Pinku-Enchanted Life

Sri Lanka - Aarini's first trip abroad

2012-01-23T17:11:00.003+05:30

I had planned to write a long post on this much awaited trip. The plan had been to relive the whole thing once again through the blog.

Work.

Baby.

Dog.

Home.

Laziness.

All however conspired to make a whole month pass before I could even get on to the blog.

So finally I am here to write about Aarini’s first trip abroad.

We landed in at Bandaranaike International Airport at about 4 pm. As promised by makemytrip a brand new Nissan Bluebird and an effervescent Pious Silva were waiting for us at the exit gate.

We were happy to be on holiday.

A forty km ride into main Colombo through markets thronging with Christmas shoppers took a good part of two hours. We were however too busy marveling at the sites, checking the similarities between our island neighbours and us to mind the trip too much.

The first night of our trip was spend at The Grand Oriental Hotel which was set up in the 1800’s by royal decree and has since then been ceaselessly entertaining guests. It also happened to be our anniversary – so cutting a cake was in order.

Early next morning we were off to the ancient city of Anuradhapura.

A visit to the temple of the Sacred Bo tree. Checking out awe inspiring Buddhist architecture. Mind you all that you see in the pictures have been around since before Christ.

And then retiring to the Galway Forest Lodge for the evening. The lodge is build right next to a huge lake and is a perfect laidback place to laze in.

We however had other plans so the next day sees us zooming towards Sri Lanka’s third capital Kandy. Situated in the hills, Kandy reminds on of the British settled hill stations of India – its almost a mix of Shimla and Nainital. Good shopping, droolworthy bakeries and a very pleasant climate makes Kandy my favorite amongst the cities I visited. The lake in the center of the city and next to the Temple of the Tooth Relic makes it a picturesque city. Kandy also boasts Sri Lanka’s biggest university. Signage claiming easy Indian visas abound – making us feel quite proud. J

We stayed at Hotel Topaz which was build on top of a hill.

The next day morning dad and daughter decided they would have a splash session in the swimming pool no matter what Momma said. And off they went.

Aarini checked out the water a bit tentatively first but then was very happy to plunge in with Dad.

Breakfast and then another short ride to the hill station of Nuwara Eliya – the highest point in the island country. Nuwara Eliya was a bit of a dampener as it rained ceaselessly there – making the climate damp and cold. We were happy to be inside our well appointed hotel room, lazing around and watching the rain. This hotel was a part of the Galway forest chain though we felt the one in Anuradhapura was much better in terms of facilities.

We did take a short trip around the town though – I was very eager to see a Church and did go to one. Sadly it was closed.

The next day we began our descent to the sea beach of Mirissa.

Travelling through villages, jungles, towns and finally we arrived at the beach resort.

The Indian Ocean was spread infront and the hotel right at its edge. This was bliss.

Aarini also quickly learnt to swim in the kiddie pool which became the highlight of Parry’s fortieth birthday.

Two days at Mirissa and then it was time for us to head back to Colombo for our homeward flight.

Aarini fact file:

Though we carried her formula milk and some cerelac, apart from her regular milk diet she tried and ate almost everything we did there.

She likes fruits and was happy to have decent quantities of the same. Sri Lanka being a tropical country had an abundance of fruits – mangoes, bananas, pineapples, peach, coconut, rambootans kept her happily fed.

She also discovered that she can hold and eat a French fry on her own which delighted her no end.

Aarini had no trouble sitting inside a moving vehicle for long stretches.

Miracle Maker Milestones

2011-11-11T16:30:00.001+05:30

Dear Miracle maker,

You are almost nine months old now. That’s as many months outside of me as inside. Makes me feel a little queer but immensely proud too.
From being a lil Rajma (the first time the doc showed you to me in an ultrasound that’s what you looked like, a small rajma bean inside a big empty bag) you have now grown to be almost two feet tall. From being unable to turn on your side you can now climb up tables, chairs, infact even things that are not meant to be climbed, like fabrics.
When Dadda and I first got to know about your quite entry into our life, the times were turbulent and they continue to be so…but your smile which changes from innocent to wicked to naughty to ‘know it all’ keeps us on our tracks. You are as much a Miracle maker now as you were when inside me. Before you were born we didn’t know what gender you would be, you see the laws of our lands forbid it cause some Goddess worshippers can’t tolerate it when girls are born into their families. I am hoping that by the time you are old enough to read and understand this, the law would not be needed any more. So coming back to what I was telling you, since we didn’t know if you would be a boy or a girl we kept looking and debating on names for both.
However we didn’t fix on any one name for a girl, till the time we got into the car to drive to the hospital. That’s when we decided that if it’s a girl we will call her Aarini meaning an adventurer.
So it happened that on 24th feb you were born and our Aarini arrived.
Since we named you Aarini we had to ensure that you travelled a lot and were a fearless adventurer. Hence the first step was to organize a passport for you. Your Dadda did all the paperwork and in less than two months time we had your passport in hand.
The next step then was to plan some trips. The first trip had to be to visit your J didi. And we took you to Bangalore the moment you turned six months old. You behaved admirably through the trip and the flight apart from a nasty five minutes during landing, when as a first time mom I had no clue about what to do while you screamed in agony as your ears got blocked.
Your first meeting with J didi was so beautiful and both of you took to each other so instantly that it brought tears to our eyes. We had anticipated and dreaded this moment for so long.
The full five hours J didi was allowed to stay with us she kept holding on to you. Even helped me clean and feed you and I felt so very blessed. Your Dadda’s beaming face was telling its own story.

The next part of our plans was to ensure that you have a visa stamp on your passport in the same year as of your birth. Of course the long term plan is to ensure that we can do it every year. You can call it a selfish plan too since both Dadda and I love travelling ;)
So we debated and checked locations and of course budgets for where we could go. Eventually we decided on Sri Lanka – it seemed to promise everything, sea, mountains, heritage, history, shopping and relaxation at the same time. It also happens to be on my list of must see places. We have got our tickets and are scheduled to accompany you on your first international trip in December. I am hoping this trip is the first of many, many such trips and that you can truly do justice to your name by travelling a lot both within the country and outside.
Signing off with loads of love and kisses,
Mamma

The Blog & Me

2011-10-27T14:29:00.003+05:30

This blog happened when life felt like it was falling apart, or atleast the known predictable parts of it. Moving out of a marriage, trying to correct my professional and personal life at the same time, rediscovering my strengths and correcting my weaknesses – they were turbulent times.

Till then I had been a ‘good girl’ by opting to get out of a marriage I had overnight turned into a monster. It didn’t matter that I had tried my best without a murmur of protest for close to three years. It didn’t matter that my then husband drank like a fish and nothing in the world would get him to stop and reconsider his drinking habits – neither pleadings nor threats.

I was the black girl who had brought ill name to the family by being the first ever to ask for a divorce. Its completely fine to keep having fights, walking out and then reconciling under pressure from family and friends again and again. But DIVORCE was not acceptable.

The letter I wrote to my uncle in an attempt to make him understand my situation was mailed back to my husband and he dangled it infront of my face to show me how little my family cared for me or my feelings.

Through all this my blog was my only release point. It was here that I came to vent my frustration and anger. Inorder to keep my sanity I had moved out of home to a PG and used to travel frequently on weekends to get some peace of mind….and honestly also to get away from this city where I used to feel accusing eyes on me all the time. The blog was my confidante whom I came back to and told my stories to, some real, some imagined.

Those travels helped kickstart a dormant imagination. And I started writing fiction, even had the pleasure to see a short story published in a magazine. Then I escaped to Bombay with a new job. A new city, unknown, non-judging people, the open sea close at hand. Anonymity. I loved it.

Meanwhile I had forged new friendships through the blog. People whose faces were unknown to me and yet I had seen glimpses of their soul through their blogs.

Life seemed livable. Even seemed to have possibilities.

I returned to Delhi only once the divorce came through. And the terror of the filthy phone calls had reduced.

Got married again, albeit hesitatingly. Set up home yet again and for a while life was the way it should be for any couple. We enjoyed each other’s company, went to art galleries, film screenings, events and cultural festivals. Travelled often. Escaped to the neighbouring hills whenever we had a bit of time and money.

Cooked and ate together, often from the same plate.

Then things started to change again. Duties, responsibilities and work started to take their toll. Now we no longer sit and sip coffee while planning or daydreaming our next trip out of town. We don’t make elaborate lists of must do’s and must haves.

We just divide the chores list and see who can do what. We don’t yet say it out loud but we probably also think that the other could have done a tad more and expected a tad less of us.
And life goes on rather trudges along.

And I am back on my blog trying to make sense of it all, trying to let some steam out in the hopes of being able to handle it all for a bit longer, a bit more.

Durga Pujo 2011

2011-10-12T18:22:00.004+05:30

Little girls are worshipped as Goddesses in Northern India, indeed in most parts of the country. Though one gets to see it most in the North (perhaps as compensation for the lousy sex ratio that their money ensures).

Whatever it be, the fact remains that this year we had our little girl, Aarini accompanying us on our pandal visits. And it was a nice experience.

What remained missing for the second year running is a glimpse of Janvi during pujas. Trust she had a good time there in Bangalore. I am hoping I can meet her again soon and the sisters can continue to love and greet each other with the same spontaneity as the first time all their life.

A few glimpses of the pujos we visited:

This pandal took the theme of the Ajanta Ellora caves and did up the whole place with eco-friendly material. Remarkable.

Dad, Daughter and Durga

Our neighbourhood pujo

Mom and Antara (our house guest as Parry likes to introduce her)

Though you can barely see whats happening on stage. I still thought its a worth putting up picture.

The play being staged is a Nazrul play whose characters are all Muslim.

A dear blogger friend Sumanto was part of the cast.

I wonder how many other communities could boast of such a feat at a event which is essentially religious in nature.

I am afraid

2011-08-01T14:40:00.001+05:30

I was out with two junior colleagues at work to eat golgappas and generally have fun.
Heard a child bawling, wondered who it was and then while getting back to the car. Saw a middle aged woman carrying a child of 5-6 years. The child was crying er heart out.

I stepped infront of them and tried to talk to her, hoping the interruption would stop her from crying further.

The woman explained that the child was her grand daughter whose mother (the woman's daughter) had died and therefore the woman was looking after the child. She seemed to be of limited means and said that she couldnt afford to buy the toy the child was asking for and had instead got her a balloon, some biscuits and toffee as compensation.

I was in half a mind to ask her where the toy shop was, so that I could buy the toy for the child before realizing that I would set a bad precedent.

Instead I kept talking to the child and got her to forget her toy for a while atleast.
She got friendly enough to smile for the camera also.

It was on the way back that suddenly the image of the woman and child got interchanged with that of my Mom and Aarini and I grew afraid.

The thought of a motherless child stayed with me all the way home. And for the first time in my life I prayed to God that I may live long enough to see my daughter grown up and strong.

A bengali sunday

2011-07-26T10:18:00.003+05:30

The perks of being a senior is being able to Boss around and get people to do the things you want them to.
For the past month I have had three starry eye interns working in the team. Good kids with some smart ideas. It has meant a lot of lively chatter in office, squeals at lunch time and not to mention the entire male workforce looking smart, talking smart and working smart all in an effort to impress the youngsters.
Two of the kids finished their internship and were getting back to college and since all of them have been curious about Aarini and Buttercup I thought it would be nice to have them all over at my place.
The bunch arrived diligently on Sunday afternoon bearing very pretty gifts for me and Aarini. And I like the true Boss told them that they have to eat a pure Bengali lunch and no one can pass over anything. Everything on the plate has to be finished only then the next course would be served. (Told you there are perks of being the Boss)
The bunch consisted of:
Suman - from Gorakhpur, studying Art in Coimbatore.- did her internship with us last year has been in touch ever since.
Sanket – a tam brahm who loves fish, pursuing English honours in DU
Priyanka – a Delhi bong, who speaks accented Bangla and dances to rabindra sangeet also pursuing English honours in DU
Smitha – a bong from Guwahati, got her degree from Rabindra Bharati
Astha – actually from Jaipur, leader of the brigade. Working with me for the past one year. Is mostly sensible.
Now to tell you about the lunch that we served to this bunch:
1. Ucche kumro bhaaja – with the bunch making various kind of faces.
2. Mussor dal, gondho lebu with macher deemer bora – which was lapped up by all especially Sanket, who couldn’t resist picking up the last pakora.
3. Pui saag with macher matha – they had heard about the bongs fascination with all that is fishy. Now they witnessed it. To give credit to the kids they did finish it too, no mean feat.
4. Chingri maacher malai curry – Priyanka yelped at the mention of prawns and the grins all around showed we had hit the right gastronomic nerve
5. Chicken curry – made the bong way, no fancy stuff – just chicken and jhol
6. A green salad – to go with all of the above
7. Amrar teeler tok - a tangy syrupy chatni to wrap it all up with.

The kids said the loved the adventure into Bongland. I have told them that I will believe them only if they come back again for more. Otherwise its mere politeness.
Had a good time, Aarini was delighted with all the attention and Mom felt good feeding so many young people.
Over all a nice Sunday afternoon – thanks folks. Hope we can do this again soon.

Life after Baby!

2011-05-30T14:34:00.004+05:30

Life they said would change a lot after I became a mom. They said priorities would change. So I thought I should chronicle the change and sat down to write this post.

And came upon a surprising revelation – my life hasn’t changed at all. Apart from being happier I don’t find any change in me (we will carefully not mention the extra inches around the waist here, life after all is much more than body shape, isn’t it? ISN’T IT? ).

Now what therefore needs to be investigated is : "How come my life hasn't changed at all?"

The reasons I found were primarily these:

Aarini – she is a happy child (touchwood), doesn’t behave in a cranky fashion, sleeps through the night, cries lustily when hungry but stops the moment food (actually drink) is provided, chatters nonstop while awake – like dad she is a good story teller. And is a sweetheart in a crowd – whether a party scenario or mall – stays playful and curious but never cries. Love you baby.

Mom – that’s my Mom. She is staying with us. She takes care of Aarini, keeps having these intense gossip sessions with her which keep both nani and grandchild absolutely engrossed. Having Mom means I don’t feel guilty about leaving Aarini home whether for work or party cause I know she is being look aftered in the best possible way. (This ensures I don’t turn cranky). Thank God for Moms. (I mean of the Mom variety, my kind wouldn’t be much help I suppose).

Parry – he is good around Aarini, can change diapers and baby sit pretty effectively (the previous experience helps of course). He also doesn’t say I can’t do certain things because I have a baby to take care of. Basically lets me be me (which includes my going away for a four day trip in ten days time) which goes a long way in keeping me happy ;)

Lalita : the maid. She is very effective around Aarini. Runs if she ever hears a whimper. Has a lot of negatives but her handling of Aarini is superb. She has gone back home now but my list would have been incomplete without her. She was a lot of help especially around the time Aarini was born and soon after.

So there – you have the secret of my happiness now go make yours.

The Saga of Birth & Rebirth

2011-03-02T17:55:00.005+05:30

All of us have heard the story of the Phoenix at some time or the other. Some of us would have also heard about the Thorn Bird as well. Both stories run parallel about a small bird willingly sacrificing life, either through fire or the piercing of the heart with a thorn kills itself, to be reborn again.

All this to me was a myth till seven days ago. A pretty story to be smiled at and a foolish bird to be pitied for its need for a largely unnecessary even if heroic sacrifice and pain endurance.

This was seven days ago and then all of it came true for me. My Miracle Maker or in other words the baby I was carrying in my womb was due around the end of February. And on the 23^rd during a scheduled visit to the doctor I was advised to get admitted to the hospital the same day. The doc felt it would be judicious to not wait anymore for a natural birth and go in for an induced labour.

I got admitted the that very night, was strapped to a Nuchal Stress Test machine which could on one hand monitor the baby’s heart beat and on the other the contractions my body was having in an attempt to bring the baby out into the world.

To help the process various injections and gels were used so that the baby could have a safe and smooth passage. This however was not to be, so after enduring the contractions which kept getting worse as the hours progressed, for about fourteen hours , I was finally taken into the OT for a Caesarian section. And this is when the stories of the Phoenix and the Thorn Bird became true as I signed the document agreeing to the procedure.

After some basic preparations I got wheeled into the OT. And before I could take in the atmosphere or orient myself, I was told to sit up for a ‘small injection’ in the back. What they didn’t mention was that the injection would be given in the gap between the spinal bones and was extremely painful. That done and with a tingling sensation taking over my body I was made to lie down with an oxygen mask. And soon after I heard the wailing of a child only to realize a second later that this was my own child.

She was briefly shown to me and then the nurse followed by two doctors took her out of the OT, while I lay there being stitched up.

The doctors having delivered safely became chatty and were soon discussing their next meeting of the local gynae chapter and the sort of participation to be expected, over my cut belly. Very much like you or me might discuss the latest from work over a cut cake.

All this I could hear though I felt nothing apart from a few tugs now and then. Twenty odd minutes later it was my turn to be wheeled out and I was put in a room with another set of monitoring machines that kept a check on my heart beat, pressure etc.

It was then that I saw that my BP had plunged to about 123/38 and slowly felt my lower body to discover that my stomach onwards everything was so bloated up that it felt like a taut balloon. As I puzzled over this phenomenon first my mom and then husband walked in. Their faces showing the relief at having seen the child and me both safe and sound.

An hour or so later, I was again wheeled out this time to a room in the in-patient section of the hospital. The moment I reached there I was surrounded by friends and the air was thick with warm wishes and happy smiles. Buoyed by the anaesthesia in the blood and the relief of it being over, I chatted away with them, being my usual witty self. And as my husband later commented, distributing the largesse of my ‘gyan’ freely and widely.

Later that evening, after checking with me, my little baby was brought to me, and I was told I could keep her with me as she was doing well. They wanted to know if I would want the child to be given a top-up feed and I declined as I had been told time and time again that mother’s milk is best for baby. And then when I tried to move my body to accommodate Aarini did I realize the pain and discomfiture that the operation had given. I could barely move. And yet feed I must.

The pain progressively grew worse and as the anesthesia wore off, I became increasingly aware of the mountain of pain that I needed to climb before I could hit the valley of recovery.

The nurse offered a sleep inducing injection, at least for a few hours; I would be oblivious to the pain. But I refused. What if my daughter wanted to be fed during those very hours? Today, sitting on the comp , on the seventh day, at home, with Aarini blissfully sleeping in front of me, I pen down this experience . Not because it’s unique, there are thousands across the world, who go through this every minute even as I write, but because I want to chronicle what it was like to get her into this world. And perhaps, keep a record for her to read some day. I am still unable to talk in more than a whisper as a louder voice causes pain. So does laughing, sneezing and coughing. Walking from the bedroom to the attached washroom is still an ordeal. And turning sides while lying down is a difficult art, I am relearning it gradually.

But much like the phoenix and the thorn bird, I have a song on my lips as I go through all this. Cause the Miracle maker is finally here.

The Wait is over and the Miracle is here

2011-02-27T20:41:00.003+05:30

and here is what the co-creator has to say about it!

The Wait

2011-02-16T12:21:00.002+05:30

Tying up loose ends, signing off from work, hobbies, habits
I am feverishly preparing for your arrival

Aching all night, sitting up counting my joints and days left alternatively
I am wondering what holding you for the first time will be like

I review my life, the way it has been till now
Mad, wild, unthinking, defiant
Instinctively now I move towards planning, being responsible

My body, the repository of so much pride and pleasure
is changing in ways I have never known it to
Not fitting into my favourite clothes, bring a smile
How strange is that?

I wonder at the wonder of it all
I wish to record every tiny movement
Every sign of your presence in my life, inside me

It all feels so novel, till I look around me
and see the teeming millions
realizing how common all this must be
how often felt and seen

Yet for me Miracle maker you don't cease to amaze
and I await thee!

Wishes for the New Year - 2011

2010-12-31T14:11:00.004+05:30

then and now

2010-12-24T17:14:00.003+05:30

Touching heart strings then
you only touch raw nerves now
I think I do the same

Glancing behind us I see
a dense but beautiful jungle
looking ahead all I see is rocky wilderness

Am unable to go on, but go on I must
not for myself, not even for you
but for that third someone

Someone, I thought would be the symbol
of our shared love and passion
but I fear will only bear the burden of our bitterness and battles

Battles that I cannot fight and you must
cause I am the only person you can hit out at
only person who is close enough to hear the curses, the bitterness,
feel you moving away while I grope

in the darkness for another ounce of strength, fortitude, patience. Love.

A Happy Afternoon @ DPS NOIDA

2010-12-21T12:37:00.007+05:30

One of my most awaited afternoons of the year came last Sunday. The annual alumni meet of DPS NOIDA which is held on the third Sunday of every December. This was the third consecutive year that I visited the school for this get together and am happy to report that I came back as thrilled as ever. :)

I have studied in a convent school most of my life and consequently grew up with a robust disregard for public schools. DPS with its snob kids whose wild stories we had all heard, topped the list. I suspect now that most of the stories were about DPS Mathura Road and RK Puram however in our minds eye all DPSs and public schools got painted with the same brush.So when three years ago I went to this very same Alumni meet with the partner I had not quite known what to expect. I had of course heard stories of his classmates, the friends, crushes and teachers and a small bit of me was curious to see what those people were like in real life.

To my surprise I had found the whole afternoon a lovely one and though I didn't know anyone there I didn't feel out of place or unwanted at all. The winter sun, the lovely flowers, the green lawns and some sumptuous food what better way to spend a winter afternoon? So since then I started looking forward to this annual event.

This year too was no different. We arrived at the school gates a little after twelve and the partner registered himself. As always we did a quick check to see if any of his batchmates were present but were disappointed. Not for long though, the environment is infectious that you get buoyed by the general bonhomie.

While I settled down at a strategically placed table (close to the food and a good view of the lawns) the partner went around looking for known faces and i saw him busily weaving in and out of the crowd.

The huge cake was brought out and the Principal (a new one this year) gave a short welcome speech and then like every year the senior most batch present was asked to come forward to do the honors.

The partner ran up (as always) and then he was joined by a few others who were a couple of years junior, including a lady who had passed out in 1992 and now her son studied in the same school.

This year seemed to be one when even fewer of those known to the partner had turned up and till now he had been able to spot only one familiar face. Could sense his disappointment while I happily gorged on the hot and crisp alu tikkis.

We gazed on the students returned to their alma mater after perhaps years, pointing out the similarities and changes in the school with a hint of nostalgia and also pride. Hugging some teachers, bowing down to touch the feet of others. Whoops of joy on spotting a classmate. Long forgotten pet names coming effortlessly to the lips.

I was not a part of it and yet strangely I felt a part. And I felt so very blessed to be able to share this moment with my partner. It connects us to a time when we didn't know each other.

And just then we spot two ladies hurrying towards us with the biggest grins possible. Varsha and Reena the partners classmates. They spotted his name at the registration desk and were hurrying forward to find him. I couldn't help remarking that his three years tapasya bore fruit, finally ;)

That minute changed the afternoon as everyone tried to introduce everyone else and the classmates couldn't help grinning away. Stories were swapped so were phone numbers and locations.

Lunch turned into catching up time and then a tour of the school grounds that gave the kids a chance at the swings.

Four happy hours flew past and then it was time to say goodbye as my sore legs refused to hold me up any more. But I came away happy, content and with a Christmas invitation to boot. :)

What could be better?

My Latest Kick

2010-11-26T12:16:00.002+05:30

Life right now is all about kicks. Kicks from management for meeting targets, kicks from family for being totally lazy, mental kicks to myself for forgetting yet another important chore or not feeling up to it and most importantly internal kicks which tell me that someone is alive and kicking and just waiting to make a grand entry the moment its time.

These kicks apart from making me sit up suddenly also ensure that from time to time I am reminded of the change that is me. You don’t understand do you? Well let me try and explain then.

You see I have been variously described as being wild, lazy, dynamic, potential trouble maker, potential peace maker, good friend, spendthrift and more.

What I didn’t know I was going to become is a compulsive moaner, groaner, superstitious, suspicious, crying at the drop of a hat, wallowing in self pity sort of person. I can now manage to scare myself with or about anything and everything.

Yesterday a television ad for Johnsons baby wipes had me in a terror grip. And the fact that two of the wall clocks were not functioning properly brought tears. I woke up thrice at night going over my irrational thoughts and had to really stop myself with quite a few mental kicks from waking up the rest of the household so that they could handhold me over this latest crisis.

This is coming from a person who thought nothing about going on solo holidays to the Himalayas or roaming around the city all night in an attempt to practice her recently picked up driving skills or visiting the red light area just to know ‘what it looked like’.

So there friends you know now how exactly I am feeling – to put it mildly I am on a mad roller coaster ride whose remote control is in the hands of a toddler and I have no way of knowing at which moment the train is going to jump the rails.

There aint that the mother of all kicks ;)

A new member in the family

2010-10-28T18:05:00.002+05:30

Buttercup is the latest addition to our family.

She will be all of one month old tomorrow i.e 29th October 2010.

Delhi Braving the CWG 2010

2010-10-04T16:51:00.002+05:30

Hi,
Facebook, TV, newspapers to radio everyone seems to be talking about CWG. Here is my little effort to mark the event...pictures from across Delhi during the games...

Thank You God!!

2010-09-16T14:54:00.001+05:30

How easy is it to let go?

2010-09-01T15:58:00.000+05:30

I have wanted you so much
I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want you
Of course I was smart, I didn’t let anyone know
It wouldn’t do to carry your heart on your sleeve
Would it?

But, I have wanted you
There is no mistaking it
Have day dreamed about your fingers laced in mine
Of wild rides through hills and vales
With you by my side

Now they tell me
I have to let you go
Let you go even before I really see you
Even before we have looked into each
other’s eyes and seen our souls joined

how easy is it you tell me?
Why am I always faced with these decisions?
Where and when did God decide that I should be
an example of stoic acceptance?
Why cant I rant and rave? And refuse to let go?
Why must I be logical and practical?
I don’t want any of it,
I just want you.
Is it so very much to ask?

Happy Rakshabandhan

2010-08-24T11:43:00.001+05:30

I was a little more than three when mom was expecting my sibling. On the train to Durgapur where my masi stayed and where we were headed for the delivery, people kept telling me that soon you will have a little brother to play with. The thought disgusted me so much that I warned Mom I might throw the new baby out of the train if she gave me a baby brother. I had wanted a baby sister desperately and brothers were not my idea of fun or playmates.
Mom kept her promise and Payel was born on 29th august 1980. A small little baby all pink and very small. I claimed ownership from the first day onwards, she was MY sister and no one had more rights to her than me. Mom says I used to wake up with a start at night even if the baby were to wail once.
Back in Faridabad, every small gift I got, a few toffees from a classmates birthday in school or a little something that friends or relatives gave I would first offer to Pukai as we called her. We never had any sibling rivalry or atleast I didn’t. Once she grew up she thought didi was smarter at certain things and very dumb at others and made it a point to pull me up on all those aspects in which I didn’t meet her exacting standards. She after all was a virgo, a perfectionist, while my taurean strain made me a bull headed rebel at times.
I had asked God for a playmate, so when I attained adulthood at eighteen God decided I had played enough and took Payel away. I returned from a short holiday to Kolkata to find her cold dead body awaiting my arrival.
I had been numb on the way to the mortuary to claim her body. It was only in the hearse when I touched her and saw the rough way she had been cut up and then like a sack sewn together with twine, that I felt any anger and the anger had been towards the doctors, didn’t they know my sister was very soft? Her skin bruised too easily? Even a firm handshake could leave a mark? How could they do this to her? And she was naked, how dare they see my sister naked?
I performed the last rites, touched fire to her lips and bade her farewell forever.
I am left with all her things, paintings, clothes, memories, photographs but no sister.
I and mom tried to understand what happened and slowly it dawned that for my painfully shy sister, getting a second division in class tenth was worse than death. She had always been told by my grandma that none of her grandchildren ever scored less than a first division. Payel was dismayed to have broken that record even if it be exactly by four marks. I was on a holiday to Kolkata and was supposed to bring Grandma back with me. Payel didn’t know how to face her, so she took her life.
My sister who had confided in me her smallest thought and desire didn’t feel it important to let me know how she felt about it. So now she stays with dad in heaven while I and mom wait out our time on earth hoping to join them someday and be a happy family again.

Happy rakshabandhan to all those who are lucky enough to have a sibling. I failed to protect my sister please do ensure you don’t.
Please do take out the time to reconnect, to keep your ego aside and talk. To give a hug and smile a genuine smile together.

Miracle Maker

2010-08-23T15:55:00.001+05:30

Frowning hard, swearing under our breath
trying to tackle the latest problem that
threatens to rock our little boat,
we suddenly remember you,
and we smile.

Quarreling with each other,
our hearts as gloomy as the sky outside
wishing for a bit of peace,
we think of you,
and we smile.

Our dreams turn rosier, our thoughts pure
We tread lightly, with an invisible spring in our steps,
We know without being told that your finger
has touched us somewhere

Lust has turned into love,
passionate lip locks been replaced by
chaste kisses on the forehead in the foyer
of a cinema, all thanks to you

We are waiting for you, eagerly, hopefully,
to come and change our life forever
we of the frayed nerves, of the cynical mind
for a moment we shed all our negativity
and Miracle Maker with a smile
we await you

A lazy Sunday lunch

2010-07-05T17:56:00.003+05:30

It was a lazy Sunday. It was a really lazy Sunday. So lazy infact that we couldn’t get ourselves to don some proper clothes and go out to the market to pick up some onions.

However lazy or not a Sunday lunch minus non-veg was not a possibility, so I thought maybe I could do something about the chicken in the freezer which would not involve onion and therefore not necessitate going out.
Started out with de-freezing the chicken (by now you must be wondering what kind of a household has chicken but no onion. But well that’s the way we are.) While the chicken thawed I looked around at my spices wondering which ones could come up with an acceptable concoction. I wanted to eat it with parathas so it had to taste desi, couldn’t try any continental or oriental options.
I settled for a recipe I had heard for mutton when its cooked for Ma Kali. The format demands that no onion or garlic be used since its part of the ‘bhog’ for Ma.
Marinated the chicken with curd, cumin powder, salt, ginger powder and a lil haldi for about 45 minutes.
Heated up mustard oil in a non stick pan, added whole garam masala, a couple of dry red chillies and a pinch of hing let it sputter for a few a seconds and then added the chicken alongwith marinate to the pan.
Covered it and let it cook for about five minutes,then lowered flame and added three tablespoon of tomato puree, a bit of saunf powder a bit more salt and a lil water . Covered it again and let it simmer for another ten minutes. Switched the gas off, added a sprinkling of ground garam masala and a lil kewra water.
Turned out yummy and went very well with the parathas.

The picture is not mine, forgot to click one. :)

Global Music

2010-06-29T16:42:00.004+05:30

The Voices of Bahai performed at the Lotus Temple auditorium on the 25th of June 2010.

We had escaped respective work dreading calls from work calling us back to our desks at about 6:30pm. The program was to begin around 7pm. We walked into the lounge area to see the doors to the auditorium still closed.

Lotus temple is known to be an Indian place so delays of about ten fifteen minutes are taken as a regular feature. However this friday the minutes ticked on with the doors still shut firmly.

By this time the entire lounge area was filled with people, mostly the old and retired who had difficulty standing but were reluctant to leave.

The volunteers finally after half an hour brought out chairs along with the information that the program was delayed due to technical issues and would start in another fifteen odd minutes.

We waited while wondering what a large contingent of North east students were doing there. The usual audience to these programs always tend to be atleast three times their age.

I moved away to take a call and returned to see a bevy of these beauties sitting around the partner and an animated discussion on (well what esle can be expected) . So we got to know that it was a team from a Nagaland College visiting Delhi for a performance at the Teen Murti Bhavan the next day.

Finally the doors opened and also the mystery of the delay. Seems that stairs that had been created on stage were unstable and therefore needed to be attended to.

After a mercifully short welcome speech the program started with Tom Price introducing the team which apart from 120 singers from 25 countries also had Rachael Price and Ava.

Thereafter bliss descended. I am not learned enough to be able to explain all the different kinds of music we heard. However I can say one thing, the music didnt leave a single person untouched with its beauty and simplicity. The words were not important the harmony and the energy of the singers filled the auditorium.

From compositions by Pandit Ravi Shankar to Gospel music from America to Arabic to European it truly was global fusion.

an ounce of strength

2010-06-25T13:09:00.003+05:30

Life is still in turmoil and the near future will also be the same way. Police stations, society leaders, political clout holders, we keep visiting them by turns hoping to find a solution and more importantly find out why this girl is doing what she is doing.

She comes from a lower middle class family, her father needed help from all and sundry to get her married off, in a scenario where we had no demands. I really doubt his ability to support her for the rest of her life.

She had not wanted for any material comfort in the two months she was in our house, from a house with two bedrooms for eight occupants, she had come to one which has four bedrooms for a total population of four. She had no responsibility nor chore expected of her. Yet she went ahead and ruined our life and hers too. I am still searching for the reason.

On monday back from another visit to the Police station, drained of hope or strength I had opened an old book to find a handwritten note in it. I read it and found yet another ounce of strength and courage to carry on. Sharing these old lines with you all. You have helped in some of my darkest hours. Thanks for being around guys.

If
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or, being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with triumph and disaster And treat those two imposters just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to broken, And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breath a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch; If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run - Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

Man? I dont know a true human being, surely.

Looking For Happiness

2010-05-29T17:29:00.004+05:30

I have been meaning to write for a long time, a film here, a feeling there have all begged to be jotted down. However life has been extremely busy since the beginning of the year and the way it looks, it promises to be so till the end of the year and beyond.

January was when I was on the weekdays frantically trying to achieve the numbers at work and shopping for my adopted brother’s wedding on weekends. Early February was when the marriage took place and I assumed life would now become easier with a young girl in the family to look after mom and brother so that I could concentrate on work and my own home.

Me and mom and tried our best to make it a wedding complete in all respects. Both of us for various reasons had not gone on a honeymoon when we got married. We ensured the new couple did. We tried to give them the space and time that most new couples complain about not having.

And yet we could not ensure that they be a happy twosome. Frequent quarrels and unnatural demands erupted, bringing things to such an ugly pass that we need to take legal help to safeguard ourselves. Mom’s blood sugar levels have shot up to near 450, she at this age has been threatened with Police lock-up and abused in the most vilest of language.

One girl came into our lives and shattered everything. Why and how did she get so much power?

My brother is begging that he is ready to be in jail but he cant live with this woman. We are trying our best to bring about a quick resolution.

All my dreams of shared holidays and having parties where the whole family would join in have been shattered. An uneasy calm resides in the house which only a few months back was filled with camaraderie and easy banter.

Mom’s neighbours have been sweethearts, lending their support at any time of day or night that we need. Accompanying us to the police and other authorities. Ensuring mom takes her meal and medicine properly.

On the other side Babun has not been keeping well; Doctors say he has multiple clots in his brain. He has suddenly aged beyond recognition. Tantrums and sudden wild ideas abound. He refuses to listen to any rational thought. We realize that we may not have him with us for too long and that's a very painful thought. I wonder what would Ma do...fifty plus years of togetherness.

Our happy home doesn’t feel as happy anymore. Every phone call or sms scares us as we rush to pick the phone. Trying to take an afternoon nap seems like an ordeal as I fruitlessly try to hush my racing mind and lull it to sleep.

I really wish Baba was around; I am tiring of this burden of responsibilities.

A Film Dissection On Facebook

2010-04-13T13:39:00.002+05:30

Below is a conversation I just had with a person I would call more a role model than a friend...we were discussing a bengali film we both had happened to see.

The film is a national award winner with an 'intellectual' star cast one would normally think before pointing fingers at but this was a private chat between people who don't mind calling a spade a spade and it made for an interesting read, so I thought I will share with you.

I have added a link to the film at the end for those who may get curious enough to want to know more. :)

A

do u watch rituparno ghosh films - then u may not like antaheen

its based on saumya vishwanathans story

but just too many stories happening

1:22pmPriyanka

i do watch those films....infact i have seen antaheen...just wanted to know what u felt about it

A

or maybe i am not used to watching adhunik bong films

1:23pmPriyanka

same here......we normally catch a lot of world cinema where this story within story format is carried on fairly well.....but in this case I found it a lil loose....somehow

A

i thought there were too many tracks, could have had less stories, sharmila story was worthless, aparna and ranjan were ok

but too stretched

then there were songs

1:24pmPriyanka

the songs were terrible.....

Ambika

true

i was forwarding them

1:24pmPriyanka

we had caught anuranan i guess from the same director and had loved it...so this disappointed doubly

A

for eg when u watch titli then u know wht relationships are

but not this one

when he is not

rahul bose at times looked very fake

1:25pmPriyanka

and i didnt like the over synchronized sets either....

A

he is so real in mr and mrs, even the shaadi ke side effects bit, and park avenye

i hvnt watched anuranan

who is in the film

u have a CD or downloaded

1:26pmPriyanka

so very true.....underused completely i mean rahul...

A

n rahul is so rocking

1:26pmPriyanka

i had borrowed a Cd from friends

A

and then aparna sen with her old camera and taking pics of the pishi

1:27pmPriyanka

it had raima sen, rahul bose and a few others ....loved it....try and catch that one if u can...

A

was so boring

yes

will

have u wathced titli

1:28pmPriyanka

and i didnt like aparna a grandmom acting as if she is barely in her forties or something...I mean mentally i couldnt place her in that role...sharmila looked more real than her....which given her 'nakami' is almost unbelievable

1:29pA

the guy who played her husband was more like it

the age and the pipe etc

1:29pmPriyanka

i think i have caught titli.....

A

but aparna had a horrible hair do

1:29pmPriyanka

though cant recollect the story immediately

yes ranjan was cute....

;)

A

aparna is konkonas mother and they bump into a film star (mithun) whose car goes kaput in the hills

1:30pmPriyanka

I loved aparnas neck pieces tho they couldnt hide the sagging skin underneath

A

i loved them too

and theblack and white sari

1:30pmPriyanka

no then i havent...i think we had borrowed the CD but couldnt watch it...so the name seemed familiar

oh yes that was very pretty

A

the sequence where he goes to rescue the young boy was horrid

including his first case

where on earth do they use live TV when police is closing a case

was hilarious

1:32pmPriyanka

i am almost tempted to copy this discussion onto my blog...we have completely taken the film to pieces...

A

true

infact i was wondering if the director reads this then he will be sad

very sad indeed

1:32pmPriyanka

true about that sequence...it was so bollywood like

very unlike rahul to do something like this

A

and to top it all a non bong is commenting on the pseudo-intellectual film

and the house they had was so beautiful

looked like an old bong house

1:35pmPriyanka

which one?? ranjon's?

A

rahul

1:35pmPriyanka

who is a non bong?? u ?? u are more bong than me atleast...

A

ranjos was stinking of artdinox

so was it in KCK

1:36pmPriyanka

yes that was pretty and more natural than the one the girl lived in that was over arranged

A

i am non bong

garv se bolo hum non bong hain

1:36pmPriyanka

hahaha....yeah i screamed artdinox when i saw the mugs and tea set

A

brb

gotta eat

1:36pmPriyanka

same here...

The film on wikipedia

Battle with the Mother

2010-03-23T12:53:00.004+05:30

The partner has spent some time in Arab land and I am a sucker for anything that promises subtle flavors and a lot of meat ;)

We had some chick peas soaked and that gave us the idea that perhaps rather than having a Punjabi chole yet again we could try making a sort of Lebanese dinner with labneh, hummus and some bread and meat.

A simple meal we thought and yet that’s when the adventure began.

We thought we could get some marinated malai tikka and grill it at home. Past experience had taught us that of all the ready made stuff available in the neighborhood shops, malai tikka or afghani chicken were the only ones which went well with the subtle tastes of hummus and labneh.

A visit to the nearest meat shop brought a nasty surprise. The predominantly vegetarian neighborhood was fasting for the Mother Goddess and therefore the meat shop was closed. Whether in fear of the wrath of the goddess or her worshippers being anybody’s guess.

We moved off a little further in search of the elusive meat. Now normally we are not such carnivores that we can’t live on greens at all. However once the thought of chicken permeates the senses it’s very difficult to go back to kaddu and lauki for company.

We thought a sure shot place for finding chicken would be the famous Chawla’s chicken about 3 kms from our place. Those who have lived in the north of the country would know about the institution called Chawlas. They started from Ludhiana and have now spread across the northern plains taking with them the taste of Punjabi chicken (very distinct from the mughal inspired recipes) and their trademark cream chicken.

The Chawla too had succumbed to the Mother. Not to mention all the other wannabes who had opened shop around it in an attempt to take away some of the excess numbers that were always found crowding the chawlas shop front.

By now hunger and disappointment were taking their toll on us and we decided to turn homewards. A few meters down the road a small shop caught our eye – kallu Meat shop, could he? Would he? We debated.

Then got down to check having decided that we wouldn’t let disappointment affect us too much.

And eureka the guy actually had a few chicken seekhs and some chicken shammis left…which we pounced on promptly. Having seen the drought we were ready to take anything the delicate matter of taste and what went best having long been forgotten.

We couldn’t resist asking how he had dared to keep his shop open when all others were closed. He sheepishly mentioned he was Muslim so religion didn’t dictate and he opened the shop partially only in the late evenings for carnivores like us who needed to eat meat overlooking the mother’s wrath.

We told him that serving mankind was the biggest religion and he was a faithful second to none.

We triumphantly returned home.....made the hummus, brought out the labneh, shallow fried the shammis and got some hot naans from the neighborhood dhaba (you guessed it - they serve only veg food) and had a bowl full of olives and salad for company.

Then we ate dinner grinning from ear to ear :)

Jai Ma!!!

(Pictures courtesy Google)

The Tales of Two Tales

2010-03-16T14:39:00.004+05:30

Reading has always been a passion. Something that both my parents supported wholeheartedly, so while as a child my friends were happy to gloat over their latest Barbies or video games I was happy in the world of books, some bought, others borrowed.

Reading for pleasure continued through high school and college, greatly aided I must admit by Arts and later English as my subject of choice.

This passion however took quite a beating post setting up my own home and climbing up of the corporate ladder. Having always lived in a meticulously clean home, the choice was between dusting and reading and I must admit for the past couple of years dusting had taken precedence.

It has finally now changed thanks to a friend setting up a site bookmeabook which allows you to borrow books and have them home delivered at your convenience. The link to her site brought back many happy memories and also the means to getting my hands on books that I would love to read and just didn’t seem to find the time to go out and buy.

The first two books arrived and I was glad to get the delivery right at home without having to raise a finger. What added to the delight was the fact that the books were those published by Divya Dubey another classmate from college. She has after years spent publishing for others just started her own publishing house under the banner of gyaana books.

One of the books was also authored by her - Turtle Dove: A set of six short stories talking about our complicated times. When you know the author of a piece you tend to keep looking for glimpses of him or her in what you read. I hunted for Divya in her stories but couldn’t find her except perhaps in the use of some very difficult shall I say at times archaic words which is a malaise almost all English honours students suffer from. (Notice I say malaise when disease would have sufficed).
The story of Arnab stayed with me long after I had closed the book. The primary reason I think was the fact that it was written simply from the heart with lesser ornamentation.
Would I recommend the book to all? Not perhaps to a very light reader for the language at times turns very difficult and takes away from the story but to someone who has read classics or does heavy reading the stories would appeal.

The other book a novel: Of wooing, woes & wanderings by another first time writer Amitabha Chatterjee was a surprise. Having almost always associated Bengali writers with very intellectual stuff (excuse the snobbery) Amitabha’s very easy tale told completely from the perspective of a middle class male made me uncomfortable.

Till I realized the honesty in his words, he has written the novel with no pretensions to present the other side of the story. First books are almost always veiled attempts at autobiographies though while writing people do feel the need to justify the others (the non-author’s character) and give us some insight into their reasons.

Amitabha was telling his own tale and he stuck to it. Nowhere does one get a glimpse of what’s running in the mind of all the other characters whether his girlfriend, wife or various bosses, colleagues and adversaries.

Again coming to the difficult part of recommending: I would say no harm in taking it up as a light read while travelling or on a lazy afternoon.

Bringing You up to Speed...

2010-02-23T17:19:00.001+05:30

I thought of writing about so many things but the days seem to be just slipping past without giving me anytime to reflect.

I just get swept along with things sane and insane.

February 4th was the big fat Indian wedding of my adopted brother and a girl we shall call Bha. So the whole of January or rather all the weekends of Jan were spent in preparing for this grand event.

Since he is adopted and that too not in the proper formal manner (he came to us when he was 18, decided to call my mom, mom and just stayed on) there were not too many relatives willing to help with the responsibilities. It was left to mom, me and parry to organize everything.

Mom’s neighbours however behaved like complete sweethearts, coming in at all sorts of odd hours to help us with the various rituals.

With a few hiccups here and there everything went well. Office was painful though and I was alternating between my laptop and preparations for the wedding through all three days that a bong wedding lasts.

5th evening saw me and another young lady going in a decorated car to fetch the new groom and bride home. We laughed our heads off when we realized what a spectacle two dressed up women in a decked car would look like to unsuspecting passer-bys.

6th evening was the reception at our place. I was happy to see the turn out, especially friends who had driven all the way from east Delhi to wish the new couple.

7th morning found me quite dead from the exertions of the past few days. It being a Sunday was the saving grace as one full day of rest allowed me to face work on the 8th.

Only to be told by the client that the work we had been doing through the wedding days need to be revisited and revised. CLIENTS I TELL YOU!!!

Shivratri and Valentine’s got rolled into one weekend. And we visited mom’s again to check out how the new bride was faring. Also to check out on the gifts, one silly ritual at my home is that no gifts are opened till I am around. Love my bro for religiously following it even though the gifts were rightfully his and his wife’s. Must appreciate Bha too for piling me up with half the gifts which we had a difficult time refusing without making her cry.

In the evening mom, me and Bha each got a Valentine’s gift…..I loved the thoughtful gesture by the men in our lives.

Thereafter we got the innocent, God fearing, superstitious new bride to have two shots of Vodka with orange juice to celebrate Valentine’s Day. Next morning when we told her what she had the night before she looked accusingly at all of us and kept pronouncing the unmentionable as podka.

We grinned all the way to office.

A week of getting back to work and it was then time for Mampi to pay us a visit. She was to be in town for some research related work and stayed with us for a few days.

Parry and Mampi tried to scare each other very hard and in the process also found out that they are kumbh ke mele mein khoye hue siblings. In the same evening Mampi managed to drop her coke not once but twice. I have only seen Parry equal such a feat.

We all missed the ghumanto Sumanto who had decided to go to Hyderabad just then. Had he been there a nice kebab party would have been on the cards for sure.

Mampi being the sweetheart she is managed with the rukha-sukha we could feed her and I think she was pretty appalled by our lifestyle and schedules and escaped back to her sane, structured life in Ludhiana asap.

So there you have had a glimpse at my life of the past two months. I am hoping to be more regular on my blog and yours too now on. Wish me luck.

The Dilemma

2010-01-08T16:35:00.004+05:30

In the caverns of my mind thoughts resonate

all trying to be heard

all trying to be supreme

A hopeful word here, a spiteful one there,

a warm smile, a foolish indulgence

all jostling for space

Which do I throw away?

Which do I give credence as mine?

Born of me they all are, yet not mine

I fumble, I weep

I tear at my hair in despair

Which thought should I choose

to lead me into darkness or sunshine?

They have the power of destruction

and creation too

Like Kali and Parvati, both are mighty

Which Goddess do I worship?

I know you will tell me both are the same

Sides of the same coin

But me a mere mortal with numbered days

growing shorter each moment

has neither the depth nor

inclination to choose between the two

I think I shall just pull up the cover

you call a shroud and let all the thoughts

be at rest forever

(picture coursey wikimedia)

The countdown is on...

2009-12-29T13:16:00.004+05:30

Two more days and it will be a new year again...

I was wondering what new year wishes I would like to make when it struck me that perhaps first I need to see how many of the wishes for 2009 actually came true.

This is what I had posted last year as my wish list:

And of these the biggest picture was of two people holding hands - I have been blessed with companionship and love and though we have occasionally fought, in our hearts we always knew that we are going to make up and be there for each other in any case.

Chocolates: :) am happy to report that almost through the whole of the year my fridge has always been well stocked in this regard. There may not have been much else though at times.

Perfume: have had some, will greedily say can always do with more

Bag: I still havent found the one I can lose my heart to without losing my bank balance...so the search is on.

Books: Did pick some this year.....though the list is nowhere close to the end. But that's a pleasure not pain.

Jerusalem: Didn't manage this year....but the plan to travel there in 2010 are strong. With the blessings of friends I am sure we will make it.

The lace curtains: on the way they changed into green and white ones, am happy at the metamorphosis

THE LBD: yet to happen......but then cant blame anyone for that since am hardly little myself...need to lose a lot of weight before anything of that sort can be fitted into

Arum Lily : :( they didn't bloom..........though I had really prayed they would.

Coffee: had loads.......a warm cuppa made just right for me in the morning.....what else can one ask?

Leh : is still calling.....will do it soon. In the meantime did manage Andamans this year...so not complaining at all.

Not a bad tally what do you say??

Am working on the Wishlist for 2010......wait a while to check it out.....

And yeah as this year comes to an end dont forget to count your achievements and blessings too in the year going by.

Make the old guy feel good you know....honestly he wasnt such a bad chap after all :)

Andamans - The emerald islands

2009-11-21T14:00:00.010+05:30

My grandma, Thakuma as we used to call her loved to travel. From her small distant village in Assam she managed to travel across the country, post the death of her husband. I am talking about someone who were she alive today would have been about a hundred years old.

Her great regret in life was that she couldn’t manage to see the Andamans. Travel to the distant islands was not so easy in those days and by the time things got better her children wouldn’t allow her to travel alone.

So when I saw the islands for the first time I silently dedicated that moment to Thakuma.

Deep blue seas running on for miles on end and then you suddenly spot the startling green in the midst. As the plane approaches the islands, one is startled by the contrast in the colours and the fact that the green seems to shoot straight out of the sea, so dense are the jungles.

That is the first view of the cluster of about 572 islands which make up the distant Union territory we had read of in school books as Andaman and Nicobar Islands. 1200 kms from the mainland it takes a while to adjust to the thought of this distant land as a part of India too.

The plane flies over almost the whole of the Andamans before finally landing at Port Blair. The outside temperature comes as a surprise at 33 degrees its way too hot but then what can be expected from a place which is about 10 degrees separated from the equator?

We had booked ourselves into a package trip so botheration like hotels, travel, transport, tickets and what-to-do-next were taken care of by others. We were left to only ooh - aah about the beauty and tranquility of the place. And of course joke about a few co-travelers who were too demanding or lazy bums who couldn’t ever join the group in time.

I was determined to have a good time so decided to ignore these things.

We were taken across to various islands by ferry and ship. This was the first time I experienced what being out in the open sea felt like. Saw flying fish leap away from the wake of our ship, saw the waters turn different shades before regaining their tranquility which was lost momentarily by our passage.

An experienced sea-man warned against watching the waters for too long since they have been known to do strange things to people. People for apparently no reason have jumped in probably mesmerized by the beauty and wanting to be a part of it.

A chance encounter with a woman almost my age who runs a food joint called German Bakery at Havelock Island and serves the most tempting wood oven pizzas brought to life the hardships of the first settlers. As she, a second generation islander, told stories of how the first 40 families that were brought in to inhabit the island, had toiled to form a semblance of life from back home in the mainland in the wilderness of the islands. The forest had been cleared to make space for farming and settlements.

Back to Port Blair and then on to the coral island the next day, I experienced snorkeling though was really worried I wouldn’t be able to see a thing with my near blind eyes. But I did manage to see quite a bit thanks to the magnifying ability of the snorkeling masks. Awesome corals of every hue and colour we can think of, only so much more beautiful and untouched than anything we see on land. Various shapes from the human brain to mushrooms, flowers and what not. The small pieces I had collected on the beaches paled in comparison to the real thing.

Once when water entered my mask and I looked up to clear it I realized that we were actually out in the open sea at least a km away from the beach, panic set in, for both of us are non-swimmers, the snorkeling master's gentle tug brought my attention back to the undersea world and I forget my fear in the wonders under water.

Beautiful fishes the kind I had only seen on Geographic and Discovery were playing around, whole schools of them moving at times in solemn procession at times playful like children out in recess.

Wish I had the words to describe the many sights.

I am back at home now, having turned a very dark brown thanks to the sun and sea water. If you saw me you could easily mistake me for an African but am not complaining.

The sights I saw, the beauty I lived in for five days will forever stay with me though the tanning would fade.

P.S: You may wonder why there is no mention of Cellular Jail here. Thats because its a memorial to a very tortured past and it greatly disturbed me.
We were not able to take in the Jarawa Tribal reserve - anyone else planning a trip to Andamans do try to take that in too. Its about 120 kms from main Port Blair by road (a four hour drive) and worth a visit.

2nd or 3rd?

2009-11-12T09:53:00.003+05:30

Someone at work asked is this my second honeymoon or third?

Would have loved to answer that my life is a honeymoon, in my typical witty way.

But I paused before answering; life for the past few months has been anything but a honeymoon. Multiple responsibilities, lack of purpose and direction, unsure of where I will be the next day and unsure of even what I want to do with my life.

We have been telling each other that we need a break nay deserve one but where is the time and lets not forget the money for that?

We have been to the nearby mountains umpteenth times since those visits are light both on time and money but we wanted to do something a little different from those trips, we wanted to really be able to relax and yeah also perhaps rediscover each other. Discuss our needs, wants, desires and hopes too.

Destinations like the North-east, Leh, Colombo, Malaysia were thought of and then discarded, they promised too much activity. Our criteria was peace, quiet and a chance to soak in some natural beauty.

Finally we decided on the location: Andamans.

Distant: its 1200 kms from the mainland.
Exotic: the tribes that inhabit Andaman and Nicobar are some of the most protected.
Beautiful: The beauty of the place has had many admirers.
Peaceful: Not many people think of visiting Andamans. They would rather go to more exciting foreign locales.

So off we are for a five day trip!

The pictures here are all from the internet...hopefully will be able to share some self-clicked ones once am back...

Ciao till then!!

Us

2009-11-02T10:50:00.000+05:30

Aeons ago we met
and held hands
ages passed between
one glimpse and another

it took upheavals
to bring us together

Lores got written,
weapons clashed
worlds were plunged into chaos
in an attempt to keep us apart

through raging thunder
and whirlpools
we made it to the shore
only to lose ourselves
in the sands of time

Dear Friends,

2009-10-16T15:19:00.004+05:30

Sweets, crackers and lights

All such lovely delights

Its that time of the year again

When the earth resembles heaven

The nip in the air and the fragrance of kadamb

Be jolly my friend for DIWALI is here!!!

HAPPY DIWALI TO ONE AND ALL!!!

A lil cherished moment

2009-10-12T14:11:00.003+05:30

I was a small kid when this happened.

I remember catching it on a B&w tv set and Rakesh's reply made me have goosebumps all over. It still does.

Its just a small reminder that India is wow after all.

Inspite of the naxals, the road rage, the under-construction forever sites, the fraud and the corruption. We have it in ourselves to excel if only if we find the will to.

MY HAPPY 32nd BUDDAY!!

2009-10-01T14:00:00.002+05:30

(This was in the drafts section and I just discovered it. It brought such happy memories that I just had to share!!!)

I had a very happy and contented birthday this year. (It was in April...but lets not bicker about small things like dates shall we?)

Before you leap to conclusions let me tell you that there was no expensive gift or huge party. It was just a very family affair which felt warm, loving and very, very comforting.

Let me take you through a few of the good things {that can be spoken about ;) }

A room full of red balloons – Moms attempt at making me feel ‘not so old really’.

A cake baked to perfection with my favorite ingredients coffee and chocolate chips!!!

Loads of new clothes and two new pair of shoes yippppppppppppeeeeeeeeesssssss!!!

And a laptop stand with dancing lights and three small fans...never knew something like this existed till I got this gift.

Had lunch with two of the cutest people I know...they do make me lose my cool at times but nothing beats their genuine goodness.

Also caught Dev D in the theater close to home. Now those who know us will know how big an achievement catching a hindi movie is, in my household ;)

Slept through the evening completly exhausted knowing that someone who cares is around to take care of the ringing doorbell and mobiles.

Best of all I got loads of wishes from friends near and far. And last but not the least got to know that a very dear friend is expecting.... am so glad for the lucky couple...God bless all 4 of them (I am hoping she will have twins).

I had a lovely day...thank you everyone.

This one is for Mixed Brew and all those who may have visited to find nothing new here

2009-10-01T14:00:00.000+05:30

Hi!!

thanks for visiting. Am touched that you remember my blog when I have almost forgotten it. No actually that's not true I do remember it, miss it even but life has been such a mad rush this past month that I just haven't had the time to update the blog.

What with appraisal time at work, a huge workload, whitewash at home and the office shifting to a new location you can understand how very difficult it can be. And then during this time Durga Puja also happened.

Now as you all know or would have guessed I am bong (bengali) therefore Durga Puja is when we are allowed nay expected to go mad with house cleaning, shopping, pandal hopping, relation visiting etc etc.

So apart from the chores from para 2 I also had to do the ones in para 3. :)

I am hoping to be able to share the pics from some of the Pujo's I visited real soon. But as explained time is at a premium at the moment so please be satisfied with this short post at the moment.

Hoping to see you guys around...

Oh, don't forget October 15th is Blog Action day so do your bit for mother earth by signing up for the same.

I did too inspite of my schedule!

Shubho Bijaya!!!

Eight and a half

2009-08-17T17:56:00.005+05:30

Eight and a Half people set off from Delhi for Amritsar to see the Golden Temple and the much hyped Wagah border over a weekend.

Now that sure doesn’t sound like a big deal until you realise that most of these people have never met before and the only common link they have apart from their mother tongue ‘Bangla’ is a gutsy woman living far away in Ludhiana who happens to be a common friend called Mampi.

Let me like a good Jane Austen novel start with giving some details of all these people.

Sumanto – the one we also at times call Ghumanto cause his love for procrastination is equalled by none (this is by his own admission). Old ex-colleague of Mampi when she lived and reigned…sorry worked in Delhi.

Sulagna – Sumanto’s better half – she has a job profile that keeps her involved at all hours of the day and even when she is on holiday. But then I suspect she makes an awesome amount of moolah which sort of makes up for it. ;)

Jhinuk – their 8 year old daughter, with an amazing IQ and questions that make you wonder if she is the child or are you. (BTW she is the half in the 8 and a half)

Mashima – Sumanto’s mother, white haired and well turned out. Could have been competition for Gayatri Devi if they moved about in the same circle. (Btw Mashima isn't her name thats what we bongs call older women, basically means Mom's sis)

Pinku – well that’s me, what can I say about myself….apart from that I was the designated co-ordinator of this trip. And of course the fact that this blog was what got me in touch with Mampi about a year ago.

Parry – my partner in crime in all things at times willing, at times not so much…but he doesn’t abandon which going by the wild plans and actions I am capable of is saying a lot

Mom – my mom, on the wrong side of fifty, filled with naughty ideas and officially only 48 (she refuses to budge till she becomes a grand mom)

Masi – my lost in her own world, filled with thoughts which seem so out of Romantic poetry (now this is not the romantic of love but the Romantic all English lit students learn about) masi (mother's sister). This is her first trip outside of NCR in twenty years.

Bhaskar – my adopted brother, who came to us when he was all of eighteen years old. Me and Mom are still trying to decide did we adopt him or did he adopt us?

So the 8.5 meet up at the New Delhi Station at 6:30 in the morning and proceed to board the Swarn Shatabdi after a bout of introductions.
Settled in the train, we find out the following:
The Swarn Shatabdi has nothing golden about it. Rather it’s in pretty bad shape.
The ceiling leaks.
The loos are dirty.
The staff brusque and not at all helpful
They actually have the capability to run out of vegetarian food trays and ask those who asked for those to make do with non-vegetarian ones instead

The six hour long journey ensures that shyness barriers are broken and the 8.5 merrily chat away, exchanging seats frequently inorder to do so.
Embarking at Amritsar the 8.5 find two cars and a head constable waiting to take them to their hotel courtesy Mahesh (the best part of Mampi).

Lunch and a silly experience where Pinku finds her purse torn in two (one end with her, the other hanging from the handle of a passing motocycle) later the group finally gets darshan of the ManMahesh brigade. The Brigade has driven down all the way from Ludhiana to meet the 8.5 and it consists of:

Mampi: am sure I don’t need to describe her

Mahesh: he is a sweetheart and has the most unpolice like eyes and heart you can ever imagine.

Rasan: young lady, daughter to Mampi and developing into a heart-stealer very fast.

Jai: nah nah…not of the Jai-Veeru fame. He is the son of Mahesh and has the smartest one liners in Punjabi you will ever come across. And he is just so angelic I wonder what the girls in his class have to say about him ( BTW he is the half in this brigade)

Auntyji: Mampi’s mom, the Dhindsa you will find commenting on her blog frequently and sometimes on mine too. I had requested for her to come along too and she had graciously accepted.

So after a cake cutting by Mahesh (it was his birthday you see) we as in the 8.5 joined by the 4.5 move off to see the Har Mandir Sahib (Golden Temple in other words).

We find it standing quietly in a pool, its gold covered domes proudly exhibiting the fight against odds it has stood for over centuries. The immaculate cleanliness of the entire premises is something to be seen to be believed. Thousands visiting it every day yet not a speck of dust to be seen anywhere.

Sitting by the pool as it grows dark, the lights come up and so do the many fishes in the tank - its a sight in itself.

We meet Mahesh’s parents at the complex; they are in town for some work and are staying very close to the Temple. They are an amazing couple. The lady is a great organiser and is reputed to turn around projects with her meticulous planning and amazing management skills. At the moment she is associated with Nanhi Chhaon earlier she was the Principal of a girl’s college in Ludhiana. The gentleman is I believe the strong silent support on which she leans to take forward her dreams.

We eat a simple meal at the langar and then move on to where Mahesh’s parents are putting up to share a few moments of togetherness. It’s an amazing collection of people and the easy way in which they all mingled was a sight to see.

Late night, bone tired we retire to our hotel rooms with the promise of more sightseeing the next day.

A quick visit to the Durgiana Mandir which is a replica of the Har Mandir Sahib (I don’t understand the whole business of replicating, why can't a new design be made?) later we head towards the Jalianwala Bagh. The place gave me goose bumps, could almost hear the marching boots of the soldiers in that narrow corridor.

The question that came to my mind more than anything else is how could the soldiers fire on their fellow brethren without there being any provocation at all? No less than terrorists those guys.

SHOPPING!!!!!!!!!!!!! came next. The men on hearing that dreaded word promptly abandoned the women and went off to the hotel room. While we women bought suits, papads, spicy wadis etc etc.
Exhausted finally we arrived back at the hotel. Lunch and a little catnap later we were ready for the trip to Wagah Border.
We were on the road sharp at four along with multitudes of other cars headed towards the border to see the special ceremony being put up for the Independence Day as also the flag lowering ceremony.

It rained and rained and we all got drenched and with thousands of our countrymen shouted Jai Hind and Zindabad till we were quite hoarse. The high point of the trip to me was the instant applause and cheerful waves I got from the Pakistani side when I waved at them.

The trip back was mostly in silence thanks to the small matter of us women getting separated from the men folks and some tense moments endured therefore.
The next morning we were up at 3 am to board our train back to Delhi.

(Incase you are wondering what’s familiar about eight and a half, there is a classic film by the maestro Fellini by the same name.)

WanderLust

2009-08-13T18:13:00.004+05:30

Hey Guys!!

A long weekend beckons...feels wonderful doesnt it?

I am off to see these sites:

Do share what you do too, will look forward to hearing from you guys :)

Mayawati of UP

2009-08-06T20:11:00.004+05:30

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeekkkkkkkkkkkks!!!!

Thats all they inspire.

eeks for the taste

eeks for the waste

eeks for the state!

Hope you do notice the caricature of the National emblem using her election sign the elephant. Isn't this supposed to be punishable by law? If wearing a flag dress is then this should be, me thinks.

The Saga of the Annual Bath

2009-07-19T23:37:00.010+05:30

Goldie is all of 14 years old. he is beginning to check out girls. even older ones. He probably doesn't know why he does it but he does it anyways. He is studying (that is he is being made to study) in class 8th. Whenever he can he plays truant from school but this has no bearing on his dreams. Dreams in which he sees himself as a very successful guy with an awesome bike and a big car. He wants to be someone important, how exactly he will do it, he is still figuring out.

At the moment the big fight is to be able to get his peers to acknowledge him as worthy of their respect.

This respect means a lot to Goldie. For that he has taken upon himself a very arduous task. Along with some neighbors he has set upon a journey to go collect water from the Holy Ganges in Haridwar and bring it back to his neighborhood Shiva temple. Where the water would be used to do a jalavishek of the Lingam.

Now this doesn’t sound very difficult till you realize that he lives in Delhi and the return journey of about 250 kilometers would be done barefoot carrying a contraption made of bamboo from which hang two small gharas of Holy water. He is not supposed to allow this thing to touch the ground at any time during the entire journey. And the weather would be hot and humid with temperature touching the forties.

When I first saw Goldie he was frantically trying to hitch a ride on the Nizamuddin bridge (links the eastern fringes of Delhi to the main city). He had been walking for the past six days. His companions were not with him. He didn’t have any money on him. His feet were swollen with blisters all over.
I was driving at a reasonably high speed so by the time I braked and came to a halt I was at some distance from him. He didn’t notice me stop and I looked back to see him trying in vain to flag down various vehicles. He was limping badly. Finally he noticed me, walked up hesitantly and asked if I would give him a lift. I told him to hop in and since I was only going a short distance suggested he take a bus home from there.

He looked upset that’s when I realized he didn’t have any money on him. He had boils all over his face initially I hesitated to ask about them but my curiosity got the better of me and finally did. Goldie said they were caused by the heat.

I gave him enough money for the tickets and put him on a bus home.

I felt very upset and helpless. I am sharing this with you along with some questions that cropped up in my mind:

1. What kind of parents let a 14 year old go off on such a journey?
2. What kind of neighbours let the child out of sight on such a stretch of road?
3. Where and when did this whole business of Kavars start? I don’t seem to remember such hordes of them from childhood
4. Who are the people who feed them and make shivirs (camps) all across the city for these people? What’s their motive?
5. Which God is silly enough to be happy taking a bath with water from a distant land once a year and excuse all your excesses?

I Fake It. Do you?

2009-07-15T11:17:00.002+05:30

A very hectic day at work. Crap from a client you have serviced diligently for a year. Going nowhere discussions with new clients. Late nights at work and a screwed family life. A mom whose hobby is to keep falling down and hurt herself.

Where do you find happiness and a little peace?

I for one fake it.

Does that startle you? Let me explain.

When times are bad and I have already done what is possible and its time to leave things to higher ups (whether boss or God) I simply choose to pull my mind away from the sadness of it all and act as if everything is fine. Behave as if I am doing well and am so excited to be alive, when the reality is that – life sucks.

So I speak in a jovial manner. I plan outings with friends. I get on to facebook or orkut and drop messages for various people. I surf the internet and try to find out interesting tidbits about things that interest me. I also plan dates, drag people to watch feel-good movies or have dinner at a nice place, all in an attempt to look happy

…..so you see I fake it all.

Initially this takes a lot of effort – to raise oneself from the depths of misery to flights of fantasy is difficult. But when I see the environment change influenced by my smile or chatter or excitement it becomes easier to carry on faking.

Colleagues, family, and friends everyone finds it easier to relate to a cheerful face than a grumpy one. They too momentarily forget their own private problems and join in this farce. And if I am able to carry it on for a reasonably long period I am actually able to figure out solutions to the hitherto impasse situations that had caused my unhappiness in the first place.

What do the psychiatrists call this phenomena I have no idea. Do they even call it something, I am not sure. But the fact remains that my happy mind is better able to cope with stress and difficult situations than my grumpy, down in the dumps mind.

But it would be unfair if I took the credit for all this alone. Those around me who get pulled into the farce and go along play a large part in ensuring its success. They also need to be seekers of happiness like me and be willing to go that extra bit looking for it.

However if they are the kinds who are close to clinically being termed pessimist they ensure that their attitude rubs of on me too. They refuse to look at the bright side of anything. They feel that the light at the end of the tunnel should be switched off (after all its reccesion time and we should conserve energy) and we should all trudge on through life cursing all around us.

Thats when they make me feel like dying cause – life sucks.

Approval...Does it matter?

2009-06-01T15:34:00.004+05:30

I have always been strong headed and very sure of what, who and where I want to be in life. There have been many negatives to this “I know best” attitude however the one positive has been that I have also maintained that since my decisions and actions in most cases have been my own, I very rarely blame anyone else for the outcome.

I firmly believe that whatever fate doles out to me are things I am responsible for and blaming someone else are signs of a weak character.

From my choice of education to career to friends (and boyfriends) to husbands and work I have always gone with my own sometimes thoughtout decisions and mostly whims and fancies.

Answering many a raised eyebrows with an “it’s my life” and “I don’t care” statements I have been meandering through life. However truth be told the secret dream of my choices being seen in the right light by my family and friends and their approval given has always been there.

Why did I stay in a marriage which from the first day seemed futile? Simply because I didn’t want a disappointed family especially mom. I flogged the dead horse and tried to make it move till I ached all over and I realized that all my attempts were useless since IT WAS DEAD.

So coming back to the point of social approval it does play an important part though I would like to think otherwise. There have been periods when the “I don’t care” feeling has lasted for months only to be replaced by a secret “I do care”. At other times the replacement has been faster almost as soon as the deed was done.

How do you feel about this? I have a feeling we all oscillate between these two feelings. I perhaps tend to cling on to the ‘don’t care’ side more but I do go to the other side too. And that movement is almost out of my power.

Now why am I saying all this here today?

For two reasons one: a decision I took almost a year and a half ago and which at the time seemed a huge risk has turned out to be not such a bad idea after all for me personally and secondly people whose opinion matters have finally given a nod of approval to that decision.

Feels good, believe me.

For that historic meeting I took along a cake made by a dear friend and while I didn’t say so at the time but while cutting it I felt it was a celebration no less and the cake cutting just the right bit of ceremony to indulge in :)

My recipes

2009-05-21T12:50:00.004+05:30

Calming nerves
Take a long deep breathe, a short walk and visualizing a happy scene from the past completely unrelated to the present crisis in great detail.

Fighting stress
Check out the situation rationally, understand what is there that I can do to better it, do it, send up a quick prayer and then trust in God to deliver me from the problem.

Feeling loved

Re-reading old mails from friends and lovers.

Relaxation
A nice book, munchies, a tall chilled drink, mountains in the horizon and a nice tummy to rest my head on.

Feeling low
A quick bout of shopping for stuff,
could be as mundane as daily groceries just remember to pick up one or two feel good things (chocolates work for me).

Ending a going nowhere argument with the partner
A tight body-enveloping hug and a long kiss

These are my recipes...what about yours?

My Holy Books

2009-04-21T14:49:00.006+05:30

What are holy books?
The simple answer would be books on religion and God which are revered by many and which it’s believed hold the word and direction of God.
People are ready to die for the books they believe as holy. From the Koran to Bible to the Torah and the Bhagvad Gita there have been instances where people have laid down their life to rescue these books from fire, flood or attackers.

I was born to Hindu parents so logically all the books held as holy by the Hindus should be the ones that be holy to me. From the Gita to the Ramayan to the Mahabharta and of course the Veds and Upanishads all were to be revered.

I studied in a convent for twelve years of my life which of course were also the most impressionable therefore the Bible was expected to be the Book I would respect.

Frequenting the Gurdwaras in the neighbourhood made bowing down infront of the Guru Granth Sahib a practice.

Similarly friends who treated me to lovely biryani and sewaiyian at their homes helped me understand the importance of the Koran and how though the Jews, Christians and Muslims keep fighting all over the world they share the same theological genes.

But none of these have been able to become My Holy Book. Not that I don’t respect them, I do. But somewhere they seem too ancient for me to feel that deep connect within.

To me, my Holy Books are those which have changed or influenced my life and given me a completely new perspective.

The first of these is a book called Exodus by Leon Uris – this was the first grown-ups novel I read when I was around ten or eleven. It initially shattered me for I had not heard of Hitler till then other than in passing and the atrocities that the book spoke about were too much for a young mind.
However as I went through the book my first heroes were born with Ari Ben Cannan leading them. I was so completely influenced by this book that I assumed that I was actually a Jewess who by accident had been interchanged at birth with my mother’s real child.
I knew all the numbers related to the second world war by heart, how many died at which camp to how many soldiers landed on the shores of Normandy and turned the tide of the war. All this because of Exodus. I can tell you I was the favourite student of my history teacher Sister Joyce.
Now that I have grown up the book still teaches me the lesson that hard work and determination can do wonders and it urges me to make that one last attempt, yet again.

Another book which altered my mindset is The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. The deep message the book sought to convey through the parable of the simple story of a shepherd got etched in my mind. Following my dreams and creating my own destiny are my religion thanks to Coelho whose subsequent books continue to influence me greatly.

While I was going through separation and a very nasty divorce I read a book called Jean Christophe by Romain Rolland, apart from a story well told the last page of the novel which I read in the light of a rising sun helped me traverse the sad times stoically.

Atlas Shrugged apart from all its socially relevant messages taught me that being a girl cant be the reason to bow down to sad politicking of men who unable to compete or excel would fall back on maligning as the only weapon. Ayn Rand is an inspiration in the true sense of the word.

There now I have told you about my Holy books. Which ones are yours?

The Fighters

2009-04-20T17:06:00.001+05:30

Hi,

The fight for saving the Ridley Turtles continues here.

Manic Monday Turns Sweet

2009-04-13T09:57:00.003+05:30

Monday blues are at their worst today. What else is to be expected after a three day weekend??
I came to office almost moaning....oh how could I let the weekend end???

The first mail in my in-box however uplifted my mood...so I thought let me be magnanimous and share it with all of you as well :)

Check out this link on Kishi and you will know what I mean.
Sweet monday to all of you out there!!!!!

Will they....wont they....ever wake up that is

2009-04-08T13:41:00.001+05:30

Hi!

This is a quick post to bring to your notice the lovely way we as a democracy function.

Please check the link below and let me know in whose ears should we say Jaago ree???

http://pinknblu.blogspot.com/2009/04/jaagore-form-6-being-tossed-for-six.html

Who is afraid of the Taliban?

2009-03-31T13:20:00.002+05:30

The Taliban is just twelve kilometers away from Indian borders the headlines screamed yesterday on a news channel. Again and again they showed google earth pictures of how close Lahore is to the Wagah border.

The voice rising, the music soaring in the mad race to gather TRPs. The anchor seemed to be speaking almost from a war zone where a bomb might detonate any moment such was his tone and manner. All he was trying to say was that Pakistan has admitted that the siege of Police School close to Lahore was done by Taliban and that a second strike in Pakistan (earlier in the month we heard about the Sri Lankan team being attacked) so soon meant that the Taliban had gained tremendous strength in Pakistan and could strike in India too.

What made me wonder was his panic striken voice as if this is an unthinkable thought. What’s there to panic about I ask you if the Taliban were to strike?

Is their terror different from what we keep suffering every other day? Can their bullets harm more than the ones shot by our own terrorists?

In India we don’t just have extremist Islamic terror we also have extremist Hindu terror. Whether it is their involvement in blasts (Malegaon) or enforced modesty on women (Mangalore) the Hindus are not behind the Muslim at all in being able to unleash horrors.

Pakistan has only one kind of terror to fight with …..we have Muslim & Hindu extremists. We also had Sikh till some time back. Right now we also happen to have the Maoists, the Salva Judum and the various separatist outfits in the north east. We have the Kashmiri fighters who though they no longer know what it is they fight for continue to do so since it’s one of the easiest career choices in the valley and while it lasts, pays well too.

We also have Varun Gandhi who can fight without an opponent. By the way he reminds me of that ad line for cycles “Rebel without a cause” when I was a kid it really appealed to me, now I merely find it foolish.

So tell me then why does the news that Taliban maybe 12 kilometers away from us need such theatrics….we have enough terror of our own. Infact I couldn’t help contemplating if the great warriors of the Hindu faith would like to go and station themselves at the country’s borders to protect it from Taliban attacks. After all the memory of them avenging the Ram temple by demolishing the Babri Masjid is still strong. Surely they will not want the Taliban to come in and do something which will outshine their achievement.

But then I remembered that the great Maratha Raj Thakerey had been completely missing in action while the action at the Gateway of India lasted. He had resurfaced only when it was all over and those non-marathis from UP, Bihar and the rest of the country had gone and saved the lives of Mumbaikars.

It does bring to mind another question....allow me to digress...its not okay for Hindu women to frequent pubs but is it okay for hindu sadhvis to be publicly embraced by men? I seem to remember such a picture in the aftermath of the Babri Masjid demolition and the person embracing was none other than the new loh purush of Indian politics.

So there you must admit we have nothing to be afraid of the Pakistani Taliban. We have enough of our own.

My Blessings

2009-03-12T17:09:00.000+05:30

I have been in a ranting mode so I thought let me count my blessings. It’s a self help exercise so kindly bear with me.

I always find some people who gladly share their time and company with me wherever I am
I have a loving partner who is not stuck up with ideas of what girls should do or don’t.
I have the naughtiest mom in the world
My doggie Crazy has the most soulful eyes in the world
My masi thinks I am a heroine so does my brother though he tries to keep it carefully hidden
My home is the center of my universe and I love returning to it
I have a job and am good at what I do
I have a blog correction two and some people actually find them worth following.
I have dreams that I want to fulfill and someone with me who shares them
I can find these ten points to write about….there would be so many who wont be able to.

Thank you God.

Trying to let go...

2009-03-06T10:58:00.003+05:30

Life has been tough for the past month or so.

Multiple problems at different fronts have left me groping for that extra ounce of strength and patience to carry on. At times the urge to cry uncontrollably is too much and only the thought of losing my sanity if I let circumstances get the better of me, stops me from doing it.

I have not been in the mood to write though each event could have been fodder enough for more than one post. Yet somehow the will to write was missing. Also the fact that the events involved many others who may not appreciate being discussed on my blog held me back.

I am back and using this small post as a bulwark against the emotions that still threaten to take over and am planning to come back next week with another post on things less dreary that can be shared in this forum.

I do note that in the time I have been away the numbers who ostensibly followed this blog have gone down, I do understand that in today’s world of instant gratification they would have expected instant follower-ship from me and since I was away they lost patience and left.

I don’t mean to crib about them, just wanted to thank the friends who have been around.
Thanks guys it means a lot to have a few friends in this big bad world.

Pines & Snow

2009-01-29T14:05:00.008+05:30

I have been writing about my trips on this blog regularly under the label footprints. So much so that part of the excitement of going on a trip now seems to be the recounting of it once back on the blog for friends.

The trip this time was no different, since right from the beginning I kept filing away details in my mind and clicking pictures all with the view that it would get space on the blog. However since my travel mate Mampi is already writing about the exact activities of the trip in great detail I am not going to repeat it. You can visit her blog for details. Let me therefore share with you some snippets and photographs.
It was Dalhousie that we went to this time. Famously nicknamed "dull & lousy" by the boisterous crowds, the place is a military cantonment and a quaint little town that was set up just 150 years ago.

We arrived there in high spirits, the thrill of having escaped the mundane hectic lives we normally lead giving all of us extra broad smiles. A slightly frantic hunt later we were able to locate our hotel Geetanjali, which sadly didn’t live up to the reputation of the other HP Tourism hotels I have been to.

We were welcomed by the Monkeys…..the many, many monkeys of Dalhousie were an alternate world in themselves and I spend quite a few uneasy moments initially since their jumping onto the tin roof of the hotel caused quite a din. I was afraid one of them would jump a little too hard, crash through the roof and land on me.

Thankfully that didn’t happen.

The reason for choosing Dalhousie was the hope to catch some snow….as in a snowfall. I had never seen one and really thought that at 31 not experiencing a snowfall is a very embarrassing fact which needed to be rectified before the next birthday.

However though Dalhousie seemed nicely cold, snow was no where in sight. I prayed hard to all the Gods to arrange for some so that I woulnt have to go back disappointed, there was the added pressure of family and friends mockery which would ensue since my SNOW plans had been circulated far and wide.

On the second day of our stay there we woke up to find a rainbow right outside, it was so close that I felt if I jumped I could catch it and perhaps swing on it. I tried to capture it in my camera but sadly it was so close that catching both ends was impossible.

We finally found snow on our way to Khajjiar. It started as little mounds of dirty white by the road side and in crevices on the mountain side. It slowly grew better and we eventually found places where there was enough snow for people to be able to make snow balls and have matches. We saw the crowds descending on the snow oohed and aahed and moved on for destination Khajjiar.

Khajjiar was a beautiful place though slightly sullied by the descending hordes who thought nothing of leaving plastic bottles and empty chips packets all over the place. We walked away from the crowds and did a parikrama. With sudden bursts of rain, the wind whistling amongst the tall pine trees and the lone horse roaming on the greens…it was as idyllic as it could get.
One look at the distant mountains and you could see that it was snowing there…and I prayed fervently for a little to fall on me as well.

The drizzle of rain threatened to become a downpour hastening our departure from Khajjiar…mentally we all made plans to be back again…such was the magic of that simple glade amongst the mountains.

We were talking, eating and generally looking around while Mahesh drove when the urge to play in the snow overtook us and we stopped on the wayside. By now I had reconciled myself to the fact that I will have to be happy with snow on the ground and snow from the sky will have to just wait.

Mahesh and Mampi walked ahead and started climbing up the snow….me and Parry were still on the roadside throwing snow balls at each other…when Mahesh suddenly said Pinku look up, I did and there it was…..my snow fall.

It lasted all of two minutes but God fulfilled my desire….this is why I keep saying My God Strongest.

Post the snow the road and trip was all downhill….since my high point had been achieved so let me not bore you with the sad hearts that descended the slopes the next day.

Instead let me tell you about the Dunch (what I call a lunch that suffices for dinner) we had at Haveli in Jullundhar. It’s a nice place that showcases the real Punjab and the food is finger licking….I am still grieving for the pindi chole we had to leave behind since Mahesh wouldn’t allow us to have it packed for later.

Mampi enlightened that hosts who treat at Haveli are known as good ones in Punjab. I agree with her view but would just like to add that she was anyways way up there in my list of favorite hosts/hostesses.
I know this will add to the numbers who wish to visit her but then she being the gracious and gregarious hostess she is will surely happily accommodate.

Learning’s at 31

2009-01-15T11:50:00.002+05:30

Life began as a multi-hued carnival of sight, sound, laughter and sometimes tears for a favorite doll lost or a toe hurt.

It grew into something very black & white as teenage approached. Everything was seen through the grave lenses of ideology that was grafted and then crafted from the many books, films, snatches of conversations and bits of life experiences one went through.

The twenties brought with them financial independence and the dawning of the fact that life was more than black& white. Also more importantly the fact that what was black to me was quite fair in the world’s view and what was pristine white to me was seen as dirty and abhor-able by the world.

Now standing inside the gateway of thirties having dealt with bereavement, public ignominy, loss and the breaking of dreams and aspirations I understand that life is neither black nor white nor is it multi-colored, its infact just a grey. A grey that turns, swirls and moves like the early morning fog. At times it breaks open and shows you a glimpse of what could be what should be and then it moves, comes back again to cover everything else and leaves you guessing about what lies ahead.

You step cautiously holding onto whatever comes in sight and thus life teaches you many things. Some of the lessons I have learnt I am mentioning below, will wait to hear from you guys what your life lessons have been.

Blood is thicker than water: In the final countdown it’s the support of your family that you can really count on everyone else deserts lovers, friends, and well-wishers. Having said that I will also say that I am lucky to have such a family, the news is too often filled with families which disown their own for flimsy excuses of pride and tradition.

Love all you want to love, don’t expect it to be returned: Loving someone is in our hand expecting reciprocation is not. Indeed it’s foolish to even have such expectations. If you get it you are very lucky. And one more thing even if you do get it don’t ever imagine it will be ‘your kind of love’ it will be an entirely different hue. For you own sanity you must accept it for what it is and not try to modify it.

Follow your own dreams they are really the only thing that are your own: if you really believe in something, go ahead and do it. But do ensure you have the courage and conviction to follow it till the very end. My dad used to say that sometimes it’s easier to seek forgiveness than permission. You life is your own; therefore choices of education, career, life partner and children must be made by you.

New Year Wish List

2008-12-31T17:10:00.001+05:30

This is my wishlist. Do share yours too!!!

Have a brilliant year ahead and may peace reign on earth!!!

Our Weekend: Filled with love and …..chaos??

2008-12-26T16:39:00.005+05:30

All this while we thought of ourselves as sorry people who didn’t have enough friends who cared for us enough to want to meet up. We just got to know how popular we are (and are still reeling under the effect of the revelation.)

Here, let me sketch the scenario for you:

Last Saturday we hosted a party for friends. We had about twenty five people come after inviting roughly thirty so we are counting it as a great turn out keeping in mind the God forsaken corner of the city we reside in.

It was supposed to be a barbeque party……the party did happen however the barbeque refused to light properly inspite of the fact (or was it because of) that nearly everyone present had a go at it.

Anyways thanks to helpful hands we managed to salvage the situation and everyone said they had a good time (but then do they ever say otherwise) apart from a few who came too late and departed too early. Here is a pic of the flowers they brought us. Aren't they pretty?

So net net we had a happy Saturday….followed by a Sunday of cleaning…followed by a week of eating the left overs :(

By the way, a darling friend clicked all the pics...and took them with her...and now she refuses to send us any...so i cant share any pics with you, apart from this one clicked the day after early morning, before we started cleaning up the terrace.

Now for this weekend…

The cleanliness freak in the family also called Mom is visiting today along with lazy bum Masi. They will be staying for two days.

A friend inspired by our non-burning barbeque has planned a party of her own on Saturday. We are of course invited...and also expected to reach first with the barbeque in tow.

A relative traveling with 15 other people has been unable to find accommodation in the city and is expected to drop in anytime between today and tomorrow.

Another out of town friend who missed the party last week is coming to the city tomorrow so she wants to meet us.

(this is what home will look like possibly or maybe you can check the Old Delhi Railway station at night to get the picture)

There didn’t I tell you that our weekend is filled with love and chaos?

Hat trick + 1 + 1

2008-12-17T14:35:00.004+05:30

It must be the season I keep getting awards. This one is from Indian Home maker and I think it says it all.....thanks IHM.

This is from Iya ......

This one from Mampi (and also Nimmy infact she gave it before Mampi I somehow missed receiving it.)

This is from Mithe...

I am honoured guys....thanks for remembering me on your blogs.

I feel guilty if I pass on the award to only a few. So all of you whose blog I frequent please know that these and more awards are coming your way from me.

And then wouldn't you all agree that a regular reader is the biggest award of all? Well thats what I try to be on your blogs.... so there :)

Goa for the Old

2008-12-15T14:10:00.006+05:30

My mom and her cousin and his wife just went on a trip to Bombay and Goa. (yes, Bombay thats how they think of it inspite of all the hype about Mumbai).

We joked that they are too old to enjoy those places and they are meant for the young and adventurous. The mocking continued till I saw the pictures. Then I stopped.

(Mom on the mini rail near elephanta Caves)

(Mom and Mammi on Ferry)

(Mom collecting sea shells on Juhu beach)

Mom seems to have had more fun than me :(

Am sharing some here for you guys...just so you know that age is completetly in the head and my mom refuses to step over 40 whatever it takes.

Am hoping she stays that way.

(Mom and Co. dancing away at Goa)

A question?

2008-12-03T11:40:00.004+05:30

Is this where it all started?

This murder of brother by brother?

This raping of the Motherland?

We were fooled then, are we going to continue doing so for ever?

Will we never learn any lessons?

(Please read the english text on the image to understand where I am coming from. Frankly I have'nt verified the authenticity of this statement but I can't help believing that this or something similar was planned to bring my golden country down to its knees. )

THE MUMBAI ATTACKS

2008-11-27T11:51:00.006+05:30

The Taj Heritage building has been destroyed. The landmark which was as much talked about as perhaps the Gateway of India, is badly burnt and it will take months perhaps more to recover its glory. The Taj management promises to rebuild it brick for brick.
In the meantime, can we ensure please that those bastards dont get to ever touch a single brick or life in this country again.

I am upset and I am crying. For my country, for my countrymen and for the sad state we have brought ourselves to.
My humble request is:
Please lets be strong for each other and reach out a hand to all those who need it. AND PLEASE lets remember that those terrorists when they fired, fired blindly killing everyone in the line of fire be they be sikh, muslim, hindu, buddhist or atheist.

Dont let anyone turn this into a debate about religion. Those guys who did this have none. Lets ensure the guilty are punished with the most exemplary punishment possible for this dastardly act and every such act that this country had to suffer.

THE TUESDAY ADDICTION

2008-11-25T16:57:00.004+05:30

Its Tuesday again…our day for catching a French film at the Alliance Francaise, Delhi.

Truth be told at times am not so enthusiastic about going. A list of chores to be handled beckons and I feel going homewards to tackle them or to just put up my feet somewhere and relax with a cup of coffee is a much better alternative.

But those feeling vanish within the first five minutes of the film and am all eyes (I can’t understand French so rely on the subtitles for following the film). Each film I have seen is etched in my mind and inspite of almost a year’s regular film watching no two films seem the same nor do the storylines borrow from each other.

Mention French films and what you hear are comments like these - ‘noir’, ‘sensual’, ‘too much skin show’ and ‘too arty’. And of course the snide side comments that ‘they are just trying to be oh-so-intellectual’ (this is said in regards to the audience).

It’s all so very true including the part about us trying to be intellectual (but then we are guilty of not being able to digest the mindless Hindi movies or the ‘America is great’ English ones that the multiplexes showcase). Yet there is so much more to it that just can’t quite be explained. Let me try though:

Can you imagine a full length film on two sisters and their differences? Les Soeurs Fachees is not over-dramatized, it doesn’t show one killing the other for lust or greed yet it shows how subtly through gestures and comments one sister tries to kill the innocence and joie de vivre of the other. It’s an amazing insight into sibling relationships and I came away wondering what my relation with my sister would have been like had she lived till this day. Flashes of our fights, quarrels, back biting and love all came back. It seemed like the film had opened up a Pandora’s Box of memories for me.

Another film about two twin sisters showed them living in their own enchanted world of music and dance. They aren’t rich yet they reflect the richness and innocence of an era gone by when it was possible for one to be happy and break into songs at the drop of a hat or the flutter of a scarf. The movie was one giant carnival in motion. And you were left with a feeling of happy contented childhood till you realized that the director had been traumatized by the world wars and his films were actually the medium he used to escape the harsh realities of his life.

Let me give you another example:

A bored young girl from a family that boasts pedigree and wealth married to a man who is a successful professional and a doting husband decides to check out a brothel and gets hooked to the high of being treated as a mere sex object. Her dalliance with the varied customers of the brothel brings her in contact with a dangerous young man who kills for pleasure. She allows him to think that she loves him and thus sparks of incidents that cause his own death as well as making her husband a wheelchair-bound mute patient dependent on her for his very life. Through Belle de Jour you sway between hating the woman for jeopardizing a lovely marriage and sympathizing with her as you see her grapple with the socially acceptable versus her innermost desires.

This film reminded me of Aastha - the Rekha, Om Puri and Navin Nischol starrer which showed Rekha succumbing to her greed for a more affluent life by falling in the trap of a scheming woman who guides her towards prostitution as a means to earn the quick money she so desired. However being a hindi movie it had to show a repentant Rekha realizing her mistake and also the very understandable vice of greed which motivated her. Where the French film scores is not being apologetic for the ‘different-from-the-norm’ sexual desires of the woman and it finishes the same way it had started - with the woman day dreaming about a sexual escapade.

A lot more films come to mind as I write this post… that gave glimpses into the life of the contemporary French man or woman. Others that showcased lives of the French speaking people across the world. And of course those that brought us close to those who have made France their home coming from far off Africa or Asia.

A film that spoke about the lives of two young people who are in love and wish to be married since they have just discovered that they are soon going to be parents was touchingly portrayed. The guy was an Arab muslim while the girl belonged to a very French jewish family. The apprehensions of both families and the quarrels the couple get into in trying to defend faiths and beliefs they themselves don’t really adhere to but feel the need to be loyal are beautifully sketched. The final resolution as both families come together to support and bless them was a tear wiping one for even the most hard hearted in the audience I believe.

So there I have narrated quite a few stories to you….and if a bit of our addiction rubs off on you I will only be glad to know.

Jashne Sardi

2008-11-11T11:58:00.001+05:30

the nip in the air,
the days growing short
the cuddles more urgent
the kisses more frequent

the fragrance of harshingar
the urges for a cup of coffee
the crawling into the other’s grooves
the slipping of a hand into the shirt

the open air dining in the chill
the hot kebabs and shawarmas
the happiness of being together
the return of memories pleasant

the appearance of the favourite razai
the early morning fog
the endless cups of steaming tea
the breathe which steams as it streams

Know what it means?

Winter is here!!!

Visiting Istanbul

2008-10-30T16:21:00.007+05:30

Late October, the chill just beginning to make itself felt, a gathering of people from all walks of life and the staging of an amazing piece (I use the word Piece for calling it a mere play would be to confine it to the rigidities one expects in the genre). It was called Mein Istanbul Hoon.

The occasion was the celebration of the 50 years of the National school of Drama and the topic chosen was momentous too – a glimpse of Istanbul past and present as reflected through the various books of Orhan Pamuk – the Nobel Laureate.

The stage put up on the lawns of the Indira Gandhi National Center for Arts had as backdrop the huge peepul trees and the slowly growing dark winter sky.

It began with a beautiful musical composition which instantly took us to the streets of Istanbul as if on a flying carpet. The young Pamuk and his angst at being misunderstood by the world at large, his mother’s high hopes for her son, whom she wants to make an architect are beautifully shown. The tinge of sadness is not lost in the refreshing tongue in cheek dialogues. The mother’s feelings of being trapped in a defunct society and her son being her only hope since her husband finds solace in the arms of another woman are so close to Indian realities, that for a moment one realizes that something’s are just so universal.
A huge amount of junk that Orhan collects from the streets and the Bosphorous are a direct link to the protagonist of the Black Book. This junk while potraying the hopelessness and uselessness of his life also symbolise the various things that have left a mark on his psyche and made him what he is, a complex mix of the traditional and the modern, European and Asian, regressive and progressive thoughts. A through and through romantic who finds it very hard to move on even when all around him is in ruins.

Orhan’s meeting with Kochu, a writer of repute whose passion is the city of Istanbul takes us into the next stage. Where Orhan time travels to take on roles from the past and Kochu intervenes at times inorder to make his twelfth book interesting. When rebuked by Orhan for fanning violent flames in the community, Kochu says he is just following the trend set by the current day Media.

The story of a young couple in love in the backdrop of medieval Istanbul and their strategies and counter strategies to ensure their lives together form the second part of the piece. The girl’s father, an established artist and the teacher of the young man (Kaala) finds out about the affair and banishes the man from the city for twelve years. He returns to find that his beloved is now the mother of two young children and her husband has been untraceable for the past four years. She is the most beautiful woman in the city and each man covets her including close family members who in the absence of her husband feel it their right to claim stake on her.

She has found refuge in her old father’s home and has till now with great difficulty kept the wolves at bay. The subdued flames of love rise again when the young man returns. The old teacher who now needs the support of his erstwhile student well realizes this and though he fumes internally, he is unable to send Kaala away again, for this very love for his daughter makes Kaala his most trusted ally in his most ambitious project.

A gang of fundamentalists have now taken control of the city and are inciting fury against al that they deem unislamic and the artists find their lives and profession at risk from these hoodlums. The Teacher must finish a great piece of art that the emperor has himself sanctioned and there is no one he can trust more with this at once blasphemous and path breaking project.

In a freak incident while the girl is out to meet her lover and plan with him the ways by which they may devise their union one of her many admirers kills her father. Returning home she finds him dead and realizes that without her father’s protective presence her very life would be at extreme risk.

The glimpses into Turkish society and the undercurrents that make it what it – a sangam of European and Asian thoughts, cultures and way of life were priceless. One such episode was that of the Kahwakhana, a typical part of Turkish life where men young and old spend their day over discussions ranging from the profane to the profound. The episode also highlighted the famed dogs of Istanbul which rove the street in packs and terrorize all.

The stage design, without curtains and a slowly revealing stage which as the drama progressed took on many hues was beautifully done. Hope my pictures reveal some of the awe I felt to you too.

The direction by Sri Mohan Maharishi was beautiful and the acting by everyone in the cast was something to be seen to be believed.

Thanks NSD, have never welcomed winter to Delhi in a better manner.

This is my 100th post and I don’t know what to write.

2008-10-29T11:46:00.004+05:30

I want it to be monumental. I want it to be different. I want it to be something I can come back to read after writing another 99 posts. I don’t trust myself to write something that good.

So I asked a few blogger friends to write down their perception of me and my blog. They were really sweet and inspite of their very busy schedules (what with Diwali close) they actually took out time and wrote a few words.
Here, I share it with you:

Phatichar: Pinku, one who leads the enchanted life. When I first started speaking to her a few months back, she seemed guarded. But that is only natural in this online world, isn’t it? Gradually that guard was dropped and pretty soon we got along like wild fire, common interests fuelling our conversations everyday – books, movies, food and a whole lot more. And then I went back and read all her posts. And after reading that, from a good online friend, she instantly transformed into a figure to respect. It was not just the writing; that is awesome anyways. But it was something after reading which, I felt …well, for want of better words, inadequate, in front of her. There’s much to learn about life from her. She has come a long way, and deserves every bit of happiness life has to offer her. Her guardian angel is doing a fine job I must say. Won’t want to lose your friendship, girl. You rock!

Stygian Sailor: Pinku-dom and the Republic of the Stygian Sailor are probably the opposite poles of Blogville. Optimism and peace are the national languages of Pinku-dom in stark contrast to cynicism and sarcasm which reign in the Sailor’s republic. So what’s the connection? Opposite poles attract. The amazing optimism portrayed in Pinku’s posts draw the Sailor to Pinku-dom. Having a million ideas is some thing, but having staunch faith in those ideas and pursuing them takes a lot more character. It is hard to come by these days. It isn’t every day that one leads an enchanted life.
Cheers to the hundred posts.

Mampi: My blogger mate Priyanka aka Pinku is a person who I can safely call genuine without having to eat my words later on with a lot of pickle and sauce. She is one of the few blogger mates that i have met in person and it was a pleasure meeting her. Her tolerance for my son, who was at his impossible best that day, will always go down in history in golden words. I have always liked to share a giggle or two the moment I come back from work because we are die-hard chatters. We share fun, sorrow, bickerings about work, and counting our blessings during these sessions.
Her creativity is inspiring. Her blog reflects an honest soul who is no super-heroine but who has her own take on all the issues facing a common person living in India. May her creed prosper !

Hemanth: I might not have known her for all that long but, in the few years that I have known her; she has been a great friend. It was her blog that started me off blogging and it was her support and encouragement that kept me going all this while. Thanks, for being there during all those time that I really needed you. Wish you, all the best and good luck!

Thank you so much guys for sparing time for me!!! I hope we remain friends forever.

If any of you would be kind enough to add a few words I will be really very grateful.

Progression

2008-10-21T17:47:00.005+05:30

Girl meets boy. Likes him for what he is, his smartness, his foolishness, his awkwardness, and his cuteness and promptly falls in love.

Boy meets girl. Likes her good looks, the way she carried herself, the perfectionist mind and attitude, her knowledge and even her pretensions at times, finds it all so very adorable and promptly falls in love.

Boy and girl profess undying devotion, love and tenderness.

Then they get married.

The guy’s smartness starts to rankle when the wisecracks get targeted at her.

The girl’s good looks are a matter which sees money drain into Beauty parlours.

The guy’s foolishness tastes dour when it means overlooking the obvious.

The girl’s poise is cause to lose repose.

The guy’s awkward comments aimed at her family or even friends are difficult to swallow

The perfectionist mind is now settled on dusting cobwebs

There are children to be look aftered, clothes to be darned, utensils to be washed and food going bad in the fridge.

The dream turns into a nightmare neither can escape.

Sadly most marriages turn out this way, cause people go in with their eyes closed, dreaming dreams of bliss. The truth is, a marriage especially a good one is a lot of hard work. Do get into it with long term commitment and the willingness to adjust, sacrifice and understand.

Am writing this for all those beautiful couples who are heading towards disaster across the country right now.

You think I am being pessimistic? Surveys report that 2 out of every 5 marriages in Mumbai are ending in divorce.

found the picture on google, somehow looked very appropriate especially with its connotation of the original sin :)

Who is She?

2008-10-15T18:18:00.003+05:30

She was a stunner, green eyes, great body and an exotic dress to boot. Anyone would give her a second glance even a third.

She was selling cowboy hats at the Chirag Dilli red light, wearing them all one on top of the other as she walked through the maze of cars.

Everyone from the autowallah to the bus passengers to the car drivers and their owners looked out to see her gliding past.

She made for a good shot for me while I waited for the red light to turn green.

And then we all went our ways forgetting her, forgetting her plight. She belongs to a tribe from Rajasthan that had to move from their ancestral dwellings in search of money and food. She is a bewildered person, who has been made poor and a destitute by the unthinking, uncaring attitude of the powers that be.

She is someone who has recently joined the ranks of the poor in Delhi.

How do we help? Buy one of her hats perhaps? Does that really solve the problem?

Today an initiative was on to talk about poverty through Blog Action Day. Mampi and IHM inspired me to join the effort, however though I registered the site didnt send the promised mail and my registration process couldn't be completed. I was disappointed but then I thought what the hell why should one mail stop me from doing a good deed and hence the post that you just read.
I don't have any solutions to this problem to offer so am only appealing for one thing we may be unable to pull someone out of poverty but lets not judge them as less human than us just because their clothes seem torn and faces streaked. They have all the rights too that the constitution gives us.

Change is here, Change is now

2008-10-13T14:15:00.010+05:30

Thanks everyone for the responses to the last post. From your comments I sense two things:

1) We are ourselves to blame for the relaxed attitude to law and order and even basic hygiene and good manners that we face in India.

2) A better enforcement would ensure more compliance

I have only one suggestion can we get to work on it right away? Who better to enforce any law than our own conscience?

I am listing here 5 things we could do to bring about a change.These are very small things and executable on an individual level, hence not dependent on anyone else but us. That should make it easy to achieve success isn’t it?

1. Garbage goes only into garbage bins – this includes no dropping of nutshells and empty bottles out of your vehicle in an attempt to keep it clean.

2. Using Mobiles necessitates knowing mobile etiquettes and FOLLOWING them.

3. Use minimum plastic – look at an option where you can carry an eco-friendly bag with you so that you can say no to those extra plastic bags while out shopping. Check online for some very interesting bags, even Big Bazaar stocks some very economical good looking ones.

4. Refuse to be served by children at roadside dhabbas, railway stations etc. These children need to study at this age. If we refuse to be served it may affect their jobs but it will also give them a chance to know that education is their right and a must for a better tomorrow. Don't just refuse explain why you are doing so too.

5. Promise yourself that for every foreign location you visit, you will also holiday at an Indian one. What do we lack? From snowcapped mountains, to golden beaches, to deserts, to jungles India offers something for everyone. AND while on holiday you will behave as impeccably as you would at a foreign locale.

(Psst incase you are wondering that picture is from Andamans)

I will be glad if you could add to the list through the comments section, I promise to keep editing this post and adding all new suggestions to the post.

Also a second request possible to do a similar post on your blog as well? This isn’t a tag but why not take it up and make it into one. Write back to me and I will link all such posts to this one.

Let’s make the change happen guys!

Edited on 14th Oct, to add comments from:
Pecos Blue says saving energy is important too and we should strive for it.

Quirky Indian suggests we:
(1) show courtesy to fellow motorists and pedestrians while driving; it'll really help getting us out of the Indian Traffic Nightmare.
(2) Car-pool as far as possible.

Edited on 15th Oct to add Nimmy's comment:

Use public trasnport as much as possible instead of having 4 cars for 3 members of a single family..Will make a great difference..

Edited on 16th October: Iya wrote about this on her blog, read it here.

Some Presidential Queries

2008-10-10T13:55:00.011+05:30

I received the below letter as a forwarded mail, it said that this is the speech that President Dr.A P J Abdul Kalam made. Whether that be true or not, I feel the issues raised and questions asked are immensely relevant today and each one of us needs to answer them. Spare ten minutes and read on, it may ensure a better tomorrow for our children.

Why is the media here so negative?
Why are we in India so embarrassed to recognize our own strengths, our achievements? We are such a great nation. We have so many amazing success stories but we refuse to acknowledge them. Why?
We are the first in milk production.
We are number one in Remote sensing satellites.
We are the second largest producer of wheat.
We are the second largest producer of rice.
Look at Dr. Sudarshan , he has transferred the tribal village into a self-sustaining, self-driving unit. There are millions of such achievements but our media is only obsessed in the bad news and failures and disasters. I was in Tel Aviv once and I was reading theIsraeli newspaper. It was the day after a lot of attacks and bombardments and deaths had taken place. The Hamas had struck. But the front page of the newspaper had the picture of a Jewish gentleman whoin five years had transformed his desert into an orchid and a granary.It was this inspiring picture that everyone woke up to. The gory details of killings, bombardments, deaths, were inside in the newspaper, buried among other news. In India we only read about death, sickness, terrorism, crime. Why are we so NEGATIVE?
Another question: Why are we, as a nation so obsessed with foreign things? We want foreign T.Vs, we want foreign shirts. We want foreign technology. Why this obsession with everything imported. Do we not realize that self-respect comes with self-reliance? I was in Hyderabad giving this lecture, when a 14 year old girl asked me for my autograph. I asked her what her goal in life is. She replied: I want to live in a developed India . For her, you and I will have to build this developed India . You must proclaim. India is not an under-developed nation; it is a highly developed nation.

Do you have10 minutes? Allow me to come back with a vengeance.

YOU say that our government is inefficient. YOU say that our laws are too old. YOU say that the municipality does not pick up the garbage. YOU say that the phones don't work, the railways are a joke, the airline is the worst in the world, mails never reach their destination. YOU say that our country has been fed to the dogs and is the absolute pits. YOU say, say and say. What do YOU do about it?
Take a person on his way to Singapore . Give him a name - YOURS. Give him a face - YOURS. YOU walk out of the airport and you are at yourInternational best. In Singapore you don't throw cigarette butts on the roads or eat in the stores.
YOU are as proud of their Underground links as they are. You pay $5(approx. Rs. 60) to drive through Orchard Road (equivalent of MahimCauseway or Pedder Road ) between 5 PM and 8 PM.
YOU come back to the parking lot to punch your parking ticket if you have over stayed in a restaurant or a shopping mall irrespective ofyour status identity.
In Singapore you don't say anything, DO YOU?
YOU wouldn't dare to eat in public during Ramadan, in Dubai . YOU would not dare to go out without your head covered in Jeddah.
YOU would not dare to buy an employee of the telephone exchange inLondon at 10 pounds (Rs.650) a month to, 'see to it that my STD andISD calls are billed to someone else.'YOU would not dare to speed beyond 55 mph (88 km/h) in Washington andthen tell the traffic cop, 'Jaanta hai main kaun hoon (Do you know whoI am?). I am so and so's son. Take your two bucks and get lost.'
YOU wouldn't chuck an empty coconut shell anywhere other than thegarbage pail on the beaches in Australia and New Zealand .
Why don't YOU spit Paan on the streets of Tokyo ? Why don't YOU use examination jockeys or buy fake certificates in Boston ???
We are still talking of the same YOU. YOU who can respect and conformto a foreign system in other countries but cannot in your own. You who will throw papers and cigarettes on the road the moment you touch Indian ground. If you can be an involved and appreciative citizen in an alien country, why cannot you be the same here in India ?
Once in an interview, the famous Ex-municipal commissioner of Bombay ,Mr. Tinaikar , had a point to make. 'Rich people's dogs are walked on the streets to leave their affluent droppings all over the place,' he said. 'And then the same people turn around to criticize and blame the authorities for inefficiency and dirty pavements. What do they expect the officers to do? Go down with a broom every time their dog feels the pressure in his bowels?
In America every dog owner has to clean up after his pet has done thejob. Same in Japan . Will the Indian citizen do that here?' He's right. We go to the polls to choose a government and after that forfeit all responsibility.
We sit back wanting to be pampered and expect the government to do everything for us whilst our contribution is totally negative. We expect the government to clean up but we are not going to stop chucking garbage all over the place nor are we going to stop to pick up a stray piece of paper and throw it in the bin. We expect the railways to provide clean bathrooms but we are not going to learn the proper use of bathrooms. We want Indian Airlines and Air India to provide the best of food and toiletries but we are not going to stop pilfering at the least opportunity.
This applies even to the staff who is known not to pass on the service to the public. When it comes to burning social issues like those related to women, dowry, girl child! and others, we make loud drawing room protestations and continue to do the reverse at home. Our excuse?'It's the whole system which has to change, how will it matter if I alone forego my sons' rights to a dowry.'

So who's going to change the system? What does a system consist of ? Very conveniently for us it consists of our neighbours, other households, other cities, other communities and the government. But definitely not me and YOU. When it comes to us actually making a positive contribution to the system we lock ourselves along with our families into a safe cocoon and look into the distance at countries far away and wait for a Mr.Clean to come along & work miracles for us with a majestic sweep of his hand or we leave the country and run away.
Like lazy cowards hounded by our fears we run to America to bask in their glory and praise their system. When New York becomes in secure we run to England . When England experiences unemployment, we take the next flight out to the Gulf. When the Gulf is war struck, we demand to be rescued and brought home by the Indian government. Everybody is out to abuse and rape the country. Nobody thinks of feeding the system.Our conscience is mortgaged to money.
Dear Indians,
Kennedy 's words to his fellow Americans to relate to Indians.....
'ASK WHAT WE CAN DO FOR INDIA
AND DO WHAT HAS TO BE DONE TO MAKE INDIA
WHAT AMERICA AND OTHER WESTERN COUNTRIES ARE TODAY'
Lets do what India needs from us.

Sharadiya Subhecha - I pray

2008-10-07T10:28:00.007+05:30

May the Goddess destroy all evil and give us all peace and prosperity.

May she teach us love, brotherhood and tolerance.

May she give each of us the ability to see things from the other's point of view also.

May she make us a superpower not because of our ability to harness nuclear energy but cause of our spiritual strength.

May she unite us not by painting us all in one colour but my making us resemble a beautiful collage of unity in diversities.

May she bless us with wisdom.

Make love

2008-10-02T00:00:00.000+05:30

Its Gandhi Jayanti….(hurray a holiday in the middle of the week and if you can afford to take the Friday off, you got a long weekend infront of you to relax, shop or prepare for Durga Puja too).

Gandhi, a much abused in private and revered in public, man.

When I was growing up I blamed Gandhi for dividing the country into two and creating what seems like an eternal enmity between two countries. It was stylish to say things like:
Gandhi: that guy who spoke of abstinence and couldn’t walk without the support of two women under his arms.

Gandhi: who with his blackmailing techniques of fasting didn’t allow any decisive action to be taken and would hold the country to ransom for the smallest thing.

Gandhi: who slept with his thirteen year old granddaughter to check whether he has been able to control his body completely.

Gandhi much like God was to be blamed for everything that was wrong with us.

But now that I am on the other side of thirty and I see the rampant violence that’s engulfing my country, my earth I wonder if the ridicule we threw at him is not in some measure coming back at us?

He taught us nothing new….non violence, truth, peace, brotherhood, going back to grass roots are all things that various religious books and visionaries had said long before he came along.

Then why a day dedicated to him, why is he then the Father of the Nation?

I see only one answer to this question. The fact that he practiced what he preached.

He was not God nor clairvoyant so he couldn’t have known the long term results of all his actions. In some things he excelled, in others he goofed up like when he refused the doctors from giving his wife some critical medicines believing in natural cure and she died.

He preached love and tolerance and I see that as one message that we as a nation and the world as a whole sorely needs at this hour.

My request: spare the man on his birthday, he may have made some mistakes but his heart was in the right place. He wasn’t greedy for power, wealth or fame like today’s politicians.

Another request: If any one wants to pick up any pictures from my blog or even content please feel free to do so (don’t however use it for wrong purposes or misquoting me). However if you are going to use it for making money, please give a bit of it in charity (not to a religious body please) on my behalf and inform me of the same.

Happiness in the air

Its also Biscuit’s birthday. She is my friend from school days and I haven’t met her in years. She lives in London with her adorable husband and sis in law….I do miss her still and pray she has a wonderful day from the bottom of my heart. Once she wrote a few lines for me, am rededicating them to her today.

When twilight pulls in a curtain
and pins it with a star
Remember we are friends
no matter where we are!

Happy Birthday Biscuit!!!

It also happens to be Eid!

So Eid Mubarak to each one of you….hope you are lucky enough to savor the delectable delicacies that get prepared today.

Signing off now with only one wish …..Make love not war.

Addicted for Life!!!

2008-09-29T18:00:00.009+05:30

Akshaya says I am to do a tag. Like all true tags it seeks to reveal a part of me which may not have been shown so far on the posts I write.

I am supposed to jot down my top 5 addictions. Now here is the first problem, just five???? I have so many and to just write about five would be such a mean thing to do for all those others who make my life interesting.

Anyways, since I have been tagged there is nothing much I can do but comply, so here goes but be warned this list is not made in a matter of importance:

Addiction No. 1: To lie in bed and have a cup of coffee or tea – I just can’t manage to get out without a cuppa in the morning. And yes, it better be good. So much so, that I keep an electric Kettle handy whenever I am alone so that my cup can be made ready without my needing to leave bed.

Addiction No. 2: Non Veg food – seafood to chicken to red meat

I need my dose of high proteins regularly in order to survive. Keep me off them for a week and like the shorn Samson I lose all my strength and vitality.

Addiction No 3: Love – yeah love….am completely addicted to it, both in the giving and receiving forms. I love LOVE, period.

Addiction No 4: Hope – I can’t do without hoping for something good. Even in the darkest hour, in the dourest mood, I find something after a while that gives me hope.

Addiction No 5: Plants, animals and human being – I love being surrounded by all these. God has mercifully given me respectably green thumbs that allow me to grow a few plants around me wherever I am. For pets I have Crazy at home and street dogs everywhere else and as for humans, I chat up all and sundry, learning something new from each.

Now the best part I get to pass on this addiction...oops Tag to five others, so here goes... Mampi, Hemanth, Parry, Nimmy & Ambs.

Guys don't disappoint me please.

Dolly

2008-09-26T13:19:00.001+05:30

The doll lay by the side of the street as if left behind by a careless hand. I had almost crossed the site before the fact that a perfectly good looking doll was lying there permeated through my thoughts and I stopped to look at it.

I retraced my steps and looked at the doll again. It was a neat little thing in a pink frock and golden hair flowing down her back and tied up with a pretty pink bow at the end.

I looked around for any child who might have dropped it. There was no one in sight. The thought crossed that it maybe a bomb, left there by miscreants who wanted to surely hurt some children.

I kept looking at it for a while and then my curiosity took the better of me and I picked it up. After a quick check to see if it had any wires or batteries sticking out I dusted off the loose dirt that was clinging to it.

Still uncertain what to do with it; I looked around for someone who would be the owner. The street looked completely deserted. Finally taken in by the charm of the doll I decide to take it home convincing myself that day after when I have a holiday I can meet the children who play here and ask them if anyone has lost a doll.

I walk into my empty flat and switch on the lights. The doll looks dirtier in the bright light than it did outside and I decide to give it a bath.

Childhood memories flood back as I make a mixture of shampoo and warm water. The ritual baths we (me and my sister) gave our dolls and the sitting with them in the sun for hours to wait for them to dry and then the brushing of their hair and designing of accessories all come back.

After the bath the doll looked cleaner and also funnily sleepy, her glass bead eyes seemed to droop, I put her in my bed and then made myself a big salami sandwich with lots of cheese. I was feeling famished and elated at the same time. I thought of calling my best friend to tell her about the doll, but then thought it would perhaps be silly to call up a busy mother of two at ten at night to say that I found a doll. She might say that why make such an effort, come over and play with the ones my kids have discarded whenever you wish.

I go back to the bed, the doll seems asleep. I move to the other side and slowly slide into bed, chiding myself mentally all the while for such childish thoughts.

I switch on the bedside lamp and reach out for the current book I am reading, it’s called ‘The Memory Keeper’s Daughter’ about how a father abandons one of his twins when he finds out that the child suffers from Down’s syndrome. Reading at night is something every single person who lives on his or her own will identify with, since this is the only way to lull yourself to sleep.

The story is engrossing and as I flip page after page, I reach out a hand to touch my new found companion. I rest my hand on her tummy and go on reading. After a while some movement startles me and I drop the book. I felt the doll move. I remove the covers and look at her closely and there is no mistake her tummy seems to heave slightly as if she were breathing. I look more closely and there is no doubt. SHE IS BREATHING!!!

What do I do? I panic. I wonder if I should throw out the doll, maybe this was some kind of voodoo. But then as the doll continues to sleep and even takes a slight turn and puts her thumb in her mouth I wonder what kind of voodoo would bring so much happiness that the doll had brought me in a few hours. Reviving memories, giving me pleasant thoughts and some excitement in my still as stone life.

I decide to let the doll sleep and then it strikes me that if she breathes, she probably eats also and must be hungry. I wonder what would be the right thing to feed her and then settle on milk.

I go back to the kitchen, get the milk out and warm it slightly, I check the milk on my wrist something I have seen my friends do before they feed their kids, It seems the right temperature, now the next problem how to feed the doll? I don’t have a feeding bottle. After much brain wracking I settle on my gym sipper and pouring the milk into it I return to the bedroom.

The doll seems to be sleeping and I slowly maneuver the bottle into her mouth, she takes to it immediately and starts sucking. I watch as the bottle grows lighter and then empty.

Sleep deludes me and I know with this new development I am too excited and also frightened to sleep. I walk back to the kitchen and making myself a cup of coffee wait for it to be morning. I need to understand what this is all about.

The sunrays find me sleeping with the empty cup of coffee in front of me at the kitchen table. As the rays grow stronger and brighter they finally wake me up.

I try to remember what I am doing in the kitchen and then the thought of the doll comes back and I rush to check on her.

I find her yawning and throwing up her legs and arms. I decide to confront her immediately. I look down at her my expression grim and she smiles back on seeing me, then as she realizes that I am not returning her smile, her eyes cloud over and she stops playing.

I start my interrogation:

Who are you?

After some hesitation she sits up and starts to pull away at her head, I look on in horror. The head finally comes off and I see it’s a human child.

She looks up at me and says

I have been abandoned by my parents. I disguised myself as a pretty doll because people are willing to keep such dolls, pet them, give them nice clothes to wear and throw parties for them and call them their darling babies. But the real ones they throw away.

Someone gave Peace a Chance

2008-09-25T00:00:00.001+05:30

Indian Home Maker (by the way never saw anyone question her for saying Indian…have seen many question another blogger for daring to call himself an Indian Muslim) awarded me this for writing on Peace…she was referring to the My God strongest post.

Rayshma too deemed me worthy of an award and I humbly accept the same.
Being a million dollar friend feels very good (though the financial condition am in am almost tempted to trade in the award for the cash). But I wont cause her friendship is very important to me too.

How am I too go ahead? The protocol I believe is to pass on the awards to a few others, but I will desist. I consider all those who visit my blog as precious and I will not be partial by mentioning a few. So I dedicate the Million Dollar Friend award to Peace, the best friend any of us can have.

Saale Bihari!!!

2008-09-24T15:42:00.004+05:30

Kislay wrote about the plight of Biharis. No not of the ones who are illiterate, living in villages or in scores of slums in the cities and towns or even dying in floods. He was talking about the average middle class Bihari or even the upper class privileged one who is forever taunted and haunted by the badge of being of all things ignoble, a Bihari.

Most of us when asked where we are from mention the names of our states like Bengal, Punjab, Karnataka or Rajasthan – those who belong to Bihar try to skirt the issue by saying the name of their city or preferably their caste or subcaste.

When the state was divided my cousins who had lived all their growing years in Bihar were pleased, not because they had any political motives but because now they would be able to escape the Bihari tag by saying they belong to Jharkhand.

Why is one state in the country subjected to so much ridicule?

Biharis I am told are cowards, ignorant, uncouth and they speak a language that’s just so ghatti.

When I was in school I was told that the Mauryan dynasty rose in Bihar. That one of the world’s oldest and most reputed universities Nalanda was in Bihar. I was told that the first war of Independence or the revolt of 1857 became possible because Mangal Pandey a Bihari had the guts to revolt against his British masters for something he thought was unjust.

Also in the modern day most IAS officers are recruited from that state. Uncouth? They lead our foreign services and on a personal front I have been put to shame many a time by the impeccable language and manners of many friends who call Bihar home.

So the question I want to ask is where do we get that sad picture of Bihar from?

From the state of its political affairs? Arent we all in the same boat….some more some less? from the condition of its infrastructure? Since when is the common man responsible for such things? For its lack of law and order? If a few dozen run a rampage and rule in the absence of effective policing how again is the common man to be blamed for this?

All I am saying is that we have enough hate, ridicule and mistrust going round as it is. Can we make a conscious decision to not make derogatory remarks or even funny ones about the religion or region someone belongs to? I may have picked up bihar as an example but this is as much true for diverse people from Sardars to Muslims to dwellers of the North Eastern states, to Bengalis to Keralites.

People make remarks mostly unthinking perhaps but which leave an indelible mark on the psyche of the person on the receiving end. Can we as educated responsible citizens take this small step towards a better tomorrow?

Mourning the lost days...

2008-09-23T16:42:00.003+05:30

Young boys in their early twenties, they came from regular middle class families. Like thousand others they were in the capital city looking for a better education which could lead to a brighter future.

They were shot down or arrested one morning, the reason:
They were the terrorists who worked under the banner of Indian Mujaheedin.

I am not debating whether it was a fake encounter set up by the Police to save face or not. I am also not debating whether they were targeted because of their religion.
What I am wondering about is this:
How come people who come from regular families, have a decent upbringing and education are turning to such hard line stances?

And mind you I am not looking at just one community. I am looking at everyone, minority, majority and across language and state barriers.

When we were in school, someone being a Christian meant that you visited them during Christmas , said ‘Merry christmas’ and had the yummy cakes. And during Ramzaan you asked your Muslim friends every single day when Id would come so that you didn’t miss out on the feast and phirni.
When did we turn hardcore?
I remember a time when even in the most traditional homes friends of the other faith were welcomed, though the utensils used to serve them were kept separate and wonder of wonders they didn’t mind. Each understood the compulsions and restrictions of the others faith and respected it.
We lived and let others live as well.
How did these times of ghettoes for different communities come? I have seen them for myself when in Bombay I couldn’t buy eggs a mile around my house only because it was dominated by Marwaris and Gujaratis around. Even now in my NCR locality the shop keepers don’t stock chicken maggi because of the big Jain populace around.

When did schools which cater to all on paper but pander to a particular in reality come up? My niece told me of how a classmate who belonged to a different religion was taunted by even the teachers and had to finally leave the school.

When did the sight of a group of men in saffron or in skull caps start to mean uneasy thoughts?

First it was an ancient Masjid now churches, more than a century old are being attacked and destroyed. Are we then any less than the Taliban which had destroyed the Bamiyan Buddhas?

How did we let so much intolerance creep in?
India they say is on its way to becoming a superpower. Indians they say are poised to take on the world. Our economy is booming. Education levels are at an all time high. It all looks good from above but look at the roots, they are rotting.

My God’s Strongest

2008-09-15T16:08:00.003+05:30

My relation with my God is special. God is a friend, philosopher, and guide to me. At times also a fellow prankster.

I call him by many names and at times that I am really feeling good I even think of Him as Her. God to me is omnipresent, omnipotent and yes God looks after me and its not the other way round.

Yes He does expect me to help my fellow beings but mind you my God is strong infact he is the strongest and he doesn’t need me, I need him.

The names I call him depend on what it is that I seek from him. When I need hope I call him Jesus. When its patience I seek I call him Shiva. When very tired and looking for more stamina I call him Allah (say the word out loud without any preconceived notions and feel what I mean).

When its strength I seek I call him Wahe Guru and when I wonder about his inconceivable powers I think of him as Yahweh (the unknowable). When knowledge is what I look for I think of him as the Buddha.

So you see my God has many names and he stays true to each one of them.

So if you think you can scare me by bursting a few bombs, you are a fool. Coz my God’s strongest.

What Did We Do?

2008-09-12T10:41:00.003+05:30

The fire within has simmered down
what was once a raging blaze
now barely shows embers
what did you do?

Your fingers try to stoke it up
as I look on helplessly
dismay fills my heart
as the flames refuse to leap up again

This has never happened before
you have always been able to light the fire
with the simplest flick of a wrist
what has changed then?

I know what this points to
and I am afraid to look that way
I am afraid of a cold bleak future
bound in chains of formalities

One small whiff of not so pure air
and the flames refuse to stir
I urge it to, I pray for it to
but it does not budge

What did you do?
What did I do?

Me the Day

2008-09-08T17:15:00.019+05:30

The rays of the sun penetrate the darkness of night and I am born. I am Usha the new day. A smile lights up the world as I descend for I am hope, ambition and the promise of a new day.

Today I woke up in a pleasant mood so I am feeling playful and naughty and I decide to take a few fleecy white clouds with me to adorn the morning sky.

We play around the sun, running around him and puzzling him so much that every few minutes he would forget to shine and the people on earth look up at us and smile.

I have asked wind to also blow softly so that the maiden’s hair can get ruffled and she stops to tie it back, that’s when she notices that young man who has been following her like a puppy for the past fifteen days not daring to come close, unable to go away also.

Its aaprahan and I get tired of running around and the sun too grows hotter, the old man walking down the street wipes his brow and mutters ‘wish it would rain’. I decide to grant his wish and lo and behold the wind intensifies and the dark clouds come rushing covering the sky, the sun and making the birds panic and fly back to earth looking for shade and safety.

Soon small drops start falling and the woman rushes to her backyard to collect the drying clothes while the children yell in joy. The drops grow bigger and one and all stop work to see the rain fall on earth and feel the renewal that rain brings.
A hot cup of coffee, a few memories later the rain lowers in intensity and the children rush out of home with their paper boats ready for a boat race. The older people get back to their interrupted work reliving their own childhoods at the sight of the children.

As I tire, Sandhya my darker side comes to the fore, she is enchanting in her own way and after the activities of the day she helps people unwind. The atmosphere is suffused with the sounds of the sitar as the artist enraptured by her beauty can’t help praising it in the language of music.

Gracefully Sandhya retires, leaving behind Ratri who puts everyone to sleep except the lonely lovers. She in her own way is playful too and enjoys tormenting those poor souls who burn with desire in the cool night air.
A beautiful tag created by Thoughtsafari and Mampi tagged me on it. Must say its one of the best tags I have ever come across though my attempt may not be one of the best. The idea is to describe the day you would love to be given a chance.

I love the hindi names for the various phases of the day, they sound so romantic so have included those too.

If you feel like it please take this up and let me know, am not holding anyone to doing it but will love it if all of you attempt it.

Its Raining

2008-09-04T11:37:00.008+05:30

Hey!

Its raining awards!!
I got one and while I was learning how to hold my grin appropriately so that people didnt think I am demented.
Here comes another. This time from Keshi. (Really like this pic of hers so couldn't resist putting it up to. Keshi hope u dont mind)

As is pretty apparent the award is for being honest on your blog .

Now honesty is not something we get rewarded for too often in real life so an award for the same even if it be only on blogland does seem very nice and is much appreciated.
Thanks Keshi, we dont always agree on our world views but the fact that we can hear each other out and give each other the space to have our own opinions shows that we are mature individuals who can value a relationship without expecting the other to tow the line in the name of friendship.

And now there is another Brillante award from Phatichar....I tell u its raining awards!!!

My attempt at an acceptance speech

2008-08-28T06:06:00.002+05:30

Background: Have been conferred the Brilliante Award 2008 by Mampi. She has given it to me “For bringing out the innermost turmoils of human soul, for offering a myriad view of all that she witnesses around her”.

So I am sitting at my desk, gloating over this award and wondering what the best things to say are. Ok here goes:

“Mampi thank you very much for this award, since it my first ever on blogsville it truly feels awesome.
When you say I bring out the ‘innermost turmoil of human soul’ I am a little dumbfounded cause such a huge exercise I had never attempted or even thought of attempting. Whatever I have written on the blog are thoughts and feelings that have touched me. If they are able to showcase something larger it can only mean that finally under the diversities of colour, creed, region, language, gender, religion and world views all human beings are essentially the same.”

( I am leaving out the part about thanking friends, family, colleague and most importantly enemies for making me write.)

Now for the next part, where in I have to confer the award to a minimum of seven other bloggers. I am not rating anyone cause each one writes about certain specific things and therefore they are not comparable. So here goes:

New Pinch – for being the cutest, youngest blogger I know.

Phatichar – for writing such beautiful stories that scare, enthrall and captivate

Indian Home Maker – for being a home maker who makes it her business to know more than the price of bhajji. She writes well-informed pieces which always ring a bell.

Cherry Pie – for writing the most awesome, doable receipes, I have ever read

Heaven’s Garden – a better blog for understanding India and all things Indian would be difficult to come across

Cynic – she is me at times …just a few years younger and lot smarter…am proud to know you girl

Parry – all I can say is I read what he wrote and fell in love that should be reason enough isn’t it?

Am not binding anyone to carrying on this chain of award-giving though it would be nice if you too would bring out your lists. For rules and stuff look here.

No Comparison To a Mother's Love

2008-08-27T14:17:00.003+05:30

She is the one who gave birth
me merely the one who wishes I had

to her it was the result of a night of carelessness
for me it would be the fruit of utmost care

for her life's possibilities came dashing down when the news broke
for me life would take wings if I could but just get that message

for her she is the by product of her quest for social security and acceptance
for me, she is the symbol that God hasn't forsaken mankind

she tries to rule mind and soul
I just want a bit of heart space

She frowns at questions
I wonder at her wonder and the wonder that she is

she is the mother
I am but the woman who would have given anything to be one

she bore her for nine months
I have lived with the hollowness within for nine years

How can my love ever compare with a mother's love?

Have a heart

2008-08-20T17:38:00.007+05:30

As we see the images of Kashmiris asking for separation over and over again. It hits home that all this hullabaloo is actually because they find their homeland under threat. The threat is real or imagined can be a matter of debate however the fact remains that having your home turf under attack is not a easy feeling to live with.

So what am I trying to say?

Well just that the Kashmiris are not the only one clamouring to be heard through their many parades and leaders, some dumb creatures too are crying out and asking for our support.
The Olive Ridley Turtles are going to lose their breeding grounds soon thanks to a port that the Tata’s are planning at Dhamra, one of the last natural habitats of these endangered species.
I wrote a letter to Mr. Ratan Tata today through GreenPeace an organization which is fighting on behalf of the turtles and their right to live. Here is my letter:

Dear Mr.Tata,

It would be nice to know that apart from a lot of steel you also have a heart.
Money can’t be everything can it? Give the poor turtles a chance will you?

After all you wouldn't like someone taking over your home would you? As it is you and the Maharashtra police are being ruthless enough to these activists who speak on behalf of the dumb turtles.

Have a heart.
I am not denying we need the port, God knows it will mean many jobs and a better life for many of my fellow citizens but in the process dont kill the turtles please. Couldnt you relocate or something? You are so smart, you dreamt up the Nano...am sure you can do this too.
I have always respected and admired you as a man of principles its time you showed them.

Waiting eagerly for a Press Conference being addressed by you where you announce the relocation of the Port.

regards,

I alone can't make a difference but I am hoping you will add your voices to it, that is if you feel these creatures need to live, incase you feel the Port needs to be at the exact same area and nowhere else and the turtles be damned, that’s your opinion and you have every right to it.

My India, My Pride

2008-08-15T00:01:00.004+05:30

Thanks all of you for answering the questions I put forward in the last post. Now here are my answers to my own questions:
Independence to me is the ability to grow as an individual and be responsible for my own life
The most important freedom, is free speech and the right to endeavor to make a better life for myself without reservations of any kind binding me.
For me my country is my greatest pride and I blindly love it. And my greatest moment of pride was when India's first man in space Rakesh Sharma answered while orbiting the earth, " Saare jahan se acha" to the question by then Prime Minister Mrs. Indira Gandhi, "mera bharat kaisa lag raha hai?"
And the moment in my own life which best symbolises freedom is when I decided to write this blog and air my views on my own forum without fear.

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY TO ONE AND ALL!!!

Freedom to ask?

2008-08-11T16:42:00.002+05:30

In a few days time it will the 61st anniversary of India’s independence from the British Raj.

We celebrate this day as a national holiday and thanks to multiple channels are not even bound to hear the speeches being made from the ramparts of the Red Fort if we happen to switch on the television. The fact that most markets are closed however is a nuisance since we can’t exercise our freedom to shop.

And even catching a movie is not always possible either because we didn’t book in advance or the shows are houseful or cause we live in a metropolitan city and are afraid of a terror attack on an important day such as this.

So what do we do?

We laze about at home, have something nice to eat and drink (provided we were smart enough to stash away booze beforehand, it being a dry day and all that). And if a neighbor or friend happens to drop by we discuss the completely pathetic state of affairs of the country. How it’s being led by donkeys and it can only lead to ruin. How we are planning to go abroad or are atleast hoping our kids will once they grow up.

We do all this and while away the day that is if we haven't been smart enough to book rooms at the nearest hill station or getaway and are not there already doing touristy things . In that case evening arrives when mercifully the malls open up and we take the family out for some shopping and dinner after all it’s a holiday isn’t it?

Since this is what the Independence Day finally boils down to, I thought I should ask you what does it all mean or does it at all mean anything anymore?

Do answer:
What does independence mean to you?
Which for you is your most important freedom?
When was the last time you felt great pride in being an Indian?
Which moment in your own life you feel best symbolizes freedom?

Do put down your answers in my comment box or take this up as a short tag if you please but please do answer one and all.

Shall the text book win or shall we?

2008-08-07T16:07:00.004+05:30

Love, they said is pure and innocent.
Love, they said gives wholeheartedly, simply
Love, they said made you kind and gentle
Love, they said was sublime and subtle

What is this then?

This tumultuous sensation that fills me when I think of you
The jealousy I feel when I see you absorbed in anything but me
The fierce waves of pain and pleasure that you unleash in me

Are these then not love?

Love, they said happened when boy meets girl
Love they said was the first kiss, the first touch
Love they said was eternal

What then do we call what we share?

We met after meeting and loving others
Amongst our most precious memories are those that we don’t hold in common
Our temperaments are different, so is our world view at times

Yet inspite of it all we have dared to share dreams, hopes and desires
Yet inspite of it all we have decided to be co-travelers on the road of life
We have shed tears of joy and sorrow for each other; we have lived in each others smiles
But is that enough to call it love?

Shall the text book win or shall we?

A meeting with a blogger friend, correction two!

2008-08-07T15:29:00.003+05:30

A well planned city, a lovely day, laughter and good hearted chatter for company. With people you have met for the first time but feel you know so well.

A wholesome lunch in the Punjabi tradition of ‘the guest must not lack for anything’.

A visit to the city’s beautiful lake side and the chance to quickly through snippets bring each other up to date on one’s life and plans.

A very upset young boy with strangers who are intruding on his time with Dad.

A young girl who doesn’t know what to make of a woman who is mom’s friend but behaves more her age.

Two husbands, amused participants to their wives latest crazy plan.

A meeting that ended too soon. A friendship I am hoping will survive and thrive.

The Apple Cart Ride

2008-08-05T12:33:00.012+05:30

It looked like an island floating amongst clouds. Nothing else was visible and you could imagine plains, mountains or even the sea beyond the cloud curtain. Any of which could have been true.

When it lifted though the fresh greenery around left no doubts that you were in the Himalayas and that too in the middle of the monsoons. Getting down from the bus at 6:30 am we found the quaint Apple Cart Inn fast asleep, atleast the attendants were. A few guests though had braved the early morning chill and wrapped in thoughts and shawls were walking about.

The place looked so serene and just what we wished for that the non availability of attendants or tea didn’t affect our mood. And after making ourselves comfortable on the swings in the courtyard we decided to walk out to the neighbouring tea stall for some hot beverage.

By mid morning after a lovely breakfast of fresh mushrooms on toast (this place is called the Mushroom district) and tea we were ensconced in our room which boasted a fireplace (sadly non functional though) and a beautiful bed to which we promptly retired.

Refreshed after a few hours of napping and a nice lunch tucked into, the next thing to do was to explore the countryside and we walked out promptly to do the needful. A deserted road going downhill to a place called Majhol with not a soul in sight. The rolling hills spreading out and the jungles getting denser every minute, stories of tiger sightings heard during lunch and then a sudden fall as I slipped on some loose gravel brought the exploration to a halt and we did an about turn.

Back at the Inn we made ourselves comfortable with some fruit juice and saw the evening and clouds descend, sitting in the first floor café thoughtfully made with open windows on all sides and a wooden floor and ceiling.

The army of clouds rolled up to the very edges of the Inn and we were back again in the magic world. What kept us connected to the outside world was the subdued and surreal honking of the vehicles on the highway.

Sitting out in the open later we saw the clouds lift and the distant lights of the Jaypee Institute sparkle like stars, it made for a very peaceful experience something all us city dwellers really miss.

Early the next day we went off for the mandatory walk on Shimla’s Mall road and returned to the Inn filled with food, piled with purchases and exhausted at the sight of the hordes that had descended on Shimla.

It seems apart from being an easily accessible tourist destination for the groups coming up from Chandigarh, Delhi and other cities of Punjab, Shimla is also the nerve center for the locals who reside in and around the place. So for anything from shopping, eating out to official business they keep visiting the town adding to the numbers on the streets.

The tranquility of the Inn was particularly cherished after the tumult of Shimla. Almost regretting the early morning check out we had planned for the next day, we soaked in the atmosphere as much as possible till night fell.

After an early breakfast we started our descent from the hills, always a painful experience this time though the thought of meeting friends in Chandigarh kept up our morales and the customary frown was missing.

OFF TO THE MOUNTAINS

2008-07-31T16:06:00.003+05:30

Hey guys!!
We are off to the hills to check out the monsoon there. That too not just any hill but the mysterious, beautiful Himalayas.
Do be back to check out the blog in a few days to know how it went.
I promise some nice pictures too.

P.S: The last time I visited them in the monsoons a story happened here's the link incase you want to read .... The Trip

Photonama

2008-07-30T11:49:00.010+05:30

Thanks to the handy camera in mobile phones we no longer need to just experience something we can also capture images/videos to share the same with others.

Am putting down here some random shots taken in and around Delhi...its a testimony to my life and times.

Hope you enjoy this journey, though its hardly enchanting all the time :)

The bells that chime out the change in my life. It's neither golden nor rosy, its just easy right now.

Easy with a free flow of thoughts, love and naughtiness. Easy with a shared sense of camraderie.

Touchwood, am praying it stays this way always.

Flowers in my garden. Its not Eden but I am not complaining.

On the roads. What can I say? Perhaps this is enforced, "stand and stare" time.

Sometimes brought up by the heavy traffic in the city....

Sometimes by somethings far more interesting...

A few pictures from the recently held Osian. Some people including us have calendars which run from Osian to Osian. And all the goof ups not withstanding, its an amazing, addictive expereince.

Ishhhhhh............................

2008-07-28T15:22:00.006+05:30

I am appalled. Shocked. Humiliated. A bunch of people are spreading terror across the country and killing innocent people. And we standby mute doing nothing.

At best we makes those cluck cluck noises and shake our heads. Poor unlucky guys we think and then move on to do whatever it was we were doing when the news came through.
We forget that those who die immediately are actually the lucky ones. The unlucky are those writhing in pain in various hospitals or those whose family members were dismembered by the bombs and who are still trying to gather the pieces.

Is there nothing we can do to help? Is there no one who could bring back those misled youth to the main stream and give them hope and a few dreams they would want to live for?

Can’t someone show them their mother’s fear filled eyes when she contemplates her offspring’s fate?

Inspiration

2008-07-17T17:10:00.003+05:30

How did she get to know? Kiran wondered for the nth time. She had taken all precautions, no phone calls at home, not even an sms. She made sure she got back home at regular hours and yet her daughter had found out.

It was so sad, she was a beautiful, happy child and this was the end of her childhood. The information destroyed her life. She was so bitter threatening to tell her dad. If he got to know no telling what he might do? He had such a terrible temper.

The sudden inspiration solved all her problems. Kishore finished Ananya in one stroke. Her husband has been arrested for the crime. Kishore was now bound to her for life. She had pictures of him doing the deed. She smiled.