Living Right Above a Happening Lane

Living “near” a lane or a street is perhaps merely noisy and dusty !!

But after a year, I realize that living right “above” a lane, with some view of an open space and a city skyline, is great fun despite it being noisy and dusty during day time.

One gets to see so much of life…

Dawn : a sky full of purpose, freedom and hope unfolds with an air of freshness, birds fly around and the lake reflects on the soul amid enchanting bells of nearby temples… a little later – one sees enthusiastic morning-walkers, the carefree appearances of the colourful garland-makers, the business of water-tanks, milk supply and newspapers, the hectic pace of the bai (domestic help in India) who otherwise never misses the malli-phool gajra (a jasmine flower garland) :), the time-bound biking cooks, the grunt and the smile of school-goers, the anxiety of job-seekers, the contentment and stress of office-goers, the gazing cabs and autos seeking to be hired… the gathers of daily-wage earners queuing in their yellow helmets and some holding tools… the luring calls of the vegetable and fruit vendors… the errands of the peon, the hopping and laborious tasks of the courier and packer-mover agents………

Noon : and then one can see some cattle grazing on the few green patches near the lake… grannies idling on the lawn, playing cards or chatting and waiting to collect their grand-children from the school-bus..some mummies too can be seen chatting on the phone as they wait near their society gates… vendors of aluminium utensils and other domestic goods start calling aloud as they know mummies, naanis (mothers’ mothers) and daadis (fathers’ mothers) are bored by now :)… the gardener attending to every detail in brown and green… as some men and women are seen rushing home for a quick lunch………

Dusk : the sky and the skyline glow in a golden radiance along with pearly clouds… school-goers flood the streets..now as playful as kittens and the society playgrounds resound with their chirpy echoes… the college-goers who are a bundle of joviality, dreams and achievements now merrily catch up in various groups at paani-poori (an Indian street food) or ice-cream stalls… uncles and aunties are out for a stroll or to shop at a mandi (an open vegetable market)… early office-goers speed back home amid all the traffic hurls and snarls… and then the daily-wage earners return with their aprons ridden with dust, grime and sweat – now the yellow helmet is balanced in the angle at the elbow of one hand, and white poly-bags of onion, garlic, masala (spices), oil and a black poly-bag suggestive of a meaty feast hang from the tired, infirm fingers of the other :)………

Evening and Night : the moon gracing the dark sky… the late office-goer walking down the lane in a relaxed mood with ear-phones plugged in or loud phone calls made to their far native land, boasting how the boss called him up and asked to apply for a visa :)… then the pretty lass (a new office-goer) is heard urging on her mobile ‘kya kundli-kundli karte rehte ho aap log ??..maiine bola na Papa, mujhe wahan shaadi nahiiiii karni..frequency toh bilkul bhi match nahi ho rahi..aap Bhaiyya se bhi pooch lo !!‘ (a disagreement with parents over a marriage proposal which they have approved solely on horoscope match) :)… the hurrying traders and shop-keepers… the closing of gates and the change of guard… the heart-to-heart conversations of distressed and homeless souls………

the other Occasional Scenes of sorrow, delight, interest and concern : a holy janaja (funeral procession), a sincerely chanting humble group of Siridi Sai Baba bhakts (devotees), that..in sharp contrast to a gaudily crazy procession of some so-called god-man, neatly cladded men – mostly in white – returning from the nearby mosque as the Jumu’ah prayer concludes on Fridays, a fleet of Ganapati bappa morya processions, a dazzling view – far, high – and below – during Diwali, a band-bajaa baraat to whose pulsating tune I can happily do a balle-balle in the inconspicuous dark balcony :)… a beautiful rain and the beaming joy of youngsters getting drenched… a talented show of various street musicians and other artists… a lamp-post repair that makes me the first person in the apartment to know ‘ki aaj se apan yahan pe light jalne wali hai‘ (that this part of my lane is thus going to be lit up), likewise the first person to know where a transformer has blown off or which areas in and around have or lack power supply, who’s moved in and who’s moved out of the society… a political rally, a public announcement, a ‘press gaddi‘ (OB vehicle), a street fight, an instance of moral policing, an accident, a speeding ambulance, a chase by the Police…………

So far, so good…

Kuch Khattee, Kuch Mithee

Huh… done with today’s purposeful outing at a mall !

A little over a decade ago, malls were so exciting; particularly, when our generation became salaried ๐Ÿ™‚ . It was then when the ‘mall culture’ began across Indian cities and big towns. Almost every weekend or at least the alternate ones used to typically start at some fashionable mall, pace through a royal lunch, then had us fly high in car or bike rides or hooked up at a hi-fi cinema hall, and finally rolled intoย discotheques or pubs or late-night chit-chats on the open terraces. For some ‘poor guys’, the daytime meant office-over-the-weekend and at nightfall, they would join rest of their folks- again at some mall or pub. Only a few among us earnestly managed their weekend time and energy to learn an art or render services at charitable institutions.

 

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Well, the plus points with well-designed and well-located malls still are “relative” degrees of safety, dust-free environment, clean washrooms, one-stop junction for varieties of food, etc., saving of horizontal space (including parking facilities), streamlining distribution and management of infrastructural resources, increasing levels of employment, ground of opportunities for the ‘modern people’ to practice and teach mannerisms to their kids ๐Ÿ™‚ and… good malls may sometimes, plainly map all its sparkle onto empty souls !! The last point acquires great significance when the youth venturing into career options, whether studying or working, in far-flung cities stay away from their families and confront various types of struggle or face loneliness during such trying phases of life; then they are usually prompted to visit a dazzling mall (alone or with friends) and ‘just chill’. That’s definitely a wiser thing to do than idling away in gloominess !

Moreover, malls are also excellent ‘match-fixing’ (matrimonial match-making) spots ๐Ÿ™‚ … In many cases, not only the prospective couple but both the prospective families also meet without any hassle or raising their envious neighbour’s eyebrows. The same convenience is explored even for ordinary get-togethers among friends and their families because then the host just has to co-ordinate and make the payments only; he /she does not have to bother about the nitty-gritty in this minutes-starved world. This has therefore become quite an acceptable lifestyle in India.

 

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Hence even if one doesn’t wish to really shop, malls are somewhat good spots to catch friends up all on the quick gossip or catch rays of hope…

But over the last few years, I find malls and cinema halls terribly suffocating. This, even when I need to make serious business. In fact, nowadays I don’t visit malls alone because often I sweat profusely and feel dizzy at times… I don’t know if its the ever-increasing crowd or the insatiable cravings of many people over sales /discounts /offers on various items (branded or not) or their superfluous definitions of modernity or the crazy video-games counters or the jam-packed food-courts or the concrete roof or the artificial lights or the over-lapping loud noise or the pungent perfumes or vague constraints of space and time or an almost total absence of interpersonal warmth, or… a mix up of everything !!! And of course, it deeply concerns us to see many children and youth left unguided for taking appreciable interest in story books, classical music or other forms of art, physical activities or integrated development programmes; rather they too, knowingly or unknowingly, seem to be caught in perturbing rat-races and gibberish talks !!

Neither I enjoy the various online shopping options, particularly clothes because we cannot feel the texture, let alone checking proper fittings. And one usually finds all those famous wholesale or factory outlets stretched along ‘old city’ areas; reaching those spots means manoeuvring huge tasks through the motionless or erratic traffic, dust, noise and stench from nalas (drains) or chemical and leather processing units !

Wish we could still retain the old-fashioned simple layout of shops in lanes and by-lanes of approved market areas in a few places; primarily, to facilitate bad shoppers like me ๐Ÿ™‚ and secondly, may be to cherish memories of by-gone days… In any case, at least employment and business would be guaranteed.

I so much miss my hometown shops: the open vertical space around the by-lanes which let us breathe well even in a crowd, see the starry or blue sky and experience the drizzles.. the bindaas thele-waleys (carefree vendors of portable stalls) making hot, mouth-watering snacks and serving tea in little earthen pots.. the fruit-sellers and the florists from the beautiful countryside selling fresh produces.. the fragrance of the incense sticks and neatly stacked items in shops were always so attractive.. the greetings of the shop-owner and his staff (mostly well-acquainted faces) were so warm.. and the music- whether a bhajan (devotional song) sung by a beggar or the flute played by him or a pop numberย reverberating from a tape-recorder, always stirred up the dullest of spirits. In general, life’s vivid hues graced the senses wherever they turned to. And often, they taught us something wonderful.

I am sure every Indian city or big town has its own charmful notes in this context. Shopping, for any occasion… for any number of friends or relatives or for oneself, was so enjoyable then………..

Desi Thelewale Bhaiyya, Zindabaad !

Today morning, I came across an article detailing certain analysis of Indian food by a well-known Australian culinary historian, Charmaine O’Brien. While reading it, I was prompted within to reflect on my own thoughts related to it.

Last week, we had fresh hot thelewale Samosas (an Indian snack from portable stalls) presented to us by our Help.

I was a bit hesitant since I have just recovered from Viral fever. But ultimately I couldn’t resist the utter temptation – toh “Jay Jagannath” bolke khaa liya (so I had it trusting Almighty) ๐Ÿ™‚ … It was indeed so mouth-watering !

Then I remembered my hometown’s 50 paisa /1 rupee variety Chops (stuffed Pakoras) that were incredibly tasty, and just slightly bigger than old one rupee coins. Those from the thelewale used to be a perfect treat with Moodhee (puffed rice) and Masala Chaaye (herbal tea) on rainy evenings ! They are still there but with increasing awareness on hygiene and new options of snacks, now the portable stalls are mostly seen in properly monitored exhibitions and traditional melas (fairs).

samosa_kachori

hmmmmn… Kitna bhi badda restaurant ho le ya aap kaise bhi banalo (howsoever big may be a restaurant or one prepares it with all care), when it comes to Pakoras, Chaats, Jhaal Muri, Ghoogni, Pani Poori, Dahi Vada and these kinda stuff, you can’t beat that of our very own desi thelewale Bhaiyya (India’s street Hawkers) !

For a while, forget the hygiene: zindegi ki woh ‘zing thing’ kahaan se laogey (from whence would you attain that unique pungent flavour of life) ๐Ÿ™‚ !!!

And the charchaa (gabfest) around fresh street food and the Hawkers’ portable stalls, under the thundering clouds and in the cool zephyr… usmein baat hii kuch khaas hai, hai na (there’s a special air about it, isn’t it)… ?

muddheemasla

 

A Psychiatric Fallout !!

Under the new Budget in India, the price of aerated drinks (water with sugar content) has been hiked up by 5 percent, making soft drinks and sugary juices costlier.

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Health experts are hopeful that this financial step shall help reduce sugar consumption and thus check obesity, diabetes, cancer, heart diseases and dental decay – a theory many countries have begun to acknowledge but brands still profusely dispute !

Interestingly, last year I had a terrible dream : after the last gluttonous sip of a soft drink, I “saw” myself discovering active maggots at the bottom of the glass – and that was the end of all sugary relishes ๐Ÿ™‚ !!!

Next morning, as soon as I woke up, I threw the remaining bottles out of the refrigerator. We do not buy any soft drink or ice-creams unless a guest arrives and indicates a desire for it.

Now howsoever thirsty, we prefer plain water. And since then, if we really need to have a soft drink as an accompaniment, only fresh home-made sugarless nimbu paani zindabaadย (hail lemonade) ; thus goes our newly chosen flavour with spicy Biryanis and Pizzas as well ๐Ÿ™‚ !

For the same “visual pothers” of my dream ๐Ÿ™‚ , we have ditched other sugar-containing items and drastically reduced quantities of sweets or amount of sugar in every possible ‘prepared’ item, howsoever attractive – jalebis, chocolates, pastries, ice-creams, tea, corn flakes, milk shakes, cookies, smoothies, cakes, pan cakes, porridges, etc.

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Luckily, my husband volunteered to “share” the psychiatric fallout of my dream ๐Ÿ™‚ ! So that has now led us to limit our daily sugar consumption to even less than six teaspoons as recently set by the World Health Organization. Normally, I take only one teaspoon – in my morning cup of tea which I definitely require to stir up my day.

Well… my father (who is also a Doctor), tried for years to make me get rid of soft drinks; so he has been very thankful to God for blessing me with that thoroughly health-effective dream ๐Ÿ™‚ !!… Now his other routine insistences are about regular exercises (particularly Yoga), a 20-minute exposure to the morning rays of the Sun and having maximally green diets along with natural anti-oxidants. My husband has sincerely met almost all these expectations, whether of his father-in-law or his Family Physician ๐Ÿ™‚ , and of late, I am trying hard to partner him in it.

I suppose all health advices, increasing prices or taxes and making rules in these dietary matters aren’t going to help for long… So I wish that my folks who sincerely intend to get rid of aerated drinks and non-intrinsic forms of sugar, also “see” such a loathsome dream ๐Ÿ˜‰ !!! Perhaps, there is no other way by which someone like me can be more motivated firstly, to quit all those unhealthy molecules feeding potential cancerous cells and secondly, to maintain sustainability at it ๐Ÿ™‚ !

 

Memoirs of Indian Dhabas

Period: 1970s-1990s.

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Travelling in a car or jeep on Bhubaneshwar-Mayurbhanj-Kolkata NH during the rainy season, lunch or dinner at an original Dhaba was a wonderful treat then; especially, the home-bound journeys after completion of an enterprise.

Sitting on the blue /green /yellow wooden benches or charpoys under halogen or oil lamp lit thatched roofs, the whole family would chat and relish the mouth-watering, steaming-hot dishes on big steel thaalis or freshly cut, green banana leaves :

typical Dhaba meals, various Kebabs, Tandoori Roti, Daal Tadka, Paneer Tikka, Gobi Manchurian, Rajma Masala, Tandoori Murg, Egg Bhurji, Chingri Malaikari (Prawns-in-Coconut Milk gravy), Mutton Kasa,ย Murg Makhani, Lassi, etc.

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(Oh God, help me… I am so much drooling !!) ๐Ÿ™‚

While watching the promising rains, the shrines of several Faiths beside meandering rivers, the green fields swaying in the drizzles, the farmers working in a row wearing their jute hats, the local vendors selling colourful wares, the movie posters glued onto poles,ย variegated art themes painted on the walls of the Dhabas, the twinkling mini-bulbs strung in pretty designs…

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And the decorative trucks that sometimes squeak-braked on slippery roads and had boldly labelled all over its robust frame, either wishful or funny or spiritual messages in different Indian languages- awaaz karo, burey nazar waale tera mnuh kaala, bye bye dost, abaar dekha hobe, jaldi baata chadda, ikkada nuvu, nenu miru chudaleru, surakhiata rahina, ram-allah ek hain, sai ram-sai shyam-sai bhagvaan, jai hanuman, hum tum bhai bhai, hum se duur raho, meri himmat teri kismat, badda bhai tej chalega naraz mat hona chhotu, etc. ๐Ÿ™‚

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Amidst the cat and kittens mewing, and the puppy wagging its tail hard – all, for a bone ! ๐Ÿ™‚

Grand-parents or uncles would sometimes lend their ears to an interesting tale or two of the then Chhotus (the young, resourceful and jolly Helps at the Dhabas) . Down the line, a re-narration of it to the children (us) meant so much of revelation of life’s unknown joys and sorrows…

Gradually, the meals would end with a flavoured Paan, that was always claimed to be the famous Banarasi brand :-). And then the remaining journey would begin against the background of quite a setting Sun, with the music of a Bollywood number as selected by the high-spirited Driver ๐Ÿ™‚ of the unfailing white Ambassador or the bouncy red Gypsy (vehicle models).

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On some trips, neither the windscreen wipers stopped nor did the music until we halted at a roadside gumti (small stall), usually under a banyan or mango tree, for a “special Chaa /Chaaha” (Tea) or to buy farm-fresh vegetables.

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And if we happened to meet close friends travelling on the same route, it would transform to a great merry-making. At times, even seats in the vehicles also had to be exchanged since the heart-to-heart conversations never paused and the game of cards never wrapped up… ๐Ÿ™‚

Once we reached the gates, the faithful Watchman would briskly unlock the doors and the House-Keeping staff at the bungalow would cordially greet us. Combined with a warm shower, all the tiredness of the journey seemed to fade away into the veil of the night and next morning, we would be freshened as the shiny drops of rain trickling down the velvety leaves.

Those were such utterly charmful days…

Of Cats and Squirrels

July, 2014 :

Done with an errand, we were walking along the by-lane when we witnessed quite a funny morning early this month.

My hubby, who is very sensitive to dust, sneezed in rapid successions and with high intensity; so much so that in this case of ‘man vs.the wild’, two full-grown cats were “shaken up” !!! ๐Ÿ™‚ย  Their green-eyes popped out in seconds and stepping-back, they quickly hid behind the pillar of a shop, tightly huddled up against each other (as if two friends holding hands in apprehension). Then they timidly waited there until my hubby managed to control his numerous sneezes and well crossed the spot !! ๐Ÿ™‚

It was indeed such a funny scene. I burst into a laughter; so did the shop-owner, the sales-boy and a group of school-goers.

December, 1989 :

This reminded me of my cat, Jhumi, whom I possessed during the late eighties. She had been presented to us as a gift in an old string-purse. She was so tiny then that I think I could have accommodated three or four Jhumis in my palm. Being an only child, I soon found Jhumi to be a great companion, particularly on weekend afternoons. Initially, she used to stay endlessly in the comfort of my lap or little pockets of my baggy trousers and skirts.ย  As she grew up, she would sort of peep around and then quickly recognize my chair and crouch beneath it even when I was away. In my presence, she often laid there resting her warm body against my then cushion-like feet. Her feathery tail tickling my toes, for a while, made me forget all the rigours of the day. During winter mornings and afternoons, I would always find her on my blanket, coiled like an inactive snail. When we got out of the bed, she would demonstrate one of the finest stretch exercises and then bask on the fresh hay until Ma called us for breakfast.

Problems for Jhumi started when her kittens were born. Our Cook and Domestic Help could never tolerate the kittens since they used to jump here and there over their work areas and it also meant that they had to clean all the utensils and spots again and again. One afternoon, as our Cook prepared to serve food, the kittens emerged from bowls. ๐Ÿ™‚ Funny but dangerous !… I was enjoying it but elders were then worried about preventing such misadventures. At the dinner table, they discussed about donating them away or making a separate, restrictive arrangement at the bungalow; then they lowered their thoughtful glances at my radiating joy and innocence, and could not conclude.

The next day went as usual.

In the evening, when we were away at a friend’s place, the two ladies (Cook and Domestic Help) packed Jhumi and her kittens in a rice sac and dispatched them on the local train. They entrusted the sac to their common friend who was travelling on the same train. Unless confronted, it must have thrust Jhumi’s family to a village at least 30-40 kilometres away.

That was the end of all my fun. When I enquired in dismay, my grand-mother explained about all infections that would have been likely caused by Jhumi’s family loitering in the kitchen and therefore, the necessity to release them into open, distant places. And our Cook added happily, “Don’t worry, baby… we have put enough food in the sac; they won’t starve” !

For almost a month, I did hope for them to trace paths back to home… But even more, I prayed that they all stayed safe in some caring hands.

Jhumi has been the only feline I possessed.

August, 1992 :

A garden around a bungalow is incomplete without springy squirrels. We were blessed with plenty of them. While we chatted on the verandah, we could see them jump over our legs or while we unwinded on lazy afternoons, we could watch them playing along window-frames and swaying branches. Their merry clicks enlivened the entire ambience.

Ma was an ardent lover of hanging varieties of plants. So she had a row of them adorning the tall borders and roofs of the long verandah. As a keen gardener, she used to place the right supports (dry twigs, jute strings, wire mesh, etc.) for her other plants as well to extend, grow and bloom in the best of their displays. But sometimes the supports went missing, and so did the Help’s colourful cleaning-rags ! Everyone was clueless !! The official gardener and watchman of the bungalow were upset because they could not account for it. And after a few days, they all started believing that ‘kahaani poori fillaami hai… koi purani aatma ghus ayee hai bungalow mein‘ (some ghostly theme of a film depicting return of an old spirit to the bungalow) !!! ๐Ÿ™‚

One day, as I sat in the verandah preparing for my exams, I noticed about four or five adult squirrels sort of ‘spying’ on some thing. It instantly drew my attention and I closed the then boring pages of the Civics textbook. I gathered to look myself what was the ‘spying’ about. Soon, I observed that three or four of them first spread around in directions from which Ma or the gardener usually approaches for the plants on the verandah. Then they perhaps squeaked in some code of their own at which the last squirrel, seemingly younger and quicker, sprang into action without clicking a bit. That was definitely to deceive us that the group was playing far in the garden (the squeaking squirrels on guard) and there was none even near the verandah ! ๐Ÿ™‚ While others kept guard, I saw this younger one quietly locate those plant-supports and loot one after the other ! It performed with such intelligence, dexterity and speed that I never blinked for a second, let alone calling Ma to witness this amazing scene !!

For example, if it was a simple twig, the squirrel would just pluck and hold it in its mouth. If it was a woollen or nylon thread, it would mostly use its forelegs to untie it without forming any knot and then neatly roll the loosened thread into a ball. Then tucking all these loot in its mouth, it would rush towards a particular bush. The queer activities were repetitive until a certain satisfaction was signalled en masse. Then they would all immediately disperse along with the accumulated loot in a joint effort.

That bush, I noticed, was situated right beneath the shade of a big mango tree on which they (may be, just two among them) had a nest. Later, gazing at it with my naked eyes, I found a robust nest based on the beautiful loot and also those ‘missing’ colourful rags hanging from it. ๐Ÿ™‚

When I narrated the incident to my parents, they never believed me until they had the chance to themselves witness it. It was wonderful to watch this loot, together. ๐Ÿ™‚

Ma was so emotional and generous that instead of getting angry at it, she started keeping rags and threads near the bushes !! ๐Ÿ™‚ย  She believed that would unburden the cute creatures and enable them to uninterruptedly guard their little ones lying undefended in the nest during which ‘squirrel Ma-Baba‘ (the adult squirrels) had to gather hardware supports.

And indeed thereafter, the ‘squirrel Ma-Baba‘ (the adult squirrels) utilized the readily available resources and resorted to Ma’s garden only if they needed any extras.

The attendants of the bungalow had to quit the mysterious gossip around their ‘purani bhatakti hui aatma‘ (old wandering spirit) theory :-)… but nevertheless, were amused at this fact unearthed by Chote-babu (me).

Wish we had an advanced digital camera then……

 

Shadows of Height (Reflections: Part-III)

In a qualifying round of a beauty pageant, on being asked about the adequate height of a woman, a contestant had famously responded thus – ‘The height of a woman should be sufficient to reach her father’s mind and her husband’s heart’ !

I am not certain if it was her original answer or a quote… but it was indeed, all beauty and brains. ๐Ÿ™‚

Now here’s my reflection on height, in general, which I gathered over the weekend during which I was advised to take a small rest.

Heights can be a blessing or a curse !

Once we are into this world, then to consider height either as a blessing or a curse, first we must understand two aspects. “Physical” height that depends on our physical environment andย situations, and “abstract” height that depends on our ambitions and social status.

First aspect is pretty obvious. To briefly explain the second aspect, here is one quick example- “abstract” height is a blessing when a rich person gets anything he/she desires and when a common man has nothing to lose; it is a curse when a tall figure in the society has to search a niche to hide when badly blamed for something and a common man trying to reach for the stars bears lot of obstacles, even undue ones.

My experiences (situational) with my average Indian female “physical” height has been interesting.

Blessings : always invited to the front rows in an audience or photoshoot; having played a mischief in childhood, managing to hide in the dark shelter under the ever-protecting cot :-); getting the maximum options to shield myself during a hide-and-seek game; drawing kindness or mercy of elders during hard physical assignments or punishments; saving on length of cloth and cot :-); easily treading paths and sort of crouching myself in places where others can’t even imagine; etc.

Curses : unable to pluck mangoes or steal Grandma’s pickles single-handedly, which implied prompt sharing :); sitting in the front-rows in a very disciplined school- totally devoid of participation in pranks and fun :-); usually being the first one to face a question from the Teacher; being the first one to be called for running small errands; getting awfully suffocated in any crowd; unable to well-exhibit flowing gowns, Anarkalis and Sambalpuris /Kanjeevarams /crisp Hand-loom apparels; difficulty in playing certain sports; requiring block-heel sandals for lending pose and poise typical of certain outfits and match-fixing (shaadi) purposes :-); etc.

My latest story follows.

Last mid-week, in a big solo cleaning-drive, I had over-stretched to dust corners of the walls, curtain-holders, unused dabbas (containers) in top shelves, to oil far-fixed hinges, to rearrange books, and once had to manually wash-off pigeon droppings from the huge drying bed-sheet. Yes, manually because I did not want my washing-machine to be deprived of its pavitrataa (sanctity) ! ๐Ÿ™‚

Nateeja (consequence) : my ribs had to bear wear and tear (not fracture) of some binding tissues… I woke up with excruciating pain one morning, unable to turn sideways or simply lift my hands !! The episode lasted 2-3 days with mild fever now and then, as my body struggled to apply a patch on the tissues by virtue of its natural defence.

I got relief with the Doctor’s anti-biotics and a few pain-killers; and now continuing with extra dosages of vitamins to speed up the recovery. And for the unfeatured but gracious part in this episode, my generous husband played the motherly role of also managing the kitchen amidst his busy schedule ! …… Ohh ! And whhaaat – appreciation for my solo cleaning-drive ? Could I have asked him more ? ๐Ÿ™‚

But the first realization of the pain due to my unweighed attempts in rendering a shine-bright look to the household, was indeed dreadful – it pierced right through my heart, giving me jitters of a typical early morning heart-attack !!!!

Hmmmn… here too, same lesson of life learnt: there are odds in life but unless we practice things regularly, stars- whether big or small, cannot be well-achieved. I say ‘well’ because after we achieve it, we or/and our kith and kin should also be in a position to preserve it good. And fruits of at least some labour are definitely to be dreamt and cherished by us too- the sole or solo performers like me in this case :-), unlike inherent preachings of the great Karma Yoga !!

toh phir kad ho ya kaddu, kuch cheezein “haule-haule” hii sahi hote hain (so whether its height or achievement, certain things prove right or form well only gradually)…

Aamjunta โ€“ what do you say?

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