Life is easy kya karein

Have been reading all articles which talk about last year s achievements, what worked, what not. The PR machine works like Maya, so even a non entity like Poonam Pandey has a mention in last year's synopsis. While taking my last walk of this year, I was contemplating to write about the year that was for me. Could not find a single achievement. Then I realized how negative I have become. City bashing, Politico bashing, Male bashing but the primary thing is Self bashing. I have become so bad that when I walk on Shivaji Park, all I can see is the crumpled plates thrown, the new concrete structures by Shiv Sena in the name of park beautification, the ugly flood light poles in the middle of the park, the ice cream cone shaped dustbin broken n abandoned but not removed in the park beautification. There was a perfectly nice Ganpati temple which has already taken over a lot of the park space as they continued concretising the area around the temple. Now the temple is broken and a new larg

As a child, I never liked my house. I always thought other people had better prettier houses. I always longed for a house with a lawn, sunlight, driveway, breeze , flowers, well done up bedrooms and a huge kitchen. In Jharia , we grew up in a concrete jungle, Long before Mumbai became one. There were makaans next to each other or with a three feet gap. Tree lined avenues was something I saw in Mumbai. In Jharia, all windows faced the street and the other houses.Most windows opened inside your own house. The aangan was on the first floor and some windows opened there. Mom n Aunt made a garden on the store room terrace which had no ladder or staircase. So we all jumped from one terrace to an aluminium sheet shed to this terrace garden. Even the water to this garden was sent by buckets in the same manner. Jharia had a severe water shortage in summers. With coal underground there was hardly any well water and rivers would dry so no municipal water. There was a huge overhead tank from wher

Aaj main kya likhoon? Aaj toh bada din hai aur saari dharti pe log araam kar rahe honge. Joh thode bahut kaam kar rahe hain, unke liye main jaan jalaana uchit nahin samajhti. Jaise ki woh airline waale, bus drivers, conductors, hotel staff, BPO staff.Cops ko kaise bhoola jaa sakta hai. Aur bhi honge bijli paani vibhaag ke log. Aur dukaanon ka kya kehna. Woh toh saale lootne mein lage hai. Hotel restaurants toh issi liye khule hai kyunki abhi unki kamaai ka waqt hai. Hamare ghar kaam karne waale saare aaye they aaj...teen bai, doodhwala, ghaadi saaf karne waala, istri waala. Yahan tak ki jab main DOn 2 dekhne gayee toh wahaan waale bhi kaam kar rahe they. Ab galtiyaan kiss se nahin hoti. Hum nashe mein nahi they par Don dekhne ki galti fir bhi kar baithey. In sardiyon ka maahoul hi kuchh aisa hota hai, Insaan jaante hue bhi galtiyaan karna chaahta hai. Kal jab hum raat ko do baje Strawberries aur cream khaa rahe they , tab thoda darr sa laga.Nahin , Baba, yeh Dilli nahin hai, waisa koi

I love traveling but I do not like the baggage which comes along. I have been a bad packer always. the worst packing I did was on my honeymoon. We went to Langkawi and Negombo. I packed for all weathers and all occasions. I am just happy the husband did not utter a word. Then I shopped like a maniac at Odel in Sri Lanka. I feel so stupid now about doing that. I was this typical Indian honeymooning bride who got her first chance to shop with the husband s money. Even packing of that shopping gave me stress. So now I have learnt not to shop and to pack less then what I think I will need. Even that is more. So I can scream hoarse about how I like traveling and seeing new places, I detest packing. Packing makes me loose the entire fun of travel. The suitcase comes out a week before the date of departure. I start putting in stuff which i remember. Then I look at the wardrobe and think I will need all of this. So this goes on till the night before. Then I have to do the same for the children

My Granny always said Living for yourself is no fun, you have to live for others. No, I am being diplomatic here. Let me tell you her exact words: A dog can also raise his family, what's the big deal about it? It is only if you do something for others, you enjoy. So far I kept saying, I am writing the blog for myself and it is therapeutic for me. Its just lately that I feel it is so much more fun when I write for you. When I share it with you, my joy increases. I am not a shopper. I cannot window shop and I cannot shop if I don't want something. I don't fall in love with anything that I have to buy. Maybe, love at first sight is not what happens to me. Something has to grow on me for me to like it. Slowly and surely. I will never be in the trendiest clothes as I cant conect so fast. But I enjoy shopping for others. I like shopping for gifts. I like buying things which I feel my friends can use. In Dhanbad where I was growing up, there was no concept of gifting to anyone. O

Never knew writing to you was addictive. Aaj nahin likha toh sara din suna suna lag raha thaa. I thought it was because the husband was travelling on work that I felt this way. Well I was mistaken. Our Building has put some funny artificial Christmas tree and so has the school.Very sad ones all that I have seen so far. There is so much tackiness in the tree. I should be feeling happy that no one here is cutting down real trees. The way we are loosing our green cover, I wonder if my Grandchildren will get to see any trees. Let me also wonder if I will be alive to see my grandchildren. Till one is not married , one is footloose and fancy free. I used to think these kind of conversations are made by overtly boring old people. With marriage, there is a funny attachment which comes in. It is so strong that it tears me down. Being a housewife makes me a worrier. Today there is this innate urge within me to generalize all that I am writing. With this generalization is the urge to 'Belong&

These last ten days of 2011 I am taking on thanking all the people who have shown love to me in my life. Is Love noticed or felt? Kindness in shown in actions or words. But Love ka kya karein? Love is difficult to show or act. Does love become something else if it is shown in material ways? Does love become different if shown in a physical way? What way is love to be expressed? Is it to be expressed or just felt by the other party? Is it the name of a feel good emotion? Is it that only I have to do with it and no one outside me? Do I feel love when someone cooks for me in my kitchen? Do I feel love when someone gives me a lift in his Merc? Do I feel love when someone springs a surprise? Do I feel love when someone shows concern? Do I feel love when someone worries about me? Do I feel love when someone calls to check on me? Do I feel love by these action or do I feel "Loved"? Will I feel love if no one acknowledges me? Will I still feel love if the same person does not call? W

When I sit and relax, I am fidgety. I have to do something to justify my existence. Justify to whom, I don't know. I seem to be in a crib mode if not on self inquiry. The husband s birthday just went by. I buy him some clothes year after year and maybe a wallet sometime. No creativity is involved there. Earlier when he came home on his birthday, The Christmas tree would be put up. The wine chilling and the house all festive and decorated. After two children, I have not managed much on the house decor front. This year, I thought I have to atleast improve on the gift front. I decided to up my stakes and buy a MB pen for him. Now for some of us,these kind of purchases would be a regular affair. For me it was a very big deal. It was not that I wanted an expensive pen, I was clear I wanted a MB pen. I don't even know what are the expensive pen brands. I planned and plotted about how to go about it without him knowing. Being a Gujju , I also wanted a discount on the price. The purcha

Christmas Carols.... even writing about it brings a smile to my face. I studied in a Christian school and my college was also run by a Christian institute. Lived with Nuns in habits and later we were shocked to see our nuns wear sarees. They were from another world for us as small children. they dressed different from us and spoke only English at a time when we hardly had English speaking parents. They taught us the love for Hymns and Carols. Morning assembly had a prayer and a song from the Song book. It was nostalgic to have the school song book again in my hand for our 25th year class reunion. Carrying the song book to the assembly was compulsory though we knew most songs by heart. Then there were group singing competitions in school where we all sang songs. We were made to hear on the lone school tape recorder and then the Sisters improvised on it as we couldn't sing that well. I could not sing well but I enjoyed listening to the girls. At the College Hostel, we used to go car

41 has hit me and how. These thoughts come more to me as the year is coming to an end All depressing events come to my mind. I look back and think what have I achieved. I beat myself about my non achievements. What can be a housewife's achievements? What are my targets or budgets to achieve? What are my SMRs( Specific Measurable Results) I don't even have the energy I had few years back. I don't have the enthusiasm or the patience I had earlier. I feel I look old. You can say suddenly I have beauty issues, weight issues, body image issues, self confidence issues.... I have given up work now for nine years. So can't even imagine joining the corporate bandwagon. Mentally I am fit but physically I tire out easily. I now find the sun harsh. Though I run all my house errands in the afternoon. I cant handle outside food. I don't consume alcohol but I do feel bloated and groggy after a late night. Late night is now 1130 pm for me. I don't like crowded malls. I can not

The net brings in moral dilemma in my life. Who is really a friend? Whose friend request do I accept? How many BBM contacts can I have? Is it okay to delete people if they do not communicate? I do not like friend s children in my friend list on FB or BB messenger. Does it mean I don't like children? Is it okay to accept a request from a friend s friend ? Will it be fair to my friend? What if he or she doesnt like it? Earlier one had to be seen at a wedding or be introduced to a friend s cousin or friend. Now all are available on the internet. So it is no more if my actions are right or wrong, its about have I accepted the right friends? Have I not offended anyone by accepting an invite? I am so moralistic in these things. I have to justify all my actions to myself. I get fed up of it. May be I have nothing better to do. Bumped into an old friend the other day. We spoke about a restaurant and he said I had taken you to that place. This was 20 years back that i had been. I was cheese

He lost his father within the first two years of his birth. His mom a widow at 21, now had a six month old and a two year old to raise. He grew up in a joint family. His grandparents, his Uncle, father s elder brother and their family. Lone widow just when India had got Independence, felt totally bound by the society norms. She did not go back to her parents. Her parents had enough children of their own. She stayed and worked hard in the joint family. She became an ace cook and a fast one. She catered to her in laws and their whims and fancies. In return, she and her children got a roof over their heads and food, clothing lodging. More important, she had a house and a family in the eyes of the society. This protected her from the evil eyes. She worked hard to raise her children well. The boys grew up with three cousins. He had good looks and charm. He was good in his studies. He had a fair share of friends. By now, the Uncle decided to move out with his family as families were growing.

108 the auspicious number in Hindu Mythology. The jap mala has 108 beads. The total 9 is a good number by Feng Shui and denotes the fame area or the fire element. As children the numbers meant so much. Dates and vacations and exams went hand in hand. If our parents had booked our train tickets then that date took a comletely new meaning. Then it was marks. There were no grades when I was studying. Everything was broken down to numbers in black and white. No grey areas like today's schooling. The teachers justified why a student got X marks. In the literature and language papers, the answers were subjective. The best answer was read out in class by the student who scored the highest. There was a high level of fairness. No grades were cut because the child behave in a particular way in class or was talkative. The child s behaviour was separate from the child's marks and the teachers in our school understood that very well. Each spelling mistake was circled or underlined. There wa

A friend told me the other day that 'What I write is not who I am.' By the way the compliments go, it sure was a backhanded one. Maybe it was not meant to be one. I have this strange connect with compliments, they make me smile. I keep smiling for hours after that. But like all the good things in life, conditions apply. I enjoy compliments from strangers or people who I do not know very well. That's what makes me smile. With the husband, I don't even acknowledge that I have been complimented. I feel awful later. With children, I say the perfunctory "Thank you". With strangers, I am thrilled. This apart from the fact that I take my family and loved ones for granted, I also do not believe them. I feel they just want to see me happy. The stranger has no such emotional connect with me and hence I value the compliment more. Some where that Cheshire cat smile which comes to the lips is also because it reminds me of my youth. The days when the world was rosy. Please

I want to write before I go to cook my dinner. I have set up deadlines like these for myself. Looks like everything revolves around food. What's there to eat? What do I make for breakfast? What will the children take in their tiffin box? Is it healthy? Is it fresh? Will they like it? Will hubby like the dinner today? Will he be happy if I agree to go to a friend s place for dinner? If those friends are coming home, will the food be upto the mark? She will eat all that I cook, but will her husband like the food? Those friends need non vegetarian food every meal, so if I make paneer and chana for them , is it okay? The sister in law has come from abroad, is the food too spicy for her? Today I want to make a soup but should I make it any different? Can I experiment or just go with what everyone is used to eating? A friend has told me that all food on the table should have different colours. From that day I have stopped going to restaurants which serve all Indian food in a bright orang

The nice people, I have already mentioned in my earlier two posts. Can I now talk about the not so nice ones? These are the ones some of us have in our lives. The slimy variety. Just like eels. They slip away before I can find faults or they pretend it was never meant to be that way.I have some friends dying to rake up my past, maybe notorious by their standards.There is this gentle tilling going on or a little push here n there. People who want to know what or who or how I was before. Actually, they want to know who I was with. These are not new people in my life, remember, I have finished cribbing about the new ones. So I am going to refer to them as old friends and acquaintances. People whom I have lost touch with years ago and whom I have lost contact with very willingly. To put it in words, an old neighbour, a friend s husband, a far off relative, a cousin s friend, someone who chatted me up etc.The medium of this renewed contact is of course the internet.It starts with a lot of c

In continuation with my earlier post, I go thru one more hassle with people in Mumbai. They want to know which language my children speak at home. Even the building people who meet me only in the elevators want to know if my children know Marathi. This is very strongly asked by people who consider themselves saviours of this state. Then they want to know if my husband speaks Marathi with them. Since that is a Nay, it immediately goes to "Oh you must be speaking to them in Gujarati." By this time the tone has become become accusing. My answer is a No. Next question is ready for me: "Your parents must be talking in Gujju." My reply that my parents talk in Hindi, does not go down well. Them : Why in Hindi? Me: because we were born brought up in Dhanbad. I am given a blank look. Me: Its in Bihar, Now in Jharkhand. Them: "All these new generation parents want to speak English at home because of school admissions." Me: No, we speak Hindi at home. Them: Oh just l

Two events totally unrelated but both have irritated me no end. Specially when I am writing about Babasaheb Ambedkar and his followers, my own experience is not so good with Mumbaites. Let me start with the majority community which lives here. Before they ask your name, they want to know your surname. In Maharashtra, the surname is decisive of who you are. I am referring to all the people I meet for the first time. The question almost always centers around which surname, which village. They make their calculations about my wealth , income and social strata from there. I am not referring to the maids, the shopkeepers or vendors I talk to.I am talking about the well educated,well traveled, learned and cultured majority community here. Every single time I am asked these questions I am triggered. I can't believe Babasaheb is from Maharashtra and they are still routed in these casteist thoughts. It must be happening in other states though I have never experienced it in Bihar,Jharkhand n

Tomorrow 6th December is Dr Bheemrao Ambedkar's death anniversary. He wrote the Constitution of India. He abolished caste system in India.There was a Hindi film made based on his life. This is about all I know and I have seen the film. To know his real fame or impact, we need to be at Shivaji Park, Mumbai from 2-7dec. People from all over India come to pay respect to him. The Government of India gives them free travel by road and railways. They get to stay in Shivaji park under the smog filled Mumbai skies. They have water connections there put up by the municipality.The people who come in late sleep on the by lanes around Shivaji Park. There is some Bhajan kirtan shlokas going on in the park. We see lot of Buddhist monks in this crowd. People come and stay for three four days. Pray to the idol of Dr. Ambedkar and go back to their home towns. This is like an annual pilgrimage for them. In Mumbai, they can travel free by the bus or the local trains. They visit the Mahalaxmi temple o

Everyday I promise myself that I will write everyday. I break the promise promptly the next day. I have no one to answer to for writing my blog. Today if I was working and had to deliver a report everyday, I would have done it on 85% of the days. Even that is breaking a promise but I seem to bend the rules all the time. When I tell our child, I will get you something, the chances are it won't be on the day I had promised. I had other errands to run so I could not do it is what I say. Its always about how many things I have to do in a day and not just work and earn money like my husband. Really, who am I kidding? Can Sachin say, I will make runs in tomorrow s match, aaj sirf khel ke aa jaaonga. I am like that. Everything can wait till tomorrow. When people who are supposed to call and don't do it, they are branded uncaring or lazy and most times both. A friend told me that a blog is about a person s own ramblings. It took me some time to digest that truth. I want to say all I do

Life can be fun. Fun can be created. Just saw two guys stopping a rickshaw walla as he spit on the road while driving. The driver of my vehicle informed me that at lots of junctions, BMC has employed people to catch people who are spitting and fine them. I could see the passengers of the auto rickshaw trying to negotiate with the BMC team. They didn't budge, thank God for that. One of them sat in the auto with the driver and asked him to pull to the kerb. Is this what is required to bring about a change in people? I know that all auto and taxi drivers have a basic minimum education that enables them to read signs, hoardings etc. Why cant their mums teach them about spitting? I am sure it is easier than teaching your child table manners. These small little changes in the system also makes me smile. We are slowly inching towards something good. Then, I read a leading political bi monthly magazine which the husband got from a trip. God help me, nothing could me more depressing. I kno

I associate food with smell. If the house or a hotel smells good, chances are the food there will taste good. When I came to Mumbai and was staying in a Christian hostel, I remember the feeling of nausea at 10am everyday as they started cooking beef. For a pure vegetarian Gujarati girl, it was a culture shock. I had never had people eating non vegetarian on my table for the first fifteen years of my life. So to see pieces of meat in a watery gravy was not a pleasant sight for me. Hostel food was full of coconut in every vegetable and garlic in every dal.At home, we never ate garlic or onions on a daily basis. In Mumbai, my meals had so many new ingredients and then I got used to seeing and smelling that. Even people sucking the bone for the marrow was a sight I had never seen before. There was no religious sentiment involved. I was just so shocked and oh so unexposed. Stage two was when I joined a five star hotel in Mumbai. For me, the whole hotel was always stinking of food. For year

When I sit to write there are thoughts. But then I have no Title to write. What is important is what I write.Or should I first make an interesting caption/ title and then weave a story around it. Every time I am also thinking about is it the truth or rather my version of it or is it something I have added some juice to make it interesting. Question comes to my mind that who am I writing for. Myself or my friends or is it there a larger audience somewhere. The desire for name, fame and appreciation is definitely there. Now the question is, Is this about my writing or is this about everything in my life? Am I looking for appreciation and acknowledgement for every single act of mine? Can I just be be happy with what I have done? I have gone into a new thing these days, which is about acknowledging all the people who help me in some way and I am aware of it. I also expect the same in return and that too big time.Now, the grudge is that if you are going to my designer or my jeweler, rather

Everyone has an understanding of good health and good food habits. I am not talking about going on the extremes of raw food or no wheat or only fruit diet. I just mean basic good food. Which educated person doesn't know that packaged food contains preservatives. Even if they packaging denies it, it is put under some other chemical name which the consumer is unaware of. Any food rots after a time and if it is in a packet vaccum packed or something, it cant survive without some added chemicals. Even curds which are good for health have a fifteen day shelf life. Try keeping your home made curd in the refrigerator for three days, it starts turning sour and gets spoilt within a week. I fail to understand parents who give packaged or outside food to their children all the time. I blame the Stay at home Moms more out here. The father is not there for atleast 12 hrs a day. The basic nutrition knowledge is low or the desire to cook fresh food is not there. In most upper middle class urban f

I need space from my loved ones. When they are not around, I miss them. When I am around them, I wish I was miles away. I want to be spoken to only when I am in the mood. I want to listen and want them to share their day. I also have so many tasks to complete.If I sit and listen, all my housework will be pending. I wonder if work is as important as relationships. If I don't handle my responsibilities, will any of my relationships work? I am stressed about not spending quality time with my loved ones. When I want to spend time with them, they are busy.When there is a chance , everyone is so worked up. I don't like outings with a time limit. Why cant people just relax and be. Everyone has work the next day. Just because one is chilling today, their tomorrow need not be a crazy day. I see people inviting me to meet for a "Quick coffee" or an "early dinner". Even the terms are such a put off. That's like my friends or family are slotting me in their busy sc

Master of the Game was a novel by Sidney Sheldon. I started reading Sidney Sheldons much before I started my dose of Mills n Boons. In school, the library teacher helped me select classics...abridged versions ofcourse. English was not the spoken language. By eighth std, with a great English tedacher, I had the urge to enjoy the language. In terms of marks I excelled in English but Hindi is the languauge I thought in. I prayed in Gujarati,in my heart. The verbal prayers were in Sanskrit with my Grandmother and in English in the school assembly. For years I never understood the meaning of all that I prayed. Our family was very serious about certain issues. God was one of them. No one was forced to pray or visit the temple. That came naturally to all of us. When we prayed, we prayed very seriously. Uncle was almost angry while praying. Mom and Gran wanted the servants to be at their beck n call while praying. So the servant ran to get the flowers, water milk, ghee, plates, sugar, hot milk

The intention of this writing is not for you to feel sorry for me.I had guys asking if I can cook. The mothers asking If you are in a hostel, would you like to live with a family. Where do you shop? What do you do in your spare time? How often do you visit your relatives? Do you have English Western toilets at home? Can you stay without your job? There are meetings where i have visited the guys house and even water was rationed. One meeting , the guy had six pegs of vodka. I thought that's so cool . He can handle his drink. My father was scandalized. One guy was angry coz I didn't know about his institute INSEAD in France. Those days there was no google to look up these things. One guy took me to the mirror to check my height vis a vis his. My cousin was angry about it. I was absolutely fine. He was buying a commodity and better to check it out by all parameters. Each one said like the foreign companies do when one goes for interviews : Don't call us, we will call you. My D

This saga of "boy seeing" continued for years. In the mean time, I studied , graduated, chose my vocation,went back home for a while, took up jobs, grew in my career and had fun.My parents really tried hard to get me married. They built contacts, met relatives, went to marriage bureaus, attended weddings and what not. In Hindi there is a saying Kitne kitne papad bele. My parents did all of that and more. I wanted to be married and I thought this is the only way to find a guy.But even for a moment I never ever appreciated what my parents were doing for my future. I wonder if we ever realise the effort that our parents put in for us. I don't miss a chance to tell my husband and children, how much I do for them. So coming back to the juicy side of "boy seeing" I kept on seeing Number One boy for the next ten years on arranged marriage proposals. My parents or relatives did not want to give up. Each one thought this was the match made in heaven and the astro charts

Somehow have been wanting to write about all the arranged marriage proposals I saw or rather about the meetings we had with boys. I started seeing guys at the ripe age of eighteen. Whatever that means. I remember an astrologer telling my Grandma that I will be married when I turned 18. So I grew up with that belief too. Got my first proposal at 16 and then the family thought that was a good sign. For sure, I would be married by eighteen. With six children in the same house, my folks wanted the eldest to get married soon, to set the ball rolling for the younger children. I was completely agreeable to this idea. All the women in Jharia Dhanbad got married that way. That was the future and I was fine with it. Like they say, the best laid plans can go awry, we too made a mistake by sending me to Mumbai to study and a hostel to live. I thought I was the same Jharia girl even in Mumbai except for the outward changes of a hair cut and Bambaiya clothes. But it was not so. Slowly and surely, I

Season of festivities. Season of school Annual days.Season of aggressive mothers. Mumbai gets festive around Janmashtmi. By Ganpati, we are completely into celebrations. Before this there are a few bomb blasts and stuff like that. We are into exams and life goes on. The annual day of the school is the day to see your child on stage. All schools have it. Some for one day and some for four five days. Parents and corporates pay the sponsorship money and then parents have to buy tickets for the show, pay for the uniforms, not to mention the rehearsals pick up n drops. Practically all schools have the same pattern. I am always amazed how working parents manage it. The schools have no consideration for that. They operate on the premise that most Moms are housewives. Some cook and keep home while others gym n keep home. All moms have one child in one school. A mother having two or three kids, God help her. The children who are in plays are always in plays and the ones who dance continue danc

I have seen a lot of guys. "Seeing guys" in my times was a very arranged marriage syndrome. Not what it means nowadays. So I saw a lot of guys, courtesy my parents and relatives, who wanted to see me settled. My working and staying in a hostel was all so nomadic for them. I had grown up in an arranged marriage concept. The key being good looking guy, lots of his Dad s riches or Granpa s, diamonds to wear and some holidays to be taken. My Mom used to paint a lovely picture for me and I completely visualised myself at twenty one in a nice pink starched kota sari, diamonds in my ears, neck, fingers,and wrists too, giving instructions to the Maharaj. Helping my mother in law in lighting diyas in the puja room. Getting snacks for guests in a tray, wearing new rubber slippers at home and a nice low ponytail which covered the deep revealing back of the sari blouse. I feel sad that as a child, this is all i dreamt. I feel sad that i could not or rather did not dream big. I feel sad t

Writing after really long and have some random thoughts. People come into your life after a long gap. It is back like old times. And then they disappear, just like old times. Except that it hurts more, one more time. I see the people on Shivaji Park at all odd times. My eyes notice the couples the most. I am always looking at them and forming a whole story about them. Most of the times i think they are in an illicit relationship.By that I mean , one partner is married or committed to someone else. Then i try to figure out the office colleagues, there familiarity and rapport is so cool, no coyness there. I see those couples in their fifties and think they have no business of falling in love. Me at forty does find fifty old. Then there are those couples married to each other, where the man wants some romance and the girl wants to crib. The tiffin sharing couples are beyond my understanding. They are feeding each other, it is so like the Indian wedding albums. All have a picture of the br

I am a bad shopper when it comes to buying sanitary napkins. For years, I used the brand which Mom recommended in our home town. Then guess what? They stopped making that brand of sanitary napkins. I was stuck now. I never knew what else to buy. There was this huge struggle at trying all possible brands newer, cheaper or more advanced. I am not a tv watcher so i never understand what comes in new. A chemist shop is so crowded that it is not a place to browse thru variuos coloured packets. AT a supermarket, some vague salesgirl is trying to palm off some equally unheard of brand. I am wondering if the stuff is made in hygenic conditions. So i keep trying and almost always never remember which one was a good one on my last buy. Then we had a new medical shop opened by two young looking brothers. They were smart, knew their medicines and what the medicine did and spoke in English. Sometimes English is my comfort language with strangers. I can't talk about the brands in Gujrati or Hind

Child came from school and told me Mamma it is Bharat Bandh on 8th may. I asked her what was the source of her information and prompt came the answer that there are hoardings all over . My child, all of eight years, thought this was such a big thing that's why they were hoardings being put up with the Bandh information. This was the misleading ad of DLF IPL. Some time back Matrix a mobile phone company which promises to give lower rates on international roaming said in their ad...A cheap Indian phone company blah blah. For long no one noticed it and it was ok. People like me who notice these things and are upset, do not know how to proceed in such matters. I was not even ok with the ONe Day mataram tagline. Please , cant our creative guys leave a few national things sacrosanct. The ads are so weird with their promises. The children cant distinguish the reality from the fiction. The teachers are teaching some real out dated stuff. Hindi book has a depressing story about death. The H

Till now,I had only held the National flag made of paper. That too after I owned a car, the Indian flag was bought on Republic and Independence day. The children at the traffic signals who were selling the flags were so adorable and that is about as patriotic as I got. Post marriage, the husband made sure we all saw the republic day parade on tv. That was about it. Then on the day of the World cup finals all my patriotic instincts were awakened. After we lost the first two wickets of Sehwag and Sachin, for me the game was over. I decided to take the children to Shivaji Park to play. It was a quiet evening, and I saw a couple from the building also stepping out. I barely know them and in India we do not say hello to strangers. I still thought of them as not interested in the game , just like me. Shivaji park is actually a stone s throw away from where we live. As we crossed the road which is pretty difficult to do with children on other days, we were stunned. The by lane which leads to

I called him when I saw him on the internet. Rather I found his name and phone number when I searched for him. The best part was he was looking at hiring people in his design firm. I couldn t believe my luck. I was so excited as I made this new discovery. I did not wait to think.I just went by my heart.Mind was left behind. I called him. There was no plan of action of what I will talk. My chances of getting caught were nil. He was too much of a gentleman to call back some strange girl on the same number. I asked him for a job. There was a lot of nervousness in my voice. it just made me sound more like a job applicant. I had never done this before or dont remember it for sure. I asked for the job. Lied a bit and a bit of truth. He was calm personified. He actually sounded like a gentleman on the phone. This was going to be fun. He asked me stuff about myself very patiently. He actually gave me time to come off my mumblings and give answers. All this not in person that too on the phone.

Nargis Khatoun was my best friend in school. She came in the same bus as me. Her bus stop was at a masjid in Dighwadih. Her house was right next to the masjid. Green colored makaan single storied. She lived on the first floor. The staircase was outside the building from the road to her house balcony. We always saw really bright coloured clothes drying in her house. She had a round face, big forehead, wheatish complexion bordering dusky, brown eyes. Because of her, a large forehead got associated with Muslim girls.Now I see Katrina, Dia mirza all justifying my discovery with that big forehead. I was one of the non English speaking girls in the convent and Nargis gave me company. We d talk about all our relatives and analyse all the school friends. We d sit and say which girls were best friends etc. I was extremely fond of her. Then, we had a maths test. In fourth std so we were into long multiplications. I got full marks in the test. Those days the answer sheets were given to you to che

I wake up in the morning and I cant bear to look at the newspapers. If I see stuff in the morning, it plays on my mind the whole day. Photographer Shadab Khan got a prize in some competition because he clicked a foetus lying on the road of Mahim. What's the big deal ? As a child, we had a nursing home which had come up near our house for a short while and we used to see this kind of stuff all the time. Sometimes even a dog chewing at one, as the garbage was dumped outside the nursing home. If clicking gross pictures of death gives one awards then this is the time to go to Japan. Scary to hear how we kill the girl child in the womb. I had always read Haryana n some northern states of India having a skewed boy girl ratio. Now Mumbai is in the same category. I would have thought that Mumbai has educated people and a huge population of working women. Atleast one of the couple must be tenth pass and would think differently. They'd pray for a healthy baby and sex of the baby would no

There was a small temple at the turn of the street. I prayed there whenever we crossed it which was almost everyday. This temple was under a peepul tree. It has a banyan tree behind with the prop roots providing shade to the near by area. People from the opposite chawl which had now become a building, took care of it. They had also put potted plants on the pavement. The green patch had the small Shiva temple. Slowly, their Shiv ratri function started getting grander. The hoardings of a politico son came near the temple. He would come for darshan on shivratri. The temple turned to pure marble. Next year they put two marble steps from the road to the pavement where the temple is. Then on festivals, the ferry lights started covering half the street.Free snacks were provided to all who went for darshan on auspicous days. The snacks became sabudana khicdi, badam pista milk, kaju katri wafers etc. Now, they had uniformed caterers providing the snacks. Then the tree which covered the temple w

Why are trees being cut on the highways ? Why are the RTI activists being killed? Why is Binayak Sen in jail? Why do the people living in chawls seem to be having more celebrations than my building? Why am i envious when I see yet another wedding in the chawl? Another night of festivities, lights, crackers? Why I loved the film Band Baja Baraat but dont like it happenning around me? Why I did not enjoy my own wedding? Why do I love all wedding movies like DDLJ, Hum aap ke hai kaun , Kal ho na ho and still not enjoy my own wedding? Why I fear the weddings of my children ? Why do I have fear of the life partners they will choose and the life they will choose? Why do I love attending other people s weddings ? Why do I get upset when friends dont call back? Why do I get upset when I still have friends who never call me? Why do I want to be friends with people my Mom warns me about ? Why do I not write when I am so full of thoughts wanting to come on paper? Actually, who writes on paper the