My daddy strongest

I just saw an episode of 'The Wonder Years', the one in which Kevin goes to his dad's office and learns a lot about him - his dreams, the work he does, how he handles stuff, etc. He sees his dad as a man with power, just in the way he punches the numbers on the telephone/ the way he handles people and he feels proud for his dad and thinks that he is the best man ever and one who is too good for this place.
And just then a superior walks in and blasts his dad and the whole dreamy world of 'My daddy strongest' is swept away in the blink of an eye.

Aren't we all just like that? For the longest time, I believed[and a part of me still does] that my dad was the best man in the world, that he was the strongest - he could beat anybody up, he could make all my bad dreams go away and I would never be afraid if he was around, that he was the smartest, that he talks so well and can get any work done, he's just so dependable and of course - I do take it for granted that it is so, especially since he is MY dad and he is the best in the whole wide world.
Fathers are mostly made out to be the distant parent, just the providers for the family and bad at communicating their feelings/showing them. But I think I never found my dad not-approachable or was ever really afraid of him.
My aunt loves telling this story about when I was around 6-7 years old and had done something really dumb and totally freaked out my dad.It seems he took a belt in his hand and was walking towards me. It seems everyone in the room was horrified[because my parents never hit their children and never have until now], but me, I was the only one who was completely calm, without a trace of fear, for I was sure that I wasn't going to be beaten. My aunt still recalls it with awe, that I just stood there so casually.
As the years pass by, you do realise he's not the most powerful man on earth, that he too is human just like me. That, I feel, makes it all the more special. The special bond of the father-child, where you feel safe, secure, loved, happy and look forward to being with your dad. I have learnt a lot from him, still am learning and I know, there are so many things that he is good at, that I may never even learn them. He's still my idol on so many levels, it's surprising.
And as I think of it, I realise that I still am that child at some level.
I just read that and it seems like I forgot about my mum in all this, but I know what an angel she is[and that's for another time]. The pillars in my life- my parents, they rock.

Update

Turned out physiotherapy caused me more pain and had my knee sport a swelling the size of a lemon. Alright, that was gross, I know ;d
And this time the doctor told me to go in for an arthroscope where the surgeon will remove the part of the cartilage that is torn and also do a 'Lateral Release'. I was convinced that this was the only option left. An operation and finally release from my knee pain, even though it meant at least 6 weeks of physiotherapy and maybe 6 months for complete recovery.
That night, calls went out to all the doctors that all my family members know, with the result that surgery is the last option/worst case scenario and that I should not do it unless the doctor was THE best and after I had exhausted all other options.
A family friend came up with the idea of going in for ayurveda/nature cure d try the Puttur Bone Setters.
While I was initially against the idea, I did go ahead with it. Anything that may help, has to be tried, right.
I never knew that it would get this bad. While I am not wallowing in self-pity, I do wonder if I should be handling this better, I do get the feeling that I crib and complain more than necessary.The pain is bearable 60percent of the time, I AM tired of struggling with almost every task but when I see people telling me that they have ligament tears over years and haven't gone in for surgery, I know it is wrong on their part to delay the inevitable surgery and hence the healing process, but they are taking it and still doing lots of athletic stuff- it makes me wonder.
Maybe I am more susceptible to pain, maybe I am afraid of letting things be and getting up one day to realise that there is irreversible damage.Maybe I just want my normal life back. And fast.
I do wonder if I still remember what is normal.
Recently, I saw this scene where a woman sank to the floor, knees first, to talk to another person sitting on the floor. The feeling that 'I may never be able to do that ever again, for all my life' suddenly hit me. Not a good place to be in, most definitely not.
Well, I know, its not a big deal for anyone other than me and my family, but us, it's a real problem, dealing with it on a daily basis is daunting. I am beginning to feel like some invalid.
Just last night we got tickets for all to see the Preview of Terminator Salvation and my mom chose not to go because I would have to be home alone if all went to the theater.
WHOW, that was morose.
Well, there still are options out there. I will heal. That is a fact. And therein lies hope too.
In the meanwhile, I am spending all day lying down with my leg straight [ did you know when you have to keep it straight, all you want to do is to bend it], an occasional hour or so at the laptop, some on tv[catching up on all the ads on tv, having no cable for a year can do that to you, but that's a story for another time, reading 2 novels simultaneously[The Sword of Shannara somehow reminds me of Lord of the Rings and Jeffrey Archer's twists have stopped feeling 'out of the world' to me].
That's it for the update and finally sitting up long enough to write something.
Maybe its time for me to put my time and energy into something constructive. Any ideas?

One measly month

This is a continuation of "Discoid Meniscus"
I applied for a month off, so I could give my leg complete rest and give it a 100% chance of recovery so I could avoid surgery.
The person who is 2 levels above me got the news on Monday noon. I was to have a discussion with her on Tuesday for which I waited the whole day and it never happened. Wednesday, I was asked to call her. I did at 1pm, when she was busy. At 3pm, when she was busy again and asked me to call at 5.30pm. At 5.30pm where she didn't even consider it necessary to pick up and waste her breath to tell me to call back again, so the call was cut.
Thursday afternoon, my manager says "She's available, call now". I call and she says
"I have wanted to talk to you about the leave, you haven't given enough notice."
"I got to know on Friday evening and informed my manager on Monday. And this is a health thing, not something I could plan in advance."
"It's not like you are having heart surgery today afternoon, then we can consider"
(If I have a heart surgery today afternoon, she will consider, I suppose I should thank the Gods for it)
and some other nonsense later, she continues
"Anyway, the client will want 2 weeks notice"
"But this is medical. Also, the onsite co-ordinator has already said that the client will be ok with it since it is health related".
"Why is there this miscommunication, the client has to always be informed 2 weeks in advance"
(Probably even if I am clutching my heart and dying right now, I will have to wait 2 weeks to get a doc)
"We have been very considerate towards you, we already let you have almost 3 weeks off in December. You have to show some responsibility towards your project"
"I remember our conversation in December, you accused me of lying and faking a problem"
She laughs (she has the bloody audacity to do that)
"That is what I thought then, but this is different"
(How so, I beg you, enlighten me)
"I will finish any KT in a few days, the client won't have a problem. Please think about it from my point of view, I don't want to risk it any more"
"You are being so stubborn, thinking only about yourself"
(Like she's going to do anything for me if I HAVE to get a surgery done. And at least she's supposed to consider what I need)
"But it is my health. How can I take another chance. Do think from my point of view"
"I am thinking from your side. I have offered you two weeks"
(And this is where any semblance of polite talk disappeared)
"But that is what you started off with, you haven't offered me anything!!"
"If this is how you want to do it, my answer is no, you won't get leave, I need to think about it. Two weeks definitely. I consider this discussion completed."
"This is necessary for me." (a pathetic, grovelling, embarassing, last ditch effort from me)
"My final answer is NO".

One measly month off at a project I have worked 1.5 years on, in a company I have worked 4.8 years in.
What do you think I should do now?

Discoid Meniscus

This is a continuation of Housemaid's Knee.

The 6th doc I consulted told me to go in for an arthroscopy where they will put 2 pins between the knee cap and the bone, so your pain can be avoided.
The 7th doc to whom I went for a second opinion told me not to be hasty and asked me to get an MRI done.
That in itself is an experience, I was given a gown that reminded me of Silas from The DaVinci Code, it was a full length, full sleeved roomy robe in a deep hue. I had seen the MRI machine in many episodes of 'House' and thought that its absolutely no big deal and best thing, it's painless!
It's like this huge tunnel looking thing with a sleeper-cot at the center, I was asked to lie down, the technician put two pad-type objects above and below the knee and put on earphones around my head(For a second, I did that this was reallllly cool !!!) and then he said, "The machine can be really noisy, this will reduce it for you. This may take around 15 minutes". Sigh ;)
The machine had a steady hum, like an extended heart beat with musical noise in between. I was rather getting used to it when the machine started up like a a car/generator powering up. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was , I admit, scary. For no reason at all. The noise reminded me of the start of the song "Pyar karke pachtaya" from Pyar ke Side Effects, there's a weird noise in it like a stuck record.
I couldn't lift my head to look into the tunnel, I had been warned to make absolutely no movements. And just when I realised that I make sure that I don't move and forced my concentration on that , my leg twitched !! uahahahhahahahahahaaa .. I did worry that they would ask me to do it again since the image might have gotten distorted !! And then stopped, so I made myself concentrate on the left leg, it didn't twitch but just shook like I was about to start on a dance move! This concentrating this is a real pain, I put my mind onto seeing the pattern on the ceiling and then there was no sign of twitches, but I did notice 2 cracks in the ceiling , that the MRI machine was made by Philips, that the lights were pretty, and I think I would have gone on like that, till the sounds stopped and it was the steady hum again.Had it been 15 mins? I didn't think so, and the whole ordeal happened again for the 4 times that the machine stopped and started - changing angles I imagine.
Well, I went back to the doc and he said, Nope, definitely not Bursitis(which he had told me the previous day too). Turns out my knee joint was jolted out of place when I fell and the ligament got stretched(thankfully, not torn). He said, "I want you to undergo physiotherapy for a month and then we can see if there is improvement and decide if there is need for surgery. We can release the ligament from under the bone with surgery then"
Yippppppppppeeeeee ! I am relieved that I know what the problem is.
Try being in constant pain for 10 months plus.
Try having to shift out of your beautiful home since you can't climb stairs.
Try having a conversation with everyone where the first statement is invariably "Hows your knee now?"
Try not being able to stand long enough to cook a simple meal.
Try not being able drive for more than 20 mins without immense pain.
Try going to places that have only the Indian style restrooms.
Try having put on 15kgs in a few months because you can't walk/jog/join a gym to lose weight.
Try having only a measly fruit bowl for lunch every single weekday.(and still not losing any weight)
Try having to keep away a dozen new dresses since you can't fit into them anymore.

Well, it does help having a husband who does all the work without complaining (while I lie on the sofa) and tells me I don't look fat at all (even when I weigh 70kgs).
and that is why I am relieved that I know what the problem is, finally!
At least, I can get my physiotherapy and fix it. Or worst case scenario, get a surgery done (and that is something, I most definitely don't want to do)

Home sweet home

We've been looking for a house to shift for some time now, another rental. The search in itself is tedious but humour finds its way in sometimes.
There's a Real Estate agency that calls itself L.J.Hooker and always advertises on the net by the name of Rekha. I have called them multiple times but its always a guy who picks up and redirects me to another guy who is the 'area manager'.
There was this guy who picked up the phone and said "Hello" with an accent that showed that he was more comfortable in the vernacular(yes, my assumption, but it sounded very very south Indian), so I spoke in the vernacular and he turned around with a "Yes, ma'am if you tell me what you are looking for ... ", so I changed tracks and said "We are looking for a house in the X range with Y amount of bedrooms and a car park, it should be a residential area ...... " it took me close to a minute to say all this and he says "Eh, yenu?" and I had to repeat all that in Kannada.
One of my faves was this guy who I spoke to only over the phone, the conversation went thus :
"Hello, I am calling about this house advertised in XYZ .. "
Sorry please, the amount is not correct please.(It showed 5k lesser than what the owner was expecting)
That's ok, is it on the ground floor?
No, please. It is on 3rd floor please.
Does the building have lift?
No, please how can 3rd floor have lift please. No please no please.(and he put the phone down)

I seriously didn't know how to find the info amongst all those pleases!!

There was this guy on a TVS 50 who was showing us a couple of houses that were available. He would keep zooming on the main road on the wrong side and find his route through the shadiest looking gullies and finally come out in front of some wonderful houses, but the journey was scary enough to wonder whether we could make it in on our own! He tried convincing me that there is barely any need to climb stairs to get to the first floor!!

We went searching in the by lanes for a house once and stopped to ask directions and the guy turned out to be a real estate agent who wanted to show us other houses.

Then, there are the shady types :
I call up this guy and say "I am calling about this house, which you have advertised as being close to the X landmark, is it still available"
"Yes, it is"
"Exactly where near X does it come?"
"Exactly near X ma'am"
"Near the bank in the front of X or the restaurant behind X?"
"Near X ma'am"
Now that was getting nowhere, so I ask, "Is the house on the ground floor"
"Yes"
"Does it have a car park"
"Yes. When will you come to see it"
"Is Saturday ok?"
"Ok. What is your budget."
"X"
"For X, you wont get car parking ma'am"
"But you just told me that the house I called up about has car parking and it says that the rent amount is X"
"No, that was for a Y+1 number of bedrooms, you want only Y"
"But you just told me ... "
"Yes"
"So is it available or not"
"You come and see ma'am"
"Don't ask me to come if you don't have anything that suits my requirement"
"Ok Ok"
and the phone gets cut !! (was I fuming then !! )

There are probably many other stories but sigh, I just want to find a pretty little house.

There's no place like home

This was written while waiting for my connecting flight to Bangalore at the Mumbai airport, in the wee hours of the morning , having just landed back from foreign shores. I was so excited and so unable to sit still that I needed something to occupy myself and I took out the laptop and started writing what I was feeling, it is incomplete of course, since I was more interested in hearing the call that 'The Bangalore flight is ready for boarding'.

The first thing that I see as soon as I land in India is the dis-obeyal of rules. Made me smile.Then there was the queue to get through migration and we had the usual jostling and 'breaking of queue', people slipping in left and right and the concept of personal space totally violated.There was this lady who seemed to think that shoving her bag into my back was a way to move faster.and hence my first irritated expression which I haven't felt in the last 10 months, at least not for the same reason.Then there was the airport security check, they had just one row for a few hundred passengers and having said that I must mention that it moved very fast.security did seem lax for there was a water bottle in my bag which almost always resulted in a personal human baggage check and me having to lose 15 mins extra coz of that, but here, the bag was just kept aside and I could just pick it up and go my way.The staff was helpful though, turns out the metal detectors that are used for the ladies, seem to pick up the back pocket buttons also! that was a little weird , the lady kept trying to check what made the beep and it was quite some time before I realised that the pockets had buttons on them.
and finally !! most importantly, the first thing I thought of when I landed was "Yeh jo desh hai mera , swades hai mera" and that put on the biggest smile on my face.There seemed to be not as much excitement as I expected considering that I spent the last 7 months waiting to get back home, but honestly , being in a flight full of Indians(I just typed desis and had to erase it and make it Indian, coz of obvious reasons). There is something that totally tugs at the heart strings, the feeling of being back in India, of being back home, seeing all ladies in sarees.. It doesn't seem anything like people warned, I was told there'll be a 2 month withdrawal period before you get back to accepting what I spent 23 years of my life in.Well, maybe early to say so considering all that I have seen is the airport only so far.
But baby, It feels great to be back home! I am loving it ! No more McD's , no more SUbways , plain old masala dosas and vadas and sambars and chutneys ... Yummmmmmmmy !!
Friends, family , familiar surroundings... sigh, what I have been pining for for the last 10 months, almost since the day that I left .... I am home . I keep saying that to myself as I sit here in this airport lounge and wait for the last flight that I want to take in a journey that started exactly on October 25 last year.I think outside of home and office, if there was a place that I spent time in , it was in airports.
I really do wonder if I achieved what I set out to do, a part of me wanted to explore more than the limited pond that I seemed to grow up in , another part of me wanted adventure and something new and exciting... a part that wanted something new ... I wonder if I found all that in the last couple of months, I know for sure that when I got my tickets in hand to return to Blore , the first thought that ran through my head was "Is it 10 months already, what have I done in all of these months, I am going to go back home and everything is going to be exactly the same, nothing has changed , nothing will, I am probably the same that I was 11 months ago, just feels like the page of a year of my life has gone by without much having happened" but then I also know that I have grown up, learnt to be a little more self-dependant, learnt to be my own person and have sort of formed an identity of my own, I have had to face all my shortcomings in the face, I had to face my worst fears, I had to learn to depend on myself, in the same breath, I also learnt that the actual independance that I was seeking is impossible,man is a social being, nothing can get done in the best possible way if you don't have the support or advice of someone who's been there before or done it.

A dime a dozen

I have been reading this past week and how.

The Da Vinci Code
Deception Point
The Prodigal Daughter
A Matter of Honour.
Dhammara
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's stone
and currently
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

I couldn't finish Dhammara though, it was really boring. I didn't know I had THAT much free time at hand.
(whoa, that's almost a book a day !!!)

Cleaning out my cupboard

I did the darndest thing yesterday.
It started with me rolling up my sleeves(literally) to clean out my old lot of 'gifts/greeting cards'. I had three big bags of them to clear and started sifting through them and as was inevitable got into the flashback mode for many of them.
The oldest I had was from when I was in the 5th std. A friend had given me a 3D card of a sailor and a small boy waving to a ship at sea, move the card and the ship moves. This girl now has her own 2 year old daughter!
There were lots of birthday cards, best of luck for exam cards, festival greetings, a bunch of letters from a penpal, pocket sized telephone directories and birthday remindes.
I found a piece of paper that was torn off from a Hindi text book, the corner part, where I had written down the birthdays of 5 of my 12th std friends in about 1.5 inches of space.
I found a packed which had around 10-15 friendship bands from the 12th std, some from my college, some from my tuitions, and best of all, I still remembered who had given me which one.
There were of course many cards which had "All of us" signed at the bottom and no year, so I wasnt sure which gang this was nor which year I had gotten it on.
Another card that a couple had given to me saying that "This is the first time we are doing anything as a couple". It felt so good to see that.
Then there were a few lines of Shayari written on foolscap sheet by a friend, a budding poet 10 years ago, not sure if he still keeps at it. I wish he does though.
It was a nice walk down memory lane, one that brought back memories I hadnt raked up in years. Its nice to know that I havent forgotten so many of those incidents. But I do wonder how many I have indeed forgotten.
All these were the gifts of my school and then +2, I wonder what happened to all the gifts I got during my graduation and working period. I guess, they turned to be gifts that are in the showcase at home, at school, I guess a card is the most affordable, the older you get , the more you can spend, right.
Yup, coming right to the darndest thing point. I think I mentioned a phone directory stowed away in the midst of those cards, I was going through the name (I actually couldnt recall some of the people's faces even with their names and numbers in front of me).I saw a name , A, a friend from 12th, actually, my friend K's friend. K was a really good friend to me in those two years, we'd spent a lot of time in labs, lunch and after school hours, we'd end up in her house pretty often talking for hours. Probably my closest confidante of that time. We finished 12th, I moved to another college while she continued on in the same one for her graduation and somehow we never met after that. It is pretty surprising, now when I think of it. I lost of a close friend out of sheer negligence of keeping up a friendship.
Like my mom says, life always puts new people in your path, most of the old ones drop off with time and the new ones sort of fill up that gap till the next new one comes along. The few that stay with you are the ones for keeping.It isnt that they changed or like you lesser or any logical reason, things just happen. You live with it.
Sometime after I got onto Orkut, I tried searching for her , lots of times, but for the life of me , I couldnt remember her last name, I still sifted through hundreds of records with the first name and gave up thinking that she probably isnt on that website.
On a whim, I took the phone and dialed A's number, this being a landline, I hoped her parents would be able to tell me her current number and I could get to K through her at least.It really didnt register on my mind, that the number I had was 10 years old, that her parents might not live there anymore, that she could be married/working/studying somewhere continents away, that she may not be in touch with K. I guess I need to do things like that more often, just do it before I can think of all the reasons it will fail.
As luck would have it, she was there, (I am sure her father wondered why I called up on a landline and asked if a Ms A lives there and then introduced myself as a 12th standard classmate to him) but of course she had absolutely no idea who I was.
I tried giving some 'clues' about me, "I was on the college throwball team", "We used to sit in the cycle stand after classes and discuss Mrs. G's latest funny statements", "I used to hang out with K in labs". Absolutely no go, I rattled off a few other names from their group and she at least was convinced that I am not a total nut case and there's probably some authenticity.
But, bless her for this, she told me that K was on Orkut and gave me the mail ID.
I have shot off a friend request and have my fingers crossed that she at least remembers me :)

Writer ?

This is going to be true ramblings, I have been meaning to write something for over a week now and havent been able to think of a single thing to write about.If I were indeed a writer, I guess it would be a wonderful example of writer's block.
I wonder if I will ever be a writer, as in write something that I can think of as a piece of readable, interesting, well-put, well thought out litereary piece.
Maybe not. But then who knows, the future may need 'would-be-authors' like me.
There was this movie I forced myself to watch, just so I could get to the ending, where this writer has writer's block, she is trying to figure out how to kill the main character of her novel and ends up going to bizarre places and doing even more bizarre things just to get inspired.
She goes to a hospital emergency ward and realises that people are getting healed here inspite of the urgency and severity of the problems, so she asks one of the staff "Where are the people who are dying, who will die, where do you keep them?" and gets this weird look in return which could be interpreted to mean, "May be you want the psychiatry ward for yourself".
Then she rolls off her car into a lake in winter just to see how the dying person would feel and realises that she wouldn't like it either when she's shivering sodden wet and smoking her trademark cigarette.
Wow, it is so much easier to describe something that you have seen or read rather than to try and come up with something original isn't it?
For instance, lets say you can beautifully report something but you just don't have the creativity to invent characters and situations, does that make you less of a writer or does that just make you someone with limited creativity.
Hahahhhaaa, I like that word limited, it is such a wonderful way of saying almost none.
One wonders at all the words and phrases that are in use just to sugarcoat the actual essence - take for instance- vertically challenged, would you honestly be able to say that a person being called vertically challenged will take that description better than being called short? Won't s/he know the difference, rather, the lack of a difference?
We shouldn't call a spade a spade.
Isn't that a big part of writing, the more accomplished writer you are, the directly proportional the size and obscurity of words that you use.For a long time, I assumed that someone with a good command over the language and a vast collection of big words undoubtedly assured your position as a good writer.
Turns out, its not true. When I read something, I believe I need to feel the emotion being spelt out, understand the story and have fun while doing it.
It can be looked at from another angle where, if the reader is as educated as the author, then maybe he enjoys the finer nuances and higher intellect more. So, if I was an author, I would want all to read my stuff, so that would mean, the max length of words I use wouldn't probably cross 8 letters.
There was one occassion in Hindi class at School that I remember, where the teacher, after admonishing the class for lousy Hindi skills, called out my name, asked me to come to the front of the room and read out the answers I had written. I barely had time to wonder if mine really was the worst of the lot, when she said "Her answers are so well written, the simplest words possible but she gets the point across and thats all I need".
I know there was a compliment in there somewhere but at the 14 years of age - frame of mind - walking to the front of the class - mix, I wasn't sure.
But I take that as a compliment now. The point is to get the point across.
Hope you got the point.
Uahahahahhaaaa, if only she were here to see the mess I have made.

An incomplete attempt

She looked at the clock. The hour hand hadnt moved.Why did'nt it? She had patiently waited for a year, but this last one hour was taking forever. She looked at the clock again. Did it move ? or were her eyes just playing tricks on her? She looked around her. There was almost no one else in the station, just the porters lying around. She got up, went and got herself a coffee. It did nothing to soothe her nerves. She walked up and down, sat on the bench, the beautiful sunrise went un-noticed. She paced up and down the platform more than a hundred times and yet that darned clock hand wouldnt move.
"I will be back on the 17th". There was no hi-hello, she picked up the phone at the first ring and she heard the hoop of joy and "I will be back on the 17th". It was the 17th today, all of 5.30 am. Then she heard the whistle of the train as it chugged into the station. Her eyes looked searchingly at every door, into every window, where was he?
He found her before she did him. She was knotting and unknotting the edge of her dupatta. She always did that when she got nervous around him and it always made him smile. Everytime he had heard her voice over the phone, he had imagined her doing that or throwing her long plait over her shoulder like she would when playfully teasing him. Sigh, he had missed her so much the last few months. As he looked at her now he felt it more than he had in all his moments of loneliness, than all those moments when he spent hours looking at her photo and cursing himself for having gone away from her.
She saw him, he was half-hanging out from the train. He was here. The guy with the cutest smile she had ever seen, the guy she had her first crush on, her best friend, the love of her life, her husband was here. He had his broadest smile on, head half tilted, that unruly mop of hair falling over his forehead. She broke into a smile and then into laughter, the whole year melted into nothingness. The train screeched to a halt.He got off the train and walked towards her. Time stilled around them. She was laughing, her happy laugh- oh how he had missed the sight of that.

She stretched out her hand and touched his face. She let her palm linger over his cheek, she felt the slight stubble.As her fingers curled backwards, he held her hands to his face.Her soft fingers against his skin felt like pure magic. He sensed her moving her fingers away maybe because of the place they were in, but he dint really care. He pressed her fingers against his face and close his eyes, letting the sensation sink into him. He opened his eyes and saw the expression on her face had changed. She was trying her best not to break down.
The tears were welling up within her. She dint want to make a scene. It hurt to be so close and have to be away.