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.