The Curious Case of Reels

 Every day brings forth new surprises and I think I have seen it all with my grey hairs but then something new happens that makes me believe in the balance of life and how advanced we have become . There is a certain hubris that I have that I know it all ( I know and can hear see the smirks on you all ) but I honestly think that we are advancing and the rest of the classes aren’t ! But this happened with us last week in our sleepy village that is on the cusp of rapid construction and development . We have an old aunty who colors her hair jet black and is of some nondescript age , for the better part of last year we thought she was a Hindu and come Eid and we realised that Gudiya with her trademark bindi was a Muslim . Life kept on moving along and seasons changed and this year as  bad luck would have it , all the help decided to leave at the same time , one was in love and had had to go back to Ayodhya to get married . His story is for another day , the cook and his wife had to go away for a marriage that they just couldn’t miss. The entire household was staff less , minus any work force and all the ladies were lamenting that how would we survive?!

And Guddi Aunty , had to go back to Gorakhpur in the midst of all her rozas and fasting because of an important court case . So , when we asked what was the emergency as only she was leaving and  Toofani ( her husband ) wasn’t going ? So in all her mighty loud voice that is louder than her timid body she told us of her daughter in law  who was dancing and putting Bhangra and making videos and uploading on Facebook and making money 

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The entire community was up against her and they frowned upon her not following the norms of polite society. She was so upset that the bahu was dancing and posting content and influencing other girls and her entire community was in an uproar . So her son had filed for a divorce and married another lady , had two boys and had flown to Oman to work and in the meanwhile because the judge was ruling on a Saturday she had to go and pay the final divorce amount of 1 lakh.

Isn’t this all interesting and more exciting than any serial airing on Zee network or any Pakistani play? So she went to Gorakhpur , paid the money to the ex bahu who had become so modern and was baring her legs in a short pant , drove a motorcycle and had cut her hair . On top of it she had the audacity to be nice to Guddi Aunty and had offered her chai and samosas!

It so seems to be an episode out of Mamla Legal Hai , the number one legal show on netflix! This is how the society exists and we are truly moving forward. It’s such a mix of simple yet complex human beings, we embrace technology as if its our second arm but hesitate to break the traditions and impose all restrictions on women because in India , honor lies only with women . If her own son was making money with reels would there have been a divorce? Till the verdict is out , progress was made by the judge where he gave a substantial amount to the child to be used when she is of legal age. 

Fifty and Fabulous

A day later , I turn fifty . It seems old and everyone around me thinks it is but I just don’t feel the fifty that every one associates with it . The cliche is that when one is 50, the knees are creaking , a gentle weight gain is there and everything creaks and groans and more so gravity is pulling things down! But , I feel fifty and fabulous and all things good . In some ways I feel as old as Dumbledore with the ways of the world . The fast pace of the world , the change in attitudes , the loss of  morality and values , the over dependence on the digital world and the barriers created by the virtual lives we have . The over projection of one self and the life we have the one we portray to the rest through our filters and covered with masks . Earlier , importance was given to family and  the tight knit community we all belonged to but things changed , deteriorated where we lost all touch with our values . You know the old fashioned ones , like respecting our elders , to hold our counsel, to not speak in front of them , to be scared of speaking one’s mind . I am at crossroads , still clinging on to my roots , to hold on to what there was and not let it slip by .

Books got replaced by gists that can be read on kindle , newspapers are obsolete, and no one reads print media ,we are taken over by Instagram and Snapchat . It’s fashionable to have a digital detox, that is the level of addiction we are facing .  And here , I thought detox was limited to just losing weight and cleansing ones system. In the hurry to be modern , we all grew up but we forgot that we needed to hold onto our values that made us unique .  At 50 , I feel proud of my boys becoming men and starting a new chapter in my life , where I can hopefully travel more , visit the places that I have on my bucket list , the ones that I have read about and imagined scenarios of the past ! Also , another funny thing happened with me , I have become more and more like my parents; subconsciously we pick up those habits we made fun about . I love opening windows even when it’s so so cold and the fog drifts in, and listening to kirtan and then the katha .

Circle of life for me , and then my favorite food has become khichdi , here I have become old . Coffee is getting replaced by just plain hot water ( though not so quick ) . The grey hair that I have are getting more stubborn and refuse to be coloured , they have a mind of their own and are asserting their independence ! The wrinkles and the change in face is all mine and Im happy that I survived all to reach to this . The only that is getting better is my eyesight , it does happen . Honest . They say I am a Biji , Im fine with that. For me  my Biji was all things loving , comforting , my security blanket , her pristine pastel suits with light embroidery , her dupatta , the faint smell of Boroline and her wise wise eyes .. her love for me that cant be put in words . A special bond so pure and priceless . Just because i wear suits and lived in a village , it was thought that I am old fashioned and pendu .views and outlook aren’t measured by your mini skirt or your tight fits or open frizzy hair  with faces with more fillers that the roads needed . 

All I can say is that I don’t promise the next 50 but whatever years  I have , I would just say value your loved ones , your parents , in laws , siblings , children , because nothing is worth being upset about . Life is too short , and before you know it some words are left unsaid . Even someone life me who talks too much sometimes is at a loss of words . Im happier being quieter now , my quota is exhausted . Enjoy the flowers , smell the roses , take a walk , embrace nature and read along the way . Dry those tears and smile away , things will look better in the morning , because you have better eyesight than me ! 

The Forgotten Suit

 I live in a tier 2 city of the country , Bharat formerly known as India and my only claim to fashion and couture is when we have exhibitions and pop-ups by various designers who decide to visit us and takeaway our hard earned money . It’s a catch 22 situation , you can’t miss ‘em and you can’t leave em so you join em because one keeps on thinking something new and scintillating would be there and you need to buy and wear that outfit which would be a head turner . 

Now , as life would have it , one goes for these sales and various lifestyle , luxury bridal exhibitions dressed up decently and you go there to browse and have fun and sample the wares. However , increasingly that is not the case , the turn out , foot fall is there to buy ethnic clothes ( key word ) dressed in tighter white jeans than  Jeetendra and more white jeans are seen than in the state of California , with diamonds and baubles to flaunt to out-weigh and out rank one another . Women are seen not in smart clothes , but shirts that are a mix of Lycra, polyester and something so shiny that it seems an experiment went wrong. Why are we aping some weird culture on Instagram which is not how the west dresses.

Wearing a Chloe bag and heels and a dress in a rickety way and falling in the grass is not trendy , wearing loose rap style grunge jeans with a tank top and ugly skin showing isn’t style , wearing those weird foam chappals and dirty feet isn’t a style statement and even the weird dress which had no backand everything was held up by gravity and the stickies.

My mind went into shock ! I just cannot go there …..this is me turning 50 soon and trying to comprehend fashion and making sense of the make up . I have seen more winged liner and foundation and made up faces than a Sephora mart . The style gets worse with golden hair color , and just losing the plot . Imagine hugging a friend and getting war paint on you and then streaking oneself. At a stall , by just complimenting about the print they kept on showing dresses so asking for a salwar suit , one is told why do you need a suit ? Why do you want to wear a suit ?

We are losing our identity , our style because heaven forbid someone might see us in a suit and call you backward , and not stylish and use colloquial terms like “pendu’ and ‘Jatka’ . I live in Punjab , am a Punjabi and we shy away from wearing a Punjabi suits , we don’t wish to even admit our own ethos , how we will we pass on our identity to the next generation? What is with those co-ord sets ? Who invented them? These frumpy , out of shape , hide those tyres, and I am not bossy shaming anyone here , this is for ladies out there ,please dress elegantly , the lure of the cotton sarees , the sexiness of the chiffon saree , the grace of the sensual silk , nothing can clone to that ; and every French designer worth his salt , cheese and wine has incorporated the Indian form and style in his collection , the Indian ethnic wear is a sourc error haute couture . Introspection needs to be there , that why are we losing our confidence ? Why do we feel that the outer garb would mean acceptance ? Women , you are beautiful as you are , not by adorning these weird non breathable fabric , or wearing diamonds to blind me ,  I would prefer to hear about your views on Hamas or the bombing on Gaza Strip or why we need to worry about rising temperatures ? I would be more impressed by your TBR than your to buy list ! 

Learn that your wealth is by the values you have , and if we lose our ethnic identity what will we give to our children , we are the custodians for the next generation ! Right now they all see us with white faces , brown blond hair dressed in plastic with more plastic on their faces . I’m 

Memories of a Lifetime

 We have a wedding in the family and its in the designated NRI month of the year so all can come and buy and complain of the dirt , dust and drugs and also give their two bits on the state of Punjab as they know more than us . Heaven forbid , I get a word in as the arm chair NRI’s who have made it in the golden shores are the new custodians of religions , and politics . The amount of tweeting I see from them amazes me as they are so worried about home but why did you leave and not fight the system here?

This is for another time and none of us would win the debate. So as a family wedding is on the cards , we are doing what evert one does, start building an extra room. Every self respecting Punjabi , starts construction even if its to make a nalka ! Happens in every household in rural Punjab , and another room is added to accommodate the new entry into the family , or it could be just another store to house all the stuff that is never needed but cant be thrown away for sentimental reasons . At a cusp of my life, I’m approaching my halfway century mark ; I’m feeling sentimental and more like Frodo Baggins (trust me I do not look like him ) . I feel close to so many things but I know they are of no value to anyone , books that I won as a prize in school , a pressed flower in a book , letters written by my boys from their boarding , hoarding some trolls form my childhood , a crocheted bag , cushions that have been embroidered by my grand mother , sheets out of her trousseau as a young girl in Lahore , a dress that my mother had kept for years of a chubby me as a one year old . 

Where do these go? A lifetime of love, memories , moments inscribed and caught and frozen in time , my grandfathers cardigan that I wear every winter because i feel his embrace . The pure love that was once theirs ,  dwindling now . I have books and books and magazines, and embroidery books , an entire life’s collections of the W because my mother loves knitting and it had those knitting patterns in the end. The books for me remind me of Dot , and Hagar the Viking. I doubt anyone even knows what I am talking about . I am at crossroads and don’t know who to give these or whether they are worth any thing or would be sold by the kilo ? 

They talk about recycling clothes , but no one wants my antiquated clothes, fine embroideries done when everything was slow fashion and quiet luxury . They coined the name now , to separate the nouveau riche and the old money . The world is more impressed with the flashy , the logo that for you equates you to money . Everyone wants to renovate and move with the times, I agree , we all want change but what does one do with the intangible box of memories? The silver that you had lovingly bought in the hills because you think you couldn’t survive without the loops , or the shawl that covered you when you were nursing your first born , or the collections of comics without which you couldn’t survive? Is everything all reduced to the shiny and bright ? Where do the vinyl records go ? The list goes on and on and with time and age catching up , I feel lost as one feels the fragility of life and how we are here for a short time but get so attached to materialistic objects that it hurts .

I know you’re going to say this , that  I need to not be attached and detachment is the way ahead but what is it all reduced to ? Right now , I just know we are building a store room to house all the memories of a life time and I’m consciously reusing all my old stuff to live the moments again tweaking them a bit ! Till then , building the store and heralding the wedding the home makes my heart go warm and fonder . The pressing matter in hand is not the stuff that  I need to sort out , its the thickening waist and the creaky bones!

Happy mothers Day

 Dear Mom ,

Everyone tells me that time is running out and we never get to say the things which are meant to be said, thinking that they are all understood but that isn’t the case. A day was finally dedicated to mothers , a woman who has the guts , the grits and the determination more than anyone in the world .I could have just used Chat Gpt and written the best corniest lines but can a program write what it means to be a mother ? The tears , the sweat , the pain, the sacrifice so that her child / children get the best ; and this holds true for the richest to the poor . Mothers are made of a different genetic stricture , they love , embrace, cuddle , scold , get angry , get mad , correct you when you are wrong with one glance of their eyes. Every mother has a special tell, which she uses to discipline and when they are older they make fun of their mother that she used to look at like this … but you know someday soon that shoe is going to fit you also .

Mom , mother , Mataji , Amma , Ammi , Biji , Bebeji , mater , mama all words to lovingly call her ,because talking to her makes everything right , just one phone call, a hug that is pure and without any reason . That embrace , just what is needed to make things right . A mother will give anything to be with her child , to make things right , to see that he or she gets it all and will smother them with all the love and also be the biggest disciplinarian to balance everything . I used to wonder why mine was strict while I was growing up but you know subconsciously all those little habits get ingrained in you to make you a better person when you’re the adult . Moms , will sleep on your schedule if you’re in a different country and different time zone and will yearn for you but keep quiet ! 

 I want to thank you for shaping me , putting values , giving me an identity and to stand tall and to know about right and wrong , a love of books and the best of all good skin! The genes come out strong ! 

I don’t know how you hide the pain , and the suffering and taking everything in your stride and to still smile and keep everything together . Mothers are glue and keep everyone bound , and connected . Be kind to her if she doesn’t know the technology changes , she wasn’t born in a world where this rapid advancement and desensitisation of human emotions was . I love their era of slow fashion , under stated elegance, the chiffon sarees and the pearls and the French chignon hair do or the simple bindi and just being content . The motherly  wisdom imparted with grace and the patience reservoir deeper than oceans with the subtle tact to steer one in the right direction . Mothers are warm hugs , kisses to soothe, to push away all the darkness and sadness and just hearing her say all will be ok and one is magical.

They truly are magical creatures , treasure them , call them and love them to bits . Some bonds aren’t because of blood but some women come  in your lives to nurture you and guide and love and to have a patient ear at all times, they are also mothers . My brood calls me  mataji , mom and  Mummy and Ammi and mother .

The way they say it , makes me know what it is and what’s bothering them? Was I taught this ? Did I have a manual ( a secret society induction ) ? No , you just know. And as my Wednesday begrudgingly hugs , life is complete and better when I get a call from the other .Happy Mothers Day to all you beautiful strong mothers who have raised us , may we be them and raise a stronger next generation ! To our mothers in heaven , we miss you and if given a chance again , I love you is all I wish to say .

The Modern Women

 It’s the best time of the year , we have our own spring uprising , winter is still lingering and its clutches still hold sway just like Games of thrones. It’s as if we all are Westerosi . But , coming back to Punjab and the small village I live in , I had gone to attend one of the giant steps taken by our village panchayat . They had decided to attend for the first time to celebrate women’s day , progress in the hands of the change in vanguard of politics and everyone started to talk.

Women love to talk , we love to engage and exchange ideas and sometimes just take tips to make lives better for ourselves . Everyone started to reminisce about the times of bygone and one aunty who was an ex army officers wife started speaking about her times . As always she wanted to put across how modern she was and ahead of her times. 

It’s always been the case in Punjab , that people who joine the army were a tad bit more sophisticated and had more style , etiquette’s and panache than the rest of the plebeian folks. It had to do with the travelling and having an exposure and learning how the rest of the country lived. Auntyji , in her hey days wore sarees and that was unheard of girls from villages who came from patriarchal Jat Sikh , conservative and traditional families who traveled from point A to point b with no exposure . So , she was a newly wed in the early 60’s and wore sarees and was asked lovingly by her officer husband to wear a sleeveless blouse. 

The city of posting was Lucknow; the city of Nawabs, romance and shayarani and old world charm and grandeur . So , this small village girl to please her husband wore a saree and a sleeveless blouse to show off her lovely arms and her bangles . She went for a party and was coming back , when the Sahibji was informed the Biji has come from Punjab to live with them. And, lo all Chaos happened and she knew she was going to get a tongue lashing and a dressing down . Her husband told her to cover her arms with the French chiffon saree , but that didn’t help!

When she entered n front of her dragon of a mother in law , she was told in the highest form of sarcastic , rustic wit , that the tailor has made invisible sleeves. 

Life has changed from girls wearing sarees but keeping them selves covered and still being attractive and sensual . Now the idea is to bare all , twerk , post suggestive pictures and if you’re not showing some skin you’re not modern enough . 

Is display of flesh a sign of modernity and a benchmark of being novel , and being in vogue. Modernism means embracing the quality of present or recen times by being forward thinking . To change ones mindset, and not be regressive and be of present times. We as a country have repressed and regressed and freedom of our expression of women is being curtailed . It is frowned upon when women wear revealing clothes or western clothes as they can incite and inspire sexual feelings in men . Why the false promises of empowerment, when we have to fight even for representation in the largest democracy of the world? It’s unfolding in two months and lets see what happens. Women in our country remain seen but are unheard , an uprising is needed but then is rudely called as being feminist bra burners. It’s not that , we just want to be treated as a human . And, then a saree wearing , hijab covered , or a sleeveless shirt with shorts is free to do what she wants and the rest don’t have to stare or gawk at her.For me , I still wait for ache din , or maybe I can see from above up there in the heaven or hell depending where my friends are.

This is an old piece and In ever posted it or it just got lost as sometimes my thoughts go . After the uprising by Taliban’s and the over throw and the recent strike on freedom in Iran and the continuous killings , molestation , rapes and just non stop degradation that carries on . 

My maid had the best answer , she says newspapers are printed so we gareeb can wrap our roti in it , Baaki Sab Bikka huya hai ( everything else is sold ) . It’s true isn’t it? 

Ravneet Sangha

The chronicles of the chilled out housewife

 I have more grey hair than the AAP volunteers swarming the by poll in Jalandhar and reasonably seem to have reached an age where I consider  myself old , but what got me today was being repeatedly told to chill and then to get myself constructively busy . This actually is dedicated to the supremely organised, completely unrecognised power figures of every Indian home-the housewife.

No one prepares you for this , you take on the mantle straight put of college , lulled by romantic delusional dreams all fuelled by SRK movies and preparing the perfect meals for family and husband so as to be the perfect Bharatiya Naari and then you take it forward to being Mother India by bringing forth the 2.3 kids battling with midnight feeds , and wondering whether the milk gets delivered and then making sure the chai is ready for the folks and the omelette bread for the pati along with his tiffin packed for his office . This along with having the perfect house, cleaned , washed , dusted and having two perfect Indian meals cooked with necessary rice and salad ( what is the fascination with salad . I might ask? Why do they love the onion and lemon combination with chaat masala ? What sorcery is this?

Does anyone even know how difficult it is to cut onions and to control  the tears and the to have them paper thin? No one taught me this in my commerce degree, they just taught us to balance the debit with credit and here  I had to learn how to balance the Garam masala to the haldi . Such a delicate balance , I tell you .

You’re supposed to know it all , have it all ( a magical pantry just like Mrs Weasley ) and a Rememeberall like Neville’s.

Never mind , that you are human, the weather changes and they look at you saying oh let’s have pakoras, it gets hot , oh let’s have home made ice cream , oh its getting cold , lets have halwa.  Drat it , why not just add and aid the economy and order away ! 

But , no no then there is a conspiracy along the way where suddenly everything has to be home cooked , vegan , someone wants soy , someone wants coconut /almond milk and then someone just goes. Back to the basic , add the bran , minus the gluten . I swear , we housewives cater to every body’s needs except one’s own .

You clean the house, everything is in place , rest for half an hour and suddenly everyone is back and everything , I mean everything from the oldest chappal to every remote , to the cushions being upside down is outside in the living room and every wrapper  of an ce cream ,chocolate , sweet or mysterious namkeen is found. In the sofa.

And, how could i forget , youre supposed to be Oxford rolled into Britannica encyclopaedia and know everyone answers to the homework that is so difficult to understand . The diagrams, charts and the project reports and the numerous documentation is all part of parcel . Then as they get older , you constantly are told to chill as if your ancestors are from the refrigeration family or from Antarctica. 

One is dismissed and told to get busy with life that is other than theirs. Suddenly , they are busy to pick up the phone and talk but free to post memes that tell us to live a life.

As a housewife ,unpaid , unregistered, unrecognised, official chauffeur, mender of clothes, a Michelin chef and unpaid cleaner , organiser and part time doctor , handyman , and the only one who can find anything in the house ( we share a gene with Captain Cook ) , we discover unchartered territory and also pet taker and also custodian of childhood toys , and sometimes partner of husband and more so of in -laws and family and agony aunt to all , we are everything rolled into one but as age catches up to us , suddenly everyone tells us to chill .

I know we are in the midst of the largest climate crisis and we are facing unprecedented global warming but no in the history of mankind who has been told to chill and calm down has calmed down . I am petitioning to the Supreme Court that let men take over being a housewife and see how the economy shoots up , and then they can come to know how budgets go all hay wire or how a mother balances every month with the same amount but with rising runaway prices.

Then they tell us to chill , and get busy with life where as all our lives we were busy building yours . Suddenly , one is left on the windowsill figuratively , and then they say please use your  constructively . What a double edged sword ! They tell us to keep a pet , cultivate a hobby , as if one was tilling the land or become a philanthropist ,  I think us we housewives need charity themselves ! 

In the meanwhile the weather gods decided to chill me this week bringing in cooler temperatures for me , till then my inbox is open to suggestions for constructively keeping myself busy .

A chilled out mom 

Ravneet Sangha