Saturday, 16 May 2015

Why grandparents aren't allowed to live in apartments

Recently, my parents talked about shifting to an apartment from their independent house and my heart missed a beat. It wasn’t just because of memories associated with the house. It was also for the fact that my 4 year old daughter would not be able to experience life in an independent house. We live in an apartment. My parents-in-law recently shifted from a house with large outdoors to an apartment.  There is something about an independent house which an apartment lacks. Maybe character? Where and how would my daughter experience the joys of an independent house? Besides, grandparents living in an apartment just doesn't sound right!!

When I was her age, I spent my summer vacations at my maternal grandparents’ sprawling house. It was a labyrynthine haveli with rooms that had exotic sounding names like ‘baradari’, ‘chaubara’, ‘tibari’, ‘jharokha’ and ‘darikhana’. A gala time awaited us from the moment we disembarked from rickshaw. Right from playing with cousins in different rooms and rooftops of the haveli to sleeping on terrace at night, I relished every moment of my stay. The haveli was said to be 150 years old and had fascinating stories about tunnels, ghosts, hidden treasures and bygone luxuries, which kept us suitably mystified through long summer days and provided grist to our gossip mill in nights. The house was so big that it was an ordeal in itself to find and collect us all during meal times.

Visits to my paternal grandparents’ place were a memorable experience of a different nature. It was a small town and the house was rustic where floors needed a cow dung and mud plaster every 15 days. A couple of rooms were dedicated to storing hay. In summers, cart loads of mangoes would land in those haystacks. Imagine eating bucketful of mangoes for breakfast and competing with cousins to throw mango pits the farthest. We kids had a fantastic time. Then there was a well in our compound and it fascinated me no end. I loved the sound of pail going splash when it hit the surface, the glug it made when tilted and the rush of water once it started filling. Pulling up the heavy bucket was hard work and a cousin was always around to give my little hands a helpful tug. The water was incredibly cool and refreshing. A couple of turtles called the well their home and it was an added bonus to spot them. Here again, the days were spent playing both indoor and outdoor games with cousins and neighbors or reading comics. The highlight of the trip for me, however, was a visit to our fields. Mango laden trees, a ride in a bullock cart, a shower at tube well, a picnic in picturesque fields, were all a treat to the senses.


My parents’ current house, though very pretty, is not that exotic and neither is it full of cousins for my daughter. In fact, she is the only kid around when she visits them. Large families gone, large houses are bound to follow suit. Why am I so hung up on a big, independent house then? Some contemplation led to enlightenment. A large, independent house is the last vestige of that joie de vivre which was a hallmark of joint families. I miss that feeling of being in a joint family, albeit for vacations and knowing that those times are not going to come back, I think I am just stuck on the symbolism!

This post was published in 'Right in the middle' section of Deccan Herald.

http://www.deccanherald.com/content/544004/grand-old-symbol.html

Friday, 15 May 2015

Look, who read my blog!

In my last post, I was cribbing that nobody reads and comments on my blog. Little did I know that my blog was soon  to be read and judged by none other than Bachi Karkaria, a renowned journalist, former editor of TOI (Times of India) and an author. Not just read, but also liked enough to select its writer for Times Passion Creative Writing Trail.


First evening with wordsmiths, Bachi and Shaili
I was  quite proud to be a part of this trail because participants were selected from a host of applicants from all over India- around 4000 is what I gathered. From the moment I set my eyes on the ad, I somehow felt that I was meant to be a part of this trail.....ki jaise isko banaya gaya hai mere liye..... I am notorious for not reading newspapers on time. So the fact that I read the paper in the same year, (not to say anything of the same month) and saw this ad in time, was a big sign in itself. Then I remembered to visit the passion trails site from time to time, registered myself and managed to fill up answers to questions like "who is your favorite author and book" and " why should you be selected to be a part of the trail" convincingly. Trust me, this was a big achievement because chores of life, with their mundaneness, have a knack of burying all such stuff in deep recesses of Neverland. The fact that I did everything in time played in my favor plus my 4 blogs and a few middles gave me some dough to display.

I was on cloud nine when I got a mail from TOI announcing my selection. True, I had to spend 30 odd thousand plus airfare to Mumbai, but even the Marwaran in me was convinced that it was worth the experience. After all, I was going to meet Javed Akhtar, that stalwart of Hindi film industry, whom I have listened to countless number of times and admired a lot. Apart from him, there was an interesting mix of people related to the craft of writing like Amish Tripathi, Swanand Kirkire, Shaili Chopra, Vinay Shukla, Agnello Dias and of course Bachi, who was the trail architect and was to stay with us throughout the trail.

Stories from the trail will lend themselves to another narrative. What I wanted to express in this post is how my belief got reinforced. My belief that no action in life goes waste. My blogs and middles took me to the trail. The trail has already made precious memories and lovely friends. Who knows where all will it take me from here.Cheers to future literary journeys!


Last afternoon of the trail with Javed Saab. What an afternoon!!!