How the wheels of society turn

THEY were not on the A list in social terms. More like a B or B plus. Not rich enough, not famous enough, not powerful enough. So, while they were pretty active on the city circuit they were never at the best places. Just second best. Sort of like there but not there, second stringers at best, desperately seeking the front row.

This irked both husband and wife so they devised a strategy to get themselves into the ‘in’ parties. They gate-crashed. If it was a top shelf gathering they’d be there.
Not in the clumsy or crude manner you might expect of barging in but with a little bit of panache. They’d call the hostess and say, "Awfully sorry, we were out of town and must have missed the invitation, but don’t worry we’ll be there, wouldn’t miss it for the world."

Once they called a host and said, "Our houseboy is such a nuisance, he never gives us the messages, no good help these days, hahaha, so sweet of you to be giving this dinner for the visiting MPs, sure you don’t need any help, we could get our cook to make something," On another occasion they gate crashed a private dinner by explaining how they had just landed from the airport and how they are so fortunate they got back tonight, right in time. And they always carried gifts or a bouquet of flowers to soften their entry.

The A list crowd were cruel in their comments but the ridicule was in private and even though they joked about the couple they never really came out and said, "get lost." Over the months the gate-crashing continued and the game took on a new twist. There was now speculation over whether the gate-crashing husband and wife would fetch up at a dinner or not.

And then one evening at a small dinner party for twenty of fairly important people the hostess looked distraught and uneasy. Guests asked her what was wrong but she wouldn’t say. Finally, she couldn’t hold back and she blurted out what was on her mind. The gatecrashers hadn’t gate-crashed. It was way past ten o’clock and there was no sign of them. she whispered. "They didn’t come,""Maybe they don’t think we are good enough for them," said someone half jokingly. And a legend was born.

Almost immediately the gatecrashers had been lionised and turned into society barometers. If they gate-crashed your party you were to the manor born, if they stayed away you were a has been, not worth the bother. The whole ludicrous scenario was further validated by the tacit approval of the giddy social circles. There was even an honour system that evolved in that the true test of your party’s worth and your standing lay in their gate-crashing you. If you invited them it did not count, it was a natural disqualification. They had to fetch up on their own. Things came to such a pass that the hosts would sweat with suspense until the couple fetched up or have a completely wretched evening because they had been dumped. Very soon the A list had been transformed according to this arbitrary yardstick and the gate- crashing couple had become famous and very powerful indicators. If they didn’t come to your party the message flashed across the city. These are yesterday’s people, not even worth gate-crashing.

Ah, how the rich live. You think I jest. You think wrong.

note: This is not about the White house gate crashers - Michelle and Tariq Silahi..though inspired for that news.

Where the mind is without fear...there lays real freedom

Nothing is as precious as one's freedom. Dreams, aspirations, and ideals mean nothing if one does not have the freedom to pursue them.

what does freedom mean?

For some it will mean graduating from school, finally getting out into the wide world, getting a job and earning money. For some it will mean throwing a bag in the car and getting out of the city into the wide open country to breathe good clean air. For some, freedom simply means not being imprisoned by responsibilities and commitments.

Freedom is certainly all those things and more.

There is an intrinsic need to loosen and throw off the shackles of circumstances and situations that people believe hold them back and curb their desire to fly. And yet, sooner or later, if you've headed out into the country for a break, you have to curtail your freedom again. You have to go back to the city, or to the job the next day, or knuckle down to the next task at hand, until the urge to break free overwhelms you again. So the cycle turns, and turns, and turns, leaving you more and more dissatisfied with what you have and constantly being reminded of that need to escape.

Real freedom isn't dependent upon external circumstances. Real freedom is right there in our own heart, mind and soul if we could only recognise it. The freedom from being controlled by boredom, or dislike of people we don't particularly get on with. Imagine the freedom from the need to own, control and to fear loss of people or things. Imagine the freedom from the suffocating need to be loved, respected, admired or valued. Freedom from being defensive and territorial. Yes, to be free is not just about being 18 years old and have a say at the ballots. Its not about tatoos and navel rings, late nights and drinking bouts. Its much more and its much before. Real freedom takes real courage.

Otto Frank's quote to his daughter Anne is relevant to all of us. "Always remember this Anna, there are no walls, no bolts, no locks that anyone can put on your mind."

Our country stands tall in her achievements, She has done it inspite of the politicians, the corruption, the red tape, the menace and the filth. I think we can rise above all this too and be free in the real sense. Happy Independence Day! The lines below made me proud, hope they will make you smile today!

WORLD HISTORY - FACTS ABOUT INDIA

India never invaded any country in her last 1000 years of history.

India invented the Number system. Zero was invented by Aryabhatta.

The world's first University was established in Takshila in 700BC. More than 10,500 students from all over the world studied more than 60 subjects.The University of Nalanda built in the 4th century BC was one of the greatest achievements of ancient India in the field of education.

According to the Forbes magazine, Sanskrit is the most suitable language for computer software.

Ayurveda is the earliest school of medicine known to humans.

Although western media portray modern images of India as poverty striken and underdeveloped through political corruption, India was once the richest empire on earth.

The art of navigation was born in the river Sindh 5000 years ago. The very word "Navigation" is derived from the Sanskrit word NAVGATIH.

The value of pi was first calculated by Budhayana, and he explained the concept of what is now known as the Pythagorean Theorem. British scholars have last year (1999) officially published that Budhayan's works dates to the 6th Century which is long before the European mathematicians.

Algebra, trigonometry and calculus came from India. Quadratic equations were by Sridharacharya in the 11th Century; the largest numbers the Greeks and the Romans used were 106 whereas Indians used numbers as big as 1053.

According to the Gemological Institute of America, up until 1896, India was the only source of diamonds to the world.

USA based IEEE has proved what has been a century-old suspicion amongst academics that the pioneer of wireless communication was Professor Jagdeesh Bose and not Marconi.

The earliest reservoir and dam for irrigation was built in Saurashtra.
Chess was invented in India.

Sushruta is the father of surgery. 2600 years ago he and health scientists of his time conducted surgeries like cesareans, cataract, fractures and urinary stones. Usage of anaesthesia was well known in ancient India.

When many cultures in the world were only nomadic forest dwellers over 5000 years ago, Indians established Harappan culture in Sindhu Valley (Indus Valley Civilisation).

The place value system, the decimal system was developed in India in 100 BC.

Women can read maps... its just not the priority!

Now that I have been working for well over a year, multi-tasking has become second nature to me. It sounds like a praise, but believe me, its not, its just a reflex action on which the conscious mind has no control.

How can this be a bad thing? Well, I now completely lack the ability to do less than three things at a time. When I sit down to watch a movie or a TV show, I am still working or thinking about working or feeling guilty about not working.

I decided to make a chart of my daily activities and how they get completed. lets read out a page...

When I eat breakfast, I am also checking my mail, dodging cereal into Bond's mouth(This is his moment of fun with me! Turning the mouth just in time to splatter the spoonful on the table mat! Till date the scores are even..so guess, I am not bad at ensuring that 50% of what is dished out does eventually find a place in his tummy.) and cleaning my kitchen from the party-night earlier.

When I am folding clothes, I am also taking up Q&As with Toshali, getting Bond's craft list into my memory and praying it stays there till the evening. Also ticking my check list on the pending phone calls that need to be made.

When I am driving, I am going through spellings with Bond, thinking about the work I need to do that day, and also trying to remember what I need from the grocery store. trying my level best not to miss the important 'for sale' signs.

When I am cooking, I am also on the phone. As all moms will agree that this is the ideal time for the kids to get their way. So usually the scene that continues with an on going phone conversation is like this :

Bond: "Mom I am going to play, will do the homework later."

Me: Glaring once, mouthing a shriek, gulping a curse and with no apparent reaction..finally shouting a huge "NO", only to scare mom-in-law at the other end of the phone...

Mom-in-law(from the other end of the line) : "I was just asking, GOD!! You really have become rude and insensitive since you took up that job of yours.. "

Me: Blurting illegibly, going crazy signalling with the rolling pin at Bond to get back in, while he coolly takes his cycle and closes the door on my silly face.

Mom-in-law hangs up and I am left with a rolling pin, a burnt chapati on the gas, unfinished homework and a hyper ventilating heart!

When I am going to the bathroom - wait a minute. I don't get to go to the bathroom for more than 27 seconds anyway, so that doesn't really leave time for much else. Except yelling down the hall at my daughter to pick up the phone that's been ringing since I entered the bathroom and nobody seems to mind the brain numbing ring!

The list is endless, please ladies feel free to add in all the multi-tasking you have been doing. We do not realise it unless we put it on paper(blog) like this!

Torture for me would be to sit me on the couch with absolutely nothing - no paper, no pens to write on my hand with, no articles to read. Then make sure the kitchen is messy and my kid's are watching High School Musical instead of studying for the upcoming quiz. Then just force me to sit there and do nothing.

After about 19 seconds I would begin to tremble. After a minute I would look like I was goingthrough detox. After about 5 minutes, you would have to strap me to the couch, because that would be the only way I would be able to not do anything.

What if it is like a drug addiction and I have to add more and more tasks to my plate? Where would I be able to draw the line? Is there a limit to how many tasks a woman can tackle at a time?

After being married for almost thirteen years, I am convinced that the only multi-tasking men can do is read while going to the bathroom.

And then they come up with books like 'Why women can't read maps'.

Unwrap the treasure trove

In every home there are things that are purchased primarily with the idea of not using them. This fact was brought home to me when I suggested the highly expensive silver tea-set on a silver salver bought a few years back should be trotted out now and then. This got raised eye brows from my husband, a "are you completely nuts?" look from Toshali and as expected a look of sheer excitement and pleasure from Bond!

The sparkling tea-set, after regularly exhausting 'Gerard Silver polish' to maintain the glory of the three piece set plus tray, sits proudly inside the side board. Never has tea been poured into the pot, milk into the jug or sugar into the bowl. I am told that such things are kept for 'special occasions', but nowhere is a 'special occasion' defined. I think tomorrow evening, I and Bond will make it a date with silver. I will seat ourselves on the opposite sides of the centre-table and pour tea from silver. That would be special enough for us!

The bar counter is full of crystal goblets, and 'Hard Rock Cafe' shot glasses. Each from a different country, each a memoir of a place visited. They sit too, waiting I suppose for the beautiful lips that visit our home, to touch their rims. But alas, the rims remain un-adorned. They are brought out only to be wiped and polished and put back in order to stare at the visitors who admire them from behind the glass barrier. The talk of bringing them out does not give raised eye brows, it gives a look of horror. Well he should know, he lugged them all the way from distant shores. He does make an attempt now and then, I must admit, but each time, he is thwarted with a caution. What if one breaks and the set is ruined. "Can you sit there comfortably waiting to see if some one drops it or the cleaner chips it washing up?" He asks. I think I can, but this question is one of those that does not await an answer, it just means the answer is NO. Well, Bond is too young to accompany me on this tryst..so I plan on adorning the rims myself.

What about the limited editions MontBlanc pen? It has not seen how a paper looks like since it walked out of the store in 1999. Actually I am not sure, if it has ever seen what paper looks like. The list is endless, there are copper utensils that have been passed on only to be polished and kept aside, there is trousseau that was bought knowing well enough that I would not wear it beyond the month of my marriage, so they lie as well, draped in white muslin cloth in a cupboard somewhere. There are linens that await an important visitor too, only to be forgotten when the visitor arrives. The suit that was tailored and perfected after various rounds of boring trials, it hangs on a hanger in its leather case, only to be aired once every season. The bone china dinner set in a pattern of pink china roses lies in its original packaging still. The list is truly vast and endless.

Go on, admit it. Your house has suitcases full of good things you have squirreled away for another day, or what we call the right time. there is a real silliness in the saving up. Things get out dated, new models spring up, there are better things to buy in the stores, and then all of a sudden we are disillusioned with what we have, but have never used. take it out now before it becomes passe, it will never become an antique, let me tell you, it will just become outdated!

Hoard memories, they are worth polishing and preserving, the stuff that we buy..let's use them, if we don't break them, the packers certainly will one day!

Absurdities then and now

Lines we have all heard as kids. Lines we know are ridiculous, and yet we repeat them to our kids. Knowing, they think we are being ridiculous.

"Eat the apple, c'mon now, finish it! You will get apple like red cheeks!" Even as a 5 year old I knew that the skin of the apple wouldn't climb up to my cheek and rub its colour onto me. My kids know that too, and yet I say it. This is not about racism guys, its just what I end up saying when they refuse to have an apple.




"Finish all the food on your plate. Don't you know there are so many starving children in the world!" I was never sure how finishing my rice and fish was going to help hungry kids on the other side of the world, but it seemed to make sense to parents everywhere. It definitely makes a lot of sense to me now. Its my meal time mantra.





I liked to make faces in front of the mirror, when I was a kid. And you know what my mom said? Say it with me everyone. "Your face is going to freeze like that." And she'd say it all serious-like, as if she actually believed it herself. Have you ever seen a person with a face frozen with their eyelids pulled up, their fingers stuck in their nostrils, and their tongue hanging out? Yeah, I didn't think so. And yet, today, when my kids fight and make faces at each other, "Mom, didi is sticking her tongue out at me! Mom Bond's making a face at me!" thats exactly what I say.


"Don't make me turn this car around!" You know how many times he actually turned the car around? Never. It was an empty threat designed to keep me and my friends quiet. And it worked everytime. For 90 seconds. Really though, in the history of mankind, has anyone ever actually turned the car around? Why would you do that? You'd still have to listen to the fighting and screaming on the way back home. And then, eventually, you'd have to go back out and complete your trip anyway. But I still say this line to my kids, with variations in voice modulation depending on the need of the hour.


And finally there was the famous, " If your best friend jumped off a bridge, would you follow her?" Well I usually retorted to this one, because by the time this line was being used on me, I was a teenager and more vocal with my thoughts. So the retort would be on the lines of, " Possibly. How long are you going to stay with this line of questioning? Kidding! just kidding mom. I wouldn't jump off a bridge to get away from you. I mean , I wouldn't jump off a bridge just because my friends do. So, does that mean No, I can't go to the concert that everyone else is going to?"



Things have not changed much from this line of questioning as well. Today when my daughter asks for a mobile stating the fact that all her friends have one...why do I say.. you guessed that right!! Why do I say...God Help!

Rants and chore coupons

I have always been a grocery list person but lately, I always forget to bring the damn list with me to the store. And by lately, I mean since 2006. So yesterday, I came up with the brilliant idea to text myself the list! I mean, hello? I carry my phone everywhere! How smart am I?

Woot!
I forgot to bring my cell phone with me to the store yesterday.

We now have 5 bags of cupcakes and no salt.

I need to learn not to sweat the small stuff.

So what if I broke down and consumed a tub of tiramisu for lunch yesterday, what’s the big deal if we own three cordless phones but yet I am forced to shout "CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW? WAIT, I’M MOVING INTO THE CLOSET. CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?" into my cell phone because I can’t find any of them?

Is it any biggie that my kids, who never see eye to eye on anything, finally found common ground in that they’ve mutually agreed to spend their summer screaming at, bickering with, and hurling insults at each other instead of, say, swimming in the pool?

No big whoop.

I need to keep it in perspective.. because there's a light somewhere at the end of this tunnel..., I might be forgetful, I might be cranky, and silly and moody and ogreish most of the time..and yet there is a light at the end of this tunnel.

When I was a kid, I was rarely grounded. Not because I was an angel, but because my mother was smart enough to realize that if she grounded me, that meant I couldn’t go anywhere and would be stuck in the house 24/7. The same house in which she lived. So, instead of grounding, my mother opted to become a screamer and much like anything she sets her mind to, she excelled at it. Accompanying the screaming was the eyebrow arch.

As with so many of her other talents like gardening, cooking and general housekeeping, I did not inherit all of my mother’s aptitude when it came to discipline. I am genetically incapable of arching either one of my eyebrows without bond interrupting me to ask if I’m having a seizure.

I can, however, scream. Maybe not to my mother’s decibel level but enough so that the vocal chords straining out of my neck are probably on Google Earth somewhere. However, I hate screaming. It always results in a mammoth headache. my screams go in one ear, bounce around the skull for awhile and exit via the other out of sheer boredom. My kids have learned to wait until my lungs collapse at which time they emerge from their cocoons, spread their wings and fly about their merry way. So in addition to screaming, because giving that up would be akin to giving up natural instinct altogether, I resort to grounding. I find my kids’ “currency” and garnish their wages. Fortunately for me, the currency at the moment is the same for both of them, specifically time on the computer and time with friends. This makes it very convenient and saves me the hassle of being creative with respect to individual consequences. A good thing because when the blood is gushing around my head and my eyes are protruding three feet out of their sockets, I don’t feel much like being creative. However, if you all have lost your way through my rants, let me make it clear that this is not a rant post ..nor is this about my forgetfulness. This is about that light at the end of the tunnel. Remember..

Yah, so amidst all the forgetting and screaming and grounding, my 37th birthday dawned. I woke up bored, and fearful of that extra wrinkle I might encounter while brushing my teeth. I was indecisive about whether to make it a big deal at work and carry some pastries, I was not sure about why it was my birthday at all, again , so soon, after the last time. So, with such random things on my mind I came out of the bathroom and headed for my coffee. And then in a sudden flurry of activity..things changed.

If you have succeeded in reading through the handwriting, some of you would have realised, that this is a chore coupon book. Toshali made this for my birthday. She gets no pocket money and so this is what she gifted me. Priceless!! You all would have also realised that I love head massages..if its a bit of more information than required, please ignore it! And now after the overwhelming love that I felt for my daughter, I looked at Bond..and asked," So, what have you for momma?" He replied, "When I get pocket money, I will buy you a perfume." He hugged me and smiled and ran away with the coupon book to tick his siter off. He ensures till date that all the coupons are delivered and keeps time as his sister massages my head with warm oil!!

Life is amazing!

263,Prinsengracht

The land of sex and marijuana. The city where usually people go to have some 'fun'. Slip cakes and brownies, weeds and pots. Slip less ladies cavorting behind glass windows - a mindless job. This, apart from the tulips and the windmills was what I had expected as part of my trip to Amsterdam last month.

Amsterdam was much more than any of this. The canals with their beautiful boat houses, the windmills, the smiling people on their cycles and then the house that hid eight people for two years from the Gestapo. This post is about my feelings as I stepped back in time on entering Prinsengracht 263, Anne Frank Huis, Amsterdam.

I’ll probably fail at putting it into words, but it was definitely one of the most overwhelming experiences of my life. Not “getting married” overwhelming, or “having a kid” overwhelming, but overwhelming in the sense that I was standing in the same place where people hid for 2 years in order to save their lives. Standing and walking around in the same place where this girl wrote in her diary, not knowing what would happen to her family, to her. I felt as if I had stepped back in history. To the period that is evident only in the books on holocoust now.

The secret annexe, the thick black curtains on the windows, the narrow staircase, the single toilet that was used by eight people. The flush that could be pulled only after 12 at night and before 8 in the morning, the hollywood stars on the walls, the hope of a young girl amidst the chaos outside. The pointers on the walls by Otto Frank depicting the growth in height of Margot and Anne, the gas stove, the cots, the attic window. As I walked through the rooms, touched the walls, slid the curtains, sat on her bed, the thought of that young girl was never far from me. It was as if she was whispering to me, " You are free, I was not."

• Birth Name: Annelies Marie Frank
• Birth Date: June 12, 1929
• Died:March 31, 1945
• July 6, 1942: Frank and family moved into hiding place, "Secret Annexe"
• August 4, 1944: Hiding spot found by the German Police
• March 1945: Died of typhus at age 15 while in a concentration camp
• AP: Anne Frank Saplings May be Planted in 10 US Cities (April 17, 2009)
• The concentration camp was liberated one month after her death

"'Would anyone, either Jew or non-Jew, understand this about me, that I am simply a young girl badly in need of some rollicking fun?'" Friday, 24 December, 1943

"I've reached the point where I hardly care whether I live or die. The world will keep on turning without me, and I can't do anything to change events anyway. I'll just let matters take their course and concentrate on studying and hope that everything will be all right in the end." - February 3, 1944

"It’s a wonder I haven’t abandoned all my ideals, they seem so absurd and impractical. Yet I cling to them because I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart. It’s utterly impossible for me to build my life on a foundation of chaos, suffering and death. I see the world being slowly transformed into a wilderness, I hear the approaching thunder that, one day, will destroy us too, I feel the suffering of millions. And yet, when I look up at the sky, I somehow feel that everything will change for the better, that this cruelty too shall end, that peace and tranquility will return once more" - July 15, 1944

"You know what I do when I think I can't stand another minute cooped up? I think myself outside. You know the most wonderful part of thinking yourself outside. You can have it any way you like. You can have rows of roses and violets all blooming in the same season, isn't that wonderful!" July 15, 1944

"I don't think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains."
Anne Frank