Patti and me !

 

She wept copious tears at my wedding , even more than my mom! When I asked amma why she cried so much, amma told me that she was so happy at the wedding especially since I was a late  arrival  to the world and their first grandchild born after much prayer!

My paati as I remember her was always draped in a typical nine yards saree, madisaru.  She loved her jewellery and wore many gold bangles as well as chains. Diamond earrings and nose rings adorned her face. A huge red pottu with her hair tied in a neat bun. The bun always had false hair in it. I used to enjoy combing the false hair, rolling it up and keeping it safely for her. A net would be set up on the bun, neatly tucked in with U hair pins. Finally a gajra  of mullapoo or kanakambaram would surround the bun!
Her sarees were grand. She had amazing silk sarees in the most vibrant colours. She was poona paati to me, but she was Seth maami in Pune. My tatha was Seth Maama, having set up his own business there. She was Manni to all. Even her own children followed their uncles and called her Manni and my tatha was called Anna by the whole family.
Tatha was usually an angry man who snapped with most people, but with his grandchildren he had all the patience in the world. Paati was his backbone, pandering to all his fancies and whims.He too took care of her like a gem. After all she lived with him since the age of 14! They grew up together!

Poona meant vacations and cousins. When my mom and us, and all my aunts with their kids would assemble at Pune for every single vacation, be it summer,  Diwali or Christmas.
Paati used to keep feeding us. Apart from the regular breakfasts,  lunches and dinners, there would be a constant flow of snacks from the kitchen. Murrukkus, vadams, karuvadams, thenguyal, manoharam, mysore pak, barfi, theratipal and many more would keep coming into stainless steel boxes. It was almost like she woke up with an agenda of making some new item each day.
Evenings would be dosas, idlis, bondas, bhajjis and such savouries which we would happily devour before evening trips to the local temples or gardens.

We never returned from Pune without two or three extra bags of snacks or fruits that would last for almost a month or two.By then we would be ready for the next vacation!

She stayed with us very frequently at Trivandrum. Even there, she would hatch up plans for snack making with my mother and the two of them would conjure up something by the time my sister and me returned home. These were apart from all the snacks she was already carrying with her.
She showed her love and care through her food and her gifts.
She bore six children, four daughters and two sons.  She saw grandchildren and even great grandchildren.  One of my prized possessions is a snap of my paati, amma ,me and my daughter!

She died a Sumangali on a Friday, like she always wanted and went away in her brightest saree and her big red pottu. I am glad she went away thus as it would have been painful for all of us to see her in any other way!

And thus it began...

 I had just cleared college and got into a job. During my second year at the job, one Sunday I planned a movie with some of my friends. Mom  declared that I couldnt go for the movie and a family was coming to 'see' me. I asked her what time they were expected. I would go for the movie once they were gone. " Your movie is not so important,  she snarled. This meeting could lead to the wedding."

I went to my room upset about the lost movie and irritated that someone would plonk themselves on my sofa on a Sunday morning.

The three days next were a whirlwind. My aunt and uncle came home early on Sunday morning. The saree I chose was rejected promptly. My aunt had brought a saree and insisted I wore that one. Finally by ten thirty, I was ready. 

I said I will not carry the tray with tea. Mom and aunt  were glad I was decked up with flowers and jewels. All I could think of was when these visitors would go and I would be free to go for the movie.

They came. And the groom to be was not there. That irritated me further. They said the family came to see me. If they approved the boy would come. 

Oh the high and mighty dont do normal stuff , I thought and went out in the  living room to greet them. I met them with a smile. Some usual questions , some normal conversation and tea and snacks and they left .

A telephone call in the evening confirmed that next Sunday the boy would also come. Oh god! I wailed. One more Sunday gone. 

I am not going to deck up now , I protested. I will wear a sinple saree. Thats enough for the boy who needs two visits to see a girl! 

And so Sunday , I meet the guy. He is tall, dark and handsome. My heart skips a beat. The wait was worth it! 

He tells me he is a workaholic,  but loves to party and travel and he watches movies when he gets time. My ears perk up. The guy watches movies. He clears my test. Thats all I needed. 

The rest is my parents look out. They can figure it out. 

I say ok. He says ok. We get engaged. 

Two weeks later he offers to take me for a movie. I am ecstatic. We will go town side he says. Town side in Mumbai is the hotspot for fashion and entertainment. 

He comes to pick me up in a motorcycle. Wow. This is getting better I think. A movie, a motor bike and a TDH guy. This is dream stuff. 

Halfway through Mumbais skies open up. Even as we drive down the streets getting soaked, my heart sings.. Rimjhim gire saawan... 

The movie of my life has begun. Could it have begun better? 

The Onion

 Mine being a typical tam brahm family, the family had found a chamathu payyan for me for kalyanam. Little did I know that I was enegaged to a life size onion. 

Having grown up outside Mumbai, I didnt know much of the place. So the few evenings Onion  and me met, we went to a near by restaurant called Verandah. The other reason being the timeline set by my mom. Everytime we went out, my mom would insist on me being dropped back by eight p.m. Considering that Onion  would reach only by 7.p.m , that's the best we could manage. Onion would complain, who goes home by eight? I leave home by eight! 

During these outings, he would constantly brag about the wonderful places in town! He casually enquired if I have ever eaten non veg food. I told him that I did taste some fish from a few hostel mates, but never went beyond it.

So finally we decided on a full day outing with a movie and lunch in town.

Post the motorcycle ride, before the movie , we went for lunch to a resturant. The restaurant served sea food. My curiosity was piqued. This is a non vegetarian place. Yes, he said. If your trust me, I will ensure you have the best lunch, he said. Ok, I quipped, I guess I have to trust you, considering I decided to spend the rest of my life with you!

There was a lot of hustle in the restaurant.  He knew the waiters by name. They fawned over him like he was their blue eyed boy. He ordered a beer and I ordered lime juice. 

I asked him, you drink beer regularly? Not really, he said, just when I want to have something light! Little did I know that beer was light when conpared to his staple Old Monk Rum! 

He ordered chicken biryani and some fish curry. But this was just layer one of the  Onion.

Halfway through lunch, Onion vanishes amd doesnt come back for a good ten minutes. This is the pre mobile phone days. I am stuck at the table, wondering where he has gone. 

Then I see him chatting with the manager and smoking a cigarette. The next layer  is peeled. 

Onion is a pattar who drinks , smokes and eats non veg food. 

Post the movie, Onion gets philosophical and says , this is the real me. I am a pattar by birth, but I am this guy. I smoke,  drink and eat non veg. I love to party and  stay out of home late night. I dont wear the poonal. Nor do I follow all religious stuff. I pray in my head and not at temples. 

What do you have to say?

What did I have to say? 

My parents picked up a chammathu pattar  payan  whose horoscope matched mine. His credentials were checked by other family members and duly stamped amd certified. But here he is confessing to a lifestyle that is wholly different and as non pattar as can be. 

What did I say?  I know for sure I am in for a lifetime of adventure. I say, Chal bike start kar. That backseat is now booked forever! 

The Gap year

 

Oh god! Won't she lose a full year?

How can you let that?

This was the question that people asked me when my daughter decided to leave Kalakshetra and come back home. The idea of joining Kalakshetra and focussing on dance hadn't gone down too well with everyone in the  family.

Now she had the audacity to leave the course! 

The idea of losing a year in an academic career is blasmephous in itself in our country. It's a crime. It's a crying shame

As children grow into their teens it's has been noticed that their thoughts are fiddled.  They lack clarity. This happens because of the way the brains are wired.  

While we expect them to grow smarter and sharper as promised by the multitude of health drinks and the schools campaigns we may not see that happening. This doesn't mean schools didn't do thier job or health drinks didn't work.  Teen brains function like that.

Some teens need that one year gap to just get their thoughts in place. Some are not clear with what they want to do in life.  Some are not clear how they will reach there. Some are not sure what's your role in helping them reach there.

One of the saddest part of parenting is parents usually are the last ones to know of the dreams of their children. 

Being an educator helped me bridge that gap. I knew what my daughter wanted and was ready to support her through it. Or so I thought.  

When she told me kalakshetra was not working for her I was convinced she was not working at it. I tried to motivate her to keep at it . I gave her stories of how all places are similar and problems never can be eliminated and how new places will have new problems.

Finally when all that didn't work I decided to bring her home.

One year gone! Was the reaction of many people.  But I figured an unhappy soul will not learn anything. One year in a long life is not everything.

She came back and joined a school as a pre nursery co teacher. She loved the job so much. The little kids healed her. She was happy ; dancing and teaching. She had more clarity in life now. She wanted to be a dancer and a teacher!  She told me now that she is very clear with what she wants to do.

In my career as a teacher I have met many students who are confused as to what they want to do with thier lives. Parents seem to stuck up with chooses of engineering medicine and commerce. 

There a strong star rating that parents in our country follow when it comes to careers

Five star for engineering and medicine and mba

Four star for commerce

Three star for architecture.dentistry and other semi medical professions

Two star for teaching 

One for preforming arts.

Vocational  Subjects are not even counted. 

This  star rating is so ingrained in our psyche that schools want to cater ot it ao that they can get in the numbers. Parents believe that a good life is possible only with this.

Teachers believe that they are in the teaching profession because they didn't succeed otherwise .

Tuition classes churn out toppers like icecreams in a factory.

In this when a seventeen year old says I am confused and I need time society comes down heavily on her/him.

I am glad mine stood up for herself.  She is today a post graduate in dance and successful teacher, loved by her  students. Most importantly she is happy with her self and has the confidence to take her own decisions. 

Once upon a night in Mumbai

First of July 2019 began as any ordinary day. It would have ended so too, but for the floods.
I was to leave for Patiala the next day and had some last minute shopping to do.
And of course the film buffs that we both are, we didn't want to miss Ayushmann Khurana and his Article 15.
So off we went to Phoenix Market City in the evening.
And as we came out discussing the movie , we realised it was raining.
One auto rickshaw driver agreed to take us to Kalina after a dozen of them fled away.
We had crossed two signals when suddenly the water levels began to rise. It looked like a  river had engulfed the other side of the road and the water from the other side had begun to overflow into the side we were on.
Gopal and the auto driver pushed the auto for sometime before it broke down in front of a kebab shop.
The shop was at a slightly higher level than the road. One of the guys asked me to step out of the auto and sit in the shop. He immediately set up two chairs for us and made us comfortable.
Suddenly a huge garbage bin was floating in front of the shop. The boys ran to get it back. It was their prized possession. They couldn't let the floods claim it.
Soon the water level began increasing even more. The shopkeeper began winding up his shop. He came up to me and said, 'Madam, go from this side to the tea shop. There is a bench there. You will be safe there.
I moved to the bench all scared and worried whether  we would get home safely.
The rains were lashing. The entire road was now  a powerful river. Cars had stopped moving and more people were getting on to this safe place.
A rat or two also scampered to safety. A man descending into the tea shop from the chawl above was pretty pleased with himself. He told Gopal, 'Sirji, maine aaj dopahar mein hi bol diya tha ki shaam ko paani bharega. Meri bhavishyavaani sach hui!'
Wish he worked with the MET department!
The tea shop also slowly began to flood.
So the tea seller, Raju,  sent us to a truck weighing office.
There were two guys there trying to get all their stuff on top of the cupboards to keep them safe. They offered us two chairs.
Even as I was just settling in , a lady walked in , all in tears. Her daughter came in behind her asking her why she was crying
The poor lady was obviously in panic and yelled at her girl, 'I told you not to come out in this rain. But you won't listen.'
A family of eight , they had parked their car outside and were fervently discussing further course of action. The mother obviously was still perturbed and suddenly screeched ,' Can you guys stop the discussion and pray? We are trapped all thanks to your plans.'
The family chose to ignore her ofcourse and continued with their discussions. They finally decided to move out and go to a relative's home.
A few minutes after they left three men came into the room and they were joking about how each one reached there.
I couldn't do nothing but admire how they stood so strong even in this situation , while I was all down to bits and pieces.
One of them, Majid bhai( yes by now I knew their names too) suddenly got a call. And then he panicked. The building where his house was had caught fire! There had been a short circuit and all his family members has rushed to the terrace as they couldn't run down because of the rising water.
The man screamed in pain. I saw the transformation of a man who was able to laugh at his own pain into someone who was scared at the pain of others. Along with two more people he ran to save his family.
Even as he went out in came the tea seller and asked 'bada danda hain kya?' Apparently a manhole was open and he almost slipped into it. He had saved himself and now had to do something to save others. He pushed in a plastic stool to block the manhole and tied an iron rod on the stool as a warning.
The water level inside the office was steadily rising. I was offered one more chair . The officer, a balding middle aged guy, told me, 'Madam pair upar rakhhke baitiye.Paani badh raha hain.'  He had marked out a spot on the cupboard and was constantly checking the level of the rising waters.
He then began hunting for a slipper. He narrated how he always kept an extra pair because people would steal his from the masjid. But he never wore anyone elses as he felt that then his prayers had no values.
Soon he and Gopal settled down on the existing seats and were narrating stories to each other. The waters were rising. The rains were incessant and relentless. I was tired and soon was lulled  into a dull sleep. I drifted in and out of sleep hearing bits and pieces of different stories. And then someone announced ' Barish Ruk gayi'. I looked at my watch . It was 4 a.m.
I checked my phone . It had two missed calls from my son. I couldn't call back as there was very little charge . Both me and the phone were drained.
The tea shop had opened. Gopal told me there were BEST buses stuck on the road. The staff and the passengers had spent the night in the buses. The water level had started reducing.
The cigarette shop also opened for business. Now people began to walk down to buy cigarettes and tea.
The officer who helped us out , Anwar miyan was glad he found his missing chappal and was now worried about a missing broom !
He had to clean the place, he told me before all the water went away. After a whole nighy of being awake, he was more worried about his office than himself.
A few friends of Majid bhai came back. Majid bhai almost fell into a manhole while running home to save his family. The others pulled him out. When the reached the building , the inmates had figured out a way to reach the terrace of the adjoining building. The family was safe after fighting a night of fire and water.

Gopal and me began walking down the watery street to see if we could get an auto. School children were out on their way to school , unaware that the government had in the middle of the storm updated on Twitter that's educational institutions would be closed.
Finally we got an auto rickshaw. As we moved towards Kalina, it looked like a different world. No water logging. No floods. People out on their morning walks.
Did we just come from a different world altogether?
Well , for me , it was a night I will never forget. For Gopal it was a milder version of 26 July!
Did anyone think if they were Hindus , Muslims or Christians? No! All people thought was about how to keep each other up and floating.
This is the India I believe in and I am glad that though it was a fearful night, it was a reassuring one that the world still knows peace. Atleast this one night in Mumbai was about standing up for each other ! It didn't matter whether you said Allah or Jesus or Ram!
All that mattered was being together and being safe. 

Sanju : What the movie actually showed me

The last few days there have been multiple reviews about the the movie #Sanju. Some raved about it while some criticised it. While I have my own opinions about the movie which is published here , I do think it conveyed a very important message which I will elaborate now.

The major focus of the story was the relationship between the father and the son. The movie attempted to show how the father was a great man and the son was never able to come to the expectations of the father. It  depicts  how they loved each other so much but were unable to communicate that love to each other.  It shows how the father and son finally bridged their differences.

Have realistic expectations from your child: You as an individual are entitled to your opinions and ideologies and would want your progeny to follow it. But first try to understand your child, what you child feels and what is the child's idea of life. So do not impose your ideology on your child.

Keep children involved in all matters of the family  : There is a scene in the movie where the father informs the 19 year old son that his mother has cancer, but he needs to act as if he doesn't know about it. The mother then informs the son that she is going to New York, not for treatment , but to act in a Hollywood movie. She proudly tells the father she can still act very well, though she is retired from movies. The scene hit me with the hypocrisy we follow in families. Why do we make things sound as if children(though he is an adult here)  are incapable of handling the truth?  If children are told the truth they will process it and make better choices in life. Parents go on through life saying ' my children should not suffer' . This is true as long as things go well. But in case of any trouble that either parent goes through , I  think its very important to take the child into confidence. Children will understand the pain you are going through and will know how to empathize with you.In our need to protect them, we mollycoddle them so much they are unable to handle the bitter truths of life.

Keep communication lines open:Talk to your children. Let them know they can afford to make mistakes,but need to learn from them. Making a mistake is not a crime. Not learning anything from it is. Not teaching our children to learn from them is the biggest crime. The movie shows the son reaching out for drugs and sex as a way to combat his depression. Today more and more children are moving into depression. There is a a break down in communication in families. Keep talking to your children. Hear them out. Sunil Chetri in this speech hits the nail when he says listen to your child.

Chide in private : The father does the reverse. The son is chided by his father for not lip syncing the song as he wanted him to do. He scolds him in front of the whole unit. The son who looks up to the father for his approval, never gets it. His father makes his disappointment very obvious leading me to think, did he at anytime set his expectations with his child?  Did they have similar expectations and did the son know what the father wanted or was he just following a mirage?

Be involved in the childhood of your child.  While the father does give the son motivational talks and songs that help him choose the right path, I felt they came bit too late in the life of the son. Parents need to be involved with their children. They need to be available for their children emotionally , physically and mentally during the growing years of the child. Celebrate your child. His successes and failures are as much a part of your life as they are of his. Do not blend your pride with his success and your shame with his failure. Take it as a walk down the path of life. Just be there for them unconditionally. Children are not in the lives of parents to make them proud or shame them .They are here to lead their lives. Be with them in their childhood and guide them at the right time, so that as an adult they are capable of making the right choices.

Though I am sure the director never had the above ideas in his head while making the movie, these messages did stand out for me. The movie is definitely a lesson in bad parenting . One can learn what not to do as a parent from this movie.  Thank you team Sanju for this.

But the math paper did!

The last few days have been days of results in our country.
ICSE and CBSE results are out. Local state boards are declaring the results.
Schools , coaching classes and parents are in three modes: gloating over the toppers, thanking the stars for those who cleared and not too bothered about the middle lot.

As a parent I was also on tenter hooks since morning. Not because the results were due in sometime, but because I knew my boy was tensed.
He had spent the good part of the year participating in activities in college and spent the last month or so preparing for the exams.
I knew he found math tough , dillydallied to the end and finally took it head on.
He was worried he would have to repeat his paper.
I was worried it would mean so much extra work for something he didn't enjoy.

He is interning at a start-up and enjoying his job. His skills in computing and social media landed him the internship. He does a lot of math on his job. That doesn't scare him. But the math paper did!

He is a musician by heart. He plays the drums,the piano and the guitar. He composes tunes and gets the beat of any song. The math of the rythm doesn't scare him. But the math paper did!

He took me on a drive on the scooter last weekend and explained  how if you passed  one green signal and maintained your speed you could pass through all the green signals on that road. The math of the signals doesnt scare him. But the math paper did!

When the results were out, he burst into tears. Those were tears of joy of having cleared the math paper. They were also tears of relief that told him he needn't look at those dreaded books again.

As a parent and an educator I know the math paper has not enriched my son's life as the numerous events he attended during his grade 12. He learnt so much more there even as he was criticised by all for whiling away his time. He made new friends,negotiated relationships , took up challenges, participated in competitions ,spent time in team building activities.My boy, I was sure wouldn't be stopped by a math paper. But somewhere he wasn't sure of that. The math paper scared him!

Even as my boy and his friends party to celebrate their success in this examination, they know they are in for a few more years of such torture. But they will have gotten older and stronger and more resilient to tackle it by then and will do so without breaking down.