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

Look, Who Read My Blog!

In my last post, I was cribbing how nobody reads and comments on my blog posts and is it worth writing a blog when nobody does so. Little did I know that my blog was soon  to be read and judged by none other than Bachi Karkaria - a renowned journalist, author and a former editor of Times of India (TOI). Not just read, but also liked enough for me to be selected for Times Passion Creative Writing Trail.

The Times of India, which is a highly renowned newspaper in India, had come up with a very interesting concept. It had conceived of various Passion Trails - travel itineraries with a small group of like minded people, led by a trail architect who was an expert in that area.  The themes of these Trails ranged from tracking footsteps of snow leopards in Ladakh to sampling street food in a particular region, from temple photography in South India to culture and heritage trail in a certain state. 

First evening in Mumbai with Bachi, Shaili and fellow participants

I was  quite proud to be a part of the Creative Writing Trail because participants were selected from a host of applicants from all over India. From the moment I set my eyes on the ad for the Creative Writing Trail, I knew that I was meant to be a part of it - ki jaise isko banaya gaya hai mere liye! 

Since my little one had come in my life, I was notorious for not reading newspapers on time. I also didn't want to dispose off the newspapers without reading them first, so I had stacks of them stored everywhere. Whenever I found few precious minutes, I would pull a random paper and devour it! So the fact that I read the newspaper 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 website and registered myself I time. I also managed to fill up  convincing answers to questions like "Who is your favorite author and book?" and "Why should you be selected to be a part of the trail?". Trust me, this was a big achievement in itself because chores of life, have a knack of burying all other stuff in deep recesses of Neverland. The fact that I did everything in time plus my 4 blogs and a few published 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 40 k for participation, but even the Marwaran in me was convinced that it was worth the experience. After all, I was going to have a session with Javed Akhtar, that stalwart of Hindi film industry, who has given us movies like 'Sholay' and ' Deewar' and countless memorable songs. Apart from him, there was an interesting mix of famous wordsmiths 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.

A literary session with Javed Saab at JW Marriott, Mumbai. What an afternoon!!!

Stories from the Trail will lend themselves to another narrative. What I wanted to express in this post is how my belief got reinforced - the belief that no endeavor in life gets wasted. My blogs and middles took me to the Trail. I had a body of work that spoke to someone. My writing mattered. 

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 and happy blogging :)

No comments!

Have you ever been to a drought affected place where people have been waiting for rains - their expectant eyes scouring the sky for a hint of a cloud? Day after day, they long for a drop but have to go back with zilch, nothing, nada. Have you ever felt that thirst? Chances are, you haven't. Okay, let me give you another scenario. Imagine posting a message or a picture on Facebook and not getting a single 'like' or comment. Rings a bell? This is how I feel when I send a link of my blog post to people and they don't leave any comment. I call it a 'blogger's nightmare'....no comments on her blog!

It's not that people don't read. Those faithful family members and friends do plough through my writings once in a while. They even like it at times and tell me in person or over mail that they read and liked the post. But why, oh why, doesn't anybody ever leave a comment on the blog??? Even the most vocal and verbose people turn silent when confronted with this question. After giving a lot of thought to the matter, I think I might have found some answers.

Maybe it's the content. It's not interesting enough to elicit a comment. The post should be so wow that people can't help but comment on it.

Maybe it's the audience. I am not being able to reach the right audience who would like to read the topics I touch on. 

Maybe, it's the frequency. I am not posting regularly enough to maintain an audience.

In wise words of Chatur from '3 idiots' - 'Hota sabke paas hai, par deta koi nahi'

I have been compiling reasons of koi deta kyu nahi!! Here they are:

I was about to comment on your blog, but:

- My baby woke up

- My English is not good enough. I was scared of making mistakes

- Your write-up was so good, I wanted to write a well thought-out comment( Someone actually said that!)

- I am plain lazy

- I can't find time

Trust me, I even asked my brother to gift only a comment as a Rakhi gift, but he didn't oblige.

My husband says that if  he comments, it would look staged. (We both know he is making an excuse!)

My sis-in-law politely excused herself saying that she has a policy of not reading blogs. 

My other sis-in-law actually sat down once to write a comment but at that opportune moment, her doorbell rang. The moment passed and never came back again!

My 'working' friends say that they hardly get time to read anything - forget my blogs!

My 'non-working' friends say that they hardly get time to log in. 

But they all agree that I should keep up the 'good work'. 

How to find an interested audience? In the virtual space with millions of choices, it's really a miracle that somebody even visits your blog. Yet, that miracle does pan out for so many star bloggers. If I want to be in the same league, I will have to concentrate on content and its frequency. I do  hope to get a willing audience. If not, my blogs will serve as a personal journal and fulfil my urge to be creative every now and then.

Let's see what 2015 has in store!

PS: No prizes for guessing that even this piece didn't fetch any comments!!!

Mera wala blue in the waters of Maldives

The zillion shades of water is indeed mind boggling and hypnotising. I had to renew my vocabulary on the color blue after visiting Maldives.

The water is enchantingly beautiful, to say the least. It is turquoise, cerulean, jade.....but whatever the color, it is always warm and oh-so-inviting. The shallower parts are crystal clear. I just couldn't get enough of it. I could gaze at it for hours, wonder about its beauty, sigh and gaze some more. And when I thought that was it, I could go underwater and get transported to another magical world.

You can gaze and watch the play of light on different depths. In a while, you are able to spot the shallow area with coral reefs.

The aerial view of islands is breathtaking. It looks as if one day when God wanted to paint, the color blue caught his fancy. He dipped his brush in a palette and casually splattered the colour on canvas which happened to be Indian Ocean. Those dabs of color fell down in the form of little atolls. Dabs of ink

Cyan

Turquoise

Jade

Cerulean

Teal

Azure

Sapphire

Cobalt

You can take your picture to Asian paints to get mera wala blue....

Maldivian blues: And then this is the shade of your mood when you come back from your Maldivian holiday....specially if you missed going on a whale shark safari :(

I did go to a coral reef viewing cruise and snorkeled at the nearby beach every day but that was not enough! 

Old reads revisited - Rebecca & Talented Mr. Ripley

When you start rereading books, is it a sign that you are getting old? I recently dug out two books which I had enjoyed during my college days. I was curious to know if they evoked the same reaction after a gap of these many years.

The first one I read was 'Rebecca'. Manderley was majestic and so was the story. Even after knowing that Rebecca was murdered by her own husband, my sympathies were with Maxim and his new wife. I personally felt cheated when Manderley was set on fire towards the end of the story. The new Mrs. & Mr. de Winter deserved peaceful and beautiful days in Manderley. I wonder if a sequel was written and if Manderley was restored to its former glory. I wish it was. 

Going back to the plot, there was a huge suspense around the hearing after the discovery of boat near the beach. All the fragments of the story fitted together. At the end, there weren't any questions, only regret.

On the other hand, I was far less impressed by 'The Talented Mr. Ripley' this time around. I felt there were gaping holes in the plot.

One, didn't the boat owner in San Remo report the matter to local police and wasn't a hunt launched for two guys who had hired the boat and gone missing?

Two, how could Marge accept whatever was dished out to her? Why didn't she try to contact Dickie personally even once while he was in Rome? She evidently had a deeper relationship with him and she would have known him better.

Three, after Freddie's murder, wasn't the landlady questioned? Later, when the case was in newspapers, didn't she see a different picture of Dickie in the paper? Same for all the hotel staff in Rome and Palermo? Couldn't one person recognise that the picture of Dickie Green-leaf did not match with the guy who lived there?

Fourth, why did Marge suddenly turn friendly towards Tom in Venice, specially after he stood her up at Rome?

Fifth, why did Dickie's father turn friendly towards Ripley? Why didn't he question the will?

Sixth, this is not a loophole in the plot. I just have been brought up on a diet of 'triumph of good over evil'. When you see evil winning, your whole conviction takes a thrashing. 

Interestingly, I wanted the de Winters to enjoy their well deserved wealth, which they could not. And I grudged Mr. Ripley his ill-gotten wealth which he, unfortunately, got to enjoy. That's how life is!

Verdict: I came out equally impressed with Rebecca as I was the first time but Mr. Ripley disappointed.

To Click or not to Click

It being the season of annual functions at schools, the air is thick with discussions around the same. In one such conversation, I heard a parent talk about schools’ policy of 'No photography or videography by parents '. While everybody was discussing the merits and demerits, I got reminded of an incident which made me agree with the schools’ stand. 

My husband and I were visiting Italy. The day on which we landed in Vatican City, happened to be an auspicious day in the Catholic calendar. We were thrilled to know that Pope was scheduled to address a gathering in St. Peter's Square.  Incidentally, it was my first outing with a new camcorder. Those were the days when handy cams were very new to the world. No doubt, I was very excited by the prospect of capturing Pope on my handy cam. My husband was equally cynical. "What is the point of capturing him on reel when you can see him for real? Why see him through a lens when given the excellent opportunity to see him face to face?" His logic was impeccable but being an eager novice, I did not want to let go of this golden opportunity. I needed a proof to show my folks back home!

We had reached the Square quite in time and found strategic positions to stand. It was drizzling but the crowd was still huge. Soon enough, we saw a cavalcade of cars and horses. The Pope came in his famous Popemobile. Though frail, he was standing and waving at the cheering crowd. I, in my nervous excitement, pointed the camcorder towards him. Torn between the wish to capture him in my mind's eye and the camera's eye, I tried to do both. After I got a glimpse of him, I tried to position the video camera. But in that nanosecond, his cavalcade turned to proceed to the dais. Cameras clicked and camcorders buzzed while my husband savoured the moment unencumbered with technology. We felt very lucky to be in Pope's presence albeit for a few moments. It was some divine guidance that had led us to Vatican City on that particular day and we thanked our stars for that.

Though I claimed to have seen the Pope, my husband teased me no end about fiddling with camcorder when the pontiff was right in front of me. I defended myself saying that I had captured the moment for eternity. You can imagine my shock when upon playing the cassette, all I could see was the overcast sky, tops of people's heads and a few failed attempts to focus on the Pope! That hazy memory and the still hazier film became fond mementos of my brief tryst with the Pope. 

The incident was a lesson for me to be more judicious with technology. Theoretically, I believe that a performance should be watched without worrying about capturing it. However, this learning will be put to real test when I attend my daughter’s first ever annual function next week!

PS: This write up was published in Deccan Herald's 'Right in the Middle' section on 20th March 2014:)

http://m.deccanherald.com/content/393176/reel-real.html/?secid=12914

Way to Party

Had I received an invite to Michelle Obama's 50th, I would have been quite happy with the 'Snacks & Sips & Dancing & Dessert' format. I always wonder why parties are mostly about food. There should be fun and games and lots of laughter. Food should be a sidekick and not the hero. But not many share my perception. Whenever it's a birthday, the first question that friends pop is "Where are you taking us for a treat?" Nobody asks where are we going for fun. Looks like food is the idea of fun for majority. I like good food but is this the only way to celebrate? I beg to differ. Thanks to Mrs. Obama, I get the courage to come out in the open. 

The thing is, I get into a huge dilemma at parties. I am a slow but an enthusiastic eater. At the same time, I love to socialize. But I am not able to do justice to both endeavors simultaneously. Juggling between commenting when the mouth is free and listening when the mouth is full is quite an art which I haven't mastered yet. It's like facial acrobatics. So I go around meeting people unburdened with a plate. Others, however, don't lose much time in starting their food odyssey. This makes me a late starter. By the time, I finish soup and starter, people are moving on to dessert. While I am still ploughing through my main course, people are already passing their verdict on dessert. As they put away their plates, they go past me whispering conspirationally 'Don't miss gulabjamuns. They are divine but getting scarce.' That stops me dead in my grind. Now I have to rush to gulabjamuns and make way for them in my plate which is already weighing under main course and....yeah, a third helping of gobi manchurian. So like a sangam, I have a triveni of starter, main course and dessert in my plate. Now I get a little sheepish and don't want to be seen as a greedy pig. I skulk in a corner and try to finish the damned fare, divine gulabjamuns and all. By the time I finish, the caterers are folding their linen and guests have started leaving. So much for my socializing hopes! 

The issue gets further accentuated at weddings. In big fat Indian weddings, there are so many dishes that I come back feeling bloated and defeated. Tummy space is at a premium and should not be filled with plebeian noodles but devoted to exotic walnut halwa. Did I use the space judiciously, is my perpetual worry. My request to hosts is that instead of serving so much food on one single evening, they sponsor one dish every day of the month or two dishes for a fortnight for me - the choice is theirs. I am quite an adjusting person really. 

So if I were at Mrs. Obama's party, I could have easily danced and socialized without worrying about "Have I taken enough helpings of that heavenly starter so as not to regret later?" Her party would be more about fun and less about food. I wouldn’t have to rack my brains on what to eat and what to give a miss. And I could eat more of less - I hope there would have been no limits on number of servings? More helpings of limited starters and desserts, that would have been my strategy. Was that allowed, Mrs. Obama? 

My only grudge to an otherwise perfect invite is 'Eat before you come' part. It sounded rather matronly. Agreed she's mom-in-chief but the guests coming over weren’t exactly kids. I was planning to eat just enough so that my tummy wouldn’t have grumbled when I wished Mrs. Obama happy 50th. 

As for a party favor, gift vouchers for a Michelin starred restaurant wouldn't have been amiss!

PS: This piece was published in Deccan Herald 'Right in the Middle' section. 

http://m.deccanherald.com/content/387668/way-party.html/?secid=12914

PPS: Wondering how to celebrate the published piece :)