Anecdote #43

Bittersweet

I remember the first time I had coffee. I must have been all of 8 or 9 years old. We were at an Italian restaurant in Defence Colony called, "Flavours." It became the standard place we'd visit for family meals. My grandfather loves desserts and it was unsaid that a cheesecake would follow the meal. As a side note I think they made the best cheesecake in Delhi.

It was after one such meal that my grandfather decided to give company to the cheesecake with a cup of cappuccino. Like other children of my age I too was fascinated by 'coffee,' a hot beverage that smelled delicious yet at that time I did not know how deceiving my olfactory senses were.

My grandfather was silent, it was late I thought he would be tired yet there was an aura of warmth around him.

The cup of coffee arrived and he took the first sip. He was seated next to me and grasped my curiosity. He asked me to take a sip. I was nervous, slightly apprehensive as I didn't know whether it would be too hot and so I was afraid that I would burn my lip. I didn't anticipate the fact that the taste would turn out to be the primary problem. The unpredictability of circumstances still astonishes me.

The very first sip is till date a fresh memory. I still remember the bitterness of the scantily sugared cappuccino hitting my palate. I was determined not to take another sip. My grandfather read my expression and said something I will always remember, "It gets better with each sip." And it did.

My father was transferred to Bombay when I was five years old but my mother and I continued living in Delhi. He would come back on the weekends but we didn't get enough time to bond. I remember asking my mother about his likes and dislikes. I tried sending him a postcard where I attempted to make his portrait and I fought with my mother because I didn't like the way she guided me to draw his hair. His approval at that time was paramount. 

We went to visit him in Bombay where he lived in a beautiful house at Pali Hill. My mother had some official work there hence my father and I got ample quality time. She had gone out for a meeting one afternoon and my father and I were at home. He decided to take me out for an ice-cream. Between both my parents, my father was the storyteller and I think that part of him is still very imminent. In most of his made up tales the protagonist aka me turned up at the ice-cream parlour. Hence it seemed apt to go there. The shop was beside the beach on Carter Road. Like every time I asked for a scoop of chocolate ice-cream. Mama told me that Papa's favourite flavour was mango I thought but surprisingly he asked for coffee ice-cream. He finished my leftovers and his own scoop on the way back. It was then that I was intrigued by this thing called coffee. "Papa likes it so it must be good" I thought.

Presently I enjoy a good cup of coffee. I'd choose it over tea any day. I add half a spoon of it to my cup of milk everyday to make it palatable. I happened to chance upon the origin of this habit of drinking coffee. It had started growing on me long before my dislike for my milk. How strange is it that we are at times clueless about how certain habits grow on us and what meaning they hold for us. Inconsequential things prove to have a very deep meaning over a passage of time.

Anecdote #42

The Misadventure at Mecca

When you are a student at Delhi University, you are eventually pressurised into attending college fests. In my case it was my father who had attended all of them back in his day and was appalled on knowing that I had only been to one. Which was the fest of my own college.

Hindu College's fest- Mecca is known to be a lot of fun and it coincided with a relatively free period of my life. So the plan was made and here I introduce to you the other protagonist of this story, apart from me of course- Aanya.

 We agreed to leave after our classes ended and according to the plan we would have a few other friends accompanying us. Post all the planning, D-day arrived and I felt a gush of excitement. I put in the extra effort, woke up early and managed to pull together a very sanskari look topping it with a bindi which did not match my outfit. Do pay attention to this fact as the bindi was the starting point for the misadventures that followed.

On reaching college we found out that one of our friends was not in the mood to go and the other had not turned up to college. This was a bummer for me and I could only think of how all the effort I had put into getting ready was turning out to be futile. Before our last class for the day began, I contemplated on whether or not we should go. Somewhere in the middle of Ancient Rome the Octavian in me rose and I mustered up the courage to leave the class right in the middle with Aanya.

 I knew that if I would have backtracked my parents would be greatly disappointed and I would be at the receiving end of a lecture with an end result of being labelled as boring. Mind you I am anything but boring and taking the plunge that day turned out to be the biggest source of adrenaline for all the dancing I was going to do. 

The great escape from the class was followed by a long drive to North Campus full of stimulating discussions. Aanya and I make great company, especially for each other. The drive did not seem too long as we were very engrossed in our conversation. All this talking naturally made us tired and we settled on dessert to make up for the energy we had lost. After a modest helping of churros at Sambooka's, one of the better cafe's of North Campus, the next stop was Hindu. Before we went it was imperative to get the right Bindi so the hunt began. The Bindis of the street vendor were not good enough so we went further and finally found a shop which had the right colour- black. Yes, it was that hard for us to find a plain black bindi at North campus. After successfully completing the conquest for this little cosmetic item we finally decided to go.

Fate had other plans because while walking towards the car my beloved kolhapuris gave up on me. In other words my desi footwear broke which means I could not walk. Now the hunt for a cobbler began. Thankfully my car was parked close by and we could look for the cobbler in the comfort of the car yet the loss of the slippers was hard hitting. For me it was the equivalent of an heirloom from my mother as their versatility complemented all my ethnic outfits and at the same time whenever someone asked me where I purchased them from, my smug reply would be- they're my mom's. I knew I had to get them fixed because no other chappals could ever fill in the void. I am extremely grateful to God that we found a cobbler within the next few minutes who did a seamless job for 10 rupees only.

Now I thought we are finally ready to go and we did reach Hindu although there were plenty of signs that it was not meant to be. Both of us had friends there and we met them and conversed for a while. Ultimately we decided to meet up later in the concert arena once the performances would begin. With the help of my friend Shantnu who is a student at Hindu I could cut across the long queue and I was inside with his friends. The performance was by the dynamic duo- Vishal & Shekhar a treat for bollywood fans like me.

The performance had started and I was not able to get through to Aanya. Amidst the loud music it was hard to communicate. The calls were not going through to her as it turns out that the college had some jammers in place because of which we were helpless. 

In such desperate times our saving grace was the original text message. Although we received sparse reception the text messages managed to get through. Fending for herself Aanya procured a badge from someone in the organising committee and made it! 

We thought that this would entail the end of our troubles and together made most of the concert. There's nothing like good Bollywood music. It gets you pumped but you also lose track of time. We stayed till the last song and that was a fallacy on our part. By the time we left the exits were congested. The driver could not bring the car at the front gate owing to the traffic. We had to navigate and look for the car amidst the huge rush and poor reception. After fifteen minutes of helpless searching we found bhaiya and Aanya, Shantnu, his friend Priyanka and I hoped to reach home safe and sound. 

The way back was the climax to all the problems. The route bhaiya wanted to take had been barricaded and he was trying to find his way back. He refused to take help from Google Maps and that was his greatest downfall. Fifteen minutes into losing our way he finally consented. The funny part is that the route suggested was via the Department of forest and Wildlife. Now let me describe that route, it was a narrow road which could accommodate one car and seemed like an avenue due to the number of trees surrounding it. To top all of this Bhaiya was speeding like there was no tomorrow and we would not have seen tomorrow if a vehicle would have approached us from the opposite end. It was a typical road trip out of a movie. The fear was real but it was more thrilling than frightening. 

We encountered an isolated Sadar Bazaar, a large gutter which I thought was a pond and an abandoned route.

In sometime we could spot the traffic and were back on track. We were extremely late, famished yet the misadventures were unforgettable. That is precisely why I could reproduce this day without a hiccup in my memory. I think I speak for all of us when I say that it was worth it. If I had been in the company of some others this probably would not have been a fond memory but in this case everyone involved made this experience memorable. No other fest can be as eventful as Mecca was for us and it is a story we will be narrating for the years to come.

Anecdote #41

Travelling by autos has become a part and parcel of my college life. Both my parents take both the drivers with them to their respective workplaces leaving me on my own to fend for myself. As a school student I was not allowed to take the auto due to my over protective family but they realised that it was practically impossible to arrange the car for me everyday. Thus it began.
Initially I was thrilled because it gave me a sense of freedom but gradually as the seasons changed, going for 8:45 lectures in the morning became harder. The cold breeze and unexpected showers worsened the conditions. 

A plausible solution to this was taking an uber but spending 300 rupees everyday on transport alone was not appeasing to my student budget especially when the quality of the cabs are questionable. Some cabs have their interiors modelling on a temple other times the drivers like playing blaring punjabi music and many refuse to switch on the air conditioner/heaters.

Keeping all this in mind autos seem like the best alternative but here's the catch, the auto as a vehicle is not the problem but the guy whose driving it is.
I have encountered many auto drivers, some are genuinely decent but these rare gems are far and few.
The others, well I have no words for them.
Firstly thanks to Jaitley ji the two thousand rupee has caused a lot of commotion in my life. Each month when I receive my allowance I sincerely pray to God that it doesn't consist of 2000 rupee notes at any cost.
During one auto ride I informed the precariously driver that I had a 500 hundred note beforehand because they tend be very short tempered with respect to this issue. He did not refuse to take me but decided to take a detour and took me to a petrol station to get change . As you may have guessed I was late to class that day. 

Honestly, the worst part is the fear of pick pockets. Every time I spot a man on a motorcycle I clutch my bag close to my heart and experience a mild version of a panic attack. An experience which taught me to be extremely cautious was when I was travelling with my friends and a snatcher came out of nowhere and tried to steal my friend's phone but thankfully the attempt failed. Needless to say he and his friends greeted us with whistles. They were not discrete to say the least.

My coping mechanism is that I am hoping that all these experiences  are a means for my karmic redemption. They sure have taught me to do unto others what you wish others do unto you.

I do realise that  autos can be a pain but cars and drivers are a luxury, despite this you will get sick of the bargaining because let's face it the auto wale bhaiya will never learn. 

At the same time don't worry there will come a time in your life when you will encounter a bhaiya who goes by the meter and you will pay the right price. And I promise you in that moment you will experience sheer, unadulterated joy!

Anecdote #40

Last year a new person entered my life. Let me rephrase that, this person entered my daily life, is responsible for making my life easier and is someone who I literally cannot live without. She is my help at home, Lily Didi.
During most times she lives in her own world or in the world of her mobile phone. She has given my entire family many laughable moments and has become irreplaceable.
She is not very sharp, extremely forgetful and hard of hearing. Honestly speaking she is not an efficient worker but she is a pure soul.
I have lost count of her goof ups but at the same time I have learnt a lot from her. Her husband is extremely suspicious and calls at least 5 times a day to check up on her. When a stalker was troubling her over the phone she asked her husband to intervene but instead of solving the problem he began speculating that she was having an affair. As much as I tried to keep away from her personal life my punjabi nature forced me to get involved. I told her to reprimand him, shout at him and leave him.
She still patiently keeps trying and refuses to hold any grudges. That is the special thing about her, she doesn't hold any grudges against anybody.
She said that marriage was not about giving up and one had to learn to manage and handle different situations. At the same time she told me that if he didn't mend his ways she would take action.  A few days later she confessed that if her marriage doesn't work out and if things ended she would never marry again.
This struck me because it is very seldom that you get hear that.
More than my parents I spend the most at home so we tend to interact a lot. We have formed a friendship of sorts. She has to go back to meet the dreaded husband so I decided to ask her in front of my mom what she liked most about our house. I expected it to be me but her response was that the food's good and my parents travel a lot. So basically she indirectly told my mom that she's happy when they're not home. Her innocence is what makes her humorous.
I will never be able to forget the times when my father would call her on the landline and ask her how I was doing and she would reply by saying “main theek hoon bhaiya.” Her way of answering calls is also peculiar with her hello lasting a good ten seconds. All these things are what makes her Lily Didi. The person who lights up the empty house and helps it become a home. A home she has now become a part of.

Anecdote #39

In society from time immemorial, women are traditionally ‘supposed’ to be confined to the domestic sphere. They are ‘allowed’ to work until they bear children. This is not all, at times their prime purpose in life is considered to be child bearing! When a women is already facing such challenges to get where she is professionally and her child says “Mom don’t go to work,” you can only imagine the dilemma she is faced with.I am one of those culprits too who still says “Mom don’t go” when my mother has to go out of town or for a meeting. Fortunately my family never put the traditional restrictions of patriarchy on my mother but nonetheless she works in the ruthless corporate sector and when she started out 27 years ago it had fewer concerns for the female gender in comparison to present conditions. Currently the working environment is still unconducive for women in the private sector. The mindsets of people have not changed either. Financial independence is not a priority for Indian Aunties. They retort by saying that girls should marry rich husbands. What guarantee do they give that those rich husbands will actually be generous? Most of all rich husbands are not equivalent to good husbands. Even if a girl gets married into a prosperous family and is provided with a decent standard of living, if the husband is abusive, no amount of money will make up for the torture. To top that if she is only restricted to the domestic sphere, she would not have the option to escape the abuse and go on with her life.The picture is not vey rosy on the other side either. Though the working women is financially empowered her family and children have too many expectations out of her. How many times have we guilt tripped our working moms into being there for a performance at school, for competitions or for tests. Yes it is their duty to be there for us and prepare us for the challenges that we will face but it is unfair to expect them to be omnipresent. Imagine how exhausting it is! Imagine the negative impact it has on their health, both physical and mental. The great Indian family too has expectations from their daughter-in-law. I remember my mother coming home from office for the karva chauth pooja, reciting the traditional tale and leading the pooja. Then she would help my grandmother prepare tea for the ladies of the entire neighbourhood and quickly have a quick slurp and rush back to work. This is one instance out of an innumerable amount of incidents.Children of working moms pine for them at times which is understandable. Beyond a point it is unfair. It is unfair to expect our mothers to take care of all our needs at all times. We cannot expect them to be at their best behaviour at all times. Cut them some slack! Allow them to be a little irritable, they deal with harsh bosses and clients. Learn to give them some space. I know it’s hard especially when the time you spend with them is not the same in comparison to stay at home moms but think of the things you are vicariously learning from them. You are learning to be hard working, independent and open minded. In no way am I trying to put down housewives. Their work is plenty. Managing a home is unfortunately an unpaid job. The point I am trying to put forth is that in modern India a working mother still has no absolute respite from domestic duties. They are forced to manage both which is extremely taxing.It is therefore crucial for us to recognise the sacrifices being made by our iron willed mothers and thanking them for doing so much. The most basic thing we can do is, stop saying that mom don’t go to work. Stop making her feel guilty for sustaining her self and for supporting the family. Send her off with a smile and assure her that you will be fine. Give her confidence because at the end of the day you are her biggest source of strength and determination.

Anecdote #38

A Day at the Malhotra’s

It was a Sunday morning and Samil was ready for the gym. Going to the gym/Sirifort with his daughter on Sunday had become a weekly regime. Samil was a regular at the gym and could be seen exercising daily where as his daughter was laid back, with the Sunday routine being her only motivation. It was 10 AM and Samil rang his daughter, Ananya to get ready. He hoped she was up by now. She picked up the phone at the last possible ring which was a sigh of relief for the father because unlike him she was not a morning person. “How much time will you take beta?” he asked almost in a habitual manner. “10 minutes,” she said which translated into half an hour. Samil who was returning from his parents’ place parked his Prado below the flat. Everyone at home knew he had arrived before he could even ring the bell. The reason was the revving of his Prado’s engine. To top that the horn of his car was recognisable from Ananya’s paternal grandparents’ home which was at a 100 yard’s distance. Ananya was gulping down a glass of milk when he rang the bell so that she could pretend that she was ready before he entered. She quickly exited the kitchen and opened the door. “Hi Papa!” she said in her chirpiest voice hoping to implant her positivity into him. Samil could see his wife, Praveen near the dining table toying with her medicine tray from the door. “Hi Praveen!” he said in an uplifting tone hoping to instil her with positivity. The father and daughter were unaware of how they used similar tactics. “Hi Samil, we are getting the sofas redone” Praveen announced. Over the years she had become the boss of the house not because she was dominant as a person but because the other two realised that Praveen was always right. That is why both of them ran all their major decisions past her every time. She was the voice of reason in the Malhotra household. Samil replied with a very nice and his signature smile. This smile could be described as an arch with his lips jutting out. This would turn into an expression of disappointment as soon as he raised his eyebrows. His daughter who found this play of facial muscles hilarious didn’t realise that very often she mirrored those expressions.Ananya and Praveen expected a drill of questions from Samil such as Where did you buy the fabric from? Where did the Sofa guy come from? which naturally took it’s course and Praveen began answering them. Ananya’s father and grandparents had a habit of asking too many questions which perturbed her at times and that is why she had become the complete opposite and  had very few queries. When her parents would go out for official trips she wouldn’t ask them where they were staying, what time their flight was so if anyone from the family asked her these questions she would always remain blank. As her parents discussed the business of sofas she wondered how they were finding this discussion so engaging. At that moment her parents’ conversation was boring the life out of her so she decided to change the topic. “Have the both of you read my latest piece on the blog?” she blurted out of nowhere but it really seemed to ignite the fire in the parental Malhotras. “Ananya we are bored of this sad stuff,” “write some happy thing from college” and “Such pieces reflect the state of your mind” were some responses she had elicited. “ Alright, alright I will write something different this time!” she retorted and I did :).

Anecdote #37

Making mistakes is one thing but repeating them consistently is a bit of a problem. How do you stop yourself from taking the wrong step. Let me rephrase that, how do you refrain yourself from getting into something that you are aware is harmful. This can get really tough especially if these are habits or people that you have to deal with on a daily basis. At times these people turn into a bad habit. You still go back to them because there is this odd connection but at the same time you drive yourself guilty over spending time with them. Gradually they become toxic for you or in other words you make them toxic for yourself. In other words if you keep such people at a distance they may not prove to be such a bad influence but the fact that we fail to form boundaries hurts us in a lot of ways. It is so hard to chose who is and who is not right for you. Then you have to make the decision of whether they can be close friends or not. If you decide to be cautious and keep everyone at bay, loneliness engulfs you. So what to do and what not to do. Do you make yourself stronger and learn to be your own company or do you surround yourself with people that suck your energy with their hollow conversations. Honestly it is very hard to make the right decision, find the right people and it's even harder to deal with regrettable choices. There is no standard solution because such are nuanced with complexities. The problem is that we think too much and amplify such situations manifold in our minds. In a way we are our own culprits so it is unfair to expect other people to come into our lives as saviours. Perhaps if we start realising that the onus is on us our minds will stop backtracking into this vicious cycle.
I say let's keep living, let destiny take it's course and let's hope we learn ourselves better in the coming time.