Once upon a long time ago

My mom is turning 60 in Jan'13 - and is the single most source of inspiration in my life. Having grown up in a small town in India, her transition into a modern thinking and free spirited modern woman is truly inspiring. She says and does things that I strive to emulate, and is my biggest strength, confidante and rock. It amazes me that I have seen more of the world than she has [ traveled to a few more countries, lived alone for a few years etc ] yet, with her minimal exposure she embodies a perfect harmony of the dichotomy of a traditional, loving Indian housewife, with the modern thinking, idealist unbound societal being. There are innumerable times when I have a conversation with her where she says things which just astound me into speechlessness and open up a whole new world of a stream of thought where my mind probably wouldn't venture.

Last evening, case in point. Kamal, was a maid who lived with us for 23 years. She came to us as an orphan when she was 18, illiterate, thin, overworked and jaded with life. My parents took her in and she grew to be a part of the family - someone who ate what we did, traveled with us on vacations, did our Diwali Pujas with us.. Time again, past a certain age my parents asked if she wanted to be married, sent back to the village, and she said no, she couldn't bear the thought of leaving us : her real family, or the comfort of our home and hearts. We used to put away all her money, bought her gold bangles and earrings from her savings and did everything that was our duty.

Until one fine day, she disappeared. She was supposed to go to the grocery store a minute away from the house and be back in 10 mins, but never returned. I will never EVER forget that day. As time drew on, we called the neighbours, watchmen, liftmen, we circled the entire community and our mood went from mild anger ['why is she late'] to concern ['could something have happened?' to outright frantic hysteria ['something has definitely happened - its been 3 hours, she's a woman, she's illiterate how will she help herself if she's ina bad situation??]. We didn't eat dinner that night, neither did we sleep for the next week. The next day, it was cold and rainy and my dad circled the periphery of the area she knew how to travel to, to no avail. 

We couldn't write a police complaint because if you're above 18, it has to be >24 hours to file a missing complaint. My mom and I were inconsolable. We were certain she was being held against her will, and something terrible had happened. I remember being awake and watching TV on mute in the living room because I couldn't bear the thought of where she might be while im in my comfortable bed. Days and months went by in uncertainty and no news. We didn't celebrate Diwali that year as we thought we were responsible for a person :illiterate and orphaned who we were supposed to protect and failed. 

The thought that she could have run away and gotten married NEVER crossed our mind - 1) My parents had time and again asked her if she wanted to and that they will get her married and she said no. 2) Having lived with us 23 years we just didn't think it possible for someone to betray us like that and put us through that much misery...

A year later, we found out she was married and had run away, A year spent being guilty, miserable and disrupted we found out she had done what we least expected her to. 

Fast forward to today - she recently got in touch with my mother, in dire straits imploring to be taken back.She left her physically abusive husband and baby, works in a house for two men who mistreat her, and has had a rough life. Its been more than 8 years since the incident where she left us but for me, the wounds are still fresh. My mother heard her story and her heart melted, and is considering taking her back - this is the conversation which made me hang up, thank god for a mother like mine, and promise myself to strive to be like her as mush as I can.

My point of view : For me, the wounds are still fresh, I still hold Kamal responsible for hurting me and my family beyond belief for something she could have avoided completely with a simple conversation. We grieved for her, and prayed for her all the days we thought something terrible had happened to her. Our lives came to a standstill for a long time - My mom kept falling ill with the stress, I left my job for a few months to just be home, manage things study for the CAT {which I did a bad job of doing} and we all had to deal with a sudden pivot in our daily routine. My little brother [8 years old at the time] couldn't understand why a pall of gloom had descended over the house. All in all, from my eyes, what she did to us was unforgivable and If the decision were mine, I wouldn't have a heart big enough to forgive.

My mother: She said just a few things, in her usual contained style - and those hit home. "She gave us her youth S, She was loyal to us for 23 years, dont forget that for the one grave mistake she made. She gave us the best years of her life, and today when she's worn out and jaded, we owe it to her. She has no one, no family, and has been burnt once.. she's made her mistake and learned from it. After all, if my son or daughter were to run away from my house and resurface a year later, I'd have no choice but to forgive, forget and re-love, right? We all have one, giant, regret in our lives and this is hers - we are no one to punish her for it forever. For the people who judge me, for taking her back into my home after such a betrayal - well, those people aren't going to give me my medicines when I'm sick, neither are they going to help me keep my house clean when I'm no longer able to do it myself - I'll live with their judgement and my peace of mind."

As I write this, I am overwhelmed with love, tears and respect for this person who gave birth to me. My mother, who continually shows me that life isn't about holding grudges and hard and fast rules, but about fluid, dynamic interchangeable emotions, about evolving through your experiences, about becoming the most forgiving person you can be, how its not about remembering how someone wronged you, but about how much of your life that person partook of, about how much love people give and take from you. Life is about growing up, and not old, looking ahead not back and carrying with you only those experiences and memories that are woven into the fabric of your being, and leaving behind scars and unpleasant moments like shedding dead skin.... 

Making chapattis, one shape at a time.

Yes, me.

My mom and maid are out of town and Im left at home with a 17 yr old brother and a dad. OH BOY. Bulls in a china shop is a better expression for how they are at managing their own chores. My dad does chip in his bit, by switching his (6.30 a.m) morning cup of tea with plain milk (phew) so I dont have to drag my half asleep self to make chai at unearthly times.

This does however enable my smartass-just-finding-his-sense-of-humour brother to come up with a few gems like "I wont do any of the girly stuff" (when I asked him to list how he will chip in with the work) by girly he of course meant cooking cleaning washing ironing. That effectively left me with the only logical manly thing I thought he'd do. eat. sleep. shit. (did this blog just turn PG13?)

There was also the "Fine. Ill do the kitchen stuff" When asked exactly WHAT he meant by that considering I am fully aware of his cooking prowess, he replied he'd make breakfast for us. It deserves an applause, certainly. UNLESS of course he serves us chocos and milk. Which he did. Which I had to un-serve and replace with chai, bread and egg. (Am I complaining already?).

To top it off, sunday evening I came home to find the two men in the kitchen, making chapattis (more like parathas). Obviously they were fat and burned and the kitchen window was closed which made the kitchen smoke up. The thought was all cute and captured on camera but 2 parathas down when I insisted on cooking myself and had to clean up their mess first, I realized they do me a favor by staying out of the kitchen. GAH.

I have new found respect for women who manage jobs, homes and men. I never realized how difficult it actually is. I am used to doing a lot of my own work, and am a bit of a monica in terms of ordering stuff, cleanliness and the like, but managing a house is a different ball game.

Here, my perfectly round, wonderful chapatis deserve a mention. Seasoned cooks like my mother took years to perfect the art of roti making - one which I have pursued relentlessly and now am perfect at. 3 points to me! Now if only the triangular parathas I was making wouldve turned out right. Ah well, one shape at a time.

And yes, this is a post after a really long time. Feel strange, having drifted away from your own blog. Although I have blog post conversations in my mind each day, they dont translate. But this is a step in the posting more often direction cause this is something I want to stubbornly hang onto. So hello again :)

Living in an Uptown World

I just got back from Pune recently. Had gone to take a test to prove my proficiency in English. Could I not have sent them my blog link I wondered? But then that’s as good as wanting to send a link to your facebook profile to demonstrate personality facets. Come to think of it, it does seem rather efficient to do no?

Pune gave me what Mumbai hasn’t in many years... A cold winter morning. To think that I was dropped to the station in the biting cold in a two wheeler that only served to intensify the chattering of teeth, is strangely a delicious thought. It was great fun. Of course, being a typical low immunity Mumbaikar I was wrapped in ONLY about 4 layers of clothes and socks. The plurality of weather in the same day – the chilly wind meets mid afternoon sun makes one want to dance between shadows and sun. And this is only Pune, a few hundred kilometres from Mumbai. I remember my Delhi stint as a child – thats where the real winters are.

I have relatives in Pune, the closest to Mumbai. My folks are not from this city, and we moved here on dads posting and have been here ever since. Relatives interaction was restricted to vacations and there has little or no influence of extended family in my life. No societal pressure, no obligations whatsoever. Its strange then, that I envy friends who envy me. Friends who have large circles of family scattered around them in the city they live, often in the same buildings. Friends whose families all gather on occasions for gregarious parties, whose cousins are roughly the same age and who keep each other’s secrets, whose extended families are a wonderful, secure safety net, whose presence is redolent of a nourishing growing up and a symbiotic life.

Sometimes I don’t envy my privacy, the distance from family you meet once in 2-3 years, the family who doesn’t know your life and your formative years. I find myself in an extremely difficult conundrum – my parents, and therefore me have extremely modest backgrounds, as do most children of the post liberalization era. My life and identity with my extended family I feel, is another side of me, a mask I don when I’m around them. From not going out partying to when my granny’s visiting to not being vocal about how much time I exactly spend outside my house, how much money Id spend on apparel or a cocktail I like (or that I like cocktails, for that matter)its all a careful composition of the Serendipity that they’d expect from a branch of the family tree. Not to sound as though I have a very flashy lifestyle or that Im a social butterfly with her daily dose of cosmo’s, but I am a Mumbai girl after all – who likes her coffee shops, shoes, clothes, bags and shades. I almost fear that If I were to completely be me in my natural avatar, they wouldn’t associate with the external me. The congruence in core values among us, however is never an act or an enhancement, the fruit never falls far from the tree after all.

A lot of people my age in today’s day and age have grown up in an India of the free economy and are the post liberalisation generation (well almost, Im not THAT old), we have a multitude of opportunities for education, career, we have brands spoiling us silly, companies paying us more at a younger age, we’re not afraid of consumption – in fact we live by it. In short, we’ve not seen the frugal, thrifty side of India. The one our parents grew up in. The one my parents and relatives still live in. Luckily my parents have found a wonderful middle ground of modernity and traditionalism and embraced and imbibed it into our lives. They grew out of their small town roots and suffused all restricting thoughts and beliefs and have grown to be parents of the new India, striking a harmonious balance between luxuries accorded to us and other do’s and dont’s.

A major metro and small(er) town upbringing also plays its part in augmenting in dissimilar backdrops and hence differing attitudes. Again, not to say that I have differences with my EF, we get along just fine, its the feeling of not being as integrated into one another’s lives that I refer to here.

When we were planning my wedding a thought of how my metro crowd and my relatives would gel together would keep cropping up. A distinct difference between can be noticed even by the most ignorant of people – the affluence of the metro-folk and the modesty of the smaller-town folk. How the confluence of the two would play out at my wedding would play on my mind. Both would, in their right would enjoy the wedding I know, but how would cousins who’re used to speaking the native tongue most often gel with my friends with their articulate English? Minor inconsistencies and major ranting, I realize. But what’s on my mind is on my mind right?

F.Y.J.C

Bloggers block? Hellyeah.

Either Life isn't interesting enough or I'm way too busy. Fortunately its the second one this time around. I cant imagine my life being uninteresting with the chaos that its always neatly ensconced in :D

Plenty things happening though, My (little?) brothers begun (the same) junior college (as me) and its induced major bouts of nostalgia. Do they serve the same naram sada dosa? Is the same Chinese Aunty (err, Catholic Aunty who served Chinese food during lunch) there? Did the Principal use the 'Even our dustbins are pretty' phrase during this years induction as well (he did for the 2 years we were attending). Is the same South Indian Math teacher still teaching? (The answer to this was derived from a short mimicry of her expanding the expression - (m+n)^2 = eyum esquaya plus yunn esquaya the WHOLE esquayaa) p.s. no offence intended at all, she was a sweetheart. and yes, she's still there)

Given that he's attending college and has now become image conscious, my brothers taken it upon himself to look as old and mature as possible. This he feels, is best accomplished by sporting a rough-hazy-puberty-ish moustache (?) and stubble (?) as well as a rough matty, uncombed (just out of bed, is it called?) look. My mother, on the other hand is horrified at this blatant disregard for hygiene and insists he shave it off and comb his hair. (More like tame his hair). He has (and I say this in the most affectionate of tones) a mane of sharp pointy angry gruff hair that have clung to his scalp so well that I'm positive his scalp receives little or no sunshine under the foliage. I stay out of this discourse as it is in my best interest to have both like me. Which basically means I agree with both, individually in the absence of the other.

Also, much progress seems to have been made on the *ahem* ladies front. What started off as a class full of shy adolescents, has now formed into over 50 facebook friends in a few days and the mega expansion of phone numbers. Since he's lost two phone's already, currently he's on penalty time and phone-less. He was relegated to sharing my mom's phone since the past few days. In an amusing turn of events, the names that were initially labelled completely and corectly have all been condensed into alphabets. Namrata is now N, Aditya is A and Aditi is Ai :D

I'm glad though, I always wanted my brother to be a charming young man and I'm pleased (as punch?!) to see him becoming a fine young man, youthful, naughty, witty and smart.

Speaking of Nostalgia, and age 16. Its amusing to see that whenever he's talking to a boy on the phone, its in a loud, boisterous fashion, whereas if its a girl, you can barely hear his voice even if your seated by his side. Reminiscent of my childhood calls when Akshay's used to be Akruti's, Rahuls used to be Radhika's and Sahil's - Sarikas or any other girls name closest to it, for the purpose of the call :D

He's also taken to wearing smart-Alec t-shirts with slogans on them like 'If found please return to bar' and 'Beer is where the home is' and other alcohol related wisecracks, gelling his hair and generally a heightened sense of appearance. What good does it do I keep thinking, when 10 years later, your going to realize how horrible you looked at that age. I have plenty boycut-shorts and floaters-braces on teeth photos that I cringe when I look at. There's one picture of me in a sweatshirt (Chicago Bulls baby), shorts, socks and Floaters. Arghh. Someones autographed it asking me whether i was feeling hot or cold :S omg. yikes.

Memories are like a breath of fresh air, they just engulf you with their refulgent glow, enthuse you with happy pasts and suffuse your aura with pleasing hues. My favorite 'pick-me-up'

(p.s Mumbaikars will be familiar with the full form of the title of the post)

Almost Family

Remember this? Its still there. And very painful. Although after considerable pain and uncomfortable toe stubbing and foot stepping instances, I have been regularly visiting my doctor every saturday morning at 7.30, bright and early. I drive down to town (a.k.a. Colaba!!) get a bloody (and I mean that literally) scraping done, the resultant wound cleaned and dressed and proceed to begin getting all my other errands done. Being a dutiful homely (!) girl I buy the weeks vegetables, get the passbook updated (yes some banks still use them), buy groceries (or, in Defence kids terms, go to the canteen), and other adhoc things that crop up during the week.

Its odd, we've moved, but we still visit the same tailor, the same doctor, buy our vegetables from the same vendors in Navy Nagar (the Fruitwala bhaiyya always cuts me a fruit when he sees me, and insists he's going to supply the fruits at my wedding, whether or not we invite him. Needless to say, he's invited), get our sheets laundered from Moti Bhaiyya (whose Dad was our Dhobi, so to say from the time we've moved to Mumbai) who operates from inside Navy Nagar, but insists on still picking up our laundry by kinetic and dropping it off.

The More I grumbled about having a million errands to run each time I head this side of town, the more I realize that these aren't errands, they're contact points that we've maintained since over 20 years. They're people and faces we've been living around. We've seen Moti Bhaiyya come to our house as a pimply faced teenager on his cycle, been invited to his wedding and met his babies. The fruit and Vegetable bhaiyyas dont let me carry my bag to the car, they call me Bitiya - having seen me scamper around my folks impatiently as a small girl. Prem Bhaiyya (Moti Bhaiyyas younger brother) grew from taking laundry on a bicycle to a top executive working in an IT firm, and yet last year, to invite us for his wedding, he came in shorts armed with our clean and ironed clothes - a lesson to us in Humility and being down to earth.

These aren't errands. They're all people my Dad's help find jobs, place kids, give advice on schools and colleges and what not, who repay him with ardent respect and relentless dedication.
They're people who called us every few hours on the 26th 27th and 28th of Nov when Daddy was inside the Trident, knowing he wouldve driven in, to find out if he's alive, and stopped only when I assured them on friday (29th) that he is ok, and wont be coming home anytime soon, but is fine neverthless. RamNiwas, Daddys masseur whose duty is fixed at my house on saturday evenings since nearly the last 15 years, spoke to me in broken tones saying he couldnt work until I call and tell him Dad's ok. They prayed with us and cried with us. And they're not family and technically not friends. But so much more.

Sometimes in life there are people who impact your lives in ways you never knew, because you never had to think about it. Relations beyond the skeletal definitions of relatives, family and friends.

26/11 gave me a reason to think of all the people who called and messaged and prayed with us. A reason to think of all the people who affect my family's lives and whose lives we affect. The first few days were spent in shocked stupor, the next few in exhausted haze. Its only a week or two after the event that happenings of those few days would come back suddenly and I would remember someone unexpected who would have called or messaged, and Id sit back and feel overwhelmed. People who we hadnt heard from in years, some even decades, but they came through for us.
Something we don't care to give a thought to, in our frenzied haste to get through our lives. In most cases we're left to realize how much a person impacted our lives after they're gone, and remembering tiny symbolic instances of their love or our connection with them.

I wish I could convince you how important it is to love wholly and deeply, to give completely and unrepentantly, do away with ego and high handedness, apologise appropriately and act responsibly, hold together tight and close people who're worth it, and have them know it. Because it is so, very important. If you can manage, tell me how.

The 6th of May

Hi Mamma and Daddy,

You guys complete 28 years of being Married today. I almost cant believe its been that long. I still feel like your little girl. The kiss you insist on giving me everyday before I go out anywhere goes a long way in ensuring that, Mum.

You both are so predictable. Obviously Daddy forgot the date and Mom you were reading the paper Nonchalantly so that in case he doesn't remember the entire day you can give him hell for it. But of course I reminded him that today was indeed the 6th and not the 5th like he thought. And Of course, you two shook hands with Daddy congratulating you on having borne him and his far from perfect nature for so long, until I insist on a proper hug. (It is OK to do that in front of you 25 yr old daughter and 16 year old son you know).

Have you heard of Yin and Yang? The two diametrically opposing pieces that fit so comfortably within each other? Your that. Hard and Soft, Aggressive and Gentle, Careless and Meticulate, Loud and soft, Restless and calm, Impatient and unruffled, . Which qualities are encompassed in whom are anybody's guess. Mom, you find it easier to tell us you love us, make us our favorite food, knit us our sweaters, and buy us small surprises that endear you to us. Daddy, on the other hand, quietly endured being the sole bread earner in the family for the past 23 years, providing for all of us, our needs, wants, unnecessary luxuries even, while planning judiciously for our futures, ensuring we have a wonderful home to move into once he retires, even one in our native place, all on his own, with no backing from anyone. Yet, he never let us feel like we missed out on anything large in life. Oh, material things come and go, and wants are replaced easily with fancier, shinier things. But we had a good life, he never compromised on anything that would ensure a good upbringing for me or my baby brother.

Daddy plays the bad guy many times because he's horrible at explaining how he feels about a person. Most of the times he's goofing up and saying it wrong, and thats only because hes very bad at expressing his feelings like most men. Maybe its an alpha male syndrome. But you have to know how much he loves us, when he looks at you admiringly when your dressed up and going out, or when he has that look when I tell him I got a nice Bonus, or when he'd call Babybro up when he was in hostel and have that softness in his voice.

In spite of all this difference, Mum and Dad, you two are strikingly similar individuals.

You'll are both caring and kind, you treat the lesser sections of society and other helpers with utmost dignity and respect, something you should know both your kids have imbibed in their daily life as well. You both are stylish, dignified, and graceful and this is just amplifying day by day as you grow older. Mom thank you for the beautiful hair and eyes you gave me, Dad I Seem to have taken from you your ardent, restless, street smart and aggressive nature. While my kid brother, though too young to exhibit the values you wish to see in him, is shaping into a cute, well mannered, poised and smart young man.

It is of little surprise that you have two kids who carry themselves off with confidence and self belief, making a lot of others wish their kids had so much humility, grounded attitude that we do, when we were brought up with equal quantities of indulgence and strict withholding. We see now how not having everything we Wanted but everything we needed has shaped our personality to value the things we have.

As my would be wedding fell apart last year and I spent sleepless nights wondering how to break the news to you, you surprised me with your faith in me, your calm acceptance, your words of advice trying to understand what went wrong, your unshaken support of me and my decision and the feeling of protectiveness and calm. I'm ashamed thinking you would not support me and will fly off the handle hearing the news. I now know the true meaning when they say 'Parents will do anything for their children's happiness'.

For the people you've made us, for giving us values that money cant buy and no one can shake, for preparing us so beautifully for the tough world out there, thanks is not enough. Still, here's a promise. That we two will love you, cherish you and hope to be even a fraction of the parents you've been to us. We'll buy you unnecessary things that you want but dont need, write you letters like these to make your day, hopefully give you grandkids you'll love more than us, and make you feel like the two most important people in our lives, which by the way, you are.

It was me :S

If anyone saw a woman in the front seat of a Lorry filled to the brim with the entire contents of her home with 5 men on the roof, whilst herself occupying passenger seat in the lorry, gesticulating wildly to prevent aforementioned lorry being driven into people and other vehicles, at the hands of seemingly amateur driver, It was me.

How did I land up in this predicament? We were shifting everything from our (old) house to our (new) home on Saturday, everything except ourselves i.e. Since Grihapravesh Puja Muhurat denied us our official entry until Sunday. This being a new building, there tend to be teething issues such as discovery of certain chipped tiles, a small scratch on the fresh paint(which to my oh-so-particular Dad is nothing short of a crime), water supply yet to be turned on etc hence My dad went ahead to the new house in the morning to supervise, which left me in Charge of operations at the old house (where all the action was unfolding).

Mom and Brother both were feeling sick, presumably due to all the action of the past few days. Which meant I had two additional responsibilities to take charge of. Anyway, I was supposed to accompany the movers and packers (me: cab, they:truck) when everything was loaded to the new house. Once things were done, packed and loaded, my old house bare as bare, I wrote down my new address to the head packer (?) who had NO idea where what. Now, My address is pretty simple. It has a 5 star hotel as a Landmark, the signal is well known, for a movie theatre exists there since the last 50 years I should think. All in all, anyone travelling in Mumbai will have SOME idea of the near abouts of the landmarks at least! This man had none. to which I decided it will be a safer bet to explain the directions to the driver himself, thereby eliminating the middle man and also averting possible delay due to losing the way. Driver = clueless. Packer 2= clueless. so on to packers number 3, 4, 5. All new definition to NOT knowing.

Since the last thing I really wanted was my stuff, 6 men and a Lorry getting lost (and by the looks of it, they would've) I decided Id just get into the front seat of the lorry and save myself the exasperation of sitting in a cab driving at 5-7 kmph to keep up with the truck (max speed = 12kmph).

That's NOT all. Going by the events of this journey, its safe to surmise that the driver mustve been driving for the first time since he got his license. We had to cross one flyover which he decided his truck would manage at the 4th gear. (HOW??) Much groaning and grunting of frayed truck later, (and a lot of mental 'calm down Serendipity' later) I asked him to downshift to second. Wonder of wonders, the truck picked up. (Sheesh)

Next. Heavy vehicles must (NOT) occupy right hand side of lane. Or should they? Many Many fantic 'Bhaiyaa aap left se chalaiye' 's later, I took to ferociously waving my left hand out of the window signaling our descent towards the appropriate lane, reaching which for some reason, he would move to the R.H.S. again. {Serendipity was praying HARD at this point for some patience, and asking help to shun the 'I should drive this vehicle thoughts' from her head)

It struck me at this time, How boyish I still am. I was wearing old oversized jeans (which I'm filling up fast owing to the piling on of some) and my dads oversized Blue 'How to Speak Australian' By Fosters (Australian fo Beeyah) :D t-shirt and sneakers. Waist long hair and a recent affinity towards pinks and reds and compliments inclined towards good looks (as opposed to buddy/one of the guys and the likes) has not overpowered the gate climbing, oversized jeans and shirt wearing boycut girl of yonder. Although I did cringe at EXTREMELY cute guy parked in my lobby, whose cuteness I was unaware of and walked upto his car clad in above mentioned clothes and a pony as high up on my head as can be imagined, to ask if my lorry was a bother and to tell him ill only take a few more minutes, since I had taken to hoisting chairs and furniture myself as well. He gave me a 'Don't worry, take your time' smile and a thumbs up. Id rather have sunk through the floor or even better, rushed home, showered, perfumed and reappeared in the flash of a second. {sigh} (Also, Boy Am I glad A doesn't read this blog :P else my arse would've been grass by now. And coming to the point, he should no? Are'nt all boyfriends supposed to? hmmpff. lol)

Oh it was a MAD ride. At the end of which I was very graciously told 'Madamji, aap gaadi chalati acche se chalati hongi. isliye appko sab kuch aata hai'
Needless, driver was forgotten for the monstrosity that was the ride that instant.

Oops I did it again!

I have a habit of being absent minded/forgetful when it comes to my toothbrush. Be it slumber parties, or out of town trips, the one thing you can count on me for having left behind is the toothbrush.

While this can be accredited to the fact that I always brush them pearly whites (?) before any journey, and hence its the LAST thing that's supposed to be packed. (But isn't), its a strange affliction, which leaves me with owning multiple brushes... since I return with one from wherever I go.

Having appropriately set the context, It was a matter of extreme pride (to me, in my mind) therefore, when having brushed in my parents room the morning, I remembered at night to go over to their bathroom, and fish out (my?) green toothbrush and begin the procedure with a pleased smile on my face.

Mom: (on seeing me in her bathroom) "What're you doing?"
Me :(superior smile on my face, brush in mouth) "Brushing. "
Mom: "I Hope you took your own brush THIS time."
Me :(was waiting for this moment of my cleverness) "OF COURSE. I had brushed here in the morning, hence I came her and took my OWN Brush"
Mom: (slaps hand on forehead) "I had kept your brush back in your bathroom in the evening"
I had brushed with my dads toothbrush. (P.S - its identical to mine) :/

By now my mom and I were in splits, laughing hysterically. Enter Dad.
Me : "Daddy, I'm sorry i used your toothbrush, By mistake"
Dad "which one, green?"
Me: "Yep, sorry"
Dad: "I Don't use it"
Me: (breathing a sigh of relief) "You don't, that's awesome!"
Dad: "Yeah, its my tongue cleaner"

:\ OMG.

Too close for Comfort.

The day of moving houses i.e. And while its a conclusion we were always aware of (Living in a Company Flat) there's something about living in a house for over 10 years, that makes you both one. At the risk of sounding silly, my home was my friend. My room, although shared with my brother, felt cosy and comfortable since it was liberally sprinkled with my favorite things - Books, DVD's, Photo Frames, A Large Window overlooking the sea and bright fluorescent stars on the ceiling.

The Familiar walls, winds wafting in through a familiar sequence of strategically opened windows and doors to best allow the cross ventilation through, the shade of the paint on the walls, the small Black and white of my Parents when they were 25... irreplaceable, invaluable and unforgettable.
We're better off than most Mumbaikars grappling with the insane property rates, since We're shifting not so far from where we lived before (Into our own house this time), and I can still qualify to be a Sobo (South Mumbai)'ite if I stretch the Boundaries a bit =) so I've got little to complain.

Yet, As i walked in home from work yesterday, the disappearance of all the antiques in the living room, the lamps on various corners and a few paintings left me startled. I'm not used to seeing my house naked like this. Walls bare. A few remaining paintings, presumably too large to fit into boxes dad was using then, hang in solitude, trying to infuse some cheer into a fast emptying home.
An antique Rose wood cupboard, redolent of liquors, spirits and daddy's collection of Decanters and glasses for every drink, stands bereft of its contents, with scotch tape and other wrapping/packing material strewn about carelessly. This Cupboard is not used to disordered contents. Each Decanter, Glass and Bottle were arranged with paternal care.

My room misses a bed. It got shipped away. Strange how I wouldn't trade the familiar juxtaposition of furniture for the extra walking space I apparently always craved. Suddenly all those things Ive wanted to change seem insignificant, ridiculous even to be considered a shortcoming. The view was the best though. I'm lucky in that respect, Ive lived by the sea for 20 of my 25 years. And when I say By the sea, I mean it literally. Until now. Luxury could afford us a house in this side of town, but asking for a sea view would be stretching it.

Its going to be SO hard. Today as I go home, I shudder to think of what else will be missing, which other parts of my home will lie in a box, and how we're one day closer.

Coupled with the sadness of leaving this house, comes the excitement of the other house - bigger, nicer, and finally OUR OWN. Last evening I went and bought a Northwest Fan Regulator 400 W, the example of which I quote to signify the detail in which we are involved in the making of this house. Kudos Dad.

Sitcom scripts anyone?

In conversation with uber-cool girlfriend Ap.

#1
Me - Damn, its 2009 already!
Ap - yep, so!
Me - Its freaky no? All our textbooks and all used to have dates for future stories like 'In 2011 robots roamed the earth' That's 2 years away!
Ap - lol.
Me - Dude, its gonna be 2020 soon.
Ap - (Laughing) SHUT UP.

#2 *Not sure how the conversation got here, but money matters and bags were being discussed.
Me - I don't know, I cant imagine owning a LVuitton worth lakhs of rupees. I'd *lust* for one but I don't think ill ever want (read:afford) one. No, make that for sure.
Ap - ya me neither. I don't think Ill buy one even when I can afford it.
*a half minute later*
Ap - Okay maybe one
*a half minute later*
Ap - No, OK maybe two. But two only definitely.

#4
L and me taking each others cases. As we're talking (arguing) I am also sms'ing. Lots of semi insulting, poking fun of each other type statements later..
L - I hate you!
Me (distractedly) - That makes two of us. (assuming, for some reason that meant that I hate him too)
L - (Bursts out laughing) I WIN! I WIN this argument.

#5 Dad with a really really bad backache laments about giving in to the pain and succumbing to taking a pain killer.
Mom - Sure, take a combiflam/voveron. But don't drink tonight.
Dad - Ill take one tomorrow, I'm feeling a bit better

Kids say the Cutest things!

My little nephew, all of 5 years old came over this weekend. He's recently been given spectacles to rid a pesky squint, which although made him look very adorable, broke my heart at the same time spectacles at such a young age? =(

Anyway , in accordance with the sophistication and pseudo intelligence that spectacle wearing people (usually) emanate, he asked sincerely -
"Mom, should I be wearing my spectacles on the potty as well?"
My cousin is his validator for all doubts in life, guess all moms’ are. When I told him my car is faster than his, he looked at his mum with BIG sad eyes and asked 'No Na? Ours is the fastest in the world na?'

Reminds me of a few stories of my brother pre-spectacles. It started off with complaints from the class teacher that he was not completing his class work (in addition to incomplete homework), and when asked about it, he would very dramatically hold his head in pain and say 'I cant see the board' or 'My head aches', which unfortunately for him was a case of Boy who cried wolf. He seemed to have used the excuse little too often on my folks, who reprimanded him for his tardiness.
It was only my mother’s instinct that said 'What if he's telling the truth' that he got taken for tests - which indeed showed a slight number.

After which proceeded 4 days of trying to find a pair of spectacles that conformed to both the tricky conditions of socially acceptable (read: Considered Cool and hip) for my brother as well as conservative (read: No jhatak matak) for parents. Did I also mention budget? They needed to be cheap because of the frequency of replacing which was very accurately diagnosed by parents (How do they know kids so well??!). The first pair was sat on, second run over, third fell while playing football, fourth got stolen at boarding (how?!), fifth stopped being cool, sixth was left behind in the train and so on.

Having said that, he's a cutie. Working older sister situation is well and truly taken advantage of. Mom and Dad are for school fees, Uniforms, food and shelter and other such basic necessities of life. Sisters are for the more lavish extravaganzas to name a few - PSP (Playstation portable : Rs. 8,500 currently), Birthday treats (Movie at a multiplex for more than a half dozen kids with food before, after AND in between) and Nikes, Pumas among other expensive brands which parents readily replace for the more practical Power and Bata, but don’t now because they hate the "Rolling eye motion" which has been perfected from daughter to son.

I miss him. When I sent everyone in my mailing list this article, I marked a copy to him as well, since I realized he's grown up enough and has his own email id. Last evening when I spoke with him after nearly 2 months, he told me he loved it, and HE'S PROUD OF ME! My 15 year old baby brother, 9 years my junior is proud of me. And what a wonderful feeling it is.
He's due to give his boards this March -- and I wish we could be there for him during this very crucial time, Since we cant, Just gonna pray for him and hope he makes it. NDA awaits...

Fed Ex vs. Rafa last evening. Clash of the Top two seeds in the world of Tennis. Conversation with Mom just before the Match -
Me - "So, Mom whose side are you on?" {Mom's a DIE HARD Federer Fan}
Mom - " Federer, But Nadal has been playing so well, and its commendable how much of a challenge he poses to Federer. (pauses for a minute) No wait, Im a Federer Fan, so Federer.
(Some time into the match when Nadal just wins his second set with some BEAUTIFUL angled forehand shots)
Mom - (exults with semi Yahoo type stance) "Hes playing so well no? He should just stay cool now, and concentrate on breaking Federer in the first 2 games itself."
Me - "err, whose side are you on?"
Mom - "Nadal!"
Rangbadlu girgit type side switching detailed above continued throughout the match. When the game was at a crucial 2 sets all (and unfortunately we were out) but when told, she had an incredibly perplexed "Oh no, whom to support look now" with so much sincerity that I pinched her cheek and found her ultimately cute.
*************************************************************
Rafael, your cute. I like how your Racquet matched your wristband which matched your headband which in turn matched your shoes, which were contrasting your shirt very well. It brought our your tanned, even skin perfectly. Having said that, PLEASE wear better underwear. It was truly painful to see you undo wedgies every time it was your serve or 4 minutes, whichever came sooner.
*************************************************************
Here's a fair warning. At a party, If you take it upon yourself to order shots for a half a dozen people (or more) at a party, ASK THEM IF THEY WANT IT. Specially if said shot were to cost 400 bucks a piece, and taste like bitter bathwater and needs to be washed down with sprite.
*************************************************************
I just did this. And it turns out that my top three Qualities are Confidence, Openness, Extrovertism and Empathy. Which is true, but what about My great sense of humor and looks? GAHH. :)
Also, it said semi-high masculinity (68%) so i now have an official statistic to prove tomboyishness. err, anyone think i ought to be ashamed of this? hehehe
And you, reading this, DO IT! But, please to be making sure that 20 minutes are free since the quiz has long introspecting questions and 11 pages. Don't say I didn't warn you.
*************************************************************
You know that feeling when a client calls you up and RUSH RUSH RUSH this job is so urgent and time lines are so critical and then out of dedication to duty you work work work and get job done in condensed amount of time, only to mail said client and you get an out of office reply?
"I (client) will be out of office until the 15th of February with no access to mails and blah"
Aren't they just peachy?
*************************************************************
Last Sunday, the three girlies J, U and I sat for an hour and a half discussing travel plans (which I fear shall remain in exploratory phase only) to very ambitious (and out of budget) places like Ireland, Gold Coast, Ibiza, Bali and such. If any kind soul in aforementioned places would like to offer us help (stay, food and money lol) and advise, please feel free to do so. Also, European readers (if any) please to offer backpacking help which shall be reimbursed on your trip to India (or something).
Knowing trip above may not work out, I went ahead and made plans for Leh Laddakh with N. Leddus see where I go finally. Leddus hope I go SOMEWHERE finally.
*************************************************************
The Nomad and Serendipity met before their Indiahelps meeting very ambitiously to grab a soup and sandwich before. We called the Soup Watermelon Juice and the Sandwich was called an 8" Veggie Delight pizza.
*************************************************************
And I leave you with that. And this - :)

The Mom and Dad files

Happy new year has been wished and all that, but since this is my first post of 2009 its only Apt that I say it again - Happy New year everyone! Lets renew our faith and strength and gear up for this year.
Happy Birthday Mom! Her birthday was on the 4th, and was celebrated with a small Chocolate Hazelnut Cake from Gaylord (Please, get some for yourselves too, its unbelievable *smacks lips*) We did the whole candles (one for each decade + one for the other years) and she still insisted we had too many in there!

On another note, that night, as we sat waiting to leave, to go out for dinner my Dad and I were talking and I happened to mention seeing a set of suitcases he had bought from a friend, in a store on Colaba.
Let me give some background. Dad is a simple person, he understands politics only from the news, and will do anything for his friends, unquestioningly. He tends to believe too easily and hence qualifies to be on the gullible side - anyone sounding slightly in need/genuine, and my dads sold. This obviously means he's been cheated at points of time in his life.. by people he never thought possible. And he's movd past it as though he should've known better.

Anyway, recently he bought a pair of really nice suitcases from a jogging buddy who claimed he bought it from Abroad and is giving my dad a massive discount on it. Daddy, having bought the story, proceeded to buy the suitcases and very proudly came and gave them to me since they were very nice :)
A casual walk down Colaba, Mom and I discovered the same bags, (size, colour, brand) et all in a store, and cheaper than what the uncle had sold it to my dad for... we were stunned. Verified and cross verified when we got home, to confirm our suspicion. it was the same bag, CHEAPER.

I was mentioning this to him the other day as we sat waiting - 'Dad we saw the same bag, same brand etc...Uncle cheated you'. No sooner did I say those words than I saw a shadow go over his face, blanketing it with a softness, a tiredness and reluctant disbelief a look that I hope I never see in his strong, determined face ... and he said 'No I havent been cheated, it mustve been different'.

And there wasnt a bone in my body that wanted him to think otherwise. 'Yes', I said. 'It mustve been a different brand'.

Unusually reminiscent of my childhood I am. A few conversations with an Uncle (Dads course mate - Batch of 1978) from the Navy and his wife have sent me down memory lane. And what wonderful memories to be reminded of!

I had the bestest upbringing. The Navy way. Of saying 'Good Morning and Good Evening' instead of 'Hi Uncle', of waiting for the Kraft cheese and Sausage tins from the monthly ration, of cycling down to IMSC (Integrated mess and sports complex) each morning at 6, only to be back home at noon after a morning of Badminton and swimming and piano lessons!

Of using short forms like NOFRA (Naval Officers Flats and Residential Area) to USC (United services club) and SNOFS (Senior Naval Officers flats) and attending functions like Beating the Retreat at Gateway where the country's best Band plays (The Naval Band), and Navy Ball where the sweaty stinky boys you usually play b'ball and badminton look like handsome young men in tuxedos and blazers and ties and girls are as pretty as can be. It was also when i was asked by a 'boy' for my first dance. Albeit in front of my folks and flustered as i was, i managed a meek 'but I'm leaving with my parents'. Never mind that I had played out a scene of a handsome young man asking me for a dance and Suave sophisticated lil me will gracefully offer him my hand with a flirty swish of my hair, and the delicate whiff of my perfume will just graze his nose...lol. But still given a 15 year old girl i did pretty well with the 'err i gotta go thanks for asking'

Its of Navy buses and Route no 5 which was mine, where the driver knew my dad and the liftmen knew my dad and the watchmen and the sailors and everyone knew my dad. Everyone respected my dad. In the Navy, every ones known for his work and his designation--- and he earns it in respect. That's a big difference in that life and this. In this life, you are what you are by where you buy a flat and which car you drive. In that life, you are what you are by what you do and how you command respect. Till date we have sailors and juniors and seniors who still respect him the same way. Its that lifetime of honour and awe and dedication that others displayed then, and display now that my dad will keep harvesting. . Its like Pension, with no money... but so much more.

Its of living in the best part of Mumbai, where each tree is painted red and white near the roots and has a count, where each building would get painted nearly each year right before Navy Week. Its about celebrating Navy day with your birthday, and feeling like all the ships are celebrating too. Its about first being Commander so and so's daughter and then being yourself, which I love.
Its just percolating some of that awe down to yourself.

Some people refer to me as 'Commander' jokingly, little knowing that to append that title to a persons name he spends close to 20 years of his life dedicated to the line of duty, with family and self coming second to loyalty to his job and integrity to the country. I would tell them I don't like it one bit, that they have no right to call me that simply because I don't deserve it, and neither does the title to be used in that light, but they wont understand... You need to feel it, or you wont get it.

Its in the uniforms, from the white sparkling shoes to the cap and the brass baton which was a weekly chore assigned to me. To be polished to a mirror shine with brass-o and a rag each Sunday morning. After which I must proceed with bucket of water and another rag to Maruti 800 (1988 model) and Bajaj scooter and my very own bicycle for their weekly wash. The best part of this was being seen walking to the garage and uncles and aunty's looking at me in admiration and passing on praise to my folks. Of course I rubbed it in and scrubbed extra hard when the car was parked outside the garage when people could actually see. and extra extra hard when a certain crush would be standing at his window looking out. (Darn the standard checked shorts teamed with a white t shirt. if i had my way, i would've had on my nice new wrap around skirt =) )

Its in the simplicity, and deep rooted integrity, firm handshake, punctuality, respect for others and family, in the doing things yourself and taking pride in it, small rewards, in knowing you have to move every 3 years and still loving it, fierce loyalty and steadfast dedication to duty. Its in all these wonderful things that today's generations live their lives without...

My uncle was (rightly) of the view that today's generation is a spoilt lot. This is of course generally speaking and there are a lot of exceptions to the rule. Today's generation is brought up in a world of cut throat competition, survival of the fittest and an intrinsic hunger to grow more and more successful i.e. earn more money. This of course could branch out into another topic altogether.

My brother, 9 years my junior is currently spending his formative years in a So-Bo neighbourhood where kids as old as 7 bring their own i-pods down to play. Never mind value for money. I regret him not having the life i did. The opportunities I enjoyed, the sports i played and the view I had from my balcony. the saving grace is he wants to join the armed forces.
Fingers crossed.

There's a lot to be said about intuition - that little voice in your head that sometimes is right against all odds. I find that somehow, when I fall back on that 'Gut feel' Im somehow always right.

Understand it, I cant. Sometimes when all the odds are in my favor, and it seems like nothing could go wrong, I'll be doubting the outcome. 'Come on, your being paranoid', or 'Your being too much of a realist' are rationale offered to my uneasiness on accepting a situation by friends and family. After all, they've got reason, logic and facts on their side, whereas all ive got is a measly little 'But I Have a Bad feeling about this'. Explanations none, reason facts and logic even lesser.

People who explain things algorithmically fail to factor in the 'You-never-knows'. The flow of Your a good person? If yes ----> Good things will happen to you does not always apply. In fact, there are two categories of Good people - Good people to whom good things happen and Good people to whom good things happen after much ado and heartbreak, trials and tribulations. Fondly also called the 'Aa Bail Mujhe Maar' , loosely translated as 'Im right here wild bull, come n get me, Im even waving a red flag for you'category.

Ive seen Daddy go through it - a simple thing like a formality to be completed or a form to be filled... 7563485875 people ahead of him would get through with ease, and he'd get stuck since the person decided to be on a 3 month leave or some frivolous reason. Albeit, it would get done but was everything he had to go through even fair? We once celebrated a promotion since we got inside news from top quarters ... which fell through due to some highly placed politics. Honesty and Integrity were shown their true place in this world where time and again I realize we need to include selfishness, shrewdness and rid naivete of all forms from our portfolio of emotions.

I'd say I take in after him, and If someone can describe me as having even a third of the qualities he has, I'd be over the moon. His devotion to duty, deep rooted integrity, civic sense and strength of character have always made me in awe of him, and always will. That said, Im also as impatient, restless and lucked out as he is. Ive never known what it is like to have something 'easy' - be it grades in school, love, friends, or even a childish thing of winning a prize. The closest Ive come to winning a 'Prize' was 5 bottles of Citra at kids housie :) Mistake this not, it is not self pity that makes me write this, it is simply something unforgettable! (and funny)

I just need a little luck, a little break from tumultous situations and a little stretch of smooth road for a while, for sometimes even the strongest of minds and hearts wears thin.

Forever and ever, Amen

Now playing : Dancing on a ceiling (Lionel Richie)
Today i had an intensely happy moment. The kind that makes you feel soo happy inside, it made me well up and not have words to elaborate it here.

There are some songs, I realize, that hide away certain memories for you - that when u play them back, you can just magically disappear into that long forgotten moment for a while. Songs like Forever and Ever, I told you so ..Randy Travis, Lionel Richie etc are so reminiscent of my childhood.

Today i downloaded the songs mentioned above and rushed into my parents room and called Daddy into my room, and played one of his fav songs for him. It took him all of 5 seconds to realize what song it was, and this immense smile overtook all other expressions on his face.... it was this surprise old feeling for him. Those 2 minutes when we both were listening to the song, we both that strange, melancholic smiles - he too, was revisiting.

How do i even say it? 12 years ago, more actually...this same father daughter have heard these very songs played from a Hitachi 2 in 1 from cassettes that are long lost. Daddy would have a book with him, lying down with a beer on the table next to the bed, and I not to be outdone would be with my 'grown up' book of Enid Blyton etc, sleeping with my head on his stomach reading and listening to the music.

Daddy would smell of Brut, and have that typical defence hair cut and demeanour, well built arms and a staunch, principled stagger. Everything he did, I admired. The music he loved, I loved. I have many of his characteristics now, just like i hoped i would. Save for the dimple... the darn dimple i tired sooo hard to get. He's strong willed but soft hearted, aggressive but naive, principled and staunch, classy but homely, firm and steadfast in his beliefs and dreams and acheiving them.

In my teens i found myself growing more and more towards my mother and more and more away from daddy. My mom became my point of contact 'where are you, wat time are you coming home etc'. However Daddy came into the picture when an unknown boy called home. Let me just say this, for those who called back, Thank you. :)

Just before he left my room, he told me a few more songs he'd love if i 'get somewhere from the internet' ....quick kiss on my forehead and he went back to his room.

And just like that, for that brief moment I was Daddy's girl again.

One of them not so good days

I have come to realize that on days when im not having a particularly great day, I feel as though all of mother nature’s forces are conspiring against me and what shall become of my day. At the risk of sounding like im rambling (which I am) I’ll say that we should be allowed to take days off simply on the pretext of “not a good day”. Its only fair. Our companies owe us that it puts up with our mood swings too. I feel this will boost employee morale, make them happier and maybe even reduce the riotous proportions that attrition has now assumed. Lol.

Im a fairly optimistic person and can generally smile through most events that happen. Inconsistencies of life bemuse me and I don’t shy away from what I set myself up for, or don’t, or what’s thrown at me whether or not I deserve it anyway. I mean that’s what life’s all about isn’t it? Dealing with speed breakers and pot holes and flying objects out of nowhere that you dint expect and still come out standing.

Anyway im gonna stop sounding like a wet blanket now and get a move on things. The Nomad has very sweetly provided me with the cd’s of Gone with the wind (read it, not watched it) and Little Miss Sunshine (not watched this one either). Im also mid way through The Fine Balance am thoroughly engrossed though reading it right now is just making things seem bleaker than they are.

Sunshine - thanks for leaving that really sweet comment. Im just missing my little kid brother whose not too well and away at boarding. This is him all of 7 years old posing for a passport photo. How I wish I could turn back time.



And Jack - How can someone be so nice? I dint comment on your post simply because i couldnt. Someone saw that post at work and told me I'm lucky cos "men are generally jerks". lol

Raindrops keep fallin...

Probably one of the oldest songs i recollect from a lazy sunday afternoon. carpenters/abba/niel diamond were the other artists my dad was..is a huge fan of. those sundays would be great.. my dad would curl up with a book and music while mom would go rest and i would be sleeping with my head on his stomach.

So..where did this song come from? it played in my car while i was drivin home from a nice dinner at Basilico. i obviously took the longer route home - the one that passed marine drive and wasnt even on the route home.

Memories like this are so comforting - at the time, life was mostly shifting houses cos we hadnt been allotted a permanent "A type" {as they call it in the defence} house yet. and i would live for those sundays - when i would curl up with an Enid Blyton and pretend to be a "BIG" girl too. i live for memories - i live for the times i have saved up in my mind- for the moments i remember so distinctly, for the places and sounds that transport me back to that world.

life was simple those days - my most prized possession was my bicycle. i took immense pride in washing it nearly EVERY single day. i would even cart it all the way up in the service elevator to the 7th floor where i was living then cos i dint wanna leave my best friend locked in a dingy garage.my room overlooked the sea - which was where this love affair with the sea began in the first place.

coming back to the rain - it kept drizzling intermittently all evening yesterday and i kept longing for it to rain.. i was yearning for that pitterpatter and the beautiful overcast romance that rain brings with it. there's somethign about sharing an umbrella - somethign about the way the guy tries to fit you in completely while not bothering abut how wet he's getting that makes an ol fool like me love the rains and pretend i dont have my own umbrella in my bag.

Rain also makes chaai taste better - its strange this. i had one of the most expensive chaai's ever - 25 rs at the Sukh Sagar. To be fair, was in the ac section and wonder of wonders they served wine! who would've ever thought. also spent a coupla minutes trying to sort out the red little thingies from the sauf while on a 2 min call with someone who happened to mention to me that i make trivial little things fascinating. how could i not make a mention of it here then.

dreamers like me live for memories - they are a part of me, they define my every action. optimism stems from this very fact - that these pictures in my mind egg me on.. they tell me that life is prettier than it seems, longer than is felt, more painful to go through than can be written about and that it IS actually worth having your heart broken once in your life.

i realize i went from rain to memories to dreams to rain again and then finally this, on this blog. but then thats what it actually is - interlocking things in the mangled mish mash of my mind.