Tuesday, 6 May 2014

Stories of my 'hood. Part-2.

One of the cherubic advantage of having a South Indian nativity and growing up in Bangalore is that you age with a variety of people from all walks of life and are introduced to a plethora of concepts that makes you broad minded naturally. Well not all, but mostly, yes.

Growing up in an environment that included friends from around the country and the world makes things so much simpler and yet complicated.
Visiting the Church on Sundays with your neighbors or making a trip to the 'dargah' when you are terribly sick was a much coveted journey in spite of hailing from a Hindu Brahmin family.

It didn't matter who scored how much or who was earning in the 5/6/7/8 digit numbers. It JUST didn't matter. All that mattered was being good and supportive. But decadence is yet to prevail. The only times that people now talk to each other are to enlighten themselves with what the neighbor's child has scored or how much they earn (preferrably less than their own). That is the only deplorable reason to communicate. Again, not all, but mostly.

Saturdays and Sundays meant a trip to the Ice cream parlor no matter if the weather gods were showering Bangalore with the lashing rains or it was too cold to step out or the febrile heat was making you cranky. Belonging to a City of Gardens and lakes brought in exhilaration. All the cousins and neighbors would plan and plot things and missing out on the Train ride in Cubbon Park was considered to be a huge sin.

  
 
Childhood is one phase in which everything goes systematically. As mentioned earlier, hailing from a Hindu Brahmin family was directly proportional to learning your prayers, learning music/dance and huge get together(s) during the weekends. I personally feel being a first child is always overwhelming. You experience happiness, happiness and endless happiness.

 Don't agree with me? Well, I'll tell you the reason behind the denial. It is just that, as we grow up, happiness changes in depths and heights and is given a whole new definition, an aloof and impassable definition that is left unattainable in the coming years.

This happens because as we grow up, all we do is try to impress and satisfy others, which is inevitable. Even Mother Teresa might have had people who spoke ill of her or were unhappy with her. It is stupidity to abolish your own desires for others, for the truth is that somebody will always have to disagree with you.   One of the trivial aphorisms my generation owes to Wilhelm Busch's 'Pious Helene' is the homily, "Once your reputation's done, you can live a life of fun".
 Follow what WB said. Stop surviving. Start living. 
And guess what? The monsoons are here.Monsoons imply a lot to write about. Watch out this space for more.

Saturday, 3 May 2014

Stories of my 'hood. Part-1.

Being the first child has its own sweet blessings, you know? You get pampered, loved unconditionally and all your tantrums and desires are fulfilled even before you are sure of it. Well, just my luck, I am a first child too.
A pampered, spoilt (love-spoilt-sensitive-dependent), overly emotional first child.
Right from the time you ever stepped on this planet, not literally though, you have a fair share of love and care. Growing up in an atmosphere filled only with selfless love, care and the right culture & tradition, the world around seems magical. At least, I did feel so back then. A whole bunch of people to obey your stupid wishes and love you no less no matter what. An era where everything was within reach. 
Impossible, reality, situations.. all these things didn't make any sense at all. All I knew was a world full of happiness and fulfillment. 
 
When eating spinach had only one reason. 
Popoeye, The Sailor Man. 
What the mind interpreted was this- Popoeye eats spinach
and gets a bump on his hand instantly.
So should I. 
Viola! Mother is happy that no matter 
how stupid your reason was, you were eating it.



When the first day at kindergarten was no less miserable than being fried in a hot pan of boiling ferocious oil
Yes, of such great magnitude. When you are reluctantly dressed up 
in the brand new uniform with a backpack that is probably bigger
 than your very own height. And then you finally reach that dreary 
 place. Your first school. A sight of which sent a shiver down your spine. A place that took you away from your parents

You cry, you scream, you cough, you throw up and do all the things in the world that you could probably do to convince mom and dad to take you back home. Nothing happens. An unknown human comes up to you, bribes you with chocolates and toys and all sorts of attractive stuff. You stop for a moment. Fair deal it seems? No. No. No. Never. Not to risk. You go back to your agenda again. The throat goes dry and weary. Still, no improvement. You are destined to go into that hot pan of boiling ferocious oil. The unknown human takes you in. That's the end of it. A new world. A plethora of your own kind everywhere. Crying, coughing, throwing up and the unknown humans trying to persuade and console them all. The day goes by. I do not remember what happens after that. Finally, hopes have been restored. You catch a glimpse your parents. FINALLY. Ah! What a treat to the eyes. You have been spared of the hot pan of oil back to your own sweet chocolate factory filled with the best people in the world. What a relief! 
Time goes by.. 
Next is the stage wherein having a pen-pencil is a must because every other classmate has one. You need it then and there. Doesn't matter if it's 10 or 12 in the night. You need it. End of the story. Yeah, this, a peculiar characteristic of a first child. Being adamant. Because deep down, you know you're going to get it.
Next dad takes off   to fulfill your utmost desire. Sneaking in every possible lane where he could find a pen-pencil at that hour of the night. 
My daddy best-est.