Our House (Hamara Ghar)

A pile of rubble, dirt and broken bricks came into view as we were walking the streets of Bandra at night.  During the day the tiled roads are so crowded that the only thing one does is to hop, skip and jump the various obstacles on the path and reach the destination as soon as possible.  Parking is a nightmare so I prefer walking everywhere within a radius of three kilometers. But night time walking is rare, specially the really late night ones!

Amidst all the noise and crowd of the day one can find the beauty of life on the streets. The tiny pictures that dot the travel path is like a frame in a motion picture. We have the poverty- ridden beggars with their pathetic expressions knocking on the car windows at the traffic signals (they are happily laughing and joking with each other the moment the light turns green); we have the vegetable sellers and the fruiters on the side walk painting a colourful picture; we also have the young men handing out leaflets to entice you into their clothes outlets, the piles of handbags, the racks of colourful shawls, the trollies filled with bangles, clips, rubber bands, hair bands of all possible colours; the delicious smell of all the eateries around; the happy chattering of all the people who are indulging themselves……..

At night it is more beautiful- All the dirt and grime is hidden, the bright lights are on and all the wares on display take on a new life under the glitter of neon lights. The crowds are there, the noise and bustle is there and if you are looking for peace and tranquility then its better you do not come out of the house! If you have the time and are feeling good and have no shopping to do then venture into the side lanes and take in the gaily decorated houses during Diwali and specially now, for Christmas is near. The old derelict buildings deck themselves up with bright twinkling lights which add to the glow and hide the faded paintwork and broken wood work! (During the day they wouldn't merit a second glance!)

After a gap, a major part of the family was together and we were walking back home after a lovely dinner out. It was late, maybe almost twelve at night. The maximum city was still awake and alive but the shops were closed though the fairy lights still twinkled. We were taking a leisurely walk savoring the almost empty- of- auto roads and taking some unknown roads in search of ice cream …… when we came across the pile of rubble. It was an irritant. For a change we were not hopping skipping or jumping and here was something we would have to avoid…..

I looked at why it was there. The city is a growing organism, it is at all times dying and being born like all living organisms. If you look at the city as a macrocosm of a cell you will notice that at any given time on any road there will be at least one building being pulled down and at least one building under construction! So here the piece of land was encircled with ugly tin sheets (supposedly to shield our eyes from the ugly signs of construction!) The old boundary wall was still intact; it would most probably be taken down later. There were a few guards inside and outside. The faint street light fell on the yellow- brown bricks and lit up a small square of white marble and I looked curiously at it. In black was etched “Hamara Ghar” (Our Home) - I felt a lump rise in my throat as I resolutely pushed it down and I pointed it out to my small family.

This little symbol of happiness brought my feeling of satisfaction with life on its knees! My imagination went on a riot- who built this? For whom was this built for? Was it filled with love and laughter? Did happiness and joy resound within its walls? If all this was true, then why does it have to give way to destruction and then the rise of a multi-story building? Why does the old phoenix have to burn to give birth to a new one?   

I just felt in my bones that here had lived happiness. Whether the new building would have its share of joy is something I will never know (As I don’t know whether the old one had it or not!) But that is the rule of existence ……

“The old order changeth yielding place to new And God fulfills himself in many ways Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me I have lived my life and that which I have done May he within himself make pure but thou If thou shouldst never see my face again Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.”- Alfred Tennyson

Left Overs

The green lidded box opened to show an orange box then a red one and ………. Never ending boxes within boxes, a gift nightmare or simply everywoman’s existence?

Wake up and plan- breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner- four meals a day forever! ……

Starting your own kitchen was fun. It was like playing doll-doll! No worry about money, planning or taste, just having a lab to experiment in, life was hunky dory! If the experiment failed there was always bread and omelet or walk to the nearest cart food-wallah or in dire emergencies, a visit to auntie’s house at the right moment (Wicked!)

The basic stuff was made and stored in the tiny refrigerator and only the side dishes cooked fresh. Just the two of us and a limited menu and mostly two meals together (the first one was a hurried one anyway!)- Life was a bed of roses!

Much too soon the family grew. One more mouth to feed, one more set of meals to plan, a very demanding individual who had a different menu for different meals; Scouring magazines for baby meals; writing them down neatly in a note book (no internet and computer at home L). Now honest rejections overruled the early lovey- dovey acceptance of all the experiments! The main meals became monotonous; the only experiments were on the baby meals!

 Parents came as guests and took over the kitchen- what a break! Lots of housewifely tips- “no throwing away of left overs, keep it and serve it differently after a couple of days, use old curries for stuffed parathas or cutlets….”

Small little steel boxes popped all over the place; each having some leftover or the other. Now began classes on home managements! The ritual of planning began before you went to bed, with what would be for breakfast? Worry! Worry! Worry! Suggestions about having a set menu for a week taped on the refrigerator door was taken seriously; But Nah! It never worked out; this was no well-run hostel mess! Some days the poha would have peanuts, the other day it wouldn't have the coriander for garnishing and as the cook was no automaton it would turn out a little too salty or a little less; a little too spicy or a little too bland!

Then the opening of the little steel boxes would begin and the planning of the rest of the day’s meals would ensue. All the boxes would have to be opened, as you never knew what was inside which box! The little left overs would be set aside and the meal planned around it (Bad management!). Some of it would be donated to the reluctant maid and some surreptitiously emptied in the dustbin!

This ceremony continued for years. The family grew larger, the variety of left-overs grew, the planning grew more complicated but life went on …..

Two new things happened on the way – one was the microwave and second was small plastic boxes (microwavable!), which took over from the steel ones. Life was simpler you just popped the plastic boxes into the microwave and presto! One small side dish was there! The fridge was more organized and colorful and the little housewife (now a large working woman) was very satisfied with her well run house hold!

The plastic boxes saved time as you could see what was inside, so did not have to be opened every day. The planning became faster though it’s questionable whether it became easier! The microwave saved on Gas and the washing of the myriad vessels required to heat the leftovers.

But remember, now there were four different people in the family, each with his/her demands (the maid too had her own preferences). Planning continued to be a tight-rope walk of trying not to disappoint anyone (impossible task!) The only time when we were all happy was when we went out to eat at our favourite restaurant (even that had its own potholes- Chinese or Indian; pizzas or burgers…..)

Life has almost taken a full circle and soon we will be back to the original two, but two more experienced and matured individuals. Will she go back to experimenting in her lab as her scavenger husband never says “no” to any kind of food? Or will she churn out gourmet dishes, following the recipes on the internet religiously to the spoon? Is something only time will tell...

PS: The family found a way to be totally happy when they go out for meals- the food court in malls- each with his/her desires fulfilled!

Vote to Change

Dr. Abdul Kalam in one of his speeches had said, that when we Indians go to Singapore, we exclaim over the cleanliness of the city; we do not spit or urinate on the roads; we pick up trash (if you are lucky to find any!) and put it tidily away in the numerous dustbins. When we get back to the home land, we forget all the lessons and don’t think twice about doing all the things which we would not have done there! We could also have lovely cities if each of us would do our bit.

People argue that it is impossible in India….. What is the use of one person trying when one million contribute to the dirtiness! But Rome was not built in a day and neither was Singapore! It might take another three generations to reach that status but we can if we try.

When we are abroad we make it a point to say a “thank you” for any service done, we wish the bell boy, the cab driver, the janitor et al a “good morning” yet we do not bother to look at these people in India. Come Diwali we give them Baksheesh and cleanse our conscience! I wonder why!

Men debate that our “service men” are uneducated and uncouth and do not deserve to be paid attention to. Is it their responsibility that they are so? Isn't it a social responsibility? Is it just enough to pay taxes and wash our hands off this?

We are ready to pay one Euro to use a public toilet in Europe yet grumble when we need to pay two rupees here! How much can a government of the second most populated country in the world do?

Coming to government- All us “Educated individuals” crib that everything connected with the government is corrupt and the farther we stay away from them the safer we are. In a democracy the government is “of the people, by the people and for the people!” The government then is a mirror of our psyche…..

There are many (One of them being me!) who have never exercised their right to vote. If you do not do your duty then you cannot expect any rights. Have we ever thought that why most of our politicians are uneducated and corrupt? The simple answer is because the so called ‘elite’ feel politics is too dirty to be either a play-field or work field. As the arena is so inviting to the corrupt citizen as a means to make quick and easy money they are the ones who jump into the fray.

Which Hercules then is going to clean the Aegean stables?  If the dumb common man of R.K.Laxman will not pick up the dumb bells to build up his strength then who will? If we cannot build Utopia then shouldn't we save our breath to try to do so, rather than cry ourselves hoarse about all what shouldn't be done?

Isn't it ironic that all the Indians who are in the US are voting with zeal and enthusiasm (I am not talking of only the citizens of Indian origin) the fervor of whether it will be Obama or Romney is really heart touching. If only we would glue ourselves to the TV sets to listen to the speeches of our politicians and then stir ourselves to vote like our compatriots in foreign worlds which they have adopted as their own (so what if they are psychologically foreigners to that country!)

Do not argue that our politicians are not worth it. As we have made them politicians it is we who are responsible and we do have a handful of great orators who are worthwhile to be listened to. How many of us bother to go to our embassies and cast our votes during elections? It is too much of a trouble to go to the embassy but not too much to cast a vote for a foreigner who has charisma!

It is heartening to see that the new generation is more aware of this and are trying to do their bit. Will they succeed or not, is not the question; what is important is they are aware and are trying….

I have seen one thing - I wish my maid good morning and get one in return, I have smiled at the unknown sweeper on the roads and have got a ‘salaam’ in return and I have said a thank you to the sales man and have got a ‘welcome’ as a response.

Whether I will ever be able to vote during this life time is another story all together…….

Lights, Colors and Darkness

It’s that time of the year again. The sun is bright yet mellow, the breeze is gentle and cool and the mind is peeling off its myriad layers of consciousness. After all its autumn in the northern hemisphere and mankind is celebrating many of its festivals- fall festival, Diwali and Halloween to name a few. In the western world you spring clean after a long tough winter, in India we autumn clean (pre Diwali) after a tough hot summer and a wet sludgy monsoon! We look forward to the coolness of winter; the dryness of it kills all the germs of monsoon and for once during the year we look forward to basking in the sun (time to harvest all the vitamin D for free!).

All cupboards to be emptied, their tops dusted, cobwebs to get rid of, old clothes to be thrown (new ones to be bought!) silver to be polished, glass panes to be cleaned…… the list is never ending ! We are all getting ready for Diwali. The good has won over the evil during Dusherra, now is the time to celebrate the coming home of Rama after fourteen years of exile and the triumph of Krishna over Narkaasura. Whatever the reason it is a time of joy and celebration. It’s a time for new beginnings; it is the time to harvest the fruits of our labour and rest; it is also the time to look back and savor our success and forget our failures.

Baskets of fresh green vegetables, rows of lovely red pomegranates, orange papayas, green apples, purple grapes, dappled custard apples and bristly kiwis… Such a lovely picture! Walking on the pit hole filled cobbled roads of Mumbai, this picture actually rejuvenates your mind. For a moment you forget the struggling rag pickers and the begging children and the vicious circle of problems and solutions that we face each day and the mind wallows lazily in this Utopia of colors and dreams of the tantalizing smell and flavors of these offerings!

I see two young rag pickers hauling a heavy bag filled with plastics laughing and playing with each other as they sludge their way through the overflowing garbage pits. I walk up to them and in my mellow mood I offer them ten rupees each. Instantly the expression of happiness is replaced with wariness – they look at me suspiciously and say “Kya Chahiye?” (What do you want?) Never for a moment have they put their hand forward to take the money. I realize that I was going to commit a crime. I was trying to give them something which they had not earned and I would have made them handicapped forever. Happiness is relative. For a moment I thought I would buy myself some righteous happiness by bribing them and they rightly rejected my gesture. They had never got anything for free and naturally they were suspicious.

I keep telling all the people I know that nothing in this world is free (the ‘buy one get one free’ is a myth meant to addle the brains of most homemakers in a net of greed!) These two rag pickers were not greedy; they wanted to give something to get something in return. In my moment of weakness I thought that I could give them happiness (indirectly giving myself some!) through this method. Well! We grow and learn!

The sweeper has a harassed look on his face as he sweeps the fallen leaves of autumn into piles and carefully uses two cardboard pieces to pick them up and put them in the bin. Lovely leaves- yellow, red, orange and golden – lovely for me; irritating for the sweeper. I wish I could go and explain to him that because the leaves are falling, he has a job of picking them up and he feeds his family using this job. How smug and self-righteous I sound! There have been many moments in my life when I have whined and cried at my state and condition without counting my blessings. How often I have blamed God and others for my frustrations.

I do have a few questions for the world- why do we have to grow old to grow wise? Why do we have to fall before we can walk forward? Why do we have to experience pain to appreciate pleasure? I wish we are born with pre- fed knowledge so that life would be a bed of roses… but then would it?

The lamp shines the brightest in the darkest of night, hope this Diwali makes all our senses receptive to the brightness of awareness, for at this time of my life I realize that there is no perfect good or ideal bad; no white right or black bad there are only the different shades of color. Whether they are faded or bright is up to us.  

To change or not to

Eighteen is a very vulnerable age, much more vulnerable than sixteen because you are starting all over again in a new world and in a new environment. You have seen college for one year by now and are still taking baby steps to adulthood.

Remember you were the 'boss' in high school- the juniors looked up at you in awe (specially the 6^th graders!). Then here you are thrown into the deep end where you are supposed to have that awestruck expression on your face when your vision sweeps across the crowd of seniors that are approaching- man! Is it difficult!

Coming from a government run school I was quite insecure about everything- the way I talked, the way I walked and the way I dressed. I remember there were these smart girls in minis and stilettos who came in Chauffeur driven cars who thought that we (the normal jean clad girls) were the pits! The only thing I was confident about was my knowledge of my subject, but who wants the label of a nerd?

Five years of college made me grow up. I lost my ego but discovered my forte, I lost my insecurity but found my strength and the most important thing was my inhibitions disappeared and I found the confidence to be able to talk to anyone on anything. They were my years of self-discovery. At the end of this time I was a smug and  self-satisfied person who thought that I was a “been there and done that” kind of individual.

Years passed, I was now bringing up a family and working with young individuals, still thinking that whatever I had done ,was doing and will do is the right path. I remember giving lectures about this path to my students and later to my children. No one opposed my ideas and I grew into a small and benign megalomaniac!

The first intimation of my pedestal shaking was when I was teaching “The road not taken” to a group of young teens. I was always conscientious about my work and though I had done this in school I went over the poem again, trying to find meanings between the lines. I questioned myself about myself.

As my students grew up and went out into the world and my own children also grew up I was exposed to the wonderful new world of internet and I was virtually able to see so many lives grow and change before me. I realized that I could have and maybe would have (if I had not been blinded by self-righteousness!) changed quite a few things in college.

I wish I had bunked a few classes and seen a movie, (Now a days everyone does it without feeling the guilt!). I wish I had been more forceful about my ideas, (been heard more and seen less!), I wish I had not allowed my mind to follow the path which was laid out before me (the most obstacle free!) and taken ‘the road not taken’, I wish I had taken the time off to listen to a friend (maybe I could have stopped her from committing suicide) and finally I wish I had not allowed social pressures from letting me be ME.

It is not possible to go back to that time and that moment and that place again. I saw many dreams then and still see them. But I always used to postpone things (I will do this when things are right …..) searching for that elusive perfect time. I realize now that no time is perfect, there will always something a little less and a little more. It is important that we grab the bubble at the right moment, it will burst but those micro-seconds of happiness is worth it!

There are lot more things that I would change if I could but I realize now that it is no use looking back over my shoulder. I am who I am because of certain decisions and lifestyle and there is no going back. I have some years ahead. I have promised myself that I will not look back ten years hence and wish I had done something else……

Do what you want to as long it follows your limits of right and wrong. Regrets are painful bedfellows either you kick them out or never allow them to encroach into your sacred zone.

Doll House

The huge LCD screen is continuously on throughout the day and I feel throughout the night too! Only the people sitting in front of it change- sometimes there is a man, sometimes a woman and sometimes a young girl. All these are conjectures for I can see only the head from my balcony. The screen is so huge that I am able to realize that Simpsons is their favorite show! I call them the Simpson family.

Early in the morning she stands on her balcony in shorts and t shirt and does stretching exercise facing the sun. When I wake up and pull the curtains back I see her on the tenth floor opposite me. I meet her on and off through the day.  During my post bath leisure time when I lounge on the bed with the newspaper, I see her on the stationary cycle working out. (Did I forget to tell that she has a lovely figure?) I can’t make out how old she is but I am sure she is no young girl (they never bother with exercise!). She is the Gym girl.

Sunday mornings, I see this couple have their tea on the narrow balcony with the morning sun playing gently on the ferns that enclose them in their own private space. The lady is obviously house- proud – lots of plants and decorative pottery items with a Bankura horse standing majestically on one side. They actually talk to each other! I have seen couples who go to Café coffee day on Sunday mornings having huge mugs of coffee and talking on their respective cell phones! They are the lovely twosome for me.

He comes out, wearing a towel, to pour water on the tulsi plant and pray to the sun. The apartment is normally shrouded with curtains so I have no idea about the other inmates of the house. I refer to him as the Pujari.

The swinging chair is hardly ever occupied. The house is filled with servants- one comes to dry the clothes, one to polish the balcony railings one to sweep and mop and so one. I have yet to meet the owner who I have christened “The swinger”.

These are my regular “friends”. They are a part of my daily life. I notice them as I go about my daily routine. I do not consciously ogle at them; they are like the birds in the sky, they are there so you see them. I miss them when they do not follow their routine! I  notice them in the morning as I spend most of my time at the back of the house. My evenings are spent in the front and there are no interesting people in the front apartments. Though they are lighted and there are lots of activities – I am too caught up to have the time to notice them.

One evening as I was lying down on the bed and reading, I looked up at the apartments in front of me. Each house was lighted and the curtains were pulled back. I could see the furniture and the people clearly. They looked like dolls in a doll house.

As a child I used to love playing with dolls and make up stories about them,I even made them enact my tales. Here in front of me was a living breathing doll house!

I don’t have the inclination to make up stories any longer but sometimes I do conjecture about them when I talk with Mickey.

I wonder if I am guilty of “invasion of privacy” or even voyeurism. I wonder if God himself entertains himself by sitting and looking at each one of us living life. I wonder if each of the characters in my doll house would resent the fact that I have designated them as doll figures in my sphere of existence.

I know I most probably will never meet them. In fact I do not want to do so, as reality is so very unromantic! But if I ever do so, I will (I know) pretend that I did not know of their existence. Sometimes we get so attached to the portraits that we have created that reality makes the paint crumble and the disappointment becomes unbearable.

Do not believe that I am advocating living in an imaginary world! What I am trying to say that the real world is reality and we have to live it. It is wonderful and stressful at the same time. It is good, once in a while to escape from this dimension and explore another one where life is perfect. This does not hurt another person but helps you to de-stress.

The world is very busy now. It is also a very lonely world. All are busy with their lives and have no time for others. (You hear of people being dead in the next door apartment and no one knows of it till the newspaper and milk packets pile up outside the door!).

These little cameos go a long way in relieving the ennui of modern life and who knows how many lessons we may learn from them.

I wonder if anyone notices my activities through the day………….

Moving Account!

Resettling is sometimes the devil- packing while moving to a new place is great for throwing out unwanted stuff and wallowing in nostalgia! I always go through all our photo albums while packing my favourite books (I don’t let the packers touch them!). The pleasure of looking at the baby books and going down memory lane is a pleasure which I indulge in very rarely and this is one such time.

Coming back and resettling in Mumbai had its sweet and sour moments. It was lovely to walk out and eat all our own kind of food without debating over whether it would be good or not; It was great to be able to speak with everyone and be able to understand them ; it is exciting to walk into a multiplex knowing you can see any movie you want to.

On the flip side – the crowd and the traffic drove me nuts; the garbage littered roads and the pungent smell of wet dung put me off from going for walks; the gastritis that I encountered after eating out!

One great lesson I learnt during this move was the importance of a refrigerator especially in this kind of weather. I was without one for fifteen days and the amount of food stuff I have rejected during this time is colossal! Oh! The relief and pleasure of setting it up the moment it was delivered at home.

This move was a first of its kind in my life. First time Junu and I are living apart! Before moving from Alex we had to set up a small establishment for him. The packing had to be planned properly; some things would stay in Alex, most of it would be shipped to Mumbai. After a brief holiday we went back to Alex to live in “Junu’s House”. When you start living you start missing things! We found the salt cellar but its partner the pepper grinder was missing! The bed sheet was there but its pillow covers were missing!  There were dustbins galore in the tiny house (that meant we would have to go on a dustbin buying spree when we went to Mumbai!) The steel storage bins (the whole set!) had been left behind! All the tea strainers were also residing majestically in the tiny kitchen! (More buying in Mumbai)

Moving to Mumbai we were informed that our shipment was delayed (though the planning had been meticulously done so that it would arrive two days after we arrived!) but the best of plans do go awry and we moved into a partly furnished house and went on a buying spree. And did I indulge! I got colourful plates, dustbins, towels (again colourful!) bed sheets and all the cleaning implements that the maid would need and settled down.

The usual hiccups notwithstanding our roads were not too rough. I did sprain my ankle pretty badly; I did have loose motion and gastritis (after gorging on outside food!). Life goes on with its quota of small pebbles and large stones; flowers and petrichor; light and noise.

I do miss the view of the Mediterranean Sea from my house; I do miss some of the work that I did at Alex but I am more at peace here. The innate restlessness which had engulfed me has been replaced by a certain aim in life. The feeling of ennui and being in a limbo has been taken over by the numerous struggles of everyday existence in this big city. Every day there is a problem to solve and that I suppose is living life.

The newspaper headlines blare out the millions of negativity that surround us- murder, scams, accidents and natural calamities. Like all Indians, we learn to live with it and love it in spite of it. It is as if these snippets give us a sense of security that “the sky is blue and God is in his heaven and all is right with the world!” The main thing is you connect….

Some things never change, particularly the pigeon population that inhabit this city, seem to have multiplied like rabbits. This time around our balcony is netted so they can’t do much except fly against it and leave their feathers floating around! But the sudden flutter never ceases to startle me.

The weather has been kind. It’s been raining since we came, so it’s pleasant and cool. One young lady has settled down in school and another young lady is enjoying her vacation (sleeping late and staying awake late at night!). I have been driving around, each trip sprinkled with abuses at the roads, the auto drivers and the two wheelers who think the road is a race course!

It’s been good to get in touch with old friends and know that they are only a phone call away. It’s nice to get up-to-date with their lives. It’s been great to know that you belong (however flawed the system may be!)

I know that this is not a permanent move and I know we will move again (when and where I do not know) but this interim is a lovely breathing space and I appreciate it more than I ever have.

Proms and Farewells

Last minute stiches to alter your mum’s blouse to fit you; before that an extensive wardrobe searching (Mum’s)to zero in on a sari which you like; later searching for accessories and sandals to go with the final decision; arguments; counter arguments; agreeing ; disagreeing… Doesn’t this remind you of at least two instances in your life? I am sure you got it- the school farewell parties after the tenth and twelfth grades in India!

The parties are still there- I see a lot of them on Facebook every year! I wonder though if they wear their mum’s saris, the blouses are so well fitted I have a sneaking suspicion that the attire is bought specifically for the young lady in question! If a market research is done on these events I wouldn’t be too surprised to find an extravagant amount of money being spent not only by the organizers but also by the honored guests of the party.

The young gentlemen during our times used to beg, borrow or steal suits for these parties. The young bachelors working in Dad’s office were raided for suitable suits. Now days like the young ladies the young men also get to buy new suits for such occasions. The advantage of having sons is that you spend less on accessories and the boys can reuse their suits. The girls of course cannot repeat the saris! Some of them donate it to their mums who make new blouses and wear them with élan!

There is a whole new story when you are outside India. There are no farewell parties’ only proms every year! Prom is short for promenade. I can see arguments in your eyes that the common meaning of promenade is a leisurely walk or a place where you go for such a walk. There are other meanings too and one of them is a ‘formal ball’ and this is what we are talking about.

Here of course no alteration of mum’s dress will do! So one goes on a shopping expedition to get a lovely new dress which will most probably never be worn again (can’t be passed on to mum either!).I t should be satiny or lacy or silky- in short leaning towards the grandiose! Going through the current fashion statement it should be neither too long nor too short, the colour should be an in-color and the accessories should not be loud but at the same time be a little funky. If you are lucky you will get an approved dress in your third foray! You heave a sigh of relief but it is not the end.

A number of expeditions will follow, to buy the shoes, accessories and other very essential items. This is more difficult than the main dress shopping because your idea of suitable will always clash with the young lady’s idea of ‘coolness’! Soon you will be so tired that you agree with anything anyone says and you drag yourself home with battle fatigue!

All mothers need to get together and exchange notes on this ordeal. The support system should be put up a month before the D-Day! Only then can they go through and survive this tempestuous time. There are some lucky ones who have very pliant children who agree to whatever mum says (the mums are either younger or more modern than the normal ones!)

We then wait for the day- the time to arrive at the prom is acceptable to most mums but the time of returning is always a topic of discussion. Your baby is all dressed up looking much more than the current age and they are happy! The makeup style has changed from our days so there will definitely be some sulks hidden in the preparation, once or twice the make-up is removed and reapplied and lo and behold you have a sophisticated young lady on hand. The feeling of pride jostles with anxiety when you see your baby looking all grown up. That’s what life is all about and you step back and let your little one take the stage.

The interminable wait begins after this and till your little chicken is back home you flutter about like the hen.

These little instances in life prepare you for the final farewell when they leave home and begin their new lives.

Who said being a parent is easy?

Jump to the Spring….

All the pavement gardens are in full bloom. The yellows, pinks, reds and green are sunbathing and nodding their heads in the warm sunshine. Everything looks gorgeous and fresh; I keep clicking them with my memory camera and store it in my brain.  Like Wordsworth, I will at my leisure retrieve them and enjoy them again and again.

Spring is here! It brings with it vitality and energy. The cold winter months had dried and shriveled me. I have been watching “Spring” on the travel channel and wallowing in the beauty of wild flowers all over the world. The camera always makes everything beautiful and larger than life. If we were to walk in the jungles like the Anchor in the program does, we would never notice these wild flowers. They are so tiny! But because the camera pick up these frames and enlarges them, we notice the beauty of these wee flowers.

When we were children we used to go for walks with Dad; we plucked various wild flowers and carefully pressed it between the pages of a small diary. Those diaries are gone but my memories of those outings are still fresh in my mind.  If I remember correctly we went during spring or just after the rains. The freshness in the air and the smell of life around us made us feel energetic and full of joie de vivre.  The river- bank walks or following a trail in the mountain always made me appreciate the freedom of nature. The untamed wild scenery was so much more beautiful than the pretty hedges and the artificially created gardens in any city. You, anyway never have the time to walk on the pavement gardens! Even if you do, you get nauseated with the honks of the cars, their poisonous fumes and people walking into you!

Demeter is decorating the Earth to welcome her daughter Persephone from Hades. She never makes a mistake, every year this happens and Demeter’s happiness infuses itself in the breeze and when the wind caresses the earth it infuses the selfsame joy and we are treated to a riot of colours, scents and new experiences!

Every living being is busy now. The little ants are out, the bees are buzzing, and birds are in a hurry to line their nest. The shackles of winter have been opened and all of us are testing our freedom in our own personal manner.

It’s time now to pack the coats and woolens safely. (If I had my way I would never want winter again!) Once upon a time I used to love the winters but now as I get closer to the winter of my life I hark back at spring and summer!

People are out in droves to partake of the warm see breeze in the evenings. The food, cold drinks and tea carts are all selling their wares. The deserted seaside walks are swarming with little children and their parents, the teenagers and the couples find exciting nooks and crannies on the concrete blocks that line the sea! 

The knotted mind which had become frozen is thawing out and before the summer sun can completely melt it out, it will roll in the warm hay of life and strive to find the best state of existence.

Spring is like an aromatherapy session; it straightens the unknotted mind and spreads it out in the warmth to rejuvenate it. The many connected neurons of the brain are sending messages to each other. They are refreshing the old connections and making new connections. It’s time to jump and gambol ; to lie back and look at the stars; to dust the cobwebs; to live ….; to watch the children in their simple pleasures; to be free…..

Nail Art and More

“Colour?” she asked

I nodded my head in the affirmative. Splaying my fingers to look at them properly, I waited for the basket of nail polish bottles to be brought before me.

I became addicted to pedicure and manicure in the four years that I spent in Mumbai. There of course it was a sacred ritual! Every sitting would take at least an hour to complete and I would come off feeling refreshed. In Alex, I still have not found a similar treatment! I do indulge myself in it once in a while and have till now come out feeling dissatisfied.

This girl was better than the others, she at least held me gently unlike others who would do an excuse of a manicure and everything would be over in ten minutes! I started thinking of how much I should give her as a tip.

She came back with the basket and broke into a flood of Arabic. I looked at her questioningly. She took out three colours and showed them to me I thought she wanted me to choose and I asked her to show me the basket. Another flood of Arabic and plenty of gesticulations and I helplessly nodded my head. Her face was lit up with a huge smile and I surrendered my nails to her. I was a little apprehensive but I didn’t want to disappoint her. Worst comes to worst I would go home and remove it…

Just before she started, an irate customer came and started complaining about her nails. The poor girl tried to pacify her. Even the owner of the parlour came into the fray and said they would do it again but the customer threw harsh sounding words at her and walked off. The poor girl was in tears while she tried to explain to her boss. All this while I looked at my nails and wondered what would be my fate!

She went in and came back in a calmer mood and smiled a teary smile at me and took my hand gently in hers and began on her masterpiece. She bent her head and put the base coat…. I was still anxious about the fact that it may not suit my fingers. I looked here and there but my eyes would get riveted at what she was doing. A pale pearly pink colour followed and I thought that was it and waved my fingers about to dry them. She started on my toes with the same process and I was quite happy with the colour and relaxed. She took my hand again and using white and red colours made pretty flowers on them. It looked awesome. I started watching how she was doing them and felt it was quite easy and I was convinced I could do them at home!

I was thrilled with what she had done and gave her a large tip and told her boss that she had done a great job. It was wonderful to see the smile on everyone’s face.

I showed off the nail art to everyone at home pretending that I had done it myself! (I was quite sure I could do it myself and I was a little embarrassed that I did this without knowing about it!)

Soon it was time to refresh my nails. I removed the now fading nail art and went searching for different nail art on the internet! There were plenty and there were directions on how to do them. Putting all instructions together with my memory, I sat down to begin my art.

Alas! I tried at least ten times it never came right. The left hand would be ok but the right hand would be a mess; sometimes the thumb picture would be good but the ring finger would be a blotch.  Nobody could accuse me for not trying! The whole bottle of nail polish remover got over so I had to stop trying. With a heavy heart I just put a normal colour sans the art and kept quiet. The pound of cotton I wasted would have paid for the art in the parlour. Anyway I had to get rid of all the signs of my crime as it was already three thirty- time for the brat to come home. I didn’t want to be laughed at.

I was so frustrated that I bought myself a nail art kit. But still it never looked as good as the one the girl had done! (I wasted many hours, remover and cotton again!)

I learnt a few lessons- never lie; never think art is easy it just looks easy! Appreciate others effort honestly- it not only gives the receiver happiness it gives you happiness too. Happiness is precious; even a small smile is worth its weight in gold! Here is my confession and I feel loads lighter laughing at myself.

One advice, try nail art, it really is an amazing extension of miniature painting!

 

Heavy versus feather light

I was a trifle irritated as my usual treadmill at the gym was being used by someone! As a practice I am not usually very selfish but when I saw a very skinny middle-aged woman using “My” equipment I felt all tied up in knots. I mean why such an underweight character should need to use weight loss equipment was beyond my comprehension. I felt frustrated by just looking at her! If you had looked at me through the magic mirror you wouldn’t have been surprised to see my skin colour as green. Of course I pretended to myself that it was not jealousy but the fact that my routine was filled with obstacles of the ‘stick’ kind.

 

I took the treadmill next to it and grimaced to myself. She gave me a smile (which strangers in the gym do) but did I smile back? No I just twitched my lips for an excuse of a smile! The whole of half an hour I kept peeping at her. I had never felt more obese and bloated in my whole life. We could see each other in the huge mirror in front of us. Needless to say it was one of my worst walks……All the negative emotions like jealousy, envy, anger and irritations were taking turns to occupy my mind. It wasn’t fair, here I had a good reason to be on the treadmill and I didn’t get my favourite one and there was one person who didn’t need to but was wasting her time and mine by walking at a slow pace beside me!

 

Though in the following days she did not use my treadmill, I still did not like her. God was trying to emphasize my obesity by letting her loiter around me! She even went to the sauna which I hadn’t even tried. I wanted to ask her why she was torturing her poor body through all these activities. She looked like an unstrung bean. I learnt to control my negative emotions and continued my activities and ignored her. (Though I wished she would change her timings!)

When I went after the weekend to the gym, I could hear the rumble of the machines outside the door. I sighed and opened the door expecting to see Ms. Beans…. but to my surprise she wasn’t there instead Ms. Pumpkin was there! (Thankfully not on ‘My’ machine!). She was almost three times my size and her complexion was orange like a pumpkin. (Hence my christening her with that name!) What a day it was. “Look at me”, I said to myself, “I am so slim”

 

I felt positively upbeat and smiled at her but I got paid back with my own coin, she grimaced at me!

 

“Huh!” I said to myself, “I won’t waste my smiles on someone who doesn’t appreciated it”

 

I was now all positive, I walked at a faster pace not feeling in the least tired. I even hummed along as the calories-used piled up faster and faster. In short, I was in seventh heaven! I did some extra workouts and still hung around trying the other machines.

 

One week of feeling good! I looked forward to my workouts every day. I saw my co walker trying weights and other machines in the gym and I had started toying with the idea of following suit… maybe next week, I said to myself.

 

The next week Ms. Beans was back! So was Ms. Pumpkin! They were both on the treadmill but not on mine! I felt as if the balloon of happiness had been pricked. Later I wondered why. I was in equilibrium now with both of them beside me I did not touch either the zenith or the nadir! I was where I should be in between!

 

Both it seemed were best friends; chattering away with each other nineteen to a dozen; smiling at each other and talking excitedly; they were having a gala time. They smiled at me, an open hearted one and I reluctantly smiled back. True happiness is infectious. I felt at peace, although I wasn’t actually flying, I was walking with light steps and God in his own way put me in my place. I learnt a lesson that deep depression and ecstasy were temporary emotions. Truth alone triumphs and is permanent.

 

 

 

Dictatorial Mind!

The weather has been rather tiring this winter. My plants and I have suffered the most. The plants get dry (the soil) very soon because of the wind but it’s so cold that I feel sorry giving them water! All of them look a little shrivelled up but they are fighting a winning battle against their recently turned foe “the weather.” My mind has taken a great thrashing in the boxing ring of survival (Hence my calls for help in my last blog write up!)

The sun has been annoyed with me and is punishing me for all my complaints against him during summer! I have learnt a lesson (a common one “too much of anything is bad”!) The other day when the sun had deigned to come out, we were all in the field. I loved it- I refused to wear a cap or dark glasses- I just soaked it up like a parched desert (forgive my mixed-up metaphors!) The green looked brighter; the water clearer; the people all around me wonderful and the world was shining with happiness and joy.

Today has been a good day so far. There is a spring in my step and my befuddled mind has cleared up considerably as against the foggy sky of Alexandria!

As I waited for the lift, I felt something tapping at my feet like a rap on the door. Surprised I looked down to see my old friend the potato. He looked a little battle scarred but nonetheless still firm and handsome with plenty of eyes all over him!

“Hi!” I said happily

 

Without a word of greeting he plunged in to criticize me behaviour.

“Where were you all these days? Don’t come out to visit me at all! In fact on Friday you went for a walk with your husband and you didn’t even look at me!” all these were fired at me rapidly.

Without waiting for a reply he continued, “You know how difficult it is for me to leave my bed and family and come to meet you!”

“I hid in the corner in case someone picked me and threw me in the dustbin and that would have been my end!” he continued grumpily

There was no point in arguing with him. I just picked him up carefully and walked out towards his bed….

“I have been very down and I didn’t feel like coming out at all. Everything was just the opposite of today!”

“You mean it was hot and sunny …. What I wouldn’t do for such days” he said longingly

“No! No! I didn’t mean the weather I meant my mind” I tried to explain

“Pooh!” he said irritated, “the problem with you humans is you give too much importance to your mind! Look at the other species; we don’t have any problems with our minds! Mind is just an overrated engine with plenty of buttons to be pushed. All you need is to push the right button and everything is hunky dory!

 

How could I explain to my friend that human life is much more complex than theirs and the number of buttons are so many it sometimes takes a whole lifetime to discern and choose the right ones.

Promising to be a more sociable person I laid him down on his bed and covered him with warm mud so that the fog and mist swirling around would miss him and leave him in peace.

As I walked back home, I wondered if Pots was right. Do we really give too much importance to our mind and allow it to rule our lives like a dictator?

A quarter of the world is fighting for democratic rights; shouldn’t I too fight and get my democracy back? After all I have a heart and a soul and a body; shouldn’t they have a fighting chance to rule me?

The mind has had fun with me. Tossing me to and fro between despair and hopelessness but has left me to pick up my pieces and glue myself together again. It has been a tyrant but maybe it has lost a battle for I am out of the pit.

Whatever be the verdict today I know I have been pulled up from my lightless pit only through the help of my family and friends. I have at last realized the value of society….

 

Help!

It’s very difficult to crawl your way out of a hole of your own making. Each step is painful and energy consuming. It’s not that I have never been in the doldrums but this time I am in a cubby hole with no windows or lights. It’s a totally negative feeling, completely black and grey with no tinge of colour in the far horizon! I mean I am not feeling blue (Blue is a lovely colour!) I am felling deep dense black. Very heavy and lost; have you ever felt this way before? If you have, then I need tons of advice to get out of these murky waters!

 

I used to love the cold weather, now I am dying for warm sunshine. I feel as if I am finding excuses to lie cuddled up within my cocoon of unhappiness! I am scared that I will start getting a kind of pleasure in all the darkness around me! The sunshine is fighting a losing battle with the dark clouds all the time. The lovely turquoise sea has faded in my memory – now only the colourless foam crashing against the rock acts as a whiplash on my scarred psyche. I am not wallowing in misery, believe me, I have tried everything, from music to mediation, from walking to shopping but nothing holds any charm. Chocolates have failed to bring me up!

 

The howling winds used to pump up my heart and I used to feel filled with energy and zest when the storm brewed in front of my eyes but now, I want the calm and pleasant golden hue to permeate the environment. I hate the bite and nip of the wind on my face! I toss my fishing line into my memory for the kind of thrill I used to have but not one bite is there for me to reel in…….

 

Life goes on in automaton splendour and I wonder how to hold on to the foothold I have carved for myself in the pit! I want to do something which will drag me from this abyss and set me safe on the cliff so that I can walk off without a backward glance. But what? I have talked with family and friends, I have pretended to understand all the advice and pretended to follow them but you can’t lie to yourself and nothing has worked (It’s possible that I have not honestly followed their advice)

  

Today as I write all these, my foothold has become stronger and deeper and I know it will push me out of this abyss sooner or later. I am being honest with myself and with you all and this gives me the extra strength to propel or plan my escape! I am still way down but I can see a glimmer of light- very faint but there, nevertheless.

 

A few days ago I met a monk. He promised to remember me in his prayers along with his fellow monks – another push up from the pit! It was wonderful to meet a selfless person – a person without ties yet he is tied to humankind- the compassion that flowed from his eyes was like a balm on my scarred soul.

 

I want an analysis of the state of my mind. Physically I am fit, so are my family members; my friends are doing well and everything under the sky seems hunky dory yet I am down in the dumps. If you have ever felt this way before then let me know and I will know that I am not abnormal!

 

Help me turn my glimmer of light into blazing sunshine; help me throw away this blanket of darkness and welcome lovely warmth; help me feel around in my memory pool and find moments of happiness which will dispel the cold permeating my very being……