Chak De India!

Author’s note: I tend to stay away from political comment but sometimes one just has to take a stance. If not for Politics, what would a democracy be? I hope I don’t offend anyone’s personal politics by my personal political opinion. Bhai, afterall we live in a democracy. But at the end of the day, personal politics aside, phir bhi dil hai hindustani. I have often been accused of being too idealistic, which is a kinder way of saying “You are too naive”. Well, I’d rather be idealistic than cynical. I’d rather have hope than think all hope is lost.

At fifteen years of age, I realized that in order to have an intelligent conversation with my Dad, I needed to start reading the paper. My Dad is a very well read man, be it politics, international strategy, military warfare, international politics etc, my dad stayed abreast of it all. He did not have much time for fiction, and so apart from the occasional James Hardley Chase and all the classics he had devoured as a young MCom postgraduate he stuck to non fiction for the most part. 

 And so, with the motivation to impress my dad, I opened the Times of India to see what the newspaper was all about. It took a little effort to get used to the rhythm of a newspaper article but within a week I had at least half a dozen stories that I was following. But at the end of the first month, I forgot all about impressing my dad, I just was worried sick. I finally went to my dad and said “Dad, India will not last beyond the end of the current year if things don’t change. Corruption is widespread, ego’s rule the political world, crime rate is up, caste system is still lingering, dowry deaths just don’t seem to be ending, we are too diverse as a nation to ever become one unified entity. This country is not going to last Dad”. I was hoping my Dad would have the panacea for the plethora of maladies afflicting India. 

 “India is not going anywhere”, said my Dad. “When I was your age, I started reading the newspaper and started following current affairs. I always thought the world and India along with it were going to end too. Nothing of the sort has occurred. India has changed tremendously over the years, some were really good changes and some were bad changes but change it did. And even though it looks like we are on the brink of doomsday, don’t you worry, India ain’t going anywhere”.

 At the time, I remember thinking for all the intelligence my dad demonstrated, he definitely had lost a screw or two. But he was absolutely right in his reply. India has changed since I was fifteen. She has made amazing progress in certain arenas and the in some, she has stayed stagnant and in some areas she actually has taken a couple of backward steps. India is no longer the “chalta hai” India that R.K. Laxman portrayed in his comic strip over the years. We are currently a “go-getters” nation, this is reflected in our attitude towards everything. Our cricket strategy reflects it, our cinema reflects it, our young politicians reflect it.  We‘ve carved out a formidable reputation in the international arena one BPO contract at a time. We showed the world, India was not a sleepy little village everyone thought she was. She has military muscle, political muscle, economic muscle, and what’s more an artistic muscle as well. What happens in India today becomes international news. That is assuming the local news channel in question are done reporting about a local cat who climbed a tree and needs rescuing (that’s another story completely). The world today listens when India speaks, or at least they pretend to listen. 

We have a long way to go still. And only time will tell if we make good use of our new found muscle or if we frittered it away. So when one hears of the fiasco that the MNS party started in Mumbai recently, one wonders what are we doing. How did we get so parochial is what every headline asks that reports on this issue. 

To quote a dialogue from a very recent blockbuster Chak De: “Mujhe na States ke naam sunaayi dete hain, na dikhayi dete hai. Mujhe to sirf ek mulk ka naam sunayi deta hai. India.” Now there is a dialogue that all Indians, be they from North, South, East or West should learn by heart. 

When a Gujju or say a Punjabi or say a Tamilian spits in front of the Empire State building in New York City, people standing around watching the entire scene will conclude that an Indian spat in front of the Empire State building and how Indians lack a basic civic sense. It is never a Gujju, Punjabi or Tamilian but an Indian that the outside world sees. When the world sees us as one, why one earth do we see differences in ourselves. We should be one India where each region/state has its own unique mores and customs. We should embrace these differences rather than sit and sulk about them. (Sorry, I sound preachy even to myself. Oh Well!) 

Recently a well educated hindu friend of mine commented that what BJP did by showing its hinduatva muscle was the right thing to do. We have to show the muslims that hindus are not laid back, and that they cannot walk all over us.

What good came out of this gentleman being educated if he still harbors such thoughts towards another Indian citizen? How misguided of him to think India as a Hindu state – no India is a secular state, how conveniently we forget this when it comes to our own backyard. 

 Why are we as educated Indians not thinking right – it all comes down to exposure. We may adore our Sharukh Khans and Salman Khans but do we know of any muslims up close and personal. Most of us may not. We who are educated have a responsibility to think rationally. But how rational is our thought when dowry deaths are as frequent with educated classes as the illiterate masses. How rational are we if we still identify ourselves from a caste perspective. How rational are we if we think every religion apart from our own religion is an evil one. Education teaches us not to judge by color, creed or religion. To judge rationally and to think with our head and not our emotions. Politicians are men too, we should never forget that. We tend to put our leaders on a pedestal and completely forget that they are mere mortals with faults like everyone else. Politicians will practice a much different tune than the one they preach. Always judge a politician by his personal choices rather than by slogans they shout from their respective “raths”.

Nehru once made his famous speech and said “we have a tryst with destiny….”. Well I think we can say the same today. We have a tryst with destiny today. Our actions today will decide for us our future course. Our future generations will bear the fruit of our wise course of action or they will pay for our follies. And as I once had a conversation with my Dad about the future of India. I would like to have the same conversation with my sons. I also want to reassure them that India will not drown. That change is inevitable but India, US and the world are not going anywhere.  We all remember how we won our freedom, but do we remember how we lost our freedom in the first place. We lost it because of infighting, because of our stubborn pride, and because we made disastrous personal choices. They say that if we forget history, we are doomed to repeat it. Let’s not forget that united we stand, and divided we will definitely fall.  

Forget sates, forget language, forget caste, and definitely forget religion.  We are India. Let’s make her proud. Again to quote a recent block buster, Chak De India!.

Maa Ki Mamta…

Let me begin today by saying, I have found maternal gratification at the bottom of a bowl of Daal Chawal. I’m sure that is a most confusing statement, but that is more the conclusion than the beginning. So let me start right at the beginning then. 

I am a mom. I have been one for the last nine years and a very proud one at that. For some people motherhood comes very naturally, I thought it would for me too, after all I knew more nursery rhymes than anyone else I knew. But that was not the case, my early days at this business of motherhood was filled with mind numbing pain. Third degree lacerations as a result of childbirth can do that to a person. The baby diapers we loaded up on served both my new born son and also as an icepack for me. But pain not withstanding, I was both overjoyed and scared at the birth of our first baby. 

Back when I was a Sergeant in the NCC (Army wing) in Vizag, I was asked how much a new born baby weighs as part of the C certification exam. I failed to see how serving as the sixth line of defence (after the babies) for India and knowing how much a new born baby weighed were even remotely connected. But who was I to question “army intelligence”. Mine was not to question why, mine was but to do and die. And so I scratched my head a few times, scrambled to imagine how much a kg of onions felt like and took a wild guess. “Sir, a new born baby probably weighs 10 kgs or so”, I replied. (10 KGs equate approximately to about 22 pounds) 

In my defence, I had not held a new born baby in my arms till then. I also abhorred biology and hence practically ignored all things biological except the few things that I couldn’t manage to ignore. I still passed the C certification, amazingly. The officer who had asked me the question (I think he was a Major so and so), just smiled and told me I was way off. I didn’t know how off till I had a baby of my own a little later in life. My new born baby was 9 pounds and 14 ounces – two ounces shy of 10 pounds. Every where I went in the hospital, all the nurses recognized me – “oh you’re the one who gave birth to the kindergartner”. Who knew, I was a mini celebrity!  

Now, can you imagine a 10 kg baby – oh my God, it’s a good thing Mother Nature was not as clueless as I was or at least had been. After going through childbirth twice, I am now all caught up to speed. 

The first two weeks after my first child was born, I had my husband to help me and then he was scheduled to go back to work. I panicked, what am I supposed to do with a two week old living breathing baby who equated me to a milk machine. So the first day that I spent alone with my son was a very silent one at least from my end. Gooing and gahing to my baby – making nonsensical baby talk was as foreign to me as speaking Greek. I could not if my life depended on it say something silly to my baby. My husband spoke to him constantly where as I just held him close and hoped he understood my silence. A couple of days later I got into the groove and was talking utter nonsense – I could go on for hours together. My baby didn’t care – he just listened and smiled every time he passed gas. 

It’s a constant challenge for working mothers to spend quality time with their children. I am a working mother. I plan to rectify that someday, but short of winning the lottery I think the status quo will remain in place for a few years at least. Oh well, who am I kidding, it will be couple of decades before I quit working. Between my husband and I we try our best to stay close (very close) to the kids. But it still is tough, between all the extra curricular activities, Kumon, homework and cleaning up their room (this one is an tough – kind of like climbing the Everest), there really is no time left over.  

I live with three pack rats – all three men in my family detest throwing away anything, no matter how useless the thing in question may be. I on the other hand have a very healthy relationship with my Garbage can. I purposefully bought a really large dustbin and it now proudly sits in my kitchen. All the paperwork my sons bring home goes promptly in to the dustbin. I have to wait till my kids are not watching to throw their notes, artwork, etc into the dustbin. There have been times when the dustbin cover comes off and my son will spot the little red heart he made at school the previous day. “Mommy, you threw away my heart. I made it in school yesterday”.  

Yeah! Yeah! Yeah, go tell it to Oprah! 

And the little heart that was so unceremoniously discarded, will now again be placed on the kitchen counter. And there it will sit till I abolish it once again, when my sons are not watching. I told you, this motherhood business does not come naturally to me. De-cluttering on the other hand is a most natural skill.  

There are times though, when even I cannot throw away some of my sons artwork. One such instance is the still life painting that my three year old labored over for Valentine. It is a drawing of a bud vase on which my son put some real colorful touches. Most artistic and very green. And the picture is appropriately titled “The single rose; A Valentine Still-life”. This specific picture is still floating somewhere in my living room. Well, Da Vinci my son ain’t but even my heart swells with pride when I see Green paint smothered on a bud vase drawing. Such is motherhood!!! 

They say that a Mango never falls too far from the tree. This is because as a parent we like to instill our values and  our ethics in our children. Mealtimes at our home are sacred. We sit around the dinner table as a family and finally spend some quality time together. Every weekend, I make dal chawal – something I excel at even with my limited culinary skills. I then mix the dal chaawal exactly as my mom had when I was young – lots of ghee and lots of salt. And down we sit on the floor, two bowls of dal chaawal, two glasses of water, two steel spoons, two very excited children and one “very-close-to-being-demented”  Mom. And the three of us spend the next hour talking and chatting and just plain goofing off.  

As a mother, I find this time that I spend with my kids extremely satisfying. I tell them how lying is bad and how telling the truth is courageous. I put on my Solomon hat and settle minor spats. I talk about my elder son’s school and gaze admiringly at my younger sons’s matcbox car(s). I guess one could say, I have finally found maternal gratification at the bottom of a bowl of Dal Chaawal. Who would have thought! 

Of Mice, Men, Marriage, Marital Spats etc…in no particular order

It’s is very close to Valentine’s day and Cupid is definitely in the air. Now would not be the right time to say anything negative. In fact now would be the perfect time to write a blog in praise men. I’ve often been accused of being a tad negative towards men in general. Well my acerbic tongue aside, I have always admired men. My ideal in life is a man – no points for correct guesses. I’ve tailored my entire persona around him and have always aspired to be as good as him. 

Ahhh! Men, Men, Men. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them. Can you imagine just for a moment, what the earth would be without men. Let’s just picture the earth being inhabited just by women…. I cannot. If there were nary a man, who would we lech at? Who would we drool over? Who would the women marry? Please bring back the men. Poof! And men now inhabited the earth. Thank God I can now sit and make moon eyes at SRK all day long.  

Jab Tak Suraj Chaand Rahega, tab tak SRK TV pe rahega. 

Marriage some say is an institution. The sentence that always follows this is – and who wants to be in an institution. Well I for one. It’s a wonderful institution. Marriage gives you the luxury of not always having a best friend. Coz your best friend is now your spouse. In my case, I just married my best friend. You never have to make a decision by yourself ever again. You can instead make a decision together. Of course, doobenge to dono saath milke doobenge….. but that’s just minor details. 

Over the years they say, women have evolved from being a homebody to a career person etc. But over the years men also have evolved. They’ve had to morph themselves to complement the changing woman. If the definition of a woman has changed so has the definition of being a man. Once upon a long, long, long, long time ago, much before my time apparently men were MCPs. They were the bread winners and they were the patriarchs of their family. But Neanderthals went out of fashion at the turn of the previous century. Men in my generation and age group have a pretty tall order to fulfill indeed. Women today (and I am as guilty as the next woman) require their men to be a little bit of an MCP and yet be soft, gentle and kind. We like our men to cry sometimes and yet we don’t want a namby pamby for a spouse. We want then to be strong and resilient and a shoulder to lean on. And yet be respectful of us women, and let us make our own decisions. 

 I guess we are not sure what we want – but then we’re women and not knowing what we want is our prerogative. That’s just the long and short of it. And here we have to give it you guys, you manage to somehow fulfill our nebulous requirement and more. What would life be without all you men. 

Growing up we often visited my Grand Parents in South India. My Ammama(Grand Mom) and Tatayya(Grand Dad) were a couple made for each other. Ammama was nearing complete blindness. She had weathered the ups and downs of life with a determination that comes with lack of monetary funds but age finally caught up to her. She was a Doctor’s delight – she had Diabetes, high Blood Pressure, cataract and a whole plethora of medical complications. Tatayya didn’t have as many complications as Ammamma but he was growing old rapidly and the body definitely was not as energetic as before. Every morning, Ammamma would park on this long wooden Sofa placed in the front verandah and would then beckon to Tatayya. And then would begin her litany of complaints. Even as a teenager, I was always awestruck at how long and how consistent a monologue my Grand Mom could keep up with her own self. She was content airing her issues while my Grandfather at the other end of the sofa slept like a baby.  

Sometimes in the middle of a particular grievance, Ammamma would prompt him for a reply and he would somehow grunt the appropriate “Aahhhh” despite being sound asleep. What an amazing marriage those two had. They never fought – or maybe they did but definitely not with each other. That I would say is the key to a happy marriage.  

It takes two to clap, and it definitely takes two to fight. When my husband and I were dating, I found it most annoying and dissatisfactory to see that my boyfriend at the time did not fight. I could call him a duffer and he would just very calmly agree with me. Of course my husband now gives back as good as he gets. And he has the cheek to say it’s all my influence. Not being able to fight was a tad bit dissatisfactory but it definitely would have been better than the sulking we both do after a good fight. I almost wish I was more influenced by him than the other way around. 

Marriages I believe are made in heaven. eHarmony, can claim to do it but life partners are truly picked somewhere above the big blue sky. Pick any couple and you’ll see a certain rhythm. A certain pattern that kind of makes one go – Yup! Those two belong together. Or It’s no surprise those two ended up together. I definitely have done some elaborate observations on this and it’s always held true. Ammamma and Tatayya were destined to be together. Ammamma was the flamboyant firebrand to my ever patient, resilient Tatayya. 

Men and women are both from Earth, I say. And I can prove it.  

Men can be as silly as us women – but you just won’t be able to get then to admit it. Men can tear up like the next women – again try and get them to admit to it. Men can fight as dirty as us women. They can do emotional blackmail as well if not better than us women. Men can be brave. Men can be kind. Just try and get them to admit it.  

Similarly, women can mow the lawn just as well as a man. Women can empty out the garbage just as well as a man. Women can pick up dead mice just as well as any man. But try getting us to admit to it. 

Happy Valentine’s y’all. And let’s lift a toast for all the special men in our lives.