November 30, 2005

Do women ask for it?

Filed under: Life as I know it — Celia Rexselin @ 11:17 pm

This blog came up in a journal recently. BlankNoise Project. A woman is collecting clothes of those girls who are subjected to sexual harassment otherwise euphemistically known as eve teasing.

As I was going through the journal, I wondered whether what she does would make any difference to the male world.

Saying that “women ask for it by wearing skimpy clothes.” is like.. Women should be put back in their right places by teasing or raping them.

Is this what the male crowd means?


Plainly Trusting…..

Filed under: Relationships — Celia Rexselin @ 12:59 am

Was wondering who was standing near the gate when I reached home from workplace. Mother was standing outside the main gate and was anxiously looking at the way.. I smiled at her as I came in and went inside the living room to see my brothers and papa all hooked onto the television. Only then, I could comprehend why mother was standing outside. All the folks were watching India Vs South Africa Series and hence didn’t bother about me coming inside or dinner. As I also sat down to watch, momma having no other go, sat next to eddy.

She was amused at one particular guy standing at the centre. She kept on asking… like why he raised one of his hands most of the time, why he waved it sometimes.. and why he looked very intently onto the field. Brother was all patient and was explaining to her..

She got quite interested and was watching for some more time. Another guy (the south african bowler) got her attention. “I really can’t understand why he raises his hands onto his head and gathers his wavy hair in his hands…what does that mean?”, she asked.

I knew that eddy won’t keep quite yet suppressed my laughter waiting to hear his comment. With all seriousness he replied to her, “Maa, the advertisers for Clinic all clear shampoo have booked this guy for a dandruff clear ad. But since so many ads are coming up and his ad didn’t get the slot, they have asked him to show his dandruff clear hair after he bowls every ball. Thats why he does that.

Mother asked, “Oh! really?“. Everyone bursted out laughing.. That included me too.. But mother was very annoyed and said .. Y? I was just plainly trusting..

Now isn’t this something that I have always said?


I had just joined my present company then .. and there is a colleague who always looked very serious. I was unsuspecting as usual when I went to workplace that day. He and maxima were talking about something when they casually mentioned about Charlie’s accident. I didn’t know about that and I was bewildered and asked them what had happened then..

So they told me that when Charlie was going in his car, he met with an accident and he lost his right arm. I was shocked to the core coz I din’t knew till that time that Charlie was using a prosthetic arm. Somehow it disturbed me a lot.. I kept thinking about it for some time and was very upset…

Then I went back to my cubicle and was involved in my work. Soon Charlie came.. The topic came again.. and then I looked at Charlies’ arm. It actually looked like a real healthy arm. Mi brought about the subject again and I asked Charlie on what happened..

Yeah, Celia .. not a big accident and all.. Just some scratches..
I was astonished.. turned back to look at Mi.. and there he was and Maxima ROTFL… “Why are you this dumb, Celia.. Would you believe in whatever I say?

No.. I just trusted you by your words.. I said…

From then on, I always have a cautious ear to Mi as I got accustomed to his mischief..

November 17, 2005

A realisation on the way!!

Filed under: Relationships — Celia Rexselin @ 12:33 am

Saturdays are always troublesome as I don’t have the pleasure of MRTS trains and have to rely on buses or Sub urban trains.. This saturday too, I hurried to work and went to the ever crowded Guindy station.

The train was as usual crowded and I struggled to get to the other side footboard. By the time I made myself comfortable, the train had reached TNagar. A sudden rush of adrenaline went into my brains as I saw the huge crowd getting into the train.

A group of women got into our already crowded compartment and contributed to the sigh I heard from all directions.. Then I saw that young woman.

She would have been at the max 19. She was beautiful, cuddly and I could tell from seeing here that she is a newly married woman and carrying. She seemed to have morning sickness and was standing with her hand resting on an elderly lady (that was her mother which I found out later).

After two stations, we heard a sudden yell. One lady had started yelling at the young girl. The woman had puked all over the lady’s sari and was almost going to faint. We people had no other option than to watch the whole thing. The mother came to rescue and was saying sorry but the other lady didn’t seem to listen or stop yelling.

Just then, someone offered water to the mother. She took some of it and poured it on the lady’s sari and washed it with her hands… People who had turned their heads in disgust started seeing with astonishment at what the mother is doing. It was cleanly done and soon one lady gave place to the young girl who by that time, was almost unconscious. The mother held her close to her bosom and sat on the place..

I could see that the girl getting comfortable and she started sleeping. As I was watching the scene I thought…..

Its great to be with one’s mother….. and Its divine to be a mother…

November 11, 2005

Cook or Girl?

Filed under: When I get wild — Celia Rexselin @ 10:53 pm

For original post, please refer to lazy geeks blog.

This classified got our attention in our galaata gang and we had a very serious talk about it.

This classified looks very much like wedding ads. Aren’t girls asking for Doctor/Engineer guys with affluent background in marriage and all?

Theres no problem in guy asking for a girl room mate. But how the hell can he say that “she should cook and he will pay the rent”?

He might have thought that another guy wouldn’t cook that well. Other than that, these issues are common practice in US.

If he needs a cook, why can’t he ask for a male/female cook? Why specifically ask for a girl?

Appuram conversation rombe muthi poi, I started wondering whether he got a room mate or not.

November 6, 2005

Rain Again!

Filed under: Just For Laughs — Celia Rexselin @ 10:32 pm

Its been a yet another rainy day. The ground near my house has become more of a lake and we are getting frequent nocturnal visitors. Gone are the days when I got frightened by the sight of lizards in bathroom. Given the number of frogs and other insects that visit my room, I might end up becoming friends with them very soon.

Going out as become impossible because of the winds.. Can’t even hold a umbrella. sigh!!!

Idhula one friend called up in the evening to find my well being. After initial salutations, he said that his area has got waterlogged and water has come into his ground floor apartment. Since he and his friends had no where to go (all IT fellas), they have booked another room in a lodge for that day and are going to spend this night itseems…

He said he was very apprehensive about me as I live in the dreaded velachery (vella-chery) and asked about the water logging conditions here. I also started telling my part of story when he interrupted in the middle.

Adhellaam sari… tvla score ennanu paathu sollu! (Thats ok! tell me the cricket score now!!! )

Ada paavi!!! idhu kondaakum nee call pannadhhu?

November 4, 2005

The Tagged Tree Story – A part of mine

Filed under: Short Stories — Celia Rexselin @ 9:27 pm

Thanks Anbae for tagging me!

He thought it would be an ordinary journey. Standing behind the pillar he watched the train snort arrogantly into the station. With each snort he was reminded of his grandfather’s words “You will fail in the city and return penniless”; with every heavenward whistle, he heard his cousin, “Don’t worry. Come here and I will get you a job at the construction site.” Now he had a 34-hour journey to prove one of them wrong, and he expected the excitement at the end of the journey. He looked at his ticket once again: compartment S9 berth 23.

Pushing his luggage under the seat, he sat close to the window. “Papa, when will you be back?” – his four year old daughter Munni asked innocently. He stared into those soft brown eyes of the motherless kid. He held her frail palms in his, through the window. “Munni, Papa will get you a nice gudiya from the city..Say tata,” his sister spoke to the kid, to avoid an emotional outburst. In a minute, the train pulled forward, and Munni’s little fingers parted from between his. “I need to go..”, he thought, “I have to, at least for Munni’s sake..”

The humid summer breeze and the rattling train coaxed him into an uncomfortable state of drowsy consciousness. He dreamt that Munni ran away, the closer he ran to her, the farther she was, like a mirage. He woke up with a start and squinted at his watch.”What is the time please?”A smallish woman, a meek voice as if she was scared that her existence would annoy someone. Her only noticeable feature was her rather large, expressive eyes.”4.30″Something made him look at the woman again. He had stopped noticing women long back. Ever since Meenakshi passed away…

But this woman was different. she reminded him of someone he knew. In an instant he realized who and the painful memories came flooding back. She looked exactly like his childhood sweetheart Madhu. As teenage lovers in a conservative society, they had often met secretly and had declared undying love for each other.

Then someone had found out and all hell had broken loose. The elders in the village Panchayat had ostracized Madhu’s family as she was from a lower caste. Unable to bear the humiliation, she had committed suicide by drowning. That was twelve years back…

Could it be? Could it really be him? He seems different, weary and downcast. Oh no will he recognise me? No, I am dead to the world. Still she cautiously wrapped her saree end around her head and across her face. Behind the cotton screen, her mind drifted to happier times, languid strolls in the corn fields, games at the riverbed, his gentle caress, whispered sweet nothings, stolen glances at the temple fair.

Tempted to take one last look, she consoled herself that he wouldn’t notice. Slowly she lifted her eyes only to find Rupak staring back at her.

She quickly glanced the other way.

‘No, this girl looks too close to be any other person. She is infact Madhu!! “Hey, Madhu!” he called.

She struggled hard not to respond to that call. And successfully managed it too.

“Hey Madhu, you forgot me?” he inquired her and came closer.

The old lady sitting opposite to him was looking at this unapprovingly.

“No, you are mistaken, My name is not Madhu.. I am Supriya” she lied.

“Hey Ram!, a young girl cannot travel safely in this country without being stalked!” the old lady muttered angrily.

The girl walked briskly away from him, trying to escape his glances, as though she was hiding something, not wanting to be discovered. He stood confused, she had said her name wasn’t Madhu, and should he run after her? Or should he let it pass, after all he still had a train to catch.

His heart told him it was Madhu, followed her, all thoughts about going to the city vanished; he was on delighted to have met Madhu after such a long time. He was filled with memories of their time together. He finally caught up with her. Looking into her eyes he said

Why Madhu? Why this to me?

“Please dont lie to me anymore”; sounding more like the Mani he used to be ten years back when he had first met her at the Village temple, rather than the arrogant side that seemed to rule his life now. “I know it is you, nobody else but you Madhu”. Tears roll down her cheecks as she tries to remember why they ended up this way. Was it destiny or fate that they had to meet now?

As she speaks up, the train which for a while had be at a halt, slowly starts to move.

Her sorefull identification attests him her, ruined him mentally out.

Rusted evergreen black pages viewed in quick glace for moments “I love him and we got to marry one another despite the caste bar…” a louded talk roared by her before the panchayat made him to burst in tears…..

Rooking train wheels fast slowly…. young daughter oneside and lover – a shaped heart on other side… inevitable centimentals couldn’t miss anyone…..hav to pick that train for her daughter, cant leave madhu as she s deserted in her life still nw…..

Confused, tears wetting his eyes….. Train rails away the station …… Hero still in station…

For the second time, Madhu hated the Ashramwadi who saved her. If it hadn’t been for him, she would be dead by now. She had been washed away by the shores when that ashramwadi found her. After she gained consciousness, he probed her gently about the cause. She refused to divulge any information. But he and his little daughter were very kind to her and made her realise that suicide is not the answer to life’s tragedies.

Slowly she started working in that ashram itself. One day, she had a vistor from her village.


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