I have been lazy with the camera lately. No photoblog since the year started? What a shame. Of course, we’re in the middle of some very cold winter in my part of the world and the dreary greys and muddy whites make for lousy, uninspiring outdoor photography. And much though I love to take pictures, stepping out of the house in -10°F weather to do so .. um, no thanks, not my cup of tea. Oooh tea! Some adrak chai with onion pakoras would be .. *drool* .. Back to reality. So I did an indoor shot this time, with a burst of color to cheer things up. Hope you like!

Target audience for this post:

• People who have watched Telugu movies of the 70s
• People who find a special joy in watching the stud-heroes of Telugu movies of the 70s
• My cousin, a fan of Telugu movies of the 70s, who will stop talking to me after reading this post
• Nice, sweet, wonderful people who will read anything I write (and hopefully not notice my use of multiple adjectives to sweet-talk them)

Yes, this is a something new I am trying out. Niche markets are common and products are often designed for specific target audiences. So why not my posts? (Saying this, she hid under the table while the Marketing MBAs in the audience heckled and laughed at her) Considering that I write about a lot of arbit things, and not everyone who comes to my blog will find every pearl of wisdom to be .. well .. a pearl, I shall henceforth warn you of the impending attack so you have a chance to escape. Of course, if you do not fit the target audience and still have an opinion to share, kindly ignore my attempt to stereotype you, and feel free to comment. Moving on to the subject of the post ..

A conversation with a friend reminded me of this. There used to be a Telugu actor with the impressive name of Sobhan Babu who was a firm believer in the number three. He often delivered punchlines in multiples of three. Imagine this — 45-year old Sobhan Babu in industrial strength makeup and an oh-so-believable wig that is perfectly gelled into place save the one curl that dangerously hangs on his forehead. We shall call this fine specimen of manhood — The Agitated Hero. Enter harassed wife waiting at home, looking grungy and grimey with an expression of perpetual suffering. I am unable to feed your three kids, the expression cries. The agitated hero has just lost his job. He needs solace, he needs support and comfort. He takes a step forward, pauses, flicks back the gelled curl with the back of his hand, takes two more steps towards his wife who stands in front of him and calls out in a voice full of anguish — Lakshmiii, Lakshmiiiii, Lakshmiiiiiii!

For anyone who doubts the effectiveness of this scene — there isn’t a single person in the audience who has any doubt left in their mind that the heroine’s name is Lakshmi.

That concludes our pointless peek into a cinematic moment from my childhood.

(Inspired by a comment from Sagnik and sponsored by your local pet supply store.)

Once upon a time, long long ago (okay not *that* long ago) when I was a kid, I, like thousands of other kids before and after me, went to my mom, tugged at her saree pallu, made the most angelic wide eyes possible, and in my cutest voice asked her:

Me: Ma, can we get a dog?
Ma: No.
Me: Why?
Ma: You’re not old enough to have a dog.
Me: Oh? .. *scowl*
Ma: Yes.
Me: Oh .. *walk away sulking which mom duly ignores*

Two days later:

Me: Ma, can we get a dog? *hopeful look*
Ma: No.
Me: Oh .. (Confused why mom said no. I *was* older no?)

Three days later: (See I was learning, three better than two.)

Me: Dog? *eternal hopeful look*
Ma: No. And when you’re old enough to have a dog, I’ll tell you. So stop asking.
Me: Oh-kaay .. *slinking away unhappily*

Another three days later:

Me: Ma, I finished all my homework.
Ma: *smile* Good girl!
Me: Ma, can we get a cat?
Ma: *exasperated sigh* I told you I’d tell you when you were old enough, didn’t I?
Me: But you said to not ask for a dog..
Ma: *dirrrrrrty look* Meghaa .. !!
Me: *scurrying away*

And thus the saga continued. Cat, dog, rat, horse, goat, neighbor’s baby .. all the requests were met with the same stern emphatic NO. As I got older, the ‘no’ would sometimes be accompanied with a short explanation to appeal to my logical side. ‘A horse won’t be able to climb stairs na?‘ (we lived in a fourth floor apartment), or ‘No, if we steal neighbor-aunty’s baby she won’t send over gajar halwa¹ any more.‘ Now I was a reasonable, gajar-halwa loving kid, so I obediently listened. Every time. And an entire childhood was wasted without a single pet in the house .. *sigh*

Years went by, chia-pets and tamagotchis came and went (no I didn’t own any, thank you very much), but the longing for that elusive pet remained. Lousy apartment rental rules and uncooperative roommates did their best to deter me. But my resolve was not to be broken. And finally, last year, it all changed. A li’l orange fella arrived home.

Now for the next step. The name. As any self-respecting owner of a pet will tell you, every pet deserves a name. They too have feelings. Would you like it if people pointed at you and called you a human or a homo sapien? True, there are some that might take that as a compliment, but let us not digress.

Remember the Doordarshan/NFDC short-film about a school of fish that were always scared of sharks? Then this chhotu orange-colored fish called Swimmy comes by, teaches them to form the shape of a big fish (with Swimmy as the eye) and they scare the big sharks away. The moral of the story was strength in unity and all that good stuff. If you don’t remember this movie, then you clearly didn’t waste as much time in front of the TV as I did. Anyhoo, that was the inspiration behind the name. People suggested Nemo, Blubber and what not. But I stood my ground and went with Swimmy — an ode to the childhood pet that never was .. *sniffle*

So there it stands — big round glass bowl, generic-looking plastic aquarium plant, random colorful pebbles and one small orange chap swimming away to glory — Swimmy, my goldfish.

• 1 – Indian sweet delicacy made of carrots, milk and sugar, with copious amounts of ghee² garnished with nuts and raisins. For a particularly decadent variety of it, please visit aforementioned neighbor-aunty.
• 2 – Clarified butter with water and solids removed. Commonly used in Indian cooking, especially sweets. With regular consumption it is guaranteed to make you resemble a gulab-jamun³ in shape.
• 3 – Indian sweet delicacy with deep-fried cheese balls in sugar syrup. Sometimes served warm with vanilla ice cream, much like gajar-halwa¹.