city of joy – vellagiri

Well…confession…it wasn’t like we were only participating in the Pujo activities; we did go out and have fun apart from the festivities too. One important thing to remember is that during Pujo the entire state of West Bengal comes to a standstill. From Sashtami onwards it is government holiday till Dashami (and in most cases it extends till Lakshmi Puja). So all museums, art galleries, emporiums, art & craft villages etc. were shut. Due to want of better things to do, SK & I did what we wouldn’t imagine doing in Bombay ever. From pandal hopping to mall hopping. In SK’s own words, “we visited more malls in Calcutta than we ever did in Bombay”. At one of these malls we even saw a Bangla rock band playing (and man, they were good). Not only this we also met up with Ant R’s friend, who took us to VP (Vivekanand Park) where I had my first brush with puchkas (pani puri with potato filling instead of the usual ragda) and papri chaat (sev puri). Needless to say, like all other places VP too was choc-a-bloc with families grabbing quick bites amidst pandal hopping.

Apart from malls we also visited couple of pubs like I-Bar (where I danced to my heart’s content) and Afraa (a lounge bar where we won free beers and chewing gums for participating in an on-the-spot contest). Surprisingly both of them had minimal crowd (could be due to Pujo) but what was jaw dropping was that we saw families coming to these pubs to dine…imagine grandparents, husband, wife and toddlers…wow. Now that’s a sight one doesn’t get to see in Bombay. And I found it very warm and comforting. I mean we don’t really need to be uptight about sartorial preferences, do we? Can women who are comfortable in a saree (salwar kameez is still accepted) not crave a drink? Do we need to scrutinise them like they were from outer space? No…it’s a democratic country and as long as certain club rules are maintained, anyone should have the freedom to dress comfortably.

In between the Pujo frenzy, I was slated to meet a friend of mine who was coming down all the way from Jamshedpur. Now I have known RB for about 9 months but the funniest fact was that this was to be our first meeting. How? Well it just so happens that we are SMS friends.Yeah, the world is moving at a rapid pace…from pen pals to phone pals to chat friends to Orkut/Facebook friends, we have now progressed to SMS friends. What this means is that we text more than we speak. Don’t ask me why? Not all actions have justifiable responses. In my defense I can say that after a long time I have found someone who can match my wit and intellect. Its a pleasure talking to him and I can’t seem to have enough of his repartees. How did I make an SMS friend? Well, it started with a wrong number or rather a case of mistaken identity that led to a few war of words initially only to end up as friends. And no I am not sharing any more juicy tidbits .

So RB came down to Calcutta and met us at Adi Dhakeshwari (a well known saree shop with an amazing collection of sarees right from cotton to silk to kanthawork, etc.) since SK was shopping for sarees for her family (which my friends was quite a trying experience for Ant R and me as SK almost did not like any saree shown to her while we who were sort of saree connoisseurs couldn’t resist most of them). After some co-ordination (me being geographically challenged and his driver being a non-Bong), RB managed to located the shop. From 4th floor, I went all the way to the ground floor to greet him. And I will let you in on just one tidbit…I was freakin nervous. My legs felt heavy, there were huuugggeee butterflies in my tummy and my pulse rate was quickening. In hindsight it was very crazy the way I felt…but at that time I just felt like a giggly gaggly teenager. RB was near the lift while I had taken the stairs (just to buy some time and steady myself before I could meet him). I almost missed him as I entered the main store and realising that someone was at the lift, I came back. The first thought that crossed my mind was, “he’s so tall”. And when we greeted each other I felt like a dwarf (no actually pygmy is more like it). For sometime I really couldn’t believe that we had actually met (since this was on cards since a really long time and wasn’t materialising at all) and it took me a while to get my bearings back .

From here we went for lunch to 6 Ballygunge Place (6BP) for an authentic Bong cuisine (which aunty was anyway serving us everyday at home). But no…we wanted to experience old world charm and quaint eating places. And 6BP was a challenge for us. You see the last time we went there for lunch we had to wait for an hour before being told that since we hadn’t booked a table 15-20days in advance it was unlikely that there would be a vacant table for us. Even Mainland China was overcrowded and guess what we finally had lunch at a Barista…taaa daaa….Chewing on insipid quiches and sandwiches, washing them down with iced teas and evesdropping on a group of socialites discussing scandalous details of their friends was certainly not our idea of old world charm.

So anyway we lunched at 6BP (which by the way is really a nice warm place…an old house converted into an eating joint. It had wood panelled libraries with Bengali literature books, bamboo blinds and was done up in warm shades of ochre) and from there proceeded to a lounge bar called Starstruck (coz when out of Jamshedpur, RB only sticks to a liquid diet comprising beer and whiskey). So here we were at Starstruck having a drink bang in the middle of afternoon. The bar was nice, spacious but sadly empty (translate: no eye candy ). From here we went to Swabhumi (that houses stalls selling ethnic handicraft, jewelry, apparels and other artefacts). It was refreshing to see a guy accompany 3 gurls for shopping and that too patiently. RB sure gets full marks on that front . Not only that he was also good company and thankfully there was never an awkward moment where we looked at each one’s faces wondering how to keep the conversation going. It flowed as smoothly and was as varied as the whiskey and beer. 

After meandering in Swabhumi, we headed to…you guessed it right another pub (time for RB’s liquid diet you see). So off we went to Afraa for a drink (this time sitting in their open air section). It was beautiful as it gave a panoramic view of the skyline and everytime vehicles would blink their lights it would reflect on the partial glass ceiling (giving an impression of a dozens planes flying one behind the other). RB exclaimed that this was just the kind of place he would like to introduce in Jamshedpur (though he wasn’t sure if his patrons would pay up for the experience). Amen to that.

Soon it was time for us to head our ways…we to Ant R’s bari and RB to the station to catch a train. Before parting we peeked into a stationery horse driven tram called ‘The Kolkata Store’. The store had lovely knick knacks and artefacts in terracotta, dokara (an alloy of copper, bronze and other metals) to name a few. I picked up a set of 3 turtles in terracotta for a colleague (who was big on amphibians), a terracotta piggy bank (for my little cousin brother) and a Maa Durga in ’shola’ on a cane scoop (for my Bong colleague). The best part was that though they looked expensive, the prices were not at all exorbitant (ekdum paisa vasool). Happy and content, I bid adieu to RB (glad that after months of anticipation we had finally met).

It was a day well spent and will be etched in my memory for a long time to come.

PS: today is RB’s birthday…so here’s wishing him a very Happy Birthday.

city of joy – belur math & dakshineshwari temple

On one of the days, we made a trip to Belur Math, that has the shrines of Ramakrishna Paramahamsa, his wife Maa Sarada and his disciple Swami Vivekandand. Belur Math is also known as ‘Ramakrishna Mission’. It is said that Ramakrishna was the only human (amongst Hindus) to have seen God. Apparently Goddess Kali would appear in his dreams and converse with him. However most of us know of him because of his disciple, Swami Vivekanand who had given the welcome speech at The World Parliament of Religions, Chicago on September 11, 1893. You can read more about the speech here: http://hinduism.about.com/od/vivekananda/a/vivekananda_speeches.htm

Well Belur Math is really beautiful and embodies everything that Ramakrishna Paramahansa followed. Located on the banks of the river Hooghly, the shrine is a pristine white structure with serenity and calm surrounding the sanctum sanctorum. Large banyan trees provide shelter to the weary devotees while the cool river breeze gently fans the heat away. However it was slightly humid due to the heat coupled with unexpected showers and the ground was hot to the bare feet.

On the opposite side of the river is the Dakshineshwar Temple that can be reached via a boat. The boat ride was an absolute joy and thrill for both SK & I as it was one of the check list on our ‘old world charm’ to-do list. It seemed like a scene straight out of a Satyajit Roy, Bimal Roy of Shakti Samanta film with the central portion of the boat covered by an arch shaped tarpaulin to keep the sun and rains away. However SK & I wanted to rough it out and we sat on the hull watching the banks disappear from sight as the boat made way to the temple. Never mind the fact that after a while the sun shone mercilessly on us with SK going red in the face and me getting royally tanned. Still we stayed put imagining the scores of Sharmila Tagore and Rajesh Kanna scenes filmed on such boats. We sailed under bridges that gave us some respite from the harsh rays of the sun, saw localites going about their chores for the day like bathing, washing clothes and even spreading their nets to catch fish. The water sadly was muddy brown and I wondered if anybody used it for drinking. My thoughts were soon confirmed when as we reached the temple banks, I saw some people filling water bottles with the waters of Hooghly (also known as Ganga). Anybody could have said that the water was impure and unfit for driniking. But superstitious a lot as we are, we choose to ignore these glaring facts in the name of religion.

The temple was a pretty red & white structure with lots of Shiv Mandirs ensconsed in its compound. The ground being terribly hot we just visited 2 temples and ran back to the stalls where we had to keep our footwear. Our Gods are kind and surely they won’t mind if we took some shotcuts this way .

We took a boat ride back to Belur Math and this time wisely sat near the arch so as to slip under it should it get hot. Thankfully it was cloudy and we got to enjoy our ride. Embarking on the banks, we visited the hordes of stalls selling conch shells (a must have in every Bengali household. It is mostly kept near the idols and is blown everyday as part of the religious ritual. Also during marriages, Bengali women blow the conch shell in a bid to keep away evil eye). The conch shells come in different shapes and sizes and blowing them takes quite an effort but the music from it is very melodious and can be heard from a distance. Apart from conch shells, there were stalls selling, items used for religious purposes like lamps, bells along with the symbols of matrimony for a bengali women like the white and red bangles also known as shankha-poila. Along with this the married women also wear a bangle made of iron which is called ‘lohu’. One is never supposed to remove it from her wrist as long as her husband is alive and the iron is supposed to touch the wrist at all times.

Also there were stalls selling eatables and other refreshments. We tasted the famed ‘jhal muri’ (which in Bombay is ‘bhel puri)…jhal means ’spicy’ and muri means ‘kurmura’ or ‘puffed rice’. As soon as we exited the gates, it began drizzling which soon turned into a torrential downpour forcing us to take refuge under the eatery stalls and any other place that had a tarpauling covering. Finally we managed to find Ant R’s driver (who has a knack of disappearing when most wanted) and sped away home before we got cuaght in the deluge.

city of joy – auspicious days

The most auspicious days for Bengalis during Dassera are the 6th (Sashtami), 7th (Saptami), 8th (Ashtami), 9th (Nabami) and 10th (Dashami). Of these Ashtami is the most important day. Ant R’s father enlightened us about its importance. Legend has it that before Lord Ram went to Lanka to fight the demon king Ravan and rescue Sita, he conducted a ’sandhi puja’ offering a havan (holy fire) to Ma Durga. One of the most critical ingredients of this havan was the offering of 108 blue lotuses. So Laxman, Hanuman and their army of simians gathered 108 blue lotuses with great difficulty. However when Lord Ram counted there were only 107 lotuses. So the entire lot had to be discarded and they had to go through the entire rigmarole again. Yet again the count showed one less. This went on for some time till Lord Ram realised that there was some divine meaning to this trick and appealed to Ma Durga that in order to complete the count he would offer one of his eyes to her (as he was also called ‘kamala nayana’ or ‘lotus eyed’). Satisfied with the offering, Ma Durga accepted the 108 blue lotuses and blessed Lord Ram with victory. And the rest as they say is mythology…

On Ashtami most girls wear a saree and deck up in their finery. Aunty lent me her Bonkai Oriya Silk sari (which I draped in typical Bengali style complete with a cotton jhola and keychain) and Ant R wore a black & red batik print sari while SK who hates draping saris stuck to a loose silk black and white salwar kameez. At the risk of sounding pompous, I will say that all of us looked pretty in our Indian wear; a far cry from the usual denims we lounge around in. The cotton jhola (bag) that I carried had the message ’save the tigers’ with saffron and bottle green stripes on an off white background. Seeing this Ant R’s dad remarked “Mamta Bannerjee will be very happy to see you”. I thought it was because of the tiger message till he clarified that these were similar to the colours of Trinamool Congress .

Aunty for some reason felt very happy to see us and since I kinda matched her in size (am not really thin you see), announced that she had adopted me for a day:-). Not only this she went on to add that she had titles for us to introduce to prospective grooms. Since I was the most traditionally dressed, I was titled ‘ready to serve’ (it conjured an image of me on a serving tray like a stuffed turkey taken to be carved), SK was ‘easy to handle’ (a title by which both Ant R & I disagreed…SK is anything but easy to handle and her bark is worse than her bite) and lastly Ant R was ‘handle with care’ (due to her petite frame and sharp tongue).  

The entire group trooped to the Sovabazar Rajbati (or Purani Bari as it is popularly known) where Durga Puja was first celebrated in October 1757 (2 months after the battle of Plassey). Since then the Puja has been held here every year with descendents of the family coming down only for the festival. The bari which surrounds a garden area on 4 sides is in ruins with the back portion having almost caved in. Only a small part is habitable which is where the Durga Puja is held. The casts used to make the idols are the same as those used in 1757 resulting in the idols looking the same till date. 

On Dashami (the last day of Durga Puja, which is also the time for immersion), we accompanied aunty to a nearby pandal for Sindoor Khela (celebrated or rather played by married women only). In this, the women first apply sindoor (vermillion powder symbolising matrimony) to all the statues, stuff Sandesh (a traditional milk based Bengali sweet) into their mouths and wipe their faces with betel leaves. This is symbolic of wiping Ma Durga’s tears as she is supposedly headed to her in-law’s place from her maternal home.

The immersion process too is very different as compared to our Ganesh visarjan. The entire set of idols are first tied to a wooden or bamboo frame which is then tied between 2 boats that go deep into the river and gradually drift apart thereby slowly immersing the idols in the water. Since the idols are made of clay, they quickly dissolve in water unlike Ganesh idols that are washed ashore often dismembered and in pitiable conditions. The frames are retained to be recycled and reused fo Laxmi Puja or Kali Puja and in many cases even till the next Durga Puja. Those pandals that have terracota work sell the murals, panels etc. to devotees who install these in their homes.

With this the 10days of Durga Puja come to an end and the simplicity of the festival truly strikes a harmonious balance between nature & devotion.

city of joy – pujo frenzy (pandal hopping)

When we stepped out for pandal hopping it was somewhere around 5.30pm in the evening but one look outside and it felt like it was 8pm (Bombay time). Surprised we asked Ant R who reminded us that we were in the East where the Sun rose and set early. We realised this when it was broad daylight at about 6am the next morning similar to Bombay’s 10am.

Anyway we set out and were left spellbound at the sight of the festive decorations. Every nook and corner had set up pandals (aking to our Ganesh Chaturthi mandals) with the entire celestial family comprising Maa Durga (on her vehicle, the tiger), Godesses Laskshmi (wealth) and Saraswati (learning), Lord Ganesha (with a shy banana tree as his consort), Lord Kartikeya (on his vehicle, the peacock) and Mahishasur (the demon killed by Maa Durga in the form of Goddess Kali). The pandals were beautiful, each better than the other and depicting the festival in its own way. Some had terracota work on them, some had illustrations from mythology yet others depicted rustic life. But the most noteworthy feature of these pandals was its eco-friendliness. From clay, grass, hay to cane, bamboo, jute and vegetable colours, these pandals were and epitome of environment friendliness. No POP (plaster of the paris), no artificial colours, no OTT (over the top) decorations (standard trademarks of our Ganesh mandals), the pandals were elegance personified in a humble way. All the extravaganza of our Ganesh Chaturthi notwithstanding, the decorations of Durga Puja are a treat for sore eyes. Couple this with soulful Rabindra Sangeet playing in the background (unlike our remixed Bollywood Bhajans) and you truly feel closer to divinity.

As I mentioned earlier, pandal hopping is a big activity during Pujo. Families throng the pandals in droves…almost seems like they have set out to achieve a target of covering ’x’ number of pandals. Debargha’s 50-60 pandals was probably an understatement. Some take their cars and check out pandals from out, some halt at every pandals for darshan, most go in the evenings as it is pleasant and yet other like Ant R & here friends set out at night from 11pm onwards till about 2am or so. Since there is no 10pm deadline unlike Bombay, the pandals are open all night. However SK & I managed a measly 5-6 pandals and cheated on the rest by clicking snaps from the confines of our car. However to make the number more respectable, SK decided to keep a track of all the pandals we passed on our way. Trust a Bombayite to use shortcuts .

Majority of these pandals serve food to the devotees. This food is known as ‘bhog’ (offering) and consists of the staple maach bhaat and tarkari (barring Ashtami or the 8th day which is strictly vegetarian, Bengalis have non-veg food all days during Pujo).

Pujo is indeed West Bengal in all its glory with streets lit up in fancy lanterns and people in their fineries. It is difficult to not be cuaght in the Pujo fever.

city of joy – enroute to Ant R’s bari

From Dumdum, we proceeded to Ant R’s bari (bari means home in bengali) at Tollygunge, South Calcutta. The whole city seemed to have come to a standstill as we could hardly see any crowd on the streets save an odd traffic jam resulting from the lack of traffic signals (yeah strange but true…Cal doesn’t have very many traffic signals). Passing through Salt Lake (the new business destination of Calcutta akin to Bombay’s Bandra-Kurla Complex), we saw the Golf Park and the Royal Calcutta Turf Club (RCTC) both rightly labelled the ‘lungs’ of the city due to its lush greenery. But what caught our eye were 2 distinct things unseen in Bombay – vast open spaces replete with water bodies and clean roads). Yeas you read that right. Calcutta is clean. In my 10 days I have travelled quite the length and breadth of Calcutta from the new city to the old but everywhere I found the roads clean. Well not spic and span but keeping Bombay as the yardstick, it is much cleaner. And relatively free of potholes. Also no unnecessary digging. For this my thumbs up goes to KMC (Kolkata Municipal Corporation). As Ant R said, “am glad you found it clean, at least it justifies my paying taxes”. Wish Bombayites could say that.

As I mentioned before Calcutta has an abundance of individual houses - row houses and bungalows as against buildings and residential complexes (the newer parts of the city are however going the concrete structure way). One thing that struck us as curious was the lack of a garden area between the houses and the main gates. Now in Bombay even the most cloistered buildings, row houses, bungalows have an open space from the main entrance to the structure. This was evidently not so here. The entrance almost immediately led to the doors of the house as though the owners / builders were particular about conserving space. Be it individual houses or buildings, there was no concept of a parking area (barring the new constructions). Some homes did have a garage, but most hardly had space to move about forget manouvering a vehicle. And since most lanes were narrow it was surprising how & where people parked their vehicles. SK & I concluded that perhaps they had no vehicles of their own and hence need not bother.

After travelling about an hour or so, we reached Ant R’s home (which is located in a maze of narrow lanes and bylanes). Hat’s off to her…with my sense of direction I would have needed a GPS to locate my own home . Ant R’s mother received us and we saw aunty after almost 14 years. Aunty wa sthe same even after all these years…pretty as most Bengali women. What surprised us though was her vivcaity and chirpiness. Now when we met aunty (for the first and last time), we were in Std. X way back in 1995. at that time aunty came across as someone very strict and after all these years to see a different avtaar of hers was mind boggling. SK & I exchanges numerous quizzical glances and concluded that probably we hadn’t gotten to know her better then and hence the misconception.

Anyway after a scrumtious Bengali lunch of fried karela, tarkari (dry vegetable dish), dal and maach bhaat (fish & rice) and a short nap later, we set out for ‘the’ Pujo activity – Pandal Hopping.

city of joy – airborne to calcutta

SK & I checked in at the Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport at Bombay where we bumped into a colleague of mine, Debargha, also headed to Calcutta by the same flight. He gave us some insight into the fervour of ‘Pujo’ (as Bengalis call it) and said that ‘pandal hopping’ formed a major porting of the festive revelry. When asked how many pandals did he see on an average, he stunned us by casually mentioning at least 50-60 pandals. Wow…both SK and I looked at each other…we haven’t visited that many Ganesh mandals in our lifetime.

We boarded the flight and as the preparation for take off began, SK started to feel a sense of claustrophobia resulting from an acute fear of flying. She started perspiring profusely, heart palpitating, palms sweaty and fingers cold. Shutting her eyes she tried to push the fear in the abyss of her mind hoping that the 2.5hour ordeal would end soon.

Meanwhile I was enjoying every minute of it. Peeping out of the window, I saw the plane rising high till the famous landmark of Bombay, our ’slums’ were just a speck of blue & black tarpaulin. Bombay looks every bit the commercial capital of the nation even from top. Tall skyscrapers dotting the coastline, the arabian Sea a wide expanse giving the island city a mjestic feel. Up and away we flew above the clouds and through them…the clouds looking like balls of cotton disintegrating and changing every moment. The sky itself was a hue of varying shades of blue from light to azzure covered with the yellow golden rays from the sun. It seemed that one could find heaven if only one looked closely amidst the clouds. 

Slowly the plane started its downward descent and the aerial view of West Bengal was breath taking. Paddy fields alternating between dark and light green lay in horizontal and vertical patterns with the irrigation canals running through them. It looked as though someone had deliberately placed these grassy mats this way. As we crossed water bodies, gushing rivers and lush fields, I spotted the yellow ambassador taxis (or ‘ambys’ as they are popularly known).

Calcutta has a quaint feel to it even from up above. Unlike Bombay, you don’t see skyscrapers but individual houses in various shades of white, blue, pink yellow. Temples in saffron, open fields, small ponds as against the gigantic Arabian Sea. Felt like the city had fought commercialisation in a bid to retain its sanity.

Down and down we went, till we reached the Netaji Subash Chandra Bose International Airport at Dumdum. Ant R was waiting for us outside. We stepped out of the airport on to the ‘city of joy’. Everything felt just right. I knew this trip would be cherishable for me for more reasons than one.

break toh banta hai – City of Joy

Disclaimer: All the characters in my ‘City of Joy’ series will have only initials to keep them anonymous as SK has threatened to murder me should her name appear anywhere …

After slogging my butt out and reports pinning my hypertension on 9 out of 10, my boss Ashish suggested that I go on a break. well, I thought, sometime or the other I had to take a break, so why not now. So as usual confused me sat scratching my head wondering where to go. My recent past experiences at planning a break were a complete washout – couldn’t go to Greece (because as my travel agent said, “you are single, young, with no loans on your head, never travelled abroad before and hence could be a potential threat” ). Also out went Dubai, Egypt and Sri Lanka (folks couldn’t understand why SL of all places). Was suggested to visit South East Asia, get a couple of visas on my passport and be eligible for my ‘big’ trip.

While discussing my plight with my friend, Ant R, she  suggested I visit Calcutta. ”Come during Durga Pooja”, she said, “and you’ll kill two birds with one stone…watch the famed Pujo and also destress”. Sounded like a perfect recipe for recreation & rejuvenation. I agreed pronto and the date was set to September 24. Since Ant R was a school friend (we studied together from Std. VIII to X), I decided to ask 2 other friends from our group – PS & SK. PS is suffering from severe backache and has been advised to refrain from travelling; SK (surprise surprise) readily agreed. Her immediate ‘yes’ shocked me as I had mentally prepared myself for much persuasion and cajoling.

Well to cut a long story short,  SK & I left for Calcutta on Sept 24 morning looking forward to having some fun in the ‘City of Joy’.

no easy task

This Sunday my governess decided to take an off. JLT (just like that). So obviously mommy dearest hoped that her children will help her in house work. Bro quickly buried his nose inside his thick accountancy books under the pretext of studying for his forthcoming CA exams (me thinks its Complete Aaram). So yours truly was left to do ‘household chores’.

Washing utensils was the easiest task. What took its toll on me were the sweeping and swabbing. It was nothing but sheer hell. Bending on your knees trying to get the dust out of nooks and cranies. The broom seemed heavy to hold albeit to me it resembled a hockey stick that I couldn’t for the life of mine manoeuvre. All this under the watchful gaze of mom who could spot dust in places I couldn’t. And they say eyesight fails with age . To top it all you have a cheeky younger bro who in a very sadistic straght faced manner tells you that sweeping is good for your abs. At least this way you’ll get some exercise. Imagine the results…do it daily and soon you’ll have a swelte figure. Grrrrrrr…I am happy being healthy and lazy.

With great heaving and hoing and standing under the fan to cool off, I managed to sweep our 2 BHK flat (wow am I glad it’s not bigger than this). Then there was the swabbing where I cheated. I mopped partly standing and leisurely pushing the mop from one end to the other. My funda being if the floor is wet it means its mopped. Why take so much of trouble? After all this I plonked myself under the fan making a great show of all the back breaking, sweat trickling work I had done.

But this entire  rigmarole got me thinking about my mother, governess and all the women for whom this is not a one off choice but a daily chore. Cook, clean, wash, wipe the routine doesn’t change ever. The place may vary from parent’s home to in-laws’ home (and in some pathetic cases even children’s homes). But the nature of the job doesn’t. Be it the mistress of the house or the maid…it’s hard work all the same. Standing in the sweltering kitchen, slaving over the gas all day all this while catering to numerous requests from family members, taking care of children, etc. etc. Phew..that’s some task… And still we look down upon home makers with a disdain that wants to put them to shame for being at home and not being career women. For not contributing financially…for choosing the home and hearth over a plum job. 

So hat’s off to all the home makers. For doing what they do, day in and day out. For giving us spic n span homes, hot meals, washed and ironed clothes. And most importantly for giving us a home we look forward to coming back to every day. Thanks ladies. Thanks mom and Ratna Aunty.

the hills are alive…

This exercise was called Free Style – in the sense that we had to write anything and everything that came to our mind. The idea is that when you begin to write, the pen should not be lifted off the paper or the finger off the keyboard. So if for example I was writing – my name is Aanchal and (suppose I get stuck and don’t know what to write next, I must keep writing ‘and’ till my thoughts clear). So it would be – my name is Aanchal and and and and and and I work at 3. It needen’t make sense, you are excused if you don’t follow grammar, spellings, sentence constructions, etc. The only condition is to let your thoughts flow freely be they structured or chaotic, meaningful or nonsense. This exercise is supposed to help one get rid of the writer’s block as well as allow all the thoughts that are in your sub conscious to come out. It is said that the philosophers and seers of yore indulged in this exercise as a result they were able to come up with stuff that would otherwise not have occured to them had they consciously thought of them.

We were asked to think of a beginning and then write continuously for one minute without lifting the pen off the paper. So here it is…

The hills are alive with the sound of music. Music from the nearby factory sirens informing workers that it is 9am. Music from the nearby fields as the tractors move through them. Music from the bullocks ploughing the fields as the bells round their necks softly tinkle. Music from the road as vehicles blow their horns, as the wheels sctrach the asaphalt or an occasional rash driver screeches in a hurry. Music from a bunch of picnicers who have come to the hillside for a weekend getaway. Music from a stero blasting from a nearby resort playing the latest chartbusters. Music from the kitchens of pots and pans and tempers flying. Wow so much of music to enjoy. But is this how it was meant to be?

And then it was time’s up .

traffic snarl

I know this is coming in piece meal basis and many of you may have lost the thread to it but am determined to complete the entire set. So here’s continuing the articles from my writer’s workshop. This particular exercise was divided into 2 parts – in the first part we were asked to write all the words that came to our mind when we thought of a ‘volcano’. In the second part we had to use those words (or as many of those) to describe a traffic jam scene. So here goes…the underlined words are some from my volcanic list…

I was riding down the Western Express highway and found a serpentine queue of vehicles. Drat…a traffic jam. I will surely be late for my date. Remembered good ole Murphy and his law, “whenever you are in a tearing hurry, you’ll meet with a traffic jam”. Since I had no option but to wait, I stepped out of the rick to assess the situation. And what do I see?

There was thick smoke billowing in the air. A mob of angry onlookers had gathered. The embers were still red and once in a spurt there was an orange yelllow flame that leapt out. The mob was turning aggressive and the cops couldn’t contain the raging protests that were erupting. Soon they would go on a destruction spree devastating public life. The root cause of this trouble was a dead body charred and roasted beyond recognition. The burnt body was still hot to touch, but I could feel the mob’s blood bubbling. Once it crossed boiling point it would uproot public property. With no intention of being caught in a warring situation, I told the rickshaw driver to take a U-turn and go the other way.