The Chronicles of Madisaar Maami – Part 14

In the darkness of the night, not one of the passengers on the T.N. Express knew that a tragedy was waiting to happen. With the rocking of the train and the cool winter air from some of the open windows, conversations began dying as the night wore on. By midnight, everyone was asleep, locked in the privacy of their sweet dreams or nightmares. Maami lay down on the lower berth under which were cartons of wedding paraphernalia – suitcases of saris and silver, utensils and gifts for the groom. The gold for Nitya was in a cloth bag which she safely kept under her head as a pillow. Maami was a light sleeper anyway and now sleep eluded her as she felt responsible for the entire group.

And then it happened. A boom that rattled the train and made its occupants fall out of their berths. The power shut off and piercing screams were heard. Maami screamed out the names of her loved ones. But all she got in response was Ramya’s high-pitched scream combined with voices of panic from everywhere. Soon she could smell smoke. Something was burning and as she looked out of the window she could feel and smell the smoke but couldn’t see a thing. Her first instinct was to look out for her loved ones. As she stumbled along the corridor she screamed, “Nitya, Subha, Ramya, Appa (that’s what she called Maama), Jayati,” crying out in fear. As maami made her way, a hand clasped firmly in hers. It was Ramya’s but where were the rest who were at the far end of the coupe? Maami shuddered at the thought of Subha’s two little ones. She saw a light streaming in through what seemed a door but it was fire blazing away. She ran back to the other door screaming continuously clutching Ramya for dear life. Soon, strong pairs of hands pulled them away from the fire and they were flung outside the compartment, bruised, breathless, gasping for breath and still screaming with worry.

Around them were charred bodies and from a distance she could see that more than half the train was burning. Beside her the firebrand Ramya was unconscious. There was no way to ascertain what had happened to the rest of the Nagpur group from the dim torchlights people possibly from some nearby villages were flashing inside compartments. Maami closed her eyes and called out to all her Gods, especially her favourite Ganesha. “Please keep my family safe,”she pleaded to the image in front of her eyes And then she could not feel a thing.

And when she woke up, she was in a ramshackle, run-down building with an IV running through her veins. She was on a makeshift bed on the floor and next to her was Ramya who appeared to be in deep sleep. And looking at her and saying, ‘Muruga, Muruga’ was Maama. “Where are the rest?” she shouted. Maama replied, “They are all outside, shocked but unhurt but Nitya…” he stopped and stood still.

“What happened to Nitya. Is she alright? Tell me she is okay. It’s her wedding in two days.”

“She is alive. Thank God. Though we have lost everything, she is alive and that’s what matters, said Maama leaving Maami wondering what other tragedy was waiting to unfold.

The Chronicles of Madisaar Maami – Part 13

Before the well-laid plans were put into action, there were certain domestic matters to contend with. Maama, after being taught a few home truths along with the other men of the chawl had been chastised enough to lift his lazy finger for Nitya’s marriage preparations. It was amusing for maami to see maama poring over ‘to-do’ lists and running to the market at a mere request. Even Ramya forgot her morcha-organising buddies for the time being and whole-heartedly supported maami with the shopping and other nitty-gritties. For a wedding, and that too miles away in Madras was a huge affair. So much to pack, cartons and cartons of stuff that they had to take with them on the train.

Of course, cricket was high on the list of priorities too, not only for him but for everyone in the chawl. Sivakumar, much to everyone’s disappointment had been dropped for the first test, but had risen to the occasion in the second, where he took five catches and scored an enterprising 74. But it was in the one-dayers that he came into his own, causing his childhood idol Krishnamachari Srikkanth to comment, “This young boy has a bright future!” Six words on TV that had Siva and the entire chawl entourage to literally bloat in pride. In between all the wedding preparations, maami and her family had to endure many reporters at the door and by the end of three weeks, had gotten quite experienced at it. But what endeared maami to the journos were her forthright comments, “I never thought this ‘kiricut’ was a great idea. But I’m also glad my son is successful. Maybe in my heart of hearts, I wish he would also complete his graduation!”

And so the day of leaving for Chennai finally dawned. Maama, maami, the Krishnamurthis, Ramya, Nitya, Kanakavali, Archana, Joyda and Jayatidi boarded the TN Express on a cold January day. Sivakumar would directly fly from London to Chennai; enviably he was also the first in the family to set foot on a plane and also travel abroad. VSRVV promised Nitya that he would land a day before the wedding. Despite the tension of the upcoming event, everyone was happy as they boarded the second-class compartment and looked forward to a long train journey replete with card games, impromptu antakshari sessions with co-passengers, the neat packets of iddlis, tamarind rice, chappatis with tomato curry and curd rice and the watery coffee served from the pantry car.

After the customary change of clothes and footwear in the train, the small Nagpur group settled down and proceeded to talk loudly about the wedding. Maami dropped her usual cautious self and also joined in the conversation, proud that she was soon to pull off a wedding that her extended family from all parts of India would surely talk of, for days to come. Siva’s cricket earnings had ensured that Nitya would have a decent wedding without maama and maami not worrying over what they would do for Ramya.

But sometimes, things don’t go according to plan. And what happened on the night of January 22 on the TN Express was not what anyone had even remotely dreamt of. Something that had maami wailing, “Why me, why us?”

 

Of Satyamev Jayate and the change we wish to see… if we want to

The first episode of Satyamev Jayate had me in tears. But then, I cry easily and at the drop of a hat. Yes, I’m very emotional. So I waited until I saw three episodes before I wrote this post. The second episode also tugged at the heart-strings while the third showed a lot of positive changes. They struck a chord not because they affected me personally in any way but they made me think as a woman (female foeticide and dowry) and as a mother (child abuse). I’ve always been fortunate enough to make the choices I’ve made and live the life I want and being a woman has never come in the way. And yes, I’m brave enough to stand up for my rights!

There were many reactions, some knee-jerk and others, as contrived as the accusation that ‘Aamir was performing on screen’ one! Well, the show’s format is simple and strikes where it has to. We know it’s happening around us and we don’t want to acknowledge it but we don’t realise that not acknowledging will not make things go away. Life’s not simple as that! Well, if Aamir, the celebrity cried on screen and made us cry along, he also made us stand up and think. Satyamev Jayate also portrays reality in both its macabre and as well as its heartening forms. Whether it will see the stirring of a national consciousness, only time will tell. But the message is clear – if we work together and towards a problem, things will happen and we can certainly be the change we wish to see in this world.

It’s so easy for me to wax eloquent or for you to criticise. And it’s so easy to also shrug it off and say ‘to each his own’! But it’s definitely heartening to see so many people making a difference in their own little ways. My friend posted a link on Facebook of two Tehelka journalists who are terribly sick and in hospital after they ventured into Abujmarh, a Maoist territory, walking 40 km on foot into remote and hostile terrain. Someone wondered whether there is a difference between bravery and foolhardiness.  Both these journalists are in their 20s. Well, if you are sensible enough, you can come to your own sensible conclusion.

A colleague recently told me about her friend who volunteers with Slum Soccer in India, an organisation that uses football as a tool for social improvement and empowerment. And why does he do that? Because that’s what he wants to do, it’s his choice to see a change.

My friend’s father who is 75 years old visits the municipal hospital close to his home in India almost every day just to talk to the patients there. He listens to their problems and is a soothing and calming presence in their lives. Why does he do that? Because for him, it signifies seva or selfless service.

I’m so proud to know so many people, friends, colleagues both former and current who selflessly work for a positive change, however small it may be. And yes, without making even a whimper about it. Yes, even stopping to offer a lift to a labourer in the burning 50 degree heat constitutes a ‘change’. In attitudes, perceptions and empathy.

And those who don’t want to do anything or do not have the inclination and claim that they do not have the time, well, the choice is again yours. But do not deride those who are doing good, pick faults or pass judgement. You never know when you will be at the ‘receiving end’ of their goodness. Yes, life’s also strange, that way!

After watching Satyamev Jayate, my first impulse was to write to Aamir that I ‘wanted to be a part of his show’! But I didn’t, of course! I am doing whatever I can (that I definitely will not talk about!) in my own way and only keep wishing I could do more!

I have grandiose plans of retiring at 40 to do something I’ve always wanted to do. I don’t know whether I’ll be able to accomplish it or not, but you can be sure it’s going to be the emotional kind!

All we need is love…

It was not going to be an easy conversation. And there were no specific questions I wanted to ask. I just ask her to go ahead and say whatever she felt and only if she was comfortable doing it. And in just a few minutes, I’m praying hard… willing the tears that are threatening to stream down my face to stop. Thankfully, the glasses help… never mind if my vision is clouded because of the lurking tears.

She breaks down somewhere in the middle… and all I want is to reach out and hug her. But she’s not looking for any sympathy… I can see that. The strength is very much there… it’s an emotional moment for it’s not easy telling a stranger about your life with your ‘precious’ child.

I understand. I am a mother myself, but one who until recently, considered spending 30 hours in labour to be the greatest suffering of them all. Till I attended a session of the Special Children’s Group of SAI Group Oman last year and interacted with mothers of children suffering from autistic spectrum disorders for a story I was doing for my magazine. I spent around two hours talking to mothers, the occupational therapists and seeing first-hand the selfless work of the volunteers which translated into complete devotion to the kids.

I left a part of me there… with the SCG family. Over the year, I went about my work till there came an opportunity to work with the family again for a seminar on autism. My effort was miniscule but my learning was huge. I wanted to do something more. But somewhere within, something was stopping me. It was my own selfishness that believed that I would be hurt. But after a conversation with my dear brother, I decided to attend a session. As always, I was welcomed with open arms.

After four interactions with SCG, what do I feel? They gave me their hearts so that I could broaden my mind!  Initially, there were feelings of helplessness… and immense sadness. Mostly, it was the crying that was sometimes difficult to bear. But when little N comes and shakes hands and touches my cheeks each time, it’s much more than what 18 years of writing has given me that I thought gave me the greatest joy. When little big boy J holds my hands and claps them together with a huge smile on his face, I thank God for the innocence still left in this world. I thank Him for the unconditional love that only these children can give. For this is what makes them ‘precious’ and not just ‘special’.

I know I’m not a patch on all those wonderful people who are part of the group. I know my work constraints will mean that I cannot be a regular, but I do intend to keep going there whenever I can.

Because it’s the kind of love that makes me feel truly special…

(It’s World Autism Awareness Day on April 2. The Special Children’s Group functioning under the SAI Group Oman comprises a group of experts, therapists, counsellors and volunteers who aim at providing motivational support to parents and involve children in various activities to develop their basic skills.)

 

The Chronicles of Madisaar Maami – Part 12

What will the men say?

As expected, there were some extreme reactions from the menfolk. Some sniggered at the idea, while others stared at their wives angrily (and willed that the stares would make them scurry home and get the dinner onto the table!) and Baburao, Malati’s husband was so incensed that he said, “What a stupid idea! As if any of this is going to work. What are you trying to do? Establish superiority over men! Snacks and chutneys indeed!”

None of the anger was openly directed at maami, her authority in the chawl, was not questioned, yet! For after all, it was she who was with everyone in times of both joy and distress. Wasn’t it just last week, that she carried Sobiya’s little Soham in her arms and ran all the way to Dr. Banait’s house in the middle  of the night as the boy had a raging fever of 103? Wasn’t it she who thrust Rs. 5,000 into Nisha’s hands when she had to leave for Raipur immediately because her mother met with an accident?

Maami waited for the general murmur of dissent to quieten before she put forth her points. Ramya, the activist-in-the-making, tried to match Baburao by beginning with, “How can you?” till a piercing glare from maami not only choked her vocal chords but also sent a shiver down her spine. She also trembled at what was to come later, as she knew her mother did not tolerate any sign of disrespect!

“What’s your problem, bhau? asked maami, gently. “Are you scared that Malatitai will ignore her household duties and not pay attention to the children. Or are you worried that she will start acting snooty?”

Baburao stared at the ground not daring to answer maami. “I wish all of you could understand a few things. Though we don’t go to offices, we women work as much as you do. We manage small budgets, do the shopping, look after the children and run every aspect of the household. Aren’t we also entitled to do something that would give us satisfaction in the long run along with a little extra money? We are all ambitious for our children, that they should go to good colleges and have a good life, maybe even some day move out of the chawl and into the flats at nearby Dhantoli, with two bathrooms, a huge balcony and a swing in the drawing room? We have our dreams too,” she continued.

“Also, by teaching the slum children, we are not only giving something back to society. We will gain a lot in return, the feeling of contributing to bettering the lives of children and giving them an education that will change their lives to some extent.”

Surprisingly, Joy was the first to speak up. “Maami, tell me what I can do? “

“It’s not the question of you doing something alone, Joyda,” said maami. “I’d like all the men to support us in our endeavour. You don’t have to sit with us and make the chutneys, get orders or deliver them. You can help us in little ways, by shouldering a part of the household chores, going to the market, helping the children in their studies or at the least, by learning to make your own chai,” and with this, maami burst into  laughter.

The little joke eased the atmosphere and Jayati piped in, “Now, Joy will learn to make chai for his friends!” and the ripple of laughter spread, creating an ocean of camaraderie among the group.

Maami smiled! It would take some time to break the gender stereotypes and for the men to get used to the change. But she knew, it would happen… Every new beginning does not come easy. She looked at the sky…. and the twinkling stars…

Yes, limits existed only in the mind.

Bhau – Marathi for brother

Tai – Marathi for sister

The Chronicles of Madisaar Maami – Part 11

Parts 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2 and 1 here

Maami has an idea – 2

And so they came, Jayati, Archana, Susila, Shanti, Kanakavalli, Malati, Sobiya, Nisha and Rakhee (the last two were Rohit and Reena’s mothers)… dinner cooked, dirty dishes in the sink and preparations for the next day pushed aside for an hour. Dinner with their families would have to wait… for maami’s idea beckoned… creating a tiny flutter in their hearts and perhaps, a sense of impending freedom. For after all, wasn’t she the wisest person in the chawl?

The men were amused and sought to linger close to the group but were shooed away by some stern remarks from maami. The day-night match between India and the West Indies seemed more exciting and so the menfolk retreated… after all, what would a bunch of gossiping women be up to? Ramya and Nitya sat on the steps… wondering what their mother had up her sleeve.

“I heard that argument between you and Joyda,” began maami, addressing Jayati. “And I understand that you are frustrated because you are educated but are not allowed to work. I have a solution not only for you but for every woman sitting here.”

“What is it, maami, I’m so excited… are we planning something against the men?” asked Nisha.

“Then, please involve me as well… I have a game plan… why should women always suffer,” started Ramya and maami immediately cut her short with a, “Nobody wants an activist here…. Ramya, this is not another of your demonstrations!” Ramya scowled but did not say anything in reply… no amount of slogan-shouting at morchas would prepare her for a confrontation with her mother. So she decided to keep quiet, at least for a few minutes.

“The other day, one of maama’s friends came home and I gave him some home-made murukku that I made by hand. He liked it so much that he suggested I make and sell them to the stores in the Sitabuldi market where there is a huge demand for snacks. I did not take his suggestion seriously. But now when I saw Jayati’s frustration, an idea came into my mind. Why not pool all our talents together and start a small home-based enterprise? We could make different types of snacks, pickles, chutneys and powders and sell them to the shops under our own label.”

“How can we do all that? Where do we have the time for it?” blurted out Susila.

“We have 24 hours in a day. Are we busy all this time? What do you do after the children go to school at 7am? Finish your chores and gossip… why not utilise that time to do something productive and supplement the family income?” asked maami, a bit indignant at Susila’s tone.

“Archana makes delicious pickles and chutneys, Kanakavalli and I can make the South Indian snacks, Nisha and Rakhee are famous for their sweets and cakes, Shanti’s makes masala powders for different types of cuisine while Sobiya is so good with her crochet work and make beautiful bags and purses.”

“And what will I do?” asked Jayati, her eyes brimming with tears. After all, it was her ‘fight’ that led to maami’s outpouring of ideas.

“Arre, Jayati, you will be our team leader. When will your M.Com honours come into use? You will manage the administrative and financial part of it. You will help in applying for the licence… and other stuff.”

Jayati was thrilled. But she had a practical mind and so plenty of questions came up. “So will we go selling door to door? Who will take the orders? Who will deliver them? What about the initial capital?”

“Yes, yes, all these are very relevant questions. No, we will not sell door to door. We will spend the initial few weeks going to shop to shop with our samples and taking small orders. We will send samples through our husbands to their offices. We will participate in small exhibitions. For taking orders and delivering stuff, we will ask the pool of auto drivers at Rani Jhansi square. We’ve known them for decades now. We can work out a financial arrangement with them. We can utilise the empty garage in front of the chawl for this purpose. As for the initial capital, I suggest we pool in two thousand rupees each. Maybe, we can look at a loan later under the Cottage Industries scheme.”

Since it was maami at the helm of affairs, the consensus came quick. Every woman had her personal stash of money saved from household expenses kept as a buffer. This could be utilised for their own empowerment. It was agreed that the work would be done when the children would be away at school and they nodded in agreement, when maami said, “Time management is very important!”

The women became animated and voiced their thoughts aloud. But maami shushed them again, “Wait, there’s more!”

“What else, maami, is there more we can do?” asked Archana, wondering about other ways to supplement her income beyond charged telephone calls and a women’s enterprise.

“Yes, we can do more. And this time, we will not be taking anything back. Jayati, I was thinking of starting classes for children in the nearby slum, maybe four times a week. You, Archana and Rakhee are the most educated of the lot. I can also accompany you for help. Giving back to society is also important.”

The women agreed and thus the process of receiving and giving… began in a tiny little chawl in the bustling city of Nagpur.

But wait, where did the men of the chawl figure in all this? What would their reactions be? Maami was ready for all the questions, bickering and sarcasm…

The Chronicles of Madisaar Maami – Part 10

Read Parts 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2 and 1 here

Maami has an idea… 

Between Siva’s travel to England and Nitya’s marriage preparations, maami was exhausted.

Maama did not even deign to lift his finger to help out with the huge responsibilities. He claimed he was tired of maami’s nagging and so spent most of his time at Joyda’s, merrily chatting away, watching the India-West Indies series on their colour television or playing cards with the other men of the chawl.

When confronted, maama would just say, “I am totally dependent on you, Saroja. You take care of everything but don’t ask me to either help you out with the household work or anything else. I do enough work at the office!”

Subha was very busy with her own household, sewing lessons and the little ones. Ramya was forever running from one morcha to another and now silently harboured dreams of being on TV (while maami fumed that one lathi on her head and her youngest daughter would see sense!)  When she was not humming Dil Toh Paagal Hai (from the latest Hindi blockbuster), Nitya did everything with an ear towards VSRVV’s house, waiting for the telephone to ring… Gopal diligently called twice a day, one before 7am and the other after 9pm (off-peak rates). Archana silently seethed within, but her love for maami prevented her from saying anything. It was just a matter of another month, and then the phone calls would stop. So maami had no one to depend on but herself.

There was tons of stuff to do… silver to be polished, the ritualistic trip to Madras to buy the Kanjeevaram saris and other marriage paraphernalia not to forget, the customary visit to the family deity at Tirunelveli. And the worst part… maama did not want to budge from Nagpur. Maami was at her wits end with maama’s non-participation in the whole affair.

It all started with an argument between Joy and Jayati. Tired of making endless cups of tea for the card-playing men of the chawl, Jayati screamed at her husband one day, “What do you think I am? Your servant? Fifteen cups of tea in a day. And on top of that poha and singharas when there are cricket matches. And all those household chores and shopping for groceries, looking after the children’s studies. Okay, I like the fact that we have a colour TV, but when have you ever let me watch Yeh Jo Hai Zindagi or Nukkad in peace? I am M.Com Honours… and I deserve a life better than this… and she broke down bitterly.”

Joy responded angrily and soon, it became a full-fledged slanging match. Maami and maama went running (it was after a chawl, your business was everybody’s business!) and tried to placate them. And that’s when Jayati said, “Maami, tell me, it’s the women of this chawl who slog day after day. Do the men actually do anything? It’s not as if you and I cannot do anything…”

“Calm down, Jayati,” said maami, a small smile playing on her lips. “Let all the women of the chawl meet on the charpoys outside my home at 8pm. I have an idea!”

The Chronicles of Madisaar Maami – Part 9

Read Part 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2 and 1 here

Cricket fever

VSRVV’s house was the only one in the chawl to have a telephone by virtue of his father being a Superintendent in the Railways. It was a jet black one … where you put your finger into each number slot and made a small, half or three-quarters round depending on the number you wanted to dial. On the phone was a small sticker, ‘Rs. 1 for local call’ that Archana applied to everyone in the chawl except maami (after all, she’s my next-door neighbour… I must make some allowances for her!) But this time, it was an incoming call, one that made Siva ecstatic. It was his school cricket coach at the other end, Deshpande Sir telling him that he had been selected to the Vidarbha Ranji team. At the age of 16, it was a mean feat indeed!

Siva did not have to run home to relay the news, he just jumped from the doorstep of VSRVV’s house to his and shouted out loud, ‘Amma, amma, you won’t believe this!’. Maami, who was busy with grinding batter for the next morning’s breakfast countered with, “Who died that you have to shout so much. Siva, Siva!?” Maama, Nitya and Ramya were overjoyed but maami was a bit sceptical, “So what will happen to your studies?” “Amma, do you know what this means? If I play well in Ranji, I might make it to the Indian team! Like Sachin Tendulkar! And you are worrying about my studies!” he countered, his voice rising a few decibels higher.

Maami was incensed… No one raised their voice at her, least of all, her children! “Listen Siva, all this kiricut business is not going to last long. Having a basic education is important. Promise me that you will write your exams and then you can do whatever you want!” Siva reluctantly agreed to go to Jayatidi for classes (she was after all, M.Com Honours) whenever possible and complete his 12^th and also his graduation.

The entire chawl erupted into celebration at Siva’s achievement and the next day, sat on the charpoys in the winter sun relishing a delicious South Indian brunch they wriggled out of a reluctant maami as a treat. Subha, Krishnamurthy and the little ones also joined the happy party. Thankfully, maami had ground enough batter… that transformed into fluffy iddlis complimented by chutney and sambhar along with pongal, vadas and steaming hot cups of filter coffee (Maami had tearfully opened a packet of coffee powder she had got from Palakkad (70 pc pure coffee; 30 pc chicory). Never mind… she thought, there was that imminent visit to Madras where she could stock up on more coffee powder.

Siva’s cricket career began with a bang… the first match against Railways saw him score a century in both innings and take five catches as wicket-keeper. The entire chawl was at the VCA stadium to cheer on Siva (except maami who sat at home, praying or at times visiting the Shirdi Sai Mandir), during weekend matches while maama decided to relinquish office even on weekdays. Thanks to Siva’s brilliant performances, Vidarbha went on to reach the Ranji finals for the first time, but lost to Mumbai.  But a star was born. Both local and national newspapers told his story, with one even dramatizing it with a headline like ‘From a Nagpur chawl to the Lord’s’ (sic). And Deshpande Sir was only too sure that his protégé would soon be noticed by the all-important selectors for the Indian tour to England.

Things certainly were looking up in the maami household. The tide had turned… but was maami happy with the way things were going?

(This post is for my dear cousin, Kartik (Sadashiv Kartik Iyer) who played Ranji for Vidarbha in the 90s. He also holds two first-class wicket keeping records. http://www.espncricinfo.com/india/content/player/29549.html

Of love, oneness and the divinity within…

Sometimes, you learn life’s lessons from the most unexpected quarters. It all began with a discussion on the difference between religion and spirituality with a very young colleague. The very next day, I put up this quote by Baba on Facebook, “”Love your religion, so that you may practise it with greater faith. And when each one practises his religion with faith, there can be no hatred in the world, for all religions are built on universal love.” I followed it up with a small note on the same topic in response to my childhood buddy Ritu Goyal’s Joy of Giving series Week 18 card, ‘Visit a place of worship other than your own’. I had ended the short note thus: “God lives in the temple, church, mosque, gurudwara of my heart. I only have to look deep within to recognise my own divinity.”

Last evening, the continuum of thoughts on the subject rose to a totally different level. An acquaintance of the husband had come to drop someone at the building. We invited him upstairs for a cup of tea. Said gentleman is from the Hindi heartland and someone whom I know but have not interacted with much. He took the first sip of tea and said, “Madam, ghar ki yaad aa gayi.” He was living away from his family and working really hard. But he had a pleasant disposition and always had a smile on his face. When we insisted that he have some snacks as well, he said something that surprised me, “Madam, aapne dharam nahin dekha…” (Madam, you have made no distinction because of my religion!) The gentleman is a Muslim and why would that matter to me, I gently pointed out.

And thus began one of the most intense discussions on life and the part we play in it. Drawing from stories of the Ramayana, couplets of Kabirdas, Tulsidas and his own guru, the conversation only reiterated what I’d known, understood and practised all along – it does not matter where you come from, what you are, what caste or creed you belong to… what matters is the heart… and if it is full of love for others… the other differences simply dissolve into nothingness.

I loved this couplet he quoted:

“Man ke andar, unka mandir; jiske andar, baithe Shankar; kyon puju main pathar kankad; main khud hi pujari aur khud hi Shankar!”

(In the temple of my mind resides God, so why should I go in search of Him… when I am the follower and I am God!”

So beautifully illustrates the fact that God is in each one of us and still we go in search of Him without recognising our own divinity. He continued in the same vein, “Jiske paas dhan daulat hain, woh bhagyawan nahin hai… jinke paas bhagwan rehte hain, wahi bhagyawan hain.” (Those who have fame and wealth are not the blessed or lucky ones. Those who have God with them are.) See the connection! Bhagawan = Bhagyavan!

There was so much more… on why karma (good action in this case) is important for you to practise the right dharam (religion) as ultimately what every religion teaches you is the same. Love one another and see God in everything you do.

The half-hour conversation hit home in many ways. And made me wish that there were more people in this world like him – open-minded, full of love and without any prejudices. The world would then be such a better place to live in!

While saying goodbye, he told us another thing: “The body is mostly made up of water. Infuse love into it and it becomes sweet! God is indeed sweet!”

I agree… and agree wholeheartedly!

 

A ‘break’ down…

Yes, folks, I’m  back! The only drumroll I’m expecting is from Amrit who is busy making up plots for the maami series. As my dear colleagues would like to remind me,  yes, I agree I left maami and Sivakumar in the lurch. Promise, promise! They will be back with the all the twists and turns… do give me a week or so to get back to my old blogging ways. In the interim, thanks to all those who wrote in, I appreciate the concern and the interest. As for my friends, thanks for bearing with me, every time, all the time!

What did I do in the meanwhile? I stressed myself out launching the revamped edition of the magazine in 15 days and you get the general drift, right? And yes, I also went to Switzerland last week… a perk from the job I love.  Here’s a short 72 hour recap (yup! I spent only three days there!)

# Nine hours on a Swiss International Airlines flight and my body, feet and I lived to tell the tale… Totally digged the ‘bed’ option in Business Class. Slept for the first time on a flight in 14 years!

# Reached Zurich at 7am bright and chirpy and ready to hit the city’s hotspots with ‘niece-friend’ Soumya. Yes, I had to constantly remind her, ‘Aunty mat kaho na’. Since she insists on calling me just that, despite repeated requests, she becomes by default, another favourite niece!

# We kept on saying ‘iPhone and Google Maps Zindabad’ as we navigated Zurich on the trains and trams.  Technology is amazing but a transportation system that runs like clockwork is awesome!

# There were no friendly-tourist types to click photos of us together. An unsuspecting Japanese tourist walked along, and before we could say, ‘please’, she came up with, ‘Can you please click my picture?’ And we laughed… and shot, in various angles!

# The freezing weather ensured that  it took me 45 minutes to dress up… three layers of warm clothing, a long coat, muffler, cap and gloves… plus layers of fat that I’m naturally blessed with… and still I went brrr…. brrr… all the time, and that, was before the snow happened.

# The event for which I was invited went off very well. There were 21 journalists from 14 countries. And it was fun to unravel different accents and practise my, ‘I am Indian but work in Oman’ dialogue all the time! And where is Oman? Yes, yes, a small country next to Dubai. Everyone knows Dubai!! The highlight? An American journalist from New York telling me, “I wish I could speak as slowly as you!” LOL!

# My vegetarianism preceded me everywhere I went.  All restaurants were informed beforehand that I ate no fish, meat… not even eggs (collective disbelief writ on all faces!).

# The Lenkerhof Alpine Resort, tucked away in Lenk-Simmental in the Alps, three hours from Zurich was a paradise far away from the madding crowd. Here, I saw snow for the first time ever.  And if I’d let them, the entire group would have given me a standing ovation when I scooped the snow into my hands… I was the only one who had not seen snow…

# At dinner at said resort, we divided ourselves into two large groups. I was the only woman in one group while the other which had the maximum made the most noise. Which led one person to remark, ‘That noise comes from a combination of women and wine. While here we have one quiet woman who does not drink!’ Sexist comment? I’d not like to think so… but I certainly gained a reputation during this trip!

# A Turkish TV crew of two missed the last cable car and had an adventurous ride from the topmost mountain slope on a sledge.  They had to recount the story to everyone at the hotel which I guess was far more taxing than the ride.

And that dear friends, is how I spent the last month not blogging! It’s time to get back… Maami’s waiting in Nagpur desperate to know what her youngest is upto!