Brave Women

Pranab Mukherji calls the young gang rape victim who died , a true hero. To be brutally raped and to struggle for your life is indeed being heroic. And by that yardstick, all Indian women are heroic and brave. Heroism for Indian women is not fighting on the front to protect the country....rather it is the bravery of making it through every single day with a smile on their faces, and relief at the end of the day that they are alive and safe. The heroism is in the act of survival. 

• If a girl child manages to not get aborted or smothered on her birth, and survives, she is indeed brave.
• When a daughter loves her parents unconditionally despite being treated unequally- in terms of education, nutrition and lifestyle, as compared to her brothers, she is brave. 
• When the daughter is denied the opportunity to find her feet in the world, to work and be financially independent, and yet loves those that deprive her of her freedom, she is heroic. 
• When a girl covers herself, boards a bus to travel and assesses the threat therein, she is brave.
• When a girl is eve-teased and swallows the hurt and shame, she is heroic.
• When a daughter is molested by her family male members and shuts up, she is brave. 
• When a daughter gives up her identity and takes on the surname of her husband and submits to his and his family’s demands, she is brave.
• When a woman gets superceded at work because she is not part of the boyclub, she is heroic.
• When a woman works on despite sexual advances by her seniors she is brave. Whether she reports it or not, she is still brave. 
• When a woman is snubbed by the taxi driver, or is subject to a lewd comment by a passerby, she is brave. 

So when she is raped, brutalised and loses her life, all because she wanted to be a normal human being, a woman is truly heroic. 

Our women have always been brave. They know they are never above suspicion. They know that aspersions will be cast on their character because of the actions of men. They realise that no matter what, they need to swallow their pride and aspirations so that peace might be maintained in the family . In the very act of being sacrificing and self-effacing, Indian women are at their very bravest. 

How about educating our men and boys? And making them brave?  How about making them understand that brutal strength is not strength at all. That just because they are physically stronger than women, and can overpower them, is no indicator of heroism. How about not subjugating the woman to satisfy your ego , pride or lust? Earning money to support the family is not brave, but creating an environment where the women of your family will be safe and secure is brave. Not using sexual organs as power tools is being brave. Having the courage to stand up to someone who beats up his wife,  teases a woman or molests a woman is being brave. 

It is not about laws and legal actions. These are matters of personal choice...

Creating a world where your daughter will be more than equal to your son, is being brave. 

10 years of DAIS

As the Dhirubhai Ambani International School completes 10 years of its existence, I admire Nita Ambani for what she has created - out of sheer passion. She took on the task of creating a world class school and in ten short years has totally cracked it. 

I remember 10 years ago when we were moving to Mumbai and went school hunting. No school entertained us, and then someone recommended that we try the new Ambani School that was opening that year. I was not too keen - I thought it would be an elitist school and I did not want my kids to study in such a place. We called the School and they told us to come over - Mrs Ambani was there and  would meet us.

We were pleasantly surprised to meet Mrs Ambani. She was not dressed as she is for her photo shoots. She was in chappals, with her hair bunched up, as she chased the countless things that required her attention. She called us in for a meeting and spent a good half hour telling us her vision for the School.  (Truth be told, I only paid half the attention to her because my eyes were glued on her huge rocks!). While on our way out, a security guard got the dressing down of his life because a fire drill was on somewhere and he was still lolling around! We met the teachers and Nishna went through the admission process and we were impressed with the attention to detail on everything. 

Nita Ambani is relentless in her pursuit of excellence - and this is reflected in everything in the School. If grades are a success indicator, then the  Students get admissions  in Ivy League Colleges and year on year, the results are outstanding. 

But there are other indicators of success. An important one is the impeccable way in which children are paid attention to. The care is reflected in the bathrooms that are spanking clean, the classrooms that are bright and cheery, the learning centres that are world class,  the food that is served daily, and even the security drills that ensure the safety of the kids. The teachers  work tirelessly to deliver quality education to the kids and are always there to address an issue. The School sets best practices in all these areas. 

Perhaps the best indicator of success is the tremendous pride my kids have on being Indian. And this is driven by the School that celebrates Indian-ness in a big way. My children are proud Indians and also completely at ease with the International-ness of the whole experience. When they travel on school visits abroad, they come back with a fierce happiness that they are better at so many things than the others. 

It is easy to be dismissive and say that Nita has the backing of the Ambani power and clout. Yes, indeed she does - and she has channelised it well. The school events are impeccably organised and various luminaries from all walks of life visit the school for talks and student interactions. When Mumbai was flooded under, and kids could not make it back home, she flew in supplies to make sure that kids were safe , dry and fed. Her bodyguards helped School buses and children make it to safety. During the terrorist attack, she ensured that safety was hiked up in School and no untoward incident would take place there. When students go out on out-station trips, there is enough security to ensure safety. When a school student was fatally injured and battling for his life, Mrs Ambani stayed at the hospital with the family to support them. 

The lady has worked tirelessly to create a team that delivers world class education and a happy safe environment for her students. And she need not have done any of that. Most wealthy socialite wives adopt charities and make Page 3 appearances. It is easy to undermine or be dismissive, but this lady went out there and created something that has set standards for excellence.

And perhaps nothing brings home her success more than the presence of Mukesh Ambani at the Annual Days. He attends all of them and is unassuming and undemanding. And  the pride on his face when he views what his wife has achieved is priceless! 

License to Rape

So another girl gets raped in our capital city and is dumped to die. And there is outrage in media on the gross crime and what will be done to bring the perpetrators of the crime to justice. 

And , being a woman, and the mother of a young boy and girl, I don’t get the outrage. 

As I see it, this is something that the society encourages - in its feudalistic bullshit manner. We pamper our sons and turn a blind spot to all their shortcomings;  we treat them like demi-gods because they will be the ones that will provide for us when we are older. In many households, young boys are not encouraged to lift a finger to help and are waited on hand and foot. They get the lion’s share of the goodies instead of an equal share to the daughter. They are allowed to stay out till late at night and parents express helplessness that they do not know where their sons are. A girl-friend the son brings home, (or likes) is branded fast and chalu. Most of the times, the girl he likes will not be the one he will be allowed to marry because she is loose charactered enough to go out with the son. The daughters-in law are lucky if they get a favourite dish cooked for them, but the sons-in laws are pampered silly -even if most of them have a chip on their shoulders. 

We are the ones who teach our daughters submission and docility. We teach them to cover up when they go out. We teach them to not look available - to not be outspoken , to not have boyfriends , to have none of the experiences they must have as young girls. They must save their virginity for the husband  and if they have not, they must pretend he is the only guy.  We tutor our girls that when they are married, they must be sweet and pliable to take all the crap that the inlaws may dole to them. They can work if they are ‘allowed ‘ to, they can wear clothes if they are ‘allowed’ to, and they must make the marriage work - else they will be penniless, homeless and family-less. And because the parents are lucky to have found a guy who considers their daughter good enough for marriage, they will also give gifts and a dowry to keep them happy. 

Indian boys grow up thinking they are Little Emperors and the world is out there for ripe pickings. And mostly , this translates into getting women. Since the society does not permit a normal interaction between boys and girls, there is an obsession with the other sex. Girls are taught to suppress this , but boys are not. Most Indian boys  lack social skills (and frankly most of them are not passably hygienic or good looking). So the first recourse is to drool over porn magazines and movies. For most badly brought up boys  the only way to attract attention is by eve-teasing. And since, the rest of the society minds its business when you are harassing a girl , you naturally move to the next step of touching-feeling. If you are a group of guys, then, egged on by others, in peer pressure, you will end up raping. What better way to prove you are a man? And desirable? And have the power to make the woman submit?

So how about ensuring that we bring up our boys well? How about teaching them that not only their mummies and female relatives, but also other women are worthy of their respect? How about teaching them equality with their sisters? How about letting our daughters lead their lives with freedom? How about not being hypocritical -and letting boys and girls interact and mingle and develop a healthy respect for each other?

Till we don’t do that, we should expect rapes, harassment, dowry deaths and many more crimes against women. 

And - if this does happen to any woman you know, well - just castrate the buggers. There is no need to wait for someone else to deliver justice. 

Anger that cleanses

In the past few months, I dealt with a bitter falling out with some people I held very dear to my heart.  It came on the heels of one of the toughest personal periods in my family. And it was fraught with feelings of hurt, bitterness, sadness, betrayal and a sense of having been used. 

When I needed to cope with moving on, I did a lot of recommended stuff. I tried chanting, that is supposed to relieve anxiety. And I practiced cord cutting - to reduce emotional hurt. I tried forgiveness - to forgive those that had hurt me, accepting that it was their life journey and nothing they said was really my fault, but the sum total of their own experiences. I tried praying - to soothe my nerves. I practiced forgiveness - tried being the bigger person to let it all go away. 

But none of that really worked for me. I felt hurt and betrayed. There was a whole variety of hurts. 

Emotional hurt -how could they do this  to me when all I had ever felt was deep affection; 

Egoistical hurt - nope, that is not possible. How can they treat ME like this? 

Betrayal hurt - that  I am being gossiped about and made to look bad ,

and a Helpless hurt - my inability to let go and move on. 

I suffered and I suffered. And I began to lose faith....faith in me and in my ability to overcome so much in my life. 

Until Anger happened.  And maybe because I am Aries, I am good with Fire, and Anger. 

Anger cleansed me like nothing ever had. It overwhelmed all my senses and it destroyed.

 Anger is like fire and it burns. In its red hot avatar, it wrecks havoc on the emotional landscape and leaves destruction in its wake. And it destroys feelings of loss of self esteem, loss of self respect and loss of a cherished relationship . It burns out the emotions of guilt, self-recrimination and shame . It burns and clears up the emotional landscape , so that the process of healing might begin.

In its cold white avatar of deadly calm,  Anger allows you to express all the bottled up hurt. It allows you the courage to tell the person what you feel and how you have been taken advantage of. It brings clarity to the situation -  It helped me see the vicious lies I had been subject to. Cold fury clears the emotional baggage so there is a feeling of peace. It permits negativity to get out of the system, so there will be no disease in the body. It helps close the door. 

Yes, a lot of stuff is said in anger, but that is purifying too. Anger encouraged me to be truthful. Why should I have been the bigger person? I am not Buddha! So why should I have  suppressed my hurt and wished the other person well?

It is alright to wish the other person ill. It is alright to tell them what I think of them and the way I perceive them. It is perfectly ok to want them to experience the hurt they have put me through.To pray that the pathetic sluts will pay for their actions- that is not evil. 

I see justice and fair play in my anger. And even if it was crass and evil, to hell with it. I don’t care if it made me look unfeminine or bitchy or if it  was unflattering. I have lost nothing - rather I have burned the chain of misery. 

 So when you want to put aside hurt, betrayal and feelings of loss,  I recommend anger. Anger can serve you well .Like fire, anger annihilates, but it also sets the stage for new beginnings. And hope and happiness. 

Anger did not make me an angry , bitter or negative person. Its cathartic effects enabled me to be positive again - of renewing my faith in myself and in people around me.

 It brought the smile back in my eyes.

Right Here, Right Now

Is there life after death? I had never really thought about it until I read that Sikhism also subscribes to the theory of reincarnation. I was a bit surprised because this young religion of mine is so non-regressive. Suddenly the chatter on karmic connections, past life regressions, spirits that talk to you ,reincarnations and paying karmic debts became too loud in my head.

So when I chanced upon ‘Many Masters , Many Lives’ that many friends had recommended , I was happy to read it. And read it in one evening. 

And then had a nightmarish night. I dreamt of all those souls, floating in the universe around me, waiting till the Masters came to give them gyaan and till they found another life. It was eerie - to think of those billions of souls shifting in and out of bodies -the sound they seemed to make was like the sound of a message sent from an Iphone -zoop . And of the  hierarchy of planes that the souls could be on - much like a caste system, except that it depended on how evolved your soul is. What the Masters said is what I can happily preach too! 

I am definitely not an evolved soul and my disbelief in reincarnation and life after death is strong as ever. 

Belief in re-incarnation seems like an emotional crutch - I may not have got what I desire in this life - maybe a job ,a guy , a house or diamonds  - so it soothes me to think that in another life time I may have had them, or will have them. To think there is a karmic connection with people in my life is to try and establish bonds that don’t exist. If I think there is another life in which I am going to realise my potential, then am I not wasting what I have right now?

There is no such thing as a Karmic debt from another life. I believe strongly in Karma, but Karma is fairly instant for me - I am punished (or rewarded) instantly. If I pay for my actions in this very life, why would I be carrying other baggage? And like me, other people also pay for their actions in this lifetime - sometimes it is visible, sometimes it is not - but they do. So that ‘Karmo ka Phal’ is right here, right now. 

There is no justification for relationships I have in this present life - happy or rocky, they are part of my now.  I may connect with some people deeply, but that is because humans tend to do that - bond selectively with some people. 

When I lose a beloved one to death, it hurts me and leaves a vacuum in my life. But the person stays on with me, in my thoughts , in what I learnt and in the legacy I might carry forward. If I can feel them after death, it is because they stay in my heart. That’s it. 

What I do believe in very strongly is destiny. You might plan stuff, but life turns out pretty different. When I was young, I thought I would be this super cracko corporate head honcho, and everything in my life was geared for that. But life turned out differently for me - and for the better! I am doing things I love and would not trade those for any corporate job ever . I was destined to marry Praneet , even though it took two years and heartache before I met him.

I also believe in the power of thought. What you send out into the Universe comes back to you. So if you believe that you are good and good stuff will come your way, it truly will. If you think negative, you attract negativity. What you visualise - you receive!

Sometimes though I do wish, I would not be so hard on myself. I wish I could believe in reincarnation and karmic connections and karmic debts. That would ease the pressure on me and make me surrender to a higher power. And not make me feel so responsible for my actions all the time. 

But for me  - Life is Now. This is the life I have -  to share with people I love, to do things I want to do. Everyone in my life is meant to be there, no matter for how long and I am grateful for that. I have earned all I deserve . And I bear the fruit of my actions - fortunately there has been more sweetness than bitterness. I approach life with a passion- whether in loving, eating, talking, running, reading or writing - there is no other way I know. And the happiness, sadness, bitterness, love - everything I feel is related to events in my life - right now!

And if there is indeed reincarnation - then I am at my best life yet!! 

Sex 'Awareness'

‘Is it true that Siddharth Malhotra is Karan Johar’s lover’, asked my 10 year old nephew. 

I kept a straight face and said,‘That’s what I have heard too.’ 

‘But Maasi, who is the woman in the relationship?’ , he continued. 

And my mind went Hmmmmm. That the 10 year old is aware of gays was not news to me, but that he knew there were male-female roles in these relationships was something I found hard to process at that moment!

Listen into any conversation that Moms with kids in the age-group of 9-14 have with each other, and sex figures predominantly in it. What is it that our kids know? What should they be aware of? What is the school teaching them? Where are they picking up information from? And is so much information really required for them?

This much is true - at young ages they are more aware of many things we had never heard of. I first heard the F word when I was in the 7th grade and also became aware of gays and lesbians when I went to boarding school at that age. I was mortified because I thought I might be pregnant - I had heard that if any part of a boy/man’s body (except your dad or brother ) touches you, it invited pregnancy. I had held and cuddled my infant cousin and spent that month in stress - till I mustered up the courage to tell my mother. (I don’t know how she did not crack up with laughter at the time)!

There were no sex education classes in school .The biology chapter on Reproduction had the teacher staring blankly into another world as she droned on - and the class tittered and giggled in embarrassment! Mensuration in Maths also became an X- rated word because of menstruation in Biology.

So yes, our kids are more ‘aware’. Schools have sex awareness classes and many children also go for such classes with counsellors out of school. There is tons of information available on the internet, even if you have Net Nanny and such installed. Bollywood is more blatant about sex and most U rated movies have lewd, suggestive jokes. Kids also pick up information from the seniors they interact with , from older cousins and from the peer group. Young Adult literature is full of teen sex. 

Should they know all these things?

 Why not? As parents, we are always stressed about pedophiles and people waiting to get their hands on our young ones. These people can be found anywhere - in relatives within families, in household staff, among friends, in tuition teachers, coaches, guards and police officers...any where. So it is good for kids to be spoken to, and for them to be aware of good touch-bad touch and intuition when things don’t seem right. 

And who should give them information? 

Personally, I believe parents are the most capable ones to deliver this gyaan to their children. It requires that we swallow our inhibition and talk freely to them coz frankly we have lots more opportunity to ‘talk’. At their bed-time, on the dinner table, after a movie, during a holiday...

I spend loads of time with kids of different ages and quite frankly, our children are not any better off than we were. Their knowledge is incomplete.

They need information - and they will look for it elsewhere if we don’t help them with it. Their stressors are the same - like us (at that age) they are also grappling with peer pressure,  are dealing with their changing bodies and emotions, are confused with hormonal activity and are terribly insecure about anything going wrong. 

Ofcourse I don’t shut up and speak to my kids constantly about the birds and the bees. And yet, I am not sure if I am being able to help them. All I know is that I want them to make the right choices as they are growing up, to be aware of the consequences of their actions and to never do stuff they will regret for the rest of their lives.

And this is fun for me too...I am constantly amused by stuff kids are aware of and their new fangled lingo.I am learning new words that I choke on... dry humping and lip virginity ...and I wonder what new question tomorrow will bring! 

Emperor of All Maladies

‘My  tumour is malignant’, texted Rano to me , on that fateful day of 28th April,2012, and my brain went in a shut down mode. I knew many cases of cancer around me, but the self-indulgent me never ever thought this disease would hit so close home. My baby sister? The one I have always fiercely protected - and bullied?

Today, Rano is done with her 16th and last chemotherapy session, and there is a sigh of relief from all of us. The journey to full recovery is not yet over - another 8 months of treatment, but the scourge of chemos is done. 

With the worst behind us, I am permitting myself to open this door a little. A montage of Rano in the initial days -  her incredible fear and the tears that would never stop. Her caressing the pictures of her kids and trying to smile and being brave when they returned from school. Her stress when we met  lots of doctors to find the one she would be comfortable with. Her horror when we first went to Tata Memorial and saw so many cancer patients. And her faith that Dr Badwe would be the one for her. 

And it did not help that none of us knew how to react. Manish, the ever cheerful, crazy Jiju of mine lost his smile overnight. My mother, who can make the world cry broke down when we went to Tata Memorial Hospital. I was horrified to see Mama so forlorn - even through the worst that life doled out, my mother has had her chin up. My Dad was shaken in Nigeria and so alone with his pain coz Mom flew in to be with Rano; he would never stop crying. I remember late night conversations between Paras and me trying to make sense of the madness - both of us were cheerful and happy in front of everyone else. And the calm Praneet, who tried to be there for most of the chemos and brought peace to the hysteria with his gentleness. 

I don’t know how my incredible sister has pulled through this. Through her two surgeries, through the horror of seeing herself change in the mirror as the chemos piled on the weight and took away her hair and through so much sickness that she could not get out of bed for days.

But I think she did it because she is truly God’s Chosen One. Her blessings are so many. Her cancer got detected just when her cells kicked into a hyperactive mode. Dr Badwe heads up the immense Tata Memorial Hospital, and took to Rano as if she were his own. He operated upon her when he himself was down with a spinal injury, has ensured that she can walk into his office without an appointment, messages her with ‘Hakuna Matatas’ when she is down and is there to handle even her silliest queries. Likewise with her oncologist who is there with her support - night and day. The nurses in Tata Memorial love her and make sure she is comfortable during her chemos and come and chat with her all the time. 

She is blessed with incredible friends. Her friends call in from all over the world every single week and on chemo days pep her over bbms. Her friends in Mumbai would drop what they were doing and rush to her if they thought she sounded low. 

Random strangers shower blessings on Rano - by not making her wait , by letting her skip a line without her asking for it, by even giving her the fish and vegetables they have selected for themselves. 

Blessed with her househelp who has not taken a leave, put in long hours of work, not complained because the load on them is so much. 

But most importantly Rano is blessed to be the daughter of my parents. My parents put aside every need of theirs to nurture their daughter back to health. Mom has watched her like a hawk and if Rano’s counts remained good and she did not succumb to any infections, it is because of Mom. With her positivity Mom has made sure Rano had very few weepy days. She ensured that Rano wore beautiful clothes, wore make-up , watched happy movies, listened to songs and ate well at all times! Dad managed alone with his health issues in Nigeria, and came to India every month to be with his favourite child. 

Manish has been incredible in his support and love for Rano. His life turned upside down , but my Jiju loves Rano more than ever - and has denied her nothing. With his being around her, Paras gives Rano strength everyday. And Praneet has been her anchor - with his calm and cool head!

Her illness taught me valuable lessons - That we are blessed with incredible families that love us so much. That there is no point seeking affection and attention from people who don’t care about you. That this is your life - so Carpe Diem - live each day on your terms. And there is nothing stronger than your own mind, so train it well. 

I am waiting for my beautiful sister to heal completely. So we can begin to have all the fun we have been planning for these few months. So she can go back to work and be the cracko professional she is. So that my little nephews can hug and horse around with their mother again and their stories will not have ‘cancer’ as the chief protagonist in them again. So Nishna can tell her all her secrets again and she will become Udai’s Enemy No 1 once again. So Manish can rag her endlessly and her house will be full of laughter and happiness again! 

Following My Nose

Of all the senses that I use to connect with people, it is the olfactory that is the most significant for me. Which is why, Rani Mukherji , sniffing like a dog whenever her love interest was nearby in Aiyyaa , riled me because it was so disgusting and tackily done. 

When I was young and got sent to the hostel, I would try to hold on to the smell of my mother as she hugged and kissed me goodbye. I would rub my cheeks against hers and snuggle real close so I could carry her smell with me. I would not wash my face or take a bath in the hostel  - and it got me into a whole load of trouble with the prefects who once scrubbed me out with Surf. 

My children smell the most wonderful in the world. At night when I tuck them into bed, and in the morning when they wake up, I love to inhale deeply and smell their warmth. That smell is indescribable, something like a warm chocolate-vanilla cookie perhaps, but it soothes me, and tells me all is well in my world.

I like to smell the people I love without perfumes and deos. I like how they smell in the hollows of their necks and in the insides of their wrists . I inhale, inhale , inhale to remember. 

I am bothered when I don’t remember how someone I love/ loved smells. When I can’t find a smell association with that person. It is upsetting in a manner that I can’t describe. 

And  it does not matter to me if someone I like has a strong body odour - if I like/love the person, I am ok with the smell. Ofcourse, once in a while, I am tempted to gift a friend a deo or perfume to drive home the message, but really I am not so bothered.

 And by the same  yardstick, if I don’t like the person I cannot bear the way the person smells, or the perfume the person wears  -it nauseates me. And I try to not be physically anywhere close to the person, because the smell overwhelms me!

I associate certain fragrances with people I love. Anais Anais reminds me of the softness of my mother ( though she stopped using that fragrance years ago), Narcisco Rodriguez is my beautiful sister and Pears soap is always my lovely Nani. The yuck Simco hair fixer smelled just right on my grand-dad and I loved to smell it on him. 

Inhale  and follow my nose - it never fails me!! 

Life and Death

‘I will call you back in ten minutes,’ said Vijay , and Sharmila , my live-in help waited all night for her boyfriend’s call. A call that never came because Vijay fell off the window of his 6th floor apartment and died on the spot. 

And as I console Sharmila, I watch her helplessness. She was not engaged to Vijay , even though they had been together for more than three years. So there is no way she can go  with the body to his village. She has not even managed to go see him for the last time because her parents disapproved of the relationship and won’t let her say goodbye. She is broken, yet, she is going about her chores like an automaton. I want her to go , but I realise there is no one she can go to.Her grief is so raw, so real and so heart-wrenching because she is denied all that she wants to do at this moment. 

Sharmila was so excited because last year I had started a salary saving scheme for her and she was going next weekend with her big kitty to buy jewelry with Vijay. Since her parents disapproved of this relationship, she was determined to make her own assets till Vijay would marry her. And Vijay was studying to be a doctor as well as working to pay for a small apartment he would buy for the two of them. 

I know she is young and in time, this grief too shall pass, but I am just wondering how unnecessary some of our societal restrictions are. Just because the guy was not the same caste as Sharmila, her parents disapproved.She has no social ‘standing’ as a fiancee or wife  and therefore cannot go and see the face of the guy she loves - one last time. 

Why do we put such strictures anyways? Why have such a list of dos and don’ts? Sure, some of it is to protect our kids, but more and more I realise that these long lists are because of insecurities. We ‘possess’  because of insecurities, families fight over money and family over insecurities, people conform to societal standards because of fear of being ex-communicated and we learn to swallow our needs and desires for ‘society’, represented largely by our own family. 

If the only constant of life is death, and that is the only certainty and unpredictability too, then why do we fight, connive, bitch and make life miserable? Would it not be easier to simplify life, and just enjoy the moment. Does loving not mean enjoying people you love, letting them live life to their potential, and allowing them to be themselves?

I know, at the end of my life, I want to have no regrets. I want to live life in all its glory - Queen sized - the pain, the love, the successes , the failures, the happiness- the sheer joy of living. And I want to blame no one for anything in my life. That does not mean I want to bring pain to any of my loved ones - just that I want to have the freedom to be me. That’s the value system I want for my kids  - an ability to accept consequences for their actions and truly experience life! 

As Maya Angelou says  -Life loves the Liver of it! 

Books as Friends

Books are pretty much like friends. And some special books have  a meaning and purpose in my life. 

Some books like Cutting for Stone and The Sense of an Ending, are friends with whom  I want to spend as much time as I can. Each page , like each conversation is a delight. And I am suspended in that make believe world. As the pages near the end, I begin to feel the anxiety that this will end soon. That I am losing my grip on this special world and it will soon be over. I am not too sure how I want to end it - drag each page and let it fill my senses, or chase the pages fast so I know how the book ends. And when I finish the book, I hold it in my hands and mull over it. I go back to pages that enamoured me and re-read them again.I re-imagine the scenarios in my mind and wonder how else it could have turned out. That is pretty much how it plays out with special friends. Much later, I think of the time we have spent together, re-live conversations and their deeper, hidden meanings and long for the next time we shall meet again.

Some like The World According to Garp and A Hundred Years of Solitude are like friendships I renew again and again. Every year, I pull out these two books and read them thoroughly. And each time, I find  new meaning in them and I spend time relishing each page. Much like those friends that I seldom meet, but each meeting reminds me why I love them so, and I learn something new about them again. 

How I Saved My Life is like a friend who turns up at the opportune moment to be an Angel in my life. And provides me with support that I desperately need at that time. Like the Angel friend, the book may seem shallow , but sift the wheat from the chaff - and the diamond sparkles!  And this book, (and my Angels) pop up uncannily, again and again !!

Some friends are like Fifty Shades of Grey. I picked up the book with great excitement, because it was on the best seller list. And then did not want the book in my house lest my kids picked it up out of curiosity. My ‘Grey’ friends are the ones I thought were mine, but turned out to be something quite different - and were worthy only when they exited my life and took their negativity with them.

Then there are books like the one on Steve Jobs. They sit on my bookshelf, mildly attracting attention - much like friends who are non intrusive, and ones I don’t give the time of the day. I know, the books, like my friends,are interesting and will add value to my life, but it is not time for them for a bigger role in my life - yet. 

Accidental delights like India After Gandhi are like unexpected friends - I approached them with no expectations. And they have brought me immense joy and happiness - and I never want to let go of them. 

And some friendships are like Twice Born that offer no atonement and no closure. They are the source of constant anguish and pain , of a world and innocence lost, and one from which there is no escape. Yet, their beauty is unsurpassed and the experience incomparable. 

And ofcourse I have learnt - Never judge a book by its cover, and never judge a friend at all! 

How Worthy Am I?

AK Hangal, the veteran actor died at 98 in Mumbai yesterday. A ripe old age and a life well led I suppose. But the news reports in the papers today were dismal and angered me terribly.

So what if Bollywood bigwigs did not make it to the funeral. How does that, in any manner, reflect the worth of the man? Would he have been worthier if AB, SRK, AK and all the glam dolls attended the funeral dressed in white, looking suitably glamourous and sad for the press?

I don’t get it. AK Hangal clearly had a family - I am sure he was well loved. He must have had a bunch of friends who are middle class anonymous like us. He must have had well-wishers who are not news-worthy. All these people must have been there - around him in life and in death.

What does truly define the worth of a human being? For me, it is love of my family - my parents, my husband, my siblings and my kids. It is the love of my extended family that cares deeply about me. It is the affection of my friends who are there for me at anytime. It is my well-wishers who have supported me at work and elsewhere. 

Like most of us ( I am certain), I spent a large part of my energy trying to be worthy in the eyes of people whose approval  I craved - it might have been the IT gang in my schools, or the arrogant girl who everyone wanted to be friends with in college. It was the teacher who  did not know my existence in MBA coz I was so poor in the subject. It was the hot guy I wanted to date or the boss who hated me and made my life miserable. The ‘worthiness‘ may have been reflected in the kind of clothes I wore, the cars I was driven around in, the houses and assets we own and everything else that bespoke a certain social standing. 

It took me a number of years and many experiences to arrive at the status of FUCK YOU. And to stop being bothered by unworthy people. And for me to realise that I was really seeking something that I did not want or need.  That my parameters for self worth and self esteem were with me all the while that I had looked for them elsewhere. 

So today, if someone does not want to give me a job - its their loss, if someone does not want my friendship - its their loss and if someone does not value me - it is their loss.

And these are people I definitely do not want at my funeral. I am not famous and I will not merit the presence of media at my death. But I would consider my life well spent if all my loved ones are there on that day. I would like to die-not so old, so all my cherished ones will attend my memorial service. And it will be a memorial service to remember - In a bar, with lots of food, drinks and cheap Bollywood songs!! 

And I will raise a toast with the Almighty!! 

Girl Friends

I have been trying to analyse the movie ‘Cocktail’ and why it did not leave me with a happy feeling. And here is why...

How could the Diana Penty character betray her best friend? The guy shifting his emotions - I can understand, but a girl friend doing that to her best friend??That does not gel with me. 

Maybe coz in my small universe we don’t do that - my girlfriends and I. We share confidences - the kind men can never understand! From husbands to boyfriends, to bosses ,in-laws and kids, from sex to fantasies and dreams,  clothes to food ,diets to illnesses  - we discuss it all. My girl friends know my mood instinctively...as I know theirs - from their fb and bb updates, to the timing of the call or the need to go out for a coffee or drink!

We fight, we have misunderstandings and we may not meet for years. But we pick up conversation from where we left it and quickly update each other about everything. 

And we don’t eye each other’s husbands, boyfriends or significant others. That is taboo. We fight all we can, but would never dream of sharing those confidences with our partners or other male friends. And we don’t choose male friends over our female friends.

 I have close male pals , but my girl friends are what keep me ticking and going.I know they will never ever betray me and I can truly be myself with them. Yes, there is judging, bitching and  giving gyaan - but it done with the utter confidence that none of us will be betrayed. 

And I feel blessed - that I have atleast as many close girl pals as my fingers!! And I definitely don’t want a Diana Penty character in my life. 

30s and 40s

Watched ‘Turning 30’ and it reminded me of  the time I turned 30. I thought it was the end of my life. I had popped two babies, my career was kaput , I was plump and oh so fatigued!! 

 In the 20s , you taste independence - you get educated, get a job and really begin to have fun. There is excitement  in sussing out potential boyfriends and husbands . There is heartbreak , but one is young and easily distracted. The thrill of earning your own money is tremendous and there is the enthusiasm and bubbliness of youth- you really feel you can change the world. 

30s are possibly the toughest years for a woman.Trying to manage kids, career and the sweet Indian husband. Life goes topsy turvy. There is guilt - guilt if you leave the career and stay at home to take care of kids. Guilt if you don’t.. Ofcourse, there is happiness, and joy, and pride and pleasure. Watching your kids grow up is pure bliss. Tracking the husband’s career and watching him succeed also brings a smile to your face. But there is also remorse - that you worked so hard only to give it all up. That your life is not really your own. That you have lost yourself in the stress of everyday life. 

And then the 40s happen. 

And at 43, I can safely say - these are the best years of my life. My kids are fairly grown up and while the set of issues are different now -  raging hormones, academics and their futures, I am pretty proud that I have brought up secure, happy , good individuals. The physical demands on me are less - I don’t have to chase them to feed them, bathe them , watch over them constantly. 

And there is something about the hormones at 40. A little devil-may-care attitude that creeps in . I don’t really give a damn what another person thinks of my life journey - it is mine alone. I feel I have earned my place by working hard and gained enough experience to be able to face the world head-on. I am not so easily bullied by the sully shopkeeper  or in awe of anyone with money or power . I have confidence enough to demand what I desire. I am less bound by the conventionality of a corporate career  - and can follow my dreams.

I am not that young any more to be checked out by men, and that brings with it the freedom to be me. If someone hits on me, it does not creep me out any more - the tackiness of it is amusing. I enjoy the companionship of my female friends and my bonds with them are deeper than ever before. At this age, all of us share similar life experiences - including the dreaded mid-life crisis! I love my male friends coz we are not objects of desire for each other any more. 

There is an urgency - that this decade is the one in which I have physical energy and mental alertness and therefore I have to achieve a lot. So I want to work a lot - doing all the things I ever wanted to do and I want to travel a lot- go to South America, Alaska and hike , walk and camp!I want to run the marathon !

And maybe, one day, when I am patient and not so restless, I will write a script for ‘Turning 40’...and make a movie of it! Or maybe it will be ‘Turning 50’ , if I am lazy enough! 

Free??

As Independence Day draws closer, I have been thinking of personal freedom and what it really means. 

Are we humans ever really free? Like tigers , we are not solitary animals. We need other people for our needs - for sustenance and nourishment - physical, emotional and intellectual. The fact that we stay in groups in the society means that we follow certain rules of engagement. And we follow a set of demands and expectations. 

As kids we were ‘free’ - free from the pressures of earning a living and from the demands of maintaining relationships. For that, we followed rules set down by our parents. There were boundaries defined - what marks were expected in academics, what friends were acceptable to parents, what time you had to be home from college or a party and what kind of marriage you were expected to make. Within these boundaries, there was room for rebellion , adventure and fun.

I don’t know about others, but I was in a terrible rush to grow up. I wanted to work, to earn my own money and I wanted to get married. I perceived all these as tools of independence - I would marry the one I loved, I would set up my own home, I could party , I could pursue my dreams and do the work I wanted. 

The very things I thought would get me freedom seem to bind me stronger today.Marriage for one - It is just not about Praneet and me any longer. Together we bear far too many responsibilities and the happiness and welfare of so many people is dependent on us. The burden is scary.

The love for my children. I like to think I made the choice to give up my career to enjoy my kids, but what freedom of choice did I really have? I could not get myself to leave those tiny hands that would clutch me and that little bundle who tugged at my heart. Even today,there are times I want to get away from it all and be with myself for a while-but there is no way I can disappear. There is still the house to be run , there are still the kids to be taken care of! 

I am beginning to realise that the relationships that provide us with the most are also the most binding. And perhaps that is the nature of love. To give and to receive . To expect and to demand. To take for granted and be taken for granted. To sacrifice and expect sacrifices. To give up some freedom and to take some away. 

Maybe it is worth - to lose freedom to love , not just commitment or obligation, because the benefits that accrue make us richer - in every sense of the word. 

Fringes of Celebrity Hood

So Aryan Khan is all set to leave the school and join Seven Oaks in London. 

I don’t know how many teenage hearts in school are breaking because of this , but I do know how many adult hearts are breaking. After all, how long will it be before Suhana Khan follows suit and there will be no more sightings of SRK? SRK’s star may be falling elsewhere, but in the hearts of the class parents, he will be a superstar- always!

It has been fun living on the fringes of celebrity hood and my earliest memory of the Khan family is when we took Nishna to her first day at school. There was an excited murmur when Gauri Khan walked in with Aryan and the excitement on the faces of my class parents was palpable when we realised that the kiddo was in our section! Every mother had visions of Aryan being buddies with her child!

SRK added glitter to our lives -Sports Days, Annual Days and PTMs were full of excitement because SRK would be there. And when he ran the Parents race at the Sports Day, I don’t think any of us gave our husbands a second glance - you understood why KJo made SRK run in every movie -he runs like a dream!

In true Mumbai spirit, there is a huge divide between the townies and us poor suburbanites. Townie mothers  hem and haw if there is any event beyond Worli, coz that is another city and so far!!

One day Nishna arrived with a card from school. It was Aryan’s birthday and was going to be celebrated at his Bandra home - on a weekday! I called on the number on the card and had a nice brief conversation with Gauri Khan. It went like this :

Me: Hi Gauri, Nishna will be there for the party.

GK: Thanks, you can drop her at 4.30 and fetch her at 7.30.

Me: Great. Is it ok if my maid accompanies her?

GK: Ofcourse, that is fine.

So that was that. 

And the fun had only just begun. Over the next few days, I received a barrage of calls from other mothers. Was I going for the party? How could I let my child go alone? They could not let their child go alone - he/she would not eat/ was too young to be left alone/the maid was on holiday! And on and on went the conversations! 

Then I guess they called Gauri  and the conversation ( I am guessing) was pretty much the same as mine. Very politely, they would have been told that their presence was not welcome and maids could come!

Anyway, to cut the long story short, the kids went alone/with maids to the party and there was a 100% class participation. Meanwhile a large bunch of mothers sipped coffee at Bandstand till the party was over!

There have been many subtle fights among parents who wanted Aryan to be best friends with their sons. Complaining about other kids and leaving Aryan out of the complaints, letting Aryan walk away with the medal when their own son had won the race, keeping other kids in the dark about sleepovers and parties and currying favour with GK has all been part of the class character!

As a girl’s Mom I feel shortchanged at this time. Aryan’s departure means that the girls’ mothers do not get to indulge in all this fun. It would have been great to see who Aryan crushed on , which girls vied for his attention, how we mothers would have egged on our daughters and which one of us girls’ mothers would have tried to be BFFs with GK! Ah! what an opportunity lost!

What's in a name?

‘Are you Preeti Bakshi?’ , asked the caller when I picked up my mobile phone. And I hung up the call feeling terribly happy! 

Preeti Bakshi does it for me. It brings a smile to my face and evokes a different era. It makes me nostalgic.

I love being Preeti Singh and can’t imagine any other surname that would have sounded as sweet to me. I was in awe of my professor Preeti Singh in college - she was super smart, witty and intelligent. And I was thrilled when I became PS. 

Preeti Singh defines who I am today,including being a wife and a mother . I am an older person, more aware of my social environment and more empathetic to people .  A multi-tasker who attempts to cram in all she can to make the most of the 24 hours- all this when I have time left over from kids‘ schedules.It reflects my social standing and my inextricable ties to people that depend on me.  I am more ambitious today - and I dream big for my kids and my husband. I no longer see life in black and white, but view it as many shades of grey. I am more forgiving and even if situations gall me, I have learnt to shut up and say nothing. I have learnt patience and tolerance. I am more aware of my limitations and have a fair sense of what I can do and what I can achieve. 

Ofcourse, being Preeti Singh has many other benefits too...I can get drunk, and I know that Praneet will get me home safe. I have a huge bunch of friends from  various stages of my life. I continue to have many male friends and they are not my ‘boy friends’ - their wives have a separate equation with me and I have double the friends!   I can take a sabbatical from work and enjoy life and work at my pace!

But Preeti Bakshi speaks to me of simpler times. When my time and my decisions depended only on me. When I was not responsible for most relationships and my parents looked out for me incase I was in trouble. The biggest decisions I might have taken in a day were the clothes I had to wear. And the biggest stress would have been my Quanti grades. I did not have to plan my finances, I did not have to plan a holiday, I did not have to plan the day to entertain anyone. I was not answerable to anyone except my parents, who were liberal and strict in equal measure. So while I was not allowed to go for dates, sleepovers or parties, it was perfectly ok if I had a crush and wanted to share that with my parents. I think that was the only time I was ME..and had to make no excuses for it! And I was loved unconditionally for just being me. 

But perhaps, the transition from Preeti Bakshi to Preeti Singh is the normal transition all of us make from our younger days to older ones. And while we are comfortable and secure in our present and would not have it any other way, there will always be a yearning and nostalgia for times gone by. 

Counting my Blessings

Come Friday and every week, I feel a little smaller and humbler. And a little ashamed at my own ‘perceived ‘ problems and stresses. It is the day I go to the Tata Memorial Hospital and see suffering, pain, anxiety , hope, courage and the will to live despite all odds. 

So I think I have aches and pains?  I am confronted with those who go through chemotherapy and feel weak beyond belief and still find the strength to smile and walk to the nearest bus stop or train station. They are the ones who never break a queue and will gladly give up their seat when they see someone suffering more than them. 

So I think I am losing my hair? I see women losing their hair and wearing their baldness as the badge of a survivor . And see them don fancy head scarves and looking more beautiful than any woman with thick lush hair could ever look.

I think I am fat? I see people too skinny or overweight as they fight the cancer and its debilitating treatment. Weight is the last thing on their minds. 

I think I want more money and another holiday perhaps? There are those who borrow heavily from the bank and their friends in order to fight the cancer. Bearing the intense heat of chemotherapy, they lay on the floor or in the general ward , with an indifferent fan circulating the air. Many cannot afford the really expensive life saving injections or medicines and their treatment takes longer. 

I think I deserve better service coz i am educated or have pots of money? It does not matter - because the disease hits everyone equally and nothing reduces the suffering. 

I see stressed families doing all they can to help their loved ones fight the disease. How they put life on hold to ensure that their loved one is healthy once more. I see compassion in the eyes of doctors and attendants who empathise with what their patients are going through. 

And I feel so so small. What in life do I have to crib about? I have a great family, loving husband, gorgeous kids and a close bunch of friends I can rely on for anything. I have not lacked for much in this life. I am healthy. And my own issues seem so small ...and I feel so pathetic.

There is so much I learn from these weekly visits - about learning to love life as it comes, about being grateful for everything each day brings, of not planning too much for the future, about smiling through any problem and being positive about everything in life. 

Above all , I learn gratitude...and count all my blessings.