Happy Days of Summer...

The mercury has shot up to almost 50 degrees. Even the sunset does not quell the heat. There is no reprive apart from staying indoors in an air conditioned environment. I guess I should not complain.. no power cuts, no water shortage, The kids commuting to their school in Ac coaches. But then again there is more to life than being indoors.

It seems like a summer from another life, when kids played the entire day with other children. All wearing white vests and knickers. They gathered at a friend's place and made jugs full of rasna. Dilligently mixing all the sachets and the small glass bottle with its tight plastic cap that at times needed teeth to pull open. The stirring of the sugary water and the rasna ingredients had a magical charm, that is missing in the bottled lemonades of today.

A shower later the tiny bodies all white with prickly heat powder gathered again to play house or just throw a ball around. Certain afternoons were spent watching a grandmother make delicious mango pickle in the inner courtyard. Salivating mouths in anticipation of a lick. The eager hands ready to help, the admonishing gestures from the grandmother. Does seem like another life.

There were escapades that mothers didn't worry about. A group of kids climbing and stealing mangoes from trees that had been leased out. The watchman running after with a stick, kids shoving the loot in their vests and the run away and beyond. The breathless laughter, the scraping of the mangoes on rough cemented walls. The bite into it's sour flesh, at times lucky to have managed a bit of salt in the pocket. Mothers those days were not worried about infections or a tan from the heat. It was ok to be dirty and brown.

The best part being the evenings when all the kids watered their respective terraces and gardens. The plants soaking in the cool water and the attention. The kids were allowed to play with the hose pipes, drench themselves and the lawns. run muddy legged into the house dripping water all the way to the bathroom. After towelling dry and more of that prickly heat powder, hair combed and parted neatly, the bucket of water soaked mangoes was a treat for all the senses. To sit in a circle around that bucket and choose your pick.. a delight as sweet, if not more than any alphonso mango.

Nights were usually under the stars, The watered terrace, now cool. the gentle and soothing breeze from the Neem and Mango trees. The sky boundless in its stars, the moon peeping in through the white mosquito nets. Stories of fairies and demons. Castles won and princesses saved. Counting days left until schools reopened. An end to yet another fruitful and adventurous day. A promise of endless more such days to come.

Yes summers from my childhood in Baroda, Gujarat does seem like another life.

An Ode to Oman...

This is where I stay friends. And that's my son dune bashing. But if you thought Oman is a desert..look on















Yes, it rains here and the wadis overflow and the mountains turn green and dense with foilage













The colour of the sea changes with your mood..from a lively light blue to a stormy gray. The turquoise and the molten gold of the sea is sight to fall in love with.

Being Eve..

Often I wonder, If the things we tell our daughters are the things we would really like them to take to heart and follow. Or are we just carrying on without thinking, a timeless tradition of rules. As a daughter, and a kid, It was grilled into me that I am in no way less than any of the boys I study with, or play with. Being the only child, I had no competition at home. But mom was dexterous in finding enough competition for me outside. Studies being of paramount importance to the generation I belonged, I had to ensure that I was amongst the cream of the class. Her reason being, "So what if she's a girl? What difference is there between a girl and a boy in today's world? Girls can beat boys in any stream they choose to. They have the capacity to shine as much as the boys do." It was all good, this feminism and strife for success. But just a few years down the line, her lines changed. Now it said things like, "Career and all is fine, but you are a woman, a homemaker. Your foremost priority is to nurture your family and bring up good kids. You have to be the wind beneath your husband's wings, push him to reach heights. After all this if you have the time left in your hands you can do something work wise." Now this got me utterly confused. Here was my mother, who made me score the highest in each subject to outshine the boys of my class, only to tell me later that I got to be the wind beneath their blasted wings?? What about my wings? The ones I had carved based on her faith in my capacity?

This is not only me, but the feelings of a lot of women who are my contemporaries. We were brought up on the myth of feminism and the moment we were set to fly, our wings were clamped to the role of a model homemaker. Believe me, I have nothing against being a homemaker. Its the most gruelling and the most thankless job, if ever there was one. Also the most soul satisfying hugs come from here. But the training for this job is not what we got. The mindset was not made, We were not taught how to adapt to a new family, a new household, we were told to compete with boys and win. Careerist role models were pointed out to us. Indira Gandhi and kiran bedi were pointed out to us. Why didn't my mother let me take a closer look at her lifestyle?

I am a mother now and and maybe on the threshold of repeating the same mistakes. I see the world changing around me, from the time I was a kid. Now probably marriage is beyond the realm of parental influence. to marry or not, when to do so, if at all , and with whom, is a decision that I am sure would not include me. Life is becoming tougher and the family is taking the brunt. But I hope that I stay away from giving my daughter confused theories about feminism. I am a staunch believer in the roles of man and woman. They were made different for a reason and they remain their best when they perform the roles they were intended to. Does that mean A girl should not pursue a rewarding career? Or does it mean that a man can never be a homemaker? It doesn't mean either. It just means that each individual should be equipped to do whatever it takes to overcome hurdles and live life to the best of their ability. It just means that you should be in a role that's most suitable to your core as a human being. To lead a life that gives peace and contentment at the end of the day. I hope I educate my daughter for the bliss of knowledge and not for a thriving career that she might have to unwillingly sacrifice at the altar of marriage.

Get tough, not rude...

Have you ever bullied someone? In the school fields? In the school bus, some junior at college? These were how my thoughts went as I lay with a book last night. I kept going back and forth the cobwebbed corridors of my memory, but could not cite up even one incident, where I had bullied someone. I got up, drank some water, and went to my daughter's room, she was awake still, reading a book. I asked her,"Have you ever been bullied at school?" The question was such because I cannot fathom her bullying even an ant to go the other way. She said, "Not exactly bullied mamma, but many a times I have had to do things which I didn't like because some senior asked me to in a stern voice.. Well that's not exactly bullying, now is it mamma?"

"No it isn't dear", I said and walked back to my bed. I have seen bullying and have always felt that the bullies were themselves insecure. Strong bodies, insecure souls. Why else would you gang up against a poor kid going home from school and snatch his bicycle and make him race you, knowing very well that there is no competition. Why would you threaten a small, frail boy to fist fights and blows, unless he did your homework for you. Why take away the spectacles from a kid and play 'catch' with it. I have never seen any mirth in any of these actions, have stood up quite a few times against them when in school. Though in later years, I have ignored many such instances that have crossed my vision due to inexcusable reasons like apathy or hurry.

I have also wondered at my son's behaviour time and again, his bullying nature towards his sister, who is three years older to him has caused a lot of reactions at home. Initially I thought that aggression was part of his nature, but on going to his school and meeting his teachers, I found that he is the most shy and least aggressive boy in class. Therein I found my answer.. In an eureka moment it was clear to me. The actions of my son and the various other bullies. Yes they chose their victims with utter care, only the ones that are weaker temperamentally and physically are bullied. In the presence of a stronger or equal opposition the bullies keep low. yes that was there insecurity, bullying was there feel good factor. An insecure day at school, a ridicule, or even getting bullied himself, could well be the reason of my son's actions towards his sister. That made me wonder, If I was right in taking the side of the apparent victim of a bullying session.. maybe I should have showered attention on the bully instead, maybe he was as frightened and desperate not to show. We were all kids after all and no kid can be framed.. he has a long road to travel.

By this time it was pretty late, and I kept worrying that if I didn't sleep now, I would invariably be late for waking my kids in the morning for school. And just as I was trying to count mental sheep to initiate the process of sleep, did I see myself bullying. Yes, I was a bully too, I who prided my self as being the most non violent person, time and again bullied coolies and rickshaw wallahs, for petty sums. I shouted and screamed at railways stations for a discount of 10 or 20 rupees. I haggled mercilessly with auto wallahs for what? the fun of it? I was so awake and so upright on the bed that moment. I had chosen my victim well too. I never dare to haggle at the fancy showrooms with their goods displayed with obnoxious price tags. Why? Because I feel powerless in that atmosphere. But a poor coolie whom if I pay an extra 10 rupee would probably bless me and my family, with him I am rude and insensitive. Under what, I thought till that moment was, standing up for my rights.. I was in fact bullying a fellow countryman.

Well needless to say, sleep did not come for the rest of the night.. and I finished the book I had started.

Re-arranging my prejudices

This one is inspired from a post made by a young blogger friend .. here goes

At school, my social studies teacher managed to bring in the entire world into the tiny class room, as kids of impressionable ages, we sat and almost watched her words. We loved the Freedom movement of India, felt the surge of national pride each time the freedom struggle was described. We visited the various states of India through her eyes and words, the beautiful seven sisters of the northeast, the majestic mystery of rajesthan, the lions of Gir, the temples of the south and the paradise called kashmir were as visible to us as the state we belonged to. Through her we learnt about the structure of society, of various types of government, we learnt of autocracy, dictatorship, democracy, socialism and capitalism.

That was our age of falling for ideals. Many of my friends, including me fell in love with the idea of socialism - an utopian state, a class less society, one for all and all for one. The vigour and the enthusiasm of our teacher made us believe in this ideal. we opposed capitalism, the industrial revolution was looked at only as a source of torture and endless hours of work for the labour class. We ignored all that was good about machines and factory systems, we ignored the massive inventions and the determined evolution of capitalism. For us it was simply a bane on society. The USSR was the place to be, Karl Marx and Lenin were the heroes. Belonging to Kolkata, this ideology was fully appreciated and promoted by my grandparents and various other elders of the family. I was thrilled to be RED and so were they.

We grew and ideologies changed, we started seeing the world through adult eyes and felt for the first time a contradiction. For the first time... I remember telling myself.. " Socialism looks a hell lot better on paper than in the queues I see waiting for a loaf of bread in the chilling winter nights of Russia." For the first time I looked again at Capitalism.. I sensed a freedom there, the freedom to choose my destiny, the freedom to work hard and reap the benefits. Yes I was in college now, almost ready to start a career, and Capitalism provided opportunities that I had failed to see in school, I had failed to see, the discrepeancy in socialism. Why I asked should I share the benefits of my hard work with a lazy bum, why should he get what I get, when he is not putting in even half my efforts?" And as if in validation to my thoughts Socialism was crumbling all over the Globe. "Yes!" I told myself, "My teacher didn't get it right!! Capitalism it is.."

Some more growing later.. a balanced view evolved. Nothing is probably right or wrong, there are shades that are grey in every sphere. In every structure, in every society, it is the flaws that probably make the structure unique. And so it is with these two economic philosophies . Socialism and Capitalism allure us based on our opportunistic nature or phase in life, similarly a lot of ideals lose their shine as we face the realities in life. Utopia becomes a state of mind and so do a lot of other things. None of us is beyond prejudice, because none of us is God. We deal with things the way it suits us best at a particular point in time. It is all fine to say, "I don't believe in casteism... " until its thrown on your face so close that you have no escape. That's when our reaction will prove the true mettle. I do not know how I will react, but I have no idealistic expectations from myself. But think about it.. prejudice is a two way thing... are not the victims prejudiced too?

Makhtoub..

"I don't want to to leave, I want my friends, my school, I belong here.. I feel at home, please let me stay." Fear of the unknown is not an acquired fear. We are not taught to be apprehensive of change, quite on the contrary, in fact. And yet the above refrain is the most repeated line of my life. I have moved from shore to shore, first it was dad looking for a better life and then it was the husband doing the same. I was told I had a mole under my feet and hence the nomadic life. Destiny wrapped up in a tiny mole at the bottom of my feet. Moved within the country and now beyond it. Have liked some places and adapted to others. Have made friends and let them go, have ended up building walls around me that are porous only to socialise, no more friendships please!! Packed up an entire household and put all the memories onto a cargo. Pots and pets have been left behind along with favourite corners and dear friends.

'Global citizens' is the term today. Stay connected - The World Wide Web has made that possible, distances are insignificant now. I am in touch with friends from my childhood, I know their life almost inside out and so do they. Pictures are exchanged, birthdays are wished with virtual cakes and balloons, even a tiny squabble within the family is shared and made light. Yes, Internet has definitely helped a lot. But it has not given me roots, its just made the traveling tolerable.

Quite a biased post am afraid, but that's my mood today!! Tomorrow will be a different day, a different mood, a different makhtoub..

Unsocial Socialising...

Why do we blog? We love to think, to write, to express in words or pictures our thoughts as well as aspirations. But is that all? What about the urgency we feel to make a post? or the high just after posting? There are anonymous bloggers who get a chance to say what they cannot in public, that bit I can understand, but why us? maybe the lack of funds for getting our thoughts published on paper, as a book. Perhaps the hunger for 'comments', for the number of hits, perhaps the addiction.. I cannot say it is just creativity.. somehow it rings false to me.

The internet has opened vistas of sometimes incomprehensible pleasures, the freedom to chat with long lost friends and make new ones on the way, is addictive beyond doubt. the social networking sites take gossip to extraordinary heights, information has never been so cheap neither so eager.

We learnt Pascal and C++ at school and thought nothing could be as offensive as that wierd TV like object. Kids today grow up downloading Hannah Montana songs and videos onto their orkut profiles. We preferred to run and play, or with adolesence, to walk down to the next block where our friends lived, to sit across, look in the eye and talk. Today my kids prefer to chill in an AC room with just the computer for company and probably a coke! spectacles are doing great business am sure but apart from them, who else is gaining?