As the flag unfurls..

Before the tricolor unfurls and the reverberations of the national song dissolve into the air, it is time to pause, reflect and savour the spirit of this country and its freedom.

We may have a handful amongst us who may have been part of the long struggle for independence or witnessed the blood baths on our soil years back. But the larger nation is the one born with the silver spoon of freedom, untouched by the butchery of partition, having only read accounts of freedom struggles or experienced the atrocities of colonial powers through what was conveyed on film reels.

And like any generation that was born into the lap of comforts, we too have been raised as a spoilt nation, unaware of the toil and blood that our forefathers sacrificed for the nation that we call our own. We have been raised with a sense of ‘entitlement’ to our freedom but not with the ‘responsibility’ that comes with this magical power of freedom. Our concepts of nation and nationalism are fudged, malleable, and manipulatable. The dream and passion that wove this country’s fabric together and celebrated the diversity that formed the embellishment to our intricate weave is now under looming threats.

We struggle with identities and ‘reference points’ and anything that deviates from the average is mocked, mobbed, eradicated or simply brushed under the carpet. Inclusiveness is a larger cultural impediment than it was thousands of years back. The rich cultural pedigree that we carry is now being trampled in the face of industrialization and ‘development’ (a term whose scope and definition is questionable).

The passion that fueled a string of provinces to unite into a nation seventy one years back needs to now be rekindled amongst us – for us to stand and fight for something that matters to the larger humanity, for us to contribute to the ambition that we set for ourselves seventy one years back, for us to celebrate our individualism and yet embrace our diversity with the same fervor. Else, before we realize it, we would have fought a full circle to finally reach the start of our pre-Independence.. a divided population that the East India Company encountered years back.

Of course there are strides and leaps that we can be proud of but the pride would be complete if we took the entire nation through this stellar journey – giving every individual and community the chance to participate in this journey and not leaving anyone behind with a deep sense of injustice, discrimination or bitterness. Then we shall finally find peace and growth in the folds of the tricolor!

Friends for the Soul

They come as a motley..sprinkled here and there on your life journeys…spicing up your routine or simply omnipresent through your existence – the umbrella word of warmth called friendship!

Friends who hold your lifeline together -  from the ones with whom you shared your crayons, your ‘first crush’ stories, your ‘hostel bickering’, your ‘career conflicts’ and now to your ‘matrimonial and motherhood itches’ and all that comes in between.

We find them at intersections and promenades of our lives – in that crowded school bus dripping with ice cream on a scorching ‘academic’ afternoon..in the midst of a grueling dance practice..on a nervous college admissions day..while burning ‘corporate midnight oils’ or simply when you wait to pick your kid from school.

Friendship that germinates, roots itself and then spreads its shade over your life – giving you fleeting moments of freedom from the social jackets that we tailor for ourselves..the soothing voice that counsels and veers you off the frustrations that life sometimes throws on you..bringing the ‘fire’ and ‘fun’ elements into the drab that your days sometimes turn into!

Friendship sometimes also fill the fault lines created by blood lines and relationships that got thrust in your life by birth. The perfect panacea for the heartaches and headaches that you invite into your life ‘playing the family person’!

You cannot predict, measure, compare or reason it out – some humans that you chose as the anchor to your life storms ..some individuals you bonded and fused with and cannot still understand why..some buddies who strip you bare of your colour, creed and ‘garbs’ and touch the bundle of emotions that you can simply and effortlessly slip into..

Nungambakkam Diaries - A page torn off..

Of course the point of a CA day is lost on me but what it did do to me was drag me through the streets of Nungambakkam, through the corridors of the CA institute, through the laughs and agonies as taxation and accountancy infused into our beings..

If there ever was an underrated and under-glamourized profession in the world – Chartered Accountancy had to be top on that list..! No one knows about it, no one knows why they do it and no one knows what they do after being one! The unknown being the most prominent parameter of the profession. Keep aside that notion and you wonder why you would never see a character in a novel or a movie being a ‘chartered accountant’? Yes,  believe me I have been searching for it…and barring a mediocre Bollywood movie where the main character was a CA (and incidentally also a psychological wreck), I am yet to come across a solid character?

Perhaps romance and beauty is not something you can associate with the profession – it will need an impossible stretch of imagination to visualize a pretty girl in slow motion as the nuances of accounting standards are being discussed in the classroom. And there is little room to add patriotism or humanity to the CA character (unlike the easy visual treats of a soldier unfurling the flag with blood on his hands or a doctor saving the life of a downtrodden). So obviously writers block would come in the way trying to add drama, romance or comedy to the otherwise lackluster life of a Chartered Accountant.

But I would think with a little bit of sarcasm and irony weaved in, one could imagine a thriller or a tragedy out of a CA’s life? The days and nights of an aspirant – literally starts at the break of dawn – and as the whole world sleeps, an entourage of students swarm into an accountancy class trying to cut through a complex accounting problem. And when students of their age are hanging around on campuses, the CA wannabes are scrambling into their internship schedule to clear a heap of assorted files with work that borders on bonded labour. And come dusk and they are again back to where they began – in a different class trying hard to break off from the office routine and don their ‘student’ hats! If this isn’t inviting enough, try the suspense and heartbreak of passing over the ‘40’ mark threshold to officially announce yourself as a CA – and the cruelty of life that gifts you a 39 and essentially spits in your face and dares you to take the challenge again!

My mind wanders into the nostalgic aroma of white fluffy idlis and filter coffee in Chennai as I downed by breakfast to get ready for the next battle of a class. The simplicity of walking into a class – disheveled and determined in same measure – not caring for the requirements of the ‘look’ expected from a student! The circle of friends who tried to find sparkles in your days of cramming and cravings! The warmth of the voices that support you as setbacks of the profession tear through your confidence! A joyous ecosystem that we created for ourselves – notwithstanding the pressures of a course that can unsettle the bravest ones, the isolation from the usual ‘hip-hop’ campus life of any other professional student and the unrelenting heat of the Chennai summer that drenched you through your afternoon classes!

And at the end of that joyride, I may have forgotten the standards drilled into my brain, I may be rusty on the statutes that I crammed with sincerity but what I hold close to my heart is that experience! The feeling of citrus orange juice soothing me as the sun burnt my skin, the steadfast ambition we all nurtured to cross over the CA hurdles, the unequalled sense of achievement as the screen displayed ‘PASS’ , the no-nonsense relationships we built that were not coloured by bias, manipulation or materiality..all flood into my memory as I turn a page on that chapter – and I can’t help but let that smile brighten my face!

Meghalaya – Come home to the Clouds Waltz

When I thought I would not recover from the heartbreak of leaving behind the mountains of Arunachal, Bhalukpong happened. I almost embraced infidelity when I slowly and surely started warming up to the Khamang river..the white pebbles on the river bank creating a tableau of beauty unbound..there is nothing like waking up to the gurgling sounds of the river…a morning expedition to the river got a little disrupted with ‘elephant’ threats from the locals..and we returned cleansed to dig into a sumptuous breakfast at the resort.

The journey then took us to Meghalaya..and I indulged in adultery as I started forgetting the rustic beauty of Arunachal and getting smitten by the fame and ‘elan’ of this endowed region. She is the one blessed by the fairy god mother – pristine hills, umpteen mezmerising cascades, clean and enchanting villages and of course woman power!

While the entire country is screaming diversity from the roof top, this is a state where the women run every shop, every business and are rubbing shoulders with men in every task at hand! This is a state where you do not need to display your cheap paranoid tourist tactics – bargaining is passé, looting is unheard and none of the villages and sights are doctored for tourist interest but are breathing life spaces! Irony hit me in the face as the trip took us to the ‘cleanest village of Asia’ and we the Indians are clicking snaps of a clean village rather than hanging our heads in shame that we learned nothing from Meghalaya!

The Umiam Lake at sunset is a scenic point difficult to explain..it stood there displaying it’s crimson and red hues ..an asymmetrical patch of vegetation, water and red hills. The next morning took us on a trip to unearth the treasures of Meghalaya including a symbolic touch point at Bangladesh where I stared at the oddity of seeing a ‘Welcome to India’ board.

Riding up hill tops and being surprised with an assortment of waterfalls – not one like the other, each one in its grandeur even on a summer noon. The splendorous sights behind us, we were on an expedition next to walk through the living root bridge – a natural phenomenon so unreal! And if that wasn’t enough, a twisty turny and crawly adventure inside the natural Mawsmai caves was another jewel in this region’s crown. Numerous picturesque villages whirred past…beautiful dames in their traditional attire going about their business…sights to enjoy and behold!

I was in a mistaken state of satiation telling myself that there can be nothing more in store when I went on the last leg of the journey to Chirapunjee or Sohra as the locals know it and the breathtaking views and pastures and pathways that unfolded on this journey made me realize how shallow my trip has dug into this state’s treasures. Sohra in one word is magic and our rustic tit-for-tat for Swiz countryside..I inhaled the purity of it all and had the impossible desire to store it within me for future usage – to counter the battles that city life throws at you.

But of course, silly me and my desires, I sat in the car – letting the wind caress my face, seeing the small villages dissolve into the twilight, smiling at the tiny tots playing untarnished by the devils of the city and breathing in Meghalaya one last time before life and journeys take me afar.

Arunachal – Where Mountains Reign

It is an arduous task trying to encapsulate a trip to Arunachal Pradesh into words. It is a journey more than a destination, an experience more than a trip, a string of towns and villages than “tourist spots”.

It is like road-tripping into a pantomime of changing landscapes – the roads wind into infinity, the fog sometimes sprinkles magic on the windshield, the mist sometimes engulfs the majestic mountain peaks, waterfalls gush out of the rocky terrain at unexpected bends and curves and the stately Kameng river accompanies us through this enchanting journey.

We hopped into the “border” area of Arunachal Pradesh called Bhalukpong where one has to display passes and complete procedures for entry. And then the roads took us uphill into the sleepy town of Bomdila – the fog thickening into an invisible blanket as we checked into the cozy comfort of our rooms. A shivering night and a breathtaking morning waking up to the clouds and mountains and we bid goodbye to the happy faces of the hotel staff.

And then the roads wound into curves and took us through an array of tiny villages – their cute rustic houses bordered with an enviable collection of flower pots, small children playing to their hearts’ content, ladies breaking into stones with their tiny tots saddled in a sling…charming sights that warm you and question your rushed and hushed urban existence.

After a while the villages vanished and were replaced with army barracks, olive green trucks and an army of personnel who guard the country from the border forces. And the moment that I awaited flashed before me – Sela Pass – an isolated haven of snow peaked mountains and frozen lakes..I could not have asked for more as a slight snow erupted with soft little flakes brushing my hair and nose! The hangover of the sweaty days in Bangalore made me scream out in elation and the crunchy feeling of snow in my bare hands was pure bliss found in the summer month of April. Mustering as much courage as I could, I walked, soaked in and enjoyed the icy white landscape and hesitantly moved on to Tawang.

Tawang is a mischievous town of varied weather – as one layers up the winter clothes, the sun would peep out and shine over the valley and mountains. As you step out to enjoy the sun, a mad torrent of rain will come pelting down to chill your bones. As you step out of the comfort of the heated room, a gush of winter fog will get you scampering back. A non-touristy tourist location – it boasts of a 400-year-old monastery that will awe you with its rustic architecture and monks who go about their business. When you tire of the walk and sights of the valley, you can indulge in the yummiest momos and simply rest to soak in the sights and sounds of its charming people and regal weather.

The journey back was equally mystical and we had the luxury of a halt at the picturesque town of Dirang where the river, mountains and houses united to greet us. As we descended into the plains, the rear view mirror capturing the last specks of the peaks and fog, there was an uneasy longing for the mountain, valley and small town charms..I was almost unsure whether I left a part of my soul behind or whether I carried a piece of Arunachal within me as I bid goodbye?

Finding your “manjadikuru”….!!.

What it all boils down to is finding your own “manjadikuru” amongst the thorns and dusty roads of life.

The “evasive” manjadikuru – those red precious things that can lighten up your face..

The warmth and the rarity of finding those “childhood” seeds when you least expect it…

The fun that it evokes as you collect..rumpling up into your dress as a few drop back..

The word “mindfulness” so apt on a morning “manjadikuru” expedition..

The continuous habit of doing more and doing fast leaves us in a blur

A blinding tornado that throws out more dust… that shuts out nature and the little somethings around us..

There is so much more in this world than your blown up troubles and egos ..

So much beyond your financial and economical straight jackets...

Search and you shall find – those little manjadikurus..

Sparkling in a smile from a dear one..

Hidden in the sweat of your yoga mat..

Blended in a tear of gratitude from a stranger…

Melting into that last drop of choco-vanilla cone…

Chirping in a little branch of a tree..

Yes, you can find as far, take home as much and cherish to your heart’s content

Go get your manjadikuru!

Women - Don't Ask

This year has witnessed a series of rumbles that turned into murmurs and finally exploded into screeches – women asking for their space on the planet and flushing out myths that have shaped into gospels in our society…!

But one look back at our history – our Indian history should tell you what is so obvious – that women were in the forefront – walking with (and sometimes ahead of men) in all walks of life..from politics to poetry..from administration to arts..there wasn’t a doubt in their minds to distinguish women from men. So it was but natural that women were emperors of large kingdoms..that women fought battles for ideologies that mattered…that women exhibited their “craftwomanship” with equal ease at painting, music and dance.

The women of India were blessed with an equality that was so in-born that their contribution and participation was a “way of life” – never needing a gigantic push nor needing a powerful pleading for equality..rights that were so alien to Western society -  but what happened in the span of last few centuries & decades?

Why are we now at a precarious juncture where every move is tinted with the over-used “clichés” of “diversity” and “feminism”? Why is there a dramatic exhibition of “womanism” – the never-ending landslides of Women’s Day token appreciations..the “botoxing” of glamour and glitz into every face & phase of a woman..the over the top demonstration of feminism that stays at the flimsy layer of social media?

Why are we pleading and crying ourselves hoarse for something that always belonged to us? Maybe it is the continual erosion that our value system has undergone over the years… the venomous thoughts that have been cultivated into the minds of our men and …the apathy that society has always displayed in the wake of assaults & insults that women have been exposed to! All that has summed up into the imbroglio of harassment & break-outs that we see all over the globe!

So this Women’s day, women - while we manicure our “oh-so-sensitive” finger nails let us also understand that we belong in the truest sense! We are as rooted and as entitled to our space on this planet as the “other sex”..and let us also appreciate that we are as responsible for our destiny and what we make of it..

And to all the men who are trying hard to wish and offer flowers for this Woman’s day…please instead take a moment to reflect why we need a ‘special” day to appreciate the very woman who has given birth to you..who shares the burdens of your life from the break of dawn and the unjust need for her to “ask” for equality when it always was hers to keep, to enjoy and to preserve!