NAVARASA NAVARATRI (Fiction)

‘Navaratri’ was just round the corner – it was time to bring the doll collection from their boxes resting on the loft. Hubby and sonny obliged me by helping out with them a day prior to the start of the festival. As I carefully unpacked each of the dolls from the old clothes-packing, each seemed to have a story to tell – the ‘Rama Pattabhishekam’ set, 'Shakti' in her various avatars, the 'marapaachi couple'…….. – all heirloom to me.

Last year I was abroad during the festival to be with my two-month-old grandson. The year before last, I had set up ‘golu’ on a grand scale and invited all my friends and neighborhood ladies for ‘haldi-kumkum’. The nine days always served as an excuse for all of us to splurge our exclusive silk saris and matching accessories. This also provided an occasion for Amma to sing all her favorite ‘keertanams’ – she’d drag me to accompany her especially when she had to touch the high notes. ‘Vaasudevayani’ and ‘paraamugamela’ were our masterpieces – it’s not anything close to a statement like ‘ranga pooravi haara’’ was one of M.S’s classics – we are just home-singers – a shade better than ‘bathroom singers’, that is!  The highlight of my previous ‘golu’ was my ‘Appa’s’ visit on Saraswati Puja evening. My parents were staying at a stone’s throw from my house. But Appa could not walk up the slope, so I brought him over by car to show him my ‘golu’. When I offered him the fancy bag with coconut, a little packaged gift and ‘chundal’ prasadam, he flaunted it with child-like excitement My Amma had also put up a small doll-show at her place. I’d help her out in preparing ‘prasadam’ every day and setting up a couple of packets for the ladies expected for the day. On ‘Dussera’, Amma’s close friends had come to her place in the evening and they had a long song session with Appa as the ardent audience. Appa was ecstatic when Amma sang ‘Jagajanani’ – he reminded her – “Remember something about this song? You had sung this when I had come to ‘see’ you.” He was referring to the ‘bride-seeing’ episode and Amma blushed a beetroot red and all had a hearty laugh. By the time the friends left it was well over nine. My parents spent another hour reminiscing about ‘those good old times’ before retiring for the night. 

Appa did not wake up after that; Amma was in a daze. Amma’s ‘golu’ continued to linger on till the rites were over. Only after the thirteenth day could the dolls be put away. Amma handed over  the best lot of her doll-sets and figurines to me – the ‘Dasavataram’set, the dancing Tanjore doll, these ‘pavai vilakku’ figurines, the fat ‘chettiar’ dolls, the cute blue crawling Krishna…… Now I held them lovingly in my hands as my eyes brimmed with uncontrollable tears. I had lost Amma just four months ago….

I told my maid – “Kamalbai, bring Gayatri along with you in the afternoon.” Kamalbai asked with a look of surprise – “Why Bai?” I told her that I needed her teenage daughter to help me set up the ‘golu’ as I was not able to manage single-handed – I wasn't young at 55! She wanted to say something but seemed to hesitate. “What is it Kamalbai?” I queried. She stuttered – “Bai, it’s just four months since Amma passed away. What will people say if you have a grand celebration?” I did not want to elaborate, so I just told her – “Kamal, you know how much Amma used to enjoy all the festivities and fun. This will be for her joy.” Kamalbai stood speechless.

She brought along her daughter when she returned in the ath the seven tiers, which were decorated with an off-white silk dhoti of my husband with Ganga-Jamuna borders of green and red. I picked out two colorful Kanjeevaram saris for the backdrop. 

The dolls were then arranged artistically – the large impressive ones right on the top ‘tier’, and the teeny weenie ones on the lowest, each step  having dolls of the same theme – ‘dasavataram’, ‘Ramayanam’, Gods and Goddesses, traditional women from various Indian states, fruits…. 

One side of the steps was exclusively devoted to a marriage-hall scene – the bridegroom and the bride standing with garlands in hands ready for the cue to garland each other as a couple of priests sat chanting inaudible mantras in front of the sacred fire. While ladies waited with trays laden with coconuts, fruits, sweets, flowers, the musicians played auspicious unheard melodies on their nadaswaram and mridangam. Men clustered around doing nothing in particular and kids squatted on chairs or floor. 

Marriage lunch was served on 'banana leaves' at the adjacent area.

Music concert was going on at the other end!

 
The wooden ‘marapaachi’ couple occupied center stage. Two huge silver lamps stood majestically on either side. 

More time-consuming would be the colorful ‘rangoli’ I 'd painstakingly make in front of the ‘golu’. I would try out innovative ones too.

Then on one side of the ‘golu’ was the village scene – a hill at the far corner with a temple positioned on its top. There were steps marked with white powder. Tiny people were climbing up or down the hill. 

At the foothill I made a village – complete with the green fields, farmers, tractor, a well, huts, women, cattle… Now have a look at the decoration on the left side of the ‘golu’ – it was a metro scene. A huge park was created on one side with a working fountain and a neat garden adorned with colorful little plastic pieces - swing, see-saw and slide and the kids having a blast, mamas with babies in strollers, scooters parked by…. The roads saw a continuous stream of traffic – ‘Matchbox’ trucks, Porsche / Honda / Jaguar cars, raced past the mall / multiplex adorning the other side of the road…..

                                 

As for the colorful festoons and streamers and decorative little bulbs, my son took charge and did a swell job as usual. I sat all by myself and admired the final result of the day’s labor – earlier Amma used to sit with me, offer little suggestions and finally go gaga over the spectacular ‘golu’ – at that time I would just regard it a ceaseless chatter, now I was left yearning to hear a word from her.

I would invite my friends over the telephone for ‘haldi-kumkum’ on different days of the navaratri period so that I would have a manageable number every evening and I could attend to them individually.  But now I did not feel like inviting anyone. 

I experienced a vacuum on the first evening – I missed Amma – she would be the first lady I would honor with the auspicious haldi-kumkum, betel leaves, betel nut, banana, coconut, special gift of the year, a small mirror, a little comb and a packet of the prasadam of the day ( a different variety of ‘chundal’ every day). That was the practice till the year before last. Last year as I was abroad, I was saved from the upheaval of not being able to offer Amma ‘haldi-kumkum’ as Appa had passed away. This year she herself wasn't around! 


Somehow I felt like keeping aside her special packet beside the ‘golu’. The silver tray with the silver holders for haldi, kumkum, chandan and rose water stood untouched. I just lingered in the room in silence throughout the evening which dragged on without the splash and rustle of colorful Kanchheevaram saris and ‘pattu pavadai’s donned by lissome ladies and little lasses of the neighborhood.

Amma was in my thoughts all through - I don’t know when I drifted off to slumber at night……

“Eh, listen.. Janani, your ‘golu’ is simply superb – even better than all the previous years!”

“You liked it Amma? I am so happy – I took extra pains to make it special for you.”

“I found my gift waiting for me – thanks. And oh yes, I noted you had prepared my favorite ‘kadala chundal’ today – very tasty as usual – it’s years since I've had that.”

“I’m very happy Amma. And the gift - did you like it?”

“You bet! No one can beat you at such selection. I can’t figure out how you manage to find such exquisite and exclusive little gifts.”

I gave her a naughty wink and a wide smile in reply to her generous compliments.

“But I have one complaint.”

“What’s that, Amma? Did I miss something?”

“You hadn't invited anyone for the ‘golu’ and so there was no fun. And there were no songs! Even you did not sing …. Why?”

“You know Amma, how do you expect me to celebrate – it’s just four months since you…”

“Well, you know I had come over here during Ganesh Chathurthi last month and what did I get to see? Nothing! And you gave me the same explanation!” 

As she paused, I remembered my dream that night…. Amma was saying, “What’s this Janani? Why is there no celebration? No new Ganesh idol, no decorations, no puja, and no ‘naivedyam’ of ‘kozhakkattai’ (modak).  I’m disappointed...” I had sobbed, “How Ma, how do you expect me to celebrate with you gone…” Amma tried to pacify me, “But how does that affect the daughter’s family ….?” I had interrupted – “I don’t believe in such illogical rules! My mother matters most to me. So don’t talk to me about rules! I shall hear no more… no celebrations at my place this year!”  But Amma also gave me an ultimatum “Well, I have always been very fastidious about festivals – you know that! I believed in traditional celebration. I had inculcated those values in you too and took pride that you were following my footsteps. It would please me to see the grand celebrations at your place through the year. As always…. remember…”

So that was exactly why I had decided to have this doll-show for ‘navaratri’. For Amma’s sake. I was overjoyed to see the contented smile on Amma’s face now as she continued, “Today I’m pleased that you have set up a grand ‘golu’. But listen, I don’t like this strange silence. I’ll be around for all the nine days and I want a riot of color and sound of music and festive fervor and fun resonating from the house, okay?”

“Right Amma……”

I woke up with a start, jumped out of bed and turned on the light. Amma was smiling at me from the large laminated photo.

Next day I dialled all my friends to invite them. 

  

 
                           
There would be strains of music, sounds of chatter at my place this ‘navaratri’ as ladies and children would gather to admire my ‘golu’ and collect their goody bags along with ‘haldi-kumkum’. For Amma’s sake! 

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Photos - Courtesy - my sister Hema Krishnan and her family.
Any resemblances to persons living or dead is coincidental.               

© Copyright 2011. Brinda Balasubramonian.

REMEMBERING APPA

   (It is seven years since my father left this world. But it needs no saying that his loving care and gentle words and smile-inducing simplicity are sorely missed by the entire family.)

What strikes me most about my father is his simplicity. He was a ‘normal’ human being – simple to the height of being termed a Simple Simon, innocent to the point of being gullible, straightforward to the extent of  being ridiculed - with no frills or fancies but with fads and foibles and idiosyncrasies aplenty! You can say he was the most mediocre average person. 

A late child, with siblings eight and ten years his senior, he was a pampered kid who had perfected the technique of having his way by rolling on the roadside and yelling with his mouth open like the Panama Canal! A ‘mamma’s boy’, he chose to feast on the home-made curd rice exclusively prepared for him while the rest of the family honored a lunch invitation. In the family of gold medalists, he was content with the 40% he scored in mathematics in his school days – he was a normal average student. But then he went on to bag the gold medal for B.Sc (Hons) and again for Engineering – so you could say he was just being a ‘normal’ member of his ‘intelligent’ family. That he’d attribute this transformation in academic achievement to the change of ‘grahas’ in his horoscope, is a different story.

His life pattern followed that of any average person hailing from the middle class family – a decent job, a happy family with its values intact. He never resorted to unscrupulous ways to climb the ladder of success or amass wealth though opportunities fell onto his platter often – he had the strength of character to resist temptations. An honest and upright, sincere and hardworking officer, he climbed the ladder of his career with steady ‘normal’ steps. His normal middle-class tendency of saving every penny possible for a better tomorrow might have earned him the label of a ‘miser’ from some. But those in the know, knew he would unflinchingly spend on food and his family but never on his own clothes or accessories. If he had to go out alone, he’d choose to walk the distance or take a bus. But he’d play chauffeur to his dear wife or children without a murmur. We would rate him a clumsy driver but it is to his credit that he never had a single accident during the forty five years he drove his car!
                                    

He was not the archetypal father dreaded and distanced by the members of the family. He was the most adorable father – incapable of uttering a harsh word to the kids, protective, caring and ambitious for them. He’d baby-sit patiently and even sing to us or narrate stories. Oh yes, he’d also forget his kids in the parked car and walk home with the purchases from the nearby market! 

Yes, he loved it when we romped home with the first rank. But when others spoke highly about his son’s awesome serve in table tennis or fantastic bowling figures, he’d wear a ‘what’s-so-great-about-it’ look! He could not differentiate a cricket ball from a tennis ball!  

As a grandfather, he gloated over the academic achievements of the younger generation. He would listen to their animated discussion on sports with a deadpan expression, blatantly revealing his ignorance! A simpleton to the core, he never bothered to pick up sophistication! Even when we had guests for dinner, he’d start off even before them in spite of our secret gesticulations, and give us a wicked grin!

A wizard at dates and numbers, father soon started forgetting the same in his old age. Like any ‘normal’ old man, he too had his trysts with doctors and medicines; he had his share of worries, genuine and unfounded. But unlike Indian husbands of his generation, he was not a male chauvinist. His only hobby was to help mother in all her chores.

This man, with no tall claims to extraordinary genius or attainments, was a loving, lovable, down-to-earth person. Though quiet, shy, and reserved, he carved a niche for himself in the hearts of all relatives and friends and subordinates and colleagues. He has left normal indelible memories in the normal people associated with him. What I now realize is, you don’t have to be great to be remembered – you could be a normal person with a good soul without any tinge of meanness or wickedness! After all, ‘they also serve who wait and watch’.

OF MALLIGAI AND MULLAI (JASMINE FLOWERS)

                                                                                                          
                              

‘Malligai en mannan mayangum ponnaana malarallavo’, ‘malligai, mullai poopandal’ ….numerous are the film songs about the fragrant jasmine varieties – during a recent trip to Bengaluru, I got a visual feast of huge balls of stringed flowers - of pristine jasmine and  bright orange 'kanakaambaram' and pink flowers. ....
                            

Like any typical South Indian, I LOVE to deck my hair with flowers – 3 ‘mozham’ – approximately 3 feet length of stringed jasmine would be great – I could make four equal folds of it and pin it on to my hair. That would look great some 30 years ago when I had an enviable long and thick braid. Now I sport shoulder-length hair held with a clip – so I have to be careful not to look silly with strings of jasmine longer and thicker than my hair. Not that there is any chance for that – living in Pune, I manage to get jasmine flowers only for a couple of months during the summer. And I try to make the most of it then! I don’t care for the non-fragrant white ones available during the monsoons.

I had this ‘gajrawala’ who would land precisely during the season and regularly supply fragrant gajaras every day. It was pretty affordable at three feet-length of gajara for Rs. 5 till a decade ago. The cost soon doubled. But I didn’t give up my fad. This year it doubled again and gajaras were sold at Rs. 20 for the same length! I had to restrain myself to an extent! One day the florist didn’t have gajaras – she had just opened shop and she just had fresh jasmine flowers – unstrung. I decided to go for it – bought loose flowers for Rs. 10. She wrapped the flowers in a piece of newspaper and wound a long string around it and handed it over to me. I came home bubbling with enthu. Yes – I was going to string the fresh jasmine flowers myself – how long since I had done so! I unwound the thick thread and kept it aside carefully. I transferred the jasmine flowers on to a plate and sprinkled water on them. I wetted the string and started stringing the jasmine ….as my mind weaved nostalgic memories of the bygone years ……….

My father was on a transferable job – Bangalore and Pondy and Madras satisfied our craving for flowers – yes my mom and sis too shared the same love! But other postings were not so benign! My dad was posted to Port Blair way back in 1965 and I was packed off to Kerala to my grandparents’ and aunt’s to pursue my studies - ninth standard! Yes there was no High School in Port Blair then! Hm…Kerala – I went crazy with the dizzy fragrance of ‘malli’ / ‘mulla’ poo. There was this neighbor who would send – yes – three feet-length of jasmine flowers every day. I’d use half of it that evening and wrap up the remaining in a wet cloth (no fridge those days) for the next day – for school. Most girls too would wear flowers, so you can well imagine the pervading fragrance in the classroom!

Next Pondicherry! Whoa – it is a cousin of Madras – rich or poor I cannot say! So no dearth of flowers. An added advantage was our maid ‘Lakshmi’. Bless her soul – she was a head-turner alright – but for a different reason! She was just in her early fifties. Lean, dark, with tobacco-stained-giant protruding brown teeth that became more prominent when she giggled – which was almost always. My teenaged brother would snap at her, “Don’t show your ‘thenga thuruval’- pallu! (coconut-grater-teeth)” and she’d burst out laughing at that - exposing them even more! Ok, why I remember her at this juncture is – she was our 'flower girl'! Yes – she had a friend who was a florist and she’d frequent her at the end of the day and bring a huge ball of strung flowers or at least a big packet of loose flowers for a pittance. And all of us ladies would sit and string them – that was when mom taught me and my sister this simple yet useful craft. My mom also instructed us how to wet the dry ‘vaazha naar’ (thin bark of banana tree), make thin strings using a safety pin – and use them to string flowers. It took me a while to learn how thick or thin the bark should be so that it isn’t too sharp to cut the flowers being strung. Of course nowadays who has banana trees at the backyard? So a thick thread will suffice. Sometimes Lakshmi would bring jasmine alone, at other times even ‘kanakaambaram’ (the lovely orange non-fragrant flowers). I’d choose my sari for college as per the flowers available – an orange sari to go with ‘kanakaambaram’, a white one with
jasmine.

Sometimes there would be ‘maru’ (the ‘hm…so-fragrant’ tiny leaves) too strung along  with jasmine and ‘kanakaambaram’ and I had this special tri-colour sari to go with it. Very rarely we’d get violet ‘December’ flowers – so you can guess what color sari I’d wear with it. Ah yes – it was – ‘saris only’ in the early 70s for collegians in the South – not even salwar-kameez!

My parents moved into their own house in Madras after father’s retirement and they had a lovely garden. You guessed it – with my mom’s passion for flowers, how can it not boast of a beautiful and bountiful garden?! My dad’s evening routine included plucking jasmine and pichakam (jui) flowers (without missing a single one) – even using a chair to get those beyond his hand’s reach. My mom’s job was stringing them watching some programme on TV. There was never any time of the day she didn’t have flowers on her hair! When we’d go there on vacation, we’d join in the plucking and stringing activities and share the flowers – by ‘we’, I mean me and my sis – both of us have sons only – so there was no one else to share the flowers with! Some consolation?!.........

I have never strung flowers for a decade and a half! I felt good as I finished stringing them and took a look at the thick ‘gajara’. Even more so as I sported it and went for my walk – I could make out that my fragrant and extra-thick gajara made many heads turn. My friends took the liberty of scrutinizing and complimenting it. I made it a routine – buying loose jasmine flowers and making ‘gajras’ at home.

It has just struck me that this art which every South Indian girl of my generation is adept at, will soon be lost forever. My daughters-in-law don’t get a chance to sport ‘gajras’ – being in the US. I thought I should impart this skill to my six-year-old granddaughter – just for the heck of it! She is game for any craft – last time we visited her, we went crazy looking for craft boxes for her and finally got her a ‘bracelet-making kit’. I know what craft can be imparted to her the next time we meet - I’ll teach her and my youngest granddaughter too - to string flowers! YES!!

© Copyright 2011. Brinda Balasubramonian.

CAPTIVATING KAHAANI

‘Kahaani’ lives up to our expectations. A suspense thriller, it is almost on par with the best Hollywood flicks of this genre. And Vidya scores again!

The film begins with a very much pregnant Vidya Bagchi landing at Kolkata International airport – she instantly wins us over – even as she single-handedly tackles the sea of taxiwalas almost pouncing on her to bag the prospective passenger. From then on we follow her in admiration as she undauntedly goes straight to the police station, then to the hotel, and soon to various offices – in her mission to find out her missing husband. Her heavily pregnant state and ‘no-nonsense’ demeanor and grit and guts completely win us over - along with the unbelievably chivalrous and soft-hearted police at the chowky – the charmed Rana is indeed Arjuna’s (Vidya’s) charioteer Satyuki – dropping her off, accompanying her and assisting and guiding her in her mission.

The characters are etched carefully and minutely – Vidya’s little mannerisms don’t escape our notice – her penchant for cleanliness even in the ‘less-than-mediocre’ hotel room, her playful amiability with the kids, her sense of humour with Rana, and her ‘one-track-mind’ which almost makes her forget her advanced stage of pregnancy as she restlessly flits in and out of overcrowded by-lanes and narrow buildings in the various scenes. The ladies in the auditorium can’t help gasping in concern – as the stream of pedestrians could bump into her and knock her down in their hurry! Way to go Vidya – thanks for packing more punch to women-empowerment! Undoubtedly Vidya Balan has already notched a place in next year’s awards nominations with her down-to-earth yet powerful portrayal. All the other characters are props but they leave an indelible stamp of their own – be it the soft-natured Rana, the tough-nut Khan, the gentle Agnes, the sleepy gunner Bob, or even ‘running hot water’ Bishnu.

This movie is an ode to Kolkata. Kudos to the cinematographer who has beautifully captured Kolkata in all its varied shades! We fall in love with the city (despite some of its dilapidated offices and ancient filthy tenements) – not only for its culture and metro and landmarks and a few modern buildings but also for the thronging crowds spilling out on the streets, and the yellow Ambassador taxis and hand-pulled rickshaws (we thought they had become extinct!). The early morning scenes bring a smile on our lips - and the only song in this movie is in Big B’s impressive baritone – haven’t we heard this one before? The dazzling Durga Puja scenes – with close-up shots of the Goddess in all her grandeur and glory are scene-stealers. The icing on the cake is the racy climax picturised amidst the Puja procession.

An edge-of-the-seat thriller from start to finish, the absorbing story and taut screenplay keep the audience guessing through and through. There is not a dull moment as we follow the protagonist who wastes no time as she tries to connect the dots to solve the mystery. The well-guarded suspense is maintained till the very last frame. Kudos to director Sujoy Ghosh and leading lady Vidya Balan for the crunchy treat! Certainly more than worth a ‘dekho’ – for the ‘kahaani’, suspense, thrills, Vidya and the visuals - not necessarily in that order!

© Copyright 2011. Brinda Balasubramonian.

AMMA-SPEAK

(Penned on my mother's third death anniversary)

When I was little and made tall demands
Ma, you’d say, “Don’t ask for the moon!”
Soon a time will come when my grand kids
can plan their honeymoon on the moon!

With so much technology and advancement
can’t I hope for some 11G smart phones,
to call our dear departed
wherever they might be?!
Then my first call will be to you, Ma!
Remember you’d talk to me some 40 minutes
every single day for tidbits and updates.
I have a lot of catching up to do now –
It’s two – wait – three years since you bid adieu!

You considered your children as crucibles
to pour in your cribs and complaints –
Most of them insignificant and baseless,
A few grave, others beyond our control!
That was your nature Ma – harping on endless trivia!
And I’d typically pooh-pooh your unfounded fears!!

We’d go on and on about some day-to-day issue –
“The power-cut has been increased to three hours.”
“But Ma, you have the inverter, don’t you?”
“What will happen in the summer?”
“We’ll think about it then, Ma! Why, you can come down to my place."
“Oh, but I can’t use the lift there!”
“Why not?”
“Can’t trust the fickle power, that’s why!”
“As it is, you don’t go out much, Ma!”
“It’s all very easy for you to say!”
We did have good repartees, no Ma?

I know you never liked your ‘kids’ answering back!
But we too have our say Ma.
You simply loved to look for problems rather than solutions!
If they were minor ones, we’d let you cling on to them,
So you wouldn’t come up with fresh ones!

Some other day, your target would be the maid –
“You know Kala bai turned up an hour late!”
“It’s ok Ma! You don’t have any office-goers!”
“But I can’t have all the housework pending.”
“Well, Ma, she doesn’t have a watch!”
“Ok, go ahead and buy her one!”
Really Ma, you sure had a sense of humor even in your anger!

Another complaint was about the regular tender-coconut-vendor -
“He has not turned up for the past three days!”
“Have something else – ‘nimbu paani’ may be?”
“Can ‘nimbu paani’ equal tender coconut?”
I guess not – stupid me!
There could be no substitutes or adjustments for you, Ma!

Sometimes you’d be agitated with yourself!
“I keep forgetting and misplacing things.”
“Quite natural – you’re getting old, Ma!”
“Not me! Even you are forgetful – didn’t you say so?”
“Yes of course – though I’m much younger!”
“But you have your hubby to hunt for the stuff.”
What’s the connection, I’d ponder.
Stupid of me not to realize you miss appa!

At times you’d complain about sleepless nights.
“I took a sleeping pill prescribed by my doctor.”
“See that you don’t get addicted, ok Ma?”
“All very easy for you to say!”
“Ma! It’s a common complaint in old age.”
“How do you know when you aren’t old?”
I’d feel like tearing my hair but would end up
Clutching my head to retain my cool.
“Why don’t you make up with a nap?”
“A long nap will again result in a sleepless night.”
Always you had to have the last word, Ma!

‘Your brother hasn’t called for over a month.’
‘He must be globe-trotting as usual, Ma.’
'Tell me which country is so backward -
without phone facilities? 
And doesn’t he have the Blueberry or Strawberry….?’
‘Blackberry, Ma!’ I’d chuckle at your wit.
The next day you’d go ga ga over your son’s call –
His long conversation, his concern, care and affection.
You’d blow hot, blow cold – always spontaneous, always blunt.

Most days you had my sister’s company
at home and for small outings.
Some weekends you’d call me after your nap.
‘I’m bored – is there anything worth a watch on TV?’
I’d suggest a musical extravaganza or dance program
Which would have you glued for the whole evening.
Now whenever I’m watching them I can’t but think of you!

You were my window to our family, Ma!
Your calls would connect the dots
To uncles and aunts and cousins.
You’d talk nineteen to the dozen
And I’d be very calculative with my words!
Now I realize what I miss –
I wish I’d spoken what you’d have loved to hear
Rather than being just matter-of-fact.

I want to flip back the calendar by some four years -
Just to hear your non-stop chatter all over again.
Or I wish to get connected to you in the other world -
I know you’ll have lots to share about these three years!
I'm just waiting for another Steve Jobs with fingers crossed!
Believe me, it’s just a matter of time! Or isn’t it?

© Copyright 2012. Brinda Balasubramonian.

PARTINGS ARE PAINFUL ........

What should we do with her? She is such a cutie - the very thought of parting with her is heart-wrenching. She’s so irresistible, so adorable! She’s petite – you might choose to call ‘her teeny weeny’ - as compared to the bigger or giant ones of her ilk. When we look at her we reassert ‘small is beautiful’ – for one thing she’s so convenient to handle – I mean in so many respects! 

When we brought her home more than 11 years ago she was the apple of the eye of the neighborhood – not a common ‘species’ – not yet - in the area – with her unique attractive color. Every passerby would turn around to give her a second look. But there were a couple of big little bullies around who tried to be rough with her a couple of times, permanently scarring her with a scratch or two.

We would take her out on drives in and around the city but never ventured to take her outstation. She would have behaved well, no doubt, but we were not very confident. During her 11 years with us, she was low on maintenance - she has needed expert attention only on an odd occasion. Once she broke down suddenly without apparent reason and we had to urgently get help before we could take her home.

In fact when we had to go abroad for 4-6 months, we’d feel bad leaving her behind – what else could we do – we couldn’t possibly tag her along. The first time we left her under the care of a good friend. But with our ‘outings’ getting more frequent, we didn’t want to impose her on others. So we opted to leave her under the supervision of our security guard and maidservant. On one of our returns, we found she had been teased by the mischievous little brats around and was not in a position to move! We got her treated immediately and she was on the road once again! 

We returned last month after a six months’ stint in the US. We expected her to be out of shape in our long absence – after all, who except us would treat her as their own? But she had sustained herself so well that she was up and about and driving us crazy.

We have no complaints about her at all – she’s oh so loyal and lovable – just one of her kind. But yes, it is time that we find her a new home – despite our great attachment for her. And we do hope she gets an even better owner than us! We are going for a new car, you see and we really can’t keep our good old Maruti! Good bye dear, sorry and God bless!

 

© Copyright 2011. Brinda Balasubramonian.

WELCOMING THE NEW YEAR .........

Skim the newspaper and you’ll feel the racing pulse of the city as New Year is approaching – ads silently screaming about New Year Eve bash inject adrenalin in youngsters as they polish their dancing shoes all set to groove. I’ve never put on (or even possessed) dancing shoes and am not likely to as I’m tottering towards sixty. So I just read them with a smile on my lips with no regrets whatsoever at what I have been missing all along!

New Year - when I was a child - meant nothing more than a couple of new calendars – loved to look at the red dates in each month and count them or admire the hypnotizing expression and chiseled features of the paintings of gods / goddesses. Another memory is of all of us making a mistake in the year during the first couple of weeks of the New Year whenever we wrote out the date – be it in our school work or dad’s letters / cheques. We still do so.

 

As I grew into a teenager, my fad was to collect beautiful single page calendars with ‘small’ months’ dates printed under a huge poster of one of my favourite stars – mind you I had a lot of them – from B. Saroja Devi, K.R. Vijaya to Sharmila Tagore, Leena Chandavarkar to Sridevi – heroines all! Mind you, it was more for the poster than for calendar value. Now I care only for 6-page calendars with just the dates of every month. And may be one exotic and exclusive one with half a dozen really attractive posters that deserve to be laminated! I politely turn down other calendars or simply hand it over to willing takers. And I also remember my dad getting a couple of new diaries – appa used one to write his diary – though on some days it would be no more than a line or two. Sometimes I would get one from him – to write down lyrics of film songs or note down interesting quotes from the books read – and I still have them! At times I sit and admire my ancient ‘pearl-like’ handwriting and wonder at my patience during my adolescence (today’s teens, are you listening?) even as I sing those old-times melodies.

I remember my parents once attending a New Year Eve party with my dad’s office folks – it was late night party alright – anyway I’d love to believe it was the New Year Eve. I was 12, my brother 9 and my sister 5. We had our maid to ‘baby-sit’ us at home. What is etched in my memory is the earthquake at midnight that tossed our cots so violently that all three of us and our maid rushed out of the house in panic and sat waiting for our parents on the verandah itself. Needless to add our parents too had felt the tremors and left the party early to rush home.

If you think I would have been excited about parties when I was in the prime of my life, you are mistaken. (Oh so you didn’t – after having read my first paragraph? Sorry, I shouldn’t have suspected your sincerity and concentration!) After my marriage my attitude did not change and my hubby’s was not different from mine. The arrival of our first baby in the second year of our wedding served as an excuse to insistent friends to skip the New Year Eve dance at the Officer’s Institute in the campus as our priority was our child and a couple of years later – our children! 

With television invading our homes, thanks to DD, we’d sit up and watch the New Year programs meticulously conceived and presented. A couple of years later Zee TV reached our drawing rooms as also color TV and we were more than happy to lap up the colorful presentations – a feast to the eyes and ears. Soon with more and more channels entering the fray, we were left switching channels and loyalties every 5-10 minutes for a number of reasons trying to have the best bites of every spread. The thrill waned in a few years as programs became lackluster. Or perhaps we got sick of the same stuff over and over again. Still, we’d keep channel-surfing till midnight, greet one another in the building and retire to bed cursing ourselves for having lost our sleep over such insipid and inane programs and swearing to have better sense next year. The process would be repeated the following year with expectation and hope of better programs. Soon even some channels started resorting to movies. With already an overdose of movies on the plethora of channels, we have become satiated. So before long, we started hitting off to bed at the usual 10 pm slot and chose to welcome the New Year early next morning after a rejuvenating sleep.

With advancement, western influence and the resultant change in attitudes, people are not holding their purse strings tight but love to binge. No wonder young couples no longer have qualms of drowning a cool 6000 to 10,000 rupees - if not more - on the New Year bash offering unlimited booze, eats, DJ and live shows, fireworks, poolside shows and what not! With a Mallika Sherawat charging a hot 4 lakhs per stage minute, what else do you expect? Shrewd organizers throw in the added attraction of special Kid’s Zone so couples don’t have guilt pangs about their kids. Some even promise chauffeurs to drive you home to prevent drunken driving – a case of pinching the baby and swinging the cradle?! Some resorts have a special scheme up their sleeve to squeeze more out of your purse – they dangle the carrot of special lazy brunch on New Year – at extra price, of course! Money has lost its value – middle-class mentality of saving for the rainy day is on its way out - but not fully for old-timers like us. Also it is a question of what is enjoyment to us – one person’s heaven is another’s hell! After the bombardment of songs on FM radios and same songs on television, grooving / listening to the same songs at full blast live is not our cup of ice cream. Again unlimited spread doesn’t beckon us any more as we eat limited quantity to be benign to our belly. Nor do we drink!

Now we find our young and not-so-young neighbours animatedly analyzing the various hotspots and happening places in the city. As they plan for the New Year Eve bash at hotels / resorts, they politely invite us also to join in and we politely decline. Such bash is not for teetotalers, vegetarians and senior citizens – and we are in the bracket of the combination of all! We are planning a modest get-together of like-minded friends and ring in the New Year with a little fun and frolic and food!

© Copyright 2011. Brinda Balasubramonian.