Blast From the Past...

A few days back I got reacquainted with a person from my past. This person had his accountancy coaching class in the ground floor of my building premises, whereas we lived on the first floor. At that time, I too was in the final year of my graduation course.

Many of my friends were his students. The starting of this class changed the atmosphere of the building. Young boys, who otherwise loitered around the streets, now hovered in our premises to eye the girls who came there to study. Gossipy aunties who previously had only neighbours and relatives to talk about, now had more “juice” to make their afternoons interesting by ridiculing the dressing sense of some “modern” girls and by making their own “couples” pair. The lone general store in the premises started doing roaring business…..in short a lot of changes took place.

As I was not part of the class, but was in the same degree course, I ran into some stumbling blocks during exam time. With no one to run to for help (we didn’t own a telephone in those days!), I went, albeit very hesitatingly, to Sir to ask for help, completely prepared to be turned down as I was not his student. Imagine my surprise, when he not only welcomed me, but explained the content in such an easy manner that I was left wondering what was so difficult in the first place? His generosity, his ability to make the student comfortable and his ease of teaching left a lasting impression on me.

I now started observing his dedication and passion for his work more closely. Through some of his students, I came to know that he suffered from allergy to chalk dust and had some other breathing ailment too. Yet, I never saw him using that as an excuse to shirk away from work. No one was turned away from asking doubts and difficulties….in fact many of his students lived in our building itself and took all kinds of liberties with his time, but I do not recollect anyone mentioning that he/she had been turned away.

Soon I got married and shifted away from my home in Chembur. Marital bliss and then the trapeze artist act of balancing home and office, followed by the birth of my son turned life into one whirlwind. Then my family sold off that home to settle in Pune. Chembur home soon became a memory buried in the recesses of the mind. But through some or the other source, Sir came to be mentioned. Be it the starting of “Dawn Club”, the printing of his “Dawn” booklets or my brother’s involvement in Sir’s activities, he was somehow connected to me.

After a few years of corporate life, I decided to quit and be with my son to enjoy his growing years. To occupy myself constructively during the long afternoons, I started teaching. I have experienced firsthand how easy it is to get irritated by repeated queries, how easy it is to lose patience with slow learners and how frustrating it becomes when you are in the throes of teaching passionately and the student is looking at you with a blank expression! At such times, I remembered how Sir’s kindness and patience….and then would count to the proverbial 10, exhaling out all those negative feelings.

Now, through FB, I got in touch with him and believe it or not, he happened to read my blog, where my last post was in Jan 2009! I had forgotten its existence! Through his persuasive skills (believe me, even online he has the power of persuasion!) he has compelled me to write again. And…. It feels magical. Thank you dear Gerry Sir, whom the world knows as the famous Gerald D’Cunha. Yeh post aapke naam!

The Tale of the Two Coconut Trees

What happens when you are an innocent, blushing young bride, where your husband is the centre of your universe and he is your window to the world – the big, bad world from which you want him to shelter you till eternity? Well, although now, after 20 years of knowing each other, the adjectives of young and blushing seem as far away as the thought of hubby dearest being my only window to the world, there are a few things which hubby did make me learn, (not all of which are the printable kind!) the first being the coconut tree theory.

This is a true original, typical hubby style. It was the first week after our marriage. I was still basking in the bliss of being Mrs , the mehendi on my hands had not yet faded and the journey of this new life was as yet smooth and scenic. After another hectic day of force smiling our way through meeting another horde of enthusiastic neighbours and relatives in Chennai, we retired for the night. Hubby took me to the balcony. My romantic heart leaped with the anticipation of a surprise gift….. or maybe a serenade?? He took me to the far end of the balcony and pointing to some coconut trees asked me, “What do you see there?”. Squinting in the dark, I struggled to notice some extra ordinary sight and replied , “Hmmm… romantic moonlight?”. He continued in a serious vein, “ Look at those coconut trees… those two..at the right side. Do you see how the breeze blows and they bend towards each other? See … see… yes …look at how they are caressing each other”. Then he paused… I waited expectantly for him to give a romantic insight into this whole thing. After a long pause, he continued in the same tone, “Look now…. See, the breeze has stopped blowing and the trees are now back to their original positions. (pause) So, did you understand anything?”. Thank God for the darkness as he could not see how blank and dumb founded I looked. He explained - “We must learn to be like these coconut trees. At times, we must be close, touching each other’s lives but ultimately, we must back off to our own individual space. We must not become creepers, clinging to each other, but give each other so much space that we can grow and become strong, individual trees with an identity of our own. In this way, we can be close, but not suffocatingly so, at the same time we can be far but not away”.

I was stunned by this talk! Just 4 days into the marriage and already he wanted HIS SPACE! I was flooded with doubts, uncertainties and big, fat tears which rolled incessantly down my cheeks. He went off to sleep, blissfully unaware of how his ‘gyaan giving’ had affected me. I waited to make some sense out of what he has said. I spent the whole night, watching the trees, urging them to get entwined forever, wishing them to stick together…anything to keep them together …my idea of togetherness. By morning, I was convinced that there has to be something wrong with me for hubby to say something so heartbreaking. Is he already bored of me? Am I not his kind? WHAT IS IT???? I was plagued by all such thoughts.

Seeing my puffy, red and still watering eyes, he almost leaped out of bed. On understanding the cause of all this anxiety, he explained that even though we had become one, he wanted me to have my own identity, my own thoughts, my own opinions and not become just a shadow of him. Very lovingly he told me that however romantic “Two bodies , one mind, one soul” sounded, in the long run, I would realize that both of us needed space and this would make us want to get back to each other rather than have to be with each other.

It took a lot of convincing but after all these years, I grudgingly admit that the coconut trees are still thriving and even today they want the breeze to blow them closer. They have witnessed many storms and rough weather, but they have learnt to dodge them and have become stronger and sturdier. So, all you newly weds…. Do apply this coconut theory in your lives…… do let me know what you think. Maybe some gyaan I too can give to hubby?

RAISING THE BAR

All of us..well, most of us are brought up by our guardians / parents with love and care. Initially, we grow up with the feeling that the world begins and ends with us. We are the centre of the universe for our family and wrongly start believing that this holds true for everyone. Slowly, reality starts sinking and we begin to make concessions for others to have more importance than us. That is when we first raise our tolerance level a little bit. Then, we start hearing criticism about ourselves – from friends, neighbours, teachers…. Did you see how crooked her teeth are….. isn’t this the third time she has worn the same dress …. How untidily you write…..and your cocooned world comes crashing down. Didn’t Mom say I was the most beautiful girl in the world….didn’t Granny say that I looked like a princess irrespective of what I wore… Dad had sworn that I was a child prodigy… that I was Einstein in the making… whatever happened to all that???

Your tolerance then increases and you learn to rise above all this. Your world expands to include some people more beautiful and more intelligent than your own self.

Come teens and the jumping hormones play havoc with our already ravaged mind and body. Now is the time to find our idol, our ideal… we are on the threshold of entering erstwhile forbidden areas.. we are now allowed (albeit a little reluctantly) to go to parties, travel alone by public transport…so thrilling! Such a show of chivalry and courage! I will box his ears if he even as much as looks at me……. I will stop talking to her if she tells them I borrowed her dress. … these and many more such declarations are forgotten and buried in our memories. Again we raise the bar to tolerate deceit, to tolerate back-stabbing, to break a few more illusions about others…and yes… a few about ourselves also.

Then, the hot-headedness of youth takes over and we become crusaders..men on a mission to change the world. We advise our maid not to take shit from her drunkard husband, egg her on to revolt against him… tell our employed friends to stop being a wimp… hey, why don’t you just walk out on that stinking job? So what if you have kids? Tell our neighbour to stop being a housewife and grab that job… kids will learn to manage…

Then its time for us to get into the “real” world. We learn to ADJUST. Drunkard husbands are not alcoholics.. just “social” drinkers.. that bruise on the face is an allergy … you know how pollution is increasing…. Bosses are not rude or barbarians.. they are just having a bad day.. that’s all…. Husbands are not wayward.. they are just being “boys will be boys”… Your children are not criminals, they are just different! Raise that bar of tolerance….. raise a toast to peace!

Did we know we had it in us to drink so much poison without even the slightest flinching, without a murmur? Would we have believed that the carefree child within us would readily agree to be fettered? Did we know that amidst all the ugliness of our life, we would still continue to live it and accept it? Did we know our capacity to tolerate?

Let others change the world… I am too busy adjusting in here.

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.