Thursday 9 May 2013

Onwards to heaven

Yesterday we woke up to find some men from the next building standing in a corner and talking quietly. 

After about an hour, the maid asked me what was happening. I was clueless.

A little later a police van came through the society gates, and about 6-7 policemen disappeared into the building. One even brought his little son and made him sit in the police van. School holidays and nowhere to go? Husband told me it was not a good way for a young child to pass his time, as there would be many bad things and situations he'd be witnessing.

Afterwards, husband told me the watchman was called to an apartment in the next building to break open a door and they found the head of the household hanging from a fan.

Apparently he was suffering business losses and was under a great deal of stress.

The kids from all three buildings were not allowed to play outside until evening. I don't think anyone really explained what happened.

I can't place the gentleman. I see his son going to work every morning. I don't know what his wife and other kids look like. I've lived here 14 years and i don't know anyone or anything. I don't know what makes anyone tick.

Just the way I knew and didn't know V.

Several years ago I had a friend and colleague, V.  Always smiling, full of activity. Working on a Phd. We'd known each other a few years. Knew she was married. We teased her often about being a pucca mumbaikar, but still old-fashioned enough to wear a sari to work everyday.

One day she turned up with a black eye. She was worried we'd say it was her husband. It was actually a door.

And one day, in March, she was no more. We came in to work and were told she had committed suicide.

On her neice's birthday.

Why? No one knows.

Everyone at office was distressed. Could it also have been because we realised we knew very little about V?

We went for the funeral. Saw her tense husband do the rituals.

We met her mother and sisters... shattered by the turn of events.

A colleague wrote an article on suicide. We never spoke about her. We rarely do. I remember her. I've got pictures of her, but that's about it.

Wednesday 8 May 2013

Candy so dandy


 
This is my entry for The Fifty-2 Weeks of 2013
 
Chocolates. Sweets, desserts, etc etc.
In my childhood, it was a forbidden treat. For numerous reasons. My father was somewhat diabetic, my mother was a nurse at a dental clinic. I staved off cavities, till my 30s. I blame my mother ;)

If someone was mean enough to get me a box of chocolates, my mum either gave it away or, if we were visiting India in the near future, kept it for my cousins.

In my second year of college, my father bought a box of chocolates for my friends. He was a little upset when an uncle bought me another. I think dad had visions of me overdosing on sweetness, perhaps not sharing the chocs and eventually becoming a sugar hoodie.

I love Ogden Nash… for his quirkiness. I love the idea that someone can make nonsense of something as serious as poetry. Making reverence stand on its [his, perhaps] head.
It was when I met Mala in college, we discovered a singular passion for food and chocolates.

Unlike mine, Mala’s parents would send her back to college with a holdall full of the wicked stuff. And we didn’t share. We would get into her room, and she’d say, ‘what do you want today. Snickers, Mars, Kitkats, Twix’. And we’d start. The sugar high was delicious. We behaved badly. Jumping on beds, ransacking the holdall, gulping down large bars of chocolate like there was no tomorrow.  Didn’t realize being a choco barbarian was such fun.
And at exam time… it wasn’t coffee for me, but the constant crunch of Ravalgaon hard boiled sweets. Mahesh’s piece brought it all back for me. I’d buy a bag worth. It wasn’t expensive then, else I may have baulked. It was a real cheap thrill and I’d get a huge rush. I don’t remember if it helped me study.

Marriage was bliss. My husband travelled. Post marriage I ballooned. Why? He bought so many sweets.
Rum balls from Fluries. Varieties of mysore pak from Bangalore. Sweets from Mysore. Gajak from Rajasthan or MP? The place of interest we visited in Bangalore many years ago? An incredible icecream shop.  

In recent years I’ve asked him to stop. But I’m always hoping he’s got edible stuff in his bags.

Candy so dandy, no?!

To pee or not

Do fish pee in water?

I thought i'd ask the fish, but have been holding myself back. The chances of getting a false answer are very high.

I told them the tank stank, often.

Genie's on strike. I'm alone.

Fish no fun at all.

No more tall glasses of lemonade at my elbow... or lemon tea when I'm sick.

Genie called the cook recently. Not sure what he wanted. Naughty cook's attention?

Tuesday 7 May 2013

Mud reviewed

Mud

Unlike my slow self these days, I bathed quick, ate my medicines, food be damned and ran out of the house.

Managed to reach the theatre with minutes to spare. But what do i find? Kids/senior citizens and the general public. The mall was full! Didn't anyone have a job? I'd arrived on mad house Tuesday. Never, never, never, promise me, never, go for a movie to Inorbit, Malad, on a Tuesday. Apparently, if you sms Vodafone you get a ticket free for every ticket you buy. I was squeezed into a queue with kids holding two mobiles and trying to buy their friends and moms tickets. Offer not valid for those watching movies on their own, sadly.

Worse, I had a senior citizen leaning on me. He made every effort to touch, even with my bag wedged between us.

At the counter I could stand it no longer. I pushed him back and told him to give me some space. I bought my ticket and rushed in. I was annoyed and irritated. Later I asked myself why, as this is something that happens all the time. Should have sprouted rhino skin by now. Then I remembered a school friend, who'd have probably asked me if he should have been younger.

Chennai was bliss. Lived there a couple of years in my early 30s... and no one wanted to touch me!

While waiting, I wondered about the line up -- Iron Man 3,  in 2D or 3D, Shootout in Wadala (a definite maybe), Bombay Talkies (maybe), Aashiqui (NO), and seeing the silent trailer of a new movie on Gippi. It's about a chubby girl who suddenly becomes hip, after years of being sidelined. It's a Karan Johar product and I may end up seeing it when it releases.

Saw Mud, eventually. And it was mud. I'm glad I did not drag the spouse to watch it. Since there was no action in it, save at the end, he may have cursed me for it.

I don't know if it was the little boys that did it, or the lousy role Reese Witherspoon had. I didn't even stare at Mathew's muscled body. But, i wondered how he didn't get gas eating only canned beans. And where did that endless supply of cigarettes come from? The boys weren't buying it for him. Director, cut? He re-engineered (better than new) a motor-less boat. All by someone who may not have gone to school, or even taken a calculator apart. I'm not even sure what engine he's had experience with. It didn't come up. How did his shirt stay so clean. Where did the writing pad and pen come from? Aha!

The plot? You will have to watch it for yourselves.

What did I eat? Breadtalk stuff again... apple weem, creamy chicken, and a couple of others. But, my heart and mind were focused on the shawarma sandwich at Maroosh. Maybe next time. And after watching Matthew McConaughey, I'm wondering if a gassy can of beans might have been fun!

Monday 6 May 2013

New fish on the block



So there are new fish in our tank.

Rather another oldish, smallish tank, with semi-new fish and two shrimps, sharing my mother-in-law's bedroom.

She was annoyed and indignant... standard behaviour when she has to give up more space to furniture or a member of the  animal species. She doesn't seem to mind humans very much.

After being scolded for inadvertantly wishing my brother-in-law's fish dead as a result of being poisoned by primer, paints and peeling plaster... not to forget the workmen, she acquiesed and has now promptly forgotten them.

Husband and I have been feeding the fish frenzy... we've been reminding each other to feed, clean and remember to switch on and off the filter for the smaller fish tank. On the weekend, brother-in-law comes in to give us 'gyaan' on why we should keep the light switched on in the tank. He says it's for their emotional well-being and physical growth. The thing is they seem to be the same size as the day they were introduced into the tank.
 
I don't get it. At the bottom of the ocean or the river bed, there is no light, so why would you want to light up their lives in a tank? What good is it going to do them? At best, they'll develop a human body clock and want porridge at the crack of dawn.
 
Hell, they may even want to speak into a cell phone.

Seriously, staring from the top of the tank... I think the light scares them silly. Or it could just be me.

We also get lectures on what we are doing wrong with our fish. Classic case of my-kid-is-better-than-yours.

My sister-in-law once told me that the minute her husband comes home, the kids are at the door, welcoming him, but he's staring at the fish tank -- doing a body count.

In the week the tank made its appearance at chez nous, we discovered a small tetra (he calls it a tetra, I'm going with it until I know better) with a hump on its nose. We asked BIL about it. There's been silence. I think he's wondering if it's a growth. Or whether we slipped him a new one.

He came one day with rocks in his hand. Apparantly he wanted his pair of shrimps to be able to hide. One has been out of sight since it came here. The other loves the attention. Will try and post some pix later.

Sunday 5 May 2013

A chauffered fisherwoman


Last week I was waiting for a bus (yes, I travel by public transport J especially after rickshaw fares became unaffordable) and saw an interesting exchange.
Saw a fisherwoman, gold and green bangles upto her elbows. I noticed her because she’d come on a chauffeur-driven bike. She’s also the lady from whom my husband buys fish. Apparently she’s quite the businesswoman. She’s installed her daughters-in-law in the fish market, spread out near her, and those naïve enough to do business on her turf are soon missing. Chased off with a sweet word, no doubt. For a few years now she’s been selling masala-coated fish, ready for the frying pan, or if you wish, already fried. All this probably explains her gold bangles. Or, as most of Mumbai’s masses do, they could be the Rs100 variety.

I’m guessing she ran out of fish at her stall and got on to the bike and scouted around for someone selling pomfrets. She stopped near me, zeroing on the guy with an aluminium tub on his head, asked him if he had pomfret (poplette) and proceeded to bargain him down for about 10-12 large ones. In frustration he finally agreed to her price. I’m not even sure he was aware she had a shop in the market! In any case, after she’d chose about 10 of his choice fare, she lowered the price even more… and I missed most of the exchange where she quietly explained why she was giving him less. After a look of shock, he started smiling and scratching his head. Then told her to take whatever she wanted.
I’m all admiration. She’s an impressive businesswoman.

Resolutions


10 Jan 2013

So today, after a week of working from home, I decided I had to make it more professional by wearing my watch and gold bangle.
An overriding fear… that I will forget what the outside world will look like, is up to, etc. etc.

I was thinking more of how I’d emerge into the world, not having tweezed my beard, hennaed my hair and pairing a nice top with some stained but comfortable pyjamas - a salwar to an Indian woman.
I’m bored to death with the lack of contact with other co-workers, find the watch too heavy on my hand, and have given up changing my earrings, my only effort at being feminine.

I’m also exchanging sad emails with colleagues, have just read Nick Clegg has a onesie on the Telegraph. That bit of news is telling. What has become of journalism when the scribes are obsessed by the Deputy PM’s choice of inner wear. Btw, I had to look up ‘onesie’ J
I’m worried, that I started the year this way. It’s going to be just as boring every other day! I’m still not going to attempt a resolution!

A pound of flesh


16 Jan 2013


A pound of flesh? I have an inkling of how birds take theirs.

In the first year of my Masters at Mumbai University, I was living at Pandita Ramabai Hostel, Gamdevi. I spent most of my time with my friend Mala, who at that time was a BSc (third year) student. We’d been best friends for three years. Apart from our friendship, we also shared a toilet.

Our hostel was built in the 1930s and had rooms with stone balconies, built around a central courtyard, so that you could feel the rain and sun and not have to suffer a voyeur's stare.

On the second floor, the two three-seaters had attached bathrooms that also had doors opening into communal passages, allowing others to use them as well.

One day Mala and I were horsing about in her room, as her roommates, Jayasree and Susan, weren’t around. We spotted a sparrow’s nest, with a couple of sparrows flying about the balcony. After a while, we started running after them, jumping and trying to touch the nest. We did this for a while and got bored, probably going to the mess after that. Food was always on our minds.

After a few months Mala and I weren’t quite friends any more. I suffered a series of setbacks, in terms of friendships, university, etc.

Sometimes I found the toilet we shared locked, intentional or unintentional.

Sometimes I felt something fall on me, while I was having a bath.

Sometimes I heard little pinging noises.

One day something hit me. I wouldn’t have noticed, but for the sharp sting. I looked up and saw two sparrows flying about the high ceiling. The birds had managed to enter through a gap leading in through Mala’s balcony and into the common/attached bathroom.

Nothing quite made sense until I heard, and saw, the tiny bit of concrete hit the bathroom sink and bounce out. And I realized the birds were throwing little stones at me. And they’d been doing it for a number of days.

I’m not sure how the pebble-throwing stopped, but after that I’d enter the loo very carefully, look about and then have a bath.

Mala has no recollection of the bird-chasing or of having been hit. But she has had a good laugh imagining it all.

What is this if it isn’t a pound of flesh, eh? I’m a firm believer in animals (read birds) remembering (and acting on their) grudges. 

Thursday 2 May 2013

Fifty Shades of Grey

So I went to the mall a few days ago and bought some books.

Mostly for kids, who likely won't read them.

Yesterday I started reading again after months.

I was rummaging my bookshelf for books to send to my sister, and realised I hadn't completed Fifty Shades of Grey. Who wouldn't finish reading a book full of sex?

I had started reading it and stopped. Started again after a few months and stopped at the same place. I decided it needed a rest.

At the bookstore recently I noticed the sequels and wondered if I should have been picking them. I settled for a book on grammar.

Now I feel Fifty Shades of Grey and its sisters have a better chance of a cursory reading than The McGraw-Hill Handbook of English Grammar and Usage. I'm not sure how the Economist Style Guide would have fared in the midst of all this.

                                           ****** 

Addendum (28 July 2022)

A few years after buying the book, I changed jobs and mentioned to a work friend that I'd started reading this book twice and it was clear I was not (probably never) going to finish it.

"It's just great! What's wrong with it? "

"I hate that the woman's a doormat and letting this guy do these things to her. Why is she going along with it?"

"Nonsense. The guy is so sexy." I should have asked my friend what she liked about it. She looked like her mouth was watering, and she'd swoon -  right there in the train station, while waiting for the 7.36pm Ladies Special. So I believed she liked it. I like broody silent guys in romance novels too... Colin Firth types, and Jamie Dornan, but... "Go back and read it again. Properly! You'll see." She flicked her fingers at me like I had to move out of her way, hurry back to the book, and take up where I couldn't get past.

I watched as she grabbed the pole of a bogey of the moving train and jumped in, effectively ending our conversation.

                                           ****** 

#jamiedornan #colinfirth #romancenovels #ladiesspecialwesternrailways #fiftyshadesofgreyfilm #mumbaitrains #fiftyshadesofgrey #sexy #sex #grey #love #crazylove #loveinmumbai #mcgrawhillhandbookofenglishgrammar #englishgrammar #nonfiction #personalessay #mumbaicommute #thethingsfriendssay
                

Visitors. Change

Had visitors in Mumbai over the weekend.

Things have changed. For me too.

I tried to take some days off from work and was told that I couldn't because it was a busy period. I get that, results season and all.

On Friday I visited my friend S (who flew in from Chennai). and had a good day. I was able to get that day off and spent almost all of it talking.

The friend she was staying with cooked a fantastic lunch and in the evening we spent three hours more chatting in the garden. It had a wonderful breeze, which N said was cool all year.

I was seeing my friend after more than a year. She's always in great shape and conscious of the importance of treating your body like a shrine. does yoga and eats carefully. Though that day we demolished nearly two tubs of icecream, without regret. Everytime she, another friend and I travel together, S is at the peak first and SA and I are crawling uphill and gasping for breath.

I've seen this at Pune's Sheniwarwadi. Try walking up the steps to the top of the fort. S was at the top in minutes. I felt my lungs were on fire and my heart ready to jump out of my mouth. As the steps were steep, towards the top, I was sitting on each step, waiting a bit and then crawling on to the higher step. SA was more dignified. She struggled on upright!

This time S & I talked about feeling and looking older. I'm often thinking about ageing and old age. My body is older, but I think my spirit now feels it is in its 30s. A couple of years ago I'd have said it was that of a giddy teen.

I attribute the downhill to stress and stress. And not doing enough for myself.

The next day I picked up my nephew from the airport. Welcoming him with a cold, courtesy 'Mumbai's changing climate'. I've started using that excuse, how else do you explain it? How else do you explain an irrational virus or a random one?

The first day I fed him porridge for breakfast (because he told me he liked it) and the second morning i managed to burn his omlette. I wonder if he will return.

After packing him off at the airport yesterday, I realised I hadn't taken a single picture of him. We were meeting after five years. BAD!

I told my husband about it and he said it was an indicator of how much my interests had taken a major backseat. We have three cameras at home... and until a few years ago I would always pull out a camera to take pictures of people, angles, things, shadows, visitors, thugs at railway stations, a sunrise. My husband has often scolded me for taking pictures of people on the road, saying I might be a victim of road rage. I remember visiting my nephew and his brother for holidays and taking endless photos of them. They were my sweethearts - always will be.

With the digital age, there are times I'm scratching my head and wondering why things can't be simpler. I know it is, but when you have a computer crash and all the pictures go down a digital drain, a certain lethargy creeps in.

Maybe you could give me some interesting advice.

Wednesday 1 May 2013

Performance anxiety

The title get you?

Well i've been thinking about it for a while.

I sent my friends and family the blog's link and then i stopped writing.

One, I didn't get feedback.

Two, I started questioning the need to write the blog.

But i find writing these, sense or senseless, cathartic.

So, i'm going to plough on anyway. plow on? someone correct me.