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I Thought I Was Moving Forward

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I still remember the moment I decided not to learn Sanskrit. I was in seventh grade in Bangalore, choosing between Sanskrit in the State Board and Hindi in ICSE. I asked my father what he thought. His answer was simple: “Why do you want to learn Sanskrit? It serves no purpose.” That was enough. I dropped it. It felt like a smart decision. Hindi seemed more useful. I even convinced myself I was choosing the “national language”—not realizing India doesn’t have just one. Looking back, the decision wasn’t about language. It was about how I was thinking. I chose utility. Whatever moved me forward faster. And for a long time, that worked. I moved to the U.S. Finished my Masters. Found a job. Built a life. There was always something more urgent—visa timelines, work, responsibilities. Life ran on schedule, and I stayed inside it. But something else was happening quietly. Distance was doing its work. When I visited the Kanchi Mutt in Malleswaram, ...
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Rounding off in style

My school days were fraught with difficulties when it came to Maths. I could never understand why 2+2 had to be 4 or why 1+2 had to be 3. It was like Swami (from RKN) learning to solve Math problems in front of his father. Addition and subtraction itself were leaning toward astronomical proportions of difficulty, so there was no way anybody could question my abilities when it came to the mammoth multiplication and division problems. It was at an abysmal dismal level. It took me days, rather years to figure out that multiplication and addition were related by an intricate complexity. 2x3 is nothing but 2+2+2 was a startling revelation learned over the ages, after several years of mutual painstaking experience; mutual because my teacher and my mother used to wield the stick and I used the bear the pain. I had a grudging resolve never to play with numbers because they played around me in weird ways. Division was an altogether different experience. The strict voice still echoes in ...
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The groundnut seller

It was a stormy evening, and all that Natarajan could conjure at that instant was to find some basic form of shelter that could keep him protected from the chilly winds and incessant rains. It was a hard day at work, and this was something that he really hadn't asked for. He had to get back home on time, as already his busy schedule was preventing him from spending quality time with his family. He realized that being the head of the Accounts department at Ramanujan Textiles was doing no justice to his personal life. He had to attend to so many different things at a time. He was always held up in some kind of discussion, and that always prevented him from completing his daily work within the stipulated hours. The extension of his professional life encroached well into his personal life. So, that morning, while leaving for work on his two wheeler, he had made a resolve to leave work on time. It was a perfect day for him until he was stuck in this situation. His mind was clus...
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Arranged or love?

What does that mean? , he inquired rather quizzically. Arranged or love , I said, with a meek look of embarrassment creeping into my face. Here, we just have marriages , he said. Well, the fulcrum of the discussion that I had with one of my many American friends a few days ago, revolves around the age old practices of the Indian society, and marriage happens to be such a key attribute that it cannot be left out of any conversation. If you happen to be talking with a person from another country, the fascination they place in our customs is easily noticeable. In India, marriages are classified into just two categories - arranged or love. If you happen to tell your friends that you are getting married, you will not be surprised to hear the question shot at you almost instantaneously, arranged or love? . You have virtually made up your mind to reply back even before the question is asked. So, arranged marriage is basically a concept, where the girl and the boy are introduced to each...
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A typical conversation - Part II

It didn't take a long time to realize that we were running out of topics. The normal conversation had turned into a speechless routine after the customary exchanges. Appa: So, how are things at your end? Me: Good! Appa: Are you taking care of yourself? Me: Yes, no issues! Appa: Eat properly, and if you need anything, let me know. Me: Yeah, OK! Appa: OK, I will give the phone to your mother. Me: OK! It was a case of the early years of my stay away from home. Beyond the usual exchanges, the conversation would gain pace once the telephone instrument was passed on to my mother. Amma: Ennada, what are you upto? Me: Nothing, just busy with exams and research. Amma: Enna research? You better take care of your health. What did you eat today? Me: I was busy the whole day, so just ended up eating curd rice and vadu maanga (mango pickle). Amma: OK, take care of your health. By the way, that girl in our neighborhood, xyz , is getting married. Me: What? Really? When did this happen? Amma: I...
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Anandhi...

Srinivasan got ready for the afternoon siesta after his usual laborious lunch; laborious, not because there was something special for lunch, but just that, his meticulousness always ensured that everything was laid out in front of him in elaborate detail. A few extra micro particles of salt would leave him in great despair, as though Susila had committed a grave irrevocable sin. What have you done, Susi? He would shout from the hall, as she would disappear countless times into the kitchen at the time of serving. In spite of having been married for the last thirty six years, she would run back in panic, with a few wrinkles appearing on her forehead "What happened? Have I added more salt in the sambhar today?" Srinivasan would look up and say "Yes, the sambhar tastes like salt water today." Oh, I thought so. I was talking with Lakshmi, and somehow, a few, more than normal, slipped out of my hand. Please adjust today. Corrective measures will be taken by dinner....
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The lost years

We walked into the new millennium, almost ten years ago, and life just seems to move on at such a rapid pace that some of the years seem as if they have never existed. We are in the mid 2009, and somehow, the last ten years have all, but been forgotten. The realization seems to hit hard when it dawns that it has been more than a decade since I have passed out of my tenth standard (grade). But, if you ask me when India last won the cricket world cup, I would say, Oh, that was about 17 years ago . It just does not seem like 25 years ago!!!! The years best remembered are captured by events - small or big. The most unforgettable moment of my few years of existence always has to be that one moment - running to school, just across a couple of streets from home, to check out my tenth standard results. It just feels like yesterday. The other events always seem to revolve around that single focal point. Second PUC (twelfth), Bachelors and Masters seem like a culmination of efforts that ...
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Kansas Mallya

The boring routine of everyday evening was further compounded when the usual "humorless" suspects of the group caught up at my place. We were languishing around, and were laughing at our wisecracks, as our low level humor was hitting rock bottom. Some of the jokes (if I may call that way) did not deserve a second hearing, but there was no stopping us. We were watching Godavari , the romantic Telugu movie. If Emani was with us, he would have been proud of us. He would have also tried to impress us with his trivia about Telugu cinema. Not that we cared about all that, but as I said, anybody in the group can talk, whether anybody else wanted to listen or not. It was always one way traffic. When somebody talks, not that the other person would talk, it is just that there would be nobody else to listen. All said and done, the movie was good, and I like Kamalini Mukherji, and thanks to Dhake, I realized that the other girl in the movie was Neetu Chandra (Man! I really liked ...
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