Whoopi saves the day!

“Can you see what is happening?  Pleasssssse tell me.”  That was my frantic plea to my family, one evening this past winter break.  Bruce Wills was just about ready to jump off the bridge in Die Hard 3 and I was taking a well-deserved break from the tiring task of chewing non-existent nails when it happened. 

Du-doom, du-doom, du-doom…….

That was the collective pounding of 4 hearts in front of our TV.  Samuel Jackson and Bruce Willis were lighting up my living room with some serious action.  My dog lying next to me suddenly yelped.  Caught up in the movie, I might have squeezed his neck a bit too much.  Oops!  I felt bad.  I took my eyes off the TV for a quick second to turn and apologize to Luke.  Guess what happened when I turned back to the big screen.  The movie was not there.  It was a bad case of that ‘Poyindhe, its gone’ ad on TV.  Oh no, where did it go?  Who changed the channel?  I turned murderous eyes looking for the one with the remote control.   

The remote was lying untouched at the end of the couch.  Uh???  I hurriedly swallowed the fiery words that almost got out.  My husband and daughters looked up at the ceiling and muttered something after watching me put the brakes on fire-breathing.  It could have been a silent ‘thank you’ but I can’t be sure. 

I turned my eyes back to the TV.  Wait, I see something.  Is that someone running?  No, wait!  Was that an explosion?  Squeezing my eyes to a slit, I strained to see beyond the shades of grey on the screen.  I could hear the compelling voices of the classic duo so gave thanks for at least having the sound.  Well, I suppose I thanked the power above a bit too soon.  The audio faded out now finally leaving the 4 of us gawking at a 60“screen that had no picture and no sound.   

Then I remembered that trick.  I got up and thumped the floor hard with one foot.  I had seen Whoopi Goldberg do it in Sister Act.  One whack hard enough to trigger an earthquake in the next town but who cares?  One, it was in the next town; two, it worked.  At least the sound was now back.  Smiling widely, I took a bow and sat down.   This time, I decided to forego the edge of the seat and sit back comfortably.  After all, there was nothing to watch. 

Grabbing a bowl of popcorn each, we all agreed to take turns in thumping the floor in case sound went out again.

 

I wonder if Whoopi Goldberg knows how much she has touched our lives?  

Hope is eternal!

It has been a roller coaster of a week for me as, I am sure, has been for a lot of us whose family dropped out of contact in a flooded Chennai.  A week of unsuccessful, not to mention, frantic phone calls and whatsapp messages trying to reach the unreachable.   A week of listening to ‘This route is not available, please try after some time’ in Tamil, English, Kannada, Telugu and other unidentifiable  regional languages of India leading to the pulling of what little hair was left on my head. 

News of reservoirs being opened to dump excess water, water entering houses to sweep away hard-earned belongings, cars submerging under water throughout the city, power outages everywhere….what was, just a week ago, an active and thriving city turned into a devastation of nightmarish proportion.  To one who is averse to checking news of any form, Facebook was my one point of contact with the real world outside this past week.  Pictures and news of the devastation poured in through the social media giving my flighty imagination a boost to soar high.

I imagined my aged parents wading in chest-high water trying to get in to a rescue boat that the army sent to evacuate the area.  I imagined my mom losing balance and falling in the water.  I imagined my Dad holding a knapsack of his important documents over his head trying to help my mom to the rescue boat.  I imagined my sister and her kids all alone in a dark house that was slowly filling up with water.  After reading a FB post that said 40 crocodiles had escaped from a nearby park, I imagined the rescue boats on the streets being escorted by crocodiles on all sides.  All in all, I imagined way too much but that is nothing new.   I have been known to knit a king size blanket from a 2 inch thread all my life.  J

What my fertile imagination neglected to show me was the incredible acts of kindness shown by strangers throughout the state helping one another.   Thanks to FB, I saw people opening up their homes to give shelter to those that had lost theirs, strangers cooking and distributing food and medical supplies to all they can, college students wading in chest high water to rescue people marooned in their buildings with no food or water.  I saw humanity surface and stand tall against all odds.  I saw the rich and the poor work together to save their city.  I read stories of Hindus and Muslims and Christians and Sikhs working together to provide relief to those affected around them. 

What is it about disasters that bring out the best in us, I wonder.  Why aren’t we able to bond like this every day and break through the walls of religion, caste and language?  Why does it take a devastation of a massive kind for us to put our differences aside and stand together? 

This very moment what do I feel?  What am I proud of this day?  I am NOT proud to be a Tamilian.  I am NOT proud to be an Indian.  I am NOT proud to be a Hindu.  This day, I am proud to be a part of the human race.  It gives me incredible pride to stand with those that see the suffering of others and feel their pain.  In today’s world of constant chaos, of terrorism and bickering, I feel hope watching a flood-ravaged city practicing the rules that Mahatma Gandhi lived by - tolerance, compassion and kindness.  It gives me hope for the future. 

May TamilNadu rise up from the ashes and live to tell this story of incredible human kindness.  May the people that lost a lot find the strength to put back their lives together and move on.  May God have mercy on TamilNadu and put a cork on the rains that is still lashing out at the battered city.  May we all, who live far from the disaster, find it in ourselves to donate money generously to help our friends and family back home.   As someone said on FB, may the Bay of Bengal also find a good psychiatrist soon and get out of depression. :-)

Driving with Meena!

I took a short road trip with a favorite niece of mine yesterday.  In her early twenties, she is everything that I am not.  Young, hip-hop and adventurous, she is also ridiculously smart.  She munches on Math for a snack and sips on Science for a drink.  Poor child…she has problems that way but all her brain power turned to unrecognizable mush yesterday after 3 hours in a car with me.

I am an excellent driver.  No one can say otherwise.  Safety is the name of the game when I am behind the wheels.  If your self-worth is somehow tied to your ability to beat others, get in your car and drive by my side.  There are days when you can get off your car and walk on the road and still be faster than me. 

Seeing the gap between our car and the one in front of us, my niece turned baffled eyes at me yesterday and said “Chithi (aunt), do you realize that there is enough gap here to fit an entire continent?” to which I smiled proudly and nodded.   Unsure of the next move, she asked gingerly “How do you feel about stepping on the gas Chithi?”

I have a feeling that this particular moment will be etched in her memory forever.  In fact, I bet she is lying in a bed somewhere this very minute wondering what bad karma put those words in her mouth that opened the floodgates of my unsolicited wisdom. 

And she won’t be lying in a bed with her eyes closed, I guarantee you.  She will be staring up at the ceiling in a trance-like state.  How can I be so sure?  Because this is a genetic gift from my Dad to all of us.  Whenever we put on our thinking caps, we tilt our heads upwards towards the ceiling and just stare.  It is as though we are imploring the powers above for some divine assistance.   The truth is none of us have mastered this art of staring at the ‘mOttu’ like my Dad.  We try but we just don’t seem to have his dignity.

Rambling back to my niece’s question "How do you feel about stepping on the gas?" I opened my mouth and let the wisdom of my age spew at her.  I am not kidding when I say spew.  It was like empty-your-guts kind of puking.  I left her in no doubt about how important a human life is and how much I value mine in particular.  I even quoted from Swami Chinmayananda thanks to listening to my husband's many glorious "Hurray! I got THE call; now let me help you get ready for yours" spiritual discourses.  Hope I did him proud when I continued asking my niece questions like “Where do we have to go in such a hurry?”, “Will the world stop revolving if we are late by a few minutes?” not to mention, the quintessential ‘Will it be worth it”? What little wisdom my 4 molar teeth gave to me, I wanted to imbibe in her.

As the official navigator of our trip, she told me that I needed move to the right lane but I had 4 miles to do it.  The minute her lips closed, I put on the indicator and started begging the motorists on the other lane for a little space prompting my niece to assure me that there was no need to hurry.  So now I had to explain how it is better to do things ahead of time 'just in case'. I quoted eloquently from the life of my Dad who made us all go to the railway station and wait in the platform several hours before the train would come on each of our vacations.  And he always said 'Just in case' too.  I even remember helping the janitor sweep the platform sometimes.  

With her ears profusely bleeding from my ‘thou shall not drive faster’ and 'thou shall prepare ahead ,just in case' lectures, she was exhausted and put her seat back, closed her eyes and quietly slipped in to a painless sleep.  That left me and my restless mind all alone on the I-95 corridor behind a wheel. So I did what I usually do to entertain myself while driving.  I started singing but I decided to give my niece a break at last.  After all, I recognize pain when I see it.  Switching from my usual boisterous aka obnoxious voice, I went to a softer rendering of a krithi in Varali ragam.  I really didn’t mean to put talam while singing but one thing led to another and before you know it, my voice had risen to dangerous levels and my niece woke up to find me waving my hands in all directions and singing at ear drum-piercing decimals.  When she looked around, she found that other motorists, after one look at me, were slinking away from us clearing the road ahead for our journey. 

All except one.  This guy was behind me for a while, I think.  When I woke up from the coma of singing, I realized that he was tailgating me.  Seriously? Tailgating me?  I decided that I shall deal with it swiftly and with a vengeance.  My niece was afraid now as I am notorious for my temper.  ‘Chithi, what are going to do?” she asked in fear.  My face contorted in fury, I looked at her and said “No one tailgates me and gets away with it.  No one. (I have always wanted to say that.) This is how we deal with it.  Watch and learn M”.  And then I changed lanes and gave way to the other guy.  

Yeah, that is how you deal with it.  Now let me see how he tailgates me.  That should teach him to not mess with the likes of me.  Hah!