Break free as soon as possible, please…

How often do you feel good? In the sense, damn good about things around you… Life presents some awesome goodies in small, smaller and smallest packages. The whole point is, can you find them? It can be anywhere – On the way back home, at work, at school, with your child or even at a grocery store.

Dad once told me that my daughter Akshara has given him lot of happiness. He insisted many times to me that the child means so much to him. His eyes smile every time he speaks about her. My otherwise non-expressive father lets out so much of his hidden expressions when he narrates his experiences with her. She is a goodie for him! A source of happiness, love, smile and a reason to break free…

MAX Showroom: Awesome Clothes

I’m very addicted to attractive and trendy Indian outfits, especially Kurtas and Salwars.  I’m not beating around the bush; I will say that I simply love them. And, if I see a good one, I can’t stop myself from buying. With all my addictions intact as I have never taken any special effort to give it up, I keep visiting all these showrooms that tempt me to buy. One evening, I landed up in the Max Showroom in OMR Road, Chennai. I picked up one, another one and another one of the Kurtas, and then something stopped me. My forever responsible husband’s usual advice on ‘the need to save’ echoed in my mind. “Don’t keep buying all the time, you have so many clothes. And, all your dresses look so similar.” Then I remembered his approach towards me. Save, he says first in a polite tone. Then the second time, the same word – SAVE, with little more stress. Then looks deeper into my eyes with almost a given up attitude and a tiring voice – SAVE, it’s good for you.

I tried to stop these trails of thoughts and moved to the other section of the showroom. An old aunty walked towards me and stood in the same counter as mine. She pulled out a few kurtas and instantly kept them back. “So expensive,” she said. “We got stuff for much cheaper price, when we were young,” she murmured. Looking at her, I thought of my mother. Whenever mom thought that I was over spending, she used to tell me – “We got two daughters married off without any difficulty because we saved. If I was spending like you, your dad would have sent me back to my mother’s house. Don’t you have control?” My mother’s words hit me hard. I silently kept the kurtas back in its respective hangers and left the shop. As I walked down the staircase, like a sad little child, I kept telling myself save, save and save when I was jumping off the shop’s stairs.

I quickly took a share-auto to go home.

For those who don’t know Share Autos: It’s a sad looking vehicle, slightly larger than an auto with cramped seats in it. You pay as minimum as 10 RS (INR) for short distance travel. Adjusting myself in those seats, I happened to look at the girl seated next to me. She looked pretty with her big eyes. I loved the phone she had - a big smart one with glitters struck all over it. Trendy, I thought. Suddenly, in a flash, I saw her kurta. Awesome it was and the same one that I had seen in MAX. It looked nice on her. So it means it will look NICER on me. I’m extremely over confident sometimes! Now, I was jealous. Super jealous for a few minutes... So what did I do?

I got down in the next nearest stop, walked back to Max and picked up the very same Kurta that the girl in the auto was wearing. On my way, I so bravely fought all those thoughts of my husband, mom and the elderly woman in the shop. The moment I picked up the kurta, a satisfied look crossed my face and I walked away smiling to glory. I convinced myself that I had improved on the saving element, as I had bought only one and not the other clothes that I initially picked up.

When I narrated this incident to my friend, she burst out laughing and said I was mad.

All women are jealous, aren’t they? Or is it just me. But shopping without any guilt is a superb goodie.

A chocolate for a gift

I have known this friend of mine for some 4 years now. We have shared excellent rapport over the years and I always enjoy his company. I have heard many a times from a lot of Faisal’s other friends that he is really good in maintaining that special rapport with people. Once he came up to me to offer one such goodie that I would remember for a while. It was a simple gesture but unique in its own way. 

He said: Anju, as you know I had visited Australia a month ago (He generally speaks with a professional touch to his tone, even during tea. He can’t give it up, I’m sure.)

 I intervened: Yes, Faisal I know. I met you after your trip.

 He replied: Yes, you met me. But when I came over twice to your work station to offer you the Australian chocolates, you weren’t there. They are all over now.

 Then, he pointed to the automatic snacks machine at our pantry and said: I’m sorry I missed to give you the Aussie candies. But, you can pick up anything from here - any good chocolate of your choice. Because, I really wanted to give you some.”

I smiled at him and said: “Thanks a ton, Faisal. You will travel again. And I will definitely take it from you after your next trip. Chill! ”

How much time does it take for us to remember someone and genuinely think about sharing? It definitely doesn’t take a lot of time. Simple gestures and some kind words take less than a minute, but help in expressing real warm thoughts.  

The Samurai of My Dream…

There was this prince that I am yet to meet. I often dreamt of him when I was a kid. He drove the most magnificent horse you would have ever seen. Eyes of a hero, smile of a samurai and a personality of any happening Bollywood star. I always thought he would walk on earth, sit beside me and we can chat for long. The image of the prince took different shapes, depending upon my mood or whatever latest was happening around me. He was Sherlock Holmes for few days, then the popular Harry Potter and sometimes the Aaron Dallas of a not so popular book I was stuck to.  I liked thinking about him, drawing pictures of him and discussing about these dreams with a good friend for sheer time pass. Then my friend would have something to share. She will express her desire to walk with Shahrukh or meet Salman over a moonlight dinner. None of these would ever happen. We knew it, but it was so much fun just talking over it. The prince of your life! In fact, you could discuss these only with your friends.

Life, in its long journey may not bring you the same prince but the moments of the day dream definitely bring in a smile to your face, isn’t it? Do kids today really get to day dream? In fact, are they innocent enough to sketch out life with a mystic figure that may not ever walk into their lives?  A teenager I know always tells me to be practical. She dates the guy next door for a while and then the dude in her class. A week later, she is bored with both of them. There is so much practicality involved in the choices she makes. She doesn’t waste her time dreaming but practically experiences the moments of growing up by taking a very westernized and risky path. There are no adolescent fevers or growing up manias. Today’s kids are quite grown up much before they turn 13. Innocence is a rare phenomenon!

While growing up in the early 90’s, the fact I realized was kids of those days grew up in a society that was surrounded by many social taboos. There was restriction in almost everything and certain rules were strictly followed. Rules that decided what can be spoken to your parents and what should essentially be shared with teachers. A society like that offered only Doordarshan (DD) for entertainment and ‘The Hindu’ for knowledge. There were plenty of outdoor and indoor games that you could look up to. Westernization was only nearing and the society was still innocent with lesser access to media and stronger reasons to stick to old values. A society with taboos definitely had its disadvantages because kids today enjoy so much freedom which we had lacked. But, the society of rules raised more disciplined kids than what we find today. There were no feather- touch ipads to loose minds too, lesser consumption of video games and most important - no bugger or pizza that spoiled our stomachs. It is our grandmother’s food that we looked up to for a change and a visit to a nearby hotel would be cherished and remembered until we visit again.

There are still strong memories of my childhood that I cherish. When I share those stories with my daughter, I re-live those moments again. But what worries me is- will I be able to give such an action packed childhood to my kid? Will she be able to enjoy running pillar to post, just for fun? Or will she demand an apple product as soon as she turns 5? Will she continue to love my mother’s cooking or will she demand for a change? I can give her books, can take her out, and even try best to keep her away from the western world for a while. But, for how long? How long can I preserve the priceless innocence that I see in her?

One day she may just raise an alarm and scream for a change. That is when I will wonder, if change is really good. Rules shouldn’t be forgotten and ‘India’ should remain the India I had known. That will do a lot of good to parents of today.

Golden Moments of Life…

Every moment of life offers something good. And, all that is good, is golden, isn’t it?

 Incidents that taught me, to see life through the magnifying glass and enjoy the little bundles of happiness that it offers…

 

Akshara

It was one of those busiest days, and I was totally irritated. When I was in college the word “Corporate” used to enchant me so much. I dreamt and longed to be a part of it. And, I have to admit that I initially enjoyed the glitter and glamour of the IT Parks, was truly inspired watching busy managers and totally impressed with the money that I took home. For very many years, I used to get automatically thrilled the moment I was paid. The money will thrill you more and more, if you had been with parents and living on a restricted income most of your life, the very minute you enter the corporate, it throws open so many wonderful avenues to learn, enjoy and spend. That is how it was for me, just like anyone. But, as years passed by, I kept asking myself, if I really enjoy it the way I used to? What do you get working so hard? And, did I sign up for such a routine, tiring job, 9 years back? I clearly knew that I’m missing out a lot being a part of it and getting sucked into this “corporate” drama. Especially on one particular Friday, I felt so drained out that I just couldn’t work. Too many tasks to handle, too many backlogs and an overflow of escalations, I wanted to log out and just run away with a strong mind to never come back. But I just dealt with it and went back home, really tired and sad. It was already 10PM and when I entered my room, I saw my daughter asleep. Then I realized what I was missing… Motherhood. I had tears in my eyes, when I looked at her peaceful face. I silently switched on the night lamp, to adjust her pillow. She woke up, looked at me for a second and said “mummy va thungu (mummy come and sleep). She moved a little and pointed at the pillow, smiled again and slept. She is just 3… She taught me the greatest lesson that day – “How much ever we work hard and get drained in the corporate world, let’s not miss out on our kids.”

Rain

It was drizzling in Chennai, one particular day, when I was at home alone. It has been ages, since I have spent time to watch the rain. I sat in one corner of my room and peeped out of the window. I saw three people walk out of their houses with different frames of mind. An old lady walked out, looked up with an irritated face to realize that she missed to bring her umbrella. She cursed as she walked back home, that it was getting late and seemed totally irritated with climatic changes. Then I saw this house owner of mine, standing at the tip of the pavement, skeptical to take the next step. He moved forward and backward but never really stepped out. He too looked up, cursed and went back home.

Then came the beauty queen of our area, stepped out without realizing that it was drizzling. She was shocked seeing the rain, cross checked if her make-up was intact and ran back home. Yes, she did look up and cursed the rain in her own words. Finally, it was the little boy across the street who works part time in the cycle shop nearby. He stepped out, clearly knowing that it was raining. He then took his cycle, screamed at the top of his voice, went round and round in that small street. He was so happy; he jumped, laughed and looked up with a SMILE. The rest of the agitated people in the road were totally irritated with the little boy as he was making a lot of noise. A few moments later, the little boy looked up and saw me peeping through the window. He smiled and said,”Akka, super it is, come down with papa. Show her the rain.” I smiled at him again and thought he was really a little hero. The hero who knew to identify the little elements of joy that life offers.

Wish List

ü  To walk on the sands of the cleanest beach in the world. The one where water is in sky blue colour. To touch mother earth’s creation. Feel it…Pants unaffected.

ü  To feel snow…Make a big ball. A neat one that will complete ‘Santa in Snow’.

ü  To eat, the most professionally barbecued chicken in the world.

ü  See Rome. For I have heard it’s the oldest and the most wonderful. History at its best. And, remember to salute Julius Caesar.

ü  To feel breeze, while on a Verna.

ü  Sleep with the most comfortable bed sheet on… To turn back and forth without any fear and thought. 

ü  See a Mosquito “No No” world.

ü  To love Mynas, parrots and Penguins. But “No No” to dogs. Because Gorillas in cage are better than Dogs in Streets.

ü  To step into a glass house… If at all there is one in this world.

ü  To tell Harry, for all the joy he brought in and his super Wizard and Sorcery drama. To Rolling – For super imagination.

ü  To see Sherlock Homes – And say he is a real hero… And pass it on to the Master storyteller – Doyle.

ü  To steal some powers from Indira Gandhi – “The Woman”.

ü  To reach the borders of America and write to Obama that America needs no definition. Because America is any day equivalent to “A beautiful dream”. But to love India – As that’s where I belong to!!!

 

To always love…

Be loved…

To remain best friend – for those who matter.

 

The Sunset

Picture somebody dead being moved in a decorated cart. The journey is going to be pretty long. Extending to Hundred…Thousand miles. With them they take away memories of countless days, nights and years in closed lockers. Will they remember us when they are gone? Is the closed locker opened now and then to show them what it was when they lived on earth? How is it for them there? I do not wish to discriminate that the good head to heaven and bad to hell but I do believe that they head to this hallow. A hallow which is the home for the dead. According to me, it’s the new home where all the dead in a family reunite forever. My grandma and grandpa should be there. United.

Awestruck I’m when I tend to remember certain things. They gave me a home. A home many children miss today. If I look through the old photographs I realize how fortunate, I was to have enjoyed a childhood that most children today are denied. A home to go to, every weekend, and every vacation fitted in so well as a child. That home in Keeladi (my grandparent’s home) gave me love, tears, games, sweat and the food, I can’t forget. If I could think back, I can still remember how it felt to dig that mud to build a hut (We were satisfied with huts, never even dreamt of castles). Then dig deep into drainage and look for mango seeds (The combination is of course, weird). I cherish visiting temples, bare foot…feeling the heat. I can still hear voices of child play, running, jumping and screaming. Dirty clothes changed at last for a good meal and sleep. These are experiences that make your life wholesome…glad I had a share of that in my early days – A memorable childhood.

When we’re young, we do not realize what it means to be a part of a home. A home whether you like it or not binds you as a family. A home that made you look forward to vacations and weekends. A grandma who touches your chin and smiles, a grandpa who gives a curt nod when you convey your greetings and most important it gets impossible to imagine that you ever lived in a home that was never locked!

My grandparents live in hallow these days. I’ve convinced myself that a portion of their soul lives in hallow whereas the other portion lives in a photograph in my bedroom. That photograph is important to me because I captured it, years ago and both of them were looking at ME and ME alone when I took it. So obviously, I was in their mind that second, so the charm kind of works well with me.

The remarkable thing there is that they never advised me of anything other than to eat on time and take care of my health. But there is lots they have conveyed through actions, their way of life and most important the respect that they truly deserved from people around. They have set their hearts on the greater gifts. They have chosen the path which surpasses all others. The path of love, the path seeks to nurture, the path that always heals. I realized it was their strong commitment to love and all of its qualities of patience, of its desire to seek to understand before being understood, to rejoice in truth, combined with their unwavering devotion and faith to God that had been the secret to their success.

Most of all a well organized life.

The home is still there, in the same village. But I’m sure as the true masters rest…the original warmth is lost. Only memories shall dwell in all those hearts that love them.

It’s like my grandma mixed up this magic potion which she had stumbled upon, many many years ago in order to build a “home” that seems to elude the most. A home, a shadow that is gone now.

I never knew that a sunset could hurt so much…

I often wonder about this

I often wonder about this

Snow is rare!

Have you played in snow? Do you know how it feels on a cold wintery morning? I’m asking you this, because I don’t know much about it. Chennai is never really cold.
Years ago, we lived in Hapur, Gaziyabad district, Uttarpradesh. I was 5 then. It was winter, there was plenty of rain. The rain drops were super cool and the result was a glaze.
So, what is glaze?

Freezing rain is the name given to rain that falls when surface temperatures are below freezing. The raindrops become super cooled while passing through a sub-freezing layer of air, many hundred feet (or meters), just above the surface, and then freeze upon impact with any object they encounter. The resulting ice, called glaze, can accumulate to a thickness of several centimetres.

Courtesy: Wikipedia

I have seen and experienced glaze. I remember touching the ice that fell down in the open space beside my home in Hapur. The chill and shiver are still live in my memory. That was the last I saw something close to snow. Nature is a gift to man, isn’t it?
The snow, the glaziers, the mountains, the wonderful rivers, the sea and many more are little bundles of gift from nature. The science behind Nature fascinates me. How creative is God? How much thought would have gone into creating this beautiful world?
…And how easily we ruin it.

Those Cinderella shoes

I was so upset the other day, pissed with a person who would no longer be a friend. So irritated was I that I decided to do something that would cheer me up.

So, I went shopping.

I went to Bata showroom, in Mylapore, Chennai. I scanned the shop and found this pair of shoes. It’s white, plastic finish with a jazzy bow on it. I named it Cinderella shoes. On a day, when my mood is just fine I wouldn’t pick it up because I hardly wear anything that is showy and noticeable. But that day I picked it up.

I tried it and kept looking at myself in the showroom’s mirror. I loved them on my foot. Of course, I bought it. Not 1 but 2!

But, why???

I still wonder. I felt the urge to buy it. It pleased me, amused me and made me feel different.
One pair is safe in my cupboard. The other is displayed in my living room. I wear it, look at myself in the mirror and then take it off. Is there a psychology behind this kind of activity? Are all women like this?

I don’t know, but when the white Cinderella shoes glitters in the dark, I just smile.

My Grandma… Amachi

Our South Indian culture doesn't allow one to deliver eulogy during a Funeral. Hence I take this opportunity to say how special my Amachi (Grandma) is.

I stand here today to remember this great soul for her strengths, achievements and contribution to others. It was quite hard for all of us to witness the painful process of aging that she patiently challenged. Ageing couldn't rob her of vitality and clarity even in those last few days.

 I choose to talk about her as she has been there always to love us. I have been fortunate to grow up in this shadow, that her absence creates the deepest vacuum in me. Her story is an amazing one that should remind us all of how lucky we are today and instruct us in how to face and overcome the unpredictable ways that life deals.
When I think about Amachi's life and try to understand her contribution to the family and village, I realize that she was a person deeply committed to the welfare of others.

She has been selfless in her love towards every single person who sorts her assistance. In my early years, I knew her simply as a woman who loved me and would treat me with kindness during my visits to Keeladi (A small village in outskirts of Madurai, Tamilnadu). I remember that each visit had helped me grow up, learn a lot and get accustomed to life itself. I will never forget all the trips to the fields with my beloved Thatha (grandfather), shopping with a tiny list to the local shops, the continuous food onslaught and the community of village friends that my cousins and I developed during those days.

She was a remarkably non-judgmental individual and had few preconceived ideas of how one should live their life. Her famous saying, "Saptiah (Did you eat), pall kudi (drink milk)" keep ringing in my ears. She showed me how to sew on buttons and taught me chain stitch. My stitches weren't as neat and tiny as hers, but she was very proud of my accomplishment when I stitched my first sunflower. There are so many memories - I can't possibly write them all.

The best about her was she always communicated a willingness to accept the fact that changes occurring in the world during her life would likely lead her grandchildren down a different path than the one she had chosen. I always felt totally supported by Amachi and knew that she would judge my progress based upon my personal happiness rather than by comparing it to the choices she had made. I have to say that she was a voracious reader who hardly got an opportunity to step into school. But I am yet to meet someone like her who is so worldly in thoughts and action. She is an inspiration to millions in the world who struggle to go to school. My Amachi's life tells me that School is essentially not the place to be educated. Self learning is a key to her success.

I always knew for sure that Amachi meant a lot to me. She had been that strength I had leaned and now I clearly know how fortunate I am to have grandparents who knew only to love and care.

I love her because she taught me how to love. She has never kissed me or hugged me… but has always blessed me.  I remember her touching my chin when she sees me enter her home. It brings tears in my eyes when I think of this wonderful human being who has been for ever true to the people she belonged to. Her trust in God and the last spiritual journey to eternity is the most honorable death one could experience.

I want to remember Amachi's legacy as one of compassion, selflessness, commitment to others and unconditional love. That is how she touched me and this is how we shall describe her to the next generation. When asked, I will always say that Amachi was truly a great woman who has dealt unthinkable challenges and have lived a sacrificed life. I sometimes want to say "Thank you", hope she hears.

61 Years of married life. Her devotion towards Thatha whom she serviced with so much love shall ever be remembered by me. As I have personally witnessed many moments of such devotion. One wouldn't have seen a huge crowd during her funeral but I am sure that her death moved many…Every tear that was shed during her demise prove how she dwelled in our hearts.

I close my eyes I can still hear "lalu" the way she calls me. She could have been there for some more time, is all that I keep telling myself. It is disturbing to sink in the fact that she isn't there anymore…


But I am sure she still lives there…or rather I want to believe that she is still there.