The young girl of nine years had a stubborn mulish look on her face as she was paraded from class to class with a page torn from a handwriting note book stuck on her back. She never went back home and cried about this, neither in front of her mother nor while she was alone. It made her resolute to two things- one never to show her emotions in public and second to never let herself be put in such a situation that she has to face humiliation.

The little girl grew up to have a legible if not wonderful handwriting and went on to major in English literature as if to show that particular frame in time – “see me now! I can do better than you think I could”!

The wound has healed over the years and the scar is invisible. If and when I think of that episode I am filled with mortification! Just imagine if that had happened now, the teacher would have been sued if not jailed! But I think I should be grateful to that teacher because it was the first battle of my life and I won it hands down! It gave me the confidence that I lacked until then.

I have had many episodes in life where I have had to bear a lot of hidden innuendos. I had two ways in which I could have dealt with them – one by open confrontation or two by keeping quiet and bearing with it. I have done neither! I have tried to create a “recycle bin” in my brain in which I dump all the “trash” and do not look at it. But unfortunately I have not used “Shift+ctrl+del” so it’s still there and they do pop up once in a while to bug me and no anti-virus works here!

“Spare the rod and spoil the child” was an oft repeated maxim while I was growing up. But how many of us have the strength to bear the burden of the “rod”. There are many who must have been psychologically scarred because of such episodes. I had a wonderful family background which gave me the strength to fight back and change the episode to my advantage but what about children who do not have family support?

Now days life in school is so much better and fun than our days. At least legally there are a lot of laws which can help. But not all the evils of schooldays have been eradicated. Bullying is still a part of many lives; though teachers do not use the rod any more there are many who use psychological weapons to demean and harass a student and vice-versa (Students are more powerful now and have been known to harass teachers!) When you hear about the ragging that goes on in many colleges it makes you feel sick with anger and helplessness.

I feel people who perpetuate these kinds of events, are worse than murderers and should get life imprisonment! The murderer has taken a life but these people make you go through death umpteen numbers of times! Everyone has gone through at least one episode of discomfort in various degrees in their lives but it’s all about degrees! The little boy who ties a tin can on the tail of the little kitten would not repeat it if he were to be censured softly but many a parent think it’s clever or cute if he does so!

The one silver lining in the dark cloud is that there are lots of help available everywhere, such episodes are talked of openly and without the sense of shame it earlier had and it is actually a process of hardening and making us tough to face the real world.

These things do spill over to the domestic life and the reason I write this today is because I recently heard a story of domestic violence and the child had no go but to mutely ask for help through a poem and whether it got any help or not, is a part of a worldwide guilt. I believe all of us are responsible for all of us!

The other day I was browsing my face book page and looking at the status of my numerous “Friends”. The inverted commas are there because they are termed as that, but most are my ex-students, some are my relatives, some are my children’s friends and the rest of course are my friends in the correct sense of the word! But if you were to define friends as being people who are of the same wavelength as you and whose likes and dislikes are similar to you then most of them would come under that heading!

To get back to my activity- I noticed that many of my ex students, now all young adults were “in a relationship”; some were proudly advertising their “single” status and some were without any status! Well this really put the reels of my life on a rewind and I started thinking of my crushes over the years! I remembered my first love when I was about Nine years or so (He was shorter than me!). You may not believe it I seriously started listing all my crushes one by one in my mind and the whole exercise was a very pleasant one. (I hope this is a normal activity by women of middle age!)

I laughed at my attempts to draw attention to myself; I laughed at the blushes that used to suffuse me when I was teased by my friends with my crush of that time; I laughed at my pain and sufferings and hurt that I had gone through during those days. I wish I could advise all these young people about how to go about their love affairs (this is hilarious as I unfortunately never even had a formal boyfriend!) But the Miss-know-all that I am, I feel as if I know how to handle them with aplomb!

But seriously! Having a boyfriend during my youth, though common on the sly, never received any parental encouragement, maybe which is why I never had the guts to even dream of really going out on a date. I was and still am an avid fan of Archie comics. The American life that is portrayed in the strip was so “away” from our lives that it was more of fiction than real life, but sometimes I used to hope for an Archie with me being Betty! Our generation grew up on a menu of Mills and Boons romance (the romantic ones, not the near pornographic ones that are published these days!). We all had our share of celebrity crushes and our dreams of what we would do if they were to come and propose to us!

College was a little different. By then many of my friends were into relationships” but not poor old me. My crushes continued but I was such an aggressive and boyish young lady that most young men would love to play games with me but would be too scared to hold my hand!

Romance then was to go for movies with your boyfriend and if your parents were liberal you were allowed to go to discos. There were some parties called Jam Sessions which could be hosted by a friend and you could get lost in the crowds there. Romance then did not believe in going for long walks or writing poetry or gazing at each other as is portrayed in movies! The society was getting westernized and the changes had just begun……

Romance is so much easier now…. You get into a relationship; you get out of it; you get into a new one – everything is so simple and straightforward! The best thing is everything is public, you share your joys and happiness of being in love and sadness and depressions of being out of love with the whole world and go ahead in life. There is no looking back, no brooding over the “ifs and buts”, it’s all about burying your past and living in the present- very healthy psychologically! There is a lot of honesty involved. I remember a friend of mine, in the first throes of love, making me lie to her parents that she was with me while she went for a movie with the boyfriend!

Romance is so practical now, with emotions like uncertainty and shyness thrown out of the window that I wonder whether the emotion should not be given a new name! The freedom that the whole world keeps talking about has infused into this word too.

It is so easy to write ‘I am single again’ that the commitment of marriage and family is no longer something we can be proud of. It is so simple to write ‘I am in love’ that the mystery of romance has disappeared.

Am I being too old fashioned? I know that I am being modern by airing my views which we could not earlier!

The weather has always been lovely in Alex. The winter particularly has been wonderful, weather wise that is! It’s been a pleasant 17 to 18 degree during the day and it has fallen to an awesome 6 to 7 degrees during the night. All of us are really savoring this after having stayed in South India for all of the last twenty years! In fact I did not even own any warm clothes when we shifted here (that is decent ones!). Can you believe it? The warm bright sunshine is kind of heavenly to walk out in.

Unfortunately the electricity bill which normally falls in winter is highest here. Our apartment is quite huge and windy. In spite of keeping all the glass doors closed the cold seeps in and we have to use the air conditioner to heat our living space.

Never a big lover of television other than news, I avoided going into the living room as it was the coldest and it was too big to heat with any kind of heating apparatus! Especially after the internet was resumed I just don’t go there! It is exclusively used by the other two members of the family- one who likes the sound of the TV while he is working on his laptop and the other lounges on a single sofa either watching TV or with the noise of the TV as a background while she is chatting on FB! I had enough of it while watching BBC and Al Jazzeera while the revolution was going on (I didn’t have any other entertainment!). Both don’t feel cold; in fact the young lady says she reaches thermal equilibrium in the position of lounging on the couch and doesn’t need any warmth!

So I use electricity lavishly to keep myself cosy! In fact hubby dear says, “Use as much as you want” because he gets to keep the electricity bills reimbursement for his cigarettes!

I always have a nap post lunch at about two o’clock in the afternoon, right after the maid leaves. I lounge on the bed reading – slowly getting drowsy and by 2.30 I am in a pleasurably languid state just before passing into the unconscious state of sleep. Once a month (The date is never the same!) the bell will ring when I am right on the brink of this gratifying state! I have to literally drag myself out of bed to open the door. Many a times I have tried to ignore the call but the second ring always succeeds in slashing into my somnolent state.

So I pad reluctantly to the door and open it to face the Electric meter man with the bill. He is always cheerful and full of joie de vivre. I don’t have the heart to be rude to him. I put out my hand to take the bill.

He refuses to give it me right away. He insists that I learn Arabic as soon as possible and will read out the amount due in Arabic. I am able to read the Arabic numerals but do not remember the sounds beyond thirty! And as the figure is in hundreds I don’t understand a word of what he is saying. (anyway my brain is a little befuddled under the circumstance) I peer into the bill to look at the figures which he tries his best to hide. All through this exercise he will be giving me a lecture on the necessity of learning the language. He even told me how he learnt Greek when he was there for two months!

I look at him suitably shamefacedly and this cools him down a bit. He then writes the figures in English numerals on the bill and I go back and get him the exact amount and he pockets it with a “Shukaran” never forgetting to say that it is like the Hindi “Shukriya”! He warns me that next time he will not write the figures in English and strolls down the stairs.

My sleep has flown out of the window and I go and try to do some productive work and normally end up with a huge headache!

I don’t know what the equivalent of “tone deaf” is for language deaf but that is what I am. I have stayed in Mysore, Balgaum, Hyderabad and Mumbai and though I understand the rudimentary bits of Kannada, Telugu and Marathi I cannot speak them and so it is with Arabic. After eleven months here I cannot speak a sentence, though I understand quite a few of the words. I am able to communicate with my maid and that is a major achievement!

I do envy people who can pick up a new language so very easily and prattle away in it! In India you can get by with English and Hindi but here it is not so. I use a lot of hand movement inter spaced with Arabic words and the ubiquitous English to get by and hope to understand the meter man when he comes next month!

You love her more…….
Our family teenager was sulking! She tossed her mane of untidy hair in imitation of a bull getting ready to face the matador and said, “You love her more…..”

It all began with the fact that we were discussing Face book (or FB) at the dinner table. Staying so far away from our first born, we keep in touch with her life through this wonderful media of communication. We know when she is happy; tired; angry; disillusioned and all the gamut of emotion a young person on the verge of official adulthood goes through!

Getting back to the dinner table… we as parents were discussing her life and the status and photographs and DP (that’s display picture to the uninitiated!) that she puts up; well we heard a small sound of protest but as we were so animatedly talking, we did not notice it. In fact I thought it was the air conditioner making a groaning noise.

“Did either of you see my DP?” this was said rather loudly and I looked at the speaker to see a flushed face almost on the brink of spilling precious liquid! Not knowing what the problem was I queried about it; then the accusations came spilling out. We were hard put to stem the flow of angry recriminations which followed the heading of this post.

Years ago, I and I think all of us, at some time or the other must have gone through the same emotions; thinking that our parents loved our siblings more than us. The reasons vary but the emotions are the same. It is definitely not jealousy because I know the cute adolescent adores her sister; it is something more primeval; it is a basic instinct of every human being to be appreciated at every step of his life. When you feel that this is not forthcoming you feel uncomfortable.

When you are a child and do not cater to social niceties you exhibit all this honestly. Soon you grow older and are advised at all turns of life to “control your emotions” you tend to suppress this feeling and put up a mask of indifference or polite acceptance of such a fact.

Now as an adult and a parent of many years I realize that normally parents love their children to almost the same degree of affection. (There are exceptions of course!) I do appreciate one child’s idea of discipline more than the other but I do appreciate the other child’s creativity more, so in the end it all balances out. As individuals we react to another individual in a unique way and no body and nothing can touch this uniqueness.

I was an introvert, living in my own world of make belief. I was never very aware that my parents were partial to my sister but once in a while I have felt it and have cried in private due to this feeling. Now as a parent myself I can look back and laugh over it.

The teenager had got it all out of her chest and was now listening to our explanation. The heat was over and she realized the truth of our words. I am glad she is not like me; she doesn’t pent-up her frustrations within herself! She had forgotten about it a moment later. I would have, in her place not said a word about it but brooded for at least a day!

I wonder what used to happen when families were larger and there were more than five children competing for attention from the parents. Maybe the parents were too busy to pay any attention to anyone and the children were happy with this! This new psychological problem must have developed with the advent of the small nuclear family. Like a virus which has undergone mutation!

But it is on verge of extinction now, as most family like the Chinese are following the one child policy. No Sibling, so no sibling rivalry! But are we actually losing out on a healthy though negative emotion?

What is the value of yin without the yang!

Amidst the excitement of what has been happening in Egypt for the last eighteen days I have been garnering material to teach myself the most important lessons of life. There was a lot of activity. First the disbelieve that anything important would come out of the movement, then the move to the guest house for a week not so much because we felt unsafe but to save Junu the forty five minutes drive to and fro from the work place and of course to appease the apprehensions of the two sets of parents back in India!Next was coming back home and waiting for something to happen and then the wonder and excitement of a historic moment.

As I have mentioned in my other blog post that I had been a witness to the violence that preceded the revolution, what I had not mentioned is that I was on a darkened balcony of our tenth floor apartment!The couple of days that followed is when I discovered that one can live without the internet (At that time I felt frustrated :))
In fact I used to spend watching TV and knitting and keep my hands occupied!(My hands were missing the keyboard)Normally the family has fun spending their lives in front of their own private LCD screens!But now Mubarak made sure we sat together in front of a common LCD and did things together! We discussed History, Politics and aired and argued for our views and did what I as a pre-internet era child used to do! We even had cups of tea with Mickey (She got out of drinking her two cups of milk daily!) I jumped every time the bell rang; peered through the keyhole only to see either our maid or the laundry man outside!

When we decided to shift to the guest house till all was back to normal, I didn’t want to leave my sea view and naturally lighted apartment. It was a different experience in the guest house- I finished a lot of my knitting; read books; met a lot of people; aired my views and DID NOT COOK! quite a good holiday in fact. By the end of the week I wanted to cook! ( I cannot believe it even now!)

We were soon back home; I luxuriated in my own space for the first half an hour; If I had been a dog I would have rolled on the floor! After that we went for a small walk to San Stefano to get Mickey a Mac D! She was desperate for something non-veg after a week of vegetarian food! The curfew was set to start at seven and it was already six twenty! So we rushed to get it and managed to do so! There was ten minutes left as we approached the tram line and the tram chugged past us slowly and I was impatient to be back before the dead line.The tram was full of people all trying to be back before the time limit and it stopped let a car pass and I

was already jumping out of my skin!

When we did reach home with minutes to spare I realized that the tram I was so irritated with had been a symbol of normalcy in my mind all through the days of revolution. I remember asking Junu in the initial days whether the tram was running, if it was then my mind was at peace!

When the traffic had stopped for the six seven days I could hear the sound of the sea from my bedroom and used to feel contented but it is the sound of the tram that goes unfailingly by at different times of the day that gives me the satisfaction that “the sky is blue;God is smiling; everything is all right with the world!”

When I woke up on 25th January 2011 I had no clue to what would be happening soon. What ensued is there- emblazoned in every newspaper and news channels across the world- I don’t think I need to go over it! Anyway I would prefer not to go over it because it will open old wounds of whoever loves this country.

Before I stepped into this place almost an year ago I had been apprehensive of living in a new land with a new culture and new language. The moment I entered Alexandria and gazed at the variously shaded Mediterranean I pushed all the doubts to some dark corner of my mind and got ready to enjoy this phase in my life.

Believe me the months that followed were a travelogue of discovering this lovely land which was so rich in history, beauty and warmth that I almost forgot that I was a foreigner living in an alien land! Wherever I went I was welcomed and appreciated as a person and as an Indian. I never felt stifled or discriminated and assumed that the people were contented and satisfied. In fact I had even commented once that “even the poor in the villages were always smiling and happy in spite of their poverty!” I never ever got a hint of the simmering discontent that must have been brewing even then.

Slowly as I got to know the people and the politics of the country I was introduced to a side of this centuries old nation which I had dubbed as Utopian! Having lived in India and seen repression, corruption and other political whirlpools, the things that these people complained about seemed minor to me and I thought it was just a passing discontentment.

But it wasn’t! the volcano burst and the lava of hate and the heat for freedom poured out of Tahrir square and engulfed all that which came in its path! The lovely tree lined avenues, the highways, the buses, the beautiful buildings all burned in the fury of this. The worst was that the economy of this country was breaking into pieces and the contentment that I had seen on the faces of the villagers were wiped out. I saw arson and looting right in front of my eyes and felt helpless that I could not do anything to stop it- for history and beauty were both being destroyed and here I was helpless to do anything to stop it.

It was a sad day when I woke up to see and hear about all the atrocities that were committed by one man against another- for what are we doing this? I refuse to discuss what is right and what is wrong- Who am I to give any kind of judgment?
What I do know is I am not able to go for my walks on the Corniche freely ;what I do know is that I do not smile at the people I meet on the roads; what I do know is that I do not dwaddle on the streets admiring the road dividers and the sculptors that dot them; what I do know and see are people hurrying to get back to the safety of their homes with no time to smile or no time to advertise their wonderful country.

I am only a bystander who is a witness to history being created. I know that change is what propels us forward but the change has to be at the right time and place. Yes freedom is an expensive commodity and many lives and property are lost to garner it. But along with freedom which gives us rights comes a lot of responsibilities- if the people are ready for it I wish them all the best- go ahead and get what is your right. But remember to do so in a mature and adult manner for remember to give absolute freedom to a child is to mislead it………

The weather here has been more like London than like Alexandria! Its been rainy stormy, drizzly and sunny. So I had not been venturing out except to warm heated malls for recreation.

A couple of days ago we did go for a brief walk on the Corniche to face the turbulent foamy sea and to let the crashing waves spray a mist on our face.It takes about twenty minutes to reach our favorite place- going through the windy by lanes; going through the subway to cross the busy road and then on to walk by the sea to reach this rather empty place where one can walk without jostling with people!

Well we proceeded as usual and I wrinkled up my nose as we crossed the subway (to say that I dislike it is an understatement!) and we emerged into the dwindling light to encounter a stranger! The sea which is normally placid at this point was crashing against the concrete walk and rocks that line the walk; it was dark, cloaked in midnight blue trimmed with the fur of foam. It was a dangerous and dark beauty that waited to escort us on our walk! The normally crowded promenade was deserted except for a few cigarette smoking couples and boys.

I was glad of the layers of clothing that enveloped me- the wind swished around my unprotected face and had fun drying my lips and chilling my nose. But it felt good to feel the cold take a generous bite into me; to feel the blood carousing in my veins; to feel that- yes! life was worth it!

As we neared OUR WALK I could hear the sea raging like a wounded lion and I pleasurably anticipated meeting my latest crush (After all absence makes the heart grow fonder!)a couple of weeks back a storm had hit Alex and we had seen the raging sea and the torrential rain from the warmth of the house; never actually believing or wanting to believe the destruction it had wrecked. When we emerged from behind a huge construction machinery it was to see Our path had been destroyed by the enraged sea; it looked as if it had been hit by an earthquake. The concrete path lay miserably wet and broken and our favorite seat was unreachable. I don’t know whether it was the wind or the fact that nature could destroy such “strong”constructions so easily that chilled my bones. We did try and sit to feel the caress of the spray but it was too disturbing and we decided to walk back home.

Retuning has always been a bone a contention between us as I always want to cross the highway at that point and go back so that we avoid the subway! I always point out at the youngsters who do so (Forgetting that we are no longer youngsters!)But normally I bow down to the lord and master’s wishes and play “better safe than sorry”to the hilt! I was surprised when L&M suggested that we try crossing the seven lanes to go to the other side. I was of course ready (age has not dimmed my adventurous spirit!)We waited till the frequency of the speeding cars zipping past reduced and then hand in hand we crossed the first seven lanes quite easily and we waited on the green divider that looks so beautiful when we drive past them- We balanced and walked on it for some time hoping for the same thing as before but it looked like there was no stopping the cars going back! After a lot of false starts we did manage to cross it ( at one point we were between two lanes of zipping cars). I am sure we would have got dirty looks from all the drivers that had to swerve to miss us but the pounding heart and the tingling nerves were worth it! A lovely excitement in a concrete jungle! Not that I advise anyone to repeat it but I would do it again if I had to!

Life is lot like that! When you have the right hands to hold whether its the seven rounds around the holy fire or the seven ages of man or the seven lanes on the highway – the whole process is an experience worth going through!