Musings

The Recluse

2011-11-03T20:52:00.000-07:00

                    Niky ( nicknamed for NIkita ) was an unusual child. She brought immense joy for her father especially when she was born. Mom of course doted her. The thing was she was an ultra possessive child. Would wail if any 'uncle or auint' held her. Only her parents could calm her down. When she was two years or so, the family doctor had a hard time when he visited their house to check her mother who suffering from typhoid. The moment he held her wrist for checking the pulse, Nick started yelling. Deep down she was scared the doc would harm her mother. Her dad had to take her out for a walk to soothe her down. The family friends called her 'Touch me not'.
             Well. she grew up, excelled at school where she was a star, be it studies or any cultural activities. She was the leader leading teams for quiz, music, debate and other competitions. At home she was a recluse. Her mom worried a bit about her. She was unlike her brother who had to blurt out everything that happened at school. Nick wouldn't like if her mom asked questions about what happened at school. She had her own mind which showed up right from the day she started pre-school and this irked her mom at times. Nick never mixed up with the family friends or relatives. There were just two or three cousins whom she was very much attached to, and their parents were her favourite uncles and aunts. Of course she loved her granny to the hilt. That's it. After her parents and brother, she doted on this lot. The strange thing was she didn't have friends all through her school years. Her mom wondered why she was unlike other girls, not giggling or engaging in gossips or interested in clothes or parties. One would find her engrossed in books all the time instead. When her mother wanted help she would clean and dust the house and keep it spic and span. She loved to do the rooms. Dishes / laundry not her cup of tea. Cooking..no, she only loved to do special dishes like 'pulav' or 'carrot halwa' and the likes which took on her mom's nerves because she would lavishly use ghee and oil. She couldn't compromise when she had to cook and the days she cooked, it was a mother / daughter battle field. In short the two women were opposites.
                      Nick just didn't like the womanly talks..like this for example, between her mom and the neighbourhood aunt: ' Rama ji, my dishes are left undone. The maid hasn't come yet. I don't know what to cook for lunch. Its a big question as to what to cook for the three big meals on a daily basis. I have kept milk for boiling and now I thought let me have a chat with you. Have to rush back to add the curd to the milk bowl. Ganesh wants thick curd you know.' 'eegh ! Oogh ! no no no no. I don't want to be doing those talks ! God save me !' thought Nick. She just couldn't fathom her image like her mom or the hundreds of aunts around. She loved the way her school principal managed the school affairs. Then when she went to college she just adored the college principal. She wanted to be that. Her paternal aunt was one of her role models because she was a princi too. Why her sweet granny was a Nursery school headmistress ! Hmm ! the teacherhood sort of ran in the blood.
                  Her class boys didn't interest her though she gorged on Mills and Boons. Oh ! she and her cousins could get engrossed in those novels the whole day. Well like all girls she did get married and found herself cooking like her mom and sometimes mouthing the same dialogues she detested. The difference was she had a job, a niche for herself unlike her mom who was not allowed to work. She kept to her own now also, in the new adopted home. As much as she adored her family she couldn't help being the recluse she was.

Mr. Saxena

2011-06-03T20:55:00.000-07:00

                        Well, he had two sons and a beautiful daughter. He worked for a reasonably large company, earning enough to provide for his family few luxuries like occasional long distance drives, eating out at select restaurants and the likes. He also entertained guests at home. His wife was a typical homemaker, with her mind totally occupied with her children, husband and of course the house.
                    She had been in her younger days, a very bubbly girl thinking she owned the world. But then 'love' took away that ownership. She liked Manoj whose sister was her friend. The sister would go on endlessly about her brother, how he took care of the family, being the eldest. How after the death of their father, he had taken up the responsibility. Maya of course, was smitten by 'Manoj tales as well as himself'. She used to watch tons of films and old Hindi movies were all about the girl yearning to soak up her hero's sorrow like a sponge and provide him with cushions of happiness in return. And that prevailed in her mind when they got married. However the post marital bliss, like it does eventually, faded off. Reason ? The very responsible nature of Manoj now got on her nerves. Moreover he didn't allow her to work and so she who dreamed in her college days of being 'the working woman with bundle of notes shuffling in the purse', was reduced to housework. She loved her kids and she loved her home/husband enough to sacrifice her 'career ambitions'.
                Mr. Manoj Saxena, because of his position in the family demanded authority. No one dare disobey him in the family. And he was finicky about how the house was kept. He would walk into the kitchen to find dust on the mixer or the dirt on the switches..He would tell Maya to keep them clean. He would help her too occasionally. But then there would be lectures on how to manage cooking/cleaning/bringing up kids etc. He loved to watch the movies, catch up on sports-stock market-current news etc in the thing called TV, read half a dozen newspapers...daily. He kept the details of every expenditure in the house. He managed his finances well. In short he was methodical and was right most of the times like all 'Men of the house'.
                 Scene change. Both sons get married and the daughter too. The daughter getting married was painful. Two Software professionals in the form of daughter in laws plus his own sons in good positions..what more could he ask for. He retired. Maya was happy taking care of the kitchen while the young generation went out to work. Breakfast in the Saxena house hold was a hurried affair. Riddhi, Mira would gulp down the cereals before they left for work while the sons would eat mom made breakfast. The girls weren't sold on the elaborate breakfast ritual. Mr. Saxena felt disappointed. He would have breakfast with his wife later. Actually she thought he should be happy as they both got to eat together. Not him...because he thought the world about his sons. Though his sons were very loving, they now had 'wives' in their lives.
               Maya and Manoj left for a trip to Simla, with some of their friends for two weeks. The children dropped them off at the airport and came back to the house for a lavish party at home with food and drinks ordered from their favourite restaurants. Oh ! what fun ? Being able to operate your own house felt good thought Riddhi and Mira. Both of them cooked for their husbands, hired a full time maid in the house to help them with the chopping/cutting/kneading/grinding work plus the dusting and the laundry work. Well, the husbands were happy to see their wives happy and secretly felt proud that their wives worked, yet cared enough to keep up the house.
                     Mr. Saxena came back from a fun filled trip to a house he didn't recognise. The furniture had been shifted in the drawing room, curtains changed...His room was left untouched. He was furious but didn't show. Maya's kitchen had turned topsy turvy. What were these girls upto ? They decided to have a word with their sons. The guys had something else to say,' Ma / Pops, cummon, let them do what they want, after all this is the beginning of their married life. If they are ready to take up the responsibility, let them...and you two relax. Enough of running the household all these years. Now we will take care of you. So just chill ok ?' And they went off to their respective bedrooms. 'Relax'..Actually that should have sounded musical to Mr. and Mrs. Saxena but strangely it didn't. No they didn't want to relax. They had run this house all these years and how could they be deprived of it ? Both had a long discussion that night. It was time for their sons and daughter in laws to run their houses too. Maya and Manoj had never felt lighter after they made a decision that night.
                At the dinner table the next day, Mr. Saxena wrote two cheques for both of his sons. He wanted both of them to buy a 1 BHK apartment. That's all he could afford to give them right now. They could start their marital lives in an entirely new set up. Riddhi and Mira could have whatever arrangements they wanted. The children were thrilled with this unexpected surprise and no wonder Maya and Manoj were two most admired persons in their lives ! Their sister too after having a short stint in the joint family, was now shifting to her own apartment.

The Marathi Bram girl / Tam Bram Boy

2011-05-25T03:55:00.000-07:00

                              Swati entered the Narayanan household, a brand new Marathi Brahmn bride now married to Srihari, a Tamil Bramhin and her long time beau.
                  It was a picture perfect wedding at Pune with mixture of both side rituals but of course with little confusion here and there. Like for instance when the groom's side landed at the wedding premises, Laxmi and Narayan (Srihari's parents), were amused to see the board outside the hall. It read, 'Purandare weds Narayanan'. Hari (as Shrihari was called), almost choked wondering whether it was him or his dad getting married !
                       The formal welcome ceremony over with the girl's side garlanding the groom's side, the 'Barat' entered the wedding hall. For the uninitiated, Marathi and Tam Brams are simpletons unlike the status conscious North/West Indians aka Punjabi's or Marwadi's, Gujarati's and likes. Mr. Narayanan was impressed, for one that the hall (anteroom) and its adjoining rooms had light pastel colours and were spic and span adorned attractively with roses and the breath taking scented jasmines unlike certain choultries in the south. All he needed now was 'Kapi', a must in the Tamil weddings where how soon coffee was served to the groom's side was an indicator of how well the wedding had been arranged. No 'Kapi' was even remotely seen around. Nevertheless it was arranged from a nearby 'Madrasi' restaurant and the groom's parents were satisfied. They were shown their rooms which had neat mattresses on the floor with sparkling white bedsheets. They were confused. Tam Bram orthodox prinicples scoffed at the bed being laid from the morning, i.e. on the floor. One was supposed to leave all footwear outside the room, wash feet and then sit on the floor mats, not mattresses. Anyways when they had compromised to have a non -Tamilian daughter in law, somewhere they had to begin. So the mattresses were rolled and floor mats laid out.
                 Time for pre-wedding day dinner. Very simple was all that came into their minds. Just one sweet !! How can one relish a wedding feast with just one sweet ? Down South in Bangalore, one had 'Paysam', 'Mysore Pak', 'Chirotee' to name a few. They thought may be in Marathi weddings, they dole out sweets on the wedding day. All of them had good sleep that night on the mattresses unlike certain weddings in the South where one had to make do with floor mats and pillows.Wedding day some of the rituals were similar. But the Southies missed the regular tea/kapi being served continuously throughout the wedding day by men in 'white panche' worn around the waist. The breakfast was ok followed by a disappointing lunch. Only one sweet, something called 'Srikhand' ? Of course there was post lunch 'Ice-cream' with various toppings but...authentic Indian sweets, cummon they are the best. Whatever happened to the 'Puran poli's' that they had heard about a lot ? Well o.k. they might all be reserved for the reception. And reception was lavish to their joy. The hot gulab jamuns were just yummy. The seasonal 'gajar ka halwa' satisfied the palate big time.
               Cut the story short, Swati, mentally prepared for the entirely different set up post marriage, started to settle in. Hari was the only Tamil friend she had, never having experienced Tamilians before. Well the language or the culture for that matter was the last thing on their minds when they dated. Wrong. She realised. She had not only married Hari but also the family and its rituals. She was lucky that his parents were broad minded and didn't force anything on her. She would see her in laws get up early in the morning, bathe and do puja the first thing. Various gods stared out of multi coloured photoframes that hung all around the walls of each room. What is with the Tamils she wondered ? Why do they need so many gods. Back home they had in the mandir few idols of prime gods like the Ganesha, Shiv etc. Ugh ! she didn't like the blue colour on the walls also. The house of her dreams was way beyond from where she had stepped into. Anyway Hari and herself would soon be leaving for Ahmedabad where he had a job.
                               She was shocked the next day to learn Hari had been re-located to Bangalore. 'Surprise wedding gift' said Hari to her. Well she had always liked Bangalore but contemplating living with 'Tamil in laws' at the beginning of her married life wasn't what she had in mind. She loved Hari's family though. So she got used to the daily 'thirpandi' (rangoli) which her MIL drew on the space in front of the house gate every morning at 6 am after sprinkling water on the cement. She couldn't imagine herself doing that day in and day out. She would soon be looking for job of course. Breakfast time and the MIL was taking out hot 'idlis' into a casserole. She asked Swati to pass on the 'tiffin plate' to Ravi her brother in law when she was thinking it was for her. She was famished. Back home 'aai' would make sure her daughter got to eat first. Well she reminded herself of her new status and she was supposed to serve wasn't she ? The next tiffin plate was handed over to her husband, then the father in law and then finally she got to eat. Nothing new..this, aai used to eat after she had served all but Swati had never given it a serious thought. Hmm ! she thought she'll outgrow all these silly things once life settled in. She woke up the next day to 'Suprabhatam' by MS. It was kind of pleasant only that it was a bit loud. She came out on the Patio to hear similar stuff in the surroundings. A morning jogger waved at her and she waved back and smiled. How little things brought smile to one's face, thought she as she returned to her bedroom to be confronted by her loving husband. She forgot all 'Tamil' stuff because the man she loved wasn't religion or culture or language. He was a good human being which was what mattered. Her in laws were also good human beings which was what mattered.

The Horoscope

2011-05-18T05:49:00.000-07:00

                    'Hey kav's what's up ?' said R, who had just entered the hostel room, throwing her clutch onto the corner table. Kavita had been looking out of the window for quite a time. Romi bent down in front of her, face to face, trying to capture the expressions. Not able to find any, she thundered,' Cummon K. Enough brooding. Either you need him for your life or you don't. Decide. Now.'
                            It was a strange story. Kavita had met Neel while she was pursuing her career in Medicine. Both went steady. Marriage was the obvious choice but both of them had delayed it on purpose. Both were too independent, had contemplated 'live in' but had decided against it. Instead why not let go a few more years before they could have each other 24/7...Somehow the idea of being together all the time didn't look all that appealing. Well finally the day arrived when both mutually agreed to tie the knot. Neel's mother preferred looking at the horoscope and to his horror, Kavita's horoscope didn't match at all. Not only that, the family pundit said that if Neel were to marry her, he would meet with an accident within an year of the marriage and would be no more. Neel wasn't convinced of course but after showing Kavita's horoscope to a dozen of astrologers, and all repeating the same fate, Neel was perturbed. Days had passed and Kavita sensed something was wrong but he wouldn't tell her. Once when they were having coffee at the Barista, he said calmly,' Kavita we can't get married'. She had been shattered of course. Her mind was covered with all kinds of 'why's'. She wasn't very good looking she knew but Neel knew it too. It was a connection that went beyond face or for that matter anything physical. How could Neel..her Neel- a software guy believe in such absurdities ? No no this can't be happening to her. She had lived in denial for quite a long time. But when Neel got married to another girl of his caste, the world had come to an end.
                         She was no longer herself. Bouts of depression, sickness had followed and she had slowly recovered with Romi's help. Romi had come into her life like fresh air and soaked up all the traces of gloom out of her life. Kavita had sprung back to her usual self, immersing herself in her work, patients, college, clinic. She never forgot Neel. Somewhere deep inside she knew she would have him. Five years had passed without Neel physically in her life. She came to know from a common friend that Neel's wife hadn't conceived. Well, though she listened anything even remotely connected to Neel, she managed to be composed and continued with life nevertheless, having forgiven him. She could never hate him. She would often quote the old song by Sudha Malhotra (Tum mujhey bhool bhi jao, tho ye hak hai tumko, meri baat aur hai mainey tho mohobbat ki hai) whenever Romi fumed. Life was strange indeed. It could go on without certain people whom the heart gets obsessed with.
                   One day at her clinic, she got a call and you might have guessed from who that was. It was Neel. While he spoke to her, she listened as if she was in a trance. He apologised for his stupid fear about the horoscope, said he repented everyday for the decision he had taken. Romi warned Kavita. But K wouldn't listen. Her Neel needed her. She had to know his story. She had to help him. And so phone calls continued and they started meeting too. He wouldn't leave his wife too. Romi's heart went out to her friend. She started praying thinking something divine could take care of this relationship. She even advised Kavita to ask Neel to get a divorce if at all he wanted to be with her again. Kavita wouldn't do that and so the 'staring out of the window sessions' continued. Romil thought, 'Today this has to end'. ' K, will you ask him to get a divorce?' 'No' said Kavita. Romil asked why and Kavita said she was o.k. being the support that Neel needed. What was wrong with that ? She could wait...till Fate decided something phenomenal otherwise life was o.k. as it was. She didn't believe marriage was the end of deep rooted relationship between a man and a woman. Things were fine. She pacified Romi

Someone forwarded this message....

2011-04-29T20:25:00.000-07:00

JUST A MUM?

A woman, renewing her driver's licence ,
was asked by the woman at Registry to state her occupation.

She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.

'What I mean is, ' explained the woman at Registry,
'do you have a job or are you just a ....?'

'Of course I have a job,' snapped the woman.

'I'm a Mum.'

'We don't list 'Mum' as an occupation,

'housewife' covers it,'
Said the recorder emphatically.

I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself

in the same situation..
The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised,
efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like,
'Official Interrogator' or 'City Registrar...'

'What is your occupation?' she probed.

What made me say it? I do not know.
The words simply popped out.
'I'm a Research Associate in the field of
Child Development and Human Relations.'

The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and
looked up as though she had not heard right....

I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words.
Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written,
in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.

'Might I ask,' said the clerk with new interest,
'just what you do in your field?'

Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice,
I heard myself reply,
'I have a continuing program of research,
(what mother doesn't)
In the laboratory and in the field,
(normally I would have said indoors and out).
I'm working for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the whole family)
and already have four credits (all daughters).
Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities,
(any mother care to disagree?)
and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it).
But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers

and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money.'

There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she
completed the form, stood up and personally ushered me to the door

As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career,
I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3.
Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model,
(a 6 month old baby) in the child development program,
testing out a new vocal pattern.
I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy!
And I had gone on the official records as someone more

distinguished and indispensable to mankind than 'just another Mum.'

Motherhood!

What a glorious career!
Especially when there's a title on the door.

Does this make grandmothers
'Senior Research associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations'
And great grandmothers
'Executive Senior Research Associates?
I think so!
I also think it makes Aunts.

Associate Research Assistants.'

Please send this to another Mum,
Grandmother,
Aunt,

And other friends you know.

May your troubles be less,

Your blessing be more,

And nothing but happiness come through your door!

The Lunch Box

2011-03-29T20:50:00.000-07:00

'Tara', said Navin, 'I want lunch box from tomorrow. The canteen fellow has changed and the food at the factory is totally unpalatable, with rumblings in my stomach as a side effect......'. He went on for a couple of minutes more about the apathy, the management had towards the employees. 'Goodness gracious ! he doesn't like his clothes being washed in the washing machine and now this...two tiffins already in the morning plus one more !!!', a voice shrieked deep inside Tara. Navin didn't like the mammoth device which just spinned the clothes making loud noise. The maid was much better washing the clothes, but nowadays the maids refused to 'do' the clothes too. Tara had tried washing his clothes but gave up soon as the housework and managing her two kids was more than enough. So Navin did it himself, but food in the morning...no no, that was Tara's department.
'Navin-the kids have to leave for school by 6.40 am. I have to prepare breakfast for all of us plus pack their four tiffins (short break and long break). Can't you do something about the canteen fellow ?' Navin was furious, 'Tara, your lot should be called woe-men. Why do you make cooking look like a mountanous task ? Just remember your mother while you were growing up'. 'Please Navin, not again, we have had discussions on this for quite a number of times.' 'Well then Tara, look at Ritu. She's like you, but she packs her son two tiffins and her husband lunch box plus makes breakfast for the entire family which includes her in-laws. Well as far as I know her, she didn't know cooking before marriage as it didn't interest her at all, as she was focussed on her career. At least that's what Ryan told me. In fact it was she who insisted Ryan take home made food as the canteen food couldn't be monitored especially the oil part, even though it was for executives'. Hmm ! lucky Ryan, sighed Navin. 'O sir jee, badee achchee lagney lagee padosan...(..the neighbour's wife is suddenly all the more interesting !) teased Tara. 'She has one son that's all, that means only two...'Stop it Tara', shouted Navin and stormed out of the house that day without breakfast or lunch box'. Tara felt miserable the whole day. Why did she behave in such a fashion ? She had asked herself this question many times but there was no answer. She was simply not interested in the morning hassles in the kitchen. She loved to wake up late and go to the gym, have a word or two with the gals there and do some shopping....I mean who wants to come back to a house full of work. Why can't the house be managed by an angel (like chachi 420?) and you could come home to a loving husband who was well all set to take you out. She was ready to take up a job too. She dozed off sitting on the sofa with these and much more of course pleasant thoughts. 'Om bhoor bhuvaswaha... rang the door bell and she woke up startled. Opening the door she found Ritu standing and smiling...'Oh ! the husband's perfect example of a wife, quipped her inner voice'. 'Hi Ritu ! come inside I just want to tell you what happened. They were great neighbours if not fast friends but basically they clicked. Had to, similar background..working husbands who didn't want their wives to work, kids at home, aging parents and parents-in-laws, house work, maid...and where were they ? They found themselves when they were together or with their lot. Ritu also shared her own experience if not a similar one and asked Tara to accept the fact that she is responsible for her husband's health who earns for the family. Tara felt light. What she like about Ritu was her wisdom inspite of her too independent nature. Ritu had unconventional ideas about life too. Anyway coming back to present, she vowed she would surprise Navin the next day with hot breakfast and home made lunch ready before he leaves.

Optimal Health

2011-03-14T23:16:00.000-07:00

            Not again, you would say...as if the newspapers, magazines, the TV etc. is not enough. However since I made a promise with myself to stick to Optimal Health, thought, would take you, the reader along. After all what matters is what a regular guy does to his own body (read brain) that he carries till he bids goodbye. When one can tolerate irate customers and many such kinds in job or business just because he knows the outcome-Money, why can't he afford to get uncomfortable with certain healthy practices ( try exercising regularly or control those mean helping of ice-cream that you are so used to).
                So what is Optimal Health ? It is the best health you are capable of, given your past and your genetic heritage (Dr. Duke Johnson, MD). It could also be defined as striking a right balance between physical, emotional and spiritual health. And it starts with (on a daily basis)
1. Right food ( complete with macro and micro nutrients) at right time.
2. Exercise.
3. 6-8 hours of adequate rest (sleep)
4. Supplements (Natural)
5. Positive Mental Attitude.
          With every aricle that one reads, screaming about Indians being pre-disposed to heart ailments thanks to the genes we carry, its high time we really take care of ourselves. We were 'Diabetes Capital' last year and we are heading towards becoming  'The Heart Attack Capital' by 2020. Will keep you posted on these issues..as I've got to rush.

Cerebration

2011-03-09T21:11:00.000-08:00

She had ordered a cuppa tea and was toying with the pen, tapping the table, often making imaginary designs. Her hand bag on one side of the table, palm holding the back of her head, elbow on the glass top, she rested with her legs stretched out. Had quietened the silly cell phone and was totally focussed on the clueless patterns she drew on the tissue. She often frequented 'The Siesta', her favourite joint. The mood there was just right...be it the mornings, noons or the evenings.

          Something pleasant blue was approaching the table in front of her. She looked up to see a man in formal blue attire, a bit bald at the back of his head, rest of it sprinkled with the dyed black hair, dark sunglasses, one of those expensive gadgets (an i pad or its avatar. she couldn't make out) in one hand, he casually deposited the car keys on the table. How quickly the mind takes it all, she mused. He caught her staring and she continued doing so for sometime before looking elsewhere. He appeared amused, perhaps hadn't attracted glances for quite a while, she thought. Just then half a dozen formally attired beings like him joined and the conversation drifted towards some business deal.

           She lost interest and thought about Sujit. He occupied her mind for the next 15 minutes or so. She had met him in one of the Military technical training institutes. She hardly had met anybody from the Army except the chance encounter with an Army officer while returning from Kolkotta. She usually kept to herself, preferring not to open up to strangers. But this guy had gotten her to talk somehow. She had become engrossed in the various missions/combats he narrated while posted at J and K borders. So fascinated was she by his narrative that when he told her about how he felt when he shot a terrorist at point blank range for the first time, she was completely thrown off ! How could he-a young, good looking, courteous man kill a person ? She tried imagining him with a revolver but that image got to the point of making him look macho, just that. She could not think beyond and before her thought process started towards 'what makes a man kill?', a whole platoon of soldiers joined the young man and her thoughts got subdued under their thundrous laughter.
               Here she was interviewing soldiers now. Sujit narrated his story. Kargil. Her knowledge about the place existed as a newspaper memory . A convoy of vehicles carrying heavy ammunition proceeded with Sujit driving the second vehicle. Suddenly the terrorists blew the first vehicle. Splinters flew and pierced Sujit's leg, rendering him limp for the rest of his life. He was shifted from one Military hospital to the other before he made it here finally. While these brave spirits live a physically hard life, their families struggle all alone back home. Sujit was in his late twenties, had a wife and kid. She wondered what motivated them to join the Army. As one of them quoted , he was infatuated with the uniform after his high school. Many join after highschool out of sheer infatuation and still others join for all the facilities they get lifelong...Medical, groceries, travel, education...subsidies everywhere. But this lot was unhappy inspite of all these because they couldn't be promoted in the Army, owing to their disability. How much torture-some the injury should be to them ? The base on which they had been recruited was bravery..courage..which they still had now in ample..but they were rendered unfit for the army. The invisible mental bruise was far more debilitating than the physical ones which was visible. She couldn't bare the feeling of inadequacy she saw way beyond their eyes. She promised herself she would do her best to get them back to the civilian life in the best productive manner and an equally challenging one. They had lived in extremes, now they had to fit in routine. Army promotion was a huge motivation..What reason did they have to move on in daily life ? She didn't have the answer but she would work with them to help find one.
              Her tea arrived and she took the first sip. It felt heavenly.

The Stroll

2011-01-11T19:25:00.000-08:00

I walked down the pathway, strewn with tiny yellow leaves on the sides. The early morning sunrays kissed the mud that bordered the dirt track, a mixture of grey tar and brown muck. There was utter silence but which spoke volumes. And I liked that. Had never liked crowds..people to be precise I mean not in hordes that is. How can there be that heavenly silence in the morning with Earth's mighty creations, I mused. Man creates huge but which causes nothing but noise/chaos...in the psyche.

Hmm...which was the reason I was here..for a walk. Wished the path never ended. I sort of like the road...one which never ends, one which holds an element of surprise, of what might be at the next turn ? To reach somewhere is the thing that's been going on in the intellect through years...but utter consternation-the joy of reaching was always short lived. What next ? No glory was big enough though it satisfied the ego big time...i.e. at the moment or perhaps like a hang over for few days..After that ? I am my own self. Can one be a glory for oneself self ? I mean an all time one ? Well but I can't be jubilant all on my own !! Reminds me of a calendar of a guy (may be Chaitanya Maha Prabhu) dancing with a tanpura/some musical instrument in his hand. Singing in praise of God and walking with people following him. Our country is full of such stories. Gandhi was like that too...Dandi March, Tagore...Ekla Chalo Re...Well, I thrust my hands in pockets, kick a few pebbles and keep walking...

For you Reema

2011-01-02T18:57:00.000-08:00

She found herself, with tons of hours...suddenly. Years had gone by in the daily commute, office, colleagues, the daily office banter, gossips, the 'chai sessions' and the salary..at the beginning of the month, only to get exhausted by the end of the month. But it had kept her on toes, hardly any time to think at all...which was good in a way as she thought now.
Since last year she had been thinking about bringing some change in her life. But hadn't been able to decide. It was difficult to leave the cosy known territory for an unknown one. She could have got a fat hike..another place, another job. But hey ! it sort of meant re-inventing herself once more, ....right from preparing the resume once again, answering the weird questions in the interview rounds. She thought, 'Why do I need to prove myself again and again and again ?' A voice answered: Yup. You don't need to do that at home and you don't get paid as well. Was there no way where you could do/prove and all that for a certain period of time and then the wicked but very much wanted money kept coming again and again even if you didn't feel like working. The monthly appraisals had started to bore her all of a sudden and questions hidden deep down had started raising their heads. It was time to introspect. She had decided and handed over the resignation letter. Her colleagues had been shocked. She had attained peace. Somehow the salary not coming next month didn't bother her much. That way she had ample to take care of the bare necessities.
She wanted to connect to herself. That had become the top priority now. Question was how ? She had found herself in many friendships she had made. But this time it had to be herself she wanted to be thorough with. Was the same with everyone around her, she found. Wasn't man sane enough to satisfy himself ? Why the need for quest ? For what ? O.k. for now the blue coloured little swallow like bird on the electic wire caught her attention. It hopped from one place on the wire to another. What was it thinking ? Strange...whatever happened to her, somehow she would think , same must be with everyone. She hated generalising. But she had found out she was no exceptional or for that matter neither people around her. Some whom she thought were different, turned out to be copies or somebody else she had met or heard before. Again why the need to be different ? May be god put that seed in all the germ cells before they united to form the Life that the human creature is born with..
She got up to breathe in the freshness of the grass under her feet and steal in the morning view that so captivated her. Questions could rest.

Chole / Rajma ( North Indian curry )

2010-10-25T20:17:00.001-07:00

Well thought of sharing a recipe that I like myself and everyone at home too. Am no fancy top shot cook, is a disclaimer I would like to make. But well this is one dish that goes flawless even if I have to make it in a hurry or say not in a mood to cook and gets devoured as well. So here it is:
Ingredients (For a family of 3 - 4 adults )
Kabuli chana (chick peas) or rajma (red kidney beans) 150 gms
Onion 1 big and 1 small
Green chilly 2 to 3 (or more if one wants it spicy)
Ginger 3/4 inch, medium sized
Garlic 5 to 6 pods, medium sized
Fennel (aniseed) 3/4 teaspoon
Tomatoes 2 medium sized
Coriander leaves chopped, 4 tablespoon ( 2 tbsp for masala and 2 tbsp for garnishing)
Cinnamon stick 1 inch
Black pepper seeds 10
Cloves 4
Brown cardamom 1
Caraway seeds less than a 1/4 teaspoon
Dagad ful ( find that out what's in english) 1/4 inch
Bay leaf 2
Salt and sugar to taste ( 1 tsp heap salt and a pinch sugar )
Turmeric powder 1 tsp
Red chilli powder 1/4 tsp
Coriander powder 1/2 tsp
Garam Masala powder 1/2 tsp
Cummin seeds powder 1/4 tsp
3 tbsp oil
400 ml water
Method
Soak either of the two ( kabuli chana or rajma ) overnight in water. Drain the water and cook it in a pressure cooker in about 700 ml water till it is soft ( 3 whistles then 10 mins on medium flame should do ).
Chop onion, garlic, coriander, ginger, chilli and grind them raw along with the spices except for bay leaf (not the powders mentioned in last). Chop tomatoes finely. Heat oil in a pan and add turmeric powder, bay leaves and chopped tomatoes, stirring till the tomatoes are well cooked in oil. Now add the ground spices and keep stirring till the masala changes colour, leaving oil on sides and of course till your nostrils get bathed in the spicy aroma. Add the cooked chick peas or red kidney beans to the pan, mix well with the masala, add 400 ml water, stir, sprinkle all the powdered spices, salt- sugar and cover the pan with a lid. Let it cook for about 15 mins. Stir once or twice so that the masala doesn't stick to the bottom of the pan. When done, sprinkle fresh chopped coriander leaves and serve with hot rotis/chapatis/naan/kulcha or just plain cooked rice.

I haven't met him Mom, so how can I be sad....

2010-02-23T19:22:00.000-08:00

Said my son to me. We lost a family member in one of the unfortunate fire incident, in Bangalore. We were discussing about it as it was too shocking to absorb what had happened. He, a fourteen year old, was listening and observing us. I tried to help him recollect. He couldn't and felt bad. It pains when the things going on in the News in the Television or the Newspapers which we follow sort of mechanically, happens to us, or in the vicinity. When we watch or read or hear about people dying in natural calamities or terrorist attacks etc, there are emotions, empathy involved but then like the son said, we don't know them so we don't know how to feel strong enough.
We did not know the young students who died in the German bakery blast in the Oxford of the East, on personal front. How can we be sad ? And more than that what can we do about it ? The School children are being taught 'Disaster Management' as a subject to sensitise them. The fire emergency exits in the Carlton Towers in Bangalore where the fire broke out were locked !! making the rescue impossible. How can this disaster be managed ? Death being rampant all around, we adults can get desensitised at times. It calls for a step ahead in the area of 'Feelings'. Just feeling sad is not enough Son, I wanted to say. What can we do with the pain we feel ? How can we avert such things ? How can we reach the people who have lost their loved ones ? Can we pray ? Can we create a movement ? How long will we sit and watch things going around in the world, taking hundreds and hundreds of life ? How can we contribute..Now ? Life is short...to leave things to do later....till someone in the family dies. I am yet thinking of the solution my son and the younger generation needs to know when the question pops in their mind, 'I don't know him so how can I feel sad?'

The Train

2009-06-23T21:35:00.000-07:00

She was writing furiously oblivious apparently to the fact that she was on The Train with couple of other passengers or of the movements the Iron giant made as it raced on the track. There was a middle aged couple sitting opposite to her, the wife busy with her magazine and her man busy snoring. Then there was the guy who sat in the same berth where she was sitting, bent and lost in the words that were taking shape from her fingers. The guy had been watching her from a long time and wondered what was she up to ? Well, a break up ? A fight at home ? Lay off ? What could it be ? He was tempted to take a peek, felt like reaching out to her and listen to her rather than see her in that status. There was something magnetic about her apart from the fact that she was good looking as any normal next door girl would look. Well dressed, sharp people have problems too ! Well he couldn't resist anymore and moved a little closer.

She didn't seem to notice at all, her legs drawn up in a cross, the writing pad on her thigh, and strands of hair dropping on the page she wrote upon. He thought if only he could be the hair. Is something bothering you ? He finally managed to ask. She was startled and looked at him, not too pleased with the question of course, giving him a look that said,'Please mind your business stranger'. She had never opened up to strangers, could never and of all the moments when she was distressed, trying to put down everything that bothered her on the paper, how could someone intrude just like that ? He persisted, and repeated the question softly,' I know I am not supposed to do what I am doing but a voice inside me prompts me to ask you what is it that's bothering you?'. All sorts of horrible thoughts flashed in her mind. First sympathy, then words of assurance, then luring away to an isolated place and then...'NO', a loud voice shrieked inside her and she said,' Please mind your own business'. Hell ! the same old reaction, why do the women think that all men seek only physical pleasure ? Its o.k. to be cautious, the women have to be, but c'mmon don't they have a better judging sense ? He said,' Fine lady ! I am extremely sorry, I have no right to ask that question but whatever it is that upsets you, it would have been better if you had booked a ladies coupe to do whatever you are doing'. And with that he got up, took out a book from his bag and buried himself in it. 'Fountain Head' the book said. Oh ! gosh ! She thought why does he have to read that book ? There was some very romantic sentence in that...she remembered only the name Roark and the lady protagonist thinks something like 'it was tempting to know that he breathed the same air she did...'

She just kept gazing at the title and when he suddenly sneezed, their eyes met and she couldn't stop herself from looking at him. Then she turned away sighing and looking far away into the sweeping fields, greens from the window. She loved train journeys. You could look beyond at a stretch and the scenes never ended. He doesn't look to be 'that type', she concluded. But still 'Never open up to strangers, Mom had always advised'. Nevertheless she asked him,' Where are you going ? I am sorry if I offended you. I am Pam, Pramila.' Now my turn, thought he, 'Well, you could be on your guard Madam, as you are expected to be, the way your family has 'warned you against unknown Men'. Yes you did offend me but that's o.k. This's not West and I understand. Saying this, he ducked behind the fiction he was reading. She said,' What's your name?'. Strange, these girls, first they will not open up, but when they do, they surprise you. O.k. Pam, Hi, I am Azeem. And I am going wherever this train is going. Now will you answer my question ? She smiled,' No. First tell me about yourself.' He did and what a coincidence ? He lived in the same colony in Delhi where she lived. She became at once all comfortable and they were soon chatting away about the familiar friends they had. Suddenly she remembered what had happened and soon found herself telling him every bit of it. He had moved closer, and watched all the colours her face projected while she talked. She was naive, how could sharp (looking??) girls be so stupid and take to heart certain things so much ?? He put his arms around her, reassuring her with words she needed. Why did it seem so natural to rest her head on his shoulders, slipping her arms around his and feel secured ? He read her pages as she slept peacefully, thinking about the days ahead after having shared this special moment. Well, friendship ? Love ? Don't know. Right now what mattered was the one and a half day's journey that they would share, explore each other...

Life is too short to think little....

2009-06-21T20:52:00.000-07:00

Not me but Disraeli said. Quite a chap he must be ! I thought as I looked beyond the sand dunes. Wide expanse of miles and miles of the golden dust with few thorny pop outs. The sand bashing at De

sert safari had been exhilarating. For a change had hopped onto the SUV with a group of mix match strangers. Days were speeding by at Dubai and a break of ten days was proving too short. Still a getaway was a reward I had given myself. Reward ? Well not really, I wanted to be me just me...in the desert ? Hell yes, for a change.

Thinking little as the philosopher said was just not my cup of tea but there was Shashank who I was going steady with which was o.k. but marriage ? No, my mind said. Why ? we could 'live in'. He wasn't ready. Knowing Shashank I knew the moment he turned 'husband', he wouldn't allow the same freedom he did now. So ? living together, would he ? Ugh ! questions and more questions. Why does life stop at questions at times ? And why is it that at times you want that there be no answers, let it go on as it is. That was what had been happening till he had said 'Lets get married'. And I had said I need to get away. From me ? He had quipped. Well not really him though, it was just that I wanted to be Me for sometime. But when had I ceased to be Me ? No, I had started thinking more for him and so some things that I did before I met him had just taken backseat maybe because I knew he wouldn't like it. Why doesn't one not do the things the mate doesn't like when one is in love ? Now why couldn't I do just that even though I didn't like it i.e. not get married ? He said its good for me. Its healthy. Well I didn't want to do the things that were good for me at times. Why was shashank being patronising ? Is not getting married akin to 'think little'? Why was that phrase haunting me ? Ah ! the grandeur of the desert curves...It matched my mood. I had become o.k. with ups and downs of my moods. Wonder why they call it moodswings, is it to and fro...up and down no its all around... Hey...you ! someone shouted. I turned around to see a huge fellow, looked like an Iranian or may be an Arab, whoever, was a brand advert head to toe. But I liked his voice. 'Mind if I sit here?' and please watch out, there are creatures coming out at dusk, one you missed just now which could have been dangerous'. The world was full of saviours I thought. I said the customary 'thank you' and proceeded with my thinking mode. Somehow the stranger didn't seem like intruding.

'Escaping ?' He said, lighting a smoke. What the... but looking at him made me answer 'yes'. 'Welcome home'. The dunes have all the answers !! There was this warmth in his tone and his facial gestures had all the right elements to connect, at a go. Not surprising, had met a few like them and we were great friends now. "What are you doing here?'' I asked. Having a good time lady ! Strange it felt really good to hear him say that, for once, there was someone who wasn't undergoing the Q and A session and such company right now was apt for the moment. We talked not bothering to ask each other's names or origins. The pronouns were enough and the 'human factor' sufficed. We got up after a while and walked towards the camp which was all set for barbecue, belle dancing and more. We departed having spent a good time promising to keep in touch. Had I got my answer? Well Shashank will have to be patient. This time I am going to do what I liked and he didn't, but by being by his side, not condescending though...

For you Dad !

2009-06-18T21:53:00.000-07:00

I would always look forward to sit by your side and listen to the endless stories you narrated. Now this would happen only in the frequent train journeys we made every year which meant total three days of travel, few decades back. You would tell me how the rivers and hills were formed as they zoomed passed the window and I would sit wide eyed and wonder about these earthly wonders. Then there were mythological stories from Geeta, Ramayana and Mahabharata, which would mesmerize me. Your way of story telling was dynamic and I could construct all its elements in my mind.

But my favourite story Appa, was the one you told about yourself, how you were a 'self made man', a phrase Mom always used. Your childhood was very memorable you said. You grew up inBhadravati (where you haven't taken us till now), the eldest of the nine siblings. Grandpa worked for the then British Govt. and by all means was a wealthy man. Granny served food in silverware and in true Iyengar (a South Indian community) style, gifted anything silver to the guests. Grandpa bought six racehorses on his friend's advice, and lost money, had to sell 4 of the horses. You said you were nine years old then and because the circumstances reversed, you had to ferry passengers from the railway station in the horse cart. Well as a young boy, you said you enjoyed riding horses minus saddles, and the hardship never seemed too hard for you. You went to night school too. Once you were shouted at by a school teacher for being late, lacking discipline, and when you could take no more, you told him the reality, from then on he helped you. Once while there was a curfew, you were caught by police for ferrying passengers in the horse cart one late evening. Then you were taken to the court. You were scared, but bold at the same time. Now I know why you used to tell me not to be afraid of telling the truth, no matter who stood in front. Well you were a frightened nine year old boy facing the judge who was questioning but who condoned, when he heard your story. How easily you narrated all your hardships but for me it was a mixture of feelings to fathom. For a moment I would be so proud, and couldn't register at the other moment, a nine year old attending school and earning money for his family and that too after having lived a lavish life ! The fact that my brother and I were totally shielded from hardships because you were now a successful Engineer/Manager in a huge organization, made me wonder. Nevertheless, your stories were always a motivation to excel, come whatever may.

I would get annoyed at times when you refused to buy me certain things I wanted, not understanding the family responsibilities you had, of getting a brother and a sister married apart from taking responsibility of educating yet another sister who excelled everywhere under your guidance. You never took a loan because you hated the word. You educated both of us, bought your own house got us married, with your savings ! Relatives, you took care and still do. Well you had to ask someone for a rupee as examination fee and that put you off so much that you vowed never to take a loan for anything. No wonder the credit card system when came into picture, you just couldn't relate to, and told us not to get into it as well. You took care of your mom in her old age, when she couldn't even recognize you and the younger brother who passed away. You had to visit the elderly relatives, during the yearly family vacation and you took us everywhere making us kneel the Indian style. It didn't make any sense then but talk of networking now ! I could see how everyone respected you and us as "Partha's children'. All the math I have learned is because you taught us the hard way, making us repeat the whole text book three times before the final exam. While walking back home from school, we dreaded if you had first shift because you would be home to teach us. You bought a bicycle when your son who was expecting a moped, when he passed his HSC exam with distinction. Talk of disappointment, but which made him buy his first bike with his own money after he landed a good job later. Me ? you brought me up like any doting father, though a bit conservative not allowing me for school or college picnics if they were held too far, preferring me to study at a college close by even though I excelled in studies and who got me married with a heavy heart, the 'Father of the bride, Steve Martin style' but very happy with the choice I made.

Now as we lead our lives as your children, your life story is a torch that throws light on the twists and turns on the paths we walk upon.

Numberless contact

2009-06-17T20:32:00.000-07:00

Elen was upset. And when moods played truant, things 'seemed' impossible, she had found different ways to deal, a voracious reader that she was, she had started to put into practice what she read. And in one of those moments, she had connected to 'him'. Well, 'higher power', 'god' whatever one called, she had her own 'contact' whom she could access anytime of the day, anywhere.

She had started to think about 'life and death'. And she wondered at the silly reality that coming into the world, into the present life, was not 'her decision' ! And no matter wherever she reached or whatever she became, departing will not be her decision too. Well, she had read about so many people who had left the world on their own will, but she wasn't doing anything what they did, like renouncing the 'pleasures', 'the world' or something. In fact in her early years, she had been fascinated by the principles of 'Jainism', 'Buddhism' and the life of 'Siddharth' who became 'Buddha'. She had grown up listening to Biblical stories on the radio and the stories of Jesus and his principle of forgiveness always struck chord. She could easily get hurt seeing the sufferings and miseries of people, but she couldn't bring herself to do what Siddharth did ! Well, she had her own set of worries which she had learnt to pass on to the 'contact'.

And today when her thoughts were a bit haywire, she had her cell in her hand as she had just received a call. She wondered if she could call the 'contact' on her cell ! But then he didn't need any number did he? Then she thought if only she could get some sign of the 'presence' that gave her peace, what was that movie where Meg Ryan goes crazy about signs...'Sleepless in Seattle'. Well something like that. And there it was, the 'drone' buzzing besides here, hopping on the clothes line, common sense said 'run inside else you could get stung' but she held on,'Wait, what if this was a sign and there was this 'connect' thing' then it couldn't possibly hurt right?' And she stood on. The bee swooshed passed her in a moment out into the viridity, of course without hurting her! And once again calmness prevailed.

Marjawa...

2009-06-15T22:44:00.000-07:00

Rhea sat mesmerized as the song 'Marjawa' from the flick 'Fashion' played with all the finer sound effects in the multiplex. How much life gets different when one watches events/people/scenes roll by on the big screen. Its was as if she was on the stage doing the catwalk. In reality though she couldn't possibly wear all those stuff. Why do they look so majestic on the screen..the dresses? And she couldn't bring herself to wear them in front of people who mattered to her. With strangers what the heck ? She could, well yes she could wear with quite a good deal of confidence. And the hills, trees, the lakes they look so enchanting on the screen too. Why couldn't life be the way its shown? Why should it be just for three hours ?

She was very fond of fashion shows and participated in her college. She remembered the first time she did the cat walk in her college. She had been on the top of the world when the crowd cheered and she looked very good in the outfit she wore. Well she would get herself into every dance and song event in the school and college annual days. That's what she liked most. Annual Days when everything else was put aside including studies and all the focus was on the performances and the preperations would be so colourful. The apprehension on the participant's faces combined with the expectancy of looking entirely different in the various dresses that was selected for them. How lovely her 6th std photograph looked though black and white, she in Radha's dress--all red and brocade with red bangles with gold interspersed, the golden thread bordered chunni on her head. Actually she was the 4th girl from the 1st in the group dance, when while practising, one of the teacher had remarked,'Who's that 4th girl? Bring her at the front. Her steps are good and the teacher had whispered into her colleague's ears, 'She looks beautiful too'. Wow! How many times one gets to hear that 'beautiful' word? She had been elated and it showed on her face in the photograph. Then there was the bhangda which she had enjoyed immensely. The beats on the congo were rhythmic and she would dance like she was in a trance. She used to envy the guys playing the instrument. The tabla and like players always impressed her and she was easily swayed by their finger taps. She had understood well when Sonali Jalota had married the tablist Roop kumar Rathod.

Why can't life be one full 'Annual Day'? She sighed watching the film once again. She remembered how much she had enjoyed watching 'Flashdance' with her best pals at one of her best friend's house. They had sumptuous lunch which aunty had prepared and sat on the couch, the three of them, pulling all the curtains creating the soft light effect in the hot afternoon, and the AC cooling the room, they watched and were thrown off by Irene Cara's 'What a feeling'. That's being in zone girl, she told herself. Kash she could get those moments back. Not that she hadn't those kinda moments now. She did but still... Coming back she started enjoying 'Kuch khaas hai...' My ! what a day ! I must watch this once again, she told herself. She was like that. She liked to re-do a lot many things that she liked. The movie over, she left the 'plex the songs humming at the back of her mind, came into the lobby and as usual mingled into the departing crowd. She didn't know about them, but she was on the ramp tapping to the beats of 'ye jalwa'...

The Walk

2009-06-15T09:09:00.000-07:00

The greens were tempting

the bouganvilleas hung low

with its paper thin pink petals reaching out

The psyche was content

yet something inside beckoned

'Go take a look'

the path was shamelessly muddy

strewn on it were little wildflowers

in myriad colours

the foliages abound

monsoon is around

the cuckoo never tires of crooning

its melody mingling with the spaces in the woods

which you feel like chasing...

fragrance of the wet earth

merges in the whiff of the misty air

the vault of heaven

loosens itself of murkiness

there... the drizzles

find their way

they are the masters of the day..

earth is a rich carpet

resplendent in her hues

no time to rue

Nature's extravagance

gives a feeling of abundance

I wonder would I feel the same

with a copious bank balance ??

Housewife ?

2009-06-12T22:33:00.000-07:00

As I was getting ready to go for the two hours training session I had to conduct, the cell rang and seeing Kate's number, I sighed. Comb in one hand, the toner in the other, I held the cell to my ears and asked, 'So paaji what's it that's bothering you now ?' And she rattled off. My !! Katie, my best pal from the college days...I still remember the day I saw her-tall, a bit fair but vivacious, talking cheerfully with the girls (mine was a girl's college) and I envied her. That was the phase of my life, I was emerging from my cocoon, not much of a people's person, the books held my fancy for the major hours of my day, I sometimes looked at awe at persons like katie, and a similar brother I had at home. The words had flashed in my mind, 'If you want people, then you have to go to them, they will not come to you'. Fine. I was beginning to change and as I sat on my bench, and looked at her, I muttered, 'I must have a best friend like her. In fact she could be my best friend'. Love at first sight ? My 'self' mocked at me. Till this day I can't remember how our friendship started but it blossomed beautifully and to this day it's as fresh as ever.

Katie rode bikes, drove car and wouldn't mind driving a truck either. To people she was a tomboy and to me she was an insecure girl who needed lots and lots of love and acceptance. Somewhere she felt she wasn't loved enough by her family and when she saw my mom hugging her every time she came to our house, she was totally sold out to us and she didn't feel like leaving us at times. I became her emotional anchor and she was the friend I had always dreamt of but had none in all my 13 years of schooling. A friend who matched all the criteria of friendship, the kind I expected. To me a friend was the ultimate word. I should be there for her/him whenever he/she needed me whatever the day/time, I didn't care none had matched this feeling till I met her. What had happened to Katie after marriage ? She had earned a good name as a teacher in a reputed school and all the high school teens were her fan. She had a girl and then the second kid happened. So ? Off late she had started slipping into self-pity state. Reason ? Though she was an M.Phil, people in her family looked down upon the 'teacher'. And I had told many times 'No one can hurt you without your consent'. Now she was being stuck with the 'housewife tag'. Hey ! No one can tag you without your consent either katie, I roared over the phone.

Recently one of my new acquaintance told me she was sick and tired of the question people asked 'What do you do?'. And she didn't want to say 'I am a house wife'. Why do people want to know what do you do ? To measure your financial status ? Is man defined only by what he does ? And what's this liner in the radio etc. 'Its sexy to be a housewife !!' Now this friend has lived past many years in Amsterdam and now runs her home. Home maker? In one of the training sessions that I attended, one lady co-coordinator said,'Do not use the term housewife, use homemaker.' Does that sound better ? Well as for me if I run my life the way I want to, I could say anything I wanted to like I am a day dreamer most of the time. Then if they ask 'What do you do for a living?' Well cummon Katie, you could say 'Hey ! That's taken care of by my husband so I do whatever I like, whatever I want to for 'My living''. You are an ocean dear, peep inside. Why do you need to define yourself to people ? You be o.k. with what you are, log apney aap jaag jayenge, samajh jayenge (people will understand on their own). Be happy with yourself, for godssake do something for yourself. Put yourself first at times. Be the golden girl you were when we met. Hmm! got to go I said and Katie hung up once again promising to do all that.

Well...

2009-06-09T23:51:00.000-07:00

'Cook food', flashed on her mind screen and then 'look for a maid', and then do what ? She questioned herself. Oh ! is this how my life is going to be ? How strange...in just a moment the whole life had been decided by her. Still she couldn't place herself right. Something was missing somewhere.

But that was few decades back when Anna (as Anamica's friend's called her) had got married. She was working before she tied the knot and that day after Ketan left for work, she had all the time in the world to race her thoughts. Being in a new town, not knowing anybody, which was not much of a bother to her though, but getting to know the place so that she could start giving resumes, that would take time. Till then what ? Be at home ? Stay at home wife ? And when the next stage of motherhood starts, become a stay at home mom ? She got up at once not being able to register all these labels. Yes labels. Why do not the working lot get stuck with labels like that ? she pondered. She had seen Mala, her married colleague tussle between the job and family, when her child had fallen ill. The boss being cocky, had mocked at Mala when they both entered his cabin to take the punch card, as Anna and herself both had taken leave past few days. 'Yes Mala', her boss said,'Who's ill this time ? Mother in law? Father in law ? Husband ? Child ?' Suddenly the job didn't seem lucrative at all from Mala's perspective and Anna thought how difficult it is to make him understand, observing Mala's sullen face made her feel worse. Was a job worth all that ? Sure there must be ways to cope family and work she thought.

She suddenly woke up from her reverie. Her hands had been full in the past ten years with two bubbly kids and a part time job as well. She loved seeing off her children to school and husband to work. What could possibly replace the hugs and 'bye bye's' as the little ones marched off to school? And what about the daily school banter her elder one had with her ? Listening to him reminded her of her own school days insecurities regarding friends, teachers etc. and she could now guide him with what she was not able to do to overcome them. She had been taking tuition's at home when her little ones slept and later had taken up a teacher's job. She couldn't bring herself to leave her offsprings at any day care centre and go for a job. Her mother in law had told her to give herself to the kids for their first five years and it made sense as she studied child psychology books. It was not that she was not tempted to accept lucrative offers but one sentence she had read in an article in 'Woman's Era' always stayed back. 'The mother may not need her child as much the child does, because the mother is the child's world'. Somewhere it had struck chord deep down and she had stayed at home with the tuition's though. Later having served at various other organizations including schools, she had decided to stick to few hours of working. Work outside she had to, connected to the outside world was her need at the same time, she wanted to be there for her children and the person who was earning the major chunk. The Man needed her like the children did, sometimes even more. The vertical alignment made sense: God, spouse, children, work, family. And why not ? He was the one who knew her in and out and who took care of her in a way that no one did. So ? All that gave her delight had no 'labels of important designations' and what gave her a sense of worth was the work she did in whatever post she was in. She had to have them both, to be at peace with herself. And today, she was, while preparing the lunch albeit with the thoughts of what is it that gives a woman her self worth ?

Doing nothing

2009-06-05T00:24:00.000-07:00

How liberating it is to just 'be' and do nothing... Be it in the confines of your own dwelling or out there in the open. Home ? When everyone else is gone for work, you shut the door and sit down with the thought that the next few hours belong to you and your thoughts can take a flight to wherever it wants to, like the feathered creatures. I love to watch that pretty two legged, green coloured, red beaked, 'being' called the parrot that I witness during summer- diligently chewing some part of the delicate fir tree, on which it is perched upon, clasping it in its claws and standing on one leg. This goes on for hours with its head moving tick-tock, side ways and down and occasionally the innocent looking tiny black eye balls meet me and I wonder could we be possibly connected?. Then its like a treasure hunt to spot two to three of the species, hidden behind the delicate needle like leaves, beautifully camouflaged. Suddenly a whole new world sets in once the eyes become expert in spotting few more movements and various other animal shapes. The squirrel is a permanent sight, always on the move and I sigh...What are you busy with little creature ?

Gazing at the greens for hours together is a panacea for the soul, with the cool morning breeze taking you in completely. And oh ! to get immersed in a book of your choice or the favorite daily, without having to worry about time, being in a flow with the self, like a plane on an autopilot. Years back I remember, it was scary to be with myself, when all of a sudden life threw me in a small place with little company and no source of books except for the newspaper which would come when the express train arrived from Mumbai. Not now. Learnt to be at peace with the 'self'. Used the sixth sense to know, to understand it. Heard somewhere 'God doesn't make junk'. Cancelled all the then prevailing thoughts 'to be perfect' and affirmed 'Its o.k. to be me' with the follies as well. Someone said 'If you would become perfect, then the place is not Earth, God would want you soon in the heaven'. You have to be comfortable with who you are. And until then, its a constant strife. Has to be.

And by the riverside ? sea shore ? on a long drive ? in a resort ? Not answerable to anyone is a luxury, so the need for inertness in between life's pell mell. Getting lost somewhere...to someone, handing over self by one's own will...doing nothing, in a no man's land.

Girl's College

2009-05-26T20:05:00.000-07:00

'There comes the devil', Vani Dave whispered into Priya's ears. The Devil was their princi Mrs. Doodha, who was not actually one but who was extremely strict to the extent she knew who visited the college canteen and how often and sometimes the girls would think she even knew what they ate. She was always properly attired with her 'Saree pallu' pinned at the right place with matching sandals and when she marched in the college corridors everyone knew it was 'her' by the sound her footwear made.

But she was a hit and popular by all means as she was the 'perfect' lecturer when it came to teach Zoology. I would just sit mesmerized when she would enter the class without any book, go to the blackboard and draw the specimen which she had to teach, with minute details and apt labelling. Oh ! the labelling lines were straight, drawn without the scales. And then she would start describing the animal from top to bottom and each and every part of the member of Animal kingdom would strike alive in my mind. Once I tried to trace the notes she gave by going through 4 to 5 books but found some part of what she taught was missing in each of the books and from then on I believed her notes like a holy book.

From a co-ed school to an 'All girl's college' was a little awkward initially plus the fact that there would be no 'Mars inhabitants'. It also meant complete freedom from prying, scaling, measuring eyes and you could sit in the class in whatever fashion you wanted to, without bothering to correct the 'dupatta' or pull down the short tops or the other dozens of things one did because of the presence of the opposite sex like deciding how to sit, where to look, how to keep the hands....... My my ! classrooms are one helluva good example if one needed a session on body language. Animal instinct I guess. Nothing different from the preening behaviour of the birds or the other vertebrates. So to cut it short, one was free from the thought of impressing or attracting the other species. It was a liberating thought which meant I could be myself without those silly botherations. So there I was on the first bench squeezed between girls whom I didn't know at all. My name on the college admission list was 2nd after Monica, the cute fair girl with big specs. Enter the princi and amidst the pin drop silence that followed, pat landed a small chalk piece in front of me. 'You, yes, what's your biological name?' I had been briefed up about her before this class and I mumbled, 'Naina' then suddenly corrected and said 'Homo sapiens'. Ah ! what a relief and I was almost jubilant about giving the apt answer though a bit late. Smile....a big smile on her face and I thought I would occupy her memory for the next two years that I was in this college. But I would never answer in her class whenever she asked questions even after a splendid explanation. She would expect a lot from me and wanted me to answer but somehow I would doubt my answers whether they would match her expectations of a perfect answer. One of the drawbacks of education system where in pursuit of perfection, one never learns to fail, to make mistakes, to try, out of plain fear. The outside world classroom needs just that. Anyways Monica was the apple of her eye because she would always answer even though her English wasn't good. And I would think, Doctor's daughter so all rightly wired up to mouth the correct words.

The Zoology lab-First Dissection practical and we were all given trays to have our frogs to cut upon. We bundled in two groups hovering over one teacher Mrs. Sudha who showed how to take out the poor amphibian's brain. Most of us were mouthing 'yes mam, right mam, ok mam' including me wondering at the back of our minds what the hell she was explaining and understood nothing of what she said. 'So out there you go and start dissecting'. Oops ! how enticing the thought of going back home looked, mom's harsh words were better than this. 'Girls before you start this why not appear for a practical test' boomed the Princi's voice. And we all suddenly turned pally, looking haplessly at each other, and getting tons of 'classmate sympathy'. How lovely this feeling was, sort of united us into one lot, never mind the bitching after the class was over. There they were 16 specimens (dead animals like fish, worms, insects, mammals, reptiles) stuffed in glasswares having formalin that kept their lifeless bodies looking fresh. We had to draw, label and identify them. What a gruesome task and very painful at that ! Chopping vegetables back home when mom shouted looked definitely adorable. Anyways we handed over our papers. 'Who is roll no 1? Roared the Lion. Where have you drawn the mouth of this worm? In the middle ? Near the stomach? How would you look if you had mouth above your stomach and anus right below the stomach? You guys think you can place the body parts anywhere you liked ? And what if some of you will go to Medical college? Look for the mouth near the stomach?' We felt like shaking ourselves to endless laughter thinking about the two most important openings in the body above/below stomach, but were tight lipped and I had this sinking feeling whether I had placed the anus correctly. There she held my paper...'Hmm ! one of the toppers, let me see what has she done with this animal's anatomy, (and my heart started galloping) Well... Good ! Naina keep it up !' God ! all of a sudden I felt like Einstein, the most intelligent being in BMM college, 20 pairs of eyes looking at me with what I didn't bother. 'Drawing is one of the basics in zoology....on she went'.

Then started the dissection. Everyone finished except me. What I took out turned out to be a muscle piece after struggling for 1 and a half hour and which I thought to be the brain. The asst. prof said 'Which school you are from ?' Didn't they teach you stuff?' Humiliated I begged her to show me once again how to dissect the brain and she did. I sat till 6 pm when everybody had gone and showed the pale white soft frog brain to Mrs. Doodha who was shocked to see a girl staying so late in the college. 'Very good ! but off you run girl, I don't want your parents to panic. Why don't you answer in class but?' I told her I was scared of her and she burst out laughing.

Next day's class started with the Physics teacher's petticoat showing off under the saree from the back and bang she caught Reena whispering into Sonu's ears I wonder what she wears...'

At last !

2009-05-25T20:27:00.000-07:00

Fidgeting with her 'Saree pallu' for the nth time, sitting alone in her office in the high rise for how long, she had lost count, after all her colleagues had left, Nikhat stood up frustrated. Why is deciding so difficult? Why does the mind want to trace the same paths again and again to come up to the same conclusion? And why is this 'conclusion' not registering in a manner that will calm down her nerves?

She sat down once again going through all the times they had spent as part of the vivacious group that had formed out of nowhere, and Gaurav was the guy rumoured to be engaged. Well when did she exactly land up in the 'miss him' trap she wasn't aware but it had happened. She was successful in the work she did, had excellent set of friends, loving parents, doting siblings and herself had a superb E.Q. as well. What's this missing vissing thing, she mused, but couldn't escape the sinking feeling (happiness at the same tima) everytime she met Gaurav. Irony was they cut each other amidst conversations, never missing an opportunity to do so. Well each of them was secretly happy to see the other whenever they all met. Why does one have to maintain a distance with the person whom the heart has accepted ? She was like that once she has accepted that's it. Final word, nothing could change that. She was scared herself of this crazy attitude of hers. How in heaven could Gaurav be hers if he was to be engaged to someone even if it was a rumour? And what's this 'owning feeling'? Stupid, idiotic she thought, 'Get moving lass, its only a feeling, one that stays for few moments (and yeah ! that tugs you like hell later on, her heart whispered)'. She had had enough of this tussle between her mind and her heart. She had always been straightforward, speaking things out, doing whatever it took to be clear in life and move ahead. Sometimes she thought all this is not worth. Let him be happy wherever he is, with whomsoever he married. And she had lead months like that thinking on similar lines. But then she couldn't avoid him as much as she wanted to. They did bump quite often. And maintaining a formal-friendly-sometimes close- sometimes aloof kind of connection had started unnerving her. Gaurav was different, sometimes she hated him for his 'snobbish' 'I am always right, perfect' attitude, but drawn towards his 'wild ways' at the same time.

She was watching 'Dhoom 2' the other day, one of her favourite movies. She loved the songs and was hooked onto one particular scene, when Hrithik asks Aishwarya to 'jump' with the melodious, soft music in the background. And now suddenly she remembered that and there she was bang on cell phone, tapping Gaurav's number. She almost stopped breathing when he said 'Hey Nick'. 'Ti Amo' she said, surprised at her calm voice that echoed in her heart.

The other cosmos

2009-05-20T05:40:00.001-07:00

Having stayed in a small township in Gujarat for 13 long years, (which initially I loathed) had to visit villages in and around as part of work. I was reluctant to go at first because many places in Gujarat, though a developed state in India, reeked of stench and mosquitoes owing to the open drainage system for reasons unknown as compared to the cultural city of Pune which I had to leave years back. Well I still remember the first abode I visited in one of the hamlets. The verandah was clean and spotless no fancy tile work though but plain soil, painted with cow dung that had dried and gave a greenish look. We were given chairs to sit upon. During the hour that we spent, didn't experience a single mosquito bite ! Though the house was dark inside, I found things were neatly arranged, the kitchen was clean too. There was no bathroom ! There it was at the backyard far away from the house and I remembered my Great granny's house in Mysore where one had to literally walk few minutes to go to the 'loo'. Around the houses were trees in plenty and fresh air fanned the whole surrounding. Oh ! it was heavenly and I started falling in love with the 'gams' as the villages are called there. Visiting villages became a pleasure trip thereafter, with discovering freshly transplanted rice, 'toor', 'vaal', ( pulses) and freshly grown 'gawar' (cluster beans), 'bhindi' (okra) etc and not to mention the delicious variety of mangoes- The Alphonso and Kesar.

It was after a long time after shifting to a city, I got the chance to visit the villages once again. Life appeared simple and 'Nawabi' (Royal) there, with the 'Mehmaannawazi' (hospitality) of our city dweller but landowner friends. Food is one of the real luxuries, being cooked on the 'chulha' with home grown cereals, pulses and vegetables. No glass wares but native style of cooking and served hot. Rice bread 'The Rotlas' prepared with rice flour dough which women dish out with one hand and spread on hot 'tawas' (Pans) using the palms and then dish them out with the spatula onto the flat bamboo woven basket, serving them with pickle, salad, and spicy egg plant or good old potato gravy dish interspersed with whole lentils. The day we reached early morning, began with a cup of hot tea and 'farsan' (snacks). Later as we chatted sitting on the mats, fresh 'chikoos' (Sapota or sapodilla) grown in the backyard arrived. Gujarat grown chikoos are the best in India and its sweetness can't be matched elsewhere. After gulping down a couple of the fleshy fruit, it was time for mid morning 'Mohanthaal' (a sweet dish compulsory in Gujarati weddings). And thus the day went on with eating, napping going around the house and fields. After attending two weddings in a typical 'hot summer at its peak day', it was time to sleep and we were informed, we were to sleep on the terrace ! Wow ! as comfy the beds spread on the terrace looked, even more spectacular was the star show on the sky above. It was after nearly two decades that I got to see the huge number of heavenly darlings in the night and the eyes hit idyllic sopor.

A morning walk of about three kilometers into the vineyard of local vegetable called 'tindora' and brinjals plus many other wild species with their berries, some used in pickles was exhilarating. The mango trees were bare, very less fruit a man said. The hut amidst the vegetable farm and mango trees looked picturesque, otherwise a norm, a necessity in the village, where one stayed to drive away the nocturnals which would harm the crop. Either one of the family members would stay or someone would be hired for the purpose. The walk back home was a learning experience as well, with the sheep minus their furs and goats, all bundled up in a pen, the rooster running helter skelter and cuckoos singing at top of their voices.

A lazy affair the village visit...didn't have to be formal, was jolly good self, meandering here and there except for few curious looks from the dwellers. Clicking a slow life was fun, there was work but unlike the helter skelter affair of the city, and urgency for what? The morning breakfast, the afternoon meal and then dinner. All the shredding, chopping of vegetables in bulk by 3 to 4 ladies in the house was sheer fun to watch. In fact few women even showed the vegetables they were chopping in the right angles so that I could click, after the initial look of amusement on their faces. How blissful it is to breathe in the idyllic den !

The Well

2009-05-18T20:22:00.000-07:00

Ruquaiya peeped into the well and tried to gauge its depth. It was a huge well lined all around neatly with moss laden bricks, but it was dirty. Hmm ! the houses in the village she was visiting, for a friend's wedding, had taps to provide the vital drink and so the wells were like antique pieces dotting the Kakadmati gam (village in Gujarati) and had their own old world charm. While she was very much a part of the current world, she was hooked onto things that were sort of 'historic' may be because they had some story about themselves, and this fascinated her. She would go off in a trance like state while visiting old architectures. Taj Mahal had been one such incident when the people she was with, had to yell for her to come back as the tour bus was leaving and she ? She was somewhere in Shahjahan's time and wondering what all had been in the so romantic Emperor's mind and how much of his mind was occupied by Mumtaz ? How much effort had he taken in the minuscule details that made the Taj a masterpiece indeed ! A loving (emotional) heart and a constructive (logical) mind ! What a match !

How mystifying she thought as she once again gazed into the still waters of the well. While it takes feelings in as much as to make a heart tender, it takes reason to build tangibles. A combination of both is sheer pleasure to have around be it a man or a woman. That reminded of Dheer, the guy her friend had introduced as a cousin. Now he was a gaamwala (villager) as his attire showed but his being exuded charisma. His eyes spoke and his being told that he did all the hard work a village life demands from an inhabitant. While the calmness of the village was an ecstasy for short term visits of the towner, the regular hamlet dweller had to walk distances on the bare mud, in the sun, sort the waste from the useful produce both of which Mother Earth generated in profuse, find the market for them and then relax which she guessed was a rarity. She practically found Dheer ever staying at a place. Talk about her kins who stayed abroad and had to do their own household chores as the labour was costly, here the scene was no different. People washed, cleaned, cooked which took most of the day's time. She learned later that Dheer's dad, a banker owned few acres of land in the village, and that he was a post graduate in Human resource development who stayed in the nearby city of Ahmedabad, along with his mother who worked for the telephone department. They grew Alhonso's, rice, lentils etc as per the season and this being the Alphonso season, Dheer was all geared up for the work the fruit demanded and so the villager's attire. She could not stop herself from clicking like crazy the views the village household or the premises presented and bang clicked Mr. Charisma suddenly as he lifted his head up while 'datooning' (brushing teeth from the Neem stick). Perfect she thought, a typical 'gaam' pose. Dheer smiled and offered to take her around for few more photographs. My ! they were literally chasing peacocks that ate cucumbers which Dheer's aunt had planted. The brinjals hung low while the salad king lay asleep on the mud amidst the leaves. They ate a local fruit, 'the chibdo' that tasted like 'Kharbooz' (a kind of melon) sprinkled with sugar. She found his company utterly pleasing and he in turn enjoyed her wow ! every few minutes. Then he took her to a well that was deserted and told a story of the hamlet's wherein two youngsters of different community had fallen for each other, often meeting by the well and later had eloped in fear.

He was strictly against inter caste marriage he told her. Though they both fell for each other too in the few days she stayed, he gave the feeling that he was rooted to the 'gam' and its customs. They promised each other to meet up in the city. And there he was at the Cafe Coffee Day in Levis and Nike, where she was sipping the Latte dreaming about the past few days. And she ran into his arms not caring about the permanency of the bond that had developed.

Yes !

2009-05-11T21:32:00.000-07:00

Nishita looked out of the window, far beyond...taking in the vista and a Mona Lisa smile made its appearance on her face. What was it that made her heart beat today with a rhythm it had played years back ? Well not that she was totally euphoric but man there was this 'something' which was enigmatic. O.k. not the time to analyse she said to herself, what the heck ? Enjoy it baby ! She made for the door, collecting her car keys, goggles, purse, cell, house keys,..Uh ! why can't one just leave without all these, she wondered.

She reached the party just in time, her friend had arranged, just a get together of familiar friends. Sujay and herself had been long term acquaintances with personalities that clashed rather than match. He was brilliant, could steer any conversation in the direction he wanted to, was witty, quick to roll out facts and figures and sometimes dominated the talks. She contradicted everything he said but of course it was genuinely done. She knew he didn't like it. The Male factor... she would tell herself. He must get a woman boss she would think and then watch the fun. No he would quit the same day, he was like that. God ! how many times they had clashed while talking about women CEO's in the private major financial institutions. Not that she had something against men but she just couldn't stand anyone pointing at the female species.

Yesterday while coming out from the Multiplex, she found him standing besides her and for some strange reason he stood there for a long time, not moving an inch and on top of it, they weren't arguing ! She felt like there was some unknown power that was making her stand there and not move too. Why ? And suddenly a sentence caught her ear and gone was the feeling as she heard him saying things like 'Emotions are silly, one must be logical in approach towards life etc, women are emotionally wired...' But somehow she didn't retort thinking no use in wasting energy to make him 'understand' her species, her kind. At times like these she preferred 'girl's company. How sweet, how reassuring, how comfy it was with them, you didn't have to explain your emotions. It was understood. But why had she felt like that few moments ago? And today at the party, she found him besides her once again. What was going on? Yes ! now she got it. Usually they would be standing opposite and talk or they would be sitting opposite to each other. He still spoke the same things that caught her nerves but stood besides her every time he spoke. Hey ! what's with standing, sitting at sides girl ? O.k. she said, 'Accept it. You like this new arrangement and continue whatever you were up to like before'. She was fiercely independent and liked to have her own space and sometimes felt as if he was intruding ! It was confusing ! She had learnt, 'If you are confused, don't think too much just keep on going, after few days everything gets sorted out without your presence'. Flow was the key. She knew he could be snobbish at times, sometimes he appeared conceited to her, like 'Darcy' in Pride and prejudice perhaps? Oh ! there it was, her favourite classic and things got clear. He possessed some genuine human attributes which hell ! yes did attract her like that day when he helped an elderly lady to fetch a seat in a restaurant or the way he handled her friend's son who was practically yelling. And today when she broke away from the group because she found his presence overwhelming, she felt at peace. She knew he would never do something like 'proposing' or even say the three musical words, because he didn't believe in them, and she was the perfect 'maiden' never to go first, things would be as they are: togetherness in distance...

Thoo dhoop hai, cham se bikhar...

2009-05-08T04:08:00.000-07:00

Strange ! how sometimes you sit at the keyboard and you know there are a plenty things to write about but there's this inner denial which doesn't let the fingers hit the keys. Somehow I have always have had this experience that 'pain', or you call a craving, a deep one at that or an extreme desire or just plain infatuation with just about anything....creates the urge to write... to tap the keys in a flow. Are words then answers to these human abstracts? Going through one of the blogs 'the pakhi series' suddenly brought life to the fingers that had refused to even touch the letters. Thanks to all the bloggers ! Thanks Reema !

There was this girl who was two and a half years old, lets call her Mini who was found always crying in the school where I taught. As it was a new school and we were sort of pioneers, acting as teachers, sometimes like moms to the nursery/junior kids, to the extent that we would even carry some 2+ year olds and take for a walk showing trees and stuff like that. The management allowed that ! I was a pseudo princi, my kid being five years old, so didn't take the chair but enjoyed doing whatever it took to run an English Medium CBSE school in a small township. Well this girl would always tag behind some teacher or the other. Once I got an opportunity to go for a proxy to her class and enjoyed playing with the nursery kids, indulging in all sorts of silly imaginations (I taught higher standards but this was sheer fun). Lunch bell rang and all the tiny tots ran towards their 'tiffin'bags and water bottles. Not Mini. So I brought it for her and finding no interest on her part to open it, I opened it to find a stale looking fried rice. No wonder the kid behaved the way she did. In fact I always felt this little one had some psychological hang up and trust me there are a few like that in all the schools and my heart went out for them but what can you do in a 'formal school' where you are expected to only 'teach subjects'. I started a game with Mini after making the other kids to share their lunch boxes with her. She was continuously crying. We brought a doll from the cupboard, and our conversation was something like this:

'Mini this doll is crying baby. Do something. She is sad'

'Ma'm why is she sad?'

'I don't know. She won't tell me. May be she will tell you because you are small like her Mini'.

Surprisingly our Mini stopped crying and what followed was just a pleasure to watch. She put the doll on her lap trying to put her to sleep, sometimes she kept it on her shoulder, moving her hands over the doll's back and like an adult talked to the doll telling her to sleep. I said 'Good the doll likes Mini a lot that's why she's slept'. Mini says,'No ma'm, its not mini, she likes Raju uncle'. I asked her who he was and she replied it was he who put her to sleep or cared for her when she cried because Mamma was in the clinic and Papa in the factory ! How role plays influence children ! Later I found the girl stayed in my street in the corner and she was always with a caretaker, an old lady and from then on whenver Mini met me somewhere in our colony, she would shout and wave. And once even refused to go back to her home.

The Cell phone

2009-05-05T01:05:00.000-07:00

Call it a blessing (when we use it for our self) or an evil (when someone else uses, in a way that disturbs your being). Instances of the latter kind are many but once while on train, going to Mumbai, there was this girl on her 'cell' talking incessantly about her boyfriend. As it is the season being summer, the coach was packed, which meant I couldn't risk leaving my place, so was forced to hear all the details which maybe some other time may have sounded interesting but that day was just irritating ! Then there is this girl who stays in the flat one floor below and who comes out on the terrace which's below my window, to talk whenever her cell rings. One day I was reading, sitting near the window, one of my favourite reading corner, when these conversations broke my reverie : 'Ya she was wearing that apple green dress you know....which green?... I said apple green, the one she wears very rarely....ya the one with floral prints in the kurti....no no not that green something like green apple....'. This colour tale went on and on till I almost felt like grabbing her cell and explain to whoever it was on the other side which green this girl meant ! In fact I had forgotten whatever I had been reading and the mind wondered on the female quest to know details about 'colours and prints'. Then on other day I got to hear a full sermon why 'he' was not the right guy for Priya and how our girl had tried her best to convince her and I for once felt tempted to join the Engineering college which this girl attended.

One morning while enjoying the breeze on my terrace, out of nowhere came the voice,'mazha maher....ho na....tar kay sangu...nayee me mothi mulgee....mazha bhau... (my mother's place...oh ! what shall I say...no I am the eldest...my brother)' so on and so forth and I got all the information in one shot about the couple whom I had hardly met and who stayed in the flat above me, and whose window was above my terrace. God ! is there some place where I could enjoy privacy ? And the apartment complex where I stay all of a sudden appeared like a chawl. Then there is the lift where a gentleman starts his office right on the cell phone. The bus is another place where once I almost started worrying about the guy's problem at his office as there was nothing else to do as the traffic moved slowly. On another instance, a guy who was telling his boss,'I am on my way sir, am held in a traffic jam sir...' and this went on for about fifteen minutes until I got terribly bored. On top of it, this guy starts talking to me about his boss ! Where does this cell phone mania end ?

Introspection

2009-04-26T21:50:00.000-07:00

After a not so hectic but you could call it a busy day yesterday, I woke up today morning after a deep slumber. But there was chaos in mind somehow when I opened my eyes. What happens to the mind during night, when it sleeps or rather the body sleeps ? The mind must be like the mother who puts/orders her kids (organs) to sleep (slow down). The cells doing their activities slowly/rythmically, the brain cells included. O.k. but the point is why does the 'well slept mind' like a switch switched off or something for 6-8 hours, start buzzing with all the previous day's/months ? thoughts ? Ugh ! I just didn't want all that processing today morning especially after a sound baby sleep. The thoughts, all randomly strewn were like the dancing figures in 'Tare zameen par'. What is a tranquil mind like I thought? The word tranquil is good, sort of soothing. Can the mind go 'word blank' ? 'thought blank' ? like an empty apartment, after each night and don an entirely different 'thought attire' that's new, fresh and moving, 'in the zone' ? Swami Vivekananda's peaceful face comes to the picture, meditating on the rock amidst the oceanly furore. Silence is delicious too. Utmost calm....like the few seconds halt between notes of music that creates the rhythm.

At times I want to be like that, sitting on the rock, like him. But then his quest was different, for the whole mankind. Mine ? for myself ? How selfish ? And how puny ? A bigger quest, bigger the solution like what made him sit in between the three seas to meditate. Hmm ! here I am wanting a solution 'big/huge' like his, but do I want the same problems which he had ? I like Vivekananda. He was a regular guy like us i.e. had formal education, so thought like us mere mortals too. And his search was no different from ours. I wish we who share his homeland will be able to give to the west what he gave. The East is richer in things that the West doesn't have, never had. I have always felt the need to do in any minuscule way like what Vivekanand did. Am waiting...

Zesty Forty

2009-04-24T21:59:00.000-07:00

Vibha had been sitting idle for a long time with the coffee in her hand, in the terrace adjoining her spacious bedroom, enjoying the early morning Nature Show. The birds these days made a pretty scene, with their summer calls amidst picking on the fruit or leaf or the tiny, slender stems they sat on. How could they balance themselves on that she always wondered. Once she also saw a monkey perched on top of the 'firs' ! She had immediately captured him in her movie-cam, enjoying each of his movements. Whoosh ! landed a wet turkey towel on her back.

What used to be irritating in the initial married years had now become a thing to get used to. Wet towels on the bed, clothes strewn on the bathroom floor, samples of hair in the wash basin etc. Uggh ! How could a man live like that not to mention the newspapers left at places where it had been read, she had thought the first few days she started living with her 'man'. He was an expert though in making her focus on 'other' important things cajoling her to enjoy life as it is implying at the same time 'don't u dare change me'. And she would give in to his demands at the moment only to get frustrated later in the day. Things had improved over the years with the wet towels landing on her than on the bed. It was fun and gave her the rare moments of 'apnapan' (closeness). She had a terrific married life albeit with little compromises which she thought was not much as compared to her friend Shital's. Even after her daughter arrived, he needed her the way same as before. What more would a woman want? Then one day her friend Shital had rung up to say she suddenly felt her life was revolving too much around her kids and she felt her talents getting rusted. She had an M.Phil in parasitology and immunology, was working as a teacher in one of the good schools in Bangalore only to quit when her second child was born. Not only that she felt that she wanted something else in life. Somewhere Vibha who had a satisfying career, felt the same too. Wasn't the advert apt saying 'Ye dil mange more'. Then she had told her friend she would get back to her. In fact both of them had searched 'Google doctor' to come up with terms like 'mid life crisis' etc etc.

God ! they both thought 'Are we going the Western way?' They had discussed for long but no conversation matched the times they had lead as spinsters along with another friend Richa. Richa was married too but was in touch with her ex-boyfriend who she was going steady with but couldn't marry because his parents were against. How convenient they thought, she could have both the 'boyfriend' and a stable married life. Of late someone called Ram had joined Vibha's office. He was very efficient and extremely good with people, was happily married too with two kids. After the initial set backs, they both found themselves enjoying each other's company but for some reasons hadn't been able to involve their families. What's wrong if two mature individuals are friends ? Vibha thought. Nothing. But her husband would always say a man and a woman could never be 'friends' for long. Physical intimacy was inevitable he said. How strange, she thought though she also agreed with him partly though. As a youngster while in college, she had male friends and very good ones with whom she shared a very healthy relationship, where nothing physical was felt. Why its perfectly possible to continue platonic relationship with the required limits set in, she had always thought.

Now since she knew the chemistry, she thought maybe Nikhil (her hubby) is right, but then she was beginning to share that 'perfect' friendship with Ram. And both knew each had his/her family though they talked about themselves more. There was the hitch. She found herself talking more about her to him and vice-versa. That had not happened for quite a while with Nikhil, busy they had been with their marital life. 'Never mind, let me have a good time at least' she had thought. Or is it the 'Forty factor'? she mused. What is with forty? Men (and women) getting naughty at forty ? What rubbish ! she had never believed in the 'age old truths'. She had mentioned to Shital, strangely she didn't feel guilty of getting closer to Ram at all, as she was committed to Niknil 100 %. Shital had cautioned her. One fine day she told Nikhil about Ram as she had always shared everything about her with him so far. Nikhil wanted to meet him and meet they all did at a party. She found Nikhil a bit confused that evening and when she asked him what was it, he had said 'Nothing'.

Days passed with life going on as it is but she found Nikhil a bit different. She confronted him asking what was it that bothered him. He didn't tell her anything, instead took her out that evening and they didn't feel like coming back home, having spent the times like they did years before. It was then Nikhil told her, he was not comfortable initially with her sharing a friendship with Ram. And he had introspected and found the answer. You can live a committed life like marriage but events like these are like spices sprinkled which make it piquant.

Tussle

2009-04-23T22:26:00.000-07:00

With self...

God or higher power or intelligence...

is a tough lover...

He wants you to believe

he's with you

but tests at times

to know whether you really believe

he's by your side

why ? I ask

its like pinching and then asking

'did it hurt?'

I love to believe the lyrics of the song..(dostana)

Tu hai tho tedhi medhi rahen seedhey lagtey hai...

ulti pulti baten sachchey lagtey hai..

Jane kyu dil janta hai,

thu hai tho I'll b alright

And the one from Jumbo

...Dil mey rakhna thu faith, this world is a lovely place..

jab tak dil mey hai fight, everything's gonna b alright.

Walk I shall

Stumble I may

Get up everytime

I have to...

I struggled to come out into the world

as much as my creator did

after sitting tied up for whole 9 months

Why do I forget that?

there'll always be strife

Between the first breath and the last...

Meanderings

2009-04-22T22:51:00.001-07:00

What am I holding back ?

I ask my life...

If there was a short cut...

to reach that side..

which would throw open a whole gush of-

cascade...

like I would flow...

You reach at times

you miss at some point

At times you are on a path

side by side,

like the 'comma', it says that somethings go on

there's no destination...

there are milestones, travelers

one to show that journey is still on

the other to hold hands that say carry on.

Why FB ? Why Blog ?

2009-04-22T00:57:00.000-07:00

This one was the latest topic of the couple of arguements I regularly have with my 'sometimes ex-friend' and 'most times husband'. And also one of the reasons why I am not visiting FB. A rebel that I am, Shobha De gives me courage when she mentions in 'Spouse' about not wearing 'Salwar kurta at all because the 'husband' doesn't like her in that attire ! Wish there was a whole set of T.V. crew to record this debate that brought down every explanation on Earth, 'the Need to express' from my side and from 'Him' all the logical reasons of the potential harms of social networking sites, and how it was no different from writing on the 'Roadside Walls' where anyone and everyone could read. Now can you imagine guys 'kya beetee hogee mere dil pe yar' ?

How can I explain that inexplicable feeling ( a yummy one ) that I get when I blog or connect, wall or no wall. The whole cyber world where words hang between the zillions of souls spread across, I am o.k. with that, not 'the Husband'. I told him I could keep track of my 'globe trotting bro' who is a regular on F.B. plus those far placed cousins in the U.S. whose lives I could take a peek into, with their kids and spouses and not only that I even 'met' 'his' wonderful relatives on the world wide web yar. I even coaxed my two best pals residing in the country to open and a/c so that we could connect, in fact one is so busy with her two kids that I had to teach her how to open an a/c etc. , me very happy to guide of course. Then there are friends from the Insti where I work with whom I could even shoptalk. Oh! and not to mention the students whom I invited saying that using social networking sites can help improve their 'English' language. Man, I agree I at times tend to overlook the flip side when I start digging the positive side of something, as the positives seems to outweigh the negative ones like this feature about F.B. I saw in a recent issue of the Reader's Digest, one of my favourite magazines 'Face book users are Narcissists- a recent survey suggests'. O.k. so what I said. Yes I was getting addicted to this delicious thing, which actually started with my son teaching me to open an orkut account while he opened his own ! Once going through his profile, I did not like that he mentioned he was '18' years old ! And imagine a 13 year old being labelled 'sexy' ! And there I asked my VIIIth std son what that exactly meant ? Few days back we did have a session on the topic which's a part of the science curriculum. And he was like 'Mamma, I don't know, my friends must have labelled, you don't label yourself on orkut, cummon dummy'. The last word he started using for me ever since he saw 'Home Alone'. Well coming back, the tussle between 'us adults', let me shorten the story, resulted in one positive thing--The Friend resurfaced, telling me what it means to connect in the 'real sense'. Fine I said, but what about the writer in me boss? Oh ! he had a 'magnanimous answer' for that too which I thought was sweet but it had to wait. Till then I said I shall blog.

Summer Camps

2009-04-20T21:52:00.000-07:00

There is this endless list of summer camps coming in the daily Newspaper each trying to advertise something 'Fancy' something 'New'. While in the process of 'thinking' to put my son in one of them, memories of how we spent the vacation pop up. Summer to us in the '70s and '80s meant camping at home with aunts and uncles/cousins either their home or ours. We couldn't keep count of how time flew unlike now when parents have to think to keep their offsprings busy every hour, to make them 'productive' to let them do something 'constructive' and such sorts. Sometimes I think shouldn't we let our children 'do nothing' for few days in summer at least, i.e. leave them to decide how they want to spend a typical summer day at home apart from sleeping, eating and other routine work. Of course I am talking about the children with a parent or grandparent at home. No television of course, that's the condition. We as children used to get bored (there was no idiot box then) and the only way to ward off boredom was to read comics (my favourite was Mandrake and Phantom), Amar Chitra Katha or play for hours together with friends. For me it also meant an escape to the terrace, watch variety of birds and trees, the changing moods of the sky etc. which prompted me to start writing about them. The changing of summer season to the Rainy was the most captivating one. The whiff of the just wet soil from the 1st showers of the Monsoon and the thrill of the tiny droplets, watch grass sprout everywhere where there was none before, run bare feet on the muddy grounds, wonder at the umbrellas of greens on the once naked trees and many such things.

But the most memorable ones are those spent with cousins and granny. Now the cousins are scattered all around the country and the globe but the bond still remains, and such that even if we meet after decades, irrespective of the lives we lead, we can bank on having a good time together. The relationship built during childhood are so strong that they make you feel 'rich' in your later years. I don't know, being 'People Rich' has always made sense to me. The camps are good once in few years but its also good to enable children bond with their cousins and the extended family frequently as they now have the time to do so.

As for me, still unable to decide, whether to pack him off to his 'Nani's house' or to a 'Camp', I have involved my son to conduct 'activity class' which is being run by the Society's 'Ladies Club', along with his grandparents who are having a good time with the children as well.

Fountainhead

2009-04-17T22:32:00.000-07:00

A well is its synonym

A vacuum-this's what the mind says

Yes, a well can be filled..

Void ? Space ?

Did anything exist here before ?

That's now emptied ?

If that is so

Then life's waiting...sure it will

Wandering thoughts, mysterious journeys

Known traveler

who for reasons known to him

halts.

The heart goes out for him

reason says stop!

So hitched I am

Life's new lesson

Am willing to take

there's so much to learn

At a cousin's wedding

2009-04-15T22:44:00.000-07:00

Her P.G. exams over, she thought of chilling out all by herself because she was far away from her pals, one in Delhi and the other in Chennai. She had recently shifted to Bangalore, not knowing where to head, she thought of walking down the avenue. The tree cover was soothing in the Summer evening. Walking was her favourite activity. She could align her thoughts in the moods she wanted, think of things that mattered to her, or just watch the birds that made a guest appearance on the swaying branches. Funny, she would ignore the cows and dogs that were so much a part of Indian Roads (she wondered why their sight didn't arouse anything to write the way a parrot or even a sparrow did). Well off late she had started observing people too !

She reached home and got to know that she had to go for a Wedding reception. Her cousin had got married recently, and aunty needed help, her mother said. Fine ! may be she would find something/someone interesting there, she thought. The Brother-in-law spoke a lot with her which surprised her cousin because he hadn't spoken much to anyone so far. Well,' saali (Hindi word for wife's sister) effect I guess' she thought. The saali-jeeja relationship (husband and his wife's sis) was a favourite of many Hindi movies. She was experiencing it the first time. And she liked her Software Engineer Jeeja. He spoke sense i.e. asked interesting questions, different from what one usually asks on meeting a stranger-relative. The evening went off really well with all of them going out for chaat/pani puris/the famous Jalaram's kachori and ending with the K.C. Das Sweets on the Church street, one of the few outlets in Bangalore's plush locality, serving unique Bengali savouries. The next day the Brother-in-law's cousins arrived. One of them was really a handsome material (her friend used 'material' too often ie husband material, boyfriend material etc.) Moderately fair, (couldn't place him in TDH category) a bit short or almost her height, sharp features including a well groomed moustache which she wouldn't call pencil sharp though. Good taste of clothes too, she observed and a neatly shaven face. Hmm ! so far so good. 'I hope he speaks something sensible/interesting at par with the personality he projected', she thought. Few guys whom she had met through cousins or friends in the past, she found were either interested in 'I shall include you too in my girlfriends list' kind of thing as if they were doing a favour or was it some indicator of their 'maleness' !! Some of them spoke too much, some aired their opinions like they owned the world or worse some even narrated 'their ex-girlfriend tales'. Not that she didn't like any one of them because she always tried to find something special in each of them as she thought that no human being is despicable. Each had something that had a meaning. But she hadn't been able to go that far to 'explore' any of them given the disciplined atmosphere at home and a vigilant mother.

Coming back she found out that his name was Mayank. Unusual name and when she asked him its meaning, he told 'Moon'. All this time they all conversed in Hindi or English. Mayank was silent. Now that bothered her, for there was something in the 'silent male species' that attracted her. Never mind she told herself, as she had got used to such reactions from herself. Her cousin suggested they all go out for a movie in the evening. There was a Multiplex close by and they all could walk down chatting at leisure. So walk they did with usual banter when all of a sudden Mayank stopped when he heard her answer her Jeejaji in Kannada. And everyone looked at him questioningly. He was not at all ruffled and stood with ease looking at her which sent down the familiar shivers through her and the shameless heartbeats. Sometimes she didn't like all this happening, as she felt she was losing control of herself or she was giving in. Well, Macho boy spoke at last,'Hey you know kannada?' Now what had that got to do with his sudden interest, she wondered. And on further knowing that she belonged to the same caste/creed/community or whatever, he was all the time besides her, though not boring. Well she thought about all the thoughts that run through a Man's mind before he selects someone for his 'wife' or ' wife material' ! Hmm ! if he is thinking that then its Good Bye, she decided because she just wasn't comfortable with 'my community/my religion/this's how its done etc etc'. She wasn't sure if he was thinking all that, but then her train of thoughts were always ready at the slightest input of stimulus. She found he was witty, good to be around with and a charming conversationalist. Was in the fourth year Diploma Printing Technology, had given a couple of Campus Interviews. Interesting she thought.

Then the Wedding Reception day arrived and she was put to the task of taking care of guests. Already she was looking after the Brother-in-law and party as is the custom in Indian Weddings ie of giving due importance to the groom and his relatives. the Bride's side has to serve them well. All the more reasons for Ravi to observe her, she found and she thought,'Ughh ! there he goes', perhaps thinking,'Looks after the people well, knows to cook, is educated.....' While she was escorting an elderly lady, he signalled her to come aside and she did. He told her he wasn't feeling well, now what's that she wondered. But he did look like he was going to have a severe bout of cold so she told him there was a medical store nearby. As expected he asked her to tag along. And he told her that she looked beautiful. Well there he goes, line no. 1. Then he said he liked her. O.K. line 2. What did she think about him? She told him he was 'interesting' that's all. A sort of secret closeness established that was not formal, was informal neither, a sort of man to woman 'talk'.They came back with the 'Cold n cough' medicines. The next day evening the brother-in-law and party had to leave and she found the 'Hero' sulking. Now that was a weakness with her. She had to ask any person whom she perceived as 'sad' the reason and she would try in her own way to help them deal with whatever they were up to. She had mellowed down after all these years and with few not so good experiences, still she thought she had a right to ask the Ravi guy. And Voila she did. Guess what, he just mumbles few sentences like 'It was nice here etc etc' and fishes out a Grand and offers it to her. She was taken aback as she had never experienced this kind. Well she asks what for? And he says for all the good time they spent together, he wanted to gift her something but the place being new and not having enough time to know her tastes, this made sense. She thought it sounded good, his words but something was wrong with the money part. And she told him she felt the same way and the moments they shared was a very good gift in itself and no thanks she just can't accept it. He somehow wasn't convinced (didn't I tell you in the previous short story, Men take time to get convinced, even from the female species whom they may be attracted to). He offered it once again and when she declined, he went out of the house to her surprise. She went behind to be stopped by the 'Uncle' who asked what the matter was by the way and where was she going? The Great Indian Household that seeks answers from the girl species for any action they think is out of place. She mumbled some satisfactory answers and went out. The guy walking up and down the garden...and he was smoking ! Oh ! its that serious she thought. She had to go in as she was called. Finally departure time and all the proper words said and done, He and she bid adieu to each other through the expressions on the faces which only they could understand.

Darkness of the sky

2009-04-13T23:13:00.000-07:00

How can the pristine blue sky go dark at night?

The Moon beams on...

And the white cloudy blanket spreads before the eyes...

The blues are visible though...

peeping thru' the mass

I want to take in the sensational azure

All of it...

Night ! Unveil...

Let me wear...the Lapis lazuli...

And the tiara of stars...

'n' walk on my toes verily...

First lesson...contd

2009-04-09T05:02:00.000-07:00

What was it with boys and alcohol, she had asked Ray and how he would always know about them? Like she would learn eventually about the 'MEN' species, he never answered certain questions and would get away with a mysterious smile which said,'Men's secret lady', which irritated her. Why did men behave like they knew everything around them ? Yup ! she agreed, given the protected environment she was brought up in, like other girls in Indian society, the worldly knowledge had to be limited. Somehow she wanted to try the forbidden part of her life.

Now he was in his 3rd year Engineering, not a topper but sharp, always the peacemaker in the group, would resolve conflicts, enjoyed novels, Western Music etc. She had heard, he had a girlfriend too. Somehow this knowledge made her feel light i.e. she would think 'Good. Affair ka jhanjhat nahee hoga (Don't have to get involved with him).' So she found she could talk to him for hours and he always seemed interested. She didn't know that he was a great listener too. He just had to ask,'What's the matter Ann ?' And she would go on and on.

The days they didn't meet, she felt vacant, as if something was missing. She had few friends and two best ones. With the two best friends, she was herself, their thoughts matched and what was interesting was there was little 'girl' talks. The three hung out together very often in the library or in the City centre after the college hours. Yes they did talk about the guys that interested them. The two waited everyday to hear her encounters with Ray. Well and the day Ray turned up, she would literally fight with him demanding an explanation. How naive she was, she didn't know. Unknown to herself she was getting involved with him. Then the inevitable happened. She moved to another city to join another course. Hostel life, a new beginning. He passed out his Engineering. They often had arguements over 'Love Marriages'. She didn't believe in them and he did strongly. Marriage somehow didn't interest her, and she thought focusing on career made sense. She had seen her parent's married life and that was o.k. but not worth investing whole life on. The 'miss him' factor remained though. Vassu, her best friend asked her to wait, not to reveal her feelings to him. He will speak out if he feels and can't keep to himself anymore, she said. And she obeyed. An opportunity to submit a paper for a thesis preceeding M.Phil program at Oxford appeared in the college bulletin. She started getting ready for that. She told Vassu, may be he is going steady with his girlfriend. Strange but she felt he was interested in her. It was then she asked one of her friends in the group they shared, who was older and experienced, was going steady with a boy, how can a girl know if a boy is interested in her, rather how can she be sure of it. And 'didi' said,'Look into his eyes. They will tell you.' Well she thought what was new? She had always looked into his eyes and talked and it made sense didn't it? How else does one talk, she pondered. He also looked at her umpteen times while talking and she hadn't found his gaze scrutinising like the other guys did ! Yeah ! It comes naturally to girls, distinguishing a dirty look from a decent one, a teasing look from a mean one. Back to the topic, she couldn't make head or tail of the 'eyes' factor. But yes she had felt some strange feeling that made her feel they were bound by an invisible force, between them when they stood together and talked, something which she felt they shared. What was it she had wanted to know but finding no answer, she just enjoyed it. It was like he knew it too as she did. Only they didn't talk about it.

Finally it happened. He told her he wanted to meet her alone to discuss something important. Meet they did. He told her he had never experienced like this before, had promised himself wouldn't get involved with a friend's sister because of something that had happened in the past. But he couldn't concentrate on anything he said and he found it impossible to go ahead in life without sorting this out. He wanted to marry her. She didn't want marriage. What's wrong if they were friends forever. He said there can never be a friendship between a boy and a girl and a long one at that. She believed in the opposite. She strongly believed a platonic relationship was possible. And she was bold enough to declare it to the world if needed. He didn't agree at all. Men, she thought, were difficult to convince. Again why did she feel he knew something more and he sounded right too. O. K. she said.

First lesson on boys

2009-04-08T22:10:00.000-07:00

She laid down on the swing, a half read book on her side, closed her eyes, one leg dangling carelessly and one resting up. This was her favourite 'job'. The to and fro motions of the swing melted into her being. Life was soothing this way, like it would never stop, like her thoughts. It gave her a feeling of being on a never ending journey.

And then she thought of him. Why was she attracted to him? She had never related to any of the boys in her class, in fact she didn't find them interesting at all and never bothered to find out if they were interested in her. She was the topper and wanted a match no less than herself. But after Neeta joined, everything had changed. Neeta-full of life, unlike herself who was drowned in books and study (of course no one knew she devoured romantic stories the most apart from physics or chemistry or biology and of course anything Shakespear-ean). She liked helping people but few reciprocated the feeling with which she thought for them except Neeta of course who startled her by mirroring some part of herself, showing her the warmth which no one had done before. And it was then she understood for the first time that she was attractive too. Thanks for Neeta's lesson on boys and 'the ways they looked'. Once Neeta had remarked,'Look how Shashikant is staring at you !' She said,'What rubbish ?' But then she had stealthily noticed that tall and fair Shashikant really looked at her. Oh! but he was a last bencher, okay in studies but popular by all means. How well Neeta and he clicked, the way they spoke easily with each other with no hang ups. Slowly she had come out of her cocoon and learnt the different ways to beat her shyness as she desperately wanted to be a part of the man-woman world.

Shashikant was a history after all these years, there had been so many she found who 'looked' at her. Strange unless you are aware of something, it does not exist at all. And once you are aware, it is the only thing that exists ! There had been so many pairs of eyes that she shuddered to look at, the heart beating faster everytime she did. Then he came along. He was unassuming. Calm, a serene look on his face, he also looked shy but she found out he wasn't. Boys can be so deceptive she thought. He wasn't dashing but showed his cave-man protective spirit when once they all were hanging out together one late evening. A drunkard had asked her address of one Mr. Saxena, of all the people standing there. And she had just begun to reply when she felt the man coming closer to her. In one startling second, Ray had sprung upon him and shoved him off. She was taken unawares. But she had loved every moment of it thereafter when he had almost shouted at her for being so stupid to answer a drunk ! Then there was the New Year party dance which she had danced with him in the moonlight. Two lads (neighbours) had come in un-invited asking for her, saying they wanted to wish her 'Happy New Year'. There he was, once again springing at the door, telling them something which made them exit with the same speed with which they had entered. She didn't like this time, as she thought it was bad man ners to send Neighbours away. He had made fun teasing her about the 'high spirited' neighbours.

to be contd

Unbounded

2009-04-07T22:17:00.000-07:00

There she was, once again caught up in a train of thoughts that seemed to end nowhere in particular. Sometimes that was o.k. with her, not arriving anywhere. Just the idea of thinking would do the trick...of making her content/may be happy at least for the few moments she had the feeling, which the thoughts conveyed. Then she would wake up startled to see the world around her, not the way she wanted or imagined though. Well life was going on o.k. not much to complain but still she wanted to think she belonged somewhere else. Where? and What for? Questions which she always asked herself when she would be in a contemplative mood.

Moody, yes that's what she was known as. Some people told her that she 'beh jatee hai' (gets lost in imagination). What's wrong she would ask them ? It gave her happiness, delusive though. Should everything be stark REAL ? What if she didn't like the real world sometimes and would prefer an imaginative world ? She loved the various acts Nature put up in front of her eyes daily. She also loved the attention she got wherever she went, the college, the work place, the family events etc. At times she thought she should have been a dancer. What a way to express ! Self fulfilling ! You didn't need someone to make you feel special and all that. Once she had nagged her husband about this. As a child, she would want her dad or someone in the house to wish her 'Happy Birthday' the moment she got up ! As it was un-Indian way of wishing in a Hindu household where one went to temple on birthday or an 'arti' was done, that which she wanted never happened. Once she had expressed this to her dad and he had reprimanded her not to mimic the 'west'. Blowing candles, cutting cakes was British culture. Why can't people do what one wants? She would think forever and ever. A rebel ? Yes she was, but having brought up in a close knit and a very loving family, she adjusted to the societal roles of daughter, sister, wife, mother etc. But she loved the Friend role a lot. That was what excited her, made life thrilling. She wanted friendship in all her relationships each of which had a name. The moment a relationship gets a name, it get limited by the shoulds/shouldnt's, she mused. Why can't life be a joy ride of emancipated spirits ? She got up again with a question in her mind.

Who is a true Maharashtrian ?

2009-04-05T22:07:00.000-07:00

Though haven't seen 'Me shivaji raje bhosle boltoy', this question plagues 'me' who was born in Mysore, to Tamil Iyengar parents whose forefathers had migrated to Karnataka years back from Tamilnadu. Now my parents spent their marital life in Bhilai then in Madhya Pradesh which was a township housing people from almost all states of India and who worked for the mammoth Bhilai Steel Plant. I grew up in an environment where people connected as Bhilaians irrespective of the languages they spoke or the religion they followed. As for my identity I didn't fit either into the Tamilian category or the Kannadigas for that matter. My parents were members of the 'Kannada Sangha' where I heard people speak 'English' especially the peer group thus appearing hypocrites. The 'Tamil samaj' where I had to go with dad once or twice, didn't appeal either because the uncles wore white 'Panche' and the aunties appeared too much 'God & Pooja' prone more out of fear than the customs and the kids had white 'Namam' (white ash lines on forehead). The friends I interacted with were mostly Central and North Indians especially Punjabi's And I thought in Hindi, I mean I used to think in Hindi and later only in English. I wanted to marry a Punjabi because I thought they were 'Bindaas' (at least those in Bhilai were) but ended up befriending a boy who matched the mind and who cared for the psyche enough to contemplate a life to spend with. He was a Maharashtrian, a community I had never been exposed to.

Back to the question 'Who then is a true Maharashtrian?' My folks (in-laws) also from Bhilai, were cosmopolitan, never imposed anything 'Marathi' on me except that the food I was taught to cook was Maharashtrian, which was o.k. to the palette, me not being too fussy about eating. Beginning married life in Pune, a place I had always liked as a child when we stayed during summers with my aunt in the Defence colony, made me fall in love with it all the more and I geared up to become 'a Maharashtrian' by choice as I liked the customs/traditions which were similar to those I was exposed to at home but which had never interested then but now with the role of a wife/daughter-in-law etc. made sense. Wonder how certain phases of life ties one down, putting the wilder side at bay. Life had other plans and we shifted to Gujarat and with that all my plans of being a 'Maharashtrian' was gone. For once again I landed amidst people from various states. Nevertheless I followed Ganesh puja, Gudi Padwa and Satyanarayan puja on rakhi purnima and whatever I could read and understand from 'Sampurna Chaturmas' the Marathi book that talks about the festivals and the likes in Maharashtra for, the Mom-in-law had told me to look after the house, the kid and the husband, which she felt was the true religion when I asked her the festivals/pujas she wanted me to do in an year. They all communicate with me in Hindi and in Marathi amongst themselves. So I don't speak Marathi with them though have started now in Pune, with the maid, the auto driver etc. Am I a Maharashtrian ? Legally yes but I don't feel like one as I don't feel like a Tamilian or a Kannadiga either for that matter. The brother-in-law once remarked 'Identity crisis' and I used to feel that way too but not anymore. After having studied in Madhya Pradesh, worked in Karnataka, stayed in Gujarat for 13 full years and now in Maharashtra, I feel an Indian, and a proud one at that. I just cannot stand 'navu kannadigaru' (we are kannadigas) or 'amhee Marathi' ( we are marathis) or anything of such sort as I feel its only the weak who need to shout to be heard. The strong work, do something and make their presence known. Shivaji had to do it, erect formidable forts, shout slogans in order to create the spirit to fight and hoist flags so that he could oust the British. Why do we need to do that now? The president is a Maharashtrian. Did she land up the post because she hailed from Maharashtra? I have this debate in the classrooms I teach and I salute the passion writ on Marathi faces, only wish they who need to proclaim their Marathiness in their own state go out and live in some other states for sometime and redirect their passion to something worthwhile. Will some one be a true Marathi then if they

1. Speak Marathi.

2. Cook/eat Marathi food.

3. Follow Maharashtrian festivals/beliefs about religion.

4. Read and write Marathi.

5. Live in Maharashtra.

6. Shout current slogans

7. Abhor people from other states

8. Earn in Maharashtra, not send money to their parents residing in other states (Is the

President doing it I wonder)

Can someone answer?

El O vee eee

2009-03-31T22:23:00.000-07:00

That's better and one can't call this noble virtue which's part of Man's higher self, a four letter word ! Well have devoured some of Tagore's Gitanjali and others in search of its meaning though. Looking at the childhood album that dad and mom showed me proudly, talking about my birth, I got introduced to 'a feeling of belonging, a strong connection, a firm base to hold on to'. Then looking at my brother's cute chubby snap as a toddler made me feel proud that he belonged to me too ! Then cousins came along and there was 'a sense of togetherness/sharing secrets, we are all in it..ness'. It was scintillating, the hordes of stories we shared of our admirers and those whom we envied, the mental matches we made for ourselves whenever we met someone our age or beyond, all of course influenced mightily by reading regular doses of Mills and Boons. How gripping those moments would be ! The need of the age got a new colour everytime we read a new one. Then there was Linda Goodman's sun signs as an excuse to the behaviour we adopted. Each sun sign had its own romantic version. Having experienced Mills and Boons in real life, lived through the various shades of one's own idea of love. It doesn't stop there, does it ? Its like you are graduating in the various classes of the need to give and receive, hold or leave. Then there was this painful ousting of a new package from my own self who was a complete stranger to me when the nurse showed him, all wrapped up in white linen. She thought after the pain I had undergone for hours, the sight of him would be a panacea which was not the case. The thought that came to my mind was,'How big his lips are, definetely his dad's side genes and how tiny the eyes?' I didn't tell her though and smiled instead. There was a reason though for this initial detachment, the significant other, with the resposibility of running the family, hardly being present when this bundle was being prepared in vivo and conspicuously absent at the launch of the joint venture, busy elsewhere in rolling out the first kilometers of optical fibre, for strangers called Employers, unintentionally though. Then a cousin told that her infant smiled at her the first time after four months, when she was nursing. Had that in mind, and even though worked with the maternal instinct most of the time, with mom taking care of him and me both, connected with him really when he gave me a toothless three and a half month old baby smile when he was left wholly in my care after mom left. Nothing could match this love. Pure. Unconditional. To the extent that I was ready to do things for this tiny king which I wouldn't for anyone else including the real life hero I lived with.

To be continued...

Well back again.But it doesn't stop here either does it? The need to connect, to share etc. So then there were these women who like me wanted to reach out ! And there...what a great feeling it is to go unannounced to your friend who is very glad to feed you from the morning 'chai' till late dinner. Oh ! the world of talks ! I remember an uncle in the neighbourhood in Bhilai, when I went to meet his wife who was unwell, telling me 'Ab tum aa gayee ho beta, ye bilkul theek ho jaayengi, baat jo kar lengi tumse' (Now that you have come she has someone to talk to, she'll be perfectly fine). O.K. its dinner time. Wish I could be all alone somewhere in an island with the laptop ! To be continued.

What do I write ?

2009-03-31T03:04:00.000-07:00

Well there are times when so many things criss cross the mind clearly and you wish there was someway to transfer them on the screen and save. Gone is the impulse to take a paper and write down and feel heavenly. About the bus conductor (fair/young and a look that doesn't suit his job, c'd be doing Marathi plays instead) who for god knows what reason, gives a welcome smile everytime I board at any point of the route the bus plys, and which amuses me. Or the discussions centred around Marathi as a language which makes even the introvert in the class open his mouth, of those child like expressions on adult student's faces when some part of them deep down in their psyches has been touched and its as if you have opened a door for them to step out into a new fascinating world. Of the cool fresh morning air that defies the Red hot ball sticking out there in the eastern sky, of the woman who walked into my class before joining, to observe how I go about 'training people in spoken English'. She turned out to be a post doctorate-ex radio jockey (hindi) and we gelled in an instant, the next one and a half month being spent like two inseperable high school girls ! Talk of life really kicking in your late thirties ! Then there is this moment in the early morning Tea session I have with myself (having gotten over the shock many years back, of not having the ex-friend/now husband to share the morning sip, which's like a ritual in my maternal home) and the black and white letters on the pages I read from a book every day. The book talked about people who have left dear Earth but who you could connect to if you wanted to. And there, memories of my granny telling me stories of Goldilocks and the three bears, Cindrella, Seven dwarfs, these three being my all time favourites flooded my mind and I wondered if she could be looking down at me right now as I missed her. She was one person during my childhood days who fed me what I wanted, was very loving and caring and thought the world for me during the many times Mom left me in her care, taking my little brother along, which made me very jealous of the brat and I almost thought that mum didn't want me. She would wait with snacks and a cup of tea daily, when I returned from work in Bangalore. Later when I got married, I even got a letter from her saying that she missed me a lot in the evenings. How lonely old age can be ? Well got to go once again to cater to domestic demands !

Patch Adams

2009-03-24T22:20:00.000-07:00

The movie, a real life story about Hunter 'Patch' Adams (the founder of Gesundheit Clinic in West Virginia that treats patients by humour and pathos) from the beginning had me, a morning person, glued to the screen at an unearthly hour of 12 am, thanks to the husband who is a 'night owl'. Not able to decide whether to sleep or watch, there was something magnetic about the events being unfurled on the screen that made me sit down and get into the 'deep flick watching mode' wherein the person in me disappears into some or the other character acting out there, depending on who I relate to at the moment'. The Einstein look alike character in the psychiatric ward, 'Arthur Mendelson's question: How many fingers do you see?' amused and got me thinking at the same time about the way a genius' mind works. The sentences Arthur utters when Patch answers 'eight' and the look on his face when he asks ' What do you see in me Arthur?' moved me. A super duper scientist, a mathematician or those blessed with 'High IQ', those of the genius kinds: deep down somewhere, all they want is compassion, a helping human gesture which Patch shows by mending Arthur's leaking tea cup while he works his equations. Now I have come across a few who scoff at that, hiding behind the idea of being 'practical/logical'. Have always wondered, what makes man not show his emotional side ?

"You treat a disease, you win, you loose. You treat a person, I guarantee you, you will win, no matter the outcome." says Robin Williams enacting Patch Adams in the movie. No words more powerful than this could mirror what has always been on my mind since my school days. In fact Granny's words rang in my ears 'Veena I think you can become a doctor' and the long forgotten desire to be a doctor albeit created by grandma resurfaced. The desire to live Patch's words got stronger. I wondered at the influence a cinema can have on human mind !

For you Anagha

2009-03-20T06:12:00.000-07:00

Brother's daughter : That's how you are related to me sweetheart. Well, One and a quarter year old, you stepped into my home last week, still clinging to your 'amma', yet taking in all that was there in the living room with your tiny naughty eyes. I was introduced to you promptly by your parents as 'aththe' and my was I proud to be referred to that word for the first time in my life? So I took you in my arms and surprisingly, you didn't wail. There: a bond was established, still the little person in you was scrutinizing me, wondering who this lady must be ! Well I told you that I was your 'aththe', making sure that it registered properly in your mind and would continue to do so during the next few days that you stayed in. You don't gel with soft toys much, I found out but instantly took to your Akash 'anna'. You would give him 'tight' (your parent's baby word for a hug), but me ? you wouldn't, however I tried luring you with 'raisins' and 'biscuits' which you liked a lot. Sitting on the bed, licking the cream of the biscuit and occasionally wiping your tiny hands on the bedspread, playing with my cell with greasy hands... Somehow I didn't feel like stopping you. One fine day you and I had a good time when I got to feed you, while your mom was busy elsewhere. You liked my cell and would say 'on' and switch the walkman on. Your impromptu dance on 'left leg aagey aagey...from rab ne banaa de jodi' was a delight to watch. You getting angry reminded me of my granny and your great grandmother. We try to trace something of our lineage in every newborn that arrives in the family. Why ? Roots. Man can't do without it. No wonder I find something binding you and me, the genetic way that is.

The Blossom

2009-03-16T23:54:00.000-07:00

There was this seed which someone planted in a garden. Now the garden said,'This's your home now and you are welcome ! ' The soil said,'I'll nourish you, bathe you, provide you all comforts and hold you strong.' The seed was happy that it was being pampered. The tiny insects moving about the seed in the soil were its friends. But its favorite friend was the Earthworm. Days passed with the seed getting fed thoroughly but still it said to itself,'Something is missing. I am content, I am happy, but I want something more. I want to be Euphoric about something, say for all the time. How can that be possible ? I have got all the love and care that I need. I want to be something, do something with the kind of foundation I have with me.' So it burst open to a whole new world of razzle and dazzle of the Sun. The seed loved this and saw itself transformed into an attractive pair of breathtaking green leaves and a slender light green stem. It happily took all the brightness in and said,'I need to do some more with what I have got, this new found freedom above'. So it moved its leaves as if in a rhythm which later turned out to be a dance, tuned to the melody of the bird's music. Oh ! was it ecstatic? You bet it was ! But the soil was not very happy with this change. It had covered the seed, protected it, fed it and suddenly it didn't belong to it anymore. At least that's what the soil thought. Slowly the dusk set in. The shoot wondered,' What's wrong? Where's the glitter vanishing?' And then it was night. The spirit sank but the freshness in the young plant wouldn't budge. It said,'I'll stand tall till this darkness passes, I'll rise further up where no one can stop me from blossoming'. But there was night after every day which the seedling couldn't avoid. It wanted to bend the rules though and thought 'What if there was no night at all?' It would be such a lot of fun. But it had learnt few lessons in life. The soil still held it tight whether it was brightness or dark. The plantlet said to itself,' A day will come when there will be no darkness, the glitter all the time for me to dance till I drop. I'll however, wait for the day'. The soil meanwhile grumbled and told the budding plant that it felt unloved and deserted. The plant told the soil,' How can I ever live without you? I have to have you throughout my life and its you who I need to blossom ! I need your nourishment, the same love and care that you started with. Its with that I'll bloom. The soil wasn't convinced. It thought the seedling had the sun's brightness, the bird's songs, the cool breeze...all new found friends and so it didn't bother about the soil at all. The soil blamed itself that may be all these days it hadn't given the seed enough, the reason why it decided to shoot up instead of being in its cosy dwelling.
Could someone tell the soil that its position in the blossoming plantlet's life was something special ? That the seedling cannot be stopped from growing and branching out. To bear the flower and the fruit, to CREATE, it needs all that the soil can give. And if the soil felt dejected and refused, it would cause the young plant to wither. The seedling can't live without opening and spreading out into the sunshine !

A Tribute to you Mom on Women's Day

2009-03-08T21:52:00.001-07:00

The most beautiful woman in my life, my Mother...I haven't clicked your photo on my cell, to upload in my blog, but you are there whenever I need you ! I draw strength from the way you led your life with Appa, Vine, me...and also how you dealt your in-laws and 'maher' (that's marathi word for maternal relations). I have only a fair idea about your life before I was born, which I know, also holds a good deal to teach me Life skills/lessons. You made my schooling years very memorable. As a child I remember being so naive as to think there was only one person in the whole world called 'Mom' and that was you ! In fact when I heard other kids calling 'mom', I used to wonder who these women were ? Always wanting to see me excel in studies, you taught me all subjects which I imbibed like a sponge. You always said that I was sincere enough to listen to your instructions while teaching and so I excelled. Standing 'I st' in the class was a rule for me (that's what you wanted) and anything less would upset me very much. So 'rank conscious' I was that I wouldn't befriend anyone who was not a 1st or 2nd ranker which I understood later was not a 'sane idea'. Being a Homescience graduate and having a good command over English in those days, you wanted to have a job, a very ambitious person that you were. But your dad didn't let you work and appa followed suit. Mom, thank you for giving your whole life in bringing up Vine and me. Your world revolved around the three of us. Oops ! your 'blind love' and dedication to Appa, I can't match. Lucky guy, Appa to have such a fan for life ! Well you were always the perfectionist during my growing years and quite judgemental too, a reason why I could never click with you in the kitchen or while learning to speak 'kannada' or the 'Carnatic Music'. However 'the not agreeing' rebel inside me loves you despite the differences. You and me : We are poles apart but bond strongly ! You tried to pass on your "Children/husband is my life" philosophy to me whom you had taught to become 'self-dependent, stand on you own, have a niche etc...' A part of you wants to see me on top of the world and another, to see me as your reflection. But that's all past. Now after all these years, I am seeing a different 'you'. You have mellowed and your scales of perfection have been compromised too. You are taking care of your spinster aunt in her 90's because she did a lot for you when you were growing up. You are my role model Mom and I see myself doing many of the things which you did and I scoffed at. Your tenacity and the spirit to serve people, in your 60 + years is amazing. You are comfortable with a steady flow of people in your house though sometimes you ring me up and tell that you want to be alone for a while ! I just listen to you, a trait at least which you have always counted upon, from the day when I verbally supported you in a family issue. I was tired of seeing you fighting all alone. And with me by your side, no one could utter a word about you. I shall continue to be the pillar of strength for you to lean upon, in your twilight years Mom. Here's once again a wishing you 'A Happy Woman's Day'.

P.S. The lady with purse, sitting on extreme left in the photo is Usha Aatya, (the greatest networker in the family that I know of till now), celebrating 'Women's Day' with her schoolmates. The second photograph, you need not guess !

An evening at Paud Rd, Kothrud

2009-03-05T07:13:00.000-08:00

Well, it was around 8 pm or so and I had an hour to kill. Thought of buying a birthday card for my FIL and right in front of me was Archies. Passing time at the card gallery was a hobby when I was in college. Its the same now except that its not frequent as it used to be. None of the cards satisfy but finally buy one that has what I want to say. The AC inside coupled with music made me take one more round of the card gallery though it lacked variety. Coming out I strolled outside for sometime, taking in the night breeze and watching people in action. Some trying to cross the road amidst the mad rush of vehicles, some entering shops and others coming out, the guards at certain shops and ATMs keeping a watch...Bought some chocolates and on an instinct entered a store that displayed Formal shirts. Bought a shirt for the birthday 'dad'. Now was the time for 'Tea break' and I looked around for some 'respectable' tea joints where I could take a sip at this hour. Finding none, decided to take a look at what 'krushnai' sold. Coffee 'espresso coffee'. said the menu card. Ordered one and sat on the chair in open air. There was little chance to gaze at the stars or the moon amidst the glitter of display boards, traffic lights etc. Men in different attires caught my attention. Some in shorts, others in casuals strolled by aimlessly. Some came out in their 'house apparels' to take a bite at the various snack stalls on the road. Then there were the 'Capgemini', 'Persistent'...software professionals in their uniforms, crisp formal attires, getting down from their respective buses with I cards dangling around their necks. The I cards somehow make me uncomfortable giving a feeling of 'office bound', however imressive their designs or the wearer might be. And for once, I am happy at my ' waiting for coffee, enjoying open air status'. The geeks however have a hurried look on their faces as they head towards their homes. Guys in cargos and jeans lean against their bikes, eyeing the few eves that dot the street. Then there are some dads waiting with their offsprings while their better halves buy vegetables etc. Very few women in the picture. My coffee arrives which I sip till I spot the car and hubby. Time to go, even as a voice inside whispers 'hey ! hang around or walk on the pavement with hands stuck in pockets, listening to the FM or walkman, with strides that take you nowhere...'. 'Late hours...its a Man's world, time to go home baby, sighs another voice'. inside'.

Solitude

2009-03-05T05:14:00.000-08:00

I long for thee...
Everyday I am amidst people who mean to me and who need me too
but I need to meet you at least once every day.
Some days I have interesting moments with friends and the day ends beautifully too.
But with you its different. Early morning, when no one gets up
or late at night when everybody sleep, its you who I meet.
To watch from the window, highway lights that twinkle
Between me and the glitter..
the silence of the night...
the silhoutte of the tall firs
Oh ! I almost hear a whisper...
The eyes can't help wanting more...
more of the darkness...
how much more dark a night can be ?
I wonder...
though its the morning that rejuvenates me...
the night mesmerizes
with its unusual quietness..
I am o.k. with it till I am called to sleep.
The morning's glory...
its entirely different...
the colors enchanting...
a riot of bewitching blue, orange...
I am not alone in celebrating the dawn...
My winged friends join me...
and Nature starts putting up a show..
which enthralls my being..
Its lovely...the stillness outside,
that matches the aloneness within...
feeds the life in me...
to take on another day...
I am ready !

To you guys of PC College of Engg. Akurdi

2009-03-03T20:15:00.000-08:00

At first, the Computers and the Mechanical batch interested me but now I am beginning to enjoy the I.T. batch too. The expression writ on your faces vary from curiosity, amusement, intrigue to the usual 'checking out' attitude of a typical student. As for me, the Trainer (or a teacher called by various modern nomenclatures...facilitator, coach etc), I have this challenge of creating ample interest in you before I start my presentation. I hate to teach (that must be evident to you now) but have always believed in being the guide you need so that you carve your own path, create a niche. Being the friend who understands but being firm when situation demands has been my motto and I have always got wonderful results...when some of you, after the class is over, come to me for advice. I am always bowled out by your honest confessions. You want to be treated as young adults I know, i.e. with respect and you long for love too, both of which you deserve.
Yesterday when I wanted to teach 'Presentation Skills' and asked you to 'Present' instead, you came out wonderfully.

Tu dhoop hai, cham sey bikhar
Tu hai nadi, o bekhabar
Ud chal kaheen, beh chal kaheen
dil khush jahaan,
teri tho manzil hai waheen

Above lines from Aamir Khan's 'Tare zameen par' ..I want to dedicate to you. Well, skills you have, all you need is polishing and a willingness to learn, which I see in you and am happy about it too. Except for one or two of you who want to project your mind because you have so much to tell and very few an audience ! You need to know you have to be 'the audience' first before someone listens to you. Well today its you the I.T. people. See you at the college !

Auguries of Innocence

2009-03-02T22:30:00.000-08:00

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a Heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour,
We are led to believe a lie
When we see with, not thro' the eye,
Which was born in a night, to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.

This poem by William Blake touches me as I read it while I have my morning 'chai'

Something beckons me...
somewhere far away...
at times by my very side...
What is it that eludes ?
I think with a sigh..
Once again in a pool of ifs and buts
Life... your hues are mesmerising !
Well I start my day anyway
the search goes on...
I have my bags ready...I move on

Aren't they beautiful ?

2009-02-24T05:23:00.000-08:00

Dawn !

2009-02-22T18:55:00.000-08:00

That part of the day which the wilderness within
meets : eye to eye, soul to soul, heart to heart
And
merges into it...
serenity, calmness...branch out from the trees
the chirrup of the winged beauties form a melody...
In fact I remember taking early morning walks for a couple of days when we were in Umergaon, a small village-upcoming township near Mumbai in Gujarat. Men opening shops, some cleaning with brooms themselves, some getting it done by peons. There was a banker, a Parsi who owned a Xerox-STD-ISD booth. I saw him brooming himself and then putting 'rangoli'. Now that's 'owner mentality', a lesson that I learnt, in the land where business runs in the blood. Then there were few 'chaiwalas' making 'adrak/elaichi chais'. You bet I would feel very tempted to take a morning sip. But...men standing with newspaper...small place...etc the usual social norms...and I would walk back home to have the drink in the comforts of home. Why can't a human being attired in woman's body enjoy certain things? I fight this out on a daily basis. Well I don't want to talk about the rigmarole pertaining to this topic. Coming back, yes the early morning spirit ran through all, whom I saw during my walks, sort of binding us all on the outer...even though we occupied different worlds within.

Balewadi Sports Campus: Appearances are deceptive.

2009-02-19T20:27:00.000-08:00

Having missed out on the Mother of all sporting events "The Commonwealth Youth Games" held at Balewadi in Pune, had an opportunity to visit the fancy sports campus located at Malunge village, for a conference. Sprawling lawns and glossy exteriors of the buildings are a feast to the eyes. However the changing rooms were shoddy and the loo, a nightmare. There was no water but there were cartons of sealed 'Energy drink' bottles kept near the toilet !! A bunch of women had formed a line outside and one of them took the bottle out of the carton and went inside. Soon many followed suit until I got curious about the colourful bottles and read the contents ! The atmosphere there, now got really 'energized' ! Can the sports authorities explain the reason behind stacking cartons of 'Energy Drinks' near a toilet?

Siblings banter

2009-02-16T01:18:00.000-08:00

After a long time baba, kaka and aatya are together at our house the second time. Few years back they had all gathered together at Umbergaon. Its fun watching the brothers tease their sister. All are in their 70's. Kaka arrives all the way from Vadodara to be with his kin. He is the one to wake up early today. Everyone else joins him soon for a cup of tea. And the never ending chat starts once again. Grandchildren, daughters-in-law, sons, daughter, her in- laws....the talk focuses mainly on relations. I have had few days of interaction with all of them in these 14 years. Kaka, a retired Veterinary Joint Director, early in the morning put his cell-walkman on speaker which doles out 'Breathless' by Shankar Mahadevan followed by Marathi songs. I thought he is making good use of the cell phone (has also set the voice tone which anounces the time every hour) unlike my folks especially my mom who is yet to learn messaging. Aatya ( a retired teacher) is her own sweet self. Though I can understand Marathi well, it is difficult to follow certain words/dialouges that highlight different meanings in different context. But I can make out that baba and kaka try to make her view the usual familial issues in a manner different from what she percieves, she belonging to the sensitive lot. I like sensitive human beings (can relate to them better). And so till date I have had a good time getting married to a Maharashtrian household inspite of being a person raised in a South Indian (Tamil/Kannada) home, in the central part of India (Bhilai). Baba, a Mechanical Engineer is his own jolly self and once he quoted his philosophy of life by reciting James Leigh Hunt's Abou Ben Adhem

Abou Ben Adhem

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An Angel writing in a book of gold:

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the Presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?" The Vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."

"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the Angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one who loves his fellow men."

The Angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,
And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest!

-- James Leigh Hunt

I'll continue later I guess as I need to attend to
some chores.

A plea

2009-02-14T02:18:00.000-08:00

you created a lovely world..
the solitude of the dark silent night
the breathtaking aura of the full moon
talk of 'non verbal communication' !!!
the music of the early tweeting sounds
the warm hug of the morning breeze..
sun rays stealing thru the greens of trees
golden twinkles...
wet grass on bare feet
blanket of clouds in the blues above..
ocean stretching far and beyond...
as far as eyes can see
this's not enough...
could u create some more?

2009-02-13T23:14:00.000-08:00

Treading distances...
miles and miles to go
But the 'I' in me doesn't match the steps...doesn't want to
It wants to fly
Where?
How?
With the feet firmly grounded.
Wish could smoothly back up the legs
cool...like the birds do
Oh! what a world it would be then
the journey matching the soul !
A sense of Exhilaration !
I don't belong to this world
Do I?
I wish to see the world that I want
I close my eyes
and wish
on this day of Valentine

Hey Aakash and Ekta !

2009-02-05T04:01:00.000-08:00

Do you know that you are our 'Happiness Bank'?
Like you add pennies to your piggies
We deposit N number of things daily...
We can cash you whenever we want..
A warm hug here, a kiss on the cheek there
We never have to think if we have enough to invest...
In fact we have more than we can even dream of...
But yes unless we do pay up everyday,
We won't get the returns, No way !
How strange? We don't have to 'work hard and earn' or 'plan' for this daily savings
No tax to pay...
All interest compounded...
Wealth swelling day by day !

Children

2009-02-05T03:22:00.000-08:00

A five something year old boy in his school uniform and bag with the zip torn, got onto the 7.50 am bus, quickly sat near a window seat and gestured his mother 'aai laukar ye, ithey seat ahey', holding his tiny palm onto the vacant seat besides him, guarding it fiercely. A little girl who looked to be his sister, came in, panting and occupied the seat in front of the boy. The Mother came at last, may be pre-occupied with unfinished jobs back at home, or someother things going on in her mind, the thought of availability of a place to sit in the bus being the last one to think of. The concern the boy showed for his mother was so sweet, like any five year old would do. He looked like he would take on the world for his mother. We raise our kids unconditionally and we are rewarded like these heavenly gestures. Soon the conducter came and the mother said 'MIDC', to which he showed surprise. The girl then said,' Chincwad station' and started giggling, in between telling her mother how nowadays she forgot the names of places. The 6 year old also explained, that the conducter didn't know MIDC. It was lovely watching kids taking reigns in their hands, sort of being escort for their mother. And the Mom...she was sort of beginning to feel the security that comes from the knowledge that her upbringing is being fruitful. Unconditional love can do wonders. Reminded me of my son who would hand me the cell or the house keys that I sometimes forgot to take before leaving for work. More than that, him cheering me up at times, not budging till he saw a smile on my face or reading his dad's face and asking what went wrong? Children clothed in Adult-thought attire. Where do they get this sudden Adult behaviour and statements from? They are truly the Gift of God.

Today

2009-02-04T04:07:00.000-08:00

There was this silent voice that has been nudging me for years...
Its time now, it said...gear up-
Hmm ! not so easy this...
The mute observer, from the heavens almost had his thumbs up !
And the book I've been reading, every page or any sentence has been screaming 'go go...'
And I almost did ! but I paused...
God ! tussi gr8 ho !
u create a yearning, u give answers too...
but then u check every moment, how am I getting thru...
yaar tujhsey hai panga hamara
mazaa bhe tumhee sey hai
tujhey hi saath le chaley hain
tho gila kahaan kisee sey hai
Hazaaron hain jee rahey
kisi apney ki talash mey
Bas pahonchaney ki der hai
Mit jayengi ranjishey
Dil ko hai sukoon ki talash
Par junoon bhe tho hai josh mey
Manzil ki parwa naheen
Chalna hai rasto pe hosh mey
Bekhabar honey ki tamanna
kahaan hai peecha chodti
but 'wake up' says the soul within
rise, set y'self free.
its an eternal war, to be bound or not to be
Am wading once again
through moments that need the whole of me
If only I could find myself
how easy life could be !

Patterns

2009-02-03T04:37:00.000-08:00

Colours splashed on the morning sky
Like a painter's brush gone haywire
The charming orange and saffron
on a background of sea blue
The crisp cool breeze that dances around
all set to woo...
The cuckoo's call of the summer
augments the show
The Sun makes his handsome entry
his ascent slow...
urges the day to grow...
I want the early morning hues to hang on...though !

Horizon...

2009-01-31T05:27:00.000-08:00

Dazzling lights...
I see...far on the side
this night.
There's always been this question...
after I reach...
What's next? What's beyond?
And in search I walk on...
Exhilaration... Mystery... Doubt... Danger... yes's... no's...it's all there...
part of a game...
Oblivion...that state of mind where everything else disappears...
Its wonderful...the delusion
Nothing is permanent...
Moments...meaningful...or otherwise
why should they be?
Live those moments
Move on...

The long bus ride...

2009-01-30T05:47:00.000-08:00

While travel gives the mind a respite, a temporary detour to disengage itself from its preoccupations, moving inside the city can be taxing by the end of the day ! The mind is dazed by the honking vehicles and the serpentine queue that they form. The walkman and the FM are a good company but as the dusk set in, closing eyes was the next best thing to do. Reaching home finally, the sound of the little bells of the 'sugarcane juice churning machine' was a welcome change. The sounds matched some pre-recorded decibles in the mind, of childhood days in Bhilai, bringing back memories of 'what finally being home meant'. It was music to the ears. Then still closer home, the melodious chant of 'Tripadi' (which I first heard from my mother-in-law who sings it well too), by a group of women completed the ritual of 'final home coming'. Am I happy to be a part of 'the quietness of home ?

Blessings !

2009-01-28T06:34:00.000-08:00

I am walking down the road..
when I look up to a shower of golden leaves...
Oh ! divine currency ? I think...
or a blessing time ?
whatever it is, I love the touch of the tiny darlings as they fall...
I catch one and hold it in my palms for a moment..
and then keep it safe in my purse...
I shall count on the miracle, which this trinket will bring...
Its fun to play again with self...
Wish I could get some stones to kick too...
which we did while walking to school !

Nuances

2009-01-27T23:59:00.000-08:00

Life's a music...
and you ?
rhythm ? the beats ? the humming...
whatever it is...
its painful....and a bliss too
the quest creates a path...
asks the soul to follow
and the soul ?
flouts all rules..
rises above all.. merrily, nonchalant...
its destiny its sure...