Saturday, July 10, 2010

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

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Guilty feelings got no rhythm..


I have been dreading this... I have been dreading to come to my page. In fact a few hours back, I was chatting with my niece and told her the same thing. We quickly resolved it and blamed the family genes, our stupidity, and our lack of persistence in anything that has any merit attached to it. So did I give up blogging? Not exactly..but I don't know what to write about anymore, my life lacks inspiration and also as I was telling her, "When the novelty of adulation ends it becomes just another chore!"

I am sure some of you wondered and the rest gave up. Absence without any cause or notice or justification is in a way very liberating. Perhaps you can't get away with this kind of behaviour anywhere else. There is always the risk of losing out on your follower base and readership.. but at times its ok not to give a damn!

And today when I write, I do it because I want to and not because I have not written for a week, and the pressure is building up. That in itself is such a pleasant feeling. So lets start this one here..

Talking about pressures, there is another feeling that almost always surrounding us, and thats 'guilt'. Especially 'mommy guilt'. Each morning at 5:00 am when its time to wake the kids up, the race begins.."UGH!! I shouldnt have stayed up reading so late!" Bond starts to skate around the hall, toshali can't find her brush, and there is always a fight that nips at my arms, shoulders and brain, till I want to flick the kids off! I want five minutes - just five freaking minutes - for my coffee before my brain starts functioning and I get you ready for school. "Flick them off!! God did I say that...?"

Suddenly there is a tooth brush closer than an inch from my eye ball, followed by a shriek" Eeeeeooowwwwwwwwwww!!!"

My fuzzy brain jump starts and the milk spills on the floor. "Toshali, what's the matter, cant you keep it down?"

"Mamma, Bond just dropped my tooth brush in the toilet!"

"Fine, great, well worse things have happened!!" I manage to say, as I mop the floor. The coffee seems to be working its magic on me at last. My dehydrated hands move from one lunch box to another as I remember the preferences, one dianosaur pack, one high school musical. And just as I zip up, Bond screams like a banshee and runs wild at me... the reason...nothing..its what he felt like doing! Running and screaming towards me like the sky had fallen down on him. As I turn around with a hand to my thumping chest, I see Toshali brooding over the turkey sandwich in her high school musical box. "You promised me some sweets this time!" Well I have a list of reasons that I can churn out to her against sweets in the tiffin.. but please dear God not this hour of the day! Why cant they remember that I was an actual person before I became a momma to them!

Then of course they hear my husband's footsteps. Like two soldiers they queue up. Bond even straigtens his hair and smiles at me. They don't suck the enegy out of him, because he doesnt feel the guilt over his behaviour with them. That's quite a thought early in the day. Yeah, I think I know what drains me most. Its not the kids running and screaming, Its my reactions to that, and the guilt I have over those reactions.. Hmmm!! The coffee is an exemplary invention!

So what is the point of this 'mommy guilt'? Why dont I accept that I am human and a single entity with one brain and just a pair of hands. Why cant I accept that I cannot do more than maybe three things at a time? I take a breath and run through the daily mental check list. Homework, folders, library books, field trip permission slip, water bottle, tiffin boxes, napkins. ALL THERE!!

Thats another day just beginning... I smile at the new found philosophy.. I dont need to be guilty for being the way I am. I am going to ponder over it some more and enjoy my coffee.

Friday, May 7, 2010

A must read...


Yesterday it was big day for my daughter at school. She was the topper in her grade 5 exams from her class and the 12th amongst 620 students who appeared for the same exam throughout the school. The annual academic merit awards were honouring them with certificates, plaques and scholarships. As the proud parents and well wishers cheered on, the chief guest who is an eminent personality in Oman gave a wonderful and humane speech.

A part of that speech was a letter written by Abe Lincoln to his old school headmaster. This was written as a parent who had put in his son to the same school, in which he was once a student. What stayed with me of yesterday evening, apart from Toshali's smile, was this letter. Sharing it with you here..


He will have to learn, I know, that all men are not just, all men are not true. But teach him also that for every scoundrel there is a hero: that far every selfish politician, there is a dedicated leader…

Teach him that for every enemy there is a friend. It will take time, I know a long time, but teach, if you can, that a dollar earned is of more value then five of found.

Teach him, to learn to lose…And also to enjoy winning. Steer him away from envy, if you can, teach him the the secret of quiet laughter.

Teach him, if you can the wonder of books…But also given quiet time wonder the eternal mystery of birds in the sky, bees in the sun, and flowers on the green hillside.

In school teach him, it is far more honorable to fail than to cheat…

Teach him to have faith in his own idea, even if everyone tells him they are wrong…

Teach him to be gentle with gentle people and tough with tough.

Teach him to listen to all men…But teach him also to filter all he hears on a screen of truth, and take only the good one that comes through.

Teach him, if you can, how to laugh when he is sad. Teach him there is no shame in tear.

Teach him to sell his brawn and brain to the highest bidder but never to put a prize tag on his heart and soul.

Teach him gently, but do not cuddle him, because only the test of fire makes the fine steel.
Teach him always to have sublime faith in himself because only then he will have faith in mankind.

This is a big order, but see what can you do… He is such a fine little fellow, my son!



Toshali's picture is from a few months back ...
The handwritten letter is courtesy google images

Thursday, April 22, 2010

The giving tree

I am sharing a free verse written by Toshali for Earth day.




Oh, giving tree!

Why do you give us shelter

When we burn your leaves?

Why do you give us fruits

When we waste more than we eat?

Why do you give us wood

When we burn it for luxury?


If I were you, giving tree,

I would have emptied my branches of leaves

When these men came looking for shelter,

I would have become un-reachable

To hands that wasted my fruits,

I would have become as hard as a rock

To the wood cutter's axe.



Oh, kind giving tree,

You give us shelter,

You give us fruits,

You let us kill you for our luxury!


So friends remember,

If you cut one tree

Plant two more.




For the new readers, Toshali is my 10 year old daughter.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Life is what we make of it - Final part




"I walked away. Out of the door of our bedroom, out of our house. Past where little Stravos was playing with other children. I walked up to the top of the town and into a little bar. A place where only the old men sat and drank." As Isodora heard in rapt attention, Alanah continued, "I ordered raki, you know, the very rough spirit they have. I drank untill I could forget the way her round beautiful shoulder had snuggled against his chest. I drank untill I fell on the ground. They carried me home, I remember nothing of it. I woke up next day in our bed. There was no sign of Pegaso. I remembered her there in the bed and I got up to be very sick. There was no sign of little Stravos either. I went to work, but the smell of the petrol and the exhaust of the cars made me very sick again." Alanah suddenly felt tired, a wave of nausea swept over her and with that she again craved, after so many years, the wasteful taste of raki. Christina who was sketching, started humming a melodious tune and slowly Alanah composed herself again and after a short break of cold water, continued with her story.


"Magda had taken my child, my child! to her house. That night I had brandy, good Metaxa brandy to get me over the shock, and then I sort of crawled back to the petrol station, but couldn't talk to anyone, so I went home . Home! Huh! There was nobody there. Four days and nights of drinking, then I realised they had taken my child away from me. I heard like in a dream, that Magda's husband had gone away on a fishing boat to another island. And then the mind is a blank till I woke up in the hospital near the bus station."


"Come Isadora, sit near me, this is where your mother enters my story again. listen well and understand that missing year of her life, when she left her young family to be with a friend. I had given her name as 'next of kin' to the hospital authorities and they had telephoned her. She reached Lipsi the same evening." Saying this Alanah got up and hugged her friend of many years once again. Some bonds are eternal, forged without any reason, and yet they stand the test of time and blossom even in the coldest of winters. Such was the bond between Alanah and Christina.


"Pretend to be calm, pretend to be better, then they'll let you out." Christina had said to her, and that's what Alanah had done, pretended. It helped in the begining and she was let out of the hospital and sent back home. Pegaso did not speak to her, wouldnt tell her where Stravos was. Alanah could not raise her voice in fear of being locked up again in that wretched hospital, where every door closed in on her. Pegaso was living just across the road with Magda, Stravos was never to be seen, she could not go up to the bar and drink, as the whole town was watching her always. she bought a bottle here and a bottle there and drank till she passed out crying and being sick on Christina's lap. She never slept on the bed again, always on the sofa.


Every morning Christina would help her to take her bath, would wash her hair and tidy her up. She would speak of ordinary things like getting the grocery and in the same tone she would speak of going over to Magda's house and confronting Pegaso. Slowly she managed to get her message across to Alanah. And one day a tidy and relatively sober Alanah walked across the street to where Pegaso now lived. He asked her to go away, to leave him. She could stay in the house, but he had changed all the locks of the petrol pump. He said their son was living in Athens with his aunt and that she should never try and meet him as she would be a bad influence on the child. He was speaking as if to a person who had mental problems. Everybody except Christina treated her that way during those days, with quiet and patient concern mixed with a fear that she might suddenly jump on them. Pegaso said that he would sell the petrol pump and Magda and he would take little Stravos and start a new life somewhere. He would try and build a new and better life for Stravos away, he had said, from "this drunken madness".


Christina could not divert Alanah from the bottle, and she had to be put in rehab once again. "Once I knew I had lost everything, I didnt see any point in pretending." Alanah said. She had sold stuff out of the house and bought drink. She was in and out of rehab like a yo-yo. Taking advantage of her condition, Pegaso explained to everyone that she was an unfit mother. There was no court of law or social workers in the village those days. Alanah's not being sober was not helping either.


Little Stravos came back to Lipsi one day, and for a short while Alanah was allowed to see him for three hours every week. The visits were not a success though. Christina would tidy her up on these days and make her wear her best outfit. She always made Alanah carry a basket of baked goodies for Stravos. But still the visits were disastrous. She cried, you see, cried for the entire three hours over all that she had lost. She would clutch little Stravos and cry and tell him how much she loved him and needed him. She scared the boy out of his wits. Stravos started hating the meetings, he was fidgety and looked for an escape. He didnt recognise her anymore, how would he? He had never seen her like this before, and he was just a lttle boy.


These meetings continued. After the ordeal Stravos would look forward to going with Magda in the waiting car, an odd and unnecessary duty accomplished. Alanah would fill her bladder till Christina carried her back home. It was only after they left Lipsi, that Christina could start healing the bleeding wounds. There was not a fear now of them re-opening, you see. And so in the coming months as Christina worked in shops and cleaned floors to make money for them, Alanah got out of her stupour to realise the wastefulness of her actions. The tireless Christina who had just carried Isadora's picture with her to Lipsi was managing slowly to distract her friend. Old man Leros, who had a taverna on the outskirts of Lipsi gave Alanah work. And then one day a man, they all knew from the rehab, took his life. It sounds simple, but that was the day that Alanah gave up the bottle. It happened just like that. She had nothing to live for anymore, but she knew that unless she got her life in order, Christina would never return to her family.


Stravos would be almost thirty now. Every birthday Alanah wrote to him, to the last mailing address that she had, but till date there was never any reply. This had been the case with every every letter she had written in her life be it to her parents, her friends in Ireland or to her son in Greece, never a reply!! Suddenly she laughed and said, "Bless my stars !! I was not told to write to Christina from the hospital, else I would be still be locked up in the rehab!!" She didnt blame Stravos, how could she? He was a small boy, and she had been a nightmarish experience to him. How was he to know that she had mellowed down and could be courteous and polite to people? If he were ever to get in contact with her, it would be out of pity, and Alanah had never accepted that emotion from people.


"Dhen pirazi Isadora, Nothing really matters anymore." ended Alanah.

Isadora looked at these two weathered, and time worn women and smiled. She would find out where Stravos was, of course she would. The world was tinier now. But first she would go buy three tickets for a journey to Ireland. As the sun set that day there was healing for all as the painful gaps in their lives had been finally filled.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Life is what we make of it - part 5











Lipsi kept pace with the rest of the world in its own way. There were more tourists to be seen now, there was a ferry every hour to Athens. The tavernas by the beach dished out cusine from across the world. The place was still serene. Most of the younger generation had left the town in search of jobs. Not many new faces had settled in, and so even today, everybody knew everybody else from a long time back.



Alanah didn't own the pump anymore. She now ran a store that rented diving, fishing, and other water sports gear. She still had her house, and rented out the top floor to tourists to keep money flowing in. The pump still stood where it always had - a salute to a hard earned dream. She had last seen Stravos twenty years back, when he was 6. She vaguely remembered him getting on the car and waving goodbye. The rest was hazy, or maybe too painful to scratch. She was not radar-less, but she was quieter than before. She was a perfect landlady though, always leaving her guests alone. She left an occasional basket of grapes or a bowl of olives on their doorstep.



Christina had recently been widowed and had moved back to Lipsi with her daughter, Isadora. The studio had been revived, and the evenings were again a meeting place for the two friends. Christina usually sat with one of her unfinished sketches and a glass of wine, Alanah with her soup. She had never touched wine since her rehab days. There were days when nothing was said, just the comfort of togetherness and the setting sun was enough. And then there were days when Isadora regaled them with her stories, when they laughed like they didnt have a care in the world, moments in which she was able to forget even her little Stravos.



Isadora's life always had Alanah in it, even though she had met her only a few months ago. There was a time when she was a kid, and her mother had left her with her dad and come to Lipsi for a year to be with Alanah. Christina had no secrets from her daughter, and yet that year was never talked about. Isadora had been curious, and on seeing Alanah, her curiosity had magnified. These days when Christina plaited her daughter's hair before bed, she was tormented with questions by Isadora. About that one year when Christina had left everything to be with this queer little woman. But it was not her story to tell, and so she said nothing.



Isadora's curiosity was getting the better of her. she started asking about Alanah's past to old Yorghis who was a tailor, and then to Andreas who was a butcher. All they said was that Alanah was part of their island for as long as they could remember, they smiled and changed the topic. But these futile attempts of the young mind did not go unnoticed by Alanah. And so one day while the three sat outside Christina's studio watching the sun set, Alanah decided to scratch open her past for this beautiful girl to see and maybe in telling would be her salvation too.



She started with Ireland and her childhood, her family, her city, her school, and as she described this unknown locale to Isadora, she revisited the old bylanes, the garage, the school, her friends, her mother and Pegaso. It always ended with Pegaso even after so many years, It always ended with Pegaso. She talked about Lipsi and about beautiful Christina. She talked about her life, that started on the trampled veil of Christina's dreams. She spoke without pretentions and as she spoke she held a mirror to her soul.



This was not a story to be told in one evening, and so days passed. They carried on with their routines and in the evenings, they sat together to talk about the past and watch the sun set over it. Isadora was learning so much about her mother from Alanah. She never knew, for instance, that her mother could sing, or that she had the guts and the strength to run, carrying a completely sloshed Alanah on her back, through a lonely night from the rehab centre where Alanah was locked up in. Christina and Alanah had so many jokes that Isadorah didnt understand before, but now they made sense. And then they came to that missing year in Christina's life.



That day, Little Stravos was at the petrol station and he had asked a strange question. "Mam, why is Magda tired always?" "She is not." Alanah had said. And he had replied,"Yes, she must be, because she always goes to bed when she comes to our house, and Papa has to go and sit with her." That moment from so many years ago seemed as clear suddenly as if it was this morning, and she was washing the cars at the station, while Stravos played with a tyre and talked to her. Christina came and sat close to Alanah, held her hands as they together went over the murkiness that followed.



Alanah remembered her thoughts of that distant day. "Magda and Pegaso in my house, on my bed! It cannot be, there must be some misunderstanding, It surely cannot be!" She had continued washing the car, it was a red truck, she even remembered the number plate of that truck, insignificant details permanently etched in her memory. The next day she had gone home early from the pump. Stravos was playing in the garden. She took him by his hand across the street to where Yorghis lived, then she went back. she had opened the door very quietly, a tresspasser in her own home. It was very quiet, and then she had heard them laughing. He was calling her his little furry rabbit, something he called Alanah when they made love. She stood there watching them. Beautiful Magda with her long dark curls and her olive skin, and she caught a reflection of herself in the mirror, it was not the right thing to do, but it had been done, the last vestiges of her pride had been shorn. They saw her then. Alanah had thought, "Why did I come home and disturb them? Now its all in the open, if I had not come back, we could have gone on forever pretending everything was alright. All of us." And she had looked again at the beauty of Magda and she had known that she had lost. Pegaso had broken the long silence. He had said, "Please dont make a scene Alanah, you'll upset the child." Thats what he had thought of first, not upsetting little Stravos, to hell with her being upset of course!! She who had left her family and land to be with him, her getting upset was not being considered at all!! Suddenly things seemed as if they had tilted, like a picture being crooked on a wall.



the final part will be in tomorrow ths time, thanks so much for bearing with me!!

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Life is what we make of it - part 4



A red dress for blood spilt,
Torn blouse for flesh rent;
Ladders in the stockings –
A rung for every callous blow landed.
Scuffed shoes winked about the kicks –
After all, bruise-gorged eyes can’t –
Just permanently closed.

Burning tears were scant warmth
Against a chill from ugly cries.

Lipstick smudges on the chin to
Nullify all vestiges of beauty –
Those that constituted rare patches
Of purest cream skin, from
Days of feminine joy, telling once
Upon a time there was an angel…
But now, a battered doll.


These lines by Mark R Slaughter describe Magda, just as she was the day Alanah first saw her. battered and bruised she lay on her kitchen floor, helpless and in pain. They were new to Lipsi. Magda and her torturous husband had just moved into the neighbourhood from Santorini. He ran a bar up on the hill and she mostly remained indoors. And so inspite of living on the opposite sides of a road, Alanah had never really met Magda before.


A terrible husband, very violent over nothing, always imagining that Magda was flirting with people. But the truth was that she tidied her house, cooked her husband's meals and kept her head down, bent over her embroidery. This was said and this was believed. Beauty has strange powers, it makes people blind to rationale, it gives men as well as women no cause to dig further, but to accept willingly what the tender mouth utters. Beauty accompanied by pain is a haunting combination. But who knew it then?


Pegaso was kind to her and Alanah liked her, well initially that was how it was! A lovely, gentle woman with a heart wrenchingly beautiful smile that was always brushed with a hint of sorrow; Magda had a hard life - no children, and a man who was unreliable. Sometimes she had bruises or a cut but she said she was clumsy. Pegaso played lute and also the tavli most evenings at the bar with her husband. He never wanted to delve into these stories. But Alanah had always shared every detail of her routine with Pegaso and so she did even now.


"Its their life, Alanah, their marriage, we should not interfere... come to me now, let me hold you close, its been so long since you let me come near you." Alanah was tiring easily these days. The pump, the household and little Stravos took up all her energy. But that night she went to her husband with a happy heart. She felt good about the decisions she had taken in her life, she felt blessed that her husband was a good man, she thanked god for the family she had, and silently she prayed for Magda.
Then, one morning Alanah went over to Magda's cottage to collect a table cloth. She found her sitting on a chair, the blood dripping down onto the white material. Alanah ran for the doctor. The doctor patched her up and said that this must not go on, that strong men like Pegaso should do something. And so Alanah told Pegaso, once again the travails of the beautiful and sad Magda. and this time Pegaso listened to her attentively. The next day he alongwith a couple of his friends went to Magda's house and held her husband down on the floor for a while and told him what would happen to him if there was another incident.
There was a change after this. Magda stopped being clumsy, and walked with her head high and looked people in the eye for the first time. That was when everybody noticed how beautiful she was, upto then they had just thought she had beautiful hair, only Alanah had looked her in the eye. And yet this time alanah failed to notice what the rest did.
love, when you are young is brave, it helps you to shoulder responsibilities, it helps you to take courageous decisions. Love at a later age is sly, is timid, is lost in the labyrinth of morality and guilt..
to be continued....
PS : dear readers, believe me I am in a hurry too..but just cant write more than this in a day!!