Bartan and Peace

           ‘Bidadi Mane’ ( बिडदी मने ) is a term in Kannada which means a room where the bride’s maternal side gifts are arranged in a wedding, including kitchen essentials.       

               As a child  when I attended weddings in Mysore and Bangalore, the ‘Bidadi Mane’ translated to a plethora of kitchen vessels viz. pressure cooker, aluminium ‘kadhai’, ‘tawa’  steel vessels of all sizes, cooking ladles and serving spoons, glasses, dinner and snack plates, cups etc.            

            It was no different in my wedding. Though I had never cooked the regular day to day meals at home, I had to make friends with my maternal and mil’s vessels in the kitchen. It was a nightmare to wash all those utensils when the maid went on leave.  

                 Whenever we shifted homes, the only things I couldn’t part with, was the kitchen ‘bartan’. And then I would stare at the steel spread in bewilderment, thinking, what’s with cooking and eating three times a day! - which made it impossible to do away with those seemingly stupid vessels!!

                    Singapore: When we shifted to this fabulous city,  I became an expert dishwasher, at least till I got a maid. Whenever we would have guests for meals, while the guests relaxed post meal, I would wash all the plates, spoons, cups, in a jiffy and stack, leaving the other big dishes to do the next morning as it was easier to tackle them, like problems , the next day morning.

         And then, I lost my life partner. And I didn’t cook. Didn’t have to, for almost two years, as work consumed me and we stayed with my in-laws. When we shifted to a separate apartment, I arranged the aluminium cooker, kadhai, tawa, the non-stick family counterparts, the steel plates - full, half, quarter, the ladles of various shapes and sizes, the knives, the spoons, the glasses, the ‘vatis’ etc. in the kitchen drawers. And for once since he left, something felt normal. Peace. 

I was perplexed that cooking for my family everyday had made these ‘bartan’ my mates. I couldn’t understand the connect between peace and the material - the humble ‘bartan’.

Was I attached to the ‘bartan’ or was it the process of cooking for family: taking them out for cooking, serving - washing them sparkling clean - drying and then re-arranging them that gave the calm? I don’t know, as I muse over the ‘Bartan and Peace’ - despite the annoying noise these vessels make while drying and arranging them. ‎

Permanent Address

They had just shifted to Nelli, a town somewhat unheard of. She had to search a good school for her daughter once again and then find something productive for herself.

          Kannan was ambitious & had changed his job recently. She had agreed to take a back seat & looked for free lancing jobs in the hours her husband & daughter would be out. She went to open her account in a nearby bank. The man at the desk filled a form, taking her details in. Then he said, ‘ Madam I need your address proof ‘. She gave him the Rent Agreement. ‘ This won’t do ‘, he said, as it had only Kansan’s name, not hers. He then asked if the landline, cylinder, cellphone bill…anything that was in her name. For the first time she realised she didn’t have anything in her name to show her address proof & no permanent address proof either. The passport had an address where they lived earlier. 

              She bugged Kannan the entire day. She made sure, the next house rental agreement  in whichever place they moved to, would have her name as well. Next came the permanent address proof. Well after a decade of shifting places, they did buy an apartment, the papers of which bore her name as the co-owner. Finally she could write her address proof & the permanent address proof with a flourish.

               Then something as obscure as a virus shook her world, her address. The Man was no more. What then, is a permanent address ? Where does one really live ? She questioned. 

Amit

 I arrived on this Earth

only to depart someday...

Knew it on the surface

when my ‘Rakhee’ brother got whisked away...

by the furious waters of Narmada that day.

‘can never forget the agony of the mother...

who waited for a son to be born

after tons of prayers from dusk to dawn.

The son who gave eighteen years of happiness...

I questioned god then -

‘ Why do you do this ?’

You give happiness only to take it away.

‘learnt the hard way...

nature plays that way...

remembered at times,

forgotten many times...

I also learnt that Man is not his body,

he is ‘soul’ he is ‘consciousness’

But alas, no school teaches -

‘The life of consciousness’

We learn we are our physical attire

from the day we are born

Never taught that this body, one day will be gone.

If only we were taught that existence is energy -

never created, never destroyed...

Grief wouldn’t be a part of life ! 

no mother no father

no brother no sister

no husband no wife.

That you exist as consciousness dear Amit

you are energy incessant...

I learn every moment.

Enrolled into the school of ‘awakeness’

Lesson forgotten 

has once again begun...

to lead me to you...

Psyche exists in parallel worlds...

mine is with you,

on this earth exists - the other one.

# Cutlets - A Quick Satiating Breakfast from leftovers

Ingredients
Leftover -

• sautéed cabbage ( I took the typical Indian pattagobhi sabji )
• sautéed beans ( Indian style beans sabji )
• upma ( a kind of porridge made from semolina & veggies )
• palak dal (cooked lentils with spinach )
• poha ( flattened rice sautéed with vegetables )
• mashed potatoes mixed with finely chopped coriander leaves & green chillies 
• bread crumbs from 4 slices
• 1crushed chapati ( Indian bread )
• salt & chat masala to taste
• Diced & boiled beetroot & carrot cubes

Method -
Except for mashed potato, grind all the above ingredients till coarse. Then mix it with mashed potato. Sprinkle salt & chat Masala to taste. Pat the mixture into oval shapes & shallow fry in a ‘Tawa’ ( flat pan ). Eat it hot. Goes well with bread as a ‘ Patties Sandwich’ as well.

P.S. I used these typical Indian kitchen left overs. You can use any suitable leftover including cooked rice & mix it with mashed potato, diced & boiled carrot-beetroot, bread crumbs to make the patties.

Credits - My Mother in law’s secret recipe.

           

Appa

You held me in your arms for the first time
When I was 22 days, I was told.
Amma had her first little one
dressed up in pink, from head to toe.
You often told me about the Long rides on the bicycle  -
When you would carry me in one hand,
And ride with the other...
- Weekend visits to your Friend.
You said, your friends named me ‘touch me not’ -
all I did was howl and cry -
when you left me with them for a couple of hours !
Would quieten only when you held.
While I don’t remember all these, I do recollect -
Me getting angry with the family doctor visits,
When he held Amma’s wrist & looked at his watch -
My world would fall apart -
for, I couldn’t fathom anyone touching you or her - strange it may be.
Innumerable other things, never-to-come-again moments...
Now you lie alone, talking a little bit, glancing now & then,
Reaching for my hand, out of an unknown angst, looking at the ceiling -
And when I tell you ‘Appa you are hallucinating, that’s your medicine(s) -
You Laugh -
and give me that Million Dollar Smile.
You open & shut your eyes, rolling them on the side,
or upwards- looking at nothing.
I watch -
Memories of my month old baby son, flashing by...
He’s grown up now -
You take his place.
I sit, not wanting to leave your side, for -
you aren’t able to get up -
you cannot walk.
I want to be there when you wish to speak -
I cannot reach the realms of your mind...
Experts tell, it will take months, for you to get strength
to turn on your side or sit or stand
I don’t believe an ounce of it.
I remind you about your horse riding days,
the stories about hopping onto your steed -
without saddles,
scouring jungles of Bhadravati to look for Gauri - your favourite Mare.
Your Basketball days in Chennai & Bhilai.
Your brief stint in Kiev, Ukraine.
You listen & yes you remember.
You will be up Pa...
You will, I believe.

The Internet Eon NRI - Non Resident Indian

                                While growing up in a small township, watching planes roar in the sky, was ( & still is, to some extent) a totally heavenly experience. With limited resources, trains were the only option for travelling. One visited Foreign countries if there was plenty of money or on student scholarships or if appointed overseas for a job.
                           Would always hear my aunt and granny talk about some cousin who studied well in college and got scholarship for further studies at U.S, Canada or Australia or U.K. Well, I liked everything English. Early morning BBC news that my father tuned into the radio everyday was the wake up call to get ready for school, and which aroused an interest in mastering the accent. There was some magic, a sort of rhythm the way the newsreaders spoke. Or some sort of ....how should I say that - well, in colloquial Hindi we might use ' Bramhavakya' which means  God's words. The sentences in English, spoken in Native English accent was Bramhavakya - 1. English to some extent in India, is Power, like it or not. And I was a victim ( not knowing how to speak the language, for a long time ) 2. When you spoke the language with Friends or family, you got a mixture of attention, awe and respect. Of course you were looked upon as 'Modern', 'cool'.
                       However the thought of pursuing studies abroad never crossed my mind till my Master's, as the township where I stayed, didn't have many students who were going out for studies overseas. So less motivation therein. There was an opportunity to write a Research paper after my Masters, which if accepted, would give me the ticket to study at Oxford. Well, I opted marriage over a career as a researcher. Now, after decades of raising a kid - job - family, I am on a Foreign soil.
                  And at an age, when one is comfortable, staying with known faces, known addresses, peer age men and women. Staying amongst Foreigners and in Foreign soil, away from family - I am figuring out, as each day goes by. Well, since 'have always been open for a change, this's a beginning. Back home, the NRI status was sort of glorious. What a change !- country hopping and frequent air travel apart from vacationing at exotic overseas locations becoming easy. However I wasn't prepared should I say ? - for the 'Internet era NRI'.
                       You are 'connected' to each one in your family on social media and Whatsapp in particular. You ' belong ' to ' family ' or ' friends ' groups. The 'belongingness' to family and friends 'Online' is so much that its as if you are in India; - when in Reality, you are not. And that's, well, weird and sometimes painful. You get homesick reading the family posts on ' where r u? M reaching in 10 - what's next weeks' plan.....etc' to 'get together pics' and what not ? On one hand it feels good to know what's happening on the home front, while on the other, I think, ' Do I really need to be knowing what everyone is up to or what one thinks, on a day to day basis' ?. Not to mention the disagreements et al., when you don't have the liberty to meet up face to face and clarify, if needed. Where's the charm of meeting up after long time and then share incidences, happenings ? Where's the benefit of Time ? Logically, its the cheapest form of getting things done, while staying distances apart. Well, the dilemma continues....while I have come up with my own strategy of avoiding home-sickness. I have started training my mind to broaden up the definition of home - The Globe can be your home ' and the people around you, well, they can be friends and family as well. After all Foreigners are also people like you. Well its really heartening to note that skin color and languages apart, People are People and relationship platform for people all over, IS still the same. People do share common Human values. The other day I saw a European grandmother and grandfather walking up their three grandchildren in the Botanic gardens, with the same delightedness, my in-laws and parents back home walked my son to the nearby parks, when he was small. And I do have the liberty to fly home and see my people.....till I am home one day, seeing them face to face, everyday.
                 

Time Lapse

                Well, the dictionary defines it as a photographic technique where frames of slow movements are recorded at intervals, over a period of time & which when shown at normal speed, makes the event appear faster.
                     Ditto thought Sarah, reminiscing her life over past few years. Sohaib was out for his Morning walk. She didn't join him everyday which annoyed him. He had learnt to go solo, gradually. She on the other hand enjoyed those moments of ' Me time' which she used have in plenty when Sohaib was working. She took her tab and started keying after staring at the mean thing for few seconds. Why couldn't pen & paper be the norm ? Why did things change so fast ?
                       I didn't have an aim as such while growing up. I lived the moment to the hilt. Movies, friends, good food & music formed the core of my purpose of life. I loved people. As part of a joint family, I was either serving some elderly or babysitting someone or accompanying cousins. Eventually I settled with Husband, kids & a home of my own. Things were same, only place & people had changed. Children formed my core of existence & I made sure I was there for them all the time. My boys grew up pretty fast, soon went on their own. Ya ya I know the 'empty nest' thing. Bitter truth. Well both sons settled with their own kids, what more should I ask for ?
                   Something doesn't feel right. Sohaib stays home 24/7. I am happy of course. But the platter seems empty. Once it was filled with friends, cousins, movies, outings then with kids & now ? They all connect through WhatsApp & Facebook. Its overwhelming @ times to meander through endless forwards & so called chats on personal level as well as group chats. My back & neck aches at times. While it's a delight to be connected at finger tips, it's somehow not fulfilling. What was that phrase again....All relationships exist in Mind ! The maxim does hold good literally now.
                          Neil has been calling us to stay with him. His Wife fortunately doesn't mind having two oldies as addition to the family. I have plenty of questions in mind - When Neil couldn't hold a thing, would keep dropping them or the many times he stumbled & fell down - I was there for him, my duty you see.  Now I tend to drop the knife I was cutting vegetables with, multiple times. It takes a whole three minutes for me to get up, stand & then walk. Sometimes I ask things repeatedly to clarify. Now my priority revolves around taking medicines & food on time. What I did as a Mom, now goes by the name of 'help for the elderly, an assistant'. Neil will assist me, no questions, but I am not going over to Neil's to stay. Time for him to visit us & reminisce his childhood instead.
                             

My Mother

             The first time her existence dawned on me was when I felt warm and loved every time she was around. Well you see I was the kind of kid who obeyed her to the dot. I was also very possessive & didn't  like the Family doctor who held her wrist to check pulse when she fell sick. I couldn't comprehend she could fall sick. She was an answer to all my needs wasn't she ? And she couldn't be for some of them when things like these happened. I thought there existed only one person in the world called 'Amma'.
             So when the kids around me called other women 'Mom', I would wonder why they did so. But I kept to myself and never questioned, being the Mom trained decent and obedient child I was. I was the center of her world till my Brother appeared. Man, this was too much to handle ! She would leave me with my Grandmother @ times so that she could care for him. I observed that the little freak not only needed my Amma's care but also the attention of everybody around him ! Utterly ridiculous. Well ok, I consoled myself because I found he hung upto me the most & I kind of liked it when he depended on me for silly things and......what a pleasure to own a live Toy ! Even better than the dolls !
               Amma thought the world of me, making me top throughout  the school years. She would tell, ' Don't let anybody stand first in class. You do that job.' So much so, I would look down upon someone who were not rankers. Then it was a complete one eighty degree turn as I grew up. I wanted space.....to read non stop and write my mind and heart out amongst the blues of the sky, the green of the Woods, stars at night and well just about everything. She couldn't fathom this sudden need of her li'l girl to pull off. On TOP of that, I didn't obey her at all and was a proper rebel. She would often ask me, ' Are you the same Daughter I gave birth to ?' Well, whatever she said, I still did my own thing. We both were at loggerheads every other day but I still needed her very much the same way as a toddler, though I never showed it. And this drove her nuts. She would try to teach me cooking and other household 'girl' jobs and I would never listen. All those regular household dialogues in the morning - ' What should be cooked today for breakfast, lunch and dinner?' drove me crazy. I completely shunned those conversations, I don't know why. Perhaps the ' Ranker image' my Mom created was strongly etched and I always saw myself as studying and making a career out of it, may be research later.
            Today, after many years she's come to visit me in my home and the tiff still continues. Only that now my Son enjoys my Mom scolding me, thoroughly. Amma has to have her perfect ways to run a house imposed on me but same - I don't listen. But she counts on me when she has that woman who need to pour put. I can't do the same with her anymore..... She needs me like I once did.

The Shift

                            There has to be a way...but, what is it ? Piya's mind was somewhere else while she was keying in the data her boss needed by lunch time. She had been busy, happy about the recent move she had made - getting a transfer to an entirely new place. New people to work with, to socialise...She liked her neighbours too. They kept to themselves and were not nosy like those where she came from.
                                  What she did was her business - why did the people have problem always with that, she always wondered. She remembered a guy saying in one of the workshops her company arranged every year, " People throw stones on trees laden with fruits. Have you seen anybody doing that on a tree that has only leaves or one brimming with heavenly flowers ?" Well said. Its always nice to hear such things. They sound good to the ears and for that moment the problem is solved. Period. Its when you resume your routine that stuff hits. She continued working, brushing the thoughts aside. After a few minutes she stopped. She took out a piece of paper and pen from her purse. This's what she always did whenever her mind was in conflict. Write. Bring down everything that's fighting out high up there, on to the paper - black and white, to see, to read, to comprehend. Suddenly, not feeling comfortable, she stood up and went to the staff lounge. Ah ! such a respite. Her company allowed its employees to take breathers like this. She started writing the thoughts as it is.
                             Meera joined the old office in May. Good lord ! What a wave of glee she brought to the sombre environment. People didn't like her obviously because she was a storehouse of ideas which she shared freely, and some of which were being accepted by the management. Another story of the Management - Newbie affair. Will fizzle out soon, was what the people had eventually settled with. Not me. I was exactly like her, wasn't I ? Why, both of us hit it off. We shared so similar ideas and where we didn't, well brainstormed to the point of arguing on top of our voices. But would come to a terrific solution. It should have continued that way which it didn't. Shiraz had stepped in as a fresh recruit, fresh challenge. With the mind from the Mars, well, things changed and for the better. No complaints. His ideas matched mine, not hers, for heaven knows for what reasons. We would be working our hours, happy threesome many days, but some days, she just wouldn't be with us. Her ideas would sync with Karthik. Was she jealous about Shiraz and me ? Cummon, she knew I wasn't even involved with him. What is it then ? She knows I am good when it comes to conduct a Talk Show. Well she is great with the sets, creating that 'just right' ambience . I can never be imaginative  like her. Okay..that's it. No matter how yeasty she is, I am in the front, while she isn't. She can never be, with her kind of work. Now everything is crystal clear.
                An achiever, a dreamer, one who is doing something significant, wants to be recognised. Period. And that hadn't happened ever since Shiraz, my co-host had joined. So I did the right thing. Shifting to another location. I shall have my share of compliments, she will have hers. But there should be a way to co-exist, nothing affecting the camaraderie. Is Shifting the right way ? Well, that I shall find out.
                 

Comeback

                         Nitish had expressed innumerable times that he didn't like the parties she attended almost every Friday. Strange - she was a successful woman....(if success was measured by the degree to which one could juggle her career and home life, that is) she had listened to him and stopped attending.
                       She called her mother one day. " Mom, what is it with Men? I saw you listening to dad and see- now I am on your footsteps. Why is it that I think, I am the one responsible for a smooth running of the family ? At times I think may be because am buried deep under your " how to scale down yourself for the Family Harmony sacrificial advice". God ! I seem like referring to it like a Family Maintenance Manual. I have done enough referring and following. I haven't met my friends over the Friday parties for months. To their 'Why's' , well you know how I am, told them the truth, Nitish wasn't comfortable. They didn't need to be convinced. They understood the subtle power games of the regular Indian family set up. My friendship with them hasn't suffered, But - I have. There's a limit to which a woman can scale down. Right Mom ? Its the point where the woman as a dutiful wife is contented but the woman as an individual, as an entity is not. What do you do then ?  Well you have all the answers, don't you ? You accepted that limit in situations like that. You convinced yourself to be happy but I know right from my childhood you weren't. I don't want that. I want to be selfish. Yes, selfish. I do love my family and have done my share of giving up personal time, freedom and such. After making the key people in my life happy, there's this person I have to face at the end of the day - Me. I need to keep her happy too. I need to give up somethings to do that. I have decided. I shall attend this Friday party.

Waves

I hear the swelling - breaking -voices speak
It whispers a message deep
" I travel alone...
All along the Expanse of Sea
The shore....I can no longer keep
Push the devils to the stretching sand
I make Merry
My senses expand...
I roar...I shout - in Exhilaration
Am Free...Am One

Singapore Diary 2 contd

Had to go back to India, only to be back two months later. Well, not getting the Indian 'pakkad' last time, I got an entire set of Indian kitchen tools this time. Things are muxh easier this time.
           While meandering the Yew Tee area, I had walked into a small shop & was delighted to find Alva's ' thair'  ( plain yoghurt in Tamil). There can be simple pleasures in life like this one - You are surrounded by colorful & wonderful flavoured yoghurt while craving for the 'No Flavour ' one. So this shop made me feel completely at home with familiar words on the packets like  'moong', 'tur', 'biryani.masala' etc. Oh! There - a packet of Aniseed too. That felt lke an achievement because I could buy lesser quantities too unlike shopping for huge ones in the Malls. To be contd

Singapore Diary 2 contd

Had to go back to India, only to be back two months later. Well, not getting the Indian 'pakkad' last time, I got an entire set of Indian kitchen tools this time. Things are muxh easier this time.
           While meandering the Yew Tee area, I had walked into a small shop & was delighted to find Alva's ' thair'  ( plain yoghurt in Tamil). There can be simple pleasures in life like this one - You are surrounded by colorful & wonderful flavoured yoghurt while craving for the 'No Flavour ' one. So this shop made me feel completely at home with familiar words on the packets like  'moong', 'tur', 'biryani.masala' etc. Oh! There - a packet of Aniseed too. That felt lke an achievement because I could buy lesser quantities too unlike shopping for huge ones in the Malls. To be contd

Singapore Diary 2

Settling down, had a quick look at the furnished condominium I was to share for next few months. So far so good. After sandwiches for lunch, went out for shopping groceries. Being a vegetarian I had to have home made food. Though I did eat eggs, it had to be either omlette or scrambled or the typical North  Indian egg curry ( the yolk in the curry wouldn't do). I was thoroughly disappointed not to find basic stuff like onion or potatoes in the local mall which otherwise sported colorful  local produce & canned/tinned foods in bulk. Someone told me to fetch a local South Indian shop that had Indian Food available. For the 1st time in my life I missed our local malls like D-Mart, Star Bazar, Big Bazar or even Reliance Fresh. Suddenly the daily pinch of ' Hing' ( Asafoetida) appeared far fetching. That apart multiplying the $ with rupee ( Hing 2$s for eg) revealed how cheap things were in India. Walking out from our  apartment into the adjoining Marwadi grocer back home looked like a luxury.
              In the evening, headed to the Mecca for Indians here - Little India which's rather Little South India. One gets everything Indian here : food, garments, you name it. But one queer thing - I couldn't fetch 'Pakkad' - the Indian Tong used in kitchen even after scouting at endless shops....to be contd

Singapore Diary 2

Settling down, had a quick look at the furnished condominium I was to share for next few months. So far so good. After sandwiches for lunch, went out for shopping groceries. Being a vegetarian I had to have home made food. Though I did eat eggs, it had to be either omlette or scrambled or the typical North  Indian egg curry ( the yolk in the curry wouldn't do). I was thoroughly disappointed not to find basic stuff like onion or potatoes in the local mall which otherwise sported colorful  local produce & canned/tinned foods in bulk. Someone told me to fetch a local South Indian shop that had Indian Food available. For the 1st time in my life I missed our local malls like D-Mart, Star Bazar, Big Bazar or even Reliance Fresh. Suddenly the daily pinch of ' Hing' ( Asafoetida) appeared far fetching. That apart multiplying the $ with rupee ( Hing 2$s for eg) revealed how cheap things were in India. Walking out from our  apartment into the adjoining Marwadi grocer back home looked like a luxury.
              In the evening, headed to the Mecca for Indians here - Little India which's rather Little South India. One gets everything Indian here : food, garments, you name it. But one queer thing - I couldn't fetch 'Pakkad' - the Indian Tong used in kitchen even after scouting at endless shops....to be contd

The Singapore Diary

Day 1
Chennai to Changi - All airports basically begin to look the same after some point of travel. Shiny surroundings, sparkling glass walls, spotless floors, uniformed men / women....etc. The crazy feeling of ' Visiting Foreign for first time' wasn't there thankfully. It had exhausted in the Dubai trip couple of years ago. Funny this - soon after we accomplish that which seems almost impossible, it appears like second nature to us. For example, always scared of heights, when I flew first time, between take off and landing, I was surprised to find myself behaving like a seasoned flier. As I was done with the ' wow' factor of Dubai razzmatazz, I walked on the Travelator non-chalantly, forgetting to call up my friend who had told me  I could do free calls.  I am famous for losing my way, so the advice to call. Its ironic - When thrown into alien situations, I manage to steer smooth though I appear confused. People get panicky about me even after I ascertain
Can't heip the look, can I? So, here I was in front of my friend whom I met years later. As we moved with my strolley in tow, suddenly from nowhere, a pair of doors opened and I found myself in a Metro!! MRT as they call it here, right from thr exit of an airport was  strange but utter convenience. After a couple of sweet sounding announcements by a female, before every station, we alighted at our destination. The stations sounded weird of course, with names like Bukit Batok, Pasir Ris, Bukit Gombak, Joo Koon....Having taught Korean Adults & and Children while in Pune, the last name Joo Koon sounded familiar while the people looked like Koreans. After alighting at a station, in no time we reached home. I got it - MRT - platform-couple of escalators - out after swiping the card - you could either cross the road to your apartment or enter the Shopping Mall / food court.that starts right after MRT station exit. Later..to be continued

The Singapore Diary

Day 1
Chennai to Changi - All airports basically begin to look the same after some point of travel. Shiny surroundings, sparkling glass walls, spotless floors, uniformed men / women....etc. The crazy feeling of ' Visiting Foreign for first time' wasn't there thankfully. It had exhausted in the Dubai trip couple of years ago. Funny this - soon after we accomplish that which seems almost impossible, it appears like second nature to us. For example, always scared of heights, when I flew first time, between take off and landing, I was surprised to find myself behaving like a seasoned flier. As I was done with the ' wow' factor of Dubai razzmatazz, I walked on the Travelator non-chalantly, forgetting to call up my friend who had told me  I could do free calls.  I am famous for losing my way, so the advice to call. Its ironic - When thrown into alien situations, I manage to steer smooth though I appear confused. People get panicky about me even after I ascertain
Can't heip the look, can I? So, here I was in front of my friend whom I met years later. As we moved with my strolley in tow, suddenly from nowhere, a pair of doors opened and I found myself in a Metro!! MRT as they call it here, right from thr exit of an airport was  strange but utter convenience. After a couple of sweet sounding announcements by a female, before every station, we alighted at our destination. The stations sounded weird of course, with names like Bukit Batok, Pasir Ris, Bukit Gombak, Joo Koon....Having taught Korean Adults & and Children while in Pune, the last name Joo Koon sounded familiar while the people looked like Koreans. After alighting at a station, in no time we reached home. I got it - MRT - platform-couple of escalators - out after swiping the card - you could either cross the road to your apartment or enter the Shopping Mall / food court.that starts right after MRT station exit. Later..to be continued

The Recluse

                    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 aunt' 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, Niky 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. Niky 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. Niky 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.
                      Niky 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.

The Recluse

                    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.