Rath...

After two weeks of continuous sunshine and summer heat, it rained  today, bringing the temperature down considerably. The day dawned cloudy, with big dark grey clouds crowding the sky, reminding me of monsoon back home.  It started pouring buckets, the parched soil of Oxford soaked up the water gratefully and the trees are back in their green glory. They no longer look tired and yellow, wilting  under the relentless heat of the sun.

A message in my inbox informed me that it is Ratha Jatra today. Ratha Jatra is the Hindu celebration when the three deity siblings Jaganath, Balaram and Subhadra get up on a magnificent chariot and go off for their annual visit to their aunt's house. The celebration originated in the Jaganath temple of Puri but spread in the rest of India as well. If you want to know more, you could check this out.

To come back to the weather, one of the folklores that I grew up with is that it always rains on the day of rath. I remember as a kid cuddling upto my mother as she read me poems from Rabindranath Tagore's Sishu. There were many a poem on rath and the rain associated with rath.

Today  in this far away land, watching the rains those far away memories floated back.

I remember childhood days when we never had any school holidays for rath. So throughout the day in school there was heavy anticipation. We would all be busy planning how to decorate the rath we would be pulling in the evening. Yes each child in Kolkata during my childhood days were given a  small chariot to decorate and pull. And if we were really lucky we would even get to buy a brand new one, specially if the old one had disintegrated. I remember more than the pujo it was the chariot pulling which generated all the excitement.

These chariots were made of plywood, loosely nailed together and brightly coloured. They disintegrated really easily too. They came in various sizes, with first, second and third and sometimes fourth levels. So there used to be an inherent competition about the length of our chariots. The most magnificent ones were the three storied ones.

So after school we would decorate the chariots with colourful papers, glitters, flowers and leaves, put in  Jaganath, Balaram and Subhadra idols, a small plate with a sweet (prasad), an incense stand with a couple of incense sticks burning (much to the horror of elders and the incessant warnings) and after a round of the house [sometimes a pround grandma would put in an one rupee coin as dakhina (offering to the God)].  I remember my father coming home early to help me with my rath. As a youngster memories of me jumping up and down with joy and not being much help in decorating the rath is still there.  After a round of the house, it was time to make a round of the neighbourhood lane and the serious business of showing off the rath to the neighbourhood children and inspecting theirs. In my case it was our compound.  Kids from other houses would also come out with their chariots and after a couple of rounds of dragging the chariots with strings (which because of its lightweight would keep tripping/falling, or the idols would fall face down or the incense stand would stumble) we would offer the prasad to each other and then return home in glory. Next day in school we would all be agog with stories of how magnificent our raths were.

The rath with all the decorations would stay for 7 days, because that is the number of days these Gods would spend in their aunt's house. Then on the 8th day it was the ulto rath (return journey). Ulto rath was not that exciting, so we would do one quick round and then dismantle the rath and keep it safe for next year.

Apart from this, another attraction of rath was the food. Papar bhaja (poppadam) and suji ir halua (suji ka halwa) were must for rath. Also in Rashbehari there used to be a rath er mela (fair in celebration of rath). Among other things I remember the huge papor bhajas (they used to have huge speciality popadams) and also the nurseries. Since July is serious monsoon time in India with a lot of planting happening, these fairs would have huge nurseries selling all kinds of plants. How green and vibrant those plants looked to my young eyes.

I do not remember when I stopped getting excited about rath. Somewhere around teenage I guess.  But the younger memories are vibrant enough to last forever.

Never cease?

Years ago it was the late night flights piercing the dark Calcutta sky. Sleepless I used to stand in my window and gaze at them with longing. From my window I got a clear view of the sky above. Sometimes it would be inky blue sky dotted with thousands of twinkling stars, sometimes a full moon would envelope the whole sleeping world into its silvery rays, sometimes in the darkness of a moonless night a black bird would silently fly by, sometimes it would rain so much that I could hardly open my window, except a crack.  Most nights the planes would go by. They would come into my view as tiny dots of light, grow steadily to reveal a silver machine carrying hundreds of people to a far away destination. I would feel terribly jealous of all those sitting in those planes, flying far, far away. Away from all the heartbreak, tears, the known and the mundane. I would foolishly think that traveling physical distance would absolve my pain and rid me of memories.
Now I smile at my  foolishness. How naive I was!
Thousands of miles later, I know that distance does not erase pain, time does. I know there is no easy way out, a broken heart does not mend itself quickly, nor are there any good medicines guaranteeing hundred percent cure. I know new pain takes over older ones. From life's experiences a new person emerges, fleshed with a bit of past embedded in the present.  But inspite of it all life goes on at her own sweet pace.
This time there are no planes in my slice of the night sky. There are  trains whooshing by, rushing off into the darkness. The carriages of the trains look to be in a great hurry, pushing and clanging, making a mighty din. They seem so sure of their destination, they look eager to reach that place and dump the load they have to carry. In the dark of the night, they look like naughty, noisy children rushing off to play. Once they pass by, the silver tracks look empty and bereft. A deep silence replaces the clanging sound. The night regains its poise and lulls us back to sleep. I look longingly at those rushing carriages  wishing I could be in one of them, crouched among the cars, or other goods they carry, or sitting on top of one of them, my face raised towards the sky, the wind kissing my face. I would not mind the discomfort or the cold as long as it took me to far distant lands, to the unknown, to some adventure, away from the mundane.
Will my longing for the unknown never cease?

Remembering...

Funny how an old song suddenly opens up old, forgotten, shoved-into-the-memory-attic bunch of memories. Incidents from the past suddenly all come out and they seem so vivid that they seem to be happening to you right then and there.

Have a good weekend.

Shed off....

Is it possible to totally shed off all prejudices?

Today while coming to office with my dad, he made a comment which got me thinking about this. Leave everyone, can I shed off all biases and be totally fair and impertial in my beliefs????

Can anyone be like this?

Drifting afternoons...

Around this time of the year Kolkata has the best afternoons and it is lovely to watch the afternoons turning into evenings slowly. In the winters the process is too abrupht and short while in the summer it is too hot. Only this time round the process is slow and enjoyable. Today I was watching the afternoon drift from one of the windows in my office. The breeze felt really nice up where I was standing. Just next building is the campus of Ballygunj Science College, so there are trees everywhere. Down below you see students, sometimes in gangs, sometimes in twosome and sometimes alone trudging along with their big bags and books in hand. Watching the students pass reminds me of my student days. Incidentally I used to walk down this road to my school. How long away they seem. In my mind's eye I can see myself trottering along just the same way these kids, worrying about an exam or chatting with friends. Going to school was always a rushed thing, not so returning. Usually Sambaran and me, we used to walk down together. Ah for those days of innocence.

Coming back to this time of the year, I am not surprised that St Valentine chose to celebrate lovers' day now. I know it is dreadfully cold and snowing in some countries but in places like Kolkata the weather is just ready for romance and there seems to be a little love scattered in the air. It is like love is blowing gently in the wind, you just have to reach out and then you can touch it. But be careful, love wont come to you if you are a cynic or non believer. Just have faith in the goodness of life dear friend and hang in there, love sooner or later touches and heals all.

Hey how is your good mood today?

Ok guys, after the depressing previous post, some lively stuff to report. One out of the two of my best friends, the Delhi one, is now a days in a perpetual good mood. Whnever you ask her how she is, she starts gushing about how good she is, how good life is etc etc. I took it one day, two days, a week, a month and eventually I felt suspicious. Well enormously so. What is all about this continous good mood? I kept asking her, I am dead sure she is seeing some man and not fessing up. I am even sure that the man is married hence the silence. It is pretty disconcerting to see someone in a perpetual good mood. I mean we are so used to being up and down and sometimes up for a long time and down for a longer time, that suddenly when your friend stays up all the time it gets to you. It sure gets to me. I mean come on, we all have problems in life, how come she is so super cheerful. I know she leads an immensely stressful life juggling full time Ph.D with full time work. Then I scold myself saying that I have become overly critical, here one of my best friends has found the fountain of good mood and all I am doing is being suspicious. If it was someone else, I would have been deadsure that she/ he is on drugs. But this girl and drugs or external stimulants just do not go together.
The standard dailouge between us now a days is, I ask her "hey how is your good mood today?" to which she repiles "hey my good mood is good today!".
Now tell me in today's stress is such a thing believable? Or am I the cynic here? Just because I cannot do this, I am suspicious of her as well.

Dedicate 2009 to finding Mr Right...

In the last two days I have had three interesting conversations that I must share. They are all my friends and I have promised not to disclose identities. Hence this discreet, without disclosure, sharing.

Two days back we met for a drink. After drowning two pinacoladas we got into not so discreet (read rather loud and boisterous) discussion in a bar about the men or the lack thereof in our lives. Right now she is in between men and not in a very good shape. The last guy was someone with whom she had gelled really well. But then she jumped the gun and wanted to discuss the future and wham and bham the guy got scared and ran like hell. Tell me men, why do you register yourselves to these marriage sites if you don't want to talk about the future? Talk about confusion!!!!!!! And what is it? What do you think we women are? Police, roaming around with handcuffs, about to imprison you? For records we women are equally commitment shy and are not interested in getting married to just about any Raj/Rishi/Rahul who pops up. Still continuing, so this friend is still moping about this guy, pretending to be strong and trying to act like she doesn't care and failing miserably. Right now she is going through pangs of guilt thinking she has pushed away a nice man away from her life with her aggression and is down in dumps in the process. What I cannot convince her is that if this man was this perfect he would not have run. We had a serious conversation whether she should be trying to get in touch with him. Though it was she who brought the idea up, she is totally unsure. It is a continous 'should I, should I not' for her right now. Having gone through such situations in life, I know oh so well what she going through. To get back, I am all for her getting in touch with this guy, primarily for her own self. Rather than her lingering thinking about all the what ifs and trying to find solace in pinacoladas, she should just get in touch with this guy. I firmly believe she needs this closure. But in the process we had a great laugh about men and their madness in general. My friend to add further complication and drama in her life, really badly wants a baby! I know this is not the right way to go about finding a man. You should have the man first and then the baby, oh well ideally! But she is at a stage where she wants a baby more than a man! I convinced her that she should dedicate 2009 in finding Mr Right. Let us assume that there is a Mr Right for all of us somewhere. Mine was/is sitting in Denmark and had it not been for this friend I would have never found him. Similarly hers might be somewhere, in fact anywhere from the North Pole to the South. Hopefully by the end of this year, she can plan her baby with her man. I hope he comes looking for her and is equally impatient to get to her, like she is. On a serious note, I am so happy that in spite of all the confusion my friend still is laughing about it and at herself.

This other friend of mine on the other hand is dating three men. Yes guys you read it right, she is currently, all at the same time dating three men. I am soooooo impressed and soooooooooo j. Well she says that she has nothing going on with any of them, but the very fact that she has three men to choose from is such a liberating idea. I mean just imagine on Monday you meet A, then Tuesday B and so on and so forth. If she is not in the mood for C, she can spend time with B. If B is being cranky, A is the man of the evening. Man I never had such choices in my life. And to top it, out of these three, my friend says two are definitely nice guys while the third one is totally into her. Every woman in her life must have such a situation at least once. Ever since I heard this, green spots have started coming on my face. First there were the pimples, then that awful mustache and now green spots!!!!! Some of us gets ugly spots while others all the men!

Another girl friend of mine has adopted a cat. Well she says it is a kitten and not yet a cat. Her husband had rescued this kitten who is really cute and rather nakhrewali. For this friend, this has made her really domesticated. She is the last person whom I imagined to have turned into a momma for a cat. She has promised to send pictures of her cat. Oh well this new year sure is churning out surprises in great numbers!

Snowfall...

Suddenly I look up from my laptop and look abesently outside. I am thinking about social research, if you please. Suddenly my thoughts stop and focus on the scenery outside. It is a clear day, the blue sky is looking picture postcard awesome and it is snowing lightly. For someone like me, having grown up near the Tropic of Cancer, it is indeed a pleasant surprise and a sudden thrill.
I remember the first time it snowed the winter I spent in Toronto. One day in my usual winter gear (read resembling an Eskimo of the first order) I was standing in the bus stop, suddenly I felt a white something float down from the sky. I had heard and read about this numerous times but no one could prepare me for the real experience. Soon other snow flakes followed suit. I forgot the cold and the wind and went outside. It was like today a clear clear day and the snow flakes fell down from the heavens and gently kissed my upturned face. I stood there for a long time, much to the amusement of the passers by. Some even could relate my experience and smiled at me, some showed me thumbs up as if to say "girl I felt exactly the same way when I experienced my first snow fall...". Today I am alone in this room trying to meet a deadline and there is no one to see me drool over this snow. So dear readers I am sharing this with you. I am sure you have had similar experiences. Isnt it great?
Snowfall is synonymous of magic for me and the first snowfall is always the most magical. I know that during a long stretch of winter snowfall gets really depressing but initially it is very exciting. Snowfall reminds me of a long list of things and colours like white, cold, clear blue sky, Christmas, gifts, chocolates, green tea, waffles with cream and jam, crepes with maple syrup, nostalgic music, strange countries, sweet love, home away from home, Toronto and now Europe is added to this list. What is in your list do let me know?
Have a good day folks!

Obama won...

Obama's winning seems like the long waited brightest piece of good news in the world right now. Good for the man and US of A. I am sure the world would benefit from his presidency.

But I have been really stunned the way Indians have been going on about it. I know many Indians who have been following this election and the campaign really closely and fanatically. My Indian friends in US following it closely makes sense but Indians in India being so super enthusiastic eludes me completely. As a student of political science I should be happy to see this high level of excitement and involvement in the political process. Or was it just fan following of the charming man Obama is projected as? I only wish Indians were this involved in their own elections and actually went to vote. When will the educated Indians feel the same way about elections in India?

Walk to work....

"'Walk to work' concept to tread into industrial policy"--Punjab government is planning to introduce this walk to office thing in their new industrial policy, so claims yahoo.

Cool, I would say. It is such a great relief if you are staying near office, and do not have to travel at all. When I got my job I was staying about 40 mins away and it used to cost me a bomb travelling by auto. So initially with great enthu I used to get up really early like freaking 6.30 in the morning and get out by 8 and run for the bus. This enthusiasm stayed all for 2 months. Soon I was reduced to taking autos. Initially I would make excuses to myself for giong by auto like 'today I am not feeling well', 'today there is an urgent deadline', so on and so forth. But very soon I got tired of that as well and started taking auto with impunity.

Fighting with autowallahs twice a day took me to a whole new level of aggression. I am sure a bit of agression is good in everyone, but where I was headed oh ho no you would not want to be that way. Also without my realising it I was getting really stressed about the whole travelling process. Now that I do not need to travel that much daily I realised what a burden it was.

Then when I was almost broke with this exhorbitant travel, I shifted 10 mins away from office. It was such a liberating feeling, I could afford to get up at 8 and then still be in office on time and spend a miniscule amount on travel. I remember during last winter I used to sleep till 9 or so and then just rush to office somehow.

Things got better. This summer we again shifted houses and this time landed up just 3/4 houses from office. Life got so much relaxed. Now sleeping time extended till 9.20, get up, rush to the loo and then somehow topple down the stairs and lo and behold I am in office.

One bad thing is once you shift this near to office your timming goes for a toss. Ever since I have shifted here, I must confess that I have rarely been punctual. Also you tend to loose your street smartness and super duper agression. Now seeing an overloaded bus makes me nervous while not in too distant future I could jump into one and muscle my way in.

If Punjab government introduces this policy I would definitely vote for this government.

This and that...

Ok, after a long time I am in blog writing mood. Now that I am in blogging mood, I cant seem to stop.

Durga Pujo 08 started today. Sasti or the sixth day when the grand aarati in the evening flags off the pujo officially. Today is the beginning of the Bengali Durga Pujo which though follows the navratra calender is different in lots of nice ways. For starters Bongs do not go on rigorous fast. This is the national Bong celebration time, we eat plenty, wear new clothes (two sets a day so a minimum of eight new clothes), new shoes (you can understand whether a person is wearing a new pair of shoes or not by watching the way he/she is walking, if the person walks normally not a chance but if he or she is limping, bingo) pandal hopping, hanging out in old favourite haunts, meeting with long forgotten friends etc.

I am in office on Sunday/ Sasti evening doing no good in particular or for that matter nothing harmful either (lets ignore those deep friend momos I gulped down half an hour ago dear friends) so thought I will catch with you guys. Yesterday Anant was saying that I have not written anything for a really long time, that I make do with photographs now a days. Now that I come to think about it, yes it is true, I do use photographs a lot. Also I have been distracted a lot lately. But blogging I shall continue, maybe some months the number of posting would go down but I would be here posting nonetheless. One piece of good news-- over the last few months I have come to realise that there getting bored is not a good option always.

Found this photograph during one of my google image hunts. Image googling is actually like a treasure hunt, you never know what gem you are going to stumble across.

Maple leaf or chinar ka patta as the Kashmiris call it is one popular leaf. Prior to my Canadian expereince, I had heard Kashmiris talking about chinar ka patta. I once had a Kashmiri friend who could go on and on about how the chinnar ka patta floats down from the tree and how it looks carelessly fallen on the ground. Likewise in my once upon a time Kashmiri boss's house virtually every art object was designed on the maple leaf. Then I read the book called The Tiger Ladies: A Memoir of Kashmir by Sudha Koul. Again the book had chinnar patta strewn all over it.

This particular photograph of maple leaf brings Kashmir to my mind very strongly-- the red signifying bleeding heart and body to my over imaginative mind.

When I lived in Canada I was pleasantly surprised to how a whole nation can be crazy about a leaf. Maple leaf is the national symbol of Canada and you see maple leaf in everything be candles, candies, car freshner, sweater motifs, art objects, photographs, tee shirts, caps, bags and all other imaginable commodities. Maple syrup is another popular thing there-- it is poured over crepes or pancakes for breakfast (yummy, highly recommended), maple flavoured yogurt which strongly resembles misti doi of the Bongs, (so whenever I was misti doi craving I used to make do with maple flavoured yogurt), maple flavoured chocolates etc etc and some more etc.

May the chinnar trees continue to grow and yield beautiful leaves which feed the imagination of the people the world over.

Reading Shantaram...

Well well well...how life changes.
My flatmates Anubha and Jayshree have become readoholics and for the last one month or so I have not read anything substantial. The only book I finished was a M&B and that too took 2 weeks when I have a consistent record of finishing a standard M&B of 180 pages in 1 hour.
Right now both my flatmates are reading Shantaram. Jayshree started first. She was all gaga for it and used to make Anubha and me read bits and parts of it. We even sat in Barcos, a Chinese resturant reading part of Shantaram aloud and laughing helplessly over it. For those of you who have read the book it the part about how men in India wear under underwear. Since the book is a heavy one Jayshree could not lug it around with her to the various courts she goes to, so she downloaded the soft copy. Wheneven she gets a little time in office between her cleitns and drafting she is into Shantaram.
Jayshree has forwarded this copy to Anubha and now they are both deep into it. Everytime we three are together these two go off discussing the book. Usually I am the one who has read a book and knows all about it. So this is indeed a very new sensation where I do not know about a particular book and have nothing to contribute. It is a strange feeling being in the unknown and being dumb forced by circumstances.

Pampering...

Before bombs blasted and all, I was having a very indulgent Saturday. Once a month I go to pamper myself in the beauty parlour underneath our house. This Saturday when I went to the parlour it was totally empty so all the three girls who work there concerntrated their energies on me. Boy it felt so good. I felt totally pampered and very very good. Sitting there with three girls working away on making me feel good I just could understand what the princesses and queens of yester years must have felt. Ah imagine daily dose of such indulgence. What pleasure. Me being me, I started thinking whether it was worthwhile to surrender all personal liberties for such indulgence. Then I told myself "Suchismtia snap out, no one is giving such an option to you, so stop finding fairness even in your day dream". Anubha also had a similar experience on Sunday. While I thought of erstwhile princesses and queen, Anubha thought that it was her wedding day and hence the pampering.
Silly us women, we pay for services and then end up feeling so good that we forget we are paying for it and start day dreaming about it.
But it was a great feeling indeed.

Fly Away...

All of her days have gone soft and cloudy

All of her dreams have gone dry

All of her nights have gone sad and shady

She's getting ready to fly

Fly away, fly away, fly away

Life in the city can make you crazy

For sounds of the sand and the sea

Life in a high-rise can make you hungry

For things that you can't even see

Fly away, fly away, fly away

In this whole world there's nobody as lonely as she

There's nowhere to go and there's nowhere that she'd rather be

She's looking for lovers and children playing

She's looking for signs of the spring

She listens for laughter and sounds of dancing

She listens for any old thing

Fly away, fly away, fly away

This is a song by John Denver, he wrote all his own songs.

Home Sweet Home

Dear friends,

Am back from my two weeks break at home. It does feel a bit horrible, though it is nice to be back in touch with all my friends in Delhi and also I kinda missed our terrace and bits and parts of office or rather the people. Needless to say way too much work piled up but not started any of it. "Time to get back to work Suchismita" I tell myself but so far my brain is refusing to process this information.

Since I am still so gung ho about home, googled water colour paintings of home and some very nice pictures flashed up. Putting up two for you.

Sincerely,

Blogger back to blogging

Breakfast...

Thanks to Anubha I have started eating proper breakfast now a days. Before this I have never been much of a breakfast person. I always start feeling hungry after noon. But Anubha gets hungry early on in the morning and makes something. So by default I eat with her or just bring the food to office and eat it while starting work. I am told it is a good habit, lets see how long this can go on.

We usually eat poha, sabu dana (this cooked with peanut masala or just crushed peanuts is my latest obsession, I think in my old age I am turning Maharastrian), parathas, egg, chicken saussages and bread (this is my contribution to the breakfast menu). Sometimes when I am feeling indulgent I walk to Janata Bakery and pick up their mushroom patty. In the winter Jayshree and me, we eat a lot of kachouris. These are not the bong kochuri. We have a favourite shop who serves them pipping hot with equally pipping sabji, mirchi and chatni.

When Anubha is not making the effort I generally stick to cereals with yogurt or my other usual-- papaya.

At home my mother refused/refuses to cook any breakfast, so whoever felt/feels hungry would toast a bread, maximum there would be cheese or peanut butter or marmalade during winters. Sundays were/are different, along with milk in the moring, kochuri with cholar dal and jilipi would come. Sunday Telegraph and this breakfast while Rangoli being broadcasted in DD1 was a great combo to start the day. I look forward to Sundays at home. I always used to get up at 7.30 a.m. eat, read the interesting bits of the paper and then go back to sleep. What bliss.

I remember the breakfasts we used to eat as kids in mamarbari-- kochuri, shingara and jilipis. This was before television had started broadcasting in the mornings. The radio would be on full blast, there would be mostly some Rabindrasangeet playing, and each page of the Sunday newspaper would be floating around among my four mamas/uncles. There would be inevitable tussle over the sports page, my eldest mama would be walking behind my didima/grandma reading her the football/cricket news, praising Mohunbagan and crusing East Bengal. While the other mamas would try to prise it away from him. Soon a huge discussion would start off, while Ma and me would sit and eat. This was even before my brother was born. Suddenly the entire scene from my childhood came back so vividly.

One More Time...

Ok I know I must be going on and on about rainy days, but what to do, I do love the rains. On sunny and slow afternoon like today day dreaming about rains helps me keep awake and cheers me up. Last Sunday around mid morning suddenly the rains came. I was alone at home making some green tea. I went out with my tea in the terrace and got wet to my heart's content. Hemanta Mukherjee's eei meghla
din ee ekla ( I know I have spoken about this song also much too often, another of my favourite things) was playing loudly. Our terrace looks beautiful during the rains.

Saturday also I got wet with Smriti. We made ourselves some green tea and then I took some photos of Smriti in the rain. Had a lovely time.

Am sure all our neighbours think Anubha, Jayshree and me, we all three are mad and I am the maddest.

Our neighbours are really curious about us and our assembly. Somehow we dont fit into the neighbourhood. Not that we care. It is predominantly a family kind of place. Starting from the small press walleka ladka (the boy who comes to deliver our pressed clothes from the neighhood's press man) to our next door grocery shop owner to our maid to our landlady everyone is dying to know why we are not married and when we will do so. And when boys/men friends come visiting, curious eyes agog with thousand questions never leave us.

Talking about neighbours, a funny thing happened. Jayshree's uncle came visiting last to last week. He asked for our flat downstairs and someone apparently told him "oh that house where the three fat girls live?". Jayshree has gone to shock state since then. Beechari as it is she is sooo cautious and careful about what she eats and always trying to diet and excercise. Horror of horror she gets branded as fat. Poor dear has stopped eating (almost, she is suriviving on spinach) these days while Anubha and me, we are on yummy cakes and muffins and cheese bread.

BLUEs....

What do you do when suddenly in the middle of a busy Monday morning you get a panic attack?
You abruptly realize that your life is passing and that too very fast and most of the things you wanted to do in life you haven’t even started planning them. Just dreaming doesn’t achieve things, boss.
If I tell my mom, she will scold me to begin with and then say something along this line “don’t underestimate the things you have achieved, the work you are doing and please be patient. The problem with you all is that you are always in a terrible hurry; as a result you loose focus” et al.
How can I explain to ma that none of the things, which I meant to achieve at least partially by 30, I haven’t even started? She with her years of experience always preaches patience and I am really short on that virtue.
Checklist of the top 10 things I would like to accomplish/do before I turn 40.
Find my soul mate--not achieved.
Get married--not yet.
Have children (minimum two)-- none.
Adopt children (minimum one)-- none.
Build a home--no.
Do something to preserve Indian arts & crafts—my favourites are Indian handloom stuff--nothing.
Fight against demolition of Indian bazaars to give way to antiseptic malls--nothing.
Do something really substantial work wise--long way to go.
See the world—travel--not even 1%.
Get rich-- hmmmmmmmmppppppppppppp.
Now do you realize why I feel so blue?

Happy Birthday Rima

20th July.

Rima's birthday.

Rima, my cousin sister, two months elder to me, now a mother of an energetic 2 year old son, proprietress of a children's play school in Kolkata, a loving wife and all the rest.

Rima used to live 4/5 houses away from mine. We used to scream at each other across the houses when not in each other's company. Rest of the time she used to be in my house which was her mamarbari (grandparents' house). She would come every afternoon and we would get together with our serious business of playing.

Elders say Rima and me, we took to each other like ducks to water from a very young age. While she learned to speak very early, I was mute till the age of three. So all I did so to sit and watch Rima talking away to glory. On her part Rima would try her best to coax me to talk.

Till early 20s, Rima accompanied me, my parents and my brother everywhere we went. I could never imagine going to a park or a fair or any friends/relatives houses without her. It was a known thing if I go somewhere so would Rima.

Rima is the nearest I got to having a twin. We have had some amazing times growing up together. We really did not need other friends, we knew how to have good time, just the two of us. I hardly remember having any serious fights, she always used to come and try to make-up and I used to relent cos without her chatter life used to get boring.

Of course we are totally different kinds of people, she a Cancerain to her core while me a seesawing Libra. While she would talk nineteenth to the dozen and chum up almost any stranger, I would engross myself in a book and be as non-committal and tactician as possible. I can vouch Rima has never in her life read even a page of any story book. I am sure she would not even read this. She is someone for whom studying/reading are activities done under extreme duress.

My mother and Rima, got along really well, both friendly and talkative souls, their hanging place being our veranda, from where they would be discussing every soul living in the area. Sometimes they would try to drag me into the conversation, but I would be lost reading how Enid Blyton's Five Find Outers were trying escape from the secret house. I had no interest what our neighbour Sharmaji's wife cooked for lunch that day. So I would just shoo them away.

We went to different schools, but knew each other's friends. She was always falling in love with someone or the other. It used to be my duty to talk sense to her, which she did promptly accept. Then she did fall in love seriously, much against the wishes of everyone around. She stopped studying as a rebellion of sorts, I filled in doing her home work for her at times, providing all the necessary support for rendezvous with her boy friend, talking sense to her wild ideas etc.

Over the years we drifted apart, she getting busy with marriage (yes she did marry her boy friend) and me with my career. Somehow the connection we shared while growing up got lost along the way.

Today suddenly on her birthday it is all coming back to me. And I realise how ever much you grow apart from a person, memories are difficult to shrug off.

N.B. Picture googled.