Manthru's controversial perspective.

It is 7 a.m. and time for a cup of tea with the daily newspaper, a routine that Geeta Aunty has been following for years together. Her Mother-in-law never understood the importance of this deadly combination of tea and news together but believed about tea and gossip, together. Needless, Geeta Aunty looked forward to her tea after her morning walks.

Immersed in the newspaper, seated in her posh garden that needs some trimming, about to sip her tea, her mobile beeps. A message from her gardener Manthru that he is going for a rally to support a group of nationalists opposing Bharat Mata ki Jai. Manthru has not even passed his school, never gone to a college or university but what is education to do with intelligence?

Geeta is confused and mutters, " Haan Bhai, Freedom hain."
A few days ago, Manthru had been to a gathering held by a random sanghatna on 'Valid reasons for a Son to look after his father even after marriage - Mera Beta Mera Khoon.'

Anyway, firm on not to spoil her mood, she sips her tea. Nodding her head with a disapproval look on her face, she reads about the Bharat Mata Ki Jai broil! She is right there in the middle of thoughts, Geeta's MIL interrupts, "Bahu, look at the kitchen, it needs cleaning. Vessels need cleaning."
"Ji Mummy ji."
"How will your reading this newspaper help getting our morning chores done?"
"Don't worry Mummy ji, I will do it."
With that curt look on her face MIL says, "I always told my son, marry a less educated girl but he never listened to me."
Geeta is still busy reading. MIL is rambling in the background.
"Cook something good today, my son and your husband is coming home after 15 days from his business trip."
Geeta didn't utter a word, of course she knew her husband is coming; she soaked rajma beans the previous night, his favourite.

The recent ongoing controversies in the country have been disturbing for Geeta like for most of the citizens but right now more disturbing was Manthru's issue.

Geeta finishes the chores, cooks a meal and is waiting for the family to join her for dinner Lunch was managed on previous night's leftovers. She has cooked, Rajma-chaval for Mr Husband who misses this most during travelling, oil free paratha-oil free sabzi and sugar free kheer for MIL and Soup and salad for her daughter who has been struggling to lose some weight.

Everyone is happy eating delicious meal, MIL quotes, "I always told my son that a girl who cooks good is the one with a heart of gold."
Geeta chuckles and serves a little of everything in her plate.
The daughter is proud of her Mum.
The husband is busy enjoying Rajma-chaval.
The sun sets declaring the end if evening and Geeta in no time is in deep slumber after a long laborious day. One more day and her maid will be back to work.

The next day Manthru walks inside the gate and Geeta is enjoying her newspaper and tea; she hasn't gone to to her morning walk today.

"How are you Manthru?"

Manthru answers after a long pause, "Bibi ji, yesterday my son fought to me. His wife is really cunning. Wants me to leave my old mother back in village to die. She is old and getting finicky, needs help."

"Hmmm. Then why do you live with her? Send her to your village"

"Bibi ji, she loves me and cares for me; she is my mother, how can I leave her?"

Geeta repeats the question, "Why did you attend the rally?"

The question remains unanswered and Geeta sips her tea.

Delhi.....yet again!

New Delhi - Delhi - Dilli -- The capital of a populous democracy, famous for masculine Red Fort, tall Kutubminar, bustling Chandni Chowk, gorgeous Taj Mahal in the neighbourhood and its culture.

The memories of Chandni Chowk are still fresh and the aromas of kulche, paranthas, cholle, aalloo tikki...yum yum, the taste lingers. The cycle rickshaws, shawl clad people walking on streets, hot stuffed parathas being cooked by the roadside and served with tea, people grouped and enjoying a puff of beedi, the normal class busy with their everyday life. Dilli ki Sardi ki baat hi kuch aur hain!

Lovely and colourful and cheap markets; Delhi is vibrant and a touch of royalness is witnessed when you see those dainty shy girls clad in salwar kameez and modernly dressed girls redefining fashion; a culture whose foundation is an outcome of fusion of Hindustani and Moghul cuisine, art and culture, which  makes Delhi an exquisite experience.   

Basically, everything about this city comes in a spotlight; the good and the bad.

Nirbhaya gang rape, Mr CM, his tweets, his policies, most polluted city, not so old odd-even car policy and the recent 'world cultural festival' marking 35 years of 'Art of Living.' - Delhi has always been media's favourite.

A recent broil about why only Delhi for world cultural festival? The river is dying and now this event has seen a huge turn-over through out the world.

A lot of criticism and I don't want to get into politics, not my cup of tea.

As a teenager, I remember visiting Mathura on a pilgrimage. The makhanchor, nand laal's bhumi, where a speck of dust too is considered pious, the air, the water and the entire Vrindavan is nothing but a representative of Kanha. Hare Rama..Hare Krishna is constantly ringing in your ears. I encountered those white vaishnavas in saffron robes, immersed in 'Bhakti' and one feels surprised. How can someone of a different culture and lifestyle be so comfortable in a new culture? Fondly known as Krishna's bhumi, it must have been clean during his reign; cleanliness is godliness but I was surprised to see Mathura so filthy, so unclean and unhygienic. We went to banks of Yamuna; it smelled horrid and I never understood a bunch of people led by priests offering prayers to Yamuna; milk, rice grains and flowers with great satisfaction reflecting on their faces. Not only Mathura, a few pilgrim places in Maharashtra - Pandharpur, Tuljapur and Akkalkot are no exception.

Coming back to Yamuna, the pollution was evident but yet people were ignorant though recently several NGO's have taken an effort to cleanse this holy river but why do we need a reason to oppose? Why in the first place a gathering was required to make us all realize 'largely'about the dying Yamuna? It has been dying a slow death for several years...so it is unfathomable to me that a 3 day event is causing a major threat to Yamuna than those industries that have been polluting it for several years.

It only leaves an impression that in today's day and world, there is a set of people who believe in doing something and another set who believes in criticising and not necessarily both are correct.

Sadly, People who talk about Yamuna conservation that is making so much noise now, don't care about:

pollution caused due to them using plastic bags

their habit of littering everywhere

spitting that pan masala

smoking in public places

honking horns

violating traffic rules

smoke given out from their vehicles

indulgence into shopping and buying non-sustainable products

being unkind and rude

gang rapes and child abuse

Not only Delhi but all metros are chaotic, losing their integrity, peace and calm. Our natural resources are at stake. Quality of life is declining. So wake up! People living in East, West and South of India all of a sudden are concerned about Yamuna, which is appreciable but they need to raise their voice for problems in their state, city, town, village they are in has many more problems to be dealt with. 

My question to you is - there must be a river or pond or lake in your surroundings or neighbourhood, what have you done for its restoration so far? Did you stop disposing 'Nirmaalya' or immersing idols of Ganesh and Durga mata?

It would be sensible if we do not become prey to politics and become a part of it, we are highly evolved creatures and something substantial is expected from us. 

Every time you protest, be honest about the reason of protesting. It shouldn't be influenced by religion and politics - be honest and neutral; neither leftist nor rightist, be neutral when it comes to natural resources.

It is not only Yamuna that needs to be conserved and cleansed but also our conscience.

Pic courtesy: Google. 

Dirty lanes..

The only highlight Shruti looked forward to was her evening stroll with her Aaji (grandmother) during those 2 months of summer vacations; that was packed with interesting encounters. Walking through local grocery market, cloth market, old market, libraries, utensils bazaar etc etc. Shruti noted her experiences in her diary that very night.

So much to see, learn and enrich, Shruti was a big fan of her Aaji. 

Today, Aaji decided to trudge through one such lane of the city, mostly populated with houses glued to each other sharing common walls almost looking like compartments of railway, whistles of pressure cookers adding hot steam in air with the aroma of rice and pulses, from somewhere radio playing songs of 80s and 90s, young girls in groups chatting, boys running and screaming, men stretching themselves in lungi's and pajamas discussing their day. 

These were normal houses with normal stories but judgmental eyes never saw the normalcy. The existence of people dwelling in never mattered to rest of the city. Shruti and Aaji passed another patch where women of different sizes, shapes, colour would wear make up and sit on threshold of their houses. She saw a woman, stout, square faced, neatly done eyebrows, dark red patchy lipstick, with a gajra, a cheap but sequined saree with a velvet blouse. Another young woman in a gown sitting with an old man. The other house with a woman getting dressed up and giggling in between and a man sleeping on an iron cot observing her, with lust in his eyes. The neighborhood teen aged girl in salwar kameez with a middle aged man, walking with his arms around her neck.

What Shruti observed was that though these houses looked normal, there was something abnormal about their existence. The women were sad but yet doing what they were supposed to do, they weren't cooking but were wearing make up. There was a man in every house but they didn't look like a family. Some houses had no one but the woman was sitting on the threshold waiting for someone to come, all decked up. A group of women with glittering clothes and loud makeup were chatting and looking around like a hawk. There was something unusual about these houses, these women, their stories and lives.

               

pic courtesy: google

Shruti asked her Aaji, 'Do they look different to me or are they really different. I mean the houses, the women, their lives?' Shruti had only seen them in movies and sort of knew that they exist in the society. 

Aaji smiled, 'You observed right, there is something different and the difference is that they are strong women, who live life on their own terms, they are prostitutes. They have their own society and are comfortable within their circuit. Society doesn't understand them, looks down on them but for me they are a living example of being strong. After all no woman chooses to be a prostitute!'

What is the purpose for me to see this Aaji? asks Shruti innocently.

Aaji replies, 'I want you to understand that the world is a place where flowers and thorns live together, dark and ugly have their own identities, rich and poor have their own existence, normal and abnormality are contradictory. What is abnormal to you is perfectly normal to someone else. So don't judge anyone and before having an opinion, think twice. Just as these women, they became prostitutes due to circumstances, wrong decisions. A person is not good or bad but circumstances and decisions unfortunately make them one'.

Shruti understood something, her Aaji was preparing her for years to come when she will grow as an independent woman in a society that is so biased and judgemental about women. That day she went back and wrote in her diary:

A woman never chooses to be a prostitute. She is a woman first before she is anything else!

Devil...Fear...Smile...Conquer

As ambiguous as the title reads, once can fathom - Devil and Fear share a connection but how can a Devil smile? How can it be conquered?

The most scary, nasty and horrendous looking creature, would lose its charm with that smile.

Devils have been introduced through fairy tales and to me they are just like a speed breaker, when everything is kinda smooth and easy going, there comes a hump - a Devil.
Who is this guy? Who created him?

Unlike its opposite, the Angel, this guy has to be red eyed, a big jaw, long untidy nails, sticky hair that haven't been shampooed for ages and probably a big fat moustache and wait, what is its skin colour? Never understood why Devil is associated with dark?

Oh! So does it mean that a Devil is black, red, purple or of any colour except White? - how racist!

                     pic coutesy: twitter@devil, google

This is debatable and perplexing; his kin Ghost too is equivalently, a weirdo; hanging upside down on some lifeless trees almost like a bat, laughing wickedly and undoubtedly the most ugliest by looks. The whole clan seems to be stereotyped and amazing that none of us has ever seen or witnessed their presence.

Though I agree, when I trudge through a dark lane, my heart thuds and I can almost feel that knot in my stomach. I am scared. Afraid. Perturbed. But by whom? The Devil? But where is he? He hasn't touched me, slit my throat, twisted my arm and not even laughed thunderously but I almost feel he has done all that to me.
With all those goose bumps, I come in light and the Devil is gone. My heart beat is pacified, I have retrieved my throat and arm, there is no more laughter ringing in my ears.

And then I am enlightened that this  guy 'Devil' is nothing but my Fear.

I have encountered this fear; on the first day of my school, writing an exam, facing an interview, riding that bicycle on a road for the first time, giving a presentation, sleeping alone in the bedroom and every such little or big thing where there is a possibility of failure and rejection.

One is fearful when he is consumed by the thought of failure, which leads to rejection.

Now, that one figures out that this Devil, lies within us, the solution to conquer it also lies within us.

If our every failure is perceived as an attempt, a step towards success and achievement of our goal, there would be no fear; no Devil.

So, the next time when your heart is thudding, your throat is dry and about to be slit, your arms seem numb and twisted, thunderous laughter rings in your ears; stand still, get hold of that Devil and look into his eyes, smile at him and he will smile back; do not succumb but conquer him.

Celebrating Life - draft your way

Life is a journey for all living beings with an unknown destination. 

A new life - newborn receives the warmest welcome, the mere news of its arrival brings in curiosity. Yet unborn, this little creature inside the womb has unknowingly started its journey, its plan to step into the world and very little it knows about how well it will be received. Every parent, the farmers, the poor, the commoners, the royals; from whichever strata of the society have their own ways of celebrating life!

The recent 2 instances of the way of celebrating life lay the foundation for this post-

The world learnt of a proud father, an eminent CEO of a social networking site that I and most of us use to promote, share and vent our experiences from our everyday life. The CEO shared his joy of fatherhood. The couple's daughter, needless to say is the most precious gift for them and a very elated father, donates 99% of his company's shares that accounts for $45 bn (30 bn) at its current market value. Very sensibly this amount will be given away over the course of couples lives and it primarily focuses on improving human potential, promotion of equality of children. The couple wants the world to be a better place for their adorable daughter.

This announcement broke the internet - undoubtedly it had to!

Though there are many unanswered questions, CEO's wife's property isn't accounted and only time will analyse the authenticity and purity of the purpose. 

Like the world, I too applauded this benevolence and commitment of these powerful parents towards their daughter.

My limitations that I could only laud because unlike them neither I posses that amount of money nor I have that ability to make this world a better place for my daughter, instead I can only strive to make her a better human who can make this world a better place to live.

Often when questioned about the disparity in our Indian society, the divide between the rich and poor, privileged and underprivileged despite of India being a land of multi-millionaires, I prefer to keep mum. Do I have any answer? That is an unfathomable reality.

Oh Yes! I opened a Sukanya Yojana account and have been piously depositing some funds to secure her future - I am a commoner!

Now what instigated me more to write this post? 

A Prince is born in a Royal family of Bhutan. Again, needless to say the Royals are over the moon on their Prince's arrival in not so perfect world; a world that is cutting down trees, a world that is losing its connection with nature, a world where modernisation comes at a cost and at last a world where natural is replaced by unnatural and the later being accepted as modern civilisation. So going ahead this couple with the help of the government of Bhutan, plants 108,000 trees! Bhutan is a democracy, underdeveloped but high on happiness quotient. It relies on India for its needs but is progressive about restoration of a faith as per Buddhism, which believes that trees are symbol of longevity, health, beauty and to an extent compassion. Now why 108,000 trees? Like Hinduism, the number 108 is very sacred in Buddhism, it relates to cleansing of 108 'kleshas - impurities' that obstruct beings from enlightenment - so now you understand importance of 108 beads in rosary, which also exists in Hinduism and Islam.

So when Buddhishts, Hindus and Muslims dwell in India, is something like this difficult to adapt and practice?  

Never being colonised, being rooted to the tradition, never being attacked unlike its South Asian counterparts, Bhutan silently is giving a 'strong message' and it is up to us to decipher. 

Unlike the world, I applaud and praise this stance of planting trees more over the former's donation stance; no way I am being judgemental or demeaning the CEO. 

This Royal family has laid the stones and it is for the world to realise the significance of living in a world close to nature and the irony is most of us spend time and money to organise a perfect holiday amidst hills and trees to find solace. 

Solace is; when that crisp pure air soothes your respiratory tract and rejuvenates your lungs and different colours of nature calm your eyes that leave an ever lasting image in your brain. The experience is magical when your senses are in co-ordination.

As neighbours, India can and should learn so much. There is a probability of 'vaan nahi tari gun lagla' as a saying goes in Marathi. If each faith plants even 108 trees, a global message can be conveyed. 

A commoner like me who doesn't have billions or even millions to donate, yet can be a Royal by planting trees - what a fantastic thought and act - take a bow Bhutan!

There is no rule book to celebrate life and one can surely draft its own way. 

Each sapling is planted with a prayer and gratitude, the tree grows well and healthy, so shall the Prince.
Long live the Prince.

                                                        pic courtesy: thehotchild.com