Livin’ on the Edge

“Roz subha bhagwan ko yaad karna chayien”, my grandmother used to tell me every morning. Never took her seriously, till the day I started traveling in auto rickshaw in Mumbai. I have realized now how fragile life is. I pray to lord everyday that please deliver me to my office and back home in one single piece. Divine power has so far taken good care of me, and in last three years that I have traveled in a rick all my body parts are intact. Call it auto, rick, three-wheeler, rickshaw depending on your cool quotient, but it will remain the same deadly WMD for me.

I have even classified the drivers into four categories:

1. Fast-Furious-Abusive: Most dangerous type. You die thousand times, average once per minute. Worst thing is not that they drive rashly, endangering life of other people, to top it all they abuse and shout at any poor guy who is trying to follow the traffic rules.
2. Controlled- Aggressive: They are rearing to go and unleash their terror on roads, but unfortunately their spirit is not matched by their machines. They have to be content with driving old rickety autos and find out other means to take out their vengeance.
3. Slow-dumb: Be aware of these kinds when you are running late for work. They are so slow, that you could rely on your legs and reach office faster.
4. Silent-Calculative: These are the ones we should always look out for. They are silent and follow the policy of no chit-chat with the passenger or shouting at others. They are balanced kinds, who know when to follow the rules and when to put that extra pressure on the accelerator so that we reach office on time.

I spend so many hours in an auto that I have developed a routine to do. I listen to music, doze off, catch up with people over phone or just dream with my eyes open. Minus the pollution and noises, I enjoy the journey. It’s blissful; no body to bother or interrupt your trail of thoughts. I think and always dream about good things like my wedding day, shopping, fit & svelte figure etc. It’s quite therapeutic.

But the other side of the story is terrifying. The amount of risk in commuting by a rick is equal to the one involved in death-defying performances like maut ka kuan. There are days when I pray for myself, and then there are days when I thank god that I am safe inside the auto and pray for the people walking on the streets. Just few days back, on my way to office, I happened to take an auto whose driver was of first kind (Fast-Furious-Abusive). He did not bother to stop at any red light; in fact he got caught by a cop on one of the signals. But wait a minute; you thought that cop would have reprimanded him, and I would have been late. No, nothing of this sort, Mumbai cop knows how precious time is, so he dutifully accepted the three ten rupee notes offered by the driver and stepped aside. Yeah, just for 30 bucks the cop sold lives of innocent people. That my friend is the professional spirit. Why bother anybody? The hapless passenger is running late, the driver does not have a license (it’s already in the custody of the RTO when earlier he had committed the offense) and the cop can always do with some extra cash.

This is one of the perils of living in a big city. There are many more like finding a house, paying one month’s rent to broker every year when you renew the rent lease, being nice to your not so nice-irritating-noisy-maid, getting duped by sabziwala into buying rotten stuff at a high price.

But who’s complaining, I am still here celebrating third anniversary with this city

A dream

Often we hear a saying that kids and old people are similar. It’s true, the similarity not just ends in their behaviour and physical needs, it goes beyond and encompasses their need for love,attention and trust. Old people left alone in the old age homes are like orphan kids. Now I always had a dream – to build a place where elderly and kids can live together in harmony, away from the fast and selfish world which lacks the patience to be tender to their needs. Elderly can guide and educate the kids to make them worldly-wise and in turn kids can help the elders with their day-to-day chores. They complement each other completely. I wish that someday I will be able to make it a reality.

Right now it’s only a dream, that I see with my eyes open. I don’t know when I will have the courage and dedication to work towards it.

Blabber

I am young

But I feel like an old lady

May be I am reincarnation of Elizabeth

Sounds crazy!

I miss old world charm

Relaxed life without phones

Green fields, open spaces, clean air

No rat race or fear

Peaceful morning

Lazy afternoon

Steaming tea in evening

Family Gossips over meal at night

Bed time stories

Sleeping under the star-studded sky

Wind blowing from an old Banyan tree

Heavy eyelids, dreamy eyes

What the #*@!

Why do I always write serious stuff? Why can’t I come up with witty lines and write about funny incidents? Why I only sing old sad songs while playing antakshari? Why I can never pronounce “Black”  correctly? Why I speak up before other person is finished talking? Why I always dream that I am stuck in a fort and unable to find my way out? Why I get bored with a city and place after every few years? Why often I end up reading a book about Middle East and Islāmic culture? Why I cannot leave my hair open? Why does my vision go blur at the sight of excel sheets? Why I take on the responsibilities which feel like burden after the initial euphoria wear down? Why I mostly paint my nails with silver shade? Why I always fall asleep in a moving vehicle? Why do I like watching cookery shows, even though I hate cooking? Why do I dread long meetings in the closed spaces? Why can’t I ride a bicycle? Why do I like travelling by train/bus in this age of cheap airfares? Why do I champion lost causes? Why I never take the responsibility of selecting & ordering food for myself and others? Why am I talking about these things? Phew…

Addiction

I wonder are people really interested in knowing about strangers. Instead of talking to people, we have started searching them on net and enter their minds and life through their blogs/Facebook accounts. It seems so easy to just read and know about someone than strike a conversation with that person. At the same time our social circle increases manifold just by clicking on a few links. I have more than 200 friends in my Facebook account, more than 100 people on LinkedIn contacts. But when I want to talk with a friend or a colleague, there are only 10 names I can think of. For good or bad, networking on internet is a social phenomenon in this age. Before going for an official meeting, I habitually check the person’s profile on LinkedIn. I don’t want to be taken by surprise.  It gives me a false sense of control if I know about the person’s qualifications and job experiences. I may keep wondering, and critically analyzing my behavior, but in the end I am addicted. And tomorrow if there is no Google, social networking site or YouTube; I will definitely have withdrawal symptoms.

Four Pillars

I am one of the few lucky ones in this world. I say so because I have my grandparents around to love me. I always think that my nana-nani and dada-dadi are four pillars of my life. First pillar is my paternal grandfather (Daddy) whose quest for knowledge is never-ending. He is a very positive and forward-looking person. Second pillar is my paternal grandmother (Amma) who is a very hardworking lady and extremely meticulous in her work. I have never seen her getting tired or heard her complain about work. And I have learnt all the worldly things from my maternal grandparents (nana-nani, my third and fourth pillar) . They are an epitome of love. All four of them are well into 80s, but I wish that they stay healthy and live for many more years, so that my kids (when they come into this world) can grow under their shadow and get their love and blessings. Amen !

Just like that

Over a cup of coffee I and a friend started discussing about films, direction, acting etc. He told me a very interesting thing, he said that theater is an actor’s medium, movie is a director’s medium and our daily soaps on television are writer’s medium. After seeing a lost expression on my face, he started explaining his statement to me. And this is what he said –

 In theater, a director directs the play based on his understanding & ideas, but characterization is largely done by the actor. No matter how many rehearsals they do, in the end, on the day of the performance, it is the actor alone facing the audience. It is his energy and good performance which will make the audience gasp in awe. And I immediately had to agree with his words. I had seen two shows of the same play on two different days; Director had not changed anything, but there was a marked difference in both the shows, for good or bad I don’t want to comment. So, in this medium the onus is on the actors.

 Coming to the films, he explained to me that if we closely follow some good and bad movies, we will always find that a bad actor in the hands of a good director can deliver a memorable performance, but even a good actor can end up doing bad acting if direction is poor. Again, I was forced to agree with him.

 About the melodrama on television, my friend told me that there a writer is the god. He is the supernatural power behind a dying character-reincarnating- killing husband- accident-plastic surgery-new face- same constipated expression and all such twists in the plot. This time also I ended up nodding my head in complete agreement.  And when I think about it, no matter how insanely the females in my family follow these serials, nobody does it out of love for the actors and the director. There are exceptions to this though, the new serials started by Yash Raj films on Sony, are testimonial of good acting, direction and storyline. If any of you have watched Mahi Way, a Delhi based serial about an obese girl who constantly dreams and gets into comical situations in real life; you would know what I mean.

 Afterthought

 Last weekend I saw three popular art movies– Arth by Mahesh Bhatt and Bhumika & Mandi by Shyam Benegal. The common and most interesting factor in all these movies was Smita Patil’s performance. In Arth she is a glamorous actor, in Mandi she is a teenage prostitute and in Bhumika her character grows from a vivacious teenage girl to a worldly wise middle-aged woman. It is unbelievable that one person can portray such different and vivid characters, and all with equal panache. And since I saw the movies back to back the impact of her performance was profound.

Born Migrant

Our generation is a migrant one. What I want to say is that we are constantly moving from one place to another. We move from our hometown to a new city for education, then after completing our course, we pack our bags and move to another city where we will work. Over the years I have moved from Delhi to Goa to Mumbai. I have spent different stages of my life in these cities.

Delhi is where I have studied till graduation. So my childhood, teenage and then initial years of adulthood were spent there. I am still in love with the metro, in spite of the increasing nuisance in the city. Every few months I rush to Delhi to meet family and friends. The time is best spent in shopping and eating at all the popular jaunts. Mouth watering chaat @ Bengali Market, Chacha ke chole bhature in KNag, roshan di kulfi, bikanervaale ki mithai…

After graduation, luck smiled on me and I landed up in Goa for my post graduation. The time spent in Goa was the best time. No restrictions or rules to follow. We were at a stage of transition in life, neither the heavy burden of studies & cramming lessons, nor the stress of job. We had best of both the worlds. I can give anything to get back to that time.

Happy days of Goa ended, and I got a job in Mumbai. This city is alive and fast. I love the old world charm of Fort area, offices in the heritage buildings and bustling activity at Marine drive. Two different worlds co-exist here. But somehow this place has become my work city. I don’t seem to enjoy it as much as I would like. With each passing year, I feel lonely here. In the absence of family and close friends, it’s getting tough to survive on my own. Only one reason is holding me back.

Every city has its own soul and distinct character, offering so many things to experience . But often our own thoughts and feelings overshadow them …

gracias

Since a longtime I have been thinking of saying this to the few readers of my blog.

Every time I post a new article on the blog, I eagerly wait for people to read and express their views. It feels great to know that someone out there is keen to read and follow my thoughts. I keep visiting the archive and go through old comments to motivate myself to write. That takes care of writer’s block

In the past, I have never responded to any comment. I reply to the people I know by email. But there are unknown people, who leave a comment and never get a reply from me. So, today I am going to say something to everyone:

@ Khamir – Thanks to you I started blogging. You are responsible for unleashing my thoughts to a bigger audience

@ Gargi – The one time you commented on any article was about my experience in passport office. Hats off to you girl, you belong to the rare breed of people who make best use of RTI (Right to Information Act), and someone who has the guts to revolutionize the Passport office.

@Anish – I keep getting your comments offline. The one that you sent me after reading the blog for the first time is a memorable one. Just to give the gist, you said that I look much older in my thoughts than my age. I had started taking myself very seriously after that, but thanks to some people, I am back on earth now

@Supratim – You are a great promoter of my non existing talent. You simply sent a mail to all the friends in our group to tell them about my blog, and that too with so much fanfare and bling.

@Rahul – I hope I am guessing right and you are the same person I am thinking you are. I appreciate your opinion, on the face of it you left a lovely comment… I almost blushed when I read it, but later on I was scolded by the feminist in me

@Kusum – I always rest assure that at least one person is out there who will read my thoughts and also leave her views in the comment section. Thanks girl !

@ Vishal – You are family and may be out of love for me you read my blog. But thanks to you the numbers on blog read-o-meter keep increasing

@Amitayu – You were the one who told me about the author P G Wodehouse. Thanks to you I started appreciating the English language in its purity after reading his books. Also, I fell in love with the smart Jeeve.

@Kaps – I know you only like to read your spiritual books. That is why I want to thank you for making an exception for my blog.

@Neha – It’s great to read motivating words from an old class mate. I too love your blog. I guess I was blinded by prejudice and said something stupid to you when we last met. I hope you still read my blog and we will remain in touch through this medium.

@Megha – There are distances between us, but you are one friend who is always around virtually.

@Anil P – Last year I joined a group in office called Go21, which was preparing for the Mumbai Marathon. First few weeks, I was the enthusiast in practice sessions, but later on I kept making excuses for not following the fitness regime. Result was that instead of losing weight for the run, I gained weight   By the way, I checked out your blog, and loved the pictures and your travel stories.

@Vaibhav – I often think and write about past experiences. It’s great to know that you also like the old world things and get nostalgic after reading the posts. Thanks !

@inalphamode –Your question about using rats for experiment, got my grey cells working. But I chose to use master mind Google, and this is what I found on wiki answers “Rats are very common and easy to breed. Also, they have all the right organs to perform surgery and have similar enough behavior to humans.”

Adiós

Hats off to the Rats

What is the meaning of motherhood and maternal instinct? Motherhood is the state of being a mother; this is one of the definitions I found in the dictionary. And as far as maternal instinct is concerned, scientist debate whether it is really an instinct which we are born with or is it something which we learn at job, after giving birth to a baby.

Now I am wondering, that why am I thinking about these terms. I live in a society where motherhood comes only after marriage-hood, and my status is still ‘Single’.  Let’s for the time being forget about the societal rules and concentrate on the thought itself.

Last few days whenever I experience or do the following –

• A strong craving for chocolates and all kinds of unhealthy foods
• An impulse to buy a completely useless but highly desirable good while shopping
• Too lazy to get out of bed in the morning
• Ignore good advice of elders
• Complete disregard for rules etc

Only one thought comes to my mind, what will I do when my kids will experience all the above. For instance, if a three year old kid will refuse to eat green vegetables, but happily eat chocolates and junk food, how will I ensure that she eats good stuff, when I myself don’t want to eat the greens?

I don’t like to get up in the morning, it takes me forever to get ready for office, and all the time I am crying and complaining about how I hate to work. How will I take care of my morning blues and at the same time get a kid ready for school.

I love to check out the stationary section in a hyper market. I go berserk when I see the colorful pens, crayons, erasers, different kinds of diaries etc. Gone are the days when you had to ask the shopkeeper to show the items, now everything is on display and within the reach of your hands. Now imagine a small kid in the same place, it will be impossible to control her.

I wonder how will I become a role model for my kids, how will I control them when all my life I have struggled to control myself. While I am thinking and pondering, you can enjoy the below mentioned piece of information -

“An experiment has shown that upon becoming a mother, a female rat’s learning, memory, time management and efficiency improve. The brains of these rats actually change to enhance spatial ability and reduce fear and anxiety to help the new mothers care for and protect her offspring. In addition, the new rat mothers developed better hunting skills, taking just 70 seconds to track, attack and kill a cricket, compared to the 290 seconds it took childless rats.”

May be its true, as they say ” When a Baby is Born, A Mother is Born.”

Like the Flowing River

Sometime back I read a book by Malcolm Gladwell called Outliers. The book talks about the various factors or circumstances which give an edge to a person, and help him in becoming successful.

One interesting Chinese proverb used in the book was – “A man who can rise before dawn 360 days a year, never fails to make his family rich”. This practice of using proverbs to teach good virtues is very common in the Asian countries. In our culture,  most of the teachings are passed on from generation to generation using couplets. All of us studied dohas of Kabir, Rahim and Tulsidas during our school days. But at that time our focus was limited to memorizing the verses before the exams, to get a good score. We could not appreciate the deep meanings and lessons hidden in those lines. But now when we face real troubles in life, we can’t help but remember some of them. One which I can recall at this moment is -

Bada Hua To Kya Hua, Jaise Ped Khajoor

Panthi Ko Chaya Nahin, Phal Laage Atidoor

Translation

In vain is the eminence, just like a date tree

No shade for travelers, fruit is hard to reach

<!–[if gte mso 9]> Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 <![endif]–><!–[if gte mso 9]> <![endif]–> <!–[endif]–>I would like to mention a Chinese proverb used in the book – “A man who can rise before dawn 360 days a year, never fails to make his family rich”. Now this culture of using proverbs to teach good virtues is very common in the Asian countries. In India most of the teachings are passed on from generation to generation using couplets. All of us studied dohas of Kabir, Rahim and Tulsidas during our school days. At that time our focus was limited to memorizing the verses before the exams, to get good marks. We could not appreciate their meaning and lessons at that time. But now when we face real troubles in life, we can’t help but remember some of them. One which I can recall at this moment is -

Musical Effect

All the songs that I have heard till date are interwoven with my good and bad memories. I am always happily surprised that there is a song for every mood and occasion. No matter how bogged down I am with my problems, music always comes to my rescue, to uplift me and to inspire me. Music to my senses is what meditation is for soul. For a longtime, I had lost touch with this old friend of mine, but I have found it again, and now I will cherish our friendship always.

Run, Forrest! Run!

There are many instances in life when we feel the pangs of growing up, albeit for different reasons. Every few years, we have some new revelations which bring joy or sorrow to us. Off late there is one thought which keeps haunting me – “Life is a Marathon.” Considering my current physical health, I cannot dream of running a marathon, but no harm in giving my mind a little exercise and believing in this thought.

Sunscreen by Baz Luhrmann is the tonic for the nut cases like me… go enjoy it

Curse or Blessing ?

In the year 1930, 26th January was declared as Independence Day of India by Indian National Congress and twenty years later in 1950 on the same day Indian Constitution came into force. And on the same date fifty years later, I was born. It was a mere coincidence or trick of fate that I was born on such a historically important day.

If I were born on any other date in the calendar, things would have been pretty much normal and boring. But god decided to make my birth day interesting, and government of India decided to make it a dry day. Every year along with the usual pangs of growing up, I experience a lot of other mixed feelings because of the date 26th Jan.

When I was in school, I never got a chance to celebrate my birthday with my classmates; I never wore a pretty frock to school like the other girls. On top of it, if my family forgot to buy a cake well in advance, I wouldn’t even get to blow the candles, make a wish and cut the cake on my special day. This last bit was the biggest deprivation for a child.

Somehow I managed to make my peace with the situation and outgrew the age of wearing fancy clothes and distributing candies in classroom. But there was no respite from this ill fate in college also. In Delhi, there is a red alert on 26th Jan and no one ventures out of their houses. So I could only spend time at home with my loving family, who tried to make my day special with the best celebration means we all have,”lots of food”, but alas! no friends could ever come over.

Well, I learned to live with this too and consoled myself that maybe ” with a great birth date come greater responsibilities !! “.

Then with a sudden twist of fate, my curse became a blessing overnight. My first birthday of my working life and I got a much deserved break from office. That day I bowed down and thanked the gods a million times, almost breaking my back, for as long as I am in India I will never have to work on my Birthday.

I forgot all the years I had suffered because of this date, the future looked so liberating and hopeful that I was finally willing to forgo the past.

An honest film

I was no big fan of Mr.Shyam Benegal, till sometime back. I only knew that he is a director who makes off beat, serious, art movies. But when I saw a simple yet captivating movie made by him – Welcome to Sajjanpur, which is a satire on rural life and its tribulations, I could not help but admire his craft and talent.

Instead of investing huge amount of money and wasting time running around so called big stars, he did magic with a lesser known ensemble cast. The movie has comic moments and some good humour. All characters are well defined and their personalities clearly outlined. But more than anything else, he did a commendable job of highlighting so many social issues in a matter of three hours.

Mr.Benegal is a true genius, and he has made a wonderful film, which I have seen at least seven times till date. And today I was compelled to write about it. Just a humble attempt to list down some of the many issues dealt with in the film. For the benefit of those who would care to know what still ails our society, here it goes

• Gender issues like girl child education, Rights of women, remarriage of widows, injustice meted out to rape victims by the society
• One of the biggest problems faced by India today is that of clean drinking water
• Changing of city names by regressive and opportunistic people for their political motives
• Prejudice against Muslims
• Criminalization of our political system, with money and violence as the basis of success in elections rather than a good manifesto
• High rate of illiteracy in a country run by a bunch of illiterate greedy politicians
• Freebies and reservations
• Still looming large is the evil of superstition, outdated rituals and blind faith
• Migration of rural population to crowded cities, where the poor & unscrupulous people in absence of employment avenues are forced to sell their organs and blood
• Ill trained doctors endangering the lives of people.
• With changing times and advent of technology, there are some new forms of less harmful but equally distracting trends like the chain mails/sms ‘ forward this mail to 100 people or you will have bad luck’

The list above is not exhaustive; I have only mentioned the ones that I could recall. This film hits you hard and forces you to think about bigger problems in life than just ‘ I am stuck in a wrong job, I cannot buy the latest mobile phone, I do not have a big car, my friend bought a new house, my life sucks…’

Dazzling star

This story is about a boy who had a magnetic personality and super human qualities. Irrespective of age or gender, he had a knack for winning hearts of all and sundry. As they say in Hindi “Yaaron ka yaar tha woh.”

He was full of zeal, excitement and love. Talking about passions, he had two of these which I can recall, one was a beautiful girl with blue eyes (he was only sixteen at that time), and second was his fixation for body building. He was obsessed about good physique and would stand in front of the mirror, always trying to figure out if he has a perfect “V” shaped body. But, his charisma was in his big expressive eyes, and an attractive face with a light chocolate coloured complexion.

A popular guy in the neighbourhood, even his parents were known by his name. Inside the house also, he was the beloved clown, bringing smile to everyone’s face. But he was more than a funny guy, he had a golden heart.

The boy had a younger cousin who was an average student, but he had a lot of trust in her abilities. Always encouraging her to study hard and come at the top of the class. I remember that year when he was very sick and confined to bed, he was still worried about her performance. The girl eventually followed his advice and did very well in her exams . In fact, her academic results never went down again. But before she could share the success with her brother, he was already on a different journey.

It’s been more than a decade now that he left his grieving family for heavenly abode. Losing a child is the biggest loss for any parent. But his parents were no ordinary people, they were brave, strong and special. They not only continued to live life, they even gave a young girl a chance and an opportunity to live.

This is a tribute to the boy and his parents; together they symbolize the spirit of life.

A visit to hometown

Being the proud owner of a blog comes with a lot of responsibilities. I started full steam, with eight posts in August, and then managed only one in September and full stop in October.

There are so many things to write about, but I feel my mind is preoccupied and I just want to sit in a corner and think. Thinking and dreaming is all that I have done in last two months, in addition to visiting Delhi. I travelled in a train, something which I love to do, twice. But both the times, there were noisy kids in my compartment and they kept howling and crying. So the peace and serenity that I usually cherish in a train journey, was converted into complete chaos and racket.

Weather in Delhi was also not very kind to me. All through my stay, it was extremely hot and humid. I had to go around meeting my friends & family and also go shopping in that bad weather. And to add insult to the injury, it started raining heavily, the moment I boarded the train for my journey back to Mumbai.

The only respite was travelling in the Delhi metro. It’s a real boon to the city. The capital may not have an uninterrupted power supply to boast of yet, but metro has taken the travelling experience within the city to international standards. The stations are clean; the trains are cool and comfortable. Surprisingly people behave in a civil manner and so far there has been no vandalism. I wish that we have a metro running in Mumbai soon. Journey in Local trains here can only be compared to transportation of livestock.

Whenever I visit Delhi, the experience is full of nostalgia, peace, excitement and energy. This time around, I guess my timing was wrong, coz even though I met my family and friends; I could not take pleasure in my stay to the fullest, whereas in the past I have always enjoyed my romance with the capital city.

Recipient of a bequest

I realized a longtime ago that books are my window to this world and its varied complexities. Every word written in them is my philosopher, teacher, guide and a soul mate. Most times I enter a bookstore, looking for a particular good read; I inadvertently stumble upon and end up picking some unheard of book. In the end I always get this weird feeling that it’s a book which decides who should read it, rather than the reader deciding which book to read.

There is certain romanticism in reading an original, albeit old dog eared book with yellow pages, one which has passed through generations. It hides in its margins, the rich inheritance of diverse views and feelings. It’s as if the reader has captured the passing moments in his remarks & interpretations. I have a collection which belonged to my father and before him to his father; their thoughts, youthful energy, and ideas are hidden inside these works. I believe these are my timeless possessions.

“To sit alone in the lamplight with a book spread out before you, and hold intimate converse with men of unseen generations – such is a pleasure beyond compare.” ~ Kenko Yoshida

Buried Treasure

All my fond memories of Delhi revolve around the different seasons, filled with the elaborate preparations to welcome a new one every three- four months. The change in seasons from summer to autumn to winter and from winter to spring to summer was defined by the weekends spent with the family. The monotony of the year seemed dispelled by the varied seasons.

Come October, there would be a slight chill in the air, Diwali would just be around the corner, and you would realize that it was time to welcome the winter season. All the members of the family would be summoned to keep a weekend free; after all everybody had to be at home to help with the unpacking of winter stuff.

Just like ants work together to stock their supplies for winter, we had to open the trunks and boxes, and dig out those old woolens, quilts, hot water bottles etc. For the whole year the treasures in those boxes would have been forgotten about. But now everybody would look forward for the little surprises to spring up.

Under the piles of blankets you’d find that new lovely fur coat you had bought last winter, it wouldn’t be very cold, but you’d still try it on and admire yourself as a royal duchess in the mirror. Suddenly, in the background, you’d hear your mother calling out, to stop goofing around and help her. You would feel a little sting of disappointment for giving up being a duchess. To top it, you would find yourself making endless rounds to the terrace, “like a mere commoner”, spreading the clothes in open air to get rid of the funny smell of moth balls. Now there was no fun in this, the only consolation was that after a few weeks, you could sit on the terrace, in the winter sun, with everyone in the family, joking and making fun of each other and enjoying goodies like peanuts with jaggery, dry fruits,oranges etc. Without giving a dime for calories, you could enjoy mouth-watering gajar ka halwa & gulab jamuns.

October and November had a mild winter; the true fun began only in December, what with rising up in the foggy mornings and having steaming breakfast in your warm & cozy beds. Soon it was January the coldest month and by February you were already bored of the cold weather and warm clothes. Your rising discontent at the end of the four months of cold and a longing for a warmer climate was fulfilled with the arrival of spring.

But alas! it was again time to get back to work. The woolens were sent for dry-cleaning, the quilts carefully folded and hot water bottles properly dried. Once again you had to spend a weekend repacking the things in the trunks. But it was also time to rejoice, because by now you would have forgotten about your summer stuff and the small surprises were ready to be discovered. A forgotten summer dress, a new top which you had bought during the Diwali sale and never got a chance to wear… The moment of revelation was here again.

Year on year, this cycle went on, but you never got tired of it. Instead you looked forward to those weekends, spent working together with the family.

These memories will always be special for me, as would the haggard furry thing that might still be buried somewhere deep in the old rusted trunks at home !

A passage through cultures

One fine evening in the month of September last year, I was traveling from South Bombay towards the suburbs. Little did I know, that this seemingly innocuous journey would take me through the cultural potpourri we all call Bombay.

I’d always known that India is the land of festivals. But, I realized its true meaning on this fateful day. The revelation began as soon as my cab entered Dadar. I suddenly found myself mesmerized by the beautiful sight of people dressed in their colorful fineries, carrying huge idols of Lord Ganesha and singing “Ganapati Bappa Morya, Purchya Varshi Laukariya” which means *Lord Ganesha, come again early next year*. The whole atmosphere was charged up with the beating of the drums and people dancing around. Ganesha Chathurti is a Hindu festival which is celebrated over 10 days with lot of fervor, enthusiasm, devotion and fanfare. People believe that during this period Lord Ganesha descends from the heavens to visit them. On the 11th day the idol of the beloved Ganpati is immersed in sea, symbolizing farewell for his return journey to heaven.

I was still reeling under the captivating smell of jasmines & marigolds and the delightful sight of colors & celebrations, when I reached Mahim. Here I heard the Maulavi’s call from the mosque to the faithful Muslims for praying and breaking their day long fast. Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar which is considered holy. The Muslims observe fast from dawn to dusk for 30 days, at the end of which, they celebrate Eid ul-Fitr. The food jaunts on both sides of the road were filled with people who were about to have their first glass of water and first meal called as Iftar. Being a vegetarian, I could not appreciate the smell and sight of the non-vegetarian delicacies. But I was happy to see the excited kids running around and the calm, peaceful faces of the devoted elders getting ready for their night long celebrations.

My spiritual journey continued as I finally entered Bandra. Here another kind of faith was waiting to be embraced. In Bandra, situated near the sea, is the Basilica of Our Lady of Mount Mary. There was a festive mood at the week long Bandra fair where people of all faiths had come to seek blessings of Mother Mary and revel in the heady atmosphere. Mother Mary is revered for her powers to heal the sick and grant wishes. For the Marathi speaking community she is “Math Mauli”.

As my cab pulled out of Bandra, I found myself exalted by the cultural concoction I had just witnessed. Three adjoining areas, three stations of a local train and three worlds. The whole experience was so enthralling that it has stayed with me for over a year now.

Well, as they say, it can happen only in Aamchi Mumbai!