The Diwali that I grew up with....

Diwali for me meant getting up early, making colorful rangoli outside the main door. This rangoli business was a saga by itself. One was never happy with the design , so several attempts were made to get it to the level of expectation.  Lighting up diyas- making wicks and pouring oil and re-lighting all those that went out with wind. Stringing together marigold flowers to make long garlands for all doors, this I am told is strictly Maharashtrian  custom, buying ready made garlands was too expensive. Help mom in making namkins. The aroma of sauteed besan, for making besan ka ladoo was just heavenly. The perfect frying of chaklis. The crisp chiwda. Oh the effort that Mom took over it! I gave up bursting crackers when I was 13 -14 years old, in protest against child labourers used in Sivkashi factories and never ever turned back  to it. new clothes were made, so fabric had to be purchased, designs were fussed upon and then were tailored by mom.There was this huge excitement about wearing new clothes on Diwali day. Elaborate Laxmi pujan. and the wonderful prasad after it. Visiting various aunts and uncles in the evening and eating sweets and namkins. Comparisons were obvious about which aunt made these Diwali specialties better than others or us. Neighbours and relatives sent across plates filled with sweets and namkins. I don't remember  a single year receiving or sending plates across on Diwali- who does that any more? Bhai-duj was a mela, with so many cousins, one was bound to get rich.

As I grew up, started to work, traditions turned into convenience. I married a Bengali, so Diwali got less significant over the years. I got too tired working long hours, so getting up early became difficult(long hours were a part of my work). I still get up and make Rangolis, but fuss much less over it. Most of my family is fast asleep. Garlands are ready made. Nobody ate savouries at my home so I stopped bothering about it. And if did get into the mood of making some, I just made and gave it to my friends. One impulsively buys clothes through the year so it took the fun out of wearing new clothes on Diwali.There were no aunts and uncles in Mumbai , so no one just went any where except movie theatres and malls. I hate card parties, so thankfully never got into them.Visit to Mom's house became a one day event at best 2 days. Bhai-duj happened only with my brother now. My aunt calls me but my better half would like to spend time with his friends, who drink and eat non-veg. Who wants to eat savouries on Diwali? or my family would much prefer to eat at Mainland China than eat simple home food that day.

Every time I go to my mom's or my granny's house I feel twinge of sadness, all the small- small traditions that I associated Diwali with for one quarter of a century got left behind in the next 18 years of work life. And a small part of old me got slowly left behind by a new me.

Dhatura, Atlas and its effects on my life

Today, while walking down the defense cantonment road leading to my house, I saw the lovely Dhatura plant and it was like finding a lost treasure. Dhatura has most magnificent tubular flowers in white colour. The leaves are dark green with a purplish sheen on it. Purple sheen is seen only at an angle. And the fruits are green in color, circular balls with spikes all over it. Dhatura made me go back into school times like flashback.

In 8th standard, I discovered a new side to my life and strangely it was a subject called Biology that made me discover love- my love for plants, leaves, seeds. I always liked them and now I was getting marks for it. I think, it was in 8th standard that we had a whole chapter on plants with seeds and Dhatura was one of them. We were staying in a cantonment area with plenty of wilderness around. So finding the plant was no problem at all. We had a lovely teacher 'Sunita Saxena' who was an ex-student and was very young, vibrant teacher. A young in age (or at heart) and vibrant teacher means a lot of fun to her students.  These people are open to learning and their friendly approach makes them relate-able and the subject interesting. Most old teachers come with the notion that they are avatars of Brahma and there is nothing new left for them to learn on this planet.

So Biology teacher asked us to get a Dhatura plant to school and I was happy to volunteer for it. This began my fascination for the plant. I collected a big plant that had a few flowers, fruits. So took them along to school with great pride. Teacher was very happy and I was pleased, at least one teacher was happy at some work that I did. Some brownie points in life.In my school, teachers only registered the top rankers. All others were treated as useless piece of furniture. Next job was to press the flowers and stick dried flowers in biology journal. So promptly the flowers were pressed in a largest book in our kitty. And that large book was Atlas. So I took a Europe page and pressed these flowers, kept a weight on it. After a few days when I opened, I found that flowers had caught fungus, molds and ate a few parts of countries. Wherever the flowers had been pressed those countries all had eaten by fungus. I consoled myself- thought why will I ever need to refer to Europe, it is anyway never opened. So forgot about it. 

Mother, one day discovered Dhatura fruits, plants and was furious. The seeds are extremely poisonous and can cause death too and so mother just   
threw everything out and warned me against getting them EVER in the house again. A warning in those days meant you had to listen to it. One day father wanted to refer to Europe map, so asked for my Atlas and then had to hear quiet an earful for not keeping the Atlas properly. My father was so particular that I couldn't even underline any sentence in pen, only pencil was to be used.

You see, books were bought as per needs and we were not forced to buy same books every year. Books were meant to be kept clean, neat, not dog-eared so that they can be used by younger siblings or sold at second-hand mart.

Anyway till date, whenever I see Dhatura plant or Atlas book, I remember all the verbal bashing from both my mother and father but my love for that beautiful plant remains intact.

Vikas!

This incident was about 3-4 days back. That morning I got delayed for my morning stroll with Teio. Stroll because Teio ambles along. No walk and definitely not brisk at all. After doing her morning routine, we headed to the park. This is Teio’s favourite place. No idea, why it is so, but she loves it. I saw a young boy of 13/14 years sitting on the bench, neatly dressed in washed blue uniform. Hair neatly oiled and combed, obviously from the nearby municipal school. Not hard to guess that he was bunking school.  I first ignored then thought I must try and talk to him.

His name was Vikas Jadhav. I confronted him with an open question of why he was bunking school. He said he hadn’t completed his home work. Upon prodding further, he told me that he couldn’t manage English, can read but doesn’t understand it. He was embarrassed that when he read aloud all kids laughed at him. Teachers didn’t help much as they were not very good at teaching. In fact they often asked for Gutka/tobacco from students. I nearly fainted. I am not sure of that but I am aware that most municipal schools really lack good teachers. I offered to help but asked him not to bunk school as his parents must be working really hard to send him to school. I made him realise that he was their future. He came from lower middle class. Dad was a tailor at garment factory. He opened a chapter towards the end of the book. I made him read and I explained meanings and the story. He wrote them alongside his text book. He was a bright kid but lack of understanding and ridicule made him shut off. I realised that State board has many mistakes in the book and don’t know if there was any correction from teacher’s side. I had spent 40 minutes explaining the chapter, meanings already. He then bought out his Maths book and asked me if I could do the same. Now this was a googly. I can’t teach Maths and that too in Marathi!!! No way! I said I was sorry, he really couldn’t understand that if I spoke Marathi, why I couldn’t explain Math. I offered to tutor him for English free and asked him what the date for the exams was. This was my second shock -he said four days later. Then I realised he was giving his board exam and the poor chap didn’t know anything. I was appalled at his knowledge. This was definitely not enough to get him through the boards. So asked him what his plan was given the   level of preparation. He said he plans to copy. I for once in my life time said he should do so.

 I could believe I said that. I haven’t ever copied in my life but I guess in my forties I have relaxed this principal. The system of not failing the child, the poor standard of teaching, and the child’s over all learning capabilities, his background- everything was responsible this mess. And I didn’t see any solution except copying and getting out. At least a 10^th pass certificate will get him into some vocational course like ITI etc. And help him earn his livelihood. I was left wondering how many Vikas' out there needed help and what happens to their future. Strange cioncidence the kid's name meant progress.

My Train Journey to Kumbh

There was huge apprehension in my family about my Kumbh trip. To make matters worse the railway footboard bridge at Allahabad Railway Station collapsed just 3 days before I was to leave. Now it was like -why do you want to go to a place like this? Thankfully I spoke in time to Vandana, who was there on the day of the tragedy and was reassured. And now I was even more determined.

I was to board from Thane, while two of my friends were to board from Kurla. As luck would have it they were running late and in no way would reach the 12.20pm train. Now I had bigger question-should I travel alone. I am going to Allahabad, Kumbh all alone!!!  I decided to leave it on my Guru. 10 minutes before arrival time, I got a call from my friend that they had managed to board the train as it was delayed by 10 minutes. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I boarded and hugged my friend as if we had climbed Mount Everest.
We settled in our seats. There were two more passengers on our adjoining seats. A youngish man in his early 30’s, dressed in office formals and a middle aged man in his 40’s who wore slightly greasy clothes. He looked more like any UP, Bihari bhayya’s who work in Mumbai. His name was Sharma. The young man smiled warmly. I returned a half sceptical, half polite smile. They both were going to their home town Allahabad. I ate my food quietly without the courtsey of offering it to them. Furkaan ate some curds and others had their lunch at home early. As time passed the two guysbecame friendly and were very polite. Also took great care of us. At a halt, one got them got down and realised that I was looking out for chaiwala, so ran and fetched tea for me. I still doubted them. My head was full of ‘Is it safe to trust these men? What about all stories that you hear? And we are 3 women travelling all alone? What if we get drugged? So on and so forth’. I offered him money. He declined and said ‘ Arre abhi toh pura safar baki hain. Baad mein aap pila dena’. I thanked him and reasoned in mind that even if the tea was drugged – My others friends are not drinking it. So it would be Okay. As time passed we realised that the two gentlemen were being extremely polite and were taking care of us in every possible way. They got us fruits, Amul Cool bottles, Curd packets. We got them tea and coffee. We in return shared our dinner with them. They offered their lower berths at night to make us comfortable.
Next day we learnt that Sharmaji deals in some machine parts and has a shop in Shewree. The young man was a sales person named S.M. Furkaan, worked for a dealer of Samsung. We chatted about life in Mumbai. In course of discussion I realised that Furkaan was a young man with a modern outlook. He argued about how a housewife needs help to look after kids even if she is at home. He said he had changed because he saw his brother help his wife at home in Muscat. I must say, I was impressed with this mindset and was slowly changing my opinion. The next day when Sharmaji learnt that they we didn’t have a confirmed return ticket, offered his Ticket Agent’s contact and shared his mobile number. He also offered to book it in tatkal and said I could pay him back in Mumbai. I was wondering how he can trust me when I may not meet him ever again. I exchanged my number with a little hesitation. Towards the end of the journey when we thanked him, he said Mumbai has offered him a chance to make living and earn monies for last 15 years. This is his way of paying back in kind to the ‘Mehman’ who are visiting Allahabad. I really was humbled by this person’s approach. He warned us to not trust people blindly, not to eat alone at any place in Allahabad and said there were many crooks who will take us for a ride. He asked us to call him if we needed any help and promised that he can reach in two hours if we were in trouble.

When we alighted at the station, they helped us carry our bags and put safely in the auto that had come to pick us up. Furkaan had already offered his car in case the auto guy didn’t turn up. We said our good-bye’s with a heavy heart. Ashamed at how most of Mumbai ites treat UPites and Bihari’s in general. I also wished that some political parties who beat up North Indians read this and realise that this country belongs to all of us not just to locals of that place. Sharmaji called me to check if I reached the ashram safely and called again on the last day to check if I had managed to get a return train ticket.

In my life, I have never met such kind people who took so much care of me ever across 17 years of work life. I also think that we have stopped trusting each other as humans. Now whenever I hear Allahabad, I will remember these two good souls.

 

 

In the picture on left behind is ever smiling S.M. Furkaan and right side behind the lady in specs is Sharmaji.

 

Aashadi Ekadashi

Vivek, my friend, called and said on 30th June, there is some ocassion due to which there will be a lot of traffic on the road that had Vithal temple and so the Wadala centre will remain closed. I tried to explain with my half-baked knowledge about Aashadhi Ekasdashi and realisedI didn't really know much about it, although as a child I celebrated it every year. The fasting treats were yummy but the 'Dindi' processions disrupted traffic in Pune completely. I have walked, and walked miles to reach home during college days, courtesy Pune traffic Management. That set me thinking as to how can I explain Aashadhi Ekadashi, which has great significance in Maharashtrian household.

So here it is Vivek for you and some other non-aware friends.

Shayani Ekadashi is the eleventh lunar day, Shukla paksha of the Hindu month of Ashadha (June - July), also known as Ashadhi Ekadashi or Ashadhi. This holy day is of special significance to Vaishnavas, followers of Lord Vishnu. On this day images of Vishnu and Lakshmi are worshipped, the entire night is spent singing prayers, and devotees keep fast and take vows (of abstinence from garlic and onions )on this day, to be observed during the entire chaturmas, the holy four month period of rainy season. These may include, giving up a food item or fasting on every Ekadashi day.

It is believed that Vishnu falls asleep in Ksheersagar - cosmic ocean of milk - on Shesha nāga, the cosmic serpent. Thus the day is also called Dev-Shayani Ekadashi (lit. "god-sleeping eleventh") Vishnu finally awakens from his slumber four months later on Prabodhini Ekadashi - eleventh day of bright fortnight in the month  of Kartik (October–November). This period is known as Chaturmas ("four months") and coincides with the rainy season. Thus, Shayani Ekadashi is the beginning of Chaturmas. Devotees start observing the Chaturmas vrata (vow) to please Vishnu on this day.

A fast is observed on Shayani Ekadashi. The fast demands abstinence from all grains, beans, cereals, certain vegetables like onions and certain spices and all kinds of meat and eggs.

Pandharpur

a small town on the banks of river Chandrabhaga or Bhima, is main center of worship of the deity Vithoba, a local form of Vishnu. On Aashadhi Ekadashi, thousands of pilgrims, form of religious procession called as Dindi’s visit Pandharpur. These pilgrims are referred to as Warkaris. They sing Abhangas (chanting hymns) of Saint Tukaram and Saint Dnyaneshwar, dedicated to Vithoba. This customs started far back in year 1810. Tradition has it that two of the greatest devotees of the Lord from the State of Maharashtra, Sant Gyaneshwar and Sant Tukaram had set out on a pilgrimage to the temple of Lord Vittala from their respective places and reached the Divine Abode in fifteen days time on the auspicious day of Ashadi Ekadashi.

Today most of the processions carry Palkhi's (palanquins) with the images of the saints of Maharashtra. Sant Dnyaneshwar's image is carried from Alandi, SantTukaram's from Dehu,  Sant Eknath's from Paithan,  Sant Nivruttinath's from Trimbakeshwar, Sant Muktabai's from Muktainagar, Sant Sopan's from Sasvad and Gajanan Maharaj’s from Shegaon I have been to Pandharpur only once and the darshan of lord was mesmerising. That just explains why millions, every year go there.

As a child, I have been facinated with Dindi's and the Warkari's, with orange flags, forehead smeared with abir-bukka, waking, singing and dancing to the lord. One has to see the 'Ringan' dance performed by Warkari's. I am still hoping that one day I too shall join them singing, dancing to see the Lord.

Note- the images are from Net and I have no rights to them. The warkari image is Manodyna's pictures.

My Village Trip

Recently I attended my cousins wedding in a small town in Maharashtra. I rarely get to meet my cousins as most of them live in remote towns in Maharashtra. My daughter refused to come for the wedding stating a standard teenage syndrome- Boredom!!!.

The wedding was a far cry from the sophisticated planned( almost perfectly choreographed)events that we see in cities. The rituals are more elaborate, chaotic, loud speakers are too loud, food is simple( not fancy), sarees are shockingly bright( bling) and band baaja has local flavour. This one had an ochestra playing with one charlie singing away 70's songs. Yet, I thoroughly enjoyed this wedding because; I got to see a part of my folks who I have never met in last 17 years, there was a lot of warmth extended by village folks. Most people are gracious hosts and will embarass you by their 'adara thithya'( hospitality). I say embarassed, because we( city people) can never match their hospitality, not in warmth and certainly not in the time aspect. The rituals were fun, I got to wear the green bangles, 9 in each hand, applied mehendi to others, did  welcome aarti to the bride, I also helped her dress and apply make-up.

Meeting so many cousins bought in fond memories of my childhood days, when I spent my vacations with these or other cousins.This was the time when middle class wasn’t bitten by tourism bug, at least not to the extent it has infected today.  Today most families are nuclear and whenever they get a long weekend or vacations, they are spent in seeing some part of country or abroad.  During our time,  Summer and Diwali vacations meant dividing them between Nani’s place, Dadi’s place, Weddings in family and the balance breaks were spent at various uncles and aunties houses. We were a nuclear family and lived in Pune for larger part of my childhood and growing up days. I was blessed to have 5 massis’s and 1 mama on my Mom’s side. On my dad’s side there were 4 uncles, so holidays meant  FUN.

My Massi’s (aunts) lived in joint families and between them and their families they had at least 8-10 kids, hence visiting them was one big party time.  Sight-seeing close by places were a part of the holiday program and no we did not crib going to temples, weddings (even of not –so- closely related people). I guess, our parents didn’t give us much choice. The days were spent playing- various games and evenings were spent going to local sight-seeing places. Bhel, Paani-puri and Mewad ice cream was a treat. End of that vacation was also waited upon as the party who hosted us would gift us a dress material or money. This also was eagerly received and those clothes were worn with great pride and love( though on hindsight I feel there was a beauty in being ignorant of dressing sense or fashion sense). 

Looking back I felt, I felt I looked odd one out, distant in my cousins or may be I felt I was. My clothes were way too different and probably made me most under-dressed person there. I remember in my early 20’s I worked away from home, tried hard to stand out, moved away from relatives and yet when I met them after so long, I realised that I was trying to blend in..what was happening to me..why was I trying to belong to something that I was so away or was always trying to be different from. Is this the 40’s syndrome..or is it called Mitti Ki Khushbu( just like NRI’s who suffer from India pangs).. this trip has left me with a very confused state of mind..What was I seeking..does this happen to others? Whatever it was, it left me happy and rejuvenated one level for sure.

Life is beautiful only if you choose to see it so

Some times, some stray incidents happen in our life to create a paradigm shift in our thinking. This incident was about 10 years back. It was blazing warm sunny Saturday. I was working in JWT then. Some unfinished last minute emergency and hence I was travelling by train all the way from Thane to Parel. I managed to get a window seat, now that is a luxury in local trains in Mumbai. I always prefer travelling with train simply because it’s quick and you get a feel of people. Soon I got lost in my thoughts and was brooding over management of some expenses. It was financially a difficult period for me as Rajesh was out of work.
I saw a woman with small children sitting opposite me. I was lost in my home loan, bike loan and aspiring for a car loan calculations. Thoughts fly and so does time and I had to alight at Parel station. As I ran up the flight of stairs, noticed one child who was about 3 years old struggling to climb the stairs and the same lady from my compartment was almost on the top of the stairs holding older child in arms. I was annoyed with the mother for abandoning such a small child, he could have easily fallen through the railings and that too on rail tracks. What kind of careless mother she was? etc etc. I held him up and climbed the stairs and caught up with the mother. I was about to tell her my feelings and also give her a mini lecture in polite words but stopped to catch my breath. It is then that I actually noticed  her, a frail 26 year old housewife, simple saree, sans any fancy mangalsutra. Just a few black beads strung together in a thread. She looked tired and gaunt and was perspiring from all the effort. She put her 6 year old on the landing...the older child had a scarf tied on her head and was bald, pale with eyes protruding and had a surgical mask on the face. She looked at me with gratitude. I was tongue-tied and appalled, felt stupid...of course she had come Parel’s Cancer Hospital and the older child was a cancer patient and hence had to let the younger one climb stairs by herself.
I smiled feebly and deposited the child with her and walked away briskly..And suddenly all my problems seemed much smaller to me. I felt much smaller in front of that woman who was struggling to do everything to save her baby.
I still have tears in my eyes and can never forget the pain in her eyes. I learnt that day, if you feel unhappy about yourself –Just look around and then thank god for all the things that you have!!!