Bas Yu hi.....
Tuesday, 31 March 2020
Monday, 22 October 2018
The Old Order Falleth.....
I find myself making more and more condolence calls these days. What's gone wrong, I wonder. Then, I realize and though it's as clear as daylight, it hits hard.
I now lie in the demography where parents are getting old. The waves of time are crashing at the shores of life and chipping away at its fragile walls. A friend's Mom passed away due to cancer. Another friend's Dad submitted to heart attack. An aunt was taken away on account of an illness.
Well, illnesses are just an excuse. The real killer is time. Those sentinels of my childhood, who once looked sturdy and invincible, aren't able to contain the vagaries of time.
These seniors have all touched my life at some point or the other. A friend's Mom was an integral part of school lunch hour with the delicious pickles she packed. Another friend's Mom welcomed us with mouth- watering goodies whenever we visited them. An Uncle dabbled in homeopathy and dispensed neat little packets of pills for our common complaints. Another maintained a lovely garden and would share fruits of his labor with us. Someone sang very well and played dholak at every gathering. Another neighborhood Auntie had us in splits with her dance moves. A friend's father was strict and told us off if we were too loud and in turn made us burst into suppressed giggles.
Well, illnesses are just an excuse. The real killer is time. Those sentinels of my childhood, who once looked sturdy and invincible, aren't able to contain the vagaries of time.
These seniors have all touched my life at some point or the other. A friend's Mom was an integral part of school lunch hour with the delicious pickles she packed. Another friend's Mom welcomed us with mouth- watering goodies whenever we visited them. An Uncle dabbled in homeopathy and dispensed neat little packets of pills for our common complaints. Another maintained a lovely garden and would share fruits of his labor with us. Someone sang very well and played dholak at every gathering. Another neighborhood Auntie had us in splits with her dance moves. A friend's father was strict and told us off if we were too loud and in turn made us burst into suppressed giggles.
They all are wafts and weaves that make the rich tapestry of childhood memories. From seeing them regularly during childhood, to meeting them when they visit their married kids during adulthood, their presence is always reassuring and full of warmth. They bring back a whiff of old days. They give a feeling of wellness and completeness. As if 'All is Well' with the world.
Now, whenever I get news of anybody's parent passing away, I realize with great sadness, that time is indeed fleeting and life is just a bubble which can burst anytime. It gives a new perspective on time. So whenever I meet a senior citizen, be it a relative or friends' parents, I like to chat with them and hear their stories. Like it or not, our days with our seniors are limited and we should make the most of them.
Make memories, get kids to spend as much time with them as possible, take a ton of pictures, learn life's lessons, hear their stories from days of yore, sit with them, talk to them, make them laugh, share our favorite memories of them, pamper them.
Because soon, the wheels of time will turn again, and this time, they might not be around to share our victories and joys or soothe us with their words of wisdom, nor to bless us with all their heart or to complain with all their might. They will not grace our lives anymore. And that will be a deep, deep loss.
Saturday, 24 March 2018
Wait Till You've Been Auntied!
There's always a first for
everything. Some firsts are good, others not so much. In this particular
instance, it's absolute fun when it happens to others, but when you're the
victim, God be merciful!
The first time you get
addressed as an 'Auntie' or 'Uncle', you just go berserk or "off your
lemon", as Bertram Wooster would have put it. "What do they
think, those youngsters, so full of themselves? Do they feel, I'm past my prime
while they're still wet behind their ears, those young rascals?",
you silently fume.
As there's no handbook to
address people who aren't related to you, the monikers of 'Auntie' and 'Uncle'
jump right in to fill in the gap. It's a very Indian urge to show respect
towards people who are older than you and do so with a personal touch. So,
while addressing elders by name is considered outrightly disrespectful,
addressing them as Mr. or Mrs. XYZ wouldn't be as personal. 'Auntie' and
'Uncle' contain just the right amount of respect with that dash of closeness.
Time was when, for womenfolk, marriage held the key to those dreaded but assured gates to Auntiedom. As soon as one got married, draped a saree and put on sindoor, it guaranteed one's graduation from Didi to Auntie.
With changing times,
sartorial preferences changed dramatically. Saree gave way
to salwar kurta and western outfits. One couldn't determine
the marital status of a lady by her outfit or accessories anymore. This added
confusion to the already simmering brew of uncertainty.
Well, this trauma can befall anyone after a certain age. Your neighborhood kid, in all her innocence, perceives a big enough age gap and decides to bestow you with a polite 'Auntie' or 'Uncle', when you've only started college. "What!! I'm not even married!", you say. But is that or should that be a criteria? What if you don't get married at all? Will it save you from being Auntied?
It hurts the first time
when you hear tiny tots referring to you as Auntie. Then with years, the blow
softens. After you have kids, you wear the nomenclature almost like your second
skin. When you have accepted this reality, comes the second deadlier blow.
Suddenly, out of the blue, 20 somethings start calling you Auntie!
When I started getting
Auntied by 20 somethings, I realized how Westerners would have felt when their
jobs were Bangalored. Totally incredulous. Could this really be happening?
Realization of a bitter truth followed by a determination to play the game harder
(and strive to look, dress and talk younger in this case). Then finally, a
resignation to fate and a grudging acceptance of the inevitable!
So what should the criteria
be, I wonder. Age? Looks? Marital status? After giving a lot of thought
to the subject, I've devised my own thumb rule. If a person looks my parents'
age, I use Auntie or Uncle. Otherwise, I stick to Didi/Bhaiyya or go by their
preference.
Youngsters, be kind when addressing people just a few years older than you. When in doubt, use Didi/Bhaiyya or even a name, maybe with a ji, if you can't resist the urge to be respectful. Trust me, you will get the most grateful looks and will be blessed enough to achieve your next big start-up or foreign vacation dream.
For all those who have Auntied
me irresponsibly over the years, have
either forgotten the laws of karma or the power of lists.
But karma does work (and so do lists, if you do them right).
In addition, what goes around, comes around. Now that I have a sweet little
weapon to unleash, I have decided to go a-visiting everyone from that
list.
I'll be there to record your memorable moment when my seven-year old innocently asks 'Auntie, can I please have a cookie?" Your look will change from utter confusion to pure disgust to mortal horror, faster than a chameleon changes color. You'll whimper, "What! Me...an Auntie!!!?? You can have all the cookies in the world but only if you don’t call me Auntie!" At that point, you might catch me smiling a smug smile, like the cat who has just licked the creamiest of milk.Yeah, the revenge sounds utterly satisfying.
Now, did you just hear a knock at your door?
Thursday, 31 August 2017
India Shining?
India Shining - proclaims a poster from a wall of a government office. "From all the spit that has glazed our beloved motherland?" I wonder. We consider it our birthright to spit as and where we please.
All public places, especially walls and staircase landings, are a testimony to this obsession. This national habit makes me recoil in horror. There is hardly anything one can do, other than scurry away as fast as possible, in those precious two seconds, when the spitter is gathering supplies from the depths of his soul and is ready to slaver the world in all its slimy ugliness.
As I step out of my house, I keep my fingers crossed lest I encounter this spitting specimen. But it's as wishful a thinking, as my hope to travel to outer space or win a billion dollars in lottery one day. The more wary I get, the more spitters I witness. It seems that they do it on purpose. They seek me out and spit just when I cross them. I look away from one, only to witness someone else indulging in the act. No escape! "Keep calm! Glue your eyes to the ground." I say to myself. It's no better this way as I try to navigate through a veritable spit mine. The road is peppered with blobs of same stuff in various colors, shapes and vintages. Ugh!
God forbid if you are a pedestrian or riding a two-wheeler and you happen to be in the trajectory of a bus passenger's liquid missile. As with hierarchies in general, it's better to be high in the hierarchy of vehicles, to avoid being a victim.
How do people generate such copious amounts of spit? The answer lies in incessant chewing of paan, gutkha and supari. This chewing gets addictive as most gutkhas or suparis are laced with tobacco. A househeld help told me the reason she got into the habit. She had to get up early in mornings to reach work. With no time to have her own breakfast, she used to suppress hunger by chewing supari. In no time, she got addicted.
We are mistaken if we think that only the economically poor strata of society is afflicted with this habit. The sight of car passengers rolling down their windows to get rid of their possessions isn't uncommon.
While taking morning walks in my apartment complex, I used to meet a well-to-do senior citizen on a regular basis. One fine day when I turned a corner, I spotted him getting rid of his spittle. He was least apologetic about it. "And there goes away my magical morning!" I mourned. I definitely couldn't preach him but gave him the most dignified disgusting look and hoped he got the message. The next day at my walk, I expected him to have learnt his lesson. Sadly, he remained as merry a spitter as ever.
If a Rupee were fined for every time a person spit in public places, it would fill the coffers of our government. Or if spitting was an Olympic sport, we would sweep the dais, winning all medals in all possible categories. But alas, spitting doesn't do any such wonders for us, other than spreading unhygienic conditions and making us look like an uncouth country. If we don't ditch the habit, we will probably soon earn a slogan of "India Spitting"!
PS: This piece was published in Open-Ed section of The Hindu on 27th August, 2017.
http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/open-page/spitters-galore-without-a-care/article19565992.ece
As I step out of my house, I keep my fingers crossed lest I encounter this spitting specimen. But it's as wishful a thinking, as my hope to travel to outer space or win a billion dollars in lottery one day. The more wary I get, the more spitters I witness. It seems that they do it on purpose. They seek me out and spit just when I cross them. I look away from one, only to witness someone else indulging in the act. No escape! "Keep calm! Glue your eyes to the ground." I say to myself. It's no better this way as I try to navigate through a veritable spit mine. The road is peppered with blobs of same stuff in various colors, shapes and vintages. Ugh!
God forbid if you are a pedestrian or riding a two-wheeler and you happen to be in the trajectory of a bus passenger's liquid missile. As with hierarchies in general, it's better to be high in the hierarchy of vehicles, to avoid being a victim.
How do people generate such copious amounts of spit? The answer lies in incessant chewing of paan, gutkha and supari. This chewing gets addictive as most gutkhas or suparis are laced with tobacco. A househeld help told me the reason she got into the habit. She had to get up early in mornings to reach work. With no time to have her own breakfast, she used to suppress hunger by chewing supari. In no time, she got addicted.
We are mistaken if we think that only the economically poor strata of society is afflicted with this habit. The sight of car passengers rolling down their windows to get rid of their possessions isn't uncommon.
While taking morning walks in my apartment complex, I used to meet a well-to-do senior citizen on a regular basis. One fine day when I turned a corner, I spotted him getting rid of his spittle. He was least apologetic about it. "And there goes away my magical morning!" I mourned. I definitely couldn't preach him but gave him the most dignified disgusting look and hoped he got the message. The next day at my walk, I expected him to have learnt his lesson. Sadly, he remained as merry a spitter as ever.
If a Rupee were fined for every time a person spit in public places, it would fill the coffers of our government. Or if spitting was an Olympic sport, we would sweep the dais, winning all medals in all possible categories. But alas, spitting doesn't do any such wonders for us, other than spreading unhygienic conditions and making us look like an uncouth country. If we don't ditch the habit, we will probably soon earn a slogan of "India Spitting"!
PS: This piece was published in Open-Ed section of The Hindu on 27th August, 2017.
http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/open-page/spitters-galore-without-a-care/article19565992.ece
Tuesday, 4 July 2017
What I learnt from a burglary at my place
You read about it all the time. You know it can happen, but when it actually happens to you, you can't help feeling shocked and cheated. So one fine afternoon, when we discovered that our house was broken in and all our electronics were gone, we were overwhelmed. Right from dialing 911, to finding out what to do after a burglary, it was a learning experience. So I did what I do best (or so I think); compile a list of dos and dont's:
Things to do before a burglary.......that means right now!
1. If you've got gold or silver, get a locker.
2. Have a home owners or renters insurance. Choose a plan that is suitable for your valuables. Look at the premium and deductibles. A combined plan for your home and car is better than separate insurances.
3. Note the serial number of all your devices. Enable the location finder in your devices.
4. Take pictures of all your valuables (including jewelry, expensive watches, sunglasses, handbags, shoes etc.) and store on cloud and mail a copy to your mail accounts and also to a trusted source. Same goes for receipts. This will help in insurance claims.
5. Consider putting up an alarm or buying a safe.
6. Do not decorate your house from outside in a way that makes you stand out. For e.g. No bandanwaars or rangolis outside the front yard.
7. Be extra careful during vacation and Diwali time. Definitely put your stuff in locker soon after use.
8. If you want to deck up in gold jewelry for a party, consider carrying it in a purse and wearing once near the venue. Walking out of the house all decked up might make you stand out.
9. Post a 'beware of dog' or a security agency sticker on your front door to deter potential burglars.
10. Don't leave your valuables visible from windows.
11. Don't keep all documentation at one place. For E.g. keep your ssn at a different place than the passport.
12. Set up a verbal password for your id. At DMV, you can set up a question which pops up every time you are asked to show your id. It has to be answered verbally.
13. Set up passwords for all your devices.
14. If you go on a vacation, ask your friends to check on your house frequently.
After the burglary...hope you don't have to...:
1.If in trouble, call 911 immediately. Accept help from friends and be grateful for their presence and concern.
2. In case your credit cards are missing, cancel them. Get in touch with your bank and let them know of the loss.
3. If your devices are stolen, change passwords for all possible sites. Also, track your devices for any clues. Report them to the police.
4. Make a list of all valuable things that are missing. Get it into the police report.
5. Check your locks and keys including car keys. If any are missing, get the locks changed.
6. Get in touch with insurance, armed with your police report and list of missing things.
7. If it can happen to someone else, it can happen to you.Everything in the world is transient. Remember? "Jo aaj tumhara hai, kal kisi aur ka hoga.... " Be happy for the good times that you had together with your stuff.
8. Don't buy more than you need. Enjoy the stuff that you have.
9. Move on. Life is made of experiences, both good and bad. Take it in your stride. One day, you'll be telling tales about it!
Tuesday, 14 March 2017
Men's Equality, Anyone?
There is a huge conspiracy going around for quite sometime, in fact since the dawn of civilisation. If you are amongst the fairer sex, you must have been one of the victims. Surprisingly, there is no major movement around the phenomenon. The reason might be a lack of proper nomenclature for the movement. Shall we call it "Men's Equality'?
The truth is, men don’t want to be equal. Their version of equality reeks of "All animals are equal but some animals are more equal than others." No wonder, there's a lot of noise around women’s equality but hardly any discussion about equal opportunities for men.
On this women's day, let's talk about equality for men. Yes, you heard it right! Equality for men at hearth and home. Why should men be deprived of working for the well-being of home, sweet home, at a more hands-on level? Why should a woman be expected to take charge of her household soon after coming back from work while a man can unfold a newspaper, flip a remote and reincarnate into a couch potato? Why should recipes, child-rearing, entertaining, home beautification write-ups be forte of women's magazines, while gadgets, latest tech, sports, outdoors etc. be that of men's?
While growing up, I used to wonder why women’s issues were such a big thing. I never thought of people in terms of gender, only in terms of human beings. But with time, the bitter reality of an unequal world became apparent. Women work harder but are still underprivileged and underpaid. According to different studies across geographies, it has been proved time and time again that women work more number of hours than men for household issues. Even for women who work outside home, responsibilities of a household aren't shared equally. So while women have learnt to walk shoulder to shoulder with men, men haven't been able to keep pace.
It's time to rectify that. Men of the world, here's your turn to tighten your seat belts and seek equality. Rise to the occasion and be ready to take up the reins of a household with zest. Upgrade your skills, go to classrooms - virtual or otherwise, find a mentor and create a support group. Do whatever it takes but prove that you are up to the challenge.
Ladies of the world, are you ready to work for the cause of men's equality? For, I've a gnawing doubt, that men might not be very enthusiastic about claiming their share of equality. They are sure to come up with lame excuses like – we aren't good at it, we are wired differently and women are good at multi-tasking, so let them juggle everything like a multi-limbed Hindu Goddess.
Take heart, gentlemen. With practice and patience, you can be Godlike too. No woman was born with skills to cook, clean and rear kids. She learnt it in this lifetime and so can you. We are of course ready to lend you a helping hand, walk you through the ropes, and cheer for you. It's time to rewrite the law and make everyone equally equal in this human farm, nothing more, nothing less!
This write-up was published in 'Right in the Middle' section of Deccan Herald on 9th March, 2017.
Monday, 14 November 2016
Bonding over Outages
As power outages used to give us an opportunity to bond with our neighbors, internet outages give us an opportunity to bond with our own family members.
In my childhood days, long before power backed-up apartment living, we used to face power outages frequently. These would be spurred by rains or simply by state ordained power savings. A cry of "Arre, bijli chali gayi..." would bring our lives to a temporary standstill while someone scurried for laalten or candle and someone else would grope in dark for torch or matchsticks. We kids would be overjoyed for getting a genuine excuse not to study and
secretly hoped the outage to last at least till our bedtime.
Sometimes we continued working in candle light. But soon enough, it would be time to go on terrace. Our neighbors would have also gathered on their terraces and gossip sessions ensued. We kids played hide and seek or ghost and watched stars. We looked for Dhruv taara and Saptarshi and tried to guess different star signs. Some astronomer types would tell us about Venus or Mars and we would nod along appreciatively. If we got lucky, we would also spot a shooting star. The world looked so different bathed in a veil of darkness. Soon, we got acquainted with that scary shadow and figured out it was nothing but a branch of our own mango tree. It looked so innocuous in daylight but nights gave it a menacing look. Sometimes, we spotted jugnus. It was magical to see them. They looked like tiny lanterns, flickering messages in a secret language. Frogs,crickets and other creatures lent their music to chords of night. The world seemed a bit more primal and interesting without electricity and for that brief while, we felt one with nature. Jokes, stories and small talk with neighbors gave a nice touch to the whole experience. It was with a twinge of regret and grudge that we accepted electricity back intoour lives. It was difficult to transition from the world of nature to the world of electricity, so to say.
Only when TV invaded our lives, did those power cuts start to pinch a little. We hoped with all our little hearts, that there would be no power cuts between 8:00 and 8:30 pm on Wednesdays and Fridays, as we waited for our precious Chitrahaar. And please, oh
please, have mercy, we prayed to higher powers, that there would be no power cuts between 9 am and 12 pm on Sunday mornings, otherwise we would miss our He-Man, Disney and Rajani.
The other night, I and my husband were predictably sitting with our respective devices, engrossed in our own digital worlds. Our 6 year old daughter was reading a book. Suddenly, my husband appeared from his trance and came to play with our daughter. He had already spent an hour playing with her a while back and I looked quizzically at him. "The Internet is off and I don't know what else to do!" he said answering my look. Ah! The mystery was solved. Since I was also trying to load a couple of pages, albeit unsuccessfully, I joined in their game. Suddenly, internet outage had made us bond for that hour. We played a board game, laughed and had fun. And I secretly hoped that the internet wouldn't revive for a while!
PS: This write-up was published in the 'Right in the Middle' section of Deccan Herald, 11th November 2016.
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