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 

The Town And Country Mouse

 Wedding scene is officially coming to a close and I was attending one of the classiest Page 3 weddings and all I could think was a story that I used to shrug off as a younger kid - The Town Mouse and The Country Mouse . The ambience , the feel and the wedding were al beautiful and everything was done with the highest level of sophistication and extravagance and no expense was spared with the decor , food and flowers and the band and the spillage of jewels of the women , trust me we could have cleared the debts of Punjab and the eighbouring states with loose change to spare and education wouldn’t have suffered just like its happening at one of our esteemed universities but that rant and sadness is for another day on another page.

Of course every Punjabi fat wedding is not complete without alcohol and drinking away to oblivion , its like the coffers are opened and the cave of Ali Baba is open . So along the festivities , and hobnobbing and socialising with everyone and talking politely and then talking about them when we all moved to the next set of people , slowly and slowly I realised that everyone was getting drunk ! Vodka was the flavour of the evening and the behaviour changed, they all became more and more relaxed and friendly and bubbly and the inhibitions were gone . Some who otherwise would not say anything , had an opinion about everything or were so vocal , and some were looking for food to assuage the light headiness.

The pallu of the saree kept on slipping and more was on display than how they had come .

I am not a prude nor do I have anything against drinking , drink , don’t drink , your wish ; provided you can hold your liquor . The intoxication and the ready availability, the abundance ,and the wish to be more sophisticated , modern , western , hep any of the adjectives has made the women a confused lot .

Maybe , this is the  Biji in me talking  . A lot will attack me that it’s their right , feminism, equality and why can’t they drink and will feel that I am being harsh . Im not being harsh Im wondering how we have changed from loosing ourselves in this rat race to prove we are modern. A country mouse like me who lives in a village and far from the town lights gets bedazzled with this change in ethics or the lifestyle . the bright lights are so seductive ,and entrap me in their lure and its a siren call but remember the siren call was given to lure the fishermen to kill them by the mermaids aka Pirates of Caribbean . I want these women to be modern and outgoing in their outlook and making a change in the pulse of Punjab, there is so much potential in them . All of them are educated , smart , wise and can make such a positive impact if they just changed a bit . They have money ,power at their disposal and also the freedom to do this . The key which I think divides us from advanced countries is freedom to implement and to translate and to take charge and be impactful to change it for the next generation ( that does include their kids and grandkid’s ) . A temporary fix doesn’t remove the harshness of life and at best would make the town mouse happy in his /her environment , but can you remain cocooned forever? 

Make a change and remove the moniker of town / country forever.

Do remember that as a state we are going through our darkest periods of drug abuse , alcoholism and the downfall of the society . We cant remain excluded while Rome burns . 

The power of numbers

 The Power of Numbers 

Maths is such an enigma , and more so for my underprivileged kids who have no access to fancy learning tools , or computers . We learn the old fashioned way , a blackboard , and some chalk and shouting out the multiplication at the top of our voices . This is the way I learnt them , when I was in school . It’s so interesting when we say our tables , we start moving in a rhythm intrinsic to time , a slow rocking motion that comforts and aid at the same time . Tall claims have been made by the present government to amp the levels of education and our esteemed chief minister is even sending 35 principals to Singapore for furthering their expertise . 

The basic levels of education are so lost in the system that the children are confused and here we wonder why there is no progress in the government school and the education . 

I was doing basic questions today and also revising geography with them , where I was clueless because the words of separable and inseparable were in Punjabi and I could not even understand , hence needed Google translate . This is what the truth is . The basic questions were just to get them comfortable and confident in speaking up because they are timid and don’t open up , they are shy , they are intimidated at first and it takes them a little while to be at ease.

So one of the questions after asking about names , and how old they are , and what is their favourite serial ,and what is their favourite number ? A bunch of them answered 295 and majority said 786. I asked in all innocence ( role reversal ) , what is 295 , and they shouted Sidhu Moosewala ,the rest said because 786was Babaya da number . 

They all said the number is lucky and it was important . You cannot imagine the blind faith they have on this number . 786, is written on the note books , its written on the billboards of the shops , and they pay respect to the Pir sahib and giv emustard oil too . Punjab is dotted by these shrines /graves , green in color with a Chadar on top and a flag fluttering and 786 painted everywhere on the walls . This from a majority of children who are Punjabi by birth to Bihari immigrant labourers who have shifted to Punjab , worshipping forms of Krishnaji ..

Why and who says there is danger to Hinduatava , or there is segregation in Sikhs and Hindus or Muslims ? A handful of few politicians charge up emotions to whip up the public against each other on basis of religion to polarise and win elections .

 My kids , innocent , eager ,who love langar and prasad, believe in the magic of the lucky number of 786  ( Allah ) and swear by 295 ( legend of Moosewala ) but are Hindus , have all the national integration we search for and swear by but get divided by 552 . 

Ps ( that is the number of Lok sabha members of parliament) 

Gyaan da Sagar

 Every morning we wake up and face the day and try to make meaning of our living and its mingled and sprinkled with motivational quotes and lines and pep up talks and conversations with besties and virtual messaging ( that is true for me ) and trying to face life and real life situations . How many of you do this, and try to deal with negativity and situations or problems? 

The problem lies not with others but with ourselves as we have given the key of our happiness to what others say or do , when we have made them live in our homes and they kick us out leaving us homeless . Many a times , we give so much importance and leverage to people around us that we think we can sexist only when they do or we can only breathe when they do , its this elevation that leads to all the problem . There is a thin line between giving them superficial importance based upon being scared and being afraid of them and giving them due respect . Respect is what is taught to us , ingrained in us when we are growing up based up on traditions , values that are instilled in us ,and  not the importance that we give just because we are sucking up to them because of hierarchy and the position on the social ladder . Indians are a confused lot , we have embraced the modernity of the west but we cling to the archaic traditions as  Mithril . It would have been better if we all were Frodo Baggins . Right now we all are lost in a James Clear , Charles Bulowski to Sant Maskeen to Sant Ram Das lines , why have all got so used to taking refuge in these lines, quotes ? 

Have we forgotten to think and be ourselves that we need to be reminded of basic kindness , empathy  and compassion ? In a world where are we are now told to distribute and share and then to highlight our deed , whereas all our religions have told us to share and take out 1/10th of our income and given to the poor . Why do we need to be reminded with signs that if they are trending in Instagram then only we will do? I am surprised that everything is done and shared and tweeted to leave a social virtual impact ,to further the likes , a Yatra taken only to garner sympathy and a wave of love and change , that is hollow in a lot of respects ! When did you ask the common man whether he hates the Sikh or the Muslim ? Why are we being told that Hinduism is under threat ? Trust me , living in a small village there is nothing like this  , all we worry is about ground frost , drugs , and whether sun comes out tomorrow! 

A world that is narrowed and is grey by virtuosity we need to see the real world , step out from the heated comfort of your home , step into the cold ! Remind yourself , that we need to learn . Imbibe from the well written emotionally wringing quotes and lines that are meant to impact and not be an excuse always . Like the lines I read yesterday , all the lines written by me are about God , not your ex. Rumi 

Yesterday , our cook who has more seniority than I do , he’s been with us since before I came into the scene , remarked wisely like  Master Shifu , that when we are alive , no one gives us a drop of ghee but when we die they pour ghee on us , drenching us when we are dead…. 

It is true we honor the dead more than the living , change yourself , and it comes not when we read the lines or share them to seem wise but when we actually believe in them .

Peeve #1

 This is a beginning of the year post , and I’m a year away to my fifty ! You know with age and the grey hair that I have in abundance I’ve got so many peeves . Life is all about social media and being connected to each other , but I wonder what is everyone doing with the free time that they have because of all the vowels they miss and writing in abbreviations and just missing out all the grammar . In my times ,we had a compulsory dictionary , Oxford and a red Wren and Martin that was the holy grail for all of us .

We had to use it , use it for reference and were mocked if we don’t know are P’s and Q’s , or didn’t use a colon or a semi colon or an apostrophe . Everything is in hands of Google Aunty or correction is done via auto correct or an app corrector that you’ve downloaded . Sometimes it makes it difficult for me to even understand the Pinglish used or the hinglish . Isn’t it a reflection of what our minds have become ? We have become so confused and as we think, we speak and we type , everything is corrupted .

Another interesting thing that happened with me , yesterday , it was mentioned that I have an Instagram account ; and the young man who runs a boho -chic cafe couldn’t believe his ears . It was strange for him that an aunty , an old woman would have one! The music playing in the cafe was even older than I am and that was meant to be fashionable and trendy ! How we quickly relegate to being old and ancient? Am i supposed to sit down on a sofa , vegetate and listen to what? How unforgiving the youth is? We were kinder to our peers . We were taught better , I don’t know how its been lost in translation and have we  in a hurry forgotten everything , its a state of frenzy to be liked to be adulated and to be forever in the limelight .

It’s as if we are worried and stressed that we would be extinct if we didn’t leave a virtual trace . During my classes with the unprivileged children , I stress the discipline of writing complete words and proper letters hoping I leave a stamp on them but it’s a losing battle as the seductive appeal is far stronger than writing correctly .