Polo.This time it’s not a mint with a hole.

I had the opportunity to watch a polo game some months back. Those of you on Facebook would know exactly how many months back. (Remember that picture with the horse?) Quite an exciting event it was. I have an aunt who lives in Delhi, some 3 kms away from where I put up. She knows a whole lot of interesting people. One of them is a professional polo player. The invitation for the game came from him. I, as the neighbor-in-the-next-door-colony of the aunt, was lucky enough to have the invitation extended to me.

A first time experience of watching a game live, Polo was quite different from any game I’ve seen. I do admit, most games I’ve watched have been on the telly and there is a difference in the overall experience, but the fact that Polo isn’t as popular a game as Cricket, attaches a certain amount of freshness to the game. Watching a sport live is exciting. Not particularly comfortable though.  Visibility is also an issue. The distance from the field makes it hard to make out whats going on there. That despite a 6/6 vision. But still, it’s more fun, more involving and definitely more exciting than anything you watch on TV.

Polo is physically challenging, exhausting actually. It’s one thing to ride a horse, but to ride a horse and chase a ball aiming for a goal, is quite another. It requires physical prowess beyond that of an average person. Originating in Manipur and popularised by the British, the game involves two teams with 4 members each. A match has four chukkas (some call it chakkars) of 7 ½ minutes each. That seems like very little time, but because of the fast pace of the game, it’s not. Normally players need to change their horses after each chukka- the horses get exhausted in one chakkar, that’s how fast paced the game is. Teams wear red or black and the two referees striped black & white shirts. In a game that kicks up a lot of dust, oddly everyone wears pure white pants. The horses are colour coded as per their team with red or black strip of fabric rolled around their ankles.

The rules of the game are a mystery to me. With no one to explain the game, I had to figure it out myself. The father of our polo player sat on my right but was naturally too engrossed in his son’s performance to talk to me in the middle of the game. The generous aunt doesn’t follow much of the game either. She and her family attend the game more to encourage their family friend than anything else. The basic fundamental of the game is quite clear- fight for the ball, chase it around the field, hit it into the goal post. To understand details beyond that, one needs a guide. Or Google.

Interspersed with the game were band performances and a vintage car rally. Both contributed the entertainment quotient so essential in sports nowadays.  The crowd was,  of course, not the usual run of the mill that I interact with. This sport attracts the upper crust of the society. The kind that wears fine shoes, fancy clothes and dazzling diamonds. The match wasn’t a big national level one, but several  page 3 faces could be spotted.  I think I stood out in the crowd.  I was wearing   a pony tail and jeans and sneakers.

Here are a couple of pictures from the match.

Everyone makes a mad dash for the ball. Can you spot it?

The refrees intervene escalating the excitement on the field .

 

The referees take a break to talk to other off-field referees.

Twin excitement at the match.

The trophy.

Some fun with trick riding to end the day. 

 

We visit Igatpuri

Going home is like a holiday. No morning rush hour, no pile of work waiting at the office desk, no managing bank accounts, bills, maid, dhobi. Everything magically gets taken care of.

Last time I visited home in December (Yes, this post is that late), the mother and I made a plan to go trekking. The idea of vegetating at home was very temping, but I needed to break away from the Del-Bom-Del circuit and we needed to do some fun, physical activity together to break away from the daily routine.

A short 3 day trip away from the city was planned and Igatpuri was the chosen destination. Unlike the previous times we visited Igatpuri, this time we drove down. A good decision since the Mumbai-Nashik road is just great-broad, smooth, and fortunately for us, with very little traffic.

We checked into a resort called the Manas Resort. Reputed to be the best Igatpuri town can offer, the hotel offered decent lodging facilities, but the food was just terrible and the staff slow and disinterested. Instead of  pleasing us (and other guests) by focusing on their service and giving their restaurant a complete overhaul (included hiring a new chef), the resort focused on offering New Year/Christmas delights- Dandiya night and Bhangra night. Nights we were not the least bit interested in. What we were interested in – decent food, responsive staff- was not on the resort management’s radar. My aunt visited the very same resort a long time ago and her experience was a lot better than our’s. Obviously,  this place has seen a decline in the last couple of years.

Anyway our stay was short and we kept our focus on the trek overseeing the shortcomings of our temporary residence. A short distance away from Igatpuri is Kalsubai- at 5500 ft the the highest mountain in Maharashtra and as per Wikipedia  the 10th highest  peak in the Western Ghats. On the evening of the day we landed at Igatpuri, we explored the area  and found the motorable route to the base of the mountain.It took  about a quarter of an hour to get the to Bari village, the starting point for the trek. The weather was clear and there was a mild winter chill in the air- just the right weather for an outdoor activity.

 

We set out early next morning with all the requisite gear- sturdy shoes, backpacks, caps,  food and water. 30 minutes of driving and we met the most unexpected twist of nature- fog. Thick, white fog. So thick that visibility was restricted to the extent of making driving almost impossible.  This is the Ghats, the sea isnt far away, who expects fog in a location like this? Everyone warned us of how cold it will be (and it wasnt), no one even mentioned fog. There is really no way you can predict nature- you can only submit to its power, request cooperation and pray you get it.

So pray we did, and driving at 10kmph with the indicator lamps blinking, we cleared the worst of the fog. Once we moved away from the Bhandardara lake area, the fog cleared considerably and by the time we reached Bari village, it was all gone!

Bari is a beautiful village. Green fields, farmers, cattle, children running around, hens all over the place.Truly rural. Bari -is the starting point for the trek- is a very small village and doesnt provide much. Its therefore best to come prepared with all your  trekking supplies -food, water and walking stick.  You can, however, stop for a small meal at one of the tiny restaurants (if you arent too picky about where you eat),  and buy some tidbits to eat along the trek. If you take your own vehicle all the way to Bari you can park it at the village school  if the school is not in session, or at the large clearing just at the entrance of the main village. People are friendly and will guide you to the parking space, the restaurants and the trek path.  You can also hire a guide but you dont really need one. The route is well treaded and easy to identify, plus you will encounter a lot of villagers going up and down the mountain, happy  to point you in the right direction. If its holiday season you will also meet groups of school and college kids.

Most people will tell you  it takes 3 hours to trek up to the top of the mountain. May be they are right, but it took us longer and we didnt complete the last leg of the trek. That could be because we stopped often, took a lot pictures, chatted with children and paid our respects at the tiny temple situated half way up the mountain. Our focus was not only to trek, but to also enjoy the nature  and absorb the peace and tranquility of a place far,far away from the maddening city.

Unlike the mountains we see in Himachal that are very green, the mountains in this part of the Sahayadaris here are quite bare. The trek itself is quite steep. The mountain is rough, rocky and rugged and to climb it you need to take steps of unpredictable and varying height,  straining on your knees on your climb up and your calves on your climb down. The loose pebbles and stones roll away unexpectedly under your weight and unless you are as sure footed as a goat, you are sure  to roll away with them a time or two! The last bit of the trek gets very steep-the rocky steps get harder to climb and there are some old iron ladders that one has to pass. The ladders were one reason we decided to not go right to the top. The other was that it had become very hot- an absolute contrast to the morning temperature. We’d trekked for over 4 hours and that was good enough for us!

At the top of the mountain is a small temple of Kalsubai and a 360 degree view of the entire area. Both of which we missed.  But we weren’t disappointed. The father was, of course, a little surprised that we hadn’t pushed to climb the entire mountain.The mother is usually known for her determination and it is rare that she leaves a task unfinished. I, on the other hand,  am not known for any such great characteristics, but I do lend full support to any task or project that the family takes up. But on this particular trek, we didn’t feel the need to reach the summit- that wasn’t really our goal.  We wanted to  engage in some physical activity, spend time amidst untouched nature, practice photography.  And all that we  accomplished.

If you ever want to trek up Kalsubai, here are some tips:

• Weather: Avoid the trek in summers-its just too hot. In winters too try to finish the upward climb in the morning before  12 o’clock.
• Equipment: Any study shoes are good  for this trek. If you have the kind of shoes Woodland makes, that great. Else you can also manager with regular shoes. You don’t really need a stick to walk up, but if you like you can use if for additional support.  A cap and sunglasses are a must.
  Carry a camera. There will be many sights that you would like to capture.
• Food and water: Is best to carry both with you. It adds to the weight you have to carry, but  there isnt any other choice. There is no source of potable water on the route. You will have some villagers selling nimbu paani, but that’s avoidable. Ditto for food. Eat a good breakfast before setting out and carry energy bars, fruits, chocolate to eat on the way.
• Company: Treks are time taking and physically taxing, take along non-fussy, chilled out, like-minded  enthu cutlets!

The day after the trek we headed back home making a stopping over at Nashik  to visit Trimbakeshwar temple.   The line in front of the temple was ten miles long. It was as if all of India had chosen to visit Nashik that day.  Christmas holidays are a terrible time to travel! We said our prayers from outside the temple and headed back home. We will have to make another trip to visit the  temple.

And that, my friends,  was how I spent my December holidays this time. One holiday over and I am already ready for the next one.

 

Presenting…

The bharwan sisters!

We have bharwan baingan..

Bharwan bhindi..

Annnnnd…… bharwan Shimla Mirch!!

Its amazing what living alone will make you do. Elaborate  “Indian cooking” for one. Ma, you should be proud of me now. When did I ever cook such time-consuming dishes at home?

 

Coming up next: We visit the Western Ghats!

 

Whaaa?!

Email Subscription tells me I have 99 subscribers.

99.

WOW.

I only know of two people who’ve subscribed to this blog. And they are family, so they dont really count. The 97 others, now thats the group that has my attention. I  hadn’t a clue so many people were interested in what what I wrote. I am an inconsistent blogger and the comments I get here give no hint at the number of people reading. But 99 subscribers means someone’s reading.  If the stats of this blog are baffling enough, take the case of the  new photo blog. Three days in existence and 75 subscribers.  (!!) Unless there is some serious data monitoring problem with Email Subscription, there are a whole lot of readers I don’t know at all and have never  interacted with.

To say I am curious about this silent group of readers is an understatement. I am d-y-i-n-g to know who you are and what makes you subscribe to the blog. Come on guys,  de-lurk now !!

 

So, who is going green?

We live, we learn. Each day teaches us something new. Its like life is a gigantic jigsaw puzzle and each day that we live, we learn to fit one little piece in place.  We understand it all, one piece at a time.

 Of late, this little piece has fit into my puzzle. Irrespective of how many theories people propose about social  change, the one thing that is of real consequence, one that really matters, is intent – pure and simple. That is what is fundamental  to change. If you have the intent and your heart is in the right place, all other things follow.

It is with the right intent and a good heart that these young boys and girls are working at  a  project that yields results very slowly, but has benefits that are long term and impact large populations.  What do they do? They rescue trees. Ever  heard of something like that?  I hadn’t till I got to know of them.

While everyone is talking about the deteriorating  condition of the planet and painting a depressing and scary picture of the future for all,  these young people are actually out there doing something to  improve the situation. And they are doing it with very little money,  no corporate backing, no political support,  but a clear intent and a  strong will.

The mother found this group- they call themselves The Green Umbrella- quite by accident. She had been wanting to plant banyan trees for long time and her search ended with The Green Umbrella . The organisation’s  mandate is to rescue indigenous plants varieties  such as peepal and bargad or vat that expel large quantities of oxygen and support biodiversity offering food, shelter other creatures. They  identify  plants  that need rescuing, such as those that grow on roof tops of  dilapidated old buildings and neglected road corners , carefully extract them , re-pot them and tend to them till such time that an appropriate and permanent space can be found to plant them- not an easy time in a city like Mumbai! They also try to get hold of species that are fast becoming extinct and propagate them. Besides rescue operations, they  undertake horticulture and gardening assignments and procure for you rare species of medicinal and spiritual plants, if you promise to take good care of them.

The mother has brought home a rare type of banyan. Called the Krishne vat, the striking feature of this plant is that the edges of  its  leaves fold inward gently. Legend has it, that Lord Krishna  used to eat butter out of these leaves. The Green Umbrella found this rare plant at the Byculla Zoo and made 4 cuttings.  Unfortunately 3 didnt survive. The one that did, is being cared for by the mother now.

The Green Umbrella  operates in and around Mumbai.  Working on a  shoe-string  budget, and incurring most expense out of their pocket, this group of 6 youngsters hold jobs, but their heart really is in plant recuse and revival. A worthy cause to support, if you feel for  plants and worry about the fast pace at with which indigenous  species are disappearing.  If you want to know more about Green Umbrella’s  work or support the organisation in any way, you can write to Vikram Yende at vikram.yende99@gmail.com. I am sure any support extended will be greatly appreciated by the team.

 

They dont make them like that anymore…

…. films.. and in many cases, actors too.

If you agree to that, you are probably as old as me or older!  The older you get the better you appreciate the b/w era.

 

 

I watched a movie with a friend over the last weekend.  She and I have a routine. Every couple of months we meet up, talk till our jaws hurt, shop till we drop, eat at restaurants we can ill –afford and watch whatever movie is playing at the theatres. Its our way of breaking away from the monotony. Usually it works, and we return to our respective offices all talked out, broke but happy.  Everything with this arrangement is fine except for our choice of movies. The last time we saw Mausam. As you would know that movie was anything but awesome. This time we acted uncharacteristically gutsy and voluntarily chose to watch The Dirty Picture. Not a smart idea.

The only thing good about  The Dirty Picture is Vidya Balan. She undoubtedly impresses with her acting skills, but besides that, the movie doesn’t offer much. Not having seen any of Silk Smitha’s movie, it’s hard to assess exactly how close to the real character she was, but my gut feeling she has done a pretty good job of it.  At least that’s what a quick search on Silk Smitha on Wikipedia assures me. She seems to be comfortable portraying a challenging role and looks convincing throughout the film.

The first half of the film focuses on Silk’s  devil-may-care attitude and her deep desire to rise to fame and live life on her terms.  Post-interval the film depicts her discontent with relationships,  alcoholism  and her steady downfall in the industry, ending with her suicide. Oddly, the film doesn’t go beyond this- making practically no references to the exploitative nature of the films in those years  or the poverty, early marriage and ill-treatment that forced  the young girl to run away from home in the first place. To me, this was an obvious gap in the storyline.

You walk into the theatre expecting a film similar to one of Madhur Bhandarkar’s and are hugely disappointed because the movie doesn’t make it to that league at all.  Imran Hashmi and Tushar Kapoor have fairly prominent roles in the movie but they don’t do it justice to their characters. I never thought I’d say this, but I wasn’t too happy with Naseeruddin Shah either. There is no way I can find fault in his craft, but I felt something about his on-screen character didnt fit with his  real life personality.

If I were to go by the number of times the radio plays Oh la la, I’d have to call it a hit, but I think Ishq Sufiana is a far better song.  I noticed some similarities  between how this song  and  Tu Jaane Na from Ajab Prem Ki Gazab Kahaani is shot.  Did you notice them too?

Though Vidya Balan has obviously played a career defining role, I can’t help wondering why she had to pick this particular character to display her acting abilities. I can’t even fully understand why a biopic was made on Silk Smitha. What was so great about her? What did she do that was such a  critical contribution  to the film industry that we needed a 3 hour  film on her?  What was so outstanding or exceptional about the roles she played? If I were to ever make a movie on a film actor, I am sure I wouldn’t picked her.  Anyhow,  the movie has been made and released, but its  not a movie I am recommending.  Watch it for Balan, if you must.

Coming up next:  Green is in!

 

Mangalore magic

An unplanned trip

To an unexplored land

With tall coconut trees, sandy beaches and friendly people

A trip that worked out despite the all of slips-ups

One that promised peace and tranquillity, and delivered

I am back from a short trip to Mangalore. And what a trip it’s been! Del-Bom-IXE-Bom-Del  -all  done in a span of 6 days. I’ve been passing through Mumbai airport too often I think. I  now recognise every tile on the airport. Quiz me, if you like.

It didnt start off very well. I reached home to realise I had forgotten to bring along some very important documents  that had to be submitted at the bank in Bombay within the next 4 days.   A mild heart attack later, a solution was found.  The spare key at the landlord’s was brought into action. The house was opened, the  cupboard keys were  retrieved from their secret hiding place and the papers were located on a live call from Bombay and couriered by the 2^nd floor tenant, now my best friend.  The aunt was requested to receive the courier for us in our absence.  She kindly agreed and we headed off to Mangalore for our 2.5 days of tranquillity.

We reached the airport later that day. Much to my horror and embarrassment I was stopped from entering the airport by the security. I had the wrong ticket in hand- my mother’s.  Frantically rummaging through my bag I encountered another copy of  mother’s e-ticket, mine was not to be found.  Panicking, I called up the father for my  PNR number. He gave it to me but I didn’t need to use it, since by then I had located what I believed was  my ticket to Mangalore.  I showed  it to the  lady officer and was allowed in. The joys of traveling together on tickets booked separately are immense, I said to myself.  Once inside, the panic passed, the heartbeat slowed, and  I took a good look at the ticket.It said  25^th October, Del-Bom .  I had the wrong ticket, one I had already used to travel to Bombay the previous day, and I had passed security. Freaky.

The lady issuing boarding passes was, not surprisingly, amazed at how I managed to walk into the airport with an incorrect ticket. I told her my PNR number and she issued me a boarding pass.  She suggested next time I misplace my e-ticket; I get one printed out at the airlines counter at the entrance.   To avoid problems with the  security, she explained.  Mangalore is a small town, I hope you have your return ticket in order, she said as she handed me my boarding pass.

 Of course, I smiled back. And just to make doubly sure (for my mother’s sake, not my own)  I check  my bag for the ticket.  Two e-ticket print-outs  for the mother. None for me. Oops. What now?

In a manner in which only my mother can operate, she exited  the airport after engaging the security officer in a dialogue, headed to the airline counter and got a print out of my return ticket. What if she’s right and we really don’t find a print out facility there, she asked  me on her return. Then, she ordered me to hand over all documents, tickets, photo IDs to her. Not without reason.

It got better after that. Except for the fact that the re-chargeable batteries of my camera refused to get re-charged.  We had another camera so it wasn’t all that bad.  I did not get to  take any pictures, but  that’s fine. Two people with two cameras would have  looked silly anyway.

Pictures say it best. So here they are, courtesy the mother.

The airport. When was the last time you saw a parking lot like this?

The sky is my canvas, said God. At least in Mangalore. He couldn’t say the same for Bombay or Delhi.

Supari. The edible kind,not the kind referred to in Bollywood films.

Coconuts.Everywhere.

Fields reach out to touch the skies.

A shade of green sandwiched between two of blue.

Golden  fields of rice.

Crabs. All. Over.The. Beach.

Dead wood.

The case of the curious kids.:)

Blue flowers to match the  blue skies.

Kuwain ka maindak.Quite literally.

With past connections with ducks, how can we not take a picture of a duck when we see it?

Glorious food at gloriously low prices.  Here’s proof. We paid under  Rs.100 for a meal for two.  The restaurants were not fancy but the food was good,driving home the point of how much we overpay for eating out in big cities.

 

NB: The courier reached  on the same day as we did. And to everyone’s relief I was able to get all the work done before returning to Delhi.

 

The mystery

Ever seen this?

Neither had I. Not until a day ago, that is.

It’s a fruit and I’ll send  you a basket full if you can correctly guess its name.  You get three guesses each. Come on now, the comments field is all yours.

 

The good stuff

For the fact that I was born in this city.

For the fact that I gained an education in this city.

For the fact that I found employment in this city.

For the fact that in my own way I love this city.

For the fact that I should make up for all the times I have cribbed about Delhi.

For all those facts and more, I will write a post on what I like about dear Dehali. I owe it to the city. And now when I get down to it, I realise I have enough to say to populate a 10 point list!

The greenery- Delhi is far greener than Bombay, let’s not even debate this. Tree lined roads, parks of all shapes and sizes, the ridge, schools with large playing fields, homes with a patch of green in the front and  may be if they are lucky a green backyard  too.  The greenery ensures Delhi can breathe  and makes it look oh so pretty. With the greenery come the flowers. Different flowers for different seasons.  Which brings us to the next point- the seasons.

The seasons- Summer. Monsoon. Autumn. Winter. Spring.  V/s Summer. Monsoon.

In terms of variety, Delhi leads the way.  And as most people would agree, variety=fun.  Different food, different clothes, different activities to suit the weather conditions makes for an interesting life. One in which managing your clothes (winter, summer, somewhere in-between) is a task by itself. :-p But still, its change, it’s good. As a side note, I must mention winter continues to be my least favourite season, but surprisingly I am warming to it. Very, very gradually.

The vegetables- They just taste better in Delhi. No real reason has been identified for this as yet. But they do. Take my word for it. May be its something to do with the fact that Bombay gets all vegetables all though the year so they taste, well, a little tasteless. Delhi still has some concept of seasonal vegetables, though I see that fast dying too.

The space- Delhi has it. Bombay doesn’t. There is nothing more to be said.

The history- Both cities have their own fascinating histories, but Delhi seems to have more structural reminders of its past. There is the Quatab Minar, Jantar Mantar, Red Fort, Humayun’s tomb, Safdarjung’s  tomb. And these are just the big and famous ones. Tucked away in the corners of the city are numerous small, sometimes nameless monuments that don’t even make it to the tourists’’ itinerary.  Ever visited Green Park or Haus Khas village? Or Mehrauli? You can’t miss the tombs, the ruins or the gumbaz that are dotted these areas.

The people- Friendly, happy, helpful. Sometimes a bit nosey. OK, mostly nosey. But essentially friendly and happy. People who are keen to exchange a few words, to invite you over for a cup of tea, to chit-chat about nothing in particular.  Not to say that people in Bombay aren’t friendly or happy. But they are far too busy, too caught up in the rush of everyday life to spare time to reach out to others. That, at least, has been my experience. I also feel Delhiites are far more helpful. They really do go the extra mile to help you out.

The pace- Much slower than Bombay, Delhi has time. Time to smell the flowers, to feel the cool October breeze, to talk to the neighbor, to relax, to think, to miss the first bus and take the second one. Bombay pulsates. Its energy is infectious, but it can (and does) get tired after a while. The way I see it, Bombay needs to slow down and Delhi needs to get moving!

The memories- Back in a city where over 20 years were spent, practically every road, every garden, every market brings back memories.  Yes, the city has changed beyond recognition, but amidst all the change, the memories persist.

The family- Lots of relatives. Lots of offers for free lunches. Lots of warmth and love.

The friends- Friends from school, college, the old neighbourhood. I have made some of my best friends here in Delhi. Ones that have stuck through the years. Ones I can call for anything, at any time, without a second thought. Living in the same city as them has been absolutely wonderful.

So thats what I love about Delhi. If you’ve lived in Delhi or have even passes it by, tell me what you like about it.

 

A fish out of water

When I moved to Delhi, I chose an accommodation that was closed to office. My parents chose, to be precise. I was ready to pack my bags and head back home when I heard the house rents here.  I don’t know why people keep saying Bombay is expensive. Delhi isn’t much better either. After round 4 (or was it 6?) of discussions on where to stay, it was decided I’d stay close to work and pay a steep, steep house rent. It would save me time, I would tire less and would have time and energy to pursue hobbies, cook for myself, manage the house and occasionally socialize. Getting back home after sitting late at work would be easy. I wouldn’t need to invest in a car, an asset that demands a fair amount of investment, not to mention maintenance and a parking space. Living close to office would thus be the perfect solution to my housing woes.

The only decent residential location that could be found close to office happened to be a part of Delhi that most people define as posh. Posh in a way that is well beyond your and my imagination of posh.  Sprawling bunglows with chawkidars and dogs on guard. Six cars and five full- time servants for a family of four. Ladies dripping with diamonds, enveloped in an air of perfume. Toddles playing under the supervision of the maids, no mother or father in sight. Teenagers driving CR-Vs at neck breaking speed honking loudly at unsuspecting pedestrians and deriving some strange thrill out of this exercise. Men with more money than they or their accountants can count. To say I was, and continue to be, maladjusted here is an understatement.

I come from the middle class family. God’s been kind and we have always had enough to have all the necessities in place with enough surplus to indulge when we’ve felt like it. We have always had help around the house, but as far back as I can remember, it’s been part time. It’s more a matter of choice than anything else. We want our privacy; we are not comfortable with a full-time maid hearing every conversation, knowing every detail of our lives. We experimented with full- time house help and didn’t adjust well to it.  We are also a family that likes to do our household chores together.  We like to cook our own food. We enjoy the weekly trip to the mandi to hand- pick up our vegetables and we don’t have a problem in carrying back a bag or two.  We don’t mind driving around town and if its long distance we have no qualms about ditching the car and taking the local train. Sure, we take help when we need it, but its supplementary help. The drivers and maids and malis and dhobis don’t run our house. So this place, with its upper-upper end living, makes me feel like a fish out of water.

It’s not the abundance of material wealth that makes me uncomfortable. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a problem with people having so much material wealth. I am sure they’ve worked really hard to acquire it.  And I don’t undermine the importance of material comforts either. They have their place in life and I understand that. What I do have a problem with is when people are so involved with themselves and their material wealth that other people cease to exist for them. When people are no longer seen as people but as a means to acquire some material or physical comfort, it just doesn’t seem right to me. But I guess when you have too much of everything good in life, you forget that basic values that are significant no matter where you live, how much you earn and who you break bread with.

People here never cease to surprise me.   While the bejeweled lady talks to her friend perfectly properly, she turns into a different person altogether when talking to her maid. Suddenly all the sophistication vanishes, ordered are yelled out and immediate attention and action demanded. Drivers, who lug around large shopping bags and run errands, never hear a thank you and no one from the family offers to carry a bag, no matter how over loaded the poor man is. Salespersons at the shop are snapped at. Currency notes are slapped rudely on the counter.

I also wonder what people who have others to do everything for them, do with their time. There is the cook, the gardener, the driver, the home tutor for the children, the part-time maid, the full time maids, the ballet teacher. When you don’t do any of the mundane chores, what do you do with all the time you have at hand? When you don’t wake up in the morning with a ready list of things to do at home and work, how do you fill the hours? Of course there is socialising and shopping, but I would assume it gets to a point when it becomes mind-numbingly boring. Even if it doesn’t, I can’t understand why being rich should automatically turn you into a thoughtless person.  I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t mention that I have met the odd kind, considerate person here, but the numbers are so few that I could count them all on one hand.  Wealth really does affect people in strange ways. I only wish that while everyone enjoyed their material abundance, they would also realise just how fortunate they are to have so much, and that a little humility, kindness and generosity never hurt anyone.

 

In retrospect

In the time that I have been away, wordpress has changed beyond recognition.  I am having serious difficulty finding my way around. No wonder my 250 word post  titled“Look who is back” was published as “Look who is back” and nothing more.  I thought ctrl+c and ctrl+v still worked on wordpress. Apparently not.  Technology changes much too fast, if you ask me.

So why am I back to blogging after almost a year? For no greater reason than the fact that I feel like writing again. When I shut this blog, I was at a stage when I felt the writing had stagnated. Life wasn’t offering too many interesting things  to write about. Plus, living in a new city all by myself was taking a bit of getting used to. Writing was then, obviously, the last thing on my mind.  As I type away at the key board I realise most of these things still stand true. I have a life that’s fairly  stuck in an unaltering routine. I work 6 days a week. Hardly travel (going to Bombay doesn’t count). And when I read what I have just written, I realise the writing hasn’t gone up a level either.  Yet, after a year of staying away from this blog and settling in the capital, I just feel it would be a good idea to give writing another shot. I just hope this time I don’t run out of things to say! *fingers crossed*

So what have I done while I was away from this blog?  Quite a bit! I’ve-

1. Settled into the new job. Acquired a fair understanding of the  people, the culture, the industry. There still a lot that needs to be understood, but a decent start has been made
2. Adapted to Delhi’s pace. I still miss Mumbai’s pace and energy, but now Delhi seems fine too.
3. Connected with lots of old friends.  If you’ve lived 20+ years in a city and you return to it, you are bound to bump into people you know all the time. I’ve meet people – friends, acquaintances, old neighbours even schools teachers, at shops, malls, on the streets and each accidental meeting has been a reason for joy.
4.  Found an alternate hobby to baking: embroidery!
5. Read an eclectic mix of books, the latest being Priya by Namita Gokhale.
6.  Joined and quit the gym. I think I was meant to join gyms, only to quit them within 3 months.
7. Moved homes. Yes, all in the span of one year, I’ve moved two homes.
8. Travelled home to  Bombay about 4 times in the year. The parents made about the same number of trips. Yes, we are all wondering why I even  bother to live in Delhi. J I also made a quick trip to Chandigarh and Bangalore.
9. Learnt to cook exact  portions for one.
10. Gone back to watching movies in the theatre. Latest movie: Mausum. Recommended only till the intermission. The second half of the movie is just chaotic confusing and in part, unbelievable.

That’s broadly it. What have you been guys been upto- Dipali, SMM, Vimmuuu, Monika, Crafty, Homecooked,Swaram, S&S, Hitchwriter?

 

Look who is back!