Things That Bang

The Indian Lion finds himself in a tug of war between the governments of Gujrat and Madhya Pradesh. The Gujjus don't want to lose their pride of lions though they seem to heading towards extinction like their other cousins - the tigers.

Some of the reasons provided against the move to the forests of Madhya Pradesh are that the big cats' staple diets of sambar deer, neelgai and chital would not be availabe in their new home and point out to a rather flimsy fact that there has yet to be a precedent where the lions and tigers have co-existed together.

Gir happens to be the only wild life sanctuary in India with lions in it. While one understands the attachment of the Gujraties to the lions yet when their very survival is at stake emotions should be put aside and a calm decision should be made as to where they would really be protected be it in their original homes or next to their remote cousins, in Madhya Pradesh, the tigers.

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A wrong choice can cause so much grief be it in life or on the road. Today I lost my way as I drove to Aayan’s school for the first time to pick him up. I thought I had taken the right turning but had left it behind. Round and round I drove through the maze of homes. I asked people about the school, about 18th main crossing and all I got were negative nods or ‘sorry I am new here’.

Parita started crying, the heat became oppressive and I could feel the first wave of panic set in. I was lost. Homes began to look alien to me, people indifferent and the traffic belligerent.

Everything was so familiar and yet strange like a song that I knew but couldn’t remember. What was it? Or better still where was it? The pre-school, the road, I knew them so well and yet I was lost.

I drove through the worst parts of the locality where the poor shabby homes melded with those of the rich, reversed the car more times than I can remember, honked and cursed at my fate, watched Parita throw a fit from my rear view mirror and then finally called Aaman and cried for help.

Back and forth we spoke on our cell phones. He tried to explain but I couldn’t hear a thing over Parita’s screams. I drove back into the maze but remained lost till an old Bangalorean gentleman agreed to help me out. He got into the passenger seat and took me to Aayan’s school.

Aayan was the last kid there, sitting sweetly on one of the swings. His cheeks were red from heat and his eyes shined with happiness when he saw that his mom had come to get him instead of his father.

I kissed his cheek and took him back to the car where his sister was throwing a royal fit. He smiled at Parita as he scrambled into the car and off we drove.

We were finally on the right track. I knew the way back home and there were no wrong routes to be made.

Took us ten minutes to reach home and though the car’s clutch started making a weird springy sound and meant I would be without a car for a few days to come as it would be given to the garage yet I was glad that I had regained my confidence on the road even if it meant taking the wrong turn and going through the worst sort of hot, sultry aggravations.

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 03:58 AM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm scared of driving over high bumps. The car tends to roll back and when I jam my foot on the accelerator, the tires screech, the car lurches forward and those on the road think I am a novice. I had been driving for over ten years till I got married and stayed in the US for four and a half years.

There I either took the subway or the buses but here in India I have no other choice but to drive and it scares the shit out of me as utter chaos reigns on Bangalore roads. Buses cut into the right without giving a signal, hordes of people cross roads like unexpected locusts and road rage abounds with car drivers vying for every little space available.

Its like a video game where we dodge through the traffic, brake when an idiot decides to gamble his life infront of a fast car or drum our fingers on the steering wheel while the traffic light changes and give dirty looks to beggers who prostrate themselves in front of the car.

Driving in Bangalore is a harrowing experience and one I'd love to avoid. We live outside the city and it takes us an hour to drive into the city due to the massive traffic jams. We generally find ourselves squeezed between trucks or buses and despite the close squeeze generally are surprised by bikers or scooterists who squeeze in besides us.

The fumes, pot holed roads, cloud bursts and cursing motorists make driving a nasty chore that I rather not do given a choice. But then again I have no choice, its either stay at home till Aaman comes home or venture out, put myslef through hell just to pick Aayan up from his play school or to buy groceries.

These are times when I miss Milwaukee and its air conditioned buses but enough bitching. Tomorrow I have to pick Aayan up alone and for that reason I will pull my breeches up, take a deep breath and assure myself that my car will not roll back over that big bump at the entry point of the community nor will I be bullied by those nasty buses.

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 09:30 AM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

Once in a while I get wacky comments.

Here was one on my post on Blogcritics.org on Ben wa balls

Never saw a ben wa ball. Sounds like something we all did on
the farm. My little sister and me would sneak off at night when all in
the house were asleep and head to the cornfield. This was done when the
corn was ready fer picken. First had to chase the coons and deer out.
Well Molly Bell would find the bigest and tie 3 together with the string
she brought with her. For me unlike Molly Bell Id shuck the corn. Did
not want that kind of rufage if ya know what I mean. Well after we put
them in with about 20ft of string between us we would run backward like
a bat out of hell. Sure were the good old days.

I have a rather tough time believing that this kind of activity could be real but it sounds kind of funny and better than using the livestock for carnal delights;)

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 11:34 AM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

There was a time when the Indian magazine Debonaire was supposed to be a subdued version of Playboy. It had racy pics (babes always had their scanty clothes on with lewd poses on various bits and pieces of furniture ) and the articles were quite salacious.

But when I picked up the magazine opposite Koshies at the magazine wala who is considered to be one of the hallmarks of Bangalore he had a different story to tell. The magazine had nearly been banned a few years back he told me and Playboy had yet not been able to make an entry into the Indian market.

He took pains to tell me that there was really no freedom of speech or expression in India. He was upset about a lot of things - the banning of the Da Vinci Code in certain states of India, the attacks against Hussein for his paintings and certain magazines becoming more and more like porn and yet others which would get more readership not being allowed into the Indian markets.

I stood under the canopy of his stall and listened to his words and the pitter patter of the torrential Bangalore rain. It all seemed to alien to me at that point. India, despite her call centers and big flashy malls still had long way to go.

The magazine stand guy and I were on the same page. It isnt porn that we are in favor of but the concept of freedom of speech and expression being curbed under the guise of morality. Till the time the stuff is being viewed by adults and does not deal with pedophila or snuff I fail to see how its anyone else's business.

As it is the Bollywood suggestion of sex in the movies is far more vulgar than the act itself. The magazine stall guy continued rant about freedom of expression not existing in India but my interest in his rant began to wane. I began to leaf through the current Debonair and nearly fainted with what I found there- advice about how to deal with one's in laws.

All of sudden, I felt I was reading Women's Era and not a racy magazine. The article talked about loving and respecting one's in laws as they were the husband's parents and that they had brought him into this world. It further went on to state that the hall mark of a strong marriage was mutual trust and respect and attraction in a marriage could be maintained when the foundation was built of love and respect.

Sensible advice but on freakin' DEBONAIR? I was clearly floored. The magazine had degenerated into the worst kind of crap. The editors of the magazine were cleary trying to make it snazzy like Maxim by featuring cars and electronics along with supposedly hot babes and yet keep the moralistic humbugs happy by the auntyji advice.

I found myself picking holes in articles after articles. For example any sexually active person knows that after doggie style penetration vaginal penetration is a no- no for health reasons. But the author of the article on - Seducing A Woman In Style seemed to be a porno fantasy trip of his own when he wrote the article-

So next time you and your girl are about to have sex: Turn her around, hold her wrists behind her back with one hand, and wrap your other hand around her hair, lightly pull her. Penetrate her doggie style. After a few minutes turn her around, place a hand over her neck and pentrate her frantically in the missionary position until you are done.

I nearly burst out laughing as I read that section but what came out was a hiccup. I folded the magazine within my outlook magazine, payed for it and existed.

On leafing through the magazine at home, I felt bad for the Debonair guys- the babes in the magazine were complete sad sacks and the magazine lacked over all gloss and style. Its no wonder that Indian 'racy' mags are doing so badly, lack of funds, lack of good models, the morality watch dogs breathing down their backs and stiff competition for filmy mags with hot stars dressed far more skimply than their two cent models.

Maybe its all for the best that Playboy without a desi version has not made an entry yet into the Indian scene; these guys and their likes would be wiped out.

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 12:42 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

There is obviously nothing funny about sexual harassment but this fellow in a top government position got himself labelled as a sex pest and did some pretty lewd things which included making suggestive motions with his tongue to another person.

Ahem! when I visualised it I couldnt stop laughing, the fellow is a sex fiend and deserves to have the hardest criminals stroke his butt, molest him in a lift and get him to do suggestive motions with his tongue on their...er... okay here I will draw a line and not gross anyone out including myself;)

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Is there really a state were on can live happily ever after? or for that matter can one be on a permanent high for the rest of one's life? I know for sure that I don't. There have been three times in my life when I had been the happiestin my entire 30 years of existence, when I got married and delivered my two angels but in all those instances along with the happiness came a searing pain, a fear that overshadowed my happiness, that made me look over my shoulder; it didn't feel right. It was as if I did not have the right to feel that heady rush of excitement. It felt as if I was rushing towards the edge of a cliff and could plummet into the dark abyss at any given moment.

Happiness, for me atleast cannot be measured by the headyness of a new love, winning a lottery, buying a solitare or going on a mad shopping spree, it got more to do with living my daily life in a content state where I enjoy good health, good relationships with those around me and am at ease with myself.

Obviously, in life there really are no happily ever afters in terms of being on a high without mary jane 24/7 so when we can't or as in my case don't want to live in perpectual excitement , then, is being content akin to leading a happily ever after or am I just fooling myself and falling into a rut?;)

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Temporal, our desicritics.org's poet/editor wrote a fantastic poem about my pest ordeal and when one reads inbetween the lines one realizes that in our skirmishes against our fellow creatures we tend win the battles but not the war for they tend to live on while we are reduced to dust.

Here is a little peek at temporal's poem

good riddance, dee(a tongue-in-cheek heading)

some deep early sunday morning thoughts and
if you are being picky ....fine make them
early sunday afternoon musings on them
roaches, rodents, insects and creepy crawlies
and the well meaning advice that pours in
from formulae developed in shiny labs
the sprays, chemicals, powders, roach motels
to those passed bosom to bosom developed
by folks long dust and ashes, long, long gone
(while ironically, the pests survive)

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 01:20 AM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm blogging again and that too thanks to Phillip Winn, a wise tech sage, who was wise enough to point out the reason why my front page had been showing up blank ie no entry meant a clean slate. Yup, now everything begins at a clean slate, my readership on this website has plummeted, my readers on the asstr site are demanding that I end the story of Cupid's Kiss and Stephanie and my washing machine needs servicing, floors need to be scrubbed, curtains need to be changed, house needs to be painted, I need to get my driving licence renewed, get my kid's uniform and extra pair of Superman underwears(Aayan's undies ;not mine, silly), one foot pedicure (since the right foot still has a broken pinky) and ... did I lose you somewhere between Superman underwear and pedicures?

But, seriously when one moves some 6450 miles away from what had been home for four years back to their own country and find their home close to becoming a bhoot bhangla (a ghost house) and find their scenic view of coconut trees replaced by shitty little hell holes called homes with their owners planting their butts outside your gate what would you expect.

Seriously, today I saw three women squatting outside our gate. They were sitting there and chattering away and when I asked our caretaker who the women were and to shoo them off I was told that they were my next door neighbors who had formed the habit of squatting under the shade of our gate and spent their afternoon gossiping.

I was shocked. People actually do that? I am an Indian, lived in India most of my life but this was new to me.

The reverse culture shock is happening on a daily bases from the overcrowded malls, to nasty traffic jams and to a garden that refuses to get tamed along with my rusty driving skills that is keeping me at home.

I'm feeling overwhelmed and it might take some time before I can feel the comfort of having a set routine along with time and energy to blog at a regular pace.

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 01:44 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

After living in small apartments for over four years in America I was looking forward to returning to my farm house in Kudlu in Bangalore. The thrill of seeing my son run around the house and the garden was overshadowed by the inhabitants that had been occupying the house freely during our absence.

They had me screaming blue murder in the middle of the night, cursing their lowly existence as I threw my newly cooked food in trash as one of them slipped and slithered out of the dish or had me leave the light on during the night and hope and pray that they didn’t decide to share my bed without my knowledge.

I’m talking about rats, mice and lizards and what’s worse is that they are procreating at a rate faster than the speed at which I am able to rid of them. Mind you, I’m saying get rid of them and not kill them. As a rule I generally set them free outside my little farm house and watch the night swallow them up as I’d wish them a fair adieu and wonder which neighbor I had done a nasty disservice to by setting them free.

Killing rodents and lizards has never been my forte. My mom despite being a gentle ‘born again’ Hindu believes in drowning rodents in a special rat bucket, my mother in law believes in indirect assassination orders without the knowledge of how the killing was done and my sister believes in rat poison.

I, however cannot bring myself to kill anything more than a mosquito. Even a roach has me screaming and jumping as I’d throw sandals and shoes at it while it makes an easy escape.

The reason why I can’t kill is because of the squishy stuff that comes out of these pests after they are crushed to the ground. It’s a mish mash of yellow, white and red liquid; quite similar to a stinky puss that one cannot look at forget about cleaning it.

My home, unfortunately, is crawling with these creatures and there are two people here who are pretty good at killing them. One even proudly calls himself a pest killing Ninja.

Aaman, the One Stroke Ninja, can kill lizards with one hard blow. They would wriggle a bit and then die within minutes. He doesn’t think twice before hitting a lizard on the wall with his shoes .One should see him stalking a baby Lizard as it run for its life with Aaman screaming behind it – ‘Give me something to squash it with. A book! Damn it! Give me that telephone directory!’

And my response would be- ‘The directory? Are you crazy? Who will remove all that squishy gore that will come out of it? I will have to throw the book. Watch it! Its heading into my bedroom. I can’t sleep there. You promised me that there wouldn’t be any lizards or mice in the house but the place is infested!.’

Aaman would be quick to snuff that little life under his shoe and while standing on the dead body of the lizard would find himself arguing with his irate wife

“When did I promise you that there won’t be any pests? I’m not a pest control guy.”

“You said that in Boston.”

And we’d continue to have an inane argument till the next pest or a mosquito buzzing around distracted us.

Personally I have nothing against these creatures and could easily co exist with them if they didn’t bite or were so ugly in their appearances. I even tolerated a mouse in my bedroom for over two weeks as it scurried around with a little paper in its mouth and looked darn cute. Cute, till it somehow managed to get inside my old air conditioner, got electrocuted and died, leaving behind a stinky rotting body that I had to plead with Jannu to take out.

Jannu is our home caretaker and despite being a being a soft spoken guy with a gentle demeanor is another pest killing warrior. His movements are fluid and precise. Within five minutes the pest is either driven out (i.e. if I am around ) or killed in my absence.

He generally gets a poker face when he is on a killing spree. His eyes would become intense and he grab a newspaper and wham within two hard strikes the little creature would meet its maker.

All this death and destruction of these little unwanted guests has become a daily chore in our home. Though it adds a bit of drama to our daily routine but it’s a nuisance as well. Imagine re-washing dishes before using them or finding holes in your flour bag courtesy a curious rat.

This fervor will hopefully soon come to an end once I have found a good pest control agency and have them do away with my unwanted guests who have no say in the fact that they will be paying with their lives for their free tenancy of my home.

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 01:37 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)