Category: Uncategorized

The Grey Cover!


The greys have been peeping into my silhouette for quite some time. When they first appeared I use to pluck them off (pacified my heart by saying – all that stress!) soon they started showing on the side burns and temples (I can’t be that old!). it wasn’t long before my stylist, very timidly suggested that I could colour my hair. She went into raptures about how the hair would glow and thicken and become healthy. The first time I brushed away her suggestion. A month of vitamin capsules, regular oiling of the hair with judicious plucking would solve the problem or so I thought!
Soon I was pouring over leaflets and books about how to colour. Which was the best brand? Should I just pick up one off the shelf?  After a lot of Hamletian metaphysical self-questioning I bought one at the super market and secretly coloured my hair. No one was told about it. The hair did glow and it looked lovely. I took all the compliments and gave the credits to the vitamins which I had since stopped consuming!
Months passed and my stylist said I should do “a global” as the hair was looking “patchy “and ‘translucent”. By then I was tired of trying to cover my grey secretly.  Imagine having to wait till no one was in the house for at least two hours and then apply it in the bathroom, clean up the mess etc. it was easier at the parlour! So the job migration took place. Though it was a little heavy on my pocket, it took away a lot of my worry. It was timed with my haircut so my secret remained safe!
Years later when I was comfortable with my age, I allowed this secret to be out in the open. By now it was cool to colour, so I tried all sort of different colours and stopped using dark brown. Graduating to using streaks took some more time and the I went all out with blonde, bronze, brown and red streaks. I remember how excited I was. My poor husband did not know what to say! Knowing that the deed was done he complimented me. In my euphoria I never saw the wince in his eyes. The children were also diplomatic and all was fine in my paradise. Since then I have been informed by the lord and master that I looked like a lioness (due to the frizziness caused by bleaching my hair!)
I have been at home for the last two months- not travelling that is. The greys had started creeping up everywhere, I kept postponing the ritual. At a certain level, I thought, I looked kind of distinguished so I deferred it further. Having religiously treated my hair for so many years I had not realized the extent of my greyness! Suddenly I realized that my mind was still twenty but my hair was…. Well you know. I felt depressed, haggard and vulnerable (don’t ask me about vulnerability!) I peered into the mirror and saw a patchy grey haired middle aged woman with dull and spotty skin!
Enough was enough! I made an appointment with my stylist and sailed there with all my usual confidence. She of course ‘tched’ with all her might and said “Global”.

“Yes of course!”, I concurred

For the next two hours I was pampered. Line by line of my hair was taken and tinted. I was then asked to wait for thirty-five minutes, which I did with further pampering – pedicure and manicure!

While I sipped my coffee, I noticed a grey haired man sit down under the guidance of another stylist. He had pepper and salt hair and looked quite handsome in spite of them. “Around forty”, I guessed as I peeped at him. He looked very uncomfortable. The stylist hovered around him with the usual “Can I get you something?” and “what would you like to do today, sir?”
“Well”, a very long drawn out weeeeell, “Actually I would like to colour my hair” still hot under the collar our gentleman.
The catalogue was brought out, while I mused ‘how unfair that men looked good with grey hair’. I could see he was thoroughly confused with all the choice the young girl was pointing out to him.

“Actually can you make it look like my original colour?”

The girl decided that here was no adventurous man and asked, “Black?”

“Black?”, he said that a little loudly

“Papa! Not black, it looks artificial”

I then noticed a young lady having her pedicure done at the chair. She was definitely in her mid-twenties.

All my theories fell flat! This man couldn’t be forty unless he had her at fifteen!

“You see my daughter’s wedding is in two days and she wants me to do this!”

Look of understanding dawned on the stylists face and she took the catalogue to the daughter to choose. As they discussed over bronze brown or reddish brown, the man looked at his nails and allowed someone to trim his hair, over the daughter’s “Not too short please!”
It was a kind of quaint experience for me. I am so used to seeing mother-daughter duos in the parlour that to see this father- daughter together was refreshing. The world and society is changing for the better. I had a wonderful father who was always upbraided by my grandmother for treating us like his friends. I see my daughters also have a great father who treats them as equals and here I was seeing this cameo.

I came out – a glossy haired, bright faced young woman- rejuvenated both in mind and body.

Sleep! What a luxury….






Whack! I slapped the pesky mosquito on my face and woke myself up.  The little cog wheels started whirring slowly at first (they are old!) then as usual, the brain and heart started their regular debate, the well-oiled crankshafts went chook chook and the bulbs flashed merrily in the subconscious and boy! Was I ready to begin the day!

The only problem was it was one a.m. in the night and most people were fast asleep. I could see in the dark, as its never totally dark anyway. The lights from the building outside always manage to bypass the security of my thick curtains and dance around anywhere my eyes choose to look at. I patted my brain.

“Hey guy, you know what? the sun is still not up and you do need a shot of vitamin D to wake you up right?”

“not exactly!” said the grim one

“well! You know what, why don’t we count sheep?”

“No!” very short and final

“What about thinking about GOD?”

A snort greeted me on this one.

“let’s play a game”

“which one?”

At least I got his attention!

“I ask the universe a question which has a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ answer’

“Waiting….”

“then I count till fifty”

“Well?”

“the universe has to make the spouse move or snore within that time”

“then?”


“if he does, the answer is yes if he doesn’t, the answer is no”
“Very silly! But if it makes you happy….”

You will be glad to know that most questions were answered with an “yes”

For all the dumb names you can call me for coming up with this game, it does work you know. It keeps the brain occupied (it loves counting you see) for some time and the heart is happy because it gets these affirmative answers. (You can bet your life that spouse will snore or shift during fifty! Sometimes it works with thirty too)


You can fool the brain for some time but not all the time. Sigh!

So it forfeits the game and starts moaning about worry no.1. that means gears and cranks are on full go and any hope that it might shut down is flying out of the window. Heart is all down in the dumps ..

“Why does this always happen with me?” it moans

“You come up with the most far fetched ideas and dreams!” scoffed the master (megalomania)

Hand picks up the cell beside me and it tells me it’s one thirty in the morning. For all the groans and shifts, time isn’t moving too fast. Still four and a half hours to go before I can legitimately wake up. Got to do damage control.

“Hey!”

“WHAT?” snaps the brain.

“whaaat?” squeaks the heart, as if its head was paining!

“Let’s meditate”

“Didn’t I say no GOD?” roared brain

“Quit yelling”, heart with its head in his hands moans.

“First let me tell you meditation is not GOD. It is, what I understand, to put your brain in a kind of suspended animation so that blood can flow into your consciousness in your subconscious mind and rejuvenate it”

“Buddy” said the perky mind, “the question is, do I really need rejuvenation at two in the morning?


Had to admit he got me on that one!

“You have any better idea?” I said sarcastically

“What about planning tomorrow’s menu” asked the timid heart.

The gears clashed on this one and poor heart hurriedly withdrew into the shell.

“Let’s make the body toss and turn and rumple the bed sheet at least. I mean what a waste of a night if you trouble no one!” that wasn’t me speaking it was the wicked grey matter!

“Calm down let’s just close the eyes, stop the dancing lights from distracting you, deaden the traffic noise and listen to the silence”
Easier said than done; Worry no. 1 comes back.

I am determined. I take the shovel and shove it down the grave I created for it. Lot of work and sweat! Bury it, pat the last finishing touches and stamp it with my heels.

“Hello!” pipes the loving heart “what about this?”

I see worry no. 2 slithering in noiselessly as I muscle up to dig another grave, there is tiny no 3 wriggling its head out of the freshly turned mud of no.1 and look there is the centipede of a worry no. 4 sliding majestically into the frame………

Well I haven’t been sleeping too well these last few weeks. I have discovered its futile to intervene in debates and its useless to calm or pacify any altercation between the brain or the heart.
Logic versus emotion is all that it made out to be! The clock still shows it is three o’clock and still at least another three hours to go… Sigh!

Of smell, perfumes and aromas….







Have you ever had cream cracker biscuits with hot tea? Specially after a bout of flu. The ones I was having, smelt of oranges! How you may ask. Well, the canister which was used to store the cream crackers, sometime before this momentous event, had housed orange cream biscuits (my weakness, I must confess). With every bite of the crispy crackly dry biscuit I smelt the whiff of orange and this made the whole experience so much more enhanced! I am sure each of us have some experience similar to this in other fields which makes life so much better than what it seems to be. (too long a sentence, my English teacher would say!)







I have heard that the very poor people, especially in West Bengal do a special thing when they are having their frugal meal. They sit around the earthen stove where the wood tinder is still smouldering and eat their meal of rice and very watery dal. What is special about that? Most impoverished people do that. Well….. they throw in a bunch of fish scales into the embers, with the fishy whiff that emanates from there, they are able to trick their taste buds into thinking that they are having fish. This makes the whole process of eating an insipid meal, seem delicious.

Most of us non-handicapped people take our five senses for granted. The pleasure of existence is all due to them. It is only when we lose any one or more of them that we value them. There are pages of stories, reels of movies and endless T.V. Serials which deal with the matters of the heart. Of course they talk about the metaphysical heart, not the muscular pump that beats day in and day out to make us aware of existence. Ultimately everything boils down to our feelings and that means our senses and that leads to that dirty mass of grey matter housed in our head! Not on the left side of our chest cavity! 
The other day as I was walking on the streets I got the aroma of jalebis (those squiggly mass of sweetened- fried delicacies) I was reminded of my school days in Mathura. Every week mom would go shopping to the small town’s market place. This was around the temple where Krishna was supposed to have been born. The endless narrow alleys where only cows and walkers could move about. The area was a tantalising heaven of the smell of sweets, fried savouries and the sweet-sour smell of delicious chats (typical of north Indian snacks). Whenever I accompanied the parents I was treated to jalebis and Pani- puris. Just imagine a few molecules carrying the scent, could trigger off the memories of years ago. Again a source of pure pleasure!

Like all things, these minute triggers can affect us negatively.  The smell of fire can traumatize you or remind you of a lovely barbecue depending on what kind of experience has made an underlining impact on your mind. Petrichor, the first cold wind of winter or the humid breeze of the pre-monsoon period all trigger of memories of our various experience through our lives. What makes this so rich and exciting that every man has his own tale to tell. Rarely do you find a similar story, but when you do, then comes a strong bonding that makes such a relationship precious.

Every republic day during school was associated with waking up early for the march past and flag hoisting. College, was a mandatory exercise, which was done because we would get the rest of the day off. As adults, it was a holiday to look forward to, though for many years we did wake up early, attended the flag hoisting and had some celebration of sorts. What was common through the years was the small packet of samosa and a sweet (barfi, ladoo….) that I looked forward to. Here, as I peer into the many buildings of the concrete city from the twenty sixth floor, I notice the shamianas, the flags, and the loud speakers. The street boys selling the tricolour flags and the relative peace on the road as it’s a holiday. The flag hoisting is done at a “convenient “time of nine or ten o’clock, some children and men sing a few patriotic songs and all is done.
I do not feel the surge of patriotism. My heart does not turn over in the guts, as it had, when I listened to Lata Mangeshkar’s “”ye mere vatan ke logo..” The saddest part is I cannot smell the samosas to activate my senses to wallow in the pleasure of my past. But I do remember the days of the revolution in Egypt and I am glad that I am safe here in my own country as the terror attacks continue unabated the world over.
So ‘Brain’ the master of all continues to hold all the strings of our lives and the endocrine glands continue to monitor the Master with various doses of chemicals that they produce!

Herald of Spring

Winter is officially over! (What winter?!) Instead of saying “as the days get warmer” I shall say “As the days get hotter”  and we look in bleak trepidation at the
“April is the cruellest month, breeding 

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.”
Remembering Eliot, I digress into the unwelcome future of a hot and humid summer! Now with winter disappearing and spring merging into summer where will we go to escape the heat?

There is a flurry of activity around the area we live in. You can actually feel the hum and energy in the air. The traffic noise is more aggressive and cacophonic than usual. The dichotomy lies in the fact that life is more evident in the intangible and transient atmosphere but the lush green cover on the hill outside the kitchen window is turning brown and barren!

Amidst all these desolate thoughts, I spy a single colorful kite swishing its tail against the gentle summer breeze. There is hope after all!
Society over the years has changed and mutated. Many of us are limited to our virtual societies. Everyone is busy working the whole week and the weekends are meant to unwind. Gone are the days when we would invite friends over for a meal or have an impromptu party. Now every get together is a chore for the house owner where it will be held. After all the menu has to planned- starters, drinks, main course (with veg- non veg!) desert and after dinner liqueur! Expensive and tiring! Festivals meant for social bonding have become a routine, of some group arranging everything, where we go and smile at unknown faces, listen to the latest Bollywood hip shakers, eat a lot of unhealthy food and walk off with a smile at the guard!

I am not here to argue about whether unknown, unproductive and outdated rituals have any meaning in today’s world, I am here to state that the supposedly known, productive and “cool” rituals are absolutely uncool. Any exercise that has no productive output is to touch the nadir of existence. I believe if I sit and stare at a beautiful painting, it is productive as it gives me the pleasure of beholding beauty in all its splendour and kicking my mental consciousness into the first gear of movement- for movement is change and change is existence. So by exercise I don’t mean any physical process of energy and output.

There was an office party on a terrace over which my window looks, for Makar Sankranti, I assume, as I saw many young people trying to fly kites. I remember the tradition of flying kites as a child. The trouble we went to stick the crushed glass on to the thread (to be able to cut off other people’s kites!) Weeks before we would scour the market for the best looking and aerodynamically viable ones. There would be spare ones hidden somewhere if we were at the mercy of a rogue kite flyer. The frustration of not being able to run and throw the kite high enough to launch it. Begging dad to help us out because he was so tall! I hardly see that now days. Is it because we are in a city of concrete jungle? Is it still there in small towns and villages?
I don’t miss those days. I had my day in the sunshine and wind. I only wish the new generation would be able to partake this delicacy as a starter for the party of life.
There are a few kites lazily floating in the sky. Very few and very lazy! I try and find the fliers and cannot see them clearly. I think time has kept its date with me. The kite is like me, lazy and drifting but still tied, to keep me in check. One day some rogue glass-sharpened string will cut into me and allow me to reach for the sun.

Makar Sankranti- a new beginning! 

The three-D experience





I haven’t been writing too much these days. Blame it on my family bonding time, can’t blame it on travel this time around- just made this one trip to Scotland and a couple of road trips close home.
It’s been a mish-mash year, very unplanned and disorganized but fun nevertheless. (Remember I am talking about 2015)

 My experiences have been in layers and sections. On one hand I have had the fun of setting up yet another home on the other I have had to curse the Mumbai traffic! Thank God for the peace and tranquility of Powai and curse the devil for creating all the pollution and traffic snarls on the Western expressway! Having my family back again in my not so empty nest, beside the fact that I have to plan three meals a day (it seems so long ago that I was doing this on a regular basis and not realizing it!)

 A happening year but a disorganized one is how I would describe it. On the upside I have an unpaid driver as the Lil’ doc of the family takes me anywhere and everywhere I want to! The first few outings were terrifying. Pressing the phantom clutch and brake from the passenger seat is not a comfortable experience! Soon I got used it. Instead of cursing the ever present autos who weave in and out, I started reading the very witty driving advice on the billboards! Believe it or not I laughed at them too. I looked at the traffic signal vendors without annoyance and wished I had a small child to buy the toys they were hawking. I even made eye contact with the pretty eunuchs and smiled at them as they tapped on my closed windows.

 On the downside the Lil’ Doc does not let me munch on chips while I go on a serial watching binge! Nags me about exercising! Stops me from “Malling” (that means walk around aimlessly in the mall!) but then happiness comes at a cost.

Then comes the “nnoying Teenager” who is forever hungry! (the term ‘nnoying” comes from the fact that she calls everyone and everything that!) She never wakes up at breakfast time (the jet lag excuse has gotten over a long time ago!) Can sit on the computer multi -tasking with her phone but never sees the unmade bed or the pile of clothes dumped in the room!

 But the energy of her hugs and her demands for affection erases most of the annoyingness!

 Hubby dearest has been basking in the all-female attention! He did not have to deal with a cranky lonely wife as she was busy, really busy. He had the excuse to be a workaholic (make money for us to spend!)

After a topsy turvy time the year ended with our last road trip. The new year was different too, we went for a Powai walk till midnight (Beautifully lit up this year!) and had dinner out instead of the normal drinking party! The high light was we were together after a long time.

 The new year has crept in stealthily. Before we knew it was here and we are well into the first month! The house is quieter as the brat has gone back to college.

Having passed her driving test, I thought I would make a car for her birthday cake and I did! The downside is Lil’Doc is nnoyed as it is a three D shaped cake which she says I never make for her (not true! Not true! Say the early Koels outside the window!)
So a year full of three dimensional experience is how I would describe 2015. Let’s see what the new year brings in…
But I do hope it brings happiness and love for everyone and travel and writing for me.

A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR!

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