Life etc..

This slot was for the calcutta trip. I was prepared to write about the city's never ending hope. But writing cannot be planned, just like life. A lot of things happened in the mean time that compelled me to take a short break from my travelouge and note them down instead.

One afternoon, Bond, returned from school with a note that said,' Parents, please come to school and meet your ward, Soumya's Class teacher and Hindi teacher on the 6th of february between 7:00 am and 8:15 am. His progress in academics has been minimal throughout this year.' The note also said a lot of other things to soften the blow of the first line, but that I guess is irrelevant.

The regular followers of my blog, am sure, know by now that bond is my weakness. And am sure most of you also know that given two options, I usually take the most illogical and the most complicated one.. I dont know why, but that's how it is .

I sat down with the note, had a series of traumatic motion picture clippings run on east man colour in front of my eyes, showing mercilessly my poor boy's trauma on being singled out in a class full of bright kids. Steadying myself and my feet I went and had a glass of water. Also I mentally prepared my script to deal with the kid, who was innocently untying his shoe laces and giving me sidelong glances. Best not to say what those glances did to my heart. My mind was by this time reeling under the hostel departing scene from TZP.

Almost 15 mins had elapsed by this time, and I had not even broached the topic of the letter with the kid. So I eventually started..

Me: " Did the teacher say anything when she gave this letter to you?"

Bond(opening his shirt now): "Yeah, she said I will remain in class 2 while all my friends will move on to class 3"

Me(collapsing in a nearby chair): " Are you that bad?"

At this time I was trying my level best to garner some anger into my system, but that's all I could manage.."are you that bad?" I know its pathetic..

Bond:( On his way to the shower )" Are you going to tell dad, about the letter, or will you sign it yourself?"

Remembering for the first time in this series of events that I had just overlooked the fact that he has a dad, who needs to be informed about this and who will thankfully deal with this much better, I galloped to the phone and called the husband.

Me: " Bond got a letter from school saying he has not shown any progress in academics this year"

He: " hmm, okay"

Me: " We have to meet the teacher on the 6th of this month."

he: " okay, we will be there, anything else?"

Me : "Is that not enough?"

He: " okay, later"

Me:(under my breath): "life can't get worse!!" On turning my gaze from the phone towards the bath, I saw bond dancing under the shower and singing "all is well" accompanied by the now famous whistles, from the latest hindi flick! My thoughts dashed to Aamir khan..maybe I should have married that guy, he would have made a perfect dad!

Towelling the boy dry, and slowly coming out of my reverie, I once again attempted to gather from him, what exactly the note meant. He was vague, he was more interested in the menu for lunch, and a bit later on knowing, who would sign the note and who would meet the teacher?

Met the teacher today.. That's another post, coming soon your way! until then "All is well.. tweet tweet tweet" I guess.

Just around the corner from Mumbai...

Ah so I stopped blogging for a while after my Mumbai halt!! And why not! It was such a pleasant halt. The actual days went by in such a dizzy that I let my posting linger a tad longer in Mumbai.

Time to move on now.. and It's Pune around the bend, just over the hills and not so far away. Pune is special and will always be. I conceived and gave birth in that city, I joined Talwalkars(a gym) and got back to shape in that city, I got my driver's license in that city, I moved to my first home in that city... well and then moved on from there to newer horizons, newer houses, leaving behind the city I love the most. The best part of the deal is that I still retain my home in Pune, and every year a week in Pune refreshes me unlike anything else. The colours that I chose with joy, the fittings from the lamps to the bathroom tiles, the collage of my children - being born, taking their first steps, their toys.. they take me back to my youth, to my initial dreamy days, to the unspoilt energy and vigour that only a young mom can have. The home and the city fill up my senses!!

This time along with us, from Mumbai, came a young girl. We have known her since she was 12years of age. now she is doing her Masters in Mumbai and working as well. Time flies, certainly, but thank goodness, relationships don't! When you see a kid with a lot of spunk graduate to a mature adult with practical views, and a go-getter attitude, you feel great that you kept in touch, that you saw her grow, that you were somehow connected to that growth. Every time I see Meetu, I feel all of these and more. This time like many times before, she came along for the weekend to Pune with us. We celebrated her job, her goals, her life and we cheered on as she took her very first sip of wine.

Late mornings, breezy afternoons, misty evenings, friends, gourmet cuisine and great wine, this summarizes the week long trip to the hilly city for me, and so does shrewsbury biscuits of kayani bakery, Pasteur on MG Road at midnight, ABC Farms in the late evenings Crosswords any time of the day and the Dagdu Seth Ganapati aarti.

Like always the 7 days waltzed past, and it was soon time to start for Calcutta. The windows were closed, the doors locked, the kids said bye to their rooms, my hands caressed the walls for another time, till I touch them again next year. life moves on and so does a traveler..but there are just a few moments and a few places that have the power to tug at you, to make you stop, to make you want to be part of a time that is now so out of reach.

Touch down..

Its a tedious route from Muscat to Calcutta, India. There was just one direct flight which got cancelled about a year back because of lack of year round traffic. So we have to change flights in the middle of the night either in Dubai or some other, luckier city of India and then after a cantankerous break of a couple of hours at that airport, board the flight to Calcutta. Every year we do that and finally reach my in laws house at the break of dawn. The only thing I desire the most at that point of time is a cup of tea and a bed to ease of the simmering headache. But that never happens, what happens is the in laws wanting to talk to all of us(which is understood as they have waited a year to see us), the kids wanting an immediate change of clothes, the husband opening the suitcases, me sitting on the floor trying to remember where I put what.. my simmering headache by this time is raging storm in my head and my eyes are a blur..I longingly look at the distant bed and heave a sigh and just get on with it...

But this time all this did not happen!! This time it was a pleasure, this time the flight took me to Mumbai, and I broke my journey there. The cab from the airport took me to my cousin's house!! yes, you got that right, I straight went to Aparna's home. there it was all ready for me, the tea, the bed, the no questions asked, the sleep, everything was just as I wanted it. The kids got busy with her kids and did not demand the change of clothes at all. It was bliss, it was joy!!

Though the trip was short, it was rejuvenating. Bloggers were discussed over cups of teas, we went down again the much trodden memory lane, we gossipped, we bitched, we compared our book lists, I got to see her fb friend list(hmmm!!). The husbands gave us time off as they took the kids to Juhu Chowpaty in the middle of the afternoon(I didnt get the reason why? so lets not worry about the timing!) it was great to have the house free so we could just sit and chat on the bed, unlike across countries and on opposite sides of a computer screen.

There are a few places where you can just be what you are. And those places make you unwind, they recharge you and relax you. For me Aparna's house is such a place. It was great being with you Aparna, lets do it again soon! (Get yourself and the family to Muscat, and then work on the Goa trip!!)

PS: I wish there were pictures that I could share.. but for now lets just leave it to my description and your imagination..

On second thoughts here are some snapshots of the Aparna and my kids at Juhu Chowpatty..

The last snap is not the effect of the golas they had..its just a power nap on their way back home!!

Coming back...

A trip to India for NRIs is never quite satisfying. A month long sojourn seems like an appetiser to a full course meal. Yes, The NRI in me reached India, travelled to Mumbai, to Pune, to Calcutta, to Muzzafarpur(North Bihar) and then back via the same route to Muscat.

It was hectic, it was fun. There were set backs at time, road blocks at others. The street food was mouth watering, the cold was heart warming, lazy mornings, heavy breakfasts, things which we don't usually do when we stay away from the generation that has always sought to feed us, to take care of us, were all done lavishly. A month long sojourn where everyone wants to see how you have changed/grown over the last year - horizontally(for us), vertically(for the kids) finally came to an end.

Everytime I go to India, I try to cut down on my list of people to visit and add a few places to visit, every time I fail. However this time, I did take the kids to the Elephanta caves, to the sonet lumiere at The Victoria Memorial in Calcutta. I wanted to take them to see a theatre or a play as it is called, but an elderly relative took sick suddenly and a visit to the hospital took precedence.. well, there's always a next time!

I am back now to my routine, to my work, to my early morning coffee and restless reading of books. PTAs will start soon enough, and so will my walks to lose the fat that I accumulated over bengali sweets and mutton curries. I am suddenly back to being an adult again. Going to a place where everybody is from your previous generation makes you a time traveller in a sense. You are called by innumerable nick names, you are pampered and scolded, your views are not taken, your hair colour is looked at with indulgence mixed with agony. You are served water before you ask for it, you are put to bed early and you have to eat fruits!!!

So lets just say that on one level I am glad to be back, to belong where I truly do. I am glad to be back to all my blogger friends, I have missed you all a lot. I am sure all of you had a great New Year's eve and I wish everyone a happy and prosperous 2010. Looking forward to sharing the details of a sometime mundane, somethime active, sometime poignant and sometime hilarious life with you once again.

The lost colours

A few days back as I was researching on Benarasi Sarees for my other blog, the mind wandered to the days when my mother's wardrobe was filled with colour. the blues and yellows, the reds and pinks seemed so natural, so taken for granted.

And then the day when we lost the only man in both our lives came to mind. The early morning hour when the last, laboured breath was taken and the pain finally erased from his face, the last shred of hope erased from ours. what followed that day is sepia toned and dogeared in my mind, a natural dam against a furious storm. The image that, is stark and clear, however, is that of my mother, rigid, alone, and devoid of all colour, apart from the red of her eyes.

Nobody told her to alienate the colours, She was not forced into whites, and yet the society which she had grown up in, which was imbibed in her did not allow her to think any other way. The idle days that followed, which were devoid of the punctual nursing routine, saw her rigid frame lying still for hours at end on her side of the bed.

On the 13th day of dad's passing away, she gave away all her sarees to who ever wanted to keep them for the sake of memories, the rest were given away to maids and the numerous helps who worked in the house of mourning.

So many years have passed since then, I have held my sorrow in me, but my life has moved on. The material things in my life did not change with the passing away of my dad, but for my mother and so many like her, the loss of the husband is not just a painful stab in the heart, there is a physical change that follows, at every step the society puts a reminder that she is a widow, in case one fine day she forgets!! The colours vanish, so does jewellery, there are restrictions on what she can eat, where she can go. There is nobody who is monitoring, there is nobody who will question, its just the cognitive morality that has seeped into the system, that is forbidding.

As a daughter I could have taken the initiative, I could have persuaded her not to shy away from colours, but her rigidity and my non confronting nature came in the way. It rips my heart each time I go into a shop and tell the shopkeeper to show sarees without red and maroon borders, He invariably shows me a white saree with a black border, he smiles a sad and understanding smile, and I leave the shop.

I am not a feminist, but I cannot let any man rule what I wear. I have never worn sindoor in my life. Bindis are also a rarity with me. I have no fascination for jewellery or for anything that declares me married. Its not that I want to project myself as unmarried, its just that like a marriage certificate all these physical declarations seem like bondage to me, they clip my wings, they take away my identity. They are dependent not on love but on norms. Sati might have been abolished, but the sneer on the face of society for widows is still there.

Putting the right foot forward

The last post was an expression of my angst and fury. And this one is an expression of the fact that I still believe in humanity(male and female). Each time we put the right foot ahead of the left and form a step, we are actually taking a decision to move ahead, to cross barriers and borders, to take a plunge into the unknown, to discover and to live whatever comes in our way. Each morning before the tiny step we are renewing our ethereal faith, we are renewing our trusts in people and in God.

A few days back these images were mailed to me by Suraj. It is a chain mail and many of you would have already seen them. But I will still go ahead and use this platform to share these lovely images and message that each of them carry.

They renewed my faith and made me see beyond myself. Hope they light a spark in your lives too. For the ease of reading I am retyping the message below each image.

Stand up against racial discrimination. Stop Racism

Get out of a destructive relationship when there is still time


Children learn fast. DOn't fight at home

Do not neglect the Girl Child

Adopt!! You never know who you will bring home.

Think before wasting food.

Protect your child. Abusers are usually people your child trusts!

Is this what your child surfs on the World Wide Web??

Drive safe! Better late than never!

Tell me what you feel..

Like my blog, I have been neglecting a lot of things that are close to my heart lately. I have been putting it all to the back burner, saying the same lines repeatedly,"Next weekend, when there's a bit more time.." I must have said this a dozen times over the last couple of weeks, to my kids, to myself, to my friends.. only to realise just a while back, that time does not come, I have to create it!!

Talking of realisations, I have suddenly realised that men like trash!! Am I seeing raised eyebrows? Am I seeing a few eyes getting closer to their computer screens? Or am I seeing,"DUH!!! what did you think?" expressions!! Hahahah, but really, I have always prided myself, to the point of being egoistic that I was attractive to men because of my wit, of my intellect, and to an extent, because of my nature!! But believe me that's not what men want..MEN LIKE TRASH!!!

By trash I mean, women who throw themselves over anything male(had a better way of saying it but, my daughter reads the blog..so being careful with my language here), by trash I mean women who are constantly on the prowl, making overtures, making moves, being vampish, being dumb and being damsels in a perpetual state of undress as well as distress. And believe you me - all men, starting from tramps to technocrats like that!!

Another realisation is that offices are a hub of politics. It was so 13 years back when I started working, it is so, even now! The faxes and the software could have changed but the people have not. It's either a power game or a blame game, and in between all this and the numerable coffee breaks, if there is time, some work ends up happening.

Just a few realisations and their announcements at the cost of sounding naive, biased, judgemental, frigid or all of the above!!

Lets hear what each one of you gotta say!!