The city that flows in my veins..

A city I feared as a child. hated as a teenager, and understood as an adult.

Having always lived in small and peaceful cities, Calcutta was a nightmare to me. My fears gripped me as soon as the train pulled into Howrah station. It felt as if the hungry, desperate maddening rush at the platforms would gulp me down and I would choke and drown in its boiling belly. I clung to my mother's Saree for dear life till we were inside a taxi. Even then, I dared not look outside the window. My parents pointed out various sights of the city to me, but all I did was just slide down the seat slowly. The loud voices of the people all around, the beggars, the barely clothed mad woman hitting on our taxi window smiling a toothless, sinister smile, the street fights, the long rallies with men and women shouting slogans and waving red flags were too much for me. We usually went to Calcutta for 15 days in the summer months and then we would head to Patna where my maternal grandparents lived.

Those 15 days seemed like eternity to me. More so because the moment we set foot in this city, Baba was transformed. I almost became secondary to him. He was always going somewhere or the other. He was rejuvenated here. I guess I also saw Calcutta as my competitor. Not that he did not ask me to go along with him, but I was too scared to travel in that city and preferred to remain at home. I counted days when we would catch the train to Patna. I sulked and clammed up and remained an unfriendly and snobbish little girl to my relatives in that city.

Whether I liked Calcutta or not, did not matter at all, as every year the trips continued. By the time I reached my teens, I got used to the mobs at the stations and on the roads. I also got used to the dirt and the stark poverty. I resented the narrow lanes which had me, a rickshaw, a diseased dog and a skinny cat and at times even a cow together at one single point in time, with just me being the uncomfortable one. I walked the roads worrying that a running bus would at any moment spray the immensely dirty sewerage water, that had logged the streets onto me. My skin crawled each time a beggar sitting on the footpath would touch me and ask for food or money. I could never shoo them away, neither offer them anything, but the faces haunted me at nights.

The city dwarfed me. I remained an outsider who marked each day on the calender waiting for the 15 days to get over. I often heard Baba say, "you can't escape loving this city, someday you will understand its spirit, that day you will never be able to say no to Calcutta. This city lives, it has a life." I just about managed to bear the comment and hurriedly got into my train for Patna. leaving him behind in the city of his rejuvenation. As the train moved out slowly, his wave would be my focal point and I would deliberately make myself feel that the horrendous and bad mannered crowd of Calcutta was enveloping my Baba and taking him away. Even then I knew it was a silly thing for me to think, but such was the hatred for the city.

As fate would have it, as an adult, I had to come and live in this very city. There was no Baba now, but his love for the city made me take my first step towards getting to understand it. I had just started my career. The office and the home being on either ends of the city, ensured that I travel the entire length of this city twice everyday. The crowded buses gave me anxiety attacks to begin with, and yet my ears perked up at the wit of the people. The trademark one liners and repartees of the bangali were scattered like gems every where. Till then I had thought wit belonged to the elite. As days passed, warmth was added to the wit. I came across the genuine warmth that this city has. The only city probably in our country that has time to stop and give a detailed direction route to a complete stranger, that too on a scrap of paper. The only city where a phuchka walah will look at a kid and ask if she would like to take home some phuchkas for her old grandma. who probably is too old to come all the way, adding that he would give it for free. the city with its theaters and book shops was something I was discovering for the first time.

The second hand bookstores that abound here were my paradise. At any given excuse, I would head for them. Spending hours here and being offered cha(tea) and a stool to sit so that i can peacefully browse through their treasure. Not only this, the stall owners were extremely knowledgeable about their products and were happy to discuss authors and books at length without even once giving the impression that I needed to make a purchase. It was always a smiling "come again" that they said as I left their stall.

The Red road with its beautiful greens and the majestic Victoria Memorial soothed the tiredness out of my eyes. The old world charm of The Esplanade and the Chowringee made me reluctantly fall in love with the city. Park street with its lights and happy bustling people made me proud I belonged here. The various homes of Mother Teresa humbled me. The city of trams and the first metro, the city of cobbled streets and horse mounted traffic police, the city that napped in the afternoons and had about 3 bandhs each month, the city with dreams washed in the Ganges and the city of indefatigable spirit. I still hated the station, but had started loving the rest. This was a city that would never leave me alone, it would walk towards me and poke me, nudge me, share with me its troubles and encourage me to do the same. This city can never be indifferent, and neither could I.

I just took a tiny step towards it and Calcutta in turn embraced me for life!!

Through my eyes..

He was a lot of things to a lot of people. To me he was Baba. Never could call him anything else. My earliest memories of him are those of him taking me to school everyday. Hand in hand we went admiring flowers and turning each cloud into a particular character. The walk to the school always felt too short.

As I grew up, he was my playmate, my riding horse, my mannequin, my patient, my student, my confidant. My childhood days were filled to the brim by his jokes and by his songs.

As an adolescent, I shared his dreams. His vivid imagery brought many an illusive and abstract notion to perfect form. His laughter was my joy. He accepted my limited talent in the subject of his choice- Mathematics. I never realised for a very long time that as my private tutor, I had the most sought after professor of Engineering at one of the most reputed colleges of our country. He always came down to my level and made maths tolerable for me.

His romanticism, love of books and people, craze for films, adda, unbelievably child like joy at spooking me and my cousins in the dark, passion for football and rabindrasangeet, his story telling, his enthusiastic praise, all find an echo in me today. So does his contentment and peace.

An ambulance on the roads blaring away always scared me stiff, till the day he said ,"An ambulance takes the critical to the hospital in a jiffy so that they can get well and return home". My perspective towards the white van changed that day. I learnt, amongst a lot of things the pleasure of laughing with others rather than at others from him. I also learnt how to hide silly tears while watching a tearjerker and mushy Hindi film!! Yes, the trick was simple, to get out of the room just a few seconds before the film ended, I do it every time, works like magic!!


I loved him and everything associated with him. But it was short lived, maybe even if I had a complete life time it would still be short. I also understand that for every child, the pain of losing a parent is heart wrenching. I saw the suffering till it was unbearable. Eventually I prayed for his release, I let him go to a cloud we had booked for him. 16 years have passed today since I bid farewell, and yet the oozing wound stays just below the skin.

Life has moved on, and has brought many a pleasure in its course. But in every moment of utter joy, I miss his presence. I wish he had seen my kids, I wish he had played with them. Today as my kids joined their hands in silent prayer before his picture, I believed it reached the solitary cloud that still looks out for me over the desert sky.

A river and A storm...

At times I wonder, if it is possible for a mother to love one child a little less than the other. Its really a question that keeps coming back to me. Maybe because I am an only child, or maybe because my mind has nothing better to do. Whatever the reason, this question does nag me.

Both my kids are so different. The daughter- sincere, loving, open.. a chocolate that I can't ever have enough of. The son- a master story teller, always in motion, a brat with a smile to die for and a laugh that resonates throughout my house. He is my coffee, my daily stimulant. I can unwind with my daughter, relax in her company, read a book, share a moment, draw pictures together or just lie in bed listening to her talk softly about her day. I am perpetually on my toes with my son. Relax is probably a word he and I can't use when we are together. He pushes me to my limits. Every time I feel I have him in my grasp, he manages to climb the branch just above my reach.

Apparently for everybody who knows this family, I am partial to my daughter. Obviously, because all they see me do is shout my life out at my son. I am either running after him, or threatening him, or lashing out at his untidy work. I myself am not sure. Its true that life is easy with Toshali and quite difficult with Soumya. Its also true that after a long day when my son sleeps peacefully, he evokes emotions that are beyond words. If I admire sincerity in one, I have to admit that I admire boundless energy in the other.

Both are my eyes, both are my dreams. One a river flowing gently, the other a ship on high seas. Is it possible to love a dream less? I still am looking for answers.

End of Innocence...

She was all of 18. In college. Had recently lost her Dad. An autumn leaf. She loved to read. Had always liked poetry. Too sheltered an upbringing. Suddenly on her own with her rose tints still on. Her world had revolved around her dad. She was getting to know her mom. She clung to his memories. She lived in a dream. She continued her love for poetry. A whimsical girl not ready to be real.

He was 32. A charmer. A poet. A lost soul. Married with a kid. An accomplished wife - lively, beautiful and ambitious.

He was looking for validation. She was looking for love. She put his words and him on a pedestal. She did not see right from wrong. She did not want to believe in conventions. She was in love. Love knows no bars at 18. She felt like a rebel. She felt he needed her. She believed his marriage was coming apart. She was ready to give up all.

He was cautious. He was playing. He was proving a point to his wife. He was rising from the ashes of his insecurity. He wanted it all. She wanted just love. She fought with her mother. she called her practical, devoid of emotions, a robot without feelings. She didn't care that her mother had no more tears to shed. She was too full of her love. Love can be selfish, it can be all consuming, it can be ruthless, it can also be timid, double edged, sneering.

An ordinary day. A phone call. Not from him. But a friend. News that her calls to him are the joke of the office. He plays recorded phone conversations for all to listen. He massages his ego. He flaunts the love of a young girl carelessly on his sleeve. He feels like a man. She talks to him on this. He evades her. He has no answers. Her tints come crashing. For the first time she looks at the sun. for the first time she allows her eyes to get used to the blinding light of truth. She feels used and cheap. She feels dirty and exploited. She feels alone and lost.

One last meeting. She has to start afresh. She needs no answers, no justifications. She just needs closure. failing steps to a house that was once so dear. The bell that often was rung in joy, today rings in its shrill pitch. The face that was so loved, today stands devoid of its charm. An ordinary man. A thunderous slap. A flood of tears, Raging eyes. Silence and the door closes. An era closes too. Innocence is lost at the wrong door. A lesson for life.

A very common tale. But the hurt is real. The saddest part being that she was no kid. The story cannot be therefore categorized under the various forms of abuse. The story is afloat for the readers to decide. She was 18 and he was 32.

Haplessly hopeless...

Yesterday started off normally enough. I managed to get both my brats ready on time for their school bus. Came back to the house and saw that the hubby was almost ready to leave for work. Just as he was almost out of the door, I remembered an important thing that I had to mention else it would be late.. "There's no grocery." and a little later and a few decibels lower.. "not even rice." Carefully note the positions we were in.. He was outside the front door and I was inside ready to close it any moment. The look that followed was enough to burn me in hell if it was the age of righteousness. Thank god for sinners and kalyug. No time so the verbal assault didn't follow.. lucky me! I even managed a grin, he just turned and left. Please note this situation is not a first time thing in my house, I generally am very efficient and consistent in forgetting the basic things till the very last moment. I blame it on my genes.

Well after the peaceful parting of the morning I had my coffee and then started with whatever work had to be done around the house. by mid morning I was feeling quite guiltless and managed to call up the hubby at the office with a plan.

ME: "You know, I was thinking, that the kids and me will manage lunch with whatever is there..."

HE: "Whatever is there meaning??"

ME:"Oh you know, we love maggi, there are eggs, I can boil them.."

HE: "Huh.. hmm"

ME:(knowing that he was still pissed off), "I was thinking we could probably eat something outside for dinner and then do the groceries."

HE: "I have a football match today."

ME:" Ok, yah, after the match, we will be ready to leave as soon as you are home."

HE:" Hmm"

That was so simple. I was relieved. The mood was great I even made a list of stuff that needed to be bought, as a practice I don't do it... but this time I did, a nice systematic and proper list.. no wastage of time at the mall. It was almost time for my son to come home.

The bell rang and I opened the door. And what have I got in front of me? My 6 year old, thin as a stick boy, with his shirt, pants, belt everything in place except his undies, which he is proudly swinging on his fingers. My brain fell dead. Alarm bells of all varieties going berserk. My eyes must have spewed venom. For I noticed that his pride was instantly transformed into something akin to a sheepish look, which was again quickly followed by his eyes looking to the floor and then behind him to see if he was going to be spanked in front of his friends or alone, because by then he must have been sure about the outcome of his actions. Being a good mom and a funny one is alright, but yesterday was different. I pulled him in with such a jerk that he started his story immediately.

HE: "Mamma, I didn't do this."

ME: "Who? who? who did this then? who did this then?" I was shouting so loud, my throat actually hurt.

HE: "No , no mamma , wait, I'll tell you..I mean.."

It was clear by his look that he was fast thinking of a suitable tale which would calm my nerves, but was being totally at a loss of either a tale or words.

HE:"Yah mamma, actually I did susu in the pants and so.."

ME:" Who are you fooling big man? your pants are dry, and even if you did.. what made you remove your undies in public? Don't you have any shame? What were you trying to prove? Is this what has been taught to you? And why on earth were you swinging that blasted thing on your fingers?"

By this time I was feeling drained of all my energy and my throat was getting dry. I was also realising that I was hugely over reacting. And didn't know how to back track. So was quiet for sometime and started to fiddle with his school bag. He obviously took this opportunity to be a good boy and bolted for the bathroom. I felt like a having a cool shower myself. Instead took a few deep breaths and told myself this was not a panic situation and my son was not a roadside romeo yet.. there was still hope. He came out after his bath looking like an innocent victim of some tragic drama, and kept giving me 'I adore you mamma' looks. So then I again in a normal voice tried asking what had made him do what he did? With the room much cooler now and he in between spoon fulls of maggi told me that he was trying out what Govinda did in a flick we had seen a few days back on dvd, some old movie that he reminded me I had found immensely funny. Even laughed out loud when Govinda did the same thing on screen. So that was it. End of conversation and a stupid look on my face till the point my son finished his maggi and went to take his nap.

Then it was the daughter who returned from school. This was easy. she came in and started off with all that had happened at school, including how easy her test was that day. Finally she was done with removing her school wear and getting into nice cool home wear, and we both sat down for our meal. My kids really love maggi. And she, poor thing thought that I had made it as a surprise treat for them, instead of the daily rice and fish routine. I just smiled and remembered to add maggi to the grocery list.

Switch to evening.

Son gets up. he and I do his homework in peace and he goes out to play with his friends who by the way give me strange looks as they wait for him to join them. Anyways forget. Tommorow is Toshali's last exam, and its computers so hardly much to study, shes already done with her homework and revising for the test. Meanwhile Hubby comes in from work and is happily greeted . He doesn't show any memories of the morning. Gets his foot ball gear in place has a glass of lassi and says while he is leaving, "Will be back in 2 hours be ready else will be late, tommorow is a working day." Before I can reply, he is out of the door. So I now sit with my daughter to question her for her test. And quite unlike her..she looks all lost. This was seriously a bad day for me. I give her some more time but again nothing.. the same confusion and blabbers instead of confident answers.

ME: "Whats wrong? Tommorow is the test, why on earth are you clarifying your doubts with me now? haven't we made a timetable for each subject? doesn't computers show up in that?

SHE: I didn't study thinking it was easy. Practicals is so easy but theory I cant put in words the steps to use for formatting a document.

ME: "Obviously if the entire day you are sitting on the comp watching Hannah Montana videos and stupid musicals, how on earth will you find theory easy? Why didn't you sit with me before?

SHE:" Iam sorry."

Smart kid, knows exactly what will make me stop. Hmmmmph !! Well cant say much to that so ranting and raving I had to do the entire portion with her from scratch. In the meantime hubby and son had long returned. Hubby was insane with hunger,(football on grass field !!), was sitting on the couch with a box of cookies, and the son was overjoyed by my shouts, which were not directed towards him this time. So he kept running around the rooms in a frenzy. And kept giving a running commentary of the happenings of the study room to his dad. This was further aggravating his sister, who I think started scheming on ways to get back to him rather than what I was teaching her. So she became noticeably slower. By the time this bout of frenzied running and studying and cookie eating finally ended it was almost 9:00pm.

I had a quick dosa in mind and then the list of shopping. Mind you my day had been exhausting and I didn't even change into a proper outdoor kind of dress. All of us just went and sat in the car. Hoping for a quick meal. And where does the car stop? right in front of an extremely posh kebab and curry place that has a proper sit down buffet, and all the suitable elegance associated with it. This was the cherry. the kids needless to say were overjoyed, middle of the week treat. Hubby was hungry so kebabs were the thing on his mind. I was looking like a bai and feeling mighty upset.

ME: "I am not suitably dressed for this place."

HE: "Whats there to dress, we have come to eat".

ME:" Yah but still, I was thinking dosas and grocery.."

HE: "I am not thinking groceries at all"

Well ,well, well, Finally though we did have a super dinner, am not too much into dressing up, so the thought went out quickly from my head and I started enjoying the meal.

Finally all's well that tastes well!!

Please note, by the time we finished it was quite late and more importantly after that meal we could not have walked down aisles to save our souls. So just managed the rice and went back home. So my list is ready for today evening.

I am still a bit old fashioned and like doing the grocery in the company of the hubby. he shops, while I head towards the books section!!

And I also have a feeling that I have just managed to lose the "greatest Momma ever" award or even the "Best Homemaker award"!! Maybe if there's a category on self mockery..hmm just a thought!!

Desert Adventures..

This trip did not need much planning. Just a free weekend during the winter and we were good to go. The bookings for the stay had to be done a few weeks in advance as dune bashing is a popular venture here but not many places offer it.

Wahiba Sands is what the place is called. And it's about a 3 hour drive from Muscat. So a thursday morning saw us get onto our cars and head towards the golden dunes. The roads all over Oman are impressive and surrounded by majestic mountains. The 1st hour of the drive went off smoothly with the kids being busy eating all the snack they had managed to load in their rucsacks. The hubby was enjoying the drive and me the music and the quiet in the backseat. But that was just the first hour.

"How much time more?" said the son and my bells started ringing."Another 2 hours at least." "How much is 2 hours?" Hubby chiped in..."Its a very long time.. so look out of the window and watch the mountains." "What are we going to do when we reach there?" This was the daughter, and I had to rack my brains to come up with a game instantly else this was going to go beyond control. So I suggested we play antakshari. Happily singing songs whose tunes had just our copyrights and that only we could understand we went along the road. Hubby meanwhile was trying his best not to miss out pointers.. the next hour or so went by.


Then a point came where we had to forgo the freeway for the desert terrain, so the wheels were deflated slightly while we got down to stretch our legs. The next 45 minutes or so of the drive was an experience in itself.. wild camels walking peacefully by our car, friendly almost sad eyes looking at us through the windows. This needed a halt definitely, so we stopped got down and saw the camels persistently refuse a drink of lemonade that was being offered to them by the kids.


Finally we reached the camp..



The rest of the evening, after a quick snack of fresh fruits, and some sandwiches followed by 'kahwa' which is the local brew in this part of the world, was spent literally rolling in the sand.





After around 2 hours of this rolling on the dunes, we came back to the camp with a raging appetite. The camp was equipped with good bathrooms and warm water, so the days work and pleasure were washed clean and the appetite further raked. What followed was the most sumptuous desert feast ever, varieties of barbecued meat and vegetables being done so tender that they melt in your mouth. The breads on offer were equally divine and so were the cooling desserts. The meal was being accompanied by Omani folk songs which are quite lilting to the ears.

By the end of the meal, it was almost dark and very quiet. Apart from the inhabitants of this camp, which came to around a maximum of 20, there was no one in sight for miles together. With just the moon and a sky full of stars and the desert chill, I sat outside the tent with a bottle of water and my peace, as the kids and the hubby slept peacefully inside the tents.


The next day started early, with a light breakfast and a quick shower. The tyres of our 4wds were further deflated to do the dune bashing. This was exhilerating to say the least..to climb up a steep wall of sand and then drive on the summit was an experience in itself, the kids clamouring for the view and the shouts of mirth were made the entire trip worthwhile.

Follow up ...

Hey everybody, this one is for all those of you who were interested to know how the talk went the other day..

The Doctor was a Gynaec-Obstetrician and also a professor at the medical college here. Being a teacher made her an extremely good communicator and she just went with the pulse of the kids. There were a total of twenty kids, all girls, their ages ranging from 9 to 14 years. The elder ones were extremely shy and conscious to begin with and more so as their mothers were sitting right next to them. This made me realise that I had done right in taking my daughter at a younger age for this talk, before she gathered information from peers that cluttered her mind and made her shy. The younger ones were soaking it all up. The questions were slow to begin with but then the kids opened up and how!!

She had made a very good and informative power point presentation which was projected on an empty wall. The facts were all there, very simply stated. She encouraged the mothers to talk about their experiences and taught the kids how to tackle inconveniences. The topic of harassment and eve teasing were discussed at length and the kids were made to realise that its perfectly ok to say NO to anybody or anything that didn't make them feel comfortable. common examples were taken up and each child was asked how she would handle it. I was happy to see that kids today are a secure lot, they are no longer shy of elders and neither hesitant to be firm with them. This part of the program was interactive and an eye opener for the moms. Many of us for the first time realised that most of our kids have already encountered some form of harassment.

At the end of the 1 and 1/2 hour talk the kids and the moms were given pamphlets and handouts and also her contact numbers.

It was an extremely healthy and positive session and on the walk back home from this lecture, my daughter really opened up to me.

For all the parents who have gone through and responded to my previous post, I hope this post shows the route that you and your child can take together.

Cheers and Happy parenting!!