Bombay

Ruhi had never been on an airplane and I don't think she particularly wanted to, except that only I felt she was missing out on a wonderful experience at that age where fairies have wings and there are castles on the clouds. 

I had been yearning for her to fly but couldn't think of a place to fly to, specially in the middle of her school term. We could have gone to Jodhpur but I didn't think my very regular in laws would understand the fun of visiting them for a touch and go trip. So when Linda casually invited me to her eight year old son, Joshua's first 'Holy Communion', I most readily accepted to attend. A day before Republic day we took an early morning flight with a very excited Ruhi who hardly slept the previous night but right after boarding was quick to declare that trains were much more fun !!!

Sri had sent the driver to fetch us at the airport and we went to her Bandra flat for a quick bite and shower. The maid was waiting for us and my little poppet fell in  love with the pretty little flat and announced she wanted to live there for the next '100 days' !!

I had planned every minute of her Bombay trip and the first stop was going to be the Nehru Planetarium at Worli, to watch the Planetary movements show. For many years, I had read much about the fantastic experience but never felt motivated enough to visit the place till now.

We were just in time for the hour long Hindi show inside an impressive dome shaped Sky theater auditorium. When the lights dimmed, a 3 D movie about Bombay started, it took you over the buildings, onto the sea, under the Gateway of India, sped up on marine drive to zoom up again on the Taj Mahal hotel. It was very exciting and exhilarating till the sky darkened and the planets came on.

What followed was an hour long explanation of the constellation and the planets. The commentary in Hindi fabulously explained constellations - Orion sketched in the sky like a hunter, Leo, forming a lion ( obviously ), Scorpius, Crux which is a cross...it spoke of the discovery expeditions and of how much more is left for us to still discover of the infinite universe...the black hole in front of the milky way.... awesome and so very frightening to think that we are such a petty, negligible part of a humongous cosmic dance.

I noticed there were hardly any people in the audience - just about 10 of us and it seemed like such a pity since it was an amazing way to understand the mystery and depth of our universe. The air-conditioning was freezing us and I sat there clutching little Ruhi with all I had to keep her warm, while she made me miserable crying and pestering us to leave the place since the darkness was scaring her and the constellations and planets coming upon us where very frightening. I couldnt blame her...maybe it was a bit too early for her and the content was obviously targeted at a grown up audience.

When we finally got out we saw hundreds of government school kids sitting all over the corridors and lawns eating their tiffins. Perhaps they were to watch the next show. We hopped and skipped over them and were delighted to come out of the eerie cold darkness into bright scorching sunlight !

The next stop was the Gateway of India and while we were driving past the Marine Drive I was excitedly jumping up and down the car when we approached the sea, pointing it out to her as if it may be the most brilliant sight in the world ! However my overexcitement irritated her more than anything else !

I have noticed that nothing is ever a big deal for her. In many ways its very disappointing for me since I find so much pleasure in showing her every wonderful sight , sound, smell or place as if I was going to see it anew with her eyes...but then I also realise I am quite foolishly in love with her and am doing what often fool do in love !!! LOL

We got dropped off at Nariman Point and walked around the Gateway of India which is being renovated and looked cold, grey and ugly with the filthy even more grey waters in the background. Ruhi saw the boats and started a tantrum to sit on the ferry.  When I checked with  a few, they were mostly headed to the elephanta caves which would have taken an entire day to visit and come back.

After howling a bit she found diversion in collecting small stones which she collected in a pile and carefully threw into the murky waters sitting on the ledge opposite the majestic Taj Mahal hotel. 

It was breezy and quite cold. Its been a rare winter in Bombay this year and I sat there shivering and staring at the sea. We had sat on the same spot when I was here a few months ago with Fatema. We had walked to that point from Colaba, and it was drizzling. And  once before that many years ago while attending an exhibition at the Oberois... I was completely unfamiliar with South Bombay those days and it was the quaintest experience to discover the lanes and bylanes behind the Taj Hotel and the many places to eat wonderful food long after all pubs and restaurants had gone to sleep. Specially 'Bade Miyan'...

That place also reminded me of sitting in the coffee shop at the Taj with Aditi and staring down at the sea. During my first few visits to Bombay, I used to always stay with her. She was a woman of the world, ambitious, intense...and I was a gawky, wide eyed simpleton and there was always so much to discover from her. I loved the way she would initiate me to everything that she thought I was missing out on...its still so much like that in fact.

When she was bored of throwing stones, Ruhi settled for a fan made of peacock feathers from a roadside hawker and we decided it was time for lunch. We jumped into the car and went next to Cafe Mondegar. I wanted to take her to all the places that are in some ways special to me. I remember the first time a friend of mine took me to Mondies I bought a lot of memorabilia like coasters and a tray to carry back to Delhi ! Even from Not Just Jazz by the Bay...in a very excitedly touristy way ! I tried to dive into my memory to figure where Leopold used to be ...but it was too vague to remember...too many years had piled on the dust.

At Mondies now, though we sat right in the corner, almost stuffed inside the huge jukebox, the smoke was disturbing her so we came inside to the tiny room with the ugly mirror which is a complete contrast to the 'pop art' mario on the walls! She had some fries and a strawberry milkshake after which we roamed around aimlessly in the corridor of Colaba shops, picking trinkets etc and suddenly Ruhi, who had been sticking a finger in her mouth constantly announced that she had pulled out a tooth !!! We bought a small kitty coin purse from the pavement to save the tooth so that the tooth fairy could take it later !!!

It was late afternoon by now and I had to make a quick mandatory stop at a shop in Kalbadevi to pick up some stuff that Wasi needed. I had never been there before and nothing had prepared me for that market.

It was like the Jama Masjid area of Delhi with narrow lanes crowded with people who seemed to have all the time in the world to chat up friends and neighbors right in the middle of the road. Ruhi was already sleeping in my arms and the driver winded through the mess to bring me to my destination.

I had hoped to take Ruhi to the Hanging gardens on Malabar Hills. I had a vague memory of a huge shoe house that I had seen probably as a 9 or 10 year old when we had visited Chachi Ji in Bombay during our summer vacations. The shoe was stuck like a post-it note in my mind till today. But Ruhi was very tired so we headed back to Bandra and she crashed on the bed till I coaxed her to get up again !

I knew she was tired but she hadn't seen a beach yet and I wanted to take her to the Bandstand. On my very first visit to Bombay after I started to work, Rameet had enthusiastically shown me whatever he thought I would like of Bombay. He was in his first year at NMIMS and after showing me the wonderful Portuguese buildings in South Bombay all morning he brought me to Lands End to watch the sunset and we sat barefoot on the huge rocks to witness a brilliant orange sunset over the dark blue sea.

The driver had left to fetch Sri so I put Ruhi in an auto rickshaw and as we rode past Sharukh Khan's house, Ruhi wanted to know if we can walk in and meet him ! It was already about 9 PM and the area was dark and deserted. We walked along the bandstand area till we stumbled upon an amphitheater tucked away behind Taj Land's End. It was an open air ampitheater and I came to know later that it is one of the most popular amphitheaters in Bombay. We sat in one corner of the front row to watch a Bharatnatyam performance. The dancers were Rahul & Mitali D'souza and this was the Times of India Mumbai Dance festival we had discovered while searching for the Lands end Rocks ! Ruhi was completely enthralled by the dance, she refused to budge and shyly whispered in my ears that she wants to learn to dance. I decided to come back and find a dance school close to home...

I had to drag here back to Sri's house where we had dinner and tried to catch up later that night punctuated with Ruhi getting up from sleep almost a hundred times. She was getting nightmares about the Planets, constellations, moon craters and what not. It was certainly a bad idea to have taken her to the Planetarium. Maybe the Taraporewala aquarium would have been a better place for her age. Too late though since we were all set to go to Esselworld the next morning.

January 26, 2008

The next morning was Josh's Holy Communion ceremony at the Sacred Heart Church in Worli and I didn't want to miss it though Linda had said that I could skip the ceremony since she was having  a party in the evening anyway. 

As is usual with me, I forgot it was the Worli church and we landed up at a very deserted Sacred Heart church in Mahim and till we reached the right venue, the ceremony was just over ! The colorful looking Church is located on the sea face and the compound was filled with families and little boys dressed their best in white tuxedo suits and girls in frilly white gowns, tiaras with a veil attached and white long gloves.

As I discovered later, the first 'communion' is the most important Christian ceremony after baptism and it requires the child to receive the holy eucharist, i.e. bread and wine symbolic of the body and blood of Christ. The ritual comes from the 'Last Supper' where Jesus broke bread over wine with his disciples just before they became his executioners. Thus by having wine ( usually fed in a spoon) and a bite of the bread, the child remembers the great sacrifice of Christ and is inspired to live a good Christian life. Its an occasion of great family celebration and scores of kids receive the Eucharist together by kneeling down row by row in front of the holy table. 

We reached when the Kids had just come out 

and family photos were being taken. 

I had seen nothing like this before and was quite overwhelmed by the atmosphere. Ruhi looked dazed & stared longingly at the girls in pretty white gowns !

Linda stays next door to the church in her brother's flat and I stopped over for a while. Her brother breeds fish, turtles, tortoises etc and I met her cute little turtle who came to say hello sitting on her palm. 

Ruhi was shy as ever, clinging to me and scowling at the friendly people all around us. Strangely, she transforms when we are both alone into a mature, confident and wise little girl. 

On the way back at Dadar we were stopped by school kids marching on the road with tricolor flags in their hands. I suddenly remembered it was Republic Day...

We were back to Sri's house just in time to head off to a long road trip to Esselworld

More later...

Getting her started on the journey of her life !

Ruhi's rather elite little Play School has branched out and added a full curriculum school in Greater Noida. The very first session will begin in the April of next year and grudgingly I have resigned to send her to the back of the beyond for the rest of her 12 years of growing up ! I always like to complain that I have no other option except this. But, if I were honest there are probably only a couple of schools in Delhi that I really would have felt happy sending her to. The others I visited were cramped, overcrowded, had teachers who bully kids, gave senseless homework with a mad rigid schedule. Or that is what I felt watching and asking around. Those couple of schools that I wanted - didn't want us. We did not have the right credentials and in retrospect I understand that.

Ruhi's new school had a written exam for Ruhi and ten others in her class who have applied to the new school besides kids from other schools. And they called us today along with Ruhi for an 'interview' the dirty word which in context of school admissions in Delhi means that a few stern and important looking women will grill you with questions aimed at making you feel small and useless. I know everyone in Ruhi's Nursery school. She has been going there since she was two, yet I started getting that same creepy feeling that I used to get while visiting other schools for her Nursery admission.

After a long wait, as Ruhi played on the swings with mad abandon - her brand new white trousers soiled completely at the knees, I sat outside wondering if many years down the line, I would regret my decisions about Ruhi's education.

We were ushered in to meet a tall, fair big lady with light eyes and pleasant features. As soon as we sat she looked at Ruhi and said she was happy to invite her for admission to class 1 in the Step by Step world school.......they started having an adult conversation and I kept wondeing if Ruhi knew what was happening. They spoke about what she likes and laughed and talked. We sat there, Wasi and I, each on one side of Ruhi, feeling and looking quite useless in the context of things. It made me so incredibly happy. It didn't matter who I was, where and what I had studied or where we lived or what we did - the only thing that mattered was the child who they were going to bring up for me.

Ruhi was saying she loves to swim and that she can make a 'roti' but cannot put it on a 'tawa' and that she loves to play with clay but not so much with toys though she loves best the 'Ballerina' Barbie but she doesn't have one yet and that the best thing she likes in the world is to get gifts !.....and that she loves to eat Papaya and all other fruit but doesnt care too much for food except Rajma Chawal and Maggie Noodles !

After their little tete a tete was over Mrs Raina asked me if I'd like to tell her something about the child. I told her Ruhi was a shy, introvert and a sensitive child. I told her that she was growing up too fast and that I was concerned that she may not be able to enjoy the innocence and abandon of childhood like other kids. About her being madly jealous of my attentions to little Rayyan. I told her about her questions about God about poverty, beggars, about the good and the bad. About how she gets bullied and that she was the only one in her class who was not naughty and that I never wanted anything more than for her to be naughty and 'normal' like other kids.

She heard me through and then said to me that the world was becoming an insensitive place because our kids are taught to be tough and aggressive from the start and that in fact what is required today are 'more Ruhis'. She said it will be a painful journey for me because I will have to handhold her much earlier than other kids, through her struggle with life and its understanding, but I must learn to be stronger myself and to let her be. Because she is OK like she is.

In my heart I believe that too. I realize I am only looking for reassurance.

John Holt, How Children Learn

Birds fly, fish swim, man thinks and learns. Therefore, we do not need to motivate children into learning by wheedling, bribing or bullying.We do not need to keep picking away at their minds to make sure they are learning. What we need to do, and all we need to do, is bring as much of the world as we can... into their lives; give children as much help and guidance as they ask for; listen respectfully when they feel like talking; and then get out of the way. We can trust them to do the rest.

GETTING OUT OF THE WAY......

Ruhi hardly slept last night in her excitement about her school Play at Kamani. She sprang out of bed and was ready in a jiffy this morning. I must mention here that it is quite a chore to get her up and ready for school on most ordinary mornings. They had the full dress rehearsal today. Ruhi knew all along that she was going to be a clown in the play but when I went to fetch her back this afternoon she had a glum expression and looked quite comical with her cherry red painted nose, dark pink circles on both cheeks and her large sad eyes. I had parked the car quite some distance away and on the way, a bus full of school kids hooted and waved when they saw her and that was the cue for those tears which had just been waiting to pour out. She was inconsolable.

My heart broke when she said she was so upset that all the other kids had such nice costumes but she had to wear a clown's dress. She said she wanted to be a Penguin or a Fairy instead like Rhea and Trisha. She said her teacher had promised to wash the Clown makeup from her face and then forgot to do it and how could she. I told her that everyone loved a Clown and that Clowns make sad people happy but she wouldn't listen. I started speculating in my mind how they could have chosen this shy little sombre child to play a clown ! And then I realised I was once again trying to carry her cross for her. I know she has to learn to accept that that life also offers lemons. But my heart bled when she cried.

I suddenly remembered I had seen her friend Rivan Mehra walking out of the auditorium rather sheepishly with green make up on his face. When I asked she said he was to play a Frog and that in fact Rivan Mehra looked the silliest of them all. I told her was she not glad she wasn't a frog instead of a Clown. She thought for a while and said she was really glad and then asked for some wet tissues from me to scrub off the red paint from her nose.

Tomorrow is the play and as part of the PTA I have to mind the very last rows of the Hall. I cry shamelessly every year when I see her up on stage and I don't know why I cry. I am glad I wouldn't probably be able to see her from back there. But on Sunday I get to mind the first few rows.

God knows I need help to survive her growing up. :)

Kids on TV / Santa Claus - best before ?

About an year ago a Journo friend of mine raised an issue about if it is morally right / wrong to show Kids in Ads. Its one of those so many things that I have never really thought about. But when I did sit down to think, I realised I frankly enjoy watching kids in Ads. They are much more entertaining and convincing than adults. I go cootchie koo each time I see the Huggies Ad. Or that Maruti Ad some time ago where a cute-as-a-button serdy kid goes: papa petrol khatam hi nahin hunda.

I don’t take TV too seriously and I hope my kids will inherit my absolute irreverence for anything ‘advertising’. But I think TV plays a unique role in imparting messages to kids and on my once-in-a-blue-moon TV audience it was truly appalling to watch a program on one of the popular Hindi channels which showed heroic feats like people lifting stuff with eyelids and the like. The episode featured a 4-year boy driving a car with proud papa sitting next to the driver’s seat. This was last year and I noticed my then - five-year-old daughter make intense mental notes. And though she is such a wimp I am sure some other gutsy five yr old would definitely try the heroism if he accidentally found the car keys hanging in mom’s car. Specially since there was such applause from the make believe audience at the show.

The TV also creates stereotypes...I have always wanted Ruhi to have long hair and till a year and half ago, Ruhi had an obsessive crush on Superman ( in his Christopher Reeve avtaar) and wanted a hairstyle just like him with that one lock curled up in the front ! It was an unresolved difference between us until I started showing her all the pretty little girls in television commercials and their long flowing hair. I think it’s conditioned her enough and since then she has kept quiet about her hair thanks to some good old Advertising. Wonder if that’s good or bad ?

To give credit where it is deserved - she learnt milk is good for her from the Bournvita Ad. She is a teeth-brushing champion because of all the toothpaste advertising she watches. I think by and large Indian Advertising around kids is fairly responsible advertising with feel good messages about the girl child etc etc ad infinitum. And I feel gratitude towards any advertising that shows happy kids enjoying eating mommy’s cooking even if it is Maggie noodles! Its more convincing than me telling her the Popeye story night after night.

Except for that "Princess Fairy Barbie' Ad on Cartoon Network that I so absolutely hate because I cant bear to spend another hard earned rupee on YET ANOTHER Barbie doll, I can’t remember feeling unhealthy about kids in Ads. My husband used to go all mushy whenever he saw the last Raymond man with that pretty little thing with blue eyes…I think kids touch chords in everyone’s hearts and by and large they create good advertising.

There may of course be exceptions but then I hardly watch any TV. And yet I am the eternal Ad Cynic. I mistrust ALL advertising. Having worked in ad agencies for a long stretch in my career, the damage is irreversibly done.
But I do not yet teach my children to mistrust advertising messages yet since they are too little to understand that the TV is trying to ‘sell’ something to them. I'd rather Ruhi believes she will become Rupanzel by using X hair oil or Rayyan could become 'Krishh' by drinking Y drink. Its part of the fairytale that I want their chilhood to be. I am sure in a couple of years I will have to handhold them out to the real world !

Incidentally Ruhi announced 2 days ago that she 'knew' there was no Santa Claus and that its me who keeps gifts in her socks every X Mas. I was dumbstruck and heartbroken. How much I was loving my plans for this year's X Mas surprise and it had all already gone down the drain ! I told her that was utter non sense and that if there was a Tooth Fairy and the Ghost who she is convinced comes by her window every night then how dare she say there was no Santa Claus. She said the maid had told her that Mama keeps the gifts under the pillow. I told her that the Maid knew nothing since she never went to school and that I would educate the maid. Ruhi was delighted. She promptly summoned Kirti didi and demanded that I explain to her that Santa Claus was indeed that nice old man with a white beard and a reindeer.....

I wonder if the Fairy Tale expires next Christmas when she turns seven !

A weekend in the Hills...

I had been planning forever a holiday in the Hills. Ruhi had never seen the mountains...come think of it she has never seen the sea either but the mountains seemed closer by. My friend Sridevi is the quintessential traveller and for years now I have made vivid pictures of her mountain trips in my mind as she recounts her numerous sojourns in the hills. She now lives in Bombay and passes through Delhi whenever she goes up to the Himalayas to visit a piece of mountain land that she has bought to build a house. She always invites me to come along and I always have something more important to do. This time around when she invited me on her yet another trip to Kumaon, I was more than tempted to go along. Sri, Richa, Ruhi and me took a train to Kathgodam late on Friday night. I had no clue where we were going except that it was called 'Sitla'.


I had got our seats reserved at the shortest notice by calling up Manobendra, my childhood friend and now a senior Indian railways dude ! He is always my saviour at every last minute crisis. We took the Ranikhet Express from the dusty 'Old Delhi' Railway station which Richa said was very 'scenic', had 'character' and all that blah !! We reached Kathgodam early next morning - the station is a sweet little place and in anticipation of the hillside chill I tucked Ruhi under 3 layers of clothing and a woolen cap which she stubbornly kept taking off.

There was a white Maruti van waiting for us to take us to Sitla. We passed the Bhimtal lake and after about an hour of driving stopped at a small Tea Stall at Bathuakhan to have our breakfast of hot aloo paranthas and tea. There was a nip in the air and the usual pleasantness of the morning in the hills and i picked up a monkey cap, some vicks vaporab and hair oil (!) on thw way. Ruhi seemed thrilled and she pulled out two tiny plastic buckets disclosing with great earnestness that she had brought those along to carry back some snow from the mountains for her class teacher. I told here there would be no snow and those snow peaks staring at us from afar were thousands of kilometers away. She fought with me bitterly for letting her down - she had promised her friends to bring back the snow.

The rest of the two hour journey was most frightening for me. The road uphill was very narrow and as we moved up, the excuse of a stone railing that I saw also disappeared. each time there was another car coming from the opposite direction, the van would come dangerously close to the edge. I am scared of heights. Escalators, narrow bridges, open staircases frighten me like crazy. I become numb and immobile even if I peer down from the third floor balcony of my brother's house. The ride was crazy. Ruhi was sleeping in my arms and I was wondering what if...we were to fall off into the valley. The road was lined with pine and rhododendrons and Richa said we should take back some local rhododendrons squash, which of course we forgot to.

Sitla Estate turned out to be a 100 years old Apple Orchard ! It had a small and quaint British Bungalow overlooking the orchard which a long Sun facing lawn in front of the 5 cottages that have been added to make it a commercial resort. The lawn is in fact the common room of Sitla Estate since its a place for Breakfast, Lunch, Tea time and everything in between till sunset. In the backdrop is a fabulous view of the snow capped mountains - the legendary Peaks - Nanda Devi, Trishul and Panchauli standing together, almost peering down at you. In between the mountains and you is a very green and forbidding valley.

Two huge dogs got up lazily to greet us and then disappeared again. Tea was served to us right there in the Sun and a very suntanned man who turned out to be the owner and Sri's friend, Vikram Maira came and introduced himself. It was obvious soon enough that Sitla is a one man show. Vikram is the Chef, the housekeeper, The Manager & the accountant here. He lives alone in the main Bunglow and has literally adopted the Sitla village, runs a small school on his estate and employs a dozen of the villagers in his resort. Vikram is kind of a 'Robinhood' of Sitla and everyone we met later on our small trip to Mukteshwar seemed to know him with a sort of an awe. I envied him and his living an utopian dream of running his kingdom in the best of places with most modern amenities. I noticed he had a rather fancy music system in his room and that he had CNN blaring on his TV at night. Another story though that our mobiles deserted us up there.

Our large room with a small sitting area had a fantastic view of the mountains from the large bay window in the bedroom which was like a gigantic TV screen all day except at sunset ! I particularly liked the cowdung plastered floors and it seemed he gives a fresh coat of plaster before the arrival of every guest. There was a sawdust heater in the corner of the room with a chimney built into it to let out the smoke and Ruhi sat at the couch next to the Bay window and took out her Pandora's box of crayons and color pencils to draw mountains, sunsets and houses like always.

Sri and Richa sat in the sun and gave each other head massages with the hair oil we picked on the way. Vikram said he could serve us the elusive drinks in the evening in case he gets a free head massage which Richa promptly obliged with before it was Lunch time !

In the evening we sat around the fireplace in an ancient living room while Vikram conjured up a lip smacking chinese meal for us. The house is a 100 years old and I spotted the tail of a Yak in one corner of the adjoining 'baithak'. Vikram runs treks and expeditions in the Himalays, particularly to Leh during the Monsoons which he said was the lean season at Sitla. Dinner is served in a large dining hall with several big and small tables.

When we came back to our room, the sawdust heater had been lit and the room was very warm and cozy. Richa woke me up early next morning to watch the sunrise from the window. Ruhi woke up as well and lay down against the window staring at the sky with fascination...I love all the sights that I watch through her eyes.

We had breakfast of eggs and freshly baked bread in the lawn and went up a pine scented road for a trek to Mukteshwar. Little Ruhi ran up the mountains without her usual fuss. It was a very exciting trip for her. She gathered wood roses and pine cones on the way and Sri nicknamed her the 'little mountain goat'.

The coal tar road ended near a handpump and we went up the rocky path to Mukteshwar. As I found later, 114 years ago the British had bought 3000 acres of land under the Shiva Temple at Mukteshwar in order to shift the Imperial bacteriology Lab from Pune to the Kumaon Hills. The same Lab was renamed to Indian Veterinary Research Institute or IVRI, post independence. We saw the gate of the IVRI at the round about called Choufil just ahead of the Mukteshwara temple. I noticed 2 Guards in spanking new uniforms sitting at the gate which I later found out is out of bound to the public. Right opposite IVRI was a road leading to the Methodist Church. There is a sleepy little market called the 'Mall' ahead of a quaint hospital and post office. Both were locked - it was a Sunday afternoon.

Sri broker her slipper on the way and dragged it till the Mall where we found a cobbler under a tree. We spotted a local Mithai shop and asked for lunch which he cooked for us promptly. Paranthas and Aaloo baingan with fresh onions, radish and Bal Mithai in the end.

It became very cold as we started our journey back to Sitla. The clouds had covered the sun and Ruhi was finally tired and cranky. As soon as we reached Mukteshwara Temple an old man came up to me and invited us to see the temple. I was trying to ward him off when he said we should take the shorter way back instead of going down that road. Though Sri stared suspiciously at him, I convinced them to follow him so that he could show us the way. He offered to come half the way with us and even lifted Ruhi on his back which was such a huge relief. It was a scary way down and we slid and toppled over to follow him. On the way like a true Guide he kept telling me tales about every part of the trail and showed us the prom ontory called Chauthi Jaali, and the Kumaon Mandal Vikas Nigam guest house, with the PWD Inspection Bungalow below it. But I was hardly listening and in my mind I was hallucinating about the eventuality that he would take us to a secluded spot where his gang would rape and loot us. I kept staring at that 'no network' sign on my mobile with great despair. Suddenly we reached a small house in the middle of the jungle and a dog barked. A woman shouted a pleasantary to him and I realisded I had a cynical and suspicious city mind and that he was after-all the friendly Hill Man whose Kids went to College in Nainital like he had been telling me. At an open spot where the worst part of the forest seemed over he dropped Ruhi from his back and went his way. I gave him a 100 bucks which he happily accepted.

Ruhi and Me were way ahead of Sri and Richa because of the old man and we reached Sitla a good 20 minutes before them. I rushed up to the room to pack our bags while Ruhi loitered around the lawn showing off her a new found bravado. I smiled to myself as I saw her chatting up the kitchen staff but I was cursing myself minutes later. She petted one of the dogs and then when he whined it seemed she got scared and ran. He clawed her leaving her thigh bruised. Poor thing was numb with fear and I kept cursing myself for leaving her behind.

A chatty young man took us back the Station and I bid adieu to Sitla promising Vikram that I will come back again to watch it snow so that Ruhi can fill her tiny buckets to carry back home !

Tav Prasad - this life, and all it holds, is by thy grace.

I had been yearning to go to Amritsar ever since Ruhi was born. I have an unexplained emotional connect with the Harmandir Sahib, the sight, the smell, the sound..just the touch of the cold marble stirs my emotions like little else. But thats not surprising since I have noticed people from all kinds of backgrounds mesmerized by the unique experience of the Golden Temple.

My sister in law was returning to her Rajasthan home from Himachal and wanted to make a touristy stop at a Amritsar. I was delighted when she asked me to escort them and took the morning train along with a very excited Ruhi. At the Amritsar Railway Station we got on to a cycle rickshaw with Ruhi perched on it like a tiny bird and on an uphill flyover I knew by cue that I needed to get off as the Rickshawallah pulled the Rickshaw up the road. Ruhi tried to look brave as she balanced herself delicately on her latest adventure ride ! Many years ago on our annual school vacations Dad would take us to the Golden Temple on a Tanga. I looked around desperately but there were none now, and that is such a pity. I remember sitting in the front and shrieking at the touch of the pony's bouncing tail...and the sights and smells of the dusty, crowded city of Amritsar.

The main road leading to the Jalian wallah Bagh was blocked by the traffic cops and we got dropped off with instructions to walk down the road and turn right to reach Darbar Sahib. I slung the air bag on one shoulder and lifted Ruhi in the other arm but it was too crowded and difficult to get along so we took another Rickshaw which took us to what was the 'Sarai' area - a long road adjacent to the golden Temple lined with little white palaces - each called a Niwas . I had been told to go to Arjun Niwas and call up some gentleman who would organise a room for us. On the way was one of the alleys leading to the Sarovar and I couldn't bear to look towards my right as I dragged Ruhi and our bag to Hargobind Niwas where our room was allotted. I did not want to spoil my treat to feast on the most amazing sight in the world. I wanted to be at my own pace as I opened my eyes to the Golden Temple.

The room was basic and there were simple rules like no smoking or drinking, and to keep your head covered at all times. Little Ruhi had carefully wrapped the pink dupatta around her tiny head and was thrilled by the windows in the room. I quickly washed and dressed her before my sister in law, her husband and daughter arrived in a taxi from Mandi. In my mind I could not thank them enough for this trip...

We first went to the Langar Hall - a massive 3 floor building with huge community kitchens on the ground floor where devotees perform seva all day long. The sound of the steel thaalis being collected and cleaned resounds in that area from early in the morning to late at night. The langar is a day long affair and it works with clocklike precision. Someone cleans the halls as people get up to leave and someone serves the plates and spoons a drinking bowl. The 'prasadas' (Rotis) are cooked non stop and we got to eat them with Daal and rice Kheer. Considering that Lakhs of people visit the shrine daily and eat here, the floors and kitchens are spotlessly clean and there is no one barking orders - each one of the sevadars is busy doing their role like in a trance, a prayer on every lips. The Prasadas were hard and I was so proud of my fussy little daughter who put in all her effort to finish every morsel on her plate.

By the time we finished, the sun was preparing to retreat and my guests wanted to visit the Wagah check post ( indo-pak border) at Attari village to watch the daily ceremony of closing the gates between the arch rivals. We had heard so much about the dramatic ceremony and we decided to come back to the Gurudwara after the Retreat. There were hundreds of people at Wagah - tourists from every part of the country. Atleast 5 times the people we saw on the Pakistan side of the gate. There was mad shouting and hooting. Like always it upset Ruhi a great deal to see her mother get publicly excited ! I was shouting 'Vande Mataram' ; 'Bharat Mata ki Jai' with abandon and this embarrassed Ruhi a lot. She gets similarly embarrassed when I dance. It puzzles me, why she has such victorian ideas about public behavior at 5 years ! Specially since her life revolves around me, I would assume that must be a lesson in boisterousness !

She sulked and howled and said she hated the Retreat and that she wanted to go back to the Golden Temple.




We came back and there it was - like a Jewel in the darkness. One almost gasps as suddenly you spot a magnificent glow in the middle of the dark murky water. May I be the Murky water....I read somewhere today. I showed them the Gurudwara as they marveled at the cleanliness, peace and the awesome discipline...despite thousands of people. The Shabads echo in every corner of the compound...long after you have left Harmandir that echo of the singing follows you around. We ate another quick langar and I rushed them inside again to participate in the 'sukhasan' which is the closing prayer ceremony. We were told that we had missed it unfortunately and that it was as amazing again to participate in the 'prakash' ( opening prayer ceremony) the next morning at 5 AM.

I could not sleep that night. After a couple of hours tossing in the bed I heard the Shabads resume and I got up and went out. it was 3 AM. There were scores of people in the compound - even little children. everyone was busy washing the premises. There were sevadars standing in a row along the sarovar handing over buckets of water to others who took the buckets and poured them on the parikarma floor. Sevadars with brooms, mops and wipers were washing every square inch of the marble. I took a bucket of water and thought I was going to drop it since I didnt imagine how heavy it was. On the second instance I almost slipped on the floor along the bucket. The third time around I got it right and for almost an hour till the whole floor was washed we carried on the seva. Then I sat for some time in my wet clothes on the Parikarma waiting for 'prakash' and listening to the hyms. When it became really chilly I went to sit inside in the warm environs of the golden house. I took the Hindi Sukhmani Sahib Gutka and read till I could not contain my mind from wandering.....I felt full of peace and quietude. There were no more questions in my mind. After many years I felt strong again.

October 31, 1984

We were in school when Indira Gandhi was killed on October 31, 1984.

It was just before school closing time and suddenly there seemed to be great panic everywhere and everyone was asked to go home except the few Sikh boys who required to be picked up by parents. We lived in West Delhi in a place called Paschim Vihar near Punjabi Bagh. That was the affluent Punjabi heartland of the City.

I remember feeling terrible that 2 Sikh bodyguards had killed her - she was quite a hero for me till that day. I came home quite oblivious to what was going to follow. My 2 younger brothers studied in a prominent Sikh school in west Delhi. They were home before me and were crying. A mob had set the school to fire. My father worked with RITES in Cannaught Place and my mother wept bitterly till he arrived home safely before it was dark. We lived on the ground floor on rent while the Sindhi Landlords lived on the first floor with their 2 little children. We locked the gate and shut the doors and windows and quietly sat inside wondering what was going on. There was news trickling in of Sikh families being killed, the local Gurudwara had already been attacked and burnt. In the evening my mom and I ventured out to get some milk and groceries from the local market. Everything was shut and there were a few cars fuming on the road. Must have been set to fire earlier that day. I was confused, neurotic and bitter. What the hell was going on.

That night the landlord requested us to vacate the house as soon as possible since they were scared that their building could be damaged. Today I can understand the fear but that day I thought he was insensitive and cruel. We moved to my father's elder brother's house, they lived close by. The next day onwards, neighbours and friends would come and stand on vigil outside the house. But the maids and the milkman and others stopped coming. The schools were closed indefinitely. One of my closest school friend called to ask about us and then made a seemingly innocent comment about Sikhs deserving what they got. I got furious and slammed the phone on him. My young brothers would not stop talking with hatred and anger of wanting to do the same to the 'Hindus' one day. They had to be kept hidden inside the house for days - their 'patkas' made them easy targets. All of us children grew up overnight.

23 years down the line I still shudder at the dim thoughts of that day. Memories of that large house on the main road keep flashing as do those burning cars on the main road. That house was one of the largest on that road. The owners had fled and the house was burnt down. They never got the house repaired for many years and they never came back. My father would say that the burnt house served a reminder to all Sikhs about what had happened and should always be left like that. Thank God that was not to be and a fabulous building came up in its place a few years down the line. But each time I went past that building for those years that it stood in ruins, an eerie chill would go down my spine.

I still hear stories from my current household help about how they got their TV and Fridge for free in the November of 1984. My stomach churns as I write this.

A leaf from the past

As little kids in Lucknow in the heart of UP, Ramlila culminating into Dussehra was a high-point of our lives. We lived in a sleepy Railway Colony called RDSO in the outskirts of the city. There was a small children's park opposite our house adjoining a large government building with wide open space and a platform outside the building where the Ramlila used to be held every year. There were rows of 2 storey railways flats on either side of this building and the terrace of these buildings would be packed with audience. Ramlila would be a week-long affair that would start after dinner time every day and each day would be a sequel to the other. There would be an anchor at the show and each break was filled by jokes and entertainment ! Ram would be played by this very good good looking boy who used to get a great fan following by the end of the show. Sita was played by a boy dressed up like a girl though once they found a girl to play Sita and she promptly eloped with the guy who had played Lakshman after the Ramlila!! It was so exciting to get a front row audience to the Ramlila and us kids would grab the seats hours before it actually began. We clapped at the scenes and wept when Sita was abducted, it almost seemed real. Year after year, the same show was never tiring and when we became older Ramlila became an excuse to celebrate a late night out with friends. Everyone from the Director General to the junior clerk from RDSO came to watch the Ramlila.

After high school we came to Delhi. Going to watch Ramlila was not 'cool' at all in Delhi. I realized with great disappointment that only the maids and the drivers and the like went out to watch the Ramlila, if at all it was held anywhere. There was the upmarket Lal Quila Ramlila that one needed to buy tickets for ! A lot of kids in my class had never seen a Ramlila. This was a big, modern city. This was the capital of India. Never mind India.

A few years further I stopped missing Ramlila though stubbornly enough I continued my small town childhood ritual of watching the effigies of Ravan and cronies being burnt on Dussehra.

Ruhi came along on the Diwali of 2001. She was almost a year old on Dussehra and I took her to watch the bad man die ! She was absolutely frightened and for every year after that she was not to be amused or entertained a bit by Dussehra - much to my disappointment.

This year she is nearly six years old and thanks to her school she knows the story of the Ramayan. She also has a baby brother who at 2 years had the time of his life at Dussehra this year. He pointed a toy gun at the Ravan. Threw arrows and cheered when Ravan went ablaze. Though he asked me later if Ravan was hurt and if we should take him to the doctor !!! LOL





I still miss Ramlila and I wish I could replicate that experience for my kids. Its one of those things that I know is going to disappear into TV screens in the next few years. Maybe next year I will buy tickets to the upmarket Red Fort Ramlila.

No one reads my blog..

A friend called to say that he thinks no one reads my blog. I thought that was very reassuring, only until I realized that he was laughing at me !!

It also confirms my doubt that most people feel that blogs are written to an 'audience'.


I read an article on blogging in the times of India that said that 'if one cant be candid, urgent, timely, pithy, controversial or utilitarian then one cant be a blogger'. I kept wondering...of course I am candid, maybe controversial but urgent, utilitarian, timely and pithy ?! What the hell is pithy anyway! But I am so so glad that I don't write for anyone but myself, so there !

What hypocricy though, since the above is actually addressed to the 'friend' in some way !!This 'Friend' ( obviosuly i cannot name him on the big bad world wide etc) is the most private human being that I know. I doubt he even has an e mail id. If anyone ever asked him his name, he would want to know their objective in knowing his name ! He will not look into the eye of a person he does not feel like getting acquainted with. ...and not so many years ago he opened the window to the world of internet for me. He would be huddled in front of the monitor with a million browser windows open downloading the universe from the net ! I would watch in fascination - he was almost like a scientist. From there on I got hooked on to the net in its early days in India and then I went berserk.

He is still there with a million browser windows, peeping into everyone's world and i wonder if his brain can take any more information that he has already downloaded in it ! But he won't ever be seen on the net - not even through a mail id. I also read recently that a woman deleted every single e mail that she had received to get rid of the e mail pressure. And that people are now observing 'internet free' days. I am beginning to understand that feeling. I myself observed an 'internet free' evening yesterday. Is it just coincidence that I woke up with a headache this morning ?! Hmmm

What a Match !

Monday night the Indians won the first 20-20 World Cup ! I knew I wouldnt get either of the TVs at home to watch all the match so I made do with Indiatimes and the mad hoots from next door Nirula's in basant Lok till they reached half way after 20 overs at 157 runs. I had to swear, abuse and cause injury ( nearly ) to get out of the office parking. The whole country and their sister had come to Basant Lok to buy tickets and see the match on PVR large screen ! The TV crew from every conceivable channel were parked around the complex and it was a feat to get out on the road. At home my mother and my grandmother were waiting for me. My mom always plans these surprises on the absolutely wrong days and I just couldn't believe my luck since she would rather be buried than watch cricket ! I made some disoriented conversation and then started bargaining with Ruhi to let me watch the match and let go of the damn cartoons ! She relented when offered the sketch book and paints and a theme to paint ! My most original idea was to tell her to paint an Umbrella !! with rain drops falling over it and grass and flowers growing under it. And just to stretch her session I told her maybe she could consider some mountains in the background with a rising sun and a rainbow !!! LOL. It was a crazy match and I chewed away my finger nails and sat there shaking my leg with nervousness with Ruhi prompting me every few minutes to relax ! When Misbah Ul Haq started hitting the sixes on Harbhajan's bowling I almost started howling. Ruhi gave me a long disapproving look and said ' OK let me pray to God for you'. She folded her tiny hands then scowled hard with closed eyes and Misbah's Godamned wicket fell just then ! I lifted her in my arms and called her 'my magic' and danced on the bed while she looked absolutely delighted that her prayers had worked. After that each time she did her ceremony there was more good news and the match finished with a hit that was going to be a six but fell into the hands of Sreesnath for a catch ! What a match !