The Homecoming...

I had started looking forward to coming back. “Home, sweet home” I longed; and yet, every homecoming, here or there, is full of such mixed emotions. I wondered this morning, as I landed at the airport, why did I not feel that gravitational pull here? Was I tired? Was I sleepy? Was I really not looking forward to a house with no house help (note: I had been perfectly happy with my part time house help arrangement before I left and yet suddenly, I longed for the kind of help I had become so used to in this month, just one month in India- so easy to get used to being pampered!)? Or, was it just because in spite of my many many years here, I had no roots here, only offshoots of material happiness? I think it was the last one. I had not stayed in India for such a long time in years; and I was in no mood to glorify the ‘up and coming’ and yet confused mess that daily life there is; and yet, I felt more drawn to it while travelling on NH 1 ample number of times this time…I saw what I had seen decades before. The filth, the dirt, the poverty, the daily struggle to survive, the green fields, the crammed public transport buses, the lack of civic sense, the piles of garbage on the roadside; and in middle of all this, an obstinate will to live, survive, hope and rise above the given lot.  I was overwhelmed by the over concerned well-wishers, and to some extent, had started getting stifled by this over pouring of emotion; and  yet, I realized the quietness of being alone was no better. I guess I am trying to find a balanced life while living in two extreme worlds…and that is precisely the reason of my mixed emotions this time. My own house looks new, the streets look bigger, life seems same as I had left it a month back; and yet, I can hear an emptiness echoing…I think I have forgotten to go with the flow! That’s all!!

The Case of Missing "Better-half"

A long time back, i had watched Matrubhoomi. An extremely depressing movie that makes you feel sad and bad. Unfortunately, that is the exact scenario that rises if i have to believe what i read recently.

 A recent report in FT (Heirs and Spares by Amy Kazim and Patti Waldmeir) paints a dismal picture of the gender trends and ratios in India and China. Amid the growing financial prosperity, it tells us, is a growing reason for concern. The 2010 census, it says, showed 34m more men than women in China. In Haryana, in India, it reports, there are 120.5 boys per hundred girls, followed by Punjab where there are 118.2 boys per hundred girls. A potential social time bomb. A volcano of social and economic problems....child brides being bought and sold, rapes, gang rapes, much older husbands, much younger wives, girls being bought from East for the sole purpose of procreation, and that too of a boy! (Will they ever learn???)

Reason: one, and only one- the 'traditional' preference for a boy child instead of a girl.
Thought: the boy carries forward the family name, takes care of ageing parents, shoulders the responsibility of running the household.

On a brighter side, girls are finally being considered precious by the society in general. They have a choice now, unfortunately, only until they are married. In China e.g., the boys' families have started feeling the pressure of the competition to find brides for their sons. (A boy has to save enough to buy an apartment before getting married!)

From the moment i first saw the name of a new sister-in-law being changed after her wedding, i hated it, literally and forcefully.

"I am never going to let that happen to me" i resolved, barely 8 or 9 then.

Unfortunately, things haven’t changed much- especially not in that household. And as i have grown up, i have mellowed enough to realise that i can only fight for myself.

This may not be a significant issue for others, not even for spouses of those women in question, not especially in bigger social issues like economic affluence...but somewhere, there is a connection with the feeling that a boy carries the family name forward while a girl does not. Of course she does not, because in our society, we change not only the girl's surname but also her full name sometimes! She, after a few years of marriage, also forgets that she was someone else before her marriage. We uphold our advice to our daughters- “Marriage is like a new birth..." sure, it is. New parents, new relatives, new house, a new name and a new identity; and yet, it is not uncommon to hear men complaining to their wives, “You have changed after marriage. You were not like this when we came to 'see' you", referring to the courtship period in a love marriage, or an assessment period in an arranged marriage.

I have been on the luckier side of the spectrum where we were given equal opportunities as our brothers. However, the more i talk, especially to the men, the more i feel that irrespective of everything, we have a long way to go before we can even fully comprehend the complexity of gender equality, gender imbalances and its impact on our collective future.
How many men in Asia can honestly say they do not feel anything (demeaning) when they are asked to (assuming they sometimes are) contribute to housework like cooking, cleaning, dishwashing or laundry? How many men here can honestly say they do not mind their wives giving financial support to their parents, just as they do to their own? How many men would change their surname to their wife's? How many will change their names, and hence their whole identities, whether they have had them for 12, 15, 18 or 28 years??

These are a function of our social thinking, and the government policies cannot change them. It will take another generation of change; to accept, add, and give respect to the family names of both, father and mother; by adding them as the child's surname.[Even though i realise, this solution is as complex as the problem itself...how many surnames will a baby carry? Baby A B C (B and C being surnames of parents), when Baby ABC grows up and becoems a parent, the new Baby D will be named as Baby D F G B C (F and G being his mom's surnames)?? ]
Another generation of change to realise that a daughter retains her right to take care of her parents for the same reasons that the boy does- they have taken care of her all through; or for the more simple minded- they are her parents!
May be then, finally,  people will feel that their daughters can also carry on their family names and take care of her parents or shoulder the responsibilities of running a household...and hence, there is no need for gender based abortions.

I am quite a few years from being a mom-in-law but i am not sure that time is enough to set the gender issues in order in India. I am worried, already!

Highway on my Plate: An end, or a new beginning?

As i reached the roundabout, i was surprised at the new expanse in front of me. The eight lane highway on the stretch between Springs 14 and Choithrams, aka Springs Drive ages back, and Parallel Roads project now, had opened for traffic. Finally, an end to the constant drilling, milling cranes and road rollers, and chaotic twists and turns that welcomed the residents every morning for almost 2 and a half years. Though this is not an end to the ire of investors of these properties, especially the road facing ones, it is better than being in a construction zone for that long now.

My first U-turn on this traffic light and i realise something else. I can see into the garden of the people on this side of the road, and from their first floor bedrooms, they can enjoy the highway traffic, day in and day out- thanks to the raised level of this highway! What was more noticeable was the change it has brought into the design of these properties. The walls have always been low, to provide the effect of a safe community, but now, for these properties, they are dangerously low. Anyone can just hop into their backyards, especially since they open onto the highway now! Any passing-by stranger can look into their backyard and see what toys their children are playing with, how many guests they are entertaining, whether the garden is mature or nascent, whether the gardener is doing a good job or just leaving the sprinklers on, and so on and so forth....So much for privacy and safety in these 'gated ' communities! I have not even thought about the yearly rain yet…I can only hope these backyards do not get waterlogged with the water spilling from the highway! And this is just the beginning. The whole Parallel Roads project is not completed yet, and hence, not yet open to full traffic. Once it does, i wonder if it will really be a privilege to have a cousin of Sheikh Zayed Road right here, and i wonder if it will help the property values in the area. After all, how many residential communities in Dubai can boast of an 8-LANE highway with a 60km speed limit and no speed bumps (only traffic lights, which some jerks do not mind jumping, especially when there are no speed cameras, and their own children are not likely to be crossing these roads!) and no pedestrian walkways (to reach the other side of the community)?

Welcome to Springs and Meadows! You have to think of other excuses for reaching late at a party here now.....

Being Anonymous

Someone asked me recently why i have a * and not a name at the bottom of my blog. "Well", i started, ":))", that was a smile meant to avoid any further discussion...

Later, i asked myself, really, why did i not use my name instead? What was stopping me? I traced my decision to a life long list of experiences in 'favour' of my decision.

‘Crank' calls were a part of growing up when we were teenagers. A common phenomenon, where the caller decided to create a sense of a mystery by keeping quiet, and sometimes breathing heavily! The end result was two-pronged. One, it served as a safe way for a teenage girl to boost her self confidence in the knowledge that she had a secret admirer while saving her from any further complications. And two, it saved him from any beatings at the hands of the girl’s family. (And I am pretty sure it was applicable vice versa too.)

Since the caller was anonymous, it was unknown, disguised, safe…

That anonymity that lent a sense of mystery to those phone calls also ensured safety.  

From writing anonymous letters to newspaper Editors to lodging a complaint with the Community Security, I have chosen to stay anonymous. Why???

I figured, it is because i am scared.  

I might be bothered by the very late night parties of my backyard neighbours, but i do not want any of them  to unleash their pets on me when i am walking down that street! 

I might have some valid suggestions for our service providers but I do not want them to look at me as the 'noisy' one. Noisy ones often get punished, you see. 

Besides, since every complaint means that someone is  not doing their job properly, complainants  are looked down upon in the same way as the troublemakers themselves. I do not think i would like to be looked down upon! So, i choose to hide; believing and hoping that anonymity will always help!

As a student,  when (and that happened many many many times!) I did not understand something that the teacher was talking about, I secretly hoped that someone  will raise a hand and clarify that doubt. I never did that myself. When someone else did that, it helped in in ways more than one- a. it answered my questions too,  b. it made me feel better that i was not the only one with a doubt, and c. if anyone ever thought in the whole classroom that it was silly to have not known that concept or meaning or translation, they would be thinking so about 'that' person and not me. I preferred to stay the anonymous ignorant student on the first row, thanking God for the girl next to me, the bright one, who also taught me that there was no harm in being ignorant, provided you do something about it.

 Now, though, I am scared of being typecast, of opinions, judgements, presumptions, and restrictions and other actions as a result of the same, other people's anger if my thoughts do not go down well with them and the like. Judged and typecast, thanks  to our curious nature,  by anyone who will venture to read this blog that because I belong to a certain gender, nationality, race, region or carry a certain surname, I must be in line with their own  knowledge gathered from school textbooks, personal experiences, or fiction. I must conform to their pre-conceived notions, or at least strengthen those notions in some way.

“Oh! It’s a woman!”  

"Hmmm, she is an Asian…”

"Aha! I knew that- "

"OMG! How can she talk like that about her own country/ race/ religion/ gender...."

"I know her from work- i didn’t think she was thinking anything beyond those presentations!" (See a smirk there!)

"Hey, i was there at the party that she is mentioning. I didn’t know she took an offence to that incident!"

These thoughts  are what i have wanted to avoid, or rise above. Somewhere, i did not want to be recognised, pointed a finger at, or passed a judgement upon. Also, it makes me (feel) more accepted, as I could be anyone- any nationality, any religion, any colour;  just about anyone at all!

So does anonymity ensure acceptance? Does it appeal to my safety-obsessed mind? I think so…though I am keeping an open mind for further discussion!

Summer, part 2

Thinking about my 'queen hood' yesterday, i also realised how listening to the friends' and acquaintances' planned trips to home countries or elsewhere makes me feel. Every year, it is the same, and this year is no different. I love being in the relative peace and all here but when i see everyone leaving one by one, weekend after weekend, i recognise the yearning i feel. Suddenly, it feels it has been a long time since i saw the airport Departures! There is a nostalgia that fills me, a longing to be home, on the familiar terrace, the much travelled streets, the loved family, the missed gastronomic treats and so on and so forth. Again, suddenly, i want to go, right now; pool or no pool; traffic or no traffic; electricity or no electricity! No, the last one stops me, as does the daily news on various Indian news channels.

Electricity cuts and summer heat have a love-hate relationship back home. Love, because they do sometimes stay together, say, a few hours in a day; and hate because rest of the summer, you have to do without the electricity... The news channels start very positively on the monsoon's progression from Kerala, to Mumbai to the North. The initial showers are so pleasant that not one home celebrates their arrival without the customary tea-pakora or tea-samosa party! Even the News channels repeatedly show people enjoying themselves around India Gate, various gardens, soaking wet on their bikes, or just out with their picnic baskets. Oh so tempting....the fragrant earth as the raindrops fall on it, getting soaked in the rain (no water park can give you that feeling....), going for a long drive with windows down and music at full blast....a very typical welcome of Monsoon.

However,  within a matter of days, all the much looked forward to monsoon showers translate as floods, dengue, malaria, chikungunya, pot-holes, more electricity cuts and more flooding. You cannot walk on the streets without getting splattered with some of the muddy water, courtesy:  a passing car or scooter or bike. You can never be too careful about the food you eat out. And you can never  shoo enough the buzzing house flies, whose population suddenly seems to reach astronomic proportions after the rain.

Torn between the two worlds, the past reminders of children falling terribly sick in this season back home are magnetic enough for me to stay put...and enjoy my brief solitary rule! But for everyone else, happy holidays and safe journeys!!!

The Summer

I am preparing myself for the impending time ahead. A time when I will have weird feelings about my neighbourhood…similar to owning it all! Yes, i feel like a queen every July, (since the last two Julys, i.e.). I can sympathise when people don’t get it, but the reason is quite simple really.

Come June end, and people start leaving Dubai in droves. By week one of July, the whole community is practically a ghost town. All you can see is cars parked in the garages, getting baked in the sun and coated for free by the sand that caresses them. The pool is free the whole day, and we choose late evenings to venture out when the weather is at least bearable for one hour! I am sure the life guard does not like us in July though, because if it were not for us, he could have requested the Management to close the pool for the sweltering summer...I feel sorry for him, really.

The traffic is lesser on the roads, safer since there are lesser (and hence, lesser irate, careless) drivers on the road and it is a pleasure (for a change!) to cruise on Dubai roads. (By the way, even the doctors are not available, so you have got to be really careful and not fall sick in July-August in Dubai!) We have more visitors, thanks to Dubai Summer Surprises, but we know that they come here for shopping and will go back soon. The schools are closed, so we can take things easy, get up late, stay up late, plan the day, or do nothing at all...

Yes, July here is a more relaxed month than most people imagine. However, there is a downside of being a queen...loneliness. Most of the kids' friends are away and that makes me more vulnerable to banging my head on the wall in desperation. Yes, i become desperate trying to balance fun and edutainment for the kids. The summer camps all look the same- and i would hate to push the kids out of the house in the morning in holidays too!

I remember we used to make lots and lots of plans for our summer break, not realising that we had 'holidays' homework' too to take care of,  and ignorant of our parents’ plans for us. I always thought holidays were for fun, and nothing else, and it was quite contradictory to the wiser view that time was not to be wasted…translated as, ‘holidays are to learn something new!”. Now, a parent, I realise that too…and find it equally hard to motivate my kids to use their holiday time to practise Maths, learn Hindi, or a new skill, or simply, help me in the seemingly boring household chores. (The kilos I put on last summer learning and experimenting baking with kids, and then sampling our experiments are a constant reminder that I should not push them towards kitchen this year!)

The much anticipated break finishes so soon that when we look back; we ask ourselves, what did we do all summer? But then, holidays always seem to fly because good times pass faster, in our minds...Well, faster or slower, it is high time the schools close- it is nearing 50 degrees now...and i am looking forward to my tenure as a queen!!!

Trust

Trust. A small word, fragile, omnipresent, and opposite of betrayal.

When my health professional told me recently that i was over-medicated, and asked me the reason, I looked back at her blankly. Wasn't the answer obvious? I had done what my so-very-well-educated and experienced and recommended doctor had told me to do! I had trusted him. Just like the one before him and after him and this new health professional too. All in good faith!!

When the E.COLI started dominating the newspapers, the government announced that there are strict quality checks in place to ensure that the 'tainted' produce does not reach our shelves. I trust what is being told to me via the media.

When the supermarket promises 'home delivery', i trust they are using a proper vehicle so the milk I ordered does not get converted into cottage cheese (it is 47 degrees outside!) by the time it reaches my house!

I trust the life guard at the pool is trained enough to do his job well, if anyone at the pool ever needs it.

I trusted the developer when they sold their project as a gated community. I still trust the Community Security when they send their staff patrolling the streets on their bicycles.

I trust my neighbours will come to help if i ever needed it.

I trust the school i send my children to. I trust the bus driver and the conductor who accompany them in the school bus. And most of all, I trust the teachers with whom my children spend 7-8 hours daily.

I trust my children will remember their values when they are free birds.

I trust my family will always be my side.

I trust the friends i make along the way, albeit in stages, and a little gingerly in the beginning. I even trust my children’s friends, and their parents.

I trust the food i eat out is hygienic, fresh enough for human consumption and will not make me sick with food poisoning.

I trust the government, the people, the staff, the doctors, the teachers, the home delivery men, the neighbours, the airlines, the electrician, the plumber, the gardener, the supermarket, the hospital, the nursery, the courier company, the restaurant, the friends, the family, and above all, the power that runs this universe. I trust that they all will do the work that they are supposed to do in all earnestness and to the best of their abilities; and no more, no less.

Don't we all?

Does that make us gullible?

Or, does that only mean that majority of people on this earth believe in the goodness of life, and everything that runs it? The majority of us, commonly; generally; usually....trust; and all that we learn about not trusting anyone ever again, is what we call experience! So, if majority of us are the ‘good guys’, why do the ‘bad guys’ still manage to do their job?

Yours, Instantly...

I absolutely love the instant  reactions i get when i share my thoughts. When I started writing, i had no idea how wonderful it would be to see these reactions through comments, thumbs up (or, thumbs down), mails, smiles, and statistics! Right until now, when i experienced it myself, i would have thought it impossible! Yes, right until now, the earliest i could think of 'instant' was when instant noodles and instant coffee were introduced.

But now- now, everything has become instant. I need not wait for the post anymore, I just check my various inboxes; and that is a good thing because we don’t even have postmen delivering mail at our doorstep! (‘What???” - i know that is the reaction of most people when they come to know of it...but it is true!) I don’t have to beat the coffee anymore, and that is a huge convenience when i really feel like having one alone, or am travelling or when i just feel lazy...and now they have instant tea too! I haven’t tried it yet, but they claim it is as good as 'mom's'!

 I realise it is not only about convenience, it is also about speed, about impatience, and about saving time. I am impatient to know how my writing is received and perceived; i am thankful for the speed at which the statistics are uploaded, and believe me, it does take lesser time to entertain unannounced guests when you have one of those instant meal packages! I am sure they are not so healthy, but they are still better than a whole lot of other junk food that we end up eating when absolutely famished and in no mood/ with no energy to cook.

And yet, I still savour the excitement of sitting in the evening assembly and waiting for my name to be called out to receive my mail. Yes, in our time (I know, I know, it can look like Ancient History when i tell you that we had no mobile phones, but really, it wasn’t that long ago!!), there was nothing instant- everything took its own sweet time, ripened slowly, tasted sweeter, and was kept for savouring it again later! Mails were keepsakes, and could not be just left in a nondescript Inbox or a specifically named folder; the excitement at getting a mail, and the disappointment at not getting one were both intense emotions (really!!), receiving a phone call made your day because not many people took the trouble of spending on expensive STD calls, cards were carefully chosen and given and then treasured....was it all so idyllic as it seems now? I am not sure but what i am sure about is, growing up in those times, i didn’t mind it at all! Something as simple as coffee wasn’t that simple…'Beating' coffee was a skill and if you knew the right proportions, you could boast that you make good coffee, unlike the limited skill required today of opening a 3-in-1 pack and mixing it with hot water!

Come to think of it, having a mobile phone would have certainly been convenient though- it would have saved me waiting in cold January winter evenings near the warden's room!  The same goes for  instant noodles. They have definitely been a life saver. Whether it was (and still is!) travelling, hunger pangs in the hostel room, midnight snack attack, or just breaking a 'fast' at midnight...Maggi became a part of our lives like nothing else edible could. I do not know of one single person who has no memories associated with our good old Maggi! Now, how wonderful is that?

And yet, it was a time that I can look back and call ‘good old days’! (By the way, for the uninitiated, it also meant that your office could not get hold of you when you were holidaying!!!! Isn’t that great?? ) I did not know it then but obviously, it was also a time when the world was getting ready to become more spontaneous, more ‘instant’, more responsive. I am glad; I got a chance to enjoy that transition instead of just knowing the world at its fastest today.  I am  glad that my memories of those times also include a mango night in the hostel and umpteen such nights at home- feasting on real mangoes which were left to ripen on the trees and not subject to some chemicals to hasten their growth…

I cannot say that ‘instant’ is bad- it is not. It can be a real life saver in more cases than I know, but 'instant' takes away the pleasure of letting it brew... be it coffee, tea, any other beverage or simply, life.

Yours sincerely truly  forever  instantly,

 *

Our knights in shining BMWs...

I can never forget that afternoon. As i came home for my 3-hour break, i saw a stretcher near the lift. I thought someone was sick in the building and yes, it dawned on me, that i had seen an ambulance and a police patrol car outside in the open parking. As we got ready to have lunch, we had no idea what had happened in the building while we were at work. Never before had i had a police officer knocking at our door, and that too in Dubai? We were more surprised than scared. Even before we had time to react, our home had been 'searched' inside out!

"What’s wrong?" was our obvious question, still unaware.

"Nothing! Don’t worry- just don't go anywhere till we tell you to."

"But we have to go back to work" we had no clue why all this was happening.

"Call them and tell them you cannot!" and he left. He was not scary. On the contrary, he was very polite. What was scary was our ignorance of the fact that something really bad had happened that morning in our building and as the residents were coming back from their work, schools and daily errands, the police was asking them all to stay put in their homes.

Around evening, we were all called downstairs and told to go to a specific police station- everyone, including the elderly and the kids. I had never been to one (and i am utterly grateful to God for that!), and it seemed strange sitting there with all the people - people i didn’t even know lived in my building, people i had seen off and on in the lift, people i was friendly with- everyone. No one knew what to expect. Finally, we  were called in for...finger printing. 

While talking to other neighbours, it finally poured out. There had been a murder in the building that morning, and we all were being treated equally- as suspects- till the police completed its investigations. The whole exercise finished at around 10pm that night. That was my first interaction with Dubai Police, and it did not leave any impression- neither positive nor negative. I had always believed that the farther you stay from Police, the better it is.

Within the next two days, we heard that the murderer had been 'caught' while trying to flee the country. That was  my first positive impression of the efficiency of the Dubai Police. I had never before seen a more polite Police, i had never before heard of a case being 'solved' so soon.

 Fast forward to this week, a gap of almost 14 years.  A friend’s house was broken into the other night and the thieves, two people on tourist visa, were booked and all the stolen goods recovered from them in the shortest time i have ever heard!

 When my bag was stolen from a mall a couple of years back, i had to go to the Police Station a second time, and i can tell you that visiting that place is never easy- it fills you with a strange dread, makes you ask yourself if you have ever done anything wrong at all. At the same time, you can thank God that you are dealing with Dubai Police. There is no competition when it comes to their polite, confident, and courteous dealing. I think, if i knew Arabic, i would have felt even more comfortable, though most of the officers did speak Urdu/ Hindi. 

I never got my bag or my documents or my phone back, but a lot of feedback from people who were not in the wrong but on the wrong side of the table with the Police, and my own personal impressions tell me that the Police of the world have a lot to learn from our very own Dubai Police. This Police has changed my whole perception of what a Police is. Even though I still believe that the lesser you ‘need’ to get involved with  the police, the better, I am sure i am not the only one who regards Dubai Police as one of the best, if not the best. Our laws might be a bit unclear sometimes, and fast changing at other times, and sure, it would be extremely unfortunate for anyone to get into a problem with the law; especially here, but our Police excels at what it is supposed  to do- enforce those laws without unnecessarily scaring the people. I am sure more people look at the Police here as someone who could really help them when they get stuck (and not only in the sand!), as someone they need not fear if they have done nothing wrong, a Police whose amazing work and attitude needs all the recognition and appreciation from the people it strives to keep safe- us!

If only everyone did their jobs as seriously and as honestly, the world would be a near-perfect place....

The nosy ones in your life!

There are friends, neighbours, relatives, colleagues and acquaintances; and then, there are nosy friends, neighbours, relatives, colleagues and acquaintances! I prefer the first type. However, i have come to understand that the latter type has its own plus points!

As a brand new bride, visiting my family for the first time after marriage, the one common question a lot of these people in my life asked me was, “You’re happy na?" It took me a few moments to answer that question, because it was so deep. Marriage changes you, your whole existing world, and how do you decide in a few days, weeks or even months really if you are happy post-marriage, and how do you not confuse the adjustment period, that is for sure a difficult one, with unhappiness? I hope my brief silence while answering that question was not seen as my 'unhappiness'.
A couple I know haven’t been able to start a family even many years post marriage due to some medical issues. I have never asked them about it but i have seen aunties asking the lady, "Any luck?", "What did the doctor say?”, “Why don’t you see so and so doctor?” , “Adoption?” etc. etc. I am not sure they appreciate having to answer the same questions again and again, i am sure though that their privacy should have been respected. If they feel up to it, if they feel they can talk to anyone about that matter, it is up to them. But no…there is no respite from people who think it their birthright to interfere in other people’s lives, or on a more sincere note, may be they actually mean good but their tact needs a lot more polish.
"Oh, she is here...how nice. Her husband has also come?" (The secret thought in my mind is, if he had come, you'd have seen him!)
"So, when are you going to your in-laws place?" (because if i am not, their interpretation is, "Don't know what is wrong- her husband does not come here, she does not go there...")
"When is your son coming back, or is he going to stay there only?" (I am sure, in their heart of hearts, this nosy neighbour/ relative is hoping that the son does not come back, so they will always have something to gossip about!)
"Oh, the boy is an NRI..but do check properly...we have heard enough stories..." (secretly hoping they also find a NRI boy for their girl!)
I have been asked this on every birthday and anniversary by a particular person, ever since i came to know her, “So, what did you get as a gift?" It is not a significant question as such, but i did not wish to share it with anyone. I wondered, why was she asking me that question, year after year,  when i had never asked her the same?
and then  there are extremes, (it really does get hilarious!)

"She has come from Dubai?” this question is directed at my parents. The next one is for me,

“How much gold did you bring beta?",
and all i can do is  try to keep my open (in awe of this talent!) mouth shut! It is a talent that i do not have- the art of being so direct that it leaves the other person literally speechless.

There is a very thin line between natural curiosity and unjustified interference. These people cross that line. I guess it would have been better if people had a cleaner heart when they asked these questions. If they just said, "let me know if you need any help..." it would be far less interfering and interrogative in anyway than rubbing salt on someone's existing wounds or fishing for someone's personal life details for judgement and gossip.

On the brighter side, such nosy people are constant reminders that there are non-nosy people too- your real well-wishers who do not probe unless you are ready to share your life with them,  and who appreciate the privacy that you need, and who let YOU draw that line yourself. They might test your patience but they teach you how to handle them too. Besides, gossip always has a short life! And, anyway, who cares??

Let's meet for a cup of tea!

"Let's meet for coffee then", is the most usual invitation exchanged these days, usually referring to a couple of hours catching up with an old friend or acquaintance at a Starbucks or Cafe Coffee Day or Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, or for that matter anywhere. Whatever happened to our favourite cup of tea? From the time the English teacher gave us a paragraph writing task on how to prepare a cup of tea; tea became a mysterious, divine cup of liquid. To stay awake during exams, to catch up with friends on first night of the new term, to enjoy a night of family conversations, to watch TV waiting for someone to come home- a cup of tea fit the bill wonderfully. Not too much caffeine, not too much sugar- just a desi cup of perfect chai! From the college canteens to the tea from a much stained pan of the tea stall owner in the University compound; from Rainbow (condensed milk) wali chai to the ginger or cardamom tea, it has survived the newer forms of coffee being invented every day.

It is not to say that coffee never worked its way through my heart. It did, for a while. Studying literature, I did fall in love with the frothy, hand beaten coffee- it added to the romance that the books exuded. It put in place the perspective of the novels we studied, which were all invariably set in the West. And, whoever has had a cup of coffee at the Indian wedding receptions will agree, they are a different breed altogether!

And yet, a cup of tea says more than it intends to. The tea with pakoras in the rain, the tea after the pakoras in the rain;  the morning tea; breakfast tea; the most desirable mug of tea when your new born baby has just gone to sleep; the tea before bed! There is a cup of tea for every occasion and every moment of life. I miss the fact that no one meets up for tea anymore! Just plain, simple tea.

One of our professors used to say “What is the big deal with an invitation for tea? Just take out 2-3 varieties of biscuits and serve with tea!” That’s how tea used to be, and probably still is, in all the government organisations and the neighbourhood satsang mandalis! With kitty parties and book clubs and other forms of social interactions taking over the social scene of home-makers, the humble tea slowly became the stressful ‘high tea’! Stressful because it now meant that you do not need to prepare dinner but 'as good as dinner’, heavy snacks of ample variety. More formal, less personal.

My simple cup of tea with little milk and a spoonful of sugar has either become extinct or too heavy in the world outside home. I am thinking, "Let's meet for juice" is the next best invitation then!

Exchange Policy

"I think we should have waited for the colour", i remarked as i parked the car. It is a good thing i was driving and not him. I could hear the screeching brakes that he would have applied.
He did look at me in disbelief though, "It is not a sari! It is a car!!!", referring to the car we had driven from the showroom only a day before.
"Yes, i know- but i did not really like the colour" i said, knowing that my desirable colour would have meant a wait of another 2 months.
"....." he was still looking at me in disbelief, that look meaning, "You are impossible!!!!"

I know i should have said those words before agreeing to buy the colour i only partially liked- it IS  a car, and not a sari afterall! But there is really something to it- when you bring something home and look at it, it almost always seems that  the other colour or the other design or the other brand was better, whatever the parameters.

The first thing i check when i enter a store is their 'Exchange Policy'. It is a good thing we get 14 days to make up our mind, and if it is a 'sale’ item, 3 days- understandably so- they need to move their stock too! Even back home, i remember always asking the retailer if i could exchange the dress or the material  if 'we' do not like it, 'we' referring to everyone at home saying "It is nice!". 

I think that is also one of the reasons why i have my favourite jeweller- they also have an 'exchange policy'- and only a woman can appreciate what that means when it comes to jewellery. We spend a lot of time liking one piece and then buying it- but no sooner do we reach home than we take it out and start scrutinising it- "I think the other one was better..."- "i think the making charges were lesser in that", or, "i think i should have bought a 'daily wear' one- this is too heavy."

The reasons  are endless- colour, style, pricing, value for money, versatility, or just that indecision between white and pink, or, black and navy! The result though is that i have more credit notes from various retailers in my bag than the currency notes!

Frustrating, as it is, for my spouse, it has been told to me in no uncertain terms that he is not coming along for exercising my right to 'exchange' under the terms of respective 'Exchange Policies'. I don't mind doing it on my own. I am wondering though, who will i blame for the choice if i do not like the 'exchanged' item too?

'Bare' minimum!

Visiting a doctor is never a happy occasion. However, as I am discovering now, it still provides healthy fodder for writing and learning!

 E.g., I just discovered that when you visit your doctor for any complaint, you could be subject to any level of investigation. And therefore, you should always go as if you are going to work, or to visit a friend- basically; neat, clean and dressed appropriately. Whether the doctor decides to do an ECG for you, or a session of physiotherapy, or just a physical check-up, you do not want that nurse to think you do not take care of yourself or that you do not practice hygiene. (Read- wax, wax, wax!!!!, or deo, deo deo!!!!- as the case may be!).
 I once asked the friendly physiotherapist at the clinic what she thought about all the different forms of flesh that she treated day in and day out (i thought 'forms of flesh' was more impersonal than 'bodies'). She told me that it does not even matter to her. When she sees a patient, she sees the muscles and the tendons and exercises that will help those muscles and tendons and nothing else. That was good to know!
I guess it is the same thing with doctors and the nurses then. They see so many bodies in some kind of physical pain or the other, day in and day out, that it does not matter to them whether you are beautiful or ugly, man or woman, young or old, black or white, taut or wrinkled.....
I think it is in our minds- because thankfully, we do not see doctors or nurses or therapists or radiology technicians every day. There is a certain hesitation to have to bare, however minimum it may be,  in front of a stranger, even if that stranger is of the same sex as you are, and even if that stranger is treating you for your health  problems!  And so, it is a comfort to know that they do not judge us by the shape we are in, or the make-up we are not wearing or the waxing appointment we could not make to.
Living here, it is a privilege to be able to ask for a female doctor or technician. Even when there is no choice, it is mandatory that a female staff be present when the doctor is examining you. That makes things easier for sure. However, experience tells me that when you look at the doctor as the doctor, and not as a man or woman, you will feel more at ease and less conscious. The rule to stay clean,  and look clean is still applicable though, for your own conscious self!

The 'Gas Connection'!

It is a familiar scenario. Known, experienced, survived!

In all my married, and hence 'cooking' (in the kitchen) years, it has always happened when either i have guests at home, or the kids are about to go to school, or i am midway serving them their food, or some weird moment like that- it is eerie how that gas cylinder picks the oddest moment to declare it has expired!

It is like God playing his mischievous self, for a change! Why else would the gas finish only when you are desperately making a cup of tea? Or the chapati is half cooked? Or the rice is half boiled? Or worse, when it is past the gas company's delivery time and you have to wait until 9 next morning! How do you send the kids to school next morning?

We have other options like microwaves, and electric hot plates and best of all, home delivery menus. But i have yet to learn the art of making a perfect chapati in a microwave. Hot plates have to be installed when i chose gas instead. Home delivery options do not work for 6.30am school-lunch delivery!

We beg, we plead, we threaten, we plead again...."Please, please, please- can you not deliver the gas now?"
"No, I need it now!!!"
"I cannot wait until tomorrow morning."
"What is your cut-off for delivery time- it is not even 8! I have seen your delivery vehicles even later at night in our area!"

But no! They leave their stickers with all the numbers on it on your gas cupboard but when you need a new cylinder, not one of these delivery companies are willing to come. And their excuses are unique:
"I have finished all the cylinders now- new cylinder will be filled only in the morning."
"I just came from that area..."
"Our cut off time is 5pm"
And the best is,
8pm: "I am coming...",
9pm: "I am on my way."
10pm: "He has not reached as yet? I told my colleague to come there..."
 11pm": " It is too late- the Security will not allow us to come now..."
It allows him to buy time and lets you pass your time in the hope of his arrival. Finally, you understand that he outsmarted you and now it is actually so late that no one else will deliver either- so you have no option but to wait it out until next morning!
You will be lucky if your neighbourhood supermarket is still open to pick some bread and croissant for kids' breakfast while you wait for the gas delivery van and a new phone number on your gas cupboard!

Moral of the story: many!
1. Always keep a loaf of bread at home! You can use it instead of chapati in such emergencies.
2. Always keep fresh fruits, juices and again, bread at home- they come in handy for kids' lunch boxes when the gas cylinder ditches you!
3. Always have extra cash at home- the prices of gas have been steadily increasing! You do not want the guy to come and not deliver the cylinder only because you did not have enough cash!
4. Cook before 5 pm! So, even if the gas finishes at 8, you only have to worry about the next morning then!
5. Last, and most important, take it as an opportunity- to 'fast', to eat out, to go light (by eating only fruits and salad),  to have a long conversation....depending upon your personal appetite!

The Gora Beggar, and after that...

There is one image that i can never forget- that of a white (a gora, a Westerner) beggar on the steps of Har ki Pairi in Hardwar, India. He was filthy in his appearance- matted hair, dirty clothes, long beard, and long nails- and was begging for food from a fellow beggar. The fellow beggar treated him with respect, as is the tendency in the ex-colonies of the British Empire (first reaction: the colour of the skin still gets more respect than the merit of the person).

 The only thing that came to my mind was a string of questions:

 "Why is he here? How is he here? Where has he come from? Has he lost his passport? Why did he choose to beg here instead of going home, where he was born and brought up and work like normal people? Is this his spiritual journey? Or has he gone mad en route?"

I have no clue what happened to him thereafter. But that image has never left my mind. The West comes to the East thinking and seeking spiritual peace and happiness. Was this really his quest for peace that landed him on those holy steps and led him to begging?

To me, the only reason people in the East seem more contented and happy is because of our faith system. We place our trust, besides God, in our rivers, stones, trees, animals- anything and everything. Ganga, among many others, is a holy river; even though we lack the civic sense to keep our rivers clean in the first place. Our Gods use various animals as their vehicles, so we come to respect them automatically- be it Nandi, the bull; Mooshak, the mouse; Sher, the lion of the Lion goddess; or the snake, the ornament around Lord Shiva’s neck….

We believe that someone out there, our revered God or Goddess is looking after us. It is the same faith the kids have in their parents. Our daily life reflects our faiths. We pray, we 'fast', we do rituals, we believe in magical powers of that black thread, or the black mark on the forehead to ward off the evil eye, we believe in the all-healing powers of our Gods more than we believe the doctors or science or anything man made.

It is the healing power of faith that helps people survive in the middle of abject poverty, extreme hunger, deprivation, and disease. It is that faith that someday, in this life or the next; everything is going to be alright. In fact, as a part of our faith system, we even ‘bribe’ God! Unbelievable as it may sound,  we do it so regularly-

“If I score an A-grade in this exam, I will come to your temple for the next 4 Mondays!” (Or, Tuesdays, or Fridays...)

“If my blood test reports all come out fine, I am going to light a diya (the prayer lamp) in front of You every day.”

“If I get this contract, I am going to do a big ‘Jagrata’ (an overnight celebration of the Goddess’ powers by singing devotional songs) in your honour, dear Goddess.”

“If this family says ‘Yes’ for my daughter, I am going to give langar (free food) to all the beggars in the town.”

“I am going to fast for 16 Mondays so I get a good husband.”

“If you do this, I will come bare feet to your temple…”

We negotiate with God, we try to lure Him by making our promises to return His favours, we fight with Him when He does not do as we thought He would or He should, we question Him when we are doubting our faith practices, but in the end, we believe in Him and His intentions and we hope He will take us through all the tests that He presents us with in the first place.

As I continue my own quest for peace, I understand that that faith helps me let go of my tensions- and i put it on Him to look after me once again- it is really as simple as that...