The truth about non-conformists....

My favourite lines from the 'little golden' book "poky little puppy" , which was my first lesson on conformism.

5 little puppies dig a hole under the fence and go for a walk in the wide, wide world. The poky little puppy sniffs at a different patch of grass and finds out what's for dessert every night. His siblings go home and get reprimanded for disobedience and are put to bed without dessert, while the poky little puppy comes home after everyone's asleep,eats up all the rice pudding and goes to bed "happy as a lark".

"And down they went to see, roly-poly, pell-mell, tumble-bumble, 'till they came to the edge of the green grass, and there they stopped short."

"What in the world are you doing?" they asked."I smell something!" said the poky little puppy.
Then the four little puppies began to sniff, and they smelled it, too.

"Strawberry shortcake!" they said. "

And home they went to see, through the meadow, down the road, over the bridge, across the green grass and up the hill, two and two.

And when they got to the top of the hill, they counted themselves, one, two, three, four. One little puppy wasn't there."

Now, where in the world was the poky little puppy? "

Moral of the story: "Non-conformists might get to eat rice pudding every night, but miss out on strawberry shortcake".


Adulthood ....

After my rather impulsive outburst on being an adult on my 21st b'day...
One year into it, here's why adulthood is not as bad as i thought it would be :

I can proudly say I am grown-up and no one can veto it.
I get heard, and your opinions suddenly seem to matter more than they did as a teenager.
All the kids around don't know whether to call me akka or aunty!! [ :D ]
There are friends' weddings to attend , friends' spouses to 'catch up over lunch with'.
I can boss over younger siblings and get away with it.
I can call school-kids .. kids!!
My work is entirely my choice - not imposed by some board or syllabus or system.
There are nephews and nieces and friends' kids - to whom I can still be the young,hip aunt!!

Of course, I would still love to be the little kid who loves earnie and bert, loves reading tinkle and gokulam and cries that bambi's mother died and the monkey lost his heart....but..well... I can re-live my childhood thru intellectual discussions with sathu on why crows don't have hands or why oscar loves garbage!



Summer then :

Much-anticipated holidays.
Eager relatives and cousins waiting at Madras central.
2 months of mangoes in various stages of ripening and forms.
Hand-fans .. in various colours and sizes.
Amma's MMS - 3 times a day.
Jackfruit trees and blisters from the sap.
Britannia Brita biscuits.
Feeling sick after too many biscuits.
Silly "house" and "doctor" games.
late nights spent playing cards or monopoly.
Daya-kattai and pallanguzhi.
Being pampered to bits by adoring relatives.
Essays on "How i spent my holidays" .....
A heavy sadness when the season gets over.

Summer now :

Endless cribs about the heat.
Exams in the heat.
Eager parents waiting at Bangalore City Jn.
Travel to cooler places.
The constant hum of airconditioners from every house.
Window-shopping to escape the heat!
Endless summer-camps and "value-addition" classes.
Late nights spent in fornt of the computer.
Amma's MMS - once a day.
Mango - in various forms - taken with a warning.
Hurried trips to "fulfill obligations".
A sigh of relief that the season is finally getting over.



A snatch of a song ... a television jingle ..... a word in the newspaper ..... a stray chocolate wrapper lying on the road ....colours of spring... mangoes in summer.... a note that flies out of an old notebook ... a childhood promise sealed with dirty fingerprints... a dress ... a colour ... a photo that falls out of an old book ... a lost pencil ... an old bill ... words behind a notebook ... gully cricket ... padding up for the 'duck' scored ... 'houses made of chairs and bed sheets ... early morning trips to the railway station ... fights on the way back for the front seat in the car ... a conversation overheard... a childhood acquaintance long forgotten... the smell of jasmine strings ... the sight of loud vegetable vendors sweating in the sun ... a sequence of numbers ... a string of gibberish ... the sound of kids walking about innocent, inconsequential things ... cycle rickshaws ... an old movie dialogue ... morning walks at lalbagh ... climbing "mountains" and feeding deer ... a tree... a flower ... a leaf carefully preserved between the pages of a book ... a doodle .. a bottle .. patti's mysore pak ... thatha's wisdom ... the smell of amma's rasam ... the sound of appa's car at the gate ...

a touch of emotion .. a brief trip down memory lane ... the moment stashed away in memory ...... a hint of nostalgia .. life must go on.....