Maduraikku pogathedee..

After pacing around in the scorching heat of Madurai, I finally find myself in the temple complex of the Madurai Meenakshi Amman Kovil.

The first thing that catches my attention is the blissful ecosystem with the peepals and the neems hanging over the ever clean tiled street surrounding the  Amman Kovil. I would consider myself a criminal if I ever understated the bliss and calm around. The soothing hymns floating along keeps the air even more rhythmic.

For those with an appetite there are many options. But right now I am after the famous Jigardanda alone. Waiting for some space to be made after the heavy lunch I had at the wedding, not to forget the extra load of soft drinks and tea that I had.

The experience becomes even more blissful after couple of hours of roaming along the streets under the hot sun, carrying a sizeable bag. The heat is slowly getting on me, and sweat flows down my face but I was strolling slowly.

I had been to the Madurai Meenakshi Amman Kovil a couple of times before this, and I still had around three hours before my train back to Bangalore. Having lots of time helped me observe many things around me. The hawkers selling  a variety of colourful bangles and cosmetics passed by with their wares, and were followed by a father holding his son's hands and telling him stories while walking around the compound. I wondered how many times my father would have held my hands and took me to umpteen places telling me fake stories to prevent me from running away ;) That moment, I wished to be home, to stop roaming and sit besides him and listen to the stories that he has to tell now.

Snapping out of my emotional whirlpool after a moment, I decided to take a good look at the gopuram. I think it was the South one I visited first. After a few attempts at clicking photos, I felt like an idiot and decided to examine the art work with my eyes. Roving my eyes over the large structure made my neck pain and I decided to take in the sight at ease. So, very much unlike my usual practice to stand and walk for long hours, I decided to sit down and enjoy the marvel in front of me. Nothing else was in my mind when I was immersed in the beauty of the ancient construction. Each demon, each God, every mythical figure in it seemed to weave stories in my head as the facts about Madurai's history kept rolling into my head from some storage. I might even have had a full blown historical and artistic conversation within my head before I decided to snap out of it and tweeted the pic of the beautiful tower :)

the towering beauty

Seeing me sitting on the footsteps of a closed shop, staring at the sky, a couple of roadside palmists approached me and tried to make me take the bait by offering to predict my career, matrimonial ventures and even going as far as claiming that from my face it was clear something big was coming :) I managed to break out of their circle and walked to the next tower. On the way, I found a hand loom showroom where I decided to check out sarees for Amma and found even more beautiful ones than the ones I had bought from Pothy's a while ago. But after getting a firm scolding from Amma for overpurchasing I managed to filter only two good sarees from that shop and moved on.

I didn't find the other towers to be as imposing as the Southern one, but they were pretty good as well. I soon found myself approaching the shopping areas and bagged some Amla and also managed to down a tasty cup of Jigardanda

 before I decided that I had eaten too much and started walking in the direction of the railway station, hoping I will take a couple of hours to reach. But it so happened that the railway station was too close :(

Tired after all the walk and all the food, I dropped my bag and sat down beside the platform, tweeting and whatsapping a bit even as my phone battery threatened to die out soon. All of sudden it started raining and I had to pick up everything and move to the first platform, grumbling all the way. My eager eyes soon found a notice which read "AC waiting room. Rs.10/- per hour. Tickets available at Platform I". It was pasted outside the waiting room, and so I guessed it meant I had to take the tickets from the ticket counter and went in search of it. Phew, it was a near 10 minute tired walk to get there and after another 5 minutes in the queue, the person at the ticket counter informed me that the tickets were available at the waiting room itself. I smiled a weak smile, thanked him and trudged back.

What followed was an hour of a repacking, recharging and telling the stories to all my friends. I stayed some extra time in the AC room until the train finally arranged and I had an uneventful journey besides a fully loaded

The murukkus, paan packets, kaaracheeva packet and couple of sarees bulged my bag as I put myself to a tough sleep among the chug-chug of the railgaadi :)

sayanora

stopover..

A sweet voice beckons me to the golden plates with mounds of mouth watering delights , as I get down from my bright and warm carriage. The journey had been long and wonderful but I am tired and irritated.

I recognize the greenest and freshest treasures from our garden, and my mouth resembles the suez canal.

My mother's preparations adorn this royal feast and I start picking up one after the other, commenting on how each one tastes and occasionally ignoring a bit of imperfection.

I eat to satisfaction and dunk myself into the refreshing juices from the orchards, while eyeing the mounds of ice cream made from the ice brought in from the Himalayas.

The same Himalayas, on the peaks of which I sang a hopeful song before returning home for the feast. No mountains can keep me away from the love of a handful of rice. Or was it just the growl of the tummy? Anyway here I am, and I would have regretted if I wasn't.

As the feast ends, I eye the clock and the voice in the head starts uttering strange things. It is time to leave and my carriage has arrived. The carriage painted in bright yellow, with green stripes seems hypnotizing and the voice in the head seems more and more distant as I get into the carriage and tuck myself in, into the comfort of the warm blankets, and continue my wild quest into the lands unknown.

Sayonara and happy lazy sunday evening :)

A thousand splendid reflections of Motherhood

I finished reading a Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini a few minutes ago, and was just writing up its review and starting to dwell into its various unappreciated moments, when I saw many posts in facebook about mother's day. Spoiler alert, as I intend to dissect the story.

While I don't fancy choosing a day to appreciate what your mother does and has been to you. But in light of the events in the book, there is a deeper aspect of motherhood that is left unappreciated, largely owing to being in a very fortunate setting of not having to cling to your lives everyday.

The book speaks not just of the relationship between two oppressed women in war torn Afghanistan, but also spreads the fragrance of motherhood all throughout its pages. The image of a mother that the book draws is very strong. If you think along that line, we realize that every mother would play the same role given similar situations.

The more I think about it, the book is all about the enduring love and affection shared between two women who shared a mother-daughter relationship. Having faced severe rejection,guilt and subjected to repeated acts of hatred, Mariam was dead in her soul for years when Laila crash landed into her life. The memories of her mother, whom she felt she had betrayed bitterly, her father Jalil, the mullah and all that she had around her kolba, was all that was left. She lived a mute life bearing all the insults and anger subjected on her by the burly Rasheed. The matters of politics, war and rules didn't affect her bit, as she was already without any hope for anything.

Its in such a life that Laila literally crash landed into. Having her own intentions to keep her love with Tariq alive, she had to agree to the cruel purposes of Rasheed. That is the point where the selfish mother in her starts taking shape, transforming the bubbly girl into something more mature and deep. Atleast she managed to secure a safe birth for her daughter. But this pitches Mariam against her and intense fights ensue.

But as its goes, the cruelity of life with Rasheed starts showing off on her too and now the women join hands as Mariam, for the first time in her life has someone who stands up for her. It moves her a lot and she lets her stony emotions to melt. Soon, in their everyday struggle in bringing up Laila's daughter Aziza against Rasheed's simmering anger and torturous rules imposed by the Taliban, they become very close.

As the sorrows in their lives keep increasing with no signs of hope, they have only themselves to support each other, while taking pains to bring up the kids, now including Zamai, Rasheed's son. Laila had for once thought of killing it in the womb itself, but her motherly love didn't allow her to, in spite of the hatred she felt for Rasheed. Things soon get worse and they land up in big trouble and in one swift motion, Mariam changes their lives forever. Mariam, the harami girl who used to wait patiently for her father to turn up, the girl who was humiliated by him when she tried to visit his house, who faced the guilt of her mother's suicide, who resigned to the fact that moving in with a stranger to a far off land is her only course in life. The same girl who got used to the repeated abuse hurled at her by Rasheed, who patiently bore all the complaints and insults and lived on without breaking down. She transformed suddenly for the love of the girl she held close as her daughter and did the unthinkable.

The picture of the painful expression on Mariam, imagined.

Her sacrifice paved a way for Laila and the kids to start a new life and its this debt that Laila repaid when she returned to Kabul from her happy life in Pakistan to rebuild the country after the war was finally over. Her acts weren't those of sympathy, but a retribution and a contribution. In each new things she helped build, she saw the will of Mariam, the love of Mariam and often Mariam herself.

If you think about it, you will realize that you see your mother in everything that you have done  and gained in your life. Irrespective of the level of intimacy of your relationship with your mother, she is always around you and you are always in her thoughts. Such is the power of this single title that cannot be denied by any creature living on Earth.  Amen to that..