Bus Chronicles

We take a lot of things for granted and we assume too. I am so guilty of this. We decided to travel by the bus back to Chandigarh from Jalandhar just to avoid the driver making an unnecessary trip and to save fuel, do the bit for environment and more so I had travelled for the last few years on the private buses which were comfortable, saved time even if they drove like a bus possessed or like the Knights bus from the famous iconic Harry potter series. They can squeeze themselves from all sorts of spots and the drivers drive like as if they had just come from the grand prix circuit. Well, enough of them, so I wanted to travel by the same bus but that for some reason was delayed and was going later, but the same make, government luxury bus was leaving in five minutes.

And it was 1/3^rd cheaper too! My son and I sat down thinking we would be in time for tea. The interiors all seemed the same and it had similar finishing done inside to look just like the super fast swanky bus service I was talking about. But, that is where the similarity ended, it was so dirty that it was not funny; the glass windows had streaks to resemble the houses shown in Ramsay horror movies. Dark long streaks of encrusted dirt resembling some sort of architecture. The poor bottle holder had long lost its elasticity and was loose, limp and just there. The seats were comfortable, I must give you that and I mentally prepared myself that it is all Ok and its no big deal, nothing was touching me directly so I could bear this.

We thought, the bus would start on time as promised but no; no I was in for a surprise. First comes in the bhel puri wala, street food, yummy fresh out of a steel bucket with tomatoes, onion garnishing done for you, there and then. Then comes, in the pingalwara man asking fro donations to save the poor orphan, the special child and he shoves the black box under your nose, promising the best for you, your children ad promising a son to you! What if I wanted a daughter? I guess  that is not on the cards for the Punjabis.

You think, after all this he bus would start, no no, we get a walking talking Panditji, an astrologer who would fix your shani, rahu and ketu so that you get married, get a job, and sohna munda! No wonder, the society isn’t moving forward, we all just want sons. .

However, the bus wala, is in the meanwhile testing the bus engine, in splutter, splatter and you get all shaken up, breaks are tested (of which I am happy about). Look at the conscientious driver who checks all safety features, thanks to an over efficient bureaucrat babu sitting gin his warm cozy office in Sector 9. Oh, by the way, windows have two holes near your ear so that one gets whistling sounds of air, piercing cold mind you in this winter.

We start the bus journey and all I know is the speed at which we travel is so safe that even the cyclist or as my son sarcastically says, Oh look Mama Milkha Singh is faster than us! It trudged along and we were so slow that all one could do was look out of the window which one misses when whizzing by. Punjab is indeed beautiful and the names of the villages!! Interesting by the minute, in fact every village has a neighboring one that is of the opposite gender. Figure that one out, if the fore fathers didn’t believe in discrimination, why did we start?

The bus also stopped after a couple of hours at a designated stop where we were given fifteen minutes to do your business and to have the famous chaa-shaa. It takes a courageous person to go to the toilets; this is where the swacch abhiyaan needs to start. The person sitting up front takes 2rs, a paltry sum to clean but the stench can just kill you sitting in the bus. I wish the politicians who so claim to be with junta, public would go visit one such place. This was an eye opener.

However, as all journeys go, there is always magic somewhere for the jaded me. Near Kharar, a young boy of 15 or so climbed up and started strumming a song on his toombi with ghungroos on one side, the raw voice belting out a romantic song touched one and it brought a smile.

All was forgiven, for the live entertainment that won hands down over the loud Punjabi movie that is always played in the other buses.

Oh, did I mention the bus driver was so courteous, we stopped for everyman ,woman , child on the road and the famous Punjabi chivalry was there , alive and kicking and very much in force !

His, huni leo ji is what resonates and the bus chronicles continues. Try it , it is infectious for us jaded city folks . Please keep in mind that with the rolling speed and the breaks, every part of the body is tested and massaged!!!

A new year awaits us , we all are busy in our lives but some where to slow the pace of our lives and to enjoy the small things give us the best memories .

Veervaar janamdin

In our lives we take things for granted and we assume a lot. This is exactly, what happened with me when I was taking a class with my children (evening school), we were just talking about Gurpurab and what it meant and that it was a birthday for Babaji. The next natural question that followed was, when was their birthday. What followed next stumped me.

Imagine, a class of twenty-two children all five or six years old sitting and looking  and then the non-stop barrage of answers. One of them answered and said his birthday coincided when they went on the annual pilgrimage to Baba Balak Nathji. The next one proudly answered it was on a Thursday (veervaar in Punjabi). Children born on this day are lucky according to folklore in Punjab, because it is the day of the Pir. One of them said, proudly he was born when it was vaadiyan (the time of the year when we cut wheat in Punjab).

These innocent answers, which these little kids gave me, had me smiling and also made me realize how jaded, I had become with the world around me.

I presumed immediately that the kids would know when it was their birthday; they would answer and tell me the particular day and the month. It came as a surprise only one of them knew, his birth date, April 15^th. The rest were all smiles and just had vague answers about when they were born. They just had no clue and were quite oblivious to it and were happy about it.

This was in complete contrast to the children who belong to cities, with parents who were educated. They all know when they are born, how old they are and what their birthdays should be. The trend varies from theme parties, ranging from Frozen and Elsa for girls and the super hero themes for the boys, gifts from Hamley’s, return gifts that are so expensive, theme parties in entertainment centers or at farms in lush green settings.

In fact, more is spent on these birthday parties than what is the average annual income! I am not being judgmental or cynical or even smug with my observations. This is what is happening in our societies, this plagues us and it’s a rut and there seems to be no way out of it.We all are so caught in this rat race where we compete with an unknown image on a pedestal and we all try to ape and be one step ahead of the other ! Is this the world we want to leave our children? The children live and imbibe and soak this environment and when they become too materialistic and indifferent to us and the values we wish they had, we have no one to blame but us .

The sweetest I heard from my innocent bunch was when one of them pipes us, I don’t know when its my birthday but I know that when it is I get toffees from the hatti (village shop) and pastry !

I wish life was so simple, and we could all strike a balance and enjoy the simpler pleasures of life !

Arm Candy 1

I’ve had an epiphany! All those pictures that I’ve been taking are all wrong. Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! They should have been with me posing on one side with my head inclined on the precise angle of 45 to one side and I should have had my hair all straightened falling like a cascade and the color should have been the luscious brown, number 546 just like Sonam or is it Aishwarya Rai. Was I supposed to glow or strobe or highlight? These new multi fangled words kept on confusing me, was I supposed to enhance, make myself glow or just be true to myself.

It just wasn’t easy being the new bahu to be of the Kapoor khandaan and I was failing miserably! I was a simple sunder susheel tikao girl form a middle class family of belonging to Malviya Nagar who was chosen by the heir apparent of the Kapoor khandaan, Ram. And, the reason was as simple as the difference between chalk and cheese, I had intrigued ram and he wanted to marry me to prove a point. He loved me and thus the match was made. Today was just a normal dinner that I was attending but it was with everyone at the Delhi Gymkhana Golf Club, and I was afraid . I didn’t know how to dress, talk like them or even pose like them. All the Facebook and instagram pictures had them smiling with perfect eyes and lips coordinated, the nude lips with a hint o f glow and the winged eyeliner along and the subtle cheeks. How was I ever going to achieve those? All I had was a simple Ponds cream and a kajal and yes some lipstick in the perfect shade of Lakme brown that everyone swore by! And my suit was also borrowed from one of the It girls who was my best friend from med school!

Well the chikankari would look perfect and silver bangles with Mama’s jhumkis and nails painted red (it was the color) and she would have her straight hair that was everyone’s envy.

I was ready and waiting and wore the last thing that scared the shit out of me, the heavy-duty two-carat diamond ring that was hidden every night in Mama’s godrej almirah in the safe. She had palpitations every time I wore it and kept on warning me that I should be careful with it. They didn’t have anything as expensive as this!

Ram was going to reach on dot at 8:30 pm and had already messaged me to be ready. I was now the proud owner of all things Apple! Funny, how I had jumped from Micromax Lava to Apple. I was still scared of using it ,but now was hooked on it ! The interesting thing was my phone bill that was so obscenely high, Wi-Fi usage was killing and I felt embarrassed in ask Mama again for more money.  Internship was just barely covering my expenses; I needed waxing, threading, hair straightening once in awhile and shoes, clothes, accessories, traveling money and now the weirdest expense. I needed lingerie, for us it was always Bhaiyaji, bra dikaho and panty was just mumbled in two colors black and white. Only a few years ago living in the hostel had I dared to the interesting cuts and colors but now with being engaged to Ram, I so needed the fluff and the frilly lace. Not the bleached whites that mama said were the main stay and decent.

I so wanted indecency, the beautiful sexy lingerie and the lacy stuff, however I drew the line at the most uncomfortable things that Ismat sweared by.  She was a doll, and my soul mate but I drew the line at those thongs she wanted me to wear.

Oh ho, getting back to Ram who was reaching in five minutes, I quickly went the bathroom, checked myself and put my hair back from one ear.

And then took a selfie. And just realized I had been taking the pictures wrong. I needed to strut my boobs out, make a duck face slightly and open my eyes as if they were popping out and perfect picture. Well, I did all this and sent it to Ram. Sometimes, I wondered why they named him Ram, just like out of Ekta Kapok K Kk serials that had all the ladies busy!

Ram messaged, an emoticon, and I smiled! This was my hero, and even if I were nervous he would ease my fears. I ran outside and there he was in the fancy two seat convertible silver Beemer as he told me I had to call it. And, then I remembered I dint have my potli , I needed my touch up lipstick and stuff without which I couldn’t function ( croc in for the killer headaches, tissues, safety pin that Mom swore by , lipstick , and kajal  and always ,always taxi money ) . No girl travelled without this amount. This was as sacred as Bhagwan ke paise, after Nirbhaya I made sure I had this amount with, and if touched I replenished it again.

I sat next to him, and Ram looked at me and touched my hair.

You look so sexy, yaar. I love your hair and your ethnic looks. Come give me a kiss.

Please, let’s go, mama will be looking.

Uff, you and your old-fashioned desi ideas, move on with the time, Ram started the car and I lurched ahead

I wore my seat belt and thought what was old fashioned? Did the South Delhi girls kiss in front of their parents, and allow their fiancées to touch them. I did like when he touched me, and I wanted more. I was probably the only 23year old virgin Doc doing her internship who knew all about the human body and chemical reactions and why hormones made me go up in a tizzy but failed in practical’s.

What a poor joke, I had made, needed to text this to Ismat a.s.a.p. . Ram was talking about who all were going to be there.  We will be there in ten minutes you can straighten yourself.

I checked my hair, and touched my lipstick again.  Please meet everyone nicely and don’t talk too much to Abhinav. He is my cousin, but I don’t like when you and he keep on talking. But I just talk to him about books, or medicine. He’s a doctor, so am I!

That’s all don’t worry.

What was his problem? Is he always going to be like this? Why cant I have a conversation with who ever I wanted?

We both walked in , I touched my ring again , hoping it was upright . Last time, Mom had lovingly fixed it; I knew I was being subtlety corrected. I needed to learn my Ps and q’s but what the hell!

None of them was a doctor and there and they just knew how to smile and talk about the next Louboution marriage with sabyasachi and the new line of shoes or the fact that a Sunny married to Tina who was Sharma auntie’s daughter was booking the new rose gold phone for her from NY. And, for them the Syrian crisis was just a way to have another social event and hold placards wearing tight white shirts and nude nail paint w the basic blue jeans.

Uff, focus and smile and think about Ram and how good he was to her. He loved me  he loved me. And the doors opened.

Hello everyone!  I was taken aback by the theme, why was everyone in desi chic? It seemed I was transported to a back to the roots revivalist khadi save Bharat scene. Everyone girl worth her false eyelashes was wearing simple plain, cream or black or white on white kurtas with these flowing chunnis. And enough silver to make Chamkila look dull.

I fitted and my inner diva did a handstand and a tumble, I did not stand out. Thank you Ismat!!

I was now a sherni, and knew I was on equal footing. Suddenly, Abhinav walked in and I knew I wouldn’t be bored amongst the crowd.

I just didn’t even want to go there, I felt more comfortable with Ram’s cousin, could speak to him as we connected but was marrying Ram.

Hormones, my dear the inner diva said.

Shut up please, I am so not talking to Abhinav today.

He walked in and came straight towards me pulling a chair next to me. I had no clue what to do, talk be normal or be quiet and listen to what Ram had said.

I need to talk about something with you later; do you think you could slip out to the other room in a while?

I didn’t know what this was all about. Last we had spoken about dengue and the world and politics and whether Trump would have a shot at the presidency! Nothing as such  that required one to go to another room.

Conversation was light, with the right notes , laughter ,drinks were flowing , it all started with vodka and the appetizers were there but ignored , they never fit in with the current diet of no carbs, only protein eat sushi diet that was followed by the babes. Abhinav was very strange today, he kept on looking at me as if I had sprouted another nose or had three eyes. This was making me uncomfortable. I decided to resolve what was bothering him and excused myself from the table by mumbling loo, five minutes, I will be just back.

Going into the other room, I kept on waiting, wondering whether Abhinav would take the hint. Soon, he came in. I observed him carefully as he walked the door. I knew that time was running out but suppressed the urge to check my watch. I took a deep breath and started counting in reverse under my breath, “ ten ,nine , eight , seven… “ This guy just looked weirder today. He kept on looking straight at me and came really close.

I think you are making a big mistake by marrying Ram.

I would make you happy and keep you smiling.

I promise and before I knew it, he had taken me in his arms and we were kissing . Hot blooded, passionate and funny part is the noses fit not like the bumpity bump with Ram.

Should it be love and the castle in the air or ground reality and stability?