Ek Chhoti Si Hate Story

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Location: Finance lecture

Actors : Mind & heart

Director: But of course, our genius blogger

Background Score: Professor with his fusion of jargons & philosophy

Pic Courtesy: Google Search

Once, the mind and heart were sitting together in a lecture. The mind was trying its best to comprehend and retain the professor’s shower of technical jargons. The heart, on the other hand was greedily looking at the iphone screen on the second bench and the game being played on it.

Heart: I forgot to get my laptop, else I too would have survived the two hour session.

Mind : Shhh! Can’t you see I’m trying hard to concentrate on the lecture? You better not disturb me.

Heart (in a playful mood): Concentrate…ooh as if your rusting neurons & grey matter are as good as that topper sitting on the last bench. Why waste time, when you won’t remember a thing at the sight of the examination paper. No matter how much you try, you never leave your parampara (ritual) of cribbing after every exam. Chill! I have an idea. Let’s try to sleep with eyes wide open!

Mind (infuriated): You wicked heart! How dare you call me inferior? If I don’t cooperate, you will go far from being a good heart to an insane one. Had I not been there, you wouldn't even remember who to love and who to hate. Imagine, what would have been your plight had I created few cross connections here & there.

Heart (with a foul face): Monsieur Heart, just because you do me few favors don’t mean you run the show. Don’t forget, if I leave, nothing survives. Business is all you mean. But at the end of the day, it is I who decide whether the person is happy or sad.

Mind: But I give consciousness, else…

The professor spotted the dilated pupils & immediately popped up a question. Poor mind hastily got its act together & the heart had a hearty, wicked laugh.

Two hours into the lecture, the heart had it enough.

Heart: I am yawning nonstop. Can’t take it anymore. I wanna doze off. Shut up your useless activity & let me rest.

Mind: You think I like all this? It is so tough for me. But what to do. I am the mind. I don’t have the luxury of wanting & desiring like you have. I have to do what is right.

Heart: But we can take a break! You are so tired my dear.

Mind: I am the mind, it’s a horrible life, I can’t rest till the class is on, else I won’t have any inputs even to my subconscious memory…it's technical stuff, you won’t get it. Just stay quiet for another hour & then we can take the desired nap.

Heart: Alright dear, I have no choice, can’t leave you. But I have a condition. Every 5 minutes I want an update on the minutes left for the class to be over, else I will trouble you with my useless nonsense & you can’t even ignore me else I will make you sad.

Mind: You are such a Betaal!

Heart: And u are my darling king Vikramaditya! Hate me, curse me, but u can’t leave me.

Mind: I hate u

Heart: Like I love u

Mind: Okay, all conditions agreed. Now keep quiet for the next hour

Heart (winks): Shhhhhh

The mind took notes religiously for the next one hour while the heart looked here & there and waited for the next time checked.

As the class got over,

Heart (screaming): yippeeee

Mind: Phew! Finally….I am exhausted….who am i? A zombie?

Heart: Hehe

Mind: You must be very sleepy. Sorry. Lets catch up on sleep.

Heart: Now that the class is over, on second thoughts…Neah!  Miss Youtube is waiting for a movie date & I must look my best!

Mind (winks) : Oh!!!!!

Mind & Heart (singing): 

The class ends, the class ends, 

We have become best friends

Lalala!  Lalala!

To see Miss youtube, we cant wait

Lets rush for the movie date!
Lalala! Lalala!

Pic Courtesy: Google Search

This post is a part of <a title="Write Over the Weekend" href="http://blog.blogadda.com/category/write-over-the-weekend-wow" target="_blank">Write Over the Weekend</a>, an initiative for <a title="Reach out to the largest community of Indian Bloggers" href="http://www.blogadda.com/" target="_blank">Indian Bloggers</a> by BlogAdda

Fears...

Pic courtesy:Google search

I have recently started seeing a surge in people wanting to face their fears. Be it the reality show “fear factor”, increasing number of people going for adventure sports, increasing focus on healing one’s life etc. "Sometimes people like to do things just to do something", I told myself. 

Fears are like the clouds in the sky; the shapes might change but they are never out of sight. How is it possible then to face one’s fears in the eyes specially the ones whose very mention give us goose bumps & that sinking feeling in the tummy?

I was watching a famous Bollywood actress in an interview last night. As she spoke about her constant ventures to overcome her fears, I wondered if it is too good to be true. Do people claim victory over their fears or they are just saying it aloud so that their heart can listen & remember to turn a blind eye to those fears?

I am scared of a freaking lot of things in my life. Instead of bragging about my self-proclaimed triumphs over them, I prefer being honest & accepting my fears. It’s good to be human sometimes & I am definitely one.

However, temptation is very wicked. So last night I had this sudden itch of overcoming my fears. They have been hovering around my grey matter all these years but to write them down & accept that they did exist & trouble me, required some guts. My brown eyes obliged many of them with ample saline water & I just let them be… Also jotted down the things I want to do in life….and I must say the list far far faaaar exceeded the list of fears. I’m a greedy gal!

I donno if this will help but when mere acceptance gave me so much relaxation, I hope the journey will just get better now…I wish myself all the best for this new endeavor!

Pic courtesy:Google search

You only live once

We all begin our lives like a white board – clean and clear. As we grow up, we dream of making it big. The grind we endure in academic years is to ensure freedom to earn and do whatever we want without having to look up to anyone. Till one day, we are on our own. Own money, own life, freedom that we had always yearned for. “Wow”, we say, “The party has begun”

Our greedy mind wants more, and there are no free lunches in this world. So we work extra, strive to succeed, get that extra share of pie. The days extend into nights and we become so busy with “just getting it right” that we forget why it all began. To be happy! And happiness no money can buy. It comes from within, triggered by the small joys of life.

The grass is greener on the other side. When we are young and have the small joys at our disposal, we ask for bigger, better. And when we get that bigger, better, we realize that the innocent, sweet fruit of happiness lay hidden in those small joys we once had.

As it happens with anybody at the start of his/career, I, in my first job was at my workaholic best. I would stretch to limits that would surprise my bosses, would eat, sleep and think about my job. My office began to see more of me than my family did. I would enter home just in time for dinner and doze off. Then, one day my mother asked me “Why have you decided to work?” “So that I can be independent & do what I want”. I said. “But are you really getting time to do what you really like doing? How many books have you finished in the last 2 months?” That got me thinking. The rut of life was pulling me inside like a whirlpool, and I was not even realizing it. But when you are 20, all that seems right is big, better and beautiful & so I forgot her words the next morning & happily gave in to the busy bee syndrome.

Many years have passed since this dialogue. Mom & I never spoke again about it. Now, she is no more. I am doing well for myself. But when I see myself not getting time to blog, despite my mind bubbling with ideas, I wonder what’s wrong. Everything technically right happens in life, but suddenly you find yourself hard pressed with time for the people you love and the things you love to do…the reason why it all began…and then you wonder….

As I write, I recall the scene from “Rock On” where Farhan Akhtar turns off his system just in time to be with his rock band!

The lesson, I have learnt is that sky is the limit to ambitions. But one should always give priority to the people one loves & the things one enjoys doing. Coz it is what you love that brings happiness inside…and only if you are happy, you can enjoy any luxury money can buy…

Have a similar experience? 

A home is a home is a home

Whenever I read reports in newspapers about disturbance in a country, I wonder why cant the people there shift their base rather than living in fear of death and uncertainty. The world is a much open place now and anyone can go and settle in the place of his choice & live a better life. And my opinion applies to people living in extreme sub zero climates, places with forever political problems, high militancy areas etc etc. However, I am told nobody likes to leave his house…coz home is where the heart is.

Even the pigeons on my hostel window reflect the same attitude. To be honest, I hate being away from home, away from the happening city, in a place everything, right from food to climate to infrastructure is in a state of despair. Yet, everyday I see a bunch of pigeons living happily on my room window. Its no easy situation for them either. The place is not an ideal destination for enough water, or food for them. Still, no matter how much I try to shoo them away, they always come back to the window. They have a free mode of transport, would need no passport/visas to shift to greener pastures & are not even bound by a residential program (like me!)…so what is it that motivates them?

And then I look at migratory birds in Lodi Garden in winter mornings. Like tourists, they come every year, to survive extreme weather conditions. Yet the comfort is unable to make them stay here forever. Come the right season in their home country & they happily take the long flight back home.

They say the solution to life’s puzzles lies in looking inside, so I introspect. No matter how much I love Delhi, there are people who strongly share the opposite opinion – people from other cultures finding tough to adjust here, tourists harassed  by the locals, people finding the city unsafe…they have their own reasons that nobody can counter. Yet, what is it that binds me to the place? Like a migratory bird, I look forward to taking that first flight home whenever I can…because home is where u feel comfortable and secure… home is where the heart is!

Exams are over tomorrow & I head home! 

Pic Courtesy:Google Search

Men and their “get and forget”

Just like New Year resolutions are meant to be broken, my anti blogging plans always end up in the trash bin! I had told myself – no blogging till the exams are over, no checking of page views. But Dil pe kisee ka zor nahi (nobody can control matters of heart)…and the heart feels like shouting it out loud on this blog!

Like most wives, I too have someone to blame for this problem…

My Super Busy Husband…

So, while he works it out in the office with some new team who is keeping him away from his wife, he doesn’t realize he has become my latest bakra for “Shaivi Ka Funda” Wow!

We always long what we don’t have, get into a “do or die” situation to grab it….as if it’s the most important thing in this world. And once, we have it as ours, closed in the closet, safely. Since there is no risk of losing it now. Such is with men (I know men reading this post will abhor me, but guys, I can’t help but sound feminist, I am agitated right now). 

Scene 1: You see, I am not a typical chocolate, flowers loving girl. And to impress a literature freak like me, he indeed had to work hard. And his courtship period report card has been very impressive…reading out my favorite blog to me, writing poems, birthday wishes in 10 different languages, a  new adjective every sms, discussing new books everyday…etc etc etc…he did it all with finesse. I used to wonder then, is there really something as an epitome of perfect gentleman? Coz he proved it every day. Once he actually stopped on the road while going to office so that he could focus on talking to me. NO work, no meeting was more important than me…and I found this too good to be true. The woman in me, Oooh…was on cloud nine!

Then marriage happens…

And now…

Scene 2:  He wakes up in the morning but waits to be woken up officially by me, announcing tea in a particular way. And just when I am enjoying that favorite article in the Sunday paper, he orders another cup. Had I been a restaurateur, I would have loved the extra order…but my reaction is that of a clerk in a government office, when his boss throws and additional file, just when he is about to reach the new high score on solitaire! I continue to look into my paper like a pigeon who closes his eyes, but a 2:1 ratio (the hubby & mom in law v/s me) has me in the kitchen again!

So, I was saying something about men. Once they know they have us, all other things take precedence on us…the boss who never gives them credit, the colleagues ready to stab in the back, the pest friend always dropping in at the wrong time, all intruders are welcome in the “us” time. All is fair with men and their work. But we women know how to juggle various hats. And then they shower the “you should have done….”gyaan…Men…Phew!

I know now you will say one has his moods, commitments, work…but where is our work when we take out time to talk to them, where is our mood when we happily listen to their stuff even if we have things piled up to do…because we women don’t believe in "get and forget!"

I know Mr. hubby, you will hate me after reading this post…but what could I do…I called you today at work, wanting to have a nice little conversation & the word “boss, busy, business, bye” from you sounded like “blah blah blah” . I know u men have a lot of work, meetings and commitments, but so have we. And add to that, we have home, ur family, our family, kitchen and a lot of blah blah blah to attend to. But we never ignore your calls, always listen even if we are busy & give you priority long even after the courtship period is over. We don’t want you men to leave the world for us, but what we need is some (actually as much as u can) pampering, quality time & PRIORITY…

And now, an honest confession….Now that I have vented it out, I feel I have inflated the issue, just to get some fodder for today’s blog…J

Blogging ke liye kuch bhi karegaaaaa! (Anything for a blog!)

Pic courtesy: Google search

To, the angel who blessed me...

Losses are a part of life. Material, financial, human or emotional, we all go through them sometime of the other. While some console themselves by treating losses as act of destiny, most crib, cry and question why it happened to them.

On this very day, two years ago, I lost the one person I have loved the most in my life, my mother…

Our relationship began right from the womb. While carrying me, she became extremely unwell & was advised to terminate me, but her love for me stopped her from doing so. She often used to tell me that during those days she saw her life in me and the moment I came into this world, she looked at me & felt as if any pain, any illness never happened. She recovered soon after my birth and people around started saying I gave her life…

Like most mothers, she did everything and anything for me, keeping my needs and happiness above her own. But she taught me something nobody else did…to embrace life. An avid reader, she introduced the word “optimism” to me at an early age, and it has stayed with me ever since; finding a place in any description I give about myself. As a little kid, Sunday mornings would begin, not with the usual “TV” but with ma reading aloud interesting articles and horoscope forecasts from the Sunday paper. She would read out a sentence and show me the beauty of literature, and say “someday I would want you to write like this…”

And I started early as well…debates, recitation, declamation contests while still under ten. I remembered how I would never open any prize in the school and bring the unwrapped gift home to mom, ask her to present it to me like they do in award functions and then open it for me. She would take it as her win, her prize and the pride in her eyes was more precious to me than anything else.

My 1^st national award, then 2^nd – she was there with me always, asking me to look at her in the audience if I ever felt nervous while reciting. And when people complimented me for my talent, she took more pride than I did myself! In fact, the year I passed out of college, she told me “with you, I have won so many awards, studied science, and then done hotel management. Being involved with every step of yours makes me feel as if I myself have acquired all these degrees.” Where else would you find a person who feels that way?

In 2006, I wrote her a poem on mother’s day. She never said a word, but the tears in her eyes and that warm hug said it all! Today, I miss her proof reading every time I write, her face cheering me from the crowd every time I go onstage, her organizing kirtan on my birthday, her guidance in every project I take…

A “not up to the mark food” now invites frowns and comments from my mother in law. That time, I always remember my mom kissing my hands every time I made something as she would understand the effort and emotions and acknowledge them.  It’s only the mothers who love you for who you are and not for what you do. Yet it is strange that most of us, after we are on our own, end up doing more for the new relations in our lives, and continue to take and take from our mothers.  And they continue to give, just wanting love and some quality time in return. And that’s how mom was – waiting for me at the bus stop if it got late, waiting for me to have meal together, adjusting her schedule with my convenient time to call, bearing the pain, just for me. The love flowed even on her death bed as, she told me “It’s so much trouble right now that as a human, I would wanna go, but I wanna stay back, to live with my kids"…

And now, it’s an endless wait for me….

Mom became my pillar of strength. Any laurel without her is incomplete and any pain without her is incurable. Yet, she was the one who made me to be the strong woman I am today, taught me to love, share, care and most importantly, think positive and creative.

My hands on this keyboard wouldn’t just stop…I think she deserves a book on her…

Today, as I write this blog, I also realize that we should remember such angels in our lives with a smile, not tears. It’s easy to be selfish and cry on someone’s departure, considering our loss. But, it takes guts to remember the departed with a smile; acknowledge God for bringing them into your life, rather than cribbing about the loss. “The glass is half empty, but also half full” as she always said.

That’s embracing life, and that’s what you taught me mom…

Thanks for everything…May you continue to rest in peace, happiness, smile and radiate that positivism!

Miss u mom! And love u the most!

That's mom & I!

Writing Prompt - I wish everyone loved

This post is written exclusively for the writing prompt by author Preeti Shenoy.

 

I wish everyone loved…

Sharing…

Yes. We all love happiness, smile, prosperity, fun…but for us and our loved ones. What about sharing love and happiness with someone unrelated to us? Someone who’s of no benefit to us? The true test of our character is how we treat someone who can do nothing for us.

We love bigger, better, best. How many times have we not frowned at seeing someone prosper? Not felt jealous of our rivals? Shared their happiness?

By nature, Homo sapiens (that is we, humans) look out when its time to take but look away when its time to give. If everyone relished the joy of sharing, the world would be such a better place!

Perhaps if people knew how to share pain, the unfortunate gangrape incident in Delhi wouldn’t have occurred. It’s our love for self at the cost of trouble for others that is the epicenter of all wrong doings. I wished people "shared" pain as it were their own…and my wish did come true when I saw people out on streets to seek justice for the victim!

But we need more of sharing...

I once ordered Pizzas for friends who were to drop in to my place. The weather worsened & they cancelled their plans at the last moment. I was in a fix … to have a super heavy "Pizza" dinner or give it to my neighbor who would show this huge favor by taking leftover (she would call the sealed packet leftover!) Pizzas. Hubby & I chose the 3^rd option. We took the pizzas and distributed them to the beggars on the traffic signal.   As I prompted a young beggar to take away the Pizza, his eyes twinkled instantly! He ran as fast as he could to grab the pizza before anybody else took it. The happiness in his eyes gave me more happiness than 100 pizzas would have given. And I didn’t know him! Nor was I to benefit from him in any way. Yet, I tasted the joy of sharing….

Me Wonderzzz...

To do something special, one needs to dare

Learn to look beyond self love and care

The world would be a better place

If only everyone loved to share…

That’s my wish…

Shave Or Crave

This post is a part of the 'Shave or Crave' movement in association with BlogAdda.com

Looking at his evening stubble, I roll my eyes & ask him, what is it that u crave? “Am I a gal that I will crave?” he says and walks away. “Men”…I say as I sip my coffee…

We women have a new craving every hour (pani puri, chocolate, shopping, coffee, breezer, Chinese, Italian…an endless list). The Martians (i.e. Men), on the contrary are so predictable, so plain.

If u plot a woman’s choice on a graph, the crests and troughs will drive u crazy...her ever changing moods, wants, desires.  A man’s choice as usual, would be a straight line parallel to x axis! Same socks, shoes, the tattering old t shirt he still holds on to, cricket (wait…cricket…but my man doesn’t even crave cricket!)

“The Gillette must be lying idle and he must be enjoying the smoothness of his single malt”, I grumbled

My cribbing continued…

Men have no cravings coz they get what they want. Even if they crave, they won’t show. Like a charmer, they will get their object of desire. So simple and smooth, just like their clean shaven face. When everything has to be so smooth, then why that evening stubble? Where does the penchant for smoothness go then?

Me wonderzzz…

We women are so brainy & brave

Frustration we hide and patience we save

Woo him first and then make him crave

Till he gets a smooth, clean shave…

As I plan, he comes, his eyes shine,

brings his gillete  shaven  face next to mine

I smile as I notice his shave

He whispers in my ears “It’s you I crave” 

This post is a part of the "Shave or Crave" movement in association with www.blogadda.com, "The biggest community of Indian bloggers"
This post is a part of the <a href="https://apps.facebook.com/425290917524532/?fb_source=search&ref=ts&fref=ts"
 title="Shave or Crave" target="_blank">'Shave or Crave'</a> movement in association with 
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Love thy neighbour

Why is it easier to remember bad memories than good ones? Why do sad songs have a huge fan following? Why does pain bind people stronger than joy? Why is it easier to have negative vibes for someone than have positive ones? Why is it easier to crib than to appreciate? Why is it comfortable to regret than to rejoice?

I wonder then, when we have so many people around, some of them like minded, why is pain tougher to share than joy? Why is pain such a private possession and we just hold on to it. Maybe because often, people we trust inflict pain on us, and we lose faith on the species called “Homo sapiens”. We might still be transacting with them, but something somewhere inside dies a natural death. Often because we fail to give it back to them…

I’ve met some amazing people in my life, who taught me the meaning of joy, loving, sharing, caring, altruism, optimism. And at the same time, I have met those who have hurt me, let my hopes down, shamelessly been dishonest with me, be greedy with me, displayed their hypocrisy, tried to stab my positivity. But, as the New Year arrives, here I am. Still there, stronger than ever, independent than ever, more successful than the failure those people wished for me, more patient than their provocations, more positive than their efforts to suppress me. But, one thing that’s lacking is trust…unconditional trust, they have been successful in robbing me of trusting them. As I meet some of them even today, anything good or bad inside me for them dies a natural death.

Our karmas decide our fate, even the respect and love we command from others. Each one of us has our share of bad moments. And while all joy might not come from human sources, any and every pain sources down to a human being in our life. Maybe that’s why people find it easier to share their joys than sorrows, love to confide into an anonymous agony aunt/uncle, vent it out in their creativity, but refrain from sharing it with members of the same species…

Our species has existed for over 5000 years, yet we fail to share pain.

Even animals understand each other’s sorrows. No matter how much they fight, when one gets injured, the other does come to help. How can we human then, the best living beings considered on this planet, be so insensitive towards another one of us? Some of us get joy by inflicting pain, mental torture and malice on another human being. Even if not direct, some of us turn a blind eye to another human’s pain…often gaining sadistic pleasure…

Animals then are better than human beings….what you see is what you get…

Me wonderzzz…

Letter to Santa from a Delhi girl…

Dear Santa,

Welcome once again! I have been waiting for you eagerly & my new red stockings are ready too, waiting for their treat. Thanks so much Santa for the new stilettos last year. They were a rage at the parties! It was fun to flaunt them as other gals felt J.

But this year, I don’t want any boots. I don’t even know if I will be ever able to party freely the way I used to. You wanna know why?

A few days ago, a girl in my city was gang raped brutally by men while she was on her way home after watching a movie. She was in a bus at 9pm (well before our parties begin!), was clad decent enough & was accompanied by a male friend when this happened.

This incident has shaken the city so much. My parents have set a 8pm deadline to come back. No late nights. Combined studies mean having to wrap up before dark else stay over at friend’s house where my brother will pick me up from. No shorts. No short skirts. I feel I am in a jail! Mother tells me it’s all to protect me. The city has become very unsafe & they don’t want me to face any trouble.

But Santa, why do I and my female friends face the brunt of a handful of maniacs? It is about the problem of a few men with a psychotic brains and lustful eyes. It is they who should be leashed, not us. If dogs go mad, they are locked, not the people. Unfortunately, here, there are just too many of them (the dogs aka rapists) and by the time you know they have a problem, they have already attacked innocent girls.

I don’t want fancy gifts this year Santa…RATHER…

I want my freedom back. What is the point of having good clothes & shoes when I can’t party? What is the point of living in a happening city when I can’t enjoy the night life? I want the freedom to live my life MY WAY. I want the freedom to wear whatever I like without the dogs staring at me with hungry looks. I want my parents to be relaxed the next time I take public transport at night. I want my government to act to the concerns of millions of girl like me. In the freezing cold this morning, canons of water were fired at my friends who went to India Gate today to participate in non violent protests. Santa, I want the government to work on the rape laws & accused instead of troubling innocent people. I don’t want the accused to walk away with the loopholes in our judiciary system. I want severe punishment for the accused so that next time such men think twice before striking at a girl. Santa, I want justice for that girl – an eye for an eye.

And finally Santa, I want a speedy recovery for that girl & strength for her family. She has endured enough and so have we – the girls of Delhi.

Donno Santa if all this will fit the red stockings, but I know you have never disappointed me…I shall be waiting….

Merry Christmas!

Wake Up

Last week I was to make a presentation on Argentina Peso crisis. The more I read about it, the more I thanked God I am born in India. I was glad that unlike the super corrupt system of Argentina, where everybody from corporate to government was abusing people’s interests, we have RBI that make sure the finance ministry always doesn’t have its way. I was glad I was not born in Europe, where every second country is suffocating with debt & gasping for bailouts. I was glad I was not born in a country where Malala was shot for exercising her right to education. I was glad I was not born in a country where Bibi Aisha’s nose was chopped off for escaping an abusive marriage.

The night of Sunday, December 16, 2012 proved me wrong…

In my own city that I am so proud of (read my blog label: Dilli Meri Jaan), a 23 year old was brutally gangraped. Her ordeal didn’t end there. She was so badly abused that she suffered permanent damage to her small intestine. Even if she survives, she would never be able to enjoy a normal meal like us since her intestine has been removed. What was her fault? That she was a girl & the assaulters thought they were men enough to teach her a lesson this way. Few dirty fish contaminate the entire pond. Unfortunately, here, the fish are “many”. If you think rape & lewd comments are the only abuses we women need to watch out for, take a second thought. 

Born and brought up in Delhi, I have seen rampant eve teasing since childhood. Be it the “acting fresh” in public transport or passing lewd comments. Sometimes it’s a passive torture. Mere hungry looks suffice for a “visual rape” even if from a distance. Since this isn’t confined to a particular area or a particular set of people, girls are taught to be careful, take precautions, come back home timely & take a male along if out in late hours. But that’s what the hapless girl did on that unfortunate night. She was in a public transport, with a male friend and 9pm isn’t that odd a time for a city that parties all night.

Much has been said and done about the issue. The agitating crowds at Rajpath shouting “we want justice”, government’s futile attempts to suppress the uprising, the press conferences, the lathicharge, a press conference and again a lathicharge.

From the ill fated night to today’s lathicharge, it is the common junta who’s suffering. The other day a minister was heard empathizing with the people saying he too has 3 daughters. How many times have they travelled in a public transport without security?

Delhi is said be “dilwaalon ki dilli”. Be it Anna, baba ramdev or any other movement, the people have always come out in support, undeterred by lathicharge. Why isn’t it payback time now. Instead of just issuing emotional statements, why can’t the celebs and leaders come out with the people in the cold and contribute to the non violent movement?  I’m sure, the police would think twice before raising their lathi on a celeb…

Me wonderzzzz….

A date with mungphalis & gazzaks in Delhi

Winters are here! And although Delhi isn’t shivering the way it usually does (Global warming..eh?) Delhiites are out to enjoy winters at their enthusiastic best, be it flocking to malls dolled up for Christmas or meeting up for Sunday brunches in Lodi Gardens.

Talking of winter fun takes me to my childhood days. My mother would bring lot of groundnuts, peanut chikki, phulley (popcorns), rewri & different types of gazak & we would enjoy them on winter afternoons in the comfort of our sun facing balcony. The weather would be comfortably sunny so as to wrap me in its warmth, without making me feel sweaty. Even my dog would have his share of groundnuts. We used to sit around ma as she patiently peeled the groundnuts & stuff it in our mouths. My dog felt like a king as he enjoyed special pampering. Ma would create a line on the floor with peanuts and he would follow the line, eating each peanut.

The joy of evening adrak waali chai doubled as we relished roasted shakargandi (sweet potato). The sweet potato chaat, topped with tangy lemon juice & chaat masala would make me close my eyes and take chatkaarey as the tanginess hit my palate!

Although you will find gazak at every departmental store, popcorns, roasted groundnuts & sweet potato with every second hawker in Delhi, hubby & I decided to visit two places which every experienced Dilliwalla would flock to.

Our first spot was old barafkhana. As we hit the T point and take a left towards barafkhana, the road on the left greeted us with wholesale shops selling groundnuts, gazak, rewri & lot of winter goodies. There on the roadside were sellers with roasted sweet potatoes, kachaloo, potatoes & starfruits. The sweet potatoes were beautifully arranged & the green outlining with starfruit immediately caught my eyes. The guy even had hot charcoal in a small earthen vessel on which he roasted some fresh sweet potato. My mouth watered at the sight of my favorite shakargandi & I quickly bought a kilo, dreaming of the spicy, tangy chaat.

Next, we headed to Kishanganj. From Old Rohtak Road, take the lane called goushala marg. (Here's the google maps link - https://maps.google.co.in/maps?q=Kishanganj+Railway+Station,+Kishan+Ganj,+Sarai+Rohilla,+New+Delhi,+Delhi+110007&hl=en&ll=28.664251,77.20081&spn=0.004707,0.010568&geocode=FbhhtQEdrv2ZBA&hnear=Kishanganj+Railway+Station,+Sarai+Rohilla,+New+Delhi,+Delhi&t=m&z=17&iwloc=A).

The road is congested with horses on the sides and getting a place to park your vehicle is a hard nut to crack. Just outside the Kishanganj railway station, just near the bridge, there is a narrow lane full of tempting delights. My eyes twinkled with excitement as I spotted all my winter delights at a single place. There were different varieties of groundnuts, gazaks, roasted chanas, namkeens…the list is endless. Behind every shop was its workshop and I could see workers preparing different types of gazzaks. The aroma of gazzak dough took me in its awe & I couldn’t resist trying few. I could see aunties with their experienced palates, like connoisseurs, trying one gazzak after another and going for the one that passed their tests while the uncles waited.

We stopped by a shop named “Matka brand mungfali bhandar”. Interesting name…why matka? I thought. The owner smiled as I asked him the same. Perhaps he was amused that in the hustle bustle of this narrow street, someone bothered about the name, as most customers hurriedly tasted, ordered & carried their stuff away. He pointed out to a huge earthen pot on the side of the shop and said “madam, ye hai matka, jismein chaney aur mungphali roast kartey hain.”(This is the earthen pot in which we roast the chanas & groundnuts. The huge pot sat beautifully on an earthen base and besides the oven, were lying loads of chanas & groundnuts. I could also see a machine used to prepare gazak mixture. The shop had amazing hing (asafoetida) flavored chana. There was an impressive variety of gazaks, you name it & they have it. The shop even sold Muraina gazaks (Muraina is a place in UP famous for its gazaks and every second packet of gazak will mention the word “Muraina” even if it is locally made). 

I greedily tried on various gazaks before picking up my all time favorite mungpahi patti, nazuk gazak, rewri, til patti, hing flavored chanas, mungphalis & popcorns. I tempted to pack some more goodies but seeing the condition of my hubby's hands overloaded with my shopping, I decided to have some mercy on him.

Movie Review - Hachi: A Dog's Tale

When it comes to choice of movies, hubby and I are often on the opposite poles. He often labels me as a “romantic comedy” movies aficionado while his choice of Shaolin master type intelligent movies have me lost somewhere in between. So, last night after a boring wedding reception, I was searching my laptop for some good movie. After filtering the “mushy mushy, action, thriller, boring types, too mentally exhaustive for the night” categories, I chanced upon Hachi: A dog’s Tale. “This seems a good movie…full of warmth & affection.” We both echoed….rare!

Many movies have been made on the dog man relationship, the last one I remember seeing was “Marley & me.” While “M&M” focused on the bond between the dog and his master’s family, “Hachi” is just about a dog’s love, loyalty & devotion for his master.

The movie runs in flashback as children in a class are shown giving presentation about the Heroes in their lives. While others go for the usual celebrity hero examples, Ronnie’s choice of his grandfather’s pet dog “Hachi” makes the class burst into laughter. Unperturbed, Ronnie begins his story…

A young Akita dog is shipped from Japan to US. On the way out from railway station, his cage falls down the trolley & gets unnoticed. Poor Hachi, with his black & white vision (1^st movie I saw which considered the research finding that dogs are color blind!) struggles to get out and begins to explore the cold, unfriendly surroundings. He catches the attention of Prof Parker Wilson (Richard Gere) who, touched by his innocent face & expressive eyes decides to help the poor dog. 

Unable to locate the owner or find a suitable place, parker gets Hachi home on a cold night. Having owned a dog before, parker had an agreement with his wife Cate that they would never keep a pet dog again. She goes ballistic as she discovers Hachi in her bedroom & orders Parker to have him led out immediately. Parker tries to buy time as he hides his growing affection for the misty eyed Akito from his wife. 

Parker consults his Japanese friend “ken” regarding the meaning of a symbol on Hachi’s collar. The symbol is “Hachi”, Japanese word for “good fortune” & that’s how “Hachi” gets his name. Each day, Parker tries to find Hachi a home while Cate helplessly sees Hachi making his place in the hearts of her husband & daughter. She finally receives a call from a prospect however, it’s too late…hachi had even taken Cate by his charm & she says “Sorry, the dog’s been taken.”

The next few scenes are a sheer joy for anybody’s who has ever owned a dog. The small joys of everyday life, the growing bond that Parker shared with Hachi brought tears in my eyes as I remembered my deceased dog & the fun we used to have. Hachi becomes an integral part of the Wilson household. Hachi is a grateful dog. He never forgets that it was Parker who saved him on a cold winter night & his loyalty holds highest with Parker. Hachi gives Parker company wherever he goes, sees him off to the railway station everyday & without fail, each day goes to receive him back, waiting outside the station. A wonder dog, he takes everyone by his charm as the butcher shop on the way too station treat him to sausages while regulars wish him as he becomes a part of their routine. Hachi even casts his spell on the local hot dog vendor who often doles out special treats for him.

Dogs have a strong gut feeling and one morning when Parker gets ready to leave for work, Hachi refuses to accompany him & tries his best to warn him of some danger he foresees. Hachi even fetches a ball, something, he had never done before. Ken had told Parker that Hachi is a wonder dog & if he fetches, he would do so for a special reason. Thinking this, Parker is elated, without realizing this was a warning to the danger Hachi had foreseen. Parker leaves for work, leaving a hyper Hachi behind. That day, at work Parker succumbs to a stroke. 

Things change with Cate selling her house & Hachi moved to Parker’s daughter’s place. However, for Hachi, the wait is still not over. He runs away from the house & makes the station his abode. Each day, he continues to wait for Parker at the station,hoping he would someday return & shower him with all his love like before. The station controller & the hot dog seller try their best to tell Hachi Parker would never return. Even Ken tries to convince Hachi in Japanese, but all goes in vain. Parker’s daughter & son in law come & take Hachi home however, seeing in his eyes & his determination to wait for his master, they let him be & bid him a teary farewell.  Hachi continues to wait for Parker each day at the station for the rest of his life.

On his 10^th death anniversary, Cate visits Parker’s grave & on her way back, is shocked to find Hachi still waiting at the station. She breaks down & hugs Hachi, perhaps regretting the love she could have showered on this loyal friend when parker 1^st got him home. She too tries to get him to terms with reality but Hachi’s hope is too strong to face the reality. The hot dog seller sees a new buddy in Hachi as he feeds him everyday & shares a few moments of buddy talk with him. Hachi, who has already become famous wth station regulars becomes a local hero with a newspaper story done on him. Till his last breath, Hachi hopes to be united with his master & so when his end comes, he closes his eyes & feels united with Parker.

What appeared as an amusing example in a class presentation has students moved as Ronnnie himself is unable to control his emotions. He now has his own Akita as he values the special bond Hachi shared with his grandfather & wants to replicate the same. 

It was a futile struggle to hold back my tears as I remembered the same bond my dog shared with my late mother. The movie, based on a true story of an Akito in Japan is a well crafted depiction of true love & devotion that exists even in the times of opportunism & deceit. Whenever I get a chance to visit Japan, a visit to the statue of the original Hachi will be definitely on my itinerary. Richard Gere, at his usual best & wonderful background piano scores add the perfect garnish to the emotional treat the movie offers. A must watch for all canine lovers…

The original Hachi

Hachi's statue outside Shibuya station

One evening in an auto…

When you’re back to Delhi after a while, the first thing you want is to rush to the kitchen and gorge on some homely delicacies. And the last thing u want is nonsense on the way home. Back to Delhi after a fortnight, I was super eager to be on time for a family dinner, especially since it wasn't at my place (so no cooking, serving or cleaning)! Not wanting to waste time, I took an auto from Dhaula Kuan, where my Rajasthan Roadways bus had dropped me. Unless you are not familiar with the Delhi auto protocols, you will definitely be taken for a ride. First thing first, no matter how many checks and rules our reformist govt comes up with, Delhi autowallahs will NEVER go by the meter. They will give some excuse or the other and would rather abandon u on the road than take the meter. If you go for the non meter option, the amount they quote depends more on their impression of yours than the distance to be covered. If you are a single woman looking for an auto post sunset, they will quote 30% more and remind u every 2 seconds later that it’s getting “late” madam! Wow! If u are soooo concerned about our safety, then better get your act right first and turn OFF your X ray eyes!

Anyway, if you are new to the city, or don’t want any mess, prepaid auto booths are best option. So I happily paid the money and boarded my auto. The auto wallah, chewing pan masala and donning a gamchha gave me an “X Ray” look and asked me…”madam, kahan ki slip lee hai?” The moment I uttered Karol Bagh, his face turned pale, as if I had said “Khooni Bagh” instead of “Karol Bagh”. He rushed to the prepaid booth cop and pleaded just like a student pleads for extra 5 minutes in an exam. But cops and teachers maintain their rules. So the guy was back, grumbling to himself. Pissed off, I asked him to return my receipt if he didn’t want to go. “It’s not like that madam, u see these cops don’t listen to us. Just now a Volvo came with Good passengers…but I will miss it now.” “Good passengers, what does he mean, I am a bad person? He doesn’t even know me. How can he call me bad?” I was about to shout at him when he started cribbing about his poverty & how he badly looks for long route passengers. “Oh, it’s the route that’s got to be Good”…I got it now.

He said “It’s so cold madam, I will have to go home and cook now. It’s so tough to live alone.” I was more interested in reaching home fast than listening to his cribbing. Experience has taught me when u are not interested in someone’s sob story, the “Hmm” always works. So, I gave an occasional “Hmmm” every now and then so that he doesn’t get offended and quickly takes me home.

However, my ordeal had just begun. Apparently the “Hmm” was enough encouragement for Mr. Chipkoo to carry forward the conversation. Within 5 minutes, he told me he is from Allahabad, stays alone near bypass, parents looking for a match, and even asked me how new was I to Delhi, whether I stayed with my family & whether I lived in my own house/rented accommodation. His too much too soon irritated me. “Rent pe rehney waalon ko discount detey ho kya bhaiya?” I asked. “Nahi madam, I wanted to know if being from Delhi, your parents have managed to own a house.” He said in his strong accent. We were on the unsafe ridge road & his questions were beginning to scare me now. I thought it safer to give him all fictitious details so that he doesn’t pester me just in case he is a psycho….so I told him I was living in a rented accommodation with my family.

That didn’t seem enough, for Mr. Chipkoo then said,”Madam, u are lucky u will get home cooked food & won’t have to cook like me. Do have a married brother whose wife cooks for you?” I’ve had it enough. I wished my adidas  shoes had a 3 inch pencil heel I could hit him with. “Bhaiyya, I am the daughter in law. And I cook, so u don’t tell me these stories” “You married madam? He looked around and gave me and “X Ray” look. Eeeeks! And he just kept looking back. “Accident ho jayega bhaiyya. Aagey dekho.” I said. “Nothing madam, I …. Could not make out from your attire….blah blah blah…this is a city…girls wear anything…blah blah blah”. I wished I had taken a bus. There are so many passengers there the driver wouldn’t care to talk to them. I looked at my phone. No signal. I couldn’t even call my husband to save me from this nonsense.

What followed then was even worse. He began some silly sob story about his parents trying to find a match, his love interest, who coincidentally met him in the same auto. She too like me, was a passenger, was talking to him like me (when did I do the talking?). How she fed him roasted peanuts as he drove her around. How she held his hand & proposed him. How he took her to the hotel for dinner and…

By now my frustration & irritation seemed no bounds. I was no longer interested in listening to this B grade movie script & to what happened in the hotel after dinner. So I pretended to call my husband. “Mere pati gussa ho rahey hain ki main late ho gayee hun.” I interrupted his nonsense. “Koi baat nahee madam, hum bhaiyya ko samjhaa dengey kitna tirraafffic thhaa.” Mr. CHipkoo was in full mood to meet my husband. Phew!

I was feeling really unsafe now. He was more irritating than the character of Vinay Pathak in Bheja Fry. Who knows, even a psycho who stalks women boarding his auto. I didn’t want him to see which house I entered. So I asked him to stop two lanes before my brother in law’s house & rushed home. I had escaped the torture of Mr.Chipkoo’s pulp fiction stories! Finallly!

Can’t say if this will deter me from taking an auto next time, but here are a few takeaways I have from this experience -

1. A simple “hmmmm” is also conversation.

2.  Delhi autowallahs are shameless not only with their “X Ray” vision & “rates” but also with their stories.

3.    No matter how much courage & tact you display, all husbands think their wives are fools & they never let go of their “what you should have rather done” moments.