Saturday, August 20, 2011

My first book is here!

My debut picture book - Mala's Silver Anklets - for babies (I mean the 2-3 year old variety). Loved love loving the illos of Nancy Raj, she has brought so much life to my character. Thanks to Tulika...the first step to my dreams of being published has happened.

buy here: http://www.tulikabooks.com/picbooks41.htm

Check out the launch video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NFR88mjnnfI


Remix contest - new that is three months too late

So, Ammulu and Furry did it. They won the competition for me!

http://blog.prathambooks.org/2011/06/and-winner-of-retell-remix-rejoice.html

The link has a link to Scribd where all the stories are posted. It was fun reading all of them (imagination rocks)...waiting for my book to come out soon!


Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Pratham Book's Story Telling Competition

Pratham is a publisher that works towards ensuring that every child can read. Their books are priced at Re. 25 mostly and their work is shared under the Creative Commons License. Pratham is running a story telling competition... simply rewrite the below story...

Listen to My Body

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Malli - A beginning

This story came to me the other day on the wings of a sleek, black-as-ebony raven. He cawed at me while perched on the window sill and I thought of Malli (in Tamil, the name means Jasmine).

xx--xx--xx--xx--xx--xx--xx--xx--xx

   Billa the crow sat on the wall preening his feathers.
   "Malli is coming, Malli is coming," the watchman muttered as he went hastily to the shed.
   Billa the crow stared at him curiously and decided to follow him. He took flight and landed on the window sill of the shed. The watchman was going through an old box. He threw down dusty newspapers. He threw down some plastic cans. He dug deeper into the box and came up with rubber chappals.
    "For Malli," the watchman said, grinning a toothy grin.

    "KAA KAA," someone called Billa. It was time for breakfast; he flew to the second floor balcony. Soft fluffy idlis for Billa. YUMMM. Billa perched eating his idlis.
    "Malli is coming, Malli is coming," the lady of the house said as she took out a bag from under the bed.
    Billa the crow stared at her curiously as she pulled out brightly colored clothes. The lady shook her head at a green skirt.She shook her head at a yellow shirt. She finally found a red paavadai chattai with a faded gold border.
    "For Malli," the lady said with a bright sunny smile.

    CRASH
    Billa flew to the balcony below. It belonged to a little girl who fed Billa his favorite treats - bread and honey. The little girl stood with her hands on her hips looking at an upturned box of toys. She sat cross-legged and searched among the toys. She said no to an old wooden train. She said no to an alphabet board. And as Billa watched, the little girl found the perfect toy - a big plastic doll with long black hair.
    "For Malli," the little girl said with a twinkling laugh.

    Who is Malli? Billa wondered as he flew back to his wall. He spotted two women hanging clothes to dry.
    "Lakshmi, I heard your daughter Malli is coming," said the first woman.
    "Yes Devi, it's puja holidays for her in the village. My father is bringing her to me for a week!" said the second woman with a very happy smile.
    "I can't wait to see her," said the first woman. "There's a carnival near my house, why don't we take her there to play?"
    Billa decided he wanted to see Malli and flew to the gate. A little while later, an auto came to a stop before the gate. The watchman, the lady of the house, the little girl and the two talking women came running to the gate.
    An old man got down carrying a tiny suitcase and a yellow bag. He adjusted the towel on his shoulder and kept his luggage on the ground. Billa saw Malli's face peeping out of the auto, and as she got down he saw the steel braces on her legs glinting in the sunlight. Her grandfather grasped her hand as she turned towards her mother and friends.

   "Welcome, Malli," everyone sang, and Billa cawed.

Glossary:
Chappals - Slippers
Paavadai Chattai - Traditional silk blouse and skirt

Friday, January 21, 2011

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

What happened when I found an Indian poetess...

I have a confession to make: I have never touched Indian poetry or poets/poetesses. I'm drawn to and relish the likes of e.e.cummings, Langston Hughes, Maya Angelou et al. But it's been an ongoing effort on my part to learn more about contemporary Indian writers. So imagine my pleasant surprise when I discovered a Indian poetess from very early 20th century. Here is the woman I'm talking about...


Poet's Parlour
Padmabhushan Nalappat Balamani Amma: A poetess who loved children

Nalappat Balamani Amma was born in Kerala in the year 1909. She is considered to be one of the best Malyali poetess and won the Saraswathi Samman, which is the highest literary medal in India. She is also a Padmabhushan awardee - the third highest civilian award. But Balamani Amma never went to school; she was tutored at home and learned Sanskrit and English Literature. Balamani Amma is also the mother of Kamala Das, a famous writer who wrote many Malayalam short stories as well as English poems. A lot of Balamani Amma's poetry is on the love for children and grandchildren. This is one the reasons she is called the Mother/ Grandmother of Malayalam poetry. Balamani Amma passed away on September 29, 2004, at the age of 95.

Red Pyramid - A tween's dream come true.

It's fast. It's sassy. It's peppered with facts about Egyptian mythology - easy to digest and fun to learn. What are we talking about? Rick Riordan's Red Pyramid: The Kane Chronicles of course! I recently picked up the book, realized that it had been out for a considerable time, and because I enjoyed the Percy Jackson series decided to give the RP a shot.
Now, I'm the Cornelia Funke kind of a reader. I love exquisite prose, the rise and fall of rhythm, the way beautiful prose can soothe you and take you to a different dimension. Rick Riordan's writing does not fit into this category by any measure.
But I picked it up because I like the man's sense of adventure, plot pace, characters and the twists and turns in his book. Here's my two pennies on the Red Pyramid: The Kane Chronicles.


Book Review
The Red Pyramid (The Kane Chronicles, Book 1)
Author: Rick Riordan

If you loved Rick Riordan's extremely popular Percy Jackson series, you will worship The Kane Chronicles. This series opens with The Red Pyramid – an action oriented story that zooms from start to finish. The Red Pyramid is the story of Carter and Sadie, siblings who have grown apart ever since the mysterious death of their mother Ruby. Carter is dragged all over the world by his archaeologist father Dr. Julius Kane, and Sadie lives a normal life in London with her grandparents. But their world is turned upside down when their father disappears while trying to destroy the Rosetta Stone, which unleashes powerful Egyptian gods who are out to destroy the world. The book is funny, fast-paced, has a solid take on Egyptian mythology and characters whom you will love by the end of the book. Author Rick Riordan was born in Texas and taught in schools for fifteen years before turning to writing. He is also the author of the wildly popular Percy Jackson series. 


courtesy of coffeeforthebrain @blogspot

Excerpt:
If you’re hearing this story, you’re already in danger. Sadie and I might be your only chance. Go to the school. Find the locker... The combination is 13/32/33. By the time you finish listening, you’ll know what those numbers mean...The most important thing: when you open the package and find what’s inside, don’t keep it longer than a week... it will grant you almost unlimited power. But if you possess it too long, it will consume you. Learn its secrets quickly and pass it on... I guess it started in London, the night our dad blew up the British Museum. My name is Carter Kane. I’m fourteen and my home is a suitcase.


This review was meant to be very brief. For a lengthier look into the book, I recommend Coffee for the Brain.



                                                       

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

A seashell dreams by Annie Besant

I lie faded
beached
on sand seasoned with footsteps, crushed tin, gum, weed, a lost slipper, a tube of sunscreen.
Grubby hands turn me over
flicking away the silt of the ocean.
I fall
harshly among the skeletal remains of my own kind
I lie faded.

I was once a mermaid's comb
The sea king's token
I was a half of a whole
A body enclosing soft warm life

I lie faded
forgotten
my jagged edges too sharp for delicate fingers.
The sea will claim me soon
to drown in its dirty emerald depths.
I dream
of a mermaid's laughter and the half that once made me whole
I lie faded.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Writing under pressure!

A professor at school often told us that you can't hold down a full-time job and be a full-time writer. Choose.
I always thought this was unfair. She encouraged bar tending/ waitressing... anything that didn't tap into your
brain juice. Five years after college, I see the grain of truth embedded into that statement. I'm a full time creative lead with an organization where the work sucks up every ounce of my creativity. And I come back home dead tired and too burnt out. It takes me most of the weekends to re-energize and get back to full steam. By then it's Monday and I'm back to being burnt out again. But my passion for writing was strong enough that after much reading up on Zen and the art of living in the moment, I came up with a few of my own tips and tricks to employ my creativity for myself.


The early morning call

My mind is at its freshest when I wake up in the morning. So I began setting my alarm clock to ten minutes earlier than the time I usually wake up at. The moment I'm awake, I take 2 minutes to center my focus, grab the pen and notepad from beside my pillow and write... it could be a continuation of a story from the previous day or just hashing out a plot...whatever it is, I'm training my brain to think when I want it to think

Take a breather

I find that it helps when I take a few moments off from my heavy work load to breathe, really breathe deeply. Just 3 deep breaths leaves me feeling more focused, and I can then segway into my ten-minute doodling

The ten minute doodling

Every two hours, I take ten minutes to put down a ideas and simply write on anything that my brain
happens to think about at that point. This is difficult if you're under a deadline but with practice you'll
be able to sashay in and out of ten minutes of pure creative writing. It's akin to shifting gears when you're on the highway...you go from 4 to 1 and cruise along for a while before you have to get back to 4 again.

Time out Saturday

I tell myself that Saturdays is my writing time. This is the day I take time (I'm a morning person so that's when I work best) to collect all my ten minute doodlings and make sense out of it. Some of the ideas wil see the light of day as short stories or poems, most of them will be filed away for the future. But whichever idea I pick, I make sure I spend atleast an hour on it. When you're in the throes of writing, you can sometimes write a story in half an hour... it's just a matter of dedicating time to it.

The Practice
Let's face it, all writing is a matter of discipline. A good writer writes often, a great writer makes it a matter of discipline to write atleast a few pages everyday. So practice practice practice. Sometimes when it seems like the words just won't flow or the story is stuck, don't stop, keep writing. Because practice makes perfect.

Cecil the Lost Sheep

I'm an online book scavenger, which basically means any downtime I get at office I'm on scribd or searching for websites that will let me read books for free. I get my fix, and don't have to pay for it. (I know, sad isn't it?). So, I was on scribd the other day and came across this cute children's book published by Zondervan. Cecil the Lost Sheep takes a parable from the Bible and makes it into a very non-religious story. I got the sense that I could share this story with kids as a stand alone piece or relate it with the Bible... would work either way. The book encouraged me to keep alive my dream of writing Bible stories.... here you go

Cecil the Lost Sheep, Full Book                                                                   

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Cows From Outer Space

I love anything fantastically fantasy... and in my own way I'm experimenting with writing fantasy stories for kids... which was why when I came across this story by Jeanne Modesitt I was awestruck by its simplicity! Who would have thought that meeting 26 bovines could be such a fun experience!

 
Cows From Outer Space

One day a large spaceship landed in a park just outside
New York City. The doors lifted up, and out walked twenty-six
cows. "Greetings!" said one of the cows to several children
who'd gathered round the ship. "Please allow me to introduce
us. I'm Claude, and these are Cathy, Clyde, Carlos, Clark,
Connie, Cooper, Calvin, Casey, Clara, Carmen, I Cory, Cindy,
Christy, Conrad, Calli, Carol, Cleo, Clifford, Clive, Curtis,
Chester, Clarence, Clint, Carl, and Candy." "We're on vacation,"
said Candy, and each of the cows gave the children a big smile.
The children were absolutely delighted with the cows and were
soon helping them set up their lounge chairs and unfold their
umbrellas. Friendly chatter filled the air. After more than an
hour of amiable talk, the cow Carol said, "I've got an idea.
Why don't we have afternoon tea in London?" "Wonderful," said
the rest of the cows.

"Can we come, too?" asked the children, jumping up and
down. "Of course," said the cows, "but you'll have to ask your
parents first." And so off the children ran. "Mom? Dad?" they
asked. "Can we have tea in London with the cows from outer
space?" The parents looked at each other and winked. What
charming children they had! What imaginations! "Of course,"
they said. "Just be sure to be back before supper." "Thanks!"
said the children, and back to the spaceship they ran. "We can
come!" they cried when they reached the cows. "We can
come!" "Splendid!" said the cows, and they all boarded the
spaceship and flew off. Twenty minutes later-cow ships travel
awfully fast-the travelers arrived in the middle of London.

Several people gathered round the ship, watching the cows and
children step out. The adults shook their heads at the scene
before them. "What a foolish thing!" they said. "A bunch of
people dressed as cows." "Probably trying to sell a new brand
of cheese," others grumbled. "What a waste of money. " The
English children, however, knew cows from outer space when
they saw them. They ran up to the spaceship and said, "May
we please join you?" "Of course! Of course!" said the cows and
the American children. And so it was that they spent a most
delightful afternoon together.

They drank tea, visited museums, and strolled . the
promenades. After a while, however, it was time for the cows
to go home. They hugged and kissed the 1 English children and,
together with the American children, boarded their ship and
flew back to New York. When they landed, the cows bid their
farewells. "Adieu! Good-bye!" they said tearfully to the
children, whom they'd grown quite fond of by now.

"Good-bye," said the children, who were equally sad to
see the cows go. "Don't forget to write." "We won't," said the
cows, and then they boarded their spaceship and flew up into
the evening sky. II During supper that night, both the English
and the American children told their parents of the wonderful
afternoon they'd spent with the cows. And the parents smiled
to themselves and thought, What imaginations children have! I
wonder what they'll think of next.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

The Confessions of a Fitness Failure

That's the title I would give my book if I ever decide to do a Joan Collins. Ok, so, I'm your average southie woman with hips that could support the Himalaya shelf, and thighs that jingle to a tune of their own. I've tried almost every workout that has walked the length of a gym, and found it hard to keep to even one single routine past day two. You see I have EDD (Exercise Deficiency Disorder)... my bones actually creak if I get up too quickly, and just 3 counts of touch-your-toes has me huffing and puffing like I've been running the NY marathon.

The sad thing is it wasn't always like this.. in my "salad days" (to quote the delightful Georgette Heyer)... I took pride in working out for 2 hours at the gym - a sweaty combination of cardio, light weights, aerobics and gut crunching floor exercises. And then I turned 30, landed a 6 foot model for a husband, and my "excido" (in my planet the root of the word can be traced back to a marriage between exercise + libido) just collapsed. Now I've joined the ranks of the women who would love to smack those skinny bitches whose weight goes into a black hole.... seriously, I don't see thighs, or hips, or boobs, or even a teeny weeny tummy after they have just chowed down on tacos with extra cheese, and a side of double baked beans. I inhale the aroma of a cheeseburger, and Wham! I have just expanded horizontally.

Anyways, after much Freudian analysis about why my husband named by wobbly bits, I decided to be a phoenix and (exer)rise again. But this time I'm better armed (ah ha! Got you, you procrastinating wench!)... instead of running till my knees whither from the shock of the pavement, and pumping weights till I look like a female version of a very maniacal Arnold S., and doing aerobics while worrying about what gravity was doing to my boobs... I turned to Bollyrobics! Yes, you read that right.... Bollyrobics! It's what you get when Bollywood meets and mingles with Aerobics.

And I now tempt my will power by throwing it new treats... all in the form of dance workout videos. From Rohan Da Silva, to Shiamak Davar, to Dirty Dancing, to Hip Hop, to Belly Dancing... you name it, I've sashayed my hips to it. So, all you lovely ladies out there (and all you boyos too)... if you're like me and would rather roll over and die than trudge to one more gym session... here are some youtube videos to get you started on dancing your way to weight loss!

hip hop for the abs

If Shakira can, so can you

Have the time of your life

Thursday, October 14, 2010

To The Foot from its Child

A poem by Pablo Neruda that makes me want to cry and kiss my feet...


To the Foot from Its Child

The child's foot doesn't know yet that it's a foot,
and wants to be a butterfly or an apple.

But then stones and pieces of glass,
streets, ladders,
and the paths of the hard earth
go on teaching the foot that it can't fly,
that it can't be round fruit on a branch.
The child's foot then
was overcome, it fell
in the battle,
was a prisoner,
condemned to live in a shoe.


Gradually, without light,
it started to know the world in its own way,
without knowing the other foot, shut in,
exploring life like a blindman.

These soft nails
of quartz, in a bunch,
hardened, changed into
opaque matter, into hard horn,
and the small petals of the child
got crushed, unbalanced,
took the form of eyeless reptiles,
worms' triangular heads.
And then they grew calluses,
they were covered
with tiny volcanoes
of death, unacceptable
hardenings.

But this blind thing walked
without respite, without stopping
hour after hour,
one foot and then the other,
now a man's
or a woman's,
above,
below,
through fields, through mines,
through department stores and ministries,
backward,
outside, inside,
forward,
this foot laboured with its shoe,
it hardly took time
to be naked in love or in sleep,
it walked, they walked
until the whole man stopped.

And then it went down
into the earth and knew nothing,
because there everything was dark,
it didn't know that it had ceased being a foot,
if they had buried it so that it could fly
or so that it could
become an apple.

A poem in remembrance of happiness...

Where is happiness found?
I’ve looked under rocks of gold laced with desire
I’ve searched through cotton combed with lust
The annoying child that it is
Never heeds my call
Never lets me pinch its cheeks
In my mother’s chest of bitter memories
Even skeletons don’t remembers when happiness
Last settled on their bony fingers
I met the Yogi
With his matted locks and lice that trail down his face
“I became one with the universe in search of happiness,” he says.
“So, where is happiness found?” I ask
“I don’t know.” He replies.
“To be one with the universe I sacrificed all emotions.” 
  
-Annie Besant Jon - 

Monday, October 11, 2010

Pratham Books: Book Review : The Royal Toothache

Please find my review for Pratham Books...I was given a free copy of this charming children's story by Sanjiv Jaiswal...

Pratham Books: Book Review : The Royal Toothache

Pratham Books is one of my favorite sites for all things related to books and kids. They are a well-spring of information on workshops, book releases, author interviews etc. In their own words, Pratham Books was created in order to:

  • Provide children with access to low cost, high quality books
  • Publish books in multiple Indian languages
  • Provide publishers with a platform to create affordable reading material for children.
  • Bring authors, illustrators, and producers of books together to builda reading country.
  • Urge the corporate sector to actively participate in this process

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Where a writer finds work

During my school days in the U.S., when I wasn't stacking books at the library, dealing with young blondes who thought War & Peace were two different books, trying to get a hang of cooking for myself, understanding the complicated code of American fashion, and thanking God for Karls Jr. burgers, I was trying to make money on the side. Freelancing is a wonderful world of banging your head on your laptop, downing enough coffee to send the world into a crisis, negotiating Google with the ease of a mariner... all this while you're trying to whip up 5-6 articles (300-500 words) a day that would sell at $5 a piece. Back then $30 was my ticket to a social life. But freelancing was a definite art... reserved for those who knew their subject from object, verb from adverb, and the usage of articles. And then I moved to India...
... and realized that young 18-year-olds, who could barely stitch a sentence together in propah English, were earning an average of 2000 Rs per day by simply spinning out works that would have made the Mary Poppins type of proofreader throw her pencil down and take enough Valium to leave a small village floating in never ending ecstasy. Which meant that the people who paid me $5 for an article when I was still in school, were now offering me $1 for that same type of work... and throwing my highly polished resume and portfolio at them didn't help in the least. The likes of me had been overthrown by some Meenakumari who was willing to write a full length essay for a dollar... and eagerly churned out 5 of those in a day! But I still persevere.... still knock on the doors of freelancedom, still demand quality rates for quality works... and feel like the heroine in Mother India. Sigh.
But for all you aspiring freelancers out there, here is a site that helped me find people who wanted serious writing and not seriously compromised writing. Happy Freelancing Sisters/ Brothers!

chillibreeze

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Late... Abysmally... Raavanan

 Ok... so hold on, I know Raavanan is history, and you care for it as much as you care for the dried bug sticking to your window... but bear with me.... I have to vent about this insipid little movie no matter what you say!
I watched the tamil version of the movie with a bit of apprehension... mainly cuz it was a movie from my fav' director (who hasn't given a decent offering in oh-so-many-years), and secondly cuz it had Ash Rai in it. Yes, I'm one of those confirmed Ash haters! I wrote down my reflections as I watched the movie... so my review here is in a very stream of consciousness method! read on!!

...So you hint that karthik is ratnam's version of hanuman by making him jump thru trees? but kudos to karthik for actually jumping from bough to bough inpsite of his advanced years -- ahh.. how the mighty have fallen
and because he's associated with the monkey god, he has to be a forest ranger that hangs from jeep roofs and hoots like a monkey...

... cinematography captures the mood...

...dialogues - very soap operaish. super dramatic... i mean people, do you really talk that way?...

...chemistry btwn rai and vikram is good... the only thing that ropes u in in some otherwise unbearable scenes
prabhu has really come into his own, lending solid support to the main actors. his intense performance stands out...

...wonder who gave rai her vo in tamil... she sounds like a crone and the dialogues come out very reluctantly...
at one point i really wished somebody would shut rai up... there's a diff between lyrical dialogue and listless dialogue...

...that is one super water and violence proof eyeliner/mascara - pray, can i have it too?...

.... I realized that ratnam is more in love with the scenery than script sense... what else would explain rai abruptly crying out to her ram framed against the starkness of unending miles of black rock!

... prithvi is turning out to be a good actor... 

... as much as i don't support video piracy, i'm glad i didn't shell out money to watch this in the theatres...

... ARR's music for usure pogudhey and kaatu siriki stands out. And... vairamuthu proves that he's the god of lyrics with well thought out poetry that contains a wealth of meaning.... 

... Mr. ratnam, where have your agni natchathiram days gone? when will we see another nayagan? is that it? are you burnt out? do you need a trip to tibet to recover your senses?

Ok, buddies... I give it 2 chillies... pretentious but not hot!





Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Daddy's lil girl

I lost my father two weeks back. Normally, I can talk about anything under the sun given enough caffeine, and I can even write about anything under the sun given enough time with google. But this loss has left me bereft of words... and even after thinking long and hard, I'm not able to find the right combination of words to express myself. Isn't that a strange place to be in? It's like having a sharp, hard, diamond shiny with unshed tears lodged in your throat. You can't swallow it because you're afraid swallowing it will lead you to forget; on the other hand throwing it up will probably lead to hysteria.
It wasn't till two weeks back that I realized how important dads are to little girls. Everyone thinks it's the mother who influences her daughter's nature, but I think its the father who really defines his daughters life...
A father's neglect can lead to a woman who is fractured within herself, pitching the need to please a man against the fear of being rejected.
A father's neglect can lead a woman to cut herself on the knife of mistrust in close intimate relationships.
A father's neglect can even lead a woman to think she doesn't deserve all unconditional love... a father's neglect can lead to so many things...
So here's my note to all you daddies who might stumble on this blog - take care of your lil' girls heart... it's a tiny little chrysalis within which lies a butterfly built of dreams, and memories of one who handled her heart with care...

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Me: Doc, I think I have a disease. Doc: What disease? Me: I believe it's called shopping...

I have added another chronic illness to the global medical chart – shopping. I know there are numerous jibes about shopping and women, but I seriously think we have a disease… ok, I think I’m going to have women burning effigies of me … let me rephrase… I think I have a disease. Now you may say, “Shopping is a woman’s birthright and we will have it… so don’t call it a disease.” But before we rampage to that conclusion, let’s study the characteristics that define a disease:

1.  A disease is an abnormal condition affecting the body of an organism
Now I’m not saying shopping is abnormal, I’m merely wondering if its abnormal when you become religious about your shopping experience. For example: My wardrobe is bursting with clothes and accessories… but every 15 days (and I’ve wondered if this may have something to do with the full moon/ new moon nonsense) I get this urge to go and buy something… anything. If its clothes or accessories I buy… that’s an ultimate high… but the odd sticky note stack helps too.

2. In humans, disease is often used more broadly to refer to any condition that causes social problems
No, I’m not stretching it… not shopping has often caused me social embarrassment! When I don’t shop, all I think about is shopping when someone is spouting Proust to me. When I don’t shop, all I do is pepper unsuspecting women with questions on where they bought a particular kurta or bangle or ring. And when I haven’t given into my shopping urges, I tend to plaster my face against boutique windows and sigh over clothes…

3.Disease causes distress
Yes, I get very much distressed if I don’t shop. It’s like an itch (in a place where you can’t scratch publicly). The itch first sends out only a tingle to let you know its arrived; it then sends you an urgent call to let you know that it needs to be scratched, till it finally decides to take a hatchet and hammer you till you scratch it.

So, am I right? Is shopping a disease?

Sunday, July 18, 2010

A day trip to Puducherry a.k.a Pondicherry

So, hubster surprised me Saturday morning with plans for a Pondi trip. I haven't been to this lovely union territory in almost a decade, and of course jumped on the plan claws, teeth and tail. It had been raining the night before, but Saturday morning turned out to be a gorgeous day with the sun out in all its glory. We packed up some snacks and my in laws into our new car (I later realized hubster wanted to go on a long drive to break in the new car before it hit the 1000 km mark! Oh, well...).
Navigating city traffic is the worst part of it all in chennai. Cows, goats, cyclists, truckers, irrational cab drivers are all packed into one narrow street that has no traffic lights, and the only traffic cop of duty is usually just standing on the spot scratching his crotch. Anyways, we hit the first toll booth in less than half an hour (we started from Besant Nagar, Adyar), and paid 80 bucks. Once we cleared that and hit ECR (East Coast Road) the ride was sheer joy. The roads are cleaner, smoother with no potholes and there's not much civilization on either side to bother you. I managed to click a few pictures from the car, and have listed them here as sort of a travel diary. Here's my "What I Saw" list:

 I just had to stop when I saw a tender coconut vendor on the side. Sipped yummy coconut water, and then bit into some delicious nongu (palmyra fruit). Tender coconut: 15 Rs. Nongu: 3 for 5 Rs. Satisfaction: Priceless!


An hour before Pondi, I saw these salt fields as we went over a bridge. I pestered hubster to stop, crossed the street and took these shots. The salt fields were stretched as far as my eye could see. I was fascinated to say the least. hmm... so this is where the salt I use comes from...

It took us 2.5 hours to reach Pondi. I know some people get there faster, but we took our time taking in the scenery that whizzed by. I was surprised at all the greenery, the paddy fields, and the number of small villages that lay between Pondi and Chennai. Above, Pondi welcomes us.

My first view of Pondi - congested and noisy.



 Old architecture still rules in this section of Pondi


And some men still use the tractor as a mode of transportation!



And then we turned a corner into the French Quarter to some picturesque scenes...

 Serene...


A lighthouse


 The Gandhi Memorial

Just caught my eye for some reason


A family eating under the tree Indian style!

Our Lady of Angels Church....



... under renovation

Trying some stuff with the cam...

 Jewelry and clothes - these are some of my fav'rite things!


I liked... I liked....
                                                                                                                                                                         
                                      

One last look at the other messy side... and I'm ready to leave

Salt fields on the way back...



Women working hard...

Breath taking isn't it?


Two lovely lamp shades I picked up at Pondi. Hubster bargained and got me both for 250 rs.!!

So that is the end of my wanderings and meanderings. If you like any of my pics (yes, I like to flatter myself), do drop me a line first :)