Author: binny22

An active blogger, a debutant Novelist , a passionate poet who loves to travel is what could sum me up. I love the internet and all that is connected to computers. I love to explore new areas of knowledge though I may not accept every piece of information.

Christmas- Cakes and cookies!



Curving the finger around the curved bottom of the bowl, the little girl plucked the leftover of the cake mix and licked it.  Uncombed hair, a short frock and winter dry skin- this picture, I am sketching is not of a road side girl at the traffic signal. It was me, years and years ago!
Having gone to Christian schools, Christmas was a magical time for me when I was growing up. This and having a friendly Christian neighbour added to the excitement. My mother learnt how to bake from her and whenever I was not slipping into their house for Christmas baking leftovers, Ma was trying out the new recipes and I had enough to lick on! I was an avid fairy tale reader so even though I did not get cakes and cookies through the year I had enough imagination to feed on.
 

I don’t remember when I took over the baking things from Ma. I dare say it was when I entered my teens and Ma was too busy to regularly bake. It was like a chemistry class, everything had to be correctly measured and I had to follow the exact direction (this was frustrating- I hate following instructions!) and then time after time the cakes would come out perfect. (Of course whenever I was rebellious it would cave on or some other disaster would happen) I would still lick the bowl clean!
Soon I was promoted to Ma’s position and my little girls would lick the bowls clean. I regrettably gave up on that! Years of baking cakes and cookies followed. The girls still fight about who got more number of shaped cakes on their birthdays! I must confess I used to eat the last bit of the cookie dough even till very recent times. I did experiment with icing and a few types of cakes, but I was the proverbial Taurus who is set in her ways and finds comfort in the known recipes.
 
Now the little girls were growing up, they first started helping me beat the egg and then graduated to making the complete mix. I was very soon faced with an empty nest and I lost interest in baking. The only baking, I did was for the birthdays if they were with me!
The young ladies now started experimenting and making different cakes. (But for comfort food they went back to my cake!)
It is Christmas time again! I am lucky to have my young adult with me and will get my still TT soon before Christmas. Chicks decided to bake some ginger bread cookies in the spirit of the festival. The I-pad came out and all the ingredient were set out (without my help) and the evening was spent in the kitchen (while I played on my HOG games!) Lo and behold in two hours I had warm ginger bread cookies to hog on! 
Now I was the child, stealing the cookies as they cooled on the rack. I was warned not to touch it! I was warned that she had counted them and would know if I stole more! I was chased out of the kitchen umpteen times…….
The pleasure of eating the cookies were overwhelmed by memory and nostalgia. I remembered the Christian Aunty (that’s what we used to call her!) giving me small pieces of cakes and freshly baked bread when I went to her house and watched her make them. I remember her taking me to church and visit the pastor. The Pastors wife had a wonderful doll collection in a glass cabinet…… random memories came chasing one another.

Christmas was always a cold time when the woollies came out. The sun would be nice and warm as we played hop scotch and hide and seek. Now of course it’s too warm for the woollies to come out and the bones too old to take the weight of one jump! Christmas may have lost its magic but a faint whiff of  chocolate,cinnamon and vanilla remains in some long forgotten corner of my brain to trigger off a series of thoughts which lets me wallow in pleasure.

The Ghost Pal



The ceiling fan chugged on, on the hot humid day it struggled to push the heavy hot air (I always knew that cold air is heavy!) aside and around to cool my sweat dripping mind and body. I sighed! I had just finished cooking an elaborate lunch, had a hurried bath and was looking forward to stretching out on what is called “the Marshmallow “by the third adult of the family. But the fan was just not giving me the coolness I required to let my cells loose and relax. I pushed my creaking bones to get up and find the remote to switch on the air conditioner but just then the fan took pity on me and started whirling at its full speed! I was too tired to question its efficiency and enjoyed it to the fullest and saved  on my electricity bill.
This was the first time I noticed this. But it became a regular thing- when I entered the room or just sat on the bed the fan would be an old man! But after a few minutes- if I deigned to continue sitting in the same room it would hurl itself against the wind and cool me down! I tried to argue with all the science that I had learned in high school – that it was just the voltage fluctuating! But the same “scientific mind “argued back “why was this not happening with any other fan in any other room?”

One day the family head, passed a comment, that this fan was really terrible. I had just came in to take my morning stretch on the marshmallow. I joked ‘Now that I have come it will work!” believe it or not it started dancing about fast and voila! I was cool.

I have always had this sixth sense when it comes to spirits and ghost throughout my life. From the time I was five or six I have had some kind of eerie experience. I think I have written about a couple of them. I always know when I enter a new place if its “different”. This new house had none of the markers that I associate with the supernatural and I had forgotten about this facet of mine for the first four months that we had lived here.


I really don’t know whether this episode is a ghost or the faulty electric conductors on the fan! But I can sense no presence and my comfort levels are not disturbed. But then never has my comfort levels been disturbed. I am very aware of all the spirits that swirl about in the air around me but they are like the sunlight- it’s there but it is no sort of an impediment to existence! I have only had one malevolent and one scary experience with this new dimension otherwise it’s been symbiotic experience.

There are too many co incidences in life, too many Deja vus to be explained away with scientific precision. I am fascinated with this dimension and as I devour all materials written on this I hope that one day, during my life time, we are able to find some kind of communication system (I do not believe in séances!)

I can hear the snorts and sniggers from many of you but that does not disturb me because unless you move out of your comfort zone of four dimension will you be able to experience the nth dimension!

Meanwhile my friendly ghost makes the fan go at whatever speed I require and lets the bells on my window chime jingle merrily with the wind J

The Traffic Signal


The old man with thick lenses shuffled up to the car window with his palm open. He held a few agarbattis (Incense sticks) in the other hand. His skin was rough and wrinkled and the expression  pitiful. Silently I paid my conscience money and felt good to see the smile on his face when I refused to take the agarbattis in exchange.

Hypocrite! My mind screamed at me silently.

 “What are you doing anyway? Paying for your comfort?” mocked the torturous mind.

The soul sadly agreed with its eternal foe and said, “Like paying your electricity bill for your cold comfort, you pay the old man to ease your uncomfortable conscience!”

I always have these tussles at the traffic signals. It is here I see a part of my country which does not fill me with pride. The obviously pregnant teenage girl, carrying a small child, begging; the little boy with the twisted arm, begging; the well dressed and made up eunuchs, begging; and of course the aged on the last legs of life, begging.

After watching slum dog millionaire I had become very callous. I imagined that all these people are employed by the beggar mafia to earn for them and refused to hand out money. It’s especially irritating that when you give money to one child another five turn up for their share of my conscience money. But lately as I grow older I cannot bear to see the aged begging and go on doling out whenever and how much ever I can.

The world I believe is filled with two kinds of people- the givers and the takers. It’s not only about money. It’s about emotions and happiness. Most of my life, I have been a taker (I think I still am!) I have taken love, happiness and money without giving it a thought. I have taken it for granted and as a part of my rights and privileges! I have given (Hopefully I have!) but not to the extent that I have received.  From my Parents, sister, husband and children – I have taken life, love, happiness, care and sympathy without a second thought. Am I then like the beggars? Opening my hand and heart and accepting what has been given to me with a smile?

Are we all like the small microcosm of the traffic signal? Giving and taking? Bears introspection doesn’t it?

According to the season, I get to see the strawberry / mango / sugarcane/ apricot sellers there too. I have fun with them! Whatever price they ask I simply divide it by two and I am usually surprised that they agree! I am sure they have done their market research and know how exactly to handle the varied type of clientele! As it is much cheaper than the shops I buy them from, I am happy and they are happy too- win-win situation. They have no establishment cost and hence can reduce their profit margins drastically for some customers. Many people (mostly men) are in a hurry and assume these people are anyway cheap and pay them whatever they ask for. So here they get hundred percent profit.

I have read a few articles on these vendors. How they are irritating, how they ruin the economy, how they have a mafia by themselves but never a word of appreciation about the heat and dust they face all the time! How much they have to pay the local police to be allowed to vend in these dangerous circumstances. I wonder how much money they make. Where they live? Do they save?

I think they live for the moment (what most lifestyle gurus advise us to do!) never worry about the future and in time become like the old beggar.

In one of my old blog posts I had written about the families who live on the footpath. Their trials and tribulations and their happiness and serenity! Well I saw one such family in Santacruz. Ten years back when I had first moved to Mumbai, I used to live there and go for walks. I used to see a small family selling toys at the traffic signal. They lived on the corner of the pedestrian way. They just had had a baby and it was permanently in a small sari made cradle (Unwashed and dirty). The wife was young and pretty (though very very dirty). 

I had gone there recently and was waiting at the signal. The family was still there! There were three children playing and another one in the sari cradle! The smiling wife was still smiling (a few grey hairs had crept in!) she was still dirty but now she was cooking. The man was still selling toys with the little boys helping him carry his stuff. They toys were different; more techno smart and colorful and now only people in the autos and motorcycles looked at them.

The interesting thing was he was selling small alphabet booklets and coloring books for pre-K children too. I saw the third child flipping through some of the books near its mother. Will he read them or learn to read them? Will he get educated and try to get out of the kind of life they were leading?

The light turned green and the wife yelled at the children to get away. They nimbly jumped out of traffic’s way into their safety zone.

I hear India has advanced very far in the Economic arena. We are the third largest tourists in the world. We have a growing number of billionaires. Our middle class is one of the richest. Yet I see this picture every time I step out of my home.

Could some venture capitalist finance some new ideas to remove poverty and helplessness? I am sure some app could be developed to gouge out this black spot in our economic horizon. Apple, I believe has had one of the largest profit margins in India this year!

I have seen many companies trying to alleviate such sufferings in their own way. But are we doing enough? In ten years we have not changed the life of one pavement dweller! Where are all the societies hiding? We have millions being spent on advertisement for “equal streets” movement and not a few thousand to give to this family?

I think it’s time to introspect and ask when the good times will come. When skating on roads causing traffic jams elsewhere will lead on to concrete plans for every child and not only for the select few? When real estate advertisements stop talking about LSF (Life Style Factor) for your child and focus on Corporate Social responsibility?

I continue to squirm uncomfortably….. 

“DO YOU WORK?”


I have the time to stare and watch these days!

“What do you do the whole day?” a very common question aimed at me for the last four years is starting to get less and less irritating. Unfortunately I still haven’t framed a pert rejoinder to the query! I am working on it.

The young ones (college going, pre married and newly working ones) never ask me, maybe because they are not interested enough or they are at that age, self-centered! I love to spend time with them; they are normally positive and full of their experience in life. The newly married ones and new moms are also fine- they are busy with their lives and they believe, their problems are paramount and insurmountable! So O.K. they don’t pay too much of attention to how I spend my time!

It’s the rest of the world who are sometimes tiring with their predictable question (notice the singular “question”!)

I have had a very ordinary and predictable life. Studied, married, had children, worked for some time and now…….????

Another question I am accosted with frequently is “Do you work?”

Well of course I do! How else would a healthy person exist?

The definition of work is-be engaged in physical or mental activity in order to achieve a result- Just by being there I am working!

I wake up in the morning and look down at the beautiful garden below. It is teeming with life! (Sometimes I wake up at five in the morning and the well-lit garden is humming with activity)You would be amazed at what all people do early in the morning. (Being a night person, my brain refuses to work for an hour or so after I wake up!) There are the young ones with plugged up ears running and jogging, the middle aged ones (you can tell by their paunches!) walking energetically, the old ones talking a leisurely stroll and some undisciplined kids weaving in and out almost tripping people. I feel am I losing out on life, I don’t do all this…..But….

Some five- six years back I used to do all this (Not in the morning though! Usually evening) I enjoyed it too! I used to exercise vigorously, diet all the time and fill myself with diet snacks and fruits et al; have advised people to do the same. Just imagine making three kinds of meals, looking after kids and husband and “working” too! But I was never a rebel and I walked with the pack. Complaining about everything (price, maid, vegetables and you name it!)

After the first one left the nest, I slowly stopped obsessing about school and grades (the second one was lucky!)I gave more freedom to the younger one; stopped freaking out about “why 98 not 100?” I was lucky to go abroad where my dependency on maids  reduced considerably; petty politics at work was a thing of the past and I changed drastically, my whole attitude towards life changed. Whether that was a good thing or not, is for you to decide.

People were already saying,” soon your second one will leave – you must get back to work”. To be honest I mulled over it for some time and halfheartedly tried. Then one fine day I decided to leave the race! I wanted to stand and stare at the runners going ahead with their jogging shoes and water bottles’ I pod and headphones; determined and sweaty faces!

I have been blessed with an understanding husband who lets me do whatever I want to. I know he would love it if I went back into the “working” arena but he respects my wish, not to.

For the last four years, I have been fulfilling one of my life’s desires- to travel. I have traveled a lot and drunk in the pleasure of new civilizations, cultures, currencies and beauty. I have had the freedom to help my children settle down and begin their journey in and towards adulthood. Could I have done this if I had been “working”? I have gone on holidays not worrying about school holidays or leave applications. I have reduced my cribbing quotient and moved towards positivity in spite of all the negativity that surrounds me. Yes I have fallen ill but without feeling guilty that I have to take leave and stay at home. I believe that I am living life now. I know people will accuse me of being selfish, lazy and pleasure loving. Maybe I am that! But all of us deserve a break from the mundane grind of existence and I believe that after being good for so long, let me be a little evil!

To answer the very important “question” I do work. I work to run the house, I work to give emotional support to many people in my life, I work to keep a balance of yin yang in the family, I work to see that life is running smoothly for the people who have done so for me, now. I am the finance minister, the home minister, the education minister, the foreign affairs minister… all rolled into one.

So my young and old friends learn that we all have our roles to play at all times during our life. It is important that we find our niche and enjoy what we do. All of us are working towards a common goal of reaching out to happiness. Even the beggar works!

I read and play, I am learning to enjoy cooking (I have always hated it till now!) I am learning to explore and discover. I am learning! That’s the important thing. The day I stop learning I will die and then you can ask me “What do I do the whole day?” Now twenty-four hours is not enough for me!

The main thing is to fulfill your responsibilities and still enjoy the process of life!

Bewildering Bargains



She peered at the thousand rupee note, first up side, then down side and then against the light, turning it at all possible angles. Satisfied she slid it into her drawer and condescended to give me my change! There was a huge line behind me and everyone was fidgeting at the delay. There had been a long queue in front of me, so I was irritated and wanting to go home as soon as possible. Someone hissed behind me:
“Why don’t you give your credit card, it’s much faster!”
Well I needed change, so I had given the note instead of using the card. But I didn’t explain that to the man behind me. I would have further wasted his time and mine too in the bargain!

“Doesn’t matter, you can pay me tomorrow, Madam” this was by a small shop owner where I had gone to buy some electrical stuff. But I fished out another thousand rupee note and he took it unhesitatingly and gave me the change at once. His little shop was teeming with people, but he gave equal attention to all his customers. He made the extra effort to find the exact stuff each client was looking for.

“Can you change this twenty rupee note, its torn and patched?” I asked the Egg fellow who comes to my door everyday

“Madam, if you have any problem with it, return it to me with your next purchase” he smilingly said this as I gave him an irritated look and shut the door.
Three different interactions and three different reactions, both by me and the second person!
The first one was by an employee of a big supermarket chain. Aren’t they trained in customer care? Most of them are tired, covertly rude and multi-tasking (Including, talking on the cell phone and talking with their coworkers!)They treat you as if they are giving stuff that we buy, for free! There are a few who are helpful but you can count them on your fingers!
 But we are addicted to super markets. It’s fun to pick up the stuff you want yourself and not wait for someone to serve you. You can loiter, have a choice of brands to choose from and pick the price you have catered to in your budget. There are plenty of other pluses, so I go there again and again. In spite of the rudeness and the long lines!
The second experience was in an owner run shop. He tries to cultivate you personally, remembers you, trusts you and is very very helpful! He is “Old school”. It is a pleasant experience as long as there aren’t people jostling you to get to the counter. (He has a solution to that-“Why don’t you phone me madam, I will send it home?”)
I go there only when it is absolutely necessary. In spite of the good behavior and treatment!
The third one is the door to door salesman. He comes laden with a variety of bread, cheap snacks and eggs. Every day without fail! Though he knows I cannot buy a dozen eggs and bread daily! Sometimes I pretend I am not at home and do not open the door! Just to avoid seeing his disappointed face.
Here is something I avoid even though it’s convenient (No broken eggs while lugging it from the market! the bread is absolutely fresh too!) I have his phone number and in an emergency call him and he comes and gives it too.
I do not understand the social psyche nor do I understand mine!  I like going to air-conditioned malls for my vegetables rather than go and get it from the road side shops although they are fresher if not cheaper!
The other day I had gone to the Station market (In Mumbai you get everything in the world here at half the price!) I wanted to frame some pictures. I managed to frame eleven pictures for the price of One framed painting that I bought at the mall!

As a human society we are slowly becoming comfort loving. The charm that was there in bargaining when we were young has gone (the more expensive the better it is!). The adventure of shopping has been taken over by paid adventure holidays!
I wonder if the young ones still bargain on the footpath of Janpath for tops, chappals and trinkets like we used to. I remember buying a top for five rupees and a whole outfit for rupees hundred when I was in college (includes handbag, chappals and bangles!)Here in Mumbai, the footpath shops (Linking Road) do not deign to bargain with me. The old trick of” walking away and being called back” is working less and less!

Oh well! Time changes and so does shopping style! But the narrow alleys of Europe still abound with such style and because the weather is lovely there I don’t mind loitering on the sidewalks browsing and bargaining for the pleasure of bargaining!

Home is where the heart is….

The “rattling” magpies puncture the absolute silence of my evening walk back from the gym. The sweeping manicured lawns, the well cut side walks and the gently flowering shrubs add to the picture postcard beauty as I loiter and store in the scenes and hope to retrieve it at my leisure. I am in a dream. The houses in neat rows, no garbage in sight, the sun still bright in the sky and there is still hours to go before I sleep.

Where am I? Not definitely in my own country! Nor in Mumbai the “maximum” city. I am in the suburbs of Houston a major city in the United States. Having a long vacation, in fact a kind of vacation which I have never had. I have the comfort of home without any responsibilities, living in a foreign country with a regular supply of Indian food ( which has been my obstacles during my travels) , I sleep when I want to , get up when I want to, read, browse the net and be the guest of a very sweet sister in law and brother in law.

The people at the gym are sweet. They greet you with a hi! And bid adieu with ” have a nice day/ evening” I refer to them as “firangs” (foreigners) when I am the foreigner!


The other day I went a little early. The sun was hot in the sky but young boys were out on their skate boards, little girls were walking to the pool with their mothers and I saw the men who worked tirelessly to keep the landscape pristine and beautiful. They were mostly Hispanic, some of them old but mostly relatively and energetically young. They drive the lawn mowers like racing cars- expertly manoeuvring them around curves!

The normal silence that enveloped the atmosphere was missing. There was the sporadic noise of a car whispering by on the main road, the loan mowers groaning, the leaf blower’s whoosh and a few dogs barking behind the fences of the backyard.

The trees that line the roads- the maples, the ash, the oaks….. All grow in an orderly manner. They all have leaves, green and healthy, they stand straight in a eliminated manner and wave their branches gently and calmly. Even the rain here is in straight lines! ( with my limited imagination I cannot imagine the hurricanes and storms that have hit this place!)

I am content…. But am I thrilled or happy as I was in the forest in Hannover? I don’t know.

I remember the irritating pigeons that worm their way into my balcony. I remember the wily newspaperman trying to overcharge me. I remember the various delivery boys who keep interrupting my games on the computer!

The dirty roads I do not miss! But the hustle and bustle of the roads I do. Missing the overflowing garbage bins would be abnormal but appreciating the life on the streets wouldn’t be too crazy, or would it?

There is a lot of heat and dust in the country that we call India. The colour, the spice and the uncertainty puts a pall on the clinical and sanitary world of the west. I remember the kindergarten teacher in Germany asking or letting the children roll and play in mud in the forest. They also realise that some dirt is required to let us develop into complete human beings.

To each to his own and I suppose some firang must be feeling as I am doing now in India. But I do miss my Mr. Know all  “calm” husband, my first born and the still terrible teenager. The space that I call my home and the little box with my various Gods are asking me “when will you  come back?

After all home is where the heart is…….

Gestational Growth!

Nine months of very tumultuous existence!  It was almost this time frame away that I wrote my last blog. It was about a milestone in my life. I thought that with my nest empty, I would feel empty, lonely and miserable; but life had other things in store for me! I have not had much time to brood, leave alone feel miserable and life has been far from empty!

Life, God or the omniscient- whatever you would like to call it, has catapulted me into a whirlpool of activity. I have been indulged with my favorite activity- Travel! The excitement of packing and planning, checking in (both at the airport and Facebook!) and the giddiness of reaching new places and exploring them at my own pace is what has made me go on despite the “empty nest” syndrome staring at my face.

I have had academic exposure, whirlwind sightseeing, peaceful living and settling in two children in different environments and squeezing in a romantic twenty-fifth anniversary (a surprise one) into these nine months.

It was awesome to be in school once again as a student. I learnt to listen, comprehend and participate. This time it was fun! I didn’t need to excel or impress, just assimilate and hopefully gather knowledge which I think, I might use later in life. It did wonders for my ego and self-esteem.  I have no regrets except the fact that I could have been less inhibited. I learnt that you need ideas to succeed, not money; I learnt that you need courage to win, not immaculate perfection; I also learnt that shooting from your heart can let you reach your targets faster than shooting from your brain. The most perfect planning can fall flat because of a tiny error.


The ten days of unplanned tourism that we indulged in exposed us to a new culture which has the greatest strength behind it- the strength of variety. Colorful, vibrant and enthusiastic is how I will describe the American culture. It is young and impetuous; it does not have the profound peace and strength of our ancient civilization, but hey! Who wants peace when one is young???? But we did find peace as we gazed at the Niagara Falls! It has spoilt me for any other falls in the world! I bore everyone with “Niagara Falls was so…..” The natural beauty of the huge country takes your breath away.
Poverty and crime are also here, pollution and garbage do abound, racism and insecurity are evident but it is the land of opportunity. I felt that justice and fair practice are more obvious here than anywhere in the world. It does not have the sophistication of Europe, neither does it have the grace and tradition of the ancient civilizations but it has charm, energy and raw beauty and power.

After the chilled out month at Houston which I spent time with my sis-in-law, I had a hectic fifteen days at Bloomington; setting up my little TT who is now my fledgling! I came back to the heat and dust of Mumbai. Longing for Indian food and just letting go …. But there was more travel and a stint at the hospital and then setting up house twice over and more travel.

I jumped into the Mauritian culture for my second honeymoon! What a contrast! Life there is so laid back, everyone is happy and the clock moves really slowly- blissful! The people there are easygoing. It is how I imagine paradise must have been.

Thank God, Eve ate the apple! I don’t think I would have endured paradise for too long! Walking in the forest and eating fruits all day long!

It’s been a long gestational period for me. Like the little baby, I have grown “mentally” in leaps and bounds. It’s been a “full on” (Excuse my Indian slang!) learning period- a period of growth and development as a person. I have become more patient and resilient. I have accepted negativity as a co-existence of positivity. I have acknowledged that I am not always right and that I am no “Miss-know-all”. 

I am able to stand in a line in the MTNL office and smile at the man trying to break in and say a “Thank you” to the Madam behind the counter! Don’t you think that’s growth?

The Milestone of Parenthood

The scrunched up eyes and red face was delivered into my arms and I looked at it with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Is this little mite really mine? Am I wholly going to be responsible for this helpless bundle? I am sure mothers, the world over, have gone through similar and lot more rhetoric questions at this precious moment. Nature equips us to go through all the pain and still gives us all the energy to indulge in the joy of creation that each of these children bring about.
Life is never the same after this momentous event. From a selfish, carefree and “World is my Oyster” kind of existence you are pushed into a tiring routine of cleaning bathing and feeding.  The world now becomes an uncertain jungle. You start planning and saving. Your happiness becomes limited yet infinite at the same time! The other young but unrestricted couple look at you with pity but you look back at them with pity too!

And life goes on……

Before you realize it’s more than twenty years…. The family has grown too and the tiny mite is a young adult with a sibling who is also ready to fly! When the first one left home, it was traumatic (at least for me!) For seventeen years I had looked after, guided, advised and had gone through every physical and emotional ups and downs and now the “wicked” world would lay down an obstacle course for my ‘delicately nurtured princess’. Every time I heard of the slightest pain I would feel like leaving everything and rushing over to take care but swallowing desire and knowing that one day she would have to be responsible for her life, I didn’t!  I feel proud of myself and especially of her as I see her manage her life and kick all the obstacles on her path.
It’s that time again now when her sibling will leave home to take up the reins of her life. I thought I am mature, having gone through all the gamut of emotions, I would (I was sure!) be a very sophisticated mother and let go with grace and dignity. In fact one mother who will be leaving her first child said, “For you it will be a cake walk, you have already let go once!” I am sure even if you have ten, letting go each time will be as difficult as the first time!


There is still time before she leaves home but the familiar emotions have started crowding in. Yes the planning and scheduling does distract you during the day but the nights are dark and long and all the bogeys in the world come crowding in and it’s very uncomfortable.
The positive thing is this is a phase and it will get over sooner or later. Just wish its sooner than later! The whole world I feel is looking down at me with a superior smile. The older ones, having forgotten their past emotions, must be saying “Oh! It’s no great deal”, the younger ones also, in their ignorance, saying “Oh! It’s no big deal” Will I also be doing this, ten years from now? If I do, someone remind me of this blog and the superior smile will be arrested on my lips.

I must not forget to mention the fathers here. Though I have no idea what they go through but I am sure it is equally if not more stressful for them.  They have to put up ‘the stiff upper lip’ bravado and be ‘a man’ while we mothers have the luxury of giving way and being accepted as such.
 While the baby books record their milestones for posterity, there is no life book to record our milestones of parenthood! Letting go is a milestone. We cross it and rarely look back (except with affection) and go on to the next milestone.

Happy parents’ day should also be celebrated separately!

The windows at the RTO!


The winter sun was beating down relentlessly as I searched for a place to park the car. The huge gates leading to the RTO (Regional Transport Office to the uneducated!), was a little ajar but I knew I couldn’t drive in. After asking one of the Auto drivers, I started on a road safari to find a parking place! There was no road, only a huge muddy expanse filled with derelict cars and Autos. I weaved my way in and out of any available space and found a relatively safe place to park the car. I searched minutely to find a ‘no parking’ sign but couldn’t find any. Not that it gave me any comfort but bravely I went on to fight the first of many battles!


Before I go ahead with my story I need to give you some background information about what I was doing here. Two months ago the young adult in the family had a long break after her final exam and so we decided that it was time she got herself a driving license. The driving school was found and she was enrolled and soon she gave her test. Proudly she came home and said she had passed her test and the license would come in three weeks. She went off to join work and I sat waiting for it to come!


There was a complication though, right from the beginning- the address in her passport was an old one and the license would be delivered there! The driving school owner told us that it will go there and be returned, after which I could go to the RTO and pick up the returned license. Assuming this to be the gospel truth I sat tight, in short- not being proactive. When six weeks passed by, I tried to find out the status and was told (By the driving school) that the license had been delivered at the old address. I had to shake myself and make a trip to my old address.


I went into the familiar precincts and nostalgia washed over me as I took the lift to the eighteenth floor. I was welcomed into the house which I had once considered my own. I criticized the décor and the unnecessary clutter of the house (in my mind) and was assured by the owner that no license had been delivered and that he would let me know if and when it happened. We exchanged telephone numbers and I made a new friend!


So here I was in the wilderness of cars to find out what had really happened!
I had been advised to contact some Mr. Patil, who would help me out. After asking around where to find him I reached window no 30 (I was the proud visitor of windows 18, 21, 27, 2…..)

There was a short queue and I waited patiently for my turn.

 “Mr. Patil?” I queried

“Humph” A finger pointed at the next man.

I swiveled around, put on my most harassed and pathetic expression and started on my woeful tale. It was ruthlessly cut short ….

“Go to window 42 and get the number!”


What was one more window to weary traveler? I walked to window 42 which was miraculously empty! I peered in to see a heavily harassed young man surrounded by a cacophonous group of men who were talking all at once. My heart sank. After coming so far I couldn’t leave the battle field, could I? I straightened my back and pushed my way into the throng and stood squarely in front of the man who was peering into the PC.


Sometimes being a woman has its advantages! Amongst a group of brown and black, here I was in pink and he looked up at me. Without getting into preliminaries I thrust the paper with details at him. He took it peered at it then at his PC; scribbled a long line of numbers; thrust it back at me. “Go back to Patil”
Back to window 30, Patil scrutinized the number gravely, cleared his throat, “It has been delivered”

I said, “No it hasn’t been”

“Wait, the postman who delivered it will come in twenty minutes, you can talk to him”

I hung around for twenty minutes and poked my face at the window.

“This is not an airport! Twenty minutes could mean an hour, you have to wait madam!”

By now I was jittery about my car which was parked in a no man’s land; it was hot; I was thirsty. I decided to let everyone go to hell and went home!


Two days went before I began nagging the Car school (they take a heavy fee so that they ensure that the license is received). It went on and on for almost four months- my nagging; calling up my new friend (who by the way advised me to bribe Patil!) without any avail. I was frustrated; the young adult was equally frustrated. My frustration was higher as I, on the advice of the school had registered an FIR and applied for a duplicate license after paying more!


I was always given hope that it would eventually turn up. After returning from a holiday I was back at my job of nagging the school who gave me an entirely new story! The license had never been sent! Thank God I was on the phone otherwise I would have shot the man! A new man had come to window 42 and he said that the license would “soon” be dispatched.


My second trip to the RTO did not yield anything but it was more comfortable as I got a lift there, hence no worries about my car being towed away. Window 42 was just the same scene of cacophony and chaos. But being a woman in an all-male zone I could make myself heard.

A curt, “it will take another three weeks to be delivered” and “No! We will not hand it over to you, it will be posted” was all I got for my troubles.


The waiting period began…… After three weeks the phone call to my friend and the car school began too and then I gave up! It was almost six months- nothing was going to happen! I advised Chiqui to apply for a license in her city and tried to wash my failure out with the strongest detergent possible. Enough was enough! I had lost the battle.


Was dreaming of pleasant things when the musical tinkling of my phone woke me up, it was my friend!

“Madam, I think your license has come, please come and pick it up at your convenience”

I couldn’t thank him enough for bearing with my repeated phone calls. I had at least won the war!