The Parting

It’s time to decide,
Clear-eyed, emotionless.
Time to split
The furniture, the books,
Even the children….
Vestiges of a marriage
Come to an end.

The cold counting
Of what goes where,
To whom –
A far cry
From the heady love
And impetuousness
Of early marriage.

Too late to analyze
What went wrong,
When, and how –
Too late to understand
Why the magic disappeared.

All one can hope for –
To get past the hate,
Past the anger,
To a state
Of calm acceptance

Joie de Vivre

Pushpa is in her mid-sixties. With her warm smile and trendy hairstyle, she does not look like a traditional grandmother. She has tried her hand at a lot of things – being a play school teacher, teaching spoken English to bored housewives, selling Tupperware. For the past few years, she has turned entrepreneur, selling home-made chocolates and block-printed sarees from home.

Sharada is fifty. Appearances can be deceptive, and Sharada’s traditional appearance hides the bubbling spontaneity of a child! Married to a creative artist, she is a very creative person herself. She is an accomplished singer and music teacher but that does not stop her from learning and doing new things. Recently she learnt archery (!) and also acted in a student film, just for a lark! She is a wonderful mimic and raconteur, and can keep you in splits with her tales!

What connects these two women is the fact that they both are cancer survivors.

What amazes me is their spirit and their spontaneous, joyous approach to life. Like so many others I know, they have been to the edge and have come back, not scarred, but filled with a love for life.

When I look at them, my own ennui and cynicism seem out of place. Is it necessary, I wonder, to face death in order to appreciate life?

Hi, I am back!

Have been missing in action, as Cynic says! Fact is, I did not expect to go off for so long. The exams and the holidays brought their own challenges, and so many things came up that I really did not find the time to sit and write...Like Vishwa, I ended up taking a sabbatical without really planning it!

Also, a lot of things that I would like to write about involve other people, and I am not sure if I can or should write about them. True, I can change the names, but many of them read my blog, and would understand who and what I am talking about. Is it fair to do so? I don't know. I sometimes feel I should have started an anonymous blog, like Cynic!

This is also not a blog about people I have known. It is about how I see things, how I experience Life....sometimes, it is not possible to tell all that I am experiencing and seeing,for the simple fact that most people will think I am crazy! That involves a careful selection of words and phrases, which sometimes hampers my style.

But I cannot abandon my "baby", as it were, so here I am folks, back from my self-imposed exile, and hoping to write some more!

A Peak Scaled

I have been in a kind of daze for a while now, since the X Board Results revealed that my daughter has done very well. It is the kind of daze, or should I say satisfied weariness that strikes you when you have achieved something that you have worked towards.

Eight years ago, when my daughter was assessed to be dyslexic, I really did not understand what the journey would entail. I just went by a mother’s instinct to help my child overcome what I felt were obstacles on her path. I learnt on the way, acquiring a Teacher’s Training Certificate to teach children who were like her. But I soon learned that a mother who also doubles up as a teacher faces not one wall, but two!

There have been so many moments of frustration, so many days when I almost threw in the towel, but unlike a tutor, a mother cannot give up, can she? I learnt patience as I picked myself up after each frustrating moment and ploughed on. I learned to appreciate the small things and celebrate each victory, small or big. I learned to look beyond the academic and understand the child as a whole. I learned that all of us are intelligent, even if we did badly at school, for there were other areas where our intelligence would shine through –in music, dance, art, sports, and a host of other arenas. I loved Howard Gardner’s theory of Multiple Intelligences for it made so much sense and helped me understand my daughter’s strengths. I read, taught, and googled as I constantly updated my knowledge about dyslexia.

But my daughter has been my greatest teacher. Her friends were surprised when they came to know that her parents did not throw a fit or have a heart attack when they saw her grades. We knew she had done her best, and we knew that she would come through when it did matter. Meanwhile, we did all we could to nurture her awesome talents in music, dance and art. We have allowed her to grow up into a confident, stable young woman with a mind of her own.

Throughout, I have never shied away from talking about my daughter’s learning disability, for I feel that is the only way I can reach out to many more people who probably are not aware. Through them, I can help so many children who are probably in need of such help, and are fighting frustrating academic battles. Earlier, when someone would ask me “So what is dyslexia” or think it is the same as mental retardation, it was difficult for me to explain concisely. These days, thanks to Aamir Khan, it is easy – “Just watch Taare Zameen Par. My daughter is just like that child in the movie”. It also helps them understand just how talented and intelligent these children are. The only problem they have is with academics.

Recently, a friend asked me if my daughter had “gotten over” her dyslexia. People still think it is some kind of disease that one outgrows! I spend a lot of my time explaining, but sometimes I don’t know if they really understand! But all that can wait, for right now, we are celebrating what is most certainly the first of the many peaks we are prepared to scale. Let the party begin!


Image courtesy: www.readingandspelling.com/Symptoms_Of_Dyslexia.html

To my daughter...

Strange, how your face seems to morph into mine.......

Your angry words, the look in your eyes - an echo of mine.

Words spoken long ages ago, come back to haunt me, through you.

Now I am on the 'other' side, feeling both fear and love, like every mother -

While you chafe and protest, wishing to break free, break the boundaries that I have extended .....but they are still boundaries.

We re-enact the eternal scene........only the people change; the feelings, the conflicts, sometimes even the words, do not.

A Very Private Matter

A couple of weeks ago,I had to consult a doctor for a minor problem. At the city centre of a well-known hospital chain,where I had the appointment, I was asked to fill in a registration form. Sitting down to fill it,I was shocked to find that I had to fill in not just my name, age, address but also my religion.

Religion???? Why on earth would a hospital want to know my religion? If they really wanted to find out which community I belonged to, my name would be a dead give-away. If they had just reproduced an official form, then it shows a total lack of sensitivity.

I firmly believe that my religion, or my faith, is a very private matter between me and my Maker, and I don't think anyone else has any say in the matter. There is too much religion in the public sphere causing too much trouble. I do not think even schools should be asking us to supply such information, so where is the question of a hospital doing the same? Why should they know what is my religion or community? Will a doctor refuse to treat me based on my religious beliefs?I find it ridiculous.

Needless to say, I did not fill in that particular column.

Love in a wired world.....

Last week, idly surfing the TV channels, I chanced upon a Tamil movie. The movie must have been made a decade ago and was a tender love story which involved many twists and turns in the plot. Central to the progress of the plot was the idea of communication (or lack of it).

The heroine does not have a telephone at home and has to go to the neighbour’s house or to a phone booth to call the hero. This often leads to strange situations where she is not able to inform him of some important happening in her life, or pass on vital information like the fact that she has to leave town immediately. While he waits to meet her at the designated spot, she passes by within yards of him on a crowded railway platform, and the two do not see each other. We almost feel like crying out, ‘Turn and look. She is leaving on that train.”

I am sure many of us would recall similar situations in numerous Indian movies, in all languages, where misunderstandings created poignant situations and carried the plot forward.

With the advent of the ubiquitous mobile phone, our movies have lost much of their old-world charm. When you are constantly connected through voice or text, how can there be a lack of communication? There is a surfeit of it, and our scriptwriters can no longer bank on the old tool of miscommunication. In the process, however, our stories have lost some of that poignancy that characterized movies made even a decade ago.

In fact, it has reached the other extreme. A recent ad for a mobile service provider features a young couple texting each other. Only at the end do we realize that they are not far apart, but on the same park bench and that, in fact, the man is lying on the girl’s lap. Why text, when you can look into the eyes of your beloved and say what you want to say? Where is the romance here?

Being constantly connected, constantly in each other’s lives, can be overwhelming. But one cannot deny that today’s lovers will not suffer for want of receiving that all-important message, or vital piece of information that may make or mar their relationship.

A Milestone

I am a year old today, on Blogger!

Just a year ago, I started this blog, having no clue what I was going to write, who would read it, and if anyone would read it at all. Still, it was an opportunity to do what I love best – to write.

However, unlike my husband, I shied away from marketing my blog. While he told everyone about his blog, I kept quiet unless I was persuaded to tell them my blog address.(No, I have nothing against marketing. It just isn't me,that's all.) And yet, you came, all of you came and read my posts, and sometimes left comments. I have found some wonderful friends, even if I have not met most of them in person.

Unlike other prolific bloggers, I have not reached my 50th or 100th post; this is only my 20th! But it feels great when I am missed; when you come and visit my blog to see if I have updated it. It makes me carry on, even when I have nothing to write about, or when I start doubting if I can write at all.

Thanks, guys and gals, thank you for your encouraging words and comments. And those of you, who came and did not comment, thank you too. By just visiting my blog, you give me the strength and courage to carry on, to keep the writer in me alive!


image courtesy:www.ptmortgage.com/blog/category/miscellaneous/ - birthday cake.

Music & Lyrics

The song “Jai Ho!” from the movie “Slumdog Millionaire” seems to be a resounding success, winning not only the Oscar but the hearts of thousands of people. A lot of young people I know, who do not understand the Hindi lyrics, have nevertheless taken to the song. As Rahman himself said in an interview, the phrase “Jai Ho!” gives a burst of positive energy – probably why it became stupendously popular, even though we know it is not one of his best compositions.

Some songs have that magic – they come to mean so many things to us. Not just the lyrics, or the music, or the tempo; there seems to be an extra, magical ingredient that gives the song a special something. Something that lifts it from a musical composition of words, into a song that stirs emotions and feelings in us, a song that sometimes even brings solace to our wounded hearts, or makes us feel we are not alone.

There are many such songs that have come to mean a great deal to me – songs that have helped me face difficult situations, songs that have helped me understand life. Probably because so many memories are connected to these songs, even today when I listen to them, those emotions come flooding back.

One song that kept me going during the two and a half months that I lived in Bombay alone was from the movie “1942 – A Love Story”. My husband was in Chennai, and my little daughter was with my parents in Coimbatore. I had to stay back in Bombay to finish my thesis, and every evening I would come back home to an empty flat. The loneliness was terrible, and there were times when I would feel like throwing up everything and running home to my family. Only the thought of chucking up all the hard work kept me from doing it. That, and the song "Yeh safar bahut hai katin magar/ Na udhaas ho mere hamsafar”. I listened to it so many times during the day, over and over again, especially the lines “Nahi rehenewale yeh mushikilen/ Hai yeh agale mod pe manzilen”.
And yes, the destination was just around the corner; I only had to keep going till I reached it.

I find I listen to different kinds of music at different times, to suit different moods. But when I am really down in the dumps, I go back to classical music. I need the strains of Carnatic kritis to calm me down, or to lift up my spirits. One of my favourite kritis is the beautiful “Rangapura Vihara” in Brindavanasaranga. I have listened to it since childhood, and MS’s beautiful soulful voice only added to the magic of the song. It has the power still, to lift me up from the darkest depths. Many other kritis are also important to me and although I do not always understand the words, the music or the raga lifts my spirit.

That is why I feel it is not just the music or the lyrics, but a certain something, a special ingredient, which gives these songs a magical allure that they may continue to weave their spell on us.

Hidden Strengths

Just when you think that things are going along smoothly, life has a way of pulling the rug from under your feet. Suddenly, you find yourself in a situation where you need more than your wits to rescue you. You have to discover hidden strengths from within you, not just to get out of the situation, but to overcome and transform it.

It has happened many times in my life, and in the lives of my friends, and I am always amazed at the hidden inner resources that help us during these testing times.

Last week, it happened again.

Rejoining duty after medical leave of 4 weeks, my husband was surprised to find that his services were no longer required by the company. When he called to inform me, I was amazed that my first reaction was not one of fear or insecurity, but relief. I knew he had been unhappy the past year, and I thought this was the best thing to happen. I always believe that when one door shuts in your face, many others open, filled with opportunity.

As friends called and poured out their feelings over the phone or through mail, I was stunned, and grateful. I realized that I had much to be thankful for – a home of my own, good friends, enough money to live by at least for the time being, and above all, we had each other. Every situation is a learning experience, and this has been a fantastic one so far.

Offers of help and possible job opportunities continue to pour in from concerned friends. They are surprised to see that we have taken it so well. But then, what have we lost? A job, yes. In these troubled times, a steady job is important.

But what we have gained is immense. The understanding that this is not the end, that there is more to life than a job you have held for 30 years; the love of so many friends that gives us the energy to carry on ; and the knowledge that, together, we can ride the storm out.

A Morning at the Beach

I am fortunate to live near the beach, in Thiruvanmiyur, a blessing that most inhabitants of our colony take for granted. Recently, however, the local citizen's association has become very active and is  getting involved in various civic issues concerning our locality. On January 2nd, they had called for volunteers to come and clean the beach which was covered with a lot of debris washed up by the sea. I was not in town for that occasion, but this Sunday (Jan 25th), I joined a number of volunteers to clean the beach again. This was to be an ongoing activity, as cleaning is never a one-time job.

Armed with gloves and huge garbage bags, we met at the beach at 6 in the morning and soon spread out, our eyes open for every bit of plastic, every piece of paper. The local fishermen watched us bemused, as they went about their morning routine. Barely three weeks had passed since the beach had been cleaned, and I am still amazed at the amount of garbage we picked over the next two hours!

Paper, crushed plastic cups  , broken beer bottles, gutka packets, plastic sachets, straws - what came to mind was the careless and callous attitude we have towards public spaces. These were not thrown there by the local fishermen; rather they were left behind by the people who came from far and near to enjoy the fresh air and the sea. Families on picnics, or lovers looking for some privacy, all use the beach, but the least we can do is to leave the place as clean as it was when we came in. This  lack of civic sense is something that alarms me, but there is still hope.

While I was picking up the junk, a middle-aged man from the nearby apartment  sauntered by on his morning walk. He had not been aware of the beach cleaning activity, but the moment he understood what we were doing, he pitched in and did his bit of collecting. Not only that, he seemed determined to come again. Slowly, I am sure as awareness rises, we will feel collective responsibility for our shared public spaces,and  will take care to keep them clean and beautiful. Till then, I suppose, we will have to spend a Sunday morning every month cleaning up the beach.

(Photo courtesy: chennai.metblogs.com/2007/10/15/thiruvanmiyur-beach/)

Staying Connected...

This seems to be my season for re-uniting with lost friends!

 Recently, we went to Bombay for a wedding. A friend's daughter was getting married, and it was the perfect opportunity to meet our old friends. I was travelling to the city after 12 years, and a lot had changed, and was still changing. It took us ages to go from one place to the other especially because of the Metro work, but the warmth with which our friends welcomed us more than made up for that.

Twelve years is a long time, and children had grown into adults, found jobs, married and started families. Neighbourhoods had changed, and new housing blocks had sprouted where once there were open spaces. Our old colony had changed so much, become busier and more crowded.

 And yet, some things had not changed. As I ascended the steps to my friend Pushpa's house, I remembered going there thrice a week for my yoga lessons. I will never forget the look on Pushpa's face! She had been thinking of me constantly for the past few days, and there I was, in the flesh! There was so much to catch up with, phone numbers  and email ids to be exchanged.

Why do we do it? Why do we go out of the way to locate our lost friends? What drives us to catch up with the lost years? What do we gain from this exercise? 

I received a mail recently that brought up these questions with regard to my previous post where I had spoken of meeting my school mates after 32 years. The sender of the mail wanted to know why it was so important to have a reunion which according to him/her was "regression". I do not agree. I think the answers are very obvious. 

Every relationship we have, whether it is as a friend, spouse, sibling, child, or parent, is a cord of connectivity. A part of us is there in that relationship; we invest not just time, but emotions and feelings into every relationship. We share so much together, and when we lose that relationship, that friendship, a part of us is lost forever. Somewhere we do not feel whole and complete. This feeling of not being complete drives us to look for the missing parts of our own selves, and that is exactly why we feel complete and happy when we find our lost friends.

 And not, as my misguided friend had written, because we were unhappy with our present lives and were looking for something that was lacking.