.
Happiness is, humming.
Happiness is, travel bag.
Happiness is, drape.
Happiness is, love.
Happiness is, stories.
Happiness is, getting lost.
Happiness is, unending thoughts.
Happiness is, quotes.
Happiness is, questions.
Happiness is, an artist.
Happiness is, a writer,
Happiness is, a stranger.

Happiness is, writing a journal.

Happiness is, a trinket box.

Happiness is, a secret wish.

Happiness is…hmmm the list goes on.

Tomato to Zomato

White shirts will attract ketchup like magneto attracts iron. – Food law #

You can’t help it, when starting with a food quote is trending.  A decade ago all I knew about food was ketchup and that ketchup was good on anything, sometimes even on ketchup and today I am hooked up on zomato before and after every meal out.

The second gen of food revolution is here, where we love to try recipes even from leftovers. Cookery shows are telecast on prime time and they give channels their maximum TRPs. Chefs are the latest celebrities and at times even poster boys, a smiling face is half the meal.

It is not mindless eating. We eat healthy; diets are upgraded to six small meals, no more starving. Yogas and workouts are giving way to foods that heal, power foods they call it. Organic shops are put up at every noticeable corner. Green tea, Kombucha, bubble tea share space with filter coffee in our daily beverage list. Even water is no more plain, they are flavoured with lemon, strawberry, cinnamon, tulsi and what not. Mom adds millets to dosa batter, dad lectures on antioxidants and bro sends link about tasty sprouts. Never has food been the talk of the town like it is now. Cooking has become a family affair. Toddlers are taught not to waste food. Schools take trips to organic farms, conduct cookery competitions and hold community lunch on Sundays.

Now microwave beeps are ringtones. A best seller is called “who moved my cheese?”.  The recent blockbusters are called- Pizza, Jiggirthanda, Lunchbox, Un samayal araiyil and Kalyana samayal sadam. Love, respect and craze for food is truly unconditional. Shopping for food is a therapy. A bubbly foodaholic friend of mine can’t resist cakes and excuses herself each time saying it is somebody’s birthday somewhere today, so let’s celebrate.

Personally I can’t remember when exactly did the transformation from a picky eater who had an aversion for food become the food lover who is crazy enough to write about it. Maybe it was the hungry days spent standing in endless queue in hostel for that  so called dosa, or maybe it was those early days of cooking when sambar became thokku and oats got burnt and still had to be consumed, or maybe it was those magical days when mom loves your rasam, friends crave for your pomegranate -bhujia-raita, or maybe it is the day you cook up a whole meal and feel like you are back from a jog on a beach, messed up hair, sweaty and salty, curried palms, aching legs but with that twinkle in the eyes  that inspires you to install a mirror in the kitchen or upload a kitchen selfie.

The next best thing to eating food is talking about it. We are all in a relationship, with food, for all it asks for- is to STAY HUNGRY, STAY FOOLISH. (Oh yeah, it all started with the apple)

The universe is made of tiny stories and not atoms.

Yeah, at times even the serious me defies all logic and worldly reasoning. In fact, the real me connects to everything and feels responsible for everything.  Compassion hurts, kills, makes life and so does connections. Connections that make us build walls with windows and bridges with gates. Connections that make chemistry, give energy and create stories.

There is no childhood without-“Once upon a time”, actually there is no life without those lines. The tiny stories, moments and the gap between those moments are actually priceless, boundless and infinite. Somebody had hit the right line by saying some infinities are bigger than other infinities.

There is a story behind every life . What are moments and memories without emotions and context?

We build homes, not houses.

We wander, not travel.

We add spice, not cook.

We perform, not shower.

We feel the rain, not just get wet,

We breathe stories, not just read books.

We doodle, not just scribble.

We live, not ride.

We create, not make.

We feel, not think.

We trust, not believe.

We daydream, not quit.

We all are budding drama queens who love to live and hate to fake it. Even pain demands to be felt. From every wound there is a scar, and every scar tells a story. A story that says, I survived. Tell me your story. I’ll listen; it is the best seller I have been waiting for.

hmmm 2015....time takes time

Let me fly, says little birdie-Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Primary school poems seldom go wrong.  We realize it decades later that time really takes time. A baby crawls before it walks and babbles before it talks only, to realize walking and talking is tiresome and no longer funnier like the former.

The excitement to see the final product takes away the sheer happiness in enjoying the process. The race against time is only to crib at the end about the lost time. Like they say, bees have to move very fast, only to stay still.

Stop, linger, pause is an amazing mantra as against the notion of life is too short to safely remove an external device. Rushing in life means fast forwarding, newer things, forgetting the past and of course wasting a lot.  I think this is what drives me to recycle and reuse things. Yes, it is a heavy baggage to carry, but isn’t life all about hiking with rucksacks? The resolution for 2015 is not to throw away things and people. Life is too short only to forgive quickly.

Let the new year give me time to walk slowly and catch the morning breeze, eat slowly and relish every bite, read calmly and read between the lines, breath slowly and inhale the rhythm of music, listen well even the unsaid words, think slowly and I have nothing to lose, act slowly to express and not impress and of course to sleep peacefully and not check the time before the alarm is gone and race ahead of time.

The killing of my pet cactus is the testimony to my confusion of being complete or being content; growing slowly or standing still. Every experience makes me grow. Time takes time.

Welcome 2015, let us live, love and laugh.

Barefoot...under the sky

I always wish that beaches should have a signage reading – “footwear not allowed”, yeah, why not, I feel it is one of the most sacred places on earth. The only place other than temples, where I forget myself.

Where do I begin with, every time I visit a beach, it is like reading a new book, it has an untold story for me. I feel so new like as if all my internal softwares have been updated. Like today is the first day for the rest of my life. The sea can wash the weight of the world from my shoulders.

The clarity of the blue sky and bluer ocean engulfs all my confusions. The sound of the waves, the feel of the water at my feet, is one of the best moments I have had in life. The complex ocean soothes me. I feel close to Einstein’s word here-

Out of clutter, find simplicity.

From discord, find harmony,

In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.

I feel this, everytime I get lost and find myself in the sands of the beach. I loose myself to the vastness of the ocean, I feel timid and lost in front of it yet I find peace, I find myself. I never get tired of the endless blue sky and the blue ocean, they teach me each time that I am a significant small. The untiring waves tell me, you are searching so hard, you have lost yourself, move on, some things never change. I make life decisions at the beach.

I had once read- the cure for anything is salt water – sweat, tears or the sea. Later life taught me; sometimes it is the combination of the three. It is the best place to de-stress, unwind and to get lost. When I am mad at something or in distress, the only thing that runs in my mind is – I want the ocean right now and trust me, it works.

Be it watching the sunrise, or reading a book, for catching up with a friend or just to awaken my soul, it is the sea. I wonder how is that, in spite of the action of the waves and the roars of the sea, I find calm here, I find no answers.

My life lesson – when feeling blue, go to where the blue sky meets the blue sea.

(PS- go barefoot <3 <3…)

mystic and mysterious - my god !!

Between alchemists, contemplation at beaches, self-talks and endless talks with like souls, I felt this is it, the meaningful nothingness and calm heaviness is my version of divinity, the feel.

I get reminded of being scolded by my mother for closing my eyes while praying in temples, gosh you missed the darshan, and I was told.  Little did I know back then that it was this mystery that I liked about god.  The feeling of being there, yet not.

During a discussion at office for a design of a prayer space we realized how culturally and socially man has made this a truth. The interior of the sacred sanctity of south Indian temples, technically called the garba griha, are dark and mysterious unlike the grandeur and splendor of their exterior. The moolavar or the prime deity is mostly made of stone and is dark sans a few ornamentation. They have a flickering deepam which gives lends an aura and a glimpse of the deity. The moment of the aarthi, the only time it is light brightly, I would say, is definetly a magical mystical moment even to an atheist. It makes you spellbound, the play of light and darkness, the spell of camphor, the sound of the bells, the chant of the slokas, the aura of the place.

Also we realized, up north, the interior of the temples as well as the deities are bright and colourful, made of marble and heavily decked up like the culture and festivity of the place. The god is obvious , there are elaborate pandals, people sing, dance and celebrate.

The discussion continued into our love and confusions over the kolams vs. the rangolis, the golus vs. the garbas, the deepams vs. the holi, the adhirasams vs. the rasagulas, we decided it has to be a very personal decision and decided to postpone it.

But the talk stirred in me  my actual love for old south Indian temples, why the visit gave me peace, in spite of not being a strongly religious or ritualistic person. We do not want our journeys to end, do not want all our questions to be answered, do not like our tomorrows to be revealed. Searches and questions keep us going, like there is always a tomorrow.  Oh my…the FM is playing-

ninaithu ninaithu paarthen…
nerungi vilagi nadandhen…

Drive me crazy...

I belong to that stupid crowd (I don’t know if I am alone here or if there really is any crowd ) that is pretty contend in life being a passenger and stays away from driving.

I am usually awestruck when I see people have great control over the vehicle and swish past like a pro. Its like I have two left feet or at times none, can never control my moves on land or in a vehicle. Driving is like magic to me.

Beyond the unusual craziness over bikers and pilots, I respect and admire the drivers of all public transport. Every time I use the public transport, which I do often, I am lost at the window and secondly at the drivers. They carry scores of people every day, safely. I often wonder, what would happen if they got distracted for a second. They just don’t drive for themselves; it’s a responsibility.

Salutes and bows to every alert pilot that saved hundreds on board, the bus driver who jammed the bus in a near by tree on realizing the failing brakes, just killing himself, these people who stay cool and alert even during calamities and hijacks. To every captain, pilot, cab man and drivers who reach a destination just by driving, not laying back to enjoy the view.

Once in an auto, the driver was cribbing about me refusing to pay above the usual fare, and me arguing reasonably that there is a hike in the auto fare and petrol fortnightly but I get a bonus only once a year. Then out of the blue he asked me about my qualification and why I didn’t manage to get employed in IT sector which paid returns. I told him I am an architect.

The man bowled me over saying he built his own house, brick by brick all by himself and hadn’t cleared even his SSLC exams two decades ago and challenged me if I could. To smile was all I could do. He told he has read all religious scriptures and was trying to understand what was religion and why all this fight. To fuel my silence, he claimed he was Lord Krishna, the charioteer, who was instrumental in guiding this travel of common man. “Enna Madam, Krishnanum driver dhane??!!, Appo naanum Krishnan dhane?!! Naan dhan kalki avadharamo??!!”

Now even my smile had vanished, I felt so small  in the auto.Like they say, nothing beats a really good drive…

There’s a hundred-thousand streets in this city. You don’t need to know the route. You give me a time and place; I give you a five minute window.-driver