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.

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.

What do I write ?

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 !

What do I write ?

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

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 ! 

Patch Adams

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

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.