(Sixty) First Birthday

Last week it was my birthday; and I was with Sriram and Vandana in Hoboken.

Last year was my 60th, and Sriram had organised a memorable get-together in Madras, the highlight of which was the surprise visit of Sankar, Jaisri and Arundati

This year he and Vandana bought a cake, with a single candle, and with their friends Jayasri and Apsara watching, I was a one year old blowing out the candle.

One year old, truly, because according to the Thamizh calendar there are 60 years which complete a full cycle - perhaps that is why the 60th birthday is considered significant- shashtiabtha poorthy - completion of 60 years.
Each of the years has a name, and the 60 years are said to be the children of Narada. This year is called Sarvajithu.

In the picture: Vandana helps cut the cake

A Museum, English Tea and Riverside Music

Summer evenings on the riverside - this seems to be a motif running through the towns nearby, too. We went to upstate New York to a town called Beacon on a calm Saturday afternoon. The drive, with Vandana at the wheel, through the beautiful green hills took us to this little town, also by a river - the very same Hudson!
Driving on the road parallel to the river, we could see it every now and then between the trees and little hillocks, glinting in the sunlight, small boats moving gently, a picture of serenity on a beautiful summer day.
Promising ourselves to return to the riverside when it was cooler, we went to the museum called Dia. The museum is vast and the galleries large enough to hold a Chennai wedding hall. Dia houses an interesting collection of modern art, and we were straightaway drawn to the Andy Warhol gallery, but I was disappointed not to see any of his more popular works. The work of artist Sol LeWitt was displayed on walls large enough to be the side of a house. Each exhibit covered a whole wall, and was made up of interesting geometric patterns in colours, devised mathematically - this really held our interest. Straight lines, curved lines, wavy lines, angles, arcs all blended to create aesthetically pleasing, magnum size delights.
Then there was this gallery which housed mounted on the walls - framed dates, like 6 Mars, 1962.
Just that and nothing else..
An explanation about the Japanese artist who made a record of the paintings and set himself deadlines for the paintings to be completed, and how he destroyed them if not completed by the deadline confused me completely. Deadline dates do not seem to be art to me. However, Sriram entertained us hugely by giving us accounts of corresponding events on the dates in our lives - and that relieved the tedium of that gallery.
This gallery did put me in mind of the story of an ardent lover of art who stood in front of a smaller board and pondered. Finally he asked the attendant what the picture signified. The attendant fixed a stern eye on him and said, "That sir, is the switchboard."

After tea at a quaint English style tea shop, which was very 'propahly' British, we headed to the park along the river. Large grass covered areas to loll around in.A local band, whose name sadly I missed, was to play on the open air stage, appropriately called Grassy Knolls. And we sat down to enjoy ourselves....... and were not disappointed at all.
A fitting end to a summer's day.

Skykine Across the River

Every time I look out of our window from Sriam's Hoboken apartment, I am spellbound. The New York skyline, so close, like you can put out your hand and reach out to it, presents a theme in chiaroscuro.
Sriram tells me that the part of the skyline we see from our window was where the Twin Towers of the World Trade Centre stood, rising high above the other buildings. Never having seen them, I don't feel the absence, or miss them. And it doesn't stop my enjoyment of the view of the other skyscrapers which were there long before the Twin Towers -which came up only 30 or so years ago.
The picture here is taken from the net; the other picture, taken by Vandana, highlights the beauty of the view, and also marks the space where the towers were.
In the summer morning sunlight, the buildings are awash in the pink flush of dawn, glowing lightly.
In the daytime they stand clearly across the blue background, each window on each floor distinct. In the evening the setting sun's rays fall on the buildings, and the reflection from the glass windows make the sklyine glimmer.
On some rainy days you can barely see the skyline,(small picture) and after the rains the buildings look so bright.
But it is the view of the skyline at night that is the piece de resistance.
When walking on the waterfront on the summer evenings, one can see the skyscrapers glittering like jewels of a fabulous potentate.
This glittering skyline was the backdrop of a local theatre's (Mile Square Theatre, Is it because Hoboken is only about one square mile?). presentation of Shakespeare's 'A Midsummer Night's Dream.
And on that summer evening, beside the river on the open air stage, it was entirely credible that the fairy king and queen could come with their minions, including Puck, and mingle with mere mortals. Hoboken was the birthplace of that musical legend Frank Sinatra, and the play cunningly included his songs into the play, set in the early 50s. The play within the play ploy, with Bottom and company presented as workmen on the waterfront*, proved just as funny as it must have 400 years ago, judging by the guffaws of laughter from the receptive audience. Shakespeare works just as well today.

*The Marlon Brando movie 'On the Waterfront' was based on the problems of the men who worked here.

The Waiting Game

If you want something very badly, you don't mind waiting for it - no matter how long. Witness the wannabe iPhone owners.

Recently, my husband came across a list of 'Waiters' for various products - from a copy of Business Week - who were willing to wait longer for what they want.
1. Hermes Birkin Bag in pure leather - Waiting time is six to twelve months.
2. Dinner reservation at French Laundry Restaurant, Yountville, California - Waiting time is 60 days.
3. Season tickets for 'Green Bay Packers' - American football - Waiting time - wait for this - 35 years.
4. Wagner festival in Germany Waiting time is a mere 7 years.
5. The Ferrari sports car, model F43, waiting time is 2 years.

But what outshines all this is the waiting list at the Guruvayoor Temple for 'Udayasthamana pooja'. When I checked the Guruvayur Devaswom website in January this year for something else, I found that the waiting list for this pooja - a dawn to dusk pooja with special worship modes - was up to 2045 or so. The booking cost was in the region of Rs. 50,000, more money to be charged if necessary, at the time of the pooja.
I wanted to confirm this, what with my faulty memory , and revisited the site.
It says the booking for the pooja is closed now!!!!

Waterless in Hoboken; Explosion in New York

This is one of those things that you don't expect to happen in the USA.
Delhi, yes, Bombay, yes, and Chennai - all the time.
No water in the taps.
But in Hoboken, across the vast river Hudson from New York city? No.

Last Sunday morning, waiting to step into the shower, I found that the pressure of water was low.
Being a Chennaiite of many waterless days, warning bells began to ring in my head..
I alerted Sriram and Vandana, and they were also surprised.

A call to the apartment supervisor confirmed what we suspected - no water, indeed. and it was worse than we thought. It was not a maintenance shutdown that would have affected only our apartment building for a few hours, but a major shutdown in the city.
No water anywhere in Hoboken! And no one knew for how long.
We learnt that there was a problem in the neighbouring city of Jersey, and the supply to Hoboken had been cut off, to carry out repairs.

We Chennaiites are unfazed by waterless taps at home despite full wells and tanks in post monsoon glut, I still have a stand by of drums and buckets of water for two days' needs, not to mention coloured plastic pots in the kitchen filled with water for cooking. And mineral water for drinking - for who knows when the power might get cut or heaven forbid, the motor itself conk out!

The Chennaiite in us went to work and Sriram filled up a tub and a bucket for emergencies, by which time the water had stopped.

And nowhere else we could turn to for water. In cities in this country , there is no source of water except what the city gives you. Apart from bottled drinking water, of course. The river? In my mind's eye jeans clad men and women carrying pots/buckets of water from the Hudson, and hauling them up several floors passed by.

Vandana said that usually when supply was to be shut down for maintenance, there would be sufficient notice, and supply resumed in a few hours. But this was unusual, she agreed.
And on a weekend, too.

The day passed without water, and we thought of going to dinner in New York, for how could we cook? And local restaurants would have the same problem!

However, the need did not arise. For with the usual efficiency and efficacy found here, the workers must have located the problem and sorted it out, and by late evening, the water supply was restored.

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Smoke from the explosion could be seen between Park and Lexington Avenues at 41st Street in this picture supplied by a reader taken shortly after 6 p.m. (Photo: Eric Okumura)
Courtesy: The New York Times


Even as I am writing this, reports of a steam pipe explosion in midtown Manhattan, New York, are filtering in on TV news channels.
The steam is going right up like a geyser as high as the top of the Chrysler building close by. The TV screen is showing pictures of the steam gushing at great speed up and high.
Fire fighters and police personnel are at the spot - fortunately no reports of any fatalities, but some people have been seriously injured, some critically.
A city that has not yet fully recovered from the 9/11 trauma, is facing a similar situation - a devastation in that the water, electricity lines which lie underground alongside the steam pipes will also be affected.
Not to mention the underground railways, though reports say that the railways have not been affected. Three people from here go to work in the city by train. Shyam, Vandana's cousin is home, Vandana has yet to reach home; and Sriram says that his office being in Downtown, he won't be affected.
And they are home, now.

"Strawberry Fields Forever"

Vandana had organised the outing.
We were to go to a farm in the countryside, about 50 miles away from Hoboken where she and Sriram live, and pick strawberries.

Pick strawberries!
I baulked at the very idea.
I couldn't see myself involved in any physical activity, least of all climbing trees.
I struggled with visions of coconut plucking at home in Madras, where men, with dhotis neatly tucked in, ran up the palms and flung down the cocnuts; and mango plucking, where men below would hold sacking to gently collect the mangoes plucked and thrown down by men in the tree.

Vandana smiled mysteriously and promised me I would enjoy it.
The group included Vandana's parents, who like us, are visiting from India, Sriram-Vandana's friends Jaisri and Apsara, and Shyam, Vandana's cousin who is doing a summer internship at New York. Four seniors and five management types.
And so we went, packed in two cars to the farm.

It was a dream of a day, with blue skies and cotton wool clouds, and rolling hills in the background.
And strawberries growing on low lying plants, barely a foot high!
The motley group had a field day, rummaging for hidden strawberries among the low bushes.

We could pick all we could, get them weighed, pay for them and bring the fruit of our labours home.
And so we picked them, and despite creaking joints and recalcitrant limbs, I was able to pick quite a few too. The other seniors in the group were swifter and filled their little boxes soon.
The strawberries tasted as delicious as they looked, which can never be said of the ones bought from the city shops. The bigger and more attractive they look, the less luscious they are bound to be, I had discovered
But these, fresh from the vine, were rich and juicy.

A picnic lunch, with fresh strawberries for dessert, rounded off the day nicely.

Dog's Best Friend.....

This is what I saw on one of the streets of New York.
And yes indeed, if you walk your dog on the streets, as in any other place in the country, be prepared to scoop up its poop - or face the consequences.
Which explains the plastic bags dog owners carry while walking their pets.
In Seattle, one evening a strange woman knocked at our door, and asked for a plastic bag.
"I am so sorry," she said , "I forgot to bring a bag with me, and my dog has messed up the pavement."