Im reading coetzee. He slows down time as I listen carefully to his words, following them, waiting to see where they take me. Although, his writing is extremely melancholic, full of crushed hopes and unfulfilled lives, there is something strangely soothing about reading many of his books. They retain a soft gentleness, while being breathtakingly sad.

Yesterday my grandfather’s niece and family visited us. They had come down to India from Singapore for their twelve year old son’s upanayanam. The evening before, Thatha had informed Appa that it had gone very well. They were doing very well and had come with gifts for everyone. Many of the guests who had been at their wedding had made approving remarks. He was beaming. My Thatha never beams so it caught my attention. Why was Thatha so uncharacteristically pleased? I later asked.
Fourteen years ago Leela Akka (the bride) had fainted in the middle of her wedding. I remember that image: her lying on the floor, surrounded by a crowd of people while her mother sat beside her wailing. What I did not know about was the complete mayhem that followed, which put everyone present in a tizzy. Apparently it is common knowledge that such a turn of event puts the bride’s family in an extremely precarious position. The groom’s side usually postpones the wedding until further investigations are made or even pulls the plug entirely. It reeks of dirty play and immediately arouses everyone’s suspicions, explained Appa. Like what? My bewilderment was genuine. Like the possibility of the bride’s family not being entirely honest about her health, in essence withholding potentially disadvantages information and trying to sneakily pass her off - Like damaged goods. After all, Fainting can be the sign of epilepsy or any other disorder.
It is only when you hear these stories do you realise the implications of marriage being a contract between two families. And like all official agreements it must be clean, untainted and transparent, preferably without the fine print. By not questioning the sanctity of the contract and tossing Leela out of the mandhap (which I assume is the standard response when your prospective wife faints) Ramesh the groom, had in effect, demonstrated (much to our relief), his enhanced goodness and virtuosity. This thread ceremony was a public statement to the world, a display of their success at being a good brahmin family, in spite of the catastrophe during that auspicious day. It was an attempt to restore their respectability and status, hence the extravagant event. Amazing.

The Heartbreaker

You are my little dew drop dangling on the blade’s edge.
You are my little piece of sunshine on this gloomy overcast day.

I think it is because you are so tiny and easy to pick up, but mostly because of the way you tuck your head between my head and shoulder while your eyes linger as you watch the lizard on the wall. I keep thinking up of new monkey tricks to make you laugh that uncontrollable laugh. I tickle your belly or hide behind corners waiting to pop up in your face. Boo! Also I show you the first book you have ever seen. You don’t even know how to turn pages but still know how to recognise Kaka and Meow and Kozhi and nai. Woof woof. Bow bow. Meow meow.

Miniature Vasanta who is the nervous new baii at our house comes with a miniature baby. While she washes and wipes I babysit. The babysitter entertains the dewdrop-sunshine babysitee who never fails to reduce the sitter’s heart to a gooey gunky mush. Just when the said sitter thinks she has earned the baby’s love and respect she begins yowling. Ammmaaaa Ammmaaa Ammmaaa. The above mentioned gooey gunky heart flutters pitifully and the sitter again resorts to cheap circus tricks to regain the child’s affections.
BOO! MEOW! OINK!

I want to write on skepticism. Skepticism is a state of mind. It is a kind of spectacles which moulds the shape of experience and the world in a specific way. The skeptical-spectacle way. It allows you a distance which helps you raise an eyebrow and say 'oh really? is that so.' with a touch of doubt and a tinge of irony. A skeptic needs to be convinced because she will not readily accept. statements like god exists or coke is better than pepsi will have to be substantiated. meaning is never the the encompassing unquestioned cloak the world is dressed in but is a flimsy, translucent skin which routinely changes colour, size and shape. When doubt becomes a way of life it can however turn in to a problem. It becomes crippling and convenient and lazy. Yet another guise or yet another shielding mechanism is invented. the world assumes a form so fragile that it threatens to dissolve by your breath. The ground beneath your feet shifts and slides and tosses you about like a scrambled egg. it a tricky balance, skepticism and belief. doubt and certainty.