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Showing posts from June, 2018

Partly Yours, Partly Lost

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Some places stay with you long after life has moved elsewhere. There is something strange about destiny. You just cannot overcome it, but at the same time, you cannot simply do nothing because something is destined to happen. In India, it is not uncommon to have your horoscope charted about a year after birth. Grandparents wait with bated breath to hear how well the stars were aligned, and what remedies might be needed to appease the Gods. So when I was a year old, my grandmother took my birth date and time to Dharmaraja Ghanapadigal, one of the most revered astrologers in Pudukkottai. He apparently told her that I would do reasonably well in studies, travel to multiple countries, and eventually live abroad. Here was an old lady asking about her grandson from a small town. My parents were then living in Gobichettipalayam. This was the eighties, long before economic reforms had changed the country. My grandmother thanked him politely, but quietly wondere...

The insecurities

Akhil loves storytelling time.  He imagines a multitude and wants to convey a million things.  It's fascinating how blissfully he con construct something totally random and make sense of it.  There is a Neato cleaning robot at home which Akhil is super scared of and so we have carefully hidden it.  Every bedtime ritual involves something about this robot. Appa, tell me Neato stoiee (story). First, it went along the lines of, "Akhil pressed the Neato button.  The Neato went near Akhil's kaal (feet), Akhil got scared and so Appa pressed the button, and the Neato went back to the charging station." After some time, who pressed the Neato button was a game by itself.  Sometimes, it was a dinosaur; sometimes, it was his friend, Mukund.  Sometimes, Akhil was the savior in comforting everyone who was scared of the Neato. Storytelling has evolved over time.  It used to be me leading him on a story. I used to frame whatever imagination I had in con...