Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind…

Recently inspired by an advertising message I replaced a spoonful of sugar in my morning kaapi with a tablet of one of those sugar substitute brands. I was apparently cutting down on some wasteful calories, which meant that, I could consume the saved calories in a more fun and sinful form now. The premise being that, if one must sin, do it in style. Why accumulate Bad Karma sinning on things that don’t count?

During the first few days of this Good Karma experiment the taste began to bother me. The distant cousin of Ms Sugar was not approved by Ms Taste Buds. There was yet another reason to not want to wake up each morning. However, like all things, one got used to the strange after taste that this left you with. And Ms Taste Bud and Ms Imposter Sugar made peace with each other.

Somewhere along all of this, a peculiar phenomenon happened. At any rate, one began to notice that memory lapses and walking into objects, people and things (thereby causing considerable damage to life of self, others as well as of property) occurred.

Now occasional memory lapses are convenient. It saves you the embarrassment of speaking the truth all of the times. Even better than occasional loss of memory, is selective loss of memory.

But there are times when this kind of memory loss is a strict no-no, of course. Like when it involves events that can happen only when time and space conspire in a certain way. Forgetting those is most certainly not prudent. And given that all events and people come with some kind of an expiry date; in the long run this is hardly what the doctor recommends, isn’t it?

Naturally a visit to a doctor was in order, who after checking my BP three times, flashing the torch into my eyes a dozen times and knocking on my head with a hammer like thing, told me that either of these things had happened:
a)I might be suffering from undue stress. *Hah! Where is my boss when I need her?*
b)I was not drinking enough water.
c)I had possibly recently started consuming a drug that I ought not to be.

After dismissing point (a) given that I am known to be a perpetrator and not a sufferer of stress.

Point (b) didn’t hold much water too, given that I consume more water than it is legally permissible in my water starved city.

By the logical process of elimination, point (c) was the most likely cause.

So the doctor decided to do some errrm, sleuthing.

Him: So have you started taking some drug lately?
Me: Nothing besides the Disprin that I had to take after the cricket debacle. *Am wondering if I must sue the Indian cricket team now*
Flashes torch some more and looks most grave
Him: Are you married?
Naturally alarm bells began to ring in my head. Immaculate Conception? God is coming back? Oh, dear.
Me: *Gulp* No.
The doctor was a perceptive sort of fellow and caught on.
Him: Pfft. You know married women need to take drugs, so I needed to check.
Me: Right, you mean OCP?
Him: Yes that also.
Him: You know, it is tough out there for married women.
Me: Really?
Him: Yes, it requires immense courage and a big heart.
Me: Errr, right. Should I eat some medicines you think?
Him: So that your heart grows bigger. *Guffaws*
I am counting till ten and wondering if I should report this guy to the Indian Medical Association for trauma that he is inflicting on me? And where is that hammer he was knocking my head with?
Me: *Helpfully* You know, like Memory Plus or something?
Him: No, just get married. You will never want to remember anything ever. You can ask my wife. *Guffaws*

Mercifully and shockingly the psycho doctor had many other patients waiting for him and I made myself scarce with a prescription that said I ought to breathe more fresh air, drink more water and milk and of course consider getting married.

Anyway the doctor had shown the way, and me and my mom spent a significant time knocking out all those products that had entered my life in the last one month which might have been the culprit. After not coming up with any, we decided to take a break from all the thinking and drink some chai.

And, bingo!

Ms Imposter Sugar has since been relegated to the topmost shelf in the pantry. I am not even sure if the two are connected and one would not want to defame a brand, but as long as it works, I shall be okay.

At any rate, it is so much simpler and nicer to have filter kaapi with a spoonful of Parry’s Sugar than to find a man with whom it is likely to be more better than worse no?

101 reasons why trees make for better lovers than men…

I have always had a special fondness for trees. Trees that give you the much needed respite from the sun, trees that you can climb on top of, trees to carve hearts out on and immortalize love stories, trees as bearer of many things including fruits, flowers and wisdom, trees with their healing prowess and of course trees as a thing of beauty. May be it is the sight of the green all around which does that to me, and even if it just a long chain molecule, few things looks more beautiful.

This can possibly be attributed to childhood memories of growing up in homes that had trees all around. And while we have come a long way from our - had every possible tree in our house to apartment styled homes, the trees have stayed. Of course, now they are shared trees – one mango, one coconut, one neem, one papaya and one banana. The most coveted of course, is the mango tree. The mangos that erupted as tiny ones a while back have now grown to a decent size. Not large enough to be plucked yet, but small enough for one to keep a hawk eye on it and shoo away assorted creatures that might try to lay claim on it. Every year in the month of May the mangos are plucked and distributed to all the stakeholders. This so that it can be pickled for posterity. Or at any rate till the next summer. And thayir saadam with Avakai is an almost spiritual experience.

This time however, the mangos were plucked prematurely because the next door bungalow has been sold to a property developer and our dear mango tree was leaning into the neighbor house a bit too much. Originally the area where our apartment is and the neighbor bungalow were one huge house owned by a Chettiar family. The thata of the family was the one who planted the trees. In fact, we were told that most of the trees that were planted on our streets was by the Chettiar Thata. As fate and brothers would have it, his sons had a fall-out and the fence was built ensuring that both the brothers got equal portion of land. Our part was the one with the tree skew. But then, who cares for trees right? Our Chettiar Brother was the first to sell his share to a builder and pocketed a handsome sum and retired to Pondicherry. The other Chettiar Brother, was more sentimental and retained his portion with a monster of an unkempt house. But with old age and every area around his property turning into high rise apartments, he had to give in to the conspiracy.

Now the mango tree which actually has its roots on our side is in most aspects part of his side of the fence. The leaves fell there. The fruits fell there. And we have to take his help to pluck the mangos each year. Possibly he had his own memories associated with the place, for he never complained. But the developers don’t care for memories and nostalgia. They have now reduced our mango tree into just one lonely looking stub.

It is sad when the trees we inherit, have to die the way that they do. We hope that we can at least keep our coconut and Neem tree, in memory of the Chettiar Thata.

One of the trees which has been our contribution to the apartment, has been the banana tree. It is one of those peculiar varieties of banana though, red in colour. I am not even sure if it is actually safe to eat it, but my mom insists that it is. She also insists that it will give me record breaking longevity, glowing skin and detox. Of course, she is making that up. But what is the harm no? But the purpose of the banana tree is to have access to the leaf and not the fruit itself. In the time of water crisis it is useful as it doubles up as a plate. Sometimes gods and the spirit of those who are dead and gone require them leaves. It is also an important part of this most exotic thing that my mom makes called – Ellai Adai (Leaf Pancake would be a close translation). Of course the leaf is just the means to the end, but no leaf means no dish. Ellai aka Leaf. Duh! Anyway it involves taking a rectangular shaped banana leaf, spreading a layer of rice batter and topping that with a cooked jam like paste of jaggery, jackfruit and coconut, closing the rectangle leaf and steaming it. It is truly divine. And if the leaf seems incidental to you, think again. In fact, it is as critical as picking up an outfit because you picked up lovely ear-rings. Or like spending 80% of your time working on a presentation template as opposed to the content that goes into it.

Coming back to trees. I am also thinking movies. Of course, trees are so closely linked to movies. There is reason why the phrase - running around trees – must have evolved right? But given that most of my movie memories are from the movies of late 80’s and 90’s, one did see the protagonists actually really run around trees. Usually, somewhere in Ooty and Kodaikannal I think. Every movie would see the same woods and tress even, starting QSQT, going on to Dil, Saajan and other assorted movies. I don’t remember the movie plots itself much, but the trees that the hero/heroines emerged from, hid behind and used as props remain vivid. When we went to Kasauali many years ago, we were pointed to the Paro-Madho tree as a prominent tourist attraction. This from some Hema Malini and Rajesh Khanna starrer. The first Tamil movie that I saw was this one called – Punnagai Mannan. Starring Kamal Hassan and Revathy, the plot of the movie involves a much in love couple who are forced to commit suicide given the opposition to their love. As fate and a branch jutting near the cliff would have it, the woman jumps to her death and the man survives. He goes through guilt and immense depression as a result. However, he soon meets another girl, who falls in love with him and the story goes on. The movie had a deep impact on me. Not for its great music. Or the great acting. Or the notion that love gives you a second chance. Not even that people who are doomed in love stay that way. But I did think that trees are not great for suicide, because they never let you die.
Aren’t trees exactly what the soul needs? And the environment of course. Let’s see, now:
… There beauty is truly joy forever. And no two trees ever look the same also.
… It bears fruits and flowers that could possibly (being the operative word) be consumed. Or at rate they always look great.
… It has mysterious healing properties at times
… There is always much wisdom and aura surrounding a tree
… How can one have childhood stories without references to a banyan tree?
… And of course, one can always marry a tree, hope for the terminally single, may be?

Of course the sudden desire to write about trees were triggered by a the chopping of our mango tree and a number of tree-events that have happened. A trip to Delhi, where driving along the Delhi University North campus I saw the most lovely trees ever. This area right across the Vidhan Sabha, has the most beautiful tree forest like place. It is also because of a book that I recently picked from my library called – The Trees of Delhi. But it is mostly because of a frantic email that I got from friend J.

Dear PS,
I am very bored of my life. Who wants to just be a banker? Need more meaning in my life. I have decided to plant trees. Any idea, how?

Love,
J

Dear J,
Brilliant as always. Sounds like a simple idea though. Identify square of land. Procure sapling. Dig hole. Plant sapling. Water regularly. Love it too. And Ta Dah!

Love,

PS

Not a peep from her since then. Sometimes, it is easy to kill people with supreme form of logic.