For my Dear Friend.........

The Aroma of flowers
Then a bit of Adulation
Some bright Rays of sunshine
And a little Angst
Add a bit of Thyme
A Hint of Jazz
An Inch of Ginger
All this and more
make my dear friend

Heres wishing you a Very Happy Birthday!!

Awakening

Trupti sat with a vacant look in her eyes, reliving the days gone by, of courtship, marriage and her days with Akshay. That was her daily routine. Doing her normal chores, feeding the baby when either Savi or Sasuma brought her and reminiscing. That was the only thing left in her life now.

How happy they were, they were just made for each other. And how happy they were when they had discovered that she was pregnant. She remembered everything in detail, how they used to go on long bike rides, watching movies on Fridays. The intimate talks. Everything gone, on a single day, the day the firings happened on 26/11. Akshay was hurt by a bullet and later expired and she went on premature labor. And ‘she ‘had been born. ‘She’ had been named Akshata as a tribute to Akshay. But she didn’t feel any connectivity to her, no motherliness. In fact she grudged her, she had to live, to feed her at least. Otherwise she would have gladly let go of her breath.

Since her delivery it was her Sasuma and her sister in law Savi who had nurtured ‘her’. And why wouldn’t they, ‘it’ was their blood after all.

And so she sat pitying herself. She had lost her appetite as also the vigor to live. Her parents, her in-laws all had tried to drive some sense into her but to no avail. For Trupti her loss was ultimate and nothing else seemed important.

Today Savi had a bad stomach pain and Sasuma had taken her to the Doctor. She was alone with the baby. The Baby now 5 months old, was quite active. She was already turning around and moving on her tummy. Sasuma had bathed her and had left her sleeping in the cradle and had asked Trupti to keep an eye on her as she might try to turn over in the cradle and may fall down .

And that’s what happened; the baby woke up, gurgled, saw that no one was about and tried to get down by herself. Trupti lost in her world didn’t notice at first but when there was a movement; by instinct she moved near the cradle and before the baby could fall; she caught her. The baby was surprised, that was the first time Trupti had held her voluntarily, and to show her happiness, she held out her hand touched her cheek and said 'Aakooo....'. And that was it, something snapped inside Trupti.

God, how could she, she had lost her Akshay, how could she lose her daughter too. How selfish she could be, this tiny 'life' was her flesh, her blood, how could she neglect her, how could she ignore her, and then she held her tight and then it came, first unhurriedly then in a torrent; the tears came.

Savi got afraid to see Trupti crying and the baby crying along with her and rushed to her side but Sasuma stopped her. Experience had taught her that when words didn’t heal, tears could.

Chocoholic

Mrs.Sharma came in with shopping bags in both of her hands and proceeded to stack things in their proper places. Then she looked around, made sure that nobody was around and took out her prized possession- chocolates and stacked them neatly at the deepest corner of the refrigerator, in such a way that none could see it. Nobody would see it anyways, because apart from her there was rarely anyone at home. Her husband was the General Manager of a Food processing company. He was the GM for the entire GCC except KSA(Kingdom of Saudi Arabia), which meant that he was mostly on tours. Son was away studying Engineering in the UK, daughter was with them but seldom at home. Either she was at college or at some mall or partying.

Which meant that most of the time Mrs. Sharma was alone. The thought of loneliness made her crave for some chocolate and she popped in a butter chocolate. Just a few years back she was so busy. Everyone needed her and her time. Her husband took her advice, kids wanted her help for their studies, she cooked, she dropped the kids to their classes and now, no one wanted her. She would be really surprised if anyone noticed her.

Yes, she was a member of the Indian Ladies association, the Angels Toastmasters but was it enough? Can anyone replace the love and completeness that a family provides? And in went a Ferrero.

And her neighb ours? Good people but all were Madrasis. For Mrs. Sharma anyone south of Maharashtra was a Madrasi. What can you speak to them with their rolling tongues? Oh yes she was cordial to them. But all they talked was about cooking and which spiritual class was going where and of bhajans. Was she that old to attend Gita classes and sing bhajans? And in went a Galaxy.

She loved to cook, to invent but who was there to eat. So whatever she cooked stood in the refrigerator for some days until it was passed on to the liftman, the cleaner or the maid. The skinny cleaner had developed quite a physique after he started work in their building. And her husband had started wondering why although none were at home the grocery bill was sky rocketing.

Loneliness…Mrs. Sharma reflected was such a painful feeling; all the while moving her hands lovingly on a Van Houten, was it a wonder then that she had become a chocoholic?

It happens

Angad came out of the Indian School premises, mighty pleased, the cultural program, the science exhibition everything had been excellent. He turned around to see his wife Shefali lost in her thoughts and his sons, laughing at some joke. All in all a perfect day. But what was this, struck in the windshield wiper was a parking ticket for wrong parking. ‘Hey whats this, how come, where will anyone park when the parking lot is full, obviously on the roadside. Only Indians cars have been ticketed. The Arabs cars have been spared. Ten Dinars gone down the drain.’

‘Angad,’Shefali said, ‘what’s the use of complaining. The traffic police know that mostly Indians will be here so they took the liberty to fine.’

‘But why ?Where will we park if the lot is full?’

‘No use complaining, Angad, lets go home.’

Next day was their younger son’s birthday, Angad came home to find everyone ready, ‘Why, where are we going?’

‘Harsh wants to have Pizza at Pizza Hut,’ explained Shefali.

‘Pizza Hut, if I am not wrong A single Pizza there costs some Two and odd Dinars and….’

‘Angad,’ murmured Shefali, ‘its his birthday, he hasn’t asked for a party for his friends, just a pizza, please don’t create a scene.’

‘Ok, which Pizza Hut?’

‘Lets go to Manama one at the Gold City. You can park your car at the ground there. No fear of parking ticket.’

‘Hmm he said and they left.

After the meal Shefali looked around at the Gold City while Angad came behind her with a grumpy look and when she stopped to have a closer look at an emerald necklace, he burst out,’ I don’t have money to satisfy your whims.’

‘I am just having a look, did I say I need it?’, Shefali retorted.

The very next day, Angad came with a big Geant bag.

‘Whats this?’, Shefali asked.

‘There was a good offer, I got car vacuum, car wax, carburetor cleaner…………’, but before he could continue, Shefali cut in, ’How much?’

‘Uh, Twenty Dinars,’ he replied.

‘Oh I suppose my window shopping is more expensive than your shopping for car accessories?’ she asked with raised eyebrows while Angad smiled sheepishly.

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A Bahraini Dinar is approximately INR 120

Some jumbled thoughts

I hear students committing suicides and I wonder whether we are raising a generation of cowards.

The next is whether societal, peer, family pressures are such that they have no other alternative than to end their lives.

I am a nobody to advise neither am I going to dissect why such things happen. Its such a biased world that its thought that only being a topper or being the best can bring success. Its not always true. Very often it’s the people who have fared poorly in school/ college who have had successful careers.

But then again success/ failure is subjective. For some success may be becoming CEO of some company, for others it may be a principled life even if it fails to bring in money.

Then I also see people who have achieved success in every step of their lives still when they face a single failure, fall into depression.

Which makes me wonder about the credibility of our education system?

Is education only about getting degrees? What about knowledge, integrity, understanding, etc.

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Yes parents too sometimes act like beasts, forcing their kids to accept their wishes, their ambitions. While I do agree that some kids do need a little push others do not. Again its subjective. Basically each child is special and is to be handled in a unique way.

I will cite my own example. I must have been in the fourth or fifth standard when I fared badly in the half yearly exam. The report card was given just before the Diwali vacations and I was miserable. My sorrow was more about having failed my parents than about getting bad marks. I had not told anybody that I had received my report card and was quite solemnly standing near the garden gate, when my father came and stood behind me

Papa: so you have got your report card?

Me: yes ( all the while looking the other way)

Papa: bad Marks?

Me: Yes

Papa: So what, its not the end of the world, there is always a next time.

We hug and it’s the end of a misery and beginning of a new dawn. That moment I realized a lot many things;

• Marks are not everything

• You always get another chance

• Whatever happens my parents will be always with me

• Its always good to be true to yourself. I could have lied or altered my report card but would not have got any peace

If he had handled the situation in any other way I doubt whether I would have been the person I am today. For a nine- ten year old the security that parents will always be with you; brings in a lot of confidence. (With my siblings Papa was quite a disciplinarian, but with me he always used this approach, I don’t know it was because I was a third born or because he understood that with me being headstrong, that was the best approach:)).

So each person has to be handled in a unique way, and that requires a parent to have loads of time for his/ her child, understanding and patience.

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I won’t be a hypocrite and say that the thought of suicide has never entered my mind. It has-on countless occasions. But something or the other holds me back. Either it is the thought of the trauma my family will have to face or the thought that whether any problem is big enough; for me to end my life.

Life has much more to offer. Death can wait.

And then came fame

Ukkunagaram; the township of Visakhapatnam Steel Plant is almost a Utopia. For in this township, there are no difference in strata, no rich, no poor as all are employed in the Plant. There are no keralites, Telugus, UPites either, all are ‘township’ites.

But for the women there is not much to keep busy. Women can be either Doctors, nurses, teachers or engineers who are working for the Steel plant. The more ambitious ones can go to the 35 km away Vizag city, the rest can do some odd business at home like trading in sarees or giving tuitions. The rest keep busy in housework, gardening, mahila samaj and kitty parties.

The latter two are good, people exchange ideas, views, socialize and do some social work, but on the flip side they also tend to comparisons; who has better sarees/ salwars, better jewellery, whose kid is more talented, which kid is more illustrious-those sorts.

Its Durga Puja time. Right from the 6th to the 9th day there is Bhog at the Kalibari (Kali temple).the whole township irrespective of religion, caste and creed gathers there. For apart from the puja, the socializing, the bhog of khichdi, charchari, khajur-tomato chutney and kheer is so scrumptious that only a life or death situation can keep anyone away. Even the employees on duty on special permission, go by Rota to partake this meal.

Evenings are for cultural programs. There will be professional artists enacting the story of Durga-Kali but there will be programs by the locals too.

And so on Saptami ( the seventh day), Shanti is in tears. Why? Because her neighbor Kavita has got herself new sarees for each of the day and her friend Nisha has got a diamond set and she has got neither.

Also all her friends kids are so talented. One got a prize for rangoli, one for singing. Another in the quiz competition and so on. And her kids? Her son Vishal is good in swimming but not champion material. Who cares for swimming anyways, its only cricket nowadays? And her daughter Vidya, the bane of her life. Neither is she good looking nor is she interested in looking good. She is mediocre in studies, fair in singing and a horrible dancer.

Her husband comes in to see her teary eyed and asks the reason. ‘You, you are the reason, neither have you bought any good sarees for me nor a single gram of gold.’

‘Saree, our wardrobes are bursting with sarees and gold is so expensive. I would rather buy some Reliance shares, atleast I will have some guaranteed returns’, he replied.

‘Yes yes think only about yourself’, she said before she could continue the phone rang. ‘Hello, oh hi Sujatha, oh is it, Congrats’, and she kept the receiver down. And then she burst into tears.

‘What, what happened?’, her husband asked.

‘Sujathas daughter got 1st prize in dance and see my kids; leave prize, no participation’, sobbed Shanti

So she continued in her morose mood the next day too. Just then Mrs.Sharma burst into the living room,’Shanthi Shanthi, guess what happened’, and before she got a reply continued, 'Chintu, the brat fell down into the KBR reservoir. Vishal dived in and brought him out and maybe because of the shock, he had lost consciousness and had drank too much water. Vidya revived him. What brave children you have got.’

And after that there were non -stop phone calls and visitors, everyone praising her kids and when the Plant too recognized their efforts and awarded them, Shanthi was the happiest woman in the whole town.

Hopeless and then some hope!!

Navya finished packing and sat musing. Then she got up and moved around the house. Touching everything tenderly. This home she had built herself with so much loving care and now she had to leave it all. Why? Because she was childless. Ten long years and still childless; that was the expression people gave her.

It was strange. A girl/woman may be intelligent, smart,, loving but to be considered marriage ‘material’ her looks, her ability to cook and her ability to multiply were the deciding factors. People actually check on the girls background and see that the family does not have any history of ‘barrenness’

But there was no history of barrenness in her family. She just had some hormonal imbalances and was undergoing treatment. But not any more. She could endure the physical pain of the ‘treatment’ but not people’s glances and her in-laws queries. Al most every other day her m-i-l would call and ask ‘any good news?’. What good news could you expect every other day?

She loved kids but didn’t mind not able to have one, adoption would have equally satisfied her. But Ajay her husband was against it. He said that having your own kid was altogether different experience. It was strange how our society functions. As soon as you are married, people say, ‘so, when will you be giving us the good news?’ As if that is the sole object of two people coming together. The friends who were once close were now busy with their kids. Even meeting them was sort of agony because they had no other topic of discussion except their kids studies, their pranks, their not eating properly etc.

And so she had decided to leave her husband and Bahrain. She would be flying to India on the pretext of visiting an ailing Uncle and from there she would go to some other place and start a new life. No, she was not escaping. But she could not see Ajay’s pain. He loved kids and why should he suffer because of her. She knew he would never divorce her but he would never adopt also, so what else she could do?

It was Friday, the weekly off in the Gulf. Ajay was attending a seminar and so she had hurriedly packed her bags. Hurriedly; because she had to keep her certificates and all. If she had packed in front of him, he would have been suspicious.

The lock turned and Ajay stepped inside. ’Arrey, you came back early?’, she said.

‘Hmm’, he said, he looked preoccupied, so she kept quiet.

After some hours, he called, ’Navya, I met your boss Mr. Kashi, he said you have resigned. You didn’t tell me? Why? You were going to leave me, isn’t it?’

She kept mum.

‘is it because of your not able to conceive and everyone’s comments. But Navya, remember what the Doctor said? To think positive. Its just some imbalance Navya….’

“yes Ajay its imbalance but you are forgetting that I am 35 and the chances to conceive are slim now and then you are so against adoption that I had no other choice’

‘Actually I am not against adoption Navya. But laws on adoption are strict. For NRIs even more. I have put in an application but it takes time. And then there is no guarantee that we may get permission. I insisted on trying for a biological baby so that later on you don’t have any regrets. That’s why’

‘Really, have you really applied?’

‘Yes I have, keep your fingers crossed. Meanwhile go to India have a vacation and return. Mr.Kashi is ready to throw away your resignation,’ Ajay replied with a smile.

‘But what about your parents?’ she asked,’ will they agree for adoption?’

‘That is our decision isn’t it. But I am sure when they look into the angels face they will come around’, he answered.

And so sat Navya musing but now with a joyous heart.