Diary of a Whacky Girl

Dearest Athi, It's been 3 years since you stepped into this world, and boy, time flies. You are no longer that squishy-squashy tiny goofball, but a fully blown young toddler, with a mind and choices of his own.  This year, you started school. It sure was a testing time for me as you took 2 months to settle. There'd be the going inside whimper, sudden cries in between the class time remembering us, coming out and checking if were waiting outside the gate - so many different portrayals and iterations of separation anxiety. Phew! I was tired. But then, slowly you came to terms with the scenario and started enjoying going to school. And now, you have your own set of friends, sing a lot of songs that you listen and learn there.  If there is one thing that has been a constant since the beginning, it's definitely got to be your love for drums. There were quite a few wedding events that we attended this year where you were inseparable from the Thavil and Nadaswaram musicians. It so

My earliest memory of Margazhi traces back to when I was around 8 or 9 years old. Every morning when I used to go to Hindu Tuition, I'd be glancing the kolams in front of each house and decide on who had the best kolam of the day. I'd come back home and dutifully report about the winner to anyone who'd listen and urge them to go see it! The colours, the strokes and the perfection of it all together fascinated me.  Margazhi colour kolams were a tradition in our home too, but in a slightly different schedule. Given that Amma was working and had to start to work as early as 6 in the morning, we'd put our kolams the previous night. Amma would draw the kolam, while me and my brother would colour them, and Amma does a final touch up.  I still remember the almost-torn yellow-paged big book which had hand drawn kolams by paati. That would be our reference. My brother and I took turns on choosing the kolam for each day, but some of our choices were shunned by Amma because it was