tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-171426352012-01-05T16:18:40.747ZThe home townPremalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.comBlogger901100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-67443159621671888902011-10-12T20:43:00.006+01:002011-10-13T06:29:22.124+01:00

Someone told me that Venkateshwari had passed away sometime back. I didn't know how to feel. I was not shocked with sadness, but yes, the news was a shock and I was sad. We were good friends. I wouldn't say we were the best friends, as, doesn't that term allow only two people in and expect them to be very loyal to each other in that relationship? We weren't like that. We were loyal to each other

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-89622624632010177462011-08-24T09:13:00.005+01:002011-08-24T10:19:35.508+01:00

... In between the two main sets of buildings that make up our school is the main staircase and the toilets. In a winding set of buildings full of loud girls and sunlight this is the only quiet shaded place - this windowless section where high school and junior connect. The main staircase, the "Golden staircase" as it's called because of the pale golden tiles the nuns polish regularly, is out of

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-5678143366061697632009-01-20T14:59:00.014Z2009-04-29T15:05:49.280+01:00

I am all nervous. First time on stage. I love dancing. I love singing too. Mother says I sing like a fox howling. I love singing. I know many songs by heart. I sing when I walk from home to school and back from school to home. I love dancing. I close all the doors and windows and dance for the songs I love. I wish I can properly learn to sing and dance like in movies. I love dancing and singing.

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-48078704212537608212008-09-24T12:40:00.010+01:002008-10-07T08:29:49.915+01:00

In My Grandmother's House I wrote:"Grandpa has his small sections of territory staked and claimed - the fish tank, the outside room piled high with old junk and his own bedroom filled with fascinating things. If I am good he will take out the old tin boxes full of war photos. Then he fills his pipe and sits by the window, puffing his pipe and telling me the stories behind the photos. I knew

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-68892358484894405262008-02-21T13:47:00.001Z2008-02-21T13:49:29.396Z

Pachayamma is my mother’s best friend. From her childhood days. Best buddies they are. They gossip a lot and they claim that they are the best in bitching in town. They can bitch about you when you are sitting very much next to them, still you wouldn’t know a thing. They might even get you to nod or laugh for some of their remarks. Yeah. That bad they are. They can name nick names and form code

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-75375066735657993032008-02-21T11:38:00.001Z2008-08-13T17:41:34.802+01:00

“Do you want to come with for the drive?” asks my dad… and I’m running for the door. I love going with my dad. Since we moved to South Africa he has been working self-employed and that means I can go with him to jobs. Sometimes it’s a bit boring, but almost every time I can find something interesting to look at or discover or do.Today he is going to meet a builder and discuss work. The builder

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-44370402643099085952008-02-08T12:42:00.001Z2008-02-08T12:42:23.190Z

For every parent, teacher or child who grew up with unfullfilled dreams...

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-33879911820829273562008-01-17T11:35:00.000Z2008-12-13T03:35:42.348Z

I am very small. I think about four? Three? I can’t remember. All I know is my aunt has a kitten, but I can’t touch it or play with it. I am so sad. I don’t understand. My mo tries to explain to me that it will make me sick. I am allergic to cats, but I am only little and I don’t understand.Kittens makes you sick. Why? Kitten hair makes me sick? Kitten smell makes me sick? I don’t understand. I

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-38627416027688546302007-12-17T11:45:00.002Z2008-08-14T16:52:20.894+01:00

To me Christmas Eve in Africa means rain. Soft rain. Warm rain. African rain. *Pula! (rain) a blessing and a wish as powerful as “bless you” is to the Western soul. In a country where rain fall never lasts longer than an hour and puddles evaporate within minutes of the clouds parting rain is precious. Rain is survival. Rain is life, resurrection and birth.Every Christmas eve we gather at my

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-22830229805086406582007-12-13T23:18:00.000Z2008-12-13T03:35:42.779Z

... Daddy says “Let’s get the tree.” I am so excited. I love decorating the tree. In my parents bedroom he gets down the cardboard box that holds our artificial tree (we’re both allergic to pine) and the old battered grey suitcase that is the ultimate magic treasure chest.While he gets out the tree and opens out its tinsel-covered wire branches I sit on the carpet and open the suitcase. Inside

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-89299351116883740702007-12-07T09:39:00.000Z2008-12-13T03:35:43.080Z

... “Be careful!” My mother says, handing me the big candle. I nod. I understand. This is a very big and serious task. I am being allowed to light the candles on the tables for the party my parents are having. My younger cousin, Len follows me outside. He wants to light candles too, but he’s not allowed. I’m only allowed - because I am older.In our yard my father has put lots of tables and chairs

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-8320296634519787382007-12-03T17:19:00.001Z2010-11-06T13:20:05.168Z

image courtesyI am assigned to watch. Watching out for the thieves who come for the traditional stealing of lamps. It is a tradition to steal lamps and children find great fun in cheating the eyes of the watcher to steal a lamp. These lamps are not greatly money worthy. They are just mud lamps. Some people store them, well most people store the left ones, but do not worry if they break. Buying

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-82488350741421192902007-12-03T17:05:00.000Z2007-12-03T17:12:43.695Z

They are fighting. The whole street has gathered here. Yes I can see some are bothered. They are concerned only about how to end this, not about why and how this should happen in the first place or about any shame this display of drama brings. Words games are at their best. Everyone tries their hands at it. Have I told you these people are the best in playing with words and throwing questions for

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-88852580284515201262007-11-20T22:40:00.000Z2007-11-20T22:41:33.653Z

I am five years old and I am going to hospital. The doctor has told my mother I must have my tonsils out. I don’t know what tonsils are, but it seems doctors don’t like them.The hospital has very pretty gardens full of flowers and a gravel parking area that goes crunch crunch under my feet. Inside it smells very clean. The hospital is run by nuns. I’ve never seen a nun before. I don’t think they

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-33802108779081903682007-11-11T12:16:00.001Z2008-12-13T03:35:43.796Z

... Today is Remembrance Day, but today has other special meanings for me. Today is also "UDI" - the day Rhodesia declared its own independance, but - more personal and more important to my family - today is the day my grandfather chose to pass away. I say "chose" because I have no doubt he picked the timing deliberately, if not consciously.So, on this day I am commemorating all these things by

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-51692646624757045392007-11-08T12:35:00.000Z2008-12-13T03:35:44.127Z

Almost exactly two years ago (late October 2005) Prema asked me to join her on her blog Kombai. She was writing about her Indian childhood, from England, and I would be adding memories of my African childhood, from Scotland. In honour of our journey together (so far) I am posting this in both blogs.For two years we have compared very different childhoods and discovered that some truths truly are

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-80114621266276320402007-06-20T16:37:00.000+01:002007-06-20T18:02:30.828+01:00

Kombai has been tagged by Random Magus for being:"..an enchanting blog filled with nostalgia and a feeling of going home. The authors Premalatha and Michelle pull you into their life with the simple beauty and eloquence of their writing."Thank you Random! :-)In return prema and I will each be choosing five blogs that make us think.It was hard to choose only five! Here is my final choice of five

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-7915374620067302012007-06-20T15:25:00.000+01:002007-06-20T17:30:47.131+01:00

.Boo and Randum Magus have awarded me the thinking blogger award. Thank you both, first of all for giving me this award. I have been walking a few inches above the ground since I saw their posts linking my blog. I never thought Kombai stories will go this far. This encourages me to write more on Kombai.Five blogs that make me think would be:1. Madura: Her posts on sex education did a great good

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-3256901547202082322007-06-05T15:42:00.001+01:002007-06-20T17:46:45.354+01:00

Desigirl has tagged me. She doesn't know that I am a wrong person in her list. She can't be blamed, I have disguised her enough to make her believe that I am in her league. :-)I will try my best though.I don't know when I started reading books. Mostly to eascape from my school text books and/or to hide my inability to join the gossip club. I was always the kid in the corner reading "something"..

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-24341298531429520932007-06-01T09:55:00.000+01:002007-06-01T23:16:11.621+01:00

All my childhood lies in my grandmother's house. No matter where I am or what I remember, my mind takes me back to that house. It was, as I have said, the centre of the wheel for our entire family - aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbours and friends.. everyone met at my grandmother's house.If I close my eyes now.. I am there at the gate, hot African sun scorching down on white picket fences and

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-64076404338513975942007-05-07T11:23:00.001+01:002011-12-22T13:57:25.650Z

"So when are you going to write your letter?" my aunt asks, again.  I try to pretend she isn't there, but it's hard to make a grown-up disappear when you're eleven. She's been following me around my grandmother's house all day nagging me about this. I can't escape. I've told her three times now that Father Christmas doesn't exist, but every time I do she looks ready to cry and says things

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-23900027624348247442007-05-04T10:04:00.000+01:002007-05-04T10:22:57.742+01:00

Quite a few of you are landing here looking for my lobster story. Sorry, I have to redirect you. Go here for the English version, and go here for the Tamil version.

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-43205301031005690072007-04-20T10:05:00.001+01:002010-08-10T08:49:09.630+01:00

(It's been awhile since I've written here. Real life got in the way too much. Hopefully this year I will have more time.)Going home..I haven't thought about that in a long long time, but last weekend my husband found Google Earth and we spent the whole weekend looking down on my old hometown, Bulawayo, Zimbabwe. I showed him the school I went to. How to get from my grandmother's house to mine. My

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1172855788514074462007-03-02T17:14:00.000Z2007-03-02T17:16:28.533Z

Mother-daughter relationship. Emily Gilmore, Lorelai Gilmore and Rory Gilmore. Very beautiful Drama. I now own a complete pack of all five seasons. Six DVDs for each season. (It is Balan’s idea of gift. How sweet. Don’t know the occasion though. Now he is searching for Judging Amy, all six seasons, and the sixth season Gilmore girls).I enjoy sharing. So, don’t hesitate if you would like to

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1172689797010405172007-02-28T19:08:00.000Z2007-02-28T19:37:06.476Z

My blogger account could not be switched to the new version (one or more of your blogs cannot be switched to new blogger). The help page was not very helpful. Can someone help me please. thanks.

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1171933476969341382007-02-20T01:02:00.000Z2007-02-20T01:27:56.760Z

PS: Video quality degraded at youtube

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1171292209911665082007-02-19T18:43:00.000Z2007-02-19T21:35:04.823Z

Windchill woke me up. The knotted hair flying all over the place, pain in the back of the head reminding me of the iron bar on which I rested my head to sleep slipped away from occupying my mind in just a few minutes. It is the green paddy fields. Early morning wind fast by my face, farmers and crows.. I am suddenly alerted by the need to realise the town the bus is heading to or the towns the

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1171879221903610882007-02-19T09:47:00.000Z2007-02-19T19:02:01.293Z

Note at the end of the videa that I am a chithi myself (that is, I have a niece myself)

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1171633107557661812007-02-16T13:20:00.000Z2007-02-19T15:33:28.933Z

I like Maruthaani (Henna) on fingers than on the nails and like the big nice round inside on the palm. I like at least one inch or if I can get more share for myself, I like to apply for two inches on fingers. I have nice long fingers. Well, except those old-lady-like-veins that I inherited from my aachchi. Fingers will look like dancer’s fingers tomorrow. I will suddenly change too girlie. I

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1170574060746007052007-02-04T07:11:00.000Z2007-04-16T08:21:37.530+01:00

It was a flying visit. Managed to take a few photos to record few moments. Recorded the Kombai/Chennai/Coimbatore pictures in UK time and came back to UK and recorded the snow pictures in Indian time.Thaththa has become a picture.Chiththithe face changed home of mineour new house in kombaiChevaththa puliyamaram looks shorter and fatter after 30 years. It has got some green-tamarind trees as

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1168943250324943972007-01-16T09:29:00.000Z2007-01-16T11:32:41.713Z

Yesterday went quiet, other than mother's usual running around and shouting at us to eat every meal at right time so that she can cook the next one. We had Sarkaraip pongal (rice pudding prepared with sugarcane-jaggery) yesterday. I am not a fan of sweet items. :( Amma and Velthai chithi were telling that yesterday was the day for the mankind and today is the day for the cattlekind. Bulls and

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1168678598572136752007-01-13T08:53:00.000Z2007-01-13T13:16:43.836Z

“Have you bought Kaappuk kattu”? Periyamma (mother’s elder sister-like) asks mother. “Muthu has gone to buy”. Mother answers. Chithi never goes to buy anything but for kaappukkattu chithi always runs to take the job. It is the festive mood she likes I suppose. Chithi is back. All smiling. “Akka, I have bought kaappukkattu. It was difficult. You know. Not many bunches were being sold. They say

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1167427003213838422006-12-29T21:12:00.000Z2006-12-30T15:15:07.513Z

To all,Happy new year to you all. May this year bring all your wishes true. Premalatha and Balan.

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1167003813601417182006-12-24T23:26:00.000Z2007-04-16T08:22:30.016+01:00

Hi Visitor,This is for you. Merry Christmas. This was the white christmas we had in Scotland in the year 2004. The person in the above picture is a friend of ours. you can see him going crazy in the next picture.The moon (or was it the sun?) so poorly in the following one.Our friend did a nice job of shaking our picture. It is Balan and I in the following picture.Merry christmas and Happy new

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1164819512948440352006-11-29T16:55:00.000Z2006-11-29T18:56:20.370Z

MeenaI look around. Hope no one noticed me. Just a quick look back down the road. Yeah. I see his legs. He is still following me. He doesn’t live in my street. To his home, there is another straight route. But he still comes in this route. Also I see him waiting in that corner and following after me everyday after school. I go to my teacher’s house for tuition. I am bit relieved that he doesn’t

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1151008123780171772006-11-29T14:17:00.000Z2006-11-29T17:03:16.673Z

This is the best I could do now. not 100% satisfied. Will certainly change it later.I am actually interested in using this template but, want to change the ocean for the goat-village picci I had as header before. I know it was a dark-shade picci, I can play around to bring the tone/color together. But I need photoshop (and time) to add screengirl and goat-village. Until then, it is the "

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1162055363791921122006-10-28T18:08:00.000+01:002006-10-29T17:10:56.400Z

Preethi“Hey, run, run”. Raji is shouting. “We are going to miss the bus otherwise”. Bus arrived right in time. We had to really rush to get in the bus. It is alright today. Doesn’t look too crowded. Did do a sneak peek back to see if he is there today too. He always waits there. Purple tinted white shirt. Must bee regal blue his mother uses. Momma’s boy. Does your mother know your this particular

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1161858709299094292006-10-22T11:00:00.000+01:002006-11-29T17:00:35.796Z

MeenaI look around. Hope no one noticed me. Just a quick look back down the road. Yeah. I see his legs. He is still following me. He doesn’t live in my street. To his home, there is another straight route. But he still comes in this route. Also I see him waiting in that corner and following after me everyday after school. I go to my teacher’s house for tuition. I am bit relieved that he doesn’t

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1155906012554738432006-08-18T13:33:00.000+01:002007-06-13T13:32:36.181+01:00

We are going to see the chevaththa puliyanga tree today. Last week kutti brought us some chevaththa puliyanga. It was not sour at all. Very sweet and, my gawd sooo red. I applied on my lips. We all did. It did not stay, but we had it until we finished eating the puliyanga, which was until evening, btw by the way. We all were giggling and running all over the street. Kutti has promised us to show

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1152798320250431002006-07-13T14:44:00.000+01:002006-07-17T08:13:06.030+01:00

Senthil's story.Appa and his family secret and our mushroom hunting! I love mushroom hunting. I do like to eat mushrooms as well. Mushroom fry is my favourite. Mother prepares it very well. I love it. But early morning waking up? Nah. Well, I do like it after we have reached the fields. But waking up is not my favourite part. Father doesn’t get that this is still midnight and not early morning.

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1152795629663165112006-07-13T13:56:00.000+01:002006-09-04T07:53:06.653+01:00

Left left jump. Right right jump. One two three four. Left left jump and right right jump. A jump and a run, a jump and a run… Right crunch. One two three four. Left crunch. One two three four… “Why are you breathing so heavily? Did you run to come here? It was after all kurusamy maama’s shop. Not that far”, inquisitive mother wants to know. “She has been jumping and running all the way from the

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1150894001538807672006-06-21T13:43:00.000+01:002006-06-22T12:07:38.386+01:00

to wordpress. Have deleted all those off topic posts from this blog. This blog will remain exclusive for the home town and the four grils theme from now on. Just this post will remain for reference.Can someone tell me how to add a team member in wordpress, please (these days this word please has gone out of my system without my consent, sorry. Thank God, atleast, this word sorry is still living

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1149169815652092602006-06-01T14:47:00.000+01:002006-08-26T13:37:26.330+01:00

Meena“Come here, come here, pray. Bring the palms together, close your eyes and pray. Yes, pray for good health for your grandparents, pray for good job for your father. Pray for a good future for yourself. Pray. Please apply some thiruneeru (holy ash) on her forehead, Priest”.***************************Preethi“Eh, come here. What are you doing so naughty. Pray. Hold, pchch, hold your palms

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1147191289686718922006-05-09T17:04:00.000+01:002006-10-10T16:18:43.610+01:00

It is hot. Spinning columns of dry mud all around us. On hearing something grrrrrr, Murugan shouts, “Dey, Palarampatty bus is coming. Bus is coming”. We all pause. Wiping the dry mud around our eyes and mouth, and me being a girl, I hurriedly adjusted the tucked skirt to fall free. I couldn’t see anything on the left. Nothing on the right either. We are at a T-junction where a ohdai (gully) meets

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1146668762086685772006-05-03T15:51:00.000+01:002006-05-03T17:18:38.170+01:00

MeenaLong day. Mmmhhhhmmm… “Meenu, come here da. Where is your mother? Still in the kitchen?" shakes head. "I want you to study well and become something really big. You should not depend on others. I don’t want my daughter working like a servant maid in the name of a daughter in law in somebody else house. I want you to be independent. You should study well and get a good job for that. You

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1145451791742854142006-04-19T13:55:00.000+01:002006-04-21T20:00:49.333+01:00

Meena“Did you warm the banana leaves before packing the food?” – mother in law.Looking for the comb, there comes another question, “Where is my watch?” – Husband.“Give me a towel, paappaa has vomited on me” – granddad with granddaughter.All dolled up. Jimikki, new neck chain, new anklet, new skirt… too big though.. comes on the way when trying to run.. Jalak Jalak anklet, jiljiljiljil when I

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1144761854342143302006-04-11T14:09:00.001+01:002006-04-21T20:14:15.836+01:00

Meena:Play time. Neighbour’s boy is the senior. “Teach her how to use your key-car. No, no, don’t give it to her. Just show her how it goes. Yaay. Clap, clap. Very nice". Sitting on mother’s lap, having neighbour-brother to guide, Smile.PreethiPlay time. “She is a brat. She does not listen to anyone. It is very difficult with her these days”. Proud words, coated or not, very clearly proud.

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1144684574504254872006-04-10T16:22:00.000+01:002007-02-15T20:38:09.910Z

This photo was taken when the Ther (chariot) was just in front of our lane. If you take a right turn just after (behind) the Ther, (just behind that little yellow chimney) that is my lane. My house is there at the end of that lane..The photo shows a part of the North street. In the front end of the North street is our temple. Ther has almost finished its rounds, and is going to take rest at the

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1143297371525383332006-04-06T14:27:00.000+01:002006-04-27T20:05:00.210+01:00

Meena:“Did you keep that food in front of God to get his blessings”? “Yes, athhai (mom-in-law)” First solid food. It is just rice, well cooked. “Ewww. Plain rice?” Neighbour’s kid questions. “No. no. There is little salt in rice. Paappa (babygirl) doesn’t eat spicy. It will be too hot for her. She is so small isn’t she? You also ate like this when you were like her”. Mix well with little lentil,

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1143816297982385352006-04-05T11:21:00.000+01:002006-04-27T20:00:19.466+01:00

Meena“Wake up, wake up. She is crying. Feed her”. Grandmother shakes the sleepy mother. “She is not drinking. May be she is not hungry”. “She IS hungry. Just feed her right”. Crying continues. “Switch the lights on, if you feed her in the dark, why won’t she cry?” Grandfather wakes up. Milk in the mouth and those glaring bright lights confused.Preethi“Wake up, wake up. She is crying. Feed her”.

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1143293622404116352006-03-30T08:45:00.000+01:002006-04-27T19:59:26.843+01:00

“You are blessed with a girl”. The nurse announces. “It’s all right. It’s all right. Don’t worry, don’t worry. After all this is the first child. She will be very helpful to her mother when she grows up”. Sad faces convince each other. “How’s my daughter? Is she alright?”, only the mother asks. “She is not awake yet. She is alright”. Some relief.“Have you decided on a name”? The priest asks. This

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1143208691536844882006-03-24T13:55:00.000Z2006-10-09T13:09:29.963+01:00

Part5-Maavilakku-1 Part4-Mulappaari Part3-The games Part2-The Shops Part1-The AnnouncementPrescript: Senthil is the central character in this post“Dei, have you booked a terrace”? Murugan is the man of resources in our group. “What for”? “How are you going to watch maavilakku today”? “Loosu, there is no fun in watching maavilaaku from terrace. I toldya, don’t include these school-going makku (

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1143132177480210222006-03-23T16:19:00.000Z2006-03-24T17:33:50.976Z

Part6-Maavilakku-2 Part4-Mulappaari Part3-The games Part2-The Shops Part1-The AnnouncementMaavilakku starts in the same way as mulappaari. That is, servaar thaaththa takes karakam and leads maavilakku. But, girls take mulappaari from temple and wait for the karakam there. But as maavilakku gets ready at home, in every street/lane they start in their street/lane and join the procession led by

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1142614700552072252006-03-17T16:42:00.000Z2006-03-17T17:06:39.000Z

Compettion went well the other day. I don’t know who won the competition. Was it me, all those aachchi’s stories reminding to be “fair” all the time, giving each girl her fair turn (boys suck, they don’t know any answer btw), and getting bad name from each girl when the turn goes away from each girl? Was it Anandi, no, no, she doesn’t give a damn about being “fair”.. Was it every one of us,

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1142532134175358192006-03-16T17:29:00.000Z2006-03-23T16:57:32.876Z

I am looking for a good picci for my next maavilakku post. Maavu (rice paste) is pasted onto the surface of the kudam (ellipse and those badly drawn black lines), on which akal vilakku (kuzhiyanchatti) is fixed, then oil is filled, thread is placed and lighted. Also, top of the kuththuvilakku is placed on the mouth of the kudam, again using maavu (rice paste) to fix it. oil (ground nut oil) is

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1142166294706107202006-03-12T12:20:00.000Z2006-10-09T12:56:58.570+01:00

Part6-Maavilakku-2 Part5-Maavilakku-1 Part3-The games Part2-The Shops Part1-The AnnouncementI like watching servaar thaththa taking karakam. No, no, it is not the karakam you think. Karakam is the one that leads mulappaari, maavilakku or any such procession for that matter. It is like a small ther (chariot) without the pulling things, carried on head. Kudam (a type of pot used to carry water

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1141395648095392532006-03-03T14:14:00.002Z2009-12-13T09:58:40.928Z

Prescript: A pretty lengthy post. I promise I will make it worth your time. Thanks.All same, two eyes, two hands, two legs, perhaps a better brain, unfortunately an additional pair of breasts.I feel very proud about how I have come so far. Every time I feel that whatever I was so happy about until that time have become just nothing in comparison to whatever I was happy about at that time. Where

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1140881629688244992006-02-25T15:32:00.000Z2006-10-09T01:04:42.996+01:00

Part6-Maavilakku-2 Part5-Maavilakku-1 Part4-Mulappaari Part2-The Shops Part1-The Announcement I hear a loud voice outside, laughing and saying something. I run out to see what it is. It is Easvaran chiththappa. He is all soaked in oil and water. Thank God it is not his new clothes. He is laughing very proudly. Looks like he has won some game. Maattukkaara pattaiya is shouting and he too

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1140827826747015252006-02-25T00:29:00.000Z2006-02-25T00:37:06.770Z

It's early morning in late summer in South African and I'm on my way to my graduation. It is going to be a very hot day. Already the air is shimmery and full of the noise of Christmas beetles (Cicadas). My family are going to the ceremony to watch me. My parents and my grandparents.We reach the college and there are friends already waiting for me on the steps. I have come from out of town so I

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1140528557723467372006-02-21T13:26:00.000Z2006-10-07T13:40:12.733+01:00

Part6-Maavilakku-2 Part5-Maavilakku-1 Part4-Mulappaari Part3-The games Part1-The Announcement Murugeswari akka is waiting for me. I am negotiating my pocket money from my mother. “how much do you want”, “amma give me more” "don’t buy anything else. Buy just bangles and comeback. Murugeswari, just get her bangles and come back ok?” “OK chithi”, my mother is chithi for her. We are going to the

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1140024841522928492006-02-15T17:11:00.000Z2006-02-18T19:58:05.026Z

Ambiga teacher does not want Anandi and I to be in the same team as the results will be skewed. So she has dropped the idea of having girls team vs. boys team for the competition. Yesterday she announced that today is going to be the competition day. We are all excited. first of all, there won't be any class today. secondly, it is fun. loads of fun. :-)"when teacher?" girls ask our teacher. "Go

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1139859613083397902006-02-13T19:39:00.000Z2006-02-21T05:59:49.763Z

If I take you away from your birthland and set you down in a strange country. If I take away your home and your family connections, your childhood friends and your favourite relatives.Who are you?If I take away your religion, your culture. The way you speak and the language you are speaking. Your slang and your traditions, your superstitions..Who are you?If I take your style of dressing, Your

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1139833314982862772006-02-13T12:08:00.000Z2006-10-07T13:37:51.390+01:00

Part6-Maavilakku-2 Part5-Maavilakku-1 Part4-Mulappaari Part3-The games Part2-The Shops They have announced it today. They always do it a week before the festival. The festival itself is celebrated during the last week of the Panguni month, which is the last month of the Tamil calendar. That is the tradition. The temple kottukkaarar (drummer), who is the official announcer, has been to all streets

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1139659469486144372006-02-11T11:48:00.000Z2006-09-11T17:25:43.343+01:00

I like our night time terrace. After dinner, I like to spend time there. It is the place I sit quietly and think. All confusing uncorrelated, incoherent thinkings. They start somewhere take me around somewhereelse and finish somewhereelse, when they finish, if they do finish, I have often had tough time in remembering the starting point for all these cyclic thoughts I have had. Today I am with

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1138898986023625092006-02-02T16:31:00.000Z2006-09-06T23:54:01.570+01:00

I insisted on wearing thaavani, you know, I insisted. It was not my parents, but I asked for it. It is my upbringing that is, I come from such a family of very good people, that the moment I felt the lumps (paatti told me that this is not a disease but normal lumps girls get at this age), I decided that I will wear thaavani. I am not the kind of girl who wears all those tops with frills to cover

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1138800509767584062006-02-01T13:09:00.000Z2006-09-10T01:28:49.686+01:00

Kavitha is the popular girl in our class. Her friend circle is the popular circle as well. They are from same school from first standard. One of their mother is our PET teacher. Sudha she is. She also is a dancer. We, the tamil medium to English medium gang, we have our own circle too. It is like the middle class life. Myself, Chandravadhana, S. Premalatha (another Premalatha), Latha (this is

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1138200036161119742006-01-25T14:39:00.000Z2007-05-10T14:37:48.643+01:00

My mother is shaking me. "Wake up! Wake up! It is time to get up. " At first my brain doesn't understand. How can it be time to get up? It is still night outside.Then I remember. We are going on holiday! My first holiday! And I am going to see the sea. I was too excited to sleep last night, but somehow I must have because now the house is all lit up in the middle of the night and it is happening.

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1138100078281988822006-01-24T10:49:00.000Z2006-01-24T10:54:38.300Z

I like Maargali. The water was very cold. I like cold hair. I like early morning. Fresh. It smells all jasmine when you go near any girl, particularly in Maargali, as they all wear jasmine. I don’t wear flowers. I don’t like. I feel uncomfortable when they go dying and dry. They look sad. I do like them when they are fresh. But I don’t know when is the right time to take it off so that they never

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1136570922706627822006-01-06T17:24:00.000Z2006-09-10T14:44:46.773+01:00

Servaar thatha's daughter in-law always wakes up first and cleans her vaasal before anybodyelse does. It is believed that whosover does this daily ritual first, gets to invite the God into their home first. So, she makes sure she brings God every day to her home. The ritual consists of sweeping the vaasal, and sprinkling cowdung-mixed-water on the vaasal. You should do without leaving any gap.

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1135104976513674332005-12-20T18:47:00.000Z2006-09-10T00:56:48.796+01:00

That one, you know, that one, is that tamarind tree in which that ghost lives, they say. I don’t know whether I would go there; I don’t need to. It is not on the way to the farm I am going now. Is it 12noon? I don’t know. I didn’t check before leaving. I forgot. I feel little uncomfortable in my stomach. I look at the sun. It is almost just above my head. Seeing the sun’s position, it looks that

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1133865053134025532005-12-06T10:27:00.000Z2006-10-07T11:02:37.203+01:00

First time in a school trip. No, it is not my school trip. Chithi’s. She works as a teacher in a different school. I study in the best school, my Chithi says. She even had to fight with her bosses to enrol me in my school, and not enrolling in her school. I have never been on a school trip or school cinema or anything outside my school. Once my father caught me in shop, buying coffee. I

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1133286407940493102005-11-29T17:44:00.001Z2010-08-10T08:50:54.341+01:00

I am 14 years old and my mother's aunt and uncle are coming to visit. I've never met them. They are my mother's father's family - the Scottish Dutch side. My mother has cleaned the house for their visit and I've helped. We have swept and polished and dusted and now the house is beautiful and clean, but we are filthy. My mother is panicking because she wanted to wash and change into clean clothes

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1133201692376137912005-11-28T17:56:00.000Z2005-11-29T08:17:28.896Z

Kallaatta kallapparuppaatta… We all are shouting together. It is a game, very interesting one. Very tricky too. We can play this game with any number of girls; the number just has to be even as we need to divide us into two groups. Sometimes we don’t mind having unequal number of girls, as we can not say no to any girl if the gathering happens to be an odd number in total.Except our group leader

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1132581802014088952005-11-21T13:20:00.000Z2005-11-22T18:59:32.023Z

I am upset. Malar was like a star today. When she comes to our class, everyone wants to be friends with her. I am a kind of looser with this name, no any other person has. Whenever Shanthi is referred, they allways ask me, which Shanthi? Then I tell them which Shanthi she is. There are two Shanthis in my class. But, there is only one Rajalakshmi in my class, but still people ask me which

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1132226099232989322005-11-17T11:06:00.000Z2006-02-18T18:42:34.016Z

I was looking at Prema's name "KOMBAI - THE HOME TOWN" and it got me thinking. I have lived in several towns, but there's really only been one that felt like home - the town I was born in. And yet I've lived in some very nice places. I can't say my home town was prettier or bigger or had more shops. So why is it the place I still think of as "home"?What place do you think of when I say "home"? Is

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1131378606797084742005-11-07T15:44:00.000Z2006-10-07T10:04:04.443+01:00

Info: the next day to Diwali day is (was?) celebrated as muthaalamman festival, a festival of local Goddess, Muthaalamman. Senthil is wearing a mask. I am little shy to put the mask on and not sure why should I do it. I don’t do things that I don’t understand. Senthil is all that “enjoy” type and I am all that “why” type. So, there we are Senthil with his mask on and I, with my face as my face.

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1130580618422717862005-10-29T11:11:00.000+01:002007-11-08T12:31:32.210Z

Hello!Since Prema asked me to join here and write I thought maybe my first piece should be an introduction to who I am. The simplest would be to say "I am a mongrel". For a long time that worried me, but in recent years I've realised there's a lot of joy in being a mongrel.I was born in Africa in a British colony. At first I thought I was British. Well... for three years I WAS British, but then

Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02284595314525240584noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1130349907746123292005-10-26T19:00:00.001+01:002010-11-05T10:31:31.780Z

image courtesy wikimedia-kolamI am going to draw Kolam today. I have specially practised that new Kolam for this day. I have already bought kolappodi (finely powdered limestone, different type of limestone), when I went to buy whitewash-limestone from the kiln. Mother used the whitewash-limestone to whitewash the house. House looks all new, like wearing new clothes, like me. I went to the vaasal

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1130250574779647102005-10-25T15:18:00.000+01:002005-10-25T15:53:35.286+01:00

I have lost one reader (Michelle) when I gained her as the other contributor. I was feeling a bit down since then, because, she was the only regular reader I have had,....Well, well, until today. There was this email waiting in my inbox saying that how nice my post was. My post on Diwali made Sudha miss her Diwali. She wants to go home... Hope she enjoys a nice, home Diwali, unlike ours. Anyway,

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1129902796780095742005-10-21T14:19:00.001+01:002010-11-04T10:16:39.394Z

"Wake up, wake up". It is only 4 am. But I am excited. I wake up. The hot water is ready for me. I brush my teeth quickly. Then I take my new clothes out and look at them happily. I am going to wear them today, yaay!! I went to wash my hair and body. It is not bath, nor shower, but body wash by taking water from the bucket and pouring over the body. I like the smell of the green arappu. It is

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1129893672869255352005-10-21T12:13:00.000+01:002006-10-10T09:40:50.400+01:00

Yeaeay!!! This aunti and uncle play with me. Yeaeeey!!. I am going to bring my ball!! I jump and jump. “how are you, how are you.. what did you do this weekend.. what did you do this weekend… we went to zoo. Oh that must have been nice…. Oh yes, she particularly enjoyed it…. Oh yes, children like zoos. Don’t they…. She was talking all about it even after we have left the zoo… Do you remember she

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1129213646920498052005-10-13T14:46:00.000+01:002005-10-13T17:56:49.006+01:00

------------------------The letter aayutham ஃ ------------------------Saraswathi Poojaiபாலும் தெளிதேனும் பாகும் பருப்புமிவைநாலும் கலந்துனக்கு நான் தருவேன் கோலம்செய்துங்கக் கனிமுகத்து தூமணியே நீ எனக்குசங்கத்தமிழ் மூன்றும் தா.(I don't know whether I remember this song correct. so please correct me, if any of you know this song).There is a pile of packed books in front of Saraswathi. One of

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1128685047147398602005-10-07T12:06:00.000+01:002006-10-07T16:56:16.270+01:00

I was angry. I am very hungry. If they stop talking I can pretend I have calmed down and can eat. Food is served and is sitting just in front of me. "Are you going to eat or not?". There you go. I can't eat for some more time now. "I don't want food". "Will you let it go?", mother tells me. "What do you mean let it go, I didn't do that. How can you blame me and make me look like a bad girl", "

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1128514839277989322005-10-05T12:37:00.000+01:002005-10-05T14:21:40.523+01:00

I hear thatha's loud voice..."Lathaaaaaaaa.....". It is coming from the woods.. I can see him now. oh, oh, he is going to fall. No. he balanced. He saw me too. I ran towards him. I wanted to tell him how upset i am.. I held his legs, "thatha".He took me and held me. I rested my head on his shoulder. I am safe now.."where did you go", thatha asked me. That confused me. He seemed upset too. He

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1128449448831223132005-10-04T19:08:00.000+01:002005-10-04T20:44:18.323+01:00

Let her come today. Bommai her name is. She comes everyday. Mother likes her. Mother feeds her too. That too giving our food. I have to eat myself. She brings a little doll with her. She is very fair. Mother tells that she is beautiful looking. All I get from my mother is “behave yourself”, “you are ugly”, “you look like your father”, “you are adamant like your periyaachchi”…and what not. Bommai

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1127919564498346232005-09-28T15:57:00.001+01:002011-02-07T14:18:10.984Z

I rushed home from school. Someone from home interrupted my some class and told me that periyaachchi has passed away. I just saw her on the way back to school after lunch. She asked have I had my lunch. I said, yes, I had lunch and I was late to school so, I gave her a flying look and was running. I saw her standing in the middle of the road watching me running to school, for few minutes, before

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1127908072636118952005-09-28T12:45:00.000+01:002005-10-08T09:52:31.956+01:00

I like to sing and jump and dance when I am alone. The area around my house is generally my favourite place. As everyone goes to work in the estate, leaving myself and periyaachchi, I am generally alone dancing, singing and running around. I can climb guava trees. “aachchi, give me that hook, I want to pluck guava fruits”.. “Don’t climb trees, you might fall. Wait, let me come”. She comes with a

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1127854876487165472005-09-27T21:31:00.001+01:002011-02-07T14:21:24.232Z

It was raining. I like rain in our estate. Periyaachchi was preparing my favourite black coffee and roasted peanuts. Thatha was sitting on the cot covering himself with a blanket. "come inside, come inside Lathapillai". Sitting inside the blanket with thatha hugging me, having my hot black coffee with roasted peanuts, watching that choooooo rain... mmm very nice..Place :- Puliyamalai, Kerala. Age

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1127772648456137252005-09-26T23:09:00.000+01:002005-10-08T09:51:34.103+01:00

Aachchi means maternal grandmother. Periyaachchi means elder sister to maternal grandmother. My periyaachchi was not only the elder sister to my aachchi, she was also another-aachchi for me, as she was living with us and she was just another member of our family. Somebody told me that she was married off to someone in Thevaaram (nearby village), and she even went there to live with him. He soon

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17142635.post-1127747935263514042005-09-26T15:49:00.000+01:002006-09-11T01:29:50.356+01:00

Against all my voices telling me not to do, I have successfully started my own blog.As, all the "premalatha" options have been taken, I was forced to choose "kombai". Here you go, Kombai is stuck with me forever.Right..I am still not sure what am I going to do with this blog.. Hope I will be able to figure out before my next post. There are few things I am thinking, mainly the "don'ts" than the "

Premalathahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02741047367535557036noreply@blogger.com8