Zee Top Ten!

When cable TV flooded the Indian household in the mid 90s, entertainment would never be the same again. The days of Doordarshan's Chitrahaar were quickly replaced by a newer and slicker music show - Zee/Phillips Top Ten. Of course, looking back now, it seems quite cheesy. 

I think this show was one of the pioneers on cable TV, what with only Zee, Star and Sony channels ruling the roost back then. I suppose it might even have been the very first countdown show in the history of Bollywood Music. Better versions followed suit on MTV and Channel V, but this one stole the hearts of the masses, mainly due to the comic skits that were aired in between songs. It's a program format that you do not get to see these days and frankly, I might just be a wee bit thankful for that. 

M and I sometimes like to revisit songs from our growing up years. Just for Laughs. When we were doing this a couple of nights ago, one thing let to another, and soon we had re-created out of memory and YouTube, an entire line up of Zee top ten songs. It was super-fun to watch long-forgotten, cheesy music videos, so I just had to share them here too.

There are the songs I could remember from around 1994-1995, which is when the show first started I think. Outrageous costumes, ridiculous sets, aerobics-style dance steps, the kind of music you thought was cool back then (but will never, ever, not in a million years admit to now), these songs have everything that is typical of the 90s era. Watch, Listen, Enjoy!

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Number 10 - Raah Mein Unse

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The video starts off as any good love song should, with the girl making tea for the boy. Their eyes meet over a cup of chai, and they are instantly transported to the land of romance - Switzerland! So then you get to see lush, breathtaking mountains, a green countryside, and then, wait a second, are those flags?! Yep, hundreds of white flags on thin, long poles - wtf are they doing there? And the heroine in a shocking pink sari, who is playing... no, wait! She's molesting, abusing even - a grand piano. I don't know if she's in the throes of passion or is very, very mad. But she makes you want to stand back and watch. Way, way, back.

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Number 9 - Main Tho Raste Se Ja Raha Tha

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Ah, no 90s countdown can ever be complete without a Gyrating Govinda number, now can it? Sleazy as sleazy can be, lyrics that are possibly even worse than the Kolaveri 'massacre'. Oh well, that's Govinda for you. :D And seriously, teri naani mari tho main kya karoon??

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Number 8 - Mukkala Muqabla

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Honestly, to this day, I have no idea what 'Mukkala Muqabla' means. In any case, this was perhaps one of the better songs of the 90s. At least, Prabhu Deva's dance was and always is worth watching. In case you've forgotten, lemme remind you of the headless sequence. Cutting edge special effects of the 90s, sir!

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Number 7 - Aankhon Mein Base Ho Tum

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Another 90s classic. Featuring - Sonali Bendre... 's legs! Seriously, the tricks they used back then to show a heroine's legs on screen. Teehee :D 

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Number 6 - Hai Hukku Hai Hai

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Meaningless gibberish that once again, sold. Catchy tune. Mildly embarrassing to be caught with someone humming it though. Also, Sunil Shetty!! 

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Number 5 - Churake Dil Mera

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The one where Akshay Kumar is a monkey! Seriously, why is jumping about like that? And Shipa Shetty's doing some serious aerobics back there at 0:32. Probably rehearsing for her future workout videos. Nevertheless, an immensely popular song back then. 

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Number 4 - Ruk Ruk Ruk

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Ah, this one was invariably a part of every single Antaakshari session. The song all kids would belt out as soon as the first 'R' came up, and everyone would join in the fun! It was a fun song, and probably one I could still bring myself to like after all these years. Not bad, Tabu, not bad at all!

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Number 3 - Humma Humma

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It was new, it was exciting, it was 'super-cool'. Almost every kid made it a point to memorize the lyrics of this song back then, no matter if they even understood it or not. I remember learning it phonetically, no idea if I even got some of the words right! Definitely one of the better songs, a saving grace for the 90s.

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Number 2 - Tu Cheez Badi Hai Mast Mast

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The song was good at first, but then people played and sang it over, and over, and over again. I'd had enough within a few months. It stuck to the charts for a very long time, though. More gyrating, for your viewing pleasure...

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Number 1 - Didi Tera Dewar Deewana

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I never liked this song, seriously. Not back then, and not now. But it stuck to the charts like, forever. Just like this girl who came first in my class every single time. The song just wouldn't move over. I think it was a topic of discussion at all Indian social gatherings and at school when it finally vacated the no.1 spot. 

So that's the top 10 countdown. Now, there are two more songs that I just had to share, that bring alive the memory of the 90s. Couldn't fit them on the top 10, so here they are as bonus tracks:

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Bonus Track #1

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Haha, just listening to this sends me into peals of laugther. Oh, how we loved this one when we were kids. Now I can't really help thinking my mom was right to have called it the 'picchakaren pattu' (beggar's song). LOL! How she hated it when I sang it all the time. 

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Bonus Track #2

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Now this is the one I like to call - The Great Indian Laxative Song. Need I say any more? 

These are only representative of hundreds of other songs that defined the 90s. What are the ones that define your childhood the most? Tell me in the comments!

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This Made Me Smile!

M and I went to watch Kahaani yesterday.

Sitting beside me were this young couple. Dating, I presumed, from the nature of their conversation. Yes, I shamelessly eavesdropped, I admit. Only a little though, for the movie was too gripping to listen to everything they were saying. Two particular lines amused me to an extent that I simply had to share them here.

Scene in the movie: Vidya Balan checks into the motel/guest house for the first time. When she's alone, she bursts into tears.

Boy (in an incredulous tone): Why is she crying??

Girl (presumably rolling her eyes in the dark): Because she can't find her husband, DUH!!

**

Scene in the movie: Vidya Balan is pregnant, yet sending her husband away for a two-week assignment in a different city.

Girl (in a puppy voice): You'll also leave me like that, re?

Boy (also in puppy voice): No baby, I'll never leave you re!

**

After a while, they abandoned all pretense of watching the movie, devoting their time to declaring their affections and discussing love-hurdles. I could only pick up bits and pieces of these.

Overheard:

Boy: How can she not accept it re? I love you so much, I'll take care of you so well. I'll explain to her re, how much I love you.

Ah, the trials and tribulations of young love! On a side note, Kahaani totally kicks Don's ass. 

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The Frogs of Our Lives

Img Credit: HikingArtist

Prince Charming does not, I repeat, does not exist. Neither does the Frog Prince.

There, I’ve said it. But you know, the more I think about it, the more I realize that the story of the frog turning into a prince with true love’s kiss is actually metaphorical. Real-life frogs of a particular variety, the ‘good’ variety, can indeed transform into something nice, when and only when need be.

So allow me to present to you, a few important things that you need to know about frogs and good frogs, before you end up marrying them.

‘Girl Problems’

You will be crying/PMSing/in the depths of depression/extremely irritable for a completely valid reason that all your girlfriends would get in a jiffy, yet said frog would be totally clueless as to what’s happening to you. He will start off by treating it as some sort of mechanical failure, trying to ‘fix’ it, and you. Wrong, wrong, wrong, right?

The Good Frog: After true love’s kiss and also after many educational sessions, this one can be trained to respond in a more appropriate manner during future breakdowns.

Presents and such

You will have started dropping hints about what you would like for a birthday/anniversary gift at the exact time that is not too late so he has time to shop, and not so early that he might end up forgetting about it. And yes, he will not forget what you said, but said frog will be too thick to get the hint. So after racking his brains about what to get you, he will finally buy something that you neither like nor can use.

The Good Frog: After seeing the disappointment you are trying to hide with a smile, Good Frog will slap his forehead, kick himself for not getting the hint and take you out to buy you what you really want. Yes, this is definitely a possibility after true love’s kiss.

Ahh, Housework…

The thing about most Indian frogs is that they’re spoilt silly by their moms. Also by a few aunts and cousins, who believe him to be the prince he never really transformed into. So in all possibility, he has never cooked, washed dishes, done laundry, cleaned his room, or done anything remotely related to physical labor at home.

The Good Frog: A few sessions of  ‘Perspective Cleansing’ later, said frog will realize that the ‘frogettes’ of his generation have pretty much been raised the same way – spoilt silly by their moms. A mutual understanding with regards to sharing of household responsibilities can be reached, once temper tantrums have given way to a mature conversation.

Romance, or Lack Thereof

Frogs can be pretty sneaky when it comes to their woo-powers. Actually, stingy is the right word. They will use these powers only to the exact amount needed to ‘pataofy’ (impress) a girl. After girl has fallen for the frog-charms, all romantic capabilities will vanish into thin air, faster than you can say Evanesco! More so, after the wedding bells have sounded. Tell me, what is a poor girl to do without some romance in her life?

The Good Frog: Despair not, my frogette sisters, for all hope is not lost when the Good Frog is around. After making sure that his ‘needs’ are met, it is easy to appeal to him with logic and reason that our needs are important as well. Said frog will then use the powers of Google to come up with romantic ideas and (after botching up a few things), will do something to our liking once in a while.

So there you have it, my two-cents about the Frogs of Our Lives. Of course, I will have several more points to add when little Froggitties come into the picture. Until then, I leave you to ponder some more over these little tidbits of frog-wisdom.

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My Loo, My Paradise

Paradise, technically, is probably a place you would never want to leave. If this were true, then my paradise can lie in one and only one place.

The Bathroom.

In order to explain myself, I must start at the very beginning. The apartment I grew up in was a warm and cozy double-bedroom. It was just enough for a family of three - my parents and me. I loved that little home dearly, and I probably still do. The place is so synonymous with the word 'home' for me, that even today my dreams are filled with that apartment, and not my current place of residence. I had a nice room all to myself, but the bathroom was where I got all the real privacy I needed.

Our bathroom was neat and simple; it had a tub, a toilet, a basin and a washing machine. I can still imagine being in it vividly, as though I were there only yesterday.  As an avid reader, imaginer, mirror-actor and day dreamer, it was the one place where all my antics would go completely unnoticed. And so I remained there for long periods of time. It was common knowledge in my family that once I went in, I rarely ever came out. People wondered what I could possible be doing in there for so long. Oh, if only they knew how the place came alive for me in more ways than one.  

Img Credit: nanny snowflake

Most of all, I liked to read in the loo. Especially during exam-time, when I wasn't allowed to read any story books. I would stuff a book under my shirt and dash inside. Once the door was locked, people were hardly likely to bother me because, well, I was in the loo, doing my business! That's legal, right? So I read and I read, and then I read some more. Coming out with the book wasn't always as easy, especially if someone was waiting to use the bathroom next. So I came up with hiding places - outside the window on the sill, behind the washing machine, the bottom of the laundry basket. Soon, I stopped being bothered to retrieve the books at all, so I always had my stash waiting for me when I sneaked in. This went on for long, until my mother one day discovered a high stack of books sitting on the sill. It was not a good day for me.

While there are several other things I did in there (refer to this post for more info), I find reading in the loo to be the most relaxing and stress-busting activity ever. In fact, I will now sheepishly let you in on a little secret of mine. I have read so much in the loo that now I cannot spend more than 15 minutes in a book store. Because if I do, I will have to go! Seriously, every single time. M says I'm psychologically wired that way for life.

So as you can see, I have had a long-standing relationship with my beloved bathroom. It is the place I go when I am happy or sad, when I must think and ponder, when I must read, or simply to get away. No I really do not need an expensive vacation to get away from the stresses of life, a few hours in the loo will work out just fine. The bathroom is such an important place to me that it is the first thing I look at when we're looking for an apartment to rent, or even in a hotel room. If the loo is good, I am good too.

Img Credit: rockinfree

But I must tell you that I have a dream as far as bathrooms are concerned. A dream bathroom, if you will. That is, if I ever write a book that will make me as rich as J K Rowling, the one thing I know for sure is the kind of bathroom I will build myself. I don't really care about the rest of the house or anything, it could be in ruins for all I care, as long as I get this room right. And I will now tell you exactly what I have in mind (rubs hands together gleefully :D ).

• A minimum area of 400 sq.ft.
• Two toilet stalls, each with their own door and separate exhaust. 
• Two wash basins complete with mirrors and appropriate lighting.
• Noiseless exhaust systems.
• A shower room with glass doors, that also works as a steam room.
• A bathtub.
• A lounge area, consisting of but not limited to - a soft couch, a fully-stocked bookshelf, a massage table, LCD TV, laptop, WiFi connectivity, a bowl of exotic chocolates, a collection of aromatic oils.
• A dressing area that has the softest of silken robes, the fluffiest of towels and the warmest of slippers. 
• Super-ventilation with sunlight and fresh air pouring in from all sides. 

If you cannot possibly imagine the kind of room I'm talking about, please search Google Images for 'Luxury Bathrooms'. I assure you that you will still have no idea as to what I'm talking about. I have myself never set eyes on a bathroom like this except for in my imagination. If you do stumble upon a picture close to what I've described then pliss, pliss to be sharing with me, kindly :)

So now you know why my loo is my paradise. Do you share a special relationship with any of the rooms in your home? Do let me know!

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Useless Confessions - III

I have to start this confession with a confession. I got nothing!

When I planned out this series in my head, I had three separate incidents in mind. But somehow, over the past three weeks, the third one has managed to slip out of my woozy brain. I can't remember it, no matter what. I spent the whole day yesterday racking my upstairs, but it just wouldn't come back to me. I can remember other stories, but they're just not as interesting. I know I should have written this down when I remembered, but I was lazy and now I don't have it. I'm so sorry to disappoint.

But of course, there are a few useless confessions I can still make. About my greatest useless fears. Now, I know there are people who think fears are useful because they help you do better in life, but believe me when I say that my fears are basically, utterly and absolutely useless. So today I'll talk about one of them.

This fear is so silly that I'm even ashamed to admit it. But yes, I'm afraid of Ghosts. I always have been and, I know always will be. Can't even remember when it started. I'll just go list out a few crazy fears I've had about ghosts over the years. Go ahead and laugh all you want, don't be shy now.

• My first nightmare was of a little girl - who was headless. A large part of my childhood I was pretty scared that girl was going to show up in my room in the middle of the night.

• I made up this thing about a phantom who rode a horse, broke in to kid's rooms through the window at night and stole them away. No idea where I got that from, but I spent many a sleepless night over him. Not your typical knight-in-shining-armour stuff, eh?

• Someone in school told the story of Bloody Mary. That if you go to the bathroom, switch off the lights, close your eyes, turn around three times saying Bloody Mary, a crazed woman would appear with an axe and chop off your head. Now after this, every time I went to the loo, nothing came to my mind except Bloody Mary. You know, like the song that gets stuck in your head and doesn't go away. I would just rush through my business and dash out as soon as I could.

• In my Grandma's house, I was usually allotted the diwan in the hall to sleep at night. And the hall window was right behind my bed. They kept it open at night during summers. So if I opened my eyes and turned around, I could see right outside the house. I was so dead scared that the bell would ring and I would turn around to see some chudail woman standing at the window, smiling her devilish smile. 

• The Ring. One of the scariest movies I've ever watched. I actually used to get scared that something would crawl out of the TV when I was up studying late at night.

Things have changed a bit, now that I'm older. Yes, I'm still scared but a little less and I've noticed a pattern. There are some houses/rooms where nothing happens at all, I'm never scared and I rarely get bad dreams. Then, there are a few places where I just cannot sleep once I'm left alone. It's just too involuntary to even know why. I just try to have someone with me in such places.

In spite of all this, I still do watch horror films. You know, like I'll be flipping channels and one of them would be playing a horror flick. And then I'll be too tempted. I know it'll scare the bejesus out of me and I won't sleep again for the next week or so, but I'll just have to watch it. 

Geez, this post makes me sound like such a nutcracker, doesn't it? Tell me you have some irrational fears too, won't you?

Read up on my other Useless Confessions, Part I and Part II

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Useless Confessions - II

This post is the second of a three-part series I'm doing on Confessions from my past. The thing about them is that they're utterly useless. It feels good to write about them, though! Check out Part I here.

***

I was about 8 or 9 years old. We hadn’t gone on our usual trip to India during summer break, we had stayed behind. After dad went to work, mum and I went to a local health club for a few hours every day. A summer kids camp was on that year at the club, so we kids were packed away while the ladies splashed around in the pool and did their aerobics.

It was a fun camp for the most part. The organizers were mostly American housewives who were pretty good at engaging children in various activities. The kids at the camp came from various backgrounds – there were British, American, Arab, Indian (of course) and even a few African kids I think. We all mixed well for the most part, although I do remember a few curious stares and strange questions from the white kids. Some of them were polite and well behaved, while others were downright rotten.

I remember visiting an Ice Cream factory that summer as a part of the camp. There was also a trip to an Insect Zoo. The American kids had brought jars to take pet insects home. The very idea seemed repulsive to me then. We had games in the pool and the gymnasium and several other activities. I played baseball for the first time in my life. I just couldn’t get the hang of it. J

We had a couple of art classes that summer. One of them is where the story of my confession unfolds.

All the kids had assembled in a conference room at the club. The ladies took out several art kits and opened them, explaining to us what each item was meant for. Metal wires were to be twisted into loops and dipped in paint to look like petals. Several petals would be put together to make a flower. The flower then had to be stuck onto a board that made the base. That was the project.

The ladies began distributing the material. Turns out they were a few boards short, and some of the kids didn’t get any, me being one of them. I was pretty pissed. I thought the lady deliberately hadn’t given me a board so the white kids could have enough. I’m not sure why I felt that way. Maybe I had witnessed something of that sort earlier. Or maybe it was just my imagination at work. I can’t remember now.

Anyway, I was pretty mad. I glanced around the table, and then I spotted it. There was a board left unattended. It was just lying there, with no one around to claim it. I couldn’t believe my eyes at first, but I slowly began inching towards it. When I finally reached it, my hands itched. I knew it belonged to someone, I knew it was wrong to take. But I so badly didn’t want to be left out. I didn’t want to be the one to show my mom a half-baked art piece at the end of the day when all my friends had good ones. So I gave in to the temptation. I grabbed it and ran.

Back in my seat, I glanced around the room again. My little act had gone unnoticed! Thereafter I kept very quiet, silently working away at the instructions. Only for a while, though. Soon, somebody had started bawling in the room. I looked up to see a girl standing at the very spot of my crime. It was evidently her board I had taken. She cried and cried and cried some more. People consoled her but she refused to be consoled. She actually threw a tantrum, stomping away in fury. A part of me wanted to give it back, but then I had gotten stared already and I didn’t really fancy approaching someone throwing such a hissy fit. So I let it go.

Eventually they found her a makeshift board made of thermocol. She was silent the rest of the day, sullen and moody. I remember feeling guilty about it, I’m not the sort who likes to make people cry. The art had lost all its joy for me. It was the last time I’d ever taken anything that wasn’t mine.

So there you have it, yet another useless confession off my chest. Nope, no one knew about this until now. One less thing to take to the grave!

***

Do you have useless confessions to make too? I'd love to hear about them. Stay tuned for part III, coming up same day, next week.

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When the Maami Wore a Burkha

Passing time at the doctor’s office can be a big bore. Especially if you don’t have a good book or an interesting conversationalist for company. It’s usually my mom or M who accompany me and they’re no fun. Doctor’s lounges transform them into zombie-like versions of themselves, they simply stare into space, holding on to their chins, a small frown between the brows. No amount of my pestering can snap them out of it.

So over the years, I’ve devised several ways to amuse myself. The best one is observing people. I’ll admit it, I’m one of those loony girls who will stare until you’re wondering if there’s something stuck in your teeth. I know it sounds creepy, but I can’t help it, I just find people fascinating. I take in all the details, right from what they’re wearing to their tiny mannerisms, and then I make up stories about their lives in my head. Silly ones.

Some people look incredibly Indian, while others look like they might be from anywhere in the world. This always gets my attention. I wonder if this is so because of their genes, their dressing or their attitude towards life. So I give them a mental makeover. For instance, if there’s this ultra-hip girl in tight jeans and heels, I imagine what she would look like if she lived 30 years ago, in a sari, hair tied into a tight plait, and a big red pottu on her forehead. I do the same for guys, imagining them in a lungi and well-oiled hair. It’s funny to see in my head that they all fit pretty well into Indian costumes. Very rarely do I see someone who just doesn’t look Indian from any angle.

I do the opposite as well, put traditionally-dressed people in modern attire to see if they could ever ‘adapt’. Most of them would, my conclusions tell me. Cross-religious dressing is fun too. Like a imagining a woman in a burqa dressed like a Tamilian maami  and vice versa. Sounds blasphemous, I know. But I guess it’s just my way of removing the tags people have created for themselves, realizing that essentially everyone is the same. Okay, that was too meaningful. This is a silly post. Moving on…

Yesterday I found myself waiting yet again, while the super-busy doc kept seeing medical reps. It was exasperating, of course, until my eyes fell on this person and then he had my complete attention. I found him so fascinating, I almost had the mind to walk up to him and say, Excuse me sir, I find you fascinating. I now severely regret not doing that.

I immediately started my Sherlock-Holmes-wannabe-type investigations. The man was visibly in his early to mid-forties, owing to gray strands, bags under his eyes, and a large paunch. He was pretty fair by Indian standards. I was guessing Muslim, and he confirmed it by answering his mobile in a pronounced Urdu twang. By then, I was hooked.

What drew me to him was that despite the telltale signs of aging, his face had retained a boyish sort of aura. He wore a perpetual frown, as though he was confused about something. Reasonably well-dressed, and yet I couldn’t help thinking that he was charmingly careless about things. I shamelessly listened in on his conversation, turns out he had forgotten his file and was asking someone to get it for him. Aha! One of my observations turned out right.

His gait and mannerisms suggested a certain amount of affluence, yet the powerful personality that comes from a successful career was missing. He kept glancing nervously at a crying baby in the room, as though he would have liked to do something to cheer her, but wasn’t too confident of speaking up. The man with the baby dropped his pen, and Mr. Boyish-charm immediately stooped down to pick it up. Ah, my object of observation had a good, helpful heart, I concluded.

My fun was interrupted when the doc was finally ready to see me. And then I forgot all about him, until now.

So this is what I do, more often than not. Not just at the doc’s, but at bus stops, railway stations, airports, pretty much anywhere I’m waiting. Please somebody tell me this isn’t too creepy. Oh well, it’s okay if it is I guess. The world needs more creepsters like me, or so I would like to believe.

One day, I’m going to muster up the courage to speak to the people I find interesting. Hopefully, when I do that, I will come back and tell you all about it.  

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Useless Confessions - I

This post is the first of a three-part series I'm doing on Confessions from my past. The thing about these confessions is that they are pretty much useless. But I'd like to have people know about them anyway!

***

I was little, very little. I don’t remember how old. I could walk and talk, but I was little. Keep that in mind, okay? Okay.

We were on a plane, me and mum. I don’t remember if we were coming or going. This is a very vague memory, almost like a dream. I was thirsty, I asked mum for water. She told me to go up to the stewardess and ask for it. Moms in the 80s had some new-fangled ideas about teaching their kids to be independent. Does this still happen?

So, I got out of my seat, went to that little place up front where all the stewardesses disappeared into. There were a group of them standing around, talking, laughing. I barely reached their knees. They looked very pretty in their silk blouses and short skirts and pantyhose and those smart caps they wore. I went up to one of them and tugged at her skirt.

The rest of the memory is sort of hazy, like in slow motion. She looked down at me and smiled. I said something that included the word ‘water’. She smiled even wider and nodded. Then she led me to this water dispensing thing, filled a small paper cup and handed it to me, before returning to her friends.

The cup was full and difficult to handle, I think. I took a sip. And then the unthinkable happened. I dropped it. One neat ‘splat’ and the cup was on the carpeted floor, water splashed all over. My heart was pounding, I was scared. The low hum of the aircraft was all I could hear, it was deafening.

I picked up the cup gingerly, walked slowly up to the stewardess and gave it back to her. She smiled yet again, took it from me and returned to her conversation.

And then I ran. Back to my seat and my mom, where I believed I was safe.

“Did you get your water?” asked mum.

“Mhmmm,” I nodded.

Every time I saw that stewardess come up the aisle, I was shit scared that she was coming to scold me, or rat on me to my mom. But she never did. I continued to feel pretty awful though, as though I had done something terrible. That was one flight I was very glad to get off.

I’ve never told anyone about this, until now. I had planned on taking my secret to the grave, but oh well, now I can go with a clear conscience. 

***

Do you have useless confessions to make too? I'd love to hear them! Share in the comments, or do a response to this post on your own blog. :) Stay tuned for part II, coming up same day, next week.

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Life || The Practices of the Highly Imaginative Indian Parent

I read somewhere that Indian parents of the 80s and 90s were an unimaginative breed of people. I politely beg to differ. I don’t know about you folks, but my parents were indeed, highly imaginative members of the human race. So much so, that they constantly indulged in the practices of the greatest minds of all time.

Photo Credit: Harlequeen (Creative Commons)

Writers, artists, leaders, great thinkers, I saw a glimpse of all such figures within my own home, in the very people who brought me into this world. I’ll share with you some of the performances that were commonly staged in my family, me being the victim, er… audience of them all.

Note: Translations to Italicized words are provided at the bottom of the post, in order of appearance.

Analogies

Long before I took the GRE exam, I was quite comfortably aware of and used to the concept of analogies. I did not even have to write down the frequently-asked examples of analogies on flash cards and memorize them. So well did they teach me, with real-life examples, such as:

Badam:Brillance, as Butter:Badam Halwa.

The more, the better! Needless to say, I was regularly fed with soaked and peeled badams (non-fat variety).

Logical Reasoning

Similarly, LR was taught to me at a very young age.

Najiba = III A

Sumitra = III A

Hence Najiba  = Sumitra

Najiba = 100/100 in Maths

Najiba = Sumitra

Hence, Sumitra = 100/100 in Maths!

Simple, yet profound. 

Lectures

Yes, my parents were quite accomplished when it came to delivering lectures. I would receive one whenever they felt their oration needed some practice.

One of the most popular lectures was titled, ‘Studying children will study anywhere’. This one was rendered particularly in the homes of relatives, family friends, etc. when I was expected to bring a book along to study, while the adults watched TV and chatted. A single complaint about the lack of amenties such as table and chair, lighting, mood, etc. would act as a trigger. 

Since my father is Telugu and mom Tamilian, I was subject to dual-language versions. So I was alternately told, “Padikere pasanga enga venalum padipaange,” by one parent and, “Chaduve pillalu ekkadaina chaduvutaru,” by the other. An inspired version would include examples of the likes of Abraham Lincoln who studied under street lights.

Guest-Lectures

For my benefit and the betterment of my general up-bringing, my parents routinely invited their own parents, siblings and closest friends to provide the much needed guest lectures. Some of the whackiest ones were given by my Grandma, whose words I still cannot forget.

My beloved Paati wasted no time in telling me that I would grow up to be like Kanthamma, our maid, if I did not study. “See Kantham, she cannot read or write. Unaku kooda ade gadi thaan, if you don’t study. You will have to wear torn sarees given by others and wash dishes for a living.”

Quotable Quotes

Russell Peters was not kidding when he quoted his dad, “Somebody gonna get a hurt real bad.” This was routinely chanted in my house too.

Again, I got multi-lingual versions of this. “Yaaro nalla adi vaanga poranage ippo” by mom, and “Evvaro baaga thannulu tintaaru ippiudu,” by dad. Unlike Russell, I always knew it was me. No siblings, you see. 

Another quote that got thrown around a lot was the one about the well. As in:

“Dad can I go to the sleep-over?”

“No”

“All my friends are going”

“If all your friends jump in the well, would you too?”

“K”

Memoirs

As all great personalities, my parents also narrated fond memories of their childhood experiences. Of course, these narratives always included a lesson, something for me to learn.

“What? Raise in pocket-money-aa? When I was a boy, I took the five annas my father gave me and saved it by walking five miles to the school in the next town. Children these days…” <Head bent and shaking>

“Inda kaalathu pasangalukku bhayame illama pochu.  Naanga chinnapo we were so scared of our parents. Why, even now, at this age also I am scared of my mother.”

Inception

Ahh yes, the concept of planting an idea was discovered by my parents long before Christopher Nolan. In fact, multiple dream/idea planting sessions were conducted frequently, and I did not even have to be asleep for them. Example of a common post-lunch scenario:

Dad (Looking up from Newspaper): Sumi, what to you want to become when you grow up?

Me (Looking up from Hardy Boys): Umm…

Mom (Running in from the kitchen, Beaming): When she was born itself, I told Amma. Our daughter will become a doctor. First in the family.

Dad: You know, Mr. Verma’s son has gone to America to study his masters. One day…

Mom (Dreamy-eyed): I always wanted to learn the Veena when I was younger. Alas, my parents could not afford. But our Sumi…

Recitals

Yes, I was required to recite several things as a child. Multiplication tables were one of them. When I was in the second grade, my mother took it upon herself to permanently imprint my mind with tables. So she mysteriously procured audio tapes of ‘tables-songs’ that promplty replaced the Suprabhatam. Paavam,  M.S. never knew that ‘times-two tables’ were actually her greatest competitor.  Every morning, I had to listen and sing-along, accompanied with the correct taalam.

Rituals

Several rituals that mirrored the lifestyles of the accomplished were religiously followed in my household. The one I remember most vividly is the summer ritual of ‘Five Words’. This practice required me to read 2-3 articles in the editorial section of the newspaper every day of my summer vacation. I had to underline five difficult words, look up their meanings in the dictionary, and copy them down into my notebook.

 As my laziness grew with age, I was pardoned, and the ritual was reduced to ‘Two Words’.

Newtonianism

This was perhaps, the most brilliant of my parent’s accomplishments. They were firm believers in the third law of motion propsed and proved by Sir Isaac Newton.

Every action, indeed, had an equal and opposite reaction in my house. Like if I told a bad word, my face would immediately be plastered with a slap. If I did not come home from playing immediately when my mother called me, the front door would promptly be locked. If I behaved badly in public, a tiny, discreet, yet painful pinch would follow on the underside of my arm, when no one was looking.

If you grew up in the 80s and 90s and cannot relate to anything I’ve written, I am sorry to inform you that your parents were quite unimaginative, as my reading-source states.

Translations:

Badam - Almond

Badam Halwa - Gooey, Yummy, Almond sweet

Padikere pasanga enga venalum padipaange/Chaduve pillalu ekkadaina chaduvutaru - Studying children will study anywhere

Paati - Grandmother

Unaku kooda ade gadi thaan - You too will suffer the same fate

Yaaro nalla adi vaanga poranage ippo/Evvaro baaga thannulu tintaaru ippiudu - Somebody gonna get a hurt real bad

Annas - old Indian currency

Inda kaalathu pasangalukku bhayame illama pochu - These days kids have no fear

Naanga chinnapo - When we were kids

Amma - Mother

Suprabhatam - A religious chant to be heard at the crack of dawn.

Paavam - Poor thing

Taalam - Way of keeping track of rhythm in Indian Classical Music

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