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Showing posts from March, 2009

Happily Married

He is dark. She is fair. The quintessential Mills and Boon romance. He is haphazard. She is very organised. He is from a loving family. She is from a loving family which lives apart. He has had past relationships. She has none that mattered. He is lazy. She is prompt. He thinks with his heart. She thinks with her mind. He is messy. She is meticulously clean. He loves a crowd. She is a one to one person. Both are creative. Both are happily married to each other. He is cool. She is hyper active. He wanted to marry for love. She to get out of her parents home. He is diplomatic. She speaks her mind all the time. They are happily married to each other. He met her in an arranged marriage meeting. He liked her. She liked him. He is fair and so is she. He is calm. She is peaceful. He is a good host. She is a loving host. He is always there for friends. She is generous in her love for people. He stands with her. She is a stand for him. They are happily married to each other. He was ageing. She

Encroachment

I am always shocked how the temples in Mumbai start occupying more and more space and more and more followers. The one at Shivaji Park one of the rare open spaces in the heart of Mumbai has one such temple. It started as a real small shrine then a bigger one. Some years back more renovation and more garden space encroached into. Then they cemented the area around.Then shoe racks were added, then some benches and area to sit with potted plants. Now you have hawkers selling flowers and prasad. Shivaji on the horse is confined to a dark iron railing,hardly seen with all the temple expansion. Near my house at the turning, we have a small Shiva temple under a tree. Now it is marble, it has four large pillars, a red and white fancy canopy. When they celebrate Shivratri, politician s sons come to attend it. The whole street is lit up in fairy lights. Temple decorated with orchids, gone are the days of gende ke phool or marigold. Dinner is provided to all who visit.Forgot to mention, the chawl

Pure

A New born Child is so pure. If you carry the baby,you will have only good thoughts. If you are with the baby asleep in your arms, you experience bliss. If you walk into a house where the baby is born, you experience calm and peace. If the baby wakes up in your arms, you worry and then the baby stretches and yawns and looks at you , your world becomes alive. When the baby listens to you calling him and smiles , you feel sublime. When the baby smiles in his sleep, you experience joy.The baby s family is cool with the baby in your arms , you experience freedom. A new born baby is all love. I have not yet stopped smiling after meeting the baby. I am surrounded by love all around me.

Thailand

Prateik Babbar is hot. Check him out in the new GQ magazine. The shoot happenned in Phuket. Phuket is such a lovely place. I think whole of Thailand is beautiful. Amazing people and really beautiful place. My experiences of Thailand are all due to a very close friend who lives there. I have been with her family and friends and all were so welcoming. So Bangkok,which the world knows for different reasons is one homely place in my mind.I have been really lucky to know such a wonderful friend from there. I met her in my first year of the college. We were hostelites and took time to know each other. Once the bond was formed, there was no looking back. With her I got a whole fresh perspective in life. How they were Indians who had moved from Pakistan to Bangkok during partition.When all girls were thinking about marriage, she was talking about going to a Thai university and starting her own business.So much clarity and what a vision in such a young person. They all almost talk Thai at h

Summer

Summers are here. Today I was planning to make black chana and had asked the maid to soak it last night. As soon as I opened the lid in the morning the smell transported me back to good old Jharia. Our hardware and paints stores was in the centre of town at the T junction where three roads met. One led to the market, the other to the vegetable and whole sale grain market and the third went towards the temple , station and Gujarati school. On Diwali our Puja used to be the first to happen . It started at Godhuli bela ie when the cows come home between four thirty and five pm. All my grand father Uncles and cousins used to come for the Puja. The night before on Kali Puja the shop cleaning started. It was not just a shop it was a full one storeyed building with a godown. The upper floor had a staff room, room for the Gods, room for My GranPa , toilets etc. All walls were blue or green. The windows were painted bright green. The out side wall was white and the main door was green too. Gra

Feelings

How does it feel when you sit to write and your mind is blank? How does it feel when you walk into the kitchen and dont know what to make for dinner? How does it feel when you ask family what should I cook and they say kuch Bhi? How does it feel when you sit near the spouse to talk and he says pass me the remote? How does it feel when you call someone and they bark call you back and you know the call will never come? How does it feel when you get upset when the maid doesn t come and land up shouting at your children? How does it feel when your Mom hangs up on you? How does it feel when your child becomes a teenager? How does it feel when you are hailing a cab and someone climbs into it? How does it feel when you you have a surprise visitor at home and you have good food ready? How does it feel when someone is a friend but your family is not too fond of the person? How does it feel when you gossip with your building friends and you know when you go up they will gossip about you? How doe

Happy Holi

Holi is a new start of the new year. For me it truly is, as Pranaya starts school the day after Holi. It is a momentous step in my life. I feel like a huge parting is coming my way. Once a child starts school , he/she never comes back. The umbilical cord breaks not at the operation table in the hospital but when the child starts school. I remember crying on the steps when Devika had joined Sunflower Nursery. Sunflower Nursery was such a lovely name for pre school. I could imagine the children being nurtured and ready to take on the world garden.The teacher was this old catholic lady running it in her huge house. She only had old wooden toys (no plastic or lead "lets get you intelligent now" toys). There was a grand old Piano sitting in her living room which she used to play everyday and sing with the children. I had walked into their singing time when I first visited the Nursery. Family photographs, victorian furniture and school chairs sat comfortably around the whole hou

Power of Cleaning

Today I saw them cleaning the ISCKON temple when I went for Darshan. I took Pranaya to the beach at ten am and after a few minutes she wanted to go. When I asked her would she like to go to the temple she said yes. Last time we had witnessed the school assembly at the temple and it was quite an experience. The children came in the straight lines with teachers and class leaders handling the queues. They sat and said prayers. Then some students sang bhajans and played all musical instruments. After Hare Krishna dhun, it was time to go back to the class. The diary, the batch, and name tag were checked on their way back to class.The way education and religion were incorporated into each other was seamless. Today the Garbha griha or the inner sanctum where the idol of Gods is kept was getting washed.Here the shringar of the Gods and Goddesses is always very beautiful and stunning. Today I saw the efforts that goes into this stunning temple. Each idol was dressed and standing atop a lotus f

Lost and Found

She was my father s younger Mama s mother in law. I had never seen my Nani Nana and all my cousins had Nanis atleast. She was my two fav cousins nani. Sweetest lady I have ever known. We called her Mani Bai. The gujju word for grandmother and mother as well. Dadi Nani were the Hindi imports. She wa withs always in pale cream sarees with thin grey or brown bordres. On special occassions, she wore a really white saree. She lived in Mumbai nad would come to Dhanbad on certain vacations. My cousins excit ement on her arrival was infectitous. She felt like my nani too. Her love was so pure. When Dad was operated in Mumbai, me and my grandmother (dad s mom) stayed with her for a few days.S Actually we shunted from one relative s house to another as Dad s stay in the hospital was long. This was the house that I experienced lot of love. She lived alone in humble surroundings in an old settlement in matunga central. It was one of those places where people didnt close their main doors during t

Friends

I have a complaint. People just sms, they dont call. Saare ek rupiya bachate hai. I get some early morning happy and preachy sms s from some people on a regular basis. I get that they are thinking about me so the forward button is also pressed when my name comes on the contact list. Out of them, some atleast write personal sms and call too. But my complaint is against those who just forward sms. Is that the maximum you can communicate. Is that all you are willing to give of yourself? I am actually wondering that the more the means of communication, the less the people communicate. A friend came in an ad and my child spotted him.I still have not seen that ad and never knew about it. Is that communication? Another friend created an ad and when I said it was lovely I was told he had made it. Aisa bhi hota hai. I have one friend who calls only when she wants something like a contact number or equally irrelevant stuff. The purpose is masked under lot of sweet talk of lets meet etc. Another