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.

Threads of connectivity

Something wonderful happened on December 19th. Thirty-two years after passing out of school, the class of '76 of Railway Mixed High School, Madurai had a re-union.

To me, it was a miracle. I had studied there between 1972 and 1975, leaving half-way during Class X. I had not met any of my former classmates since then, and my earlier attempts to keep in touch through letters petered out soon. Thirty odd years later, out of the blue, one friend calls up, and soon it is an avalanche of phone calls, mails, and messages. It was as if a door had opened, and they were all back in my life. It still is a wonder to me how they found me, for I did not expect them to remember me at all!

It was wonderful to go for the reunion and meet everyone, especially because we were all looking so different! Almost everyone had grown(in girth!) but some of the "boys" were un-recognizable!! We had so much fun laughing at the "Then & Now" slide show and catching up with the lost years.Suddenly, it was as if we had re-discovered a lost slice of our own selves.

I have often read about the inter-connectedness of things in the universe - that we are all connected in so many ways by invisible threads of connectivity. The reunion brought this to me very forcefully. Looking around at the happy faces and listening to each one's story, I realized the truth of John Donne's assertion - "No man is an island". Each one of us there was connected to each other through our common experiences in our old school, experiences that had shaped us and guided us through life and brought us back together.

The forgotten art of listening!

Very often, I am exasperated by people I talk to. 

Most Indians have never been taught to listen, and are not sensitive or open to another person's point of view. I don't know if it is because of our numbers, and the terrible urge to get our opinion across,  but very often ordinary conversations end up becoming slanging matches. Argument and discussion is the hallmark of civilisation, but somehow here, it becomes difficult especially as we become locked into our own positions.

 If this is the case in drawing room conversations, it is even more loud and vehement on our televisions. One of the funniest(!) and pointless programmes I have seen on TV is NDTV's 'The Big Fight'. It starts off well enough, the panelists are people who are suited to address the particular topic, but almost from the beginning, it becomes a Babel of voices, as each panelist starts interrupting, arguing, shouting and generally making a noise. When the show was hosted by Rajdeep Sardesai, he added to the madness by cutting in and loudly making his point. I always wonder what they achieve at the end of it. No one has bothered to listen to the others, or even considered another aspect of the question they were debating.

Sometimes, this can be quite hilarious. I have a friend, and on the rare occasions I visit her, I am confused. Both my friend and her mother will start talking to me simultaneously, often on two different subjects! My brain goes into double-quick processing mode, and I somehow have to find the right answers to their observations! Exhausting, to say the least.

I now find this trait everywhere, on TV, and even in the blogosphere. Everybody has a point of view, everybody wants to make their voices heard, and in the process, they end up shouting or screeching. Why? Why can't we take the time to listen? If only we could listen, we would be able to understand each other. Then we would know and understand that there is really no difference between us, only a difference in perception.

When we listen, really listen, we go beyond the words, to the feelings and emotions hidden deep beneath the words, and understand that there can be another reality. And that it is not really very different from ours.

Bombay's night of terror

I was going to write something else, but the terror attack on Bombay has put paid to that. I woke up this morning to scenes of terror, gunfire and a raging fire in one of Bombay's loveliest hotels. Through the day, TV reporters have been going on and on, analysing, interviewing, speculating. At the end of it, a bunch of guys have killed around a hundred people, the army, navy and the police are spread around the area, curfew is in place, and fear is in the air.

Exactly what it felt like in 1993 after the riots, and the serial blasts. My husband called me to inform me of the blasts and to tell me he was safe but the trains were not running and he would somehow make his way home. Not a comforting thought when you consider he was working in Worli and we were living in far-away suburban Borivli. There were no cell phones then, and he could not stop to call me from anywhere. You can imagine the panic and the fear I felt till he got home late at night. 

Once the situation was under control, each time I boarded a local train, it was with a feeling of dread. Who knew, it could be my last trip. It became second nature to look under the seat, to see if there was anything stored there. I can tell you, it was not a pretty situation. Much has been said of the Mumbaite's resilience, but I don't know what it really is. Courage, resilience, or refusal to acknowledge the fear? I really don't know. But the stress of it was too much to bear, and I was so relieved to move out of Bombay.

This is not to say that other cities are safer. Not at all. Every city, why, every town can be a potential target for a terrorist. The politics of hate has made us all live under the cloud of fear. While we can assure ourselves that our loved ones are safe, my heart goes out to all those who died, people who were just doing their jobs, people who had taken a long-awaited holiday, people who were just having dinner with friends and family....May their souls rest in peace. And may this situation resolve itself sooner than later.

Random Thoughts. . . .

It sure feels good to be missed! Thank you, Anju and Ravi, for enquiring why I haven't written anything in two months. Made my day, I must confess!



Fact is, I've been so tired out dealing with delinquent maids, disappearing cooks, and of course,trying to help my daughter. At the end of the day, I am so low on energy I can hardly think straight. On the other hand, I find my husband is able to keep his blog going even after a hard day's work at the office. I don't know if it is the difference between men and women (my younger women friends may get mad at me!) but I find I am so emotionally tied up with what happens that it becomes an effort to detach myself and sit down to write. Maybe that is something I should work on.



Finding the time and space to write, or do anything else, is so important. Especially when you are in the midst of family and official duties. It gives you a space, "me-time", that enriches you and makes you feel fulfilled and joyous. I know all that, but still get mired in the problems that crop up, and get stuck. From time to time, some kind friend has to tell me to get out of the muck and "follow my bliss".


I've also been thinking a lot about what I am writing. Sometimes, I find myself being influenced by Rada's writing that I think I should also write funny stuff. But humour cannot be forced; it has to be natural. Finding your voice is fundamental to good writing, and I know unless it comes from within, there is no life in your words. I have been wondering whether what I write makes any sense, whether it matters, whether I should write at all...That's why your messages were so reassuring! Thank you.

Exam fever

Quite often these days, I think I am preparing for the X Board Exams! I'm sure a lot of parents might feel the same way, given the kind of pressure our children go through before they clear their school boards. Sad, for it need not be like that.


Tuitions, extra classes, projects, frequent tests notwithstanding, the stress starts for my daughter and her friends at assembly every day when the Principal starts the countdown - "How many more days for the Board exams?" and states the precise number of days left. Can you imagine what it must be like for the students of Class X? And how this stress will only build up through the day? My daughter has chewed off all the nails on her fingers, and her friends are in varying stages of exam-related stress.


When I was doing my X and XI (I was one of the last to do XI before the 10+2 system came into force), there was some pressure on me because I was so bad at Math. I was probably one of the few students in my class who went for tuition. I never told anyone in class that I was! Although we were often told that it was a crucial year, I don't think any of us faced the kind of pressure that children face today. The competition is intense, and if one desires to get into the college or course of one's choice, one has to go through this torture. Is it really worth it? Why do we push our children to the brink, and for what? To get a seat in some engineering or medical college?


For years, we have all been talking about reforms in education, including examinations, but very little has actually been done. We continue to have exams which only test a student's memory (all those lessons crammed at the last moment!) rather than his understanding of the subject. I think it is high time we brought in a whiff of fresh air into this stifling situation.I think it is also imperative because the old ways no longer work,especially for children with so-called "difficulties". Considering that around 10% of our school-going children are said to have some form of learning disability, isn't it time that we took such a step?


For those of us who continue to function within the system, and with a special-needs child(my daughter is dyslexic), it is frustrating to say the least. Even when we manage to get concessions and exemptions from the Board, they set crazy conditions which are almost impossible to fulfill. My daughter has been allowed to have a scribe to write her exams, but....it has to be a child who is younger to her. Now, which self-respecting middle-class Indian parent is going to let his or her child miss class and possibly an exam, to write for my daughter? For months now, we have been running round in circles, and only one child has offered to do so for 2 or 3 papers. Now we have to find another one.No wonder I am so stressed out these days!!