Have We Lost It?

Have we Lost it?

I distinctly remember reading an article written by a British officer of the Raj era wherein he had recorded his observations of the Indian people , their habits, traditions and their idiosyncrasies . Most of it was the regular stuff but what remained imprinted on my mind was this sentence- “The Indians have perfected the art of doing nothing.” It was definitely not said in a sarcastic or mocking vein, but was meant to be taken seriously.

Over a period of time, I mulled over this and started seeing things from his perspective. I got a chance to travel to a lot of places in the interiors of India, small towns, Kasbahs and a few villages too. In Sikkim, in the far flung Yum thang valley, I observed a father with his tiny tot tied to his back in a sling, standing at the edge of one of the many hairpin curves dotting that landscape. He was just standing there, enjoying the gentle evening breeze, watching the sunset and skimming his eyes lovingly over his beloved land. There was such an expression of peace and serenity on his face. I waited impatiently for him to do something, say something or at least move. He did nothing of that sort. He continued being in this Zen like pose for a long time, while I mumbled something about the sheer wastage of time.

On another trip to Himachal, I watched a young teenaged girl sitting on the stone steps leading to her humble abode, observing two young school girls playing a version of hopscotch. She kept looking at them, with a benevolent look and that serene smile once more. I too stopped at observed them. I saw the kids play and was tempted to correct them in their game, tell them about better balancing techniques and offer unsolicited advice on their hopscotch game. However, language created a thankful barrier and I went away disappointed that I could not save the day and polish the skills of two of India’s future stars.

I realized that I was the only one fretting and fuming over the time being wasted and precious seconds being lost forever. This set me thinking that why do we city folks cling onto every moment and try to exploit it to its maximum. We want to use each day, each minute most efficiently so that we become better students, competitive professional and live the maximum life. Why do we do all this? So that we can be HAPPY! So that we may find our peace and be content with life. But we don’t realize that we are on a constantly turning treadmill on which we are running, panting and gasping and finding our destination escaping from our clutches like a mirage vanishing in the desert.

I remembered the words of “Leisure” by William Henry Davies, etched forever in my mind.

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

If the poor soul were alive today, he would never have even imagined how rushed our life has become. “Staring”… I think sometimes we even forget to breathe! We are constantly on the lookout for new ways to torture our already beaten and injured bodies and minds. Multitasking is the mantra for us. If you are not juggling your home, office, family, hobby classes, parties, yoga classes and PTA meetings, you are not even worth being mentioned. The busier you are, the better for you. And then, these serene expressions haunt us.. make us wonder.. why are we doing all this? And then realizations dawns… so that we too may reach that state of nirvana, experience the bliss and calmness.

What was a way of life for us, seems to have been lost somewhere. No offence meant, but the true “ART OF LIVING” runs in our veins. It’s just that we diluted it with protein shakes, too much adrenalin and cocktails. Let us all understand LEISURE in its truest sense.

These are a few of my unknown things.......

1. My favourite track right now is "Mann udaan varyache…" (Marathi song)
2. You know it's love when you are so secure in your feelings for him that you are ready to truly give him all the freedom and yet feel closer than ever.
3. The most huggable person in the world to me is my son and before that my paternal grandmom whose wrinkled skin and plump arms gave me all the comfort in the world.
4. A dark secret you don't know about me – After my son was born and I resumed office after my maternity leave, a new batch of trainees had joined. One of them fell head over heels in love with me…. And it gave me huge ego boost when I came to know about it.
5. A naughty secret you don't know about me – My cousin and I tied bells to my grand uncle's pyjamas ... just to spite him as he was such a disciplinarian.
   
6. A funny secret you don't know about me- My friends and I locked our college principal in his office and then locked the common corridor door and were then chased by our peon but we easily outran him.
7. A chore I hate doing is – putting the mosquito net in the night.
8. My most special memory is seeing my son get his Chief Prefect badge on the school stage and being sworn in as the HEAD BOY.
9. I am most scared of loneliness and also of driving a car.
10. I am proud of my husband's paintings and his carpentry skills.
11. I last cried when a person very close to me betrayed my trust in him.
12. The last time I laughed my guts out was when I met up with my "train" friends and we reminisced about all the mad things we had done 15 years back.
13. Shopping is Kabhi khushi kabhi gham….
14. My favourite 2 a.m. snack in the past was cheese cubes and currently is "chewing hubby's brains". .
15. The coolest thing in my wardrobe is a sexy cotton top with a blue and white print.. revealing yet conservative…. Deadly combo.

Friends

. F*R*I*E*N*D*S

We cannot choose our parents but we can choose our friends. How true! Right from the time we come into this world, till we depart, we reach out for an understanding touch, a comfortable presence and a comforting shoulder to rest our worries on.

I have been blessed with few but very precious and true friends. I am friendly to a lot of people, but there are only a handful whom I can truly say know the real ME. Have you noticed how true friends bring out the best and the worst in you? We are so polite and civil to the whole world, but speak nothing but the naked, cruel truth to our friends, without even an effort at disguising it. Remember how you bluntly told your close friend how horrid she looked in that purple dress which the whole world and its cousin praised to the sky while suppressing their giggles? Or how you stubbornly refused to believe that your best friend tore your imported doll’s dress even when everyone else swore on their mothers that they saw her do it and how gratified you felt when one other girl of the gang confessed to that crime on her wedding day and asked for your forgiveness?

Why is it that we chat for hours with our office colleagues, whom we meet everyday, but do not go beyond the normal servant shortage, husband bashing, boss abusing, best bargains and the atrocities of the Municipal Corp?

How is it that we suddenly run into an old friend, whom we have not seen or heard from for ages and that “just a cup of coffee” turns into an outpouring of our deep and dark secrets and unashamed display of feelings? It is as if we were always in touch. Is it because somewhere we are connected and our destinies entwined?

The true test of friendship is sharing your dirtiest fantasy and your darkest secret with your friend but still continue to feel the same level of comfort and the same feeling of “coming home”. The world would indeed be a poor place if it was not for our friends, wouldn’t it?

I have some real true friends with whom I have had some bitter fights and many cherished memories. This is an ode to all of them, wherever they all are.

Being a Mother

What is it about the word "Mother" or "Parent" which just makes us sit up and shiver? Why is it such a "loaded" word? When was the exact time that changed, what was a very natural phenomenon, into such a task, so as to say?

My experience as a mother has been, well, a natural one. I am still on the learning curve although it is more than 15 years since I became one. Looking back, I can truthfully say that all in all it has been (as yet) a very fulfilling and fun filled journey. Yes, the long nights of colic induced howls, those periods of energetic burst which were always peaked after midnight and those nappy changes and constant hunger pangs are there in the recesses of memory but at the forefront what stays is the endearing stammer, the wobbly steps, the innocent games and the unabashed showering of love, accompanied by toothless grins.

When I see the new age moms of today, I feel I belonged to another era or maybe another planet for all you know. They are equipped with the latest gizmos of beepers and trackers and baby monitors and what have you. All that a baby needs is secure feeling of your loving arm around him. Your strong heartbeat next to his tiny one will instill such a feeling of security that even the best of the "How to Be A Perfectionist Mother" types of books will be unable to ever explain.

What gets my goat is this new concept of "structured playtime". How can anything as fun as "play" be structured? Where have all the playgrounds filled with dirty, disheveled but joyful kids gone? Are those days of rolling in the mud and doing cartwheels on the lawns a thing of the past? Will kids have to plan their "play dates" so as to experience what it is to play? When I read about this new age playschool that had special sessions for “mother-child” playtime, I was astounded! I mean, if you have to TEACH a mother to play with her own child, then I think we need to brace ourselves to hear about “How to breathe” classes or maybe “how to grow from a girl to a woman” classes or maybe even “how to walk to the bus stop” classes!

I think we all are taking parenting too seriously! My parents never freaked out when they saw bleeding elbows, broken teeth or dislocated shoulders. Everything was taken in their stride and “Bai’s home remedies” (we addressed our paternal grandmom as Bai) were called for. Very rarely was the doctor ever needed. In no time, we would be fit and fine for another disaster. My parents had the same approach to our results. Full scores and red lines were met with the same yogic equilibrium. No exhilarated whoopies on bagging the first rank and no suicide attempts on failing the exams. When I see the parents of today at PTA meetings, chewing the teacher’s brains for “that half mark you wrongly cut” I pity them. This is not the way to live or teach your child to live. How much will that half mark matter when you are in the sunset of your life and reminiscing about your life’s journey?

I hope I can leave my son a legacy of love, a treasure trove of happiness and a hoarding of cherished memories, which he can draw upon when he faces the ups and downs of his life. I hope I can instill in him the ability to embrace gracefully whatever life throws at him and the strength to carry on happily, irrespective of the setbacks.