Embarking on the Unchartered Territory

Theatrics, a medium for those who emote and emulate, futile for the inexpressive. Recently an initiative by me and my team, for others led to an accidental discovery of my own blind spot.  Generally considered as dry and devoid of emotions, I was not able to fathom my ability to pull the character in a justifiable manner. Playing the role of a woman who flies to an onshore location with her husband fighting against the cultural shackles and performance standards, was a tough take at the start. After the culmination of the dramaturgy session- my expectation was to just garner few satisfactory  words from the audience and the jury. But life can be showering at times. What I got to hear from the judges was  goodie stuff about my performance. Good to hear, though it has kindled a desire to join a theatre and try my hands on emulating.

Don’t know why but have always thought that this medium can be used by psychologists on patients who are averse to social life(Likes of My Name Is Khan)!!!

All That Is Lost

In a recent Hindi novel “Tirich” authored by Mr. Uday Sharma- there was 1 line in a short story, which caught my attention and made me think. Quoting the same “Cheezein khoti nahin hain. Wo to wahin rehti hain, apne poore wazan aur astitva ke saath. Bas hum unki jagah bhool jaate hain”

I had 2 divergent feelings about the statement. Many a times we experience this phenomena because there is something better and improved, which replaces such things and that is the reason their importance negates or reduces over a period of time and we forget their presence. The new one outshines the old and the old one obsoletes. This as per economics is the Law of Diminishing Marginal Utility.  It is only when we remove the dust and old matter from them after a long time that we re-experience the happiness they gave us times ago.

Another view is that Love, Respect, Friendship are also important things in our life (though not in literal sense). But these are the things that don’t stay at their old place with same weight, fervour and construct. With change in circumstances, their relativity changes. Similar opinion has been voiced by Jagjit Singh in one of his ghazals “Knots in any relationship leave wrinkles behind”.  Once you have lost Love/ Trust/ Respect/ Friendship only good memories and bitterness will stay back. We just forget their place and importance  in our own lives and move on......

Similarity comes but with a problem

I don’t know that lady, she is sitting on my opposite seat and looks just like any other lady in her 50’s. She in not very beautiful nor does she appear to be a modern Indian mom. Nothing in her which catches attention.

Gradually as the long journey progresses into dull hours, lady moves for a nap- a normal activity during train journey to cut off the monotonous hours. But there is something which starts disturbing me now. No no- she is alive and breathing. All I notice is a strange similarity in the way her frontal head is in comparison to my mother.  Similar wrinkle laden eyes, the bright red vermilion and the hair construct. She is lying there, sleeping- but to me it is bewildering???? I noticed that she is a Bengali whereas we have not had any connections with the Bengalis. I am amazed at seeing someone just like my mother. The similarity doesn’t pleasure me. In fact I am struck by some awe- I am disturbed because this figure does not look at me in the same fashion as my mother does nor does it respond to my gestures in the manner in which my mother does. Is it a bad omen? All I do is click her picture furtively and share my harrowing experience later with my sis.

The only though which comes to my mind- God please wake up this woman and keep me Mother safe and happy. After 2 hours God grants me my wish – she wakes up and all the similarities cease to exist. Troublesome it was!!

The Journey Called Train

Hailing from a middle class family, parents at times insisted that we travel via sleeper class. The intention was to keep us grounded to the grass roots and also experience various life styles. This practice however started reducing when we were sent off for our higher studies abd then for our professional pursuits. Being my usual self, I wanted to re-experience the difference in both the classes and I deliberately opted for 1 way journey in sleeper class.

The biggest difference which I found was that travellers in AC coaches who focus on PR building and networking fail to exhibit any characteristic related to this. The PR building happens only at their income and professional levels. On the contrary travellers in sleeper class have no qualms in starting innocuous conversations, sharing food and mixing up. Other big difference is the abominable attitude and the manner in which AC travellers treat the travellers in Sleeper class. You continue to live privately showing off one’s superiority over another, spending time watching laptop/listening to music whereas sleeper coaches give you means to listen to other’s conversation and music collection. 1 experience which we continue to miss in AC coaches is the open air, the vendors of all sorts commuting throughout giving you chances to explore local delicacies and items. Such source of entertainment misses in AC coaches. The only thing which takes a back burner is the hygiene and cleanliness. What can be an added problem for the women folk with their different biological requirements is the type of people around who keep ogling at them throughout the journey.

I am neither trying to prescribe here 1 medium over another nor writing off any one of them. What we sometimes fail to appreciate is that most of us have evolved from there only. There are also cases where travel was urgent and tickets might not be available for a particular type of journey.

Apni Maati Apna Desh

Whatever we may say after moving out from our native place, all good and bad- might sound true. But after long time when you return to your hometown, there is an overwhelming feeling of returning to a place that is your own- People, Soil, Animals, Language and Culture. Even though mobility has increased and our professional pursuits give us enough opportunities to try the untried, to explore new vistas and probably settle there for some parts of our lives but the call of your birthplace if difficult to deny. The scenic beauty, the lush green fields, the twitter of birds- all of it is lost and unaccounted for in our daily hustle bustle. We might sight unavailability of education or job in our native places but it is the same place, which you will find suitable to return to. More than anything, it is about the Love, Care, Scrupulousness back at home which you yearn for. It’s when you return to your home town, you realize that familiarity of language and tongue tickling food is such a relief. The literature you have forgotten to read and slangs sound different now. And returning to the place takes you in 7^th Heaven even if it for a short while....

Grandparent’s Interest

It is heartening to see the exponential amount of love that grand parents have for their grand children. On my recent visit to my grandparents, who have beautifully crossed 74 years of their nuptial relationship, now aging 94 and 90, some things dawned on me.

My nanaji can’t remember most of the stuff told to him and kept asking innocuous questions which were of paramount importance to him. He asked me what sort of work you do- I could not explain my scope of work clearly to him and just answered that I handle queries and see that employees are happy at my organization. His answer to this was that you have been given an important responsibility just maintain your countenance and deal with them correctly. Second question was that - How is the atmosphere at work and how are people around? Is their conduct good? Do I undergo any insinuations at office? All he wanted to know was whether the people I am working with are learned. When I ponder over, this feeling comes from a fact that he has fathered a woman who started working at the tender age of 21 in 1960’s- which was not an era when women folks worked in office in not so developed cities. The concern was genuine and my safety was his only interest.  In midst of these questions he also kept telling me that he lost all his vitality and the desire to live- the fact which hit me hard and can be a premonition of something in the offing. I have seen his desire for food melting down- I have seen him fighting the perils of old age. His desire to read and travel continues but is not happening due to old age. He still wishes to wake us up at 4 am- take us to the temple and morning walk post that. Even I long of playing cards with him like I did in yesteryears, eat guavas with him and discuss spirituality with him. I miss all the stories of his BHU life and being given a chance to visit Russia on government sponsorship in 1958. I also think about endless descriptions of his learning’s during travel and the palmistry sessions with him.

Such gratification is diminishing and I am preparing myself for the worst. My nani is also on her way out- she can’t walk and see properly but what she does on my visit is one of the most precious thing. She will always stroke and caress my head and back and ask “When are you coming back?”

I have come back with heavy heart this time because on leaving they said “Don’t know if we will meet again but God Bless You for your life” And they bid me goodbye. Just hoping that God gives the best of health to them............

Monkey Talk

Monkeys are closest set of creatures available on earth, in comparison to humans. Recent book “Super Freakonomics” which I read, quoted plethora of examples proved by scientific tests that monkeys are also run by positive motivation and money. Moreover, what they also spoke of was monkey’s resorting to prostitution.

Rather than talking about scientific experiments, I will talk about my observation of a herd of monkeys. They are available in plush no.s  at my maternal grandparents place. Monkey itching is notorious and ridiculed at one platform or another. The striking thing that I found in their behaviour was the way a baby monkey clings to its mother monkey. I sometimes wonder that monkey’s hair would be much stronger than any other body part because it is most of the times that baby monkey holds the hair when it hangs upside down from its mother’s bosom. Another highlight is that unlike babies of other mammals, monkey babies are not cute instead look like wrinkled packs.  Have also witnessed real instances of monkey’s aping humans. Item snatching is also very prevalent. Monkey’s are also good lice pluckers- you might give it a try for a kid of yours if the products don’t work.

It is good to thrive in a nation which believes that God resides in his creations, just like monkeys. One superstition to which I am a party and believer is that if you see a monkey in your dreams – the day goes futile, without meeting the purpose- This proves true at least for me....

Out in the Open

Indian women more than the men, undertake the responsibility of preserving their honour. Through their dressing or gestures they signal the same to the opposite sex at most times.

One recent observation brought me into thinking mode. This phenomenon is more prevalent amongst unmarried women, while the tendency reduces after marriage. What I am hinting at is deliberate and forced coverage of their assets especially when they are not married. Does post marriage bring to them freedom of all sorts? Does physical openness – open them to general society? The skin which had been hidden with beautiful attire can now be exposed without any qualms. The curves which were sneaked via effort become objects of public display especially when they step into motherhood. Does it go off because they have become someone’s private property or is this because there is nothing else left to hide? Weird thought but can’t help thinking about it.

Sarcastic Humour

Local language can be relished not just by the locales but also by some who get to hear it serendipitously. One recent conversation with a lady who has massaged my family’s skin to glow- is something which stills tickles me.

This is the era when public display of love has become common not just in affluent cities but also in suburbs and interiors of a state. One such moment in a movie when the notorious Emraan Hashmi was smooching the heroine, this lady happened to be my co- viewer. During the entire event of 2 minutes, she only saw some of it from her sneaky eyes and after the tense moments passed, her only comment in vernacular language was “ E to uska poora honth hi chabaa daar”, which left me in fits of laughter. All this extraversion has been infused in me by the city/ situation I live in. But this lady and her likes are still averse to all of this. Even talking about such intimate topics becomes a taboo. Her expression and her sneaky eyes do not fade from my memories- those aghast with the live show followed by some comments against the westernization of Indian culture.  True but it happens...

Diary Excerpt of a Fatherless Father

I have experienced life with most of its topsy turvy turns. Fathering is such a pleasure and solace to heart when you have never yourself had a chance to fit into your father’s shoes. I was born in a middle class family. My father, as I remember him in blemishes of my thoughts was a very endearing one. Catering to all the demands of his child till he became 6. All of a sudden world around shattered with the loving figure going into dungeons of other life.

Life started changing. Brought up by a mother who was only a 10^th class pass out- who sewed her way to feeding and educating the kids. Leave the rest, even continuation of study became taxing in deprived monetary condition. Toys, games, balloons stayed fantasies.

I have survived the agonies of life and have come far away at my own strength and footing. Now I am parent to one kid- a kid who chuckles seeing the colourful balloons and demands the fancy toys. I have no audacity to stop him from his demands whether reasonable or unreasonable. I want to make available all the toys/gifts at his feet. I don’t want him to slither in the pain of unfulfilled desires. All that I have gone through, all the externalities that i have faced- I don’t want my little one to feel even a iota of the same. I want to see the pleasure in his eyes, when he gets what he wanted. I can’t bear the image of tears welling in his eyes due to unmet demands.

I might be pampering him too much but then the price that I have paid for circumstances, which I had no control on-is not worth keeping him away from his miniscule happiness, till I am alive. After all what I have experienced- people might come and try to fill up places but then leaving an unbiased and equal impression is hard to find.