Did he really take her away??

There is something about being young and having a wedding in the family! The year was '92 and my cousin was getting married. The rest of us were at the threshold of ending our teens, feeling the excitement of planning our wardrobe for this wedding. Bengali weddings done in the traditional style have around four to five days of festivities. And each day requires at least two change of dresses, if not more .That in turn requires lots of sessions of ransacking various wardrobes, even the bride's!!

The older and already married cousins proved to be God's gift. They not only let us trample through their kanjeevarams, but even helped in resizing their blouses for us. There was a lot of preening in front of mirrors and taking in opinions, both wanted as well as unwanted, from various members of the family. Comments like,"Ohh!! That colour makes you look so dark!!" or some light hearted flirting from the older brother-in-laws saying," Uff!! had I seen you in that Saree before, I would have married you instead of your sister!" The week before the actual wedding day was filled with nervous tension for the bride and agonizing stress for us cousins who had yet to accessorize their sarees with jewellery!

Late nights saw the bride holding a 'Let- us- get- to- know- each- other' conversation with her husband to be, while we sat in the same room at our wit's end trying to organize our stuff. Often the groom to be, was left dangling at the other end of the std call as the bride helped us reach a decision. And it also happened that the most romantic sentence uttered by the groom went unheard and thus un-responded to, because the rest of us were squabbling about colour choices.

The excitement was palpable as the day approached. Informal sessions of songs and dances have always been a part of this family. The day before the wedding everybody gathered and sat around singing Rabindrasangeet, Bhatiali(Bangla folk songs), as well as popular Hindi numbers. The Hindi hits were supplied endlessly by the bride's best friend, who had herself been married just a month back.We danced to songs from 'shohag chaand bodoni dhoni naacho to dekhi' to 'main sasural nahin jaungi doli rakh do kaharo'. It was a family that was together, a family that loved songs and us sisters who were most uninhibited in this environment.


The wedding day arrived and saw us all trooping in to a parlour to dress our hair. It was a daunting task for the poor lady as there were 7 of us and all with highly unmanageable hair. She was still at her task when somebody hollered from outside," what are you girls up to? You've been gone since ages, and now the borjatri (baraati)has arrived and you are still dressing up??get on with it right now" looks of dismay were passed as we identified the voice to be that of our most stern brother in law, who we knew would not think twice before literally dragging us from the parlour in our various stages of undress. We finally just thanked the lady, brushed our hair and made a quick exit looking sheepish and silly.

That was '92 we were just stepping out of our teens and one amongst us was getting married. Today 17 years have passed. The rest of us have also got married. We have grown from borrowed sarees to self bought ones, from worrying about accessories to worrying about getting leave to attend weddings. The next generation has started taking their vows. Yet it seems like yesterday that she got married and we spent a teary night in our nightgowns discussing how awful it would feel to sign her name differently, to have to ask for permission to visit her own parents. It seems like yesterday that DG took her away in a white decorated car amidst a deluge of tears and the sounds of conch shell.

And today ... I am not sure where she ends and DG starts. To me they are one today and always!

PS:
This is part of my chat with her today when we accidentally discovered that both of us were writing on the same subject

sujata:

suggest a heading for my post

Aparna:

i was about to ask you to suggest a heading for mine

sujata:

yours I haven't read

you were saying 17 and still not dead

or murdered

Aparna:

mine is how i met my future husband and said yes

sujata:

ok

think of a song

Aparna:

you think of a song

i am thinking of murder

sujata:

the song from murder

bheege hont tere

Aparna:

hahaha

pyaasa dil mera

sujata:

hahahha

more like aa dekhe zara kisme kitna hain dum

Here's wishing both of you a very happy anniversary and many many joyous years together!

Being happy and passing it on..

A few days back I was going through a book by Deepak Chopra. There was a particular line by him that just drilled its way right into my brain. I am sharing it here. He was talking about relationships and how we cling on to people as well as objects at times consciously and at times unconsciously. This behaviour is obviously very irritating for the person we are clinging too..but we dont realise its doubly unhealthy and harmful to us than to whom we are clinging. The only option to live happy and fulfilled is to let go. Let go of the past, of failed relationships, of sorrows and pains, of joys that were taken away, of injustice, of love..

To remind us whenever required of how suffocating it is to cling and what a relief it is to let go, he asks us to to do this..

Take in a deep breath, filling your lungs with oxygen
Hold on to it
Don't breathe out for as long as possible
Just keep on holding on to it, it's oxygen, it's yours, it's good, why let it go..keep holding on to it
Sense what you are feeling
Now slowly exhale
let go, even if it is good, even if it is yours, let go slowly
Now sense your feelings!!

I was bowled by this simple exercise, knowing is one thing, and doing it is totally another! Do it guys..you will realise the joy of letting go!!

On that note am passing on the two awards that were given to me.

The first one was International blogger's community award from Sucharita Sarkar. Thanks Sucharita it made me feel special.

1. The person who tagged me: Sucharita Sarkar 2. Her site URL: 3. Date of Tag: 28th June 2009 4. Persons I have tagged are:
I am passing on my happiness to

Kishore, SumanDebRay, Shaye of Miller Memories, Anil, JD, and Roshni Mitra Chintalapati

The Rules for this tag are:

1. Link the person who tagged you.
2. Copy the image above, the rules and the questionnaire in this post.
3. Post this in one or all of your blogs.
4. Answer the four questions following these Rules.
5. Recruit at least seven (7) friends on your Blog Roll by sharing this with them.
6. Come back to BLoGGiSTa iNFo CoRNeR (PLEASE DO NOT CHANGE THIS LINK) at http://bloggistame.blogspot.com and leave the URL of your Post in order for you/your Blog to be added to the Master List.
7. Have Fun!

Questions & Your Answers:
1. The person who tagged you:
2. His/her site's title and url:
3. Date when you were tagged:
4. Persons you tagged:

The second award was The honest scrap award from NR. Wow!! am really happy!

This award is being passed on to

Ishita, Bluebird, Shivi, and Gymnast






I hope all of you enjoy the moment as much as I did and then promptly let it go..
Thanks for visiting. All the encouragement is truly and sincerely appreciated!

Of careless whispers and silent calls...

The "making naughty eyes" remark in Aparna's post and our subsequent chat about those rocking days took me back in time. The days of winks, whistles and crank calls. We have all been through that phase, haven't we?

Dressed in midis and pumps, shampooed hair and a neat ribbon at times, saw me walk with such a spring in my steps across the road to my friend's house. Those were usually happy and carefree days full of enthusiasm and spirit, mirth and bouyancy. Just at the point where my house would be out of sight and my friend's house yet not in sight, would the most dampening encounter happen.

A persistent and irritating sound.. something like chch chch chch, which was best ignored and yet the head turned. To witness yet again a gutless romeo on a cheap bike giving the broadest wink ever...eeeeeeoww!! Not only was it a wink, there was a distinct head tilt with it, which transformed into,"chalti hai kya?" if put in words. Now this might not be very clear an image to the young generation of today. What with unlimited access to chat rooms and text messages.. but ask anyone from my generation and they will smile! Wonder what finally happened to these losers who stood patiently at the bends of the road doing their monotonous drill. A few responded to them with anger, a few even probably smiled back, and the ones like me perfected the art of acting dumb!!

The days of black telephones without caller ids. The silent calls, the random number dialling and the give away giggles, the fat directories,and the aftermath. A guessing as well as a blaming game promptly started once the silent calls came.

Phone conversation part1

Ringing phone, dad picking up, nobody speaks. After a few hellos he puts down the reciever and forgets about it. Again the phone rings, Mom picks up, again no one speaks...

Mom(with narrowed eyes):
"All this shampooing is the cause, from tommorow oil your hair and wear them in plaits!! And you will discard all those T-shirts you have, They are way to tight."

Dad with a sympathetic look towards me:
"Its just a call, maybe somebody is not getting the line, it could be anybody, leave the poor kid alone."
Mom: "You just dont get the point.. shes no longer a kid, today there are calls, tommorow those Romeos will come knocking on the door."
Me: "How is it my fault if somebody calls up and doesnt speak."

Dad:" exactly!"

again the silent call, this time mom picks up..

Mom on the phone:
"Listen whoever you are, next time you call this number I will report you. What are you doing wasting your father's money on this stupid calls? Dont you have any sense, any decency?Anything better to do with your life?"
This was just an edited version of what she said on the phone, the guy was such a loser, he actually heard the entire thing before disconnecting, dad went back to his newspaper, and I was red behind my ears trying to think which guy could it be? and what if he was the good looking bloke from my class, whom I quite fancied! shoot how will I face him again, mom is such a disaster!!

Then there were those calls from the slightly more adventurous. The guys who spoke when you picked up the call.

Phone conversation part 2

me: "hello"

caller: "Hi can we be friends?" (btw they were more courageous than the orkut stalkers mind you!!)

me ( again getting red and hot out of sheer fright): "I dont know you"
caller: "That's the whole point, I have seen you cycling to school."
me: putting the reciever down with a sinking feeling and a tipsy head.

Mom as usual standing hawk eyed behind me, waiting for the darned thing to ring again. And what have you!! It does ring again and mom plunges to pick it up.

Mom: "HELLO!!"

caller ( in a loserish makey girl's voice): "May I speak with Sujata?"

Mom(getting it instantly!): "Dont call this number again, she has no time for boys like you." replaces the reciever firmly.

Mom with narrowed eyes starts the shampoo and tshirt lecture again, with an added point about my new fangled interest in hollywood flicks. A forecast of a doomed future if I continued like this follows ..

Me looking stricken and dumb and thinking Dear god give me the guts and the sense of framing proper answers to Mom.

Hind sight makes it all funny, it was not bad even then. the days of careless whispers, whistles and black telephones. I am a bit more diplomatic than my mom was, but my eyes do tend to become hawk like when my daughter chooses a dress or insists on a particular hairstyle!

It was a phase of evolving, of judging right from wrong, of having some fun in the process, of ego boosts and shy looks, of creepy whistles and lewd gestures, of being conscious of the legs, teeth, pimples, parents, and everything in between. It was the the 1980s and it rocked!

The Annoyance tag!!

This is a tag that I am picking up from blog buddy Zillionbig. Ten things that annoy me. A few posts ago I had blabbered about not being able to express anger, so it took me a while to pep myself up to write this tag, after all anger and annoyance are entirely two different things right? Here goes..

1. Persistent door bell in the morning. I am not at all a morning person. I like to go back to sleep immediately after I have seen the kids off to school, the hubby usually sees himself out. The morning tiffins and backpacks are organised in a zombie like state by me and the kids know that this is not the time to talk to mamma, they just get on with their acts and my younger one even says a sweet little ,"go back to sleep mamma" from his school bus. So after the house is empty and tranquil and I am peacefully dozing off for another couple of hours, I get really annoyed if the bell or the land phone rings.
2. Coffee not made as per my taste. I like my coffee really bitter and dark. The first thing I have after I get up is that mug of stimulant. As long as I am at home and making my own coffee the cause for annoyance does not arise, but I get annoyed when I am offered a mug of sweetened milk with a sprinkling of coffee grains by certain hosts. Its really annoying, this is a drink I relish and it just doesn't go down my throat if made milky and sweet. So usually even when I am visiting, I make my own coffee, courtesies be damned!!
3. Clutter. I hate clutter in my house. All the rooms have to be tidy and things that are being used have to be put back to their original places. This is a standing rule. Anyone disobeying this annoys me. I don't mind kids playing and building tents with blankets on the bedroom floor, and taking out all the barbies and making them ramp walk to whistles and claps. But when time's up, time is really up and they know the drill. Things have to get back to their places pronto!!
4. Sweaty shirts hanging on doors. This has been a long cause of tiffs between me and my husband. I have till date not been able to change his habit of coming back from work and hanging his shirt on the bedroom door. I fail to understand the logic behind this annoying act. It drives me insane to say the least. There is a series of pegs that have been specially drilled in the work area for this very purpose, but the bedroom door still remains the hot favourite.
5. Wet bathroom floors. I am finicky about bathrooms, be it my house or a hotel or anywhere else, I insist on a neat and tidy bathroom. My kids have this trait too, so they don't have to be told to tidy up the bathroom after they have used it. Doesn't take a lot. But my insistence on neat and clean toilets, annoys my husband when we are travelling. "How much time in the day are you planning to spend in there? The location of the hotel is important, not the toilet tiles for Gods sake,." But I silently stand my ground and refuse to use a washroom that's not clean and dry.
6. No books. Being in a situation where I have no books at my disposal to read. Not that I read everyday, but its such a bliss to have a few unread books on my night stand. I feel very uncomfortable if this is not the case.
   

Beyond the above points there are certain traits that I find annoying in general. I am sure I have many traits that others find extremely annoying, but am not apologising here for those, they can blog it if they want.

1. Selfish and petty behaviour. I have seen water being mixed into milk and offered to the elderly. This has ashamed me like nothing else. I have felt guilty of being a mute witness.
2. Forgetting the roots. So many people leave their home lands in search of a livelihood, I have too. But my heart still beats for India. NR Is who change their names, as well as accents, who cannot drink anything but sparkling mineral water on their trips back home, who complain about the lousy weather and the stinking poverty annoy me.
3. Falling in love at the drop of a hat. Every generation has such people. Its just not about today's youth. Love is possibly an ego satisfying trip for them, or they have no clue as to the meaning of.."love is not altered when it alterations find..". I have never tried to understand their psychology, they have just annoyed me with their tales of misplaced triumphs.
4. Inability to accept gifts with pleasure. Why do these people grow up so fast? Why cannot they understand there is a pleasure in giving gifts. Why become so rigid and say no to gifts which are an expression of love? Have never understood and will never try to.
   

That was it folks, a mixed bag. I pass on this tag to:

Ramesh for your impressive wit

Kishore for your way with words that impress me every time

Balachandran for your maturity and experience

Amrit for your stroke of genius

Amith for the depth of your feelings

A Slice of heaven...

There is a kind of magic in the Bangla word 'mamabari' (the house of maternal grandparents). For me they conjure up images of a bygone era, filled with fun and food.

Every year during the summer holidays, I took the train from wherever I stayed to Calcutta (which was the penance part), and then from there, another overnight train took me to my 'mamabari' in Patna.

As the train slowly rumbled towards Patna Junction, I would try hard to screen the platform for the familiar figure of either one of my three mamas(maternal uncles). Being the eldest grandchild and for quite a long time, the sole grandchild of that family, I was a prized possession. Those were days of transistors and cricket commentary, and I would soon spot my mama standing with a transistor to the ear, looking at the compartment numbers passing by. Travel was by ordinary sleeper class, and hence the open window would glee fully carry my shout to him and everybody else on the platform. "Mama moni.. we are here, come on we are here, come fast, get us.."

My excitement could barely be with held as my mama walked in to the compartment and took me up in his lap, while the coolie handled the luggage and my mom asked after the well being of my grandparents. My days of paradise always thus began. Days where I was to rule, where everything would revolve around me. For every child such a place of pure indulgence is a must and I was extremely lucky to have it.

The house with its courtyard and gardens, carefully nurtured by my dadu(Grandfather), the guava tree that saw me on its branches for many an idyllic afternoon, the kitchen cabinet with its net door, hoards of pickles and chutneys, specially made by Didima(Grandma), the beds that I jumped on, the cats that I befriended , were all symbols of love and being wanted. That house and everybody there made me come alive with joy each summer holiday.

Mornings. I would sit in front of my dadu's bicycle and go shopping for the days fish and vegetables. It felt great to be asked, "what fish would you like to have for lunch today?" On return from the market, I would sit on Dadu's lap and would have a breakfast of luchi torkari(puris/Indian bread and sabji/vegetable) followed by kalojaam(Gulabjamun/Indian sweet). Pure bliss. More so because mom was always busy with my mashis(maternal aunts)and hence she did not scrutinize my plate at any of the meal times. Didima always came with a spoonful of sugar by the time I had reached my last luchi, the timing was always right, I wonder now how she managed?

Till the time for my bath I was free to do as I please. Most days I would play with my youngest mama who was still in high school then. Games included carrom, ludo, marbles and scrabble. This was followed by Didima coming to get me for my bath. The most exciting part of the day - as there was not just one but a series of bathrooms and all outside the main house. The bathrooms and the toilets stood in a line at the backyard of the house. Sitting on a pidi(a flat low stool), in the sun, I would be rubbed with oil and my hair would be brushed off its tangles. This time of the day, when I had my Didima to me was a precious time. I can still see her like she was then. So beautiful in her white and red bordered saree, her head always covered, her eyes always full of love and the the enchanting smell of pan and zarda that surrounded her. She always had a story on her lips.

The Lunch was always a lavish affair. I along with my Dadu and my three mamas sat at the dining table in the kitchen. I still remember in every detail, how the food was served. Big shining plates would be laid in front of us, with a perfect mound of rice very neatly placed. There would be a little ghee and always a bit of crunchy 'neem begun'( a bitter appetizer). This was followed by a dal and a bhaja(some vegetable, usually poatato, or bringal deep fried), and then the torkari(vegetable cooked in a gravy) and the maach(fish), ending with chatni(chutney) and doi(youghurt). Those were days when nobody seemed concerned about heart problems and weight gain. The amount of physical activity that was done ensured a fit and healthy body.

An image that I cherish even today, is that of sleeping with my Didima on her four poster bed, under a wheezing ceiling fan. She, telling me mythological stories and her fingers caressing my hair and soothing me to a peaceful sleep. The days, now are so fraught with unnecessary tensions and complexities that most nights I lie awake for no particular reason, feeling tired and drained and yet devoid of slumber, it is at such times, that I go to my childhood days on that bed with my Didima, and the memory of that simple room, so full of warmth and love, lulls me to sleep.

The house that once was so full of fun and joy, has over the years lost its occupants one by one to the greater world. My mamas are now settled in different cities in and outside India, with grown up kids of their own. My mashis, likewise have gone away with their husbands. Dadu has long back left us on his solitary journey. The only person who remains as the custodian of my childhood paradise is my Didima. She is bent with age and can hardly see properly, but the unmistakable beauty and love in those eyes still bring a sense of peace to me like nothing else can.

We all need a disciplined upbringing to fit in society, But the indulgence of a mamabari is what makes us each a king!!

Personal demons..

A lot of things happened over the last two weeks. Shiney Ahuja (My personal Greek God) raped his maid(I cannot get over this, really!!). India could not even enter the T20 semis. Obama swatted a fly. A lot of people, I personally know, were retrenched in Muscat. Summer vacations officially started in schools. And amidst all this fervent activity, I woke up one morning to find a painful lump in my body. Needless to say all the other attention grabbing headlines just dwindled like an inward spiral through my mind and the lump occupied pride of place.

It was too early to speak out. Early, because I had yet to consult my personal genii.."Google" regarding this, and only then, armoured with a diagnosis as well as a prognosis would I open my mouth. So gently feeling the lump, and taking deep breaths to help evade the panic attacks, I made the morning breakfast.


As soon as I had my escape, I went to the computer, got to the Google screen and typed in as key words - " lump, painful, red" within a fraction of a second, the screen was flooded with sites talking about various cancers. There were listings on cysts and abscesses too, but I gave no importance to those. Cancer is an obsessive word for me and this time I actually had a lump to show for all my fears. further detailed keywords gave further remorseless verdicts.

My condition cannot be explained in words. It will suffice to say that I started hyperventilating. Every few minutes I went to the mirror to check out further aggravation, came back to google some more, went completely into hibernation with the kid's albums and shed a few lonely tears as well. The one friend with whom I could have talked about it was out of town and my cousin was fighting her own demons.

Not a bite went down my throat. Evening saw me headed towards my doctor's chambers. Hubby alongside, absolutely insignificant. What did he know of cancer? All his family ever had was high cholesterol! My family was a different story altogether, name a cancer and we got it!! Finally my name was called and the pleasant smile on the doctor's face was not returned by me. Did not even wish her a good evening. Just plonked myself in front of her and rattled it all. Interspersing every few words with the word Cancer. My voice breaking, my palms sweaty and my mind dizzy with anxiety.

The doctor examined me and smiled. "Its nothing to worry about," she said. "Its just a sub cutaneous abscess". Saying this she patted me and prescribed antibiotics for a week. My husband immediately gave me a look that was supposed to make me feel guilty of having dragged him to the clinic from the all important office, just for a prescription of antibiotics. I returned the look with a smile that said.. nothings been cured yet!!

I did take the antibiotics, researched on abscesses till the wee hours of the dawn, tried to make a connection between cancer and abscess. The stress levels continued to soar, as the antibiotics failed to show any effect on the lump. It grew and the pain increased and a lot of other things including my psyche got hampered.

Four days passed and I was again at the clinic, with a morbid thud in my chest and a reeling brain, I entered the doctor's chamber and insisted on a scan. Again was met by an indulgent smile and another examination. "It just needs to be incised and drained, the antibiotics are not working , so better get it incised, I will refer a surgeon." I almost choked saying, "Please don't hide from me, tell me , it is cancer isn't it?" " No it isn't try not to fret ok." smiled the doctor. The surgeon was referred. The hubby opened his cell to see available dates, I said, "Today, I don't care if the president of the company sacks you for not being available, I have to get it done today." He knew, further discussion was pointless.

Evening came and I was in front of the surgeon, insisting on not going back until the lump was out. Things happened at a fairly fast rate from then, the husband tinkering with his cell, the kids asking whether I will be back alive, the nurses carrying out regulatory tests, the anaesthesist asking for allergies and false tooth. I, grabbing hold of the surgeon and insisting on a biopsy. The surgeon just smiling.

Finally at 9:00 pm I was in the OT. Before passing out the last conversation I had was about cancer and with the anaesthesist. When I regained my sense, I saw just about 15 minutes had passed, and I was drowsy as hell and was being shifted from a stretcher to a bed in the recovery room. The surgeon called my name and the only thing I could say was, "Do a biopsy!"

At 12:30 am that night I came back home. Son was offering to be a very good boy, the daughter was asking whether it hurt, I was being fed chips by one and muffins by the other. My heart was deliriously happy. For the moment I was cured of my nightmare, For the moment I was healthy and devoid of cancer, It was just an abscess after all. The dressings continued and the reports came in giving me a clean chit. Both me and my cousin had won our demons for the time being. we breathed easy till another day when another demon strikes. We got back to joking at our gene pool, and we got back to blogging. We got back to life!!


I know, many of you might not be able to empathise with this write up. But believe me, if the gene pool is the kind I have, fear becomes second nature!

How do you express ANGER??

"Don't you get angry?" Many a times I have been asked this by many a people I have known. Of course I get angry, I mean who doesn't? I am sure even Shri Shri Ravi Shankar of AoL does get angry sometimes. In my case what confounds people is my lack of expression. I cannot for God knows what dumbfounded reason express my anger. I cannot shout or yell or scream or rant, rave, hit..nothing. All I can do is clam up!

At times I would so like to go and have a good fight. A proper battle of words where all the venom is spewed out. But nothing of that sort happens. What happens is withdrawal from the issue. If a thing or action is making me angry, I can easily withdraw from that place or situation. If the source of anger is closer home, then I just silently stand my ground. Do my daily grind and retire with a somewhat heavy and cluttered heart. But come what may I cannot express my anger in words. Neither can I fight. Hubby feels like he is fighting with a wall, my cousin feels its a 'single child syndrome'. my mom says, "shes the silent kinds", my kids just love this part of me and I just keep trying to put my anger into proper words!!

Anger is a strange emotion for me, I cannot hold on to it for more than a few hours at the most. It just melts away. At times when provoked into a fight, I cannot remember the points that would give me the upper hand, so I stall for thoughts and words and its a miserable situation. A vivid imagination makes me see myself penning my anger and handing out chits in response to a verbal duel..that makes me laugh and I forget the anger.Yes, very strange but very true.

Then again I think what if I had a similar problem expressing my joy, my love, my praise. what then? What if I was inhibited in saying I love you? What if I stalled for words when i had to cheer up my closest friend? and had to write chits to comfort my kids? what then? Its just anger..so be it!! I can deal with that.

Would like to know though what kind of anger expressions do you all have?