The Comb

Turning her purse upside down, she frantically searched the spilled out contents.

Wallet, cellphone, some loose change, her kaajal and lip gloss, sunglasses, a book, portable charger, a fruit, her toothbrush, a farewell card, a small bamboo plant... but no, no sign of the comb. 

She wondered where could she have left it. It was her favourite one, having a special de-tangle feature, perfect for her always-prone-to-messing hair. A black one, with red inter-crossed bristles. She had had that one for 2 years now.

And today she was in a new city, and the comb was lost. .

She looked at the room. Having moved in a few hours back, things were not in an orderly fashion. Bags open. Mattress askew. Bed-sheet a makeshift for the curtains she would get..once she found out which shops to go to. 

The though made her let out an involuntary sigh. The pending work was too much, and she had not even made a list. She had to find a new cook, a new maid, a new gardener, a new car guy, a new mechanic to know of, a grocery store, the good restaurants, a good library, a good place for shopping...

A new cable guy, new wi-fi connection, new place for getting clothes ironed.

New colleagues, new office, new city. 

This thought train was not going well. 

Struggling through the tons of things she had packed in her bag, she threw out cloth after cloth, looking for her comb. The clothes had to be put in the cupboard in a more orderly fashion, but right now all she could think about was her comb. 

'Well.. it's not here definitely..maybe it dropped in the flight when I dozed off.. Should I connect with the airlines..'.. she wondered.. 'But what will I say? Can you please help me search my comb because I can't buy a new one.. No, no it's not studded with diamonds and it's not irreplaceable. Its just, you know. Mine. I've grown used to it. We were working well together. I just don't want a new comb so soon..'

Her mental make believe conversation was now beginning to irate her. The other rooms were barren so there was definitely no comb in the house. 

She tried to calm her jittery self, knowing completely the cause of restlessness. She hated changes. She hated getting out of her comfort zone. It was fine earlier. Hopping from city to city every few years had been fun. Exploring new places-good too. But lately she had been reserving that for vacations. Once she had come back home, she had thought to stay put. The familiarity of the city and seasons had put her in a lazy, calm zone too quickly. She had been happy after ages. It had a been a wonderful 2 years. 

But a new offer had compelled her to make a pros/cons list - for a while. 

She had thrown out the list after an hour and was happy to re-embrace the familiar. 

All her life she had, on an average, moved every 3-4 years. Lately that had included 3 moves in the same city, in as many years. Moving had become a habit. The habit made a gnawing guilty pull at her, and she had taken a chance at the latest offer. A new city excited her again.

But, on the day of moving, the heavens poured. Her city, her home, looked resplendent in green and grey. It was also a sign of the changing season.

When she landed here, it was hot. Harsh hot with a strong yellow cast over the entire city. Most of the city was closed and seemed dull due to the heat. 

Her sixth sense was on loud mode now, perhaps to say that she had made a very, very bad move. Losing the comb was a sign, she was sure.

The electricity went out then, as if to confirm her prescience. 'Great'.. she muttered to herself. Even the echo in the house was dead.

She sat in the hot room, feeling sombre. Thoughts flitted in her head, from her friends in office to her favourite hangouts back home. What she could have been doing today and where she was in reality. The tears struggled at the corner, but she was not so weak. 

Her stomach growled, probably it too was angry for being ignored for so long. She picked up an orange and started peeling slowly, concentrating on every little fibre sticking out. Staring outside the window, with no human in sight, she made a mental resolve to be strong tomorrow, and complete all work. Keep herself busy. Learn the local language for fun. Obviously, she would make friends in office. She will explore the city. Breathe in the city. She had heard great things about this place. It would be fun.

But starting from tomorrow. Today however, she was permitting herself to get on an emotional roller coaster.

Feeling a little better, she stood up from the bed. Spotting the mess from the purse which she had made earlier, she started packing the spill back in, thinking to keep one less task for the next day. Kept the farewell card on the bedside table. Put in the phone for charging. 'Maybe I should just finish my book today, after this..'.

Spotting a loose thread in the purse, she pulled at it. It suddenly came loose and she noticed that the purse lining had shred to a big wide gap. 

Putting her hand into the gap, she pulled out...

Her black red comb...

Smiling to herself, she now knew. All the signs of moving were good. Her comb was back.

The fan came back on, confirming her prescience again.

Irrational. This World.

How do people leave their own families?

How do their so called beliefs become so important that they have the strong will and purpose to dissociate with the living, and loving, beings in their lives, to pursue their own dogmas?

How do they justify, or propose to teach through their actions, the other/future people in their lives?

How do they say, my child, I will show you what unconditional love is, when they haven't displayed the same action for the family that was by birth?

I am sometimes very perplexed on how people's minds work. It is not about the religion, or upbringing, or qualifications which defines how I am going to feel about, or how to treat the people who are in my inner circle.

Ok, I will agree that beliefs/practices/traditions are important. I will also say that yes, those beliefs are what define us as a person. It distinguishes every person from the next. This is how we remember people, isn't it? Through their actions, their words, their thought processes.

But what I will never understand is, how do people let those beliefs manipulate us enough that we stop talking to our families, treat them harshly and continue with life as if nothing happened.

How can you not want to say, oh he's my brother, he is what is important. Love is important. How do you let your beliefs let you dwell and live with hatred?

What will you do when judgement day comes?

Random Thoughts, Random Drawls.

Spring Green

It is an amazing spring morning in Delhi. The sky is, not dull, but a cheerful overcast grey. The clouds drop a little rain sporadically, but a gentle breeze blows them away. I head for the park near my house, trying not to be late for my weekly tête-à-tête with nature. The park is very lush green today, more than I have ever seen through all the 4 seasons I've been here. The beautiful spring puts a spring in my step too..

I can spot a group of 4 street dogs who are the adopted dogs of our colony. I have literally seen them grow up from puppies. They were much gentler then, today they are sturdy street dogs who have learnt to defend themselves, living on their own. After all, no one would call a street dog for milk or treats, as much as they would call a cute and helpless looking puppy. For the sake of familiarity, lets name the 4 dogs as Hira, Moti, Tuka and Poky. 

In the park I can also see a well bred black labrador, whom the owner addresses as Lucy. It is strapped shut across its mouth, for fear it may bite someone. A leash keeps it on its toes. There's also a beagle, a pug and a spaniel, out on their own walks. 

Hira and his gang have been snapping playfully at the morning joggers' heels, running along with them, jumping at imaginary treats. The 4 of them rush playfully towards a cricket ball when it gets hit into the bushes. They spot a group of pigeons at the ground, and they run towards it, sending the pigeons twittering into the sky. If not the pigeons, then they run towards the squirrels who are searching for their breakfast. A random dog from the road barks and these 4 bark back, as if acknowledging their morning greetings.

Done with their usual laps, Hira now spots the domesticated dogs, and he wants to have a bit of fun. He rushes across the park, galloping as if he were a horse taking his master away from danger. He jumps across elevations, climbs up and down the walking track and reaches across to Lucy. He barks once, then bends down on his front legs as if bowing. Now that's a typical dog gesture that he wants to play. Lucy looks at Hira, wags his tail, but the scared owner walks him away. By now, the rest of the gang have joined them, and they start their own play, while making sure they are in Lucy's vicinity.

The beagle and the spaniel are not on leash, as they are relatively smaller dogs and hence easier to control in case they decide to scramble. They also have been observing this scene and are waiting for their invites. There are none. Apparently they are too small for this social convention. The spaniel rushes into bushes, trying to follow the tracks Hira and Moti have left behind. The beagle is probably of  an introvert nature, because he decides to observe the scene from a distance and simply wags his tail to show he's interested.

The pug has stood still at a corner, for very long now. I think, he has been contemplating whether to proceed or not, and after a while he decides he likes his human company better.

After the pets have been walked, they are taken back to their cosy homes where their carefully prepared treats await. I can spot the beagle staring intently through the gaps in the gate, towards the park. He sits still for very long, his gaze fixed on the free dogs. After a while, he walks away. 

Lucy has reached home, and his mouth strap has been taken off. He can now stretch his mouth and take in all the air he wants. He wishes he could do the same when he was in the park. He also gazes at the park once, wishing he could be as free as Hira and his team. Who knows, they could have been friends.

Since the sun is getting overhead, people are going back home. The sunday chores also await. They have had their little time of freedom, on this beautiful morning. The birds have left to fend food for their little ones. Squirrels are back on the trees, nibbling at the nuts they have gathered. The park now gathers a deserted look.

Hira is tired now. He feels thirsty but there's no one to give him water, or to offer him warm tempting food. He spots a broken pipe nearby, making a pool of muddy water. He barks at his fellows, for whom he's grown to feel responsible for. They lap up the water, sifting through the sand. Nearby, some scraps have been left behind by the guy who puts up a food stall. They all eat as much as they can to keep hunger at bay. The lack of activity too, puts them in a snooze. They rest, and wait for the evening, to meet new people again, to try making new friends, and to survive yet another day.

I head back home thinking, life is the same, for all of us.

Heart is where the home is..

"The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned. "

"Mini, how can you be so careless.. fir se toot-ta kuch aur", shrieked my mother from less than 3 feet away. Outwardly, I put up a scowl. Why would one big break of the previous day mean I would continue breaking all of the other stuff which my mom loves? I am not that much of butter fingers!

Inside, I was doing a jig, 'cos the scene was so reminiscent of the times when I was in school (and hence staying with my parents), and kept dropping/breaking stuff. The scolding brought back a nostalgia so strong that I wanted to freeze the moment forever, be it my mom's angry look or my petulant scowl at being rebuked. (I did not break anything more after that, but there was an incident of me pulling out the microwave plug so enthusiastically that the projectile motion of the 3-pin could break many things in sight..)

Home is a simple four letter word which combines in itself a meaning so deep, and a comfort so protective and engaging, that you don't imagine just a brick and mortar set up. You associate with it memories, and companionship, and growing up, and fights. It is a place where no matter how big the problem, it will get solved. A place bustling and full of people you love and care about is a treasure so big which nothing else can replace! Having to come back to a home, and not just a house, can just make all the stress of the day wither away, and give renewed enthusiasm. I imagine being able to just walk across the hall and talk to my mom about anything under the sun, or getting my dad all the things which he asks in infinite requests, or planning latest  foodie outings with my sis, and I think, now that would be bliss! 8 years of being away, and on my own, make me want more of these simplest pleasures..

I had an instance of similar home like deja vu after the diwali vacation. Back in engineering days, hostel used to be a home away from home. The homesickness used to vanish as soon as I used to meet my special ones in hostel, in adjacent rooms. With time's passage we are all in different parts of world, and the communication is limited. But a recent 2 day stay with a friend brought back all those memories like a song.. laughing like we used to, at jokes which were as juvenile and innocent, as they were when we were a couple of 18 year olds. Life has changed for all of us, but the rejuvenation that we had through old pictures and videos, infused some old world happiness back into me. 

Today, I feel lucky that I have had these amazing moments, which give me so much happiness, and a longing, at the same time. It helps me when I'm having my escapist moments. I can go into a cocoon and be a child again, with the envelope of memories around me..

"Where we love is home - home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts."

Jet City Woman!

I can crib about anything and everything these days! Opinionated, if i may choose to pamper my ego. Starting from an eagle's eye view till the very basics, I hate it all. The traffic is too much, the days are too long, the weekends are too short, the societal pressures are never ending, the diets never work, the money is never enough, the problems never abate, the weather is always humid, the auto wallas NEVER agree to take me, hair never stays in place, while walking back the cars spray the water only on me, and the tame dog in front of my office never takes a roti, only from me. 

I am pretty sure the Gods are against me! I am very serious. I sometimes give the idol at my home, a withering eye as I leave for office. Why oh why, should the 20s turn out to be just work? I miss being carefree, I miss being not responsible for the monthly utility bills, or the insurance, or the savings, or the plannings.

So I am going in the local train, berating myself, berating the world, berating the train, just waiting for the ride to get over so that I can get on a stupid auto, to my stupid home (yeah that particular one was a furious train of thought!), when I happened to notice an old lady sitting in front of me, and she was smiling away (at me? I dunno)

It was a long train ride, so I couldn't even put on a surly look and pass the time looking just like that, and hence I smiled back. Tiny bit. She immediately gave a warm look, as if  my little teenage-rebellion-attempt was good enough for her! I am a bit skeptical now...

Then she starts speaking. And she speaks. She speaks how she is 82 years of age, and how she lost her husband recently, to a kidney disease. 'He's better off without the pain', she says with a confident smile. She loves to trade in markets, is hooked on to CNBC even though she hasn't studied beyond class 8. She speaks about her garden, where she tends to bonsai plants, her flowers, and her kitchen garden. She talks fondly about her granddaughters, who are excellent painters, in her opinion. She herself is fond of painting - oil painting especially..

By now, I am listening intently. She asks me my hobbies, I mention few, but then i wonder about the last time i made an attempt to do all that.. things supposedly I love. My old lady here isn't over yet about her life.. she is fond of cooking, making her own chutneys and dhoklas at home, and her own special masala tea. She invites me over to her place whenever I am in the area next - to look at her paintings and teach her a little on using a laptop. Why a laptop, I ask? Then she proceeds to tell about her broker, who used to invest on her behalf, but ever since he left, she's been wanting to learn how to operate using a laptop, on her own.

I am hooked by now - on this frail, arthritis stricken but an amazingly strong and positive personality sitting in front of me.. I am sure, with her sheer optimism, she will learn behind a legacy which is worthy of praise.

When I walk back home, (yes water still being spilled, autos still not willing, life still pretty much the same), I think about this seemingly ordinary but highly inspiring conversation with the silvery haired lady in the train..She makes life big. She is exploring all the options and all her strengths to make the best use of the time that she has, age notwithstanding. In front of her, I am in no position to complain...

A chance meeting with a stranger, gives a week's worth of relaxation indeed!

New year coming.. again?

It is the jolly time of the year again. Tra la la la and all that. Jolly sure if you have something amazing to look forward to. But really, admit it, it's the same old dish served out with different side dressings year on year. The fun part seems to be long over, and it seems as if the path ahead could be anything - I can still hope for an amazing turnaround and see a sitcom like ending perfecto, or just accept this reality crap and start to "settle" down - but before the crazies of your mind take this settling to mean the perfect Indian matrimony ending, it does NOT in any way refer to that. I refer here to those fantasies and awesomeness that you imagined your adult life to be when you were a gawky insecure teenager, and which might not exactly be panning out in the exact same manner. Life's a bitch - you are blessed with this overactive imaginative mind who can't help doling out these amazing scenarios to you and unless you were blessed with some guardian angel's hand hovering over your head every second of your existence, the story most likely is that you are settling in with whatever twists and turns that has become your life. Nothing that you thought would exist forever is actually going in tandem with the phrase "ad infinitum" that you stamped them with. The sureties  are giving way to maybes, the dynamics of your relationships with different people keep changing with the sudden unexpected developments that have developed a habit of popping out at the least expected of moments. The constant race of life doesn't show any signs of giving up - started way back in school when life was still beautiful on the cusp, and now its become a never ending drama that has all the elements of adult life - not all of which are particularly enjoyable. Sure you have the confidence and the independence and the money, but mostly, its nothing more - the humor and jokes are wasted on blank walls or people around you who don't get you - because the people who did, are not around you; special moments that you waited or planned for have an unfortunate habit of not happening as in a dream, you have the money but you don't have the time for using it in the way you would have wanted, or probably you don't have as much money as you wanted. Maybe as a person you've evolved and reached that stage you always wanted, but maybe its a little late, as now, you don't really care how others perceive you - you're busy and overworked and alone and exhausted and you keep thinking wistfully of the past which seemed so bland at that time- but you don't get the security that maybe this present is also good, because you know, that stage was really good. Maybe it doesn't really get better. How can getting older really be better anyway? You are confided to an opinion set - because suddenly everyone's an adult (I say you're just plain scared of the future now) and you guard your opinions fiercely, and I come back to it, you are alone in a mad mad city (unless of course if you "settled" in to crazy matrimony). As this ranting goes on, a separate cerebral lobe has started to paint another picture "before the storm comes the silentest seas" - I hope so the silence of any development in this crazy work life is a just a brief crazy prelude to how life again would be topsy turvy, unpredictable, and happy again!

(yes its rattled even the most "stick to rules and routines" "no changes please" person like me)

Let my country.. nay.. let me awake

For the past few weeks, I had an alarm set, and irritatingly and incorrectly, quite early in the morning. Everyday it would go buzzing in the morning at 5 AM, when I really didn't need to wake up until 7... the alarm tone was also a sleep kill and mood killer, with an shrill piercing tone. I would wake up every morning, and set it off, sometimes setting it on snooze. Needless to say, this little activity every morning would rob me any sound sleep for the next 2 hours.

I don't know why I let this status-quo continue for the subsequent weeks. Did I expect someone else would eventually change the alarm time? And the tone? But wasn't it my sleep? shouldn't I be taking care of it instead of depending on some imaginary eventual self change?

I finally reset the alarm today, changed the tone to a more peaceful one, and it actually seemed as if a weight had been lifted off. So amazing it is to look forward to those extra 2 hours of sleep, in peace!

And now if i extrapolate this scene to a larger picture, isn't this what we are doing to our society and politics? we let the status quo of rotting of the system continue. We expect things to change; quite arrogantly we expect others to change themselves and kick start the whole process of reforming India. And yes, some people do actually try to abide by the rules, to be honest to the system. But a minority hardly ever leads a change.

Or so we think. With a kind of third revolution underway in India (the first two ones I would historically, and a little inaccurately probably, refer to the sepoy mutiny of 1857 and then the silent long struggle led by Mahatma Gandhi), Mr Anna Hazare has taken it upon himself, at an age of 74, to change the system for us. Maybe his struggle will help us, maybe it won't. But what will do to us? I read at a friend's post recently that the change has to begin at home.. don't pay bribes, don't bypass the system. Why did the VP of Morgan Stanley say he found it easier to play by the book in HK? isn't this a question we should really probe within ourselves?

Changes are always tough on self. To change from way of life we have become used to, to something that would require us to do more work and running about (at least in the initial phases of change), it is hardly a surprise that we have not achieved any significant progress in politics as well as our beliefs and thoughts. We seem to need a constant backing, some accolade when we do something great. The truth is, whenever we do anything correctly, it is what we're expected to do, and not some favour.

I'm hugely inspired by Anna Hazare. Not that I have the need to go to Ramlila Grounds and fast, but because here is a man, who wants to bring about a change not for himself, but for an entire nation! How often do we have people of this greatness and depth !

Critics of the methods he employs will always exist. (Critics are anyway a byproduct of any event that occurs, however mundane). If anything, that should give us more perseverance to adopt the rightousness that Mr Anna Hazare aims to achieve. 

Rabrindranath Tagore once wrote a beautiful poem "Let my country awake", I wish and pray, to let Indians awake!

             Where the mind is without fear and the head held high;

 Where knowledge is free;

Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;

Where words come out from the depth of truth;

Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;

Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;

Where the mind is led forward by Thee into ever-widening thought and action;

Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake

~ Rabrindranath Tagore

PS - No matter how much our PM says about the undemocratic ways and means employed, for me "the end would define the means".