Parenting

My father was asked to deliver my sister's lunch box to school. He was to say "Kaberi Das" and "4th grade" to the nun at the office. When my father reached the school, it transpired that there were two girls called Kaberi Das studying in the 4th grade! My father not having a clue about the complexities of classes and sections was then presented with both the girls. As the story goes, it seems that none of the girls was his daughter!
The nun, being kind and patient agreed to take my father for a short tour of all the sections of the 4th grade to identify the missing daughter. They walked down the corridor peering into all the classes and inquiring about the presence of a Kaberi Das in the class. However, the exercise proved futile.
By now, a very worried parent and the nun were desperate to resolve this dilemma. They were hurrying back to the office to check on the records when suddenly my father spied a familiar face sitting in the first bench of class 5A. It was the real Kaberi Das, his daughter!
It so transpired that my poor sister had been sitting in the wrong class for almost a whole month of the academic year with the wrong books and my very puzzled mother every evening struggling to make sense of the home-work  given.
The student, the teacher, the school and the parent had no clue that such a muddle that been going on.
Almost four decades have passed by since that 'confusion', and Kaberi Das has become Kaberi Bhuyan, a successful C.A, wife and mother.
My parents, whatever their parenting style, have produced two happy children.

Parenting has become a difficult job these days with all the information available. It is a tough choice between being a Tiger or a Free-Range Parent. Every child has a unique personality. No two children are similar (even from the same parent) and no parenting style can be 'the best one'.
I was never too serious about life and my parents didn't force things on me. I am still not serious about things but life is okay!
In the school where I teach, its Open Day for parents every Friday. I wait patiently for them to walk into my class to discuss their child's progress. As I sit and listen to them, I remember my 'lost' sister and my confused dad searching in the corridors of another school a long time ago and a smile spreads across my face.

Pink-Not A Movie Review

It had been a long tiring week and when I got home dog-tired on Saturday afternoon, my husband informed me that movie tickets for 'Pink' had been booked.

Pink hits you hard from the first scene. It is that kind of movie that takes over you completely. The film has a remarkable cast and some superb acting. I am not disclosing anything about the movie here.Walk into the theater with a blank mind and come out captivated. 

That it is a powerful movie is an understatement. Everyone needs to watch Pink. There are no two ways to this. It is that relevant a film.

For those who still need to read a review, please click on the link below.I wish to be a Lazy Blogger today.

Pink movie review

My Mother's Cow

With all this 'tamasha' going on in India about cow crusade and 'Gau-Raksha',I am reminded of a funny incident from my childhood related to the 'gaiya' or 'goru' as we in the Brahmaputra valley call the cow.

By the way,'Goru' is also used as a harmless abuse in Assam.We use it to insult anyone who we think has less brains and is an idiotic simpleton.(If any member of the RSS is reading this,please ignore!)

 

                                                                                                   Gau Mata

Politics is obnoxious,let's not bring that up.Today I just want to share this cute little story about a cow.

My mother came from a land owning community in Kerala.They had lots of cows,goats,chickens, ducks around their house.When she married and settled down in Assam,she missed her 'mini Kerala zoo'.And so she kept whatever animal she could in our little house in Guwahati.
Guinea  pigs,dogs,cats,rabbits,pigeons,parrots,fish,all shared space with us during our growing up years.

One fine day my mother decided we had to own a cow too.Our 1200 square yard of grassy lawn seemed a waste with no cows grazing on it she stated matter-of-factly.The children could get fresh unadulterated milk and butter she reasoned.After a lot of cajoling my dad finally agreed to buy a cow.

The cow came with much fanfare.A shed was specially made for her and a Nepali help was employed to perform the cow duties.

                 And so we owned a cow.

One summer afternoon I woke up to loud heated arguments between my mother and kancha (the Nepali help).It transpired that OUR COW HAD DISAPPEARED!

My mother was in a fit.She ordered my dad to cut short his much loved siesta and go on a cow-hunting spree around town and not return till the animal was found.

After almost three hours of cow-hunt dad was finally back.He ordered my mother to serve him some  tea and said he had been successful in locating the cow. Kancha was bringing the lost cow back tied firmly with a rope.

 When the cow finally came home,my mother ran to the gate to receive her.But to her utter horror and shock it wasn't our cow!

                                                                     

                   I am the wrong cow!

Kancha was then asked to go right back and return the wrong cow from the place where they had found her munching merrily on the garbage.We couldn't keep someone else's cow my mother concluded firmly. 

And so off went Kancha to return the wrong cow.As luck would have it,on his way back, he was confronted by a couple of men who were out searching for their "lost cow"!They saw our Kancha pulling the cow with a rope and walking down the street.Nepalis in Assam are not very fluent in Assamese or Hindi so although Kancha tried his level best to explain things to them,they didn't buy his story and I guess it was too complicated anyways.The  men beat him up calling him a cow-thief. Kancha left our house that very day,"no cow,no Kancha"he said, refusing to take up any other domestic responsibilities.

What followed is any one's guess.My dad remained at the receiving end of my mother's mutterings and nagging for his failed attempts at  "Gau-Raksha"!   

Hope On

The atmosphere in the house was gloomy. Nobody wanting to eat, watch TV or even speak to each other. Everyone walked around with lost eyes and drab expressions. It was the summer of 2005.Our plans of visiting Assam that year had to be shelved the last minute. Duty calls, he said, and sometimes priorities change, informed my better half solemnly. He was on election duty for the entire month! My  daughter's school holidays had just started and all our bags had been packed. We were crestfallen with the sudden change in plans.

My parents are movie buffs. When we were kids they always took us along with them to the theatre. Once the movie had been a blockbuster and ran to full house. We went for the matinee show but disappointment awaited us there. Tickets were all sold out. It was a hot afternoon and the return journey, without getting to watch the film, was long and torturous. I thought apprehensively about how my mother would now tell me to change into my home clothes and worse, take out my school books and prepare for lessons. I sulked all the way back home.

That day the world seemed a ruthless and cruel place. From time to time soft whimpering mourns would emit from me from the back seat of the car just to let my parents know of my displeasure and pain. Suddenly I got a flash of one of my favourite things, food! I  asked my dad if we could stop for a treat. My dad agreed. I immediately got all happy at the sight of yummy samosas and jalebis. Things didn't look too bad after all, I thought gleefully to myself  as I chomped on the hot snacks. The trip had not been a complete waste. Those snacks saved my day!

That year when our holiday travel plans got postponed and the long summer days threatened to stretch  bleak and empty, I had made a list of things I would do. My list was simple-Sightseeing trips around town with some photography thrown in, trying out new restaurants, reading a couple of books, learn to swim and watch lots of DVDs. That list was my hope. It gave me some aspiration to dream on and to hope that those vacations were not wasted after all.

Life is not always smooth sailing. Well made plans can sometimes get messed up. Hope is a good thing to have in such times. Finding little joys in the mundane can make difficult times bearable. Hoping that things get better, that things work out gives us a positive energy. And well, in the mean time there is always yummy samosas and jalebis to hog on!

Happy vacations everyone!

Stupid Cupid

Do you choose whom to fall in love with?

My meeting my husband in the year 1988 was pure serendipity and, as the events turned out, most timely. Till I was appearing for my 3rd year B.A exams I had no intentions of leaving my home town Guwahati and travelling to the capital of India. But then I did, and as things happened to be I joined  the Delhi University. By the end of the two years masters course in History I befriended my classmate and decided to tie the knot with him. He was from Bihar and I, till then had little knowledge about this region, except that it had dowry,dacoits and lalu Prasad Yadav. I was planning to marry a boy who's native language  I couldn't speak nor could I read or write the Devanagiri script. Yet we managed our married life quite okay. In spite of hiccups, love still triumphs in my little home (touch wood).

                                                   Photo taken in 1993 My husband and I.

I have always believed that you don't choose whom you fall in love with, 'kismet' chooses. And ironically that lady fate is blind to innate things like language, religion, region even gender and age.

The other misconception people often have is about "FALLING IN LOVE''. I am often asked this rather silly question, "When did you fall in love?"

There was no earth shattering, church bells ringing, high octave choir music moment when this happened. There never is. I blame the authors of romantic novels for weaving this hocus-pocus.

When two people meet and converse, they slowly discover they enjoy each other's company. They become close friends. Share each other's thoughts and views on everything under the sun. As time goes by, the "friendship" may transverse to the next level. That is how  a deep bond is created. That is how you choose to love one another.

Sometimes fate may choose to terminate a love or a friendship. Like a lamp without oil, its flame extinguished (more on this note in some future blog-post).

Can we choose whom to love? This is a tricky question. Some people are so conditioned to social norms and etiquettes that they are guided by what is expected of them all the time. They only choose to love whom  the society deems fit. They never allow their guards to fall. They will never venture into the open seas. They lead disciplined lives where things are governed by laws of the state or laws of the Manusmriti. They judge a person within their set boundaries and ponder deeply over everything.

But some of us live life wild and carefree. Often we are impulsive and don't judge others by social parameters alone.

 My parents  met during the Annual sports meet in Dibrugarh medical College while pursuing MBBS in 1960s. My dad was the Sports Captain and my mom a promising lady athlete of the college.They spent time together and enjoyed each other's company and before they knew it everyone in the campus was saying they were a couple "in love"! My mother was fated to travel all the way from the southernmost state of Kerala to be married to my dad who was from Assam. They both didn't speak each other's mother tongue.Their culture, food and even religion was different. Yet they felt a strong bond of friendship and decided they needed to give fate a chance and look at them now, happily married for more than 50 years.

                               Photo taken in 2007-My Parents-A Living Testimony Of Love

Do all relationships and friendships have love in them? Yes they do. Some are deep and strong while some are enjoyed till the expiry date catches up.

The only essential ingredients needed for the recipe of love to succeed is a little portion of care, a little concern,some respect and understanding and of course you have to enjoy each other's company as well and add everything to fuel that bonding!

Most of us don't choose whom to love, it just works its magic and then before you know it, that person becomes an important part of your life.

Look for the inner beauty of a person, choose to love the soul, the rest as they say is only skin deep

The Pain Of Loss

Have you ever loved and lost.......said the lines in a blog post. It opened a floodgate of memories from my past. Images opened up an old pain.Something that I had buried deep,so deep came back to haunt me and make me vulnerable once again.

Slowly I walk back, each step fills me with longing. Nostalgia rips my soul. The pain is unbearable now and tears start to flow. I am held  transfixed.

   

The doctor had given his final verdict. He asked me to take her home. She had only a few weeks to live, he said. The words pierced me and tore me apart. How can I  live without her? This cannot be. It's not true. Sometimes truth hurts so much that you would rather live a lie. I was left with no choice.

I took her home. Her head on my lap. She lay there softly breathing. I whispered her name again and again. She looked up at me with so much love, just pure love.

She had been a part of my life for six years now giving me so much happiness and joy. Every waking hour we spend together was so perfect. Her eyes lit up every time she saw me.The love for long walks, good food and afternoon siesta held us together.I did most of the talking, she was a good listener. The bond grew with the passing years. I got so used to her, did I start taking her for granted?

Out of the blue she fell ill. She was tired and exhausted all the time. Her hair fell in clumps and she lost her appetite.Nothing made sense any more.Tests revealed a tumour so malignant that she had just a few days of life left to live.

That last night we spend together, I woke up every hour to check on her. She would look into my eyes and as I slowly stroked her soft hair and whispered her name, she  would wag her tail. That was the last time she wagged her tail. In the morning she was gone. Her still body lay lifeless in the couch. I held her and wept till I could weep no more.

I buried her in my garden under the shade of  a tree and said a prayer. Rani you will be missed. No one can replace you and I will never stop loving you. Have I loved and lost? Yes I have loved,lost but gained many lessons in love.
(This Post is written in line with the IndiSpire Prompt 105 #LifeWithoutYou)

The JNU Imbroglio

The dry and dusty landscape dotted with red brick apartment blocks greeted me as my DTC bus approached Munirka.The year was 1989. It was the year that had witnessed historic events like the ending of the Soviet-Afghan war,George.W.Bush taking over as the new President of the United States,the students protest at the Tiananmen Square etc. 

I was a young 22 year old  student of Delhi University pursuing post graduation in History and I was visiting the JNU campus to meet some friends.

Free thinking, unrestricted discussions,debates and non-judgmental attitudes has been the hall mark of this institution.The list of alumni  that had walked the steps of this pre-eminent campus lends an aura to this place.I was enthralled with the atmosphere of intellectual learning around me.

Today I am anguished that some people are hell bent on maligning this respectable institution.

What happened in JNU, on the morning of 9th February, should have stayed within JNU. It was a protest organised by the students outside the vice-chancellor's office.The university authorities should have made enquiries and taken the necessary disciplinary action. If some individuals, whether students or outside miscreants had raised certain objectionable slogans, then actions as per law, should have been taken.Why blame the whole institution and defame its esteemed reputation.This issue should not have been allowed to snowball into this massive national controversy.

 In all free societies, students have stood by and advocated all sorts of extreme demands.They must be free to do so. American students protested against their government during the Vietnam War.The Scotish,Welsh,Quebecois in Canada,Catalans in Spain demand for secession from their home land. They are not being termed by their country as "anti-nationals"?Instead their voices are being heard as legitimate democratic claims.Their right to dissent is not questioned.

Differences in thoughts is healthy.Only open societies allow the freedom of thoughts otherwise, you have the Tiananmen Square and Tahrir Square incidents.

Our Constitution guarantees freedom of speech and expression, within limitations of course. And slogans raised at a students meet although a little reckless and volatile,can hardly be said to breach those limits.

Youth is the time of fearlessness, the age to take up challenges and the age when mistakes are committed. Is it fair to blame the whole illustrious institution for this fiasco?

The Writer

 I haven't written anything since months!My blog was laying somewhere in cyber space orphaned and lonely.Even Facebook sent me a text,"You Haven't Posted in 106 Days!The Lazy Writer  hasn't  heard from you in a while."

I used to compose poems when I was a young girl. I still have that book dated 1984.Its  filled with words about teenage love and heartbreaks. The pages are yellow, its writing is faded. I smile every time I go through these poems, they fill me with nostalgia about my sweet childhood days.The emotions locked within the words are overwhelming they still fill me with pride and joy.

In 2013 my daughter told me to start a blog.She said it would be like a hobby,something I would be proud and happy to pursue.She guided and coaxed me to write down whatever came to my mind.Till then I had never known how much I loved to write.Once fired there was no stopping me.My blog gave me a sense of accomplishment.The frequency of posts almost seemed as if I had chosen the wrong title for my blog 'The Lazy Writer'.

And then it had happened!The block!My blogger arteries got chocked.The words stop flowing.I went into a writer's coma.Lethargy kicked in and the sluggish hand always reached out for the tv remote.Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months.I had written almost nothing.Everything else had become a priority except my writing.Sometimes it was evaluation of test- papers,sometimes social functions,the meals needed to be taken care of,the house,the pet,the husband,the child,the in-laws. Something or someone always got the precedence over my writing.

As we grow older we get tied down to obligations.We engage our lives in knots and twists.We forget to live even a moment of our day for our exclusive self.

Don't get me wrong I haven't grown a single pragmatic bone in my body.I was just busy dealing with life's mundane issues and I haven't given up on my blog.

We all need to be proud of something,something self created.It may be as simple as a dish or as extraordinary as a piece of music.Something that as we grow older keeps us romantic,passionate and adventurous.Something that never lets us surrender to a humdrum monotonous existence.

It's my ego-boost time now.Today I will do nothing else but be with myself.I will visit my paradise, hear the tapping music of the keyboard,let my words cascade into the blank screen.Like a butterfly I shall spread my wings and fly, just for the sheer bliss of flying.

The Battle Of The Bulge

When I was young I didn't know what being fat was. I used to be so skinny  that my mother often called me a dried chilly! But boy could I eat! You could call me border-line greedy. I was hungry all the time. Social visits, birthday parties, weddings and even death anniversaries only meant one thing- unlimited food. I was obsessed with eating and yet I managed to look undernourished and starved! So much of eating and not a care about weighty issues. Such was life- young, carefree and weightless!

Once when I was around 7 years old, in boarding school, me and my pals polished off a pack of 500gms butter all by itself. Well the butter showed up  on me after 40 years!

Now with the scales threatening to tip 75 kilos and my metabolism asleep, being a foodie is near suicidal. These days even the air I take in gets converted into F-A-T!

 My mother scoffs at my attempts to exercise (says they are not challenging enough) while my dad insists that I should spare a thought for the starving millions in Somalia(he thinks I eat for two). On some days I do worry about my jiggling belly and shrinking clothes but most times the worry buries itself underground as my hands creep stealthy into the bag of chips. Watching a crime thriller without butter popcorn is like committing a crime, right?

Buying clothes is most frustrating. Explaining to sales people that I want a ladies shirt but need it in XXL size is like explaining nuclear physics to my pet dog. The trial room mirrors are all out to take revenge. Who says these things are inanimate objects? My rubber slippers smile sheepish dimples at me (the husband sneers that  it's just buckling under my weight).

How come the 7 minute workout videos look so easy, but when actually lying down on that yoga mat to start, all I want to do is the Shavasana (corpse pose).

Calorie conversations are nightmarish because most of the time I want to agree but the heart disagrees. I mean who counts food? Food is pleasure. And you only live once. The stern hubby disagrees. He has stopped taking me  grocery shopping and returns home with baskets full of raw food, fruits and veggies. He sticks the Food Chart on our fridge door.

Its battle time. Everyone is up in arms against me and all I want to do is sit on my butt. Which reminds me of  how uncomfortable the seats are in theatre halls and aeroplanes. The world is a cruel place. People judging my choice of food. Everything is made to fit size zero or its equivalent(whatever number that is). Is it me or are things getting cramped up around here?

I have to acknowledge that pushing towards 50 its now more important to be healthy and the only way I can stop these aching joints is to tie up my shoe laces and take the first giant step. Procrastination is so much simpler, says a small voice inside my head but I think I should ignore it.

Rebooting India

Its India's 69th Independence day, I  just got  back from a flag hoisting ceremony where fiery patriotism was unfurled by school children.  On my way , I encountered young men on bikes speeding, hooting , making cat calls and waving our national flag. Excited teens riding without helmets ! I rang up my daughter and told her to stay indoors. So is patriotism a licence to hooliganism or is it like everything else just a mockery of being free and independent!

This is  the sad reality that we face today. Women who form 50% of the population of our country don't feel they are equal citizens. We have to tell our daughters to be safe rather than hope for a change in the patriarchal mindset.

 Last week courting couples in Allahabad were subjected to humiliation by the moral brigade and cops in Mumbai dragged out romantic pairs from hotels on grounds of causing" public indecency" . The  Indian State doesn't think its citizens are mature enough to decide  for themselves about whether they should  watch porn, whom they should  love and how they ought to display their love. We are told to stop eating certain food, our movies are censored and our children are told how they should lead  their lives. There was more freedom of thought in the past then there is now! Is this an example of progress? We are tired of hearing empty rhetoric  announced every year on this day from the Red Fort. Shouldn't the government be doing better things to bring in a change? What about tackling  some real issues like Administrative, Police and Judicial reforms.

The monsoon session of parliament has just got adjourned sine die. Crores have been spend with barely any legislative gain. TV audiences were  fed chaotic scenes from  the parliament. Abuses along with mikes, chairs, papers and  files were hurled at each other. It's always games of hate politics that are played. The legislators  are always a reflection of the aam admi who voted for them. The present government in spite of their lofty promises of "Acche Din" is yet to deliver.

In spite of all this hulla about India becoming an economic super power, our per capita income continues to remain the lowest even among  the BRICS countries. I  buy my veggies like they were priced in gold while  the farmers  producing them continue to commit suicide. There has to be something seriously wrong with the system!

The heaps of garbage in every street corner is like a slap across the face of the concept of" Smart City "being proposed by the authorities.70% of sewage in our country goes untreated. Streets get flooded after every rain. Citizens lack basic civic sense and are insensitive to breaking traffic laws. We are  just apathetic spectators of this great Tamasha land listening to desh bhakti geet and forwarding WhatsApp patriotism.

Will things change? Are we waiting for a complete shutdown before we reboot ?My bitterness is compounded today  when I see the predicament this nation faces on its 69th Independence day.

This post has being inspired by #Edition 78 of Indispire: We have completed 68 years of Independence! Rapes,Women Security,Terrorist Attacks,Poverty,Scams,Corruption,Reservation,LGBT Community Rights,Transparency.. They still are a Big Question on Us! SO Are we REALLY independent??

A Job Well Done!

I stumble out of bed every morning and sluggishly get ready for work. But the drudgery and monotony ends there. From the minute I enter the school gates I am transformed into this hyper energetic adrenaline  pumping super woman(picture Kick-Ass, the movie). Each day I am faced with the colossal  task of imparting knowledge, entertaining and disciplining all in an Oppa Gangnam style!

Those of you who follow my blog,first,  due apologies but I need to be true to the name:" The Lazy writer"(hence the long gap). I had written a post on my dilemma over whether to join work or not to  on 23/3/2014. Well that was almost a year and a half ago. Since then, I have joined a school nearby as a history teacher . Turns out this place is a top- notch school of Nagpur , so yes, the grind gets tougher.

Managing a class of  hormonally charged teenagers can be compared to a walk in a park, only this is no ordinary park, it is the Jurassic park! There are about 35 different species of chipmunks  jostling for your attention. Their war cry is "Ma'am ,ma'am, ma'am"!!

 Mornings are mostly calm and smooth sailing. But this is the calm before the storm! After the lunch hour it's  mayhem! Classrooms resemble a torpedo hit war zone!  Every day  it's a thrilling new roller coaster ride on  Zombie land!

My zeal to teach comes from my love for Social-Sciences. Talking about  human affairs  in the context of time and space gives me a high. I love to share my treasure trove of  lore and legends, myths and fiction with all and sundry.

 History and Politics are my passion. Not the  Arnab Goswani 9 pm politics but more geopolitical straight talk. So I actually look forward to walking into a class. Like Quentin Tarantino I give my mesmerized audience a KILL Bill style performance and amid the roaring  applause (ahem ahem!! actually the school bell!) I exit the stage( class room) and like a seasoned performer I ride into the sunset with my guns still smoking, actually that should read sweat dribbling.

I love my voice and to have a rapt audience listening to my talks is like pure nectar for the soul.

 Yes there are the downsides. Doesn't everything in life have one?

 My voice gets hoarse by Wednesdays. I am left with a croak, emitting from somewhere down my overused larynx.

 Kids are moody. They sometimes snap at inconsequential things.(don't we all), choose bigger battles to fight  over!

 Exams, assessments, tests, assignments, the syllabus completion all  gets a little monotonous and leave a twitch in the neck but I will never trade this job for one behind a desk surrounded by grumpy cynical adults!

Children- I love their company. It's amazing how dynamic they are. These days they come in extra smart packaging. Most of them know a whole lot more than you and me about this planet. They are street smart and foxy. What they lack in years they make up for in their savvy smooth jargon.

Children respect those who respect and understand them(like the Bournville ad.says"You have to earn it!") Time spent with them is time well spent, that's my logic. Being sincere and loving has always helped me win their hearts.

 I must be one lucky woman to be  doing a job and loving it too!

A True Fiction!

It was a stifling hot summer day in Delhi and being indoors the whole Sunday, made my body ache. I stepped out, it was around 8 o clock and yet it was so hot. I looked up and spied the moon, it was yellow and pale. I was at once transported to her, to Mumbai.

The waves were crashing into the boulders in high tide. The air was salty; the wind was tearing at her hair. I close my eyes. I am at our usual spot. I had known it would be a long time before I got to see her again, so I had taken a long look at her that evening. Her soft curly brown hair was tucked behind her ears, her face tilted to one side as she listened with intent when I told her about my new job. Her eyes were always so expressive. I could see she was worried with the thought of our impending separation. I could feel her fingers search for my hand, as if reassuring herself I was still there with her.

Our friendship had snowballed into a romance almost instantly. Our conversations on almost everything and anything just carried on and on. Everything was so exciting! Each day was an adventure. A discovery to be made about something new about each other. Everything was “ours”, the monsoons, the mushy romantic songs, the orange ice lollies, the roasted corn on the beach at sunset. We held hands in the yellow black cabs, giggling and blushing to hide from prying eyes.But then I had to leave.

Goodbyes were said quickly. I told her I would visit as frequently as I could. She didn't reply but looked away.

                                                                   

When her brother’s call came, I instantly knew something was wrong. She had been on her way to collage; the driver didn't see a young and beautiful girl ran across the road. He didn’t get time to brake. How many times I had told her to cross at the traffic signal and not ran across the busy road in front of her house.

The rest was a blur; I don't remember much of anything else after that, except the pain! The ache just doesn’t go away. It’s been two years now but not a day goes by without some reminder of her. What I miss about her? I miss our conversations, I miss her voice, I miss her eyes, and the way they light up when she sees me. She called me Babu, I hated that name then, but now I long to hear it, just one more time.

Time has just stood still for me. I no longer listen to music. I no longer visit Mumbai. I dread looking at her photograph. For the world I am alive, but there is something dead inside me. For the world she is dead, but she is still alive inside me.

Written for IndiSpire Edition-67 #MissMe Theme

Big Ban Theory!

Indian government’s favorite pass- time these days is to use the magic word “Ban-Ban”! Ban this, Ban that! It seems we are vying for the first place to become the Ban-Republic of the world. With the avalanche of bans toppling over my head, I try to work out a list of 10 bans currently being most talked about.

1)      The Beef-Ban- the government in Maharashtra has passed the beef ban to join a host of other states where it is already banned. The central government apparently respects the sentiments of the rest of Indians for the time being and is not imposing a pan India ban. How about ordering some butter chicken and Seekh-kababs tonight, they might get banned someday soon too.

2)      Cuss Words -   Lesbian- Oops! I said it. The dialogue containing the word lesbian was muted in the movie ‘Dum Lagake Haisha’. Our ultra-sensitive film censor board found it offensive! Come on!  What kind of morons do we have at the Censor Board anyway? They released a list of cuss words that are to be banned in Bollywood from now on. Even the word ‘Bombay’ is banned. We listen to more beeps and muted words then dialogues these days because everything in India is banned. Hai Ram! (Wait; is that a banned word too?)

Cuts recommended by CBFC,’ in the movie Dum Laga ke Haisha

3)      Foreigners- Party toh banta hai boss! But make sure there are no “foreigners” on your guest list! The Karnataka government has put a ban on parties in Karnataka with foreign invitees. Allegedly they behave inappropriately. Our members of parliament can give tutorials on good conduct with their exemplary behavior, no?

4)      Bikinis- In the neighboring state of Goa, the government plans to ban bikinis and drinking on the beach. Tourism be dammed!

Beaches in Goa

5)      India’s Daughter- What a government cannot control, a government bans. We Indians are clever, we work around them. Everyone watched the banned BBC documentary online and mortals like myself even went further and blogged about it.

6)      Films- Films inappropriate for us delicate Indians like: Un-Freedom, Final Solution, Water, Fire, Bandit Queen, Garam Hawa, Black Friday were all initially banned. Some were lucky and got released later. These movies make you react and think, so the government banned them. Movies like Tees Maar Khan, Chandni chowk to China, Himmatwalla, just numb your brain with their vulgarity and crass so they need not be banned. Logic anyone?

7)      Homosexuality- Homosexuality is banned in India. Being gay makes you a criminal (According to section 377). It was proposed by Lord Macaulay in 1860. He said it was unnatural. Tim Cook CEO Apple Inc., Giorgio Armani, Luxembourg's prime minister are all criminals in the eyes of the Indian Law. Falling in love may put you behind bars in India while the real criminals ride into the sunset.

Vikram Seth

8)      Dance Bars- Dance bars, dancing girls, in fact dancing in general in Mahanagar Mumbai is banned under section 33B. Wait a minute, doesn’t Mumbai host the likes of FilmFare Award shows where our desi boys dance- Are they doing illegal activities? There is a lot of confusion regarding this ban on what is allowed and what is considered obscene. I just threw my dancing shoes away, you too best do that. While in Mumbai do as Mumbaikers do, right?

9)      Lingerie on mannequins - Lingerie clad mannequins in shop windows are banned in Mumbai and Pune.  Men get immoral thoughts on seeing them; boys become rapists, so says the wise Mumbai Municipal Corporator. My, my.

10)    Ban on Freedom Of speech- IIT-Madras bans student groups for criticizing PM Modi and his policies, this is the latest ban to make headlines.

      And I better shut up now and close this list before the cops come knocking on my door and the authorities decide to ban blogging. Let me put on my Ray-Bans. There is too much of a kill-joy atmosphere going around for my liking. No eating, no drinking, no dancing, no loving. What do  mere mortals like me do then? Sing Chee Chee Ban Ban to the tune of the 60s Hollywood number called Chitty Chitty Bang Bang!

P.S-And Maggi now to join the Ban-Wagon.I am going to have mine lead and all! 

Lali's Story

The streets can be a rough and cruel place to grow up in. There must be about a thousand homeless street dogs in this city alone. Lali was one of them. As a cute stray puppy, she was cared for by an old man. When he quit his driver’s job to move to another town he abandoned Lali to the streets.

Lali lived of scraps offered by passersby and scavenged around the garbage heaps. Food was difficult to come by. Hunger and thirst became her shadow. Insecurity and fear her constant companion. Nights interrupted by barks and fights between the different street dog gangs. If you wanted to survive in the streets you had to fight. Lali was tough; she survived.

But unlike the other street dogs she trusted humans. She came right up to them, waging her tail as if pleased to see them. Her brown eyes looking soulfully at anyone who would stop by. Those eyes could melt even a hardened dog hater.

That was precisely why the Mishras  decided to adopt her. They were wooed by her docile nature and expressive eyes. Their two children fed her and played with her all day. And soon Lali was living with them.A year or two passed by. She was content and happy. She had a family. Every dog needs a home and a family.

Lali’s happiness proved to be short lived. The Mishras moved out on transfer to Delhi. They didn't want to be burdened with a dog, least of all a desi one!

Lali could never understand why the Mishra’s left. For days she cried and sniffed around their  empty house until she was shooed away by the new tenants. She was back on the streets. The neighborhood dogs looked at her as a threat and the summer heat was getting almost unbearable.

That’s how I found Lali- defeated, dejected and almost dying of dehydration and heat. She was caked in dirt and filth.

Nagpur was a blasting 47 degrees last year. I decided to get Lali into the house. She entered hesitantly; chose to just lay down right at the front door, grateful to be out of the heat.

In the evening when my husband came home and found a dog inside the house he threw a fit. For him dogs and cats are best kept at a distance. To him they spelled diseases and trouble. He grumbled and cribbed while I maintained a stubborn silence. In the end Lali’s brown eyes won him over. I think we all fell in love with her amicable and mild nature.

 Lali has become a part of my family. We have adopted her. She has her bad days and mood swings. She’s not young any more. She sometimes looks lost in her thoughts and aloof. I leave her alone to deal with her past.I know our constant love will ultimately erase all her unpleasant memories.

And I  wonder if she knows it’s our anniversary today,its been exactly five years since she became a part of my family.

Lalli And Me

Nowhere Men!

 I read the novel Roots by Alex Haley many years ago. It told the story of Kunta Kinte the 18^th century African teenager who was sold to slavery. I remember being haunted by the images of what the slaves had endured in the hold of the ships as they crossed the Atlantic to America. The story had left me feeling helpless and for days I wasn't at peace.

I was jolted back into that childhood nightmare while watching the news a couple of days ago-  “Myanmar migrants on a boat stranded for a week in the Andaman Sea with no food or water, people dying, while some are resorting to drinking urine”

 The tv channel was covering a story about the Rohingyas crossing over from Myanmar to Malaysia or Indonesia or Thailand, only that nobody wants them and they are stranded at high seas for three months now with no country to go to. They are being called the boat people by the media.

 A little more search on the web and I discovered that the Rohingyas are one of the world's most persecuted minorities. For decades, the Rohingyas suffered from state-sanctioned discrimination in Buddhist-majority Myanmar. Denied citizenship by national law, they are effectively stateless. Even the country’s most celebrated lady Aung San Suu Kyi chooses to remain silent on this issue.

In the past three years, attacks on the Rohingya people have left hundreds dead and sparked an exodus of an estimated 1, 20,000 people who have boarded boats to flee to other countries. The flight has helped fuel the human trafficking industry in this area.

Every year we hear of similar stories of people displaced by religious prosecution and domestic conflicts.   People dying in their attempt to cross  the Mediterranean waters into Europe from Syria, Iraq, and Lebanon

They are victims of a growing humanitarian problem to which no country wants to address or foot the bill. Why are the governments not doing anything on this? Aren't the images of helpless humans enough to make governments sit up and change its policies? Why is the UN and wealthy countries like Australia silent on this global issue? Like the proverbial ostrich who buries his head in the sand politicians seem blind to the refugee crisis.

A man has to be left with no choices and be really desperate before he takes his family, with old people, small children, babies, on a dangerous journey leaving his own homeland for an uncertain future. Where does he belong?
Someone rightly quoted that countries are spending millions searching for a missing flight with dead people, while the living are dying in those very seas!

And The World Will Be As One!

Another blogger murdered in broad day light! Ananta Bijoy Das wrote against religious fundamentalism. He stood for rational thinking and dared to question established dogmas. Beside being a banker he was also the editor of a quarterly magazine called Jukti, meaning logic (and how illogical was his killing!).  His secular views clashed with the religious fanaticism that is growing across the globe today.

I visited the website he wrote for; it’s called ‘Mokto Mona’. In Bengali it means ‘A Free Mind’.  What an irony that it couldn’t give the basic freedom of expression to its own founder Avijit Roy.

 Avijit Roy was also hacked to death for his ‘writer’s corner’ web page encouraging freethinkers,rationalists & humanists. Most of the articles in this site are about secularism and human rights.

 With the world shrinking and cultural boundaries crumbling, people are increasingly becoming intolerant of views that don’t conform to theirs. Why is fanaticism and regressive thinking growing?

For an answer to this I had to dig deep into socio-economic changes occurring all over the world.

 Breaking up of the traditional fabric of society, compounded with growing capitalism and influence of western culture is causing insecurities and apprehensions in Asian and African countries.

The 60’s and 70’s was an era of freethinking and neo liberalism. It was the age of individual growth.  

The 80's and the 90's saw revolution in Iran; break down of communist regimes, the rise of Taliban and anti-American sentiments. Today we read about young Europeans also converting into Jihadists and joining up with extreme fundamentalist groups like the Al- Qaeda and ISIS.

 And the group in Nigeria called Boku Haram even shoot people for wearing western clothes and sending their daughters to school. In such a scenario it’s not surprising that people are killing those whose views differ. Mock and make fun and you better remember the Charlie Hebdo incident! Even in India there is a growing intolerance for anything or anybody who is different, but more on this note in another post

Slowly and steadily the ugly head of irrationality and absurdity is rising and will continue to rise till a point of no return comes, but I know that the human civilization with its will to live and co-exist will eventually trample over these destructive forces and rationality will triumph.

 Brave men like Ananta Bijoy Das and Avijit Roy had lived their lives on their own terms. They taught us to care for the whole human race and not be swayed by petty sectarian bigots.

 Nehrunissa Khan (name changed) has been a Sanskrit teacher for 25 years. When plodded by my inquisitive queries she said she just loved the subject and went ahead with doing a post grad in it. She chooses to follow her passion. Her family and community stands by her. What a beautiful way to live.

 You may say I'm a dreamer, 

but I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one”.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RwUGSYDKUxU 

(To Listen to the song go on the link )