Of Weddings and Revelations: What gets passed down over the years….and binds us all

I recently attended a wedding of a close cousin, also someone I literally grew up with. I’m not particularly sappy regarding weddings ,as a rule. that is. Unlike a lot of people- women that I know I don’t get teary eyed when the bride leave with a finality in the wedding car with her groom. I’m a mushy, sentimental person but when it comes to weddings I’m much more practical- I mean really-the bride will quite possibly be staying close to her parents, in the same city or probably lived apart from them for years while working, earning her keep. Its SO NOT a big deal! Maybe in the Victorian days, the leaving home, the wedding was a sentimental and epic event. But now, I genuinely believe its just a new start, something that should be a happy affair, a natural progression into growing up and settling down, nothing to make much of a hullabaloo about. But well, life has a curious way of shocking you when you least expect it. This wedding was one of those events.
Over the years, I have attended countless weddings, of people I barely know, couldn’t care less about, as a bystander at the wedding party. But this particular wedding was a close family affair, the wedding of my closest aunt’s daughter- a family whose struggles and triumphs, I have identified with, witnessed intimately and been personally affected by. When my aunt cried during the dance with my sister-the bride, I felt myself embarrassingly tearing up, needing to comfort them. Maybe because of the realization that they are somewhat closer, the bond somewhat more special. I know the backstory, the probable reason of the tears, the secret smiles and what will follow them- all of which made the incident more touching. But more than everything else, I realized acutely throughout this wedding that what really connects us, any of us is something common that we share- something that connects me with my sister (the bride) who is 5 years older (and who I wasn’t all that close to during our childhood), my sister – in law who’s all the more older (and whose genuine toast I silently appreciated) with my father and mother raised in a different time, in a different city and in a completely different manner-In the case of our two families what connects us is how freaking emotional we all are- how much the small moments mean to us, how the happy occasions become all the more precious because unlike a whole lot of people at the wedding we were unbearably aware of what lead up to it.
For me my parents are my confidantes- a fact I unabashedly admit to- they are my rocks of Gibraltar, my sense of identity comes from them. As a person I tend to push people away- I tend to keep a strong and unwavering hold on only a select few who scratched the surface to my heart and stayed through all the odds during my course of my relationship with them- handled my mood swings, loved me with my flaws and recognized and appreciated my loyalty through tough times and more. The reason family has always mattered so much to me is because my personality is an extension in some form of them- my mood swings have been inherited from my father, my desire to be non- judgemental comes from my easy going, easily likeable, bubbly mother, my stubborn attitude elders in the family have told me I’ve inherited from my maternal grandfather who has more good qualities to his credit by the way, from my maternal grandmother I have inherited the ability to let go and smile through all odds- she’s been phenomenally independent through old age, countless surgeries, body troubles, et all. I’ve also been told by many that I resemble in looks my other grandmother who I never got the privilege to meet but lives through the stories I just can’t get enough of, through the way my father’s eyes always glaze with nostalgia and something more when conversation turns around to her. The fact is that while friendships are precious and important, they require nurturing and time to build, the foundation for blood bonds however gets laid down over decades- through common genital defects, personality similarities and stories exchanged over the years
What I’m getting to in my roundabout way is that weddings have a way of bringing to the surface these invisible bonds- how if there was a catastrophe, god forbid, my hand would outstretch to my parents to help, the other would follow my brother and from the scores of people at the wedding, very few would actually be a priority, An aside- I tend to prioritize a lot as I’m growing older- not everyone makes the cut. My time, my heart is too damn fragile and limited to extend to everyone- some people just matter more, their memories of me and mine of them are part of a massive life picture, not easily forgotten.
Wedding don’t make me sappy as a rule- this one did pretty much at every turn- one memory melded into another, jumbled up also in countless anecdotes, reminiscences . Through it all, I realized again and with great certainty that what make any of us who we are- is predetermined, we are all branches of people who came before us, a story that had been told and lives through us. During a toast at the cocktail ceremony of this wedding, in my characteristic awkward way, I tried to put across my point- I said-  before I begin to talk about the bride- I’d like to talk about my aunt, my favourite aunt because essentially everything that she is- strength personified, multitasking genius, strong support system all of it she has passed down to my sister- (P.S. we were never as close growing up- older sister and brothers can be hard to connect to when you are younger but the bond that I feel with her now (maybe mutual?) is stronger as there is much to more to share, find in common with)- every thing that she will be in her married life or that she has been so far is because she was raised with the best principles, the love for animals encouraged or tolerated, the cuddles and love for family which will undoubtedly endear her to all in her new world- (read: new family). She was raised to be her mother’s girl, her father’s darling- an extension of them and the others she shares this familial bond with- what makes her HER

India. Dangers of stereotyping.

For the longest time I considered myself particularly neutral in my reaction to situations, news articles et all. However being a law student who prides herself on being a firm believer in the right of free speech and generally the right of equality, I go through periods when certain news items bring me to a boiling point of angry emotions. The only way I can then deal with my conflicted and disturbed heart is take it out in the form of a piece of writing. Before I formally talk about what I recently read that forms the rough subject of my post- I thought giving a brief background is only fair to enable my readers to understand my point of view better.
I am and Indian girl, very, very proud of my ethnicity and proudly wear it on me even when I get out of the country. I feel like people who are naturally inclined to judge/ hate will do so irrespective of my efforts to hide myself (read: when in Rome, do as romans do- never really believed in this saying) and act like something I’m not- change the way I talk, dress to “fit in”, be understood etc. Isn’t it more normal the idea- that as humans beings we are not meant to fit in- we are all incredibly different- the world is not a puzzle its more practically a maze- exciting, unexplored and unique- the idea of fitting in therefore has never appealed to me. For one semester in college, I had a marketing teacher- the coolest teacher I ever got to learn from incidentally and she used to say this one thing- how consciously or unconsciously we are ALL just selling ourselves daily to the world and if we were more aware of this fact we would sell ourselves more authentically. I never quite contemplated her words but now more so than ever believe in selling the most authentic, real, not forced version of myself to the world- ethnic clothes, jewellery et all.
Last year, I got a chance to go on an exchange programme to the US through my college for a short one month summer school course- I took an additional 2 weeks after my course ended- to travel around- visit a college senior in NYC- meet an old school friend in Miami etc. And through it all, I told myself that there was no way in hell I’m going to hide who I am- wore my bindis, nose ring- passed down through family- its party of my cultural tradition- and make it look COOL. As an aside, India as a country is made up of a mosaic of many different states with different languages, cultural diktats etc. – I’m a Kumaoni from a state in the North of my country, speaking a language totally different from my school friend who hails from a western state speaking the language Gujarati. Anyway, I realised that initially the looks I got in subways, cafes etc. unnerved me but later ,when people actually noticed me positively- an African American stunning and incredibly stylish girl actually complimented me on my unusual and attractive fusion of east and west- bindis, nose ring, black sports, shoes, shorts and hair tied in a bun with an Ikat print scarf (Ikat is a print from the Indian state of Gujarat also practised as a textile art in some South American countries. ) was when I realized how even the smallest of actions can make huge impacts in the long run. Perhaps if I had let my self consciousness compel me to blend in by wearing the usual New Yorker unform of bland and boring (in my opinion) black I would have not experienced this surge of pleasure on being considered different and unique- since when does differant equal outcasted or unattractive.
On the other hand, during my month long summer school course in my interactions with the other students, I didn’t play down the fact that I’ve grown up watching American TV shows, movies, idolised stars, listened to rock AND pop music and have a pretty substantial AND embarrassing knowledge of American Pop culture- like who Demi Moore is dating right now, the first movie Lindsay Lohan starred in. I watch my own movies and criticize campy and sappy romantic movies- both Hollywood and Bollywood too by the way. The point essentially is I was trying as hard as I could to be MYSELF. As a country I feel India is a hard sell- yes there’s garbage, repulsive and depressing poverty, bigoted attitudes but then there are all kinds of people too, people like me who grew up with immensely chilled out and progressive thinking parents and on the other end of the spectrum parents in the country who still believe their daughters should get married before they turn 25! Some of these girls are girls I went to school with and I JUST DONT GET IT! Not that there is anything wrong with early marriage- they weren’t forced- they just sort of went with the norm and now post happily married pictures on facebook with their hubbies- I’m gagging while writing hubbies- I still feel like a kid and then there are girls who tag their HUBBIES in pics in honeymoon pictures on beaches snuggling etc. The overflow of PDA aside, its just surreal to be married before you’ve even started a job or looked around at what the world has to offer- men and the rest.
My point through this angry and possibly incoherent rambling is its hard to figure out things when you close yourself to the alternative- basically stereotypes are dangerous and destructive- just as people and personalities are complex so are countries and cultures- and the more you believe in the obvious – due to lack of exposure, the image sold by television shows etc (One of the many reasons- I DO NOT WATCH shows like Outsourced or The big bang theory- the nerdy brown kid token actor thing is so overwritten- People need to open their eyes a little bit and if they HAVE to stereotype- find some new and original stereotypes) the more these opinions are voiced and then the more they;ll multiply. I know it seems like a small thing- I could say- how can my opinion of Americans for instance- as obese, culturally challenged etc people really make a difference (BTW I have no such opinion- my closest friend currently is an American girl who came for a short exchange programme to my college and she pretty much overshadows us all in her knowledge of obscure art forms, music, theatre etc. ) but the point is as human beings we don’t live our lives in isolation-we spread consciously or unconsciously our thoughts and views.
This is a topic which I can talk on for hours and probably needs a more lengthy blog post to truly and effectively cover but for now- I think its best that I get to the subject of my post which is this weird trend of human dolls- or specifically human barbie- I saw this article while browsing through E-online and was struck with horror and disgust at both this bizarre trend if it can be called that and the views such people are perpetuating and getting mileage and their 15 minutes of fame at the same time- I have attached the link for anyone who wishes to understand my frustration better- she basically talks about her distaste of children- that is OK- i cant stand kids either and don’t really know how to communicate with them- a standing joke at my house is how when Shriya enters a room filled with babies they all start bawling or hide their faces- Whatever- however she expresses her disgust in quite a how should I put hateful manner- Anyways she goes on to discuss her disgust for mixed race marriages and how they spoil beauty standards etc. Read the entire article to possibly feel just as bewildered and disappointed as I did- disappointed in the kind of people that still exist in today’s age of massive internet exposure and travel and all that.
My personal opinion- Mixed race marriages are beautiful- the kids produced are special- with one of each kind of looks and personalities. My aunt is married to an American and settled in Australia- her kids have golden hair, lightly brown skin, almond eyes and beautiful pink mouths- i apologize for this sappy description- point is they are striking to look at- the mixture of looks makes them stand out- i honestly can get over how insanely attractive and appealing to the eye they’ll grow up to be. – A career in modelling perhaps. The obvious beauty thing aside, they know about Indian culture, can speak Hindi but also love Ameircan sports and food. I mean c’mon that IS soo cool! I wish I was a mixed race kid. By giving a voice to people like this weird-ass human barbie- the media or whoever is just spreading this infectious idea of  hatred- its mind boggling how it even stands- people travel now- a Lupita N’yongo is considered universally gorgeous- i think her skin literally lights up from inside. I can cover everything I’d like to about my issues with her post- I’d just like to say to whoever reads this to think in their head while they read my post or her insensitive article-
WE ARE BETTER THAN THIS.
I too wish to strive to be more tolerant, more open and more accepting.

P.S.- nothing against plastic surgery- all for people’s right to chose as long as they are NOT hurting others in the process

http://www.eonline.com/news/529091/human-barbie-tells-gq-she-s-repulsed-by-kids-says-mixed-races-have-ruined-beauty-standards

Things that make me happy even on the greyest of days: maybe they’ll ake YOU smile too...

A wide toothy smile from a crush…call me traditional..but a smile is all I need..the people I get most attracted to ( in both the romantic and non- romantic sense) are the ones who smile with their eyes and smile with gay abandon..teeth all up for appraisal..its so refreshing to see a genuine smile in a sea of fake courtesy ridden grins..:)

Dogs..of all kinds..mangy street dogs or the ” well bred ” owned by elites for the status symbol variety..In fact all animals..except cats and birds, the former i find cold and the latter i find creepy..in my dullest and most cynical of moods i find comfort in the fact that innocence still exists in the world in the souls of animals…:) i have four dogs of my own and i can honestly say their company is much more special to me than any of my friends’..they are forgiving and determinedly loyal..and freakishly they get all my moods..

Nature in all its pristine, unspoilt glory..I come from a state which is known for its natural beauty and true to roots charm..and whenever I feel sad or angry, the memory of long walks in hill country with the chirping of birds..and vistas of green fields and orchards..gives me hope that things will take a turn for the better..A GOD which has created all these marvels cannot be so unkind as to make me suffer forever..:)

Unexpected acts of kindness..need I explain more..open to interpretation

Food: Warm, simple home food …I sincerely believe that good food is a cure for the dullest of moods..i love cooking and am also quite good at it..(modesty is something i need to work on)! even cooking for others gives me great pleasure..the feeling of contentment experienced after people appreciate and enjoy a meal you slaved over is better than eating good food..FOOD is therapeutic for me..

My Mom: I’m a total and absolute and unabashedly mamma’s girl..I can live without my brother and my dad…without my Mom, I’d rather not exist..she’s a friend first, parent later which make her super cool and very very enviable..:)

My brother: I’m not very close to him but he IS my only sibling..they say you value things more when you cant get them, in my case see them more often.And the distance and relative lack of conversation makes me- cherish the memories of those moments when he’s beaten up the school bully because he stole my hairband..all the pictures with him kissing me and later declaring to everyone with great and obvious pride: SHE’ MY LIL SISTER. ISN’T SHE SO CUTE..things change but i know the love lies somewhere even if its deep deep down hidden.

My father: who in his own mumbling, awkward, a lil shy way expresses how much he misses me..I may not relate to his longing but I sure do understand its value..:) And am so much like him..whenever I am frustrated with life and the path its taking..I try to imagine my DAD a quintessential family man and what he would do, how he would react..in a certain hopeless situation or accomplish a daunting task.

There are soo many more things that make me happy and even more reasons that make me find the strength to stand tall through tough times and CHANGE….to know more..read this..and THEN appreciate all the things that make YOU smile..there are tears aplenty so find the will to be happy..by remembering all such things in YOUR life..

Of Life's many mysteries- a farewell note of sorts..

I had been putting off saying anything about my time in Pune, farewell and all those compelling but clichéd topics that plague every college going student's psyche right around the inevitable going away for good moments. Something happened today though, something surprising and unnerving and frankly a little heartbreaking- that also became a great incident to sum up and put in a whole my experiences of life in Pune. I am the less than even a little- street smart girl who goes all guns blazing, enthusiastically into places and experiences which don't always make for the most perfect  AFTER stories. However Pune coming here, studying here were all good solid decisions which I’ve not regretted for even a second- all the jumping into things that has happened here has only made for fond memories, for safekeeping and to cherish forever.

“People are just nice here”, a cousin (who’s lived in Delhi much of her young adult life- a key detail not to be overlooked) and who had recently graduated from an institute in the city told me before my first year of law school but being the cynical, take no one and nothing at face value person that I am, I attributed her unbelievable level of love for the city to the usual collegiate withdrawal symptoms and farewell blues. I realized an year into classes here- she was totally speaking from the heart. It’s been said of Germans that behind their gruff and distinctly not pleasing to the ears speaking style, they are actually quite friendly. I feel Mahrashtrians are afflicted by a similar contradiction (correct me if I’m wrong and I’m willing to be criticized for this definitely no expert comment)- they have a crude and almost confrontational style of speaking, from auto drivers, the college kakas to the one good broker (brokers as a breed are blood sucking rodents and pretty much suck anywhere in the country- make that anywhere in the world- not that I know about the world but i bet I'm right) to finally the subject of my note- my gruff sounding, frowny faced, aged landlord who uptil now I thought hated me with a vengeance and stereotyped me as one of those girls from the north who are up to no good.  How little I knew and how little we all do really, when making our snap judgments which are more often than not based on very little evidence and broad generalizations. I’ve never really gotten to know this man and never really had to interact with except for the few and far in between times he has come to check up on the bathroom plumbing, to take away his old furniture from the spare room, accompanied I’d like to add here with his sweet faced bespectacled wife who reminds me of my own maternal grandmother and helped each time in thawing my frosty assessment of her husband. Today I felt like I knew him or a version of him- understood what he is/was all about (I do NOT bullshit) He came to the flat today- two hours back to be precise, unannounced which does not happen ever- hes nothing if not decorous in his behavior and always informs atleast an entire day in advance and at a reasonable hour- hell always call early evening or morning-(an aside- maybe it’s a generational thing- my broker whos perhaps a 6 years older than me always drops unannounced, rings the bell till even the bell is frustrated never leaves his shoes at the door- isn’t that a mahrastrian thing too?- and calls anytime between 10- 1 for completely pointless reasons.) But I digress. He rang the bell, was escorted inside by my flatamate, made his way to my room, knocked on my door and when I opened- this is what he said- with tears or water or something visibly glistening in his eyes- beta come whenever u want, back here and stay,rent key bina stay and mil key jaana ok, be happy, nothing is more important  than that- being happy. (An aside- maybe I’m a sucker and I am….kind of but I feel myself tearing up even while writing this.)

Ive made some friends in pune ,lost some friends and messed up  some relationships royally. I’ve also hardened myself in the process while also resigning myself to the fact that things always happen for a reason and its literally NO BIG DEAL. My aged landlord who walks with a crutch and a frown on his face is no friend of mine but this last day before I leave the city for good is bizzarely enough the person responsible for bringing out all the nostalgic memories id been bottling up and honestly burying for a while. He made me realize quite acutely that the urban lifestyle is best suited to unexpected friendships-like the completely random way in which I met my first friend in pune who later became a bitching buddy while we dealt with and handled the same broker for 2 years, discussed how we missed smalltown life and do u know anyone whos looking for a roommate discussions. Nothing connects two people more than a common enemy, commonality of experiences and adversity. Or the first pg mate who won me over with her adorable sindhi-ness and the only person who has a nickname for me- one I actually like or the other equally memorable pg mate who was a rock for one eventful year of pg life and who bonded with me over a shared dislike of our uncommonly, unlikable landlady. Not to mention the numerous other college friends- all of whom were befriended in completely random ( I apologize for the over use of this totally apt word) ways- over sharing of tng worries, in a random French class unrelated to college curriculum etc. 

Finally, if I had to, HAD to chalk out the most important life lesson from the many learnt while living "alone" in this city I would say I learnt how incredibly mysterious life is- how unpredictable, how things just magically happen without any warning- friendships have a way of just fading into oblivion, new friends just unexpectedly enter your life-maybe they were meant to (ignore the sappiness if you're not similarly inclined).  Through it all, there’s the charm of never knowing how you're going to end up and who will make it to the end with u. like my landlord- god bless him- said the goal really is just to be happy. 

(P.S. Maybe I'll come back and take him up on his offer- an offer for an unlikely friendship perhaps- we can ALL use all the help we can get to get thru life right? Right?!)

Just the start...

She screamed a loud, piercing never ending scream of no, not anguish but desire….! She laughed a laugh not unabashed, unaffected but hopeful and desperate and greatly pretentious. She cried a cry of not regret or distress but of need and despair enmeshed with foolish pride. But no one came to draw her out of her naïve trust in humanity. If your agony is real she had believed someone would eventually respond to it, if your need is strong someone will meet your wants she had innocently told herself….unaware that just as misery has no enemies, it doesn’t have any friendly takers either. The day passed in deciphering this strange response of those around her. She was curious to understand the reason behind her being shunned in this obvious manner unable to fully accept that if no one cared enough to respond; one would hardly offer reasons for doing so. The days that followed were wasted in a similar fashion. She woke up drowsy, disoriented and generally disturbed The night before she had decided to give up this lost search for recognition but the fire somewhere deep within her gut wasnt about to die down just yet. She opened the windows of her room, immediately bringing the sunshine in as if she was trying to illuminate her life itself. The windows hadnt been opened for a week. The light was a refreshing albeit expected change.  Four reasons to NOT hand over the reins of her life to PEOPLE'S ever changing wims and fancies she wrote with a shaking but sure hand in that tattered notebook which hadn't heard from her emotions in a long time..people who matter and who CARE- only 3 names came to mind and that angered and saddened her at the same time, disillusioned yet determined she rankled her brain for more names...None came to immediate memory. Alas! A sudden burst of realization hit her. As suri bhaiya had told her on that foggy afternoon  making such a lasting impact on her-  ( That day had arrived after days of  no  contact with the outside world and that one insignificant and still significant person's ramblings had affected her deeply, ignited her so to speak.) He hadnt spoken to her but spoken as if for her..He'd said id done nothing to hurt this man and yet he hates me so, id done nothing to deserve this, yet this is what i own, the cycle of need want deliverance ever so screwed up in my case why so? well if i knew the answer wouldnt the purpose of life to search for answers constantly be destroyed, to learn to fall to move on be defeated. There was a certain pleasure her SOLITRAY cofinement ws provididng her which she had till now failed to recognized as a deadly detriment to her ever esacping this abyss, this trap of her conscience. She was dwelling on the intrisics so hard that the most apparent cause of her state wasnt reachig her knowledge. She had grown to enjoy this pain she was inflicting on herself, the pain itself was in danger of assuming an identity of becoming an antidote (irony) for her misery. It appeared that she wished to suffer to enable thorugh study of the psyche of those whose minds resembled her own miserable being.  The light streaming in was now dulling with the passage of time.the conflation of her vulnerablity and pathetic musings was a deadly one. If importance would continue to be given to her state she would end up losing herself in the mental web of conflicting emotions and yet if it would be ignored the past would come back to haunt her.

That girl

She sat arms folded close to her chest, unaware of her effect on me, quiet but not contemplative. Her thoughts were on the music which formed the crux of her existence, but the contours of her body had a language of their own, calling out to me. In desperation and almost instinctively I touched the small bone jutting out painfully from her shoulder blade. The reaction was electric and she jumped in horror and confusion, her eyes glazing with minor frustration. I covered my face not yet decided what resulted in this reckless burst of initiative. She was not the most stunning woman I had met, not the most captivating either. Her physical structure was attractive but not particularly intoxicating, hence this bordering on sexual, curiosity was unexpected and a tad disconcerting. I left her room, the embarrassment now evident on various parts of my body, my feverish shaking, my flushed cheeks, and my definite heightened sense of self. I came back to her room, this time just watching from a distance, insecure and unsure. her friend lay on the next bed curled up into a ball, her body more curvaceous, a buxom woman with bright black eyes. In contrast to sujata, her body was more alluring but at that very instant her charm decidedly less. Creeping up behind her, I touched the hollow of her chest, and realization hit me with the shock of cold water on an unaccustomed body.

Lone acts of kindness

While scanning my blog for the umpteenth time, I wondered whether I had anything new to say. As often happens to me, the realization that I didn't led me to an acute sense of frustration. At that precise moment, a close friend of mine and fellow blogger messaged me with the link for a blog which was 'asking' to be read for its touching content. In my state of low self esteem over my writer's block, I decided to skip viewing the same. At any other time, I would have been very curious to check out a blog recommended by Sheila, a writer I greatly admire and a friend who I unabashedly adore. But, well that was that. The next day as I was leaving for my internship with the same bad mood looming dangerously close being uncharacteristically late, I chanced upon a rare act of kindness. This act, small and perhaps insignificant on any other day is the inspiration for my current blog entry. Someone somewhere has rightly said that the human mind works in curious ways.

Often, I credit myself on having a sunny disposition and I’m rarely ruffled by much. Two things irk me the most- insensitivity and a lack of tact. That day, I noticed myself heavily lacking both, tact and sensitivity. The man driving me to work was in his early 20's, my age, appointed by my over- protective father to escort me everyday without fail to the office at a short distance by metro and a distance I could easily cover alone. But, well Dad's orders need to be followed and in no need for another round of arguments I had agreed on this minor adjustment. The man was usually quiet during the course of the 45 min's or so journey we took together and his lack of small talk capabilities/ incapacity for small talk suited me just fine. I liked making mental lists and fully rousing myself from the sleepy state I usually was in en-route to office, chitter chatter was therefore never a priority. That day, being an unusual day of sorts, 10 minutes into the journey and while waiting for the signal to change at the first crossing, the man whose name later revealed to be Madan began a conversation largely one sided. He never seemed to be in a particularly cheery mood but that very day he seemed not just happy but excited in a kid in a candy store kind of way. He said to me" didi aapko pata hai, aaj mujhe meri salary mili gayi  aur pehli baar boss ne chutti ke liye bhi haan kar di hai"  I nodded, as a vague acknowledgement of his declaration. He went on not having paid attention to my apparent lack of interest. " pehli cheez main shimla ka ticket book karaoonga, shimla mein vaise rehta nahin hoon main, shimla ke paas ek chota sa gaanv hai vahin merei mummy aur behen rehte hain, mahinon hogaye unse mile, ab is baar kuch hafte vahan thereonga" he looked at me from the rearview mirror perhaps expecting a congratulations or even a smile. He got none. I didn't consider my actions to be in anyway unkind, I was just in a bad mood or so I rationalized. He was unperturbed however and went on to describe the haseen vadiyan of his hometown and his sister who was about to get married et all. By then, my patience was reaching its limit and to make matters worse every signal we crossed on that generally traffic free route seemed to be red. I tried to keep my cool. " aapko pata hai mujhe itni yaad aati hai ghar ki kabhi kabhi,kam pe jaane ka bhi man nahin karta par phir soochta hoon ki nahin jaaonga toe bhi accha nahin hai aur fir aise kitne log hain jinke paas kuch khaane koe bhin nahin hota, jo itni kathinayion se guzarte hain, mere pas kam toe hai" he was about to complete his sob story when I was suddenly hit by the realization that I had forgotten to get the report which my internship supervisor had given to me for safekeeping and which was required that day in court. The meeting would start in less than half an hour, I had no time to go back and get it. “fuck, fuck, fuck yaar shit" i cried out. Madan visibly concerned, stopped midway in his monologue looked at me and said" kya hogaya madam" and then it happened " kya hogaya, kya hogaya, tumhe kya farak padhta hai yaar, chup ho jao bas, dimag kharab kar rakha hai, bolte ja rahe ho, mujhe nahin jaana kuch bhi idiot, asshole" a second after this unnecessary outburst I wished I'd  die right there, it wasn’t merely the fact that i had let myself down, someone who boasts of being someone 'who cares' but more so because Madan didn't react, didn't look angry, ashamed or even disappointed. He did however stop talking and I tried to calm my nerves while simultaneously thinking of excuses to feed to my boss. We finally reached the office, by which time id forgotten my distasteful behavior being more anxious about my impending fate, I was 15 minutes late for the meeting and didn't have the pre requisite report. the day passed just as I had imagined it would, my boss was very angry, humiliated me in front of other interns not completely without reason and I was not assigned any work the entire day. By the time madan came to pick me up for the return journey I was much subdued and on the verge of tears I eventually  did break into tears 10 minutes later, the entire day's happenings, my bad behavior, my lack of responsible-ness everything coming out in a torrent of sobs. I was mildly aware that there was another person in the car who could witness it all but was too tired to care. Madan who had been watching me cry quietly for some time finally looked back, a little hesitant perhaps framing his words or perhaps unsure whether he should initiate any conversation at all considering the day's past happenings. He however turned out to be the bigger person, gave me his hanky and said " madam, are yeh sab toe hota hi rahta hai, aap pareshan mat ho, kal se mein thoda jaldi aaonga, aap aaram se sab rakh ke aana, jaldi baazi mein hi aap bhool gaye hoge" the simple explanation for my blunder, the humility in his gesture considering I'd insulted him just hours back and the acknowledgement of a certain humane bond which made him care was just the dosage I needed. I smiled back at him, this time a proper smile, of kinship, of gratitude not the courtesy ridden one I’d worn in the past and asked him his name, not as a small talk initiative but since it was only proper that I thank the person from whom I’d heard the only kind words the entire day by name. And Madan, he was for the remaining days of my internship. We will not meet again I’m sure of that and I’m not the dramatic sort who believes that we made a difference in each other's lives. But I can say with a great degree of certainty that acts of kindness are as rare and lone as they come but in their exclusiveness and scant-ness lies their value. I thank Madan for making me realize how small I really am and how utterly naive, how I never valued the chance encounters, the small talks and the lessons that invariably follow them. I DO NOW. THANK YOU!

BEAUTY OF AN UNKNOWN TRUTH

Recently, I had one of the most simultaneously insightful and disheartening conversation with a young adult. My cousin sister, all of 11 years, very earnest and equally dramatic- in short a very accurate replica of my adolescent and to a large extent current self sat me down (against my extreme protests, if I may add) for a in her own words ‘intense philosophical discussion’. I could relate instantly- ruchi is young, pretty ,sentimental, a decent student, if not a great one, very gregarious around adults but incredibly reserved around her peers and often feels the need to talk out her fears. She trusts me instinctively because she is thankful that I treat like I would any other “adult” and do not mock her somewhat skewed and morose views on life. She is yet to learn that this is a strategy ( albeit an effective one) honed over time which as she grows up shell learn to acquire as well

She seemed a little sad at first. I mistook it for dramatics ( now which 11 year old doesn’t like a little bit of attention huh?) but I was wrong and so much so that it’ll be some time before I test my astute and self proclaimed psychic abilities again. It started like most of my memorable conversations do -over a book. This one being a book I had gifted to her on her birthday- diary of anne frank. I have always wanted a sister and was instead blessed with a brother- blessed being absolutely appropriate here but we are admittedly very different and I have never connected with him or understood how one mother could produce such scarily distinct personalities. He additionally doesn’t resemble in looks or behavior either of my parents. But, adoption theories notwithstanding I never question our differences just as I would never question my love for him or our bond. But well, one does desire similar minded company once in a while. And despite ruchi’s “tender” age, ive always warmed up to her opinions and startlingly intuitive assessment of humans. Not very startling,personally, since most of my own fortellings at this age had later come true. BUT back to ruchi- she has the most angelic, poetic and all synonyms of beauty combined to describe -face and yet has zero self awareness. The girl is truly special and very very dear to me. She wears her heart on her sleeve and her emotions are easily readable. I don’t like to press much but she had been quiet for a long time after sitting me down on the bay window of her bedroom and fearing imminent tears, I prodded- “you know you can talk to me ruchi”  now ruchi has a lot of faults but lack of courage is not one of them- she’s fiercly ungirly as she less than eloquently frequently asserts and tears to her reflect weakness. Even in her most angst filled days ive seen her bang around stuff but never tears. she shook her head aggresively and began her largely one sided discussion. You know di ( I love it when she calls me that, im a traditionalist in certain ways and I prefer my younger friends and cousins addressing me as didi)  I just finished reading anne frank’s diary and the ending haunted me for days- I felt so bad- I mean there really is no god you know in this world not fair- all this came out in a passionate torrent of words interspersed with the most hostile expression ive ever seen on her- an expression im only too familiar with. I felt instantly guilty and te memory of the effect the book had had on me came back to me rapidly. I was gifted the book by my mother as a reward for being a wonderful and patient travel companion on a Europe family trip when I was just a year younger than ruchi is now. It was at Manchester airport and my mother had instructed me not to read it until after the end of the vacation. She knew much of my reading happened at night She also realized tat a book like this would keep me awake for days and my incessant “discussions” and queries would ensure many sleepless nights for her as well. But I was a curious child ( now a curious “semi” adult) and I read it anyway, that very night but instead of going to my mother for comfort, incredibly conflicted cried myself to sleep. Now ruchi resembles me in many ways but she is seldom fearful. Nevertheless, she was conflicted just as I had once been.

I just HAD TO!

Dedicated to a friend who gave up finally, after 1 year of my endless nagging and killing of his buzz.

Someone said to me today- " You need to loosen up man! You're what, 21 and soo uptight. Take a drag yaar, enjoy your youth, consequences baad mein dekh lena. I personally live for the NOW." I controlled my anger building up like a storm and replied semi- calmly (I think!)- " I'm all for enjoying one's youth but I also want to enjoy my future, live a happy, long, healthy life and die peacefully without regretting the indiscretions of these wonder years. I don't want to have to say going for my 50th chemo that I regret my past. The person smirked and continued unaffected- "ull never change."

Indifference or just plain mob mentality, I ask myself.

For the smokers out there give it up now! Not after this diwali, not after new year's eve, NOW. Don't be the reason for the unassuming pregnant woman sitting next to you giving birth to an asthmatic child.  Don't be a passive killer. Take charge. For all those who bring a certain poetic sentimentality to the habit remember that the literary figures propagating the addiction almost always suffered dire consequences. The poetry is limited to celluloid or the browned pages of those intensely romantic novels. The reality is much more bleak and much less wonderfully cinematic. For all those who feel it calms them, go smell the roses literally, take a walk, inhale fresh air not toxic fumes. For all those citing a bohemian devil may care attitude, remember that life is not lived by us simple souls in isolation. Don't be the reason for a troubled mother (worrying about the stubs increasing with every day's passionate consumption) or a conflicted child who will definitely emulate your example. Remember life is a circle involving more than just one pit stop. Make each stage count. Live long, happy, healthy and die peacefully.

P.S.- for all those making the first step with the acute realization on looking in the mirror after 2 years' incessant consumption that the wrinkles got more pronounced, the teeth got more stained, Kudos. keep it up and remember baby steps and that it takes just one. :) :)

JAI HIND!

On this eve of Independence Day, I’m sitting in my room and reflecting on the past few months’ happenings. It is pretty clear for even one who is not in the know that Indians have had some pretty embarrassing news stories to their "credit", specially and most significantly this past year. With the inflation rate hitting the roof, women safety becoming a national and you-tube publicized issue etc etc etc, I have only ever heard fellow Indians in random discussions about the country express THEIR discontent, THEIR helplessness, THEIR anger. I wonder what has happened to their patriotic spirit. I really do and it upsets and worries me. It upsets me that we Indians are merely fair weather friends. We love our nation during world cup triumphs, during victories of international significance when our countrymen make the world sit up and take notice. But what happens to this sentiment when the country is in distress, when the world is judging us for each fault, each misstep. Why then, do we decide to side with the naysayers and consider ourselves socially involved in doing so. I have concluded that there is no time better than the present to declare to the world proudly that I LOVE MY NATION, LOVE IT WITH ITS IDIOSYNCRASIES, ITS CONTRASTS, ITS FILTH, ITS STENCH and YES EVEN WITH ITS BACKWARDNESS. I have decided to tell the world exactly why I love my country and what exactly I love about it.

As you read this, I’ll advice you to listen to Yeh jo desh hai tera swades hai tera- a patriotic song from a little gem of a movie by the name of SWADES directed by Ashutosh Gowrikar. The song gives me goosebumps everytime I hear it and the movie is in my opinion perhaps the bollywood movie which has best reflected our country in the past decade. The statement it makes is subtle but in no way quiet. It makes a point whether through the moral dilemma of its protagonist Mohan Bhargava or the various small characters that successfully bring the directors vision to light. The characters of the movie are as unassuming as the story itself. I love Gawrikar for the emotion behind it and for getting out of Sharukh Khan the most restrained and smart performance of his career.

And now for the I love India because…list

1)      I love that we Indians are known worldover for our familial bonds. I realize the intensity of this belief only when I go out of the country. Yes Indians’ love for their family may be convoluted on so many levels (Honour killing??). Our Indian telly shows highlight just as much. But it is reassuring. It is the knowledge when I travel to foreign lands that I may be far from home but never ever far from family. The concept of extended family, not the friends who are like family but the family connected by blood bonds spread all over the globe gives me the confidence to explore unchartered territories. Maybe this sense of duty is a forced one. But I do know that no friend has responded as fast to the call of distress as one aunt I’ve met just once in my life did after a particularly harrowing experience at the London Heathrow Airport.(She made the connection- Oh she's Sunil's daughter- remember Shanno Boju's sonilaw.) And this when she doesn’t even live in London but a county a few miles away. My heart beats for my father whenever I remember how he, on one particularly dreary evening in Wales, England refused a pub outing with his colleagues from the university and without even an ounce of hesitation declared to his professor- I’m sorry Mitch, I have to go back- My family is alone at home. Mitch, (bless him) had replied that it’s just a few drinks with friends- the family wont mind being without him for a few hours. But my father ever the loyal patriarch had then more assertively declared. No Mitch, I’m a family man, you young fellas go ahead. I remember that this was the moment when I realized that in addition to being MY father- he possessed the following qualities. He’s fiercely loyal, he values loyalty in others, he’s emotional, he wears his heart on his sleeve and expects the world to be just as transparent. He’s stubborn but steady. He’s stable and dependable. He is the quintessential Indian family man. My hero. And believe me contrary to the depressing picture painted by the media, magazines etc there are many many more like him in my incredible country. Yes there are horrors galore (just like everywhere in the world, perversity is not scarce) but there are examples just as substantial of those who put family above all other priorities. On my recent trip to NYC, I was met with on more than a few occasions with amused glances from strangers, people who told me quite frankly that they had never seen an Indian lady traveling alone in the city and then with a smirk and short laugh “Don’t Indians travel in hordes.” I had been unable to reply quite appropriately then and for whatever reason (that reason will be the subject of another post). I regret greatly not telling off the black tourist guide near the Empire State building who was more than a little friendly and had way to many opinions to share, opinions regarding MY nation lacking heavily in factual authenticity. (Pet peeve (major)- People who don’t know shit talking shit) I now want to express or perhaps its just my guilt raising its ugly head that I love US for traveling in groups resembling quite often a cozy wedding party. Its who we are. We do big, bold and out there better in my opinion than any other nation (Read: The Big Fat Indian Wedding- definitely not just an urban legend) We are crass more often than not, we are suckers and yes we are (lets just admit it however uncomfortable a truth it may be). I will never forget how insanely mad David Letterman’s ( who happens to be the most unfunny comic I have ever watched) question to international beauty queen  Aishwarya Rai about living with her inlaws after marriage and whether any funny business could really happen with the others’ in the other room made me. Aishwarya, in my opinion the worst and grossly unsuitable ambassador for the country had responded quite feebly and infact quite stupidly. But it irked me that HE judged Indians for living with their inlaws after marriage. And it irked me more that he considered his way, his view, the American family way to be superior.. It annoys me now that Letterman’s questions were met with applause and laughter from the studio audience. I wish I could have been next to Aishwarya then to shake her, to take her place and tell Letterman to just shove it, to put a sock in it. Pardon this random burst of irritation- It does however pave the path for my next point.

2)      I love how unashamedly emotional Indians are. We love our cricket, our movies to the point of fanaticism. It gets us in trouble more often than not. But it is a distinctively Indian feature. We take loyalty and fandom to the point of bestowing God-like status on mere mortals- case in point Indian cricketers and Bollywood movie stars or RAJNIKANTH. But it is just this spirit of crazy and extraordinary love that foreign movie stars visiting our country, foreign dignitaries and tourists in general respond to. Some may call it the highest degree of sucking-up. I call it the grandest declaration of love. Whichever way you’d like to see it determines YOUR patriotism. Yes, we tend to take the reverence to crippling heights when we provide undue patronage to US industry big wigs who are responsible for the misery of our own (read: the Bhopal Gas leak Disaster- the most significant incidence of government treachery and traitor-ism). But perhaps this is also what leads great writers etc to make the country their new home. It makes people like Gregory David Roberts pen the international bestseller Shantaram which can be best called an Ode to India’s underbelly or if you want to be nice and kind the bustling metropolis of Bombay. It makes international music artistes like Katy Perry get married to her lunatic comedian husband Russel Brand in our desert city of Rajasthan ( India witnessed celebrity behavior at its worst in an incidence of violent behavior shown by Brand towards some media persons).

3)       I wonder why these white skinned delicate beings from alien lands chose to even visit an incredibly hot tropical country like India, is it the lure of the presumed mysticism associated with India or are they like Roberts running away from prison hoping to remain hidden in the land of the lax laws. I’m evolved and aware enough to not hold on to any romantic notions of my nation. Lets call a spade a spade and admit that it’s a dirty, filthy, hot country with a lot left to be desired in terms of standard of living. But I don’t also belong to that group of people who enjoy a sense of passing intellectualism by berating the nation and ranting about its ills. Like my wise mother often states: Talk is cheap. I’d like to add, talk is easy as well- Just yesterday I was standing near the gates of my college (Symbiosis Law School, Pune) and saw for the nth time a water truck leaking water while men from the truck were assembling pipes. I had a close friend standing by me at the time who none too quietly "spoke out". God look at these people dude. I mean half the water goes in their lack of watchfulness. I mumbled something in agreement and then suddenly frustrated with my own inactive self went up to one of the truck men and said- Bhaiya, paani leak ho raha hai, aapko pata hai desh mein sukha pada hua hai, aap aisey paani ka nuksan kar rahe hain. Thoda soch samajh key kaam kariye na. I remember quite distinctly the amused glance the man in question had shot me followed by- Arey Madam aap apna kaam karo na, mujhe apna karney do. By that time a curious group of young adults had started ogling at the scene and struck by the hopelessness of the situation, I finally accepted defeat and left. But I left with a definite lighter load on my conscience. I realized that instead of lamenting, eloquently stating the deteriorating state of affairs, I'd finally graduated to vocalizing my angst, my views, my frustration. I’d stood up in the smallest of ways and taken action. Maybe it came to naught. But  my outburst did manage to grab a few eyeballs and if Id stood for longer maybe I would have even been able to touch a few souls. I gave up too easily and I’ll regret it for a long time hereinafter. But Im all the wiser for it. And next time, I know there will be louder words, sharper retorts and achievement of more effective action from the wrongdoers.

This leads me to the conclusion. This independence day, I plead to all those who claim to love their nation- to show it, to wear their love on their sleeve and proudly voice it. To accept the negative but never feel defeated. To crib and cry as apathy is worse than insensitivity but also inculcate national consciousness. And next time a on asking a bimbo: Toliya hai tumharey paas  and hearing her respond: OMG, who says toliya retort assertively. Wohi log jo takiya, palang, potty (not shit), bistar, etc bolte hain. U know Jo log Hindi mein vartalap kartey hain, you know jinhe apne desh key baarey mein 90210 and US state of California (LA etc) sey jaada paata hai. Jo apni matra bhasaha key shabdon ka uccharan garv sey kartey hain naaki mazaak sey. Jo apni jagrookta ki kami ko mazaak nahin sharm ka vishay samajhte hain. JAI HIND, VANDEY MATARAM. Today I pledge to defend my country’s honour each day everyday and as long as I call myself a healthy spirited part of it, today I pledge to silence the naysayers by the strength of my faith in my country and its people, today I pledge to speak in my mother tongue more than the language left behind by our colonial masters, to protect its integrity, its vocabulary, to learn to speak it right, better and practice writing it, Today I also pledge to inspire others with my bubbling passion and not let Hindi become a language we once learnt in school and never quite thought about after. I regret greatly the day I stopped reading Hindi Upanayas and more so the day I realized I lack speed when writing in Hindi. This shall change and hopefully one day so will the nation.As someone great somewhere has said- IT TAKES JUST ONE!