Valentine's Day and Beyond................

A warm smile, a firm hand

Careless whispers that never end

The weekend plans, the movie waits

Sometimes a small tiff or a little irate

Sometimes it’s made for each other

Sometimes it’s mismatched

Call it love, infatuation, or just a passing phase

Love is in the air or is it just a haze

Valentine’s Day.....is it for real or is it hype, some swear by it while others abhor it, for some it is the day they have been waiting for to share a special feeling, while for others, it’s just Archie’s’ way of making more money.

Maybe I am outdated or old fashioned for this young generation, but I believe in Love. Love is special, love is waiting for that special someone to come and sweep you off your feet, love is sharing, caring, understanding, and adjusting. Yes, a lot of the younger ones may feel otherwise, but as I mentioned earlier, I am old fashioned when it comes to love.

It takes a lot of strength to walk up to someone and say ‘I Love you’. There are people who spend days, months and sometimes years to say it to their someone special, but then if you really love the person, just walk up and say it, coz, life doesn't give you too many chances.

Ours was a love story with a difference, a little old fashioned, a little strange but it was love nonetheless. We met as classmates for the first time during our college orientation and the fact that we both belonged to same city, brought us closer. Somewhere in the four years of college, we realised that we liked each other but that was that. We did not talk about it and it only gave our friends a reason to have a good time making fun of the situation that we were in. Four years passed and it was the last day.....the next day we would return and we knew that probably we would not get to see each other ever again....it was our last chance, we met for one last time ‘as friends’, said our goodbyes, yet we chose not to speak about it and walked away with heavy hearts. It was probably a very difficult situation to be in, to act normal and yet knowing that there was so much pain inside. After three years, we met again, and no, this too wouldn't have been possible, had luck not been on our side, but we were given a second chance, and this time, we both somehow knew, there would be no more chances.  So we met, looked at each other, held hands and decided to get married and today fourteen years later, aren’t we glad! Unlike other love stories, our love story was different; there were no dates, no candlelit dinners, no huge Valentine’s Day celebrations, yet we were there for each other, he in one city and I in another, till we got married. We moved into this cute little home of ours that we worked hard to set up.  We discovered little things about each other along the way. He helped me become a more confident person, gave wings to my dreams, and encouraged me to outdo my fears.  We stood alongside each other, helping each other achieve our dreams.

Today as I watch him working away on his laptop, a person, who I first met as a friend twenty two years ago and today as my husband, a person who is the way he is, no pretences, very caring, very special. No he is not the mushy, holding hands and saying ‘I Love you’ twenty times a day kinds, but I see his Love when I see him concerned when I am a li’l upset or the time when he sits by me listening patiently to all the jabbering I do, or quietly eating a new recipe which might have turned out wrong and just say, may be next time it will be better, or the time when I am sick and he wakes up multiple times at night just to check if I am fine. I see his Love when he is upset with me for not giving it back to someone who might have hurt me, or the fact that he has started liking dogs because I like them.

All this would not have been possible had we chosen to keep quiet. The regret would have pricked us all our lives. Maybe we would have married different people, but I guess it wouldn't have been the same.

So all you people out there who are in love but haven’t told your someone special about it, go ahead and say it.....that someone might just be waiting for you. You may brighten up someone’s day or someone’s life and yours’.

 But remember love is beyond dating and talking endlessly on the phone, or movies and parties, it is standing by each other and for each other at all times, it is knowing the flaws in the other person yet letting them be overshadowed by all their goodness. Love is not having too many expectations and walking away when they are not met, but love is dreaming together, and being together in the journey of achieving that dream, some dreams come true and some come half way to being true, but it’s the journey that makes the difference.

When you truly, madly and deeply fall in Love with a person, nothing else matters.  For all you people who are or have been in Love, you know what I mean.........so while Valentine’s day may be a gimmick for some, it still give us a chance to step back and Thank that someone who has made our life special, or a chance to make someone’s life special by letting them know how much they mean to us.

Call it a Valentine’s Day or any other day, but just remember that we have been lucky to have certain people in our lives who love us and care for us. Let’s not take them for granted, coz who knows what happens tomorrow.....it might be just a li’l too late!!

Happy Valentine’s Day people.......go out and spread the happiness...Someone Somewhere cares for you and it’s time to let them know that it matters to you.

Life’s embarrassing moments

I somehow have a knack for putting myself in situations that are....well to put it simply, ‘funny’...funny at my cost...some have been so bad that even today when I recollect them, I tend to shut my eyes in embarrassment .......be it my attempt to speak a fluent Assamese line in front of my friend’s mother (who was from Assam)and landing up laughing loudly without saying anything (coz when I was framing the sentence in my mind, Kannada words kept coming in), leaving the lady looking at me in surprise and me turning red faced or the time when I received a call from an international number and I answered thinking it would be my mom-in-law who was expected to reach the US that day and I start off, ‘Ma, have you reached, did you have a good journey?’ and the person at the other end turns out to be my Boss, who incidentally was abroad at the same time......and I go...oopsss...or the other day when we were in a Bengali restaurant where the staff was speaking in Bengali and I wanted to join in too, so I started  by asking for some dish in Bengali and I say ‘Onedu plate Luchi kori’  which is in kannada instead of ‘ek plate luchi diye den’in Bengali.......the guy started staring at me and my husband had to come to my rescue by correcting my sentence.

This one I had to share coz this hilarious episode happened this morning and the ‘bakra’ was none other than me. And yes, I am writing this soon after it has happened so that I can pen down exactly how I feel...we have just had a good laugh about it in the kitchen when I shared it with my maid.

Its the 17^th of January, just a couple of days after the popular ‘Harvest festival’ – Lohri, Sankranti, Bihu etc...etc....  that was n the 14^th. Two days ago, I met this lady from our building and she told me that she had come to my place to give the ‘prasad’ but did not find me there and that she would come over again to hand over the same. So this morning, while I was busy surfing the net, lost in my ‘job hunt’ (since I am now planning to take up a job again)) when the door bell rings. I expect it to be the dhobi (the guy who irons the clothes) who might have come to return the finished garments. I see that my maid is busy in the kitchen so I decide to answer. As I look out, I find the same lady standing with another lady with bananas ad betel leaf in their hands. I call them in and ask them to be seated. I assume that she might have come to give the ‘prasad’ that she was talking about.

She is also fond of our new puppy ‘Choco’, and asks for him. I fetch the pup and while she plays with him, I ask her to excuse me so that I could wash my hands (assuming that I would have to take the prasad she gives and will not be able to do so with dirty hands). She interrupts saying that they wanted to inform me that there will be a meeting at 11.30 am on Monday to discuss a few issues of the building and goes on chatting. The banana and the betel leaf are still safe in her hands. And then she keeps jumping from one topic to the other. She seems to be in no hurry to give me the prasad, I think, and since it’s considered rude to ask for it, I politely smile and continue to listen to her.’ I offer her tea and she refuses and continues to chat.

And now, before you think that I was being greedy, well no, that was not the case, but it was the flow of events that led me to thinking what I was - first she tell me that she will be visiting me, then I see her at my doorstep with the banana and betel leaf, so what else was I supposed to expect? Well, she was here for about twenty minutes and then she got up to leave, without giving me the prasad......

She says ‘Please ensure that you come for the meeting on Monday’ and I nod......and she goes away, with the banana and the betel leaf safely in her hand leaving me wondering why did she come? I come to the kitchen and tell the entire episode to my maid and she bursts out laughing so much that tears flow from her eyes. After she is done with her uncontrollable laughter, she explains to me that the banana and betel leaf was not for me and that were hers. So I question, ‘Why would anybody come to someone’s house with the fruit in their hands and then leave without giving it to me?’ She explains to me that probably the two ladies would have visited another house before coming to ours and that as per the tradition in south, whenever anyone comes home, people offer archana kumkum (sindoor and betel leaf along with fruit) as a mark of respect (probably similar to the way we offer tea), the stuff they were holding in their hands was offered to them. So the banana and betel leaf were actually theirs and not for me. And the reason of her visit would have been just to inform about the meeting on Monday.

I put my hand on my head and I was ‘Oh God! Why was I so dumb?’ I could almost feel myself blushing at the thought that the two women must have guessed that I assumed that the content in their hands had been brought for me and that’s why I kept telling them that I would wash my hands and return.......... L  They must have their daily laughter dose for the day at my cost ...just like my maid  L L L

After fouteen years in Bangalore, I should’ve been aware of this small ritual that is followed in most South Indian homes. At least that would have saved me from this embarrassment.........

MERRY CHRISTMAS FOLKS!!

Soft snowflakes whisper in the cold

Hiding everything under its fold

Strangers pass by on busy roads

Hiding a story beneath those robes

There’s no time to talk or even smile

As the busy mind’s chatter takes a while

To mark off the list of things they must obtain

For their kith and kin,

And sometimes even for those who are a pain

Cold shoulders brush past each other

No time to greet, no time to bother

The year is ending but there is hope

As each one struggles to steer their boat

If only someone would pass a smile

If only someone would wait a while

The burdened hearts would be li’l light

As they helped the other to be a li’l bright

If only masks were pulled off without a shame

If only Santa was not just a name.

Christmas is here and there is cheer all around

Time to leave a mark and ease other’s frown.

The fireplace is warm with banter and cheer

Bright warm wool, and hugs from all dear

Gifts pile up under the tree

As children look on with hope and glee

Santa’s bounty they wait to explore

Their innocent minds let the spirit soar

Let hopes never die and dreams never end

As we learn to walk together hand in hand

Let there be peace and happiness resound

As a New Year ushers in with joy all around

November.......

November, a time when another year is almost coming to an end, people are already making plans for the New Year, the weather is beautiful and brings in much relief from the hot Indian summer, the leaves of a few trees have turned into red and gold giving the entire neighborhood a romantic charm perfect for those memorable photo shoots; a time for introspection of the year passing by and a time for festivities and plans. 

For me November is a special month, special, coz in November is the birthday of a lady who I owe my life to....my mother.... a super talented woman. From the time that I can remember, she has always been good at all things ladylike, a good cook, a wonderful host, an excellent mother. When she was young she was good at knitting, stitching, sewing, reading tons of books, cooking yum food and doing up the home and yet be always well turned out in spite of managing two children. As for me, never getting more than a ‘B’ grade in the craft and SUPW classes, and a ‘C’ in drawing classes, I could never really match up to her. As she turns sixty seven this year, I can confidently say that she still is much better dressed than I am, I consider her a picture of elegance and grace.

So the benchmark for me was really high, and I don’t think I could get half as close in being as efficient as her. As I was growing up, she tried her best to teach me all the nuances that she excelled in, but I was a poor student. The cross stitch project that she made me start in my sixth standard was kept pending till finally she gave up trying and it was used as a dusting cloth, the sweater that I had promised to gift my Dad on his fifty third birthday couldn't have been possible without her knitting half of it to help me out of this difficult assignment.  As for cooking, well she did manage to blackmail me to learn that a bit. The only thing that excited me was sewing. So while was in college, I would get fabric and get her to cut it for me while I’d stitch it over the weekend and I’d have a new outfit for Monday morning, sewing was something I would do happily, but not perfectly. The first time I tried sewing, was in school and I had landed up having passed the needle through my finger and sat crying till she came and pulled it out of my hand, thankfully it was the manually operated machine of the olden days, and it’s scary to think of the outcome if I had been using a motorized machine. Not that I am a tomboy, but somehow, during my growing up years I loved to spend more time in playing with my pets and looking after them and reading lots of books. While she loves meeting people and socializing, I am the completely shy kinds who prefers to be by herself to the extent that some people misunderstand and think that I am either snooty or plain cold, quite unlike a person who has always had a job that required a lot of interaction with a whole bunch of people should be.

She had spent most of her married life in Shillong and in the colonies where everyone knew everyone and  had a lot of friends there. Post retirement, when we moved to Delhi, my parents found it difficult to adjust initially, but after a couple of years she bounced back and today she has a circle of friends where she socializes often, whereas my father has found a friend in the television, making sure that he catches the latest news bulletins at least three times a day. Even at this age she goes for regular walks in the morning and evening and gets worried every time the weighing scales moves a little more than where it is supposed to sit.

I have had her as my support system all my life.

While at work, it was a routine to pour out my day to day happenings to her and then she would come out with completely professional advice.  There were times when I would sulk and she would tell me that I was being unprofessional in behaving like that and so on and so forth. She would be neutral in her feedback and not support me blindly. This is in spite the fact that she has been a housewife all her life. When I decided to give up my job, she was the first person who kept asking me ‘Are you sure, you want to do this?’

Well, living up to being her daughter is a difficult task and I am yet to catch up to being anywhere close to that. So this year in November, I decided to start something new as a way of saying 'Thanks' to my mother; As it is, these past six months off from work are now beginning to get on to me and I really had to find something worthwhile to do while the children were away at school. So one fine day I went out and bought a sewing machine leaving my husband wondering as to what I was up to. My next trip to the market and I bought some fabric, only a few to start with. My childhood experiences have taught me well not to get super excited coz if I get bored midway of the new assignment, all of it would go waste, the plan is to take one step at a time. Along with the fabric came the threads and the laces. The children were really impressed with all the new stuff and they wanted turns in using the machine, so I had to wait till they were off to school and then I started out, the first few cushion covers that I stitched came out okay.  And so I decided to send them to her as a ‘Thank you’ coz she was the one who had first taught me to sew.

The cushions were packed neatly and handed over to the courier and I waited for the next two days for her to call saying she had received them.

I wanted to surprise her and also was dying to know her reaction on seeing them. On the second day at around three in the afternoon, the phone rang and I picked it up excitedly, I knew she had received the package. And she started ‘Did you really make them?’ I was ecstatic, from the tone of her voice; I knew she had liked them, but the truth was that they certainly were not up to the mark, so I told her that I would be sending her better ones, once I improved in making them.

So, while I find what to do next, here’s to my new rendezvous ...........how successful it is going to be, I don’t know, but for my Mom’s sake, I better ensure that I do well J

Beyond the serene shores......

The sun has set and there’s a crimson blush

The shores are serene but the heart is forlorn

Another day tormented by reminiscences of the yore

Another day filled with anguish burns the core

Thoughts of the past explode as one lends a sigh

There’s more to what meets the eye

Flowing tears has blurred the vision

But this, alas! Was the best decision

He has a sad smile as he reflects on the last bond  

He had turned back but she didn't respond

She cared for him or so he thought

But today in his mind he was full of doubt

There is warmth in the hearth and cheerful noises all around

But sadness blinds the eye and deafens all sound

 If only she’d sensed the hurt underlining his smile

If only she would've walked back that extra mile

Time has passed and life has moved on

Yet when darkness prevails, the heart is torn.

Braveheart

She walked pensively as she tugged onto the broken umbrella trying her best to save herself from the heavy downpour. There was a strange melange of emotions and it felt as if the heavens were crying for her that day. It had been one more disastrous morning, one more dark dawn with one more round of thrashing that he’d often resort to if he did not find money for his daily alcohol. She was struggling through the puddles and tiny streamlets formed by the rain water as her eyes were blurred by the tears that flowed from them.

A few minutes later, she knocked on the teak framed door and two excited children ran out to welcome her. She quickly wiped her tears and broke into a smile. It was as if all her worries had suddenly melted away in the tiny hands that held onto to her hand and pulled her into their home. Here she was in another world; there was no time to fret as the school bus would soon be honking outside. The little boys had to be readied and fed and taken to the bus stand. The dog was waiting when she returned from the bus stop, it was his turn to be walked and fed now. The parents of the little children were off to work and would return only in the evening. All chores completed, she now settled down with a cup of tea, as her thoughts went back to where it had all started twenty years ago.

The rustic village where she grew up was where she was considered very pretty, and everyone thought that she could easily get the most eligible bachelor to marry her.  Alas! Fate had planned something else planned. She was married early, not to an eligible bachelor, but to a drunkard and a tormentor. Within a year she was the mother of a child. With her life already a mess and another soul to support, she decided to fight back. A few neighbors had helped her get her first job at a factory. The sum was paltry, but it gave her the independence from the miseries bestowed on her by her so called husband. The child was growing up fast and so were her requirements and the factory money was not enough. She had tried to save a bit from her small sum, but he would always smell it out from wherever it was hidden and use it to fund his drinks. She spoke to her friends about doing something else that could fetch her more money and so ended up working as a housemaid before leaving for her regular day job.

This is how she connected with me through a family friend when I was looking for a maid. Our first meeting was a tad difficult as she didn't know my language and I didn't know hers, but we managed and soon she was hired as a maid for our home. After the birth of my elder son, we offered her to work as a full time helper to take care of the child and the home so that I could join back work. This also meant that she would have to give up her job at the factory. She agreed and was soon an all time favorite of my son. She loved him and would be by his side the whole day. The initial days were a struggle as language proved to be a major hindrance and it took a good six months for me to master her language, by which time, she too had begun to understand bits of the Hindi and English that we spoke.  She was ambitious and though she was happy working at our place, she also had dreams for her daughter who she wanted to do well in life and not struggle the way she had been doing.

Something about her clicked and as years passed, our house became completely dependent on her. By the time we had our second child, she had taken up most of the responsibilities and, she became more like a family member, except for the fact that her husband didn't mend his ways. The story at her home was the same.

Today as she sat reflecting on the morning episode with him, she received a call from her daughter. Her husband had packed his bags and left, leaving the two of them to fend for themselves. This is when she took a big decision; she wasn't going to cry any more than she already had. This time she would fight back. She waited till evening to get back home and then she did something most women find difficult to do. She decided that she would not look for him or call him back. She had anyway been feeding him all these years as he had stopped contributing to the house altogether. In a society like ours, where domestic violence is  prevalent  in almost all strata and is often silently brushed under the carpet, here was one women who, given her struggle to fend for herself and her daughter, had chosen to fight it out, not caring about the stigma attached to a single women. There was a lot spoken about this in her village when she visited there, but she knew she was right and decided to stand by her decision.

Her struggle did not end there, as after a few months her brother too passed way and so the responsibility of taking care of her aged parents came on her shoulders. There were four people to take care of now and so that meant that she needed more money. She asked if she could take up cooking at our place so that we would pay her some more and also if we could permit her to take up another job during the day till the children were in school and we let her do that. Her struggle was now visible on her face, as she would complain of aches and pains. She would complete all the work at our home and rush to the other house to quickly finish the chores there and head back to our place to take care of the children till we returned from work. Probably what kept her going was her love for our children and their reciprocation of the same.

Years have passed and her daughter is now happily married with two children of her own. Her husband did try to get the villagers to intervene to convince her that they stay together again, but she did not agree. It was he who had chosen to walk out, so there was no way that she was going to call him back. And where was he when she was struggling to get the funds for their daughter’s wedding or when she struggled to put the house rent together each month, she asks.

Her struggles are not over yet, but looking at her fight from then to now and how she has adapted herself to whatever life had to offer her, she is a clear winner. Today our children are big enough to take care of themselves, yet she works with us but her dreams and ambitious have yet not ended. She now dreams of having her own tiny shop selling fast food. She has come a long way from struggling to make a proper meal earlier, to now, when can cook North Indian Rajma and Kadhi, South Indian Rasam and Sambar, Chinese noodles and gravy or Pastas, she can manage all of these and more.

Wondering, why did I choose to write about my maid ?

Well, coz, as years have passed, there’s lot that I've learned from her; her ability to smile in spite of all the odds that life offered her,  her love for my children, her honesty and self respect , whenever, she needed money, she would take up an additional chore and not take it as a charity. And above all, her willingness to learn and achieve more, the fast food store being her new dream.

A society that is filled with women who are filled with self pity and who quietly face all tortures meted out to them and refuse to retaliate, here is one woman who chose to fight the odds. Coming from a small village, being new to city life, she not only managed to take care of herself independently , but also had a good wedding arranged for her daughter, and has managed to foot the hospital bill for the birth of her grandchildren, this she says was her responsibility according to their community.

Yes, like all other people, I too have my grievances about my maid, but they are far smaller when compared to how much she has contributed to our family. She is as old as I am or could be younger too, but her life’s struggles have been far more than mine and I totally respect her for the way she has handled each one of them. She may come from a different stratum in society, but what connects me with her is that she is a woman and a fighter who lives with dignity.

Today as I speak about her or others like her, I realize that, all of them have similar stories, so while we complain that our maids don’t work well, or are taking too many offs, they are actually struggling to make ends meet, some managing the home without their husbands and some working together with them. Given a choice this is the last thing they would want to do, but this job is important for them as it means independence to them and a means to their meet their ends.

Innocence....................

Two gentle souls fill the air with cheerful resonances. Their naughty mannerisms, their innocent jokes, their cuddly hugs, have given life a whole new meaning and along with that is the realization of a huge responsibility, of being able to give them a good upbringing enriched with high values. Today, I tried to put down my thoughts on this beautiful child-mother relationship.

Tiny hands hold my fingers

Trustingly grip the little wonders

The heart skips a beat

As the innocent eyes meet

And carefree smiles

Remove worries for miles

Tiny hugs greet the soul

It doesn't matter if one has not met the goal

Doesn't matter if one’s rich or poor

After all, you are their mommy dear

Doesn't matter if you are fair or dark

Coz Mommy, you are your angel’s star

A tiny tear rolls down the cheeks

Overcome with all the love it receives

The head bows down in a silent prayer

Lord, give me the strength to handle with care

Their fragile hearts may never despair

Tiny dreams will soon have wings

 And they will go on to do their own things

The sun shall set upon today’s youth

While new horizons open up for the not so tiny brood

Wrinkled faces shall hold up with pride

Every time their angels strive

To win, without letting their values dive

They find their place in the sun

And come home with the trophies won

Yet when they are in the dark and cold

They come back to their mother’s hold

A place where every child feels safe

A place where there is never a room for hate.