First lesson on boys

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

First lesson on boys

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

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.

Unbounded

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 ?

 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?

Who is a true Maharashtrian ?

 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

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.