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.