ROGER LIVES

In the morning my wife and I sat before the Sri Guru Granth Sahib; the holy book that has guided us for several years and which has been a gift to me by my mother on my birthday after my father died on the 1st of May 1984 in a jeep accident (Read: Seventy-Eight Not Out). An appropriate way to begin the Mothers’ Day? Yes; but, there was another reason to say formal prayers today. It was one year back that the entire family sat at Parel Pets Hospital (The Bai Sakarbai Dinshaw Petit Hospital for Animals at Parel) having cremated our bundle of joy: Roger just two months before his twelfth birthday. For a long time after we cremated him – I reminisced today about the scene one year ago with my younger son, Arun – the entire family sat in a trance as if moving away would somehow break a link.

We didn’t know it at that time but the last few breaths of our baby

Today’s waak (select reading as a blessing/teaching) was from Raag Sorathh and was written by the fifth Guru of the Sikhs: Guru Arjan Dev ji. As if answering my wife’s and my persistent (though unspoken) doubts it clearly brought out that Hari (God) looks after you wherever you are in the Brahamand (universe) before and after death. A very comforting thought indeed. Roger has to be somewhere in the universe; he couldn’t have died. He must be having another assignment somewhere, another family to love, another place to spread the joy of his being, another mama and papa to go to walks with, other children to play with. (Read: Roger And Us – A Love Story Without An End)

Just next to the Crematorium – No Entry? Well, it was No Exit

But, we are mere human beings: we are neither gods nor dogs (both anagrammatic, both meaning the same). So, whilst wishing him the best in his new surroundings, we don’t mind telling that we miss him everywhere in the house. Here’s Roger coming to greet me in the morning just two weeks before he went. In our earlier house, the beds were low and he could have jumped up to hug and play. But, in our house after retirement, being a small house, every little space has to made use of. Thus, the beds are high with storage space under. Also, Roger had become too old to jump up.

The pitiable look for not having been able to jump up

But, if one mama has gone for bath, Roger would be on the mat just outside, patiently waiting to be fussed and hugged:

Waiting patiently outside the bathroom door

In the end, since all of us, that is my sons and I, went for our work, my wife had Roger with her as her child and companion. This is how Roger felt safe, secure and comfortable with her:

She would pick him up and put him on the bed

When he was alive, we frequently complained about the ticks and his falling fur. After he went away, one day, my wife found a few strands of his fur and we were elated as if we had found a great treasure.

I am too small a being to question about God’s Creation. However, I have to admit that I have often questioned about God’s wisdom in having a mismatch between our normal ages and those of our pets. Under normal circumstances, we, having been born earlier, would die before our children. However, in case of our pets, sadly, they die before us. I was thinking of an answer to this and then one of my friends put up a beautiful piece on the facebook. I immediately commented that it was the best post I ever read. It is not my intention to repeat the complete piece here. But, here is the gist:

Pic Courtesy: Carole Hughes

A Dog’s Purpose?
(from a 6-year-old).

“Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog’s owners, Ron, his wife Lisa , and their little boy Shane, were all very attached to Belker; but since there was no hope against cancer, the dog was to be given euthanasia.Ron and Lisa felt it would be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.

The little boy seemed to accept Belker’s transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker’s Death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives. Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, “I know why.”

Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I’d never heard a more comforting explanation. It has changed the way I try and live.

He said,”People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life — like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?” The Six-year-old continued,”Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don’t have to stay as long.”

And where do dogs go? Well, we know where Roger went: to another part of the universe to spread his message of abiding love.

Roger Lives.

He is somewhere around….it is just that we can’t see him.

THE LURE OF GOING ON A LIMB

Yesterday was a sad day indeed; Shailendra Singh Bisht, a 26 years old mountaineer crashed to death whilst rappelling down the 14 storey Great Adventure Mall, which had just been inaugurated in Greater NOIDA by the union minister Subodh Kant Sahay. Shailendra was a professional stuntsman who had performed this feat several times. Little did he know, however, that the rappelling rope was almost 100 feet short of reaching the ground. At the speed at which he had rappelled, he would have reached the end very fast.A few weeks ago, during an adventure camp at Zenith Falls near Khapoli, Maharashtra, when I saw my younger friends rappelling down a difficult rocky hill, I too got the urge to do the same. Here I was, a 58 years old retired Navy officer, as far removed from hills and rappelling as you can get, unable to suppress the impulse to do those things that the trio in the film Zindagi Nahin Milegi Dobara (You Can’t Get Your Life Again) had the urge to do; literally dying (as the slang goes) to stay alive.

Sunbyanyname in his own Zindagi Nahin Milegi Dobara

There are men and women who do sky diving, suspended in the air as birds, opening their parachutes at the last minute. Then there are others who do tight rope walking between high-rise buildings defying death. One slip and precious life ends. However, they have this inner compulsion to accomplish the near impossible.

On 21st of January this year, Laura Dekker, a sixteen year old Dutch/German/New Zealander became the youngest person to circumnavigate the globe single-handed. At that age she had the greater part of her life ahead of her. She started in Aug 2010, a year after she had planned, when a Dutch Child Care Council stopped her departure on grounds of shared parental custody between her about-to-be-divorced parents. Dekker later commented about the authorities in an interview, saying “They thought it was dangerous. Well, everywhere is dangerous. They don’t sail and they don’t know what boats are, and they are scared of them.” As soon as I read the news, the first thing that occurred to me was the mental set-up of someone as young as her, braving seas, known and unknown dangers alone, all alone for more than a year. If something was to happen to her, she would have died a solitary and lonely death and probably even her dead body won’t have been found. And yet, after she has accomplished what she set out to do, she would have removed a number of words from her dictionary: Fear, Impossible, Small, and Underage.

Laura Dekker the youngest person to circumnavigate the globe (pic courtesy: in2eastafrica.net)

So, what makes men and women to go out on a limb? It can’t be fame and glory since there are much easier and less dangerous methods of obtaining these. One possible clue is given by a mountaineer who was asked why did he climb mountains. His reply was, “Because they are there”. Something within a person beckons him or her to go beyond the limits of human endurance and capabilities…beyond the rainbow; when you are face to face with only your Maker or yourself. Do you remember what Ian Fleming the author of James Bond books said? He had a book by that name: “You Only Live Twice: once when you are born and once when you look death in the face”.

Men and women would do anything to live and soar, even die doing it. When I was in my teens Richard Bach wrote his novella titled ‘Jonathan Livingstone Seagull’. The story is about the gull called Jonathan Livingstone who is bored by routine existence and wants to push his own capability to fly beyond what the seagulls can do. Because he wants to try something different, he is expelled from the flock. However, he persists and one day achieves perfection. “You’ve got to understand that a seagull is an unlimited idea of freedom, an image of the Great Gull.” He realizes that you have to be true to yourself: “You have the freedom to be yourself, your true self, here and now, and nothing can stand in your way.” The idea of Richard Bach’s novella fascinated everyone immensely. Neil Diamond brought out a complete album of songs named Jonathan Livingstone Seagull with such songs as: Be, Flight of the Gull, Lonely Looking Sky, The Odyssey, and Dear Father. Here is Neil Diamond’s ‘Be’ for you:

Well, ladies and gentlemen, there may be other good reasons for men and women to go out on a limb. But, I have given you what I believe to be the best reason to do so.

NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS

I wrote in an article (‘Happy New Year’) in this blog on 1st of January this year, that there is actually nothing New about the New Year and that this is, as indeed is Time, an invention of man to end one’s worries, habits, biases, proclivities, unhappinesses, mistakes, and sadnesses and thus begin afresh with a new resolve and of course new worries, habits, biases etc.Hence, it is not difficult to conclude that the best use of the so called New Year is to make Resolutions. These are not written in stone like the Ten Commandments but these are the ones which give us hope (about ourselves) and fresh strength to put a little order in our messed up lives.

However, lets not get carried away by the lofty resolutions. Experience teaches us a lot. If we have been running the Sprint in about 33 seconds for the last several years, the New Year Resolution is not going to help us to break the world record. It is, therefore, helpful to read the signs of the experience and see what each of the resolutions actually means after a few hours/days:

1. I will not drink anymore

Until I get up at least.
I will not drink any less either.
I will not drink unless I have company.
I like my company.

2. I will not worry unnecessarily

No one has my circumstances.
I am little more conscientious. How can it be called worrying?
Someone has to worry.
In any case I don’t worry about small things.

3. I will be regular with walks and calisthenics

Once in a fortnight is fairly regular, isn’t it?
What’s the use? She doesn’t come to the gym/walks anymore?
90 kgs is still less than 100, isn’t it?
I have seen the fittest getting heart-attacks.

4. I will be more forgiving

As soon as I have finished breaking the SOB’s teeth.
Gandhi wasn’t so practical, you know.
You have no idea what she did to me.
I have tried this. He thought it was my weakness.

5. I will become more punctual

Alright, but how about improving traffic, bus and train services?
Me, the only one? Sitting alone in office, function, date?
There are people who slip in much after me.
Is there a fire?

6. I will become more positive

You can’t be a lotus in filth.
I am just being realistic.
Glass half full? Have you seen the muck in the water?
Who invented the parachute?

7. I will be more charitable

You think the b____s are poor because of me?
I have worked for every penny that I have.
They misuse these funds all the time.
People just show off with charity.

8. I will not waste time on unproductive activities

Our group on facebook is quite intellectual.
I am a thinking man.
Some people are so unsocial.
Sudoku is good for the brain.

9. I will spend more time with the family

I would but the kids don’t want me.
Our last holiday in Matheran was a disaster.
There is a generation gap.
They actually want to be left alone.

10. I will not lose my temper even with unreasonable people

Is it only for me? What about the other party?
One should call a spade a spade. I am only being factual.
I never start an argument.
There is always a limit, you know.

I think one reason that the New Year Resolutions don’t work is because we let the Mind do most of the thinking. We should, once in a while, let the heart be in control. It may just work.

SUPERWOMAN

Is that what you think of when you imagine Superwoman? Well, my friend Kamakshi Karuna Kapilavai, with her infant son, feels differently. Recently, she put up a quote from Edgar Watson Howe on facebook, “If there were no schools to take the children away from home part of the time, the insane asylum would be filled with mothers.” She says that she received many comments on posting this. But she isn’t locking up her kid somewhere or wishing him to be away. All she wants to know is if mothers are actually supposed to be superwomen; is it wrong for them to find some time per day for their sanity?

Kamakshi with her son

Recently, I wrote an article A Father Is Just A Father, But A Mom Is Life It was an acknowledgement of the fact that in Indian society a mother’s role is much bigger; she takes care of everything at home: from washing, to cleaning up house, food and drinks for everyone, and moderating (in many cases tolerating) everyone’s moods and emotional outbursts. In the midst of all this, bringing up a child is a full-time job. And, there is no break. The kid has got indefatigable energy. By the time a mother finishes doing up the household chores, the kid – of the age that Kamakshi has – shifts from part time attention to full time atention. He is inquisitive, active, curious, and wanting to do things. Kamakshi’s son, as seen in the picture above, is of the age as depicted in the ditty below:

We used to wash his hands for him,

But now that he is not so small,

He washes his own whilst we just,

Wash the soap, the sink and the wall.

By the time she finishes playing with him, answering his difficult questions (there ain’t any easy ones that they ask), attending to his every need and generally amusing him; the husband is back from – you guessed it right – work. I am a man, a father; but, I know that at least men have a change of scene: from home to office to home; and probably a few other locations. After a hard day’s work, for him, it is time for television, sudoku, probably a drink and listening to music. However, for her, the work, that never really got over, starts all over again.

What about reversal of roles? Here is a good one on that:

A family of five was going out for a picnic. As soon as everyone finished breakfast, she told the husband, “Lets do things differently today. Why don’t you collect the dishes and put them in the sink, wipe up the kids, help them put on their shoes, turn off the switches in every room including that of the geyser, leave the garbage out; whilst I will go down to the car and keep pressing the horn?”

So, what does she really want? One: sometime of the day that she can call her own; and two, a little empathy. The first one is not just to recharge batteries but also to know that there is more to life than a fixed routine in which sheets are getting dirty and need washing, maidservant has to be tackled (and these days tackling means great skills on which a lot of How to books can be written), the AMC man for washing machine needs to be called, bills have to be paid, shopping for vegetables and fruits has to be done and plants have to be watered to say the least. Can you get servants to do all this? Try it; and if you have to do dusting as well, you are pooped like a cow being milked. And then comes the child.

Why am I saying all this? Have I gone off my rocker? Have I left my ilk in the lurch? Not really; I too am convinced that I work much harder than my wife, and am able to attend to many many things, including writing this blog. However, I am not into cyclic work; my work has a definite beginning and an end. And, unless I pretend, I do get time to myself for Sudoku et al after I reach home weary.

And, there is one more reason: who knows in my next life I may be born a woman; and then….

“A man’s work is from sun to sun, but a mother’s work is never done.”
Or in other words: “Mother of small kids work from son up to son down.”

ROGER AND US – A LOVE STORY WITHOUT AN END

Roger, our darling, would have been twelve today. On his birthday, my wife Lyn used to put a red ribbon around his neck. The day used to start with family prayers in front of Guru Granth Sahib and Roger would know when exactly the Prashad would be served. Feeding him Prashad on his birthday was the greatest joy we had ever experienced.

Today, as we said our prayers and distributed Prashad, we hoped in some manner Roger would get the whiff of it and taste it.

Dear Roger, now that you are with God, don’t forget your family on this day that is so precious to us. I am sure you must be keeping them all busy in Heaven just looking at you, cuddling you, fussing you.

Happy Birthday, Roger. May God be with you always.

Roger was not part of our life…he was our life. After his sudden demise, my elder son Arjun phoned me and said they had lost a brother. Roger, the sheer joy that you brought into our lives, right until your end at 1145 hrs Friday, the 13th May 11, will be everfresh since you touched our lives in a myriad happy ways. Arjun said that you would have never wanted to see us sad. We shall learn to get out of this mood at your sudden departure. We know, our darling, that you came into our lives simply to Love and Cherish. And both you and us have more love left to shower on one another when we meet next.

Until then, we shall remember, every little way of yours: how you made the whole family run to catch you when you were small. How you gave us a lick when overwhelming love came over you; how you shredded the pillow into bits thinking of it as a toy; how you ran out of the house when accidently you found the door ajar and we had to continue coaxing you with commnads of “get inside, Roger”; how you loved riding the car, Maruti Gypsy, bicycle…anything that moved; how you prepared to welcome guests coming home…how you sat facing the kitchen when mama was readying your meal..how you knew papa was coming home even when he was miles away…how you greeted us at the door everytime we returned from outside even when we were late…how you never wanted to be left alone…how you loved us…and how we loved you.

We have a whole new vovabulary because of you; a routine of the day we can’t get out of…we shall miss moving our hands in your fur and giving a gentle squeeze to your ears…we shall miss taking you for walks and playing with you..and hugging you and holding you tight.

Other day, a friend asked me, Roger, why do we miss our pets so much when they go? My prompt reply: Because, unlike our friends, relatives, sons and daughters, pets don’t have any independent life. Their total life is with us and for us. A dog loves us more than he loves himself.

Thank you, Roger, for teaching us how to Love.

We shall never forget you, our baby.

Here are some of our memories of you, not in any particular order:


All set to receive Prashad


How you loved to be taken for a ride, Roger?!!


Always looking for cool places.


Scared of Diwali crackers and hiding

Always loved his bath


Not liking Papa being busy in Paranayam

Enjoying music in Arjun’s room

Always being where the family is

“Enjoying” a movie with Arun


Despite all the toys…..

……Papa’s slippers were the favourite toys.

And Our Dearest Roger, we shall always remember you as…..

Reaching for the stars…

Come any festival or occasion, you will somehow again get into the scene and the pictures…

When we enter the house, we shall know you are waiting for us at the door…..

Wait for us, Roger; we shall join you there one day and then we shall again be a loving family together; loving one another like you taught us to.

RAINS AND OUR SONGS

What makes the difference? You need to see Gene Kelly’s 1952 ‘I’m Singin’ in the Rain’ to know the difference. Listen to José Montserrate Feliciano García singing ‘Listen to Pouring Rain’ to know the difference. He was a blind Puerto Rican composer who couldn’t have seen the rain; but rain is not meant to be only seen.

“Listen to the pouring rain,
Listen to the rain pour;
And with every drop of rain,
I love you more…

Let it rain whole night long,
Let my love for you go strong;
As long as we are together,
Who cares about the weather?
Listen to the pouring rain,
Listen to the rain pour.”

Rain means diffrent things to different people. To some it means an obstruction keeping them from what they want to do; they only get wet and are annoyed with the rain. Others enjoy getting drenched in the rain. It is a welcome experience.

By and large, I believe, lovers love the rain as it brings them closer. An Urdu couplet says:

“Badal tu itna na baras ke wo aa na sake;
Aur jab aayen to itna baras ke wo ja na sake”
(Translated:
“Rain cloud, hold on please so my beloved can arrive,
And when she does, pour so much that she can’t return”)

Various communities in India have different songs, in their own languages, about the rain. In the state of Uttar Pradesh (UP) since rains are brought by East winds (in Hindi “Poorba” or “Poorvaai”) they have songs about how pleasant is Poorba. In Punjab, the rains, called sawan (pronounced saunh) remind you of what all you can do during the rains, eg, eat fried sweet delicacies. So on with other states. Maybe Indians just love to love and love rains in many different ways.

Only a few decades back, when we were kids we were so eager to sing, “Rain rain go away; come again another day”. But now rains are welcome.

My favourite Hindi songs have a special place for rains (sawan).

“Sawan ka maheena, pawan kare sore,
Manva re jhoome aise jaise banva naache more“

(Rain month is here, the breeze touches you pleasantly,

Mind dances with joy in the manner of a peacock dancing in the forest)

In folklore, somehow, rains affect no one as much as lovers, and separated lovers at that. Taste this:

“Saawan ke jhule pade hain,
Tum chale aao….

Aachal na chhode mera, pagal hui hai pavan
Ab kya karun main jatan, dhadke jiyaa jaise panchhi ude hain“

(The swings for the rains are out, my love

Come be with me.

Playing with my stole, the breeze has gone crazy,

Now what should I do, my heart is beating like the flight of birds)

Or listen to the lyrics of Raja Mehdi Ali Khan in the 1967 movie Anita, with playback singer Mukesh singing these:

“Saawan ke din aaye,Beeti yaaden laaye,
Kaun jhuka ker aankhen,
Mujhko paas bithaye;
Kaisa tha pyaara roop tumhaara,
Poochho mere dil se, hai
Tum bin jeevan kaise beeta, poochho mere dil se“

(When the rainy days came,

They brought past memories,

Of the one who sat beside me,

With eyes looking down.

How lovely you looked, my love;

You have to ask my heart.

Without you how I lived,

You have to ask my heart)

Sawan must be a great all round friend for all of us that we get so excited by its arrival. According to me, and pardon me for getting mushy, if you haven’t ever enjoyed walking in the rain you are missing something in life. And, if the following (Mohammad Rafi and Lata Mangeshkar in Ishq Per Zor Nahin, a 1970 movie) doesn’t touch you, nothing will:

“Yeh dil diwaana hai,
Dil to diwaana hai.

Saawan ke aate hi,
Baadal ke chhate hi,
Phulon ke mausam mein,
Chalte hi purvaai, milte hi tanhaai,
Uljha ke baaton mein,
Kehta hai raaton mein,
Yaadon mein kho jayun,
Jaldi se so jayun,
Kyunke saanvariya ko sapno mein aana hai.”

Phoolon ke mausam mein

(This heart is crazy,

Crazy is this heart, because,

On the oncoming of rains,

In the shadow of the clouds,

In the season of flowers,

When the East winds blow, and when I am alone,

It gets me entangled in following talk,

In the nights:

Sleep quickly my master,

And get into the world of memories,

Because your beloved has to meet you in the dreams)

There are songs and songs on rains. Finally, my all time favourite is by the Music Director Salil Chaudhary, who composed music for this song from the 1960 movie Parakh in such a way that you not only get the pangs of separation but the pitter-patter of the rain that makes the separation unbearable:

“O sajnaa, barkha bahaara aayi,
Ras ki phuhaar layi, ankhiyon me pyaar layi,

O sajnaa

Aisi rimjhim mein o sajan, pyaase pyaase mere nayan,
Tere hi, khvaab mein, kho gaye,

Saanvali saloni ghataa, jab jab chhayi,
Ankhiyon mein rainaa gayi, nindiyaa na aayi
O sajnaa …”

[lineate][/lineate](O Love, rainy season is here,[lineate][/lineate]That brings the spray of nectar (of love),[lineate][/lineate]And longing in the eyes.[lineate][/lineate]

A view from my house in Kharghar

[lineate][/lineate]In this pitter-patter, my love, my eyes thirst for,[lineate][/lineate]Dreams of you in which I lose me,[lineate][/lineate] Dark clouds of rain when they come,[lineate][/lineate]My eyes look for you in the nights, sleepless)[lineate][/lineate]

Saawan, folks, unfetters dreams…..

BHAG BHUAJI IS NO MORE – AN ERA ENDS

Bhag Bhuaji Left Sitting with her entire family

My Bhag (short for Bhagwant Kaur) bhuaji (in Punjabi we pronounce it thus rather than the Hindi ‘buaji’; father’s sister, in Hindi) died at about 10 pm on 30 Jan 11. With that an era has come to a close. She was the youngest of my father’s three sisters; the elder one, Jaswant bhuaji, was the eldest in the family of five brothers and three sisters (all dead now except Meji chachaji, the youngest of the siblings). Then there was Ratno bhuaji, younger to Jaswant bhuaji. She died a few years back; at a relatively younger age.

My bhuajis were the reincarnation of love and kindness. My grandfather’s family had strong charactered men; each one a perfectionist in his own way. The men, including my father, were extremely ambitious and hence given to anger and frustration. It was thus left to my bhuajis to bring some semblance of compassion and calm in the family. They had these in abundance. It was natural for them to think of others without asking for anything in return. I cannot remember a time when I saw them without a radiant smile on their faces and the desire to make the best of any situation.

Bhag bhuaji (L) and my mom (R)

Bhag bhuaji, just like her two sisters, was very beautiful indeed, both from within and outwardly. When she smiled, which she did all the time, her nose stud would shine and make her look even more radiant. She was in awe of my father; what with his always being in a hurry (he died young; he won’t have wanted to keep God waiting). But, she loved him unconditionally, as she did the rest of the family.

Bhag bhuaji loved family gatherings

Hospitality came naturally to her. Bhuaji and my uncle lived in Chandigarh. There were no occasions when we passed through Chandigarh on the way to Himachal (where my dad served) without looking them up. As we would enter the house, without ever seen by us or seemingly ordered by her, one of the kids would run up to the sweet shop to fetch fresh ghulab jamuns, jalebis, and samosas for us. These would be in addition to the goodies at home such as gajrella (sweet carrot dish), pinnis (round sweets like laddus made with wheat and dry fruits) and kheer (sweet made with rice and milk and dry fruits). Irrespective of the number of people for whom bhuaji would have to suddenly make meals, bhuaji would do so smilingly, and indeed whilst cracking jokes. Her youngest son Monty’s wife Manjit has inherited these virtues. Last time when I visited Bhag bhuaji, as if she knew it was going to be the last time, she had invited all the near and dear ones for lunch with me. Manjit cooked delicious food for everyone; there were nearly three dozens of us.

She was fond of Rana, Ratno bhuaji’s son

Bhag bhuaji, mummy, and sisters would be at their best during weddings. They would enjoy dancing and bolis and tappes (folk singing with a view to invite rejoinders) and indeed encourage others to do so. One of them would play the dholaki (traditional Punjabi drum) and the other would rythemically beat it with the back of a spoon. And this with all the work at home.

On one of the occasions when I visited her, she made me climb up the loft to fetch a carton of beer with just two bottles

Bhag bhuaji and my mom at Rana’s party

in it. She explained, “Munde khunde beer pee rahe si; main ohna nu keha Ravi layi do botlan rakh layo” (The boys were having beer one day and I told them to keep two bottles for Ravi). I was touched. Generally, bhuaji looked down on anyone drinking. But, since it was offered to her jawaai (son-in-law), her quick reaction was that me being a fauji (armed forces man) would probably relish it. There was nothing strange about her keeping beer for me; she did it for everything that would make others happy. For example, if anyone would appreciate the taste of her saag (spinach), kheer or anything, she would freeze it and keep for me.

Our last picture together

In our recent life, after my father died, Bhag bhuaji visited us in the hills only once since she was very scared of driving in the hills. She enjoyed the scenery, the freshness of air, trees and flowers. Encouraged I thought of taking her and others for a picnic to the forest around Chail. We made a small fire for heating up the goodies that we had carried for lunch. Suddenly, Bhag bhuaji looked around and remarked about the remoteness of the place and the likelihood of a sher (lion) jumping on us. I thought she might be joking but the more she talked about it the more she convinced herself that there was ample likelihood of sher surprising us (even though there were none in that forest). Finally, we quickly packed up our stuff, not because of being surprised by sher but by rain. After the rain stopped I took her to the Chail cricket ground atop a hill (reputed to be the highest cricket field in the world during the days of the rajas). As she climbed the last of the steps to the cricket field, she came up with her characteristic remark, “Aithe cricket kidan khed de honge; aithe tanh uppar chad de hi saah chad jaand hai?” (How would anyone have played cricket here; one is breathless just by climbing up here).

Bhag bhuaji in America, just prior to 9/11

Truly, in her observations, fears and anxieties she would become a small girl. She would be a small girl in the family gatherings too. A few years back my youngest uncle Meji in America invited the surviving siblings, that is, Pitamber Uncle, Dilgir Uncle, Bhag bhuaji and my mom (representing my dad who died in 1984 of an accident) to spend time with him there. Their visit coincided with 9/11. Bhag bhuaji was very excited telling all of us about the US and its quality of life; but, she also added, “Main nahin uthe wapis jaana. Asin uthe gaye tanh ohna ne saare paase bomb sutne shuru kar ditte.” (I am not going back there; they started chucking bombs all over when we were there). Indeed, Bhag bhuaji, her three brothers and my mom were there in Washington when the attack on Pentagon took place. Some of her fears were not so girlish afterall.

Bhag bhuaji and me

For the last two years or so Bhag bhuaji had lost a few teeth. She had a renal problem and had to go for dialysis twice in a week. One would think that with her age and this problem she would have complained or forgotten to crack jokes. No; when she laughed through her missing front teeth, it made her look even more cute. There was never any problem that would make her complain or forget to enjoy life and company of those around her.

For me, just like my dad, I never missed out on visiting her even if it were for a few minutes. She would often tell everyone, “Ravi nahin maiton milne bgair jaa sakda.” (Ravi would never cross this place without seeing me).
So tell me bhuaji, when I visit Chandigarh next, where should I come to see you? You always thought of everything; did you think about this too?

IF DAD AND MOM HAD TO CELEBRATE VALENTINE’S DAY

We don’t have to go as far back as my grandparents times; if Valentine Day had to become popular during my dad’s times, how would it have been? My dad died of an accident when he was just 56, one year younger than I am now. During his days, except for in movies, couples never publicly expressed love for each other. It would be indirectly hinted rather than ‘in-your-face’ proclamation. There were no Valentine Day cards or other accessories.

Now lets suppose it was to be imposed on my parents, how would they have reacted? The entire conversation would have been in Punjabi but I think we would understand it better if I translate this imagined conversation:

Dad: In the office there is lots of talk these days about Valentine Day. I wonder what it is?
Mom: How should I know? I have tough time remembering all the other days: Republic Day, Independence Day, your birthday, our Anniversary Day, Holi Day, Baisakhi Day, Diwali Day, Christmas Day…
Dad: But, Ladi, there are all thinking of partying and singing love songs and saying I love you.
Mom: Chhi, chhi. What kind of zamaana (world) we are coming to?
Dad: They are also thinking of buying gifts, and…
Mom (cutting him short): That’s a wonderful idea ji. We should get new shoes for Ravi, another frock for Mona and…
Dad: No, Ladi, the gifts are for us, that is each other.
Mom (seriously and smelling him): Did you have a drink in office?
Dad: No, I am serious, we should get something for each other.
Mom: Who told you that?
Dad: I believe this Valentine was a saint and he told that.
Mom: He actually told to waste money on unnecessary gifts? He couldn’t have been a saint. These western saints will next tell you to forget all decencies of life, will you do that?
Dad: But, Ladi…
Mom: Suno ji; you should forget about this Valentine thing at the earliest. We are happy without him and his crazy ideas. Our children are growing up now; don’t forget that. Mona has already started wasting a lot of time in front of the mirror and Ravi has started growing feathers. What if they come to know their parents are getting influenced by some foreign sadhu? We would have cut our noses in public.
Dad: I think you are right. I got carried away.
Mom: (not giving up too soon): What else were they saying?
Dad: They were talking about appreciating one’s partner?
Mom: (wistfully) This you will never be able to do. For the last twenty years I have been cooking for you; you have never told me it was good what you ate.
Dad: (shocked at this ‘unfair‘ inference) But, I ate everything without complaining, didn’t I? What more do you want?

Mom before going to sleep, totally satisfied with the argument, would have known that words/cards/songs/memorabilia were never necessary to convey deep emotions.

Even to this day she tells us, “Your dad would never eat out anywhere without me. And when we went out for parties, he would always return home complaining. So, in comparison, I knew that he liked my cooking.”

Mom: (Later at night, holding my dad with all her strength) You don’t require lessons in love from some phoren saint. You would have taught him a thing or two.
Dad: (half asleep) Main tanh makhaul kar rahiya si (I was only saying in jest).

I know why no outwardly gifts, V-Day cards etc were considered necessary during pre-Valentine days. The reason is that they gave each other something that modern couples can’t give, that is, time. They did not require a day to compensate each other for all the lost moments of togetherness….of love.

Happy Valentine’s Day. Perhaps, we should love all the year through like my dad and mom did. And yours too.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

There is absolutely nothing to suggest that God had intended any particular day or event to be more important or significant than the others. It appears that in God’s scheme of things every month, hour, minute and second is an old one dying and a new one being born.

And yet…

And yet we have special days: our birthdays and those of people close to us, our anniversary, graduation day and days of festivities.

New Year is really different. It appears that if we didn’t have something to peg our lives to there won’t be any beginning or end to anything.

The Guru Granth Sahib talks about God being there before the Universe and that He would be there after the Universe. In the Bhagwat Gita there is a description of God saying that He is the Beginning and the End. Therefore, in order to avoid ourselves into falling into the illusion (actually reality!) of a Universe without Time, we have ourselves devised the Calendar year.

The other day I shared a discussion in latest issue of the Time magazine that until the sixteenth century there was no particular date to celebrate the Birth of Christ. According to the Bible He was born sometime in Spring. It was only then that the Pope decreed that it should be universally accepted as twenty-fifth of December. Nowadays, we have become so sacrosanct about this date that at the stroke of midnight on twenty fifth December we burst into sudden rejoicing for Christ having been born.

India too got its freedom from the British at the stroke of midnight, universally accepted as the beginning of a day.

It is really very convenient for us. Timelessness, as God had intended, would have killed us; we won’t have known what to do with it. In the olden days, we measured time by the Sun and the Moon or the changing seasons. Indeed, there are many Hindi songs about measuring time likewise; eg, “Chaand phir nikla, magar tum na aaye.” (Moon is out again, but my Love has still not returned); or “Tere bin saawan kaise beeta” (Love, do you have any idea of how I the monsoons weighed on me without you).

There is an article in my blog titled ‘The Virtual World‘ on this issue. It may just be worth reading it to remember that the concept of Time that we have devised, just like any other virtue, makes all of us to live in a Virtual World. And yet, when a lover gets affected by Time playing tricks on him awaiting his love, we tease him for living in a world of his own.

So, there is as much New about the New Year as is about every moment.

However, having said that, lets realise that Time is amongst the best known discoveries or inventions of Man. If it hadn’t been for it, Life would go on without any newness! Everyone would use relativity of time (which it is) than absolute terms to describe events, eg, Boss to Employee, “You are later than Sunita in coming to office but, you are earlier than Rakesh. Next time, be earlier than the most”.

Or, the train is late today but is earlier than it was last summer.

Or, Happy New Year to those in India now. In Europe, wait for another few hours.

Since all this is, in any case, an illusion (maya), there is one thing that depicts it really well; it is the New Year Resolution. Since, we set the meter to beginning or start again, we are filled with great resolve to reset our Life starting….well, you guessed it…the stroke of midnight. Some of the popular resolutions are:

I shall lose weight.
I shall give up smoking/drinking.
I shall stop worrying.
I shall be kinder to my parents.
I shall become leaner and fitter.
I shall stop lying about small things.
I shall become more punctual.

The illusion of these resolutions lasts for a few days and then we realise that the year has become as old as everything on earth must and we don’t have to treat it with renewed resolve. We slip back into timelessness!

So, friends, Happy New Year 2011

I resolve that in 2011 I shall write at least fifty percent articles about things that at least fifty percent of the people around me can understand if they find time to read them. For the others who actually rejoice in ‘Ignorance is Bliss’ (which is exactly how God intended it to be):

“Aage bhi jaane na tu,
Peechhe bhi jaane na tu;
Jo bhi hai, bas yehi ik pal hai”
(Future is unknown to you,
Past is not known,
What IS, is only this moment)

Rejoice!

SOUNDS OF SILENCE

“The stars of midnight shall be so dear,
For her and she shall lean her ear,
In many a secret place;
Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty born of murmuring sound,
Shall pass into her face”.

Despite our love for silence that Wordsworth and others wrote endless verses about, the fact is that sounds and noise never leave us. We want to hear, we want to be heard.

As soon as a child is born, we want to hear him or her make a sound..any sound. For, unless you make a sound, there is no proof that you are alive.

Is life a cacophony in which the louder you are the more powerful you become? Or, is the reverse true? Despite all the shibboleths such as ‘silence is gold’, we commonly associate silence with the meloncholic, sad and poignant. Happiness and joys, on the other hand, have sounds…happy sounds.

“Hontho ko si chuke to zamane ne yeh kaha,
Yeh chup si kyun lagi hai aji kuchh to boliye”
(The moment I sewed up my lips, the world asked me:
Why does silence reign? Speak something at least.”

According to the Hindu religion silence within and without is the attainment of greatest joy. The Hindu philosophy has it that even thoughts make sound. And, if you can shut off all sounds, even those of thoughts, you are one with your God.

And yet, we never want to be silent. Honking, crackers, screeches, shouts, loud speakers and even blasts become parts of our life. We go as far away from tasting life as from the true flavour of tea by adding sugar.

There is so much to be heard in silence but we become immune to it. Here is how Wordsworth described it:

“THE world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:

Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!”

“See it with your heart, ’tis mere joy” said he. Guru Nanak too described it as a music that can’t be heard with the worldly senses given to man.

“Chup hai dhartii, chup hain chaand sitaare,
Mere dil kii dhadakan tujhako pukaare.”
(The Earth is silent (my love)
And so are the moon and the stars,
The only sound that is there,
Is that of my heart beat calling you.”

No, silence can’t be sad or stifling or melancholic.
Silence is the beginning of the condition,
In which you hear sounds you had never heard before.

Try it.

JO BHI HAI BUS YEHI IK PAL HAI

I am so unsure of myself when I glance at forecasts, horoscopes and what the stars foretell. The reason is that I don’t know whether to believe or not. However, I often read the horoscopes to confirm that my experiences are – laugh if you want – according to some cosmic plan! Amongst all the forecasts, I found that the late Peter Vidal’s were the truest for me. Lately, I found that the Blackberry’s daily Horoscope comes close to my situation. Here is my Horoscope for today:

“You are stuck in a rut, Gemini, and the stars are urging you to dig out of it. What? You did not know you were stuck in a rut? That’s the worst kind of rut – the one that you don’t know you’re in. If you are feeling a bit stifled or if it seems you have become lost in a particular routine, you need to shake things up. It isn’t that staying this way will harm you, but going beyond your current pattern will be the first step in building a bridge that can take you to a much more attractive place. Don’t be afraid of change.”

It can well be argued that it is a very general statement and with a little variation can fit just about anyone. However, I am surprised at the confirmation of my current state of mind. Is there something to it afterall?

I don’t know whether the total people on earth can actually be divided into just twelve categories, but, I do know that shaking things up is something that a Geminian is actually good at.

Out of all people on earth, it is probably a Geminian who can be at home singing Kishore Kumar’s ‘Door Ka Rahi’ (Long Distance Traveller):

“Rehguzar mein kai manzilen bhi mili;

Dekh kar ek pal, dam liya phir chale.

Khushi do ghadi ki mile na mile.

Shama aarzoo ki jale na jale.

Har kadam par naye marhale the khade;

Ham chale dil chala, dil chala ham chale,

Khushi do ghadi ki……”

(On the way, I came across many a destination;

I saw, rested a while and moved on.

I may not get the joy of the moment,

I may not get to see my desire fulfilled.

At every step I found new stops,

I moved, heart moved,

Heart moved, I moved.

I know that when you move on, the criticism that hits you is that you don’t care; you are heartless. Here too I know for sure that a Gemini is probably the most emotional of the lot; the most caring in his/her special way. But, a Gemini is bored with trying to make music with a violin with strings deliberately loosened to make wrong or ugly music. How many times a Gemini is expected to tighten the strings to liven up the music? Why should it be his/her complete responsibility to make things work.

In the end, the more you stick, the more you want to make it work, the more it is uncharacteristic of a Gemini.

No one understands more than a Gemini that:

Jo bhi hai bus yehi ik pal hai.

(All that is there is just this moment)

and…

Dust thou art

and dust returnest

was not spoken of the soul.

INSTANTLY

If this appears deceptively similar to Cliff Richard’s famous number ‘Constantly‘, the similarity stops there. No one has the time these days to do anything constantly let alone to walk in a dream and think about one’s love. These days the world moves ‘instantly‘. No one has time to deliberately do anything or deliberate over things.

At one time we used to hear a song over the Short Wave radio and then hope to hear it again over the next few months. In order to remember the lyrics we would sit with a paper and pencil when the Geetmala would be broadcast again and, if there would be no disturbance on the shortwave, we would be able to fast write the lyrics, or, most of those. Nowadays, we download any number from the You tube and not only hear it but also see its video; and, have its lyrics before us instantly.

Take the case of photographs. Even though it is obvious, let me say it. Earlier we used to take pictures of the family during the holidays or engaged in diverse activities. We used to get them printed and stick them in the family album and then invite unsuspecting guests at home; and sort of lead them into viewing our album. They were forced to show interest whilst waiting for the dessert to be served (No one ever took the risk of showing those pictures after the dessert). But nowadays, we put them up on facebook even when the event is going on and enjoy the attention. The plus point is that we don’t get to see the yawns and the furtive glances at the watch.

Remember how we used to cringe when visiting a friend’s house and the couple insisting that we must see merit in their son Gaurav performing as Gabbar of Sholay with a dacoit’s belt loosely hanging from his shoulder. Now we go through the videos in our own time. We don’t have to match our comment, “How cute Gaurav looks!” with our own (disgusted) looks. In addition, we can instantly subject the sender to some return torture (like return gifts on birthdays) of seeing our own son Vivek doing the rendition of Michael Jackson’s moonwalk.

Television too projects pictures and news for us instantly. Gone are the days when a politician’s denial of his involvement in corruption would be read after a week. Nowadays, thanks mostly to his media-managers, his denial appears instantly whilst the scam is being aired. Do you remember when Pramod Mahajan was shot? When he was battling with life, the media used to instantly show details of his innards, knowing well that most of us are genuinely interested in the inner news.

At one time we used to deliberate over national and international issues and then form our views and much later express these. Nowadays, Twiiter has made sure that important views of such leading personalities as those who specialise in having views on everything under the sun are instantly available. It is another thing that we had never known that these worthies had any views on anything until then; but, then, a view is a view. Everyone, from Obama to O’ mama, is reduced to 140 characters.

Earlier, we would get news from the battle front days later. Nowadays, the scenes of the battle are instantly flashed before us even as the first shots are fired. Many so called war-correspondents vie with one another in reaching news to us before the bullets hit the targets.

Thankfully, in all this intantaneity there are two things that still move at leisurely pace and we are sure never going to change. One is something called a ‘File‘ in government offices. Its movement is exactly at the same pace as, say, in 1949. From noting number 1 to 478, all aspects of the case are deliberated upon at great length. Some of these notes are tagged Immediate, Most Immediate, Urgent etc but there is never any undue hurry. Five years later, the File, knowing that in the fable of the Hare and the Tortoise, it is the latter that wins, crawls even slower than the tortoise.

The second is the Indian judicial system. A fast moving case is often the one, which has advanced from being posted to its fifth hearing in about five years time.

In most other things everything is instantly done. For example, it used to take many years from love at first sight, to marriage, to children, to divorce. Nowadays, before you can switch channels on a television the divorce is through and the guy, having been instantlyfree again, is enjoying honeymoon with the second wife in Pattaya.What about instant fame? Have you forgotten Prince? He became instantly famous and rich by the sheer bad luck of falling in a 40 feet open hole; the exact opposite of golfing term, that is, one-in-hole.

Many of us, however, still miss the slow pace at which things used to move. There were no ATMs, no cell phones to instantly connect to people, ODIs and T 20s. There were no prizes for reading books fast or pressing the button in fastest finger first.

Oh, how we miss those slow moving days? “Dil dhoondta hai fursat ke chaar din...” (Heart searches for those leisurely days).

Alas, no more.

EVER THOUGHT WHY – PART I

Sometimes back, on Twitter, I started a new string called ‘Ever Thought Why’. The idea was to marvel at commonplace things and why do they happen the way you do. Here are some:

People who claim to be the most virtuous are often the worst?

Memories that you thought you had buried forever resurrect when you least expect them?

People who bring most happiness to you also hurt you the most?

Clouds make lovely shapes in the sky but these shapes vanish the moment you start to identify them?

It is easier to forgive others but very difficult to forgive yourself?

When buses and trains meet with accidents infants and small children often survive?

Life seems longer at times and shorter at others?

Thoughts that used to make you happy at one time, make you sad now?

You fume, fret and toil to get something but finally you get it without too much of effort?

A stashed away note, poem or story gives more joy on being re-found than when you originally read it?

Scorching sun lasts the whole day but that enchanting sunset over the sea gets over even before you start admiring it?

When you are closest to solving a problem it is exactly the time when the distractions are the most?

People have little time to listen to your problems; but, can talk for hours about their own?

The music of younger generation will always be annoying to the older generation?

Thirty years appear a long time when you look ahead but appear so short when you look back?

Butterflies are so beautiful but they never sit at the same place for any length of time?

When you have Time and Money you no longer have the Inclination?

Some days are longer than others that pass off so quickly?

Those we place on high pedestal often slip to the lowest levels?

Money is never enough!

We easily forget the things we want to remember but find hard to forget those we want to?

Most people prevaricate and come up with exalted theories when faced with the truth and facts?

Green grass rushes in more memories than the best plants and trees?

There is no higher feelig than Love but many a times it also makes you feel at your lowest?

The ‘Possibility’ of a thing occurs to us when we say “It’s not possible”?

When you finally come to the end you discover it is another beginning?

Life’s always talked about as behind us whereas it is what lies ahead; where one is going is more important than where one was.

It takes many things to make a person happy but it takes very little to make him sad?

Things never work unless we make them work?

It is easier to give advice than to follow it?

A towel should ever get dirty?

We resolve not to see another Bollywood movie or to see a Cricket match but we always do?

When one makes up one’s mind never to repeat a mistake one is not given another chance?

We call a person very interesting? Well, simply because he is a good listener?

People are bad when they cannot keep their word; but, when you break a promise it was unreasonable demand to start with?

Love too needs to be nurtured and cannot be left to itself to grow and become stronger?

Tears and rain have the same ingredient but the former is really more precious?

One can be totally alone amongst friends too; conversely, totally crowded by just one person around?

It requires courage to do things right away but cowardice to keep postponing it?

It always starts with a bang but ends with a whimper?

The words “next time” do not quite bring out the sincere intention but sound more as an excuse?

WHY HOPE?

There is the story of a doctor having told a patient that he had tried everything to save the patient and had finally come to the conclusion that nothing would work at that hopeless stage. “Is there anything that you would want to do before you die?” the doctor asked. Even though the patient was feeble and despondent, his response was prompt, “Yes, I would like to see another doctor.” Truly, life exists for us as long as hope exists. Robert Browning, the great poet of hope and optimism, in his poignant poem titled ‘Evelyn Hope’, had this to say at her death:

“So hush, I’ll give you this leaf to keep,
See, I put it in the cold white hand.
Now there is our secret that goes to sleep;
You will wake up and remember and understand!”

We may not be aware but a considerable part of our day is taken up with hopes. These are routine hopes. Small or big but they keep us going. Here are a few examples:

We hope that the number that we have dialed, especially if it is that of Railway or Airport Enquiry would not be engaged.
We hope that the milkman or the maidservant won’t be sick the next morning.
We hope that Indian and especially Mumbai roads would improve.
We hope that there won’t be a wedding party in the club next door so that children could study.
We hope that finally after finishing the work around the house when we step into the bathroom the water won’t play truant.
We hope that no one would ring the doorbell when we watch our favourite TV programme.
We hope that the boss in office won’t think of another new and bright idea.
We hope that when finally we get our turn, the doctor won’t be called for “something important”.
We hope that sanity would somehow return to Pakistan.
We hope that finally we would be able to repay the house loan so that we can start calling it ‘Apna Ghar’.
We hope that the next Hindi movie that we watch would have a different story.
We hope that one day the duration of TV programmes would be more than that of the advertisements.
We hope that our politicians, bureaucrats, and police personnel would understand the true meaning of the term ‘public servant’.
We hope that the noise during the forthcoming festival season would be restricted and public places such as roads would be free for the use for which they are made.

There is no end to it. We hope and hope and hope. Sometimes, some of our hopes come true directly or indirectly and make us happy. However, always it is worth hoping for. Our son, for example, is a die-hard Indian cricket team fan. They can be 143 for 6, requiring another two hundred runs to win but he still hopes that they would win. Once he was proved right, the night when even Kaif’s parents went to see ‘Devdas’ rather than be witness to sure ignominy. Since then, it is not he but we who hope. We hope that there won’t be another ODI during the exams!

Hope is like sunshine through the clouds. It is like raindrops on parched land. Hope is a lighthouse by which we steer our ship in troubled waters. However, hopes transcend the boundaries of mere wants and desires when we do so selflessly. Supposing all people on earth would hope that poverty, hunger and violence would be wiped out forever; do you think they would stay? Supposing some of us would hope to see the smile on the face of a child who lost his parents in bomb blasts, do you think it would never come back? How wonderful the world would be if each of us would hope for something for others at least once in a month!

The other day I was reading about Mata Amritanandamayyi. Why would everyone, from famous to rich, from poor to hungry, from strong to helpless come to see her or be hugged by her? She hopes for others and provides them with a ray of hope.

Yes, it is alright to hope for promotion, for a better house, for a gift or reward, for a holiday and more pay. It is even okay to hope for “zara si lift kara de.” However, once in a while one must hope something for others.

“Lead kindly light,
Keep thou my feet.
I don’t want to see
The distant scene;
One step enough for me.”

In a small village called Ayikuddy near Tirunelvelli, my wife and I went to see a polio rehabilitation centre called ‘Amar Seva Sangam’ and discovered the very embodiment of Hope. The President and all staff of the centre are invalid. The President, Mr Ramakrishnan, is so paralytic that he requires help to even turn in bed. His condition became so when he had an accident many years ago at the time when he was about to join the Navy as a commissioned officer. Yet when we saw him he had the most beatific smile on his face. He runs a centre that provides succour to other polio stricken children. In his hopeless situation he provides hope to hundreds of young boys and girls! After that whenever our own situation is unfavourable, our faces light up when we think of him.

Hope never dies. Next only to Life, it is the second greatest gift of God to us. Why hope? Hope, so as to live better and make others live better. Some four letter words are not bad at all!

MUMBAI RAINS

Now that the monsoons are here in Mumbai again, I keep thinking that there is no other season or weather that can fill one with as deep and different emotions as the rains. There is a little something in these for everyone.

Hindi movies have always used Saawan or rains for varied purposes. The most common is the longing that the village belle feels for her lover who has gone to pardes (out station) and has not returned even when the romantic season is here. Taste this: “Saawan ke jhule pade hain, tum chale aayo (Swings are out on the trees during rains; come to me, my love”; or “Saawan ke din aaye, beeti yaadein laye..(Rainy days arrived again; bringing with them lost memories”.

As far as titillation is concerned, there is nothing like rain to wet the saree of the heroine and give alluring glimpses of her sumptuous assets. The sensuousness of a Bollywood actress is often measured against the scale of her revealing herself whilst doing the rain dance. The heroine sings that her heart is going “dhak dhak” but actually that is the effect of the song and the dance on the audience.

Drops of rainwater falling over a pond and causing small ripples are an enchanting sight. And if one is to watch these whilst listening to the crickets and the plonk plonk of the drops, one would be filled with an overwhelming desire to be out walking in the drizzle. A boat in the lake in soft drizzle is another picturesque sight.

In a city like Mumbai or for that matter any Indian city facing perpetual water shortages, rains signify the abundance of this scarce commodity. Many people just walk in the rain to have a bath they had promised themselves long back. Many leave buckets and pans in the open to fill these up as never before.

Rainy season is a favourite for unplanned holidays or breaks from work. It is because Mumbai’s transportation system comes to a halt with anything but light rains. Schools and colleges are closed and offices are forced to let off their staff either early or for the days when it rains heavily. Walking on the roads is the most dangerous exercise one can indulge in. As you gingerly find your way on the flooded roads and you only manage to find your foot in the pothole you have luck on your side; you manage to return home with minor injuries. However, if your foot finds an open manhole (such manholes are often left open by the municipality to add to the adventure of being in Mumbai) you are instantly one with God.

Rains are also a good excuse for not doing anything or for postponing things. After you have chosen your furniture at the neighbourly shop and paid the advance and you await delivery, the rains break out. You are left high and dry, nay, low and wet. “Let the rains get over”, your friendly shopkeeper informs you, “and I will make sure your sofa set is delivered promptly”.

Rains in Mumbai also result in essential cleanliness of our squalid surroundings or at least some of the muck is hidden in the waters. The perpetual dust settles down. Since we have this compelling urge to litter, rains instantly carry our wrong-doings away from us. Since a large number of Mumbaiites are used to urinating, spitting and defecating in public places, rains promptly absolve us of the guilt of our irresponsible conduct. In this way we can continue to blame the authorities for not making our areas hygienic and mosquito free whilst assuring ourselves unrestricted use of the freedom we won so dearly.

All other seasons you face on your own but there is great togetherness in the rains. Don’t believe me? Well, try being the only person who carries an umbrella when it starts pouring and see how many people will engage you in close conversation under your umbrella. You suffer together waiting for the BEST (named so that you won’t call them WORST) buses to arrive, shifting from one end of the bus stop to the other as the rain changes direction with the breeze. A kind of kinship is cemented that you had never dreamt of. In one of the Mumbai ads, a man instantly marries his son off to a girl whose father was kind enough to provide him shelter in pouring rain.

And then there is family-togetherness. Rains are the best season for the lady of the house to be making and serving maalpuras, pakodas and other fried stuff whilst the rest of the family watches TV in knee deep water. No guests are expected during this weather and you can have all the goodies to yourself. Conversely, you can avoid going to grouchy friends by the handy excuse of rains, “ All of us were ready to come and be with you for the bhajan-kirtan (hymn singing) and then it started raining”.

Rains are thanked profusely by our local milkman; in other weathers he has to depend upon the unreliable municipal water to make his fifty litres into eighty, but, during rains he does not have to do much to increase his earnings. Many Mumbai families stash the raddi (old newspapers and magazines) during other seasons and sell these during the monsoons when they absorb moisture and their weight increases.

Rains are loved by the Mumbai media ever starved to break news. During other seasons there is nothing much to report. But, during rains the media can forever indulge in such populist topics as trashing authorities for being insensitive to people’s basic needs.

Our dog Roger loves the Mumbai rains. The duration of his walks increases and he just loves to wade through pools formed on the walkway. If he could write he would write to the Mayor thanking him for having such pools everywhere. The Mumbai media would hate him for doggedly taking on their watch-dog role.

With all this, there is nothing like Mumbai rains. If you have stood under the shelter of a tree with a paper cone holding singdana (roasted peanuts) or bhutta (corn roasted on coal), you are bound to break into song, “Ai dil hai mushkil jeena yahan; Yeh hai Bombay, yeh hai Bombay meri jaan (O’ my heart, it is so difficult to live here; it is Bombay, my love)”.

Category: Life is like that