Which side of thirty?

Guess there is something about the thirties..you know deep down that if you go by the average life expectancy of an Indian female, half your life is probably spent, expired, lived or experienced..depending on how you would like to look at it. And the events of the day and years make you start to wonder which side of that de-famed thirties do you belong to?

There is something mixed about your thirties that it is difficult to draw out the contours of your existence….its definitely not the ‘sunny side’ when you count the calories instead of the ‘thirty’ wonders of ice cream flavours glistening through the glassy parlour freezer boxes! It’s definitely the wrong side of thirties when your visits to the physiotherapist and medical shops outnumber your visits to the cinema halls and random parties! When you start flipping the food packet around to take stock of the sugar, salt and all sort of chemicals composition (compounds that neither mattered nor existed in your twenties)…when you start reading health digests and reach a state of paranoia bordering on Hypochondria (unnecessary worrying about illness…even I didn’t know that there was a term for it)..when the groovy numbers of your adolescence comes back as ‘retro’ on local radio…you know that the dreaded middle-aged thirties have probably landed!

You also realize the difficulty of being a ‘thirty someone’…what was a piece of cake in your twenties becomes an uphill task in your thirties…a simple outing, a backpack tour, a day of ‘nothingness’, an impromptu guitar class..all need days and months of contemplation and detailed planning…not to mention the considerations of your employer, your home, your child etc…….’impromptu’ becomes a word of the twenties as you grow deeper into your thirties! Your days are no longer yours to own, to enrich or squander as you feel!

But in all fairness there is a beautiful strength and yellow sunshine in your thirties…you finally grow out of your adolescent fears of ‘acne’, fashion sense and the overpowering need to ‘belong’! Suddenly, you find a sense of ‘balance’ in the weird imbalance of life, career, family, character, ambitions and an array of such definitions of life..and you also start to believe in the concept of ‘you’..the need to become ‘you’ surpasses all the other convoluted (sometimes confused) versions that you kept creating for yourselves..and you reach a limen of the thirties..

But this moment of realization also brings along a tornado of ambitions and expectations that your daily mechanic life falls short of…you are ‘never’ in the moment..you dream of entrepreneurship when you attend ‘so-called’ strategic meetings…you whip up images of vagabondism and aimless travel as you suffer in the daily commute of home to work..you think ahead of ‘friendship’ sessions and gang reunions as you sit at home and grab a late night meal! It is never enough in your thirties… the time, the relationships, the interactions, the achievements, the success, the experiences..you create difficult milestones of individual, personal, professional zeniths and start living in constant battles and fictitious races within!

Guess there is no magical age and if weight hounds you in one stage, then grey hair probably catches up with you in the next and there is never a dearth of miscellaneous list of things going wrong..but what is it about age that one cannot but obsess about it? It is but a natural phenomenon..probably best ignored like the moss growing on the wall or the branches of a tree..or even better best appreciated like the ageing of wine in a bottle or progression of an heirloom into antiquity!

Rajasthan – A Riot of Culture and Colour

If there is a place that combines culture, class and colour into one magical red carpet ride….then it has to be simply Rajasthan….We sojourned our way through four distinct cities of Rajasthan (incidentally these cities were part of different ‘princely states’ if we go back in history) that demonstrate their individual taste, culture, history and fabric…and yet there was a common thread of royalty and heritage that bound them together. Mouth-watering Rajasthani food and utmost hospitality is definitely another common factor that binds these erstwhile princely states together..a critical factor that satisfies every traveler and makes them go back for more of Rajasthan each time!

We started our royal ride at Jaipur which is the most modern and capital face of Rajasthan…whilst the city and its roads and numerous rat-runs did not invoke any excitement in the traveler in me, its most coveted treasures did invoke the deepest awe and admiration from me…its lofty and majestic forts..Amer, Jaigarh and Nahargarh….absolutely stunning pieces of architecture and grandeur…its vast unshakeable borders, its intricate designs and the sheer luxury of the bygone generations humble and enchant you in equal measure! An evening at the famed ‘Chokhi Dhani’ (an artificial Rajasthani theme park kind of a hang out place) rounded up the Jaipur trip with glimpses of Rajasthani culture..puppet shows, matka chai, ghoomar dances and delicious Rajasthani thali..

We thought we had seen it all at the Chokhi Dhani until we reached the desert city of Jaisalmer - rustic and exotic..it couldn’t have got better than this…!Golden sandstone buildings all around you…a living sandstone fort that rises above the city and towers over it like an emperor…a beautiful sandstone railway station including a beautifully designed sandstone bench (proud of you Indian Railways!!)…I could describe Jaisalmer forever..If you want to experience the incredible sights, sounds, smells and soul of the city..you must idly walk through the narrow cobbled streets of the fort where you encounter rustic houses, cows that stare you in the eye…tiny shops that display classy treasures that will truly make you the ultimate shopaholic…cafes and restaurants at various elevations that boast of beautiful views of Jaisalmer…we spent hours simply sipping masala chai and staring at the city below us…sand and sandstone buildings..no concrete..no glass buildings…no other visually sour objects..just a visual spectacle of nature and history!

Of course, we couldn’t leave Jaisalmer without getting on a cute camel..our transporter to the desert was Akhiya…he (or was it she) walked through the sand…rocking us and finally depositing us at the magical Thar desert dunes….we rolled and sashayed and satiated all our childish sand dreams and after seeing a romantic sunset by the sands…we checked into our desert camp….and that was a night to remember…a page out of Arabian nights…the stars above, Rajasthani live folk music dissolving into the windy night, the sparkling ghagras rotating and mesmerizing us…! We were awakened the next morning by the rare sound of peacocks…we walked around picking up peacock feathers and sand duning one last time!

The blue blue city of Jodhpur was next in line to enthrall us and we had our first brush with Marwar history in our blue guest house….heritage rooms with antiquity …the royal blue colour all around and the magnificent Mehrangarh fort in the backdrop..The fort is as much competition to the other royal structures at Amer and Jaisalmer in its beauty and splendor…but the stunning view of an ocean of blue houses is a sight owned by Mehrangarh alone! We then explored further into the villages of Jodhpur where we were fortunate to catch a glimpse of the Marwar folk festival and where we were invited into the houses of artisans where they proudly displayed their artistic brilliance…pottery, weaving..you truly appreciate the ‘handcraftedness’ of all items for sale as you move through the villages…artisans in remote corners of our country who are probably not aware of the ‘branded’ loot that happens in air-conditioned stores of urban cities! And of course the signatory village dames in colourful ghagras and proud men in turbans greeted us through the streets..It was an experience that brought me closer to the struggles of people, to the soul of Indian history and to the pride of our arts and crafts….!

We made our final stop at the white city of royalty – Udaipur…a city that is as white as in its architectural structures as in the faces that walk in and around the ‘old city’.(do not be surprised if you run into boards in French, Italian coffee, German bakes and locals who fluently speak Spanish! )ours were probably the few odd ‘brown’ Indian faces that dotted the beautiful streets of Udaipur…another palace and we thought there can be nothing more to see but were royally stunned with the Rajputan pride and élan that the city palace of Udaipur exudes! A palace that is sheer class and a brand of its own…with a beautiful view of the famed lakes of Udaipur…it’s a city that takes out the pace and stress out of you..it slows you down..and you cannot help but simply sit around the lake..catch the sunrise and the sunset..aimlessly wonder through the streets…shopping for all things Mewari….As the clock speedily ticked into the last moments in Udaipur..we relished a Rajashthani dinner with the shimmering palace and its watery reflection for company….The Udaipur sun god shone bright and bid us farewell next morning…As the images blurred and the aircraft took us to the clouds above… I realized that I carried more than a piece of Rajasthan into my soul!

The Irony called Bengaluru

When do you call a city your ‘home’? When you live in a city for 10 years? When you get used to the weather so much that you crib and cringe at slight changes to the ‘used to’ weather patterns? When you progress beyond ‘Kannada gothilla’ to broken fragmented Kannada that can be used as basic survival skills? When you can entertain an outsider for a day or two with the sights and smells and tastes of the city?

If the above definitions are checked off diligently, then yes I do belong to Bengaluru and can probably safely update the ‘home’ section in any form as Bengaluru! But if I introspect further and try to find a rooted love, affection and pride for this city – then my confidence gives way and I am pretty sure that I have never shed a nostalgic tear in this city, never swelled in the pride of being a Bengalurean, never thought of trading anything with simply living in this city! So what does that make me – a hybrid confused desi Bengalurean?

Bengaluru is the sum total of ironies and frustrations of thousands of migrants that live, breathe, eat, drink, celebrate and work their days through the city! As the days progress, crowds expand and burst at the seams, roads contract and crack and traffic snarls snake through highways and bylanes of the city. The hapless citizens have two choices to deal with the mess that they live in – either accept, compromise and move on or crib, cry, pent out anger and have a bad night’s sleep. Whilst people pride in the culture of ‘Namma Bengaluru’; one can rarely find its tradition and heritage on the streets, amongst your neighbours or in the festivities of the city; Bengaluru is a cauldron of expats, southies, northies and people from all walks of lives – the so-called migrants have created imprints and footprints of their culture and habits in the nooks and corners of the city – the medley is so colourful, so diverse and so significant that one needs to really go on deep-rooted hunts to touch the real soul of Bengaluru!

Whilst you learn to love the blossomy cheer of the few left over Gulmohar trees that have been spared by the realtor monsters; you are equally frightened by the frothy lakes that pollute and poison the atmosphere of the city. Whilst you are spoilt of culinary choices by the growing ‘fine dining’ experiences across European, Mexican, French and Vietnamese cuisines; you are equally wary of the fact that you have to really research yourself to have a slice of Bengaluru’s culinary heaven – simple Dosa coupled with ‘by-two’ coffee at one of the ‘darshni’ restaurants of Bangalore! While we take pride in the musical, theatrical and ‘sante’ culture of the city; we are equally at our wit’s end to figure out a simple weekend outing lazying in a park, by the lake or simply nibbling peanuts while the world moves along!

Guess there is no ‘ultimate’ city formula that can satisfy its residents…So as you love and enjoy the global experiences being resurrected in Bengaluru – whether it’s French wine tasting festivals, Spanish Tomatina festivals, German October fests..you do also compromise the limited spaces and roads of the city with a burgeoning mass of migrants! And it’s a vicious circle of people moving for better jobs, metro experiences created by the very increase in number of people interested in moving to this city and finally resulting in unbelievable pressures on land, air, water, roads and the very soul of the city…Add the ‘laid back’ attitude of governments and citizens alike to this complex formula and the result is an ironic jamboree of a city – where biggest cars battle with cows on smallest roads and where distance is measured in time and where you will still find people lining outside Corner House for their favourite ice cream even if a Haagen Dazs showroom shines bright right across the street!

P.S. I Love London

A week of bright summery London days melted my pre-conceived images of London..toppled my ‘highbrowed’ disgust for ‘typical touristy London’…and definitely brought out the sunshine in me!

London city wooed me like an Englishman..with its airs, its style, its traditionalism, its English manners and of course its old time charm! There is something about the summery sunny days of London which doesn’t set till the wee hours of the ‘Indian night time. Within a day of landing – I purchased the one thing that you can’t do without in London – the ‘tube’ pass and with the power of a tube pass in-hand, I conquered the city with the ‘thirst of the Empire’J!The city is beautifully connected - it’s road, rail network’s tentacles reaching the far and farther and the wide and the wider corners of London and its suburbs! You do not need more than a few minutes to figure out the ‘tube layout’ and then you are on a joyride- hopping-on and hopping-off the trains and exploring the beauty and myriad streets of the city.

My first haunt was the sleepy town of Greenwich…made famous by the Greenwich Mean Time (GMT) that we all follow..I took the customary snap at the ‘grand GMT median’ which defines time and tide for all global citizens! But what I loved more was the astounding view from the observatory…autumn coloured paths and pastures..pretty British structures and amazing skylines! And I rambled along the quaint little streets and passed by the little ‘fish and chips’ shops and antiques, aimless and content. A stroll around the signature ‘Cutty Sark’ ship and an indigo sunset view of the skyline was worth the long walk. And when I thought I had seen it all, I stumbled upon an old run-down antique bookshop that caught my imagination…the musty smell of hardbound books intoxicated me and I ended up buying a vintage Pride & Prejudice copy to carry home!

Another week of work and commute took me through the ‘glassy’ ‘Wall Streety’ views of Canary Wharf where sky scrapers were in perfect harmony with the waters and the docks! The weekend was well spent in ticking off the various touristy items on the ‘must-do London map’..but the sights of Big Ben, London Eye etc. had been so seen before…so many Bollywood dames have romanced and danced through the landmarks that it didn’t yield the kind of awe that probably should have been felt. But those landmarks apart, I cherished the moments spent exploring Covent Garden and its numerous local markets…digging into a ‘Jacket Potato’ while tiny shows and performances entertained the summer crowds and where pigeons flitted and landed on the cobbled streets of London.

The one last item on my wish list was accomplished before the evening of my departure – a live performance at her Majesty’s theater of the Phantom of the Opera…a true performance that captures the spirit of London Theater and combines musical ecstasy with theatrical extravagance and tops it off with solid performances that stimulated my senses.  Work and pleasure completed – I was off to India when I had a quick stop at my dear old Muscat..the Muscat of my childhood and adolescent days! Whilst all passengers fretted about the small airport and the long wait for their outbound flights, I merrily experienced the familiar sights of ‘Sultan Qaboos’, ‘Nido’ tins, ‘Oman chips’ packets…the aromatic smells of dates and incense..my entire Omani childhood memories came alive and I crushed into an emotional bundle as the flight purred and roared away from the desert city of Muscat!

Marriages are made somewhere in between

There are times when you know and when you truly feel that marriages are made in Heaven…not so much like the Bollywood matrimonial happiness which is associated with a song and dance sequence in the Swiss Alps… not anywhere close to the Mallu movie version of it where the married showered woman carries that piping cup of tea to her husband…

These are the simple moments when you knew that the other half was probably literally the other half of your existence…that critical half that you can’t do without…that half that comes alive when you are totally down in the dumps..the half that does not want to capture your half of the deal and lets your half operate independently..simply lets you breathe and just ‘BE’…

The funny thing is marriage starts off as a simple ceremony where two individuals come together and decide to backpack together on a simple road trip but soon turns and transforms its way into travelogues, family circuses, soap operas and full blown romantic comedies!! Add the real life complexities of careers, egos and the ultimate challenge of a married couple – a CHILD and the result then is an inflammable lethal tightrope establishment!

Then comes those creeping moments when you start wondering whether Hell had anything to do with the origin of marriages..you start finding the cracks on the shimmery surface…the blame game erupts at the drop of a hat..err…..maybe drop of a nappy when you also become ‘parents’ apart from ‘married couple’! You start comparing, contrasting, contradicting…the neighbour’s wife may become your envy…the life you left behind as a teenager keeps coming into your waking conscience..the frustration of some good things that you missed starts flowing into your conversations..you could find umpteen reasons to start that inevitable fist fight or ‘silence shall prevail’ mode of combats!

But finally when all the dust settles and you reach home a tired soul..you love the feeling that there is someone who appreciates the long day..who wants to have a simple chat to understand what happened…and if that someone doesn’t mind waking up to bring that little book and water to your bedside..then you feel that those mortal combats are worth your efforts….some simple things don’t come easy in life they say??

The Highway to Happiness

When your days are mechanical and routines are predictable…the only way to Nirvana is random travel..so we set out on a road trip – without timelines, without checklists, without ‘baggage restrictions’…just ‘tolls’ and ‘petrol stations’ to control and contain your travel spirits!

The broad and beautiful highway took us to the temple town of Madurai..Madurai is almost synonomonous with the Meenakshi temple of Madurai..a mammoth architectural grandeur that is the heart, soul and center of the city..from which emanates the commercial and religious life of the city. While I label myself as ‘differently abled’ when it comes to religion – yet I was smitten first by the beauty and vastness of the structures and idols and then by the mystical cleansing environment of the temple. Perhaps the time of our visit – the late hours of dusk had taken the commercial bustle and devotees’ din out of the temple..what was left was just silence, unbelievable marks of yesteryear glories, serene corridors and a beautiful pond that reflects and magnifies the splendor of the temple towers!

The morning took us again to the Meenakshi temple where I admired the pillars, the statues, the ceilings and spent some time simply soaking in the era that created this marvel and the planner who envisioned this city to be as such…finally we ambled through the streets of Madurai..a mix of hustle bustle laced with traditionalism..jasmine flowers..coconut offerings…handloom sarees…white soft idly shops at every nook and corner..guess Madurai runs on Idly and ‘Jigardhanda’ (a concoction of the mallu ‘palada payasam’ and ice cream)!

And then we started the dream ride to the hill station of Kodaikanal..the drive was predictably scenic through the villages and forests of Tamil Nadu – the highways and roads in simple companionship with hills and hillocks..streams and lakes..flowers and trees…We unknowingly carried some baggage and notions of the Kodai town…the commercial influx and the slow death of ‘kodai’ as the ultimate stop for tourists…But as we landed and saw the first specks of the signature Kodai fog and mist…we knew no matter what we will love this town!

Waking up the next morning to an astounding view of the valley, lakes and mountains did the trick for us..Kodai seduced us with its intoxicating mountain and fog combination. Whilst we went on our sightseeing rounds..none of the real tourist spots mesmerized us..what stole our hearts were the vast stretches of pine forests and the mist-covered mountains and rocks that followed us through the day. No description of Kodai is complete without a special mention of the lovely and homely souls of this town..every stranger whom we met – whether to ask for direction, whether to buy tea, knick-knacks..each one of them warmed our hearts with their simple and helpful nature..they are born ‘hosts’..where we see in rest of the tourist world..locals strangling each other, aggressively cheating and freaking the tourists..kodai stands apart where everyone from your friendly waiter to the vendor to the random stranger on the street treats you like family..wonderful experiences that will touch your heart and make you want to return to this little town!

The day in Kodai drew to a close and the city gave us a twinkling party with the night view of the valley and we snuggled into the comfort of our hotel room…happy and truly relaxed..The next morning after a final view of the valley, a sumptuous breakfast..it was time to push the accelerator..back to the highway to home..recharged and rejuvenated but as we swerved our way out..we made a small promise to return to this idyllic heaven when the urban, corporate and personal life drains out the ‘real life’ in you!

I too watched PREMAM

So after seeing the barrage of social media appreciation and the statistics that prove this blockbuster to be nothing like anything, I too ventured to figure out what the euphoria was all about…

And like in the past, the moment you step into the cinema hall with the backing of thousands of good reviews and word of mouth appreciation, the movie always fails to live up to its Himalayan expectations! Had I gone in ‘blank screen’ mode, this movie would probably have rocked the movie hall!

But that entire introduction apart, Premam is a sweet movie – a real classy and creative package that you will have to love and enjoy! It’s a cute little gift packaged beautifully – crispy, compact and lovable! But the story is a repeat of many others before it and the concept and journey is very similar to that of the Tamil movie ‘Autograph’. The romances are a fleeting journey just like the butterfly that makes appearances throughout the movie. The story is light and breezy and it’s a perfect movie to relax, laugh and unwind!

But what worked for me is the treatment of this simple story by the director – the scenes, shots, angles and the totally whacky dialogues are absolutely mind-blowing and creativity unparalleled! The cute little spoofs of past Malayalam movies that make its appearance in the movie are also worth remembering. And coming to the real juicy part of the movie – the Nivin Pauly factor – he is effortless in his transition from the starry-eyed teenager to the ‘typical outcast’ college kid and finally to the handsome real man at the end of the movie. In this digital age and middle age (specifically for me – hehehe), Nivin makes you want to go back to schooldays where you ogled at good looking movie stars and stuck posters of him all over your room! He really breaks the stereotypical male characters that Malayalam actors are mostly about – yes those were power performances and you cannot even draw a parallel but honestly his looks and simple treatment of characters wins your heart and you feel biased to love the movie regardless of its flaws!

But in all fairness, the movie would have fallen flat if it wasn’t for the absolutely brilliant performances by the supporting cast – especially the two best friends that support “George” in his journey and experiences and not to mention the blockbuster performance of Renji Panicker in a cameo. And hats-off to the director for choosing a set of unconventional heroines who look earthy, natural, fresh and pour themselves into each role with an ease that is worth appreciating! The review wouldn’t be complete without the special mention of the background score – the violin piece will surely follow you as you walk out the movie hall!

Overall, it’s an enjoyable movie with sincere and sweet performances and some really hilarious comic scenes that will leave you in splits. But if the expectation is for an earth-shattering movie that will stir your soul and satiate your ‘critique’ appetite – then clearly Premam is not in that league of things. But if the agenda is to kick off your work woes and simply immerse in a fun, frolic and flirtatious ‘butterfly flight’ then surely Premam is first on that must-do movie list for the week!

Every Day is Mother’s Day

So there is a grand Mothers Day around the world and the world- wide web is flushed with happy moms and happy kids not to mention the avalanche of flowers and goodie messages.

But for me, from that earth-shattering moment of ‘you are pregnant’, it’s been a journey of bonding or gratitude towards my own mother. 

Yes, she is the classic ‘worry all the time Indian mother’ – she worried about my school grades, she worried about my safety amongst the ‘boys’ of the class, she worried about my health through my hostel days, she worried about my safety on solitary bus, train and air rides…and she continues to worry and harry me ..my travels, my diet, my work, my habits. And to add to that long list of things that can go wrong, she has now added my two year old daughter straight to the top of that ‘worry list’!

But she never harried me with my fundamental choices…my choices of education, career, marriage and motherhood were truly my choices. She never once infringed into my personal realm of style, clothing, interests, passions, relationship and freedom. Her beliefs and choices were instilled and cherished by me but those were never forced into my character.

But she could transform herself into a mentor, a powerhouse of strength when it mattered..No matter how bad the day went, you knew that you could go back to her …and that little ‘cotton saree’ space on her lap is probably the most relaxing de-stressing experience in the world…you know that the all the world’s evils and all the world’s problems might just find a solution through that little space..

And I have run into that little wonder space with my teenage woes, my school tantrums, my career failures, my matrimonial confusions and finally now with my maternal dilemmas. And miraculously a few magic strokes through my hair and a few words of peace and therapy is all it takes for these life mess-ups to iron themselves out.

Probably I know deep down that my own motherhood can never ever match to that selfless eternal motherhood that she embodies. I am not the ‘worry all the time’ mother …at work I am just another employee…at shopping sprees I am just another shopaholic…at hangouts I am just another girl who wants to have fun..at a movie I am just another movie buff… But I guess I would be satisfied if I can simply layer my daughter with a few good values given to me by mother and empower her with the immense freedom that I enjoyed.

Empowerment doesn’t appear on the front page of Vogue!

Yes the Vogue video is many things..the images are amazingly aesthetic….the voice of a superstar always adds the glamour quotient….the words are poetic and powerful…it is truly a Vogue special edition….

But does empowerment really wear Prada and walk the ramp? Why are the choices and ‘metrics’ of empowerment limited to simply having sex and wearing a certain kind of clothes? The choices listed out as so ‘limited’ and ‘restrictive’ and miles away from the infinite freedom referred to in the video.

Come on….it’s almost like saying..I choose to brush my teeth or not…I choose to eat my food or not…I choose to dye my hair or not…..these are not the choices that are denied nor do they define you…

There has to be a balance of sexes and where this balance is upset is when somebody has to hold the hand of the downtrodden and uplift them to that platform of equilibrium..when a choice of job and livelihood is denied because one wears a skirt….when a choice of equal pay for equal work is denied despite the fact that the ‘he’ and the ‘she’ does the same amount of work….when a choice of marriage is restricted because a ‘she’ has to pay dowry to a ‘he’…when a choice to be born a girl is denied at the time of birth…

These are the choices that are stumbling blocks and societal failures that have to be discarded for that real empowerment to strike and seep in…Its when every ‘she’ in our country can exercise her basic rights of birth, life, livelihood, marriage and movement that we can truly enjoy the infinite freedom that we all dream of!

Two years and I miss her toothless grin

It’s been two years of Nanda in our existence and our world is spinning with the changes that come along….Changes that are too fast and too pronounced……..and I miss those changes……Her baby smell that is slowly fading……Her pulpy juicy baby fat arms and legs that have given way to bony limbs….Her toothless grin being the top on that list of things missed! She is slowly and steadily losing that treasured naive innocence and inviting those age-old rascals called ego and anger.

But the nature and impact of changes in me is probably even more startling than hers……..what discipline and good behaviors that years of schooling, books and self-motivation could not do..in one stroke a child can make those miracles happen……I respond to a morning wail and cry much better than any alarm that I have subjected myself to…I can actually switch off that TV when I know she is watching it with me..I can get myself to keep back that big bar of chocolate when her outstretched arms ask for more.. I can contain my fury outbursts when she is around..I can have my meals without the presence of TV noise…I can say NO to a tempting outing if kids are not allowed..so many ‘ I cans’ that I never realized I was capable of! And the one virtue that evaded my existence and which has now come back with a vengeance is PATIENCE…that old chap definitely gets to play god in our ‘motherly’ lives.

Guess it is the natural way of things and we are but onlookers. Parenting and childhood are concepts that one never bothers to think about till you are thrown into the game..and then your hidden skills are tapped into..your erstwhile skins are shed and you embrace the moment..a moment that will never repeat in your motherhood era!  

Democracy – A day of abuse & assault

With literacy comes social progress…with more literacy comes ever greater shame as proven by the honourable members of the legislative assembly of the most literate state in the country!

They took us to the rock bottom of democracy with the budget session of a lifetime. Had I not re-confirmed that this was indeed live streaming from the ‘real’ assembly I would have definitely mistook the images from one of the regular ‘Suresh-Gopi’ kind of political cleansing movie where the politicians are painted as a ‘ruthless’ clan of animals.

And to attempt to describe the bedlam created in the middle of the state’s highest governance office is a truly difficult task – what was not done that could not be imagined?? The ‘men in white’ on a mission that went beyond all words & actions that could be termed parliamentarian – demolition of expensive computer equipment, scuffling and manhandling of a barbaric nature and utter disregard for the rules and the notions of simple civilized society let alone democracy! Interestingly the budget sessions could not be ‘chaired’ by the speaker as the physical chair itself was the first point of destruction of the parliamentarians….and the budget could definitely not be ‘tabled’ either thanks to the stomping and stampede of the ‘elected members’ on the tables of the assembly.

The poor and helpless electorate watched in horror and sheer despair as the trusted lieutenants of each constituency joined in the petty personal circus… probably that is what now redefines the working of our democracy better than the tenets of the Constitution or the laws of the land! As the lawmakers made merry breaking public and government infrastructure, what they also successfully broke were the laws of the land! As the assembly members engaged in an endless brawl, what they also successfully thrashed were the simple rules of governance! So much for inspiration and guiding light for the next generation!

AS the curtains are down over that shameful multi-act play, I await with equal curiosity and angst on what would be next steps taken by the State – How do we compensate for the destruction of government property?  How is the belief in democracy to be restored? How do we teach that important lesson to the honourable members that we are not a banana republic? If there are no answers to these questions and if indeed these members are invited back to the assembly then we must perform the last rites for the democratic system and bury whatever remains of it can be salvaged from the wreckage!

Don't Judge Me

I may be the ‘saree’ kind or the ‘skirt’ kind

But I wear my heart on my sleeve

I may be the ‘homemaker’ type or the ‘breadwinner’ type

But I ‘labour’ through my day and night

I may be the ‘yes to all’ sort or the ‘no to all’ sort

But I end up doing everything that needs to get done

I may be the ‘Calvin Klein’ shopper or the ‘mom nd pop tomato’ shopper

But there are people I value higher than my purchases

I may be the ‘masterchef’ breed or the ‘dial-a-pizza’ breed

But I believe that good thoughts provide true nourishment

I may be the ‘fair skin’ make or the ‘wheatish complexion’ make

But my ethics are much beyond than skin-deep

Don’t judge me..don’t jacket me..

I could be a little girl each time I cry myself to pulp..

I could be a daughter each time I move away from my parents..

I could be a sister each time I provide the much needed advice..

I could be a wife each time I save the last bite of the chocolate..

I could be a mother each time I clean up the mess that someone else creates..

But you will need the woman in me.. 
In every smile and every mile…
In every tear and every cheer..

Through the eyes of a child

When you return home after a deplorably bad day at work…just a regular circus day at work… juggling deadlines, a barrage of e-mails, some personal egos, few conflicts and regular ‘must-do’ calls/meetings…you almost feel like a warrior returning to her shelter after the day battle ends at sunset….tomorrow you know you need to go out there and start another battle…there is just enough time to take stock of the damage, nurse your wounds and beef up your motivation to face the opponent…

And then suddenly two tiny arms welcome you home…there she is innocently grinning and taking me  into her Shangri-la…you feel a surprising lightness and ‘nothingness’ when you indulge in her silly little peek-a-boo games….you feel a sheepish embarrassment as you sing nursery rhymes and meekly obey her orders to do some atrocious acts like springing up and down….but few minutes into this make-shift play and you forget the battles that you left behind in the meeting room…you are forced to let go of that urge to beat up a colleague who picked a fight with you…you feel ‘in-the-moment’ and rooted to the concept of home.

And as your mind races to the Herculean tasks hidden in your appraisal carpet..to that flurry of escalations trapped in your mailbox…you see her seriously going about her tasks and duties…...dedicated attempts to build monuments or in other words simply piling a few building blocks…sincere house cleaning exercise but what it essentially is walking with a broom-look alike in all corners of the house…. guiding and mentoring a monkey cuddly toy…and in her mind she is ‘at work’..she is playing her role to the best of her ability..meeting and beating expectations…and you can’t help but break into a smile as you realize that it’s just a perception…what you assume is the world’s most important job assigned to you is ‘child’s play’ for another..and what you presume is a silly child’s play is her most important task for the day…a little bit of role play does help… maybe the management gurus were right after all?

Love in the days of FB

I guess my anti-‘mushiness’ rears its ugly head each Valentine’s day and I just can’t seem to understand or participate in the all red and white and pink frenzy around Valentine’s Day!

Sadly CUPID is out of work in this FB driven ‘love’ recession…all the communication is handled on the so-called ‘wall’ and ‘public’ messages in FB…the lover professes his deep love over the internet and the thousands of members of this FB fraternity have to bear witness to this profound moment in two individuals’ lives! Come on people, remember the word ‘social media’?? It’s just that…a way to interact with society in the fast digital ‘no-time’ days…! It’s not the place for whispering sweet nothingness…not the place for a husband to suddenly realize his wife is the best woman on earth and the stage for that declaration..not your prayer hall where you express gratitude to god for your picture perfect family and godly children….and for your information – GOD may not be reading those FB posts for all you know??

WE love to associate all surreal emotions with material things and I guess our marketing and manufacturing giants have successfully cultivated that relationship..can you imagine Valentine’s day without red roses? Without chocolates? Without diamonds? Without that special dinner voucher? Thanks to years of successful marketing, that association is so strong that it is part of human emotion to expect a flower, a date, a gift to honour and ‘complete’ a Valentine day! Did good old Valentine ever imagine that his death would be converted into such a global ‘super sales’ day?

And imagine if there was a global network outage on Valentine’s day..there would certainly be a great deal of love lost in that outage! Would people have plan B to still go ahead and display that over-abused term called love? Can you communicate real love without use of heart emoticons, without a delivery of roses, without buying that 50% off diamonds? Sometimes all you have to do is put down that device and walk up to your partner and just listen to your favourite song …sometimes all you need is a tight hug from your little child..sometimes all you need is to see that bright smile when you help your parents with a task..love has much more than ’50 virtual shades’!

Some deaths are more equal

This is not in support or condemnation of the Charles Hebdo incident but more an introspection of our attitude towards crime and death…

From the milk that we drink to the ‘health food’ that we eat to the ‘greens’ that we feed our children, we hear of the horror stories of poison and contamination! Each of us are having a slow death through the food we eat and horrifically, we are also slowly killing our children with ounces of poison on a daily basis…and yet for this issue which affects every single person amongst the billion+ population of India-  no candle light march, no Facebook campaign, not even a media movement has been undertaken to rid the country of these evils.

The country’s roads and traffic rules are in shambles and each time we step on the road, you are never assured of reaching you destination…if you are a pedestrian; chances of you being beaten down by a motor bike on the footpath is immensely high..if you are a bike rider; chances of you being crushed by a rickety government bus cannot be ruled out…if you are driving a car; chances of a cow jump followed by a fatal swerve are oddly against you…And these probabilities are so certain and yet we do not have a nationwide campaign to address traffic violations….simple civilized rules to follow traffic signal and follow lane discipline could avoid thousands of deaths on our roads….Take this a step further and think about the horrendously placed speed breakers and humps on our roads….some of them marked..some unmarked…some unscientific..some of Himalayan heights….creating some crucial life-death instances on the road. To add to that is our extremely difficult judicial and policing systems…given a choice no Samaritan would like to take a bleeding person to the hospital..no law abiding citizen would like to report an accident to the police…all adding up to a fatal network of roads and infrastructure that kills more people than connect them together.

Take the state of our health care system and we may need to hang our head in shame..How many of us would like to step into a government run hospital in case of an illness? Wouldn’t we prefer to burn holes in our pocket and seek help from the ‘professional’ network of hospitals? Despite being funded and managed by the government, the state of such hospitals are deplorable not to mention the scary stories of deaths in such hospitals…And even if the well heeled amongst us have access to the best healthcare facilities in the country..are we sure that the treatment given to us is what it is supposed to be? Are we sure that the organs that we owned before the surgery is intact when we step out of the operation theatre?

These are the fundamental rights to living…we can’t anticipate death from the food we eat, the medicines we intake and definitely not from a simple stroll down the neighbourhood ally. And yet in our country chances of such deaths are so high and yet we are immuned to this risk…and almost have come to terms with it as part of our living.

Our countrymen would rise up and show solidarity for the journalists killed in Paris…the whole world is spinning around this horror story..How can one life be more precious than the other? These same countrymen have been through the worst brutal killings in the past few years and yet where is the strength..where is the empathy..where is the solidarity against such killings?

We have the time to introspect on the evils of a 3 hour movie on the entire generation and to violently react against such ‘influence’ but we cannot spare a moment to assess the damage of the ‘posion’ that we eat on a daily basis let alone the time or the energy to protest…an irony that definitely beats my sense of logic! 

Two weeks into the new year

There is something very nice and fresh about looking forward to a new year…almost like unwrapping a your birthday gift...a feeling of hope, happiness and a great deal of curiosity bundles you up in that one moment…

Probably two weeks into the new year is that stage where you have set yourself a great deal of expectations and each day unravels itself over the year to finally confirm whether that gift that you finally received was just as you expected, or absolutely better or  bitterly lesser!

And as you get used to writing 2015 in all the documentation and mentally compute how many years of existence you complete this year, it’s always inevitable that you look back into the year that was. And yes last year was no scarlet year in my life…definitely not mind blowing or life altering! I didn’t achieve anything that would differentiate me from the rest of humanity on earth….I didn’t have the courage to follow all my crazy dreams..I didn’t go to that Guitar class that I promised myself at the start of the year.. I couldn’t stop my natural impatience outbursts that I had wanted to wipe myself off…and the list never ends.

But all that guilt aside, I did make a move from my snug and comfort zone into a frying pan of another job..almost a plunge rather than a move..hoping that I grip this opportunity than let it go…and 2015 will be part two of that rollercoaster ride…whether there are more curves or bumps or some smooth sailing is something the year will tell me.. I did miraculously survive the role of playing mother to a toddler who progressed from babbling to clear and concise communication patterns…I did finally visit the land of my dreams and knit together a fabric of travel experiences that will stay with me for lifetime…so maybe it wasn’t all that bad?

And more than appraising myself for the last year maybe I should just say a silent prayer for simply being able to write this blog this year….simply be grateful that I was not in that Uber cab on a late night ride…that I was not at Church Street at the evening of the blast…that I was not on that fatal Malaysian airlines flight..sometimes the joy of a new year comes in simply being alive and be able to scream Happy New Year!