Let's get our priorities right!

There's growing unrest in the world, the situation in Syria, Turkey shooting down a Russian jet, crimes against women on the rise (at least more getting reported and publicised), the Taliban flexing its muscles again, the ISIS and the concern about why it is attracting educated youngsters - but all that we can talk about is why Aamir Khan and Shahrukh Khan called us intolerant.

Of course we are not intolerant - we are only making this headline news, telling 'them' to leave the country, exhorting people to not watch their movies - seriously!!!! Of course there is no room for debate or discussion; of course we can not allow people to think for themselves! What if they actually thought,  and realised that this non-issue is really not worth discussing and that we need to discuss why primary education is still not reaching every child, why we have a shortage of teachers, why so many teachers don't attend school, why.... the list could go on and on but then do we have the time? We need to discuss why actors have a mind and are daring to speak out their minds! Bring it on people - let's solve all the world's problems by addressing these 'serious' issues!

It's only a stone! Why am I so attached to it?

It’s only a stone – why am I so attached to it?

Think of all the people who would have slaved in the mines to unearth this – or the first person who saw it for what it was but had to give it up to the owner of the mines – how tough would it have been to give it away!

Should I be getting so attached to material things that I can actually lose sleep over the loss of it? When did I become what I had so badly never wanted to be – did accumulation and then slowly possessiveness just grow on one? Creeping in sooooo gradually that before I realised it, I had started to value the wrong things about my ring – that I was appreciating the diamond rather than the fact that it was a first symbol of when we started being able to afford things/jewellery, just for fun and pleasure, not for resale value but for sheer happiness. Is that where the problem is – was a diamond ring really giving me happiness!

It was 2.30 in the night, when I moved my hand and something sharp poked me – I realised it was a spoke of the ring which had lost its diamond! A beautiful solitaire that I was entranced by – one piece of jewellery that I actually missed when I was not wearing it. Over 10 years old, it was special to me – I had purchased  it for a very ‘reasonable’  price. What I realise is that it was not the money that was bothering me – just the fact that a beautiful thing was lost. I am not sure giving it away would be tough – I hope not!  - but the fact that it just may have fallen away somewhere, and will find its way into the garbage dump really bothered me.  As did the thought of the family’s possible reactions to the loss.

That is when I realised, yet again, that I had a special blessed life. Ravi would be shocked, and would join the search, which would be a very vague one as we couldn’t really be sure of when it fell off – definitely within the past 3 hours. That is when I realised how often I looked at it – I was sure I would have noticed it immediately, which meant I looked at my ring once almost every 10 minutes! Anyway, he would have searched – and probably thought about how I should be more careful, but seeing how upset I was, would not have voiced the thought at all. He would have promptly suggested that we go shopping to pick up a new diamond to fit the gap! Even though very careful with money, he would not have thought twice about spending on something to try and make me feel happy. But he would have continued looking into the gaps in the furniture or the corners of the rooms, just to see whether it could be located.

My mother would have made lots of noise about how sad it was, and how hard we worked to build up a collection, and how we had never harmed anyone so good things only would happen to us, and would have ended with being convinced that it would show up one day. The true optimist!

My reaction surprised me – first feeling of regret at having lost a beautiful thing was followed by disgust at myself for not having looked after it better. I kept telling myself that I didn’t need a ring, that I was blessed that the family was healthy and doing well, that I should get my priorities right, set up the Trust for adult literacy that I had been planning, stop procrastinating, But… I couldn’t sleep! I was wide awake tossing and turning, then suddenly decided to rule out the possibility of the diamond being somewhere ‘locatable’. I switched on the torch in my phone and walked through the house, scanning the floor all the time. I even looked into a carton that had been kept for disposal as I remembered putting my hand into it an hour before we slept! I could see myself even a year later, not entirely able to stop looking for it.

Walking back into my room, trying to not disturb Ravi, but unwilling to put off my search, I flashed the torch just once more inside the room, and … something sparkled back at me. I still cannot believe I found it! Am I going to stop loving it – no!! but I am going to definitely something about the Trust and other such thoughts and GET MY PRIORITIES RIGHT!

I had gone to sleep after a discussion with Shashank about contact lenses for supriya for the wedding – one of the thoughts when the missing diamond really ‘woke’ me up was to get my priorities right.  This was going to be a special time for her any way – how did it matter whether she wore glasses or not in the photographs! Shashank’s message saying he was going to leave the decision to her made me realise how much I was getting trapped by others’ vision of what a wedding should be – these two had a good thing going and I am not going to spoil it. Am looking forward to a wonderful month ahead.

Saying which, this same note would not have been written if my diamond had not been found J

Trading in my Priority Pass for a Spencers Card

My life seems to be a series of stepping backwards, or sideways, to move ahead. I first stepped away from the rat race when I left what could have been a lucrative job in software to start working in the development sector. Nine years later, I have stepped aside again, to spend my time doing things that I feel I would like to do – spend time with my mother, volunteer with NGOs doing meaningful work, catch up with friends, listen to music, do a lot of quilting and crochet and read for the rest of the day. All this will of course be interspersed with some household chores that don’t need mentioning, as those get done anyway, with or without a career.

My first day away from work, deciding to first finish off the ‘chores’ part of the day, I walked into a supermarket to stock up on provisions at 10 in the morning. The entire place felt strange, as the aisles were mostly empty. The few customers were mostly senior citizens, some of them accompanied by a middle-aged escort, and one or two young mothers, probably catching up on chores in the gap between dropping a child off to school and picking them up again. My first feeling when I saw the other customers was, ‘does this mean I also have nothing more important to do in the morning? Am I making a mistake by opting to not go to work?’

Then I looked around at the huge store, at the shelves stacked with goods and the relative silence that came with a music-less, announcement-free store.

The attendants were all busy chatting while re-arranging the items on the shelves, finding enough time to admire each other’s clothes and jewellery before the day’s work picked up and kept them on their toes. In one corner, a group of youngsters were familiarizing them with the offers for the day. ‘Remember, you need to mention that there is a basket free with 2 kilos of apples’ was the instruction given to one youngster who was nervously fiddling with a mike that he would probably wield later in the day.

Until a month ago, I had been travelling so often that the airport staff in my hometown had become acquaintances, to the extent that one of them waved me away when I reached for my ID proof at the entrance, saying "Don’t worry Madam, you are a regular customer." The Priority Pass allowing me access to airport lounges had been given the pride of place in my wallet.  I loved that life while it lasted, but now, as I tucked away the Priority Pass into a remoter part of my wallet, and installed the Spencer member card in its place, I realised that I definitely had a lot to look forward to, and life was going to continue being wonderful.

when the lights went out...

It was a typical weekday evening. I was sitting browsing on my laptop, looking for a crochet pattern on the Internet while listening to some of the wonderful music available online. My son Shashank was also in the room, working at his laptop.  We had not exchanged a word with each other for over half an hour. This in itself is strange as both of us are generally garrulous enough. I think both of us were enjoying the companionship without feeling the need to converse.  Suddenly the lights went off thanks to a power-cut and the UPS started beeping, announcing it's presence. Neither of us looked up from our work or acknowledged the power-cut in any way. Our work of course continued uninterrupted as the UPS took over – the modem’s connected to the UPS so we don’t even have that one extra minute of inconvenience. 

Looking up at my son’s face glowing blue from the reflection of the computer screen, I remembered the frequent power cuts we used to have in Kolkata when I was a child. In our tiny house, a sudden power cut meant that we all converged in the main room where a candle would be lit. This was in the days before inverters, UPS sets and generators became a common feature in residential areas. The candlelight was never enough for us to be able to read in, so studies were postponed for a while. There would be silence for a few minutes while my parents, siblings and I found our favourite spots in the room. My father always sat with a torch by his side, ready to fetch another candle in case the power cut out-lasted the first candle.

My mother would sit down on the floor, and one of us would lie down beside her, with our head on her lap, waiting. Slowly, she would start to sing. The voice would go louder and louder. We would sit watching the candle burn, reaching out to feel the melting wax. No one spoke to break the magic of her voice in the darkness. There were two favourite Tamil songs that started the session - ‘Muruga nee vara vendum’ followed by ‘Chintanai sei maname’. These would be followed by ‘Man tadapat’ from a film called Baiju Bawra, and then ‘Yeh zindagi usi ki hai’ from Anarkali. On lucky days when the power took ages to return we would get to listen to Jaag Dard E – a wonderful song, also from the film Anarkali. I don’t think any of these songs sound even half as good when heard in broad daylight or in a well-lit room. As we grew up, we would join in to sing some of the lines.

When the power came back, there would be a loud shout from all the neighbouring houses, heralding its arrival. In our home, I like to believe, we always greeted it with a groan! it was time to get back to our lives, out of this cocoon of too few moments of togetherness.

a tiny poem

found this tiny poem in 'wings of fire' - the amazing autobiography of dr. abdul kalam azad:
for all your days prepare
and meet them ever alike

when you be the anvil, bear - 

when you be the hammer, strike

Dr Binayak Sen: Stunned, shocked and ashamed..

to say that i am shocked would be an understatement - one of india's finest social activists has been arrested for sedition and sentenced to life imprisonment. the charges against him have not been corroborated by any conclusive evidence.
people callously responsible for the disaster in bhopal get sentenced to three years' imprisonment. and life goes on...
just last week i was watching this programme on safdar hashmi, who was struck down only for voicing what many others felt but were scared to speak up. completely unjust but life goes on...
well.. this time, life should not just go on.... we need to do something.
what are we. as a nation? a mass of useless ineffective adults who take whatever is given to us, or thinking people who will at some time stand up to say - we have an opinion. we want ...
maybe  hunger fasts, strikes and bandhs were effective modes of protest once upon a time. now they are just tools in the hands of politicians looking for a way to attract attention.
signing a petition is hopefully an effective way of being heard, and i have done that, but will it be enough? is there something more we can do to register our concern?
what kind of a future are we giving our children if we quietly accept the writ of adults who are given the power to run our lives but have no clue as to what they are doing? do they care? don't we?

aaah guntur!

till i moved into guntur, telugu was, for me, a language which sounded beautiful when spoken, but was completely incomprehensible. stories about friends who moved into guntur and faced the 'repu randi' dialogue had us in splits. little did i know that i'd also be using the phrase 'repu randi' comfortably one day, without giggling (at least not visibly)while saying it. in spite of two years in guntur, and what i believe is a passable command over telugu, there are still a few really hilarious moments. last week's incident still has me smiling when i think of it.


i'd asked an upholsterer/tailor to come and take measurements for a new set of curtains for our living room. When the doorbell rang, i went and greeted the person at the door with a 'curtains?' and he nodded. i guided him to the windows and watched, amazed, as he took some pretty peculiar measurements along the length and breadth of each window, He noted all these measurements in the little sheet of paper which i had provided, wondering at his not having brought his own paper and pen. i told him that the curtains needed to reach down to the floor-skirting level, and he duly measured the rest of the area and made some more notes. when he looked like he was done, i asked him the total quantity required. he looked confused, but patiently added up the numbers and told me that the whole thing measured 75 sq feet! completely stumped, i told him that wouldn't help me and that i'd already ordered the material, and that he needed to give me measurements in metres. he looked more desperate by the minute - i'd already exhausted my telugu and was talking to him in hindi which he apparently understood. i finally told him to please get his boss who could sort out my requirements. the poor man left, and i walked into the house still puzzled at this tailor in guntur who gave me measurements in sq feet! 


i finally realised that the joke was on me, when he walked in with his boss who could speak english! the poor man was a carpenter, not a tailor, and he'd come to fix one of our chairs. he had left his tools at the door and when i took him to the windows, assumed we needed some work on them. too polite to yell at the 'amma garu', he had floundered on!!  even now, i can't help but smile at the person who gave me measurements for curtains in square feet!