A Friend In Need

A friend in need is a friend indeed. 

And I had this very thought driving me. Back home a pile of work was awaiting my return. Project submission was just two days away. Even though I have been consistent in my work. Yet the last minute rush and pressure was difficult to avoid. The problem didnt end there. We had the exams starting in a week's time. So I didnt expect to have even a single spare moment till the end of the month. 

And in the middle of all this, Amit decided to announce a 'break-up'. 

Amit is one of the closet friends I have. We have been in the same class for last three years. I don't exactly know what drives our friendship, but we have been in that comfortable space with each other for quite some time now. 

A little less than a year ago, Amit told me about his attraction towards Rhea, who is also in our class. I'm not very close with Rhea, but there are no hard feelings either. And hence when he decided to propose her, and also when she accepted his proposal, I like our all other friends cheerily congratulated the love birds. 

Today they have decided to part ways. I don't exactly know why. I was in the library when the I received Amit's message. "Broke up with Rhea. Chapter closed. Time to move on." 

I had met Amit about an hour ago, when he was going back to his hostel. I don't remember anything unusual about him. All seemed fine, as we exchanged notes on our respective projects. What could have happened in that one hour is beyond my imagination. 

For a minute I stared at the article I was so engrossed with, less than a minute ago. But now the words were refusing to enter my head. I was worried about Amit. Not only because heart-burns are painful, but also because this is absolutely the wrong time. I was worried this emotional turmoil may adversely effect his performance in the upcoming examinations.

I picked up my stuff and moved towards his hostel. My thoughts jumping from the possible reasons of this break-up, to Amit's likely mental state, to the hours I will have to work at night to cover up for this loss of time. But then as they say - a friend in need is a friend indeed. And right now Amit needed a friend. So I decided to extend a hand. 

As I entered his room, he looked up from the pile of books and notebooks he was surrounded with. Seeing me he smiled. "Good that you have come, you can help me with this problem now" He said as he handed me the book he was reading. I quietly sat down. For next half hour we discussed this and various other problems from the coursework. Amit was totally fine; calm and logical in his conversations. 

Maybe he doesn't want to talk right now, I thought. And I didn't insist. In my heart I was  somewhat confused, and little bit irritated with myself. Seems I had acted in haste. Maybe I should have called up before coming. Maybe it was just another fight between them. Maybe its none of my business. Maybe I should ask him about what has happened. Maybe he prefers talking to someone else. Maybe he doesn't want to talk about it. And all these possibilities seemed plausible.

Half an hour later I got up to leave. As I reached the door, Amit spoke up. "You know that you are my closest friend. And the fact that today you have come to meet me, means a lot to me. Thank you." 

I quietly smiled. And left.

I don't know what happened, and why. I don't know if I should have asked him for details. I just decided to respect his decision to keep quiet. Maybe that's what he needs. 

Sitting on a High-Chair

As always, around 1pm, the chat window popped up on my laptop screen. It was time for lunch. I got up from my work station and joined what we call the 'lunch group', as it moved towards the cafeteria.

Let me start with a brief introduction. I don't exactly know how this group came into existence. We work in the same organisation albeit in different departments and different areas of the office. Yet everyday at lunch time we come together to share our food and day's updates.

Today as we sat down together Namita noticed that Reema was missing, and she enquired about the absence. Shivani, the youngest in the group, promptly reminded her that today was Dia's farewell lunch. Dia was part of Namita's team, and today was her last day with the organisation. Thus a few team members and friends had planned to take her out for lunch. Reema, though technically not part of the team, had joined as she was at the same position as Dia, and shared good rapport with a few of the team members. 

Namita kept quiet for a minute. And then with a sad note expressed her hurt,    "You know, till today morning I was feeling bad that I forgot to bring a farewell gift for Dia. But when I realised that the team hasn't invited me for the farewell, I was glad that I didn't get her anything." 

Namita is probably the most supporting supervisor one could ask for. She always goes a step further in trying to build a connect with her team. And thus her thought of giving Dia a farewell gift itself, though not surprising for us, was surely commendable. 

All of us on the table were quiet. The younger lot like Shivani, kept their heads down, as if they were being scolded by someone senior for their lack of concern. Rest of us, including me, who were at mid-management level, kept quiet. In some unsaid, unexplained way, we understood and could identify with either side. Thus it was difficult to either support one or oppose the other. 

Finally Vaishali broke the silence. She is the senior-most in our group, both in terms of her experience and hierarchy. She looked at Namita with a 'I know how you feel' smile. And then very patiently explained. "Namita you must not feel bad. It is not possible for these kids to behave with us as friends. And it is not their fault. You know some of them are even younger than my own kids. The age gap, coupled with the requirements of professional etiquettes, make it difficult for them to open up." 

None of us, including Namita, could deny that there was merit in her words. Vaishali too could see the approval in our eyes. She smiled once again, like the smile of one who has solved a complex problem, and is now trying to explain it to others. She got up from her chair, picking up the remaining sandwich in her hand, "I must rush, I have a meeting in 5 minutes. But I must tell you all one thing. It does get lonely as one moves up the ladder. And many of us make the mistake of filling up that space by expanding our own presence."

With these words Vaishali moved back towards her cabin. I am not sure about others, but Vaishali's words surely left me thinking. 

Big is Enchanting, Small is Beautiful

https://www.linkedin.com/today/post/article/20140917174104-18657681-big-is-enchanting-small-is-beautiful?trk=mp-author-card&_mSplash=1

The First Step

Taking the first step is usually the most challenging task. For any new endeavor, we may spend a lot of time planning, preparing, anticipating and then again planning. Yet when the moment of taking that plunge comes, the heart skips a beat, hands go cold and feet go numb.

I had quite a similar feeling as I walked towards the school gate holding my daughter’s hand. She is too young to fully grasp the change that was about to come to her little world. But I, her mother, who had organized all this, knew it too well.

We had planned well and planned long for this day. It was nothing less than a big research project for us. It has been some time since we, the parents, had started discussing about sending our 2 year daughter to a pre-school. We even discussed it with other parents and gathered their experience. This was followed by a thorough search of the neighboring schools.  We compared them on all parameters – hygiene, facilities, student strength, curriculum, activities conducted, staff presence and behavior, space to play, fee structure, travel time, proximity to home etc etc etc. As the next step, we met the administrative and teaching staff of the short-listed schools, to better understand their culture and processes. And it was after all this pre-work, that we decided on a school.

As I stood at the gate, I must admit I was nervous. Earlier, both my husband and I had decided to accompany her. But he could not join as he was called away for work. Thus I was entrusted once again to play the role of both parents. Just to digress a bit, I think it’s just not possible to fill in that gap which only a father can. I only try to expand my presence a little bit more in a vain attempt to cover for his absence.

Coming back to the school gate, I carried my daughter in my arms, just to provide that extra comfort. She was looking at this new place with the curiosity of a toddler, yet clung to me, for her sense of security. Since this was her first day, the principal suggested that I must accompany her to the class.

My daughter was joining the place mid-session, and hence the other kids had already been there for almost two months. They looked up from their toys as we entered the room, with the innocent and wide gaze of a toddler. I tried to step a little away from my daughter, but she kept clinging to me, probably guessing that I was about to leave her there. And then exactly as I had expected, she started crying, refusing to leave me. I, along with the two teachers and the class assistant, were trying hard to cajole her. But our words were falling on deaf ears.

Seeing this commotion a small boy got up from his seat. He must have been of the same age as my daughter. He walked towards her, holding his teddy bear in one hand. He gave me a confused look and asked, “why she crying?” Then without waiting for my response, he turned towards her and extended the hand in which he was holding the teddy, ”you can take my teddy.”

This gesture of love and compassion, coming from so young a child, touched me deeply. I wonder how many of us will have the courage to offer our precious belongings to any stranger.

It is this impromptu, unplanned first step of offering help without any expectation, which I think is the most difficult one. 

Our Daddy & His Son

"I am never ever going to play with daddy and his son."

I was talking angrily to myself as I stormed towards the dining table. In my irritation of another defeat at tennis court, I didn't realize my mother was already seated there, waiting for us to join breakfast. She gave me a stern look and asked, "Is this a way of speaking?" And I immediately realized my mistake. From the corner of my eyes I could see my father and elder brother trying hard to control their laughter. All of us knew that once again I had put my foot in the mouth by referring to my elder brother as "daddy's son".

My mother usually is a figure of poise and grace. She is also a strict disciplinarian. But fortunately or unfortunately I also have my father's blood running in my veins. And thus time and again his free spiritedness takes over. 

My elder brother is exactly like my father, except in his features, which he has taken from our mother. A perfect combination of the two, he is handsome, suave, charismatic, successful, confident. A complete charmer. 

I am not too bad myself. The only difference being that they know when and how to rein in their horses. And thus seldom get in trouble with mother. 

I quietly sat down on the table, my father and elder brother joining me. My mother was still upset with me for what she calls my 'inappropriate behavior'. In any other house this would have been nothing out of normal. After all, everyone knows about dad's bias towards 'his son'.

Even 'his son' knows it, and in some weak emotional moments, has accepted it. But like most obedient sons, he takes it as his moral responsibility to live up to dad's expectations. And that is why every time we fight, I call him 'daddy's son'. 

I know he doesn't mind me saying it. And dad loves it. But not my mother. She has always insisted that for her and our father, both the kids are equally important. I have no reason, not to believe her. But there is no fun in saying it. Isn't it? ;-)

As we settled for breakfast, my mother turned her gaze away from me and on my brother. And ah! what a relief it was.  

"Your father mentioned that you want us to meet someone." She asked my brother in a calm voice. 

Now this is serious. This is very serious. I could hear my heart pounding heavily. My mother was referring to my brother's marriage. And I know everything. I know the girl. 

She is a perfect match for my brother. A vibrant girl, intelligent and independent. A perfect match for the perfect guy. I had met her the first time, when she had just joined my brother's office. And even then I could spot love sparkling in my darling brother's eyes. 

I know for a fact that my brother has discussed this with daddy at length. And also that dad approves of it. 

However, there is one problem. This perfect girl has a not-so-perfect past. She has been through a bad marriage and an uglier divorce. 

My mother has always cherished and nurtured her relations with lots of love and care. I have seen her put in her heart and soul for her own marriage. Even our extended family and friends have always got their due love and respect. Probably that is the reason for her objections to my calling my brother as 'daddy's son'. And that is why we are scared that mom may not be happy with the 'divorce' bit. 

All these and many more thoughts started running in my head after my mother asked her question. I looked at my brother. He was as calm and composed as mom. And then very confidently he uttered the name.  

There was complete silence in the room.  Three pair of eyes were stuck at one blank face. My mother was looking at her empty plate. And when she did look up, tears rolled down her cheeks. 

My heart sank. I looked at my brother. He was equally disturbed. He was all set with his list of reasons and arguments. All set for a heated debate. But tears, he was not prepared for them. And thus sat there struggling to find words. 

It wasn't long before my mother spoke again. "I know what you are thinking. But there is something you don't know.

Twenty seven years ago your father, much against the wishes of his family, married a girl with a troubled past. And that is how I came into this house. 

The only difference is that I came with a ten-month old son."

Silence fell.

That day none of us spoke. 

It has been three years since that day. My brother is now happily married with the girl he loved. And all of us are eagerly awaiting the arrival of their first child. 

I still tease him as 'daddy's son'. And nobody minds it.

Maa Durga & Mommy Me

As a kid I always admired goddess Durga, or more fondly called Maa (Mother) Durga in larger part of the country. I was always awestruck by her majesticity & grandeur. Dressed in her bright red attire & matching ornaments, her godly brilliance radiating on her face. Holding all kind of weaponry in her ten hands (astra-shastra), and yet that peaceful calm on the face.

But it is only in last two years that I have actually understood, and thus admired & respected her strengths with a new found devotion.

Take today morning for example. I left home to drop my two year old daughter to school. As I stepped out of home, I was holding my bag, her school bag, her water bottle, car keys and the glass of milk she was still finishing. In addition, she decided that today her big teddy & pink dolly will also accompany her. She even picked up her purse from the table near the door. Experience has taught me that managing this entourage is not a mean task. Hence I tried arguing with her to leave some of it behind. But at the end of the discussion I realized my only two options were to either make her cry, or to comply by her wishes. Needless to say, I chose the latter. And as expected, by the time we reached the car, in addition to my initial luggage, I was also managing her purse & dolly, while she was struggling to keep the teddy above the ground.

No wonder Maa Durga with her ten hands is now my source of inspiration & strength.

Since this is my daughter’s first week in school, the school authorities have requested me to be around allowing her time to settle. So last couple of days I have been sitting outside, fiddling with my phone & books. And all these days, I have seen another toddler struggling with his new environment. His mother, due to circumstances not known to me, can not be available for the settling-in period. Every day I see the child, howling his lungs out, crying for his mother. The school staff takes turn in trying to pacify him.

Seeing him I am reminded of only one fact, even ten hands together struggle to replace two hands of a mother.

Coming back from school, I headed straight to the kitchen, where most mothers spend almost half their time. Now, for anyone who works regularly in a kitchen would know that it is nothing less than a factory work-station. Modern gadgets equip you for easy and quick food preparation. But one needs to match their efficiency levels if you want to achieve results. However, in my kitchen, these days fun starts, like today afternoon, when my daughter decides to lend a helping hand. And she insists on making her presence felt in all areas of work. From doing the dishes, to mopping the floor, from operating the micro-wave to pushing the gas knobs. And the best part comes when she tells me –“Mumma, you go. I am doing. You go. You sit.”

Oscillating between my work & her antics, and simultaneously preventing the mess in the least & mishaps at a max, I really wish god will bless me with at least a couple of more hands.

There is an African proverb – ‘It takes a village to raise a child’.

I am only hoping for a couple of more hands to work with, and at least another tongue to help me in answering all possible questions of ‘Tell me What, Why, When, Who, Where…….’

P.S. – Daddy, come back soon.

Daddy from Mars, Mommy from Venus

Almost thorough out my childhood I have heard my grand-mother crib, what does your grand-father know about kids. He didn’t even know which class they were studying. He never bothered. Well it wasn’t totally true. I know for a fact that he worked overtime to pay off the school fee of four fast growing kids. Even though he didn’t inherit even a single penny from his father, he managed to leave behind sufficient for each of his kids, to give them a steady start in life.

I was brought up by more involved parents. Single child of two professors, I never had any dearth of their time & attention. They did co-operate with each other, shouldering responsibilities of household and the little me. But the roles were clearly divided. Getting me ready for school was my mother’s job, while my father took up the responsibility of dropping me off. They even went together for grocery shopping. While my mother hopped from one shop to another, buying the necessary stuff, my father patiently waiting holding the bags.

Things weren’t very different in other households. I have seen similar equations among my cousins and friends, & their parents. For all our demands and pampering needs it was mommy, for pleads and fights it was mommy. For permission it was daddy. Even now, when we are all grown up and have our own kids, we chat with our mothers daily on mundane updates of day’s events, family gossip and other stress-busting talk. With dads we discuss.

But things are different in the modern world.

All these years I have seen my elder brother, himself a senior executive with a fast paced job, get both his kids ready. From the time they were spoiling their diapers, to today getting them ready for school, it has always been his job. A job he has willingly and vociferously taken. He claims he does it better than their mother. And honestly I can’t disagree. Not that his wife doesn’t contribute. She has her roles of active & participative parenting clearly defined. But those roles are no longer confined to home. From school to coaching classes, from homework to project submissions, she is with the kids throughout.

At my neighbour’s home mornings are chaotic. With two small kids getting ready for school, both parents are running around the house. While the mother helps them in bath, father prepares the school uniform. Then when the mother rushes to the kitchen to pack the lunch-boxes, father helps the kids with comb, shoes & accessories like batches & napkins. And when the pick-up bus arrives, both parents stand together smiling & waving to the kids.

In my own house, my two year old, yet demanding daughter, needs both her parents to be with her when going to bed at night. So on days my husband is back home in time, he is dragged away from his tv, to sing lullabies for the darling daughter. In last two years, there is no aspect of parenting, from diapers to future financial planning, which we have not shared as a couple. Even now, while I am busy pressing my laptop keys, she is peacefully sleeping in her daddy’s lap.

Seeing her like this, I am forced to believe times are changing. Since the times of my parents, grand-parents, great grand-parents and their ancestors, men have come from mars & women have come from venus. Maybe they still do. But parents today belong to this earth. 

Candles on the Cake

It must have been around 6am, when I bid him goodbye & shut the door behind him. My husband. He was starting his day a little earlier than usual as he had to travel to another city for some important official work. This was one of his shorter visits, and thus he was expected to be back the same day, albeit little late, maybe around mid-night. He does need to make such visits once in while, and hence none of this new for me. Yet this time round I found myself struggling with my emotions, my thoughts, and was even a little frustrated by the explanations I was offering myself.

Unable to manage myself any longer, I slumped down on the living room couch. Normally on such days I either go back to sleep, or prepare myself a cup of tea, to be enjoyed with my solitude. But I did none of this. I couldn’t. After all it was my birthday, and he had left even without wishing me, or apologizing for being away the whole day.

Now you may say, after having spent three decades and a couple of years more on this earth, what is so big about a birthday? I asked myself exactly the same question. But instead of providing an answer, I got even more flustered.

Basically there are two major schools of thoughts. There maybe one or two more, but I think only these two merit any consideration.

Life is for Living, All Day, Every Day

Proponents of this philosophy, including my husband, feel that life and all things related to it are to be celebrated every day. His love for me is also something similar, which can be felt every day. We shouldn’t need birthdays or marriage anniversaries or valentine’s day or rose day etc etc etc to remind us of its existence.

I agree with him. But there is a slight problem with this argument. I, and I am sure most of us, will find it very difficult to do something special every day. It could be something as simple as cooking an elaborate meal. Even if it’s your hobby, doing it every day might make it mundane. And hence the other line of argument follows.

Life Gives a Few Reasons to be Happy, Its Better to Find Excuses

This is the belief that I follow. My logic is, I was born once (though I was too small to rejoice at having reached this fete, and more likely than not I would have howled my lungs out). But for the sake of logical reasoning, I don’t get to get born every other day, I don’t get married every once in a while, I don’t & don’t even intend to give births every year. All these, and so many similar special & joyful events are such rare occurrences in a life spanning approximately between sixty to seventy years. Hence if I want to be happy and make merry, then I need to add more occasions to this life.

And that is exactly what festivals do. Be it personal or social or religious, the objective of having these festivals in our lives is to give us regular opportunities to make merry. Come together with friends, family and well wishers, and celebrate the festivities, celebrate life.

But I can’t deny the fact that restricting these celebrations only to occasions, usually result in more expression or demonstration of emotions, than what is actually felt. More simply put, restricted to occasions, it becomes a ritual, and not an emotion.

I was still struggling with both set of arguments when the door-bell rang. I glanced at the watch, it was almost eight. Wondering who could come in so early, I opened the door.

My husband was standing there, holding a cake in one hand, and a bouquet of flowers in the other. 

A gift bag was hanging on his neck. 

Mushrooming in Head

I was really feeling tired after the ten hour long drive. We started early in the morning in order to avoid heavy traffic. The road was good, and so was the scenery. Lush green color had become even more vibrant after the rains. The breeze was adding its magical effect too. The car was echoing with our giggles and laughter. The enthusiasm of a long over-due, much deserved vacation was setting in. I guess the adrenaline rush had set in, and we decided to change our original plan of halting mid-way. And thus, almost half a day had gone by before I unpacked my bags, almost at the time when the sun was also packing his bags to bid adieu for the day.

After completing my usual chores of a mother, wife & an individual, I finally sat down with my cup of coffee. And it was then that I first noticed them through the window. The picturesque backdrop had become even more magical in the twilight. And the small mushroom heads, growing on the window pane, seemed pale and tiny against the brightness of the world outside. Their seemingly inconsequential existence was a potent threat to the very piece of wood on which they grew. Much like the aberrations in our thought processes, which sometimes end up causing whirlwind in our lives.

Riding Two Horses

While still on our way, we happened to talk of a common friend, and his sad state of affairs. A few years back this guy was in a serious relationship with a girl. Then for some known and some unknown reasons, they decided to part ways. Each moved on in their lives, got married and were well settled. But a few months ago their paths again crossed. They bumped into each other at a common friend’s reception and spent time together. One thing led to another, and the old fire was rekindled.

Now both are caught in a mess they don’t seem to find a way out from. One chanced encounter has resulted in a series of meetings and long hours of conversations. And currently, both of them are struggling to give this new relationship a name. Needless to say, their respective spouses are not very supportive of this change in events. With clouds of doubt and jealousy looming large, their marriages are in troubled waters.

An unexpected meeting, a harmless conversation, since allowed to grow, has created cracks in a life-long relationship.

Tame Your Dragon

My cousin is engaged to be married next month. She has known her would-be-husband for long, taking considerable time to take this relationship to the next level. However an unfortunate event led to some altercation between the boy and my uncle, the girl’s father. Tempers flew, tongues wagged and boundaries of decency were violated by both parties.

Flared up egos are now refusing to calm down. The relationship at this delicate juncture is under threat of breaking up. With both the father and fiancé refusing to see each other eye-to-eye, my cousin is caught in the middle of their bitterness.

In their fit of anger, both men forgot that the wounds they are inflicting on the girl they both love, will take a long time to heal.

Comparing Apples with Oranges

The other day I read a sad and shocking story in the newspaper. A mother of two had committed suicide. The woman’s husband was going through a tough patch in his career, causing financial problems for the family. Thus the couple couldn’t provide as many amenities for their kids as available for the neighborhood children. Seeing this, the mother used to stay depressed, and constantly fought with her husband. And one day, unable to live with this guilt any more, she decided to end her life.

I wish she could realize, by worrying excessively about absence of luxuries, she has created a vacuum which will never be filled.

I finished up my cup of coffee, and called up the reception, informing them about the mushroom growth. Some thoughts must be ended, much before they get engrained.  

My Pay For A Day, The Day As A Driver

As one moves up the corporate ladder, both in terms of designation and experience, the nature of work mostly shifts from ground-level mundane operational tasks to more strategic and decision making challenges. And yet those once-in-a-while visits to the floor operations help as key revision lessons. Just like in yester-years the kind and noble kings disguised themselves as common man, and roamed around in streets getting a feel of administrative lapses.

In a similar example, I ended up being my husband’s car-driver for a day. And the day proved to be nothing less than a memory of a lifetime. To give you a quick background, my husband’s work requires him to make regular visits to various stores owned by his employers. On this particular day he had a severe backache, which made driving for long hours and longer distances, seem like quite an inundating challenge. I don’t know if it was the severity of pain, urgency of the job or the excitement of having my company for the day (pun intended); but he readily accepted my offer of assistance.

Stoppage One

Our first stop was at an office complex. After dropping my husband at the front reception, I moved towards the parking area, and found myself a corner slot, with ample light and breeze. Parked next to me was an expensive looking luxury sedan. I am totally blind when it comes to the makes and brands of cars, and thus can not offer any information on even the basic details. However, I do remember that the driver was in a neatly ironed white uniform. He had a newspaper in his hand, and a sober expression on his face. As I parked my car, he glanced at me, and then went back to his reading. Meanwhile I reclined my seat slightly, made myself comfortable and pulled out my book from my bag. It was a good read, and I was thoroughly enjoying my solitude (a big luxury for a mother of a two-year old).

I must have been reading for a little more than an hour when my phone rang. It was my husband, who had completed his work and was waiting for me so that we could proceed to the next destination. As I got up and started the car, this driver from the neighboring car signaled me to stop. I gave him a quizzical glare. He promptly walked towards my window, and spoke to me a very respectable manner, “Madam, my apologies for stopping you. However I just wanted to share that seeing you here has been most inspiring. I got married at a very early age, but continued with my studies. I also encouraged my wife to complete her basic education. But seeing you today, I have decided to teach her to drive. And once she gets a job like you, I will try to look for better avenues. And I just thought I must thank you for this idea.”

I sat there still, not having any courage to share my real identity or circumstances. Then I simply smiled at him, wished him luck, and drove away silently praying in my heart for his dreams to come true.

Stoppage Two

Not wanting to spend any more time in the parking area, this time I looked around and found myself a coffee shop right across the street. Here again I made myself comfortable on the corner seat, after ordering a cup of steaming hot coffee and a sandwich. As I returned my thoughts and focus on the book at hand, I realized destiny had something more in store for me. There was a young couple sitting at a distance from me. Since we were the only sets of customers in the shop, and since they were engaged in a heated argument, I could clearly hear their conversations. After inadvertently listening for a while, I realized it was the same old story of every house-hold. The girl had a series of complains against the guy’s family, their behavior, reactions and comments on various occasions etc etc. The guy on the other hand was oscillating between being defensive and offensive.

The discussion went on for a while, and since my coffee was quite hot, I had no choice but to sit there being a mute audience, just like the coffee shop staff. And then the guy lost his patience. He got up with a jerk and spoke in loud clear words, “I love you for what you are. I have only myself to offer to you. I can control my words, actions and reactions. But unfortunately I have no control on others. I have, and will continue to stand with you when you are right. I have never, and never will blame you when you are wrong. But I can not make others behave the same way. Because they don’t and can not love you the same way.”

And with this he walked off. I don’t know if these words of love and dedication had any effect on the girl. But I sat there, staring at my book, unable to read a single word.

Stoppage Three

My previous two experiences had left me thinking. And as we reached our next halt, I decided staying alone will not be a good idea. So I headed to a nearby book-shop and happily spent next couple of hours flipping through pages. I covered varied topics, gifted myself two new best-sellers, and successfully managed to push the day’s events to the back of my mind.

By the time my husband called me, I was back being my usual self. As I headed towards the car, I found my husband happily chatting with a senior colleague. This colleague, I recognized from a few official dinners I had attended with my husband, was the national head of a particular business division. As both men saw me approaching, they stopped their banter, and acknowledged my presence. After exchanging the initial pleasantries, the colleague remarked, “I was just telling your husband that you guys must plan such days more often. I would love to be able to meet my wife multiple times during the day. The possibility of meeting all my professional commitments, along with an opportunity of intermittent personal conversations seems quite exciting. In fact if need be I don’t mind being the driver for my wife on such days. Waiting in the parking lot once in a while is not bothersome if there is an opportunity of catching up during eating & travelling breaks.”

With these words he took our leave. And yet again I stood there, pondering at his words.

Thankfully my husband decided to call it a day. As we headed back, I gave him a loving smile. The day had proved to me that not all love is lost after marriage. It stays. At least for a few. 

Go Green, Get Married

They say, ‘Marriages are made in heaven’. I don’t know about that.

They also say that ‘Marriages though made in heaven, are celebrated on the earth’. I kind of agree.

But there is more to it. It is quite a remarkable institution. Because it is made in heaven, celebrated on earth, but breeds & grows or dies within the four walls of a house. Hence the gods, the angels and the fellow human beings, together play an active role in forming this union of two sacred souls. However, once the union happens, they all conveniently depart, leaving the poor souls to manage their daily chores and grocery shopping lists. And it is then the real test of marriage begins.

Quite recently I was flipping through the pages of a magazine, when I came across something which triggered the thoughts I have just described in the para above. It was an article citing quotes from some famous personalities, who had condemned or denounced the institution of marriage. Some of them had never crossed this boundary, having burnt their fingers with flames of love. Others had reached their conclusions after painfully bearing the brunt of marriage woes.

I remember, when I was contemplating entering holy matrimony, some of my by-then-experienced friends had forewarned me. “buddy, there is nothing like ‘happily-married’ and/or ‘happy ever-after’.” Yet they all recommended, it is a necessary but not sufficient condition for a happy and healthy life.

Yet that article got me thinking. I agree all famous personalities are not Aristotles and Chanakayas of the world. They may or may not have an intellectual contribution to make for the larger audience. However, they do have the reach. Their voice is heard, at least by a few. And even though the proponents of this institution are present in plenty, their voice need to be echoed to immerse the opposing noise, wherever present. Further, having personally benefited greatly from its merits, I consider it my moral responsibility to speak in its favor. So given below are my two pence:

·         Time & Effort Saving – if all of us were to stay in independent set-ups, everyone will have to spend time buying groceries, paying utility bills, cleaning & cooking. However division of labor between the married couple saves time & effort.

·         Stable System – as compared to other relationships like live-in or friendship, exit barriers in a marriage are higher, lending it additional stability.

·         Higher Scope of Production – producing off-springs is essential for all species. Among humans, marriage due its higher degree of commitment & stability, lends support for long duration of child-bearing & care.

·         Encourages Investment – again given the commitment for a longer duration as compared to other forms of relationships, married couples are more likely to share resources for future investments.

These are just some of the points which I believe make marriage an efficient system, as compared to its alternative institutions. And efficiency merits encouragement. 

Rain Dance

‘Finally the monsoon is here.’

If you have ever stayed in any part of northern India, you can relate to each and every emotion associated with this one phrase. For those who haven’t, in simple words, imagine yourself as a turkey, right out of a heated oven, and put under a running tap. And when the tap is closed, there will be a sense of relief and joy in your heart, for having come out of the torturous heat. Yet you would be bewildered with steam coming out of your ears, with this sudden shift from hot to cold environments.

I guess I was also in a similar condition. Bewildered with the changes around me, not knowing how to react, steam coming out of my ears, and filling my nostrils, forming a vicious circle.

It all started two days back. We had an unusually light day in office. A review meet, where almost half the staff was to be present, was unexpectedly cancelled at the last minute. Since all of us had aligned our work and schedules to accommodate the meeting, it left us jobless for those couple of hours. And thus a group of friends decided to move out and catch up over a glass of beer.

It was not a meeting of love-stricken young couples, nor was it a get together of long lost friends. And thus there was no need for the weather to get so romantic. But it did. With light drizzles filling the fresh air, and a lovely breeze touching the softest corners of hearts. The intoxicants did their bit. And unknowingly the conversations drifted to the topics of love and romance.

As they say, men will be men. Each of us started bragging about our romantic adventures and expeditions. From surprise candle-light dinners to rings in Champaign glasses, almost all text-book tricks were discussed and events were recounted.

God has blessed the male fraternity with a great skill called conditional memory. While our counterparts struggle with managing a lot of junk in the head, due to excess of data present. We, the blessed souls, have the easy access to delete button. Push of a button and the event is erased from the temporary memory, moved to the archives for future use if any. Another push and everything is permanently erased.
 

But it was not be. I am sure the error happened under the strong influence of spirits. No, as always I refuse to accept I was on a high. But it was a mere slip of memory that I forgot to press the delete button. And hence the day’s events left a mark on my male ego. While my friends were busy bragging, I realized that I had not achieved any of these feats in recent past. Thus I was in a compelling need to brush up my chivalry skills.

And it happened again today. As soon as I woke up today morning, the droplets of love falling from skies above forced me to open my eyes to reality. Time was slipping from my hand like grains of sand. It was the time to act. There was an urgency in the air. It was now or never.

And so I got up with a jerk. With my mind racing, almost on a mission, I took out my favorite red shirt. It had to be red. No other color would serve the purpose. I admired the result in the mirror. And left home without a word with anyone.

I could hardly focus on work thorough-out the day. Towards the evening, I called up my favorite restaurant and booked a table for two. I remembered to mention the words, corner table with dim lights. I also told them to reserve a vintage wine of my favorite flavor. Then I called up the nearby bakery shop, and ordered a chocolate cake, another of my favorites, to be delivered at the restaurant. Then I left a message at home that I would be late from office today. Having done all this, I was quite pleased with my thoroughness.

Finally, with trembling hands, I picked up my phone, and messaged an invite for dinner at 8. Okay, I agree that a personal call would have been more appropriate. But I also accept I was nervous. Rejection is difficult to handle. And I was in no mood to entertain it.

Within a minute of my sending the message, my phone rang. It was a message from her. She had accepted my invitation. My heart missed a beat, and then started beating very fast. This was my lucky day. One the response had come so fast, usually not a trait of the fairer sex. Then it hadn’t come accompanied by a list of questions on why, who, and what…. It was a plain simple yes, almost a rarity. All of this reminded me of Paulo Cohelo’s conspiring universe. And I was happy since the universe was conspiring in my favor.

Since I had decided to work hard on my chivalry skills, I reached at the meeting spots, ten minutes ahead of the time. Another thing I had not done in a very long time. Even though I was clueless on what is to be done while waiting for one’s date to arrive, I decided to take a chance. And in absence of any fresh wave of creativity, I started checking my office mails, and responding to them.

I don’t know how long I would have waited. I was too busy to take notice. And then I saw her. She was coming towards me. She was wearing the same black top I had gifted her a few months ago. I can’t remember the occasion, but it suited her well. Her lovely hair dancing with the breeze. And that lovely smile on her face. The smile which made me go weak in my knees when I had first seen it. The smile, that almost made me fall in love. The smile, my favorite thing about her. The smile, I was wanting to spend my evening with.

And then it happened. I don’t know how. I don’t know when. But time froze. She had almost reached at an arm’s length. Talking to me in an exciting tone. Trying to show me something she had just purchased on her way. But I couldn’t hear her voice. I couldn’t understand anything.  I was staring at her, the mother of my two year old. And right behind her, was my two year old, chirping gaily in the arms of her grand-mother, ie my mother. Laughing at her antics, standing there were my father, sister & brother-in-law. At this point my wife lovingly shook me, and asked why I wasn’t listening? And why I wasn’t noticing the nursery rhyme book, with so many pictures, that she had picked up on her way.  

At night the city witnessed some hail-storm, with heavy showers. 

Strange Relations, Stranger Emotions

“Sometimes it’s a form of love just to talk to somebody that you have nothing in common with and still be fascinated by their presence” – David Byrne

In my previous post I had attempted to write a short story. I managed to write something. But some of my readers felt that the story should have a more conclusive ending. I agree the ending was slightly abrupt. But that was the intention.

For those who don’t know the background, let me take a step back, and start again. There are two individuals, the protagonists as we may call them. They are from different backgrounds, different ideologies, different upbringing and probably different thought processes. Yet there is one thing in common. They are alone. Till the time they meet and start talking. And that’s where the story ends.

Yes, I could have given it a happy ever after ending, where they meet and decide to stay together. Or else, I could have played the devil, and made them part ways, each carrying their own share of pain. But I didn’t do either of this. Isn’t this what life does to us? It opens the door and then leaves us with the decision of venturing out or not. Isn’t that a fair treatment? And for now let me leave it at that. As now it’s for you to decide if my decision was right or not.

As far as I am concerned, I have already decided.

Coming back to my story, what happens after the two protagonists meet is not the crux of it. To my mind it doesn’t even matter. What matters is that the meeting results in conversations.

Conversations – the core of any relationship, personal or professional, family or friends, likes or dislikes. These conversations decide the depth and the intensity of the relation. They determine the emotional quotient. They bridge the gaps, and bring hearts closer.

The latest superhit Bollywood (Hindi cinema) movie ‘Queen’, is also based on similar plots. The protagonist, a simple & naïve girl ventures into the big world. She lands up in foreign lands, surrounded by strangers. Yet the friends she makes, the bonds she forms and the experiences she gathers, help her discover parts of her personality she was totally oblivious of till that time.

In a similar example, from the movie ‘Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara’ (another superhit from Hindi cinema), one of the protagonists is able to share his deepest emotions, with his love interest, a European girl, who doesn’t understand his language, but struggles to share the same with his childhood friends. Thus is the language of love, connections of heart. Which though conveyed through words, transcends the barriers of language and vocabulary.

Some of these connections are nothing but momentary, these relations transitory. They are beyond the definitions of friends and family, and at best can be classified as a mere stranger. Yet their impressions on our heart, their footprints on our memories are permanent.

Haruki Murakami had said, “Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves.” And any one person can not join all the missing links.

Too Good To Be True

She was from a modest family background. A literate, but semi-educated mother. Father with a limited income job. But she rose. Against all odds. Working diligently throughout her academic years. The hard work paid off and she managed to secure a place in one of the top institutions of the country. When the result came, she looked at her parents. Their faces were glowing with pride. She felt relieved.

The initial few months at the new institution were challenging. Almost of a cultural shock for her. But again she survived. There were few, but true friends. And they stayed with her. Like most of her batch-mates, she also earned a well paying job. The dream was realized. Milestone achieved.

Work environment was more conducive than expected. The small town girl was now quite comfortable with the ways of big cities. Work took her to newer places. Hard work took her to newer heights. Things earlier never dreamt of were now realities of life. Yet something was amiss.

She was successful, yet lonely. There were great joys, but no one to share them with. Her parents, siblings, friends, everyone was still there with her. Even all of them together couldn’t fill that void. It stayed. Her relations and emotions were intact. Foot firmly on ground, and hands touching the sky. Everything was perfect, yet incomplete.

 

 

He was born with a silver spoon. He was the apple of all eyes. His parents could afford all the luxuries of life. Yet they taught him all the necessary values. Life was comfortable. Good education, and consequently a decent job, were all assumed to be part of the deal. And life delivered. All expectations were met. It was not just luck playing in his favor, his hard work had a major role to play.

And then the beautiful dream also came true. The love that all of us ever dream of took shape of those beautiful eyes, and stood in front of him. Love blossomed. Wedding bells rang. And life was more than perfect. His parents were happy. All they had hoped for their son had come true. He was satisfied.

Life had something more in store. The dove-eyes soon turned misty. The true love now seemed a figment of imagination. Those looking forward to spend a lifetime together, couldn’t stand each other for even a few hours. And parting ways was the only solution left.

He was shattered. He had everything, and then lost everything. He didn’t know who to blame. Was it just destiny? Was it all his fault? No one knows. He had no choice but to live this life, which was not his choice. And he lived. With the scars of the past clearly visible on his face.

 

 

That night they met. Life happened, and it ensured that their paths crossed. No, it was not like Cinderella meeting Prince Charming for the first time. It was just the way it happens when two strangers meet.  They met and they spoke. Just like strangers do.

They were different. They didn’t know each other. They didn’t quite understand each other. But none of it mattered. They were two different individuals, away from each other, yet together, with pain in their heart and smile on their face.

They were talking. The wall clock was ticking. Night was darkening. And radio jockey played…..Frank Sinatra’s “Strangers in the Night”

Ten Management Lessons from Calvin & Hobbes

Many of us have long been fan of the cute kid Calvin, and his best friend Hobbes, created by Bill Watterson. Recently, I was supposed to interact with a bunch of business management students, on what to expect in the real corporate world. As I didn’t want to make the session heavy & boring, I decided to seek help from Calvin & his friend.

Sharing the same again here for those of you might find it interesting.

1.       Don’t wait for right time or opportunity. Create them.

 

2.       Good Presentation will help bring focus on a simple idea

 

3.       Think what you are doing, and why you are doing it. Your objectives and goals must be very clear

 

4.       It’s fine if you don’t have all the answers. Accept it.

 

5.       Communicate clearly. It helps in saving you from half your likely problems

 

6.       Re-evaluation and monitoring of work is important

 

7.       Feedback and appraisals help you grow. Accept them.

 

8.       Let others know about your work. If others follow or copy you, it’ll help build your name

 

9.       Manage your risks. Do your cost-benefit analysis

 

10.   Love your work. It’s the key to your success.

 

365 Mantras of Life

Off late most of the articles I have come across have a heading like, “10 ways to achieve….”, “45 tips for…..”,  “33 sure methods of……” etc etc etc.

I think it started with round figure numbers like 10, 20, 50 etc. But over time the authors felt, they need to write something different to be able to attract reader’s attention. Hence they resorted to odd sounding numbers like 42, 33, 27 etc. So now every other article you pick up provides ‘x’ number of tips or ways or approaches to meet your desired goal. Some writers get over-enthused by the idea, and end up listing 100 or more points. But honestly I have never been able to read after the first few. Sometimes I wonder, if people actually manage to think of or find so many points. Or if they resort to their paraphrasing skills to make it look like a big picture. I am not sure.

 Coming back to ‘yours truly’, I couldn’t prevent this new fashion trend from impacting me. And just as a fashion freak starts getting restless till the time the new trendy clothes enter her wardrobe, I had to have a blog starting with ‘x’ ways of blah blah blah. And with this intention I started scouting for interesting lists or topics to generate lists on, till I stumbled upon this……again managed to dig out something from archives.

Warning: this is not statutory, but more of obligatory warning. Those who have known me long, and are still reading this piece, you may say, hay this is old stuff. I have heard this from you earlier too. But buddy, please remember, mantras don’t change. Take Gayatri Mantra for example. It has remained the same from last hundreds and thousand years. And normally you wouldn’t look forward to hear a new Gayatri Mantra, every time you open some meditational television channel. On the contrary, you may try to recite the same thing again and again, multiple times a day, and multiple days in a year. One may try doing its rapperization, “Yo bhur bhuva swaha”, but that won’t be Gayatri Mantra anymore. Similarly these mantras of life can’t be adapted. They can only be adopted.

Mantra 1 – Solitude: the pleasant absence of scrutinizing looks – the mantra to discover your true self. You must have heard, read, seen or done all above, about Cinderella, and her fairy godmother. However, if the fairy godmother was actually so magical and powerful, why did she meet Cinderella when the latter was alone? Instead, she could have forced the step-mother to allow Cinderella to attend the royal ball. And could have also punished her for her misbehavior with the poor orphan girl, giving the story a simple and plain ending. But I guess that wouldn’t serve the purpose. Fairy godmother is just a representation of Cinderella’s internal strength, and her realization of her inherent princess like virtues.  

Mantra 2 – Worst wars are wars within – the mantra to be what you want to be. One of the oldest example of internal conflict was that faced by Arjun, right before the start of the war of Mahabharat. And such was the magnitude and relevance of these conflicts for human race, that Krishna, his mentor, had to write (or historically speaking recite) entire Bhagwad Geeta for Arjun to come out of that conflict, and face his true calling.

Mantra 3 – When you do it consciously, you do it consistently – the mantra to reach where you want to be – I am sure all of us have heard the age old fable of hare and tortoise. But have you wondered why did the tortoise enter the race in the first place? More likely than not, he must have been aware of his weakness. And I feel that this was his biggest strength. He was conscious of his weakness, his objective & his need to reach the finishing line. And this consciousness acted like an internal inspiration, driving him to move consistently towards the finishing line.

Mantra 4 – Life gives us very few reasons to be happy, it’s better to find excuses – the mantra to live this life, wherever you are, whoever you are – recently a friend initiated a campaign on one of her social media account, named @100HappyDays. Here everyday, for 100 days, she posted one good thing she saw, did or experienced. And at the end of the 100^th day, she reported these last few days as the happiest time of her life, as she was forced to find good even from a mundane day. And on days that she couldn’t find anything, she was forced to move out of her shell, and find something good.

 

 

And I am sure you will ask me, so what happened to the rest of the mantras. These are only 4. But you promised 365.

Yes I did. But again I have a different take here. I suggest a 365 day repetition of these mantras. That’s what I try to do. And that’s quite sufficient for me – to know myself, to know what I want to be, to consistently strive to work towards it and then to be satisfied with whatever I can reach. For me that’s quite a handful.

Its not that I have managed to master these mantras. But then neither have I achieved nirvana………..