Life is easy kya karein

I am no bra burning feminist. Actually this bra burning is a western concept. In India, lot of places  the Saree was a complete garment, not worn with blouse or petticoat. Why am I talking all this is because I went to some undergarments shops in my area. When I was in my teens, my mother and Aunt used to buy undergarments for me in Jharia and Dhanbad. I was not taken to the store and neither did I want to go to buy it. My Aunt chose the size and pattern and that was the best. The shops had no trial rooms. If you did not like the stuff, you had to go back again to return it. I do not know if they asked for any explanations for the return of the undergarment. In south Mumbai, where my college and hostels were, it was very easy to go and buy. Salesmen showed you and there was a trial room. The bras were cotton . We only wore white. Black were few and considered sexy but did not match with most clothes. Black was not so much in fashion back then in India. We never wore matching sets of

Saat Aasra Manmala Mandir is a place I cross every day. It is a Swayambhu temple.  Swayambhu loosely translated means self manifested. India has lots of temples where a stone or a Linga is worshipped and that form has just come from the earth. Years back, there was a Manmala tank  which was a pond near the temple. Now only a small well remains as a memory of the water body. I visit the temple often on my way back from Yog. The temple is kept very dirty at all times. I have actually had altercations with the priest asking him to keep the premise clean. He doesn't throw anything old from the temple. The cloth on the idols, the coconuts which are offered, old diyas, old rags, brooms, old tins, old pipes. All this is kept inside the main temple facing the Gods including the Pandit's dirty unwashed trousers. The Banyan tree inside the compound has been  half chopped. Every time I visit this temple, I get hassled. I go because I am religious and spiritual. I get upset and tell mysel

I go for the Yog class in the morning. One man who is not a teacher takes the prayers or Pranayam in the absence of the teacher. He was teaching some women students. He makes a lot of mistakes in conducting the class or taking the Pranayam. I told him a couple of times that his instructions were wrong and we could not follow his Marathi. On checking with a fellow student, she said it was not clear and his language was inappropriate. We did not like his body language and the way he went little closer to the students than required. The students whom he was teaching were okay with it. We both talked about how he was constantly looking at those women and how they had no issues with it. I told the main teacher about this. The main teacher said everyone makes mistakes when they start teaching. The man was instructed not to come to the women's side and teach them. This man did not want to teach the male students. We could see him pursuing his own Aasan after that.  In our class, eve

Sounds have memories. The train whistle has very distinct memory for me.  Going to the Jharia railway station which was more like a 'Phatak' or a railway crossing. I think it was a goods train with two compartments added for the coal miners. This was after Satyanarayan mandir in Jharia. From our house, we had to cross 'Nal wali galli' which means a lane with a tap. It had some public taps for people to fill water and carry to their house. A narrow drain in the centre with clean water flowing. The lane was the cleaner of the lot in Jharia. I remember the sound of the water from the taps. As a child, the train whistle filled me with excitement. It meant a journey to a fun place. The train seemed like the only mode of transport to get out of the coalfield town. We went to drop people and receive people at the railway station. The whistle got more endorsed in the mind with the Hindi film song ' Gaadi bula rah hai, seeti baja rahi hai" . We sang this song for al

My new pink Adidas sneakers got stolen from outside my house. I had kept them in the covered shoe rack outside the house. They were my most precious shoes. I loved them. The most comfortable pair I  ever possessed. I bought these shoes after hunting a lot in Hong Kong and trying a whole lot of brands. For me sports shoes have to be comfortable and look good. Most footwear follow one of the two criteria. Why is it always comfort versus good looks? I do not do any sports activity. My Yog class is very simple and we do not wear shoes for the class. I just use the sneakers when I have long walks to take. With children going to school in two different timings, walking as a form of exercise, is a luxury I cannot afford. Shoes are worn to go and buy vegetables from the market, walk back from the Dry Cleaners with a whole lot of laundry and newly washed curtains, carrying bag full of groceries. In these times, the sneakers protect my feet and give them a grip even on the semi wet pavements a

I went to Shivaji Park after a long time. The bamboos are in place to make the Pujo Pandal. The Bengal Club is undergoing major repair work. Ma Kaali was taking her siesta amidst all the construction. I love the smell of cement and water. I can be in the space of construction. Simply love the knocking by the workers on the walls, the breaking, the repairing, the new coat of cement and the fresh coat of paint. In Paint, I like the smell of 'Chuna' which is lime. Earlier most shops and houses put 'Chuna' with a dash of 'neel' to give the walls a white sparkly feel. Neel is a blue powder which we used to keep our white clothes, really white. Every year, some more of the Shivaji Park green is taken away. A new room has come up behind the Police Chowky. The Ganesh Mandir has done another round of massive encroachment and tiled the park further six feet. This is to give more space to the flower hawkers. The Balasaheb memorial has this flame burning for no rhyme or r

Plaza Cinema at Dadar has been an iconic landmark to the local Mumbaikar. Earlier days when people traveled by bus and trains and so many cars did not exist, Plaza was the middle point of Mumbai. Mumbai map is more or less a straight line and Plaza cinema at Dadar was treated as a mid point. From there you moved to the suburbs. When I used to visit my Masi (my Mother's sister)at Chembur from the hostel, once the bus crossed Plaza, I felt I was almost close to Masi's house. Her house symbolised love, care and warmth for me. Plaza Cinema is at a circle where three roads meet. You can travel between central and western suburbs from this circle. You can also switch from Dadar East to West near Plaza. It connects South Mumbai to the suburbs. The Cinema hall was known for screening Marathi movies. The building has a circular facade with sculptures of men and women dancing in erotic poses. When they painted it a few years back, the sculptures on the walls were painted golden yellow.

There is an old lady who lives in the building next to ours (colloqially referred to as 'baaju ki building'). I am sure the building and the lady has a name but I fail to connect with the name. She is so warm. Talks to the children through the iron gates which are always shut for human beings. This gate opens only for the building cars. So we talk through the iron railings. She gives money to the children to buy them gifts ( 'Khau' is the marathi term when an elder gives you some money as a gift and asks you to buy food of your choice). She is back from the Old Age Home after eight months. She said her daughter in law had gone to Japan and kept her there as an old woman cant go and stay with relatives for long. Our lady was wearing a sky blue Lucknowi saree with a matching blouse. She is  looking very happy and healthy. She said she prefers staying in the Old Age Home as there are people to talk to. At home, there is no one to talk to. The home where she was, she also

The younger one dipped the Pears soap in a bucket full of water to see if it was actually transparent. I was raving mad at her for a moment. I love Pears soap but I don't like it all 'pichku' or soggy. Pears in my mind is still the most expensive, exclusive and classy soap. A Dove though more expensive, doesn't come close. May be because during my childhood, we used only Hamam soap. Green coloured soap bar which hardly melted when children dipped it in water. Ten of us in the joint family used one bar of soap till its almost last bit. There was no soap case in the bathroom. The soap was kept on a cemented shelf which was used to keep dirty clothes. One iron bucket, two separate taps for hot and cold water and one shower with only cold water. There was no Jaguar Mixer for the taps. The bath mug was plastic. This was just a bathroom without any toilet attached. I think it was a much cleaner concept. There was a largish ventilator window near the shower. The bathroom had

We grow up with memories and memories make us. Bedrooms have a special significance in our lives. In Jharia, they were called rooms not bedrooms. The servants/ house help would not understand if you said 'Clean my bedroom'. They understood instructions which said  " Sahab waala kamra saaf karna' which meant 'clean the master bedroom'. When my parents decided to put furniture in their bed room, it was a big event for all of us. Carpenters were called. Drawings were made. Dad got some furniture books from Kolkata or Delhi. We poured over them. Everything looked so complicated to make. Mom was clear that she will keep the two Godrej Almirahs in her room. Now the furniture had to be made around it. The furniture was made to divide room into a walk in wardrobe and a sleeping area. Since my parents bedroom was the biggest and quietest, the guests were almost always put up in that room along with them. A sofa cum bed with storage was built for this purpose. It was a

Last week, I was showing off to a new friend how I have been practising Yog for years. He asked me, 'How many years?' I was little hesitant and then said 'Almost six years, though not regularly'. His response was that in five years you should have been able to master it. I squirmed and did not explain to him that even now I cannot touch my toes and Shirshaasan is still a faraway dream for me. That's the thing with new friends, they do not know you well and can shake you up completely. I seem to have woken up from my slumber. What is it with me? Why don't I want to master Yog? Why am I not committed enough to learn my stretches and Aasanas well? My idea of learning something 'well' is definitely not the same as my teacher's or my new friend's idea of 'well'. In school , students always had a desire to score high marks and come first in class. I was never into sports, but I did want to win a race and excel in a game. At work, I did want t

During monsoons, I keep looking at the sea which is invisible from most of the windows including the bathroom ones. The sea plays luka chhipi ( hide and seek) with the intensity of the rain. This time the internal chatter actually slows down. I feel light. The summer dust settles down and the feet feel cleaner at home. The sunlight is easy on the eye and I do not miss the afternoon glare and the heat. I have no concerns about not having rain shoes and I am okay spoiling any pair of shoes. I like the washed clothes hanging on the clothes racks inside the living room and am not embarrassed about it. Years back, a friend's wife had visited me from Delhi. She had later conveyed to her husband how I had clothes drying in the living room windows instead of plants. My friend used to visit us when we were just married. The house was full of plants and knick knacks. With two small children, anything which can be put in the mouth, had mud in it or could topple or had sharp edges was gradua

Evening snack during the summer months was water melon. We call it 'turbooz' in Hindi. Mumbai calls it 'Kalingar'. The water melon was cut into half moon shape for all of us children. Due to shortage of water and electricity, the refrigerator barely worked. We children hardly opened it to keep it cool even when there was a power cut. Dad and Uncle liked cold 'Chaas' and water. During the 'loo' ( not toilet) when the afternoon heat and a wind was at its peak, we shut all windows and stayed indoors. The joy was watching Amitabh Bachchan movies on VCR while the electricity was there. Earlier when I was the only child in my house, we slept on the neighbour's terrace. This was 'Ratan Kaki' s terrace. We called it ' saamey waadi chhat' .  That was in our compound. The single ground floor houses had a common terrace with no boundary. All neighbours came up to sleep like community living. Each one put their own 'Chattaai' or mats

Summers in Mumbai start with ample time to read the newspapers. The newspapers these days stress me out. Earlier only the fashion magazines managed to make me feel ugly, now even a entertainment paper is telling me how bad I am. It starts with clothes, branding, advertising, covering every single fashion show and hairstyle. Bombay Times tells you which actor is taking a flight and wearing what clothes. The actually write captions like  XYZ is wearing shades to block the sun or carrying a jacket for a comfortable flight. It goes on to Winter make up skills, Summer coolers, Beauty tips for the heat, which sun block to use and what SPF, How to plan your vacation, pack your bags, shop during a holiday and for a holiday. In between all this, I am supposed to try out the new Sale at Marks and Spencer as it is my cat's anniversary, I have to buy gold for Akshay Tritiya and a house in the hills, I can book a flat at Lodha and provide LSF which is Life Style Factor for my child. No one bot

My Saree blouse tailor Manhar Bhai is a very important person in my life. I started wearing sarees at work. The most important thing while wearing a saree is the fit of your saree blouse. The saree blouse gives us the chest, the posture, the subtle show of the collar bones and the back. The depth of the neck of the blouse depended on how much cleavage you wanted to show. Some liked low backs in their blouse and some liked low plunging necklines. The blouses were made of Rubia two by two which was pure cotton or silk. Later a fabric called 'lizzy bizzy' came into existence which was synthetic and the color took longer to fade. I did try all three fabrics and came to the conclusion that cotton was most suited for me. Some colleagues were okay in their synthetic blouses too. We did go out in the sun to sales call on different corporate houses. Wanted to look as less hassled as we could. The high neck blouses were almost out of fashion for us though the service staff had to wear

The other day, at a get together, I overheard a friend's husband talking about it. It was an interesting conversation going on and I moved closer to be a part of it. Then the 'housewife' in me stopped me from doing that. It was not appropriate behaviour to barge or nudge into a discussion about work when I had quit my job twelve years back. It was also not so straight forward as there were more women in the crowd and I had to be a part of that, rather than hang around with the boys. I continued with my delicious meal and waited for the family to come to fetch me. Some of the snatched pieces of the conversation are here. Why do companies make Mission statements and Vision statements ? Does any employee ever remember what is the 'Mission or Vision' statement is? But while working, we spend hours creating this. I remember, there were external consultants called to help us come to our Mission statement and vision statement. There were endless meetings, jargons use

I wrote the above captioned post and posted it. Within a few minutes of it being uploaded and liked, it disappeared from twitter, Facebook and my blog. I tried to figure out through Google where did the post go and tried to retrieve it, but Nada. No success at all. I had not deleted it from anywhere on the laptop. Technology: A boon or bane? This used to be a topic of many a college debates. When I was in school, there was not much in terms of technology which could hamper our school studies. I am trying to rewrite the post. Am a bit angry about loosing it after posting it. On Twitter, so many people I found using my pic as their display picture. It is a weird world out there or rather a good world with some weird people out there. When I joined the hostel in Mumbai, the only English songs I knew were the hymns we sang in school and some songs from Abba which were also taught in the school choir. We had Sr. Emma who taught us a song " I had a dream, a song to sing". The

The new leaves have come on the trees. They are light green in colour just like my Camlin colour pencil, by that name. Later the colour of the leaves will turn to bottle green or dark green. For me colours are still from my first set of colour pencils I had. When I was growing up, I did not see much of crayons anywhere.  The trees are full of leaves. Chopping has not happened by BMC in recent times. They are  laying the near perfect pavements of our area again with new paver tiles. What can I do getting upset about it? Our tax money being wasted and some contractor making money along with a corrupt officer. They are putting a concrete boundary around some trees and then someone is filling the gap with more concrete instead of mud. By the time this pavement work gets done, the by lanes will be ruined. After all the fancy road repair work last year, the roads in Taikalwadi already have potholes. Shivaji Park has become a food hub since last one year. I remember it not having any fo

Did my summer internship at Uniatlantic Travels. Some of my friends got very good Travel Agencies to intern with from college. SOTC was our dream travel agency. We all loved our college professor Darryl who worked with SOTC. He was the best teacher of the bunch who taught us at Sophia Polytechnic. The faculty was really sad for the Travel and Tourism course. For me the comfort of staying in the college campus was great. But Sophia Polytechnic in essence lacked the goodness of Sophia main college.  We were protected and looked after in the Sophia main college hostel. It had a very healthy mix of all kinds of people. I would go ahead and say more of good and rare of bad. Hostel surely kept a strict vigil on the girls and it really worked well for all of us. Though at that time it seemed rather strict.  Sophia Polytechnic was a different ball game completely. The staff was catty to the core and so were the girls. There were a few exceptions. Joe from the canteen was a true gentleman and