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.

Not my day – Attack of the Delivery Men


“Hazzar rupaya dena” ( Give me thousand rupees). I had opened the door in the middle of the afternoon to the incessant ring of the calling bell. This is the quiet time of the day so I was taken by surprise. 

The milk man stood outside, all dressed up with a very huge grin. It was the 24th of the month! In my sleep befuddled mind red warning bells were ringing and if I had something to throw I would have!

I controlled myself, “I don’t have thousand rupees”

He said, “What is this madam, you don’t even have thousand rupees!”

I looked at him squarely in the eye, “End of the month I don’t have it with me”

He looked a little abashed, “Actually the delivery van is downstairs, and he needs it”

If I was a magical being I would have frozen him with my looks, “Well, I don’t have it”

After seeing him all dressed up I was determined not to give him any money. I was convinced there was no van downstairs he just wanted to go and have fun!

“I will come at six o’clock, you keep the money ready”, he said, as if he was doing me a favor.

I refused to reply.

“You cut it from the bill for the month”

As I had resumed taking milk from the middle of the month I knew the bill would not even touch thousand!

“OK?”

I said, “No! I am going out and will not be going to the ATM to withdraw money!”

At last he left me to stare wide awake at the clock and watch my precious sleep time get over.

Normally the milk packet is dumped on the floor outside the door in a haphazard fashion and I have to keep checking whether it has been delivered or not! But the next day there was the ting tong of the bell at 7 in the morning.

“Good morning madam!” the milkman stood with two packets of milk in his hand.

I took the packets, “Aren’t you delivering tomorrow?”

“I am!”

“Then why are you giving me two packets?”

“I got extra, so take it”

I was already to burst, “NO! I don’t an extra one today. I will let you know when I want one”

“OK OK Can you give me that thousand rupees today?” he asked ingratiatingly

I was so tired of him I gave it to him saying that he now owes me so much for the next month.

“Theek hai theek hai” (OK OK)

I warned him, “Don’t give me any brand you feel like, I will throw it and not pay for it” was my parting shot!
It was a jinxed day ….

At nine the bell rang again. I assumed it was the garbage collector. I kept sitting as the maid normally dealt with him. But today was not my day!

She said he wanted to talk to me.

“Can you give me my money?” looking at me in half drunken stupor

I looked at him pretending incomprehension.

“Only five days left for the month to end, anyway.” He said airily

I didn’t argue with this one. I just silently gave it to him.

I got a salaam for my effort and a triumphant smile. I realized my mistake! The month before I had given the money to his wife, who must not have given it to him, hence the hurry to take it from me!

The bell rang again at two o’clock in the afternoon; thankfully I had not gone for my nap. I was expecting someone from the office to pick up some documents. Without checking I opened the door.

It was the newspaperman!

He gave the bill with a flourish. After having been cheated numerous times, these days I check everything he writes.

As usual there was an extra thirty five rupees!

“What is this for?”

“Monday… Economic times!” he said smugly

“I don’t keep economic times and I don’t get any extra paper on any Monday!”

“Tch! That delivery boy is mad!”

I waited….

He reluctantly took the bill and cut off the thirty five and gave it to me.

“Today is the 25th” I said pointedly

“It’s only so little, you can give it”

I realized today was not my day and I gave it to him with bad grace.

“Why don’t you keep DIVA, it comes every Friday?”

“No I don’t want it”

“What about magazines? You don’t read or what?”

“No” came out like a shot

I think you should read Economic Times. Shall I give that?”

My weary ‘no’ came along with the lift and I was thankful to see the back of him.


After three harrowing battles I was all girded up to meet the flower man next! But he never turned up and never delivered the flowers either.

Let me tell you what the conversation will be like.

I will give him one day/ five days less worth of money.

“What madam, one day/ five days only, why cut money for that?”

And no amount of argument will help me because ultimately I will give!

Whoever thinks that managing home finances is easy should come and live in Mumbai. For us poor housewives pay at least ten percent extra for every commodity; over and above that we are bullied into paying more than necessary, openly and callously!

Rediscovering One’s Love


“I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.”

I was introduced to Walt Whitman when I joined first year of my PG course in English literature. One of our papers was American Literature. In those days the professors who had been brought up on British literature never gave the Americans much importance (“what history do they have?” said my professor who taught us Chaucer!) Nevertheless I fell in love……

I had always loved poetry as a means of expressing myself and here was someone who did exactly that. I hated the discipline of English poetry and here was someone who laid his own rules. I believe that anything with beauty and form is poetry and here was someone who had believed in this, years ago. I devoured his “Leaves of Grass” with fervor that one would devour a lover’s letters with. I read up his history; was a little uncomfortable with the fact that he might have been gay; stopped reading about him and concentrated on his works.

Other than the lines that I have quoted in the beginning, there was another – “A child said What is the grass?” is something that even now has the capacity to make me feel elated. “..The smallest sprouts show there is really no death,” is something I identify so strongly with that I feel a chill down my spine. Maybe I knew him when he was alive and the cosmic string that ties me with him is strong and one day we will recognize each other. Does that sound very mushy and romantic?

I had his book and it always had a pride of place in my book shelf. Over the last twenty five years it has reposed as an article of decoration in all the many houses that I have lived in; the pages have yellowed and become crisp yet I have always lovingly dusted it and kept it down with more gentleness than the other  treasured books. But the years have passed by and I have not really read my songs of love!

Yesterday everything changed! My TT wanted help with a poem- to understand and analyze it. Having taught poetry for some years I was not too daunted with the task. When I opened the page and saw it was a part of “the song of myself” my heart stopped for a moment. In that single microsecond, thoughts raced to outrun each other.


 Twenty five years just dissolved into thin air and here I was again in rapt attention listening (for you have to listen to his poetry!), I read it out, I don’t know whether my TT really felt my voice throb with emotion but I felt the adrenaline rush and I was just as love sick as I was twenty five years ago!

I now had the daunting task of introducing this enchanting poet to my own daughter and to incite within her an interest so that she would be able to appreciate the beauty, power and bewitching play of words and its meanings. Would she be able to understand a poet who was born almost two hundred years ago? I was further appalled to hear that she had told her teacher that the poem confused her!

This followed one hour of my peeling off the dead and thickened skin which had enveloped me. I just read the printed paper aloud, I lovingly took out my sacred books and read the lines of interpretations that I had written years ago and the flow of thoughts came back. I needed to write my thoughts…. I was again a first year student….

The pleasure, thrill and excitement that engulfed me cannot be expressed or explained but I was on a roll! Words just flowed from my fingers and I was ready to do my tutoring.

As I explained and exhibited my interpretation of the poem to my TT, I could see the glint of excitement being ignited. I don’t know whether she appreciated the poet or she was excited that some of her interpretation was similar to mine but it is a beginning and that’s what matters. I was, I think partially successful in my mission.

I hope the interest that I ignited turns into a fire (a tiny fire) and brings the surge of interest and knowledge to make her explore, search and find the rich world of words and poetry. This I truly believe is the best support system in today’s world where psychological wars are constantly raging in all spheres of existence. Now is the time when Whitman’s song never rang truer!

Wish me luck as I venture into an old world of thoughts which holds true even today.

*TT- Terrible Teenager

The Spanish Fall and other Fallen Stories




“Look its swelling up….” Followed by a wail. This was the fourth time I had twisted my ankle and fallen down……..

The day had been packed with activities. We were on the last leg of our Spanish holiday in Seville and I didn’t want to miss anything. So as soon as we had checked in the hotel, we set out on a discovery of the quaint city. It was hot and dry, the hat I wore was hardly any protection, but I hadn’t travelled thousands of miles to sleep in the hotel!

We went to the city center, scrounged for food and then went visiting the cathedral, shopped, loitered and as a grand finale went to the Flamenco show.

What a show it was! Colour, passion, energy, grace and beauty twirled before us in amazing succession. The sangria they served us while we watched this agape only helped to heighten the experience. Not a moment of the one and a half hour show was wasted. Each act was superimposed by the other and we hardly had time to breath. We never understood the words of the song but music is universal and the tones exhibited what words could not.

It was ten o’clock at night and the sun had not set, so we greedily thought we would pack some more activity and went for a walk by the riverside. The cobbled pathway inter spaced with trees and flowers were a treat to stroll along. Young children were cycling, skateboarding and roller skating. There were health conscious joggers, the romantic strollers, the serious walkers and a few tourists like us on the wide path. The sun was slowly setting and the purple, red and orange that streaked the sky elevated my mood. But I was tired; it had been a long day and I could feel the weakness in my limbs but I didn’t want to miss a moment!
As usual I was looking at the river and I stubbed against an upright cobbled stone and fell….

Let’s not talk about the pain and the discomfort that followed and how we managed to get back to the hotel after all the moans and whines by me.  It was late, no chemists were open. Thankfully with pain killers, ice packs and some gauze bandage I went to sleep.

Depressed and fully convinced that I would never be able to make the trip to Cordoba the next day I fell into a dreamless sleep.

 I woke up to find the swelling not too bad and the pain bearable so I decided to go to Cordoba.
It was a trip I would not have missed. The bus ride which took us through the Spanish countryside was enchanting. The walking trip of Cordoba did strain me but to have missed this slice of history would have been criminal. I don’t know how I managed to go through the whole tour – it was my family’s support and the patience of the tour guide which helped me through.

The first time I twisted my ankle – I was again walking on the cobbled streets of Mumbai with my head in the air and looking everywhere but at the road. I was alone and fell badly and I was helped by two good Samaritans on the road on to an auto. It was very very painful and I managed to reach home hobbling along painfully and crying! The foot had swollen up to triple its size. I did have the presence of mind to put ice on it. What followed was weeks of being in plaster (it had a hairline crack) and travelling around the house on the computer chair!

The second time was on the rough roads of a national park. I was very happy I remember and I was hopping skipping and jumping following the car as I wanted to walk.Then Humpty Dumpty had a great fall! I was helped by a group of people and reached the car; promptly lost consciousness was taken to the hospital and followed weeks of being in a crepe bandage.

The third time was again in Mumbai, on its strangely tiled roads; having just returned to the city again to stay alone for a long period. It was wet and dark and I was happy in my own way. And the fourth time……..

What I found in common is that all the four times it was preceded by me being very happy! Wonder if the world noticed and cast an evil eye on me? After all the instances, my reaction is “its swelling up…. Waaaaa!” All the time it has been my left ankle.

I have a veritable collection of crepe bandages and anklets (the bandage not the ornament!) strewn in both my houses. I have thrown off quite a few but now I have decided I won’t because maybe sometime I will need it. In fact I have decided to carry it in my travels too!

Other than teaching me to be careful while walking, all the falls have taught me that people are helpful and they do help you when you need them. Your family is the best support system that can carry you through bad times.

The Bitten Apple


The blast of air conditioning and murmur of well-behaved crowd of people greeted us as we entered the tiny reception cum waiting room of the service center. A well-modulated and pleasant voice greeted us, “HI! Please take a token and take a seat”. The room was stuffed with people; there were some ten seats which were already occupied. The tiny floor space was crammed with pairs of feet- where do we take a seat? I wondered. Fortunately number forty four was called and two seats fell vacant and we promptly took them without waiting for anyone else! (I justified it as being the only females, we had a right to getting the seat! ).

So far so good! I sighed with relief. I was unconsciously playing with my token when my TT* noticed that it had twenty seven written on it. We had a nice discussion on it about how we will ever be called from forty four to twenty seven! We decided it must be till fifty and then it starts again and we groaned! However poor both our math is we can count! The many numbers before us brought my morale down. We settled down to a long wait……..

My TT was messaging furiously on her I-phone so I decided to take out my non-I-phone in the hallowed sanctum and play on it! I played “Lep’s world” till I died and then decided to indulge in one of my favourite pastimes- observing people and passing sotto voice comments on them. There was a kitty party group of ladies waiting outside talking nineteen to a dozen, One young teenager holding on to a mac, and I pod and a phone (a normal phone thank God!) sitting slouched on a seat looking very depressed and holding token number twenty four. (I was assured then, that they would eventually get to my number!). The usual crowd of apple product owners were there- each vying for attention!

Then walked in Ms. Heroine with streaked hair, tight dress and pencil heels and started talking with one of the attendants in a loud voice. “Can you believe it?” she intoned, “I bought this Mac yesterday, it worked for six hours and then pfft! Shelled out two lakhs for such a cheap product!” I sympathized with her but having been “well brought up” I kept my mouth shut! She was of course asked to wait but she walked out in a huff and came back with her dark glasses on; hung around for some time (None of the chivalrous guys got up to give their seat!) then talked on her phone loudly for some time then walked out again!

I missed her! She had brought some colour and excitement into that “stiff upper lip” kind of environment. Now the only color was the depressed teenager in a pink color co-ordinated outfit. The boys were in their falling-down jeans and crumpled t-shirts and the men in their formal crumpled linen shirts and black pants!

I felt sorry for all the people there. They had bought the apple product thinking that they are paying premium price which would leave them hassle free. Like our elders tell us “money cannot buy happiness” or peace for that matter!

I soon noticed that the number calling had slowed down, it was still at forty six and we had been sitting there for at least one hour! I started paying more attention to the people around and I realized that many on the pretext of collecting their products were jumping the queue. Still I kept quiet…..till I saw this young man walking up to the pretty attendant and getting his problem sorted out. He was unfortunately toying with his token which had twenty eight written on it! Then I forgot all my convent school education and protested! The young lady had to pay attention as the other people looked at her accusingly and she reluctantly asked him to wait. 

Now it was my turn to be glared at by number twenty eight! After this our number was called within ten minutes of my protest (This should teach us that to be a gentleman, never pays in India!). Now a gentleman listened to our minor problem and assured us that we would get a replacement within three days. What were we supposed to do till three days? We asked. An elegant shrug of the shoulder and that was it! We walked back with the hope that the problem would be solved within three days. Sadder and wiser…..

When my TT was ten years I had bought a pair of earrings in the shape of the bitten apple and she had loved it and still wears them even now after six years! I don’t know whether it was a sign but she fell in love with all apple products and has slowly but surely buying them over the years. In fact she has refused new pair of earrings from her aunt because she doesn’t want to give them up. She has actually bitten the forbidden apple and cannot give it up!

But yesterday’s experience did what I have not been able to! She is slowly opening her eyes to the fact that Apple products like any other product in the market has its flaws only it is definitely at least thirty percent more expensive!

P.S. To clear one mystery, the tokens began from twenty five and ended at fifty! What the logic behind it is something I haven’t cared to find out…

P.S.2 – The depressed teenagers’ Mac had fallen in water and was a complete wash out and she would have to pay a lakh to get it working!

* Terrible Teenager

Ants go marching by……

“Boom, boom, boom, da dum” they went majestically. All in an orderly line, they marched to the unheard sounds. All the legs walked in tandem, the head was held high and they moved forward fearlessly. The finger of destiny hovered for a second over one head and crushed it ruthlessly. Did the army stop? Did the heads waver? Was there any discordance in the movement of the legs? A big “NO” to all the questions! The fallen soldier was carefully avoided and they marched by with the same discipline as before; as if nothing had happened!
I tried everything! Crushed as many as possible (destiny made me do it, I am not bloodthirsty as a rule!); wiped the whole area (top of my table!) with floor disinfectant (this by a self- confessed OCD patient!); sprayed the space with bug destroyers and as a last resort sprayed it with room fresheners! But they came one after the other, side stepping the dead, and marching on, on their path to progress! Soon they were followed by the hearse bearers who picked up the dead carefully (I counted up to four of them carrying the body carefully to some unknown destination!)

They just poured in and out of my laptop keyboard and drove my paranoia crazy- that my life saving machine would conk off! The room perfume made the room smell wonderful but maybe they did not like it, so they went a little haywire and their discipline was broken. Now instead of a single file there were at least five lines moving in various directions. I know that their composure was broken and it gave me some kind of vicarious satisfaction!

I followed the line to find their place of origin and I found they were coming from the balcony from a place called ‘Nowhere’ and travelling to a place called ‘somewhere’. But due to the massacre that I had indulged in, they were swarming all over my keyboard and peeping from under the ‘B’, ‘H’ and ‘S’ keys. I felt as if they were sending me tongue-in-cheek emoticons from there! Ultimately I won the battle (or so I thought!) they vanished just as they had appeared and I puffed into my keyboard hoping to dislodge the last few survivors, but none came! I was at peace!

The next morning too, the little red ants were nowhere to be seen, though I kept an eagle eye out for them! Just to be on the safe side I sprayed my table with the room freshener and gloated over my find of a new bug destroyer. My ‘Whatsapp’ ring tinkled and I looked at the icon indulgently- one of the kids must have sent me a ‘HI!’ I thought. I tapped on the necessary icon and I was assaulted with a lot of ‘OMG’s   a cry of help from my younger one at school that the red ants were coming out of her laptop! This was followed by lot of ‘puff’ emoticons from other family members!  (Did I tell you that she had gloated over the fact that my outdated laptop had lots of space on the keyboard for the ants to go in and that her latest one would not allow them to?) The wicked Machiavellian had crept into the unsecured ‘latest’ laptop to escape the heat and the smell of my room freshener!
The evening was filled with a lot of complaints- about how the horrendous insects would chew up the hard drive and the PCBs and how her life line would fall to pieces. Having won my own battle I wasn’t much too worried about others! But to buy peace I gave many suggestions like using the hair dryer to blow them out; heat it up using the keyboard light; blow on them etc. but my little one was suspicious of my advice and she went to the final frontier of getting good counsel – Google! She asked me whether I had a vacuum cleaner (I don’t!) and gave me a disgusted look at my reply but she realized that many people all over the world had been so attacked and had survived and this made her calm down. She fretted and followed all my advice and took it out from the ant infested room for the night.
I haven’t as yet got any SOS messages from that department. I hope the ants have abandoned their sanctuary and found another. I am guilty of homicide and genocide and other horrible crimes but my conscience isn’t troubling me too much! As I am writing I saw one little head peeping from under ‘w’ but I smiled indulgently and crushed it to death for having  bitten my little one  on her legs!

April



Google made a fool of me yesterday! I clicked on the smell tab and proceeded to try and smell many smells. (Thinking it’s some great technological advance!) I tried and tried; put my nose as close to the screen as I could but though my heart said “I can smell the rose” my cynical mind refused to accept my memory as the truth and refused to believe in Google!  When my teen came home and made me do it again – just to humor her I said I could smell the beach but when she went on to make me smell the rose I couldn’t lie and said I couldn’t  Only then did she tell me that it was an April fool joke!


In school, April first, was a fun day and most of us at one time or the other has indulged in them! It was fun when we started it and irritating when we had to bear the brunt of it! I remember a classmate whose birthday fell on first April. He had to listen to the clichéd jokes year after year….

There are many theories behind the April fool day’s origin but what seems most sensible to me is Boese’s belief- that April Fools’ Day simply grew out of age-old European spring festivals of renewal, in which pranks and camouflaging one’s identity are common.

April, all over the western world is seen as a new beginning, it normally ushers in Easter which is a festival of renewal. It brings in the warmth after a long winter and a short spring; it makes the flowers bloom; it brings out the fertility rites in the open- generally it is the month of rejoicing. Yet we have an ironic Eliot saying “April is the cruelest month”; as against Chaucer’s “When April with his showers so sweet….” Both poets have their own reasons for their statements but while Chaucer follows the prototype, we have Eliot going against the grain! If we were to go deep inside both the poems we would realize that both have a different viewpoint than what they are stating. Is that what April is all about?

Confusing us with warmth and sudden cold showers; sometimes snow and sometimes extreme heat, April, in India, is a busy month; it is a harbinger of the extreme heat and discomfort of summer; school children are restless, waiting for it to get over and then the long summer break; families are planning their holidays to cooler climes; the sense of renewal is replaced by a kind of suffocation from which we need to escape.

Think colour and you think of April. All the flowers bloom during this month. Green saplings and shoots are the symbols of spring but full bloomed blossoms, colourful and vibrant are the hues of April. The tangy strawberries leave and augur in the delicious smell of mangoes. The traffic light fruit sellers are the key to my season recognition! From December to mid-march I had been buying strawberries from them. They always start with sixty rupees for the box and end up giving me four boxes for hundred! I am sure they recognize me and play the same game every time. I have never given them more or less than hundred for the four boxes! I have yet to buy mangoes from them, but I shall plan out my bargain strategy after I see what the price of these nectarines is in the super markets!

I can see a lot of water tankers trundling along the dusty roads; so it is the time for water shortage; the maid complains of the long lines for getting drinking water; the small earthen pots with steel glasses are put up on each corner of the road by some good Samaritan. Some people leave bowls of water for the crows, sparrow and doves! The other day a hawk displaced all the birds to drink gulps after gulps of water. The sun is intense, bright and hot. The breeze though is still cool and walking under the shady trees is still a pleasure. I suppose April is blowing hot and blowing cold all the time. It is bipolar!

 Getting slightly baked in my own little glass house I see, hear and feel the joy of people who are  in places of rain and snow and the pain of people who are getting roasted in Hades like environment! I thank my stars that I am neither freezing nor roasting. This does not mean that I am not envious of the people of the rain kingdom or the snow Raj! I am jealous of all the people who have the ‘time and money’ to go for exotic cruises and maybe explore the moon; I envy all those who are ‘rich’ enough to have their own yachts and “me time”; I go green when I see mountaineers and hitch hikers for I know I will never indulge in these pursuits this life time!

When I enter April, my heart beats a wee bit faster; my breath fills in a tad bit swifter and my thoughts rise high into the unknown. It is as if I am behind the bend and something exciting is waiting for me! I am like a little child when it comes to my birth month. I am old and ‘wise’ now yet the excitement has never diminished. I keep threatening I want to die as soon as my responsibilities are over but I wonder if that is true. As the years pass I empathize with the will of living of dying patients. Is it the fear of death or the exhilaration of living that pushes this desire?

Is there anyone there who does not anticipate his birthday as a symbol of renewal and rejuvenation?

Rambling Along on the road of existence.

Looking at the “WhatsApp” pictures of a cow and calf, the green fields, the dusty roads, the sheep in the pen and the normally very busy man sitting on a bench and reading a book made me envious. He was in a faraway land and here I am in the midst of all the action and feeling down, tired and depressed!

The grass is always greener on the other side! At that moment in time I chose to ignore the fact that the busy man is away from home, lonesome and had been able to get away from what he called his “prison”! I chose to ignore that he has no one to share his day to day problems as soon as he faced with them, I also chose to ignore that he is a slave to time and that too in a foreign land!

I have so much to be thankful for; I am still able to see my baby growing up in front of me before she flies away and he is missing out on that; I am able to pick up the phone and talk to anyone I choose to without being worried about meetings and meeting deadlines and labour unrest; I have the time and the luxury of talking with my older “baby” about her daily challenges and (hopefully lessen her stress levels)!

Being a true blue confused person, I hate changes in my lifestyle but I need to move, after a maximum time of four years in one place! I move to a new place, appreciate its beauty and crib about all the adjustments I have to make, I also miss all the things in my last place of stay for the first year of my new place; then it’s time to enjoy the new place fully and cut my apron strings with the old. Alas! Two years go off very soon and it’s time for me to yearn for a new place and I blind myself to the good all-around and just want to move! Sometimes I think I need psychoanalysis!

The other day I was talking with a vegetable vendor near my house. After the police went on an active rampage and removed all the hawkers (Illegal) close by, the roads do not have the vegetable vendors but are filled with cars ( I wonder when they will be removed!). To get back to my conversation with the poor vendor- he had migrated from his native Bihar some twenty five years back and had set up this shop; just about managing to make ends meet as he had to pay the regular “hafta” (weekly payoffs!) to the police and the local “dada” (mafia?); now he had no shop; no regular income; but he still managed by selling during the dark and continues to pay hafta!

I asked him why he wouldn’t move to a new place. His answer was simple “it’s better to live with the devil you know rather than face an unknown one”. The maxim is so alien to my mental makeup that I walked off giving him a sympathetic look rather than empathizing with him!
When I look around, I see millions who would rather be unhappy than move from their status-quo lives, they would prefer to live within their comfort zone rather than venture out to improve their lives!

Someone told me that every time you move, you waste money, energy and resources. Well! I agree that money, energy and resources are utilized when you move but the money is used to enrich ourselves not wasted, energy is spent to carve out a sphere of experience and talking about resources – the point of the debate is we throw away or give away a lot of things when we move- I term it as Spring cleaning! Normally things that have not been used for years are labeled as “junk” and thrown away. These are actually worthless in terms of utility and only add to the clutter of a house. As feng- shui advises if you remove the physical clutter you remove the mental clutter and cleanse your environment.

After lots of retrospection, hurt (because I expect from other people) and conversation with the service people (read that as shopkeepers, sweepers and vendors!) and the cream of society (read that as the rich and famous) I realize that all of us are like the frog in the well. The size of the well differs but we think that the world that surrounds us is the real world, there is nothing beyond it. We have no right to berate anyone because his vision does not go beyond the gates of his living world just because we have seen the “world”; neither do we have the right to label someone as a show- off because he gives examples from all over the world!

“Live and let live” is the line for me today. Don’t know what tomorrow shall bring but criticizing people is a harmless pastime which actually is a lovely psychological medicine to keep our spirits up. Like KD in “Adalat” says “Am I right or am I right?” 

“Birds”



Have you seen the movie “Birds” by Alfred Hitchcock? If you have you will understand the creepy feeling that I get when I see a number of birds together! I saw the movie as a young child and they continue to haunt me in my nightmares even today!

I love to see birds flying in the far off sky, especially the eagles that glide around looking for prey. The freedom and grace that they symbolize is what makes them so attractive but ask me whether I would want to cuddle and caress them – it’s a big no-no from me. I mean why hold this great manifestation of freedom from freedom?

Pigeons have done nothing to endear themselves to me! They have been the bane of my existence from I don’t remember when. The grey red eyed ones are bad enough but the white ones are equally scary! In Delhi they had a habit of hopping into the house and pecking at the crumbs on the floor and the bird-brained creatures that they are, they could never find the exit to fly away! Their fluttering wings would fill me with terror and I would run out with my hands over my head.

For many years after that I had forgotten about them till we moved into an eighteenth floor apartment in Mumbai, it all started again….. The owner of the apartment had extended all the rooms into the balconies and we had only a tiny balcony in the front. I did wonder why but didn’t crib too much as it gave us bigger rooms.

An enthusiastic plant lover I have always filled my house with greenery, and this little balcony was ideal to keep my extra plants and I did so as soon as we settled down. It was a very windy area so I stopped wishing we had another balcony to dry the clothes as they would have all flown off, and instead used an extra room to dry them in.

One day after a leisurely bath, I sauntered into the living room to enjoy the winter sun and curl up with a book on the sofa. The heavenly bliss of having a cup of coffee in one hand, a book in the other and the plot unfolding in my imagination! The protagonist was running across the street to catch the villain when the traffic light changes and he is caught midst it! My attention too wavered at the cooing sounds… I looked out bemusedly expecting to see some doves flying by, but no, the blue sky was clear. My eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of the room and it rested on my lush green bushy ornamental plant and lo! And behold! My arch enemy of yore was going round and round and making herself comfortable on the warm mud at the root of the plant. The red eyes looked belligerently at me and dared me to do anything… I of course screamed and got the maid running in. I mutely pointed towards the bird and she laughed at me. Even the humiliation of being laughed at did nothing to reduce my terror. The maid just went close to the bird picked it up and threw it out shutting the sliding doors of the balcony behind her.

From then on I never opened the sliding doors if I wasn’t sitting there ready to shoo out my uninvited guests! But it was the beginning of my end. I waged a lone but losing battle against these feathery creatures. They took over my one and only balcony. They built nests in my pots, pooped all over the leaves of the beautiful plants. Their shit has so much of acid in it that the poor plants shriveled and slowly died. They laid eggs in their makeshift nests and fought with the crows to protect them! The balcony was always a mess of shit, dead leaves, mud, feather and sticks! Once a month the maid used to go and clean up the whole area, as I would sit doing watchman duty and hoping against hope that they wouldn’t come back again! My dreams were never fulfilled and I stopped keeping plants outside, not to be beaten they used the empty pots to lay eggs! (My maid used to steal them regularly). 

I saw generations of pigeons growing up in front of me. First the courtship, then the mating, resulting in eggs and then the hatching of ugly babies and soon they would grow up within months and the whole cycle would start all over again. If I hadn’t hated them so much I swear I could have named them and recognized them!

It was time to move for us. I thankfully saw the last of them (I hoped for ever) and our new house in Alex did not have the sound of anything else but the sea. Sometimes the loneliness of an alien land would get my guts and I wished I could at least see a few of my bête noires but it never happened though I could see a few seagulls far away in the horizon.

After a couple of years I again moved back to Mumbai. While house hunting I was thrilled to find a house which had all its balconies covered with bird net! I felt so happy and secure.

If you think I have won the battle you are highly mistaken! They come and sit on the edges and shit! Look at me victoriously and coo and romance in front of me. They are even trying to rip the bird net in the hope they will invade my space. One of them found a small opening and wriggled in and was trapped, I had to call the watchman to get rid of it. (My new maid is equally terrified of them!)

Now I have a paranoid maid who keeps pointing out weak spots in the net where they could invade my space and I have to take a needle and twine and make that place stronger. While I am doing that, the rascals flap around trying to distract me! God knows when this war between us will end but till now they are ones who have won all the battles. I am the one caged, while they fly free!

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!