homecoming

I am going home. The last time I saw home was last Christmas. I remember being ecstatically enthusiastic and excited because I had so much to carry, both in stories and gifts. Dad was not particularly impressed with the lavish arrival. I don’t observe the festival but it is another thing to be in the city around that time. I love the Yuletide fever in Shillong. The wintry chill can numb your nose and there is a sense of being anchored in madness and total frenzy.

Dad thinks one should come home only when there is a need. What need? I have not figured it out until date but yes, he was only trying to be helpful by asking me to cut down on my expenses. I tried to make up for all the right times that I should have been home and I was not- when he retired, when mom was hopsitalised for a minor surgery, when he was looking for a second haven, when he just wanted to talk to me, when…

This time, I go back with a sense of achievement and ‘need’ to go home. They want to see me, they want me to see the house, and they want me to visit my place long before I become a domestic stranger and outsider. They want me to cling to my roots, they want me to cultivate my sense of rootedness and like Norah Jones sings,

“Come away with me…”

They want me to stop lingering in the mad, mad world and come back home, probably to groom myself for the next degree in life that I choose to ignore but is imminent. They know that I am doing good for myself, a lil’ indulgent they are with the nagging phone calls but I accept that as a form of affection for a girl away from the hearth and pampering comfort of home.

But this time, I see the excitement more in my family, they are dying to see me. I don’t know if I half feel the same. Am I going home because everyone else does? Am I merely fulfilling the ‘need’ to be seen and met? Don’t know much this time around. I will definitely miss Aroma without whom Shillong is never going to be the same. I want to see my garden, I want to see my brother, how tall has he grown? I want to see my sister, is she still unreasonable? I love her whatever. I want to meet dad, post retirement- hug that frail but steely frame which weathered every storm in his life like a lion, my inspiration. I want to see mom- my ever adorable friend who forgot along the way, that she is 52 and not 15. She still complains and rants, gets emotional when I don’t tell her ‘stories’ over phone. I want to visit all the familiar places and live and breathe the air again, and charge my warm memories that I have of the place.

I am coming home.

Smiles.

House hunting- concluded

Leaving an old place is never so easy. 9 months of eternal effort to settle down never bore real fruit. You still live out of half-baked niceness and forced pretences. People come and people go. Doors are opened matter-of fact and bolted to make sure no alien comes. Have a maid to feel a semblance of family around - her kids are adorable. They call me “Akka”, sometimes their friends call me “Aunty”. Weekdays are weekdays- some forced dinners and get-togethers, some usual polite conversation, some whatever. Insecurities grip you- the fact that we are too familiar about things around us. But the day the last item in the house was packed, yes, I did feel a twang. That familiar parrot chatter, those kids flying kites, those little girls playing hopscotch, the junior artistes’ van which smells of good food, the local rythu which smells of rotten tomatoes and slush on busy days and a deserted curfew struck lane on normal days- I won’t see them again. The warm marble floors, the huge expanse in the kitchen which bathes in sunlight in the morning- the eye-catching woodwork and everything familiar- let go. Said goodbye and left, the lane disappeared pretty soon and the lingering thought derails me until now when the cab supervisor mistakenly assigns me a cab for that house.

The new house, quiet and graceful with age smiles at me. The old windows and the heavy doors remind me of familiar bearings. I feel anchored even though I did not know what next. I have a brand new room mate, lot of gentle pets around, an indulgingly cosy balcony and nice tiles. Vaastu-wise the house is perfect. In weeks, the house reverberated with life and verve, Shalini, Kaku, Kakima and Doyel became family. When the kitchen is inaugurated for a sumptuous lunch, the house actually comes to life. Life resumed with beautiful serendipitous events.

Come by for lunch or a cuppa tea on a holiday, surely, you won’t be disappointed.

Smiles.

my birthdays

I am not the regular cakes and candles girl, no balloons and no confetti. In fact, my 1^st public birthday in school was at the age of 4, in the month of March! I saw birthday girls and boys getting a lot of attention and me, the show-stopper being ‘sidelined’ and ‘ignored’ totally! The solution is to throw a birthday party. My dad had little idea of the days to come. He ordered lollipops for 60 odd people and packed my Duckback bag with them and I felt like Alexander! Oh my god, I love birthdays, everyone is my best friend. The boys would try to be nice to get an extra lollipop and the girls would smirk, wishing it was their birthday. Oh, it used to be so hilarious. Then again in the middle of the year I would want to have another birthday. Dad obliged, this time with moti churr ki ladoos. God knows, what he told the teachers I never celebrated my birthday on my birthday that year! Probably my parents did but I was not aware, I don’t remember any of my friends coming home or did I forget to insist. After that, all I remember about birthdays were temple visits and feeding the poor and remembering the departed to seek their blessings. I used to hate giving away to unknown people. Dad explained that my less fortunate brothers and sisters do not know what a birthday party is, that’s why you are the privileged one to share with them. “Hmff” was all I had. Now it makes sense.

College saw me with treats and all, Chinese or continental. Then, the Archies gifts and all, trinkets and stuff. Within 300 bucks I would treat an army. Univ was dedicated and special. My birthday came in the summer break and the phone calls were never ending. Wishes and blessings were more important. Cakes and more were no longer novelty.

As a teacher, my birthdays were even more fun. I loved the cards and the flowers and the enthusiastic singing and –“ma’am, where’s the treat?” It is a different birthday experience when your students (for whom you are surrogate mother/sister/friend) see you doing the normal things like everyday and still feeling like a diva! My boss threw a surprise lunch for the entire faculty at work, which was a pleasant surprise!

I miss my best friends and family. Last year, my birthday was spent admiring Salar Jung Museum, boy! That was an educative lesson!

This year, I was a lil’ unabashed and boisterous. I announced to everyone it was my birthday tomorrow and bla bla… People were offended, pretended to ignore but who cares? I made my point. I love my friends at work. I waited for my birthday- from 28^th to 29^th watching some forgettable movie on TV and my roomie trying hard to keep awake. My brother and comrade-in-arm, Gowtham lands at my place. Ahan, I can smell something. My cake was set up 15mins before 12. I was all –“Aww!” Man, I took 15 mins to blow those candles off! Shalini and GTM had great fun laughing their lungs out

And I was struggling with my lungs. Yes, I was OLD, they certified and sealed it. The cake smashing was not all that welcome. I was more worried about the uninvited ants. But it was the best birthday in years, away from home and familiar surroundings. Felt like a kid!

This morning when I got ready, I remembered Kristina’s dedication of Britney Spears’ “I’m not a girl, not yet a woman.” She always sang that whenever I attempted wearing a saree. And yes, I wore a saree to work. It was a great day, affection poured from every corner of the world from midnight. It is just another day in the calendar but I will always feel special. Thank you.

A rainy weekend

Hyderabad witnessed its first proper summer showers and yes, it was heaven-sent. Bonnalu brought good luck to the farmers and some respite to the electricity board. What happens with the onset of rains is an oft repeated tale. As much as I enjoy walking in the rain and picking up all the dirt and muddy rain water close on the heels I dislike it for all mundane reasons. Your clothes smell of whatever, everything has that musty damp feeling. Your hair is forever tangled and you can’t seem have enough of going to the loo. Water intake is low and tea, if someone is going to make it for you then it is most welcome. Make sure the kitchen bin is nicely covered, lest the neighbour’s cat decides to explore and play around. My flower pots were happy. My doormat was not tho’ and my flatmate’s turtles enjoyed the trickle on their tub. They frolicked and danced all over the water. The autowallah always has a reason to ask for more fare, why? It is raining. God, what happens if it is sunny? The roads are clean, no creature except for the odd stray tramp looking for some cover. The leaves of all the grand trees and also, the smaller ones make beautiful pitter-patter sound on the window-pane and also on the road, the earth smells fresh and nice and also, if the municipality forgot to seal the septic tank then that also smells. The bhutta guy has a scant umbrella to save his fire and business. That is the best rain snack. The vehicles on the road think the road belongs to their ancestry. They have scant heed towards that lone ranger walking home. They don’t mind splashing some mud, some water, some sewage and some gags. The choicest of expletives get drowned in the din of the pitter-patter. Ice-cream never tastes so gorgeous on a rainy day. Getting wet until your waist despite the fabulous umbrella you carry is no longer a distress, it is a style statement.

Interview

A ride on the rickety auto thru’ potholes and puddles
From over bridges and hoardings,
Women smile in namaskar and gold, selling sarees
The pigeons and crows do their business
Reminding me that we (read I) should also, do my karma

The little sacks of burden and the wobbly walk to school
The hot tiffins and the neon bright water bottles,
The neatly oiled hair infested with lice,
The kohl rimmed eyes and the flower adorned plait,
Such is one slice of life that I saw.

Either you or me,
Says the driver and the chap crossing the road
The resentful man shouts, “Phat!”
With a matchstick for a toothpick,
The auto driver rubbishes him off like dirt!

The buses honk, the cars cram.
The bikes jerk and the scooters hoot.
The kids wail and the mothers yap,
The fathers are grumpy and the servants crib,
The air smells foul and the jasmine makes it worse.

Over-ripe tomato carts and pushy vendors
Fish and fowl, live harmoniously with fruits and nuts
The lemons and the melons smile in their seasonal importance
Like the mangoes who suffer from a major superiority complex
Food is in plenty, you just need to know what to eat and when.

Enter the maze-
People speak in a weird jargon,
Trying to outwit each other,
Waiting for their moment,
You are either in or out.

Famished thoughts and fanned hunger,
Fans on in an AC room,
Papers rattle as much as the packets-
Mobiles ring, hostile looks
“How was it? “ “It’s ok, they smiled and laughed…”

Saturation point, patience running out
Two parathas and canteen chatter
Dog staring at you and hoping,
Like you hoping in a Micawberesque manner
That something good will happen.

End of the day, nothing happens
All sound and fury end in a whimper.
You don’t even get your five minutes of fame.
Came, showed and shoved, we are running out of time,
Another way of shielding inefficiency.

The long way home, home seemed so far.
You just long for that Momma special warm hot beverage,
You just want to hit the sack, you just want to bury your head somewhere
You just don’t want to answer any questions, calls or whatever.
Animated voices in the car, I drizzle off…

the call of the wild

Wake up to the alarm on my cell phone…there was no water in the bathroom. Bugged the owner, ablutions and the city cab waiting, I was on my way to Mysore at 4:30am in the morning. The bus- stop was brimming with people at this hour of the day/night/dawn. Mysore was 2hours and sleep. At the bus stop, I remember the stares and the wares. The one and only bus to BR hills was waiting and this is no Volvo, so that means less comfort, no AC, no music and a bigger crowd. I loved my seat by the window. The many stops on the way saw me waving at the children who were mighty tickled to see a girl on a back pack. You smile, they smile. They wave, you wave back. Behave like a proper traveler since you cannot pretend to be one of them. It’s refreshing to see all the green corn fields, the palm trees, the cattle, the dusty roads, the stagnant ponds and the hyper magpies. Enquiries in broken, half-baked English with the conductor were not humorous but interesting. I was quite impressed with his communication skills, he managed to convey all that was asked of him. We stopped briefly at the Sanctuary gate. There is a small temple, the conductor opened the temple door and a waif in the bus got down and cleaned the porch of the temple. There was something primitive about the whole ritual. As the bus meandered into the pristine wilderness of the thick woods, one cannot miss the innumerable ant mounds/hills. I got a very creepy feeling. It turns out they are not anthills but they are termite mounds. Anyway, they are still creepy. I happened to watch the latest Indiana Jones and the movie had some unpleasant ant scenes.

Never mind, the green wounding climb up the hill is simply breathtaking. The valley below, wrapped and tousled in mist is worth a sight. At the lodge, we got down… I spotted two tamed elephants grazing near the pond and a lot of elephant poop scattered here and there in the slope. I was dying to rest my achy-stiff back. Got a log-house perched on a beautiful gliding slope overlooking some tent-houses and lot of wild grass around and all over. A quick shower and lunch followed by some simian visitors who were amused to see us relaxing on the hammock. A short nap killed time before the safari. The ultimate would be to spot the gentleman of the jungle but too many deer, stag and gaud killed all semblance of hope. We were greeted rather nastily by a family of elephants to stay away. Basic instinct is similar in nearly all forms of life.

We retired for the night after a simple meal and a campfire of sorts. Power was available for only 3 hours, the remainder of the night in the mercy of the hurricane lamp/lantern. On my walk back to the lodge, I thought I saw two hind feet of some smelly grunting creature dart past the slope of the hill. We slowly moved the torch up to follow and there he was- the wild hog come for his post dinner stroll.

The next morning we were greeted by the chatter of monkeys in the porch making merry of my morning tea and snacks. Bugged Narayan, the in-charge/manager to take us for a small trek, armed with a pair of binoculars after a filling breakfast, we take to the road less travelled. Narayan is a tall, not dark but handsome Coorgi dude in camouflage, has light eyes, quite attractive for the natural surroundings. He is a naturalist and wants to move away from the mundane thing that he was doing. He made us trek for a couple of hours, explained a lot of minute things. Small talk and exchange of phone numbers, what I will remember most about him is his cool in the eye of elephant panic when some fore wheel of his safari jeep got jammed somewhere and his good luck, he had a jeepful of weepies- old, young and infants.

By afternoon, we were at the gate, waiting for that one bus which will take us to civilization. Lot of good memories and quiet times, the winding road to Mysore and back to Hyderabad, many small things happened- like asking our Mysore bound bus to drive like a F1 champ and then having lunch at 5 in the evening and watching overly watched movies and dinner at some noisy joint where people forgot to look at their plate and kept staring at a female with slightly tanned lithe arms. I don’t remember sleeping, my major worry was not to consume “excess” water lest the bus deserted me in times of dire call!

House hunting- part one

When you are no longer in transit you have to look for personal space.

The house I immediately moved in from the hostel did not last me a month…all the heavens conspired to keep me away from it- some mishap in the form of inadvertent human error in judgement, the away from the maddening crowd kinda funda, MMTs did not look attractive anymore. When enthusiasm is smothered you just lose interest in the things around you. Maybe I was in a hurry or people are slow to decision. In the process, I lost faith and gained some back. Stayed out of a duffel bag, especially with the sensitized Hyderabad blasts and lived like a gypsy despite having a house. I no longer felt like going home to that house, not the house’s fault. Kinda felt weird having to stay with unknowns who never featured in my scheme of things earlier. The house was good, the rent was better, the owner is human and the surroundings nice. A couple of things ticked me off. Those who disappointed have their reasons, you can never question why. To each her own. I had to move away. A friend came. We made the house home for her last couple of weeks in the city. She loved the house as much as I did.

The housing secretary of the apartment made it worse. Probably, he has not seen anyone with fair skin below the knees or calves. This grumpy chap could not convince anyone to occupy his vacant house on rent. So, he picked and picked on me. He gave me a 2 minuteful of dos and don’ts and that it is a family apartment. No hanky panky and whatever he thought of me! I reported the matter to the Professor who took strong exception at the breach of conduct and what happened after that, I don’t know. That is it, I have to move out. I had not unpacked. The kitchen stuff was there…untouched. The bathroom was the only high-activity area. It is summer and whatever. I also spotted a BIG bee hive in the other bathroom. Helped my friend pack her stuff, she was leaving for Delhi. I was lucky to find replacements for the house. Professor was sad, his wife sadder. I am sad too.I missed a trip with my friends in my quest for a house.

Then, another friend called me. We all are so need driven. She needed a room-mate. plus another two.I needed a house, acquaintance only helps. We were anchored.

Jubilee Hills, yay! Housewarming as such we never had, all four of us were so busy, so busy we forgot to talk to one another or if we existed. This house lasted us for 9 months. Three sets of parents came, saw and liked the house. Little did we know that we would give up on this for all sorts of reason. But this house is special.