To the spirit of Kolkata & its joie de vivre

...glued to the sights and sounds of the city, the North India based writer of this post living paralleled to colours and conundrums of the city. 

 

On a dewy petrichor of the post-rain afternoon

Kolkata was before her as a land of promise

A fusion of modernity and old school - unpolished. 

And, as the days passed…

Nudging her towards the art of free - wheeling conversation 

often prolonged;

that comes naturally to every bong*. 

 

Encouraging her – the river Hooghly 

To move forward

To have a soul that welcomes deep healing. 

 

The city, where her bhalo naam*

is as common as her daak naam*

Anushree - the roots of the name has Bengal fame. 

 

Remembrance of her mother’s amber blushed tea

On summer afternoon sultry

Nothing could remind her of Meerut more

…here after all - all are cha-khors*!

 

True...that her dadi’s gujiya* was second to none

But here she ferociously devoured herself on the sourness of the desserts

Peculiar were the taste…but so were the other things.

 

There were;

The Feluda series…delighting the adventure seeker in her

The Boi mela*…delighting the bookworm in her

The Bandor Topi*…cushioning the thin blooded like her

The Madhyamik*…engaging the philomath in her

 

Yellow were the cabs

And, so was she wrapped in colour of basant

The kind of yellow - of warmth of thousand splendid Sun

The kind of yellow that shows that the world may be blushy pink, envious green, gloomy grey, icy blue, but it could never ever be an impenetrable black!

 

And as more days passed by- she was witness to

That huge wave of humanity and human emotion

the day Durga Puja bisorjan happened

Humbling was the experience

As she too left behind her roots

 

…With the belief

Sighroi abar dekha hobe*.

............................................................ 

*Bong: A slang term for Bengalis

*Bhalo naam: Proper name used for official purpose

*Daak Naam : Pet name

*Cha-khors : Lovers of tea

*Gujiya : Indian sweet

*The Boi mela : Book fair 

*Bandor Topi : Monkey cap 

*Madhyamik : Examinations

* Sighroi abar dekha hobe : See you soon

PHOTO CREDIT- GOOGLE

 

Homecoming...

This summer, like all summers, the mango tree across my parents home's balcony beckoned me to come home. I went. Very few experiences match the delight of homecoming...

In the martaban* of my mother's kitchen
Pickled and soured for ages...

Hanging peacefully amidst the noise of aroused crickets
In the endless hours of early morning...

In the hues of many shades- red, green and yellow
but each one tasting different from other...

Aimed by the mango- pluckers
Lying on the astonishing gold blanket of leaves on the ground...

Covered with dirt carrying sweat and dust
bearing the vagaries of tumultuous storm...

My tree, the home of ant and squirrels
waking up daily to the sound of koel...

My tree, aging by oblivion
Sight of which, the constant companion to my father's cup of tea...

Every year I wait eagerly
for my childhood friend homecoming...

For her to revel in the most awaited feast of the summers
the delightful fragrance of my sap filling the air...

Here, I am the mango
of the humble mango tree!


*a large glazed pottery jar originally made in lower Burma and used especially for domestic storage (as of water or food)

Source : Blogger's phone

Go Goa

Speaker 1: "You see, we here in Italy believes in "Dolce Far Niente". That's the word! Basically means - The sweetness of doing nothing".


                                                              - Excerpts from the movie - Eat, Pray, Love.

When Ambassadors with number plates starting with GA beckons you with pride, it is exactly at that moment you have a realization that long lost art and the enriched past of ours is savoured in this part of India. A place which is reveling in beauty of nature and a vibrant ecology.

In 2019, where else will you find yourself having a ride on Ambassadors, the black and yellow cravings of our parents?

A journey of about 3 hours from North, (time includes that half an hour ride on the Ambassador to my hotel too), as soon as we landed on the reddish soil of Goa at midnight, we were intoxicated by the air of the place.  And, then it was not about Italy only.

Goa boasts of taking pleasure one gets from being idle. That ability to completely enjoy and savour a moment. For Goans, it was beautifully engraved in their life when I saw them at a café at the midnight and walking along the beach. They have embraced it and is something that they do very well.

Jet-lagged, we took to our bed only to realize that it would be our only night when we could slept for some six hours. Our rest of the night stays were spent lying down on the beach, gazing stars, having Feni. And, we were not the only ones. Goans start their day at the midnight. Well, Goa is an island of beaches. Our best friend, Google, recommended that it is best to stay near a beach. So, we were at Baga Beach Resort, just a few footsteps away from the Baga beach.
 
Next morning, before the break of the dawn, we were on the beach, sunbathing, with sand all over us. The coarseness of the sand bothered us for a while and it was just then at that moment, we started realizing that Goa is not for the faint-hearted. The sand left us with bruises to cherish for sometime. The numb fingers and swollen toes were the trophies we carried with us from the journey. The beach of Goa was spectacular with a gaiety of colourful parade of floating T-Shirts and crabs hiding behind the rocks, from the visitors' view.

Day two, we were parasailing over the Arabian Sea, as overwhelming as it sounds, so was it. Blood frozen, we were some 30 feet above the sea, flying loosely in the air. It was just a beginning because adrenaline further rushed in when waves touched our feet when we were dropping down to land on the boat.

The last day, we kept for visiting the historical places. Basilica of Bom Jesus stole the show with its magnificent architecture. Describing Goa as having quite a few churches would be an understatement. There was this magic in the slow travel hopping from one church to another, those memorable stops and heart to heart conversations which were supplemented by rustic air around.

During our stay for three days, we also noticed that there were only a handful of cars and more of two-wheelers, with Royal Enfield ruling the roost. The economy of the state allowed the residents to delve into the luxury of using high-end phones.* No wonder, we could only find iPhone billboards flashing at every nook and corner.

Radhika, our little one, carrying the iron-laden reddish soil in a packet, was delighted to show the soil to her friends. Gleefully, she was going gaga over the fact that she had made many castles out of that soil on the beaches. I couldn't dig into the best of the culinary world, with Goa offering seafood largely. We did, however, enjoyed our bottle of Feni leaving us with a taste of cashew to relish.
  
My only regret, we missed Mapusa fair which happens on Fridays as we were on our flight back to Delhi on Thursday evening.  To pick up on the local culture, this fair is a must. 

So, what we realized is that it takes more than one visit to feast on the glory of Goa!

*Goa is India's richest state with the highest GDP per capita – two and a half times that of the country – with one of its fastest growth rates: 8.23% (yearly average 1990–2000).

Thou bittersweet, O motherhood!

Journey of a mother as her daughter turns four ...

A motherhood is 

...a day old clothing
uncombed hair 
before you could blink shower 
pyjamas with smeared hand prints all over
dishes filled sink
a grubby house 
unmade beds 
ever growing laundry
the art of cleaning the same place many times a day and still failing

...to bruised knees 
a tycoon hit looking living room after you return from work 
3 AM wake ups and 1 PM bedtimes when your child is sick 
being on-call 24/7 – no pay and no day-offs 
going from ‘Yuck!’ to ‘Here, wipe it on my shirt'
drinking reheated tea at least 5 times 
reading “The Alchemist” till eternity because every time you pick the book, the apple of your eye decides to poo 
tidying, feeding, talking and answering 
All at the same time.

Phew!!!

but...being a mommy   

is about joyful hearts.
is about magical kisses.
is having the entire world in your hands when those tiny hands hold you tight.
is a sink full of dishes but a house filled of laughter. 
is draining but exhilarating.
is the hardest and the happiest hood ever.

Being mother soothes.
It is about doing it again and again…gleefully!

Picture Credit : Scribbles by Radhika (My mother is in shape!) :D

Make up

Dear therapist,

Thank you for your discernment and for giving free insights every time. For that each time when you say that relying on makeup indiscreetly talks about withered self-esteem and insecurities. Every time, when you recommended me to go out without wearing makeup for a day and see how it feels.

Well, I think it is time to have a look at your prescription all over again.

Makeup. I love using it and I use it just because I love using it, in spite of the fact, that though, as a society we have come a long way in terms of opening up of our mindset and also makeup has been around for ages, painted faces are still judged for using it. I cannot deny, the act of using make up can be cost prohibitive and can fan our sense of vanity. That, make up, can be a luxury, often made to procure by persistent marketing strategies, played by ruthless advertisements.

However, in today's scenario, which talks about women independence and indulgence she should get in unabashedly, I think using make up can speak a lot about her affluence (her prerogative to pamper herself).

So, if we go under the skin on such issues , there are many underlying nuances that come to the fore.

Well, leaving it on that note, as I start penning down... these are some often heard musings, some times overheard.

"Skin damage nahin hoti, roz make up karne se."
"Itna time mil jata hai subah subah?, followed by their pious ‘I don’t get time for these things!’
"Natural looks ki baat hi kuch aur hoti hai!"
"You look pretty without make up", well that's my father, usually. :)
And, lately someone was like " You can't be a feminist, if you use make up so often".
And, best is that when someone says main toh sirf marriages main hi lagati hoon make up.", much to my surprise - marriages! like really! I am not a grammar nerd, but, I think that saying just wedding would have suffice. Ha!

So, today, here I am like,

...2-3 minutes it takes to apply make up and I never found the skill of time management difficult, especially in the morning.

...try good herbals goods, (well, market is flooded with those now), why will you suffer with a damaged skin. In fact if you will worry what others do, you will definitely have one.

...To Papa, and few more, :) I appreciate the compliment, no one can ever find me more beautiful than you do, but I don't put on the make up thinking that I am hideous.

...And, you see the irony is that most of times I get to hear this natural thing by someone who likes the idea of getting under the knife for cosmetic surgeries. And, who knows if they ever went through one.

... I don't like to be framed as a feminist, but Google suggests that being feminist doesn't stop you from doing things which you like, definitely not wait for someone else wedding.

So, dear therapist, It is a choice. Putting on makeup. Same as the choice to decide what to wear and what to eat. Stop objectification of a woman. We don't put on make up to be a eye candy.



Thanks again,
A make up aficionado.

                                  ~~~~~

P.S.

The post credit :

...Never to go astray
Leaving behind the path as black as coal
Memorized has that path, my black eyeliner
It is its favourite path to trail.

                                                ~ Anonymous

Toh ek cup chai ho jaye?

Tap tap. "Tea?" 

Asks rain each time.  And, an old school, preferring tea over any other beverage, I welcome this benign invitation, with open arms, that very each time.

Not just rains, every morning when dawn breaks, a cup of tea beckons me while the world sleeps. An early riser, my mornings begin with preparation of a kind of tea. The kind, which has a carefully crafted scientifically deducted recipe in which I take pride the way these Pepsis manufacturers do. Tea, carries for me reminiscences of my  childhood days, when getting up in the morning as a child, the first thing I would see was my Mummy having her tea. Over the past years, now when I am Mummy to a four year old, my morning routine has changed to a large extent. Amongst other changes is that I've also joined in my mother's morning routine, albeit, sitting at a different postal address. My mornings thinks, and so does my mother, that it is very respectable to do nothing at that first cup of tea. 

And, so therefore love of the tea, travelled with me even after when I left school to pursue further studies.  It remained a daily need in my hostel days, much to my friends' ridicule. In the early mornings of North Campus at Delhi University it was one of the things that felt like home, away from home.

Years passed, and even now when I have an extended family, sitting for chai is a daily ritual that gives the family some much needed time together. 

However, if you have experienced it too, a cup of tea can best be enjoyed all by yourself too. Honestly, for me it has been one of those few best company when I just want to clear my head. And the amount of times it has sat with me through my exams I've pulled, makes it my saviour. 

So, everyday I see love around me over a cup of tea. I see it in the evening over a cup of tea with my in- laws. I see it in my husband who makes an effort to ask me how my weekdays went, over a cup of tea on weekends. I see and feel the love for myself, while sipping it alone. 

Any tea lover would know exactly what I'm talking about. 

Toh ek cup chai ho jaye, and as you relish a sip, just think over, "Why a biscuit when dipped in water forms bubbles ?"

Real thinking happens on a cup of tea, at times. I told you.


                             


Picture credit : Google

Hoi polloi treading the alleys of Meerut

She is many things – a nurturer, a confidant, an amateur writer, a career woman. But at the moment that she watches her father sitting near her, she is just a daughter !

Rusted, cracked, gone parched over the years 

The wall still stood strong.

Withered, stooped, dried over the years 

The tree still rooted strong.

Dusty, monotonous, breathless gone over the years 

The clock still run strong.

Wrinkled, freckled, turned salt and pepper over the years

The mane still shine strong. 

The city which a daughter calls her hometown

There lives a man who possesses no brawn. 

A man who amongst the hoi polloi treading the old lanes of town 

embodies the tress, the tree, the clock and the bound.

For the face that still stood strong and is one in a million! 

The man whom his daughter calls Papa.

The daughter who wallows in neither prejudices nor chauvinism 

But with a demeanour festooned with steely aspires and confidence to the brim

Attempts each day to tread the footprints left by him. 

Hopes alive, that one day , she too will be remembered for a heart

that cannot be  easily forgetten amongst the hoi polloi treading the old lanes of Meerut.  

Smile adorns her eyes in the morning sun

Seeing him ruminating,

He, a few golden rays relishing.

She turns around once again, and ponders,

The ageing wisdom, it takes years and not a day,

You will have to wait, she says.

What I Know For Sure by Oprah Winfrey : What the book told me and what it did not

Few excerpts from the book :

 “If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is ‘Thank you,’ it will be enough.”

“In the word question, there is a beautiful word – quest. I love that word.”

“Nurture yourself often so you will have more nurturing to give to those who most need you. It is the airplane oxygen-mask theory : if you do not put on your mask first, you won't be able to save anyone else.”

So, reading this book has been a five-star experience, nothing less than eating a pizza overloaded with tons of cheese. In fact, reading it was near to what I call “visualising a miracle”; it made me think wide on a subject which was, unbeknownst to me, hidden inside my heart. The question of being the “real me”.

And, the pertinent question is, does it really matter that I remain elated all the time? Am I supposed to smile ear to ear all the time? Or chat non-stop? Or seem radiant? Or wear messed up eyeliner once a while?

I am not one might call a gregarious person. I am okay with that. Because that does not make me a “dispirited person”. Not that I don't have my state of euphoria and ecstasy and excitement but the state is like a short-lived jugnoo. Brightest in its life span, with decreasing luminosity.

Jubilance, passion, anger, shyness, calm…I feel so much more than just being happy because that is me. Bewildered do I feel, annoyed do I feel and so do I feel irritated at times. I work like a dog and I feel power- hungry. I don't smile a lot. Or talk to my friends on the phone often. I don't like animals (actually pets). I don't like it when they mix chocolate with almonds or peanuts. I don't like rom-coms. I don't feel impressed or get pleased easily. I like to be on my toes all the time and love to work on challenging assignments often. I laugh at jokes sometimes, if they are funny enough. I get angry at inefficiency and sometimes I am furious with people with no reason. When I love someone, I love her/him with all my heart. I sense a lot of things. I am willing to tread difficult paths in order to do something which excites me.

Am I happy when I do all these? Well, I am not unhappy either.

So, why do people write about being in a state of eternal happiness all the time? To remain sugar coated happy always is not we are supposed to be. We can't understand the importance of bad times that way. Without going through the mixed emotions of passion, jealousy, displeasure, we would not be able to appreciate the beauty and tranquility of something called happiness.

We are human; why can't we happily embrace the bulges and pits of life with grace? After all, happiness and joy should not be a destination; rather a milestone which, we can encounter periodically on our way. Utmost happiness, I guess, lies in that only, and not to showcase fake happiness all the time.

And ,well, Ms. Winfrey, thank you for enriching me with your writing. I am more grateful. I am more curious. And, I nurture myself more now.

Jaipur, the cultural melange...

“I have meetings to conduct. We cannot plan a trip.”

Me: “Come on Arun, It’s our wedding anniversary. A day or two, what do you reckon?”

Next day, standing in the balcony of a hotel, right in the heart of the city, overwhelmed by pink hued huge architecture of Jaipur, we thought that it is good that we did not compromise on our overnight sojourn experience. We could have, else, missed out the warm and exuberant smile of rosy turbaned coolies at the station!

Grandeur is the city, and so is the hospitality. We breakfasted in Rajdhani and they were impeccable in their hospitality. Warmth exudes from the moment we entered the eatery. Ola cabs came to our rescue, we didn't spend much time bargaining on the cab rates. On a suggestion of a local resident, we started with a visit to Albert Museum, only to realise that the museum might only excite an amateur archeologist. It was majestic, however, we could only partly engage ourselves with the monument. Next, we stopped at Jantar Mantar, the same as one found in the Capital. Apparently, there are five Jantar Mantar monuments in India, of which the largest is in Jaipur.

We were exhausted, still, ever heard of a woman who is not balmed by a retail therapy? Jaipur’s shopping centre “Chaura bazaar” stood wide open inviting everyone with melange of colours. Famous for its Bandini work dupattas and trinkets, you would be cruel if you will not carry back souvenirs back from the market.                          

It was the day two, which turned out to be a real winner. The cab dropped us at the Amber Fort, beaming  with pride for having being featured in the Bollywood saga Jodha Akbar, amongst many others. The fort is majestic, that would be a understatement. There is much more to the fort what meets the eye, what with untold old stories engaged in the walls of the building. What was however, intriguing and heart breaking is the culture confined only within the walls. We saw an old lonesome flute like instrument player, resting against the wall, thriving on the coins often given by the visitors as a token of appreciation.

I realised that we have lost 98% of indigenous music traditions – who cares?, other than few talent shows in which only few manage to exhibit their talent. But back home, I did my part to connect with the forgotten music. When we talk about music closer home, Coke Studio is one of the first things that comes to mind.

I downloaded the app coke studio from play store. With the programme thriving on the indigenous   voices, it brought me closer to the unsung heroes. Give it a try if you haven't, having the ease of such music at the click of a finger gives goosebumps.

We were home the next day, only after making a fleeting visit to Hawa Mahal. Sigh! The infrastructure, will take your breath away which you will catch back soon with no dearth of air around coming from windows.  It boasts of having  a total of 953 windows uniquely carved in the Rajasthani pattern and designs!

Well, aftermath of the visit, my bed had no space to rest.

Room was filled with colourful souvenirs leaving no space :), reminding me of famous lines by 

Khalil Gibran,

“ Let me, O let me bathe my soul in colours;

Let me swallow the sunset and drink the rainbow.”

The tale of a stilettos

So, it all begun that day when my proud and excited owner decided to give her first workshop on Communication wearing me. Little did I know, the admiration with which I had been worn, in that same intensity of self-conceit I would be thrown away in a trash bin. Poor me! I still think I should have been better treated.

The day was bright and sunny, as agreed by my owner too. I just heard her replying back to someone "You know this is the day I have been waiting for ever since. What a perfect weather! , just as bright as I wanted it to be.  I was breeming with pride when her colleague told her, "Anushree, that's a lovely pair of shoes you are wearing. She corrected it's stilettos, actually! 

The workshop went well, but at night, with her swollen and pained feet she couldn't sleep. I heard her saying to the mirror "You are a fool, Anu! Kisne bola tha to wear such sky touching heels."

Sabine bola, she confined, a lady must be groomed. She must be well-dressed. She mustn't look her age. She must dye their hair.  She must be thin. She must wax all that bodily hair off. And , of course, she must wear high heels. 

All the while, she has been forgetting what her father used to tell her ever since she gained worldly senses. "Who made up these rules, anyway. And why, way into the 21st century, are we still sticking to the old notion of how a woman must present themselves to the world? Why do we agree to suffer in order to look good. Why should pain be the price we pay for being admired?"

She thought over it further, "Why do we accept that we must suffer to look beautiful. Why should uneasiness and discomfort be the price we pay for being admired? Why do we fall into Beauty Trap?
The monthly routines to the parlour, attempts to erase a single line on the face; be it laugh lines surrounding eyes or frown lines on the forehead. No, no, no. They must be removed by whatever means applicable. Be it any medicine or for that matter, even laser treatments. Moving from jeggings to boyfriend jeans and back again, just because the trend says.  Saris only work well with trendy blouses (if you don't want yourself to be called a behenji), open-toed sandals if you just had a pedicure, and palazzo pants are out this season, for God's sake.

Yup. She decided she will not suffer at the cost of looking good.

Take her experience.  JUST SAY NO. To all of the above. All you have to lose are your special creams, your stilettos( like she just lost me) and annual subscription to the fashion glossy. 

In return, you will rediscover your self-esteem and worth. Now, that's a trade-off worth its price in golden stilettos. 

A day in the life of a Teacher

"Surendar bhaiya, jara coffee lana."

"Aur, newspaper kahan hai?, aaj client ka coverage aana hai, regionals main."
"Sir, lagta hai aaj phir server down hai. I have to check an urgent mail from the client, aa hi nahin raha!"

From conversations like these in my usual mornings few years back to now when I work as a teacher, my mornings have taken a 360 degree turn. When you work as a teacher, the first one hour after arriving at work is mostly spent waiting for your daily dose of coffee. You are still adjusting to being awake and out in the world. Your social skills aren't really ready yet. And you don't have that luxury of sinking in the comfort of a chair checking emails, right at the start of the day. Intense are the mornings, what with greeting children and trying to welcome them in a manner that they feel that their school is the most exciting place to be.

Well, children' life are no less chaotic! For those who just left the warm embrace of their parents and home, the comfort of their beds and assuring hands of their folks seems like a distant dream. Suddenly, they find themselves in a bustling area full of competitiors for applause and attention. Now they are just another face in a crowd! They hesitantly scan the classroom for their friends, some are happy to find their mates, but others may find the transition little less joyful. They hate it, and won't accept it. Atleast for another few years.

However, amongst all this settling in, the best part of the routine and my favourite one remains the CIRCLE TIME. That's how we began our day at the school. It is almost impossible not to feel pleased  when you look around and see a bunch of growing people pouring their hearts out to you and to each other. Circle Time is the real meat and potatoes of the day, as the experts say. For someone who is unaware, Circle Time may appear to be nothing more than constant blabbering, singing and dancing, but in actual, it's a perfect head start of the day.

My day moves on,  sprinkled with what I would like to call "gems" like these: 

"When I grow up I'm gonna be a doctor and a dad and a slingshot. Basically, I can be whatever I want."

"You can't stop the weather because the weather just keeps coming back!"

"Let's play real life."

And as I relish my students' figments of imagination everyday, I also realise that they are special - people who years later will sink into the bitterness and inhibitions of adulthood.

Being a teacher or a parent is one of the toughest job. But an important one, so if you have chosen this - thank you. The world needs people like you to keep it going. It's often tiring. You have to take a breath before you react to most of the things. Easier said than done, at times, I know.

We can learn a lot from them.

....and that's what I told my husband the other day, " You know, I love this feeling of being surrounded by young curious minds at work."

He smiled.

He had heard this often from me.

Selfie

Selfie.

Don't pretend you don't agree. It's everywhere, just almost everywhere! BuzzFeed is talking about it, people are spoofing it, in fact, everyone's been talking to you about it.

Exploring it a bit further, I thought, does selfie limits itself to just taking and posting pretty grins, guffaws, arched eyebrow, pout. I researched. And, well, actually yes! Most selfies grins and guffaws and pouts.

But, one fine night, when I took yet another selfie , I thought it to be imperfect. There has to be more to me than just a face. I didn't struggle much to think further and slept.

Next morning, while reading newspaper, a print commercial caught my attention which somewhere in between said" Do what makes you happy inside. Do what makes you jump out of bed. Be real. Be yourself. It was of Jabong. http://www.afaqs.com/news/story/41977_Jabong-will-remain-Jabong (cannot help sharing) :-)

Then, I realized, this is what my selfie should say - selfie which changes with each passing day on a colourful canvas called life.

The day when I feel the bursts of bright red, flaming hot and high, appearing from the unseen depths of the heart, urging to conquer the world.

And, as this red colour retreats as fast as it comes, there would be days of dark, somber grey- weighing down on the heart, for a humdrum existence. But I would go on anyway. And as reward  of the determination to carry on, this grey fades, shade by shade, to a steely grey and then voila! - daffodil yellow!

The kind of yellow - of warmth of thousand splendid Sun-  making me feel thankful for what I have and for days to come. The kind of yellow that shows that the world may be blushy pink, envious green, gloomy grey, icy blue, but it could never ever be an impenetrable black!

So, today, one more time, I had dipped my brush and took a selfie. Canvas of life exploded in a rainbow as usual.

because there is a gypsy in you...

I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.

Third day of the Chandigarh Arts and Heritage Festival. My heart hammered even as I held on tight. A silence followed, of the loudest kind. Have I heard it right? Few seconds back, amidst thundering audience, I am being summoned to receive the honour. The most coveted award for any Indian classical danseuse. So, finally I am there. 

As I moved on to grab on my fruit of labour, I thought...this has been a long journey. Exactly that's what it is all about. Unbridled You. Being in touch with your deeply passionate, creative side imparts a touch of magic to treaded alleys of life.

Don't we all have real us, folded neatly within us, who is unleashed in the company of good music, crackling bonfires, thunderstorm rains, a walk in the hills- and of course in the right company. Been through that feeling? When you may want to rejoice free spiritedness, spontaneity and float as a five-bladed flower helicoptering gently to the ground in the cool breeze; you may want to sing and dance as if you are alone in your living room.

…And, then one understands the vanity of limits which we set on us each day. That little child each one of us carry within us, one who peeps out almost all the times but is quickly frightened by "char log kya kahenge". And suddenly, in that one moment, you have been introduced to your innate, powerful side which beckons you to go and paint the world alive.

Meaningful it would be, to give thought to what brings that reigning moment for you? That goose bumps feeling when you hear your favourite song on a loop? That thrills of seeing your child laughing heartily? Or, exactly making your life's do-to-list short brings out the vibrant you? Whatever it is, nurture that source, because it makes you meet real you. 

...because if your real side is lost in the humdrum of life

TRING! TRING! TRING!...

...it was pouring and I was standing right there, day dreaming. Until the phone rang. I rushed inside. It was a call from my masterji. I was getting late for Bharata Natyam classes.

Aaah,it was a dream. Nevertheless, I took a deep breath and listened to the new brag of the heart. I am, I am, I am almost there. :) 

                          

* picture courtesy http://flickrhivemind.net/Tags/kathak,uk/Interesting

Techlicious

...I was saying, when I got my present job, the advertisement they had put in the papers implied that they wanted someone who knew English like Shakespeare, Punjabi like Amrita Pritam and Hindi like Tulsidas - Salary: no constraints for deserving candidate. And in response they got me. I had all the qualifications, but a little mixed up. Yeah! with Punjabi, definitely like Shakespeare. 

Does that mean I was not appointed?  

January 28, 2014 at 11:00 am

I was sitting on a plush sofa opposite the huge reception, trying to look totally relaxed and unperturbed. While waiting impatiently for my turn I could hear words from within, "Listen, today you have to look really serious. That means less of that twinkling eyes and impish smile and more of that solemn looks. After all, future of some 20 odds would be in my hands."  

After ten minutes, while I was just about to reach later stages of Subway Surfers,  I could hear "Ms. Anushree, your turn please." All engrossed, waking up from my reverie, I rushed towards the cabin. 

Excerpts from an interview for the post of pre primary teacher:

"Can you speak English?" 

In my mind (Eh, well yeah, like most of us), "Yes, pretty decent, if not like Shakespeare." 

"Can you handle kids?"

"Yes, I believe I can. I have a year old daughter." 

"What do you think has been the most exciting thing happening or happened in last few years?" 

"This whole advent of technology." 

"Interesting, go on" 

"Well, now, as we talk about tablet- shaped classroom, I really think we have come a long way and it's time to make our education paperless.

And then, rest today I am working with something, or rather, for the system of progressive education. And still remember the words by one of the interviewee there. 
"Exactly! let's break free of rote education. We want our kids to become an author and not a scribe". 

and while you read this, also think 

...if a pen is mightier than a sword. really? 

...can my dog eat my homework?
...think about the money school can save in the long run? True, making a Google school can be prohibitively expensive at least in initial years. 

The textbook isn't about to die a sudden death – especially not in India, where many children still do not have access to the internet at home. But, that day is not far behind, hopefully, when homework would be done at the click of a mouse. :)                      ........................................................

P.S: Title of this post has been taken from HT Brunch's weekly column by Rajiv Makhni. 

RIP, cursive writing.

...So, the much adored fancy style of writing heading to a universal ban? 

Well yes, at least that's what the digital age and changing times suggest. Curvise writing, as the trend indicates is way past its expiry date. This is not just because we've learnt to save time (time lost in forming curves and loops in curvise writing) and use SMS language more often, but as modern pedagogy suggests there is no inherent logic in pretty writing style!

Infact, most schools in India are slowly digesting the fact and hence are putting less emphasis on writing curvise letters.  That flamboyant flow of writing style is no longer a measure of child's achievement, rather a questioning mind is. (http://m.timesofindia.com/home/stoi/deep-focus/Schools-are-writing-off-cursive/articleshow/23601901.cms). 

And all this happening much to parents's chagrin. The stinging dismissal of curvise writing have certainly caused many parents left wondering. As a child, growing up under the tender attention of my parents, I remember mastery in curvise writing held a very special meaning for me, after all it earned me a good number of handwriting awards in school. For a student with a neat hand, it used to give an edge over other classmates who were happily busy scribbling pretty worms in their notebooks. But inspite all this, i can never thank enough my parents who used to think that the curvise wrting is not the only catalyst for growth and development. They encouraged me to be curious enough and were always ready to bear my inquisitive mind.

It's a irony of our educational system that it remains a religion that few would choose had they not been forced into by parental pressure. Though it's a debatable topic and an endless discussion, but why do we force our child to have the world's most beautiful handwriting when the child can have an option to have the world's most observant mind!

I may be new to the world of teaching, but what I am sure of is that I am not going to plague my student's learning experience with the lack of excitement and enthusiasm for anything educational.

As an individual, let's decide to make our children have the emotional demand for education, let them be free and carve their own world rather than forcing them to learn the art of carving neatly!

I have an year old daughter, and I am going to let her free to explore the world around and not succumb to the pressure of rote education.

Don't drive silly, cos road is hilly!

Only some 200 kms away from Chandigarh, one can see board with big bold letters inviting "LEARN TO SPEAK GOOD hindi IN 30 DAYS". In a place where goras flock to attain spirituality each year, some decided to stay back forever in that elusive search of moksha. All the more better, if those fews learn our national language super fast.
And me... well, me and my husband were at Rishikesh for what anyone can expect from 20+ somethings, a weekend getaway and a quick river rafting!

We thought to be brave. Refusing the luxury of a boat, in which someone else toll, letting the excited tourist practice crazy poses and smiles for FB uploads, we decided for a raft where it is all about team work. The ticket comes with a warning though, if we get stuck in the middle of a huge Ganges tide, we might be thrown cruelly into the river by the ferocious current. But then, well, we had an experienced looking guide with us, a pretty sturdy life jacket and yes, our all willingness to give it a big yes! "So what! If it is raining, this is the best challenge Rishikesh can offer, we shall take it up, mate."

The raft went as promised, scared our wits out at every single high tide. We screamed and sang along! The weather too blessed our efforts, with a brilliant display of sunlight which seemed a huge relief for drenched with water souls. About three hours later, our raft hit the jetty. A little tired now and very hungry, we went back to the ashram where we met our parents with whom we came along.

After few minutes, sitting inside a restaurant, waiting patiently for lunch to come, suddenly we saw a new Rishikesh. The immaculately dressed Rishikesh, radiant even in her old age, the feel, the smells, the sights and legends surroundings the city beckon us. :-)

The city which seems like a abode of a householder and a wandering ascetic both. The householder who refuses to budge from the cosy nook, and the latter who has no home at all. I found both within the city. Rishikesh has, as my father says, changed a lot and steadily growing into a residential place. Earlier it was out and out a tourist mecca.

I had a life time experience in those two days, ate piping hot Maggi sitting by the roadside, felt the air which has the classic hilly contentment that one only reads about but rarely finds anywhere else, few tea-and-snack stalls, locals sitting peacefully around, drizzling which happened every now and then, we ordered chai post lunch as I thought over few lines, read few months back,

"The summer no sweeter was ever,
The sunshiny woods all athrill,
The grayling aleap in the river,
The bighorn asleep on the hill.

The strong life that never knows harness,
The wilds where the caribou call,
The freshness, the freedom, the farness, Oh God! How I am stuck on it all."

Sigh! the real world called us back soon, but for this Rishikesh, we would happily return.


                                         ............................................

Young and foolish!

...You Live Only Once :-), now just a month back I stumbled upon this idea. Well, to be precise, yes, it was Twitter and a leading publication who rather suggested me this one, and I realized that this is me!
unabashedly, in perennial state of YOLO (You Live Only Once). Infact, in a way, we all are, aren't we?

...Are you not happy that we have been living in this age of social media boom, AAP effect all over, aare...why don't you Google it thought, please WhatsApp me that pic fast.

...don't you want to live each day as if it were your last?

...itching to go into unknown territory even if it's full of unknown risks so that you get to learn something new?

...make spur-of-the-moment mistakes and be cool about it?

...lol, have you ever thought to do try bungee jumping again at the age of 80?

...always want to learn a new skill every year?

...not afraid to experiment with your wardrobe, once a while?

Yes, if you heard a little yes inside, you are following YOLO philosophy like me. Come on, you won't get another chance to do it :-)

I was surprised to know that the philosophy has been in existence over the years, just that it has become more well defined in recent times. The history is evident, here's Bahadur Shah Zafar for you -

'Na dekha kahin woh jalwa, Jo dekha khan-i-dil main,
Bahut maszid main sar mara, bahut sa dhoonda butkhana'

* vague translation, I saw no light same as that came from within my heart. Much I battered my head in the mosque and looked for it in the temple.

I have decided to live by YOLO, because life is short. And...
Thank God, He has been kind to me for the husband whose WhatsApp status is "You are taking too much space, if you are not living your life on the edge." That's makes two of us! And just now I am going to fill YOLO under the religion section of my FB page.

And as I live by YOLO each day, there will be more to come on this. Till then, let me end by few lines of my favorite poet.


What were those wonderful lines of Yeats ?

" She bid me take life easy as the leaves grown on the tree,
  but I being young and foolish did not agree."


                                        ..................................

Bookworms shall inherit the Earth.

"A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies but a man who never reads lives only one."

It all started in year 2007 when I first read 'Alchemist' and the general mags such as Reader Digest, India Today. It seemed useless then but now when I realize that no one from my class has read 'The Kite Runner' or 'Sherlock Holmes's series', I feel proud and sad. I pity a man (or woman) who has never read a book. A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies but a man who never reads loves only one.

Have a look around, after all these selfless friend can bring meaning to our lives. They can do so much for us just by being books- all the more than what is actually printed inside. Below is what I think!

Person like me, would prefer to interior decorate my house on my own, rather than paying hefty sum to an interior decorator. And yes, i have loads of books for that decoration part. Oh! I just love the sight of that overflowing bookshelf. Come on, won't you agree that they convey a sense of intellectual depth to its owner :-)

And, what about personal décor? Sitting in a waiting room at a recent interview, I noticed the lady next to me was carrying a copy of a play by Shakespeare. Being casually acquainted with works of Shakespeare myself, I was impressed with this young lady, until couple of moments later, it was revealed that she was actually carrying the cover only with few pages inside to take down notes. Phew! I am still laughing out loud!

Patience. Reading makes us patient and curious. Anyone who has survived fifty pages of odd 2000 pages novel, will testify for this.

I am often asked: What do u like reading? Pat comes my answer, "I love reading what gives me joy"...and I say that shamelessly. Experiment. I experiment a lot when it comes to reading. I don't make anything my steady diet, its just like eating at restaurants, what's the fun if you don't try new cuisines every time you eat there.

For me, it's like that nothing can beat the fragrance of a new paper book (yeah! I sniff them, I am weird like that!), the glossy look, the feel of its spine, the musky smell of print and the hidden promise. That, that...aesthetic appeal of a stacked bookshelf.

Better to have your nose in a book than in someone's else business, isn't? :-):-)

P.S. i just finished reading Chowringhee by Sankar and I think it's a nice, quick, hilarious read. 

Kirpya Khulllle paise de!

... कॄपया खुल्ले पैसे दे ।

The words, loud and clear on the Chandigarh-Ambala toll bridge, made sure that you don't miss noticing the extra emphasis on letter L in Khulllle. I have heard of khule, but khulllle!

That's the kind of effect Punjab has on you. :-)

The first thing I noticed about Punjab, on that first day post marriage, was the smell of different air. I was excited and delighted by it, in that first Punjab minute. It smells of ten thousands dhabas, with even walls coated with desi ghee, rather makhan. The spurts of dhabas lining the highway still amuses me. Of course, till that day I used to think that the ever so humble idlis and larger than life dosas comes under main course menu. Here, it tops the list of fast food menu. Amusing!

Then there were people. Otherwise where else on the Earth will you find turbaned heads held high in air with rolled up thick moustaches at edge! I have been living in the city for almost two years and believe me, the sugar coated punjabi accent can beat even sweetness in rusgulla by miles. Personally, i have never been a big fan of ever so pompous sardars, but here, in almost two years i have realised that no one can escape the charm and chauvinism of the community.The land which we better know as land of desis boys, thanks to the likes of Honey Singh, Yuvraj.

And, yes, yes, of course, I would commit a crime, if mention of Chandigarh's architecture is not done. "Oh, so u have shifted to Chandigarh. It's beautifullllll!" :-), Just heard that 209th time last week. Like any other big city, traffic moves at snail's pace here too, but the scents of spices undulled by diesel and petrol fumes is prevalent everywhere.

The city seems never sleeps. Howsoever new you are to it, it will make sure that it makes you feel at home in a jiffy.

As i hope to stay here for years...the conversations and bonhomie, the flowing food and celebrations just at the drop of a hat will surely keep my spirits high!

                                        ..............................

P.S- The city has given me a lot, including my streaked hair. Now this one is interesting. My bosom buddy, Shilpi, ".....finally yours hair streaked, now u r typical Chandigarh kudi" ! ;)