Chai Time Musings

It's 5 PM and a weekday. In office, after a long-drawn meeting, you decide to take a cup of tea. Because your friends had already been earlier for tea, you are left alone. A cup tea all by yourself is always welcome. Gives you time to relax and contemplate.

And so I walked into the canteen, got a cup of tea and some snacks. I tried getting a good spot at the "balcony," but the best ones were occupied. After around 5 minutes, one of the tables became vacant and I quickly moved on to sit at the balcony.

My office canteen is an open area on the first floor overlooking a road. Across the road as I had mentioned in an earlier post, the Yerwada Jail fields are spread out. There are around four-five two seater tables arranged just at the canteen railing. These are really good for a quick chai and a quick dekko.

The road has been newly constructed. Earlier it was a dusty road, bumpy all over the place. Now it's transformed into a tar road and got a character of its own.

As I sat having my tea, I could see so many things happening around me. People in the canteen were enjoying their break from work. The food caterers were busying serving. A few people were having "chai-time meetings."

What intrigued me most was the road below. Earlier when it was a dusty road, hardly anyone walked by. But now, although not a main thoroughfare, there were a lot of people walking by, going for their work, teenagers talking loudly, gossiping, and laughing away to glory. Some bikers zoomed past on the smooth road. And I watched it all.

It felt as if I was standing still in the vast ocean of activity and life was happening and passing by. I felt as if I was the only stationary object for whom time had stopped. It was a kind of strange feeling. I suppose it's exactly how old ajobas and ajjis feel when they sit at their windows watching people walk by.

My own ajji had her house in one of the busiest places in Pune, right in the centre of the city. We all cousins used to fight for the coveted place in the small window that opened out to the main road. I remember  looking at the people working, talking, walking past, loitering, fighting, travelling. People going on with their lives and we mute spectators. It was like a bird's eye view. It was how God would look at the going-ons in this world, except that it was not at all our creation. Things just happened and we were the by-standers watching and observing. Never playing a part in it.

All ajjis and ajobas would be feeling the same I guess. They must be contemplating on how life has been for them, what future they have in store, what problems they faced, and how they overcame them. What life really was for them. Waiting and watching!

That's what perhaps I will be doing 30 more years down the line. Who knows! I will be one of those ajjis in the window up there, looking down at the fast world around me, thinking of my own life gone by. While everybody then would be in the fast lane, going at a speed of 80 km/h, I would be ruminating at my life in the slowest and farthest lane, going at a constant speed of 30 km/h.

The destination would be in my sight, but no deadline of reaching it!

To Babai

Babai in a pensive mood

Dearest Babai, who is right now not as healthy as she used to be. It is heart-wrenching to see her like that.

Babai, my Aai's Aai, has always been this one strong woman, who has never ever bowed down. To see her in the bed all the time, too weak to talk is very disturbing.

When me and my sister were kids, we used to stay at my grandmom's place after our school. We used to be dropped by our rickshaw-wale kaka in the afternoon, and stayed there till evening, when Baba used to come to pick us up.

Those were magical days! Babai and Kaka (my Ajoba) used to stay at Prabhat Talkies, literally in the heart of Pune city. They had a two-room home that housed so many people at a time. We used to have all our cousins, uncles, aunts, nephews, nieces, all together under one roof. But the house always seemed enough for all.

Babai was almost the head of the house, taking care of the kitchen, the kids, the grocery, everything around. She was a solid support for my Mami who continued working as a nurse. My cousin, my sister, and I used to spend afternoons together after school. We used to fight during lunch for the place closest to Kaka. We used to fight again for the afternoon siesta for a place closest to Babai. She would pacify us saying that she had long hands and would reach up to all.

She was the one who taught us to read time. She had this old, broken-down clock that she used to tune and change the hour and minute hands, and then ask us to guess the time. I can never forget that red-faced clock and those "timely" hours spent in the balcony.

Babai had always been strong, at times very, very headstrong, to the point of being irritating. She always gloried in the work that she did, the contacts she maintained in her big family, be it on her own side, or her husband's side. Everyone in the family used to respect her, love her, and never forgot what she had done for them. And she really did do everything possible for everyone. No one left her threshold unsatisfied. She was there for everyone, a lighthouse, a beacon, a solid wall of support.

She had her flaws. She was too headstrong. She had been too much in the limelight, too much in the power to give up easily. She always wanted things her way. She has had a tremendous ego. But all in all, she never bowed down, never gave up.

Today, when I see her in the hospital, I can only remember how she was once upon a time. She is diminished, faded, and tired. After 85 years of being headstrong, it is hard to see her bowed down due to her age. She is slowly losing against time.

We all love you, Babai! Just one more loving request we make of you...do not go away by losing away to life. Fight back! Be your own self! Be the iron lady you have been! Make your final exit on your own terms. Not by simply fading away!

(Wo)Man Is (Wo)Man's Own Enemy

Today, I am thoroughly ashamed of this woman called Pauline Nyiramasuhuko. She has been convicted of genocide, war crimes, and crime against humanity, including rape. And to top it all, she was Rwanda's former Minister for Family Welfare and the Advancement of Women! Disgusting!

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/africaandindianocean/rwanda/8597001/Genocide-court-jails-female-Rwandan-former-minister-for-life.html

She has been sentenced to a term of life imprisonment and is not eligible to apply for parole for the next 25 years. Pauline, who is 65, was also found guilty of inciting rape at the UN-backed International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, which is prosecuting those accused of orchestrating the killings of more than 8,00,000 people in Rwanda in 1994. Her son, Arsene Ntahobali, a former militia leader, is also found to be guilty. He has been sentenced to a term of life imprisonment, with no possibility of parole.

I am shocked that a woman was involved in the genocide and extermination of the Tutsi minority in Rwanda, and of rape. What had got into her? She has behaved like a modern Hitler.

I am not sure if the punishment meted out to her is justified, enough, or even less. But I would like to go from this world without seeing any more such Paulines!

Nice Photo

I loved this photo: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:British_Columbia_Regiment_1940.jpg

It's so poignant. I loved the depth it showed...the long line of soldiers on the road...the mother and the son...the son leaving his mother's hand and running to hold his father's hand...all other soldiers looking serious and determined...the father alone looking back at his son...beautiful.

Look how the road is divided by the long line of soldiers. On one side, only two-three ladies, on the other all other ladies bidding farewell to the soldiers...looking at a grim future. The black-and-white photograph shows one whole generation of people men towards the unknown.

What a classic photograph!

He Is Out Of Danger

The Lieutenant is now out of danger. Thank God!

But it's not just God that we must thank! It's his own willpower too! He has come out of grave danger and giving a hard fight.

His story is just the story of every bahaddur hero that we know our armed forces have! And that itself increases his bravery hundred times.

He's still recouperating, but I know that soon he will be up and running.

Salute to every armed force member!

We are proud of you Lieutenant!

Prayers For A Brave Hero

He has got a bullet in his stomach, and he needs several operations to get back to normal. It's already some days now and the bullet is still inside him.

This brave hero was hit in the stomach with a bullet by the "you-know-whos." He was found after 12 hours with a bullet inside him. It's a wonder that he is still alive! His stomach, small intestine, large intestine are all affected and are in dangerous conditions. The liver is damaged! But not his spirit!!

He is still fighting for his life, living each day bravely. Every new operation is going to be a new test.

I want him to recover from this ordeal. I want him to be hale and hearty like he always was.

I don't want him to succumb to his injuries like other soldiers have.

I am praying constantly for his recovery! Lieutenant, we are there for you! Wishing you a speedy recovery, Brave Hero! We salute your bravery! Don't leave us!

The Rapid Questions Round

It is a truth universally accepted in the Indian society that a single girl, who is working, and is from a well-to-do family must be in want of a husband. Then that would-be husband and his family have all rights to ask whatever uncensored questions they want, in front of everyone. Questions could be as follows:

• What are your hobbies?
• Can you cook?
• Do you like non-vegetarian food?
• Do you like to listen to music?
• Would you mind if you have to move out of your city? (Nobody bothers to ask what she would do about her job then.)
• Do you wear saris? Do you like wearing saris? Do you have a collection of saris?

Did I tell you that these are standard questions? A recently introduced question, that will make your heads turn is:

Have you put on weight recently?

And they might sometimes forget to ask these questions:

• Can you walk?
• Can you talk?
• Are you human?

But don't worry. Every girl eventually gets used to being asked all these questions. She also learns to answer them tactfully. Of course, when they are asked for the first time, the girl will be angry, flustered, irritated, and not to say flabbergasted. She will then learn that the greatest "virtues" of being a girl are patience and self-control. She will learn that she has to control herself so that she does not walk out on the folks who ask these questions, or worse, slap them hard.

This experience is very necessary to learn the role of being a good "wife." Unless she passes in this test, she is not accepted as "marriage" stuff.

So gals out there thinking of getting married soon, remember, be patient and practise self-control. Because those virtues are your ticket to wifeydom, nothing short of martyrdom.

Foul February

I hate February! Really! Since past few years, I have consistently had the worst days of the year in February. All bad things happen in February. Deaths, illnesses, losses, heartbreaks, unhappy relations, sly, selfish relationships, all, all happen in February.

I want this month to get over soon, really soon!

Till then I pray nothing worse happens any more! Hoping that the rest of the year is better!

Wishful thinking...!

"Sirius"ly Yours

This wonderful friend finally succumbed to the inevitable.

He had wandered into Wadia Stud Farm as a small pup where he was adopted unconditionally.

He lived life giving love to everyone. He was especially attached my mother who works there. He waited for her on guard when she worked overtime and accompanied her till the gate. He was truly noble.


All at Wadia Stud Farm will truly miss you, Sirius!

What's New?

Another year starts, and life still goes on. I mean, with the new year, except that the date changes, what's different? It's the same old life for us workers, go to office and return in the evening day after day. For students, the year continues...nothing apparently changes except the syllabus.

A new financial year starts and yet each one stays at the same level that one was before. If you get an appraisal and bonus, then you spend more because you have got more. Eventually you end up having the same amount as your bank balance.

Writers keep writing new things like they have done every year. Actors keep on acting as they have done in each of their past movies. Players play and excel like they do in every game. Soldiers do their duties and wait for their next vacation as they do every year.

People are born and people die. Natural calamities occur and leave some scars. Man-made dire circumstances occur leaving behind a whirlwind of emotions. Ultimately everything settles down as dust settles down after a storm to welcome another year that will go past as the year before that.

Just one small change occurs...you add another year to your age and that's what makes a difference.

Godaan

Munshi Premchand...a very respected Hindi and Urdu writer. I came across the translation of his most famous work "Godaan" and I picked it up in sheer curiosity. I was never a great reader of Hindi literature. But I remember having one of his stories to study in school. I picked up the book just to know why it was so famous.

I may not be able to tell a lot about the book. But this book is definitely a good read. The translation, I suppose, could have been better. But I found it entertaining.

Godaan is the story of Horiram, his wife Dhania, son Gobar(dhan), daughters Sona and Rupiya, and other characters in the story, which are quite a number of them. You will meet most of the usual crowd that you will find in a village drama, the local policeman, the sahukars, the pundits, the city-bred folks, the upper-caste and lower-caste people. The novel records Horiram's dream of owning a cow, which is not just the pride of the household, but also considered sacred, the problems he faces, and how society plays an important role in all this.

Horiram's utter poverty, deprived conditions, loans to run the family and household, and social norms that he faces and succumbs to is a major theme in the novel. Loan sharks take away his money, his farm produce, his bulls, his self-respect too. But there's one thing that they just can't take away...his dreams. Horiram is just a representative of the lakhs and crores of farmers who share the same plights. Their world is almost similar to what is shown in the book. And I doubt it has changed much since the book was written in 1936. The socio-economic deprivation of small, poor farmers is, I guess, still the same.

Premchand has very intricately shown a diaspora of themes intertwined with each other. You have the problems Horiram faces due to his loans, the extravagant celebrations at Rai Sahib's place, the city-bred folks and their discussions on politics, money, life, social standards, their hypocrisy, a disruption in social order as high-caste men ensnare low-caste women, life of the city dwellers, marriages, weddings, social festivals, and human emotions all spun in the same tale.

While at one place Horiram's life is dwindling towards ulitmate destruction due to loans, Premchand portrays the exhuberant and lavish life of the city folks who are great talkers of social reform and greater misers who exploit farmers, labourers, and at times, even helpless women. Life at its best and life at its worst...all shades and all walks of life.

I guess at its time, the novel would have been quite forward in its thoughts. It shows a lady doctor, Miss Malti, who has come back from England and who falls in love with a philosopher, Mr. Mehta. In the end they both accept their love for each other but decide not to get married but still stay together and love each other. I think this was an unknown thing at that time...staying together without marrying (although in a city) was not much heard of. Moreover, they might have been ostracised by the society. But Premchand was ahead of his times and had the courage to show this, especially because the lady suggests this option which the philosopher readily accepts.

Premchand also has shown widow-remarriage. Interestingly, Jhunia, who is a widow starts loving Gobar and becomes pregnant. Gobar too loves her truly, but is apprehensive about his mother's reaction. He abandons her at his parents doorstep and flees when he is sure that his mother has taken Jhunia under her wings. Till the end, Jhunia and Gobar are together as husband-wife, yet they are never shown as actually married. I found that amazing.

Matadin, the son of the local pundit ensnares a low-caste chamarin Siliya, impregnates her, and then disowns her when her family force him to eat meat. Siliya really loves Matadin and prefers to raise the child with a quiet determination of loving Matadin forever. She believes that Matadin will come back to her and ultimately he does.

In all this, Premchand shows the hypocrisy of religious men, of men in power, of wealth, of social norms, of principles, of ideals.

Premchand's characters are full of life and three dimensional. Most of the landlords and loan-sharks behave just as they should, just as they have been doing all these generations. And so do the villagers. They come to wish luck for good tidings and thwart the miserables when in dire conditions. That's what everyone does. It's human after all to be there with people when they are going through a good patch and desert them when life turns bad for them. Life's like that!

Dhania is a very strong woman. She is (in)famous for her acrid tongue. She does not take a single abuse, injustice lying down, especially against her own self, or her husband, who is rather a simpleton and god-fearing. She is ready to fight the ridiculous and unjust social laws, yet is held back every time by Horiram. In spite of that, she respects Horiram and supports him. I admire her character especially in two situations...one is when Jhuniya, five-months pregnant, lands at her door. Dhania was aware of Jhunia and Gobar's affair, and had vehemently talked of never letting Jhunia step into the house if Gobar married her. Yet, when she is at the doorstep, Dhania complains initially but ultimately does not turn her out. She welcomes her in house as her own bahu and loves her all the more. She never mistreats Jhunia and showers her love on Jhunia and her son.

The second incident is when Siliya is outcast by the village. Dhania gives shelter to Siliya and allows her to stay at her place fully knowing that the whole village was angry with Siliya. She did not care about the whole world but stood by Siliya although she was a low-caste woman. Dhania's strength, struggles, a modern outlook towards life, pride in her family and kids, heart-wrenching pitiable state, yet her will power make her an outstanding character. I liked her the best in the novel.

When I started the novel, I was only sceptical about it. But slowly I got interested, so much so that I could barely put down the book. When I got up in the morning, I was wondering what all was to happen to Horiram, Dhania, Gobar, Jhuniya, Siliya, Mr. Mehta, Miss Malti, and the other characters.

A social documentary, Godaan is a charismatic tale of Horiram and his life, interlinked with so many others, going through the same hell or heaven at that time. Times have changed. But I guess the society is still the same. The only difference is that Horiram toiled hard to return his loan of Rs. 250. Now farmers have to toil hard to return their loans of Rs. 25000. Sort of déjà vu, isn't it?

Out Of Book Ramblings

Have you ever felt that your life is happening right out of a book? I feel that sometimes. Sometimes I remember what things have happened with a character and realize that just those things are happening with me. It is downright spooky!

Something happens with you that's just like in a book you recently read. Then you recall what other things have happened with that character and wonder whether those will happen with you too. You are in an "in-between" world. Neither here, nor there. I mean, you are real, leading a real life. But you are also there, in that world, the world of that book. Kind of in a trance. Very weird.

If a single incident is similar to that in a book, you try finding out similar characters, similar situations, and perhaps similar feelings too. Or may be, you try to gauge what your feelings are at the moment the real thing is happening against what you thought about that incident when you were reading the book.

For example, you have read a book in which the protagonist had the misfortune of losing a family member. When a similar situation arises in your life, you are very much involved in the scene before you. But you are also watching the scene unfurl before you from a third person perspective. You would compare how you felt when you read that incident in the book. Perhaps, it is the difference of a third person perspective and a fourth person perspective. When reading a book, you are mildly aware that it is just that...a book. Things happening with the protagonist are just fictional. You are looking at things from a transparent fourth wall. You would probably 'know' that you should feel the sadness rather than actually feel it. But when you are looking at the actual incident in your life, you can feel the sadness. But you also take in all the other things happening around you at that time.

You notice your relative, peaceful in death. All other relatives respecting death and murmuring in low voices. Some discussing the plans for the funeral. Others remembering the once-living beloved. And the kids not sure how to behave with such a tragedy before them. Children looking at the dead relative and wondering how they should react. Should they cry, just watch, avoid the scene and sneak away to an unknown place, console their parents, yet not knowing if they would appear too grown-up if they consoled them, or just laugh out and stay unaffected. And you can see the elderly people looking at the dead thinking when their turn would be. You can see them thinking of that unknown time when they would be lying there, still and untroubled. The shadow of a controlled fear, a fear of the unknown.

And in the midst of all this you remember the poor protagonist in the book and think whether s/he felt the same thing in such a situation. You then ascribe your own thoughts to the protagonist and believe that life is rather frightening to present you with the same situations that were there in the book. An eerie feeling of déjà vu sets in.

But if you are in a happy situation, I doubt if you would remember about a similar situation in a book. What about a neutral situation, neither happy, nor sad, somewhere in between? Just an anxious situation, which makes you think about what you are doing at that moment. You might think how similar it is to a situation in a book. You then are all anticipation of what will happen next.

That's when you realise, life is too good to be true. After all, life takes inspiration from books!