This thought came to me while we were holidaying at Phuket, Thailand in one of the really exclusive boutique hotels on Rawaii beach, called Serenity Resorts. We had booked ourselves well in advance into one of the duplex suites with a large sprawling creatively done up living area and kitchenette on the ground floor and bedrooms with very well thought out closet and bath area, on the first floor. The second floor had a dreamy terrace, canopied and all. Complete with sundeck and white outdoor furniture. Our own private terrace where no one was watching!
I know we could not have asked for anything better anywhere in the world!
To add to our delight the ground floor had its entrance from the coffee shop and poolside, and at the other end, opened out to the sea- first we had to step out of the french windows, cross a small private sundeck and pool, climb down exactly four steps, and then we just had to open one little gate and step into the sea! Everyone living in those beach suites had their own pools and their own four steps! And we could even have our own little canoe whenever we wanted to row.
Even when the tide was high, we just hung around in the water- it was tsunami safe, they had told us while we were booking! Actually that was one overriding usp of the entire property. The bigger usp which I experienced while living there, was that we could sit in the living room and feel that we could step out of the french windows straight into the sea- have you ever had that kind of feeling? I certainly had'nt- you know what I mean- just like you open the drawing room doors and step out into your lawn, so here, you could step out into the sea! Each time we took a beach holiday we always booked a beach cottage or room so that we wasted no time in commuting to the beachfront in a golf cart or a whatever. But nothing like this had ever happened to us. We always had to walk ten steps on sand to reach the sea!
My ecstasy knew no limits when I saw our daughter one morning, sitting at the workstation near the french windows with her laptop, connecting with friends. The enormity of the entire setting dawned on me when I checked a picture I took and saw that it looked as if the table was in the sea and she was working on it! The only jarring element was the white opaque window frame which broke my illusion. And messed up the prize winning picture!
So a thought came to mind- is there someone who can eliminate the window frames? How? I dont know. Some quirk of technology and civil engineering, I beg of you. I am just a Masters in Economics, otherwise I would have done it.
Or perhaps create transparent window frames so that they do not get in the way. Make them out of very very very strong polyurethane or whatchamacallit? Polycarbonate?Or just frame with toughened glass? Do you realize what a tremendous invention this would be for aesthetics and interiors? For one thing on the flip side, if you kept your glass windows clean, you would have people perpetually banging into them because they would not be able to figure out where the glass was!
Can you imagine what this may mean? On a highrise, it may mean aerophobia for the phobic, and a dreamy feeling of living in the air for those who live there! A first time visitor to your house would not want to go to the end of the room- what if the glass was'nt there and he teetered on the edge of a 35 storey drop?
In a cottage like the one we stayed in, by the sea, it will probably make me put my feet up just in case they get wet with the sea around me while I am working on my laptop. And it may also get me an award for creating a picture captioned, "workstation on the sea!"
"You dream of things and ask, why? I dream of things and ask, why not?"... someone said this not so long ago......
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Monday, February 21, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
India, I miss you- today more than ever!
Vande Matram..... maa tujhe salaam..... Jai Hind!
I woke up with the sound of loudspeakers playing "kadam kadam badhaye ja....."
Went to montessori and heard the rendition of "nanna munna rahi hoon..." on the EP(extended play) record....."
The experience of the Indo Pak War in 1971 made me shout with joy whenever I heard the number "ye desh hai veer jawano ka" and by then I was old enough to feel my heart burst when "ae mere pyare vatan, ae mere bichade chaman, tujhpe dil kurbaan" would play on Vividh Bharati. My father, an engineer by profession, was nominated to the Civil Defence and Vigilance Directorate for this war . I think this is what it was called....it was a group of civilian people who were nominated by the Collector's Office to help in maintenance of law and order during the War. As soon as the hooters would blow in anticipation of an air raid on the defence establishments in our town, he would just pick up his Royal Enfield motorbike and go to Collector's Office, to sit there till the bomb loaded enemy aircraft had passed over and changed direction. Or maybe dropped a bomb on us.During such warnings, the whole town used to be immersed in darkness- the Electricity Supply Company used to just pull the plug and supply to all sub stations would cease. Then my mother and us two sisters(my brother was not born yet), would huddle in one corner of our huge bungalow, trying to listen to the sounds of the aircraft overhead, and hoping that if a bomb was dropped that instant, at least we would get to see our father before we died. Yes, I was old enough to be scared of dying....
In class seven, we did a group song and dance on "Mere desh ki dharti sona ugle..."
In class nine, I cried to the lyrics of "Ae mere vatan ke logon...." thats when I understood them actually.
In class eleven, there was a spate of books by various authors, Indian and foreign. Midnights Children by Salman Rushdie won awards for its eloquent midnight and onwards storytelling.It was all about India.
My brush with democracy came when my nana(paternal grandfather) contested elections and we were there for our holiday, canvassing for his party, which incidentally, was always, always, always Congress. Actually he was always contesting elections, and as we all know in India, elections are not seasonal or time bound- they just happen. So this once, we happened to be there for the Dussehra and pooja holidays, and had a blast! I still remember the jeeps and the cries of "congress ko vote do......" rhyming with some cheap remarks about opposition, and we used to come home at closing time, tired, hoarse, happy, hungry. Chai with the volunteers was a delight and then we used to don all sorts of pro congress badges and walk around proudly. Even when nana backed up a harijan candidate, the fervour was the same, and victory was sweet.
As I grew up in the NCC ranks in college, I proudly won an opportunity to participate in the Republic Day Parade at Raj Path, New Delhi. It was prestigious, to put it very very briefly.
The next opportunity to participate came when, while working in Delhi, I got to see the same Republic day parade, by invitation. My uncle with whom I was staying, had an invitation, he had seen the parade before, so we used his invitation. Sanjiv's father, who really did not know then that I would be his son's wife(but he was very fond of me, all the same), and I- we both left the house at dawn, to arrive at the designated entry gate and find our seats on cross legged three tiered bamboo structures. Sitting atop the bamboo stands, with bottles of water and bags of biscuits, because there were no mineral water bottles those days, I cried with love.
And walked for miles after that to get back home at dusk- the traffic rerouting in Delhi for the Republic Day Celebrations is legendary.Needless to say any more on how the metropolis looks on Republic Day- it is simply festive.
As all other towns also are, in their own way. The way they can afford their festivities includes rallies, marches, festooning and banner campaigns, bhashans (speeches), theatre, nukkad naatak (street plays), school marchpasts, displays, music programs. Overriding all these expressions of love to motherland, is Bollywood's very own signature gesture of songs and dance and film releases appropriately timed.
Today, as an NRI, I think of all this. I sit and wish that I should have participated more while I was at home in India- should have drunk in more of the smells, sounds and feel of freedom that is so tangible on Republic Day. And I also wish that I should have contributed more positively to the aura- not just sat there and enjoyed my holiday mostly.
More later- I am already feeling better after having shared this with you.:)
OK, so here I am. Just can't get away from this page before telling you all. This morning, we all got together to share the joy of freedom. And again, the rang de basanti chant got me senti. The Chak de India got me rocking! I was already crying to the sounds of the bengali "aamar mathrubhumi" sung by the group. We, the women looked glorious in our sarees, and the men looked so good in their khadi and bandh gale ka coat.
But somewhere, I missed India. I missed the morning smell and the vasant. The little bit of cold and the foggy haze. The television dedicated to freedom today. The pulsating pitch of excitement in the voices of our democratic leaders who renew their promises to the people. The cartoons in the dailies talking about six decades over, seventh one going on. The theme parties that people have to celebrate the Republic Day, where each one has something saffron, white and green to show off to others!
.....tu hi meri jaan- to mother, janani, creator and preserver.
I woke up with the sound of loudspeakers playing "kadam kadam badhaye ja....."
Went to montessori and heard the rendition of "nanna munna rahi hoon..." on the EP(extended play) record....."
The experience of the Indo Pak War in 1971 made me shout with joy whenever I heard the number "ye desh hai veer jawano ka" and by then I was old enough to feel my heart burst when "ae mere pyare vatan, ae mere bichade chaman, tujhpe dil kurbaan" would play on Vividh Bharati. My father, an engineer by profession, was nominated to the Civil Defence and Vigilance Directorate for this war . I think this is what it was called....it was a group of civilian people who were nominated by the Collector's Office to help in maintenance of law and order during the War. As soon as the hooters would blow in anticipation of an air raid on the defence establishments in our town, he would just pick up his Royal Enfield motorbike and go to Collector's Office, to sit there till the bomb loaded enemy aircraft had passed over and changed direction. Or maybe dropped a bomb on us.During such warnings, the whole town used to be immersed in darkness- the Electricity Supply Company used to just pull the plug and supply to all sub stations would cease. Then my mother and us two sisters(my brother was not born yet), would huddle in one corner of our huge bungalow, trying to listen to the sounds of the aircraft overhead, and hoping that if a bomb was dropped that instant, at least we would get to see our father before we died. Yes, I was old enough to be scared of dying....
In class seven, we did a group song and dance on "Mere desh ki dharti sona ugle..."
In class nine, I cried to the lyrics of "Ae mere vatan ke logon...." thats when I understood them actually.
In class eleven, there was a spate of books by various authors, Indian and foreign. Midnights Children by Salman Rushdie won awards for its eloquent midnight and onwards storytelling.It was all about India.
My brush with democracy came when my nana(paternal grandfather) contested elections and we were there for our holiday, canvassing for his party, which incidentally, was always, always, always Congress. Actually he was always contesting elections, and as we all know in India, elections are not seasonal or time bound- they just happen. So this once, we happened to be there for the Dussehra and pooja holidays, and had a blast! I still remember the jeeps and the cries of "congress ko vote do......" rhyming with some cheap remarks about opposition, and we used to come home at closing time, tired, hoarse, happy, hungry. Chai with the volunteers was a delight and then we used to don all sorts of pro congress badges and walk around proudly. Even when nana backed up a harijan candidate, the fervour was the same, and victory was sweet.
As I grew up in the NCC ranks in college, I proudly won an opportunity to participate in the Republic Day Parade at Raj Path, New Delhi. It was prestigious, to put it very very briefly.
The next opportunity to participate came when, while working in Delhi, I got to see the same Republic day parade, by invitation. My uncle with whom I was staying, had an invitation, he had seen the parade before, so we used his invitation. Sanjiv's father, who really did not know then that I would be his son's wife(but he was very fond of me, all the same), and I- we both left the house at dawn, to arrive at the designated entry gate and find our seats on cross legged three tiered bamboo structures. Sitting atop the bamboo stands, with bottles of water and bags of biscuits, because there were no mineral water bottles those days, I cried with love.
And walked for miles after that to get back home at dusk- the traffic rerouting in Delhi for the Republic Day Celebrations is legendary.Needless to say any more on how the metropolis looks on Republic Day- it is simply festive.
As all other towns also are, in their own way. The way they can afford their festivities includes rallies, marches, festooning and banner campaigns, bhashans (speeches), theatre, nukkad naatak (street plays), school marchpasts, displays, music programs. Overriding all these expressions of love to motherland, is Bollywood's very own signature gesture of songs and dance and film releases appropriately timed.
Today, as an NRI, I think of all this. I sit and wish that I should have participated more while I was at home in India- should have drunk in more of the smells, sounds and feel of freedom that is so tangible on Republic Day. And I also wish that I should have contributed more positively to the aura- not just sat there and enjoyed my holiday mostly.
More later- I am already feeling better after having shared this with you.:)
OK, so here I am. Just can't get away from this page before telling you all. This morning, we all got together to share the joy of freedom. And again, the rang de basanti chant got me senti. The Chak de India got me rocking! I was already crying to the sounds of the bengali "aamar mathrubhumi" sung by the group. We, the women looked glorious in our sarees, and the men looked so good in their khadi and bandh gale ka coat.
But somewhere, I missed India. I missed the morning smell and the vasant. The little bit of cold and the foggy haze. The television dedicated to freedom today. The pulsating pitch of excitement in the voices of our democratic leaders who renew their promises to the people. The cartoons in the dailies talking about six decades over, seventh one going on. The theme parties that people have to celebrate the Republic Day, where each one has something saffron, white and green to show off to others!
.....tu hi meri jaan- to mother, janani, creator and preserver.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
my date with spiritualism
An outcome of a discussion I participated in, at my friend's house. This one's for you, Anu!
After returning from the discussion, I had a date with my thoughts, or can we say, mind, this afternoon. Just me and my thoughts. And I feel on top of the world at this moment.I feel like I belong more than ever; and that its worth going through all the trouble of living this life because the whole experience enriches and prepares me for the next quantum leap into my future.I also feel that I have researched by speaking honestly and truthfully to my mind and found so many absolutely new, unexpressed paradigms in a deep dark unexplored ocean surrounded by submerged paradoxes and gestalts.And all these threaten to shape my destiny- because what you do and how you live life shapes your destiny!
You will be surprised to know what I found... I found a sea of unexpressed, hitherto kept hidden true stories. Stories on how I feel about religion, views on how I interpret the Supreme Being, my belief in the LHC(Large Hadron Collider) or even how much I respect Darwin. Even found stories about my secret aspirations to become an occult- a soothsayer, a crystal ball gazer. Somewhere in between was the thought of wearing a raw silk sari with a big red bindi and making millions!:)
How I look at ethics also was discussed with my mind- and why cooking with love tastes better was thrown up for discussion inside my head.
Often logic confronted idealistic thinking, and reason confronted emotions. So obviously, the head confronted the heart. Somewhere in the middle of all this, spirituality gave a tiny call for attention. Why are we here and what are we doing? I don't know where I am coming from, and I don't know where I am going. All I know is, that while I am here, would it be good to make it worthwhile? Now this is what I call truly universal- is it necessary to attach religion to this one? Yes said the head, because that will make people sit up and take note- the fear of God, as they say. Why asked the heart- can we not all try to become better human beings without the imposition of this fear?
Epics chronicling the births and lives of Gods and Kings and humans and all things living way before our times flashed in my mind- they are rich sources of history and what was then, but what about the ideological conflict? Did the people who chronicle the life and times ever think that their hard work would have a negative impact on the modern world- their descendants? it might lead to dissent or worse?
"It is always easier to recall things and events that happened, and learn from them.... is that it?" asked the heart. "No, silly, it goes much beyond that- knowledge rules, you know." The head believed that compulsion was a necessary input for discipline.Love is food for the soul, the heart said. Eternal love is eternal food,it followed. Love is abstract, the head said. How about some substance, so the epics?
My subconscious was totally puzzled. I clean forgot my coffee... or perhaps it was the chicken soup? Whereabouts will this lead us, I ruminated..... it did not take me long! How do I want to be? How would I interpret spirituality? ....or religion? Would I look at it in isolation from the rest of my life? Or would spirituality be an intrinsic part of everything I do or say? That was a decision I took, while dating my thoughts.
For me, spirituality is a way of life- it is not a list of must dos and must not dos; it is an amiable code of positive conduct which makes me more acceptable to my fellow human beings.
Spirituality is not just religion- it is a code of good conduct which propels an ordinary mortal towards a higher order.
Just how high the order is, I really do not know, but I should try to scale the path honorably is what I believe in.
My life would not be governed by the Gods and the Superhumans, but guided by them all. Each one has something to say- and they being of a higher order than I, there is every reason to listen to them and heed their words and use their advice wherever it applies to my life.Irrespective of where they belong and which religion they profess.
I do not know what lies at the other end- the stories that people write about the afterlife fascinate me- they do not scare me. I am curious, and I certainly do not disbelieve. But do I believe that I need another date with my thoughts to sort out this one!
I want to be a better human being- not really the best, because thats asking too much- there are definitely better people than I!And I look up to them as my role models. I simply want to understand how I can make my sojourn on this earth fruitful.
I have promised my thoughts, another date,and until such time, an effort to action the above.
I start by turning my eyes inwards- what do I see? I see values playing a critical role in achieving all the above- and values across this universe are pretty much the same, irrespective of who has stated them.
I also see selflessness as being a great accelerator.
Empathy can level out a lot of ruffles, I know.
Self motivation will catalyze the process.
And just so that ALL the theories about divinity, and evolution and religion and spiritualism can impact me in a positive way- thats how open my mind should be.
When I get out of this me and mine mode, I then see that there is a God up there, who is way above me and responds to any name that I am comfortable with. He is comfortable with whatever I call him and responds in a way that only a best friend can.
After returning from the discussion, I had a date with my thoughts, or can we say, mind, this afternoon. Just me and my thoughts. And I feel on top of the world at this moment.I feel like I belong more than ever; and that its worth going through all the trouble of living this life because the whole experience enriches and prepares me for the next quantum leap into my future.I also feel that I have researched by speaking honestly and truthfully to my mind and found so many absolutely new, unexpressed paradigms in a deep dark unexplored ocean surrounded by submerged paradoxes and gestalts.And all these threaten to shape my destiny- because what you do and how you live life shapes your destiny!
You will be surprised to know what I found... I found a sea of unexpressed, hitherto kept hidden true stories. Stories on how I feel about religion, views on how I interpret the Supreme Being, my belief in the LHC(Large Hadron Collider) or even how much I respect Darwin. Even found stories about my secret aspirations to become an occult- a soothsayer, a crystal ball gazer. Somewhere in between was the thought of wearing a raw silk sari with a big red bindi and making millions!:)
How I look at ethics also was discussed with my mind- and why cooking with love tastes better was thrown up for discussion inside my head.
Often logic confronted idealistic thinking, and reason confronted emotions. So obviously, the head confronted the heart. Somewhere in the middle of all this, spirituality gave a tiny call for attention. Why are we here and what are we doing? I don't know where I am coming from, and I don't know where I am going. All I know is, that while I am here, would it be good to make it worthwhile? Now this is what I call truly universal- is it necessary to attach religion to this one? Yes said the head, because that will make people sit up and take note- the fear of God, as they say. Why asked the heart- can we not all try to become better human beings without the imposition of this fear?
Epics chronicling the births and lives of Gods and Kings and humans and all things living way before our times flashed in my mind- they are rich sources of history and what was then, but what about the ideological conflict? Did the people who chronicle the life and times ever think that their hard work would have a negative impact on the modern world- their descendants? it might lead to dissent or worse?
"It is always easier to recall things and events that happened, and learn from them.... is that it?" asked the heart. "No, silly, it goes much beyond that- knowledge rules, you know." The head believed that compulsion was a necessary input for discipline.Love is food for the soul, the heart said. Eternal love is eternal food,it followed. Love is abstract, the head said. How about some substance, so the epics?
My subconscious was totally puzzled. I clean forgot my coffee... or perhaps it was the chicken soup? Whereabouts will this lead us, I ruminated..... it did not take me long! How do I want to be? How would I interpret spirituality? ....or religion? Would I look at it in isolation from the rest of my life? Or would spirituality be an intrinsic part of everything I do or say? That was a decision I took, while dating my thoughts.
For me, spirituality is a way of life- it is not a list of must dos and must not dos; it is an amiable code of positive conduct which makes me more acceptable to my fellow human beings.
Spirituality is not just religion- it is a code of good conduct which propels an ordinary mortal towards a higher order.
Just how high the order is, I really do not know, but I should try to scale the path honorably is what I believe in.
My life would not be governed by the Gods and the Superhumans, but guided by them all. Each one has something to say- and they being of a higher order than I, there is every reason to listen to them and heed their words and use their advice wherever it applies to my life.Irrespective of where they belong and which religion they profess.
I do not know what lies at the other end- the stories that people write about the afterlife fascinate me- they do not scare me. I am curious, and I certainly do not disbelieve. But do I believe that I need another date with my thoughts to sort out this one!
I want to be a better human being- not really the best, because thats asking too much- there are definitely better people than I!And I look up to them as my role models. I simply want to understand how I can make my sojourn on this earth fruitful.
I have promised my thoughts, another date,and until such time, an effort to action the above.
I start by turning my eyes inwards- what do I see? I see values playing a critical role in achieving all the above- and values across this universe are pretty much the same, irrespective of who has stated them.
I also see selflessness as being a great accelerator.
Empathy can level out a lot of ruffles, I know.
Self motivation will catalyze the process.
And just so that ALL the theories about divinity, and evolution and religion and spiritualism can impact me in a positive way- thats how open my mind should be.
When I get out of this me and mine mode, I then see that there is a God up there, who is way above me and responds to any name that I am comfortable with. He is comfortable with whatever I call him and responds in a way that only a best friend can.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
shocking insight!
For someone so straightforward and not so full-of-frills as Sanjiv, my husband, it was simply a piece of brilliance. He summed up our life together in three basic time frames- the 0-25 years spent with parents, the 25-50 years that we will soon clear with flying colours and the grace of God, and the 50-75 years that we will enter to discover an extended piece of good luck and blessings if we gun for the next term which is 75 and above!
Years 25-50 have simply blinked us by- either we are fiercely in love or we are just not conscious about how time has passed while we have been busy. It is also possible that we do not want to admit that we are growing old! But we cannot have 22 and 20 year old children at 25 can we? Its difficult to find a reason for the fact that we have arrived at the second threshold all too soon…. To my mind it seems that we have been in so many places for short periods of time that we have simply forgotten how to count or keep track of time - had we stayed on in one place perhaps, it would have been different- we would have kept track of time and understood the meaning of living together for 25 years , and bringing up children too. What happened when and how invites the magic answer- we don’t know- it just happened! In bits and pieces, in spurts and jitters, amidst happiness and sorrow, peals and sobs, the years silently slipped by, maybe roared by, time was unobtrusive, always in the background and life seems so short now!And so much to accomplish!
Happiness is what happiness does. It makes me look all fresh and glowing, it makes Sanjiv smile without a reason- seldom have I heard him laughing out loud- when he is really happy he has this full laugh that shows up his perfect teeth so beautifully. Happiness also makes me look at my babies with wonder- are they really mine- these two beautiful specimens of humanity? My eyes cloud over when I am happy- I do so want to cry. For the simple reason that my heart wants to stop and freeze this moment but the moment does not have the time to stop or even heed our call. The moment just goes, and we are lucky to have such precious moments revisit us whenever we start feeling weighed down with the downs!
On why the years have blinked us by, I can attribute another reason- we did not get anything on a plate- we worked towards everything, be it love, wealth, lifestyle, work, whatever….. everything was hard to get, especially the near perfect way we wanted all that everything- it took its time and tried our patience- and the years spent on the effort sped past on wings!
The parting shot to this entire discussion of life in three frames from my really thoughtful husband lingers on in my mind-one of these days I will ask him why he has to dampen my spirits by saying something like the first two frames are near done-the third is about to begin! Well…just for that thought....cheers!
Years 25-50 have simply blinked us by- either we are fiercely in love or we are just not conscious about how time has passed while we have been busy. It is also possible that we do not want to admit that we are growing old! But we cannot have 22 and 20 year old children at 25 can we? Its difficult to find a reason for the fact that we have arrived at the second threshold all too soon…. To my mind it seems that we have been in so many places for short periods of time that we have simply forgotten how to count or keep track of time - had we stayed on in one place perhaps, it would have been different- we would have kept track of time and understood the meaning of living together for 25 years , and bringing up children too. What happened when and how invites the magic answer- we don’t know- it just happened! In bits and pieces, in spurts and jitters, amidst happiness and sorrow, peals and sobs, the years silently slipped by, maybe roared by, time was unobtrusive, always in the background and life seems so short now!And so much to accomplish!
Happiness is what happiness does. It makes me look all fresh and glowing, it makes Sanjiv smile without a reason- seldom have I heard him laughing out loud- when he is really happy he has this full laugh that shows up his perfect teeth so beautifully. Happiness also makes me look at my babies with wonder- are they really mine- these two beautiful specimens of humanity? My eyes cloud over when I am happy- I do so want to cry. For the simple reason that my heart wants to stop and freeze this moment but the moment does not have the time to stop or even heed our call. The moment just goes, and we are lucky to have such precious moments revisit us whenever we start feeling weighed down with the downs!
On why the years have blinked us by, I can attribute another reason- we did not get anything on a plate- we worked towards everything, be it love, wealth, lifestyle, work, whatever….. everything was hard to get, especially the near perfect way we wanted all that everything- it took its time and tried our patience- and the years spent on the effort sped past on wings!
The parting shot to this entire discussion of life in three frames from my really thoughtful husband lingers on in my mind-one of these days I will ask him why he has to dampen my spirits by saying something like the first two frames are near done-the third is about to begin! Well…just for that thought....cheers!
Monday, October 18, 2010
when i get a comment....
I smile with anticipation when I see that someone has read my blogpost, because when I am actually putting up a new post, I am all apprehensive etc about what the reader will think about it. I do so want to state my honest opinion and not write something which prompts public approval And I look forward to a comment at the end.... and when I get a comment it helps me understand perspectives better. It shows me a whole new viewpoint to whatever I may have expressed. Thank you for all the comments- just keep them coming!
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
The Mango Party!
Every year around the middle of June, our grandfather would send a wooden crate of dusseri and chausa mangoes from Lucknow and every year we would throw a mango party!
It was a much awaited event in our social circle and we would have two sets of people joining in- early evening 5 pm onwards, our friends, and after 7.30 pm, their parents and more of my parents friends. When will the mangoes arrive, used to be the most frequent question June onwards. Each time someone asked, my father's chest would swell with filial pride and he would talk like a true Lucknawi about how authentic and genuine the mangoes from Lucknow are, and how the researchers were messing around with look alike hybrids etc etc. All true and very very disturbing to the generation who have inherited mango orchards (aam ke baagh) and who are selfishly aristocratic in their fetish for asli dusseri and asli chausa!
So the crate(there were no cartons or fresh fruit boxes, those days) would arrive by post and we would call up our father and wait for him to come home and pry open the wooden lid with a pair of pincers or screwdriver. The mangoes would be packed in real straw, not paper straw or moulded cases or styrene covers. The fragrance would be so heady, ripe mangoes and straw, and the entire house would start smelling! Then we would count because we had to be certain that the entire lot had reached us- there were stories about how wooden boxes with goodies could be opened en route and part contents could be taken away!It used to take at least 5-6 days for the mangoes to reach from Lucknow to Jabalpur.
The mangoes would be hot after their journey in the parcel van of the Mail train, and we would take them out with great reverence, grade them according to their extent of ripeness, and then start planning the party.
At the party, mangoes would be served with cream, and also ice cream. Our mother would cook up an entire spread of various kinds of chaat and sandwiches, chips and soft drinks would be ordered and the mango party would happen. The cutting of the mangoes was exclusively our fathers job; no one could cut fruit better than papa and he seemed to enjoy doing it.
Often, for a first time invitee, the mango party was intriguing. Every party has to have a reason- so they would think we are not telling them its someone's birthday. We would tell them that in our family, birthday parties are strictly not by invitation, but they would still come with a gift- maybe a box of chocolates! That would be our bonus, and my sister and me would keep discussing what was inside the wrapper till the party got over. My brother was too young to be involved- he used to be busy doing things like jumping from the verandah just because his girlfriend told him to (when he did this jumping, he was four and his girlfriend was seven- she promised him a rose if he jumped; and he jumped and landed on his face!)
So the mango party would happen and then we all would raise a toast to the next year- this was a party by invitation only!And an organized one at that! Right from the mangoes coming from Lucknow to the maid washing the dishes, it was all well planned and executed!
The good times!
It was a much awaited event in our social circle and we would have two sets of people joining in- early evening 5 pm onwards, our friends, and after 7.30 pm, their parents and more of my parents friends. When will the mangoes arrive, used to be the most frequent question June onwards. Each time someone asked, my father's chest would swell with filial pride and he would talk like a true Lucknawi about how authentic and genuine the mangoes from Lucknow are, and how the researchers were messing around with look alike hybrids etc etc. All true and very very disturbing to the generation who have inherited mango orchards (aam ke baagh) and who are selfishly aristocratic in their fetish for asli dusseri and asli chausa!
So the crate(there were no cartons or fresh fruit boxes, those days) would arrive by post and we would call up our father and wait for him to come home and pry open the wooden lid with a pair of pincers or screwdriver. The mangoes would be packed in real straw, not paper straw or moulded cases or styrene covers. The fragrance would be so heady, ripe mangoes and straw, and the entire house would start smelling! Then we would count because we had to be certain that the entire lot had reached us- there were stories about how wooden boxes with goodies could be opened en route and part contents could be taken away!It used to take at least 5-6 days for the mangoes to reach from Lucknow to Jabalpur.
The mangoes would be hot after their journey in the parcel van of the Mail train, and we would take them out with great reverence, grade them according to their extent of ripeness, and then start planning the party.
At the party, mangoes would be served with cream, and also ice cream. Our mother would cook up an entire spread of various kinds of chaat and sandwiches, chips and soft drinks would be ordered and the mango party would happen. The cutting of the mangoes was exclusively our fathers job; no one could cut fruit better than papa and he seemed to enjoy doing it.
Often, for a first time invitee, the mango party was intriguing. Every party has to have a reason- so they would think we are not telling them its someone's birthday. We would tell them that in our family, birthday parties are strictly not by invitation, but they would still come with a gift- maybe a box of chocolates! That would be our bonus, and my sister and me would keep discussing what was inside the wrapper till the party got over. My brother was too young to be involved- he used to be busy doing things like jumping from the verandah just because his girlfriend told him to (when he did this jumping, he was four and his girlfriend was seven- she promised him a rose if he jumped; and he jumped and landed on his face!)
So the mango party would happen and then we all would raise a toast to the next year- this was a party by invitation only!And an organized one at that! Right from the mangoes coming from Lucknow to the maid washing the dishes, it was all well planned and executed!
The good times!
I never had a birthday party
I never had a birthday party- never an organized one- the kind one goes for, when a friend has a birthday. Book a venue, order a cake, send out invitations!
(yes, we had that way back when I was a kid and theme parties at clubs and hotels were possible... though we did not have a Pizza Hut or a Party station with all the pizzas and the gadgetry, but we could have the themes!and the good food)
So while most of my friends in school would look forward to their birthday party and think about where and how, I used to just sit around idly, for the pleasure would never be mine.
There is a very different reason for me or my siblings never having an organized birthday party. When I say 'organized', please note it will prolly be the most important clue to understanding how we actually celebrated our birthdays!
First of all, on why we never had an organized birthday party. Our parents were well off, they had a rocking social circle, they used to host many parties, dinners, card parties, the works, but never a birthday party. They had the uncanny feeling that it would bring us bad luck, even death. As was their nature and their habit of waxing exuberant with their emotions and their money, they told me they had thrown a lavish birthday party for their son, older than all of us, and he passed away soon after. Since then, as I was born, and after me, my sister and brother, they tried to stay off everything they had done for their first son. And we lived in the hollow of their palms till we grew up and if our parents had their way, they would still be holding our hand and leading us safely. A small scrape on my knee while playing basket ball would drive them into a tizzy! When on such occasions, I used to look into my father's eyes, I could see his fear of losing his precious daughter; and now I understand why- then, I was so young and so stupid, I used to mistake it for just orthodox possessiveness, you know.
So we grew up and while we learnt to socialize and circulate, and our parents learnt to let go and have faith in God, we still could not organize a birthday party. But, on our birthday we would wake up to delicious smells of baking and Indian cooking, which our parents would be doing for our friends who would come in unannounced later in the evening and stay back for our unorganized party. Those days, we used to remember dates and phone numbers- our memories were bigger and better then, and there were no digital diaries or mobile phones to store these or send out e cards or MMS.
So our friends would remember and troop in, dressed in party clothes and then we would ask them to stay and then the cake and the food would surpass any organized effort we could have made.
Often, friends we had not met for years would just remember and come by- and there always was cake and food for them too!
While we knew they all were coming, we pretended they were not invited, and while we got ready for them, we pretended we were not ready!
So we grew up, every birthday being an unorganized party, but a rocking one!AND DID WE LOVE IT!
(yes, we had that way back when I was a kid and theme parties at clubs and hotels were possible... though we did not have a Pizza Hut or a Party station with all the pizzas and the gadgetry, but we could have the themes!and the good food)
So while most of my friends in school would look forward to their birthday party and think about where and how, I used to just sit around idly, for the pleasure would never be mine.
There is a very different reason for me or my siblings never having an organized birthday party. When I say 'organized', please note it will prolly be the most important clue to understanding how we actually celebrated our birthdays!
First of all, on why we never had an organized birthday party. Our parents were well off, they had a rocking social circle, they used to host many parties, dinners, card parties, the works, but never a birthday party. They had the uncanny feeling that it would bring us bad luck, even death. As was their nature and their habit of waxing exuberant with their emotions and their money, they told me they had thrown a lavish birthday party for their son, older than all of us, and he passed away soon after. Since then, as I was born, and after me, my sister and brother, they tried to stay off everything they had done for their first son. And we lived in the hollow of their palms till we grew up and if our parents had their way, they would still be holding our hand and leading us safely. A small scrape on my knee while playing basket ball would drive them into a tizzy! When on such occasions, I used to look into my father's eyes, I could see his fear of losing his precious daughter; and now I understand why- then, I was so young and so stupid, I used to mistake it for just orthodox possessiveness, you know.
So we grew up and while we learnt to socialize and circulate, and our parents learnt to let go and have faith in God, we still could not organize a birthday party. But, on our birthday we would wake up to delicious smells of baking and Indian cooking, which our parents would be doing for our friends who would come in unannounced later in the evening and stay back for our unorganized party. Those days, we used to remember dates and phone numbers- our memories were bigger and better then, and there were no digital diaries or mobile phones to store these or send out e cards or MMS.
So our friends would remember and troop in, dressed in party clothes and then we would ask them to stay and then the cake and the food would surpass any organized effort we could have made.
Often, friends we had not met for years would just remember and come by- and there always was cake and food for them too!
While we knew they all were coming, we pretended they were not invited, and while we got ready for them, we pretended we were not ready!
So we grew up, every birthday being an unorganized party, but a rocking one!AND DID WE LOVE IT!
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