Category: Blog

The highlight of today has been a trip to Ibn Battuta. To an outsider, a natural question that may arise is: how can you visit a person? To a person living in Dubai, the only question that arises is: which pavilion did you visit?

This is not a joke, but a fact. It’s a humorous fact, which I’m hoping everyone can appreciate with the below context.

Ibn Battuta was a wild Moroccan explorer, who went on all sorts of crazy pilgrimages. Dubai is a wild city, which builds all sorts of crazy things. This is a perfect match. Thus, in homage to Ibn Battuta, the city built a mall – a gigantic mall, which is the world’s largest themed shopping mall. The mall has a Court/Pavilion based on places Ibn Battuta visited. This is not to say that these pavilions exclusively feature shops from that region, but rather that the architectural style and design is based on that region in its entirety. There’s an Andalusia Court, China Court, Egypt Court, India Court, Persia Court, and Tunisia Court.

It’s actually insane.

The reason today’s trip was a highlight was because, of course, my grandparents were there. And we ate McDonalds. Eating McD with them made me so aware of how childlike the two of them are. Both of them enjoyed the burger, of course, but my grandmother was super curious about the items on the menu and the kind of quality control McD and other multinational food chains maintained across their branches. My grandfather destroyed his burger – literally eating the top bun, then the burger patty, and then the bottom bun, but he was happy eating it, which made me happy – and I laughed at how uniquely he consumed the thing. Then we ate doughnuts, which also amused them both (look, its so soft!), and I bought my grandmother a McSwirl cone. That cone is the cheapest thrill in the world (aside from free objects), so her happiness knew no bounds.

Naturally the questions were aplenty: how often do you go to McD, how much do you usually spend there, and such.

But spending close to an hour eating at McD with them was fully worth those questions. I also got to drink two glasses of Coca-Cola because nobody else wanted it, so it’s been a pretty great day.

In the evening my grandfather and I went for a walk to the grocery store. This is a new neighbourhood for me, so he’s helping me get acquainted with the place and showing me around a little, which I appreciate. It was only when I got to the store that I realized he also wanted to visit so he could pick up some chocolates without my grandmother noticing.

We are both nefarious individuals, my grandfather and I.

They’re off tomorrow morning, and the house is going to be quieter when they leave. I’m going to cherish this McDonalds memory forever, and I’m hoping I’ll be able to take them to a McDonalds when I visit Bangalore next. What I’m going to miss is poking fun at my grandmother and giving her a hard time in good jest, and those walks with my grandfather. I’m always wiser in his company.

I have arrived in the motherland.

And the grandmotherland, given that my maternal grandparents are presently here as well.

Given that I had an early morning flight, I pretty much slept through midday till lunch. Post lunch I showed my grandparents the Bill Gates docuseries I watched, which made sense to me since my grandfather loves technology.

Then I lazed around and played computer games.

My holidays have well and truly begun.

Today was my last day in Bangalore. I know this makes no sense at all, but I celebrated it by going to Salem. You heard me correctly. My aunt and uncle drove me down to Salem, in Tamil Nadu, and drove me back. We visited a temple there and returned. The trip itself was an absolute delight, and I’m so grateful that they gave up their Sunday plans for this.

The first time I heard of Salem was when a boy from the city relocated to my school. I hadn’t even heard of a place like it, and I recall thinking that it sounded foreign (Middle-Eastern, almost), while also sounding like Salami, which made me chuckle. But then I met the boy, and we became really close – in part because of our mutual love for fountain ink pens, and in part because we just got along, conversation-wise. We were on the same bus route for a while, which undoubtedly made our friendship easier. What was crazy was running into him on a BMTC bus a couple of years ago.

But speaking to him and hearing about Salem and its schools, and the district generally, I couldn’t help but think that Malgudi, from RK Narayan’s works, was modeled along its lines. While I didn’t really explore Salem today, I did think about Swami and his friends a lot on the car journey to and fro, and that’s given me enough to be cheery about.

What I’m also really cheery about at the moment is the amount of time that I spent with my Chikamma and Uncle. They hadn’t seen me for six months, and I know they were concerned at times about my welfare this semester, so to be able to spend some time with them and talk to them about everything was pretty great. The car ride reminded both my Chikamma and I of our trips to Amoeba and Pizza Hut, and we stopped for some amazing food both on the way to Salem and on our return journey – which made everything worth it.

Of course, since I’m going home tomorrow, I need to groom myself. So I had a haircut and shaved my beard, and I now look 10 years younger and ready for my parents’ pampering. In a few hours I will be at the airport again. I really do hope there’s a fast-food joint open inside the international section of the Bengaluru Airport. Its very frustrating that the KFC is only open on the domestic side. Everything on the international side is so unnecessarily expensive.

[Update: nothing was open]

 

I dislike having to prove that I am capable of using the English language. Nonetheless, this morning I completed a proficiency test. I’m not too worried about the results, but scoring low marks will hit my confidence for sure. I know it’ll make me question some of the grammar choices I make on this blog. And some of the rules I’ve implemented. Especially the rule pertaining to no editing. Maybe it’s time to become a stickler for English language rules, punctuation and everything. Or maybe it’s time to flip conventions on their heads. I can never tell which mood I’ll wake up in, which made writing today’s exam particularly difficult (I was in the mood to turn convention on its head, so I had to remind myself about punctuating appropriately).

I chilled with Panda in the afternoon, and ended up watching videos about music and talking about the new music we discovered in the last 4 years. Which was really fun.

Then I went to a college batchmate’s house. This was my first trip there, despite the fact that we’ve spent 4 years living within 10 minutes of each other even on our semester breaks. That was enjoyable, not in the least because we were able to spend time in each others’ company away from campus. We’ve done that for the past 3 winters now, so this is technically the first winter break we’re spending away from each other in a while. It’s weird, but it’s something I think we’re both grateful for. We were getting too close, I must admit.

I’ve had a very happy day.

My maternal grandmother’s sister and her husband spent the night with us. This morning, we woke up and went to eat masala dosas at a place near our house. While the dosas were excellent, I don’t think I appreciated them as much as what we did once we got back home. We had an hour to kill before they had to leave, so we sat and chatted. While chatting could have taken several forms, a sense of nostalgia ended up becoming the theme of that gathering. Everyone in my family is an excellent storyteller. I’ve been regaled by their tales when I was a child. Larger-than-life characters who make some difficult choices, all of whom have lovely family backgrounds and loving parents – most stories used to allow me to idolize the protagonist, without much plot progression occurring before I dozed off to sleep. Today’s stories though, were all real. I’m not too well-connected with my mega-family (the extended ones), and as a result, there are so many people I just don’t know much about, other than their names or faces (it’s never both). I heard so many stories about them today. The ones that hit the closest to home were about my great grandparents. All four of them. I’ve only met two of them (from my maternal grandmothers’ side), and only recently began prodding my maternal grandfather to tell me stories about his parents – so to hear about them today was very special.

Truth be told, I enjoy these stories because they allow me to live in the past for a few minutes, and experience scenarios I will never get to experience today.

The other truth of this is that I end up missing several people as a result. Today, I missed my chikamma. This is a useful place to explain to you how I “tag” people in my family. I don’t have a system for it. People in my grandparents’ generation are technically my “Ajjis/Tatas”, but some of them are called “Uncle/Aunty”. My mom’s sister is the only person among her generation I call “Chikamma”. Everyone else is called by name. I don’t know why. I think it’s because they were all young when I was growing up. I feel like they only asked that I don’t append this Chikamma business to their names. Except, their spouses are all called “Uncle”/”Aunty” where appropriate. It’s highly confusing, and a system only I understand.

But anyway, this chikamma I missed, A – is someone I’ve always called by name. When I was young and visited Bangalore for my summer breaks, my care was entrusted to a full community. It wasn’t just my welfare and well-being. It was also my entertainment. My grandparents would have gone crazy otherwise. My mom’s cousins were pretty young – all in their mid-late 20’s, I think – and working hours in Bangalore were pretty chill at the time, a proper 9-to-6 type of thing. As a result, A used to come to my grandparents’ place pretty frequently to play with me and keep me entertained. I have a whole host of memories with her. They’re vivid and vague at the same time, but they’re all happy and fuzzy. I can recall being in her care and feeling warm in her presence.  One of my vivid memories is playing with her phone, and goofing around in the lounge area of our Basaveshwaranagar house. My other memory is visiting her and her husband at Electronic City. I usually had trouble with new entrants into the family (I hadn’t grasped at the concept in its entirety), but Uncle made some fab food, took me around this amazing Infosys campus (where they both worked), and gave me a PSP game on loan (which I never returned). In their home, I felt affection, and love.

Today, all of those feelings flooded back to me.

The weird thing is that I spent more time with her when I was in Dubai and visited Bangalore just for the summer breaks, than when we relocated to Bangalore. That’s largely owing to the fact that we lived in Whitefield, but also because, well, we all grew up and got busy with our own lives. Technology should have helped us keep in touch, and I know it has – to the extent that I can pretty much pick up exactly where I left off with most of my relatives, but I was overcome with guilt at the fact that I couldn’t go to her place and tell her how much I missed her and how grateful I was for all the time she spent with me when I was a little baby.

So I wrote her a long, senti message. Just to say thanks. To overcome my guilt though, I know I’m going to work on keeping in touch with my family more. I have some really cool “aunts” and “uncles”, all of whose company and affection I have enjoyed as a child. I need to make sure I’m their favourite nephew, especially given the options they now have. (so many tiny humans)

And then the evening came, where I visited my own second/third cousin, who had recently given birth. I’ve spent a lot of time at their house, and I’ve written about “Akka” and all my memories here. Her daughter is now ten days old. She’s the youngest human being I have had interaction with, and first time I’ve been referred to as “Tejas Mama” (Mama is what Uncles are called). I saw the little one in the care of her Ajji and Tata, and well, it reminded me why I’m so grateful for their warmth and love.

Family is wired so differently to the rest of society. I’m lucky and grateful to be born into one which is unconditionally loving, and unconditionally supportive. Seeing that little girl and hearing all these stories reminded me of that power, and my fortune, and I’m so excited to welcome her into the world. She’ll end up dealing with whatever is in her destiny, but we share a family, so she’ll always have that unconditional love and support to fall back on.

When I traveled to Bangalore, I was entrusted to the care of four primary care-givers: my mothers’ parents, her sister, and her brother-in-law. I was also entrusted to the community of caretakers that resided in the city – across my parents’ families, ranging to everyone’s cousins. I was the youngest – on both sides, which meant I was pampered everytime I came into the city by a range of people. My great-grandparents have been living with my grandmother’s brother for as long as I can remember, and my great-grandmother still does.

Today I visited their household. I’ve had the fortune of visiting them in all cities they’ve stayed in (since my birth) barring one, and they’ve played a key role in so many memories I have of Bangalore. Visiting them and spending time there is always a reminder of that. Today, though, Uncle dropped me back pretty much 10 minutes away from our house, and I sat behind him on his scooter. I don’t recall ever sitting behind him when I was a child – although I’m sure I have. In that moment, though, I felt like a 6 or 7 year old he was basically protecting. Uncle has that aura, and it’s something I cherish deeply about our relationship. He’s fiercely loving.

So much so that he’s tolerated me lying about doing my holiday homework for the entirety of my summer vacation. Our daily routine was this. He’d leave for work. I’d tell him I’d do some of my holiday homework before he got home. Then I’d sit and watch TV all day. He’d come home and ask about my holiday homework. I would tell him I’ve done nothing. He would laugh and make me laugh about it. And this cycle repeated for a month.

It was great. Best time of my life.

Then in the evening, I went out to Blossoms and Brik Oven. Being on MG Road has always been special for me, because I’ve been able to discover and appreciate it – and it’s surrounding areas only after moving away from Bangalore. I didn’t pick up any books, although I surfed across pretty much every aisle and found a bunch of great titles, but I did make more memories with a school classmate – and that’s worth everything to me at the moment.

 

Bangalore weather has had the impact only Bangalore weather can have on my body. I slept, windows open, wind gusting through my bedroom, under two rugs – without disturbance, till noon. My aunt woke me up because her feeling was that it was too much sleep. I must agree. Sleeping for longer would have just taken away from a whole day in the city. It’s not like I had too many special plans, but it’s always a pleasure to be in your home city, and well – I wanted to while away my time awake.

I woke up, had a rapid shower, and got onto reading the paper and doing a quick catch up with the news. Then I wore a pair of pyjamas, a jacket, some socks, and sat on a recliner sofa in the house, with my laptop playing reruns of The Big Bang Theory.

A few episodes in and it was lunchtime. My aunt had made masala dosas – and of course I had missed breakfast (a repeat of Pune, really), so my lunch was that and some amazing radish sambhar.

The couch beckoned me with its warmth, and so I returned to surf the internet. Then Bangalore decided that the heavens ought to open up – and I decided to mark that arrival with some chai and Parle G.

Then I took a trip to Forum Mall.

I’ve always regarded Forum as the original Bangalore mall. Its been around forever. I don’t quite know its’ exact history, but I do know that I’ve visited the mall on some holidays – to spend time at Landmark more than anyplace else. I also have fond memories because I picked up rap albums for my birthday in Grade 7 when my parents took me to Landmark. That was a strange trip. It was odd because we must’ve spent half the day or so there – hunting around for gifts. We must’ve looked at the blurbs of easily 30 to 40 books, and I rejected all of them before deciding to look at toys. That produced no results either. Ultimately, I purchased the new Lil Wayne album – something I hold dear to me because it’s the last actual album record/piece of music I purchased (not discounting a subscription to Spotify Premium which I now own). Forum was also where I’ve had happy memories waiting to meet people who study at the nearby Christ University – the mixture of eagerness and anxiousness to meet the people you love, and the doughnuts you consume throughout that wait.

Today, I was there to meet up with an old friend. Panda and I have been friends since I was in Grade 11. He was my first “jamming” buddy, and the only guy I know who has evolved my taste in music and my ability in music production. Today, we caught up – but it was almost like we were fresh friends. For the first time, we discussed our interests outside of music. I guess that happens when you’ve only been in touch over the internet for the past 4 years.

And then I met V at Cafe Coffee Day for a grossly overpriced hot chocolate – a typical end to a Jayanagar day.

Being back is warmer than I thought it would be. It’s typical of Bangalore – it may blow cold outside, but it’s glowing bright and warm inside.

I left Pune today. My time with my grandmother on this trip has come to a close, and we return now to our grand old tradition of Sunday calls – one of the constants that dates back decades, and keeps me grounded when things go astray. She made rasam for lunch again, which was an absolute delight, and I passed into a true food coma as my aircraft took to the skies.

For in-flight entertainment, I had downloaded podcast episodes to keep me company. I haven’t tried one of these in a while, and recently discovered that Jenna Fischer and Angela Kinsey, two of the stars of the hit TV show, The Office (US) started a podcast called Office Ladies. The first two episodes were pretty good – barring the advertisement breaks. Truly, capitalism is everywhere. It was nice to have them in my ears though, it did really provide some company (and some good insight) for the flight in my waking minutes.

Descending into Bangalore, I was struck by how you can never tell what a trip like this means to your co-passengers. On a single aircraft, there are always atleast a 100 difference motivations for taking a particular flight – and we never know (unless we interact) why people are with us on that one. For some, it could be their first trip to Bangalore, some could be flying in for a business trip, and some, like me – just visiting home. That thought – of the range of factors that bring people to a particular city, was one I soaked in.

Especially given that I could potentially be seeing Bangalore a little lesser in 2020.

I got home to my Chikamma’s place and ate more rasam for dinner (the lemon kind), and freaked out on some gulab jamuns she had gotten. Everyone clearly knows how to pamper me.

The week should see some of the stuff I love about this city the most, including my classmate V’s company, and Hari Super Sandwiches. Should be a good one.

Today is my last full day in Pune. I really just wanted to spend time with my grandmother, so that’s precisely what I did. We spent the day finishing up some chores she had around the house, eating lunch and napping away. Makes for a good day spent.

It rained here today. There was a burst of sunlight in the morning, which made me really excited about the warmth coming into the house. That quickly faded, and the rain began to hit us around 4. While it cancelled (rather, delayed) our plans to go visit the temple, it gave me some time to get up and go to the window and get wistful about my youth.

I’ve chronicled my experiences in India on the blog before. I spent a large amount of time just growing up over summers here and spending time in the care of grandparents and chikammas adnd chikappas. While I learnt a lot, I think I learned how to despise the rain more than anything else. It ruined everything fun about the vacations. My breaks in Pune especially. We had a really slow dial-up connection, so I stayed away from the computer at home. My entertainment source was my PSP and the television – I caught up on all the Indian TV I missed out on when I was in Dubai, learning about Pokemon and such. I think my first source of anger was the fact that the TV wouldn’t receive signal when it rained.

Then there was the obvious – the increased number of mosquitoes and insects, and the feeling of rain and dirt mixing together on the street. The getting hit with muddy footballs and diving around in the slush – I really didn’t enjoy any of it.

I stood today peeking over the window-sill as the rain hit the floor, mixing with the mud on the street and it evoked those memories instantaneously. Except today I’m old enough to have no real feelings about the rain. I just dislike getting drenched. Everything else, I’m okay with. It’s a weather phenomenon I’m usually grossly underprepared for (I don’t generally roam around with an umbrella because it’s never become habit). It was then that I realized I had actually grown.

The last three days have been blissful. I’ve slept so much.

Off to Bangalore tomorrow, and the adventures that beckon me there till next week.

Happy Deepavali to readers of the blog! And what a fine number to celebrate this occasion, with this being my three hundredth post of the year (and the three hundredth day).

Last year, I wrote about how I spent the festival alone while working in the office. It was my first week in Mumbai, and I was experiencing corporate culture by being chucked into the deep end. I enjoyed the exposure and learnt a lot, but spending the festival without sweets and stuff pushed a lot of things into perspective.

This year, I’ve been celebrating the festival by spending the day with my grandmother. I arrived in Pune with the sole ambition of sleeping off my semester/exam woes and spending large portions of the day without doing too much. The festival provided fresh opportunity to do just that – but celebrations demand some break in routine. For me, this was waking up earlier than normal to have my hair oiled, take a shower, and then have breakfast. Then I spent some time with my little cousin, and then returned home to be with my grandmother.

People celebrate this festival in a lot of ways. Fireworks, lighting lamps, generally decorating, and wearing new clothes. Sweets are often included. A lot of people are visited/come to visit and generally, there’s a lot of cheer. All of these have the commonality of celebrating light, and the presence thereof.

Last year, Deepavali gave me the opportunity to think about loving myself – and enjoying my own company.

This Deepavali, I had the opportunity to reflect on the last two months and truly think about the celebration of light. The existence of the phenomenon also implies the existence of darkness. You celebrate the extinguishing of the darkness when you acknowledge the occurrence of light. So too it goes with people. We’re all made of light and dark. Celebrating the light requires an acknowledgement of the dark. Defeating the dark mandates the invocation of the light.

When I meet people henceforth, I’m always going to remember that. I also reckon I’m going to remember it about myself. As a person, my identity is defined by everything that happens to me, and everything I do: the light, the dark, the grey.

All I’m going to ensure is that I’m constantly moving toward the light.

That’s enough philosophizing for the day I think.

Happy Deepavali, everyone!

I’m in Pune with my grandmother. I’ve slept through most of the day today, with the remaining part of the day spent eating gulab jamuns and saaranna. I’m well and truly being pampered and showered with affection and love. I’m also relaxing. There are no deadlines, there’s nothing to respond to, no e-mails to write. Just this blog, which I sort of got out of bed to type out.

It’s uncanny that things work out the way they do. Everytime I come to Pune, I find myself at odds with the kind of connectivity I experience when I am here. I’m mostly grateful that it enables me to be a little underground, but the lack of internet and the troubling phone network sometimes gets to me. It’s pushed me far too underground at times – not a place I’m comfortable being. I thrive on being able to engage with people, and to lose that ability, virtually, is a little difficult. It’s why I struggle with being off WhatsApp at times. I enjoy being able to respond to people, and have conversations. Staying in touch gives me happiness. But everytime I come to Pune, I realize that (a) I’ll spend less time than I usually do on my phone, and (b) that my messages deliver to people slowly, sometimes with a massive lag. I prepare myself mentally for that, but I usually get a little irritable around day 2 of the trip – just because of the fact that my messages aren’t delivering, or I’m unable to hold a conversation with someone I like speaking to.

So of course, at a time where I have virtually not too many people to speak to, nothing to respond to, really, and I don’t really need the internet for the next couple of days – the connectivity in and around this house appears to be spiking. Signal strength is still relegated to a singular bar on the cellular icon on the right corner of my mobile’s display, but things are working fine enough for me to video call my parents at length, and to play multiple rounds of Call of Duty: Mobile multiplayer.

What luck.

Other than that, today I heard my paternal grandmother speak about my maternal grandmother. I’ve always been curious about the relationship that two in-laws (so to speak) share with each other. You’re not really blood relatives. You only enter each other’s lives when you’re an “adult”, and you share a relationship by virtue of your children sharing a relationship. I wonder sometimes how difficult that is to establish, and to navigate. Or in general, to learn to trust.

My grandmothers just spoke about me. They both literally cook me the same food (to be honest, everybody does – because it’s the only thing I like eating [gulab jamuns and saaranna]), and they spoke about how my paternal grandmother has the opportunity to enjoy Diwali with me, and how I’d then go to Dubai and see my maternal grandmother. Then they spoke about how my parents were taking care of my grandparents there – showing them around the city and such.

In that moment I realized that I’m just a combination of all these gene pools. I also accepted all the affection being showered upon me in its entirety. I’m not going to be loved (flaws and all) anywhere the way I am at home. There’s no place that’s going to help me when I’m sad the way home does. There’s not really a single place that’ll give me the amount of joy home brings and the amount of affection home brings to me.

I’ve always struggled with defining what home is. In large parts this is because of how comfortable I am everywhere I go – and how I refer to each place I survive in as home. That definition tweaked a little for me today. I still think home is where I am – but in some parts, I think it’s where I search for, and find those feelings. That comfort, that warmth, that joy. That affection.

And all those gulab jamuns and saaranna.

[For the uninitiated: saaranna is rasam and rice. It is an amalgamation of the Kannada words saaru, meaning rasam, and anna, meaning rice. Saaru’s literal translation is “essence”, and it’s commonly described on the internet as a lentil soup prepared with sweet-sour stock and tomato extract, along with garnish. It’s actual translation is love.]

Another one bites the dust. I have to get through one more semester and I will be a B.A.,LL.B. (Hons.) graduate. Time really does fly.

This isn’t a post for nostalgia though. Next April and May will see a lot of that, don’t you worry. This is a post for reflection.

This has been by far the toughest semester I’ve experienced on campus at my University. I lost several things, gained several things. I took a bit of a hit professionally that got to me. Took a personal hit that’s gotten to me as well. The gains I’ve had from these experiences thus far have been immense. Today, I’m just grateful for the learning curve and the amount of time I’ve had to reflect about myself. It’s been a challenging semester, but I pushed through it day after day, and my reward has arrived – a two-month holiday and some time with my grandparents and my family.

As I stepped out of the exam hall in the evening and headed back to the Boys Hostel, I noticed a lot of cars and cabs waiting to pick people up – people who had their flights scheduled. A lot of goodbyes were said, a lot of wishes were wished, and for a while, time seemed to pause. When I walked past these scenes, all I noticed was the eagerness to get away for a while. To go home. To get to that internship. To go back to old friends and fond memories. To spend some time away and come back to the people you spend 24 hours a day seeing.

Around 9pm I noticed the hostel was empty.

That quiet gave me a second to remember December 2017 and the month I had the fortune of working here in the same quiet. The kind of clarity that gave me is incomparable. I had a moment of clarity today too, in the quiet.

Today, that’s what I’m grateful for. That small moment of clarity I had after I finished my ninth semester.

I’m going to come back in 2020 as a final-semester student of this University.

For now, I shall fly to Pune. Where I will spend time with my paternal grandmother, away from an internet connection (but with hotspot), and surrounded by affection and food.

Life’s looking up.