A Day Well Spent

I was one of those people who got clubbed as a Tomboy without really wanting to be one. I had always wanted to be considered a shy and demure lady but due to some serious programming error in the genetic scheme of things, that was not to be.

But this does not mean that I have spent major share of time climbing trees and doing whatever else tomboys do. And I have not had just guys as friends… In fact, I have always had a large group of girls as friends.

We were six girls in a batch of 40 in engineering. While I was always part of a gang of 6 to 7 guys, I was very close to the other 5 girls. We would all have sleepovers in my house. I still cherish the long night chat sessions we would have in my house ( till my mom came and screamed at us to go to sleep). But it’s been a long time since then I have been part of a girls’ only crowd. [ Ps. My time together with Manju who was my ex-roomie really doesn’t count – much as special as it was,it was never a get together as such)

Let me tell you how I spent this day. Chandu left for Thailand at abt 2 am. Hima and Sagmonty were coming for lunch. I suddenly realised that after marriage this is probably the first time I am hanging out with just my girl friends!

I cooked lunch ( which surprisingly, turned out edible). We did a lot of harmless gossiping. And then went Mall hopping.

Some inferences from today –

Myth:- 3 women – post lunch session – Bitching in full glory.
Fact:- What we did was information sharing. ( “ Who is getting hitched/ditched comes under classified info – but info nonetheless”). We actually discussed careers… I got some useful career insights…. A woman’s perspective is always the right mix of empathy and practical advice…. Not so clinical as the patronising gyaan I get from my guy frens…. There is something very therapeutical abt this. To all the women out there – MUST TRY THIS!

The crowning glory was an outstanding dinner with George. He had out done himself with Mallu Cooking… I mean he had actually fried “mathy” in coconut oil….. Major Mallu bonding

Now back home and missing Chandu…… He is off to Pattaya for 3 days

Saying it with brooms

All newly weds would have some interesting anecdote about their spouse. Highly mushy incidents related with the honeymoon hangover. Even if you have known your guy/gal for 5 years or more before marriage, you will still discover something quirky that you would relate in front of courteously amused friends.

This happened on New Year’s eve 2007

It was one of those rare days when Chandu had got home early. It was still one of those early settling in periods when I could use all the help I could get to set up house.( its another matter altogether that now, 2 years later, I have given up the endeavour of trying to “set up” my house – this is an eternal bachelors’ pad)

I asked Chandu to go and buy some grocery (or something along those lines). As he was running out, I asked him to pick up some fresh flowers for the house (yeah…. He is a sweetheart but if you want something as girlish as flowers, you better mention that very specifically!)

Our hero is gone for an hr or so. I get a call from Shelly( my Delhi roomie) telling me that her wedding date is fixed. While I am gushing at the good news and giving her all my newly acquired weddingy experiences, the bells ring. Since its almost 10 pm I am positive its Chandu.

While still on the phone, I go and open the door between continuing to congratulate Shelly and bid her good night. I guess it was only fair that I was expecting to see my prince charming standing at the door brandishing a bouquet of flowers ( I was willing to act all surprised and totally swooned over by the gesture – even though I had specifically asked him to pick up flowers).

Now if I were to describe Chandu’s posture and gait to someone who has not seen him, the two most precise words would be “unaligned” and “uncoordinated”. So there’s my boy standing outside with a very Mohanlal like tilt. The large grocery bag is dangling from his left hand. And in his right hand, held firmly and close to his chest is a closely cropped …………….. BROOM!!

I was appalled…. No..No… I was beyond appalled. It was one of those moments when you feel something heavy dropping in your belly…. It kind of takes your breath away and you are just not able to name the various emotions that rush through your head. Well, anyone who knows me would naturally assume that I read him the riot act…. But surprisingly I did not. It was one of those conflicting moments between the brain and the heart. The brain telling me… “Yes, yes… it is a broom…the lowly thing that sweeps and cleans …. U asked for flowers and he got you a broom… now SCREAM at him… Aarrrhhhh!” and the heart, desperately seeking some salvage value out of the disaster telling you, “There has to be an explanation…. C’mon, of course you knew he was different from other guys (that’s why u married him)…. Take a deep breath and let’s just give him that one last chance to save his life…..Grrrrrrrrrr”

I was so busy trying to control my tongue that it was all I could do to breathe and not talk. All I could manage was one exasperated sentence that was somewhere between a question and an exclamation… “It’s a broom…?!”

Now Chandu is someone who has sold his soul completely to world of plastic cards….. He is waiting for the day when he can pay the pani-puri guy and auto rickshaws with his credit card. So, as usual he had the bare minimum cash on him. Grocery done, beer purchasing done and he were left with about 20/25 bucks to buy flowers.

Now you can hear the story in Chandu’s words.

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“I bought some beer and was walking around Gokuldham looking for the flower shop when I noticed this little kid of about 4 or 5 perched on the carrier of a cycle. She was fast asleep with her head resting on the seat. The cycle looked like a haystack on wheels with a lot of brooms of palm leaves tied all around it – on both handle bars, tied in bundles on the front bar and around the carrier, even just behind the seat so the kid was half resting on the brooms and half on the seat…. Quite an interesting sight to behold. Unconsciously my gait swerved a bit towards the cycle and before I could get my guard back on, a dishevelled man in a banian and lungi accosted me

“Ek jhaadu le lo saab… ekdum majboot banaya hai. Lamba chalega” He was demonstrating the durability of the broom by tugging at the grip.
I couldn’t care less. But my attention kept going back to the kid resting her head on a pillow of brooms on the cycle.
“ ye aise kyun so rahi hai”
“ subah se kuch khaya nahi hai na saab… iss liye…. “
“kyun..?”
“ saab, koi jhaadu nahi khareedha aaj…. Dhandha bilkul nahi hua hai”
“ ek ka kithna hai”
“12”
“mujhe do jhaadu de do”
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Cut to circa 2009 – Chandu has progressed to the level that he actually gets me flowers – sometimes even without me asking for them!! Somehow no bouqet has ever looked as pretty as that broom.

Some Good Byes that were not said

I remember the day Kaus passed away. I cried a lot that night. And the next day. And many a times, many a days after that. Did I cry at the unfairness of life? May be. I cried for the life he had not yet lived. For his insatiable zest for life. But I also cried out of guilt. I cried for not ever telling him in how many ways he had touched my life. I never told him that the first time he made me cry was when he rode all the way to Puri early morning ( he used to do that often) and came back with a Bday gift for me. When it was my turn to organise the late night interviews in Placecomm, kaus would still be hanging around to give me company. And when I got exasperated with his high energy at those godforesaken hours and told him to get lost, I never told him that I was secretly touched at how much he cared.

I never had the guts to discuss his illness with him. I wasn’t sure whether I should or should not. I remember the day I told him that Chandu and I were getting married. I remember how he promised to make it to the wedding. By then he was in and out of hospital too many times. I should have told him then how much I loved him and cared for him. But I postponed it yet again. Sure that he would make it to Kochi for the wedding. And I could show him how important he was to us. But God willed otherwise.

Today its Podu who left us. I met him last, one year back. All those promises to meet up remained just that. I had far more “promising” things to chase. Once again its become too late say Hi once more.

Kanta Bai!

When I refer to my maid as “Kanta Bai”, people smirk thinking abt the quintessential Mumbai maid from Kal Ho nao Ho. But that’s really her name…. My hindi is still only good enuf to get into autos and sell glass; not to try my wit in this language

My house is pretty much her playground….. As I work from home, I am usually totally immersed in work by the time she turns up for her “work”. In fact, she coordinates her office time with my boss. U see, he works from UK. We catch up with each other, while he drives to office from home. For him it’s an hour well spend ( and probably kills the boredom of long drive and traffic jam as the stories from India are quite entertaining or may be I am just that interesting to talk to ). Now irrespective of whether he calls me half an hour early or half an hr late, you will see Kanta Bai turning up early/late (as the case may be) for work. This has happened once too often for it to be a coincidence…Hmm….. Now this means, while I am busy on the phone with my Boss, she pretty much does what she wants and runs off to her next house.

The cleaning Bhoot gets into me once in two weeks or when I have guests coming to stay. And on those days, I walk behind her, make her sweep the room twice, wash the already washed plates once more – believe me, I am not being a bitch here. To prove my point, let me tell you of the time I told her to clean the cobwebs. I pointed to one corner of the hall and told her “Saaf karo”… pls note that I did not know the Hindi for cobwebs and had to gesticulate to get the message across.( Love, music and housecleaning transcends language barriers). When I came back after 5 mins, she had cleaned the corner I pointed out and the cobwebs in the opposite corner were left intact – Like I was saving them for a special occasion!

Now if you are wondering why I still employ her, here are the good things abt her. She is absolutely trustworthy! Chandu and I are incredibly careless and unorganised people. From money to gold necklaces to diamonds rings…. At one point or another we both have left all these lying around. In the past 18 months, she has not even picked them up to have a closer look. Of course, the fall side to this is, if the ring is lying on the table, she will not dust the table altogether!!

She never bitches about neighbours, always smiles ( even after I yell blue murder sometimes) and always returns the money she borrows!

Now this is not a blog dedicated to my quirky maid, ‘coz she is not quirky enuf to dedicate a blog to ( read – make me actually sit down and write something). This is about something that happened the other day. Kanta bai came by early morning( 9 am is very early by her standards) and said she will need one week ka chutti. I,of course, did not panic so much as my neighbour (where Kanta works) who has in-laws staying with her, nephews-nieces for summer hols, working husband and a 2 year old hyperactive l’l boy!

But I was concerned all the same. Kanta was all smiles as she apprecatiated the worried look on my face. She had come in early to prepare me for the week ahead and do the cleaning before she left. Though I asked her why she is leaving for her “gaav” all of a sudden, it was more a polite inquiry that did not really demand a response from her. As I had not yet started my office work, I started chatting with her. I guess it was the fact that I was hanging around her (which was very unusual) that made us connect at that moment.

He husband is apparently one of those “no good” varieties. Has work on and off; and comes home drinking more often that not. She has 3 sons; one of whom is nineteen. ( Kanta is only 35 – so u do the math). Apparently the eldest son and the father do not get along well at all. Things in the family got so bad that the relatives have called them all to the gaav to have a Big family conference and hopefully put some sense into their heads! Apparently when things reached the threshold, Kanta told her sister that “I cannot take this any more – I might just go kill myself”, the sister panicked and got the rest of the family involved to resolve this crisis.

Many things flashed through my ahead at that instance – Looking at Kanta Bai, always clean and impeccably dressed and forever smiling, you would never think that there was so much unhappiness at home. (I have even envied her sometimes when I have customers screaming at me for delayed shipments and Boss breathing down my neck for targets not met). I had imagined a poor but hardworking, loving husband. Can’t blame me when you see the enthusiasm with which she collects Chandu’s old shirts for her husband. Always a sucker for happy endings – that’s me!

Most of time I understand only 40% of what Kanta Bai says. Please understand that my Hindi statements are 70% English and 30% Hindi. Kanta’s language is Marathi springled with Hindi words. And with a very unrefined diction, we barely communicate. Once she started speaking about the problems at home, the stories came in one after another. It was then she told me another incident – Kanta Bai works some 5 houses in our colony. She always goes back home for lunch. Even when I offer her food, other than Chai she always packs and takes it home. The previous monday there was a lot of left over chicken from entertaining friends over the weekend at my place. So when she came to work on monday I served her a sumptitious lunch which she ate at my place instead of carrying it home. It was already 330 and usually when she is this late she would have had lunch. This registered in my head but didn’t pay too much attention. Today she tells me that it was her first meal of that day. The things at home were so bad that she could not even eat. God that hurt! I have always told her that she is free to eat anything she wants from my home. She does not even need to ask if she is helping herself to food. But she very rarely does. I am so thankful to God for making me serve her lunch that day – instead of just offering it. Subtle difference… but it made all the difference.

Coming back to why I started writing this blog – kanta Bai is not someone who is used to baring her soul. She does not look for sympathy or try to get that extra penny from me by trying to sell her sob stories. She is one of those Bharthiya naari who firmly belives( proudly, I may add) that it’s a women’s right to suffer at the hands of the men in her life. She should suffer and suffer alone. If we are honest enough to admit, you will see a Kanta bai in your family too. She may be your mom, your aunt or your Bhabhi – but she is there.

Kartik

One of my childhood dreams ( other than being an astronaut, lawyer, detective, journalist, beautiful) was to be a renowned author….. Like the other ambitions in the list mentioned above, this one has also been stowed away in the attic for a very long time.

I try and make a resolution to make a brave comeback but then I read a blog by Kartik, a marriage invitation by Peeejuice and even some totally incomprehensible highly intelligent sounding gibberish written by my husband and all the “i cannot do it as well” demons come creeping back in…..

But after years of soul searching and not finding anything worthy to pen down, I finally created a Blog thanks to Kartik…. So this one’s dedicated to you, my boy!