Roadside food in Istanbul as we trekked along the tramline. Turkey's famous for the coffee, hibiscus tea, gelatine icecreams that don't melt and of course their version of kebab/shaurmas, baklavas and a variety of mouth watering nut-filled sweets... but roadside food always excites me more for some reason :)

Reconstruction at the Hagia Sophia Museum, and below is the God of the Rivers, Poseidon. the fact that these sculptures and archaelogical restorations happen on an everyday basis and the painstaking way in which it is done inspired awe in us, a bunch of twenty something impatients ;)

The Cisterna Basilica has the capacity to store 100,000 tons of water but holds only a few feet of water lining the bottom today. The cistern is surrounded by a firebrick wall with a thickness of 4 metres (13 ft) and coated with a waterproofing mortar. The ceiling is supported by a forest of 336 marble columns. Located in the northwest corner of the cistern, the bases of two columns reuse blocks carved with the visage of Medusa. Tradition has it that the blocks are oriented sideways and inverted in order to negate the power of the Gorgons' gaze, however it is widely thought that they were placed sideways and upside down only to be the proper size to support their columns. (excerpt from wikipedia)


Me with my love for folklore, I'm swayed in the direction of the Gorgon story, though rationally thinking, physics would be a more important factor when considering the force of holding up the ceiling and pure pressure from the mass amount of water that used to be contained here.


My earlier post covered the more popular tourist destinations, these are just the knick knacks that slip in between but I want to remember 20 years down the road from now. This post is severely delayed I know, but I finally got the time to do it today, so here it is.. :)

Wesak

Happy Wesak to all who celebrate :) missing the orange robes, sanskrit chants and rotating water fans in the brickfields buddhist mahavira..

Istanbul and Me

Hi all :) Been some time since i read a decent blog, much less posted one. Been kinda preoccupied, my apologies. Nyways, here I am, 6 days into my winter hols, uploading a few pictures from our 3-day transit in Istanbul on the way home last summer. Just to add a dimension to it, am tacking on some feelings to each image.

An old tree in the Hagia Sophia Musuem. A lot of wonder and enthusiasm was poured into Ottoman relics and bejeweled daggers and teapots (yes, there was a ruby inlaid teapot), but just as much amazement and awe was found in this tree, hollow inside, yet still providing shade. 

When I see you with another, this is is how I feel. Like there's something gnawing at me from the inside out, but yet I stand there, unwilling and unable to move. Jealousy and Commitment.

A pup on the grounds of the Sultan Ahmet (Blue) Mosque. I come from a Muslim country and transiting in yet another Muslim country, I was touched to see the casual passerby feed stray dogs and cats alike. And shockingly, the stray looks almost like a pure breed Lab, don't you think?

Each moment spent with a loved one is like the moment the pup had, lying in the sun on the fluffy green green grass. A feeling of comfort and peace. Content :)

This is the replica of the candle chandeliers they had in the Hagia Sophia Cathedral. The Cathedral is easily one of the most beautiful buildings I have ever seen - even in the state of reconstruction it was in! Despite the 70 odd tourists in the same building complex, there was a calm about the area, unmatched in any other part of Istanbul.

Sharing small everyday things with a loved one switches on a myriad of bulbs in me, each one almost routine, but not a single mundane one unimportant. Many small things that matter to me, that keep me warm inside.

The curved domes of the Sultan Ahmet Mosque, the interior covered entirely by mosaic. Another intiguing thing is that this building has no corners, each angle is rounded. The prevailing hues of blue and gold gives it its alternative name - the Blue Mosque. And apparently it's considered sunnah for a Muslim to pray here. Aside from the central mosques in Mecca, this mosque is another one of the holy centres of Islam, or so a friend told me.

Beauty at a glance, but as we consider each slab of mosaic, we realise that's what we are. Just stone without others around us. And we realise that each of us contribute to make the bigger picture that much more alluring as we reach out to others. Humanity.

Blue sky with distant clouds, the deep blue sea. A view from the grounds surrounding the Hagia Sophia Museum. A warning to the wary, the grounds is extensive and it took us fairly fit individuals a full 10 hrs to complete it without break. There are benches around for people to sit and catch their breath, but we were on a  tight schedule and each wonder had us trotting form one to the next ceaselessly, like workaholics on amphetamine.

The want in us to seek greener pastures. The drive to go the distance and race along to an unknown destination. The stuff of dreams and that which fuels aspirations and consistent hardwork. Ambition. 

We had the chance to take the Bosphorus cruise and view the East and West banks of Istanbul. Surprisingly the cruise is government run and it costed 3 Lira - I think! I cant remember for sure now :P... 3 Lira is approximately 3USD, which works out to about 10bucks of my home currency. Not too steep a price for travelling students I feel :) Each cruise ship had floats lined up one the sides like this one and we saw the remnants of the old forts and watchtowers, the homes of the wealthy, lush greenery that later reminded me of Kerala a bit, and the famous Bosphorus bridge, a picture of which I think we and has to be somewhere in the collection of Istanbul pictures.

For a person afraid of open water, you make me want to jump into the cold waters anyway. Why? You make me feel safe and cared for, that's why. Security.

     The Hagia Sophia Cathedral and the Sultan Ahmet Mosque stand as symbols of religious renaissance in Istanbul. Also The Spice Bazaar, Central Bazaar, lighthouse, Caverna Basilica (which is eerily beautiful!), and the Hagia Sophia Museum are places not to be missed. 

     Will try to dig up some pictures and write another post some time :) 

     Oh and if you're at Istanbul, do walk along the tramline, use the tram with their cute red tokens, try their non-melting icecream, drink their apple tea, and don't forget to try their small ring shaped pastry with kas-kas on it. If you arent a travelling student on a  tight budget, Turkish tapestries and rugs should be on your wish list too :P 

     Turkey is worth the visit..! :)

Kaarthigai

It coincides with the 15th day of the Hindu month of Kaarthigai, when the moon is full and the Keerthika star is visible in the night skies, or something along those lines. The astrological part escapes me.
     Mum told me a week back but I forgot completely. Then BB called and it hit me that for the first time in 24 years I wouldnt be vegetarian on this day. A day many non Hindus think is Deepavali but is not, though some consider it an extension. It's a day where Lord Shiva made himself a single speck of light, hence why we worship the flame; a day where six small boys became One for the love of a Mother; a day I find more exciting than Deepavali, more so for it's lowkey home celebration scale.
     I miss running from porch to backyard and making my way up the staircase to the altar to light the little clay lamps we call agal vilakku with my siblings and parents. 

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     I miss the small prayer as my eyes take in the myriad of flower offerings at the table which serves as our altar at home.

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     I miss running around with a scrap of cloth to dab up oil spills despite the folded layer of paper we place meticulously under each lamp to prevent such things.
     What I would give to sit at home, all lights switched off and just watched the flickering lights in the still humid darkness of the warm tropics.
     What I would give for the small smiles we exchange as we genuflect on our efforts as a team.
     Strangely, I even miss collecting the used lamps and cleaning them up.
     Most of all, I miss celebrating it at home. The memory of last year's Kaarthigai at home is making me smile now, a welcome recluse from the previous 4 years of it practically not being celebrated here away from home. This year I brought the agal vilakku with me and will place one at the doorstep to my room when the sun sets at 4pm.
     Am looking forward to future Kaarthigais with my loved ones.
     Thank you BB, thank you Amma. Happy Kaarthigai to all who celebrate :) 

Rediscovering A Friend

I haven’t dreamt of you in sometime

And today we spoke as friends

Friends who laughed much over a pint

Expressions that said more than a mime

We have somehow replaced lost time,

With good intentions and a smile

We have rediscovered friendship:

that which was yours and mine.

I used to dream of you for long hours

Times when I walked away and left you there

A recurring nightmare I stole what was ours

And left you alone, confused and bare

Yet today we spoke as friends

Friends who shared more than a pint

And I’m glad we took that step to show we care.

One Year Old

This is my blog and today it turns one :) A collection of random events expressed by pictures, words, stories, music, sayings... I moved here exactly one year ago and it has been a journey I'll remember because every post reflects a stage i went through, how i viewed the world around me. Thanks to all of you who've dropped by and added that much more life to Connections :)

                                                    That was one mouth-watering cheesecake...!
Have a nice day, all! :)

Movement

I was browsing through my D and a few pictures caught my eye. Without realizing what it was that made me open each file, I had 6 pictures minimized onto my taskbar, each one showing movement.

So I grouped them chronologically and found each one represented one year, except for the last two… weird, huh? Anyway, here they are :)

2005-06

First snow fight ever. Everyone’s moving and the picture’s blurry due to poor focusing, but I like the way everyone’s in a different position. Talk about a literal cold war :P

 2006-07

It was a tradition when we lived together during our orientation period to celebrate each birthday with a bang. One of the ickier traditions involves covering the birthday boy/girl from head to toe with flour and eggs.

This was when a friend cracked an egg and flung it at the birthday boy. Hehe… it made Ki duck for cover and the hovering egg overhead looks pretty unbelievable! Cool, eh? ;)

2007-08

During our outing to Yalta, Herb was trying for a star jump off a ledge, but it ended up looking like this! Maybe it was the Nike shoes...? Just do it! ;)

2008-09

I love this shot, which unfortunately I did not take :P I like the way the two at the side are closing in on the ball, eyes upward at the opponent and how the guy in the centre in taking a leap toward the ball, attempting to kick it midair. The energy in the shot is kind of incredible, I think.

2009

The quiet ones are usually up to something... If his eyes were visible, I’m sure they’d be sparkling with mischief! Notice the way the snowball is breaking off at the edges as Nav bounced it up and down in his gloved hand.

2010

A few weekends ago, at Saki. We lined up in a row and tried to toss the beach rocks back into the water. The winner was the one who tossed it out furthest, and the one who won it incidentally shares my name, except that hers is spelt with an E, as in to l-o-s-h-e-n-i :)

Can you see the blur of the pellets in the air before us? 

She shared with us later that the rock should be flat and fit comfortably into one’s palm for the best momentum and apparently we need to throw it with a flick of the wrist upwards, but by that time we had already managed to bury her in the sand and we couldn't hear anymore rock throwing tips... Hehe! :)

A slice of the past

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I've been twisting and turning in a space that's too small
I've been drawing the line and watching it fall
You've been closing me in , closing the space in my heart
Watching us fading and watching us fall apart

Well I can't explain why it's not enough
Coz I gave it all to you
And if you leave me now
Oh just leave me now
It's the better thing to do

It's time to surrender
It's been too long pretending
There's no use in trying
When the pieces don't fit anymore

Oh, don't misunderstand how I feel
Coz I've tried, yes I've tried
Still I don't know why
No I don't know why

Why I can't explain why it's not enough
Coz I gave it all to you
And if you leave me now
Oh just leave me now
It's the better thing to do

It's time to surrender
It's been too long pretending
There's no use in trying
When the pieces don't fit anymore
The pieces don't fit anymore

You pulled me under so I had to give in
Such a beautiful mess that's breaking my skin
Well I'll hide all the bruises; I'll hide all the damage that's done
But I show how I'm feeling until all the feeling has gone

Well I can't explain why it's not enough
Coz I gave it all to you
And if you leave me now
Oh just leave me now
It's the better thing to do

It's time to surrender
It's been too long pretending
There's no use in trying
When the pieces don't fit anymore
The pieces don't fit anymore

I came across this over tea, and I had to put it up because this was me some time back. JM needs a haircut though ;)

2009

26.12.2004 Part I

* ‘Abah’ and ‘Bu’ mean Dad and Mum in Malaysian Malay. ‘Sayang’ is a term of endearment in the same language. Unfortunately the story occurred in Indonesia but am not too sure about these terms in Indonesian Malay… so I settled for terms in a language I am more familiar with :)

Here’s the tale of a family on 26.12.2004.

It had been raining hard for the past two days. Khai looked worriedly at the stack of semi-dried fish in the corner of the kitchen. Mainly mackerel, the stack was higher than it had been in years, a sure sign that something big was happening out there – at least that was what her fisherman husband had said.  When the sea catch increased in such a great fold, it meant the waters were not at peace.

“Bu, Rex ran out. She was acting all funny and hissed when I went near her.” It was her eldest, Himo.

Khai smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Rex will be all right. We can’t look for her now, there’s a gale brewing and it’s dark outside.”

“Won’t Rex be afraid? I don’t understand why she was acting all funny.” Himo’s dark eyes were wide.

Khai bent down and looked Himo in the eye. “Animals are smart, she’ll find shelter.  The howling wind probably unnerved her a bit.”

Himo nodded. “Can Ju and I sleep with you and Abah tonight? Ju’s afraid too.”

“Come on, let’s get you two into bed,” Tajir said from the kitchen doorway from where he had been watching this exchange. “Sayang, it’s past midnight, surely your kitchen work is done.” He looked over at his wife.

“Almost. Get the kids to bed? I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Tajir bent down and scooped up their son into his large sea-weathered hands. “Shall we go and collect Ju? I wonder where she can be.”

“I’m right here, Abah,” said a small voice from right behind him.

“Oh, so you are!” Tajir said in mock surprise, then gave his eldest a broad wink, making the six-year-old giggle. “Well, come along then and give your mother some peace.”

Khai laughed and turned back to the food she had been putting away in the fridge. As she put the day’s leftover soup into the bottom shelf, in her mind’s eye she saw a frightening image. She saw huge foamy waves submerging the humble huts that made up their village, heard fear in the voices of people around her and felt the raging wind tug at her and throw her off balance, and somewhere in that chaos she saw the top of the mountain she and Tajir had climbed years ago that was on the outskirts of the village. The mountain seemed to call to her, compelling her. Then she felt the cold air from the fridge again and her eyes focused once more on the clear fluid in the transparent plastic container in front of her.

Before she knew what she was doing, her legs were carrying her towards the bedroom, and she had flung the bedroom door open. “Sayang, get the girls. We have to get out of here.”

Tajir had been massaging the sole of his right foot. “What?”

“Tajir, trust me. We have to move, quickly.” Her voice was calm but Tajir saw the urgency in her eyes.

“There’s a storm outside,” he objected, standing up. “What’s going on?” His brows knitted together in a frown.

“And it’s going to get a lot worse. I can’t explain. Just trust me on this.” The certainty in Khai’s voice seemed to surprise even herself

“Himo, Ju, come on.” Tajir held out his arms to his children and they clambered into them, a bit confused. Carrying them he stopped in front of his wife and wordlessly handed her their three-year-old.

“We have to go to that mountain beyond the village well,” she told him, glancing down in surprise at her right hand which was gripping a large bottle of drinking water. When had she grabbed the drinking bottle from the kitchen table?

The yellow light from the bulb overhead flickered. “Run,” she whispered softly into her husband’s ear.

(to be continued…)

The story’s super long. So am breaking it apart into 2 posts…

26.12.2004 Part II

(…continuation)

They ran then, and as they ran, the earth shook and rumbled beneath their feet and bewildered voices of fellow villagers could be heard. Khai just kept yelling ‘Run to the mountain!’ at everyone they passed.

Walls were collapsing around them and roofs were being peeled off by the force of the gale.

Khai remembered Tajir yanking her to one side as an uprooted tree suddenly fell across their path, missing her and Ju by mere inches. Then they heard screams from the village they had left behind and the great swoosh of water, but still they kept running. Running and praying. They were almost there.

“Khai, up here,” Tajir yelled over his shoulder, leading the way up the hike-trail.

Khai’s legs were trembling under the weight, tired from the endless run and cut and bruised from the foliage and rough pebbles underfoot. They were halfway up the mountain when Khai sank to the still heaving ground, exhausted. “Tajir, stop,” she managed between the ragged breaths which forced their way out of her chest. She closed her eyes and held her child close to her racing heart. When she opened her eyes again, she saw the sea rush over the beloved wooden structures that they had called home.

Tajir sank down next to her. “Sayang, I don’t get this. You came running in, I thought you had lost it and I don’t know why I just grabbed our kids and followed you.”

Ju was crying and there were tears in Himo’s eyes. “Bu, Rex…”

Khai reached out for her son and kissed his forehead wordlessly. “I don’t know, Tajir. I don’t know.”

He saw the fear in her eyes then and he put a hand over her shoulder as they watched the carnage of the flooding waters. He could feel the silent shudders that wrecked her small body even as she put on a show of courage for their two young ones. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer for the people they had left behind.

When her silent sobs had subsided, he kissed her cheek. “We have to keep going, Khai. Can you manage?” Even with the overtones of fatigue Khai could hear the concern in his voice.

She nodded and stood up.

They made their way to the mountain top on all fours, slipping and sliding, and with minimal vision in the dark. Two days later they were rescued by air lifts.

The youngest child had been clutching an almost empty bottle of water when the rescue team found them. The four of them were very emotional and the elder child kept insisting that their mother had known, but that was just not possible for no national warning had been issued of the impending disaster. The mother and father were semi comatose from exhaustion and dehydration; they had given most of the water to the children apparently.

When I set up the IV line for rehydration, the elder child asked me if I had seen Rex and I shook my head, wondering how I would tell him that both of his parents might not make it through the night.

“Lie still, little one. Moving will make the line come out, and you have to set an example for your sister, no?” I said in a light tone, knowing that the ragged looking girl was watching from the bed next to his.

Then the rescue workers brought more injured people and I had to move away.

I learned that the child’s name had been Himaran, and that his sister and he had been relocated to a survivors’ camp. There, they had described the mad dash for the mountain. From the bits of information they had overheard from their late parents’ last conversations and stories of their last night in the wooden hut that they had told another rescue worker friend of mine, I pieced this together. It left me wondering if Khai had had a premonition that fateful December night and just how many more stories like this are out there.

The characters and events in this story, like most of the things I write, are real, but the ‘I’ in the story isn’t me. There are some fictitious parts to it – I had to create continuity – but I pretty much based the story on a friend’s retelling (the friend is the aide worker who set up the IV line).

I also changed the names of the people involved.

This story occurred during the massive tsunamis in the Asian region 6+ years ago and is dedicated to everyone who has suffered the devastating effects of a natural disaster before.

May Khai, Tajir and Rex rest in peace and I hope that Himo and Ju have found solace in each other and rediscovered how to fit into society.

My Backyard Blues

My chilli plants are flowering in the backyard, at least that’s what my mum said some weeks back. Given the insane heat back home, I don’t know if those plants survived. I’m hoping they watered them, but I doubt it because my backyard isn’t actually safe. I’ve seen a fair number of questionably shady looking individuals walk through it (it’s an open stretch of land behind the kitchen and it’s connected to the adjacent houses’ yards as well, since we live in terrace homes)

The papaya tree needs to be cut down.  The tree has grown to an incredible height but the fruits are far too fibrous to be eaten. Even the birds don’t eat them anymore. But it’s been there for the past four years, so we’ll see…

The kanaga flowers (subspecies of the hibiscus, I believe) are doing pretty well though. My dad ventures out every three days or so into my hazardous backyard to pluck the flowers and offer them up at the altar during evening prayers. I hope they’re ok. The kanaga flower plants I mean.

My feathered, two-legged siblings seem to have toned down, also due to the beating sun overhead, no doubt. They only come to gate and chirp in the early morning or late evening now, and even then only after my mum has done her routine cleaning of the courtyard, which involves spraying water all over it to remove the sand and debris from the previous day. I’m sure she misses them. The two-day old rice in little tupperwares in the fridge has probably been reused in fried rice, for fear of them going to waste (lesser sparrows, hence lesser need for left-over rice, meaning even more leftover rice for us humans at home … oh, what joy : S)

Oh, did I mention the baby banana trees? As a kid I would stare at them for hours - so many different birds would perch on them and each had different plumage. The insects I saw on them usually made me feel itchy all over, but they were fascinating in their own way too. Every now and then a rodent or stray cat or dog would wander past and that’s still a source of fascination for my nephews. I should do that again sometime, just leave my kitchen door open and wander around the backyard (hopefully with my brother or father not too far away :P)… or, maybe, we should just move everything to the front courtyard. Hmm…

Gardening’s a pain – digging into the ground, sweating profusely for the sake of a little greenery, getting icky and dirty. But the smell of freshly turned earth and the frustration at the bits of dark soil stuck under my fingernails has a very subtle magnetic pull for some reason. The newly emerging plant shoots, the small budding leaves, the annoying bugs and vermin that get me into a frenzy and of course the flowers and fruit are something else all together. The joy and pain of it all is almost like raising a kid. All right, I’m exaggerating a bit, excuse the melodrama :)

I am looking forward to my time at home, when I get to bicker with my mum over bits of shrub, because had it not been for her, I would have been stuck in front of the TV or curled up with my story book, or running crazy mad hatter races with my brother and sister as a kid.

I miss being able to say ‘I planted that’ or ‘that needs weeding’ or ‘die, stooopid bug, DIE!’

Anyone know how to make the next papaya tree less fibrous? Would appreciate the input! Then every time I feel like eating chilled papayas with a squeeze of lime, I needn’t look farther than the backyard :)

Speaking of that, I wonder how my mum’s lime tree’s doing. The most minute of grasshoppers, which look a bit like the infamous cutie that made it onto Rainfield’s blog, can wreak havoc on that poor tree, and they’re too fast to catch.. I wonder if they died in the heat? Yeah, I’m evil ;)

Missing my life in the backyard, at home. You could say that I'm having a somewhat warped version of backyard blues.. and to give it a kick and so that I'll be able to laugh at myself sometime down the road, I highlighted the source of my blues, in well, BLUE :)

Resurfacing of The Prawn!

You were there and you seemed to care,

To even speak I did not dare.

It used to be the other way round,

Till what I had for you ran aground:

When passion, concern, and smiles abounded;

That yesteryear, when we were still true bonded.

 

I wonder why I dreamt tonight,

Of you and me, holding us tight,

Of when we knew not tears or fright.

H would say the thoughts are residual,

Memories on a different level,

Like the slimy grease beneath black gravel. (Ok, that’s what I would say since I’m a meanie at times…)

Subconscious thought begone at once,

I will soon see the break of dawn,

I will not feel for you, bloody prawn.

And tonight if dreams do come again,

I hope it won’t be of you, my bane.

And if they should ever return the pain,

I might just have to rewire my brain.

My face right now,  while reading this bit of utter idiocy, two weeks after I wrote it. And ‘rewire my brain’?! WTH was I thinking?!! ~Bwekkss!~

Anyway, the past is the past, so here’s to a better tomorrow! Ganbatte-yo! :oD

The Prawn Must Be Brought Down!! A scene from District 9 :P

On a different note, have you guys heard of selective amnesia before? Pretty cool, even if I do say so myself… ;) 
I wonder how one acquires that skill because I am cursed with almost elephant-like memory, at least in non-academic fields!! :P


And I think I overdid the links a bit this time! :)