What do you know!

I miss Kannada. I don't speak enough and I want to keep in touch with it. I am not a chest beating lobbyist. It has a unique vocabulary, that is insufficient in some aspects but has a most beautiful collection of words in some other aspects. I like my mother-tongue.

So, once in a while, I read a blog called churumuri. What is Churumuri? Well, the name is known to all Mysoreans. It is a delightfully light, crispy, spicy (read salty, tangy, hot), mouthwatering, closest-your-tongue-can-get-to-heaven evening snack. To me, that is how home would taste, if it were edible. It is exactly what I crave for. That is exactly, what you cannot make even with the finest ingredients from the US of A. Sorry, it is hard not to get distracted with a thought of churumuri.

Coming back to Kannada and the blog, I ended up noticing this song:

The lyrics are SO lovely, I haven't come across such original poetry in movie songs for a long while. I am happy I am in touch with Kannada! I tried to translate it, but English is not just sufficient.. dark-clouds can never sound and feel like "kaarmugilu", turmoil can never sound like "miditha" .. but for what it is worth, here it the translation:

The endless silence that my breath whispers in a monotone,
The colors of my dreams dissolve on the brim of eyes that overflow,

killing me, is a love that won't step into my heart's abode,
Lining the dark clouds of my mind is agony's rainbow..
A perennial solitude,that's what is love..


The endless silence that my breath whispers in a monotone,
The colors of my dreams dissolve on the brim of eyes that overflow,


The nectar that takes your life, Can you name it Love?
The disease that saves your soul, can you call it Love?
In the sheets of a golden dream, sleeping on a bed of thorns,
When a smile emerges at pain, when the tears in my eyes dry in vain,
chanting her name, that's what is love..

The nectar that chokes your soul, Can you name it Love?
The disease that saves your life, can you call it Love?

In the four words of a poem, can you describe the throes?
In the three notes of a sonnet, how do you let your heart flow?
A passionate song moans in a flooded throat,
A dead poem laughs in the sobs of an aching heart..
The master of loneliness, that's what is love..

Rewind: The revelation called New Delhi Railway Station.

I am back from India. It was a hectic, unfinished trip. I was in pain, ill, tired most of the time. During the rest of the time, I was upset I was all that. I was with my family, with my father, and mother, and my sisters. I am happy I went. I will write about the things I felt strongly about whenever I find time.

We went on a lovely trip in Northern India. The trip took us from New Delhi to Haridwar, Rishikesh, JoshiMath and Auli. I got to see a tiny glimpse of the unbelievably magnificent Himalayas. I saw heart-stopping gut wrenching, car wrecking dangerous roads, and brave people cruising them elegantly. What I remember most is some unbelievable glimpses into human nature.

We began with a very traumatic escape from the Hyena-looking, very desperate taxi drivers. It seems like such a ridiculous thing looking back, but even then, I wouldn't wish it upon anyone to reach Delhi Railway Station without your cousin to pick you up from the platform. I hated New Delhi Railway Station. There is not a more dirty under-maintained over-abused place in the world. Beginning from the police, everyone looked like crooks, who wake up in the morning and decide that they will cheat anyone who will take it. Their hovering around you, their following you silently from one dirty corner to another, tens of them surrounding you, when you are just figuring out what you want to do, it is scary. We were begging them, asking them, yelling at them to leave us alone and then running away from them. It affected our psyche so much, we fought amongst ourself for silly reasons after that. My sisters, probably they anticipated such a deluge, dealt with it better than I did. But, still, I bet it left a scar on all our minds. I am not kidding you. We ended up being cheated by a taxi-crook anyway.

I was so overcome with my disgust for this aspect of human behavior, that I failed to protect my family from its trauma and just withdrew in to a silent hateful bitterness. I was disappointed to see myself transform from a earthy i-can-take-it desi to a scared-clueless prey. Well, it is not like I don't know that the desperation of seeking a livelihood can make people break down all norms of privacy and dignity. I guess I was secretly wishing it would not be divulged to me in such a ghastly fashion. I am scared now that I have been away from India for too long.....