The rustic enchantress

The soft voice and the downcast eyes
She is an embodiment of modesty and raw grace
The veiled face that refuses to hide her long, dangling nose ring
And an earthen pot that only enhances her ethnic charm
Can someone please tell her to make haste
The well is drying up in the hot sun

Her peaches and cream complexion invites no comparison
Those tanned legs can make many a blonde woman go green with envy
With wind in her hair, and a look of assurance
She is ready to face the test of time
Can someone look beyond that pretty face
Her mind and soul are strong enough to stare anyone in the face

She quietly manages all the household chores
Whether it is scrubbing the utensils or washing dirty laundry
Her kids and kin are the nucleus of her existence
And the needs of her partner form her commandments
Can someone ask her how she manages to hold her own
Whilst donning multiple hats with consummate ease

Her walk enlivens the entire neighbourhood
Taunts and passes are permanent fixtures in her life
But, she chooses to remain undeterred by form of eccentricity
For, she chooses to march ahead, tirelessly
Can someone spare a moment to pat her on the back
For, she is the perfect blend of nature and nurture

A day out with my grandmother

From Amazon to Snapdeal, Jabong to Myntra, all the online shopping portals were checked off the list, while I was looking to buy a handbag. None of the bags available with these online retailers seemed very appealing; or at least, none of the bags came close to the kind of bag I was looking for. I was making a mental note of all the stores I could probably visit, in and around where I live, when my mother suggested that I take my grandmother along if and when I went. Having a seventy-nine year old grandmother who loves to live the good life, when it comes to attiring herself, and is someone who has a well-defined taste in ornamentation, having her come along and help me choose the right bag seemed like a plan, already. Also, the fact that my grandmother doesn't step out of the house very often made me look forward to the shopping trip all the more.

My grandmother was visiting a mall after too long a time-gap. The only time she had visited a mall, before, was seven years ago, outside India. While I was running from one corner to the other, checking out almost every bag that was available, my grandmother was happily counselling me on which bag stood out. Even though I was the shopper, quite evidently, the staff at the mall was more forthcoming every time my grandmother had any inputs or suggestions to give. We finally zeroed in on a black tote bag, after a long search. After finalising the purchase, my grandmother was eager to check out the women's footwear section, which was right next to the bag counter. And I happily agreed to check out one of the most popular attractions, among women, inside a shopping mall. Little did we know that a Sale board has never, in the history of mankind, failed anybody, leave alone us mortals.The outing with my grandmother soon turned into a shopping spree.

The clock had struck 2 p.m. After making an exit from the mall, I came up with a plan to watch a movie. Before my grandmother could reply, the plan was finalised. Holding hands, while slowly climbing the fleet of stairs leading to the main theatre, my grandma reminisced about the movie-going experience some twenty odd years ago, when she had watched her last movie in a theater. Maybe watching a movie was just a pretext under which I could share in the joy of watching her go down the memory lane and react to the social and cultural scenario that exist, today, and, maybe, also get an opportunity to see things from her perspective, be it just for a little while. The movie was a three-hour-long celebration of love, which ends in a tragedy. Such was the all-love-stories-do-not-have-a-happy-ending drama, that we were reeling for long after the movie was over.

Our journey back home witnessed high levels of contentment, because of the way the day had panned out. For the longest time, the black bag will serve to remind me of all the special moments I have spent with my grandmother. And also, it shall never fail to remind me that the elderly need not be restricted to just being advice givers and storytellers. They can be the most gentle and caring friends one could confide in, when the chips are down. A few years down the line, I shall look back, reminiscing about the times gone by, and revel in the pleasure and glory of being able to convince my grandmother to spend a day out with me.

Generational love

Journey from Vile Parle to Churchgate and back

It was 6th August, 2016. The time was 9:22 a.m. As I was making my way out of my house, I felt something damp come in contact with my footwear. As it turned out, the rain water had entered the corridor, making the floor slippery. By the time I ended up hailing an auto, the time was 9:25 a.m. The Vile Parle station was bustling with people. Since I was carrying a train pass, I headed straight to the platform where the Churchgate-bound train was supposed to arrive. On reaching the platform, an announcement was made notifying the passengers that the Churchgate-bound train that was scheduled to arrive at platform no. 2 had been diverted to platform no. 6. All hell broke loose when I learned about the change. My mind was filled with thoughts about the situation that would arise if I missed the train. I was already running late, and missing a train would be only adding insult to injury. The train arrived just as I was walking towards platform no. 6, and I ran exhaustively till I got inside one of the compartments. Trust me when I say that in my entire life I've never bothered about anything as much as I did when I had assumed that the train would leave me behind, failing me terribly.

My classes were supposed to start at 10:30 a.m. By the time I boarded the train, it was 9:38 a.m. Upon finding myself a seat in the train, I realised I had forgotten to carry a copy of the news daily I had planned to read during my 45-minute-long train journey. The girl sitting opposite me was immersed in a book; whereas, the woman sitting adjacent to me looked like she was reading some chants from a small book. I, for one, looked like a clueless onlooker. While some of the women sitting in the compartment were chatting away to glory, the rest of them chose to stay glued to their mobiles. I felt static amidst the loud sounds that the running train generated. For someone who had barely traveled in such a cramped fashion, before, everything that happened, around, just added to my perspective. I had heard stories of how train traveling in Mumbai can be an exasperating and tumultuous task. So much so, that the entire train culture can get to you. I am, yet, naive enough to have a say in whether train traveling in Mumbai, as an experience, needs any changes or not; but, one thing that remains sure is that traveling by trains can help explore and experience the finer nuances of the human life like nothing else.

A few minutes into the train journey, a blind man (or at least pretending to be blind) got inside the ladies compartment of the train and indulged into some kind of singing to evoke sympathies from the passengers and con them into shelling out a few bucks. The man looked no more than thirty five years of age and had a lean and tall posture. He held a stick in his hand and stood singing near every row of passengers. Soon, after being unsuccessful in collecting any money, the man stood near the door to make an exit at the next station. After getting out of the compartment, the young man, sliding his hand through the exteriors of the train compartment, got inside the adjoining compartment. He, again, started humming the same song with the hope that he wouldn't be disappointed, once more. Just then, a lame man, who looked like he was in his late twenties, was walking hurriedly towards the train with a crutch and a bag clinging to his back. At this point, I couldn't help but think about how it is not necessarily physical handicap, but our attitude towards life, as humans, that holds far more power to paralyse us and determine what we do with our lives.

As I was getting out of the train, I saw a bunch of passengers waiting to board the train that I had ably managed to get out of. While some people were working professionals, there was a small group of women, accompanied by their children, who looked like they were out on a day long trip; and the kids were gushing about their plans for the day. Also, there was a handful lot of college students who looked ready to get started with their day's routine which was to begin with a train journey from Churchgate and, probably, end with one back to Churchgate. The purpose of traveling of every passenger may be different; but, what what was to remain constant between all of us was our exposure and experience in sharing in the travails of a common man's journey to and from Churchgate.