TO AMMA

A year has passed

You have not gone

I hear you in the music

That you listened to at dawn

You have not gone

Because now I clearly see

That love is in actions

Not in words spoken to me

How can you be gone?

When each and everyday I feel

Your warmth and love

In every tasty homemade meal

A year has passed, I do not mourn

That you are no longer on earth

Death can never take away

The life you gave me at birth

I do not cry, I have no cause for tears

Because I know I’ll always be

The daughter you loved, while you remain

My dearest Amma till eternity...

Your daughter,

Nimmou

23^rd December 2012

YOGAARGH!

I know why Yoga has endured as a way of life for so many centuries. It suits the contradictory nature of the human spirit and supports Newton’s 2^nd law- for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

In Yoga if you want to live to the fullest the most effective asana is the ‘Shavasana’ where you lie still and play dead. Apparently nothing rejuvenates you more than playing the corpse-zaps the life force and sends it zinging through those million inert cells.

Want to achieve peace of mind and soothe those shattered nerves? Easy peasy! No, don’t go to a quiet corner and close your eyes. Instead, take a deep breath and expel the air while producing a loud ‘Om’ sound loud enough to bounce off the walls and wake your comatose neighbor, 3 blocks away.

For years your body betrayed you. You didn’t walk upright, you shuffled along while every joint creaked and groaned and your doctor sternly ordered you to join a Yoga class. And you thought, why the hell not? Nothing could cripple you further than your arthritis or your finances.

And, you were being offered the straight and narrow path to salvation minus pills and potions. That is when the ‘aargh’ component of Yoga comes into effect. Every spinal twist, knee bend, hip contortion is the ‘Yogic’ way to get the body to straighten up. Hold impossible poses in different angles and directions and voila!, you are no longer early man shuffling along but limber modern man, as fit as a fiddle.

‘Yogaargh” also teaches you one of life’s most important lessons-you just cannot take anything for granted. We unenlightened lot thought that breathing was the one thing that came naturally (after the first unkind slap to get us started) and did not require our undivided attention. Well, the first shocker, as any good Yoga master will kindly point out, is that not only should we focus our complete attention to our breathing but that most of us are doing it all wrong.

So, to achieve that elusive Nirvana it is like being transported back to kindergarten and being told a countless times to breathe deeply, inhale and exhale. Apparently, if you want a flat belly you have to do exactly the reverse- inflate it like a balloon and then deflate it. And here most of us uninitiated ignoramuses have been wasting our time and energy trying to stand tall, tuck in our tummies and swing our arms gracefully as we walked. No wonder people turn to ‘Yogaargh’ in droves- it is life’s invaluable lesson condensed in one pithy saying-DON’T HOLD YOUR BREATH!

Nimmou Nilakantan

Aerobic Instructor

(Always Hyperventilating)

A NEW LEASE OF LIFE

 

The bane of old age is a life full of peaks and troughs.

The boon is you have all the time in the world to climb out of those troughs and you don’t have to don mountaineering gear to do it.

If you accept that every day of the rest of your life is going to be a challenge then, and only then, can you gear up for it.

In youth we are so busy conquering hurdles to get ahead.

In old age we do the same just to maintain status quo.

Accept and embrace the difference.

The attitude of youth has to give way to the acceptance of old age. You just need to cultivate a taste for it, like our palettes, which learn to accept healthy but non- spicy food.

And once you do, why then, every victory tastes sweeter than the last and you, and only you reap the rewards.

No more sharing with friends, family or colleagues- this is your sole conquest.

This is the golden age. Where, everything you do is ‘you-centric’ (rather than the ‘eccentric’) – embrace it with an open mind.

Nimmou Nilakantan

AN INSIGHTFUL BIRTHDAY

AN INSIGHTFUL BIRTHDAY

Birthdays are not just occasions that mark the day you were born- they are far more significant. This is the day you faced your first eviction after 9 months notice. And, the heartless landlord who chucked you out after much bawling and a whole lot of blood, sweat and tears was none other than your mother. No wonder all of us have such Jekyll and Hyde relationships with our moms. For nine months she provided you with the best water bed of your life. No slumber was as sweet as those nine months of floating in animated suspension. Food was piped in 24/7 through a tube. And then life’s first harsh lesson was taught to you by your mother-‘All good things come to an end’.

With her sigh of relief came your cry of pain and the first war of emotions began. Whenever she laughed, you cried and vice versa. You were out of sync in the emotional plane from the first hour of birth and it continues till death. And, though the cord is cut at birth it immediately begins a slow but powerful re-growth that no doctor, lawyer, husband or child can ever sever. They can dent it, twist it, tug at it but it just keeps growing and binds you to this one woman forever. Even if you try to reach and snip it just grows rubbery and snaps like an annoying elastic band, back in your face.

Pretty soon after birth you face eviction from another favorite hangout- Mamma’s milk bar.

But, she never stops feeding you. She feeds you comfort when you need it most, she feeds you advice when you least feel like it, she feeds you forgiveness when no one else will, she feeds you love when you have given her many moments of hatred- she is God’s ultimate cook and you feast your whole life remembering only occasionally to thank her. And, that is why the day she dies begins the slow starvation- that is when the cord of life that bound you to this supreme source of nourishment is ruthlessly severed. 

If you have lost a mother, the loneliest day of your life is your birthday. You realize that you are celebrating alone- your ally, your partner, your soul mate, your confidante, your friend, your critic and your favorite punching bag and comforter has gone forever. 

And for the rest of your life, this will be the day you celebrate without the only person who gave you the best gift- a thing we take for granted called ‘life...’

Nimmou Nilakantan

May 29^th 2012

(5 months after Amma died)

Personalised Poetry Service

My personalised poetry website is finally up and running...

Check it out at http://personalisedpoetry.co.in

To Amma

To Amma

If God had an army
He would have placed you at the Head
But you were needed more on Earth
So he put you here instead

If the phone had a purpose
You made it amply clear
It was an instrument to be used
To bring everybody near

If self help books were based
On one simple creed
You showed us by example
To reach out to those in need

Nothing could stand in your way
When in pursuit of a goal
Honesty and immense courage
Were the hallmarks of your soul

So many journey through life
Leaving no footprint on the ground
You charged every life you touched
You were lightning accompanied by sound

No Da Vinci code or Rubik’s cube
Could ever be more of an enigma
We spent a lifetime with you
And still could not solve your persona

If death could be looked upon
As giving life a fresh new start
I know dearest Amma you’ll live forever
In each and every loving heart

Your loving daughter,
Nimmou

Economical Relationships

Relationships and economics have so much in common. In the former, you give sometimes and you get sometimes- but ultimately it depends on the dynamic that is at work. In the latter, it is simply called"Supply and Demand". You wouldn't try to sell ice cream in the North Pole would you? It just doesn't make economic sense! Why then, do we invest so much of our time and energy in relationships that are just not going to work? Mere blood does not guarantee bonding- how many of us are in abusive relationships with our relatives? Whether it is a domineering mother who constantly criticizes her child, or a father who deliberately crushes the ego of a fragile offspring or a jealous sibling- the list is endless. Somewhere along the way we have to take stock, invest our time and energy wisely and demand more bang for the buck. Respect, trust and unconditional love are the only coinage which will ensure a functioning and healthy dynamic. Now, that is the economy of a rich relationship...
(If you want your relationships to be gilt edged then you have to remove the edge of guilt..)
Nimmou Nilakantan

THE PARENT TAG

What makes a good parent?This question has always haunted me and the answer has been as elusive as sighting a ghost. To me, being a parent is the ultimate cosmic responsibility. We summon a soul into the world through one act of selfish pleasure. Surely then we owe a selfless duty to the free spirit for tethering them for life?
When the answer dawned, it set me free from the overwhelming responsibility of being a "good parent"- you must love yourself first and then, and only then can you love your child. Love is the fountain from which springs all pure and noble feelings. We bring our children into the world but we cannot feel for them, love for them or carry their burden of pain. But, if love emanates from our very being then that is the blanket which envelopes them and gives them a strong and sturdy root from which they can flourish and flower...
Nimmou Nilakantan

ABOUT FACE...

Facebook and annoying relatives have much in common. In both interactions you end up talking to a wall. whether you like it or not, both have a habit of intruding into your life with unwanted and unwarranted comments. Both forms of communication become public immediately. You are subject to boring accounts of"yummy" food, "great" holidays, "instant nirvana" and bombarded with trivia you just cannot tune out.
If facebook had a "face" I would put one of my most boring, pain-in-the-ass relatives photo. The only advantage in Facebook is, one is always just a click away from escaping. Alas, one cannot do that with relatives unless a genius avatar of Zuckerberg comes up with an invention which can zap the annoying presence into another dimension.
Who knows? Who cares? Amidst the hordes of nonsensical posts one does stumble into something which is pure genius and inspirational. Hey, if I was looking for companionship or friendship the last thing I would do was talk to a wall...

AN INDIAN TOURIST IN TURKEY- ALIEN VIEWPOINT

The Chinese invented the water torture but the Turks have refined it. Any tourist to Turkey will attest to the exquisite torture of having to buy water at 1 Turkish lira for a half litre bottle (one lit­­re costs 2 lira) and then having glugged a few bottles during the course of the day, having to pay another 1 lira to use the toilet to pass out the same water. And, if you visit Turkey in July where the temperature reaches 40 degrees Celsius in certain regions you end up spending around 20 lira a day being tortured by the Turks...

Water sold in a museum

Water is not the only torture perfected by the Turks. In spite of being a Muslim country, thanks to their visionary founder Mustapha Kemal Ataturk (the founder of modern Turkey)…

Mustapha Kemal Attaturk in IZMIR

the Turkish women really know how to strut their stuff. Not only are they astoundingly beautiful, but their clothes (or rather lack of it) really tortured the men in our diverse group...

The face of modern Turkey!

Turkey is doubly blessed- not only do they have beautiful natural wonders but they have mastered the art of civilizing their ‘ruins’. Every artifact, every remnant of a bygone age, every museum that has lovingly restored a relic and showcased it is a tribute to the one thing they venerate above all- the tourist! India has ruined its civilization (our plummeting tourism industry and frequent terrorist attacks are testimony) but Turkey has tamed the tourist and civilized its ruins...

Lovingly restored ruins

In Turkey, the tourist is regarded either as a God or the devil in direct proportion to how much he spends and how much he tips. Even a canny tourist cannot help but fall prey to the water torture, but if he signs up for a guided tour like we did, then the tourism department has thought of a myriad ways to rook him. For every museum visit there is a subtle deviation to a carpet manufacturing unit. The Turks are famous for their carpets and tremendously proud that only their carpets have the double knot which makes it the most durable in the world (and also keeps their women bent over the loom for a year to produce one carpet). All the time, while they show you a dazzling array of carpets and an equally dazzling number of facts about weaves, textures and styles, you are subject to subtle pressure to buy, buy and buy. And a Turkish carpet, however beautiful can blow a hole the size of a water bottle through your wallet...

Wherever you go you are offered tea. The Turks take their ‘chai’ pretty seriously (apart from taking the tourist’s money) and thankfully it comes virtually free especially when you are being subtly pressurized to buy carpets. Turkish tea is a treat. They give it to you in small hour glass shaped glasses, without milk and with a cube of sugar on the saucer. In that heat, the tea is like manna from heaven. Apple tea is a favourite (there are quite a few flavours), but drinking Turkish tea is an experience to relish. And a sure way to offend a Turk is to refuse the offer of a tea. You can refuse to buy a carpet and get away with it, but refuse tea and you leave a bad taste in the mouth, literally...

Turkish ‘Chai’ and the Chaiwallah!

Apart from carpet factories, we were whisked to pottery making units, fine jewellery factories and select restaurant stops, where if by some oversight you have bought nothing but water whole day, there are shops that sell you all the knick knacks which are somehow irresistible when you are a tourist.

A pottery making workshop.

The temptation to buy lies all around you (even among the ruins you have the mandatory gift shops which conveniently stock water among the curios) and actually there is a WC alongside where tourists queue obediently like sheep and then pay to use.

Like Wine, Women and Song – Food, Water and WC – pay for all 3 in Turkey

The WC of old - the LATRINA

The tour guides are thorough professionals and know how to captivate their audience. Apart from the mandatory stops to help part the tourist from his foreign exchange, they are walking talking

Cihat – our long suffering tour guide - Always on the job!

encyclopedias. And they are proud of their country. The Turks revere their founder, Kemal Attaturk and everywhere there are statues to commemorate his leadership. Our guide’s name was pronounced as ‘Jihad’ (spelt as Cihat) and unfortunately he had 8 Indians in his group of 11. Throughout the tour the only war he waged was to capture our attention. We had 2 couples from Mumbai who were more interested in eating ‘Theplas’ (they had packed a suitcase full of snacks which they had carted everywhere) and the leader of this group frequently interrupted Chihat to ask ‘how much longer’ and when we stood amongst the ruins ‘Is this what we paid to see? Italy had more ruins!’.

Cihat waging his holy war – 4 out of 11 were listening!

Indians love shopping and hate keeping time. Since we were on a strict schedule, Chihat had to literally herd us because invariably one member of the group would have wandered off and got lost among the shops. At one stop to drop off a member of the group in his hotel, one of the shopaholics ran off to shop in the hotel lobby while the rest of us fumed in the bus. Our guide went berserk in trying to keep to his schedule.

Cihat with the Indian Shopaholics

Turks are unfailing polite. They never get angry (maybe they have a punching bag at home), but we never got a glimpse of road rage or any public displays of anger. Traffic flows smoothly and the roads are clean – the two things prized above all by the Bangalore tourist.

Food is exquisite. Salads accompany every meal, even breakfast, and olives, yoghurt and honey are delicious add-ons. The rice has a unique flavour and sticky consistency, which is rather delicious, and the breads – a bountiful collection! There are flat breads, hard breads, thin crust and thick crust, rye bread, sesame bread- you name it the Turks have baked it! And unlike in China where the vegetarian tourist has to gaze forlornly at birds nest soup on the dining table, in Turkey there is a banquet of legumes and vegetables and a variety of cheeses- goats cheese, feta, soft cheese, hard cheese to name a few. It’s a gastronomic dream and the wines are pretty smooth too...

A veggie’s dream spread!

Turkish delight and Baklava are two must try culinary experiences if you have a sweet tooth but not everyone likes the taste or consistency (too sticky, too sweet!).

Turkish Delight on the left.

Apart from these two Turkish sweets, the Turks delight in offering you a sweet made of thick yoghurt (much like the Indian shrikhand) topped with poppy seeds and with a smattering of honey on top. They call it “Turkish Viagra” and caution you with a twinkle in their eye from eating too much of it. Both of us had some and it did nothing for the libido- our packed tour itinerary and fast depleting resources took care of that...

Nila sampling Turkish Viagra!

The only jarring note in this land of cheese and honey was the cigarette that hangs from almost every Turkish mouth, both male and female. There is no ban in smoking in public places and in some places we had to view the sights through a haze of cigarette smoke. Other than that Turkey is just beautiful. No wonder that they have placed the symbol of the “evil eye” everywhere- my own eye has fallen on this charming land and people...

Beautiful Turkey

Nimmou Nilakantan