Snap-knots!

Many moons ago, maybe half a super moon ago, as soon as we turned 18, all North Indian girls trooped down to Samir Das’s studio on Theatre Road. We were required to wear a printed chiffon / georgette sari, almost no make up, just kaajal.A string of pearls. He painstakingly adjusted the lights and angles. In those days of no photoshop the images were I am sure touched up manually to provide perfection. He was a legend!

These photos were circulated to find us a groom. Strange that men did not need one of these! Strange that everyone: in-laws and all were always aware of imperfections glossed over in these oh so super pictures. They obviously had daughters who did likewise. Needless to say they made suitable noises – oohed and aahed. Ultimately the main-stay for marriage was the family you came from, background, standing - financial mainly. I was wheat complexioned, 5’2”, not so pretty (Unlike the pic) and educated. Oh mama dearest these were disqualifications. Fair and lovely, added automatic points exponentially discrediting other requirements! Educated meant a mind of one’s own. Work, no way. Naah... Not desirable.J Ultimately all that probably mattered were the green backs (newly upped to pink) that exchanged hands because one witnessed girls dark and not at all presentable ensnaring the so-called most eligible bachelors.
I came with a suitable endowment but education became a disclaimer and believe it or not the fact that we were three sisters and had no brothers was one too. I was puzzled - they (in-laws) would then inherit the wealth. I had no brothers and as per the Mitakshara school the boys inherited excluding the girls which was a presumed norm surpassing the prevailing laws of inheritance. We were somewhat heiresses :P These unspoken rules still exist – under the legal radar. The rationale was the brother represented a “pihar” which would keep traditions alive amounting to the “lena-dena “ on occasions – birth, marriage, festivals, even death ( the pagri ritual which is symbolic and a gate pass to heaven ) Boys were a premium to keep the family name going, to do the final rites as per “gotra” (genetic or adopted – I thought that was cheating but that is another story) so that the respective souls and successors could go to heaven and ancestors (pitris) rest in peace. A family of girls was “tauba” – surely doomed. As was ours!

Coming back to the pics. I had lovely long tresses, much coveted which I cut to make a statement - so the photo had to be upgraded. My parents brought us up contrary to social expectations, well-educated, career minded, forthright, capable and gave us a voice. I did my Law and CA with distinction and came into the so-called marriage “market”. I protested and said no to most “boys” who were making money faster than they could recite the alphabet, time for not much else. That was not a life I had dreamed of. Ever!
I spurned norms, upped and married a Bengali all of 30 years ago with much social disapproval. That is again another story...
These photos surfaced. I gloated and preened and here we are!

Trumped up! American elections

I am a woman. I am not an American but have watched the American elections closely. I am a woman. I am a feminist. I stand for abortion, gay rights. I stand for empowerment. I stand for breaking the glass ceiling. Yet...

As I watch the rhetoric of a woman who has worked hard for 21 years to get to the top versus a misogynist, womaniser, buffoon, tax evader. I find myself staring at some disquieting questions floating around. What is America today? Obama had a dream. Luther King’s dream and became the first black President. We were all ecstatic. What is the legacy he leaves behind? The dream which was perhaps a bubble, illusion, aspirational, dreams unfulfilled. What is the fine print. What emerges when you connect the dots.

Wars, ISIS, economic shambles, A failed Obmacare which the poor cannot afford... Just citing some!

The author of a book Hillbilly Elegy speaks of Ohio, the lost jobs, opportunities, poverty. Obama created a dream of white collared Americans but what about the rest. They fell by the wayside. There is a rampant problem of drugs in the border states, loss of jobs to immigrants. Inclusion yes, certainly, but are there enough jobs to include? No one wants wars, ISIS threats looms large on the horizon. I have watched the debates and I daresay Hillary has been ambivalent , not definitive to say the least on most of these issues.

There were closed door meetings in Wall street. Expensive! Addressed by Hillary wherein the bigwigs contributed undisclosed sums to the Foundation, which has funded the elections. What was the agenda? Noone is telling. One does know that tax sops were introduced to favour the elites. Obviously everyone jumped onto the bandwagon to make the best of this opportunity. Shouldn’t all accounts come up for scrutiny – Why only one? Who are the other contributors to the Foundation? there have been whispers. There cannot be smoke without fires. Why no answers? Why no transparency? Questionable financial ethics!

There have been talk of walls and Russia and China and the likes. I am sure all exaggerations to catch the fancy of the public imagination. In the long run they are metaphors for a bucket list. Much like “the dream” America goes to polls with wounded pride, poverty, loss of jobs, questionable state support. Young people fighting someone else’s war and the constant fear not of Big Brother but the ISIS bother. They are nervous scared, of a rerun of the eight years. Doom or gloom.

The vote is perchance anti-incumbent. I am a fierce ideologue, have fought for glass ceilings. I am pro women’s rights, Durga, Kali. I support abortion and gay rights. Yet I am a mom , have kids, can understand the angst of a bleak future with poverty and wars in the horizon. Idealism perchance cannot thrive in a questionable vacuum. I become a realist!

Out of desperation one grabs whatever one gets – clutch straws. Straws of a madman. Straws nevertheless...

Starts with I and ends with me!

Very true... Have realised it the hard way. Whatsapping and not reaching out personally, to amend, commend. To converse empathise and truly share not only happy but troubled times. To find the time despite your own shit to share another person's. To feel another person's angst despite your own is real caring. NOT frivolous mindless coffee shops, shopping malls, clubs, drinks get togethers. Selfies and meaningless dualfies. Two people in the same frame, not knowing who the other is. To reciprocate and understand... To find the time... Nope! Not there! So easy to live in a bubble and assign blame unilaterally! Not see what the other stands for. Learnt the hard way that nowadays "I care" is lip service. Time and empathy are at a premium! Expectations are endless. No one wants to live and let go. Harbour silly grudges without knowing why? Learnt the hard way that you cannot keep understanding the other person is busy, Its hard to learn that someone you stood for simply is not there! Life in this material world is no longer a two way street but a one way alley... IT starts with I and ends with me

A tribute to my father who is 80!

A tribute to my father who is 80 today!

Who is he? What does he stand for? Honesty, integrity, charity, strength, loyalty, compassion, dependability, perfection.

Some musings...

I am humbled when people swear by him. There was a conflict in a property dispute and the opposing party agreed to settle only if my dad asked them to. He underwent a loss to get out of the deal to not be in a situation where he was asked to compromise his integrity.

I remember when I was a kid, my ma was very nervous one day. My dad was travelling and could not be contacted. Some money had to be paid out urgently to a business associate,  else there would be negative repurcussions. She called the bank manager and he unhesitatingly issued a bank draft with an unsigned cheque in his drawer. My father would never fail him. He didn’t! I treasure this anecdote.

There are lawyers and accountants and income tax officers who vouch for his knowledge and thorough understanding of relevant issues. If he writes a draft it needn’t be reviewed ever. It is more right than right.

He has a knowledgeable insight on current issues be it politics or finance or anything else which can be rarely disputed. He stays abreast with happenings all over the world. If he doesn’t know he says so.

He learnt computers when they came on the scene and taught me as well. Perfection! I cried when he discarded reports on excel cos the margins weren’t right. I did and redid them and I learnt Word and Excel like nobody else. At a more basic level Mr Ahmed of the EPABX in his office calls him to consult him for protocols in the machine still, he knows as much as the creators. He has taught himself!

Nobody goes away empty handed from his doors even if it is a small amount, his trust ensures it. He has given like nobody, unconditionally. His rights to huge estates, he relinquished without a thought so that amicable peace could be maintained.

40 years ago the UP/Marwari society was backward. He along with my ma gave us a voice and the courage to be. We drove to college when there were no cell phones to check our whereabouts. We were all educated. I did my Law and CA when girls barely graduated. He and my ma ensured I married Debabrata, a Bengali against strong social disapproval. He stood by our decisions always, provided they were fair. He taught us self sufficiency and the spirit to never back out of a problem. To complete what we have started - however. I carry on till this day. Relentlessly. The stubborn streak persists.

Despite his odd temper and fuss he has stood by all of us and given us the best anyone could ever want. He is self effacing, quiet, not very ambitious  and did not make it to the Forbes’ lists. Yet in God’s list I am sure he is there at the top!

People who really know him swear by Satish Babu.  A legacy... a tough act to follow. The best gift ever would be for people to say I am like him. I try to be meticulous, scrupulously honest, and giving. Have a long way to go still. My kids have to get there, to excel, like their nana. Thats non-negotiable.

Happy 80^th birthday!

Heart thumping

Heart thumping...
I was driving to work and stopped at a red light. Three sadhus dressed in saffron robes were asking for alms. One of them walked upto my car rummaging in his thela signalling that he wanted money. When he came upto my window he held a longgg fat menacing snake in his hand ready to throw it in. Fortunately my windows were up. He knocked on my window angrily, walked away tucking the reptile away in his bag. Waiting for the next hapless victim. It was perhaps benign but those things put the fear of God in you especially me, even when my kids were small I never stepped into the reptilian section.
My heart is still thumping...

Faultlines - Gullibility. Caution

I was an idiot and should be ashamed but am sharing so that you all can learn... especially kids who are not diligent enough to follow up payment details

I fell for it ...
Sharing as a learning experience for all of you...

In my zest for losing weight without exerting myself, I was excited by this info. I researched "online" and found that this herb had no side effects. I couldn't lose, they were giving a free trial and I had to pay $2 only as shipment charges (On hindsight this is a ridiculously small amount) Sucker that I am I whipped out my credit card and signed up for this so called incredible offer... If it didnt work I could throw it away. It cost me just about a hundred bucks.. If it did .. whooopeee! 

That is when the sham happened. I clicked on 2 dollars and I got 3 intimations on my phone that I had spent RS 20,000/= on my credit card.

I was hysterical... My card was blocked. I have complained at requisite forums and am awaiting an add back of the swiped amount.

I am suitably chastised... no more bargains online (Offline I guess is allowed :P)

Please learn and beware!! The big bad world of the internet waits to catch the unsuspecting consumer.

I guess its my fault I fell for it.... Or is it???!!!
A scam... Please Dont Click The link http://womenshealthpro.us/

https:// - the s stands for secure!

Perils of Urbanisation

I landed at Rajiv Gandhi International Airport, Hyderabad at 8 pm. A grand 3 tiered building. The people who I was supposed to meet could not pick me up, my uncle who lived there was insistent that he pick me up but I demurred. He also had a wedding to attend. I was competent, capable  and would find my way to his place.

We got off the aircraft and had two touts following us asking if we wanted a cab into the city. Meru cabs is what I wanted, I knew they were on GPRS and had a registration counter, a safe way of traversing the 40 Kms to my destination.

I was directed to the ground floor, I walked down the walkway and saw many shops but no cab counter. I asked a busy looking guy for the Meru cab counter. He said he was the cab service and would take me to a taxi. He whisked my suitcase off the trolley. I was armed with a book, shawl, a box of sweets and my handbag. An armful! I was grateful for the suitcase being carried for me and rushed after the guy ostensibly to the waiting taxi.

The parking lot is quite a distance from the main building, across a well maintained road with plants and bushes lining the edges. I thought the taxi stand was a wee distance away. We were walking at a brisk pace, meanwhile a niggling worry had begun to assail me, the stand couldn’t be so far. The guy reassured me and walked sure footedly to a parked Indica. I freaked out, it was NOT a radio taxi. I asked him for his ID which he produced which said nowhere that he belonged to a taxi service. There was not a soul in sight, an attendant, a police kiosk.

Dread was setting in and I texted the car no to my uncle and family. They wondered why and called back. Not wanting to panic them unnecessarily, I reassured them that this was a routine measure I followed when travelling alone. I was wondering how to get out of the ostensibly tricky situation, when an elderly gentleman drove up. He probably noticed my panic. I asked him if he could drop me to the nearest taxi stand. His wife said something in the local dialect. He asked me where I was headed and said he would drop me as he would be going there as well.

Hugely relieved we extricated my suitcase from the clutches of a reluctant driver, I choose to assume he was reluctant because he lost some anticipated earnings. We headed towards the city, a beautiful drive and crossed a 13 km flyover, very well appointed but there was again not a soul in sight. The original so called cab would have hopefully taken me home but what if… I was edgy thinking of the 13 km stretch with cars whizzing by and not a human being to call out to if there was a problem.

The gentleman and his wife were messiahs. They had driven almost 70kms extra to drop me home. They sensed my panic and wished to ensure a safe journey for me. Needless to say my uncle was livid. My aunt pointed out that the car number plate could have been false. If something had to happen…

I am liberal, progressive and have dealt with various unsavoury elements at home singlehandedly. I have a loud voice which my family is convinced will drive anyone away. However that day, there were possibilities of things going horribly wrong. I had lost my voice. I was quiet, unable to walk away as the distance to the main building was long and deserted.

On hind sight, someone said I should have taken my suitcase and walked away. I had stuff in my hand, the walk was long, and I could have been dragged into a shady green verge. Maybe I should have left my suitcase  behind. But should I have assumed the worse?

The Delhi Nirbhaya incident had driven an unnecessary caginess in my mind. Were these unnecessary delusions, unfounded fears?

Again I rewind to a late night film at a local mall, my car parked on the rooftop for want of space in the lower slots. When the movie got over there was not a person there, my car stood alone. Maybe a blessing. I rushed in and drove out at breakneck speed. Scared in the pits of my stomach, of inane possiblities. Why?

Urbanisation brings with it self contained well designed facilities with seamless operations, without manual interventions. The secluded mall parking lot, the 13 km flyover, the empty bus easily available at night have indubitably made life easier, but are we easy prey for the hunter, on the prowl for a booty or to satisfy his lust? Would a friend have made a difference? Or should we as women stay at home as godmen and politicians are brouhahaing from the podia. No!

I wonder if it is not a prerogative of the administration to provide safety for everyone regardless. Is it only women? Or also men. Children. The less affluent. ALL. ALL have a right to demand systems to ensure security, physical and emotional. The two I daresay may be symbiotic.

I have chosen a life with my own space to do what I can and want. I need to be able to live without lurking fears of the unknown! I am fearful.  Why?  Because I am a woman. Perceived as the weaker sex. Not strong enough to take on six men. But strong within. Never am I going to whimper to my so called brothers. I want to be able to walk freely on the road anywhere, and do as I please without looking over my shoulders. Ever!

Jyoti, the light. Amen!