Category: Uncategorized

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!

Vote to Change

Dr. Abdul Kalam in one of his speeches had said, that when we Indians go to Singapore, we exclaim over the cleanliness of the city; we do not spit or urinate on the roads; we pick up trash (if you are lucky to find any!) and put it tidily away in the numerous dustbins. When we get back to the home land, we forget all the lessons and don’t think twice about doing all the things which we would not have done there! We could also have lovely cities if each of us would do our bit.

People argue that it is impossible in India….. What is the use of one person trying when one million contribute to the dirtiness! But Rome was not built in a day and neither was Singapore! It might take another three generations to reach that status but we can if we try.

When we are abroad we make it a point to say a “thank you” for any service done, we wish the bell boy, the cab driver, the janitor et al a “good morning” yet we do not bother to look at these people in India. Come Diwali we give them Baksheesh and cleanse our conscience! I wonder why!

Men debate that our “service men” are uneducated and uncouth and do not deserve to be paid attention to. Is it their responsibility that they are so? Isn’t it a social responsibility? Is it just enough to pay taxes and wash our hands off this?

We are ready to pay one Euro to use a public toilet in Europe yet grumble when we need to pay two rupees here! How much can a government of the second most populated country in the world do?

Coming to government- All us “Educated individuals” crib that everything connected with the government is corrupt and the farther we stay away from them the safer we are. In a democracy the government is “of the people, by the people and for the people!” The government then is a mirror of our psyche…..

There are many (One of them being me!) who have never exercised their right to vote. If you do not do your duty then you cannot expect any rights. Have we ever thought that why most of our politicians are uneducated and corrupt? The simple answer is because the so called ‘elite’ feel politics is too dirty to be either a play-field or work field. As the arena is so inviting to the corrupt citizen as a means to make quick and easy money they are the ones who jump into the fray.

Which Hercules then is going to clean the Aegean stables?  If the dumb common man of R.K.Laxman will not pick up the dumb bells to build up his strength then who will? If we cannot build Utopia then shouldn’t we save our breath to try to do so, rather than cry ourselves hoarse about all what shouldn’t be done?

Isn’t it ironic that all the Indians who are in the US are voting with zeal and enthusiasm (I am not talking of only the citizens of Indian origin) the fervor of whether it will be Obama or Romney is really heart touching. If only we would glue ourselves to the TV sets to listen to the speeches of our politicians and then stir ourselves to vote like our compatriots in foreign worlds which they have adopted as their own (so what if they are psychologically foreigners to that country!)

Do not argue that our politicians are not worth it. As we have made them politicians it is we who are responsible and we do have a handful of great orators who are worthwhile to be listened to. How many of us bother to go to our embassies and cast our votes during elections? It is too much of a trouble to go to the embassy but not too much to cast a vote for a foreigner who has charisma!

It is heartening to see that the new generation is more aware of this and are trying to do their bit. Will they succeed or not, is not the question; what is important is they are aware and are trying….

I have seen one thing – I wish my maid good morning and get one in return, I have smiled at the unknown sweeper on the roads and have got a ‘salaam’ in return and I have said a thank you to the sales man and have got a ‘welcome’ as a response.

Whether I will ever be able to vote during this life time is another story all together…….

Lights, Colors and Darkness

It’s that time of the year again. The sun is bright yet mellow, the breeze is gentle and cool and the mind is peeling off its myriad layers of consciousness. After all its autumn in the northern hemisphere and mankind is celebrating many of its festivals- fall festival, Diwali and Halloween to name a few. In the western world you spring clean after a long tough winter, in India we autumn clean (pre Diwali) after a tough hot summer and a wet sludgy monsoon! We look forward to the coolness of winter; the dryness of it kills all the germs of monsoon and for once during the year we look forward to basking in the sun (time to harvest all the vitamin D for free!).

All cupboards to be emptied, their tops dusted, cobwebs to get rid of, old clothes to be thrown (new ones to be bought!) silver to be polished, glass panes to be cleaned…… the list is never ending ! We are all getting ready for Diwali. The good has won over the evil during Dusherra, now is the time to celebrate the coming home of Rama after fourteen years of exile and the triumph of Krishna over Narkaasura. Whatever the reason it is a time of joy and celebration. It’s a time for new beginnings; it is the time to harvest the fruits of our labour and rest; it is also the time to look back and savor our success and forget our failures.

Baskets of fresh green vegetables, rows of lovely red pomegranates, orange papayas, green apples, purple grapes, dappled custard apples and bristly kiwis… Such a lovely picture! Walking on the pit hole filled cobbled roads of Mumbai, this picture actually rejuvenates your mind. For a moment you forget the struggling rag pickers and the begging children and the vicious circle of problems and solutions that we face each day and the mind wallows lazily in this Utopia of colors and dreams of the tantalizing smell and flavors of these offerings!

I see two young rag pickers hauling a heavy bag filled with plastics laughing and playing with each other as they sludge their way through the overflowing garbage pits. I walk up to them and in my mellow mood I offer them ten rupees each. Instantly the expression of happiness is replaced with wariness – they look at me suspiciously and say “Kya Chahiye?” (What do you want?) Never for a moment have they put their hand forward to take the money. I realize that I was going to commit a crime. I was trying to give them something which they had not earned and I would have made them handicapped forever. Happiness is relative. For a moment I thought I would buy myself some righteous happiness by bribing them and they rightly rejected my gesture. They had never got anything for free and naturally they were suspicious.

I keep telling all the people I know that nothing in this world is free (the ‘buy one get one free’ is a myth meant to addle the brains of most homemakers in a net of greed!) These two rag pickers were not greedy; they wanted to give something to get something in return. In my moment of weakness I thought that I could give them happiness (indirectly giving myself some!) through this method. Well! We grow and learn!

The sweeper has a harassed look on his face as he sweeps the fallen leaves of autumn into piles and carefully uses two cardboard pieces to pick them up and put them in the bin. Lovely leaves- yellow, red, orange and golden – lovely for me; irritating for the sweeper. I wish I could go and explain to him that because the leaves are falling, he has a job of picking them up and he feeds his family using this job. How smug and self-righteous I sound! There have been many moments in my life when I have whined and cried at my state and condition without counting my blessings. How often I have blamed God and others for my frustrations.

I do have a few questions for the world- why do we have to grow old to grow wise? Why do we have to fall before we can walk forward? Why do we have to experience pain to appreciate pleasure? I wish we are born with pre- fed knowledge so that life would be a bed of roses… but then would it?

The lamp shines the brightest in the darkest of night, hope this Diwali makes all our senses receptive to the brightness of awareness, for at this time of my life I realize that there is no perfect good or ideal bad; no white right or black bad there are only the different shades of color. Whether they are faded or bright is up to us.  

To change or not to

Eighteen is a very vulnerable age, much more vulnerable than sixteen because you are starting all over again in a new world and in a new environment. You have seen college for one year by now and are still taking baby steps to adulthood.

Remember you were the ‘boss’ in high school- the juniors looked up at you in awe (specially the 6th graders!). Then here you are thrown into the deep end where you are supposed to have that awestruck expression on your face when your vision sweeps across the crowd of seniors that are approaching- man! Is it difficult!

Coming from a government run school I was quite insecure about everything- the way I talked, the way I walked and the way I dressed. I remember there were these smart girls in minis and stilettos who came in Chauffeur driven cars who thought that we (the normal jean clad girls) were the pits! The only thing I was confident about was my knowledge of my subject, but who wants the label of a nerd?

Five years of college made me grow up. I lost my ego but discovered my forte, I lost my insecurity but found my strength and the most important thing was my inhibitions disappeared and I found the confidence to be able to talk to anyone on anything. They were my years of self-discovery. At the end of this time I was a smug and  self-satisfied person who thought that I was a “been there and done that” kind of individual.

Years passed, I was now bringing up a family and working with young individuals, still thinking that whatever I had done ,was doing and will do is the right path. I remember giving lectures about this path to my students and later to my children. No one opposed my ideas and I grew into a small and benign megalomaniac!

The first intimation of my pedestal shaking was when I was teaching “The road not taken” to a group of young teens. I was always conscientious about my work and though I had done this in school I went over the poem again, trying to find meanings between the lines. I questioned myself about myself.

As my students grew up and went out into the world and my own children also grew up I was exposed to the wonderful new world of internet and I was virtually able to see so many lives grow and change before me. I realized that I could have and maybe would have (if I had not been blinded by self-righteousness!) changed quite a few things in college.

I wish I had bunked a few classes and seen a movie, (Now a days everyone does it without feeling the guilt!). I wish I had been more forceful about my ideas, (been heard more and seen less!), I wish I had not allowed my mind to follow the path which was laid out before me (the most obstacle free!) and taken ‘the road not taken’, I wish I had taken the time off to listen to a friend (maybe I could have stopped her from committing suicide) and finally I wish I had not allowed social pressures from letting me be ME.

It is not possible to go back to that time and that moment and that place again. I saw many dreams then and still see them. But I always used to postpone things (I will do this when things are right …..) searching for that elusive perfect time. I realize now that no time is perfect, there will always something a little less and a little more. It is important that we grab the bubble at the right moment, it will burst but those micro-seconds of happiness is worth it!

There are lot more things that I would change if I could but I realize now that it is no use looking back over my shoulder. I am who I am because of certain decisions and lifestyle and there is no going back. I have some years ahead. I have promised myself that I will not look back ten years hence and wish I had done something else……

Do what you want to as long it follows your limits of right and wrong. Regrets are painful bedfellows either you kick them out or never allow them to encroach into your sacred zone.

Doll House

The huge LCD screen is continuously on throughout the day and I feel throughout the night too! Only the people sitting in front of it change- sometimes there is a man, sometimes a woman and sometimes a young girl. All these are conjectures for I can see only the head from my balcony. The screen is so huge that I am able to realize that Simpsons is their favorite show! I call them the Simpson family.
Early in the morning she stands on her balcony in shorts and t shirt and does stretching exercise facing the sun. When I wake up and pull the curtains back I see her on the tenth floor opposite me. I meet her on and off through the day.  During my post bath leisure time when I lounge on the bed with the newspaper, I see her on the stationary cycle working out. (Did I forget to tell that she has a lovely figure?) I can’t make out how old she is but I am sure she is no young girl (they never bother with exercise!). She is the Gym girl.
Sunday mornings, I see this couple have their tea on the narrow balcony with the morning sun playing gently on the ferns that enclose them in their own private space. The lady is obviously house- proud – lots of plants and decorative pottery items with a Bankura horse standing majestically on one side. They actually talk to each other! I have seen couples who go to Café coffee day on Sunday mornings having huge mugs of coffee and talking on their respective cell phones! They are the lovely twosome for me.
He comes out, wearing a towel, to pour water on the tulsi plant and pray to the sun. The apartment is normally shrouded with curtains so I have no idea about the other inmates of the house. I refer to him as the Pujari.
The swinging chair is hardly ever occupied. The house is filled with servants- one comes to dry the clothes, one to polish the balcony railings one to sweep and mop and so one. I have yet to meet the owner who I have christened “The swinger”.
These are my regular “friends”. They are a part of my daily life. I notice them as I go about my daily routine. I do not consciously ogle at them; they are like the birds in the sky, they are there so you see them. I miss them when they do not follow their routine! I  notice them in the morning as I spend most of my time at the back of the house. My evenings are spent in the front and there are no interesting people in the front apartments. Though they are lighted and there are lots of activities – I am too caught up to have the time to notice them.
One evening as I was lying down on the bed and reading, I looked up at the apartments in front of me. Each house was lighted and the curtains were pulled back. I could see the furniture and the people clearly. They looked like dolls in a doll house.
As a child I used to love playing with dolls and make up stories about them,I even made them enact my tales. Here in front of me was a living breathing doll house!
I don’t have the inclination to make up stories any longer but sometimes I do conjecture about them when I talk with Mickey.
I wonder if I am guilty of “invasion of privacy” or even voyeurism. I wonder if God himself entertains himself by sitting and looking at each one of us living life. I wonder if each of the characters in my doll house would resent the fact that I have designated them as doll figures in my sphere of existence.
I know I most probably will never meet them. In fact I do not want to do so, as reality is so very unromantic! But if I ever do so, I will (I know) pretend that I did not know of their existence. Sometimes we get so attached to the portraits that we have created that reality makes the paint crumble and the disappointment becomes unbearable.
Do not believe that I am advocating living in an imaginary world! What I am trying to say that the real world is reality and we have to live it. It is wonderful and stressful at the same time. It is good, once in a while to escape from this dimension and explore another one where life is perfect. This does not hurt another person but helps you to de-stress.
The world is very busy now. It is also a very lonely world. All are busy with their lives and have no time for others. (You hear of people being dead in the next door apartment and no one knows of it till the newspaper and milk packets pile up outside the door!).
These little cameos go a long way in relieving the ennui of modern life and who knows how many lessons we may learn from them.
I wonder if anyone notices my activities through the day………….

Moving Account!

Resettling is sometimes the devil- packing while moving to a new place is great for throwing out unwanted stuff and wallowing in nostalgia! I always go through all our photo albums while packing my favourite books (I don’t let the packers touch them!). The pleasure of looking at the baby books and going down memory lane is a pleasure which I indulge in very rarely and this is one such time.

Coming back and resettling in Mumbai had its sweet and sour moments. It was lovely to walk out and eat all our own kind of food without debating over whether it would be good or not; It was great to be able to speak with everyone and be able to understand them ; it is exciting to walk into a multiplex knowing you can see any movie you want to.

On the flip side – the crowd and the traffic drove me nuts; the garbage littered roads and the pungent smell of wet dung put me off from going for walks; the gastritis that I encountered after eating out!

One great lesson I learnt during this move was the importance of a refrigerator especially in this kind of weather. I was without one for fifteen days and the amount of food stuff I have rejected during this time is colossal! Oh! The relief and pleasure of setting it up the moment it was delivered at home.

This move was a first of its kind in my life. First time Junu and I are living apart! Before moving from Alex we had to set up a small establishment for him. The packing had to be planned properly; some things would stay in Alex, most of it would be shipped to Mumbai. After a brief holiday we went back to Alex to live in “Junu’s House”. When you start living you start missing things! We found the salt cellar but its partner the pepper grinder was missing! The bed sheet was there but its pillow covers were missing!  There were dustbins galore in the tiny house (that meant we would have to go on a dustbin buying spree when we went to Mumbai!) The steel storage bins (the whole set!) had been left behind! All the tea strainers were also residing majestically in the tiny kitchen! (More buying in Mumbai)

Moving to Mumbai we were informed that our shipment was delayed (though the planning had been meticulously done so that it would arrive two days after we arrived!) but the best of plans do go awry and we moved into a partly furnished house and went on a buying spree. And did I indulge! I got colourful plates, dustbins, towels (again colourful!) bed sheets and all the cleaning implements that the maid would need and settled down.

The usual hiccups notwithstanding our roads were not too rough. I did sprain my ankle pretty badly; I did have loose motion and gastritis (after gorging on outside food!). Life goes on with its quota of small pebbles and large stones; flowers and petrichor; light and noise.

I do miss the view of the Mediterranean Sea from my house; I do miss some of the work that I did at Alex but I am more at peace here. The innate restlessness which had engulfed me has been replaced by a certain aim in life. The feeling of ennui and being in a limbo has been taken over by the numerous struggles of everyday existence in this big city. Every day there is a problem to solve and that I suppose is living life.

The newspaper headlines blare out the millions of negativity that surround us- murder, scams, accidents and natural calamities. Like all Indians, we learn to live with it and love it in spite of it. It is as if these snippets give us a sense of security that “the sky is blue and God is in his heaven and all is right with the world!” The main thing is you connect….

Some things never change, particularly the pigeon population that inhabit this city, seem to have multiplied like rabbits. This time around our balcony is netted so they can’t do much except fly against it and leave their feathers floating around! But the sudden flutter never ceases to startle me.

The weather has been kind. It’s been raining since we came, so it’s pleasant and cool. One young lady has settled down in school and another young lady is enjoying her vacation (sleeping late and staying awake late at night!). I have been driving around, each trip sprinkled with abuses at the roads, the auto drivers and the two wheelers who think the road is a race course!

It’s been good to get in touch with old friends and know that they are only a phone call away. It’s nice to get up-to-date with their lives. It’s been great to know that you belong (however flawed the system may be!)

I know that this is not a permanent move and I know we will move again (when and where I do not know) but this interim is a lovely breathing space and I appreciate it more than I ever have.