Ahalya

I've been writing on this blog for almost a decade now but i've never before uploaded a video. So, why not break the mould with my adorable niece? This clip here captures her lovely reactions to stuff she finds funny one moment and serious, the very next. 

Warning: Kids are wonderful as long as they aren't yours. 

Amma is typing...

My brother and i got amma on WhatsApp. We thought since i don't stay with them anymore, it'd be nicer to have a group of our own where we can message each other and share pictures from our daily lives. For some reasons, she didn't pick up how to upload a picture although she's fluent in emojis now. It's cute to see her use that emoticon where one eye is closed and another too big with tongue out. Turns out she uses them because she is quite slow with QWERTY. The time she takes to reply sometimes is longer than the essay that she could have written offline. But here's the catch: she was recently invited to another group where relatives (mostly women) are very active. They converse in Tulu which has made my ma type faster and stay more entertained. :(  

Ink or miss

I've got 12 tattoos—including typos—on me. Each with a short story attached to it. One of them is my brother's name on the side close to my right wrist. It's carved in Devanagari script and is quite prominent when compared to others. Thanks to which, people have confronted me with the mocking question: "You love your brother that much?" Since i'm not really an expert in equations of love, i usually grin and reply, "No, but he does."

Moments of silence

Isn't it marvelous how some of the most beautiful moments happen without any exchange of words? Of course, conversation has its own ring to it but still, when compared to sound, silence lasts a bit longer. We humans take things for granted and if one of those things is silence, then lesser we say about it the better. I can go on and on about how i've seen beauty manifest itself in a soundless backdrop. But i won't. I've got just two such instances for now. And both have to do with my childhood.

1991: We were new to Bombay. My mother had recently lost my brother's twin to death in our village so my dad decided to move us to his city. There weren't many sentences spoken between the two of them. However, it was alright. Silence works part-time as a balm when actions fail. One particular day, we were traveling in a local train and our station was approaching. I remember my dad guiding the way out for us. He was standing near the footboard and my ma was standing right behind him on his left with my brother in her arms. I was on her right. What i remember vividly is her holding on to my dad's untucked shirt for support. Those subtle moments taught me that everything was indeed alright between them.

1994: A grandmother's love for her grandkids is nothing extraordinary. They are put on earth to bide time and make life cheerful for their ungrateful kids' kids. At least for the major part. My grandma was a person of few words but she absolutely adored me. I only remember her talking to us through stories. But what i distinctly recollect of her personality is that afternoon we went to this old temple in Mangalore. Hindus priests have this custom of handing out prasadam after the devotees are done with darshan. I guess it was my lucky day because i received a laadu from the janeu-wearing gentleman. But i was in for much more. My grandma decided to share her share of spoil and earnestly handed me the sweet she got along with the rest of us. All i remember her doing was pointing her index finger to her lips with a smile trapped behind it. 

Wise old father

My dad is crazy. Compared to my ma, that is. Nevertheless, people like him make this world a far better place to live in. They don't have college degrees or high-paying jobs nor have they travelled across time zones but that doesn't stop them from being nice to those who aren't used to it. Maybe that has something to do with the hospitality industry he has been associated with since the age of 13. Maybe not. All his life, he has been meeting strangers who enter, eat and exit. It's like a never-ending drill. He's more than his profession. He's not a saint though. Drinking problems and the consequent health issues don't let you. However, he treats people fairly and doesn't judge anyone. His views are not crystallized nor are they furnished with the whitewashed cloak of modernity.

The other day he was talking about how Mumbai scores over his native place in Manipal. "Bombay gave me food when there wasn't any in my village and you don't know what hunger is..." were his exact words. It's called gratitude. Devoid of political stance and other man-made distinctions. I remember him telling me a few years ago that he doesn't find anything wrong with the frustrating immigration taking place in the city. According to him, it's a cycle: "They are here to work. Their kids will grow and they'll move out the way their parents did. Nothing lasts forever. People who make a row of it are those who aren't able administrators. They don't have it in them to govern. Besides, we are talking about genuine labour here, not criminals. These poor migrants build our buildings, bridges, monorails, metros under worst working conditions..." He can go on and on without trying a wee bit to enforce his opinion on others. 

It's a pity he never got introduced to Internet.

Through the looking glasses

Grandma appeared upset. Even the smallest of things managed to trouble her. As if the whole world was taken to conspiracy. Or maybe, it had. For somebody who went to college in the 1940s despite taking birth as a girl, she didn't exude her nice ole literary charm anymore. On the contrary, she just came across as someone unabashedly grumpy and distressed. Something troubled her like anything. Nobody in the family could guess what it was. Some assumed that grandpa's recent departure is to be blamed. After all, she was an altogether different person before he decided to settle in heaven. Others zoomed on senility that often accompanies wrinkles. The drama continued for quite a stretch. In the meanwhile, although everything else bore the brunt of her disdain, her beloved grandson was spared any of the absurdity. And deservedly, it was he who figured out her problem... and fixed it too! Apparently, he used to watch her watch him through her thick glasses. So it didn't take him long to notice where exactly the problem lied. Turns out her spectacles had clouds of sticky marks, fingerprints and whatnot on them that obstructed her view. On the brink of his rather short life's greatest troubleshooting, he set himself to work and scrubbed the glasses neatly. Lo! She could see things properly again. With her past vision back, her nature changed for good. But what she couldn't acknowledge clamorously –– and what her grandson didn’t know –– was the fact that her late husband used to clean her specs. Almost every single day. Once upon a time.

Paternal arguments

My dad is busy getting older by asking me questions I thought I was immune to. The first one remains a classic: "Are you serious about life at all?" I knew he was a huge McEnroe fan but he's pushing limits here. This tennis-court query is usually followed by the more benign: "With your meager salary, when are you planning to build a home and have a family of your own?" Hmmm. This is not exactly his fault. It's more of a double fault on my behalf. The catch is I regularly inform my ma about the various levels of progress my engineer friends are accomplishing which involves being a slave to the bank and owning a 2BHK house in return. And being a good wife, she passes on those point-breaking news to her husband of 27 years without analyzing what its consequences shall be on her 26-year-old virgin child. The filial conversation (read: monologues) that ensues later reeks of a clash between pragmatism and nihilism. Small wonder I lose from both sides. To prove a point, his latest retort to my simpler "I don't know!" was exemplary. He said, "Even the crow that drenches all day in rain has a nest to return to when the sun sets." Whoa! This analogy got me pondering and I thought for at least a light year to come up with this conclusion: "Well, pigeons are envious of crows for the latter knows how to enjoy monsoon. But on the other hand, cuckoos always beat crows in their own nest, don't they?" And in my defense, I'm neither that crow nor that pigeon or that cuckoo but someone who favors immunity from reality.

Awwwww, that was cute!

Being the reticent person that my amma is, she doesn’t reveal much. I mean, word-wise. Seldom would she come up with entertaining anecdotes. She’s way too busy for emotional trite. She is a robot. I mean, work-wise. Unlike most of my friends’ moms I know, she finds respite in chores. If there isn’t any, she’ll invent one and get going with it. With such a slogger at home, things are meant to be difficult for a born slacker like me—and it certainly is.

But this morning, something changed. In ways I can’t explain, age seemed to be catching up with her. At least a little bit. She shared a humorous incident that happened in 1989. My younger brother was slightly more than a year old then and asked amma to open her mouth. She was having a chocolate which he earnestly took out with his tiny fingers and popped into his own mouth and walked away. This made her laugh alone heartily almost 23 years ago. This made us laugh together heartily almost 23 years later.

25 years and counting...

If you happen to read my blogs regularly, you’ll notice me notice two things: One, you readers are in the minority and two, I’ve been writing about my family for a change, recently. The reason could be anything from lack of perception to laziness. But trust me, I enjoy doing so!

Yesterday, my parents celebrated their 25th year of marriage. I’m purposefully not using ‘wedding’ here. Wedding happens every day but marriage takes time. They got married on 31st of May, 1985 and it’s been a long journey for them. For a pessimist like me who doesn’t conform to societal norms which sadly includes MARRIAGE too, I find my parents “conjugal bliss” overwhelmingly inspiring!

I’m not being judgmental here but we Indians tend to fight against all absurdity of individual space and try our best to make our marriage a success, unlike in the West. My parents were no different I guess. They always had their altercations; even on the smallest of issues like the taste of salt in food or the way Amma dressed us. They could argue on the stupidest of event. So the question keeps lingering in my head……...HOW DO YOU GET ALONG WITH A PERSON AS A SPOUSE FOR 25 LONG YEARS? I do admit that 25 is not a record or anything but from the way I see it, it’s indeed a record considering how different my mom and dad are from each other.

Ma has always been a fighter. She wouldn't give up easily and was not an emotional fool, so to say. Being educated from Manipal, like most of the girls at her time, she too wanted to be a nurse but she ended up a teacher. She kept injecting her pedagogy-moral values in us which make my brother and me the kind of person we are today. On the contrary, my dad was a softie with a very generous heart and a deeper pocket. He has always been a good human being and whole of Chembur can vouch for that! But I would say, out of these two enigmatic characters, Amma was the one who made their marriage work, all because of her adaptability to situations. Dad just floated along with the mundane wave and made sure we never fell out of basic comfort.

I like joking that my parents were happy for a long time…..and then they got married to each other. But at the back of my mind I see how happy they are together today, with all of us under one roof. He still calls her "Ponno" which is Tulu for "Girl" and that sounds beautiful during their never-ending arguments. Every morning, they go out together for walk and come back debating on trivial topics but there’s an undeniable cuteness to it. I hate idiotic TV soaps but my parents are a huge fan and that doesn't help my case either! They realize the fact they are not young anymore and they need each other more than ever.

As for me, of course, they don’t like my apathy towards “filial responsibilities” nor do they like my being more sincere on virtual world than in real, but they ADJUST and that’s been the key to their quarter century marriage run!

P.S. By the way, we celebrated their anniversary by visiting holy places like Siddi Vinayak Temple, Mahalakshmi Temple and Haji Ali. I didn’t trudge along this time. In fact, I participated and enjoyed too, in spite of my disdain for religious corners. We, along with my brother, had lunch and dinner together which is a rarity considering the clash of timing on usual days. It was a real celebration.

Ajjee

We live our life in a way that enamors millions of stories, some of them true and some of them not-that-true. But if we look into our past, the very idea of a story is mostly passed on to us by our grandparents, and in my part of the world, it’s undoubtedly grandma.

I too had one such grandma, from my maternal side. She was beautiful in spite of having thousands of lines on her face. She was kind and unbiased like no other person I know. Not even my amma matches her in this regard. Grandma was something else. You don’t find that kind of people very often.

Everything single time something bad happens (which happens most of the time!), the face that comes in front of me is not of my surviving family (with whom I hardly connect with!). That face belongs to someone who used to called me “Sunilo” when I was a kid and used to take me to river bank for a bath. The knot at the end of her sari used to be an territory of discord between all of her grandchildren but I liked to believe that I was her favorite grandchild.

It’s amazing how a person once gone refuses to go out of your memory and keeps reminding you of your inextricable roots. She died pretty weak and famished as her internal organs stagnated and her memory bid her farewell. I didn’t see her on her deathbed but I heard later that she looked peaceful in her deep sleep. Anyone could guess where she was leaving for.

Blowing out the 24th Candle!

Birthday is supposed to be a huge affair, be it yours or your dog's, for the simple reason that it doesn't repeat itself for more than once in a year. I'm not talking about those "leap year kids" who wait a bit too long for their next birthday to celebrate!

Well, talking of myself, I completed 24 years yesterday, on May 9th, 2010. Its like saying I accomplished 24 free trips around the sun. There's definitely a good feeling to have survived this long, with a bit of amnesia and growing grey hairs to count for. One more year and boom, quarter of allotted 100 years are gone. But who lives for a 100 year now-a-days except for some Japs and MF Hussain look-alikes.

There is some legend attached to my birthday and like all other legends, this one too, does not precede me. I was born on the very same day Tenzing Norgay died. He died during daytime and I was born by night. He was the first human being EVER to climb to the toppest tip on the face of our planet. He kissed Mt. Everest, poetically speaking. He climbed to the top and I'm digging deepest to the core!

Other than melancholy perception towards life, I believe these years I had were the best for any breathing soul out there. Though I sound pessimistic and dark on my Facebook statuses and Twitter tweets, but deep down I know I was one lucky bugger who got to do things the way he like, no matter how unappetizing it turned out in the end.

On a softer note, my bro and ma gifted me a nice piece of Fastrack watch, knowing perfectly well that I don't wear watches. But it was a failed attempt on their side and almost ruined the day for all of us! I kissed her Happy Mother's Day and made peace. As far as bro goes, I don't give much wind!

For the coming years, I want to be more responsible. I kept running away from my responsibilities and believed running is good for my health! I don't want to make the same old excuses. I want to try some new ones too. I concur that I'm terribly self-obsessed but frankly, I do realize that. But my only wish is to be remembered as that boy who never failed to laugh in spite of harboring heavy-duty mouth ulcers!

Maybe its time to think about life. Maybe its time to look out for that old-fashioned girl who is crazy enough to fall in love with me. Maybe its time to put a stop to all this absurdity called 'liberation from societal norm'. Maybe its time to just SHUT UP!