After a busy weekend

It has been a very busy weekend. And today as I sit in front of my PC to post my thoughts, I would have expected them to just flow. But I am surprised at my own self. There are a lot of things that are on my mind right now and I would think I should be able to write about anyone of them. But when I tried putting them to words, I just drew a blank…

One thing that is weighing me down heavily is my elder ones’ absence. The entire family attended a wedding over the weekend…kids and all in tow. And we went in absolute luxury.Yash style! By which I mean a comfortable station wagon complete with two full blowing air-conditions. The venue was also a fancy banquet hall in a plush hotel in one of Vashi’s most happening sectors. The food too, was the kind he enjoys. None of us felt any stress or the kind of tiredness one feels after having traveled a distance of about 60 kms to and fro. And that too, on two consecutive days. In short, nothing to complain about.
But all said and done, had my Yash been there, he still would have found some thing to whine about. And that is what we missed the most. Yash’s whining…Which is what this post could be about….

We all unanimously missed Yash yesterday though each one had a different reason for it. Like my mom. She said she misses meeting his daily demands of fancy food. She misses making his favorite nimbupani. She misses his company, in general. Dolly, Yash’s masi, missed his mature talks and also, that he manages her little one the best. Bua, my elderly aunt and his friend missed their gossip sessions. Anushka and Aks, his siblings, may not understand but I am sure they missed his absolute attention and his constant, “don’t go there, don’t do this, just sit in one place” nagging. Sanjay and bhaisaab are not vocal about it but it is so obvious that they do miss his presence. It is the most visible in Sanjay’s eyes. And me…. I miss a lot about Yash. His constant bickering about something or the other; his tantrums on not being allowed access to the PC when he demands; his anguish when any new purchase is made which boils down to us not getting him a Play station; his distaste for home-cooked food and his love for pizzas and burgers; his resistance to everything in the first instance and then, compliance to the same. I miss all that about Yash that irritates me.

But what I also miss about my first born is his presence in the home. That he is just there, doing his own thing, pretty much keeping to himself. I miss having him around.

And though all of us have our reasons of missing Yash, the one thing we all agreed on was that, of all that we miss about him, we miss his bickering the most. That is what Yash is known to do the best. He just complains or whines or is just not happy or satisfied under the best of situations. It’s just his second nature.

My point here is that there is certain distinctness about each individual that we miss. It is that some uniqueness about each person. In Yash’s case, his “kudkud” that we are so used to.

And we all unanimously missed that kudkud………..

You don't have to be born from the same womb to be siblings

You know, you don’t have to be born from the same womb to be siblings.
Let me elaborate……

Yesterday I spent a very fulfilling day after quite a long time. And I owe it to ATUL.
From the moment he stepped into my little one’s classroom to catch up on his yearly progress, to treating me to delicious sea food and hearing me as I poured my hurting self out ; then keeping his patience as I window-shopped needlessly right up to packing me off home safely in the evening. And I will never forget that reassuring hug he gave me just before I stepped into the auto.

I have known Atul for almost a decade now. But my very distinct memory of him is about seven years back. My dad was hospitalized and I so much wanted to be by his side but was not being able to as obviously I could not have my little boy at the hospital for a considerable amount of time. I was left with no choice but to take my boy who had accompanied me to meet his grandpa, back home. Also, there was no way I would be able to visit papa the next day or the next as there wasn’t anybody to take care of my son. All the elders present too, suggested that I should just be in touch over the phone. This was tearing me apart but there was no alternative. And just as a duty bound mother was gaining an edge over a heart broken daughter, this lanky, shy guy who was a teenager himself, walked up to me and told me not to worry about my boy and that I should spend all my time with my dad. He put his arm around me and gave me a slight but a very reassuring hug and told me he would take care of my son. Something in this guy’s eyes told me to trust him unquestionably.

That was then and to date, Atul has always come thru’ for me and for my sons who adore him beyond words. He has always been there for me. He was there rock solid when the world collapsed for me n my kid-brother when we lost our dad. At that terrible time Atul,a kid himself then, was there for my kid-bro and for that I will always be indebted to him for the way he brought Sunny around. Of-course, it would be grossly unjust not to mention Neha at this point who was and is the pillar of this threesome. But this post is about Atul, so Neha; you will have to excuse me.
He was there holding me when my kid-brother grew out of his nest and left for the States to pursue certain dreams and fulfill some promises. I remember Atul’s arm around me as I sobbed away uncontrollably after bidding Sunny a brave good-bye. If anyone that day understood that it was a piece of me that was going away from me than it was Atul.

I do miss Sunny. I miss him a lot and god knows what I’d not give to have him here with me. But then, I’d also be lying if I didn’t come forth and say that Atul makes up almost completely for his absence. His reassuring hugs are always there, but they now also have another feel to it. That of a protector. Atul is always there. When I need him; and even when I don't :) My boys too,don’t miss their mama; they have him here, in Atul.

Sunny and I are siblings. By birth. We share the same parentage.
I don’t share any of that with Atul. That's why I said….
You don’t have to be born from the same womb to be siblings.

And i m still waiting....

I m still awaiting precious comments , inputs , suggestions , advises....in general just about everything in the said category, from certain dear ones whom i hold in very high esteem. I guess i will dedicate a post to them one of these days and then hope to ,or should i say, force them to come around.

I know these are a very busy lot. And i appreciate anyone who is busy. But then ,appreciation is not limited to just those who are busy . A whole lot of other things are also appreciable. Correct me if i m wrong, my dear ones!

Hmmmmm.... but it is a good idea... a post dedicated to the most happening people in my life.... that should make some interesting material. To write and to read........

Autos and Problems....Problems and Autos

My joy knew no bounds today when the very first auto that I happened to flag down agreed to oblige me by taking me to my destination. I say oblige as that is what these beings who ply our taxis n autos do when they agree to take us to where we would want to go. Very often it is I who has asked them where they are headed for, and if they r passing the same way as mine, then would they please be so generous enough so as to accept me as a passenger and drop me to my destination. For which I have at times even offered to pay them a few extra bucks. And u know what? I do get lucky sometimes and the guy does oblige!
Ok. Enough of being cynical, and coming back to today’s episode, at a gas station I noticed a huge queue of autos. Being of the curious kind, I asked the auto-driver what the line was about. You know, one never knows when these guys may take it upon themselves to go on a rampage that in their lingo is known as a “strike”. But my friend here enlightened me that it was a queue to get the CNG tanks refueled. Generally I wouldn’t have given it a thought. U own a vehicle, u need to fuel it up. Simple. More so if that is your bread n butter. But, I being in good spirits today, I chatted up this guy and came back a little more enlightened.

This guy, my friend the auto-driver told me that this was the case not just at this one gas station but almost at all the major ones too. I agreed. I had seen these serpentine queues myself that at times stretched beyond a kilometer or two. He said that it took as much as 4-5 hours to reach your turn. And no one was doing a thing to change the situation. They made us shift our units into CNG ones and now refueling is a big headache. ”Shaam main dhande ke time pe paisa kamaneka ke line main khada rehne ka?” he asked me. Or should we spend the night here after a tiring day, awaiting our turns? He pointed out that since most of the autos were in queues everywhere, there were just a few plying the roads. And to top it, we have to face the abuses of the passengers we refuse to ply to far-off places or to areas we know r choc-a-bloc with traffic. “bolo, hum insaan nahi? Kya humko problems nahi? Kya sirf office main kaam karke aanewala hi thak jata hai? Ye auto chalake dekhneka kabhi. Peeth ka waat lag jata hai. Lekin aadmi pet ke liye karta hai sab.”

My destination arrived. I paid the guy his dues and came back thinking about these guys whom we so often take for granted. Whom without so much as a thought to their refusal, we chide them and curse them even. We, who quite often take their 'no' , personally, why do we forget that they have limitations too! And problems also.

Yeah, I know most of them r an unscrupulous lot but a few still have their hearts in the right place.Atleast that is what I’d like to believe. And the next time some auto-driver refuses to take me to where I want him to, I’d try and understand.

The Sands Of Dee

The Sands of Dee
by
Charles Kingsley

"O Mary, go and call the cattle home,

And call the cattle home,

And call the cattle home

Across the sands of Dee";

The western wind was wild and dank with foam,

And all alone went she.

The western tide crept up along the sand,

And o'er and o'er the sand,

And round and round the sand,

As far as eye could see.

The rolling mist came down and hid the land:

And never home came she.

"Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair--

A tress of golden hair,

A drowned maiden's hair

Above the nets at sea?

Was never salmon yet that shone so fair

Among the stakes on Dee."

They rowed her in across the rolling foam,

The cruel crawling foam,

The cruel hungry foam,

To her grave beside the sea:

But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home

Across the sands of Dee.

I remember the first time i read this poem. I was in the 8th std. and was to represent my school for a poetry recital competition.My english teacher,knowing well my capabilities,asked me to look up a poem myself. I rushed to the school library and being the library teacher's pet,she enthusiastically gave up her errand at hand and looked up the best books of poems we had.She selected the choicest few and handed them to me. I poured myself into the books and set upon finding myself a poem that would make me stand out among the rest. I must have read about a 50 poems including a lot of William Wordsworth,John Keating, and the likes.And then i happened to read "Sands of Dee" by Charles Kingsley. I liked the poem for its uniqueness but mostly because it was by a poet not many 13 year olds would chose.and in that it suited my criteria of looking for something different.i showed the poem to my teacher who asked me to settle for something i could do justice to. she said this was a piece of work that had to be understood , the pain had to be felt, the melancholy ,the sadness would have to be delivered perfectly thru' the poem. But i was relentless. And she was a good teacher.Together we set upon perfecting the deliverence of this masterpiece. And deliver, i did. Right down to just that one tear that flowed from the corner of my eye at the right time! And the inter-school poetry recital trophy was ours! What jubiliations,what adulations and what praises were bestowed on me. It was unanimously declared that to give a rendition such that i had at the age that i was ,was indeed a masterpiece by itself. i felt like a queen that day as i held that trophy.Nothing else mattered.

But coming across this very poem now after about 24 years, i saw a whole new meaning into it.It touched me in a very different way. Now i understood what my teacher had meant when she told me to take up something else back then. The pain,the sadness,the soul-steering story .....it was obviously not understood by me then. At that time, it was just a good performance by a girl who wanted to portray something different and make a mark. And today,the same poetry was read by a woman who had walked the walk of life,who had felt pain,who had been hurt,who had been sent out to call her cattle home. Or should i say who had been sent to meet the call of her destiny.......

.....and never home came she !

Things don't change....

Things don't change; you change your way of looking at them.

It isn't too long ago when i was a teenager myself and still remember how irritating parental rules could be. Even vacations were not spared to spend as my heart desired. Never could really understand back then why mom would just not let me be! I didn't want to ride the cycle when i could just loll in the bed during those sweet early summer mornings. I didn't want to be a part of any learning activity group when i could spend sultry evenings gossiping away with my girlfriends. It was so much fun to idle away the afternoons with a book in hand and plain day-dream and not have to write those mandatory pages of cursive writing! But it was never that way.

And today,as i packed off my 13 year old to an activity camp,i m reminded of my days as a teen. The same resistance,the same set of why's ,the same ,"why can't you just let me be?" It's the same me but i m now on the other side. I don't break rules anymore,i make them.