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Showing posts from December, 2011

Outlook

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

Mom

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 ki Raat

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

Travel and my fears

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

Materialism

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

Women

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&

What's the big deal about Love?

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

My tryst with a Phoren branded gift

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 Cheer

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

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

Men.....

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

Inspiration

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

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

Strangers

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

Soup Boys n Salad Girls

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

Just a lil more

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

Hindi is my mother tongue

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

I don't want to meet anyone first time

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

Jai Bheem

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

Thru the looking glass

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