Category: Uncategorized

Age filled Wisdom and Youthful Energy

“The Sixties are the new forties” screamed a headline and I with a lot of interest, poured into the fine print and read the whole article with a lot of curiosity in a very short time. It’s the time, they said, when we are at our most stable, both emotionally and financially (Why that makes it the forties is questionable!). What I understood at the end was that the human race is socially becoming younger- physically fitter, economically secure and emotionally stronger.
If we are to believe this, then what do the fifties mean? Does it mean it’s the new thirties? I am curious… the thirties for me was the busiest time, children growing up, financial constraints, managing limited resources and trying to save for the future! Yes I was physically fit and emotionally strong. The forties ushered in an era of relaxation. The usual stress of future, children and saving continues to play hide and seek but I am emotionally more mature and able to deal with them without breaking down (most of the time!)
As I inch towards the fifties, I wonder if I will go back to my thirties era where life was so busy that we never had time to take a laid back holiday. (Holidays were meticulously planned and executed!) Holidays were in fact another event in our activity filled lives. Now the children are almost grown up. In a couple of years they will be totally independent and living their own lives. Then what happens? After living a life of twenty five years of juggling finances, children, education, money, parents, time, resources… then what?

For the first time in my life I went for a holiday where I was mostly in charge with my newly turned adult offspring. Though I did not arrange for everything I still had the responsibility to execute the whole trip. I really was looking forward to the break and I had decided I was going to “chill out”. I would not follow any itinerary, would take one day at a time and let my muscles just relax and lose its tautness. My neurons just fall down limply and get entangled amongst each other and soothe my over active brain.
We reached my beautiful mountains. As I breathed in the clear mountain air of Kathmandu after the smog filled streets of Mumbai, I felt I was as close to heaven as possible. The drive to the resort was a disappointment- the roads were as jam packed as Mumbai with horrible roads and the air beyond the airport filled with dust of the million constructions that were happening in the city.

After twenty minutes of driving we entered the forest resort. It was another world by itself! Verdant and lush, the foliage of the trees were dust free and glistening like it had just rained a while ago. My lungs took in gulps of fresh mint tinged mountain air and I forgot all my disappointment of the city.
But our plans of “just relaxing” went for a toss! The mountain air tossed out the tiredness and we wanted to plan the stay and see as much as possible! In a trice we freshened up and went to the reception and planned out our days. The following days were filled with activities and allowing our senses take in the sight and sound of a new country. Though it was very similar to our culture, the pristine truth that is reflected in this mountain kingdom has been lost from our culture for centuries.
The highlights were our mountain flight and visit to the monasteries. The mountain flight took me as close to serenity, beauty and God as it will ever be possible. The Monasteries were another world all together!
The stupas which dot the kingdom still retain the peace and tranquility of all Buddhist teaching. The monasteries are beautifully decorated and the tonsured monks who inhabit them emit an aura of gentleness and knowledge that has to be seen to be believed. The bright red and orange robes are in direct contrast to the peace and tranquility of their countenance.
As I watched the elaborately dressed monks perform the rituals in front of the fire, I wondered what makes them tick. What does it take to give up all worldly pleasures and what convinces them to follow the hard life of a monk? What drives them to believe in age old rituals? Is it true that this life is only a stopgap period before we reach our maker and eternal bliss?
We might have a busier life in the fifties then our grandparents did but we are definitively not regressing towards our thirties as the article suggests. Why should I feel I am in my thirties? The ignorance and the hectic life is not what I look forward to. To be at peace with one’s body and mind is what age has taught us, why should I go through the whole process of acceptance again? I see young parents struggling to bring up their children, fighting for space and peace, struggling to outdo the others in their battle for survival… I am out of that now! The pleasures of parenting is wonderful- whatever the age of the child. Once a parent forever parents till you die!
Though my mind remains youthful (I am still curious, I still find pleasure in new things and I still to a certain extent understand the fads of the new generations) I know a part of me is discovering the ancient within me. Who knows by the time I am seventy I would have the wisdom of the monks.
The little monks who fight and debate through the day is what I would like to be…… Wisdom filled with age and youth filled with energy!

For your Hoarding pleasure!




“Madam!” screeched the maid.
I came running from my bedroom to find out what happened and saw the maid with a Bottle of toilet cleaner in her hand.
Seeing the panic on my face she giggled. The million scenarios which were fighting for space in my brain (from pigeon in the bathroom, to fire in the kitchen…..) twirled and whirled and slowly settled down like a dying tornado  I looked at her enquiringly…
“Madam, Harpic over” she said, gleefully dangling the empty bottle in front of my face…
Over the years that I have employed maids, one common factor in all of them (race, color, caste no bar!) is they are the happiest when something gets over and they would wait to pounce on me and underline my shoddy housekeeping!
Years back when I had just started my tryst with destiny, my first maid (her salary was the cost of a Cadbury’s chocolate now!) taught me a lot about housekeeping. Lakshmi was a slim trim mother of two who would come for an hour every morning and fifteen minutes in the evening and sweep and swab the floors, clean the few dishes and the clothes every day. She gave continuous lecture about how to manage the house, the finance and the main thing- store keeping. Every month two days before the washing powder or the cleaning powder got over she would warn me to get new supply. Those days money was tight and every rupee had to be counted and accounted for. A couple of times I had not bought the supplies because it was the end of the month. She would then start on a lecture of good housekeeping and how we must plan our resources. She was my first economics teacher!
Many maids have followed her but thanks to her I have never been caught unawares! When the supermarkets first invaded India, I went around with stars in my eyes! It was lovely to pile up my cart with all the stuff I wanted without waiting for the shopkeeper to serve me. I had choice of quantity, quality and price under my control (plus the attraction of selling goods below the MRP!) I had this little diary where I noted down all my expenses for the day and balanced it at the end of the day. (Now I do it on an Excel sheet- thanks to my husband!)Till today I have a column named JUNU where I place any amount that I cannot account for! This is very frequent!

But this was the beginning of a habit- that I always bought a little more than required so that I would never be caught empty handed by the maid! At first it was just washing and cleaning stuff, but slowly as our financial comfort increased I pushed it to all my monthly groceries and even spare clothes and continued to cosmetics and gifts! I started planning months in advance about what I would need after six months and bought them as if the super market or the store would move away soon. As the children came and grew another item was added to my list- stationary! The number of sketch pen sets, color pencils, just pencils, chart papers and decorative glue paint and what not piled up! Over ten years we moved from smaller to bigger houses and my fad for collecting things never diminished.
Of course I blamed everyone- the maids, the children, the husband, and the unexpected guests for my fetish. This hoarding paranoia grew on me like multiplying rabbits and before I knew it my house was always stuffed with everything in the world. Soon I started forgetting what I had and added on to it in my ignorance. I had forgotten one important lesson that Lakshmi had taught me that always keep an inventory of goods. Soon unopened cupboards started bursting at the seams.
Thankfully it was time for us to move and during packing many people benefited due to my hoarding! I swore I would never again suffer from over inventory.
The new clean house was a joy to manage and everything was hunky dory. Till my first visit to a metro hypermarket! Oh! the bargains, the variety and the colours all seduced me. In a trice my cart (which was double the size of the one in the small city I had come from!) was full and I needed another cart. I justified all the purchase by
“God!  You know I have saved five hundred today and I don’t need to shop for two months.
 Next month I was in the shopper’s paradise saving more money and packing all the spare cupboards in the house with stuff I may not use for the next year or so!

So the saga continues- every time I move, I throw away stuff that I have bought because I am “Saving”, each time I swear I will not buy anything new (specially crockeries!). Each new house has at least two cupboards full of stuff I will not use for at least a year.. Sometimes two years.
My newly qualified doctor in the family was sipping cold coke and enjoying her last holidays when I realized that it was the last bottle in the house. I immediately and unconsciously rang up the kirana (groceries) store and ordered two large bottles.
“Guests are coming over in the evening!” I justified my purchase to the questioning eyebrows of the Doctor!
She rang me up yesterday from her grandma’s house saying that hoarding was genetic as my mother also does the same thing!
Who can fight hereditary diseases?????
Let me wallow in pure unadulterated pleasure of hoarding!


The bug in the Apple

The balding, white haired old man came and said “Hi! Didi”, I woke up from this nightmare with a jump. (You see, I think of myself as an eternal twenty one year old and this person referring to me as an older sister is like a nightmare!). Anyway I was now half awake; I opened the flap of my cell phone to check the time. It was one A.M. in the morning; it was all silent outside; the Ganesh Visarjan was either over or was too far away for us to hear the drums and songs.
I then noticed that my TT* was missing from the bed. I know she is not the kind who would stay up so late to study. I tumbled out of bed and padded barefoot to the living room to see madam sitting at the table with the mac opened and her I phone attached to it like a patient on life support! There were plenty of wires, all trailing over the table, chair and floor. Before I continue I must tell you what happened earlier in the night…….

The 18th of September was D day for my little Apple Fan! You see the new iOS7 was going to be released that day. From the morning itself, I had heard it almost a hundred times as to what an exciting day it was going to be. Though I tried to muster up the same enthusiasm I failed miserably! For once the bitten Apple fan did not notice my failure and she enumerated the many advantages of the new Operating System. There was a test at school but the only thing on her mind was the great OS! I wasn’t expecting any great results in the test.
The ETA was 10 o’clock India time. Thankfully we had finished our dinner by then and most of the homework had been completed. The elder sister was trying to tutor her in math; of course the mind not being there, the inevitable argument ensued and both of them went their own way (the final outcome of all disagreements!)
“Oh My God! Oh My God!”
The scream that announced this was obviously to be noted and we both looked up to see an excited TT…
“It’s come, it’s come!”
It sounded as if “It’s a boy” by the nurse outside the delivery room!
“It’s installing, OMG! it started” all the while jumping around the room in excitement. For a moment I forgot she was sixteen- she seemed about five years old.
Older sister rolled her eyes and we both looked at each other and smiled indulgently.
We got busy with our nightly routine. She continued sitting at the table …..
At 11.30, I realized that she was nowhere near the bed and I asked her why she wasn’t coming.
There was frustration writ large on her face, “it didn’t install correctly, there is an error, and I have to do it again!”
Feeling sorry for her I left her to her devices and went to bed.

Coming back to my 1 A.M. sojourn……..
“Why aren’t you in bed? Don’t you have school?” I mumbled half asleep.
“Oh! Ma! It’s installing; should get over in fifteen minutes; will come to bed after that…”
Too sleepy to argue I went back to sleep.
The alarm woke me up at six o’clock and what do I see??????
The bitten apple fan on the bed looking at her i-phone with stars in her eyes!
“It’s done, it’s done”, she whispered loudly as soon as she realized I was awake.
This followed a whole lot of “sort of” technical details and extolling of the virtues of the new OS! I was made to look at the new interface and the different colours and even Siri’s new human voice! Bleary eyed and with a muddled mind I absorbed all this to the best of my ability and got out of my bed totally apple blasted!
From that moment till she left for school it was …
“Have you seen how this looks?”
“Have you seen how smoothly this moves?”
“Isn’t this so much classier?”
As soon as I was fully awake I tried to dampen her a little by being wicked…
“Android already has this”
But no effect!
She went and updated my i-pad during this time and tried to update the elder sister’s too (It was being done when the bus arrived so she was not successful!)
As she constantly whatsapps during her bus ride, she sent one message to her father that he must update his i pad, complete with instructions in bold letters (in case he couldn’t “hear” her!).
Her dad was amused at her enthusiasm and went on to update his tablet.
The evening after school, of course continued in this vein and I was deluged with repeat information about the GREAT OS! (She had forgotten that she had told me all and shown me all, in the early morning!)
The excitement continues even as I am writing this. The worm in the apple has not only bitten my little one….. My sister –in –law has already sent instruction to her brother that he must update his tablet, hence his amusement at the two ladies in the family going a little wonky at the birth of the i-OS 7!

Speedy Encounter!



After deliberating whether to walk to the post office or take an auto, we left the house without deciding. We hadn’t even walked a few steps when one little yellow and black auto swished seductively by us. I couldn’t help but put out a hand and before I realized we were sitting inside and I was directing the driver to take us to our destination. Alas! That I have no will power……

We stepped down at the Post office- a building at least sixty years old. It was neat and clean (Whitewashed sans the paan stains that you normally see government buildings decorated with!). The counters were old wooden windows which were strategically placed all round one huge hall.
We went and joined the long queue at the first counter. I stood and peered at the board (It was printed quite clearly for a change!) to check whether it was for the speed post. Not finding it on the list, I asked the gentleman in front of us where to go for sending a mail through speed post. Mumbai is filled with helpful people and this man was no exception, he at once pointed to the next window and we nonchalantly walked towards it. I bent down (the windows were at a level built sixty years ago) to talk to the lady sitting decked up in a glittering sari. She replied to my query with a silent gesture that it was the next window.
At last we reached our destination! The line was relatively short. We were the third in the line and I could easily read the board and number three on the board was “Speed Post”. I breathed a sigh of relief and settled down to wait for our turn. I was confident it would take a maximum of ten minutes. In between a smart young lady peeped in at the counter; I glared at her thinking she was cutting into the line. She noticed it and tried to explain that she needed some trivial thing. I thought to myself, “All of us are waiting for trivial things anyway so you better stick to the line!”
The first one in the line was off, I shifted my weight to the other leg and then decided I would let Chiqui stand in the line and I would go and get the inland letters and envelopes meanwhile. While leaving the line I asked her whether she had enough money, she nodded her head. I traipsed back to the second window to ask the queenly lady where I could get them (Incidentally that was the only window without a line!) She nodded her head; assuming that she would give them to me I told her,
 “Please give me ten inland letters and ten envelopes”
Mutely she nodded again; opened a tin-rust laden box and started rummaging in it. She took out a sheaf of blue papers and counted them once, then counted them for a second time after licking her fingers (Ewee!). She put it on the ledge, and went back to rummaging in the box for at least two minutes. Triumphantly she took out a sheaf of white envelopes and proceeded to count them. I thought I would prevent her from licking her fingers so I counted along with her, it was eight.

“There are only eight” I said (remember all the time I am bending down so that I could see her face!)
She ignored me; moistened her fingers and counted again. I closed my eyes (I am such an ostrich sometimes!)
“There are only eight” she parroted.

I could have thrown my purse at her in frustration but all I said,
“That’s all right I will take it” and put forward a hundred rupee note towards her.
She took it in slow motion and put it up to look through the light streaming in. Nobody, I mean nobody, checks hundred rupee notes anymore! Five hundred- I can understand but one hundred! (Seriously with a dollar crossing sixty four rupees!). Continuing in slow motion she took out her change box and gave me my change. Sigh! One work done; I was confident the other work would be done too.

Twirling on my toes I turned to look at the window next to me. Chiqui was now number two in the line! Here I had taken at least ten minutes and she still hadn’t reached the man! The man in front of her was bent and talking with the man behind the counter. I raised my eyebrows at Chiqui and she shrugged. I stood behind her and started reading the board:-

1.     Electricity bill (Tata) – 9 to 1 (This was written by hand with a pen)
2.     Gas bill – 9 to 1
3.     Speed Post
4.     MTNL phone bill – 9 to 1
5.     Etc etc etc…
Separate Q for senior citizens (Hand written in pen again!)




One elderly man was also waiting beside the man in front. The counter- man whose mouth was filled with something gestured to him and did some paperwork for him. The elderly man went off.
I had already moved restlessly twice hence the following conversation

Chiqui: Ma why don’t you take a round of the post office?
Me: No!

I bent down and peered,

Counter man: “hey Fernandez!  Get me those papers” (It was a miracle I could hear him)
There ensued a conversation between him and the unseen Fernandez, following this a fat sheaf of printing papers appeared. He tore out three leaves and put it in the printer. He then took out a scanner and scanned one envelope and then another and another… endless.
Me: He is doing yesterday’s work now!
Chiqui: Go round the building at least once (pleadingly)
By now there was a huge queue behind us. The smart lady had come back and was giving sympathetic smiles to me and peering at the counter man.
I left the line and stood waiting at the place where a senior citizen should be as there was no one there. I was contemplating whether to take Chiqui’s advice and go for a stroll when a gentleman with a white beard and black hair stood behind me with an envelope.

“Do we need to put stamps on this?” he asked ,thrusting an addressed envelope under my nose.

I shrugged, “No Idea!” (I am not a helpful Mumbaikar!)

He essayed again, “You are standing in the senior citizen line?”

I hurriedly left the line and he promptly stood there (I am sure he wasn’t a senior citizen, the rascal!).
Well to cut a long story short I went for a walk round the building and landed up next to a window through which I could see what the counterman was doing behind the counter!
He was still scanning a pile of envelopes, all of different sizes. He took one, fed in the address in the computer, stuck the speed post sticker, scanned it…..
I stood there watching him go through this exercise again and again. Feeling frustrated, restless and imprisoned! At last, he took the envelopes from the man in front of Chiqui and duly went through the ritual. I walked back to the counter.
The black and white guy thrust his envelope before Chiqui had time to react! I could have whacked the fraud!
Finally it was our turn and it took exactly three minutes to complete the exercise and can you believe it …..
Chiqui: Thank you
I rolled my eyes heaven wards.

After the advent of the internet and e-mails the post office was having a bad time making any profits. The government thus brought in a lot of other activities into the postal fold so that so many employees would not lose their jobs. But like all other government departments they will not put in an inch of extra effort to fulfill their duties. It is as if by paying tax to maintain them, they are doing us a favour!
All of us in the single line had lost at least an hour of precious time for a work that needs a maximum of ten minutes.

Isn’t it time that our rulers sat up and streamlined the departments at the grass root level before moaning about the devaluation of the rupee or the selfishness of the NRIs or brain drain for that matter!  

Social Etiquettes



“Hi Darling!”“Muah! Muah!” followed by a perfunctory hug and air kisses, (spreading lots of germs in the air!).

 This was not a typical society bash where it is more or less the norm to see such examples of exhibiting hypocritical affection. This was the open house of a high school!

Being an “old” mother (this was my second child) I always went to such get- togethers to show my face to the teachers, try and wrest some information (Hopefully good ones) from them, (Believe me it’s tough!) and maybe meet a few parents with whom I share the common denominator of having a child in the same grade.

I had done half the rounds by this moment; had walked four floors up and down twice; was taking my breath, having coffee and snacks which the school so thoughtfully provide us with. I had a ten minutes break before my next appointment.

I had just come in a year ago to the city and I knew that my child would pass out in a year more, so the real enthusiasm was lacking. I didn’t know many of the parents (though I smiled at everyone!). My socializing at the parent’s get- together had made me friends with the younger ones whose children were in the lower grade so I knew them well but didn’t know the older ones very well.
The faces were familiar though… So one of the enthusiastic parents came over and said, “Have you met Sandy?”

I looked up expecting to see an expat, when I saw a nice plump Indian in a tight black frock; a seven inch heel; a pair of danglers swinging fiercely and hair set in curls looking at me expectantly, I was a little dazzled!

I had noticed her in some of the meetings and had seen her go and hug some of the teachers. I am a strict “hand shaker” greeter so though I was surprised, I assumed she must know them well enough for the society greeting!

“Hi” I said, extending my hand towards her.

I was first given a thorough look over (dressed in jeans and a shirt with low heels- I was no society beauty!) Then a limp hand was offered for a hand shake…

“Oh Hi!” Sandy screeched

After I introduced myself, my friend went on gushing over her

“You know? You must get to know Sandy. She knows everybody here; if she doesn’t know someone then they are not worth knowing”

That put me in my place squarely!

I said, “I didn’t get your name”

A tinkle of laughter followed, “Well I am Sandhya Agarwal” (pronounced as Sandya Eggwal!). “I am Sandy’s mother”

I was flummoxed! Bothe mother and daughter with the same name?

“Is your daughter’s name also Sandhya?” I asked

“Oh no, no, no!” she intoned while her danglers jingled merrily, “My son’s name is Sandeep” (pronounced as Sandep!) “Where are you from?” she drawled.

“From India” I said shortly

She tinkled again, “I mean where did you shift from, the USA?”

Fortunately another skin clad, diamond clad parent appeared and the Muah muah routine began so I was able to slip away.

She caught me at the next break!

“I know your daughter” (pronounced daughta!). I felt a draught hit me!

“How nice” I lamely remarked

“I know everyone, I have been subbing* in school, you know”

“How nice” I parroted

“Yeah, but not this year, I am going to the USA” she said importantly with a curl of the lips. “My sister lives in Boston?”

“Hi Sandy!” another butterfly flitted close to us this was  followed by the 
“Ritual”.
“How was your sale?”

“Darling” she protested, “An exhibition, not a sale”

Abashed the butterfly decided she had made a faux pa and started sidling away.

I was back again in the glare, and I squirmed. There was still another five minutes left.

“I design jewelry” (pronounced joolery!)

“Oh”

“I sold out, you know!”

Bewildered I looked at her.

“My joolery exhibition” she gently reminded me.

“That’s great”, I put in a lot of admiration in my voice.

“Would you like to look at some?” quickly before I could disappear she fished out a visiting card and gave it me. “Give me a tinkle; I will organize a private exhibition for you. Get your friends and relatives too” she cooed.

I escaped to the next meeting. Thankfully her son was not taking that subject so I was spared another exhibition.

While walking back, I met one of my young friends and she asked me about Sandy with a smirk on her face.

I was surprised; I wondered how she knew that I had met her.

“Well, Sandy pointed you out to me and asked me who you were”

“So?”

“I told her that you were very rich; eccentric and asocial, that she should not be taken in by your simple attire, as everything you wore never cost less than 3000 $”

“Oh my God!”

That explained her interest in me and her zooming in to me whenever she found me alone!

In these multicultural events, I find the Japanese the most dignified. It is a pleasure to watch them. They have adopted the western attire in such a way that it suits them and they are never embarrassed about their accent or try to put up one. There are quite a few Indians who are also as elegant but a single Sandy can destroy the grace and dignity built up by them.

I walked up to my car and opened it.

“Hello”

I looked up startled

“No Driver?” Sandy cooed

“No” I smiled, “I like driving”

“Anytime you need one, tell me, I will arrange one”

“Thanks”

“May I have your number?”

I gave it to her reluctantly and wondered how much she would badger me if I had given her the right one!

*Substitute teacher

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!