Reflections of a restless eccentric

 My journey with music began as a toddler of 3 and a half years. My mother noticed that music soothed me when I was tempestuous and excited me when I was morose, and like several other South Indian mothers, immediately concluded that I should learn Carnatic Music, and the earlier the better. She sent me off to a teacher who was conveniently located next door, and who already taught a few people. The teacher looked at me in disbelief, as I hadn't even started kindergarten yet. She told my mother that I was too young, and that she should probably wait another year, but my mother was insistent. They finally came to the conclusion that I would be allowed to sit at the back of the class and listen, and that she would consider teaching me after a few months. So I went to class twice a week, and soon enough, I started singing along. My teacher changed her mind, and took me into her fold of students. I learnt this way for a year and a half, without understanding the grammar of a raga, with...

In a post that I wrote ages ago, I spoke about the experience of listening to a musician who brings music alive. I called that experience and article  Transcendental . For me and millions of people around the world, she is one such vainika. I talk about none other than the legendary and unparalleled Dr.Jayanthi Kumaresh . She is synonymous with her instrument, the Saraswati Veena. Jayanthi was born into a family of violinists, (the famous Lalgudi Jayaraman was her uncle) but she chose a different path for herself at the age of 3--the Veena. After more than a decade of rigorous practice, she gave her first stage performance. Jayanthi holds a Doctorate for her work on “styles and playing techniques of the Saraswati veena”. She is married to a famous violinist, none other than Kumaresh ji of the Ganesh-Kumaresh duo. Her performances have brought her worldwide acclaim, numerous awards and titles, the most recent of which is the prestigious Sangeet Shikhar Samman. All this and ...

A while ago, a group I belonged to had this activity where we were asked to name women scientists in India. I struggled to find names, and that struck me as sad. Surely there must have been inspiring women scientists in my country too. Was it that no one chronicled their lives? Or maybe it was just me who was blissfully unaware of their existence? So this weekend, when I was looking for a book to read, I searched for something that would shed more light on this topic. And that's how I stumbled upon Lilavati's daughters , a collection of 100 biographical essays on various women scientists hailing from India scattered across a multitude of disciplines. I started reading, and I was immersed into stories of various women and their struggles in science. But one story instantly stood out for me: it tugged on my heartstrings and inspired me, and it is that I choose to narrate to my Reader today. Disclaimer: My narration is based mostly on the essay I have read, and the few articl...

A couple of weeks ago, I was conducting a session on communication skills for my mentee, in which one of the exercises was to speak on an impromptu topic. Not wanting the session to get too one-sided in the sense that I pick the topic and she speaks, I asked her to try out the reverse as well. She immediately gave me a topic: 'your role model'. Instinctive responses are sometimes very insightful. They show us what we really think, unfettered by the filters that are normally in place. And that's what happened to me. I ended up speaking on the topic for a whole five minutes, and I heard from her that it was very inspiring. But most of what I'd said was new to me in that I'd never consciously vocalized it before. The feeling was weird. Anyway, I've decided to write about what I spoke, with two different perspectives. This will also be the foundation for my next article on re-framing and building a story. This dates back to my childhood. My parents were both wor...

I was making dinner this evening, and Dosarius( My Dad and I have christened the God of Dosas thus) frowned upon me, mauling the first dosa as his offering. I scraped it from the griddle, and following the path of my scrupulous do-not-waste food mother, put it on my own plate for future consumption. (Before you conclude that I am a bad cook, in my defense, the batter used in my house is some pro-diabetic rice-free thing invented by my Mom. And it can be tricky at times!) Anyway, this incident only added to my feeling of moroseness, and I sighed in abject despair. The anxiety of uncertainty was eating away at me, and I could not find peace anywhere. My Dad watched me, offering to help with dinner, which I refused by launching off into the first random question I could think of. How was your life after college? What did you do? Now my father is a man of very few words when it comes to himself, and most of his life is a closed book to me. So it should come as no surprise to you tha...

I planned to write this on my Dad's birthday, but it's been more than a fortnight and that didn't happen. I thought I'd at least get it up by Father's Day, but no luck there as well. Now, I'm sneakily writing this and setting the publish date to his birthday:P--turning back the clock metaphorically. To do justice to this article, I have to travel back in time by two decades. Those were the days when my world revolved around just two people. My father was one of them. My first memories are of waiting for him to call in the afternoon. No matter how busy he was, regardless of whether he was having a good or a bad day, he would call home, exactly at lunch. I used to race to the antiquated landline telephone at the first ring, knowing that it had to be him. His gruff voice would carry a tiny edge of sweetness that fathers reserve just to talk to their daughters. His syllables would slightly soften--as if the rough notes in them could actually hurt me. We would con...

I had this idea a couple of days back, as I came to my room. I wondered how many more times I'd visit; and the number seemed too less, far under a dozen, possibly even under half a dozen. I was filled with sadness at the prospect of having to move out, and have a stranger live in what had come to mean so much to me. So I decided to write this, although I admit it's extremely cliched and not exactly my style. But what's life without the whimsical? Here goes. A letter to the future occupant of my room I don't know who you are. I possibly never will. But we have one thing in common. This room that I spent two years in. The place I was more than happy to call home. The place that was so very sacred to me. I write this, more for my own closure than anything, knowing you'll probably never read this. But like I said, in some weird way, I feel connected to you. So let me give you the history. A couple of years back, on a rainy day in July, I was handed a key to a roo...

I call her my twin. She already has an actual twin, so she probably doesn't see me this way. But to me, she'll always be my reflection staring right back at me. One and a half years back, more or less, I met this girl with a wacky sense of humor and the typical cool dude kind of attitude(:P).I thought I had nothing in common with her till one day we somehow got to discussing our blood groups. Turned out we had the same. Could happen, not very improbable. Then came the birthdays. Same day. Same month. Same year. Our ID cards look exactly the same on one side. :D Going by the birthday paradox,still probable. Then, it turned out that she reads. And when I say read, I don't refer to reading one lame novel(that all the world happens to be reading at that point in time) in a year. I mean a voracious,passionate bookworm who gobbles up books faster than the average human being his daily meal. She was that. This was probably when I first felt a real connection with her. ...

This is dedicated to a truly exceptional teacher! I have always longed for a mentor.Someone who's more than a teacher.Someone who inspires you.Someone who helps you achieve things you thought were far beyond your abilities.I have,in my two decade long stint in academics,come across really amazing teachers.Yet,I still longed for that one superb Guru who would become the synonym of wisdom in my mind. And then,quite recently(a semester ago),I happened to take up a course offered by a certain professor.He was extremely knowledgeable and noticeably eccentric.I was fascinated by his thought processes.I did,in fact,write about him. http://virtualramblings10.blogspot.in/2017/02/hes-so-quotable.html He was not only technically proficient but also a true learner.He would draw analogies between two events that would seemingly have no correlation until he said the magic words.And then,you would wonder, why did I not see this ! He had an amazing vocabulary,narrated the most eccentric of...

Dedicated to Sri.Happy Birthday! :) The lush green path abruptly forked in two My heart turned cold with dread For I knew deep down That I was headed one way and you another Parting of the ways they say But how do you bid adieu to a part of your life? Wisdom has no measure of punctuality Yet its epiphanies are worth waiting for Years from then I've realized Our paths were parallel and will always be From time to time, I stop and wave at you from the distance And you smile at me just the same Nothing's changed, nothing ever will For we're bound not by circumstances Nor by a transient materialistic whim Not even by blood 'Tis our souls that are intertwined And bonds of the soul can never be severed

This is a story that's very special to me.I suppose the beginning is as good a place to start as any:) About nineteen years ago,I was a naive 4 year old kid who had no friends.I also didn't know how to make any--pathetic social skills were something I inherited at birth.I was apparently running around a jackfruit tree at lunch,lost in my own imaginary world.She saw me and at 4 years of age,in all her infinite wisdom,decided that she wanted to be my friend. This was probably the best thing that has ever happened to me:)  So, she started running around the same tree following me.She was a people magnet--right from the beginning,everyone wanted to be around her,including me:) In a minute,4 or 5 kids started running around following her coming up with some kind of a game,I guess.This is all I remember from that day. There have been countless times when I have wondered What if she didn't follow me that day? In all probability,I would have been a loner...