Godrej ki purani cupboard…

 Hey..my first hinglish post..hope you like reading it.

Maa kept pulling out sarees that she had collected over the years…”Yeh dekh, tu mere liye Chennai se layi thi, kabhi bhi nahi pehni” isn’t it beautiful and I couldn’t agree less.

Maa then turned again and kept looking at a different section of the cupboard - “Kaha rakh di, yaad hain you got me a blue and pink saree as well, a bandhni one.” I just nodded in consent. My attention was more towards the cupboard – for someone who was seeing this cupboard for the first time – it would appear like a overstuffed, aging Godrej cupboard. But mere liye, iss purani Godrej ki cupboard mein meri life ki saari yaadein thi.

Sahi mayne mein yeh cupboard hamari family ka ek member hain, pichle 33 saloon se hamari har yaad, har sapne ko sanjota hua…

I know this is beginning to sound like ek cupboard ki atma katha..par that’s how I felt looking at this  time tested piece of metal. Har Diwali, par jab hume naye kapde milte..toh ghar ki safedi ke saath..iss godrej ki cupboard ko bhi ek naya rang milta. Kabhi grey.. “isse bedroom ki dewaroon ke saath match hona chahiye”, toh kabhi brown. Colour joh bhi ho..har saal ek naye rang mein rang kar yeh cupboard bhi hamare festival mood ko pura tod deta.

Us cupboard ko toh mein lag bhag roj hi dekhti hoon, par shayad maa ke saath …itne fursat mein nahin baith pati. Apne bete ki shaadi ki preparations dikhate hua…aaj meri nazar wapas hamare..purane Godrej ki cupboard par padi. It almost felt like, when you meet a relative after many years and are shocked with how they have aged. Bas kuch usi tarah mujhe usse dekh kar bhi laga. Samay ke saath, maybe hum usse ab paint nahin karwate..uski last coat of paint was like that shade of hair dye that does little to hide your age. Handle par jung ke daag, and samne keyhole ke paas..barson se latke maa ke keyring ke nishan.

Par andar se..kuch bhi toh nahin badla tha. Pehle bhi space ki kami thi – toh Maa like a typical smart woman used every inch and every corner. Sabse nichle shelf paar..hamari albums thi (though I have never understood why hum photos aur jewellery ko equal status de kar ek hi cupboard mein rakhte the). My first Album, then my sister’s, my brother’s..ab toh maa apni granddaughter ki album ko bhi wahi sambhal ke rakhti hain. Uske upar ke shelves par kya hain aur kis order of priority mein arrange kiya hain..woh toh Maa hi jaanti hain. At the bottom most I saw something wrapped in an old whitish cloth. ‘Aur yeh kya hain maa” I inquired..”woh..thats my shaadi ki saree” she said. And then she continued looking for more..

As I looked further above..my eye fell on the locker!!!..Locker mein Maa obvisouly had some of her most prized possessions..but she also had a tiny plastic container that had pictures of us in our school uniforms. Probably, a pic taken for some school id or something..and only a mom would keep it with such love in her locker. 

Just then something fell on my foot..”Aree yeh kya..kiski file hain” I asked. “Aree tum log ki marksheets ka folder hain”, maa said beaming. Maa what all have you stuffed in this cupboard..sarees, jewellery, marksheets, bags..aur kuch baki hain kya???.. Mom obviously just shrugged back..But I knew what she didn’t say..”Jage toh hamesha kam thi..log paanch cupboard ek”..

This cupboard was telling me something more about how my Maa had lived her life…something that I often don’t do. Cupboard ki kami Maa ko kabhi nahin mehsoos hui..itne saalon se usne issi mein.. apni sadiyan, apni jewellery..basically har ek cheez joh uski liye important thi..isme fit kar ke rakh di thi..Aaj bhi as she prepared for yet another milestone in her life..woh us cupboard mein aur jaga dhoond rahi thi..kuch aur yaadein bhar dene ke liye..

What is it about birthdays..that makes you introspect

The run up to my 34^th, yes 34^th birthday!! is actually getting very painful. Its not the looming signboard that says you are headed to 35 that’s bothering me!! Its not the greys or the first tell tale signs of crows feet..

Maybe this happens earlier to some and the other luckier FEW don’t have to feel like this at all. But all of a sudden that thought which was so at the back of my head, seems to be making way -  up ahead. It keeps coming up like that trigger or alarm that you set on your cell and when you are not so ready you put it on snooze..that is exactly what I have been doing.

34 years is a long time, studied well, studied well further..got a nice job, married, have a house, a sunshine daughter and then..full stop. So my 34 years doesn’t sound very different from that of the zillionth person. The worry is that every year I think that the next year is going to be that BIG year in life – when something that I ‘do” and not what simply comes upon me will make me rise from a sea of mediocrity to the next level.

The seamless shift of years, only makes the panic increase – only makes the gnawing question probe its way, right to the surface – “What is my life about?”. Should I accept being mediocre? it isn’t that bad! Why do I think I belong to the “what lies beyond mediocre” set?

As a kid I was always told - work hard and the rest will follow, but that gap between me and whatever is following only seems to be increasing. I often turn around, but haven’t caught a glimpse of it yet..But I am a believer so I will keep walking, will look around every now and then whenever I am low..and I am sure someday that “following” is going to tap and walk with me shoulder to shoulder.

The voice at the other end

“hello” the voice at the other end said. It didn’t resemble any note of what remained in my memory as his voice. We haven’t been in touch so he didn’t obviously recognise my number or my voice.

“Hey Its me” I broke off, there not knowing how to continue this conversation. Was I to sound grim having the context in mind or should I attempt to steer clear from that memory.

“How you doing’ I asked, I knew he knew it then - why I had called. It immediately put him on guard, he had been fending off many like me in the past few months.

So the conversation continued with some pleasantries, till the time came to say why I had called. So I continued because this had to be said..”I heard about your daughter”, I stopped wanting to sense what he felt. But maybe he had mastered the art of wearing a mask for situations like this.

So I continued, letting him know that I only genuinely wanted him to know that he and his family will be in my prayers. “How did it happen?”, “when did this happen?” I left all of that for a later date, if ever.

Today was for him just to know, that maybe another person was praying for him too, that someone else was willing to do a deal with God to ease him off some pain.

So the call ended as abruptly as it started. My ordeal continued – that night as I watch my daughter sleep (who coincidentally is the same age as his) I often cast myself in his role and wept.

Even just the thought made me feel so empty inside. I felt like there was nothing inside me, just a vacuum waiting to be filled – I reached out to my daughter, held her closer, held her tighter wanting to fill my senses with her smell, her sleepy noises…I didn’t want to leave.

But not everyone has that choice…and that moment to leave is the toughest. Because that instant changes the present to the past, every touch to a memory, every smile looks more distant.

If you ever happen to read this I want you to know I am praying “May her soul rest in peace and may you soon find yours too”. 

Go Jack Go!!!

Go Jack Go!!!

Within a cast of perfectly created dishes, there was always someone who had placed his passion on a tray. Created something that his passion persuaded him to and not his better rationale self.

What is more important for an artist – to create what his passion beckons him to or that which  would rather get him much appreciation from critics? Its an oft seen battle that goes on in lot of our minds – the canvas demands an outpour of passion but the strokes betray every such emotion and create what a trained eye will like seeing. 

But Jack however is not yet ruined by this demon “the need to please”. And probably the fact that he is a 10 year old kid is has a lot to do with it. I am a big fan of this little big boy Jack that I saw on Junior MasterChef.  And it surely is easy to fall for him, he is a little gentle giant who stands tall with large innocent eyes & shaggy hair. He goes red every time his work is applauded and smiles straight from the heart.

Obviously every participant on this show is adorable, 9, 10, 11 year old kids who make devilish desserts, cook rabbit meat, make their own pasta…gosh..could put a lot of us to shame. Nearly each of these kids had perfected the art of culinary excellence to the T.

So what was so different about Jack – he is someone that I wish I had the courage to be EVERYTIME…

To try something new because I believe in it and not being scared of the outcome. Don’t sometimes all of us stop trying to do things differently because we have already mastered the art of doing things that are acceptable and maybe even appreciated?

Do we train our minds to create clones of acceptance and maybe in the course suffocating honest passion which keeps waiting for an opportunity to surface.

What I would give to be like that 10 year old…you Go Jack Go….keep that crazy passion alive to express your art in your own way.

The questions she asks me..

 She goes on non stop. Its questions about the ads on the TV, the food that is served, the people I talk to on the phone, the maids I crib about..there is a question for every occasion.

 Its only after she says her "gud night, Jai Shree Krishna, sweet dreams" and shuts her eyes is she done. Thats my 5 years and 3 month old daughter. All through my pregnancy, I read about stoking a child's curiosity and answering their questions. Never say "no", never sit them down with a "dont ask such questions"..

 So when my tiny daughter..just about managing a sentence or so started asking questions..I patted myself on the back and answered..well its been 5 years to the day and I am still answering questions..

 While her questions have not tempered down with time, my enthusiasm surely has..

 Off late the questions she asks have only gotten trickier to answer, its also made me realise that now is the time that as a parent I need to choose the path I walk on. Will I always have it in me to answer these questions or will I at some time choose the easier way of putting a stop to questions that make me uncomfortable to answer. Well, honestly I dont know - but I will try to walk this tight rope for long as possible. These are the questions that somehow as kids, we intrinsically knew never to ask. 

• Where does a baby come from?
• When will I have a baby?
• Is the navel more important than a vagina? (well this question happened soon after I thought it was important to teach her about her anatomy clearly and not refer to body parts by strange names.)
• If Dada is the oldest in the family, when will he die? How do I explain that this obviously does not work on the FIFO system
• Once people die what happens to them? this one I have already bungled up, since I told her that they are reborn as children in the same family. So when someone close in the family passed away a couple of years back - she wanted to know who they were reborn as!!
• On seeing a soap commercial on TV - why are Uncle and Aunty having bath together? water conservation I wanted to say.
• When she saw the prince kiss the princess on the lips  - she asked why cant mamas and babies kiss like that?

Another realisation, has been my inadequacy to answer questions with the apt information - and this I find easier to address thanks to Google. Which parent wants to feel intellectually inadequate in front of their child?

She asks;

• What causes tsunamis and can it reach our house?
• How are clouds formed?
• Earthquake kaise aata hain?
• Do all gods raise mountains? this was after consecutive tales of Hanuman and Krishna
• So if Radha is not Krishna's wife - who is she and why do temples not have his wife's pictures?

 Per se these questions dont pose any difficulty, but when you are speaking to a 5 year old - there is so much moderation, decoding and simplifying that you need to do in your head that it makes it a task in itself. 

Most importantly, children need answers which are black or white, they need to be yes or no, right or wrong, good or bad. The "grey" answers are yet not something that they can take as an answer.

But, Ira - i must say that every time you ask me something I learn a little bit more. What I dont know I find out (thanks Google), what makes me uncomfortable I learn to conquer, What I cant answer now, maybe completely I mark in my head as "to be answered later" and be as honest as I can in the present. But I surely dont want you to stop, I dont want to judge your curiosity as right or wrong.

So keep asking and I promise to answer it with sincerity for as long as I can.