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Jaw dropped

With warm amber finding it’s way through the window panes.
I lay like an old rugged picker who sleeps on the lonely lanes.
Clothes torn and shades of crimson oozing from my lower lip.
Who’s going to win this battle of the sexes below my hip.

Your fingers made of fine molten copper and drops of ambered tody.
I lay still as they find their way through the Everest escapades of my body.
The night is young unlike me for ill take my own time to cum.
As you devour every inch of me, it feels like Christmas and me, a cake made of rum and plum.

The bottles on the table is empty and I sense that you’re thirsty.
I have something better to serve as the spread got  better when I turned thirty.
I push you down like a hammer hitting the nail of a broken chair.
As the curtains to my show opens, the smell of something old fills the air.

I was taught to feed the hungry but this is just an act of parody.
I start to see stars on the ceiling, the moans awakened the their innermost feeling.
As I watch you go back to your teething days, you chew in so many different ways.
Like a well made dessert that hits the spot, oh shut up for a while now when I serve you something hot.

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Battling mid-life crisis.

The constant pressure of having to cope up with middle-aged crisis, the “Oh you’re approaching mid thirties, how has life treated you?” from a supposedly younger by age friend, the “Madam, the anti-aging rack is on the far left” by the sales woman in Health and Glow, the “If not now, then when?” question regarding marriage from the parents. The “Women lose all the good eggs by 30, you must plan a baby” from a mother of two. The “You’re becoming old, you need to think about buying a house” from a colleague who is spending 70% of his salary in EMI and the rest in trying to live a life, the “What are you doing in life? You need to aim that AVP position by next year” from a cousin sitting in a far away land trying to cope up with dollars and pounds.

All of the above sounds familiar no? Probably you’ve been put through much worse. This Mid-life crisis suddenly looks too scary. The term that sounded all swag and cool to approach has now become phobic. Whenever you need to tell people “I’m in my thirties” sounds more like sixties. From nowhere, you see too many young people around you. People who you think are far cooler and livelier than you. You try so hard to fit in every way. You enter a clothing store and the young brands do not attract you anymore. Mind drags you to the long kurtas and midnight PJ’s but the heart keeps mumbling “try that ginger outfit” “Fuchsia is your color. Go for it”

The uncontrollable need to look young is more than ever. Even more than when you thought you was young. The times during you mid twenties when you thought its cooler to say you’re thirty and now with thirty looking like a long lost friend who dropped you years ago, you are left up in the air like a hot air balloon wandering without a sense of direction. You are expected to dress in a certain way, talk in a certain way and behave in a certain way. A way that would make you look and feel like the older person in a group or family. “You should be the responsible one. Your sister looks up to you” the mother says. “You should have a check on your cholesterol and BP. Go for regular checkups” says the colleague who did all of that with the free master checkup from work when he turned 35.

The times when you comb your hair in front of the mirror and more worried about finding a silver or two than worrying in getting the fishtail right. The times when we restlessly surf for anti wrinkle creams just to be sure that we do not reach to a point of being suggested the use of one. The times when we are supposed to be the responsible adult by advising the younger gen on being well mannered and career oriented. The times when we have to get our act together and look poised as a mother to the well behaved child. The times when having to reach forty becomes the biggest hindrance in getting to forty one. Times when you need to try so hard to not look who you are. The times when our favourite formal brand trousers do not fit our greedy hip anymore and we are in a dilemma whether to buy the next size or to go back home and start running for life.

In between all this, we also need to take time once a while to check if we are doing okay. If life is supposed to be this way. If we are traveling in the same path that we devised for ourselves a decade ago. Wondering where we lost all of it. Looking at the long gone crush and thinking if life would have been the same if he/she was around. If the marriage is going as planned. Should I continue being married. If the kids are doing good. If being single is going to be okay and not considered that you aren’t worthy for a relationship. If the promotion will happen this year. If buying a house is going to help in reducing my tax numbers. If having an alone lunch is creepy. If having lesser people to deal with makes you non-socializable. If saying NO will be considered rude.  If you are still a desirable catch for a twenty something guy. If having an affair will make you feel low on yourself. If being aimless at this age would be considered a loser.

So much pressure from the society to “live it”, Right? So much pressure to accept the fact that we are aging. Enough said on this on advertisements, media, blogs, and what more? So much said that, it feels like we are aging faster than the normal rate at which it should be heading at. The younger ones telling us that “you the older gen. Trends are changing” and the older ones telling us “You are the next gen and our lives were different” making you hang somewhere in the middle and wondering which ‘gen’ are we really in. It’s the neither here nor there sort of a thing.

But what is it that ‘we’, the mid-life crisis actually go through? Ever wondered? Between the chaotic next gen that is trying so hard to just there and the over analyzing older gen that is pulling us faster than a magnet, where do we belong? Or should we really belong anywhere? When the ‘trending now’ does not seem to resonate with what is trending in our mind. When the mid forties seem like the last level of temple run, we want to get there but then we are struggling so hard to survive the current level. The need for finding our foot in the one square foot mad mad world.

Be known this, if mid thirties is mid life than we are happy about having another thirty five to go. The fact that we are only half there is exciting and the adrenaline rush that there is another half that is waiting for us is even more exciting. We are finding our way. We aren’t there quite yet. No we aren’t. To those twenty something reading this, please don’t believe when people say mid-life crisis is scary. It is not. It sounds old. Throw it away through the window. When we say ‘we have been there’ we literally mean it.

We have grown in and out of relationships, its okay if you’re struggling hard to pay your bills, but please know that we are on the same page. The bills never change, the struggle never changes. It’s only the amount on the bill that is different. When you get where I’m now, I’ll leave notes for you to know that your journey will be different. You may handle this better than what I did or you may fall into pieces like I did. Either way, we have been there. Our view points on many things will differ from you, but it does not make us old, it only makes us slightly more experienced and bruised.

We still like vodka with chilly. We still party until four am. We still wear faded jeans. We still love showing off the new clothes. We still love all that you love. But, we like bigger things in life. We know what’s needed and what’s wanted and we know the difference between the both. We know all men ultimately want sex and women want it more. We know that there are some silvers peeping in to say hi but we will choose to show it off coz’ baby that’s the in thing at our age. We know we aren’t trending as much as you are, but we will watch what you are going to do.

We will watch you with hope and love.

We will watch you grow into being who we are.

We will watch you like a freshly seeded plant finding its roots to stay grounded.

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After being months in the making, it’s finally here! Every month, I will feature one book and its author on this page. If you have suggestions, please do comment below and I’ll be happy…

Source: Spotlight

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Hello sperm !


This is probably a first that a futuristic mother is talking to the yet to take a human form sperm. Well I thought let’s begin early. I want to tell you few things before I let you occupy my body. Because once you do, you sort of become my responsibility. You know the world that I live in, I’ll be called your mother. Your biological mother. The one who let’s you grow inside her  and leashes you to the cruel ugly world. I’m pretty sure you’re going to curse me later that being a sperm was way better off. No fear of being judged no? Happily swimming in your pool of life.

So here is the deal ok. I’m a working professional. I love going out. Meeting people. Partying. Late night parties mostly. I also love lazing at home. Waking up without an alarm. I’m hyper active and also utterly lazy. An oxymoronish woman I must say. I have my plate full. But if I ever get to share space with you, there are certain things you must make peace with.

Firstly the society. You know the place I live in, there are people all around. People who have a proper list of terms and conditions of who a perfect mother is.

I must put you ahead of me. I must forego things I like to do for you. I must ensure that i’am around you 24×7 or at least think of you all the time. You must become the centre of my world. I need to plan my weekends based on how you want it to be. My Saturday nights with my husband wouldn’t be as how it used to be. We will have lesser sex because you will be between us.

I should make it a point to mention to people how you are the apple of my eye and how life before you was not great. Oh yes, the most important thing is that I just think and say and feel that ‘you complete me’ because earlier I sort of had just three limbs. I must save my life savings to make sure you get everything you want. I must stay awake late nights to make you a cup of tea to help you stand first in class. To put in the best school which is the most competitive and makes sure children are classified based on grades. And before you decide, I must decide for you what graduation course you should study and pay for you to attend extra classes from grade 7 to top the school and get into the best universities. I must also make sure you are well taken care financially before you decide to start earning. And then I must tell you to marry and give me grandchildren. You will ask me to be the caretaker for them so that you can vacation with your wife.

And then one fine day when I’m old and shrunk, you will want me to move away. And then in my death bed, you’ll want to know my  investments and their maturity date. (Though I want to whack and tell you that most of it has gone in bringing you up). See, that’s motherhood for you.

But let me tell you dear, I ain’t all this. I’am ambitious and i like my space. I have my things to do. I’am not giving up my passion to raise you. I’ll teach you how to make a good morning coffee and you shall do so going forward. I’ll want to have some nights with my husband and you shall leave the room. I will have vacations to take with my girls and you will be taken care by someone trust worthy. I don’t want you to worship me. Don’t treat me like God. It’s my biological nature to carry a human inside. And the human happens to be you. Don’t over do your love for me. Treat me with respect like how will treat a fellow human.

I will make sure you are comfortable. If you aren’t happy going to school, I will help you learn something else to keep you occupied. I will not tell you what to do and what not to do. I will not raise you like how I was raised. My mother’s world revolves around me and she has done nothing but work for me to lead a good life. I’m not doing all that honey. I’ll be around you. I’ll tell you what clothes you look good in. If you like someone of the same sex, I’ll gladly support.  If you want to do farming, I’ll make sure you give me the vegetables to cook. Let’s not make one another a baggage or I must say, a dependency. Let’s live independently and happily. Let’s learn to live without one another.

I’ll be a kickass mom. Probably not the kind of mother defined by the society. But I’ll be what I need to be with you. I’ll be your mother and I’ll a be other things. It’s just another role I play in life. Like a writer, how I show love to my work, I will love you because you are a piece of my work too. A piece that I will love, adore, cherish and let go at the right time. Fly away son, I will not give you the wings but I will cut the branch you’re sitting on.  That’s how you’ll grow and I’ll watch you grow from a distance. The distance between the waves and the shore.

Don’t stay in my shadow. I don’t want that. Fly high. I will fly too. Let’s have a happy life and not tie each other with the overly blown up bond of mother and son relationship. Let’s share the space independently just like our womb days. Grow and let me also grow.

For now, happy swimming.

Bye bye.

Ps- the above will not change even if I had written it to a daughter. But the daughter-mother relationship is so over done already and I didn’t want to make it look like its forced with feminism.

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I refuse.

Apples 200/- a kilo, he said at the supermarket. Little did I know, mine was on display too.
As the merciless wind blew my golden glazed saree for my bosom to show, he had forgotten they were the same place that quenched his infant thirst. The ones his mother shared with him with a hope that he would look at them with respect, not objects on sale.

I’am not a phoenix. I’am not a parrot.

I’am not the moon. I’am not the sun.

I’am not the sita. I’am not the dhasi.

Lipsticks, cheek stains and pretty pearls. With my hair bouncing in its new curls. Malls are a great place to shop, or so I thought.
Until you snapped me, pressed my core and the stains touched my lips and soul.

I’am not an angel. I’am not the devil.

I’am not a barbie. I’am not a catwoman.

I’am not spilled paint on the floor. I’am not the graffiti on the wall.

Red embroidered dress. Hair plaited prettily with eyes twinkling divinity.
As I look up to my counterpart with pride. With my hands held in complete meditation, you grab my hips for your minor erection.
I stand there watching hope take a U turn. Oh woman, don’t you see what’s happening to me? Stone hearted, are you? Oh well, I see.

I’am not a goddess. I’m not a gothika.

I’am not your poison. I’am not your elixir.

I’am not the wild orchid. I’am not a pile of trash.

As the clock struck nine, just like the hardworking bee, I flap my wings to conquer the world.
As dreams and desires like a well painted canvas, I walk with success sitting on my shoulder. Only to be known the other touched by you. A part of me died, with it hope too.
I’am not the light. I’am not the darkness.

I’am not good. I’am not evil.

I’am not a doormat. I’am not the temple bell.

I’am not your mother. I’am not your sister.

I don’t need to be.

I refuse to be in the hierarchy of this patriarchy. I refuse to be held responsible for being who I need to be. I refuse to be a goddess. I refuse having to confess.
I refuse to walk in fear. I refuse to shed another tear.
I refuse to be the mannequin by the window. I refuse to be your shadow.
I refuse to slavery.
I refuse to lead the way. I refuse to be the role model of your dreams.

I refuse to play any other role other than being ME.

I refuse.

I refuse.

I refuse to submit.
I refuse to succumb.
I refuse the silence.
I refuse to go back to my creator without a soul.

All I ask for you is to treat me like human.
Treat me like you would treat yourself.
Let’s coexist. Let’s create humanity together.
Let’s. Let’s be who we were meant to be.
Let’s. Just be.

Let me just be ME.

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You baby, is not my poetry!

You love, is not my poetry that makes it to open mic. You are the crumpled piece of paper that supports my unbalanced balcony chair.

You are not my poetry that gets me applause. Honey, you are the hidden meaning that fills the gap between the sentences that lack grammar and dont rhyme.

You are not my poetry that goes up on my Facebook wall. You are the broken antique photo frame with a chipped corner that reflects my ugly broken soul. 

You are not the poetry that rhymes with thyme. You are the sound of the rain water drops that seep from my cracked ceiling.

You are not my poetry that goes well with brandy and burnt candy. You are my bar of dark bitter chocolate that soothes me during my period days. 

You sweetheart, are not my poetry that sweaters the burning soul. You are the early morning fog that covers my orange colored rusted sky.

You my darling, are not the poetry that fills my empty nights. You are the 1 am hot cuppa that puts my chaotic thoughts to sleep.

You are not the poetry that talks about the sun, the moon or the beauty around. You baby, are my poetry that heals the crack under my feet.

You sweetie is not the poetry that hangs in the store with pretty pastal laces beneath the shelf ‘pretty for petite’. You are the poetry sitting on my finger tips that journeys inside me through nights that are rough. 

You my all, is not the poetry that flows like a bottle of champagne at at fancy restaurant. You are the bottled up poetry that I leave to float through the canals of my blood flow.

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Being a TamBrahm by Sharada

We Are Tambrahm

Blog post written by Sharada Subramanian

Aathule ellarum epdi iruka…?

Well, being a Tam-Brahm, I had to start it this way no? 🙂 I dint know that being a Tam-Brahm is supposed to be so swag and ended up becoming a cult by itself.  I mean, all my friends raise eyebrows and give that smirkish wickedly smile when they know I’m a Tam-Brahm and I wonder if that’s good or bad…!

Whenever I read a name that ends with Subramanian or Narayanan, it brings a smile on my face and that’s just so silly but yet so Tam-brahmismly nice! 🙂

If you are a Tam-Brahm and you’re single, you are the most pitiful and disaster-prone soul on mother earth…!! The chances of getting killed by a maami in a social function is much more than getting killed by a raccoon or watching a power star movie. It’s better to stay put indoors…

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Friends with benefits.

I have written about infidelity, the third partner, the other woman, Live-in relationships, marriage etc…but never have I found a relationship as complex and interesting as the one of ‘friends with benefits’. The more you think about how it needs to be played upon and how it is conceived to be, the more irresistibly complex it becomes. I don’t know whether to applaud the concept of this or to cry over the consequences of this.

There are dozens of articles on the Internet that explains what ‘friends with benefits’ is all about. The Do’s and Dont’s of the relationship. The consequences of it. So much said and even more written about.

I don’t want to bore you by talking about the same old beaten up points time and again. Let’s pause for a second and retrospect this. Each of us have that one friend who means hell a lot to us and also irresistibly hot that you want a physical relationship too. True? But friends with benefits is not only about that. We meet someone, talk, come up with more similarities than differences, meet for coffee, go on movie marathons with the gang and so on.

In the course of time, there will always be that one friend who becomes more closer than the rest. True no? That one friend to who you would open up a bit more. That friend could be a friend introduced to you by your friend. He/she would have joined the gang through another common friend but that tiny tiny spark between the two as days go by, hits on to you. You just don’t look at him/her as a friend but a little beyond. You dress up well to get noticed. You check him/her out during a house party. But, mind you, this is not someone you fall for but have that friendship tag intact but slowly start liking them physically too. True?

He/she need not be drop dead gorgeous. Need not have a godly body. It’s more about that instant connect and the similarities of mind-set that woks along the way. That’s the major difference between this relationship and falling in love/sex partners. Because the above stated startd with the body but ‘friends with benefits” only gradually gets there. Beautiful no? 🙂

It starts off on a very nice tone. The him and her in the relationship understand the boundaries and what’s in it for them. They understand where the relationship stops. They get real and matured about it. But, do you know when it starts to get fucked up? When either of the partners begin to own the relationship. Women usually have the tendency to own anything they touch. From MAC to Men. They think it’s theirs. Men on the other hand don’t even own their mistakes. (Pun intended).  It’s this basic ethos of both the gender that sparks the beginning of many misunderstandings.

It becomes difficult for the women to hear the man say that he liked someone at work. He went on a dinner date. He kissed a girl in the pub last night. The woman gets all emotional. The “how could you do this to me” phase starts. When a married man does all the above in today’s time, expecting the man in a non commitmental relationship to display monogamy is being plain brutal unfair to him.
When was it agreed to be mutually exclusive?

Having said this, I think that women, want that sense of security in a relationship to be able to hold on to. They need those words of attachment from the other gender to reaffirm that things are fine. It’s partly because they go on the trip of guilt of having sex with a man who is neither a boy friend or a husband. They aren’t sure if this is right or wrong. They aren’t sure if they would be tagged as a slut for this. Let’s agree that this isn’t a socially acceptable relationship (yet). It’s even more difficult explaining it to someone who does not understand the concept of it. They would question you immediately ‘so he is just screwing around?’ ‘Is he using you?’ ‘I don’t think you should do this’ ‘it’s time you speak to him some serious stuff’. They make you question your belief system on the whole thing. You come out more confused than what you were.

Stop having the thought of wanting to take it to the ‘next level’. There is no level here. It’s not like Tiramisu to have layers. It’s plain good old curd rice. What you see is what you get. There is no surprises of cutting it open and having chocolate ooze from the middle. No drama of that sort. It’s actually a beautiful relationship. Don’t kill it in the name of commitment.

Don’t have that constant need to take it forward. The beauty of this is to gradually grow and yet be stagnant in terms of where it needs to be.
Don’t trivialise the relationship because it does not evolve to be legal. Don’t look down upon it because there is sex involved. We, especially women have this strong urge to link sex and commitment to be one. WRONG. Need not be. That does not make you a slut. Don’t look low at the relationship. Give it the respect it demands. Give your ‘friend’ the respect he/she deserves. This is not your 3 am friend whom you talk for hours.

Imagine the level of comfort you get to share at both an emotional level as a friend and a physical level as a lover. It’s a rare combination. Imagine the freedom of calling a friend at 3 noon and telling her/him that you are in the mood for Sex and you want him/her to help you masturbate because you need it. It’s okay to cuddle one another after a passionate love making. Don’t start to link every action or a feeling to wanting to be committed to it. It’s the level of love and comfort that one carries to be able to show it.

Imagine the same friend whom you cry to for a tiff you had with your boss. It is a fabulous relationship. Don’t complicate it. Don’t have that ever dying need to take it forward. It is not meant to. It is meant to stay where it is. Enjoy the sex. Enjoy the emotions. Enjoy the fights. Enjoy the love. Enjoy the certainty of it all. It is a relationship that allows you to be who you want to be without being judged upon. It is one which gives you the comfort that is not quite possible to find even with your legal partner. Don’t spoil it by being emotional about it. Relax. Breathe in. Enjoy it.

If your friend has fallen in love with someone else, celebrate that. Be happy. Be genuinely happy. If he/she wants to move away, wish them well. Don’t make the entire relationship a mockery by trivialising it. Treat it with respect and love that it deserves . I bet that it will turn out to be a life changing one.

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Being a Tambram – part 2.

…and once the boy’s family gets into the car, the gossips start. When the Groom’s mother says “nalla madhiri iruka, ponnu dhan konjam modern a teriyara..”* and the “BOY” being Amma’s boy immediately responds (Tambram boys are always Amma’s boy, PERIOD.. so please don’t even bother changing it or questioning why) “Amam ma, aana kalyanathuku apparam maridiva..* (U mean from human to a robot?) .. As this goes on in the car, back at the girl’s house, the gossips are ever more detailed..”Amma, he looks so traditional, look at his viboothi* and his haircut and im not too sure if we shd go forward, I would like to meet him again and understand him better” (yeah that’s how love blooms sweet heart) says the girl but her dad is quick to react.. “Adhellam onnum illai, chamatha irukaaan. kalyanam aana seri pannidelam* (what seri pannidelam, uve been saying this dialogue about the tube light in our house for 10 years and it’s still not alright dad).. ‘nalla kudumbam, nalla sambadhikeran* (Yeah, that’s more like it, now ur talking dad..!)… And the Athai screams… “eppo date paarkelam, seekirum paaru da, neraiyya velai iruku.. sastrigala poi paathudelam…”* ( yeah right, im sure you have loads of work athai, selecting ur sarees and matching clips/bangles and flowers to it..!! and the chithi adds to the fuel “Aamam anna, mandapam kedaikarthu, paiyyan kedaikartha vida kashtam..”* (Yeah true, coz so many other joker families have booked it too, so we are in queue…). And the amma says “Let her decide, it is her life”.. Ah, no wonder mothers are mothers..!!

After all this tamasha and gossips, comes the next part.. Informing the world about it! Tambrams have a unique knack of spreading information; It is so powerful that it’s high time they copyright it. The athai’s are always the loud speaker at any TamBram family. They are the official reporters of TBC (Tam Bram Channel). The minute the alliance is fixed, the news travels faster than light. From the mama’s and chithappa’s in aminjikarai to the cousins working their butts off in America for a flew $, everybody is informed that there is a wedding in the family. Don’t get carried away by these US Tambrams, all they gift is a T-shirt that looks more like five for a dollar kind and in all probability would have got manufactured in tirupur and yes not to forget the ten Hershey’s mini chocolates per family neatly stapled after taking some to give the neighbours.

The girl’s family is busy scooting around for the mandapams from adyar to annanagar, from Mylapore to Mandaveli. Just one small condition, It has to be reasonable but should accommodate the size of a cricket stadium. That’s right; Tam-Brams are big hearted people. They invite every human they knew from the time they were born. Suddenly everybody become a relative. “Appa, I have not even heard of this Rajalakshmi maami before, why is her name on the list?” asks the girl. The Appa is quick to respond.. “Illai kondhai, she is the mother of chellappa mama who is the ammanji of raman who is the co-brother of ambi who is the brother of lalli chithi who is my cousin”.. (WHAT?!?! I need oxygen, pls!! I’m running out of breath here and a rope too…)

A wedding is the time, where all the various relatives come together’ (read together as the ones in a parliament) in the Tam Bram household. It becomes a mini assembly of its own. With everybody voicing their opinions and suggestions, a decision is never taken alone. The influence of a mama or an athai is always there. PERIOD. The paati of the girl (Read it as Father’s mother) makes sure every relative of her age is invited (Dead or Alive) and nobody is left out, if we do, it becomes a national news.

Well I can go on and on an on about Tam Brams , but now that u read the two blogs im sure u got a fair idea about what we are 🙂 so next time when u see a Mr/Ms subramanian or a Narayanan or a Ramakrishnan, plzzz give a smile 🙂 🙂

English translations

1.“nalla madhiri iruka, ponnu dhan konjam modern a teriyara..” – Nice family but the girl looks a bit modern

2. “Amam ma, aana kalyanathuku apparam maridiva..” True mom, she will change after marrying me

3. “viboothi pattai” – Holy ash on ur forehead

4. “Adhellam onnum ille, kalyanam aana seri pannidelam” – Nothing like that dear, we will make him alright.

5. “nalla kudumbam, nalla sambadhikeran” – good family, he earns good dough.

6. “eppo date paakelam , seekirum paaru da, neraiyya velai iruku…” – When do we see the date for the wedding? There is so much work I have to do.

7. “Aamam anna, mandapam kedaikarthu, paiyyan kedaikartha vida kashtam..” – Yeah bro, getting a mandap is more challenging than getting a groom.

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Being a Tambram!

Aathule ellarum epdi iruka…?

Well, being a Tam-Bram, I had to start it this way no? 🙂 I dint know that being a Tam-Bram is supposed to be so swag and ended up becoming a cult by itself.  I mean, all my friends raise eyebrows and give that smirkish wickedly smile when they know I’m a Tam-Bram and I wonder if that’s good or bad…!

Whenever I read a name that ends with Subramanian or Narayanan, it brings a smile on my face and that’s just so silly but yet so Tam-bramismly nice! 🙂

If you are a Tam-Bram and you’re single, you are the most pitiful and disaster-prone soul on mother earth…!! The chances of getting killed by a maami in a social function is much more than getting killed by a raccoon or watching a power star movie. It’s better to stay put indoors rather than put urself in the ‘Hall-Of-Shame’ by venturing outside. The minute they see you, it’s like this tiger waiting to pounce on his prey. They jump on you and attack you with the same set of questions. 1. Eppo kalyanam pannika pore? 2. Unaku vayasaindu iruku, apparam paiyyan kedaikarthu kashtam di. 3. U.S poi settle aidri kozhandhe. 4. Aathule amma, appaku oru periya relief irukum illiya…!?

What?!? Since when did I became a mobile candidate? These standard set of questions are mostly from maami’s whose son/ daughter is either single or ran away with non Tam-bram person and they vent out all their parental frustrations on us.

Even if you dont nod your yes, they will make you do so with their emotional drama with tears rolling down and the whole Tamil serial episode funda. The next is to find a boy.

A typical Tam-Bram matrimony reads as this:

“Seeking a boy (yeah, he is yet to complete his school) between 28-30 years of age, fair and handsome (no, not the cream) who is a minimum B.E and an MS who is well paid (like, 1 million $?). Please apply (huh,? U mean I need to apply for a husband post in ur family?) to this mail id..”

Tam-Brams consider working for someone else to be a noble profession. If you own a business, there is something wrong with your ethos. They will do a background check with their josiar to see what kind of business you do and if it is legal and if it is okay to do so !

Well, after this tamasha comes the matching of horrorscopes (No, it is not a typo). The magical squares where all your stars have to be in the wrong positions facing different directions to be matched with the boy’s..!

The next logical (well according to THEM, this is logical). The BOY comes to the girl’s house with his parents to check how the girl is. Can she walk, talk, Walk and talk and so on.. With the free Bajji and Bonda and not to forget the Filter Kaapi, they analyze and note how the girl behaves, how she talks. Then the boy seeks permission from his parents (well, I said, he is a boy…!) to talk to the girl in private ( please read private as the chithi and athai over hearing what you talk from the kitchen). The boy asks, “Did you say ok to get married or your parents forced you..?” (well, a goat is not asked for permission before being butchered, isn’t? ), and the girl replies “no no, enakum equally interest iruku!…” and before its time for the next question, the girl’s father enters and says “make urself comfortable Mr. XXX, feel at home”, ( yeah sure, can u close the door please), and the nice “BOY” that he is, politely says “Sure mama”.

Once the girl and boy agree to marry and put all the blames on each other for all their mistakes for eternity, there are greetings sparkling all over the place “ Romba sandhosham mama, enaku indha madhiri kudumbathule paiyyan kidachadhuku romba bagyam pannirkanum” and then the sweets are distributed and the boy’s family go home happily ever after.

P.S – more to continue in my next blog!