Making Complete Asses of Ourselves!

A good friend of mine wanted to see the new Rituparno Ghosh film, 'Noukadubi', so we decided to go and see it this afternoon. Neither of us has any great knowledge of Bangla, but another non-Bengali friend of ours had seen it and thought it easy enough to follow, although she couldn't grasp the Tagore lyrics that are an important part of the film.
There were, of course, no sub-titles either.
We knew, even before seeing the film, that boats capsize in a storm, and there are identity mix-ups, as in those days (circa 1920) marriages took place sight unseen.
The film was absolutely beautiful. The visuals, the costumes, the period flavour of the interiors, the beautiful cast, poignant music, all added up to something wonderful.
Except that we could not follow the story.
My friend tells me that I snored a couple of times.
I told her to nudge me the next time I did so.
I struggled to keep my eyes open, and my friend yawned frequently.
We emerged from the hall feeling extremely stupid.

I came home and consulted my current fount of all wisdom, the internet. I found a few good links that told me the story, which I promptly sent to my friend. At least we know now what we'd seen, even if rather late in the day!

P.S: I particularly like the Upperstall synopsis and review.

Edited to add: The friend who had seen it and followed the movie had been able to do so because (she told us later) that she had read the story before going to see the film!

I am

This post is not about Onir's brilliant movie, which hits you hard with the truth of each of the four stories. Do see it if you can.

The Soul of Alec Smart has tagged me for this, and it seems to require a lot of introspection and even more revelations about me. I wonder if I even know myself so well..........

Every phrase needs to be completed with three answers about yourself. Easy to figure as you go.

I am

Mostly easy going, as long as you don't tread on my toes.

Paradoxically fond of having both lots to do and nothing to do.

More anxious than I care to admit.

I want

Peace and quiet. I hate noise in residential areas.

To ultimately live in a house of my own, so that I don't have to keep moving myself and my worldly goods across the country.

To get rid of a lot of those worldly goods!

I have

A family that means the world to me.

Wonderful friends who have enriched my life unimaginably.

A deep sense of gratitude for all that is good in my life.

I wish

That the world was less of a mess in so many terms- wars, environment, corruption, gender inequality, hunger and poverty, education.......

That I had the will power to be a lot lighter, and much less of a glutton.

That I knew a lot more about a whole lot of things. Well, I'm living and learning.

I hate

Violence in any form, especially mob violence.

Oppression and injustice, and the growing divide between the haves and the have-nots.

Fanaticism and fundamentalism.

I fear

Mob violence.

Natural calamities.

Debilitating illnesses for self and loved ones.

I hear

The sound of birds chirping every morning and at dusk.

The pain of others, which I try to alleviate but often cannot.

An undercurrent of intolerance, injustice and unfairness in the conversations of many.

I search

For missing/misplaced documents/keys/my husband's reading glasses/things that are right under my nose.

For inner peace and harmony.

For my role in this particular stage of my life.

I wonder

At the beauty of this world- of mountains and forests, trees and birds, babies and young children, wrinkled old joyful faces.

At the incredible depth and vastness of Hindustani classical music.

At man's inhumanity to man.

I regret

The grief others have caused to their dear ones, including me, by their lack of foresight and/or prudence.

My inability to smoothen the paths of those dear to me.

My lack of motivation to achieve cherished goals.

I love

My family and other animals!

Nature in all its glory.

Music of many kinds, movies, theatre, dance, art, literature- all things that enhance and enrich lives.

I always

Double check my house keys before stepping out of my front door.

Carry a large handbag.

Have extra strong sugar free mints in the bag!

I ache

For a more peaceful world.

For my late brother, who predeceased our parents.

For my children when they face tough times.

I usually

Walk 4-6 days a week.

Drink lots of water.

Keep my house reasonably tidy.

I am not

As fit as I'd like to be.

Very forgiving. I take my time.

Confrontational if I can help it.

I dance

Rarely now- I used to 'waltz' with my son when he was young.

When I want to express my freedom and joy at being alone.

When the beat gets inside me- I've been known to do a little jig in malls if the music's right.

I sing

Brilliantly in the bathroom!

Old Saigal songs.

Less than I used to, thanks to the discriminating listeners in my family!

I never

Say never: you never know what Life will make you do.

Wear synthetic materials if I can help it.

Manage to be as organised as I'd like to be.

I rarely

Offer unasked for advice.

Wear make up.

Wear high heels now- my feet are getting crabby:(

I cry

When I lose my temper.

At some memories of loss.

At suffering I cannot help heal.

I am not always

Kind.

Patient.

Perfect.

I lose

Things that are right under my nose, then I'm agitated till I've found them.

My cool, sometimes.

Perspective, sometimes.

I’m confused

By this tag!

By instructions on electronic equipment.

By many of the applications on my phone, most of which I choose to ignore.

I need

Many more bookshelves.

Less books. I do buy some, but I'm also a library user, but the SRE buys books quite compulsively.

A house with fabulous storage facilities and no clutter.

I should

Pray without ceasing.

Be a little less morbid than I've been recently.

Eat less.

I dream

Of Sant Kabir's 'Ghar Nyaara'.

Of not being diabetic.

Of being above such mundane things as chocolates!

This took a lot of thought and a fair bit of time. Whoever is inspired by this, please do take it up!

What the SRE did while I was away

1) I had kept his house key in the Photon toggle pocket of his laptop bag, and told him where it was.
He comes home on Tuesday night and tries opening the front door with the toggle. He finally does get in, of course!
2) I had left a list of instructions stuck on the inside of the front door, written in bright red ink, headed with the words 'House Key.' (The rest were reminders to make sure taps, lights and fans, gas, air conditioners, doors etc., all were closed/switched off before he left the house).
On Saturday morning he locks himself out of the house without the house key, car keys and laptop bag. I guess that after two days the notice on the door ceases to register. Fortunately there is a spare key with our next door neighbours, and they were also at home, so a crisis is averted.
3) The SRE was in town for a couple of days and away in Durgapur for two days and one night. He managed his meals successfully, with a little 'phone-a-wife' for moral support. There was some food in the fridge which was successfully warmed up, consumed, and the leftovers were also put back. Eggs were cooked, so was Maggi. On Saturday he ordered in pizza, and very kindly kept some for me.
4) On Saturday evening he managed to twist his knee while playing golf. The driver picked me up from the airport, and I get back to find the SRE in pain. We've been icing and elevating the knee. Fingers crossed that it's nothing too serious.

All in all, not a bad report, but not a brilliant one either. I do think that my reluctance to leave him, garnered over the decades, is more or less justified. What do you say, gentle readers???

Chasing the SRE

out of the house is what I plan to do this week! I need to go out of town for a few days, and I prefer to travel when the SRE is also travelling. Since he travels so often, it should not be too difficult to synchronize our travel plans. So, last week our separate itineraries were made, and we were supposed to be returning to Kolkata on the same flight this Saturday. But the powers-that-be decided that this was way too simple, and the SRE was asked to cancel his visits to distant towns.
Long years ago, every summer would see the kids and I leaving the man for a couple of weeks at least, visiting grandparents in different towns. At the time, the SRE was mostly resident, his sister lived about a kilometer and a half away, and he would also manage to feed himself sometimes- I would stir fry and freeze veggies in small packets, which he could pop into a boiling pan of Maggi noodles. I think he managed to cook eggs, too!

I am sure he was quite vague even then, but he seems far more scatterbrained now. I feel that he needs someone to take care of him and make sure that taps and gas cylinders and light/fan switches and air-conditioners are closed firmly and switched off. Even when we come home to an empty house together, and I am taking the key out of my handbag, he will ring the doorbell. I wonder whom he expects to open the door.

I have gently suggested that he move to the company guest house for a few days, but he has decided that going to Durgapur and working over there will suit all concerned. I never thought that the day would come when I'd actually be glad that he will be spending a few days away from home. Talk about a vested interest!

Lessons from mommyhood!

The Bride tagged me to write about ‘what mommyhood has taught me’.


The tag:

It’s been a while since us Mommybloggers came up with something to celebrate, well, mommyhood, so the lovely Monika and I came up with this. A tag that has us list out five lessons of life that Mommyhood has taught us, these could be sweet, bitter, funny, touching, whatever. These could be survival tips or cooking tips, or something as simple as the best thing to get puke smell out of hair.

So, the rules are simple. Put the badge up. Write out five lessons that Mommyhood taught you. And tag five mommybloggers.


It's kind of hard to believe that my kids were ever babies, but of course they were, decades ago.
So, as requested, I'll try and share my perspective as a mother of grown up kids.

1. If marriage helps knock your ego into a more streamlined shape, having kids gives it the kind of hammering it may never recover from!
When they are tiny, these wordless, utterly dependent creatures teach you to put another person's needs first. You may be dying of lack of sleep, of hunger or thirst, or even just to go to the loo, but it is possible to fulfill your needs only when the baby lets you.
You want to protect them from hurt and injury, but you can't always do that. It is easier to console the child with a scraped knee or the one who needs thirteen stitches in his chin than the one with a broken heart. You still do whatever you can to help them heal, even if it doesn't really seem to help. And you still ache for them. If they are far away from you and ill or miserable, your helplessness and grief knows no bounds. I think that even if you are an atheist or agnostic, having a child will often times see you praying with all your might for the child's well being.

2. They can teach you so much about their world, and enlarge yours exponentially. Listen to them talk.......
I know that I wouldn't be blogging, or listening to Sufi music, or aware of Latin American literature, or have some absolutely silly jokes in my head that make me smile whenever I think of them, if it wasn't for my kids. What you receive from them is priceless- love, affection, tremendous support during difficult times, endless demands, hungry friends......
A variety of experiences that enrich your life in unimaginable ways. Yes, my older son and his friends actually helped us sneak into an Abida Parveen concert!

3. They enlarge your circle of relationships as they find love and significant others of their own.
The family enlarges to include their loved ones and their families too.
Having kids does sensitize you to other children- you grieve and worry for the child's friend who had an accident, or is ill, or whose parent is ill, or even for the random children you read about in the newspapers.

4. They reassure you immensely sometimes that you brought them up more or less okay!
When I saw the tenderness with which my kids spoke to their ailing grandparents, it was like a warm soft blanket around my heart! Whenever they do well in life, it feels wonderful, far more than an achievement of one's own.

5. When they fight or disagree with each other or hurt each other, as siblings inevitably do sometimes, it really breaks your heart. You can't play favourites, and you can see each child's perspective, and you are utterly helpless till they ride it out and are friends again.

6. One extra, bonus lesson: Insanity is inherited: you can get it from your children!

The five moms I tag are:
1. Yasmeen, who is my contemporary and can tell you about being a mom to her two lovely grown up daughters.
2. Yashodhara, who has twin baby boys and one very lady like young daughter.
3. Mona, whose pre-school daughter and toddler son keep her really busy.
4. Surabhi, who is the mother of the delightful Sanah.
5. Nitya, whose son Arjun is a delight, with his own unique perspective on life, the universe and everything!

Real Beauty

Mountains, trees, rivers, the sea
Oceans, rivulets, birds
clouds, the majesty of nature
the tiny perfection of a puppy,
a kitten, a baby,
flowers.

The scars I bear,
of not just the babies I bore
but the other surgeries I had,
those scars affirm Life.
The years added to my life
enhance my soul,
the scars are an integral
part of me now.

My aunt is no more
but I remember her smile,
slightly down turned on one side
from a paralytic attack
Her hair combed into "cat ears"
over her forehead,
in her own particular style.
She was beautiful to me.
I never saw her upset,
(well, only once in all those years)
or lose her temper
She was wise, and kind
and strong,
Looked up to by all.
The menfolk in her family,
Husband and sons
Would do her bidding gladly
Because she always
made sense to them.

(The story goes that
She was so lovely
that once he saw her
in their neighbourhood
the young man decided
to marry only her, and
no one else.
It was a long and happy union
A template for many to come.
He outlived her by some fourteen years
sustained by the memories
of their life together,
with a strength and grace of his own).

She wore her saree
the old fashioned 'seedha palla' style,
and was so disciplined herself
you would never dream
of not being so around her.
A natural teacher
you'd learn from her
whether you really
wanted to or not!!!!

Even when she was ill
with breast cancer
she never lost her perspective
or her sense of humour.
The last time I met her,
some months before she died,
She'd been making small
quantities of different pickles
revising for her next birth, she said.
I said, surely your mother
will teach you, in your next birth.
No, she will wear jeans and
work in an office,
I'd better practice
my recipes myself!


I've known so many people in these
many decades of my life
Who are so good looking,
the eyes perforce
linger on their faces
but when I think of real beauty,
it is this aunt who first comes to my mind.

The above blog post is part of a competition hosted by Dove, Yahoo!India, and IndiBlogger.

Mrs. C's Lament

Old and almost bedridden now,
Mrs. C mourns the death of her brother in law
whose passing no one told her about,
thinking her too frail to bear this loss.

He was a toddler when I got married,
I brought him up, he had no mother,
he would cling to my legs,
asking to be picked up.

When my first daughter was born
He'd insist on carrying her
Though he was pretty small himself
He'd be very careful.

I lost that daughter some years ago
And I survived that loss, didn't I?
And my husband as well, two years ago
And I'm still here, aren't I?

I'm going to die sooner or later
(and I'd rather it be sooner, lying here,
watching the fan go round and round
is no great fun, let me tell you).

What would it matter if I went then,
When my brother-in-law died?
The whole family thought I wouldn't be able
to bear this last loss....

They meant well, but how I wish
That I could have seen him one last time
And sent him on his last journey
With my eternal blessings.