Monday, April 26, 2021

Recollections of the past

It is my sixth day here, in my home town. What was meant to be a brief three day visit got extended to a week. Irritated, agitated I kept sulking because of the weather that slumped our well planned itinerary. Ideally I should have joined work yesterday but here I was whiling away time doing something I detest the most - shopping! But since that was the main reason for my visit to the home town, I somehow made peace with it. But I still hated how slowly time passed here.

Being a city girl, I was used to the fast paced life. With a blink of an eye the day got over. 24 hours seemed way too less for the Maximum City - Mumbai! Irritated with mosquitoes, rashes on the face, insects and the invertebrates crawling around the house I longed to go back to the comfort of my home. Small or big, it was home. But this was home too... While growing up we spent about three weeks a year here. It was the most amazing time for us as kids. To run around the fields without any inhibitions, pluck fresh fruits off the tree, see the cows graze, to soak in the culture and eerie feeling of knowing the ancestors were still lurking around in death, made the stay here fun and worthwhile 😊.

But here I was, an adult in her 20's, used to the comforts of home, fast paced life of the city and all the comforts it had to offer. I didn't see the belongingness that I felt like, before. I liked being occupied and wasting time here because of the torrential downpour made me irritated. So irritated that I forgot this is the place that traces back to my roots, to my origins... While I have memories of my maternal grandmother still fresh in my mind, there are some hazy memories of my maternal great grandmother showering us with immense love, and also highlighting how important our ancestral home was to us, should be to us. My grandmother made sure she passed on the same values to us, her grandkids when we were slightly older, more able to absorb what she had to pass down to us... This house and the traditions that came along with it. It was important that we, especially I as the daughter belonging to a matrilineal family setup understand the crux and nuances of the traditions. And I did, with as much pride and love as I could.

But then life caught up, education and work. Now as I stand and pray here for my family, my love and well being of all, I feel a wave of postitivity in me. Something that holds me here, binds me to the traditions that had been passed on to generations. The past that reminds me to be positive and be optimistic of the promising future.

Tuesday, June 16, 2020

When it's all over

When it's all over, there will be nothing left to do, except to remember,  to remember everything.

I didn't know much about him, but I made a silent prayer for Sushant Singh Rajput last night hoping that he finds his peace and meets his mother he missed so dearly and often articulated on his social media posts. I cannot get over the fact that a young man like him, full of ambitions and dreams,  hopes is no more. Gone. Just like that. It feels like a personal loss. The dull gloomy weather outside doesn't help me much to let my mind wander off elsewhere. While most of the people say suicide isn't a way out, what about the pain that the person goes through, the feelings and sadness where ending the life seems the only viable option. No one touches a hot iron not knowing how much it will hurt, no one dies by suicide not knowing the consequences. I am not romanticizing suicide. No, not one bit. But imagine, the person is not left with any other option. The pain, the pressures he must be having to make a mark. 

As social media and interviews  suggest, Sushant was eccentric, clearly a misfit in the world of plastics- Bollywood. But he did want an acceptance from the industry he worked so hard to make a mark in. So many theories making rounds that he was depressed, that he wasn't accepted and always seen as an outsider. To be honest, I wasn't a big fan either, some how social media and these entertainment shows play with your mind and fit this image of a quintessential actor in your mind. From what I read now, he asked his fans to watch his movie, that he had no godfather to sustain in this industry. Perhaps he was cornered. Perhaps he wasn't good enough for this world. We will never know for he's gone far away... to the galaxy full of stars he was always fascinated with.

But his death made me introspect. I've been not the best person myself. I've often mocked, ridiculed not just celebrities but also people I have known, some who have been extremely close to me at some point. It hit me after the news of Sushant's death. That to be kind, it takes nothing but to be negative,  disdainful of someone takes away a lot not just from you but also impacts the person a lot more than you can imagine. What this world definitely needs is kindness, empathy with lots of love and compassion. For us to change, be a better version of ourselves won't happen overnight but at least we can try,  we can start somewhere. We can try to make this world that is so polluted with negativity and hatred a better place to live in, for the coming generations, with positive vibes.

I lament thinking that did a person have to die, for us to understand this? Let us try and be the change we wish to see. Let's start this with at home, with one day at a time. Rest in paradise,  Sushant Singh Rajput. You taught us a lot in this little time you had. I will remember and keep you in my heart always❀




Sunday, November 3, 2019

New girl in the city


I stood there as I watched my husband drive away. I had a worried, puppy face look that made him feel guilty and sad for leaving me behind. But he couldn’t wait more with random cars honking from behind. I was secretly hoping he’d abandon his plan to drive back home and stay with me for one more day in this big city of Frankfurt. We’d arrived in Frankfurt two days ago, on a rainy evening. Everything looked so gloomy and dull, it got me more worried. “How am I going to live alone here?” I asked myself and my husband, who had been my only friend, my parent, my everything in this new country, for the first time that day and perhaps for the 20th time that week as I looked at the tall structures, the museums, that lined the city. I’d never lived alone, not even in my own country! My husband gave me a reassuring look for the nth time: YOU’LL DO FINE.
Hmph.

I crossed the street and looked above at the building where I was going to study for the next one month, I looked around and saw some old buildings that surrounded the tallest sky-scrapper of the city. Old world charm with a hint of modernity. Interesting. I reached the floor and was greeted by the receptionist, Selem, with a warm smile who ushered me in to the class where my other peers were already waiting. Everybody exchanged smiles, introduced themselves. Two Germans and rest all from different parts of the world, some of them teachers already, others aspiring to be one. Then walked in the tutors: Edna, Antony and Graham. All three of them had their own distinct personalities. There was something about them that made them intriguing. We had a fun, very offbeat ice-breaking session, which resulted in all the classmates getting acquainted well with each other. On my way back to the apartment, nervousness gave way to excitement.

It was a hectic month. I was mentally drained. So much to process, study, learn and teach. Assignment, submissions, teaching, learning, assimilating and so much more... everything at the same time. I had mentally prepared myself for this, I had been already informed about the demanding nature of this course by the administrator and a friend of mine. Yet, there were times when I felt so overwhelmed by the course. It was all a very different experience for me, I had never lived alone in my own country, and here I was in Frankfurt, the skyscraper city of Germany, living alone. Even if it was for a month. But that month was a good teacher. I learnt to deal with circumstances alone. Earlier I had my father to depend on, bail me out and now it was my husband. But here I was alone. It took me a while to get used to life like this, but eventually I started enjoying it. Like my husband pointed out, how many girls get a chance like this, especially after marriage and how lucky I was. He encouraged me to be courageous and be more outgoing. And my rock of Gibraltar of a husband was always there, every weekend to take me out for some city excursion, fancy dates at times and doing random things like riding an e-bike to the city center, shopping and the best thing that he did without fail was- cook for me before he left for home. So that I was well fed and did not have to worry about cooking. 

But it was the course that kept me so busy and occupied that I hardly had time in hand. I went back to studying, that I missed dearly. Not just the living alone bit, but the whole experience of getting to study in a setup that was a complete opposite of how I studied back home in India. I enjoyed, savoured every bit of it. I tried to absorb and make notes of everything that those amazing set of tutors taught. It took me a while to get used to the fact that I had to address the tutors by their names and not 'Sir' or 'Ma'am' like I did back home. Initially, I could not bring myself to go and talk to them, the way my peers did. Soon inhibitions gave way to confidence, and there were times when in our little free time I found myself talking to them, sharing my experiences of teaching and learning in India and they shared their experiences, their love for Indian food. Today when I teach, I feel a strong sense of gratitude towards my trainers when I apply their methods of teaching and see the students reciprocate it positively. 

I cannot possibly enlist all the highlights of the course but one that will remain etched forever in my mind would be the conversation I had with Kirstin, a middle-aged high school teacher from Black Forest, Germany. We both stood in the balcony of the school and spoke for an hour. She spoke about her experiences as an exchange student in Russia and how the experience enriched her and changed her outlook towards her teaching and life in general. Her experiences as a teacher, about her education and I shared with her how shifting to Germany initially had been overwhelming and so different, though I had prepared myself mentally, my experiences as an exchange student in MĂŒnster, Germany. We spoke about so many things but what left me intrigued after the conversation was the fact that I could speak in lengths to a woman who was double my age, but could actually understand me, my ambitions for my career and share her insights and some career advice. I will cherish that conversation all throughout my life. 

My heart felt heavy towards the end of the course. Frankfurt had been such an amazing teacher. Perhaps the best experience of my life, that taught me so much in so little time. CELTA made me a better teacher for sure, but the whole experience of living in Frankfurt made me a more confident person. And my husband who just believed in me, and trusted me when I myself didn't feel I was capable enough to pull it off😊 





Saturday, June 2, 2018

Up&Up


Time: 6.30 PM
Place: Home
One of those days when existential musings of life hit you... Hard... and I write... Well, type...

Life is weird. It is full of unexpected surprises. Things happen when you least expect them to happen. It pushes you down, makes you fall and get dusty, but you still get up, dust yourself and rise.

While I was in school, every year I'd think and ponder what and how it would be the same day, same time but next year-'Would I surpass my own expectations?', 'Will I finally start liking Science like ideally I should?', 'Surely I'd have read more books than I'd then', and so on...

After almost ages I see myself question and think so, a tad bit differently. Last year who'd thought how different things would be this year. Unexpected decisions, career related hogwash, family/peer pressure...But such is life! Change being the only constant in our lives.

As much as I'd like to detest these random and uncalled events, I see myself getting more stronger and braver-to face these odds. It was of course a great teacher, in the sense that it taught me life lessons like- Things happen when it has to, that events will unfurl when its's meant to. To stick to your heart, and believe in what the heart really wants is the trick to make peace with your mind and soul. Often we're in a fix to do what is right or to do what makes us happy. From the experiences I've had it is- to do what makes you happy. There are probably zillions of things that are morally right for us to do, but that necessarily won't make us or keep us happy. But when we really do things that make us happy, things that make you go-"follow your heart"- the joy is inexplicable.

But being the pragmatic girl (well, at times!) that I am, choosing your happiness also has to be done keeping a lot of things in mind. 'Kinda subversive, kinda Hegemonic'-is how I describe myself. If anything these random events have taught me well- To bend when one should, to be headstrong when required. It is at your vulnerable best, that you can be misguided... easily. But the trick is to stick to your ground, to believe in your instincts... they never fail you. New paths that I have chosen to create a new and beautiful life at times deter me. But it is the instincts that keep me going, at least for now.

People exit for new people to come.Old loves leave for new and beautiful loves to arrive. Relationships end so that new relationships can be made. To never see these new people and relationships from the same convex mirror gives it a better scope for relationships and love to sustain.

Existential musings are always cathartic and a must to purge your mind of unwanted elements. So is music. Especially with some music that goes well with your state of mind... Like Coldplay's Up and Up...


Saturday, December 2, 2017

20's Blues

It's December. Google reminds me it's my birthday month. Another year flown by. Soon I'll be a year older not much wiser. Cliché- To look back, the year has been one crazy ride.

December was always the month that had me excited as a child. My birthday was one day I looked forward to the entire year, which is the case with most kids. Now in my twenties, not much has changed. But the only thing I get excited about my birthday is to use my old adage to my friends and family which is "hey my birthday has come after a year!". It is usually met by a cold silence from the other end because they've been listening to this forever and topic being changed swiftly.

This year was supposed to be special. I was excited. Well, it was special in it's own way. A close friend of mine lost her father in January. Right at the start of the month. It had a huge impact on me. Never had I seen the dead, let alone be present at a funeral. At the funeral mass, all my prayers with the family and Uncle Francis, I felt something warm against my cheeks. Tears rolling down. With my hands folded, head bent I could only question my God. I've been the girl who's been brought up to respect all religions. I've prayed at temples, at mosques, at churches. Otherwise a strong girl, I was standing in front of God, asking why him, why my friend... It made me question and ponder about things I otherwise never thought about.  My friend, like me was extremely close to her father. It broke my heart to see her that way. I could never bring myself to console her but just be there. I had to leave the country for three months and the prospect of leaving my father behind scared me. Every night that I kissed him goodnight, I'd be scared to leave him and go. I've always been closest to my father, my love for him being infinite. But it just made me love him a tad bit more than the huge vortex of love I already have for him.

I was to leave my country to stay in Germany for three months. Always the baby of the house, a bit too over protected... I was nervous. I'd always run to my father with the littlest problems. Ask my mother for her opinions and listen to my elder brother's advice. Here I was to be separated from them geographically and also in time. How would I live? I was literally like the dog scared to enter water. I couldn't bring myself to look behind when I entered the Mumbai airport gate, because I knew my Father's eyes were moist. But I just looked forward... To what surprises life had to offer.

As a student of Literature and Diaspora being my favorite area of study, I knew and felt why airports are this liminal transition space for people. I knew I'd never return back to the same home as the same person. And I did not disappoint myself.

The new country was beautiful and cold. Everything was different but the sky. My friend and classmate traveling with me is a happy-go-lucky girl who'll make friends anywhere and in no time. I'm the ambivert. I take time. I gauge and analyze. But the start was rough for both the extrovert and the ambivert. The people were different, and so was the place. We found family in each other. Cooking, doing laundry, shopping for groceries, living... we did everything together (except bathing of course). Years later we are going to discuss all the times we spent scared, tipsy and happy. The grooves that the times we spent together left in our minds...

Travelling changes people. It broadens their horizons. Before I left, I spoke to a cousin of mine who'd lived in the States for a considerable amount of time. He gave me one of the best advices ever- to travel and see things and people with an open mind, I'd be amazed at how the world is. I felt it to be every bit of true when I traveled. I was truly amazed in every sense. Sometimes I'd be walking alone, suddenly realizing I've no family around and still be okay and just walk ahead. This feeling was something new to me... I still miss the space and independence I felt there, the beautiful people I met there, I miss Amy, the golden retriever who lived next door. And to be in a new land and just be yourself is something I miss immensely.

This year got me my Master's degree. Another feather on my little hat. A huge high for me when the results got declared and I scored way above my expectations. A small victory. All the road blocks, all the demotivating comments that were snidely passed on one side and being an M.A hons with research on one. To finally finish, what I took on with a lot of people not supporting my decision. It's difficult to go against the existing norms and follow what your heart wants.

It was the year of transition and books(again) ! My transition from books to Kindle was long due but I was always trying to put it on hold. Finally I gave in, when my brother got me one. While it's relatively easy to carry around, my affair with books will never end. Kindle will never give me the scent of the new books I like to smell. But things change and change is the only constant in our lives.

I realize now, your 20's is an odd space to be in. Its the in-between space. Of who you want to be and what is expected of you. You either become what you want or you become what "they" expect you to be. You doubt your choices, you question yourself. Some things work out, some don't. Some emotions get a hold of you to only make you sensitive to certain things. It makes you more aware. It’s okay to lose yourself for a little while. In books, in music, in art. Let yourself get lost. But to remain true to yourself is what matters, to what you believe in.

This year got the better of me. Wonder how bumpy the ride in 2018 would be. Oh the 20's blues.

Friday, July 22, 2016

To the Core of My Existence... With Love

Never the best of friends, but good friends. Sworn enemies one moment, friends the next moment. Friends who talk about life, relations, career, ambitions and LIFE! This is the relationship I share with my mother. My mother has never been the cupcake-baking, pouring love-like a Punjabi mother pours ghee on rotis sort of mother that you see in TV commercials. She is headstrong, righteous(always!), ambitious, career-minded and a working mother.

I can never think of a conversation with my mother that never ended in a fight or an argument, to say the least! I am headstrong, like she is. "Don't try to act smart, be half of what I am and then talk to me.'' Snooty, much. But no, that is the command she deserves and commands! Also, I can never remember her sugar-coating her words and telling me what to do and NOT to do. In fact I can't fathom how mothers need to be deceptive to get their way around their kids. Blunt, reserved... very reserved and always keen on learning. In short, everything that I am not, my mother is. A die-hard fan of Hema Malini, her only hobby is constantly enriching herself with latest technological advancements and updating herself with latest forms of education.

Right from waking up early in the morning, sending me and my brother to school to reaching work(on time) and making sure that she is back home when her two tykes return from school... I wonder how she managed it all. But then I realize, that mothers are all superheroes! My mother, being no exception... She hid her cape behind her strength that let her win all the odds that were against her.

She rarely bought me those expensive dolls, toys, clothes, shoes I yearned for but she never thought twice before taking me to the annual book-fair at school. She bought me books, plenty of them. And that's how began my tryst, never-ending love for books. From a very tender age she introduced me to books, which let me lead multiple lives living one. Of all her guidance, one that remains with me now and forever is - "Education is that one jewel that no one can take from you.''  

Growing up, I got used to my mother reprimanding me, ALL THE TIME.  Those times when she chided me I would shoot back saying, "Don't you have anything good about me to say?''.  Today, even when I can manage my home when she isn't around the way she does(with all due credits to her), she won't stop finding faults at the minutest of things. That's the way she is, never content. Always wanting me to excel, be the best version of myself.  

When I decided to change my career, to be a teacher, not many understood me. I didn't care either. I was not raised by mother to doubt decisions or to be answerable to others. As a child,with my hands clasped below my chin, I used to see my mother drape sarees and she looked every bit of the graceful, dignified teacher and a woman that she is and wish to be her, like her...

I can possibly not think of choosing any career other than teaching because of my mother, who was not happy with my decision. Well, how else will I be a tough nut, like her, if I don't experience at least a quarter of what she did. Today I am a teacher and its not surprising that I teach my students, just the way she taught me. Its in my blood, and my only role model is my mother. I've had some good, some bad, some really bad teachers, but my first and best teacher is and will always be my mother. 

I definitely can't share everything under the sun with my mother, but I know I can always count on her. One thing, I can definitely not be is, her! This is for the core of my existence, my mother, with love.




Saturday, September 26, 2015

Poles Apart... Not Really!

I was travelling in the Mumbai Metro last week, just a day prior to Eid. Such a refreshing change it was from the dirty, jam-packed Mumbai locals! Here people waited in a queue to get in, and the metro stations were impeccably clean! That kind of Mumbai I always wished for! Except the view from the metro!! With no place to sit(during the rush hour), I stood in a corner. I happened to overhear this random conversation two ladies were having, right beside me. One lady was dressed in a sari, the other in a burqa. They were engaged in this animated conversation, where they were discussing their respective cultures. The lady in sari belonged to a Marwari Hindu community while the other was a Muslim. What really fascinated me was these were two women coming from different backgrounds, talking, giggling without any prejudice. The lady in sari was fascinated by the Muslim culture, their festival of Eid, who did not flinch at the mention of goat -slaughter during Bakra-Eid while the other still couldn’t comprehend how the lady in sari could be a pure vegetarian!! In those fifteen minutes, I saw them chat away, about life,womanhood,customs and background under the sun (figuratively).

Those fifteen minutes made a big difference for me personally! How often do we forget the ‘Muslim’ tag and interact with them just as a human being regardless of their caste/creed? I was ashamed of myself, for flinching every time I encountered a Muslim. Here I was a “twenty-first century’’ girl and still riddled with the religious differences...  


We call ourselves modern, educated yet are so regressive when it comes to religion, brotherhood... it is so saddening that we easily generalize people based on their religions. We were all humans until race disconnected us, religion separated us, politics divided us and wealth classified us...