Five reasons why I miss Delhi Winters

Winters are here! Ironically, I ain’t feeling an inch of it sitting here in Mumbai. Its perhaps the first time in 3 decades of my existence that I am sitting on December 7, 2014 with fan on and no sweaters! In Delhi, I have always cribbed about winters, preferring to snuggle in my velvet rajai than to wake up on a chilly morning; the torture of taking that morning shower; it was the favourite season of maids when they would cash on their worth. So, now, away from the winters why am I missing the love hate relationship?

Here are my 5 reasons for missing Dilli ki sardi

1.    Weddings

Come winters and wedding invitations start pouring in. If it’s a family wedding, it makes for a double treat. Cousins gossiping overnight on the terrace while munching on mungphalis and gazzak, and pre wedding bashes in huge lawns with bonfires! We Dilliwallas like our weddings big, fat and truly dhinchaak! While summers make it tough to carry heavy makeup and costume, winters make it all easy. The style divas love to flaunt their deep cut and backless blouses despite the chill.  And for those, who still feel the chill, a peg of Black Dog and dancing non stop does the trick.

2.    Winter brunches

Sunday mornings become party time, with moms preparing yummy delicacies (sarson ka saag, make ki roti, bajre ki khichdi, tikkas etc.) and the whole family enjoying the fare on sunny mornings at the terrace. Food lovers also go gaga over the winter brunches offered by the city hotels. I particularly miss the winter brunch at the American Diner at India habitat Centre, Delhi.

3.    Lodhi garden

No matter how much we run away from the suraj chachu in summers, winters do the patch up act. Even the annoying dhoop becomes “Makhmali”. Being away from Delhi, I can vouch there is no experience better than spending a winter morning in Lodi Garden, the Central park of Dilli. Kids flock to the garden to enjoy their favourite spot, while lovebirds leave no opportunity of getting cosy; on a lucky day you might even spot a painter sitting on the grass depicting the nature on canvas. Amateur photographers satiate their lenses with views of various migratory birds, even local. Have often seen squirrels being bribed with peanuts to strike a pose! How can we forget food here? Every Sunday, you can spot umpteen brunch gatherings in the garden.

4.    Winter shopping and discounts

Weddings and winter sales give Dilliwalas enough reasons to stuff their shopping carts. With fests like the CP shopping festivals and the big spacious malls organizing exclusive events, shopping becomes a joyful experience. And when the newspapers announce the end of season sale, Dilliwallas flock to their favourite stores to steal bargain on their long desired winter overcoats.

5.    Barbeque evenings

Fun, food and friends sums up the idea of a perfect evening for any Dilliwalla. Winters give just the perfect excuse, and Dilliwallas love to flaunt their barbeque skills on evenings with ghazals and old pals!

It is said we realize the value of something only when we are away from it. While I have been told winters will show us a small trailer here in Mumbai, I am yearning to rush to my Dilli to savour the magic of Dilli Ki Sardi! 

What all do you love about Delhi winters? I am all ears..:)

My yellow carpet welcome!

It’s raining Amaltas in my city! Look across any street and you will find beautiful yellow flowers enveloping almost every tree. On a sultry summer day, when most of us prefer to hide indoors with our juices and showers, the Amaltas flowers beautify the surroundings, inviting us to have a tête-à-tête with them.

My affair with the Amaltas started when I was in school. Next to the school bus pick up point, there was a lush tree covering a wall. I would pluck yellow bunches and carry them to school to gift my class teacher. Amaltas flowers were also the easiest target when we had to pluck flowers to play Ghar Ghar during summer vacations. Unlike other flowers, Amaltas seemed more attractive due to their bright yellow colour and the fact that they came in bunches.

If you are still wondering why am I getting so obsessed about some yellow flowers, I suggest you rush to Lutyens Delhi, Delhi ridge area, Chanakyapuri, or any park near your house. The flowers have a strong bond with Dilli and you will find many roads carpeted with yellow flowers in your welcome! Once you experience the yellow carpet welcome, you too will fall in love with them. 

And if you are lucky enough to spot a Gulmohar tree next to an Amaltas tree, the red and yellow combo will truly brighten your day.  

Fortunately, I don’t have to work hard to enjoy the company of these yellow delights. The park near my house has abundant supply of Laburnum trees. It’s bloom time and the entire park looks heavenly; the jogging track donning the yellow carpet look! No wonder it’s also called the Golden Shower tree! Gives the lazy me an excuse enough to go for a walk and bask in the beauty! While as a kid, I enjoyed plucking the flowers as I walked in the park, now I prefer to enjoy the scenic beauty of the yellow flowers blanketing the trees and prefer not to spoil the look by plucking the flowers. However, the guard has a hard time driving away kids who like the earlier me, can’t resist plucking the flowers.

Officially called Cassia fistula or the Indian Laburnum, Amaltas is found in abundance in India, Thailand, Myanmar and many other countries of South East Asia. Did you know it’s the national flower of Thailand (the yellow leaves symbolize Thai royalty) and the state flower of Kerala? In Kerala, the flower holds immense importance during the Vishu festival and women especially decorate their hair with the yellow flowers. Although I haven’t been there, I can imagine what a beautiful sight it would be when yellow blooms complement the joy of a new beginning!

The tree also has a special mention in the Ayurveda for its laxative properties though I was also surprised that excess consumption can be poisonous!

Whether Rain Gods oblige us with shower or not, the golden shower tree definitely makes summers a delight and I leave no opportunity to spend time exploring the blooms in my colony!

Me Wonderzzz...

The lovely Laburnum blooms

In several hearts making rooms

Showering their golden love

Amidst the cooing of koel and dove

The yellow carpet throughout the street

Makes my heart skip a beat!

The showers slowly reduce, exposing the leaves off hiding

Me watching the hide n seek, can’t stop smiling

Come monsoons and it’s time for the blooms to part

I wait for the next summer for a fresh yellow affair to start!

Shaadi ke side effects

I know the title would make all the married folks smile, for the one who takes the plunge knows it all. But, for all you married and single readers who are hoping to get some masala on the nuances of marriage, you are in for some disappointment. For this post is not about the side effects of marriage, it is about the side effects of attending a big fat Indian wedding!

Recently, we had to attend a relative’s wedding. But what seemed like an occasion to unwind and catch up with juicy family gossip turned out to be a comedy of errors. So, without wasting any more time, let me just take you through the countdown to the wedding.

2 days before

Just like the bride’s beauty regime begins days before the D day, the guests too take pains to look their photogenic best. Mom in law ordered me to arrange for her hair color to ensure not even one white hair escapes untouched! I requested my salon lady for a late evening appointment for her “special” glow facial. What usually is a relaxing activity for me became a substitute for lullaby since an exhausted me, after a day full of meetings virtually got the facial etc done in a sleep mode. Poor lady had to wake me up frequently to save the facial cream from smudging on the salon chair.

The Clothes

This is the focal point of the preparations, for any slip here invites horrible photographs and secret discussions among the ladies groups. While I prefer to plan the look in advance, mom in law always comes up with a lazy “I will pick up anything that day” answer. However, in this department, I am the boss, so I insist upon selecting the attire, jewelry, accessories etc and even give strict directions not to make any last minute changes on her own. Seemed my foresightedness worked for we realized we had added few more pounds since the last wedding we attended and an emergency visit to the tailor was called for.

The leave

No matter how much work life balance we working women maintain, we are always expected to take leaves whenever there is something to do with relatives. Be it a relative dropping in for stay over, or a function at a distant relative, my father in law always tells me “the organization won’t stop working if you take a day’s leave!” I somehow manage with a “I will come early” promise, and by now, everyone has realized my leaving early from work means leaving half an hour early! Still for them, something is better than nothing!

The D Day

It was the day of the wedding. While the relatives had summoned me to be a part of some rituals to be performed by married women of the family that day, my super supportive mom in law made up for my absence with a perfect excuse. Praying for not getting any last minute meeting invite, I rushed for home.

The moment I stepped in, I was welcomed by shining faces with smiles. Everyone but me, had spent the afternoon getting ready at their leisurely pace. Now only I was left. Mom in law asked me to get ready in 10 min. “Getting ready in 10min for attending a wedding?” My eyeballs almost popped out of the sockets!  “Ya, you can just get the basic thing and remaining can be done on the way. After all the venue is far and there will be traffic jam” she said. I realized arguing would have wasted even those 10 min so I smiled and took my time in getting ready (well not just for myself, coz in between I also helped MIL with her saree, makeup etc. which ensured my extra time went unnoticed).

The Oh so pleasant lo..ng drive!

We just sat inside the car when Mr. Hubby realized we had forgotten the most important thing…the invitation card! For it had the address of the venue! MIL and I grumbled as we had to repeat the process of unocking and locking the house just to get the invitation card! “Couldn’t the men have kept it in their pocket while they watched the IPL repeat telecast?” we grumbled.

The wedding was in at the fag end of an NCR location, and as I struggled with Google navigator to help Mr. Hubby with the route, father in law kept cribbing we would be late and miss the function (though I kept on convincing him that going by the time Baraats (wedding processions) arrive these days, we could watch all prime time shows, leave for the venue and still be early!)

8:30pm

Since FIL was concerned about missing the action, we landed up at the wedding venue directly instead of the Baraat assembly point (we were representing the groom’s side). However, the scheme of things there took me by total surprise. At 8:30pm, the venue wore a deserted look, with some strange faces roaming around. These were people from the Bride’s side and were warm enough to welcome the early bird Baraatis!

Since we were the only people at the venue from the groom’s side the stewards flocked to our table like honeybees on flowers and after 2 rounds I, embarrassed with the extra attention, asked them to focus on serving the bride’s relatives as well!

The 2 main questions

Now there were 2 big questions for the evening –

     1.   When would the Baraat arrive? (For then only we would be able to hand over the gift and leave)

     2.   How to pass time till the Baraat arrive?

9:30pm

One hour had passed since we came. There was no sign of Baraat. Father in law got excited everytime he heard the sound of Dhols and trumpets, only to find that the Baraat belonged to another venue! Everytime he called up the father of the groom, he got the same “we are reaching in 15 minutes” reply. “Their 15 minutes never seem to get over” mom in law revolted, for sitting idle in an open lawn on a sultry summer evening wearing heavy saree, makeup and jewelry  was testing our patience levels.

10:30pm

Thankfully, the venue was decently filled with people now, majority belonging to the bride’s family, for the 15 minutes were not yet over. There was no sign of Baraat. Many from the groom’s side like us had dropped in the venue too and I empathized with them as they inquired about the whereabouts of the Baraat. Most women took the delay as a chance to take rounds of the venue and flaunt their sarees, makeup and jewelry. The teenager girls sensing competition, took to the dance floor and their almost perfect imitation of popular Bollywood moves ensured a lot of attention from the male fraternity!

Mom in law and I killed time by discussing the sarees and jewelry of the women who passed by but that too didn’t help us for long. I was beginning to feel sleepy and tired by now and felt like hitting the sac, for I had to go to work the next day. So mom in law suggested we have dinner and hopefully by the time we finished, the Baraat would have arrived. Sounded like a good idea.

11:30pm

We had relished the dinner and the desserts but the Baraat was still nowhere to be seen. “Have they demanded dowry and decided to call it quits?” I winked and asked mom in law! “Shhh…don’t talk inauspicious things” came the reply. I was almost asleep with head down on the table when mom in law noticed the groom’s sister in law. As if she spotted an angel, mom in law rushed to her with the gift in hand. From a distance I could see her share a few pleasantries, hand over the gift and come back. “Lets go, we are done”, mom in law said.

“But, w..where the hell (actually I didn’t say hell, though meant it!) is the baraat we have been waiting for?” I asked.

“She says it’s on the way, the people are still dancing” mom in law explained.

Still dancing? I was wondering.  Didn’t they know they had invited guests over who had been waiting for more than 3 hours? In a country where guests are considered Gods, here were some people who preferred to keep the Gods waiting while they danced and made merry. Didn’t for once they think of the bride who would have been waiting in heavy clothes, makeup and jewelry since evening, practicing the prefect smile to pose for the shutterbugs? It has been a trend at many weddings for the groom’s side to keep the junta waiting and arrive late for this makes them feel like celebs. But let me tell you that just by wearing flashy clothes and sitting on a horse, one doesn’t become a celeb….one becomes a celeb by his deeds and traits. What is the use of printing false timings on invitation cards then? People should at least respect others’ time.

We left without any further wait for the Junglee Baraat (as I named them)..:)

I felt a sudden impulse to slip a note for the groom’s father

“Dear Uncle,

Had we known the 15 minutes would never end, we would have struck a deal like they do with Pizza delivery boys…15 minutes or free…well, since the food is anyway free, the deal would be that if the Baraat doesn’t arrive in 15 minutes, they would be welcomed by a deserted venue!”

Being the sanskaari bahu I am, I obviously didn’t leave any such note.

The Hangover

Yes, the half wedding we attended also gave me a return gift. I was down with food poisoning the next day and red rashes all over my face (wished we would have couriered the wedding gift instead!)

So, for all of you who though only being married has side effects, even attending weddings has its own share of side effects!

Bajra Party!

I was on a short walk after lunch today when these lovely little someones caught my attention. In election time when most people are trying to cash in on common backgrounds, cities and a lot of things that really don't make sense, here were these cuties, who only knew the language of love.

Enjoying the spread without any frown at the presence of opposition, they would make for a shutterbug's treat. 

Ask them, who do they support, they would all sing in chorus...Bajra Party! 

Captions???

The guest who wasn’t spared

While the politicians were busy with the blame game for upcoming elections and the media in boosting their TRPs, 20 year old Nido Taniam fell prey to the insensitivity of the capital city.  Nido, the 20 year old student from North East who came to Delhi for a better life, was robbed of his life, thanks to discrimination in his own country. What and how is something we all know. Perhaps it’s time we wake up to the “why” and take charge.

Somewhere or the other, we all must have witnessed the increasing rash and rough side of Delhi, a side that was nowhere to be seen a few years ago. Since lawlessness prevails, anti social elements do not think twice before catering to their selfish interests.

The media is buzzing with several accounts of the incident after Nido is gone, and the officials have woken to come up with a justifiable answer. But the loss of a young life, its hopes and aspirations is irreparable.

In a state where people with political connections often get away with almost anything, it’s surprising that Nido was not spared, despite being from a political background. Sad, the city only understands the sound of the red beacon SUVs flaunted by self proclaimed powerful someone’s. Had Nido been the typical red beacon flaunting rash son of a politician, would the story still have such a tragic end?

 I sometimes wonder, what prompts the people of Delhi to become self declared law makers and not approach the official system? Is it the lack of trust in the law, the lack of fear of punishment, or both? In any case, such incidents show total disrespect towards the official machinery by the trouble makers. Coz in countries of the west, one would think twice before even hinting towards something racist.

During my trips to the North East, I have found the people to be warm and hospitable. By looks, we might look the odd ones out in their state, but seldom do they mock or comment about one’s ethnicity.

However, when it’s time for my city to reciprocate the hospitality, such incidents bring shame. No amount of money or progress makes sense unless the citizens here learn basic civic sense.  Until that happens, the city faces national ire for being a lawless place that can’t secure its guests. Its time, the law makers gear up and spruce up the system, and its time, we the common people, learn to welcome guests with open arms.

Nido, may your soul rest in peace

Musings of an old Dilliwalla

Delhi is a city that has welcomed friends and foes with open arms. A city where I have grown up witnessing the best culture, mannerisms and heritage. A city that boasts of its stories of brotherhood. Ask any second or third generation Dilliwalla about the Delhi they have seen, and pat comes the reply – the city that celebrated Id with as much fervour as Diwali, where adab was a piece of jewellery every Dilliwalla wore with pride. I remember as kids, we would walk down to India Gate late at night to savour an ice cream without any fear. Evening drives meant so much fun as the old Fiat sailed through the spacious roads of Lutyens Delhi.

Sadly, over the years, Delhi is losing its sheen that made it the jewel in the crown called India. While it has become the epicentre of forever happening political eruptions, the culture has also been cruelly eroded.

Flamboyant first generation billionaires with strong political connections, zooming SUVs with loud, thumping music, zero patience on roads, abusive language, intolerance at its best, licensed guns looking for petty excuses to prove their mantle, crowds outnumbering the capacity almost everywhere, women security at its worst…the list is endless and the hearts of Delhites like me bleed as we see our city succumbing to cultural pollution.

Who does it or who instigates doesn’t matter anymore. People who stay here are part of the family and as family members, we all ought to take onus. It hurts to see the bad impressions the city holds with people everywhere, of being polluted, rash and unsafe. Who makes it unsafe? It’s the people among us. Everyone is in a race to be ahead, and in that race, we often miss the basics – if we want peace, we gotta live in harmony, else the whole system goes crackling. For, when there is dispute amongst the family members, the neighbours enjoy the show!

Disappointed by the increasing cultural pollution in Delhi, I have often been tempted to move to greener pastures. However, to avoid is to be an escapist. I remember a scene from the movie Rang De Basanti, where a determined Madhavan tells his dejected friends that it is easy to criticise and abandon the house. But, it calls for courage and responsibility to clean up our house. Being citizens of Delhi, it is our responsibility to remove the tarnish and give it a cultural face lift.

When Delhites visiting elsewhere can follow the rules, why dirty our own house? Let the beasts be chained behind and let the responsible citizen in us take charge. Winning is not about outnumbering or outshining, it’s about bringing a smile on faces. Enough of litter in our culture, its time Dilliwallas do the cleanup act!

Drama is not uncommon to the common people of Delhi!

 “Get over Kingdom of dreams’ Nautanki Mahal”…for Nautanki is here!” I wondered as I walked down this chilly raining morning out of an overcrowded metro station. I thanked God, having survived a near stampede situation. But drama in Delhi is as common as the crowded metro that comes every now and then but leaves soon, before you can take some action.

Having spent three decades in Delhi, I understand the music Dilliwallas face every January. While the world enjoys the grandeur of Republic Day parade every year, for us, the tough preparations begin long before.

Any venture near Lutyens Delhi is a complete no no, for one may be welcomed by surprised route diversions, route closures and police barriers. Scanning the newspaper or internet for traffic advisory can make things better. However, if daily route asks you to commute via CP/India Gate, the week before and after republic day can end up being the most trying days of the year.

Unfortunately for me, school and college were located near Lutyens Delhi. So, come what may, it was an ordeal I had to go through every year. Then came metro, and my bad memories of traffic diversion were swept with a gush of wind!

However, my ugly memories paid an unfriendly visit this morning as I left home for work. We live in a country where common man has a say “only before the polling day”. The day poll results come, common man’s say becomes uncommon as the politicos smartly eclipse our concerns with a coat of their ambitions. We had a gentleman fighting this morning for welfare of the common man whereas hundreds of common men (and women) were helplessly harassed by the Delhi chill and disrupted metro services. And as if that wasn’t enough, the rain Gods decided to play their prank.

While some people feel these are teething troubles that come in the way of the big revolution, I decided to go back to the basics. The essence of any revolt is to safeguard the interests of the common people. But when the passion to execute a plan takes over, the basic essence is forgotten by many. Then the first thing butchered for the platter is the interest of the common man. This was evident by the live masala coverage today that got channels great food for TRPs!

I heard the revolution was partly to bring up the cause of women safety. Great gesture worthy of praise. But can a melodramatic revolt do something that Delhi hasn’t seen changed over many years – the male outlook towards women? As hundreds of men and women jostled (in a near stampede situation) at most metro stations this morning, many common men got great opportunity to come unwelcoming close to many common women. If a revolt has to happen, let there be something to change the way most men look at women here-as helpless objects of desire. Instead of disrupting the lives of normal people, let the revolt disrupt the lives of countless men who roam around unchained on streets of Delhi at night (when our revolutionaries are asleep!) looking for a female prey. Let there be something that make the bad elements think twice in fear before thinking of the word ‘rape’. An eye for an eye or some strict law, as they have in some countries in the middle east.

Unless that doesn’t happen, such TRP attracting revolts would just add up to glorify the career paths of some politicos and breaking news for the media.

And the common man, if asked would still want his common life, simple and peaceful, sans any disruptions or diversions.

 

Common man, searching the "uncommon" peace

An eye for an eye

The newspapers had it mentioned all across. TV channels were overflowing with the story of innocent, brave Nirbhaya. “Has anything changed for us?” I grumbled, crumpling the newspaper into a ball. Mom was quick to catch the ball. “Why do you wait for things to happen?”.

“Hmmm”…I said and rushed for work.

Fully clad in a salwar kameez, with the dupatta right catering to the modesty factor, I rushed towards the metro. “Be draped in curtains, avoid passes…what the…. Does it help?” I was grumbling as I managed the dupatta against the sudden strong wind.

I was just in time to grab the last coach. Going for women’s coach would have meant late entry in office. I stuffed myself in the coach, overflowing with people. The doors closed and the stench of cheap aftershaves and sweaty underarms made for a heady cocktail. As my olfactory senses cursed me for missing the ladies coach, something touched my derriere. I gave a slight turn thinking it would be a crowd and was lost in my thoughts when I felt it again. I turned around and saw his face.

The hand went back to his hair. He pretended to look elsewhere. I was enraged when after few seconds, I caught him looking at me. Shameless smile covered his face, as if he was a lion and me the deer. Avoid, ignore, play safe - was what I had learnt all these years. “Did it ever help?” I wondered.

The doors of the metro opened. A thought flashed my mind, “Go out and board the women’s coach in the next metro.” 2 minutes and the door closed. The decision had been made, to take things under own stride.

The next moment, I was staring him eye to eye, waiting for his next pass, waiting to strike my blow on his sweaty face. The tigress stare worked. The doors opened and he was gone.

Eve teasers beware…this time there will be an eye for an eye.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Saving Mr. Gutar Gun!

I see many people blowing trumpets about their concern for wildlife; some even claiming to make donations. Go to any gaushala on an auspicious day and you will find otherwise famished cows surprised by oversupply of food that day. Human beings are indeed the most selfish souls that ever walked earth. They will do anything provided it gives some benefit to them, else, they will turn a blind eye.

During lunchtime today, I spotted a pigeon in my office compound. He was like any other Pigeon sitting on the floor, hardly noticed by anybody, after all, he was just a Pigeon. I too would have joined the list, had I not seen his wound. He was badly wounded on his back and leg and was not able to move properly. Fearing a fatal attack, the poor thing tried to drag himself behind some flowerpots.

Leaving him unattended would have meant throwing him the death trap. So I decided to guard him and call for help. I saw an uncle feeding a roti to the Squirrels. Thinking him to be a concerned animal lover, I showed him the Pigeon and asked if he knew any vet around. “Oh he has been attacked by some Dog. Hmm…he will be fine…”he said. Now this was getting super dumb. Imagine, you fall sick and the doctor, instead of treating you, says you will be fine. Was uncle waiting for a miracle? Or his concern for wildlife was limited to feeding roti to squirrels (I am sure that too was his atrologer’s prediction to ward off a problem).

After the useless uncle was gone, I called a guard from the gate and asked him to help me take the Pigeon to the vet. However, he turned out to be more scared than the uncle himself. “Will he bite?” He asked and I gave up on him. I wondered, how would an injured soul struggling with danger, harm someone?

Not wanting to leave him alone, I guarded him and made some frantic calls to many colleagues and friends. While some answered with “Oh, Hmm, lemme see..” some were total angels. My phone was immediately flooded with numbers of animal helplines and NGOs and 3 angel friends even came down to help.

Within few minutes we realized our next challenge was yet another big challenge. Apparently, none of the big NGOs claiming to be animal saviors were of help. Most numbers were not answered and even those who answered said they have no animal ambulance facility. One guy at the phone even said. “Madam, he is a pigeon, not a crocodile. Hold him and get him to my office.” “But I donno how to hold him and besides, he is badly injured and wants first aid”, I could barely utter before he hung up on me. I also learnt a new thing. One NGO even told me since they work for dogs, they were unable to attend to a pigeon. Discrimination! Phew!

Every passing minute could prove fatal for Mr. Gutar Gun, who appeared more scared and tired now, hiding behind a plant. Many squirrels played around him, oblivious to his condition. Finally, when nothing worked, we called up an NGO which showed the nearest on Google map. Before the guy could ask me anything, I charged on him, “There is a Pigeon dying, will you save him or you too can save only Dogs, cats and cows”. The guy it seems, understood the panic and frustration in my voice. “I am sorry we don’t have an ambulance, but if you get him to our shelter home, we can definitely do something for him.”

We somehow convinced a colleague the Pigeon was harmless and he helped us catch the Pigeon without hurting  his wound. As we rushed him to the NGO, me and my friends felt nothing short of an ambulance staff, for any delay at our part would have been fatal for the bird.

The guy at the reception immediately saw the bird in our hands and recognized us. “Madam aap log hee thhhe jinka phone aa raha thhhaa baar baaar”, he said with a smile. Like a child with colic pain, the Pigeon was rushed to the vet, who examined him and assured us he would be fine. We were told after a short vacation in the hospital, Mr. Gutar Gun would be fit and fine to frolic around our office once again. We sighed with a smile of relief. We could have walked away and ignored the dying Pigeon, but sometimes, just trying to make an effort does all the magic and help pours in from unexpected corners.

To the friends who helped me take Mr. Gutar Gun to the vet – A friend in need is a friend indeed

To the NGO who helped us despite Mr. Gutar Gun not being a dog/cat/cow – Thanks. I won’t name the organization as the opinions expressed in this post are personal.

To the people who feed cows at the advice of astrologers and ignore the animals in need around them – Introspect. Is it really the right thing to do?

To the readers – Do something good for someone for his benefit, not for your selfish interest. Feeding dog on an auspicious day won’t really add up to your karma if you ignore a dying stray on street on a normal day. If you know of a genuine NGO that helps without discriminating, please update the address and contact details in the comments. The net is flooded with so many useless self proclaimed animal welfare bodies but what matters is which one really saves that dying stray animal near us.

To Mr. Gutar Gun – Enjoy your stay at the NGO while you recuperate. Get well soon and make flights of freedom in our office compound again. It’s great to have you here!

Sorry, no pic of Mr. Gutar Gun …but look around your office compound …you will spot him enjoying the winter sun on a Jamun tree! 

Ten Commandments of living it safely in Delhi

Dear Niece,

Happy 16^th birthday to you! May you get all the happiness and success and may all your dreams come true. I can see many pretty gifts on that table with the cake and 16 candles…each candle for every beautiful year of happiness you have given us by your presence. I sit in a corner and wonder what can I possibly give a 16 year old with a mind of her own? Well, just like most elders, wisdom is all I have…

You have grown up into a very pretty girl as evident by all those eyes looking at you in admiration. Being the protective mausi, I scrutinize each look and wonder if it is admiration or admiration adulterated with something else. I know I can’t be there with you all the time, you are an independent girl after all. But Delhi is no longer the city it was. I have been born and brought up in a city where I could easily catch that 9pm bus back home after an evening outing with friends. But so did Nirbhaya, the young girl who took that bus on the unfortunate night of 16^th December 2012 – a night that changed her destiny forever.

So on your 16^th birthday, I gift you, from my box of sweet n sour experiences in Delhi, Ten Commandments of living it safely in Delhi…

1.     Dress as per the time and place – I know you just frowned after reading this one! No, I am not asking you to cover yourself in a veil, but then, when in Rome, do what Romans do.  We live in a city where vultures hover around looking for an easy catch, so inappropriate or provocative attire at a lonely place or at the odd hours would get them  hovering.

2.    Stay connected – Just like updating status on FB is cool, it’s cool to keep your loved ones informed about your location. It’s not being a child, rather it signals the child has grown up enough to realize her responsibilities and  keeping someone informed to connect easily in case of an emergency.

3.    Emergency kit – Few cosmetics less in your bag won’t do make a significant change to your look, but a pepper spray, a pair of scissors can be your life savers in emergencies.

4.    The more the merrier – I know you love those late night outs, but moving in groups in odd hours are just so much more fun and safe. Especially when you are at a place that’s not frequented by many.

5.    Get the App – I hope we had this one in our times. That Android phone of yours can be a real life saver in emergencies. Just get the right app. Download the Smart Suraksha App on you phone and at the click of a button, your emergency message will reach 5 emergency contacts specified. What’s more, the app also locates your location and sends It to your emergency contacts even when the GPRS is switched off! Now this one you can’t afford to miss, being the tech savvy and smart young lady you are.

6.    Trust your instincts, not the person – That guy you met 15 minutes back at the party might look like the perfect prince charming. But behind the mask may be hiding the Dracula, waiting to pounce on the beauty. So, look, hear, analyse and observe.

7.    There are no free lunches in this world – We taught this one to you as a kid, and its revision time. Never accept that drink from that friendly stranger in the party.  It takes seconds for the drug laced drink to cast its dirty spell on you.

8.    Be bold – I remember this incident when a guy was staring at me in a bus. I kept on avoiding but when it became unbearable, I just gave him a stern, continuous stare, without even blinking my eyes. 2 minutes and the guy was off that seat. I am not asking you to pick fights, but sending across the right (no nonsense) message makes a lot of sense.

9.    Keep the antennas on – Whether in party or public transport catch that guy getting irritatingly close and shoo him away right there and then.

10. Last but most important – Presence of mind – Intelligence is of no use when it can’t be used at the right time for the right purpose. Acting tactful in an emergency till help arrives can save you a lot of mess ups.

While you too might be having your own to do’s and don’ts, these are some tips experience has taught me. You being the baton holder of the next generation, I pass them on to you and wish you continue to be the free spirited bird that you are, and take flights of freedom at any place, any time.

Love,

Mausi

I am sharing my Smart Suraksha Tips at BlogAdda.com in association with Smart Suraksha App.

For the love of Art-our first painting class

This is in continuation to my earlier post “For the love of Art”… for those who had been waiting to read the sequel to my earlier post, apologies for the delay! The lazy me, office, home and most importantly, sponsored posts and contests tried their best to keep this post away…but I ain’t that bad a blogger, I keep my promises…

So here we go…

Was it the love for Mr. Hubby or the hatred for my poor drawing skills that convinced me, I don’t know, but the following Sunday, we packed whatever art material we had (just in case we were asked to begin painting with acrylics the same day! Lol!) and zoomed for our class. My condition throughout the drive was that of a kid going to a dentist who asks his mother “will it pain?”…I too kept asking Mr. Hubby, “U sure na I can do it?” And just like the mother assures it won’t pain much, he too assured me I would easily learn to paint with finesse.

All that convincing dashed for the trash bin when we entered the class…for our classmates ranged from 3 to 12 year olds! As the teacher welcomed us, I gave Mr. Hubby a quick “I will kill you” look and he gave me a helpless smile. I was certain the paints and the pencils will continue to rest inside the boot of the car, as this would be a kiddo type class…which meant this was my first and last class, which meant no more painting without the blame on me! Woohoo!

The teacher, who was younger than us, it seems had other plans…

He began by showing us around the whole area and reading my face, even told me that the students range from small kids to housewives and senior citizens! Lovely canvasses decorated in acrylic donned the walls of our classroom. There were also some very interesting sculptures (one even in the shape of a sharpener made with granite!) and the teacher told us those were part of an exhibition recently concluded.

The more artwork he showed the more I feared, for it became clear the class wasn’t meant to be just simple drawing and painting.  I could see a teenager painting stuff that I can never even imagine myself trying in the wildest of dreams. Mr. Hubby however, was completely at ease and I marvelled at the way he discussed stuff like modernism, cubism, works of Monet, Constable, Picasso etc. with the teacher.

We were soon assigned our first task – to do a still life in pencil of two pots and a glass bottle placed on a table.

the prop

Now, you might wonder, what is so tough about making a pot or two? But lemme tell you it is far tough than it seems – getting the entire finer details and shading right (even the glass!) by using just pencil!

Within minutes I realized not only was I a bad painter but also a terrible one at simple drawings. I couldn’t just get 2 simple pots on a large sheet right! If the left of the pot got too curvaceous, the right one was lesser curvaceous. I sat staring at the blank sheet in frustration feeling stuck, somewhat like Pie in The Life of Pie…in the middle of nowhere!

Just half an hour had passed which meant I had to go through the ordeal for another 1 ½ hours! Since we were first timers and adults, we attracted kids; they occasionally peeped from behind at what we were drawing. As I sat tortured, I saw a hyper enthusiastic Mr. Hubby already done with his drawing and asking the teacher for shading tips. 

The teacher praised him for his work and gave me a funny look, yet reassured me in a friendly tone, “It’s your first time, relax…some patience and you will get it right. Look at that girl, she has been painting that setup for a month now and only now is it near completion.” Patience? I was almost in tears and cursed myself for being so impulsive. “Why did I impulsively go for something that requires so much patience? A painting even takes months to complete and here I am hoping to get a perfect still life in an hour! That’s why I love blogging. Atleast at the end of an hour, I have a post ready and uploaded!”

I remembered the art room of my school, it too had similar still life set ups with perfect spot lights and students working passionately for hours getting them right in paint. I had often laughed at them for being so super vellaaa and here I was. Anyway, I soon realised it made no sense sitting idle as I would be the laughing stock of the classroom if my sheet didn’t look any different after 2 hours!

So I began to try, rubbing and drawing, with a frequent eye on Mr. Hubby’s sheet and another on my watch! I had decided it would be my last class, but didn’t want to look a loser at my maiden attempt. 

They say art is something that requires immense concentration! And here was me! Sweat, hunger, thirst, urge to check my phone, nature’s call…my mind was full of everything but concentration!

Once a blogger, always a blogger! Soon, it occurred to me that these painting classes can give me good fodder for my blog…imagine a separate tab of posts containing my experiences from being a horrible to a great artist! While struggling with my first sketch, I even started imagining the content of some posts!

A tall shadow got me back to the class! The teacher was standing there, smiling and looking at my sketch. I looked at the watch…time up….”Not bad, he said, your drawing is decent, but you need to work on the shading part…Don’t worry, a sketch a day and you will improve in a week’s time!”.

A sketch a day? Did I hear him right? I am a living pendulum between kitchen and living room when at home, and he expects me to make a sketch a day?

He praised Mr. Hubby for his detailed and clean art work and advised him more practice. As I sat in the car, I announced it was my first and last class. “Why?” a shocked Mr. Hubby asked me. I narrated him the entire story in a cranky childlike tone. But he was quick and clever to get the deal of my interest. He sounded super enthusiastic about my idea of a series of posts on my painting classes. He even offered to treat me to Mc Donald’s burger after every painting class! (hehe…) and encouraged me by praising my efforts and perseverance. Art is about trying and exploring and he sounded certain that with practice and time, I too would get it right…

I had thought it to be my first and last class…

But the person who said change is the only constant had some brains after all!

Two months have since passed and I look forward to my art classes now…initially it was for the Mc Donald’s treat but now it is truly for the love of art! I am surprised at how an impatient me can feel so comfortable with drawing…so much that I have tried out portraits as well!

my first still life

Me wonderzzz…

That’s life…a pandora’s box…we don’t know what lies inside…well, a lot of beautiful stuff does…we just need to explore with an open mind!

From still life to outdoors to portraits to watercolours, Mr. Hubby and I have happily gone through the metamorphosis. But it hasn’t been a smooth one for me…specially the day we were taken to a park and asked to do outdoors in pencil! Wanna know what happened next? Well, will tell you in my next post “For the Love of Art – our first outdoor”

 

Wear your attitude!