Tales From Nowhere

Rajdhani

2011-11-14T11:14:00.001+05:30

Situated between the Yamuna and the Arawali is the ancient capital of Sahajahen's Kingdom. The city has been the capital of the country for a hundred years now. This city, Delli, as it is more commonly called, is now my refuge.

My new 'nest' is amid the many embassies, in a locality where there are more dogs, watchmen and servants than landlords! Its a part of Delhi where blue plated cars and Porches' are a commonplace. Its a locality where the who's - who of Delhi live. Yet, in this part of Delhi, believe me, where you see the unemployed men tarry the lanes of the locality. It is also in this locality, I hear, the Nigerian drug racquet's run! And there is so much more to learn!

During my first outing around Delhi, I was tempted to have my all time favourite - pav bhaji. The spelling should have alarmed me, but it did not. It so happened that I ordered 'pao' bhaji - and that was what I got. The 'pao' was the bread that is usually served with burgers. 'Oh', was all I could manage. As I had the first bite of my 'pao' bhaji, the potatoes cooked in tomato puree, made me say 'Oh no!'.

A new lesson was learnt in the rajdhani. In Roam do as the Romans do! In Delhi, the pav bhaji be damned, have channa bhatura instead!

2011-10-26T10:05:00.000+05:30

Change takes its toll and it did! A lot has changed in life both personally and professionally since my last post, and fortunately (or unfortunately) still is. And I am taking my time to adjust to change. The problem with adjusting is that sometimes there are so many strong undercurrents that pull one back and forth, up and down, high and low. The vertigo, i think I’d call it. And I am learning to love it. Funny, the things you have to learn in life! But so be it.

The vertigo I complain didn’t come in those envelopes that read ‘Change is imminent’, ‘Change is difficult’, ‘Change is emotionally draining’, ‘Change will test you’, ‘Change is dark and dingy’ so on and so forth? Nor did they come in yellow or red cards that to a layman imply caution and change in power position. That makes football sound so much more easier!

I prayed earnestly today for a small miracle to come my way and light my way. And it came. We are of different temperaments - me and my dad. While I always stood up and spoke, he almost always sat down and heard. Today I got a practical lesson of bending low and yet keeping your head high. He practically showed me to react differently to the same situation. Today I learnt that sometimes, life slaps you on one cheek and kisses you on the other. That light flows through even the smallest cracks and crevices the same way it falls everywhere. You only have to see it!

Hoping you all find the light at the end of the tunnel! (and me to!) Here’s wishing you a very Happy Diwali.

A little more

2010-12-28T12:19:00.000+05:30

We are but of another clime, I know,
And everywhere I go
The trees, they whisper -
So are the seasons four!

But the seasons they tend,
To have their own way.
Sometimes I wonder,
How do they blend?

The dry winter leaves
Then fly gently at my feet.
Reminding me of the winding winds,
In between the seasons that weave.

How do you do it?
I ask the wind,
Have a little more faith,
Use all your might to cast away doubt,
He said, more importantly,
Dream, but a little more

And my hope, little heaves,
And I smile...
Dream, but a little more.

A guide for grown-ups

2010-12-16T11:42:00.000+05:30

All I said was "I don't enjoy my office"

"So stay at home" came the reply from my 10 year old neighbour.

Have I grown up to become weird like them?

Hmm...

Year Three

2010-12-09T12:15:00.004+05:30

Its been three years since I began writing this blog. Sure, I've been very irregular with my posts. I began writing when I lived in Ahmedabad, sometime in Nov 2007, as a way to pass time after work or during the weekends. It was a way to tell my mother a couple of my stories, the people I meet, work etc. That was a time when I never told people I wrote. I was in my closet. Over the years, I have had some of my friends read what I wrote, some happened to just come across it. I remember receiving e-mails from friends telling me that I shouls continue writing, be it good or bad. I take the oppurtunity to thank K, VS, G, CA, AC and others for encouraging me (you better know who the initials stand for!).

I began with the name 'Ithaca' for the love of a story (Since I am not adding links to this post, I suggest you go through the blog archive). But since the story remained incomplete I dropped the name Ithaca. Today, its just 'Tales from nowhere'.

I still think 'Knitting words', 'Cutting Chai' and 'Its Raining Men' are the best posts I have written. But the blog with the most comments is 'On the streets'. On a serious note, I also wrote '61 years and still counting' which unfortunately did not get many comments, except from one great friend. 'And they lived happily ever after' was a post where I tried to write on how we instill notions into children and how reality is actually different. 'What makes me ''me' was a way of thanking my friends for being around and giving me lessons that I needed at during a particular moment. I am not sure what it means to you, but to me, it was a way of telling my friends 'thanks for being around and lending a helping hand'.

I didn't write very actively during the second year, I guess boredom caught me - I am not sure now, may be it was something else. I have never ever published my poems online, simply because I wasn't comfortable with the idea.Finally I shed my inhibitions and wrote '3 yardsticks' and the 'Shepard's Woes', but I am still not sure I am comfortable with the idea of putting up my poems on the world wide web.

Finally, the most interesting event this year: I went online with my paintings! And I feel fantastic! I have been a little slow on that front, yet - its still something.

At the end of three years, all I want to say its that between 2007 and 2010 - I still had to find inspiration to write. The only thing that has changed is my salary! So Keep reading. And a big Thank You.

A perfect day

2010-10-31T22:19:00.002+05:30

When I hear her sing - the nightingale,
And simply smile reading an e-mail.
When I waltz across,
The halls of my heart,
I must say - its quiet a start!

When the colours of spring,
Etch my eye.
When the hip-hop moves,
Make me feel groovy,
I must say - its some movie!

When the geese are scattered,
All over the skyline.
When there are crackers bursting
Morning, noon and night,
I must say - that is my perfect day!

- © Shilpa Maiya

One always struggles between -

2010-10-17T23:50:00.009+05:30

Between right and wrong
Intention and consequence
Purpose and action
The right way and the just way
Everything and nothing

And even if one is lost in the labyrinth
The Mahabharata, says - there is always a middle path!

Ah, isn't it getting a little too arcane here?

Yao Ming is a happy man...

2010-10-08T19:52:00.001+05:30

If only I was Yao Ming, I would not have to ‘hop, skip, and jump’!
In a hectic week, I suppose that is all one wishes – to be able to yell SCORE without too much effort, isn’t it?
Brain dead some would say.
But no, body dead and brain alive!
Phew!

Crayons and Felt Pens

2010-10-02T19:08:00.000+05:30

This is because I was surprised to find an old friend say - "I didn't know you do this!" Honestly, I was ashamed. And I was told to do something about it. Apart from this, a public blog will force me to do it regularly (especially knowing how lazy i can get!). So, here it is -

and Please, spread the word, because i am averse to facebook and twitter.
and yes of course, I would love to sell some of them too. So please do contact me.

Thanks. :-)

2010-09-26T21:27:00.000+05:30

Just another view

2010-09-09T16:17:00.001+05:30

By now, I am sure you know that I am a lover of the great Indian epics - Ramayana and the Mahabharata. However, I never seem to get enough of it. I always try to read as much as I can, to get another perspective on these always. And considering there are so many views, its almost become a hobby these days. I know - my friend calls me a dork!

For some time now I have been trying to get insights into the woman who still remains an enigma to me - Sita. Sita, etched in my brain is a demure lady with lovely eyes and a kind face. She, to me, as I was always taught, was devoted to her husband. That is what every Indian thinks of Sita - the perfect, devoted wife - who did everything to please her husband; even accepted being thrown out of her own house (yes, that's how I'd like to put it).

Of late however, what I have been reading makes me think, and think seriously. I came across this very interesting analysis of Sita a few days ago. It said that Sita was India's first single mother and a person of great strength. An interesting analysis, isn't it? She probably was India's first single mother, but a person of great strength...? I am not too sure about it. Besides I have never thought of her that way, I think that is Ramayan's greatest flaw. In an effort to portray the so called ideal it looses many other details that one would be interested in.I suppose that is because Ramayana is hardly her story. Ramayana is obsessed with Rama killing Ravana, so much so that Sita remains Rama's shadow. But was she just that I tend to ask myself ....

I think there are shades of her character in the book. Considering the young age at which women probably married back then, Sita married at around 13 or 14 and was too young to be able to give her opinion on anything. Yet, don't think it is interesting that Sita should choose to go with her husband to the forest as against staying with her in-laws in Ayodhya? And then of course, there is this 'agni pariksha' that she had to undergo and its something on which everyone has an opinion. I am sure she must have felt slighted, but there was no retort, just acceptance. I've always wondered if that was normal - and I've never got an answer to that one. But I think the incidence did leave a scar in her mind forever. I think so, because she decided to live alone and look after her children. And when she had the opportunity to rejoin her husband, she refused to be hurt anymore and decided to join mother earth instead. Now the words - a character of strength makes more sense, doesn't it?

Bare Necessities

2010-08-05T19:48:00.000+05:30

I started laughing when i read "Leukocyte migration and inflammation", "Major Histocompatibility Comlex" and 'IMViC'!! My my, it sure does sound alien to me like it does to any other engineer out there! And finding these words after 8 years in my closet!

When my sister visited us last year, I thoroughly enjoyed it when my mother made her remove the unwanted books stored in her cupboard. It was so much fun seeing her take a look each book, clean it and keep it back. But I never thought the tables would turn around. And now that the tables have turned, I am not enjoying it one bit. I removed all the books I had stored in one section of my cupboard and imagine finding books that I used in 10th and 12th standard! Phew, that's a lot! Then there were these notebooks right from my first year of B.Sc. I mean I had everything. Sheets of paper on which i had written notes, graphs, experiments, log books, practical books, photocopies... you name it and I had it. I also found a book with my friends name on it. So I called up my friend and the first question I was asked was "Do you have Whitekar?" And while I was wondering which book Whitekar is and what its spelling is, I was kindly reminded that we used it to study fermentation. And yes, my friend struck gold there. I had it!

In short, I had preserved every antique piece of notes and books as if they meant a lot to me. At the end of the clearing exercise this was the amount of unwanted stuff that I gathered.

As I keep everything in the car so my mom can do away with it and keep a few books to donate to my college I cannot help but wonder about all the clutter in my closet. Have I accumulated clutter in my life too? Like this? I hope not.

"The bare necessities of life will come to you!"

Thankfully for me, my best friend is always around, telling me I need to clear it all - to my mother :-)

3 yardsticks

2010-07-01T19:32:00.000+05:30

I wish I was nice
But I am not
I wish I was bad
But I cannot be
I wish I was neutral
But I don't want to be!

I wish I made the right choice
But I can't
I wish I made the wrong choice
But I would not
I wish I make no choice at all
But I am not allowed!

I wish I was brave
But I am not
I wish I was lily-livered
But I don't want to be
I wish I slipped to being nonentity
But that is not me!

Shilpa Ramesh Maiya (Sakshi)

Pitter-patter

2010-06-29T16:12:00.000+05:30

I now call it the 'sibilant music of the rain' or sometimes call it 'ebullient gushings'; depending on my mood. I was in Bombay last Friday when on my GTalk I put up a line that read: 'The sibilant music of the rain and Mumbai Magic!' That is the precise moment when I thought of the title of this blog - 'pitter-patter'!

Ah yes, you got it - Mother Goose and the other rhymes that we sang as children! I was suddenly caught up with "Fire in the Mountain Run Run Run" and "Ring-a-Ring-a-Roses"! But somewhere down the lane all the 'pitter-patter' died and we were chanting "little drops of water, little grains of sand" and even as you read it, I am sure you are completing the rhyme. Yes, I know :-)

Sometime later between Chiti Chiti Bang Bang and the Sound of Music came in 'W. H. Longfellow' as we put it then. And sonnets and ballads became the word-of-the-day. The Romantics came in with William Wordsworth - "And then my heart with pleasure fills and dances with the daffodils"!

Pause. Somewhere down the line you begin to think with an air of nonchalance that Longfellow, Wordsworth etc are stuff read by school children. I thought I was 'uber-cool' because just becuase I was caught up with the other literary buggers that I know of like Piet Hein and his Grooks and W. H. Auden of late.... Pause again -
I read Longfellow's The Rainy Day again (after eons I guess) and I'll write it down for you:

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the moldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the moldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

Now do you call that juvenile?

Zindagi, or something like that ..

2010-06-22T20:48:00.000+05:30

For the first time in life, I hate to admit it - I missed Ahmedabad! I know I must have lost my mind to say this. But its true. And as I say this I know I am contradicting myself. I had to go to Baroda last week and there I was left wondering... Ahmedabad is just three hours away!

Just three hours away --

Remember every night you used to listen to the radio on your cell phone. And every night the advertisements would announce "Amdavadnu radio... aha"!

I know...now I hardly listen to the radio.

Remember walking almost everyday to Himalaya Mall or C G Road just to entertain yourself? Or else knocking Dipti and Saurabh's door saying 'I am hungry'!! Yeah, Saurabh .... and considering he's probably got Pixar and Walt Disney in his stomach! Makes me smile. Or Dipti's good food..

Yeah... I now talk to them 'online' and READ -"Till know that You and I were just "Ape"ing the Aliens

Guess what Darwin would say

Must have turned in his grave"

And then seeing 'Welcome to Sajjanpur' when the Lehman Brothers had just shut their doors forever... The whole lot that included Mona, and Leela mam; laughing when probably lots of people across the globe were biting their nails...

Yet I'd say Ahmedabad was boring... lonely at night...

Man - Swati was good! Darpan Academy was even better and so was Gandhi ashram...
My constant companions - Sam and Pushkar. Sitting up late every night and talking gibberish! The best was having no groups. Friends, friends of friends and their friends were all welcome... I don't do that in Pune! Architects, Engineers, MBA grads, Social Science graduates were all together....

But I missed the tekdi there.. I missed 'chaila', 'gadhva' and 'dukkar'! Got sweet 'shak' instead of 'tikhat bhaji'...

But you got to shop!! And the material you got there, you wouldn't get in Pune...

Ah yes, that is true... But Sihagad is so close here or lets say Tamhini or Bhushi dam... All Amdavadis think of is Mount Abu, and for booze I am sure.

But you still miss Ahmedabad... you still miss the rickshaw wala's who put their feet out to indicate they are turning instead of using their hands...

Ah yes, and it still makes me laugh. I do miss it... But my heart screams boring and a sad place and my head sings 'zindagi kaisi hai paheli'

Chala yete mi
Che
Aujo!

The Shepard’s Woes

2010-05-25T22:13:00.000+05:30

Such is his destiny,
To find the one lamb that he lost,
Leaving the other ninety nine behind!

His little black lamb,
How it whimpered at night,
And dragged tired by twilight,
His little black lamb!

In search of his destiny,
He marched.
Between the sun and the sand,
The mountains he scaled.
Not once or twice, but thrice,
Over the precipice he fell.

Between anger and pain,
Between pride and shame,
Like a ship without an anchor he sailed,
Not knowing where to stop,
He is lost!

Runic is love.
For between sanity and insanity,
Between fixation and apathy,
Like a wick without a flame,
He is lost!

- Shilpa Ramesh Maiya (Sakshi)
-----------
Dear friends, considering I am writing after a real long time, I thought I'd remind you all - I allow people with a gmail id to post their messages. Thanks a ton :)

In-orbit

2009-11-21T23:43:00.000+05:30

I know I have been absconding for a while now. The truth is I didn't feel like writing and I must admit the title of this blog was written over a year back.

The Sanatan Dharma talks of primordial concepts. The Shunya (nothingness) is one of them. Sometimes you've had enough of life but life hasn't had enough of you. Sometimes you give up but life does not let you give up. It is strange when things keep coming back in the most unimagined places. You yell, scream and try all possible attics but it just follows you everywhere. And that is when the shunya begins. That one thing around which you seem revolve around, that one thing that you want to break away from and cannot....

What does it take to break free? Does talking to the blossoming trees of Spring help? Will screaming 'let me out' help? Can I beg to the secret 'Desert rose' to help me out?

Or should i just say.... Anant and let be?

The Tambi

2009-05-29T10:45:00.000+05:30

He came over to this part of the office early at 9 in the morning. We were supposed to complete an assignment. He had come over to see how far we had reached with the assignment.
He pulls a chair and sits beside me.
I get this strong smell. A smell I have known since childhood. My dad used to use it too.
Its almost a mark of a Tambi -
The Mysore Sandal!
Typical.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tambi, for those of you who don't know, is a word commonly used for a Tamilian (someone who is from Tamil Nadu, India). But if for someone in Delhi, everyone who is from down south is a Tambi (I often use Tambi in this sense).

Mysore Sandal is a famous South Indian brand that sells products (soaps, talcum powder)that has the smell of sandal wood.

Morbid conversations

2009-05-11T20:29:00.000+05:30

The heart's been worried lately.

What about her? the heart asked.

What abut her? asked the head.

Well... I have been thinking....

Oh, you think too much!Dont think...

Are you happy with 'her'....

What kind of a question is that?

What kind of an answer is that? Don't you think you have been living in illusion for too long? I know 'she' is a compromise. 'She' always was. How long do you intend to fool yourself.

But 'she' is reality. 'She' is truth now.

'But'...hmmm... interesting....

Besides she is crazy.

Yes. She is. And she is stupid, she is tempermental. She'll just let you know what she feels. She's a maverick and she's foolish. She is so impossible to love. And she is irritating.

She is true to her heart. She has a wicked sense of humor. She lives withoout a mask. She is simple and nice. It is impossible not to love her. And NO, she is not one bit irritating.

Really? I thought she was too ego centric.... too obnoxious...

Obnoxious... thats a strong word...

Alright, alright.... But she is a tom boy.

Yeah, she is... and she is endearing... But I can't...

I can't? You haven't even tried! She at least tried. You gave up long time back. And somewhere, both you and I know, she hasn't. Both of us know it, and dread it... she is waiting...

How do you know that?

Because I am you, ain't I?

Anyways, its not a point to discuss anymore.... I cannot do anything about it now. It is not her but 'her' now. So please don't bother me now... let me be...

But what about her?

Well, she's strong.... she'll learn...

You are pathetic...

No, I am practical.

Sour Mangoes

2009-04-23T18:24:00.000+05:30

I know I have been absconding for sometime now. No reason in particular really, just didn't feel like pressing that publish button even if I wrote a bit. But my surroundings are in a constant state of vertigo and I am goaded to write - finally!

There is a battle on two fronts really here. And while one is more enjoyable, the other - pungent. While the former can be ignored and is often not, the latter cannot be ignored but often is. And that is India's plight. And the motley of characters pitching in their own areas in both the 'battlefields' is a scene no doubt. The first is the IPL or as the newspapers put it the NRIPL, and the second is India's general elections. And while the drama is enfolding on both the fronts, I pause to write.

The gamut of players on both the fronts are, permit me to say, larger than life and their prowess is yet to unfold. Yet, you see certain streaks. I do not claim to know much about cricket, but I can surely speak of politics. Sharad turns the renegade again, I very vividly remember the time he quit from the INC on the grounds of Sonia Gandhi's nationality (1999). Now he seeks alliance with another 'turncoat', and is almost in tow with the Left parties. BJP does not seem to know where it is heading, fumbling along nothing really. Advani seems to be busy throwing brick-bats at Manmohan Singh. But of the last things I ever expected, was to see someone as educated as Manmohan Singh to actually react to Advani's comments in the way he did. An affronted Manmohan ignores Advani in a public meeting - highly unchaste - so I think. And then again you have 'apla munnabhai', who is leaving no stone unturned in his debut as a politician. You can see him using all the communal cards very well. Thank God he wasn't allowed to contest the elections. And untill the elections are over a lot more will billow within the political folds. Wonder how many will do the democracy dance the Chiranjeevi style!

And while purple and orange caps do their rounds at the IPL, the political scene is complex. Pune went to polls today and I cast my vote. A number of rich affluent neighbours of mine haven't, alas. And in the DP road slums, votes were bought for Rs 300, my maid informed.

To the politicians, who change their colour at the fancy of their will and advantage, here is an extract from my favouriate all time story:

`Who are YOU?' said the Caterpillar.
This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, `I--I hardly know, sir, just at present-- at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.'
`What do you mean by that?' said the Caterpillar sternly. `Explain yourself!'
`I can't explain MYSELF, I'm afraid, sir' said Alice, `because I'm not myself, you see.'
`I don't see,' said the Caterpillar.
`I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly,' Alice replied very politely, `for I can't understand it myself to begin with; and being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing.'
`It isn't,' said the Caterpillar.
`Well, perhaps you haven't found it so yet,' said Alice; `but when you have to turn into a chrysalis--you will some day, you know--and then after that into a butterfly, I should think you'll feel it a little queer, won't you?'
'Not a bit' said the Caterpillar.

Somehow they do not understand!
This summer I hear the mangoes are very few - thanks to the cliamte change.
Those few in the market - are sour!

Endorsements

2008-12-03T14:11:00.001+05:30

I am sure you have seen a lot of billboards displaying a number of things. On December 1st I saw myself endorsing the AIDS awareness program in my own little way in the campus. I was wearing the ribbon my colleague made. For those who still do not know the significance, it was the World AIDS day! Here is a snap with a caption.

A week before that was a blood donation camp. Of course, I did donate blood. Since I was wearing a red Tshirt, it was somehow symbolic! I came up with a little caption of my own to generate awareness. Here is a picture.

I am happy I am endorsing the right stuff!

Year One...

2008-11-06T16:41:00.000+05:30

Its one year since I began writing online. And Its nice to see that over 1000 people have come across my blog. So I thought I would write something that would try to cover everything that I wrote in the last year, a sort of recap. I believed in stories of all sorts and I typed a poem, I am not sure I believe in now. And then had written a couple of lines by Mary Angelou. For some reason I wonder why I wrote Black American Poet below her name. I realise that I shouldn't have done that. She is whoever she is and those lines would still be beautiful to me. I also wrote a poem that has been my inspiration for more than a decade now.

Pandora's box is a true story of a friend who lived on hope. Gabrielle's Shaft today reminds me of the days that I spent at Kaps. What days they were! If I will never forget my two years at St. Josephs Pashan after leaving St. Ursula's Akurdi, I will also never forget the years 2006-2008. And a part of it was spent at Kaps. Even if the Kaps (among many others in the last two years) were the kind of people I hope I never meet again, there were a number of people like Jitu Bhai who I pray meet me again and again. I also met lovely people from the most humble backgrounds like a rickshaw wala who brought me back my purse that I had left in his rickshaw, the guy from Delhi who took the trouble to call my parents in Pune and returned me my wallet, the shop owner who called my parents to tell them that I left my cell (which incidentally cost me a lot!!) in his shop and is keeping it in his safe custody even now, until I go back to Ahmedabad next Monday.

A friend sent me a message the other day "memories play a confusing role, they make you cry remembering the good times and make you smile remembering the bad times." Cutting Chai, Missed Calls was an attempt to write about such memories.

I did attempt some serious writing with Water. Those posts labelled "the world of research" is about what I stumbled across when I was working. And Modern Ramayan I, II, and III was an attempt to write about relationships and I learnt a lot of it from people around me.

It has been an lovely journey. I began with writing as Sakshi and thanks to Nivi I am who I am now. And even though I changed the name of my blog from "Ithaca and Tales from Nowhere", to just "Tales from Nowhere" for reasons of my own, with the Changing Times, today, after almost a year, my whishlist, my prayer remains and will remain the same even on my 26th Birthday.

And they lived happily every after

2008-10-13T15:19:00.000+05:30

Abhiram, my 5 year old brother, has now gotten over his love for my bangles! "I have grown up aka", he says in his perfect English! But he now has another hobby - forcing his storyteller aka read stories to him! Alas, I have no choice but to heed to his requests. After all my mama tolerated me during my growing up years.

So, at bed time, I pick up a book that I grew up with - Walt Disney Classics. And he says in his perfect Kannada "I know Cinderella, read this...". And so it turned out that moi had to read "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs". And when I read to him how her stepmother didn't like Snow White and made her live in rags, his instant question was "Oh, she does not like Snow White? ". "Yes, she does not like Snow White." But Abhiram, was not satisfied with this. He needs more clarification, and so he asks again "is it because the queen is not her real mother? Does the queen hate her because she is not her child?" Imagine a five year old asking you that! I asked him how he knew this and he said even in Cinderella the step mother did not like Cinderella. Abhiram just does not cease to shock me, he then says "aren't all step mothers are bad aka?". I just blankly look at my mom and she explains to him that not all step mothers are bad.

Its not my kid brothers grasping power that interested me. What interested me was how we reinforces values and cultural notions in children right from childhood. All those stories where step mothers were bad; Cinderella, Snow White, Hansel and Gretel etc.... It never occurred to me that we in knock values deep down since childhood! Pinocchio goes with the maxim "Do not lie". That marriages are made in heaven and what not....Only when you grow up and look around do you realize that not everything is right and only circumstances are right.... That its just people that are bad, not step mothers, not humanity; that sometimes you have to lie; that circumstances are bad and not the people present in those circumstances and finally that happily ever after need not be so...

"Strange fruit" eh?

Untitled

2008-10-12T22:10:00.001+05:30

I met my old lover
On the street last night
She seemed so glad to see me
I just smiled
And we talked about some old times
And we drank ourselves some beers
Still crazy after all these years
Oh, still crazy after all these years

- Simon and Garfunkel

Yes, that's the song that I've been humming after reading Tushar Raheja's "Anything for you mam"- a hilarious account of an IITian (Delhi) who bunks his Industrial Tour to meet his girlfriend in Chennai. And I still can't stop smiling. Funny how these tales bring back fond memories! Sometimes you feel that these books are written just for you.

Oh, yes it did bring back a lot of memories - the days I used to cycle from Aundh to Garware.... my first crush when I was in class 11.... finding out his house on my cycle... me and my best bud plotting mischief standing near Chaturshrungi.... some of them successful, some not.... and some other more recent memories! WOW!! Reliving the past is such a good thing!!

It was so good that I told my mother the story line.... and all she asked was "So, does he marry her or someone else?" I still have to figure out why she asked this particular question. And then I sort of explain that no one in their right mind would marry in the third year of their engineering (that is how the story goes actually)!

And honestly, if you have done crazy things like this before, you must read this book. And I am sure you crazy Wodehouse fans will love it. Plus Rs 100 isn't really a dent.

And since I'm nostalgic, here is another song you could hum-
I'd Like to teach the world to sing -The New Seekers!
Beautiful...

Modern Ramayan - 3

2008-10-02T11:45:00.000+05:30

like I mentioned earlier I had to write this thing differently. Firstly, please forgive me if you find part three filmy. Secondly, in 2008 you possibly don't expect me to write Ravan came on his Viman and abducted Sita! And finally, I am sorry its very long since i wanted to finish it!

So, here is Modern Ramayan Part - 3
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was almost a festival for Sita. Finally she was meeting Ram on a Saturday. They decided to meet in Bombay since it would be the most convenient place not only for Ram but also his parents, Sita and her parents. Sita was silently glad that they decided against meeting in her house... "imagine; mom will make me sit in my room, when they all come she will open the door, they will sit and then mom will call me and ask me to bring tea/coffee/juice and then we will look at each other and then we will go to my room to talk in private.....disgusting!" When she told this to Ram he promised her that he would make her feel comfortable. The whole week Sita worked in the lab late at night. Ram saw to it that he finished all his work before leaving for Bombay. They did not talk to each other that week and were caught up in finishing their work so could meet freely.

On Friday Sita was nervous. She tried calling Ram, thinking she would talk to him but she could not reach him. She told her mother that she could not reach Ram. To Sita's surprise she was told that he had already left for Bombay and he would be staying for a night at his brother's place in Dubai. So instead of Saturday they were meeting on Sunday. Sita was slighted, "why didn't he tell me this? How could he not tell me something this important?"

At his brothers place Ram was constantly talking about Sita, how she is so wierd in her own ways, the crazy things that she does, the books that she reads, her jokes, how she cribs when he does not call her, her simplicity... the list was endless.

But, on Saturday, everything went wrong.

When Sita met her parents they told her they had arranged booked a hotel room in Andheri for the night. In the evening Kaushalya called up saying that they wanted to meet them. Dashrath (Ram's father) actually told Sita's father "we want to see our kid". Sita was tired since she had worked all night and she wanted to sleep. Against Sita's wishes, her parents agreed to meet them in their room.

When Kaushalya and Dashrath came inside Sita suddenly gets cold feet. Kaushalya always wanted to see Sita and she didn't realise she was making Sita feel uncomfortable. Sita goes through a series a trite questions "Do you like to read?", "What do you read?", "Do you like to travel?" etc.. And then there were a series of Ram's likes and dislikes
"Ram likes fiction"
"I am sure he did.... but only in his teens, I am sure he does not have the time to read fiction at 29!" thought Sita
"Ram does not like coffee, whenever we go to his place there is just no coffee powder"
"That is a wierd conclusion" she thought "he just hates shopping and just does not buy it" but she said "No I think he likes coffee. He has coffee everyday"
Now, she unknowingly she hurt Kaushalya's ego.
Sita was so nervous that she cut her hand with the knife she was playing with. But the questions and answers did not end. They continued.
At a point when they were making plans of when and where they would meet once Ram arrives. Now Sita was annoyed "Let him come and then we can decide where and when to meet. Anyways we didn't want the meeting to be this traditional" Now she had reached her limits, Kaushalya was furious. How can she talk like that? Sita's mother was annoyed and she hissed "Sita dont talk too much". Sita was even more irritated.

And by dinner time, everything was scattered. Sita was furious "How can they treat a girl like that, coming to a hotel room to see her and keep looking at her like she was a show piece! And don't talk to me about Ram. He cannot even communicate properly... and they were his parents! What a looser! " All Sita's mother had to tell her was that she had lost everything that she had gained. "His loss not mine!" she retorted.

Ravan - Their Ego, had 10 heads when the met each other. Kaushalya like Kaikeyi in Ramayan was an over protective mother. Suddenly she wasn't in favour of the alliance, especially since Sita spoke the way she did. Ravan (Ego) took over Ram too. "I came all the way only to meet Sita and this is what I hear?". Ego made Ram say a lot of nasty things to Sita. He began with laughing at the way she pronounced 'probably' and went on to call her moody, bossy and a lot of other things. And all the time she was silent just because "he came all the way for me!" By the time they left, Sita's dreams were blighted. What followed was obvious - they parted ways.

A few months later realising the she could not live without Ram, she mailed him explaining him what she went through the day she met. When he did not reply she called him up, but all she got back was "Sita, henceforth no mails, no phone calls." And since that day she kept her word respecting his decision. He had drawn the Laxman Rekha she would never cross.

Seven months later after meeting Sita, Ram got engaged. Two months later he got married. A week after Ram got married Sita donated blood "To do some good", but it was rejected since it was detected of HCV. She then went through a battery of tests a month later and was relieved to find 'HCV negative'. If only she knew how much she loved him then....she would have kept her principles and ego aside.... But Ravan (Ego) had harmed them beyond repair. And that was how they would live their lives. Ram lived happily with his wife while Sita continued to live in the lab.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1.5 years later when Sita first read in The Times of India Merrill Lynch was 'bailed out by the Bank of America' she dropped the copy of Current Science that she was reading, logged on to the internet and tried reading the Financial Times, but she could not access it and she eventually landed up paying for it. She read frantically. She logged on the Merrill Lynch website and wrote down their phone number. Wanting to talk to Ram she dialed the number... but then she stopped, turned around, with a tear in her eye she locked her room and prayed. She was not going to cross the line that he drew over a year back.... 'No mails, no phone calls', he had told her. She lived each day hoping he would cross the line he had drawn. But that was just another fantasy that would never happen, he was a married man now.

All Sita did, because she loved him unconditionally, was to sit and silently say a prayer that was passed on to her by her grandfather, knowing that she would get nothing in return.

All she wondered was "What next?"

Modern Ramayan - 2

2008-09-23T18:00:00.000+05:30

The far reaching effects of Merrill Lynch being lynched: I have to write the story differently now! This making my job difficult. Damn... the US financial crisis has changed my story line!! But that would be the next post....

So for now, here is Modern Ramayan Part - 2
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sita felt that the e-mails were taking her nowhere. She immediately mailed Ram her phone number and asked him to take some responsibility and call her up. On the other side of the globe, when Ram read her e-mail early in the morning and dialed her number immediately. He too was anxious to know Sita better. When they spoke, Sita realised that Ram was even more crazy that she thought he was. He told her that he wanted to teach his kids Ramayan and at that she burst out laughing and said "I would like to see that day". "Oh you will" he said.

But Sita was in a soup again! As per the norms of an arranged marriage, Sita should not have given Ram her number on her own. He should have requested his mother to ask Sita's mother to forward her phone number. Yeah, even in 2008 people follow these dumb rules! It was time again for Sita to think "If mom knows this...."! So madam seeks Ram's protection. She tells him "Hey, I cannot tell mom that I spoke to you. So can you please ask your mom to ask my mom my phone number." And dutifully, after speaking to Sita, Ram mails Kaushalya just as Sita had asked him to.

Sita always thought that Ram was too busy to call her. So she found a way out - missed calls! She gave missed calls every other day. And like a darling he called her back. And when she worked all night in the lab, they would mail each other throughout the night. Thus two months passed as though they were in Chitrakoot. And finally they decided that it was time to meet. He got the dates for his visa stamping. They would meet in ten days. They were elated and happiness had no boundaries. Kaushalya (Ram's mother) called Sita, so she could talk to her. Sita was so happy. Ram was happy too. She mailed Sita telling her that he had never been so eager to travel 18 hours before. He had taken enough troubles to get a date for his visa. appointment The visa office specifically asks for a cheque from HDFC bank. Which obviously was a problem for him. So he asked his cousin brother to do it for him. And when he spoke to his cousins, uncles and aunts, all he spoke of was Sita!

What they didn't realize was that Chitrakoot was not for a life time.

Soon Ravan was to enter their lives.

Modern Ramayan 1

2008-09-11T14:59:00.000+05:30

I was watching this on youtube, and I sat wondering what ramayan would be like if it was written in 2008.....

My version would be something like this:

Ram and Sita were introduced to each other by their mom's. Ram had studied in the IIT when he was in India. He went on to study Financial Engineering in the US, lets say Cornell. Sita had studied in Amchi Pune (that is becasuse I am familiar with Pune). When they met, Ram was working with Meryl Lynch and Sita was working as a researcher in the Indian Institute of Science (IISc). They began interacting the modern way - e-mails! She waited for 2 weeks from him to mail the first time. And in the interim, everyday his mother used to tell her mother that he is busy - it was his month end (he is in the financial sector remember!). Sita tried to glean as much as she could when the two mothers were frantically mailing each other. Aparantly, he is a devotee of Lord Krishna, he fasts once a month and expects his wife to do so. She liked him the moment she saw his photograph - 'I think he likes the colour black. The black leather jacket looks good on him.' It was the same thing on the other side. Much later he told her, 'I liked your snap in the saree especially with the gajara. Nice traditional look. I like that'.

And finally he did mail her. It was a formal e-mail, telling her that he had read all the e-mails that their mothers wrote to each other and yet he wanted to know her in her own words. Sita wrote back in a way that was true to her character - an informal, friendly e-mail. She said she thought he was on his way to the Himalayas, the amount he prays! And then she went on telling that her friends call her a bundle of energy. She went on to tell him how she wanted to be an architect but her mother put her foot down for her own reasons. He was impressed with what she had written so candidly.

And then there were no e-mails. Now , this troubled the girls mother....after all she had taken the bane of getting her daughter married upon her own shoulders. She had a talk with Sita. And Sita sits down to draft an e-mail to Ram. She writes:

"Hey Ram

How you doing? I was just talking to my mom and she was asking me why we haven't commnicated... Oh don't worry, I told her that since you have the IIT and Cornell attitute, which you will keep throwing and since I will keep throwing my IISc attitute... this thing will take us over a year to decide something!! She freaked out...b ut never mind that. "

She presses the button "Save"

But something is wrong.... She has 'sent' the mail instead of saving!!

Oops.... Dont you avoid public bloopers in arranged marriages???

Now Sita is in a mess...."If mom kows this.... I'm gonna be in a soup" she thought.

She now wrote another mail apologising for the mistake and explained that it was meant to be saved and sent the next time he wrote to her.

The next day she receives an e-mail from him...

"Sita,

I am sorry I was so formal with you the first time around. If anything, I had a good laugh sitting in my office the first thing in the morning. And hey, please don't take the IIT and Cornell against me! You dont have to send these mega mails to me every time. You can keep it short and sweet.

Cheers,

Ram"

Ah, now this is what I call ice-breaking mails.....

And this is how it all began with Ram and Sita in Modern Ramayan 1.

Tales from Nowhere

2008-09-07T20:48:00.000+05:30

I have changed the name. I removed "Ithaca", because i no longer believe in it

keep reading

Love

Shil

Anything for Modaks

2008-09-06T08:44:00.000+05:30

… And I mean it! Anything for modaks! And not just any modaks, it’s about those delicious ukadiche modaks. Even if it means asking my Prof “Sir, where can I buy ukadiche modaks in Ahmedabad?” He smiles and very sweetly says “For that you’ll have to come to my house.” Yippeeeeee….. That is exactly what I wanted! Ganpati Bappa Morya! Mangal Murti Morya! Being shameless has its own advantages eh?

It’s about the mathematical formula A=B, B=C therefore A=C. I love modaks. Bappa loves modaks. So I love Bappa. Huh? I don’t know why I just wrote this line. Whatever…

If there's a movie you should watch its Mumbai Meri Jaan. Unlike the many cliché-ridden movies of Mumbai blasts, this one is different. It’s about the life after blasts. How people are traumatized and how life is never the same. But that’s not why I ask you to see the movie. You should see it for the it ends. They leave the movie on a positive note, in spite of a gibe on the media. If anything, Kay Kay Menon and Irfan Khan never cease to amaze you. The scene where Irfan Khan tries to rid himself of the stink of richness with mud totally touches you. But I repeat, you got to see the movie for the way it ends.

Coming back to Bappa. I was at home when sir said the Aarti. The Khirapat was simply awesome. That apart I had this very awesome Maharashtrian lunch – batatyachi bhaji, koshimbir (jyachyat danacha koot hota!), and varan bhat. Ummm…. I am sure a lot of you are very jealous. That is partly why I am giving the details and the specifics. But there are a few side effects – like fever! Alas, my happiness is marred.

Anyways, for another few days….

Ganpati Bappa Morya! Mangal Murti Morya!

61 years and still counting

2008-08-15T07:28:00.003+05:30

"When Abhinav Bindra won India's 1st gold medal and the National Anthem was played did you get goose bums?" was the question someone asked me in the train yesterday (I was travelling home from A'bad yesterday). I could not answer the question honestly, primarily because I did not witness the event, but I am sure I would have felt the same. But that made me wonder, why is the older generation hell bent on pointing its fingers at the younger generation? Why do we always get to hear "Your generation....", I am sure you agree with me when I say its outright annoying. Goaded past endurance, I write this post on our 61st Independence Day.

61 years ago when the nation was born, bleeding with partition, and Nehru said "When the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom", ironically forgetting that at that hour, India was sleeping while the world was awake. Never mind the glitch. Now, I wonder how those million homeless from Punjab, Sindh and Bengal must have felt when they heard the lines of the national anthem for the first time.... "Punjab, Sindh, Gujarat, Maratha......... "? Homeless? Helpless? Never mind the helplessness. Nehru, in his long rule still perfected Democracy. He and his generation created India - the dams, the railways, the cities etc. At the same time, both he and his daughter perfected a corrupt system of bureaucracy, in the name of the poor - and we are still fighting its evils.

61 years of Independence and yet, we find ourselves incapable of fighting the evils of society. 61 years of Independence, 61 years of poverty, 61 years of caste system in an independent India, 44 years of economic fetters, 10 years of Blasts and we are still counting. Though, infant mortality has reduced, health and education (through the Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan) facilities have reached the interiors, the Mid-Day Meal Program (India's largest food distribution program for school children) has reached the interior villages, we have nurtured democracy and encouraged a plural society. This is an achievement in itself. Yet, India stands among the few countries in the world with highest maternal mortality (after Sub-Saharan Africa), we stand among the low ranking nations with respect to the Human Development Index only reiterated by the urban rural divide, we are still fighting terror in Kashmir, a large chunk of our child population is engaged in labour - on streets, in industries, in mills, in small scale factories. True famines are now a history and yet we find a large chunk of our population below poverty line (they earn less than a dollar a day) and do not get two square meals to eat. We are still a 1% economy. Alas...

We have no paeans to sing, only a tortuous roads to trudge. And while we carry on along the sinuous path, wondering whether the nuclear deal will pass, wondering whether there will be another dawn, like that of 1991, and whether success will finally dawn upon the ancient capital of Prithviraj. 'Our generation', for 'their' kind information is struggling, much more than them. We are often mired in between globalization, that urges us to take big strides, and a pathetically so-called socialist population policy that nips us often before we even get an opportunity. We are struggling between equity and equality - most politicians would mix up the two.

To those who say 'Your generation....', with effrontery I remind them that a lot of everything I just wrote is inherited from them itself, like palimpsest, layers and layers of deposits one generation after another. Every generation trying to correct the mistakes of the previous. Sure, it is a difficult task. And although I am not a great fan of Nehru, I'd end with what Nehru said 61 years ago -

"The future is not one of ease or resting but of incessant striving, so that one day we may fulfil the pledges we have so often taken..."

Happy Independence Day!

Jai Hind!

What makes me 'me'

2008-08-08T09:16:00.000+05:30

I’ve been wondering what makes me me. And while I was traveling down the memory lane I found a few things a few people told me that have shaped me in a number of ways. So I thought I’d just pen a few of the lines that I remember, although, I haven’t written who said it. I prefer to keep it to myself.

“Hope is a very bad thing, remove every bit of it.”

“There is light at the end of the tunnel.”

“Friendship is the best thing in the world.”

“Faith and hope is the worst combination you can ever have, I am happy because I have neither.”

“Har kutte ke din hote hai…yaar hum toh fir bhi insan hai…”

“Friendship is the best thing in the world.”

“Our days will come soon. And when do, there will be a bang, just like the one that probably happened during the Big Bang.”

“Whatever doesn’t destroy me makes me stronger. And whatever does (destroy me) helps me start afresh.”

“Only you have the power to make you happy/unhappy; no one else can.”

“Life is like a sine wave, after a trough, there will be a high, but then again, rest assured you are going down again.”

“If you want to know the true nature of a person, talk to his/her maid about him/her, you’ll know what he/she is – truly.” (And my mom says this!)

“Add some colour to life.”

“When you are walking on life’s road, you meet a lot of people. Don’t think about what people will talk about you because those who know you truly wont talk, and those that don’t always will.”

“A good man is as strong as the right woman needs him to be.” (This is actually a line from Shantaram, reiterated by a friend bringing the line back to my notice.)

“Never compromise on food.” (That’s my dad.)

“I don’t mind you spending on books; glean as much as you can from books, the knowledge thus gathered will remain with you – forever.” (My mom again)

“Humara number aayega!” (And that’s my best bud!)

“There are many ways of communicating.”

“Life is colourfull honey!”

"No one is perfect, you have to take the bane upon your shoulders to make that imperfect person perfect."

Generally blogging

2008-07-31T07:05:00.000+05:30

Yes, I know I've been absconding for a while now. But there were so many things happening around me and I just could not help it. I know I got a lot of scraps on orkut asking me why I haven't written anything as yet and I conveniently deleted them from my scrapbook. And for those who scraped me about my wedding, please spare me, I am not committed to anyone and I do not plan to marry so soon. I deleted those scraps too.

I have nothing special to write actually. I went to the the great SBI Bank near my house today. The person who was printing the pass book was using his middle finger to type. God alone knows why. I mean why the middle finger to type? Wanting to know what is so special about it, I tried to type a few words myself the same way. Trust me, its hilarious!! That actually reminded me of Gaurav playing the game snakes on the cell phone. He plays it with one hand only!! Somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered Jim trying to teach him to use both his hands to play the game!! GOD!!

I just came back from my native place. I like to go when it rains there. Its fantastic. I've got to go back to Ahmedabad. I don't want to. But I have to. But don't be surprised if I quit in a week. I don't want to stay there. It brings a lot of memories to me.

My friends want me to see "Jaane tu ya jaane na". But I don't want to. One of the actors reminds me of a 'friend' of mine. 'Friend' because we no longer talk. And seeing that movie will remind me of all the stupid things we have done together. Its painful. Very painful. Especially since we parted without fighting. And yet there is still a lot of venom inside. No not venom, may be just pain. I don't know. I am not sure.

I had broken my chain, my 16th Birthday gift, sometime in March, March end actually. This time when I was in my native place. My family goldsmith repaired it for me. And it is with me now - again. That makes me smile. I just hope that all that was rent, is repaired and healed. I hope everything I ever lost comes back to me.

God I have to go to Ahmedabad. I don't want to go to Ahmedabad.

Ah, btw, I am allowing all those who have a Google account to post comments. That way a lot of my friends who don't blog can still comment.

Thanks for reading this trash.

Its Raining Men!

2008-06-06T10:19:00.000+05:30

There is no one that I know who is not attracted by the sibilant music of the first rain. There are a million thoughts impetuously gushing with the rains. The feeling is tantalising. The first thing I do is rush to open my window to let me enjoy the water splashing on my palm. I then almost run to my laptop attach my external drive and listen - to Garwa. No words can describe the feeling, you have to do this yourself to know what it feels like.

The orioles of the parched lands are effusing the heat trapped in them. The smell of the of the wet sand after the first rain intoxicates you - especially when you think that the petrified, ossified surroundings are here to stay. And then the trees sway to the tunes of the rains, the little birdies on the trees are flapping their wet wings merrily and I am standing by my window in my room smiling truly. Such is the welcome that the first deluge receives.

In the background I hear

"...पहिले तळहात पहिला प्रेम

पहिल्या सरीच ते पहिलच थेंब

पहिलाच पाउस पहिलीच आठवण..."

It is almost two years now since I have enjoyed this. Two years back I was in Bangalore and it did not rain there then, I remember. Then of course, last year I was in Ahmedabad. Hmmm... some time it was! Dry, parched, barren.... The sparse rains did not soothe me. All that was in store for me were the heat waves, the scorching sun, the dry leaves, the dust and desert sand and the hard water. For the first time since I am since I am back home my mind goes back to Ahmedabad. Although I miss the peacocks dance, the reminiscent Ahmedabad no longer hurts. The rains, I now I think of it, are here to soothe the thirst.

Suddenly another song is being played in the background, another one of my favourites...

"खुशियौ की कोशिश मे

हर दिन दर्द झमेला है

बातों को टीम टीम करने दो

वह अँधेरा है..."

Soon grass will grow on defiant lands. A viridescent hue will spread across the landscape. The panorama to be etched on my retina.

Says who I am in Pune?

I am in Phonexia!

Alias...

2008-05-30T07:10:00.000+05:30

While a lot of unpublished posts waiting to see the light of the day, I thought this was more important. I used the pseudonym Sakshi, not because I belong to the credo of Saki and likes, but primarily because the name/word 'Sakshi' means 'a witness'. Being trained in Anthropology, one cannot but jibe that the name is apt; what will all the participant and non participant observation that an anthropologist relies on. An ethnographer by the rulebook writes a log, an account of his daily dealings with people - what he sees, what he feels, what happened, how it happened, why it happened etc. Analysis, I believe begins with reflection. That is what I intend to do here - to reflect. Call me an immature ethnographer, writing a log of what happens around me, what I see, what I feel; as a person, as a researcher or whatever. And one day, I hope, to gather these thoughts and garnish them with years of experience - you never know....

I was talking/chatting to my alter ego, Nivedita - fondly called as Nivi, the other day. And I told her that I blog. Here is what she had to say:

nivi: ab tum batao itne der tak tum kya kar rahi ho online?
nivi: dinner kiya?
SRM: was blogging
SRM: or at least trying to write something
[and I shared the blog link]

[The 1st question she asked was:]

nivi: who is sakshi?
SRM: me
nivi: why sakshi?
SRM: i put that since i did not want to disclose my real identity
SRM: plus like i have written there
SRM: i really like that name
SRM: that means a witness
nivi: well hindi to ati hai
nivi: but ok
nivi: reason bhi theek thak hai
nivi: but sakshi
nivi: is not real na
SRM: toh kya 'kali mata' likhu?
nivi: :))
nivi: okok
nivi: likh
nivi: SAKSHI
SRM: what do u suggest?
nivi: but yes they look impressive
nivi: well i do not see a reason you should write anything other than SHILPA
nivi: its a very very beautiful name with a very sophisticated meaning

SRM: (SRM) is there
nivi: i know
nivi: i did see
nivi: but when u doing something so remarkable, why not take the ownership?
nivi: u must not be apprehensive and certainly not embarrassed
nivi: which i know u are not
SRM: yeah
nivi: anyways take your time
SRM: i will think about it
nivi: but give urself the opportunity to take credit for the good you are doing
SRM: i dont kno how good it is ok
SRM: n no i am not trying to be modest
nivi_bhawani: sweety....life is so busy for everyone, but there are few who stop to ponder over what s happening and still fewer who express and only a handful who share those thoughts.......
SRM: okkkk
nivi: so u certainly are doing a good job expressing

Well, Nivi, if you are reading this, this is for you: Thanks a ton for making me realise this. I owe this one to you. Obviously, I had left unmistakable signs of my writings on the blog - very subtly disclosing who I am, to those that know me then be it writing 'shilsworld' in that tiny little space in the left hand corner of the photograph, or writing that I am both a trained Microbiologist and Anthropologist. Yet, hiding my identity was not much of a use, especially with my buds getting confused! Or writing a comment that begins thus: "Hey Shil/Shilpa..."! I decided it was not much of a use anyways.

So here I go about telling people my real name. SRM stands for my name, Shilpa Ramesh Maiya. I own and am responsible for everything I have written here. And I believe in everything I write here. Those that know me, know that I am passionate about writing as much as I am about reading. Those that know me even better know that the name 'Sakshi' is even special to me - in a zillion little ways.

So, do I delete my pseudonym?

I decided against it - I like it a bit too much.

For now, I am sure my friends will welcome me to the 'real world!'

Lost and Found

2008-05-11T11:41:00.000+05:30

I was looking at all the things I’ve ever written. I found I had scribbled this when I was in school. Thought I’d put it here.

And even when a dear one,
Is taken from your sight,
And sorrow casts its shadow,
Across the golden light.
There comes a sweet assurance,
That love can never die,
For ends are new beginnings,
And this is not goodbye

Sakshi (SRM)

Into Nothingness

2008-05-02T13:05:00.000+05:30

Its been about 20 days now that I quit Ahmedabad and I am home. And I am bombarded with a zillion questions:
So, why did you quit such a good job?
Oh, well just this and that...
Didn't you like what you were doing?
No, I loved it.... I mean how many at my age worked on policy making?
And what are you doing?
Recuperating...
From what?
Oh, umm.. a lot of things...
And how are you keeping yourself busy, apart from recuperating of course?
Oh, keeping up with my routine early morning walks, I read, I write and yes I've given my time to Sabery, a PhD student here in my Department, I'm helping him write his PhD thesis. He is from Iran and his 'Eenglish' is not very good. I am editing his thesis (alas, I am not gonna get the degree!!). Apart from that I am very busy trying to be a good girl. That really takes up most of my time. I am cooking here (believe it or not - daily!!) trying to do the house chores, and mind you - I am still a novice at it! And a lot of other just this's and that's.
So how is life treating you?
Life always rocked me!! (pun intended!!) Life rocks!!
And what are your plans next?
Oh, apart from recuperating you mean?
Yes....
Pampering myself!!
Huh?
Ok, apart from pampering yourself?
A little bit of bumming around...if you know what I mean... and a little bit of this and that...
Finding another job?
MAD-O-WHAT???
So how do you feel about you current endeavor?
Fantastic!!Can you see my smile extend from one ear ot another?

Congratulations Haneef!

2008-04-22T18:57:00.000+05:30

For, those of you how know Haneef, bingo; you know who I am going to talk of! Haneef Lakdawala, is the head of an NGO Sanchetna (I mentioned here albeit in a different context) in Ahmedabad. If it still did not click, Haneef is the winner of the CNN-IBN Relience Real Heroes Award. When I was watching the award function on television a few days back, I jumped with joy, and found myself telling my dad like a small kid, “I know him, he is Mr. Haneef dad, I met him just last month while I was visiting his organization for work!”

He was just Haneef to me when I met him. I have traveled excessively on account of work, visited so many NGOs and met so many people. And then, he was just another person that I was bound that I was bound to forget. But this was different – today, to me, he is somebody more than the man who runs Sanchetna. It is different since his work has today reached every household in the country, thanks to the well deserved accolades he won at the award function. Having been felicitated like that, mind you, is something!

I thought I’d write more about Haneef and the organization that he runs – Sanchetna – one of the respected NGOs in Ahmedabad. Sanchetna, is a small organization that works in riot hit parts of Ahmedabad. For those who are uninformed; after the 2002 riots, when homes were reduced to ashes and people lived in fear without a home or an iota of hope they formed new colonies – illegal slums! These slums were new then, just land on the outskirts of Ahmedabad – no public facilities were available, no doctors with probably only charlatans at their disposal, with their ration cards cindered – no food security – in fact they were no longer legal citizens! Then builders came in, built small homes and rented it to them – a debt! And mind you, this was the story on both the sides. Haneef works in such riot hit slums and through his community workers he helps them get public health facilities that they are entitled to. And for communal harmony – Hindu Muslim cricket clubs!

For sanguine seekers like me, Haneef is a hope in an otherwise depressing, often frustrating field of Development. A hope that ones work is recognized. A hope that there is now one organization less that will say ‘perpetual penury mam’. A hope tomorrow will be better in spite of the odds – somewhere. My rationale for this – seeing Haneef receive the prize, made me believe that the award was actually given out to those that deserve. And when I saw the other awardees my belief in the sincerity of the CNN-IBN’s efforts amplified. And for this I salute, both to the awardees and to CNN-IBN. Somewhere at the back of my mind I can hear Martin Luther King:

“If you can’t fly, run. If you can’t run, walk. If you can’t walk, crawl. But whatever you do, keep on moving towards your goal.”

Here are some photographs of my visit

Haneef talking to Dan and Beth from the Gates Foundation

Haneef with his team - Sanchetna

Bombay Hotel Slum

And then I remember what we used to recite (or rather forced to…) in school
Little drops of water
Little grains of sand
Make the mighty ocean
And the pleasant land
W H Longfellow

On the Streets

2008-04-22T09:54:00.000+05:30

I always asked him to take me around if he was free. He knows all the places that I go to esp. work related. When I was new to Ahmedabad, and I had to go the Ahmedabad Municipal Corporation (AMC) for the first time alone, I had asked him. When my ex-colleague Amit and I had to visit the Urban Health Center we used to ask him to escort us. I remember Amit wanted me to taste the 'maska bun' near the CEPT campus, which indeed turned out to be excellent and reminded me of the 'maska bun' back home at Cafe Good Luck at Good Luck Chowk on F.C Road....hmmm... But that apart. I remember we treated him then. He was our rickshaw driver - Jitu Bhai!

A zillion things that can happen while you are traveling, but seriously, have you ever been treated by a rickshaw driver? Yeah, that is what Jitu Bhai did the other day. After a long time, I had to visit the NGO, and all I remembered was the location - Fatepura, nothing more. I was at my wits end trying to remember more. Thankfully, for me, Jitu Bhai was in his rickshaw outside the campus. He knew the place very well and undoubtedly took me to the place safely. After about an hour, when I was returning, I stopped to have pakoda's at one of the famous places. And as usual offered him some too. Initial protests gave way to acceptance after persistent pleading. And then suddenly he says "Madam aap chai pioge?". That actually made me say "...huh?". He repeated his question and added "campus ke paas bohut achi chai milti hai". And after considering for a while I conceded to his wishes. Not that I am a chai lover, in fact my friends will second me when I say I hardly ever have tea. But this was different. I knew he would treat me and I wanted to respect that. Respecting other people is important not just to tell them that they are important but more so to tell them that you respect them - as whoever they are. And I knew that treating me with chai was his own little way of giving me back and I could not overlook that. For years now I believed in the principle of 'Dignity of Labour' and I had to reciprocate back in some way.

He did not let me get down from the rickshaw - served me hot sweet 'adrakwali special' chai which i am sure he would not have had otherwise and we left after having chai. On the streets of Ahmedabad, Jitu Bhai's gesture had touched me deep inside. When I walked through the gates of my room - I smiled; truely!

Odds and Ends

2008-03-31T12:35:00.000+05:30

The world of DEVELOPMENT can get confusing at times. With so much happening at the peripheries, it sometimes takes a lot of you to just sit down and note a remarkable day. The plethora of these 'happenings' never cease to give you new insights, especially if you are the one working for the development at those margins where even a small change matters. At times you turn a blind eye to most things since you are often in the same rut.

Being the last remnant of the Urban Health Project I was to accompany my Professors while they entertained Dan and Beth, visitors from Gates Foundation on the 18th of this month. We had chalked out a visit to the Urban Health Center (UHC) and then to a slum in Ahmedabad called Bombay Hotel Slum where an NGO called Sanchetna. After this we planned to visit the Deputy Commissioner Health.

I will take you through the day some other time, but as a Medical Anthropologist (or at least someone who hopes to be one), there were some very important learnings that I carried back with me. And I fear to loose them if I don't pen them down.

Dan informed me that the Gates Foundation is to fund for Safe Motherhood Programs in India. And as we were talking he revealed that usually there are two types of models that you see in the field, one is the public private partnership model like the Chiranjeevi Scheme in Gujarat, the other is the most common grass root model of community mobilization. Now as donors the first model is more cost effective. Now this I realized is donor's perspective. He was right in some ways about the broad two models that exist in the field. But the donor's perspective I realized is an important learning when you have to market ideas. And since I am working on health policies, I know how important it is to sell ideas, and sell it well.

I kept thinking on this donor's perspective. And later discussed it with my Prof. I was relating to Deborah Maine 's talk in the institute on "Bridges of Paper Bridges of Steel" where she is of the opinion to build as many EmOC centers in the country to mobilize women directly to these service centers - her argument - instead of pushing women the rote way - from mid-levels to PHC's to CHC's to EmOC's 'why not get them directly to the EmOc's?'. That is really a point put forward well. The question I asked my Prof. was "How many donors are buying this idea?" Here is what he said, to quote him "Not many, you see donors also have their own agenda, their own philosophy. For e.g. UNICEF always looks at community participation. They believe in community mobilization. So they will never buy this idea." Yes, I had to agree to that. For instance children are UNICEF's bread and butter, UNFPA will always talk of gender perspectives etc. And yes, since I did my internship with UNICEF India, I have to agree with him when he says that UNICEF believes in community participation since it is at the crux of almost all their programs and projects.

What now happens at various peripheries is that programs become donor centric - you have either a community based model or a 'building model' (as I like to call it!) - since the implementers are funded by donors who are believers of one of the two broad models. The problem with the implementers is that most of them rely only on one donor. Here is something that most of us HAVE to agree, whether we like it or not - 'implementation TERRITORIES'.

Most commoners I meet talk about the way things function in the country, throw brickbats - not really knowing what hits us really. There is no dearth of ideas for sure... but with so many things affecting the odds and ends that really matter.....

BANG! need I tell more?

This happens only in India!

2008-03-12T14:54:00.000+05:30

I am not supposed to really give you this kind of 'classified' information. But sometimes I really wonder if anyone reads this blog. But anyways, one day if at all I become this renowned researcher that I aim to be, this will help me keep a track of things, of everything I ever heard in the zillion meetings that I attended.

So, here is the Golden Knot!

Now all know that the World Bank funds a number of projects in a number of countries. To fund any project in any country, the norm is that the country submits a proposal on the basis of which funds are allocated.

Now, for some work, my Professor was looking for a proposal that the Government of India had submitted to the World Bank for funds. And, it is not traceable at both the ends! God, imagine that! And considering I know my Prof. well. I know he would not have said that unless he would have tried all known sources.

I imagine it is there somewhere in some stack that probably looks like this:

Caution: You may take this with a pinch of salt if you wish!

Two things following me

2008-03-05T09:58:00.000+05:30

There are two things that have been following me for some time now.

1. The word ITHACA. No, seriously. sometime back I read a book and so overwhelmed I was that I named my blog Ithaca. But seriously, its getting a bit too much now. I was surfing the internet a couple of days back and found myself looking at the University of Cornell Ithaca Campus. Hmpf! Didn't know there was Ithaca City in the US! Anyways, I am sure there are lots of Washington's in the US too. So that didn't bother me as much. But seriously, yesterday I was reading a paper on policy making from my favorite journal The Lancet and as usual I was going through the list of References. And there you go - Ithaca!! No ways, someone please save me! What's it with Ithaca?

2. For the past two years I have been bumping into cancer afflicted individuals. A few days back, my friend tells me his brother is now a cancer patient - Hodgkin's Disease. He wanted some help - since he has always known of my involvement with cancer patients. That made me decide the need to write on cancer and cancer afflicted individuals that I have come across for the past two years. So a few of my blogs will feature that henceforth.

The second is well reasoned and easy to slove. But the first? Any suggestions there?

Walkin on the streets I found this

2008-03-02T05:20:00.000+05:30

... sure I do!

Will this ever happen in India?

2008-02-28T12:04:00.000+05:30

I'm a bit late with this post, but never mind...

Here is a list of articles that I found in one of the leading Journal in medicine "The Lancet" has published

1. The Democrats' turn to lead.
- Published in 2006, the paper talks of the Democrats Health care initiatives such as offering tax credits and about the negotiations of drug prices with pharmaceutical companies etc.

2. Democratic victory could fire up health policy debates
- Published in 2006, the paper talks of issues the author hopes will be addressed by the U. S Congress like the expansion of stem cell research, pharmaceutical drug pricing, and health information technology.

I wonder, when we will ever have such debates and discussions? All we do during election season is talk about "Modi's diversionary politics", "Sonia Gandhi accused Modi..." and the likes.

Thankfully people do write about this too

3. India's health sector responds to new corruption charges

- Published in 2008, the article discusses how a World Bank investigation uncovered fraud and corruption in five of its Indian health projects. The World Bank found that many of the corrupt practices were related to procurement and included bid-rigging, bid manipulation, and bribery. Action taken was that GOI will now include the UN Office for Project Services for procurement for World Bank-funded health projects and a promise to strengthen transparency through the Right to Information Act.

Alas, the authors are not Indian's! (Let me point out here that I have not read the 3rd article completely, since the paper is not yet online. But that does not matter now. )

Though the third article is no big news (for most Indians and me, especially since I have a had long discussions on the disappearance of IFA tablets during RCH I), the point still remains: there are people out there who care about these things.

However, 'mundane' these issues might be, the erudite world still bothers. During the RCH I, everybody in the health sector spoke of the unavailability of the IFA tablets, but nobody, mind you, nobody bothered to write even a page on it (not that I know of at least). Alas!

And in the research world, people crib - "We don't have enough publications!"

Are we lazy?

No. I think not. We just dont know that every small issue is a matter important enough to be published and discussed.

Struggling to find time

2008-02-22T11:04:00.000+05:30

All the time in the world and not a nanosecond to spare!

I've been working even on weekends since the last two weeks, analysing (or at least trying to analyse) data. Alas, the data is not as simple as one would think. Numbers are easy to analyse, but words...? I have been trying to analyse some interviews, and you have to trust me when I say that it is no simple undemanding task. These interviews lasted for an average of an hour and half which means the transcripts and an average 25 pages long. Reading one transcript (sincerely and critically) takes an average two hours. But analysing such 7 transcripts? Phew...

Tell me tell you what analysing means. Analysing reading and re-reading the transcripts thoroughly, putting the issues raised in several boxes, shifting to and fro between each respondent on each of the topics, then re-reading it all again so that you do not miss out an important link, then start writing (typing) each of these neatly.

And once you write, the Prof will say; "How about looking at the issue in this way". Huh?

All the weeks work goes down the drain.

Thank God, he gave man the brains to invent the Computer. Thank God someone had the brains to come up with WORD. And above all, thank God someone came up with QSR7 Nvivo! Else where would I be.... finding my way in the labyrinth of data!

Urico-tale-ic

2008-02-06T13:46:00.000+05:30

Very often I find myself leaving my room half an hour before so I can walk down to office. Today was one such auspicious occasion. There were thoughts buzzing like bees around me. I was thinking about the days work. About those transcripts that were waiting for me. I had to call my mother. I had to mail a friend. If anyone could see these thoughts they probably would see a hallow around me that would make me look like a savant. That apart, I was wearing this bright yellow and red shirt that read ‘Hare Ram Hare Krishna’. I was in bright spirits when suddenly ‘phat’! Some bird peed on me! Oh sheesh…

I tried tidying it up using the perfect paraphernalia - a dry leaf. It was perfect because it would not really spoil any more of my belongings. I mean, for Pete’s sake, wasn’t my shirt was enough! I sat all day, grumbling about it, trying to do my work, cribbing again about the birds, trying to concentrate… All in all I was touchy the whole day especially with the smell of urea, albeit a different one.

By noon my colleagues were tired of my constant bickering. And suddenly, Neha tells me “Hey you know it’s a sign of luck? Something really good is going to happen.” Really! I wanted to ask her who is the lucky one, me or Lord Rama since I was wearing a shirt that had his incantations. And if it was Lord Rama, I am sure he didn’t need any. But I chose to leave it at that and said nothing. And then Dipti says, “Was it a crow?” Huh? Isn’t a ‘bird’ enough? I just say “I don’t know and I don’t care”. “Because the crow is the luckiest” she tells me. Now, the discussion was getting to sacrosanct for me to tolerate…. And quiet honestly, if I wanted even an iota of luck, I would stand under the trees day in and day out and wait for the birds to pee on me!

Just then Lady Luck came calling, “Did you finish the transcript?” my boss had called up.

“Sir, I did about 40 minutes and I am left with another 30 minutes or so.” I answer knowing that I am lying through my teeth. I had finished 27 minutes of transcription and still had lots more to do.

“Can you finish it by today?” he asked.

“Umm…I’ll try, but I am sure I will comfortably finish it off by tomorrow evening.” I find myself lying even more.

I walked out for some fresh air.

The sky suddenly turned acid green. And in the uricotelic environs, I was pealing more onions.

Mirkwood was smiling...

Track Changes

2008-01-25T12:36:00.000+05:30

The compartment was S4. One of the most 'heavenly' compartments that I ever got into till date, of course, during one of those many trips from Pune to Ahmedabad. And heavenly it was, since the compartment was just next to the pantry with two loo's standing sentinel between the pantry and the compartment. I was...well...the 'Sauchalay Dwarpal' so to say!

It was thanks to Ram Singhji, my agent, who did not book my tickets in time that I was travelling without a confirmed ticket: Waiting list 3! S4 was the compartment that the TC would board, I was told. I was trying my luck. And considering I have tried my luck many times, this was just another small exercise. There were two other guys with me, both of them travelling to Ahmedabad. There was another very Maharashtrian couple. The man had worn a 'dhotar' and the woman was wearing a 'navwari'. The guys were staring at me, awed that I was travelling without a ticket, I guess. I couldn’t care less. I had to go. There was no second thought on that. I have a job, I am answerable to someone and I am responsible. I just had to go.

I bid farewell to my mother who almost had tears in her eyes, seeing the way her pampered kid had decided to travel. I settled myself by the sink when the train started and waited for His Excellency, the TC, to come. In the meanwhile, the Maharashtrian lady opened her bag, and began eating roasted groundnuts. Her husband suddenly got up, went to the sink, and spat. There was this sincere flow of red liquid... paan, I thought. Ah, how I always despised that. After five minutes or so, he got up again, to pour out another sincere flow of that red liquid. He thus earned the name ‘The Spitoon’!

An hour later His Highness came. I showed him my ticket and asked him in Marathi if I would get a seat. And he replied, in this heavily Marathi accented English “Madam. If I find a seat available, I will definitely help you”. Huh? Didn’t I ask in shudha Puneri Marathi? But before I could ask anything else, he was off. I settled down on my knapsack doing nothing, watching the people enter and leave the loo and looking outside staring into total darkness.

Sitting there by the aroma of the loo, by the soot and the vapour of the pantry, a gazillion thoughts were buzzing in and out of that not so idiot box up there. The song of the moment was one that Paul and Art have been singing since 1966, I think. The way they go hmmm….hmmm…homeward bound! It was just stuck in my head. It made me think of Ithaca. Ithaca, home, home, Ithaca…. home is where the heart is... Ithaca is more like your destination, the final destiny. The final destiny is what the heart yearns for. Then Ithaca is your home! I looked at the tracks, not really knowing where they were going or taking you, so to say. But I knew where I was heading. I was on my way to Ahmedabad. And yet, yet I didn’t know where the tracks were taking me. I mused over it for a while. I also knew some of the stops. Lonavala – Khandala - Karjat so on and so forth. But I still didn’t know where there tracks were moving. Sometime changing. But moving steady towards Ahmedabad. I knew it. And yet I was uneasy about the tracks. I was uneasy about those tracks because I didn’t know every square inch of the land that the tracks covered. If a frequent traveller like me felt that, I wondered what a first timer would feel. And most often, the journey to Ithaca is always the first. I thought what would happen if the train derailed. I mean, wouldn’t that mean a permanent damage to your journey to Ithaca? Now that was a scary thought.

And with so many thoughts buzzing, I lost count of how many people had used the loo, of the number of times The Spitoon got up to clean his mouth, of the amount of groundnuts his wife ate, or how many people came to wash their hands in the sink. By then I was inured to the number of cockroaches that were out on their mid night stroll and the nice, well fed, fluffy rats that would have made nice pets had they been soft toys! I learnt to shut my eyes to the illusions of those rats and cockroaches popping out of the rim of my folded jeans and then I drifted into a not so pleasant slumber.

Suddenly I felt a droplet on my face and I woke up with a start. Oh sheesh, someone dropped water on me while washing their hands! I tried to close my eyes again, but to no avail. Nidradevi had turned her back on me and so I began reading Shantaram. It was around 11 pm when I must have finished reading part one of the book. A young fair boy, a Bori I guessed, then came to wash his hands. I told him earnestly, “can you do me a favour please, please don’t sprinkle water over here after washing your hands”, “No I wont do that” he said. And I don’t know, out of pity for a girl, who looks half her age, he asked me where I was going. “Ahmedabad” I told him. He left leaving me on my knapsack. At around 12 he came back and told me that they had bought a seat from the TC. Aah….the man who told me he would help me SOLD a ticket that could have been mine! Anyways, he told me that I could have that seat and pay him Rs. 100. I jumped on the opportunity and paid to sleep for another six hours of my journey.

And when I got up at six in the morning, these words that I read were ringing my ears…

“Many centuries ago, a poet described the wanderings of a man named Ulysses on his way back to the island of Ithaca, where his beloved awaits him. He confronts many perils, from sand storms to the temptations of comfort. At one point, in a cave, he encounters a monster with only one eye. The monster asks hi his name. “Nobody”, says Ulysses. They fight and he manages to pierce the monsters eye with his sword and manages to seal the mouth of the cave. The monsters companions hear his cries and rush to help him. Seeing a rock covering the mouth of the cave, they ask who is with him. “Nobody! Nobody!” replies the monster. His companions leave and Ulysses continues his journey back to the woman who waits for him.”

Such is the story of Ulysses, the King of Ithaca, who had to burry his identity to be ‘Nobody’, so he could meet his beloved. Such is the journey of Ithaca that he had to loose his last identity, his name, his ego, so he could meet Penelope. My journey, Ithaca, the railway tracks, home, my destiny, and the one percent probability of being derailed from it all filled the void of my many thoughts. The journey to Ithaca leaves you in nothing but ashes, it flushes the bad, it leaves you with the good, it teaches you to endure pain, it moulds you. And in the end, I realised that sitting by the pantry and the loo, that my journey moulded me to look at the brighter side of life. I did what a lot of my friends never did, apart from the fact that I did what a lot of guys have not done. It taught me to stand tall in spite of the difficulties, to endure pain and to look at the fact that tomorrow I can do the same again, be it Ithaca or Ahmedabad or some other place. It made me stronger. It taught me that you are not derailed for life. You just stand still at a point, at those stops. And even if you dont know where you are going on those tracks, you are still moving towards your destiny. At that point, I could sing to Ithaca John Denver’s I’m bringing me home to you.

The tracks changed. Ahmedabad came. I got down at the platform only to find the TC waiting at the entrance. I showed my ticket. He looked up and stared… I wondered why. He gave me my ticket back. There it was written in hand “Waiting List 3”!

I smiled and moved on…. “Still waiting dude”!

...Knitting Words

2008-01-06T18:01:00.000+05:30

I was looking through Life's latticed windows yesterday and memories were flashing by like a film on fast-tracks. I saw myself growing up: fighting with my sister, hugging my mom, arguing my point, laughing with my friends over a cup of coffee, giving missed calls, walking on the white beach sand with a friend, understanding a lot of thing through a few tacit words.... And then I looked at the words I had written a few weeks back....
I am hurt
I am pained
I am cindered
I am slain.
- SRM (Sakshi)
It seemed so complete then. And as I looked at it yesterday, as memories were flashing past, through smiles and tears, I somehow thought that those were still hollow. I thought of something and added another line. It now reads:
I am hurt
I am pained
I am cindered
I am slain
I am healed.
- SRM (Sakshi)
When I re-read these lines I was dumstruck.I was awed not by what I had written, but by the twist in the meaning of what I had written. I've always liked to read and write since a child. But I never thought of words as I did right then. Have you ever thought of how letters are embroidered into words, texts, passages and the finally pages and books? And knitting those words isn't simple. Really, i am quite astound. Adding a line changed a lot in what I wrote. And those very words give meaning to your life. If you are an avid reader you would know what I mean. Being one myself, books gave me a lot.

When I was doing my thesis; I had the most difficult time, I re-read the book, 'Jonathan Livingston Seagull' and it gave new meaning to my quest for knowledge. There was another time; the lowest in my life; when I read 'The Zahir', and it pulled me out of whatever I was going through. And what were these? In reality, they were nothing but mere words nestled in those pages, passages, texts and lines. Somewhere between those lines, sometimes, you find a time to rend and a time to sew. Sometimes, you find a new meaning to life. Sometimes a wake up call. Sometimes a helping hand. And sometimes just plain knowledge. Those words never leave you empty, that is for sure. And then I remember these words, I dont know who wrote them, but yes, they are full of meaning:

"Whenever the casual eyes are cast
The mighty minds of old
My never failing friends are they
With whom I converse day by day"

Some more from Shantarm

2008-01-03T10:48:00.000+05:30

I cant stop reading this book. There are so many little passages and sentences that i love in this book. Here they are:

"Sometimes we love with nothing more than hope. Sometimes we cry with everything but tears. In the end that's all there is: Love and its duty, sorrow and its truth. In the end that's all we have- to hold on tight until the dawn."

"I don't know what frightens me more: The power that crushes us or our endless ability to endure it."

"Some of the worst wrongs, were caused by the people who tried to change things."

Amen.

Casual Meanderings

2008-01-01T09:19:00.000+05:30

This is what i read yesterday;

"Suffering comes from the place where love, freedom and pride are born."
- From the book: Shantaram

Now isn't that something!

Missed Calls

2007-12-31T13:27:00.000+05:30

Like every Sunday I am having my favorite coffee: Devil’s Own at my favorite coffee joint Café Coffee Day or CCD as most of us call it. It’s a perfect blend of bitter coffee and sweet chocolate with whipped cream; the way I like coffee best, bitter-sweet! I was doing what I always do when I have my coffee: reading. Only this time I was reading Shantaram. Anyways, there was this group of young girls talking in Gujarati. One of them was telling the other in rapid Gujarati “Hey, I gave you a missed call. Your mistake you didn’t realize it.”

Ah, missed calls! When I was in college, I didn’t have a cell simply because I wanted a cell only after I started earning. Then these were the conversations:

“Hey Rohan, give me a missed call when you reach the station I’ll come to pick you up.”

“Pooja, I’ll give you a missed call when I leave home for college.”

“Aga Sulbha, Aditya will give you a missed call on your cell. And when he does do tell me. I’ll have to go and meet him.”

“Hey sorry yaar, I didn’t see your missed call. I didn’t realize that I have to come.”

“Gaurav, if Mandke Sir comes, give me a missed call. I won’t enter the class.”

“Once you reach, give me a missed call.”

Gosh! The list is just endless! And the conversations were stupid! And then during exam times there were these frantic messages:

During Demography paper:
“Hey, who cares what the definition of fertility or fecundity is? What if I define them as: fertility is the product of fecundity (capacity honey!!) Ha ha ha. Crapy man!”

“Who cares who started the census, Greeks or non Greeks, Ashoka or the Brit’s? Did you realise they have eaten up one hour of my study time!”

At 3 am: “Hey I am sleeping now I am really tired. Kal jo hoga who dekha jayega! Ram Rahim bachaye!”

During Archeology paper:
“Arey I am just reading man. Going crazy. Have you realized that everyone had broad jaws, robust body etc etc…. ”

“Mesolithic tools were a lot of nonsense. Chalcolithic tools were even bakwas. See I’ve already forgotten. Wonder how I am going to pass.”

“Saw Harappa in my two hour sleep yaar!”

Theory of Social and Cultural Anthropology:
“Arey, anyone has notes for this subject? I’ll come over and collect it and photocopy it right away.”

“Definition of Culture: Culture….hmmm…I know its spelling!”

“Theory? I don’t know what Social and Cultural Anthropology is!”

Medical Anthropology paper:
“Thou art the God of Medical Anthropology, O Gambo’s student. Teach me pluralism!”

“Hey I can actually visualize Gambo teaching man.”

Wonder what you got to say to that?
Wonder where I got all my crazy behavior from?
Now you know the answer!

Water

2007-12-28T13:56:00.000+05:30

Yes, I am still working on the story 'Missed Calls' that I had promised when I wrote 'Pandora’s Box' and it will come along soon. But for now, I want to write about “Water”.

Just last week Varsha’s husband was looking for some good music. We went to a music shop on MG road. While he was busy selecting what he wanted, I was looking around for movies and my eyes fell on the CD that read “Water”. Water – a Deepa Mehat film staring Lisa Ray, John Abraham, Seema Biswas, Sarla (Chuiya, the little girl) and others. Seeing the CD, brought back a conversation I had had then with a friend immediately after seeing the movie.

I remember telling him that the movie was good, and yet I was not happy with it. I remember telling him that it is an old story and was prevalent only in a part of India, West Bengal to be precise. Such things don’t happen any more now. I remember telling that that is not an India I want to project to the world. He told me of his grandmother’s story. She was widowed young. Her in-laws sent her to learn to type. And that is how she made a living.

Revisiting that conversation made me realise that probably at the same time when widows were burned or tortured, as the movie showed, there were also some stories where women were sent to school to help them make a living. I sat wondering why Deepa Mehta instead of showing a story like my friends grandmothers’ chose to show a movie like water. I mean why didn’t she show Savitribai Phule’s story, where Mahatma Phule taught her to read and write? Does she like projecting the evils of a society that is no longer existent?

And I am still trying to find the answers. I hate it when people make a living out of showing the ill’s of the society that I live in. Common, I bet there are things worth living for here. I bet there have always been small successes here. Why don’t we project them? If anyone can, then please give me some answers.

25 and going on...

2007-12-23T18:03:00.000+05:30

I turned 25 today. How does it feel? Umm... nice .... and old (especially after my friends rubbed it in)! 25, a quarter of my life spent well. Full of fun and joy. It reminds me of a song by Simon and Garfunkel...

"I was 21 years old when I wrote this song

22 now, but I wont be for long

And the leaves that are green turn to brown."

Anyways, I did the things that I wanted to do the most.

I got up at four today. Had a bath. Prayed. And was off to see the sunrise. I wanted to see the sunrise today. I had a feeling that it was like a blessing to me. I had to walk up to NCL to see the sunrise. The walk was pleasant. I enjoyed the moment when I joined my hands to pray, to the Sun God.

My Dad gave me the usual bouquet of red roses.

My mom gave me her usual set of blessings.

My neighbours, got me a gift. Felt like a kid.

Pooja gave me a boquet of my favourite pink roses.

Kedar gave me a very nice card.

I met a couple of old friends today at one of our favourite hang outs - Chaitanya. We had those awesome, huge, mouthwatering parathas. We had a lot of silly conversations and Patiala Lassi! We enjoyed to the fullest.

I went to my favourite temples here. Kasba Ganapati, Dagadusheth Ganpati and Ganesh Khind. What remains are Sharda Math, Guruji Talim and Tambdi Jogeshwari. I think I'll do that tomorrow. I feel light today. I decided to throw away a lot of the baggage's that I was carrying around. I decided to forgive myself for all the wrongs that I have done. Forgiving others is God's business... not mine. But, I did ask God to forgive others. While I was at Kasba, I reflected back on last year. It was a tough year, for sure. But I did put a lot in the box that is labelled 'lessons learnt'. I thank those people who came my way, to put a few things in the 'lessons to be learnt' box. It must have hurt me then. But it has helped me be a better person. I thank them. God bless them.

Now that the day is spent well....my mom's awesome godi paysa is waiting for me.

Pandora’s box

2007-12-21T15:25:00.000+05:30

"…And all that remains in her box is Hope!". Yuga was telling me Pandora's story as though Tanny and I didn't know it. We have known her too well to ask for any specific explanations. We just let her carry on. We could not make her feel better or worse anyways. In other words, We knew why she was suddenly telling us the story of Pandora's Box.

Yuga's life has not been the same for some time now. She lost a lot of weight in a couple of months. I suspect she has not been eating well. Although, she complains about the bad mess food. She has suddenly got dark circles, something she never had even during our 12 th exams. Her lame excuse for this is "that's what happens when you constantly work in front of the computer". Fool's we are to believe it, isn't it? She smiles a lot less these days. Not that you'll notice it. She hides it too well. Sometimes I think she hides a lot from herself too. Sometimes I think she prefers suffering alone. I guess it is about not showing how vulnerable she is. When you know she is not keeping well, you've just touched the tip of the iceberg. That is all she will show you, if, you are privileged. Sometimes I think she wants to prove him right. "You are too bold", he had told her, the first and the last time they had met. "You are too strong. No, strong is too strong a word. You are too tough." And she will be, even if she breaks up into pieces at the end of it. I can feel her cracking, breaking; inside. And yet, she wont let us help her.

If it had not been for Tanny and me, I wonder if she would ever open up. Having grown up together, the three of us knew each other in and out. We knew when to ask questions, when to keep our mouths shut, and when to ask for explanations. This was the time to shut up. We knew she had a lot of venom in there, and she had to get it out. And the best way to do that was to let her talk, uninterrupted.

She had severed ties with her family friends. There was some marriage talk there. She had almost said yes to the guy…well almost. Before it all broke into pieces. There was a lot of ill feeling. What hurt her the most, was that because of her, the parents also could not look at each other in the eye. What hurts her now, I think, is that in spite of all that happened, she still likes him. "The truth comes in strange disguises" she had told me once. This little piece of truth, Tanny and I found out when she said, "I wish he had broken up with dignity. I wish he had told me the truth that his mother was not impressed instead of trying to provoke me the way he did". That one statement told us what we needed to know.

Knowing Yuga, I cannot blame her less. We were just in standard 6 back then, 12 or 13 years old I think. She had not knit the scarf. And she told Ms. Martin that she did not knit over the weekend. The bad habit that Ms. Martin had when she was scolding, "…your parents…" she said something. And right then and there, Yuga got up, looked straight in her eye and said, "Don't get my parents in between. It is my mistake. And I admit it. Just don't get my parents in between". Yes, we were just 12 or 13 then. We are 24 now. And she has not changed one bit. What aunty (his mother) did was exactly the same. She blamed Yuga's parents. And Yuga, for who she is, gave back …if I can put it that way…right, left and center. Yuga will tolerate anything said to her. You only vex her to the point of no return when you say something to her parents. That is when she shows no mercy…

"And hope is not such a good thing you know…" she continued "it stops you from thinking logically." She went on.

Out of nowhere, I remember Tanny worrying that she will loose it soon if she continues this way. And then on another occasion Tanny told me that "she could take all this only because she was strong." With contempt in her voice Tanny once told me in her flawless marathi; "To jar majhya samor ala na, tar mi tyachya pekatyat ghalin" (If that guy ever comes in front of me I will kick him in his butt). "I am not sure Yuga would like that" I had told Tanny then. And Tanny shut up with a smile on her face. "Yeah. May be she'll kill me instead." And we burst out laughing.

"Then why do you still hope?" Tanny's sudden interjection brought me back to the conversation.

"Because loves labour is never lost." Yuga answered. "Neither mine, nor his. Neither my parents, nor his."

"Now this is annoying me Yuga." I said. "That ass hurt you. And you are still saying things like this. What the hell are you made of?"

"Yes. I am still talking like this. You know why? Because love is stronger than pride."

That was all she said. And she walked of looking back just once and repeating…. "Love is stronger than pride!"

Tanny was shaking her head, aghast.

"Pandora's Box" I sighed!

--------

Coming up next: Missed Calls

Gabrielle’s Shaft

2007-12-16T19:41:00.000+05:30

‘Thak thak thak’, I made that noise while walking down the corridors of the campus. It actually reminded me of those ‘gurkhas’ that stroll at night 3 a.m. That was the noise that they make. ‘Thak thak thak’ I still continued. I then walked the same way on the streets. And suddenly, I was conscious of the whole world around me. I met a Kaka from the institute “Aap hume marne nikale ho?” he said looking at the stick in my hand. “Na kaka, hu tame kem vadhu?”(No kaka, why would I hit you?) I said in my broken Gujrathi, just to make him feel comfortable. “To kathi kem?” (why the stick?) he asked, “Kutrao mate” (for the dogs), I lied, I didn’t feel like explaining a lot. “Kutrao mate?” he laughed and walked off.

I indeed did feel like Gabrielle walking with her shaft or like ‘hunterwali’, ready to hit anyone in my way. I could actually laugh out loud. The amount of stares I was drawing to myself! The vegetable vendors were staring at me. A group of guys turned back to have a second look probably wondering ‘why is she walking with a stick’? I wanted to avoid those stares, so I decided that I’d walk on the footpath. But no, seeing a stick in my hand, the dogs started barking! Phew! So much for a hot water bath!

Yeah. For a bucket of hot water bath! I never thought that a hot water bath was so tempting. But of late I have started believing in a lot of things that I otherwise would not. Ahmedabad gets cold at night, its like it is in the deserts. The wind is strong, real strong and cold, real cold. And so, the water also gets cold too, real cold. I would die but never ask the Kaps (more on them later!) to fix a geyser in my bathroom. So what’s a stick got to do with hot water? Naah, not Birbal’s khichadi!

I was cribbing about the cold water bath to a friend of mine. And she said in the granish tone of hers’ “Duffer, can’t you buy a water heater?” Oops, that never clicked me, did it? The next hour I find myself buying an electric water heater rod. I smiled to myself. Now I wouldn’t have to rush to my room after office hours so as to get water just tepid enough for my evening bath and still find myself shivering. Now I can have a bath morning and evening like before. That is more important to me because of my daily pooja routine. But I still had a problem. I needed a stick so I could hang the heater on it.

My quest for the stick began in the campus garden. Thankfully for me, I found Amit, my ex-colleague, who helped me find a bamboo stick. I was taking that back to my room. But when I reached my room, it was a thought came across: Have you ever wondered how a caterpillar feels when he is just out of that cocoon of his? Raw and stark naked? Stripped off of every cover he had and exposed to the whole wide world? But that is just the beginning. Life has a lot to teach the caterpillar for sure before he becomes a butterfly. That was exactly how I felt at that moment when I was placing that stick on the bucket trying to balance the heater on the stick. Life had turned topsy-turvy in the last couple of months. I can still feel the thorns. My landlady and her obnoxious dealings, my job and its challenges, my colleagues and their eccentricities and God alone knows what else. Staying alone is difficult, I agree. You stumble and fall. You are hurt. You try to get up and yet, you fall again. You know you won’t ask for help, simply because you think you are grown up and think you should face your problems yourself. But even in the cinder, comes a sweet pleasure in facing the challenges that life throws at you. Of having grown up a little above the foibles. Of correcting yourself. Of facing the people you otherwise would not like to look at. You learn to take snide remarks without them getting into your system. Life teaches you all that. Not because it wants to, but because you have to and because you have no way out! There is a slight difference there. And when you are ready, slowly but surely, you come out as a beautiful butterfly, just like the caterpillar. And then, before you’ve known it, there you are… a beautiful butterfly!

And while I was waiting, heating the water, while I was enjoying my hot water after over a month, life’s little pleasures came back to me.

That day, after a long time, I also enjoyed washing my clothes … in hot water. Wonder what the Kaps will say if they know I’m using hot water to wash clothes! Oh their electricity bill... And I am laughing, to myself!

Cutting Chai

2007-12-13T15:17:00.000+05:30

Not that I am an avid tea or coffee drinker, but the memories that the cutting chai, especially the special chai that I recently had at the University’s oh so famous ‘closed canteen’, one of our favourite hang outs, brought back fond nostalgic moments. One glass of special chai takes its round with at least five people. And then, another glass, and another, and another! The ambiance of the canteen, those familiar faces that pass you, the wada pav or the masala pav in your hand …and the chai(s) taking its rounds! The bliss! Cutting chai and its nostalgia!

I'd call a place heaven, where each street has a memory etched in my mind. Each tree has its own significance. The school with its basket ball court, that house where a friend stays by the corner of that road, the sunset at tekdi, that ice-cream parlour, that cake shop, those lanes in the University, that canteen, those stairs, that wada pav wala, that misal, that bhel, that sabudandchi khichadi, that upma, that pohe, and then there is that cutting chai!

The smile is spontaneous, even when you think of cutting chai. Our logic used to be simple then, you get ¾ of a cup for ½ the rate, essentially economical for us as students. I remember a friend telling me that he can have two cups of cutting in place of just one cup of full chai for the same amount. That reminds you of the days when you used to have just enough pocket money and you used to try and save most of it, not for your bank account per say, but so you can see some movie when you wanted to bunk classes, or eat something delicious by the wayside restaurant, or to be able to go zoom on your bike to some place near by. But what does that have to do with cutting chai? One possibly cannot save so much buying cutting cahi! But back then I suppose it had everything to do with saving! Well whatever…

“There is some magic in it”, a friend said. It’s that magic that gets that spontaneous smile on your face. Cutting chai is more about sitting in leisure with your friends and having chai. You possibly would never sit with your date at a tapir! It’s about that comfort zone that you share with your friends, about those silly jokes that one cracks then, pulling each others leg, about a time when logic and reasoning have no place in your conversations. I guess that is why cutting chai is nostalgic. Not that it all begins or ends with cutting chai. But surely, one of the many nostalgic moments will be one with a cutting chai!

NEVER QUIT

2007-12-04T12:01:00.000+05:30

This is my favourite poem. Every time I stumble, I read this. It gives me the inspiration to carry on doing what I believe is right. Here it is, for you.

Never Quit

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will
When the road you are trudging, seems all uphill,
When funds are low and debts are high,
When you want to laugh and you have to sigh.
When care seems to be pressing you down a bit
Rest if you must
But NEVER QUIT.

Life is strange with its twists and turns
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a fellows turn around
When he might have won had he stuck it out
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow
You may succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor’s cup
And he learned too late
When the night came down
How close he was to golden crown

Success is failure turned inside out
The silver tint of clouds of doubt
And you never can tell how close you are
It may be near when it seems afar
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit
It’s when things seem the worst
THAT YOU MUSTN’T QUIT!!!!
-William Murray Angus

Changing Times

2007-11-28T11:56:00.000+05:30

Its winter now. Times are changing.

Ahmedabad is getting colder...thank God! For a change the Ahmedabadis are not facing the scorching heat. The afternoons are warm and pleasant. The heat does not kill you. You do not sweat. Times are changing.

Ahmedabadis have begun flaunting their woollens. Being originally from Pune, I don't feel the need to woollens but its still a pleasant reverie to be using my jean jacket. Times are changing.

The peacock has once again started sleeping by my window. They have started shedding their beautiful feathers. Times are changing.

I can feel the cool breeze on my face. Like a pleasant zephyr bringing warm tidings along with it. Times are changing.

I will be a year older soon (Oh no!!). The new year will begin soon. Times are changing. Oh yes, the times are changing.

Paradise

2007-11-27T13:13:00.000+05:30

I came across this sometime back. Thought I'd put it here.

I'd call a place
Pure paradise
Where families are loyal
And strangers are nice
Where the music is jazz
And the season is fall
Promise me that
Or nothing at all

-Mary Angelou
(Black American Poet)

Wishlist

2007-11-26T11:31:00.000+05:30

My birthday is very close. And a lot of websites these days ask for 'wishlists'. Well, I thought why not give it a try. May be a CD with my favouriate song...Simon and Garfunkel, John Denver, Bobby Darin, Phil Colins, Asha Bhosale, may be Curt Cobain, Kishor Kumar or Rafi. Then I thought of buying clothes from Benzer or Pantaloons or some other shop around...Then I though of some books, only to realise my darling sister has already bought a few books for me. And I know they will be there with me on my birthday. All that thought, I still sat down to wrtie down and surprisingly it was none of those materialistic things that I wanted. I came up with this rather an obscure wishlist...here it is...

I wish it had not turned so sour...

I wish I was clam...

I wish I had not fought...

I wish I was not like this...

I wish I was like that...

I wish I had understood then like I understand now...

I wish I could make the time stop...

I wish I could talk again as I used to...

I wish the story of The Rose (you'll know what i am talking of if you've read The Little Prince)...someone I cannot live with and cannot live without was not that way...

I wish things turn my way...

I wish my prayers are answered...

I wish my angel comes soon...

I wish my messenger is on his/her way...

I wish I could say sorry...just one more time...

I wish I could mend all that I did...

I wish...Oh how I wish...

Ithaca

2007-11-26T10:23:00.000+05:30

A travellers Tale - Ithaca

What man of you, having a hundred sheep,
if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety
and nine in the wilderness, and go after that
which is lost, until he find it?
Luke 15:4

But isn't that what love is all about? Find the one that's lost? And rest only when you've found the lost? And the journey is long and tiring...with the fear of loosing an already lost battle. But you still carry on because you want to...for all that you have done...for all that was there...you carry on to Ithaca...Ithaca

Ithaca

When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
Pray that the journey is long,
Full of adventure, Full of Knowledge,
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon - do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
The fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
If you do not carry them within your soul,
if your heart does not set them up before you.

Pray that the road is long,
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at the Phoenician markets,
And purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind,
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do the hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for many years;
And to anchor at the island when you are old,
Rich with all you have gained on the way,
Not expecting you that Ithaca will offer you riches.
Ithaca has given yo the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would never have set out on the road.
She has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you,
Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
You must have already understood what Ithaca means.

Constantine Cavafy (1863-1933)
Translated by Rae Dalven
From: Paulo Coelho's The Zahir