Tumse achcha kaun hai...

EPILOGUE

So, with the last of this triangular series, we finally come to the end of all this one-sided verbal drooling that I had indulged in so far. And I'd like to thank everyone for being patient and seeing me through my euphoria.

I'd also like to add here that I regret leaving out some of his lovely gems like Deewana hua badal, Yunhi tum mujhse baat karti ho, Tumne pukara aur, Jo wada kiya, Udhar tum haseen ho, Tumse dur rehke, Mujhe kitna pyaar hai tumse, Bahut shukriya badi meherbani, and other favourites simply because they're duets.

Now, wouldn't you agree that it is way too difficult to pick out a handful of songs as "Top 10" when the other omitted melodies are equally enthralling?

I agree, as a couple of my readers pointed out, that anyone can probably sing Rafi saab's songs, but I'd still reiterate that nobody can do justice to the music, the lyrics, the inflection, the depth and the maturity in his voice, the intensity he brings into his renditions, and everything else that goes with each of his songs. None can match the style and the magical effect that only Rafi saab can bring to the lyrics.

Mohd. Rafi is certainly not like any regular playback singer. He is not a singer for the masses or those who prefer cheesy numbers. His songs are for maturer music lovers who appreciate good music and understand what a voice can do to music and lyrics. His songs may not be as catchy as those of his contemporaries (barring a few like Suku suku or Yahoo...). It's also probably a little difficult to accept, identify with, and like his songs as immediately as, for example, a Kishoreda's melody but the songs definitely grow on you with time. Once you let that happen, let the melody take over you, then there is no looking back.

Can any other singer beat his andaz, his inimitable style, and his love that oozes out of each syllable that he sings? His pyaar, mohabbat and their many synonyms are definitely and alarmingly much softer and better than those rendered by his countless counterparts. They tug at your heartstrings.

I wouldn't be too surprised if lyricists of yesteryear chose to write lyrics just for Rafi saab keeping in mind his smooth singing style - just the way scripts were written for certain heroes. Wouldn't the simple pleasure of hearing him breathe life into their lyrics, and immortalize their poetry, be inspiration enough for poets to write just for him? Especially if the result of their hard work is priceless! If I were a poet, I would probably be lured to write songs only and ONLY for Mohd. Rafi. Check out the lyrics of songs like Bahosh-o-hawaas mein deewana, Jaan-e-bahar husn tera bemisaal hai, O meri shahe khuban, Aye nargis-e-mastana, Hameen se mohabbat, Chehre pe giri zulfein kehdo to hatadoon main, and you'll see why!

Rafi is probably the only singer who can lead each word into the next so easily, effortlessly, and melodiously! Try listening to evergreen melodies like Hai duniya usiki zamana usika, Tumne kisiki jaan ko jaate huwe dekha hai, Bahut shukriya badi meherbani, and Aaj mausam bada beimaan hai, and you'll know what I mean. Truly speaking, bejaan rehgaye hum... :))).

One cannot deny that the intensity in his voice is far too mesmerizing to not get affected. Only a non-human can resist the out-of-the-world experience that his melodies offer. And when you're lost in the magical world the legendary singer has created specifically for you, don't you feel irritated and frustrated if some other voice tries to distract your attention, and pulls you out of your reverie?

I can still hear him croon ever-so-softly Tum mujhe yun bhula na paoge, jab kabhi bhi sunoge geet mere, sang sang tum bhi gun gunaoge - how very true indeed! What more can I say except Tumse nazar milaye ye kiski majaal hai... Wallah kamaal hai arrey wallah kamaal hai!

THE END

Bhala mano bura mano...

THE LIST

Okay, now comes the toughest part... and this time Rafi saab is singing Yeh na samjho ke har ek raah mein kaliyan hongi, raah chalni hai tho kaaton pe bhi chalna hoga... (Itni nazuk na bano) in the background. It feels good to know, though, that my favourite singer is still with me, pushing words of encouragement through my headset to my unsettled heart.

But before I present my list, let me confess that this is purely a personal choice, and it is not etched in stone-and-gold. Also, the list is random and the numbering is more for convenience than as an indication. Of course, my most favourite song remains the topmost song in the list(s).

And, I sincerely apologize to all Mohd. Rafi fans for daring to choose just a handful of songs while omitting the rest, and also for missing out on some other gems which you might think should have been included here. Anyway, here we go:

1. Jaan-e-bahar husn tera bemisal hai - Haye Haye kya baat hai! I could never fathom the three-pronged effect the song has on me - always! The pure joy of the lyrics, the lilting music and the mesmerizing voice - that's the best combination anyone could ever ask for.
2. Aaj mausam bada beimaan hai – and it remains beimaan through the time the master singer's voice creates ripples in your heart.
3. Chhoo lene do nazuk honthon ko – I know, I know it's about alcohol... but the intoxicating effect is irresistibly tempting. Sigh!
4. Aise to na dekho – Gasp gasp gasp!!! Can anybody else say it more convincingly and lovingly than him, I wonder! And my heart skips a beat each time Rafi saab sings Khoobsurat si koi humse khata ho jaaye...
5. Yeh reshmi zulfein - What can I say about this song? I almost always refuse to come out of my reverie when I listen to this masterpiece.
6. Baharon phool barsao - The beauty of the lyrics that come alive in Rafi's enchanting voice makes the song that much more endearing.
7. Dur rehkar na karo baat – Hmmm, how can one not feel vulnerable when the invitation is so very enthralling?
8. Chaudvin ka chand ho – I wonder if there's anyone else who can breathe life into the lyrics and make his beloved feel special, real, and beautiful.
9. Hameen se mohabbat - Arrey maar daala duhaaii duhaaii!! I like this song simply for the line Udhar tumne teer-e-nazar dil pe maara, idhar humne bhi jaan kar chhot khayi :). Oh God, really!
10. Tumne kisi ki jaan ko - I love this song just for his inflection especially when he sings meri jaan jaa rahi hai - if you pay attention to the way he renders the line after the second stanza (Ghabra rahi hai khudh bhi...) you'll know the kind of magic a singer can create with his inflection.

Here's another set of songs that kept flitting in and out of my list, but didn't make it to the Top 10:

1. Tu mere samne hai
2. Maine poocha chand se
3. Chaudvi ka chand ho
4. Aur kuch der thahar
5. Ye jo chilman hai
6. Nazar na lag jaaye
7. Hai duniya usiki
8. Tumne mujhe dekha
9. Aye phoolon ki rani
10. Tum jo mil gaye ho
11. Teri aankhon ke siva
12. Ba-hosh O hawaas mein
13. Maane na mera dil deewana
14. Yun rootho na haseena
15. Aye nargis-e-mastana

Do let me know your views. Keep those suggestions, comments, and additions coming!

To be concluded...

This post is dedicated to a close friend who's also a fan of Mohd. Rafi, and shares his birthday with the legendary singer :). Happy Birthday Aniket!!

Aasman se aaya Farishta...

PROLOGUE

Mohammad Rafi! The very name brings a smile on your face. And we don't usually wait for an occasion to talk about the great Rafi saab! But when the occasion happens to be his 85th birth anniversary (on December 24), can a crazy fan like me let go of the opportunity to pen down a few thoughts? And this three-part article - complete with a Prologue, the List, and the Epilogue - is my attempt to pay a sincere tribute to the "Farishta... pyaar ka".

I'm trying hard to collect my thoughts together, and focus my complete attention on what I'm going to write - without letting his husky voice engulf me, and make me lose track of everything else. But when Rafi saab is singing Bahut shukriya badi meherbani, Meri zindagi mein huzoor aap aaye... in the background, is it really possible to control my emotions and stop my mind from wandering, I wonder! So please forgive me if I go off tangent, once a while, and just babble.

I can almost feel his bliss when he says Main kya kahoon khushi se ajab mera haal hai... Now, when he sings Ba-hosh-O-hawaas mein deewana yeh aaj vasiyat karta hoon, yeh dil yeh jaan mile tumko mein tumse mohabbat karta hoon... you so totally want to believe those words. Without a doubt. Without a second thought. That's the magic of the legendary singer's voice.

Wait until he unleashes the full power of his voice on you, on a pleasantly quiet evening when you're feeling particularly romantic, and there's no escape from the ecstasy his soothing voice brings into your world.

All you have to do is close your eyes, relax, give in, let the voice tear you to pieces pushing you into a trance, and enjoy every bit of the sensation that sweeps in. Isn't everything else just pointless and absurd when an immortal voice helps you connect with yourself and transport you to another euphoric world? How can someone have such a divine-and-beautiful voice which sounds so eternally indestructible, I often wondered!

During one such inescapable escapades into my dreamy world, I thought about listing out the "10 best romantic songs of Rafi that I like." Trust me, it wasn't an easy pick - what the heck, just ten songs from among the thousands of gems that he sang? Impossible! After careful deliberation, I narrowed down my choice limiting it to just his romantic solos to make it easier for me. Fat chance, I realized sooner enough as I still struggled my way through the 2000-odd solo numbers Rafi saab has ever rendered.

Nevertheless, after a few weeks' dilemma, I finally mustered enough courage to make my choice. And I kept at it for the next few agonizing weeks by refining my list every now and then. Barring the few numbers I picked up first, the list kept changing ever-so-frequently - more based on my mood, I realized later with a tinge of bitterness - and left me frustrated.

To be continued...

Watch out this space tomorrow for a list of my favourite songs.

Things you can do when you turn 35

I just figured out that turning 35 isn't that bad after all. For one, it's not an everyday affair. Moreover, it has its own set of advantages I feel. Well, in my case at least there were quite a few benefits. Like figuring out and listing the top most interesting things one can do on one's special day, for instance. And here goes my list!

• Try to find ways to enjoy the most quietest and loneliest birthday ever.
• Just sit and sulk happily for the whole day without being disturbed.
• No job, no party, no cake - so no cake smashing too (thank God for small mercies) - and all this translates to no spending money! Yay yay! WINK!!
• Use your bad mood as an excuse for not cooking the whole day and use up all the left-overs from the fridge.
• Keep staring at the beach and behave like you're brooding over something meaningful and serious.
• Make a fuss, throw a tantrum, and tell everyone who cares to listen that the lack of company is driving you crazy.
• Answer all phone calls and emails non-enthusiastically triggering off the panic button in all your well-wishers.
• Secretly enjoy the many birthday wishes that keep coming your way through the day while behaving like your birthday is no big deal since you're getting old anyway.
• Raid the house of unsuspecting in-laws on the pretext of helping them with downloading the pictures of their grandchildren and let your daughter slip in that it's your birthday today.
• Sit on their computer downloading Picassa, Chrome, Skype and everything else you can while mom-in-law tries to make your day much more special by stirring up a kheer quick and yummy!
• Mutter a shy 'thank you, you didn't have to do this...' but enjoy the kheer anyway.
• Write nasty emails at the end of the day to friends who forgot to wish you and make them feel guilty for the rest of the year.
• Threaten whoever called you that you'll send headless horseman after them if they don't send a nice gift (wrapped in glittering pink giftwrapper with prominent red hearts and a flashy red ribbon) by speed post.
• Drift off into a dreamy sleep feeling elated and satisfied about the number of calls you received through the day - the more the number of calls, the more people love you and care about you!
• Now, do away with all the bad thoughts and ONLY think about people who care for you rather than those who deliberately hurt.
• And finally, fall asleep feeling very very contented with life!

Live life my way, just for a day!

It's that time of the year again when I start lamenting about a lot of things. No, it's not about getting old. Age issues have never been able to get me worked up or throw me off balance. Those who know me well know that I am not the one to be bothered about the age factor. I've always believed in aging gracefully and not hiding behind blushes, mascaras and colors or highlights to disguise my wrinkles or my gray hair.

It's certainly a complex phase of regret I go through religiously, same time every year - it's all about the time that has been wasted so far, the people I've lost, and a few relationships that turned sour or flat. Little do I realize each year how the status quo remains the same once it reaches an edgy plateau.

And there are times when I am awakened to a sudden shocking realization of envious glances, subtle insults hurled with an intention to hurt, use-and-throw attitude... among many other things. If only looks could kill, God knows how many times I'd have been murdered. Each time I note with regret the many words chosen carefully, measured with much care and thrown in casually. Some are direct, some are indirect. Some are enigmatic, some are straightforward. Some are innocent, some are venomous. Some are silly, some are vengeful.

But it's all there - for me to know, understand, interpret, and feel the hurt. Somehow, I refuse to fall for those tacky tactics.

'Why me,' is probably a helpless victim's reaction. 'Not me,' is the cry of a warrior. And I believe I'm the stronger one. I'm the warrior. I'm the rebel. I'm the cool cat. I'm the dare devil. Or am I, actually? Lost people, left career, changed lifestyle... what more can stand testimony to my nonchalant and noncommittal response to life, I wonder.

That explains why it actually makes me laugh, not hurt or wriggle in pain, when people who don't know or understand me try to throw their weight around... does it really affect me? Can there be victory if there's no opponent and no battle? So, who are they putting up a show for? What's their chance in front of all that fate had to offer me so far - unasked? If I have to carefully measure all my gains against my few losses, I'd still probably be part of "the poorest of the poor" brigade. What a sad prospect I say!

So I come up with my own silent protest, not quite withdrawing into the shell, and throw an even quieter challenge... I'm willing to trade everything that life and fate have given me until now with anyone who believes I've a better life, and luck, than them... what a thought! What a joke! Seriously. Take all my countless tears that I was forced to stop from slipping down for fear of losing someone else too!!

I really wait for that someone to take up the challenge and live life my way. Just for a day. I'm okay swapping places, sitting back, relaxing, and enjoying every moment of it while they struggle to walk the tight rope called life with half my sense of balance. I'm willing to leave my everything in the person's favor, till the last penny of my property (?), on one simple condition. Just bring me back the two most important people, whom I lost in quick succession, alive. Relationships and people are what I want. Give me back my people and take all the comforts money could provide me so far.

All I ask for in return is a day of complete, solid and unending joy without a tinge of sorrow or regret. I'm ready for the challenge. Are you?

Of disconnected relationships & intriguing dynamics

When I was expressing my views about Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna in one of my previous posts, I kept thinking about a few other movies that belong to the same genre and deal with human relationships in a much more touching and intricate manner. Oh no, I'm not talking about the new-age cult movies like Murder, Jism, Zeher, and the likes. These do not appeal to my sense(s) and sensibility(ies).

I am thinking of movies like Silsila (but of course!!), Masoom, Arth, Sahib Biwi aur Ghulam, Ijaazat, and Charulatha (Satyajit Ray's amazing depiction of Rabindranath Tagore's story). Why was I reminded of these movies particularly? Because all of them displayed the same deftness in handling tricky themes and portraying delicate issues. You just have to open your eyes, let your mind take in all that's happening around you, notice the kind of relationship(s) shared by men and women in our culturally evolving society, and you'll see what I mean.

Silsila, I must say, was too bold for the early '80s but the makers couldn't keep at it till the end. They couldn't risk letting two marriages break and had to backtrack from uniting the lovers, for fear of ostracism. The path which Big B's movie was reluctant to tread, junior Bachchan's film ventures into, successfully too. Twenty-five years is too long a gap for the society to remain the same - and stick to the same moral code of conduct.

More than Silsila, I have always found Arth to be much more fascinating for the way the makers dealt with the thin line between friendship and love, and carefully walked the movie on a double-edged sword without letting the people involved slip even once. Arth brings to the fore the beautiful friendship between an understanding male friend called Raj and our protagonist Pooja. It's his constant support that helps her re-invent herself and re-evaluate her relationship with her cheating spouse. The movie ends leaving Raj and Pooja as friends, without entangling them in a web of another relationship. And therein lies the beauty of the movie that fascinates me still.

Masoom, on the other hand, intensifies the struggle of the wife by bringing a child into the picture. You sympathize with the woman but you also hate her stubbornness at times as your heart aches for the little boy. I remember watching this movie when I was quite young and felt it was totally unfair that the woman has to deal with the reality of her husband's fling, besides shouldering an additional burden of letting his illegitimate son walk into her happy home uninvited, throwing her world upside down and reminding her of the infidelity and the injustice every minute of her life. I always felt Shabana was justified in fighting for her rights.

I still keep wondering how the movie would end had the roles been reversed, and the husband had to deal with his wife's brief affair, and the resultant child. Smirk! Smirk!! I think it would probably have been a disastrous experiment - both for the makers and the audience as well! Not many people would accept Waheeda's illegitimate child in Kabhi Kabhi and Big B's role as her husband in the movie is a perfect reflection of the general male attitude (of the '80s).

My all-time favorite Ijaazat (what a movie!), however, delves much deeper into relationships and tries to understand the psyche of the human mind. Here the wife has a lot more to deal with - not only her husband's mood swings and fond memories of his ex, but also understand and sympathise with the girlfriend's obsession with her husband. Phew! I tried understanding how she manages to do it with the same sane (?) spirit. Isn't it the same movie where the whole story unwinds and rewinds in the waiting room of a railway station? A metaphor to indicate life coming to a halt briefly and then taking a newer route? Or maybe it's about life getting stuck at the crossroads, I guess!

These are all delicate themes, with delicately woven plots, intriguing dynamics, and deeper psychological insights. And so are our relationships. With each and everyone around us. As I notice with a heavy heart the number of marriages failing around me and relationships turning sore, I am constantly reminded of these amazing movies and the lessons they teach us.

Failed experiments and four burnt vessels

It was definitely a nightmarish experience both for me and my little devil. Since I have nothing better to do in life these days than supervising things and little devils, besides spending a couple of hours tormenting my students, I have been regularly impressing everyone around me (which actually means my just-turned-seven daughter) with my cooking experiments. I was mostly successful (in scaring the little one and making her eat whatever I cook) and I was on my way to becoming the master chef too... or so I thought.

Until this evening when I was bitten by the experimental bug yet again and called up my mom in a jiffy to get the

recipe for, and tips on how to make, mysore pak, I had no clue that I am actually no good in the cooking domain. :( If I were to rewrite the lyrics of the famous title song of the Jackie-Meenakshi-starrer Hero, I'd have to probably write, Par pak-shastra ke pannon mein apni takdeer to zero hai...

And there I was thinking I was the best cook in the whole world. I don't know for what reason I suddenly had this overwhelming desire to make and eat mysore pak as my evening snack for the day. Akhir kyon! Why couldn't I think of a better snack like pakode or payasam which have been my best and most successful experiments so far!! Maybe it was Divine Intervention when God wanted to desperately warn me against my gluttony, and cooking escapades.

So how did it all happen? I got the recipe right. Noted down each detail my mom gave on the phone carefully (hiding my irritation as she repeated the steps to be doubly sure that I got everything right), by-hearted the whole recipe in less than 10 minutes before darting straight into the kitchen. Then how can it all go wrong?

I measured one part besan (gram flour), one part sugar, one-and-a-half parts of ghee and one glass of water very carefully. Then I heated a kadai (pan) on the stove, added sugar and water to make a thin syrup of

one-thread consistency. Then I added besan and kept stirring continuously to make sure there are no lumps. And then I started pouring in the ghee slowly while stirring continuously. Then why didn't it start bubbling with the ghee leaving the sides of the pan as my mom promised? Instead everything was turning dark brown. I kept hoping that if I leave it for a bit more on the stove, it'll be set right.

All I get at the end of the frustrating 15 minutes is an almost blackened besan powder in ghee. Gawd, where is my mysore pak - is it hiding behind this sooty stuff?

Okay, maybe I got it all wrong. Or missed some step in between. Let me re-check and try it again! This time I measured an even lesser portion of all the ingredients, used a new pan and followed the process carefully. Then why was the besan getting stuck to the spoon and the pan?

I gave up and decided to take it off the flame and spread it on the plate. It looked all right. I mean at least it didn't get burnt, and was still looking slightly yellowish - the way mysore pak is supposed to look. But then, why the bloody hell was it undercooked and tasted like I was eating raw besan with ghee and sugar! Nonsense!

Let me try it one last time. I repeated the experiment yet

again with a dominating gut feeling that I gained experience in stirring the mixture without feeling tired, so my mysore pak will turn out to be the best this time - better than my mom's best I'm sure. Okay, everything looks fine. So far so good. But why the hell is it rock hard?

Now what do I do with the rock-solid lump? Maybe hit the annoying watchman of our apartment complex with it and pretend I didn't exist.

Okay, three experiments (in a span of half-an-hour) and four burnt vessels later, I give up! Point well noted... I don't think I'm cut out to make mysore pak. I better stick to kheer, gulab jamun and gavvalu. And I guess the enthusiastic experimentalist in me is put to rest - for a while at least!

Four stages and a borewell

While contemplating on what my next post is going to be about, I stumbled upon a lot of ideas, and thoughts, even as I was caught up with my offline work. This was around the time when I was super tired and super frustrated supervising the super slow borewell guys! Remember all those weird status messages I had some time back!

That's when I so totally started believing in the adage Pelli chesi choodu, illu katti choodu which roughly translates to "Supervise a marriage ceremony/ the construction of a house and see (the fun?)"... How true! The whole activity (during the three-day marathon borewell session) and my mental state can roughly be segregated into four stages!

And what do I get? Almost similar emotions that I had experienced before, during and after my wedding ceremony. Yes, you read it right. I kept comparing the whole process with my marriage and divided it into 4 brief stages.

Stage 1 (Pre-marital - well in this case borewell - syndrome): I was super excited, but tense, worked up but excited again... just like the day before the wedding. There was so much to do and the long anticipatory wait was like a never-ending story. I kept praying that it shouldn't start raining all over again as rains played havoc with my borewell plans for many months now.

Stage 2 (This I want to term the pre-ceremony syndrome): This reminded me of the day of the wedding, especially just a few hours before the actual ceremony... It was so relieving to see the sun shining bright and orange that morning! The tension was still there though, as I wasn't sure if the owner of Laxmi Tubewells and Drillers will find some excuse yet again to avoid taking up the job at our plot.

Stage 3 (Wedding blues): Fortunately, and thankfully, the workers arrived with their gigantic borewell machine and another truck that carried other vital things like diesel, pipes, and people among others. I was super excited as they started backing the machine into position and asked me to break a coconut, sprinkle some kumkum, turmeric, and flowers, light a few agarbatti sticks, and they ACTUALLY started drilling. Wow!!! I don't think I can do justice if I try to express my excitement in words.

Stage 4 (Post-marital/borewell blues): This, to me, was like the day after marriage. As I had mentioned before, the marathon drilling session lasted three days draining me of all

my energy, patience and intelligence. I was deprived of everything - sleep and food being the most important. I knew the guys are at the root of the problem and the long wait was soon going to end, but the end seemed too far away at times - when I lost hope completely and felt nothing but frustration, especially when the casing pipes gave way twice and they had to re-do the entire process. A day-and-a-half lost in vain. :(

But I've to admit that supervising the drilling session was something! Despite all the hitches, I found it particularly thrilling to watch the work in progress, as each stage offered me a new experience. Apparently my parents had a marathon wedding ceremony that lasted three days too. Wonder how they felt at that point! Probably just the way I felt at the end of it all - when my mind and body were so numb, when I wanted nothing but the whole thing to end, when I wanted to just shrug my shoulders and walk off... into the wilderness without a second thought.

But here I am shouldering another major responsibility willingly, and moving ahead with confidence. This time it's supervision of the house construction itself :))). Did somebody call me 'brave'? I guess 'rebel' would be the more apt and appropriate word. Hahaha!!! And life still goes on in this sleepy hamlet - even if it is one step at a time.

16/11: The day Tooth Fairy visited my daughter

It would have been like any regular Monday morning as my daughter woke up this morning rubbing her eyes in an attempt to wake herself up completely. I carried the struggling six-year-old to the washbasin even as she kept refusing to let go of me. It was about time she started her daily routine - brushing, drinking milk, bathing, wearing uniform and shoes, going down to wait for the bus.

As I started brushing her teeth, S suddenly squealed like a little mouse whose little toe the fat cat stomped on. And what do I discover? 'Amma my tooth is moving, and I don't want it to fall off now,' she declared in a half-sleepy-half-weepy tone. I could clearly sense, and sympathize with, her loss, disappointment, unhappiness, and surprise. So in order to divert her attention from the problem at hand and help her spirits soar, I set out to narrate the famous story of the Tooth Fairy.

And the tale goes thus:

Once upon a time, not too long ago, there was a little girl who recently started obeying her mom and drank a full glass (so what if it's a real tiny glass) of Bournvita every morning before going to school, and also half-a-glass of the same sweet beverage right after her afternoon siesta. As the little girl had been consistent in doing this for the past four months, and was very obedient all the while without ever fussing about drinking milk, and increased the amount of calcium in her body, our Tooth Fairy was very very impressed.

And the Fairy had finally decided to pay our little angel a surprise visit before her 7th birthday and take one of her tooth for testing purpose. What test and why, you may wonder. But that's how Tooth Fairies are... they need to test the child's teeth before deciding what kind of teeth are supposed to replace the tiny teeth, whether they need extra calcium or not, and such other details which humans might prefer not to remember.

You see, like in all fairy tales, even the lovely Tooth Fairy came down from the skies in the early hours of the day wearing a resplendent white dress carrying a shiny wand with a star at its tip (please don't forget the butterflies that were flying out of the sparkling star), and tried to take out S's tooth really quietly so she doesn't know the pain or the loss. But since S is a bright child and wakes up at the same time every morning to be ready right in time for the school bus, the Tooth Fairy had to leave her work incomplete.

Same day, a little later in the afternoon:

S was back from school with her wriggly tooth still refusing to come out. She was eating her lunch quietly - a little preoccupied and worried about her tooth, and suddenly without much effort or realization on her part, her tooth finally managed to set itself free, and out it fell right into her tiny palm.

Was it a sense of loss, or was it sadness that glinted in her eyes along with tears for a split second? I guess it was relief more than anything else that dominated her thoughts at that point. She was suddenly feeling proud, wanting to show off her missing tooth to her aunt who stays 2 kms away, call up her dad and grandmom to share the excitement with them.

When daddy dear asked S if she was happy or unhappy, she was quick to answer. "Both. I'm unhappy because this is the first time it happened and I didn't know how it feels when somebody loses a tooth. I'm also happy that I'm becoming big." Wow! I was wondering if my head was filled with so many (conflicting) thoughts when I was 7. And we talk of generation gap!!!

Oh, before I forget, our Tooth Fairy is always very generous with little children. So, that afternoon, while S was in deep sleep, the Fairy had left Rs. 20 for the little one so she could buy ice cream and potato chips with the money. After all, the Fairy had taken something much more valuable to an about-to-be-seven child than chips and chocolates! And yes, let me confess that though I was in the same room all the while lost in the virtual world - chatting with friends and playing online games - I haven't seen either the Fairy or the hint of the shiny starry wand. I wish I was a child too to recognize the beautiful Fairy with her pleasant smile, and say a polite 'Hello' and a grateful 'Thank You'!

My little monkey's adventures

One little monkey jumping on the rocks

One fell down and broke her chin

Mamma got worked up and mamma said

No more monkey jumping all the time...

I guess it's easy to figure out who I'm talking about. As if the adventure in my life was not enough, looks like my daughter too inherited it from me. I've kind of lost track of the number of times Srishtii got hurt in the past 6 years with the latest injury happening just three days ago - she was running, fell down on some stones and badly injured herself: a deep gash on the chin, scratches on her tiny palms, hands and knees. Looking at my daughter's track record, this is nothing I guess. 

S's first injury happened when she was just 11 months old. My husband was out of the town on an official trip then. I came back from work at 8.20 P.M. on that fateful Wednesday night and found my daughter's lips swollen. My tearful mom told me that she fell off her pram earlier in the evening when she saw that my brother and his friend were going out. The guys were forced to cancel their movie night and rush her to the doctor. She had just started teething and cut her upper gums real deep, so the doctor wanted a surgeon to sew up the gash for quicker recovery. We were at the hospital till midnight as the doctor cleaned up the wound and had to put 3 stitches... :( The nightmarish experience is unforgettable to this day!

Guess my daughter didn't know how to stop since then... she went on embarking on one adventure after the other, each time the injury being different, severe, and sometimes scarier than the earlier one. Let me recollect and list out each of her adventures:

• Just a few months afterward, when I was mixing food for her, she tried reaching out for me from her swing, lost her balance, and almost fell down upside down - her legs got tangled in the swing while she was dangling ulta and crying for help. 
• Almost a year later, S fell off her rocking horse (it wasn't a wooden one but a rather sturdy plastic red, blue and yellow one) when she got up and tried to run to me. Yet another deep gash on her upper lip, right at a time when we ourselves were tensed up about my sister-in-law's post-surgical care as she was to be discharged the next morning and brought home. 
• Six months after this incident, S inserted a doll's eye in her right ear - the ENT specialist struggled for an hour to remove it carefully while she was on sedation. My husband was out of the town again! 
• Once she had swallowed a 10-paise coin and we had to wait eagerly for her to poop next day. Thankfully it came out that way without doctor's intervention :-). 
• On another occasion, we went shopping (with our niece in tow) at a store in White House building in Begumpet. Despite our repeated warnings, S kept running around, fell down and fractured her right hand :( . She was just about three years old then. 
• Last year, when I was away in the USA on an official trip, my husband and daughter visited his sister. While returning, as usual, my daughter was jumping and running on platform 2 of the Brahmapur Railway Station. In no time, she fell down and hurt her knees and hands real bad and was bawling away all the way to Secunderabad on board the Falaknuma Express. 
• Just last month, she was playing in her new school (where they have a huge ground and enough time for play), fell down yet again, and hurt her knee in the process. 

The list is actually endless and I've only listed out the major ones while ignoring the minor cuts and scratches. Sometimes I wonder if it is actually a good thing to keep falling frequently and getting hurt. At other times I feel it's okay if she falls and hurts herself just a little... she'll learn to face other major things in life with more confidence, and experience. 

Also, come to think of it, it's not possible for children not to run around and fall. Without getting hurt, nobody grows up. If you expect a child not to jump about and be quiet, it's like expecting too much... and you're probably not giving your child enough opportunity to be a child and explore things. I feel these injuries are just minor hurdles but if we stop them from falling, exploring and experiencing, then they'll end up being sissy-ish and cowardly. I might be talking like a cruel, hard-hearted mother, but I only don't want my sweetie pie to get hurt too much later in life!!! What say!

Hats off to a zealous spirit

Okay, finally I managed to make a few amends to my daily routine and moved away from the 5.30 to 11.30 regimen... :-) Don't worry guys, I'm not going to repeat the entire timetable again. I was feeling kicked about the few changes in my life right now, and wanted to share it with you all.

But before I proceed with my own story, I want to congratulate two of my cousins through this post. While one of them finally mustered the courage to go ahead with her 'second innings of motherhood' after a gap of seven years, the other cousin's wife is expecting their first child. Hearty congratulations to both of you, and all the best for a safe 'innings'.

Now about me: I have some good news to share too (not the 'innings' kind, okay :-)! The major change is that I've started giving English tuitions to about 6 kids (of different age groups and backgrounds - I'll talk more about them in another post), and have been considering teaching English (weekly once/twice) to the inmates of an orphanage in the next lane. Only I need to find the time with a flurry of activity happening on the plot we have bought.

YESSSSSSSSSS! There's some progress with regards to the construction of our dream house - the sea-facing villa (well, not exactly a villa but it's nice to keep dreaming of one!!).

I managed to find a watchman called Heenu a.k.a. Prabhakar who's the most enthu person I've

come across so far in the past four months of my stay here. Without this 20+ young man's enthusiasm and passion for work, I wouldn't have been able to clear the 1/2-acre plot of weeds, chop off unwanted trees, and get a tractor owner to agree to plough the plot for just Rs. 750 :))).

Ain't I lucky to get an educated watchman who completed his metric exam, and can speak/ understand a bit of English too? Now he wants me to teach him "best English" so he can "talk to me in English properly":)))

A talented young guy, Heenu teaches students some dance moves during school annual day celebrations or dance competitions. He even travelled to Hyderabad to help young Hyderabadi school students get their dance steps right. That's our enthusiastic Heenu for you!

And yes, here's a glimpse of our plot and our spirited good Samaritan watchman. Thank you Heenu for just being there, and helping me with a lot of things without me ever having to ask you! I keep wondering if the world is a better and happier place because of nice, simple and hard-working people like him... Three cheers to his zealous spirit!

The story of a changing city

Hyderabad, I've realized for the second time in a very short span of time, changes every second. It didn't feel the same when I arrived a few days ago for a brief visit - I had to take care of a few pressing personal issues (read money matters - hahaha!!!).

First things first - let me make it very clear that it was cough, and not my husband, that greeted me and my daughter on platform number 4 at the Secunderabad Railway Station as soon as we got off the Visakha Express. And we kept coughing without a break till about an hour after we reached home! No, it's neither cold nor swine flu, or the AC compartment, that made us cough incessantly. It was the pollution levels in the city that caused it. Either the pollution was rather high than the last time we came (which was just about a month ago) or maybe our sensitivity level has changed.

Hmmm, looks like the Hyderabadi roads are never bereft of vehicles or people. Unlike in the USA where you'll need to hunt for a single soul to help you find the right direction, Hyderabad is just too full of inquisitive onlookers who're ever willing to offer unwanted help.

Having come from a small sleepy hamlet for a sojourn, we felt burdened by each extra vehicle and human being that appeared on the city roads. As most people in our tiny beach town either walk down or go on the completely environmental-friendly bicycle, I find it particularly suffocating when I see a lot of vehicles moving fast, mostly vying for space or attention.

The next thing that caught my attention was the nonstop blaring horn(s) of the ambulance. It wasn't like I didn't know of the existence of ambulances earlier but the lack of these vehicles in our part of the country probably makes me react much more strongly now. I was kind of scared by the increase in the number of ambulances and the frequency of their trips on the roads.

While things I found in excess suffocated me, things which I found to be fewer, scarce and rare left me feeling deprived!

Stars (not the acting types but the twinkling little ones) are a rarity here. Even a quiet walk on the terrace didn't help me spot even a handful of them on a so-called starry night. Bright lights from every nook and corner of the city lit up the sky and dominated these celestial bodies.

For a beach lover surrounded by water mostly, accepting that water is another rare commodity in this city was difficult. For most part of my trip I felt like a fish struggling to survive in a polluted lake.

And I kept feeling sorry for all my city-dweller friends who're forced to bear the cacophony of vehicles and the constant honking which make it impossible to listen to the voice of the nature. It is really sad that we don't listen to or acknowledge simple sights and sounds anymore; something as simple as the sounds of chirping birds, raindrops falling on soft sand or even on a concrete road, rustling of leaves against the blowing wind or the soft breeze - both sounds are different if you listen carefully - are lost on the Hyderabadi crowd.

Isn't it sad that it is so very difficult to spot simple species of birds like sparrows and crows in a crowded city? Don't people feel suffocated breathing the polluted air every single minute of their lives? I wonder if immunity is a good thing, after all!! Isn't it strange that nobody wants to break away from the shackles of the city, and experience/enjoy the difference? With these thoughts troubling my mind, I just had to run back to my quiet hamlet...

Love has died, Long live Love

Watching movies on television in the cosy confines of your home at your own convenience is an experience in itself. The best part of home theatre is you've the option of forwarding certain awkward bits, rewinding to re-view your favorite parts, and watching just the songs if you're not too keen on sitting through an entire movie.

Okay! So? Why am I telling you all this? Because I recently watched two movies at home (long after their release of course) made in our very own backyard called Bollywood. And these happen to be completely different from each other. No, this post is not going to be a critical review of the films. It's more an expression of what was going on in my mind while watching them, and a reflection on the most important aspect of human life called relationships.

First it was Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna which was telecast on Set Max that set the ball rolling for my jumbled thoughts. I couldn't watch the entire movie though. Two days later, I happened to watch Jodha-AKbar - this time on my DVD player. And both movies kept me glued to the television. Why, you may wonder! Because of the deft handling of relationships in these flicks.

Ahhh yes!!! Relationships! My favorite topic of discussion. How my friends would love to vouch for it after being subjected to my umpteen impromptu gyan sessions!! True, I love talking about relationships because, to me, they are the be-all and end-all of my existence. I live because of the relationships I share with different people at different levels. I am what I'm because of the innumerable lessons I learnt from each relationship.

Some are strange, some are delicate. Some are intimate, some are just beautiful. Some are obligatory, some are courteous. And then there are some I cherish forever. Oh how I love relationships - probably that explains why these movies caught my attention instantly.

Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna made me look at relationships in a brand new perspective as the story of the three couples offers a three-dimensional view. Besides the two married couples Dev-Rhea (Shah Rukh-Preity) and Rishi-Maya (Abhishek-Rani), we are witness to the blossoming relationship between Dev and Maya.

Let's, for some time, forget if these kind of relationships are acceptable in our culture and our country. I'm not a stickler for traditions and societal norms. I'm also not averse to the idea of couples falling out of love. I don't frown on the idea of a divorce or even an extra-marital affair. And this movie certainly raises bigger questions on marriage, love, and flings. Though I personally thought the movie falls flat in certain aspects, and fails to answer the questions convincingly enough, it does leave an indelible imprint.

Looking at each of the characters, the first person I could totally identify with was Rishi - a typical male whose violent reaction when he learns about his wife's affair looks entirely normal. Throwing stuff around, breaking valuables at home, pushing away the furniture - everything seems quite okay!!! The ultimate reality of an insecure male, and the couple's on-the-rocks marriage, comes to the fore when Rishi asks Maya, "Did you sleep with him? How was it? Did you have fun?"

There's something here that beats me totally. What becomes the basis of discord in a marital relationship becomes THE spicy ingredient in a new relationship. Maya who is unhappy with Rishi's 'physical approach to things as it's not everything in a relationship' finds herself willingly surrendering to her newfound love. Very strange! Either you like it or you don't. You can't be a hypocrite where sex is okay with a new person but not okay with your spouse!

Doesn't it say something about the institution called marriage? Since when has the new trend begun where marriage lost its charm and panache; where estranged couples are walking out without regret; where couples are getting in and out of relationships - and flings - as easily as choosing between a burger and a dosa; where monotony is the order of the day! Why have we come to a stage where we're craving for recognition, and looking for comfort outside of home, and marriage? Looks like the DINS syndrome has completely taken over the current generation.

Okay, wait a minute! Before we go off tangent criticising the age-old institution and questioning its very base, let's look at the other heart-warming tale of yet another couple - Jodha-Akbar. This movie is on another plain, slightly grounded in reality, and offers a positive perspective on life, marriage, love and relationships. The realization that even we're forced to travel through these terrains (sometimes smooth, sometimes rugged and sometimes rocky) in our own life, just like the couple in question, makes the movie that much more endearing.

No doubt the storyline is complicated, but it's unlike any of the movies that belong to the KANK genre. The movie is at a different emotional level altogether. The plot thickens as religious and political aspects, murderous plots and ego clashes, social awarenesses and economic conditions are brought out to the fore.

Surmounting all the negative aspects that come in the way of this relationship (religious differences, misunderstandings, treacheries, and ego clashes), the love between Akbar and Jodha emerges victorious. At the end of the struggle, all they have for each other are abundant love, unbeatable respect and an understanding that stems from a clear conscience and an excellent rapport. Like they say, the war (of egos) may have been lost but the battle is won.

Just like no two people are similar, no two relationships are alike. Jodha-Akbar shows us that love weathers the test of time and tide if the couple shares a beautiful friendship, perfect understanding and unrelenting love. More than the magnificent sets that depict the regality and the grandeur of the Mughal era, I was mesmerized and touched by the delicate handling of emotions, and relationships, in this movie.

To this amazing couple, and many such lovely couples (who inspire me in many ways), I dedicate this post. Long Live Love and Lovely Relationships!!

Of competition, pressure and suicide(s)

Curiosity in children nature has provided, to remove that ignorance they were born with; which, without this busy inquisitiveness, will make them dull.

- John Locke

Sakshi is one of the newspapers I read religiously, everyday, along with The Hindu. I recently happened to read this very interesting and touching story in their Sunday Magazine (dated Sept. 06, 2009) written by their columnist, Mr. G.R. Maharshi. Those who can read Telugu can find the original version here (try opening it in IE).

For the benefit of non-Telugu readers, here's a gist of the story. It revolves around a little parrot (an apt metaphor, I must say) who just wants to fly and enjoy the sense of floating in the air without being caged. But her parents don't really approve of it - they want to send her to a cage (no prizes for guessing what it stands for!) which is guarded 24X7 by teachers, books, canes, exams, homeworks, and punishments among others.

Here's a sample of how our little parrot used to feel in this cage:

Teacher: "Do you know what's gravitation?"

Little Parrot: "Those who love the sky and the air need not think about the earth."

Teacher: "You've got zero marks!"

Little Parrot: "I know what's a zero, it looks like the full moon."

Teacher: "Nonsense! this is an institution which produces doctors and engineers, not poets or philosophers."

Thus goes the conversation... and on several occasions the little one's promptly put in place while being taught the rules of the cage and how not to cross the line. On one such occasion, when our parrot is unable to answer questions on Gama, Alpha, and Beta, the mother parrot was summoned.

After a detailed discussion with the teacher(s), the mother is disappointed that her daughter is not 'normal'. "Your father and I have worked very hard to send you to this cage. We'll ONLY feel happy if you come out donning a doctor's or an engineer's wings," says she. "But I'm good at flying - please let me become an expert at it," our little parrot pleads with her mom, tears glinting in her eyes.

But how dare she! How dare she question the rules of the game... how dare she think of flying in an opposite direction while all the others are flying in the same direction? How dare she answer her mother back!! Just a couple of slaps were enough to set the daughter right!

"You've no choice but learn what fetches you money. Be obedient, stick to the rules of the cage and come out with a doctor's coat so you can earn a lot by coming up with new diseases. Or become an engineer and build bridges between trees. You can collect money at the toll gate from each bird that flies there. If this country doesn't give you enough money, fly to America or Europe. But you cannot think of taking flying lessons anymore," was her last warning to her child.

Can our little parrot go against her parents' warnings? I guess not! She just kept counting days in the cage, occasionally peering out the window with a gloomy expression. Her day would start at 5 a.m. but God knows when it would end after all the lessons she's forced to learn hour after hour. She almost forgot that she has wings and that she used to fly once upon a time. How long can she remain sane if she's not allowed to fly? Soon she fell ill, but the mother would only talk about career, and how important it is to get back to the cage.

One night, when the mother is just about to sleep, there's a knock on their door. "I'm the God," declares the person at the door. "And your daughter wants to come to me. But I don't like it if people come to see me without being summoned. I sent you all to this earth thinking you'll lead a good life. But, contrary to my expectations, you're all spoiling your life with false notions and unnecessary competition(s). I've not created this world for just doctors and engineers, I made it for everybody. And I love all my creations equally. Go tell your daughter that I don't want to see her now," said the tearful God, his words afflicted with pain.

"Does God also cry?" the mother was surprised. "Yes, He cries only because He is God (and is pained to see the plight of His people)." With that, He walked away...

This beautifully narrated tale touched me in more than one ways, I must admit. The writer's subtle-yet-sharp way of dealing with such a tricky subject using simple metaphors drives home the point, loud and clear! The story certainly makes all parents who care for their children sit up and take note. I'm still wondering if the competitive academic environment that's plaguing the present-day Indian education system actually yields desired results!

Why are we so caught up with our own prejudices and sense of right/wrong, good/bad, that we impose our views ruthlessly on our children? Why has it become so essential for our children to achieve what we couldn't? Do we really need to break these young hearts and push them towards taking drastic steps like suicide? Why are we so bent upon killing the child's creativity right at the primary school level? Now, isn't it high time that parents stop driving their children insane?

And the fact that the story was dedicated to all youngsters who ended their life because of parental pressure and stressful competition proves the importance of getting rid of the rat race. I hope somebody makes a beginning somewhere and help curtail the increasing number of teen suicides in the country. Guess educational institutions like these help build a new kind of society free from competition and pressure. Here's three cheers to many more such new beginnings and pressure-free academics!

The checklist

Yesterday, after careful deliberation, thought and reasoning, I made this checklist for myself. And, for once, I started feeling more strongly about what I set out to do - far from races and riches.

I'm posting this with a sincere hope that it might be of some help to someone, somewhere! Who knows, even I may want to keep coming back to it once a while to make sure I'm on the right track. Here's how I gave shape to my precious thoughts... :-)

1. Realize that time just flies and we keep racing against it, all our life, in vain. 
2. Slow down at least once to think about, and understand, what you've left behind and what you've got ahead. 
3. Stop for a second and take a deep breath before racing on. 
4. Organizations come and go, but people who matter to you don't - once lost, they're lost forever. 
5. You're not indispensable at work, but you're irreplaceable at home. Why not spend some more time with people who love you the most rather than at work, behind a computer! 
6. Spending time together doesn't necessarily mean spending money together at an upmarket mall, a plush new multiplex or a chic boutique. 
7. A pleasant evening well-spent at home with your family, or a nice long walk at the nearest park - hand in hand with a loved one - is what togetherness (and bliss) is all about! 
8. Life is short, so don't be hard (on yourself, or on others). 
9. How about saying hello to your long-lost friend today? 
10. There's no time to love, so why spend so much time to hate? 
11. Hatred makes you mad, and love makes you wild - which is better? 
12. Haste is waste, so just take a chill pill before the doctor gives you a whopping bill. 
13. Forgive, forget and move on. 
14. No argument is worth the time, energy and emotion spent to win it (probably at the cost of a relationship). Sacrifice such victory that pampers your ego, and you can win a heart without any resistance! 
15. Life is very unpredictable, don't even try to predict the future. Just go along the flow, and live the present moment to the fullest. 
16. Learn to love everything you do or intend to do... so what if you can't do everything you love! 
17. Of all the vices, jealousy is the worst - it leads to unnecessary complications and competitions. 
18. Religion is nothing in comparison to life, so there's no point in being a fanatic. Faith in some kind of supreme force (God?) makes more sense than becoming passionate about some poor physical replicas of religion. 
19. Never reach a point where you end up regreting the past. When you're breathing your last, your whole life is played in your mind in a rewind mode - all you can do at that point is think about things you could have done/said and didn't do/say while you still had a chance. 
20. Wealth and riches are never enough. They need to be chased all your life. 
21. In contrast, you can only eat so much. So feed yourself well instead, and you'll never find yourself wanting. 
22. If you hate somebody please ignore that part of your mind, but if you love somebody just go tell them at the first chance you get. 

BTW, did I tell you that I love you?

What's the chase for?

Another five lives lost. In a fraction of a second. One mistake. One wrong judgment. Unfortunately, there's no rewind button. And, one life seems a lot more important than the other four. Or so the media thinks.

First they said there was no contact, then they said there was no trace. Soon it was no hope. It finally turned out that there was no life. The 'inevitable' has happened.When will the media learn to stop! Will they learn to draw a line, somewhere, ever?

But why is this news so important in my life? Because of the invasion of the television. Because of the familiarity of the man's face, and his friendly smile. Because YSR is almost a household name. Because my six-year-old knows about the existence of this CM. Because of the limmerick my husband taught my daughter a year ago for a quiz contest at school to ensure that she remembers the CM's name.

I agree the worst fears of the state have come true, and whatever has happened is unfortunate. What's worse is the lack of respect for human life. Images of the parts of each body being collected, pushed on to a stretcher and wrapped in a white cloth before being air-lifted show yet again the least value our country attributes to human life, and the kind of (dis-)respect shown to the mortal remains of our departed!

But for the television channels, my tension would not have reached its crescendo by 10.30 this morning. The first question my daughter asked me after returning from school at 12.05 p.m. was "Amma, aayana dorikara? (Has he been found?)". When I told her what has happened, she had tears in her eyes. All she said was "Ayyo, why amma?". As I explained about the chopper crash to her, my little one was bursting with questions, "But he's chief minister no amma, why did he go like that in rain? Nobody told him not to go? And why did only 5 people go? Did all of them die? Security uncles didn't go?"

Within minutes she called up her dad with more questions. She wanted to know it all - how did the air crash take place, why people in the airport didn't know about it, how difficult it is midway while traveling by air, and when the weather is bad should people travel...

The gist of it is the tragedy hit everyone - including a 6-year-old child. I guess we can't remain innocent/ ignorant anymore in this age of technology, and mushrooming media houses.

But yes, one more lesson learnt. We are born, and then we die. That alone is the reality. Everything else in between, including the life we lead, is just a stupid race - to do this or that, accumulate property, chase material comforts, become corrupt in the process, pick up fights/arrogance/prejudices, make enemies, live in constant fear of losing (things, wealth, loved ones, self - in fact, everything).

And when we're gone, we're just gone - with no trace left. In some cases without even a piece of cloth to cover the person's pride. So what's the point of chasing wealth and losing health when all you need are a few metres' cloth, and a six-foot trench?

Here's hoping that realization dawns on us soon... the sooner the better! And how about spreading this idea to a few others we know?

Uff those trains, and travel !!

It's been ages since I travelled in sleeper class. I don't remember when was the last I travelled in a second class compartment of any Indian train, before my recent trip to Hyderabad that is!

And this travel paved the way for a plethora of emotions in a short time (well, not exactly - the train took its own sweet time of 20 hours to reach our destination). We got into the train at 11.30 a.m. and till almost 4.30 p.m. there was nobody in the bogie - everything around was quiet except for the chugging of the rail engine and the sound of the wheels on the tracks (which probably wouldn't have been so prominent had it been an AC coach). In fact, it was so quiet that my husband and me could fight peacefully for about 5 minutes without inviting glances, comments or intrusions :-).

The train was quite empty too but for those unplanned travelers with a general ticket trying to catch a seat in the sleeper coach just by requesting the TC. And, apparently the TC obliges in most cases - how does it matter if the passengers with a reservation are inconvenienced as long as he gets to fill his pockets before he can call it a day! His logic: 'you should be a little patient and cooperating sir. They are only day-journey-ing. You won't be sleeping till night anyway - hehehehe.' What an argument sir-ji!

So far so good - till a couple got in with their two daughters in tow and a truck-load of luggage - somewhere after Visakhapatnam. They pushed, pulled, and tugged at our only suitcase and somehow managed to squeeze in every bit of the luggage they got into the coach while the entire khandaan waiting outside to see them off tried getting into the compartment to help them arrange & re-arrange their stuff, hug the kids, say goodbye, exchange last-minute pleasantries - what a chaos! I was literally waiting for the train to start so there will be just 4 people around, and not 40. Having received many packets of chips, biscuits, and chocolates from their loving relatives, the little ones started attacking their loot the moment they got in, making a mess of the place.

Hmmm! If you thought that was messy, think again. Two stations and an hour-and-a-half later, another couple boarded the train with their two little children (a boy and a girl this time) and claimed the first couple's seats as theirs. There were mild arguments, comparison of tickets, compromises, and finally a long wait for the TC to resolve the issue - it turned out that our first couple got into the wrong compartment - S1 instead of SC1. Ahhh, what a relief!

No, wait, I was wrong. Who wants to move with bag-baggage to the other end of the train when one can make friends, and a few adjustments, here itself! So, both the couples and their 4 little devils plonked themselves well and started a conversation in such friendly tones that I wondered if they were long-lost twins separated at the Kumbh Mela!

Meanwhile the husband in our second family wanted me and my daughter "to move and hand over the window seat to them as it is theirs and they have small kids who loveeee the window seat." That's it, I totally lost it and out came a rude reply - "I'll move, just hold it. We also have a window seat but we didn't demand it back from our co-passengers as they are travelling with a 7-month-old baby. Neither you bought the entire train nor I did. Be a little patient or make sure that all four of you occupy just that one seat and not move to our part as we've the other two seats reserved for middle and upper berths."

Wicked! wicked! I know, but I just couldn't help it - I was bearing all kinds of weird behavior with a blank expression since afternoon! But S was wicked-est when I told him what happened. He was standing near the door for most part of this amazing conversation I had with my co-passenger (my husband hates crowded places and ill-mannered crowd). He almost told them, courteously though :-))) , that he wants to sleep and wants to use his own berth - the middle berth that is! Hehehe! I think that shut up the angry-young-man forever!

Their incessant chattering went on till 9 p.m. when both the guys finally decided to slowly move the luggage of the first couple to their actual compartment at the other end of the train. Gawd, finally!!! I guess some sense dawned on them as their kids were sleepy and cranky.

What a nice way to travel I say! Squeezing in a smaller space scared to even get up in fear of losing that little space too, being forced to listen to friendly exchanges of information, getting dragged into unwanted conversations -- please, whoever told you I'm interested in knowing where you live, what you do for livelihood, what're the names of your little angels, how good/bad your in-laws are, how your neighbours trouble you, and how both ye couples are married within the family, and that too to your maternal uncles (wow, what a coincidental surprise!).

So????? For God's sake, I'm not a friendly person - not in an over-crowded sleeper coach of Visakha Express at least! I told S (for the 100th time I think) that I'll travel ONLY in an AC coach during my return journey, and for all my future trips too.

Did I hear someone yell SNOB! Maybe, but I'm like this only... God save me! Or, better still, my fellow passengers from me!

Can you still say India is free?

This is a riposte (that I chanced upon and totally enjoyed reading) to a speech delivered recently in Hyderabad by our honourable ex-President Mr. Kalam about India being a great nation of scientists, and patriots (?). He probably used this speech, as he always does, to inspire umpteen youngsters who, at their impressionable age, might find it truly inspiring, completely agreeable, and extremely motivating. Maybe Mr. Kalam's success can be attributed to his incredible feat of being able to reach out to the right age group at the right time!

But what about cynics like us who find the facts of his speech and the so-called scientific achievements totally questionable? Agreed we also want an India which is shining and whose future is bright. Nevertheless, when we critically examine the contents of Mr. Kalam's speech and carefully scrutinise some of the issues discussed, people like us might want to understand the nature of the speech, question the motive behind showcasing India in such richer tones of greatness or whatever else he tried to attribute to the country and its scientific temper!

However, in true Indian spirit, I'd still love to offer a sincere salute to my country on the occasion of her 62nd Independence Day. Jai Hind!

When disaster(s) strike...

... they strike disastrously. Or so I feel at this point in time. First it was the earthquake that woke me up at 1.25 a.m. and kept me on tenterhooks for the next 15-20 mins. I was sleepy, and I was a bit worried too - not knowing whether it was a real quake or if it was a forceful wind playing its night-time tricks; whether it was true or if it was a fit of my dreamy imagination; whether I should pick up my sleeping daughter and run out of the house or stay and wait for the next tremor.

I was unsure if everything was all right, and if it was safe for me to go back to sleep. I was finally convinced that the quake was not unreal when my worried cousin working in the USA heard of a 'possible Tsunami' warning, and called us around 2.10 a.m. to find out if we were safe and how far are we from the sea, and safety! Oh my God! So the cot really moved - for full 20 seconds - and I've not imagined it at all. Hmmmm!

After a restless night with barely 3 hours of sleep, I woke up the next morning at my usual time only to find 15 minutes later that my daughter got up with a high fever. And this was the first time in the past six years that her body temparature touched 103 F. Why now? When we just moved to a village, choosing a totally different lifestyle. All was well so far - so why is this happening now? Suddenly!

Not just this!! Just a couple of days before these two nightmarish experiences occured, my loving husband came down from Hyderabad in our silver gray Maruti Alto car (in an act of affection and chivalry) so I can use my own vehicle and not depend on autos or public transport here. We hired Abhimanyu (a driver from Dharampur), bought him a ticket, and sent him to drive my husband down. Within a couple of hours after their arrival, Sr. S was down with fever, cough, cold and stomach infection (no, it's not swine flu).

Clearly, that was no joy ride for him - 900 kms of non-stop travel in a matchbox-ish vehicle when he had to fight sleep to make sure the driver was fully awake, and the speedometer did not indicate 80+ KMPH. And his arrival was nothing like homecoming :( . He was still recovering from the bout of fever and backache when the earthquake rattled our cot and indicated an impending disaster. Then came our little one's tryst with viral fever.

Obviously my mind was home to many questions and doubts! Did we do the right thing by leaving a city to settle down in a small village? Did we make the right choice at the right time? How can we justify ourselves if my little daughter S is unwell for long without proper medical aid? How can we forget that we're at a place with bare minimum facilities - medical or otherwise - with no good medical practitioner, leave alone a paediatrician. Will it be okay to get my 66-year-old mother here in the next couple of months as planned? Will we always be so alert and energetic to rush to the nearest town some 16 kms away to get a simple medicine for fever or flu!

I don't know if it's okay thinking this way!! But I wonder if we're justified in sacrificing our little daughter's life and future for a cause we are so passionate about! I've no answers now but this much I can say... the struggle (both in my mind and outside) will go on for many more days to come. And I'll probably learn to live on... with it!

My moral dilemma...

My daughter is participating in the parade at school on August 15. It's one of the many firsts for her ever since we moved from Hyderabad. And she's supposed to learn and sing a Hindi song on stage. After careful thought, and a lot of debate with my little princess, we both chose the title song from Hum Hindustani (which was released in 1960 and featured Sunil Dutt, Joy Mukherjee and Asha Parekh). And I felt it was very apt at this moment, not just for me but for all of us Indians collectively.

Aaj puraani zanjeeron ko tod chuke hain

Kya dekhe us manzil ko jo chhod chuke hain

Chaand ke dar pe jaa pahuncha hai aaj zamaana

Naye jagat se hum bhi naata jod chuke hain...

But have we, really?

Aao mehnat ko apna imaan banaaye

Apne haathon ko apna bhagwaan banaaye

Ram ki is dharti ko gautam ki bhoomi ko

Sapnon se bhi pyaara Hindustan banaaye...

Are we ready yet, I wonder!

As I was making my daughter rehearse her lines, I could only feel bitter thinking about the progress (or the lack of it?) we made in the past 62 years in Independent India. Orissa that way brought out the cynic in me. I'm not negative or pessimistic but I'm definitely cynical at this point looking at the roads, the (non-existent) drainage system, lack of basic amenities, or agents to supply gas within a 15-km radius, pathetic public transport, and what not!

That reminds me of my trip to Berhampur last week in a local bus (not run by OSRTC but by a private bus service - something like Setwin buses that ply in Hyderabad). I set out on a cloudy afternoon along with my nephew. With a spirit of adventure, we got into a Mahindra (called so in honour of the company that manufactures these buses - or mini-buses rather - in bulk) and travelled for nearly one-and-a-half hours one way (it normally takes about 30-35 mins in an auto).

Our primary aim was to buy Windows XP Home edition original software - available with great difficulty after a lot of search. On our way back we walked to a megamart in the viscinity and did a little bit of grocery shopping, walked out satisfied with all our purchases, and finally got into another Mahindra to get back home.

It started raining soon and within 10 minutes after starting at Berhampur, the bus started leaking from top at one of the seats. So, the other passengers shifted, shoved and moved a bit to make place for the two guys who were getting soaked by the water dripping from above their heads. I really admired the camaraderie the passengers shared. Hmmm... not for long though - as we realized slowly that it's not just one spot that was leaking. Soon, water started seeping down from every part of the bus and there was not a single person in the bus who was not soaked wet.

Should we thank our stars that we're on the road in a bus and not on the sea in a boat that's leaking? And most passengers in the bus are fisherfolk people who can easily relate to the analogy of the boat! I had a myriad questions in my head through the rest of my journey.

Are these people any lesser than the other mortals living elsewhere in the country or the world? Why are their living conditions so pathetic? What powerful force is it that's stopping them from getting their basic minimum amenities? Is there something one can do about it or are we just part of a deaf and dumb system which silently watches and goes along the flow?

I'm still wondering if I should go ahead and file a Right to Information (RTI) demanding to know where and why the OSRTC is failing to provide buses to rural areas? Or should I approach the State Human Rights Commission and narrate the incident? Or should I just mind my own business and be content with being the perfect housewife? What should I do? Let me know your thoughts.

Bonding on the beach...

Ah, how glad I'm to be a mother after 6 years. No, no, don't get me wrong. I'm not expecting again - hahaha! I meant mother in the true sense to my 6-year-old daughter. Somehow I've never had the opportunity to get to know my own daughter while I was ever so eager to make a lot of friends-for-life outside of home. And so, it felt nice when I tried a bit of bonding on the beach with my daughter this Friendship Day!

As soon as I woke up on Sunday, I've made up my mind to spend a lot of quality time with my daughter - not just do the regular stuff but something more meaningful, something different from our usual routine, and make it special for her. So I had an unsigned agreement with Srishtii that by the time I finish cooking, she should be done with her homework so we could go to the beach and play in the sea. She didn't believe me initially because whenever I take her to the beach she only gets to play in the sand - I don't let her venture out into the water. That's something only her dad does!

Nevertheless, she completed her homework and, as promised, we got ready, crossed the road and walked on the sand as fishermen weaved their new nets and boats were being rowed to the shore. I paused a while on the sand - just enough time to check if Srishtii would be disappointed, but she wasn't :-). She only looked questioningly (not accusingly, mind you!) - an inquisitive expression writ large on her face - as if she's still wondering if we're getting into the sea to play with water or not.

I cannot forget the jubilant look on her face, and the excitment in her eyes when I asked her to remove her chappals as I did the same. Slowly we walked towards the sea, into the water. The first wave barely touched our feet as my daughter was still apprehensive about me being able to hold her tight, without letting her fall, while she swims in the waves. As I nudged her a bit, she gave in, though reluctantly at first, and let the water surround her legs up to the knee. That did the trick, I must say! And she didn't want to let go of the feeling of being engulfed by the sea. Immediately, she sat down and got wet completely.

After all, she's our daughter -- isn't it only natural that she inherits the fascination we both have for the sea, the beach and the water!! And there she was - a living proof of our shared passions - soaked in water and sand from head to toe :-) . Watching my little baby play without a care in the world and with unending excitement for over 45 minutes was the best gift I could ever ask for on the Friendship Day.

Have I succeeded in becoming a proud part of her list of 'friends' - which includes quite a few classmates, bus-mates, cousins, friends' friends, my friends too - I wonder! I've no answers yet, but I might have soon - someday in the near future, or perhaps when she grows up to be a teenager. If the base of this bonding is strong enough to last a lifetime that is! And I'm eagerly awaiting my answer...

5.30 to 11.30 !! Yes, but I got a life

A few of my friends and cousins seemed intrigued about my routine, rather what my day-to-day life at a remote village is like! Okay, let me think. I do quite a bit of house-wifey stuff, and yes I'm slowly getting to know what it takes to be a "perfect housewife". Never again will I be able to say, even in jest, that housewives are a happy lot who laze around at home while workingwomen have a 24X7 job to do - both at home and at office! Nah! Not true at all!

Actually, I must admit that from a 9-to-5 job to a 5.30-to-11.30 routine, I've come a long way. So what do I do everyday that keeps me so busy from early morning to close-to-midnight? Hmmm... let me try and list it out, or describe a day in my life and see if I can make sense. In a nutshell, it goes like this:

5.30 a.m.: My sleek-n-stylish Nokia 3600 slider mobile rings the alarm and I'm forced to get up (yeah with a little practice, I've learnt to get up immediately rather than snooze it for the next 10 mins)

5.34 a.m.: Fill the bucket with water and plug in the immersion rod to boil water for Srishtii.

5.37 a.m.: Take out yesterday's milk from the fridge and boil it; get things ready for Srishtii's lunch-box (today it was sweet dosa made with atta, rice flour, jaggery soaked in water, elaichi).

5.50 a.m.: Make a cup of Boost for my daughter and switch on the water heater.

5.53 a.m.: Get Srishtii's uniform, tie, and belt ready. Keep the baby powder, bindi and comb within reach.

5.54 a.m.: Polish her shoes, and keep them ready.

5.57 a.m.: Re-check to see if her bag has everything she needs. Sharpen the pencils if needed.

5.59 a.m.: Pack her lunch-box and put in in the bag, fill the water bottle.

6.00 a.m.: Switch off the water heater (water is hot and ready). Try waking up Srishtii (in vain for the next 5 minutes)

6.05 a.m.: Switch off the fan, mosquito repellant, pull the rug off my daughter and the princess finally wakes up.

6.06 a.m.: Carry my half-asleep daughter to the loo, and make her sit on the potty.

6.08 a.m.: Brush her teeth in precisely 3 minutes.

6.11 a.m.: Push a reluctant 6-year-old into the bathroom and give her a bath. (I keep wondering why she doesn't want the bathing ritual to end, after just 2 mugs of water!!! Strange are the ways of kids, I say!).

6.16 a.m.: Pat her dry, apply powder, dress her up minus belt and tie.

6.20 a.m.: Force the boost down her throat while she is still thinking of ways to make a fuss, and trying to find reasons to not drink milk!

6.24 a.m.: Comb and plait her hair, make her wear shoes, tie and belt.

6.28 a.m.: Collect her bag and water bottle, my mobile, and finally step out of the house.

6.29 a.m.: Lock the house while Srishtii climbs down the stairs.

6.31 a.m.: We're on the road, waiting for the school bus.

6.35-6.45 a.m.: I try bonding and catching up with my little princess while the bus takes its own sweet time to arrive (I still haven't figured out the exact bus timings - sometimes it comes at 6.35 and sometimes around 6.45 :-)

6.45 a.m.: Wave my daughter a sleepy bye-bye and get back home.

6.50 a.m.: Brush my teeth while playing Venkateswara Suprabhatam or some old Telugu/ Hindi songs on my good old cassette player.

7.00 a.m.: Soak clothes to be washed.

7.10 a.m.: I'm still sleepy, how about catching up on an hour's sleep before my maid comes (while trying to read leftover columns from yesterday's newspaper!)

8.15 a.m.: Maid knocks on the door (I wonder how much progress India would have made if every Indian is as punctual as my maid Lakshmi is!!!)

8:20 a.m.: Switch on 9X on TV to watch Dil Se (or rather listen to those nice Hindi songs while cursing everytime there's an ad or some stupid what's cooking kind of tidbits in between).

8.30 a.m.: Keep browsing different channels lazily while my maid cleans the utensils, sweeps and mops the floor.

8.35 a.m.: Make chai for Lakshmi and myself as she sets out to do the last chore for the morning - washing clothes (mind you, I was doing all these things till 10 days ago since I couldn't find a maid immediately after shifting here).

8.45 a.m.: Lakshmi finishes her chai, makes a rangoli pattern in front of the flat, empties the dust bin and is ready to leave while I continue to watch TV.

8.50 a.m.: Boil water, have a bath, light a diya for the God, and feel at peace with myself. What a refreshing way to start a day!

9.20 a.m.: Milkman comes with fresh buffalo milk finally!

9.25 a.m.: My stomach growls with anger, oops... hunger and I need to pacify it. Please hold on for a bit while I make myself some breakfast... usually my nephew comes around this time for his daily visit to make sure that everything is all right with me and check if I need anything from the bazaar. Sometimes we have breakfast together, and at other times I enjoy my solitary breakfast in front of the TV.

10.00 a.m.: Ah, the newspaper vendor has knocked on the door - God! how long do I have to wait for my share of gossip and news everyday.

10.10 a.m.: Make myself a hot cup of coffee - fresh and invigorating - and settle down with the newspaper.

11.00 a.m.: Time to start cooking lunch - usually a simple fare with dal, subzi, rasam and rice.

12.00 noon: Lunch is ready - so I wash my face and apply a red dot with kumkum.

12.05 p.m.: Lock the house and go down to wait for my daughter's school bus.

12.15 p.m.: That's usually when the school bus drops her off.

12.18 p.m.: We reach home, and my daughter removes her socks, shoes, tie, and belt, changes her clothes, washes her face and switches on Cartoon Network while I fix lunch for her.

12.55 p.m.: Srishtii is done with her lunch after constant reminders and a bit of screaming asking her to "eat fast warna no CN".

1.00 p.m: I've no more energy left and I'm hungry too! So, I settle down in the red plastic chair (left by my kind landlady for our use) next to my daughter with my lunch.

1.30 p.m.: Time for Srishtii's afternoon siesta. A little bit of cajoling and a lot of screaming does the trick.

2.00 p.m.: Madam finally sleeps off giving my throat and mouth some rest! And no, I don't sleep in the afternoon.

2.00 p.m. to 4.00 p.m.: I either read a book, watch some stupid Telugu or Hindi movie on one of the channels or browse the net, blog, chat with friends.

4.00 p.m.: It's time to wake up my daughter.

4.05 p.m.: My princess opens her sleepy eyes, reaches for me and asks me to lie down next to her.

4.15 p.m.: She wakes up finally and washes her face while I make Boost for her and tea for myself.

4.30 p.m. - 6.00 p.m: Srishtii completes her homework and also eats some snacks.

6.05 p.m. - 7.30 p.m.: We take a jaunt to either the beach, or to my in-laws' house. Of course we have to say our hello-s and bye-s to half-a-dozen people on our way, and back. But we do make sure that we're back by 7.30.

7.30 p.m.: Help Srishtii with her studies - explain whatever has been taught in school that day, make her learn difficult spellings, etc. But no more than 2 subjects everyday.

8.15 p.m.: Make dinner (usually rice or rotis to be eaten with morning's leftover dal and subzi) while still helping Srishtii with her lessons.

9.00 p.m.: It's time for Srishtii's dinner - she eats while watching Krishna on Nick or some other show on Cartoon Network - the only two children's channels that are shown on cable here.

9.30 p.m.: I've my dinner in flat 10 mins, and force Srishtii to get on to her bed. She wants a story read out from one of her fairy tales books.

10.00 p.m.: Srishtii is fast asleep and I switch on the computer to chat with my husband or blog some more.

11.00 p.m.: Oops! I forgot to get Srishtii's bag ready with the notebooks and textbooks required for tomorrow as per her time-table.

11.05 p.m.: Ah! I'm done with everything for the day and I settle down with a book to catch up on my reading before I fall asleep around 11.30 p.m.

Well, that's how my routine goes, day after day -- with slight, or almost no, variation (except perhaps on Sundays)! Still, neither do I get bored nor do I regret it - as I love the simplicity of this tension-free lifestyle! Now, this is what I would call 'Getting a life'! What do you think?