Dots and Dashes

It has been my bane since childhood. I think my first tryst with the bindi was when I saw my baby pictures. Some genius adult had smeared huge black circles on my forehead and cheek when I was just a newborn. I was about five when I saw that picture, and I started howling when someone told me that that was me in all my gorgeous baby glory. Until then I had allowed my mother to put various dots and dashes on my face, but after seeing that horror I refused. Various people threatened various consequences from the "evil eye" to a sad marital future and one lady tried to catch me unawares every-bloody-where just to apply some color on my forehead, but I refused. Ever since, I have been dogged by people wanting to explain to me the virtues of wearing a bindi and why I am the most pig headed idiot in the world.
Some common explanations:
1) Sign of "a woman". Now "a woman" differs from a normal woman in the sense that she is "A WOMAN". "A WOMAN" prays for her husband's long life, happiness, health, wealth and then for her children and family and cousins and neighbours and really anybody, but herself. The bindi is supposed to be a sign of, ahem, feminity (I mean, seriously? I am wondering what the women who knew the person who invented this idea looked like) and later on, of marriage. Red bindis signify marriage. An absence of one would mean you are a widow. When I am not five miles within the radius of marriage that would be inconsequential- or so you would think. Apparently, it doesn't bode well for the future if you don't wear it now. What is the connection? Well, um....

2) A sign that you are a Hindu - which I also think is equivalent to walking around beating a drum and yelling "I am a Hindu" to anyone who will listen. I don't understand why I can't be a Hindu/ Muslim/ Christian/ any one else quietly without letting all my neighbours know I am one. I don't think God particularly wants people to notify society about which religion they belong to anyway.

3) The bindi stands for the third eye which in turn stands for spritiual insight. It will lead you closer to God and it stands to remind you of your spirituality. While that sounds really nice, I don't think having this on your forehead will remind you of anything much, let alone God.

4) The point between the eyes, known by various names such as Ajna Chakra, Spiritual Eye, and Third Eye, is said to be the major nerve center in the human body. In ancient times, Hindus used red lead powder (sindhoor) or sandalwood paste to place dots on their foreheads. According to Hindu sages, red lead and sandalwood paste have cooling properties. Therefore, placing a red lead or sandalwood paste dot on the forehead between the eyes cools the nerve center associated with that location. The sages tell us that, consequently, the mind becomes calm and quiet. (Source: link) This is the most sensible explanation (of all given ones, I am not sure of its authenticity). But the main point is the application of sindoor. Fancy designer bindis don't really help the cause and sindoor runs down your face in the hot weather of Chennai. So why can't I just not wear anything at all?
I rest my case.

A Point for Freedom

I got my hands on The Fountainhead rather late- two months ago to be precise. I had tried reading it while in college, but could not make it past the first few pages. I disliked Roark and his flaming red (orange?) hair almost instantaneously and the small print and the book's thickness even more. So before Roark could start his career, my tryst with the book ended.
Revisiting it two months ago, I fell in love with the book from the word go. I didn't read any review on The Fountainhead before I started and all I knew was what a friend told me - it was a philosophical book and dealt with Individuvalism and Objectivism, whatever they were. I braced myself for a lot of big words and philosophy on the lines of the Derrida CAT passages, but the book has hardly any didacticism in it in direct form.
What I did find was that it has complex characters, even more complex relationships, conversations with meanings, underlying meanings and underlying underlying meanings and a very convincing narrative.
I think what really makes The Fountainhead an absolute favourite of mine is that it didn't take time to seep into my mind. Normally, after I watch a movie or read a book, I need to dissect it in my head, discuss it with a friend, sleep over it and then arrive at a conclusion on whether I like it or not. With The Fountainhead, I could identify with the story even while reading it.
I am not talking about capitalism, objectivism and the like - but the simple theory of rational individuval freedom - the freedom to choose, to decide, to opine, to do anything in fact that doesn't hinder society at large. The freedom of individual choice, I think, is the biggest right any human has. It empowers you. It is also what most people like to suppress in others - for various Toohey-like reasons I suppose. You see it everyday - kids who are forced into careers they dislike, women beaten up but forced to stay in abusive marriages because of society, men who are forced into marriages because of caste, creed and religion - the list is endless. Society can be a wonderful collective good, it can also be one heck of an obstacle at times.
And then there is Roark and Dominique's relationship. While some things may be hard to swallow (like her two marriages), the point to be noted in the relationship is the trust and freedom the two give each other. And those, I think, should be the foundations of any relationship. The freedom to act as an individual within the framework of a relationship is essential for happiness. Sacrificing your identity ( I don't think compromise is a suitable word here) cripples the relationship and you are left with a farce that parades in the guise of love. Now quite obviously any relationship will require adjustment, but to what level you take that adjustment is important. If you take it beyond the point where you are left unhappy as a person, I don't think there is much point in a 'we' tag. Ayn Rand allows the personalities of Roark and Dominique to retain their individuality and discover themselves even while their relationship strengthens - which again enticed me.
Now I could go on and on along these lines, but I shall stop here. I shall just say that near impossible though the book may be to emulate, it shall remain a favourite in my list.

Writer's Block

Has struck me big time. I sit at the computer, stare at the white space and can think of nothing to write about. I am telling you- the busier you are, the more you want to have free time to write and when you find that time, you can't think of anything to write about.
Of course, in my case it could have been the Curse of the Lizard Family.
My house has recently become home to all sorts of animals in the neighbourhood. There are a couple of cats that go in and out, parrots, koyals and the like, squirrels, the First Family of Lizards and, believe it or not, a family of mongooses/ mongeese. Sadly enough, the animals I so desperately want to have (dogs and elephants and horses) do not come visiting. In fact, there is a dog that pointedly ignores our house and wags itself into the next door office where it is popular recreation to chase it out. Highly disappointing if you ask me.
Coming back to the mongooses, I first saw them when I was sitting on the swing in the garden. I was sitting on the swing, listening to GnR, swinging gently in the night breeze and this family trots by - father, mother and baby. I am not kidding. They actually just trotted by.
My first reaction was to screech at the top of my lungs, then to try to stand on the swing while it was still moving and finally fall over onto the flower pots on one side. By the time I was right side up, half the neighbours and my whole family was out. The mongooses, of course, were long gone. Everyone assured me I was hallucinating, since no one had ever seen a mongoose in the garden before and since I had never seen a mongoose anywhere ever before in my life. That however, did not stop the grand 'Cobra Hunt' by our maid, neighbours' watchman, his wife and their friends. They assured us that mongooses would never turn up unless there were snakes around. In the process of the hunt, all they did was to destroy my mother's hibiscus, tulsi and the one-flower-a-year plants, and the watchman's eight year old son whacked his sister with a shovel since he saw 'something' move 'somewhere' around her head. The group was disappointed with the results, I think, but nevertheless made up for it by telling everyone how I was almost attacked and killed by snakes/ mongooses/ my own stupidity on the swing.
The mongooses continue to live in our house now. My father's hobby these days is mongoose family sighting. He wants my brother and me to learn how to follow our elders by watching the Herpestidae family. I have named them Rikki Tikki and Tavi, but can't seem to sight them ever. I think the swing incident has scared them off from me forever.
But getting back to the purpose of this post: the Curse of the First Family of Lizards.
I was sitting in the living room one night, quietly banging on my laptop, when suddenly this damned baby lizard falls on it from above with a gentle plop. It yelped, I screamed and then it scampered away. I looked up from where it fell to find its mother glaring at me. I am not kidding when I say glare. All I could see was a head and these two beady eyes looking over the ceiling ledge against the backdrop of white light. It even looked accusing, like it was my fault its stupid baby couldn't cling to the ceiling. And since then, I haven't been able to write.
So now I suffer from Writer's Block and I don't think I am capable of writing any sense any time soon.