Why did I ?

Last Act

                   

I wait for the curtains to come down..

Have told the director about my last act.

I do not need direction,I can not act!

Act hungry -I am not.

Act needy -Never was.

Act like somebody,

I can never be.

Give the teleprompter a break

Prompt me not, cues you forget.

Now I mouth my own lines,

Glad I pen those just great!

When I am the spot beneath the light,

I fail to see you my audience.

I back my steps  into the dark,

for that is my spot and I see you stark!

No longer can wait, with a painted face 

In the green room ,for my turn on stage

To remove the mask,to end the role play,

I have to move now,I have to act !

                                   ~Sharmila~

PARIJAT

              

Tiny Parijat blooms in the dark

Heady fragrance wafts through the air

Greens huddle to cling on to the blooms

Much like frail lashes 

Hiding, holding welled up tears  

Orange bright, holding a whorl white,

Delicate Parijat waits for the dawn,

to kiss the earth and mat the brown.

All it takes is a hint of wind ,a tug at heart

and shed they do..

Tell tale tears and tiny Parijat .

                          ~Sharmila~

सब वही है

रहगुज़र हुए ज़माना बीता 

उस वक़्त जो चल पड़े 

थमें ना तलक आज 

न वक़्त ,न सहूलियत ही रही,

मुड़ के देखे जो छोड़ आए पीछे 

गली के छोर पर बौना मकान 

वक़्त से झूझती, बेहाल,

टूटे आइने में झुर्रियाँ निहारती 

बूढ़ी काकी, सफ़ेद बाल ।

बिन ब्याही बुआ ,आस बांधे 

के कब कोई करे रुख़्सत 

इस घर से ,जहाँ जनी, पली

पर जो कभी उसका ना था 

क्या जाने वो कि उस जैसी 

लड़कियों के अपने घर नहीं होते 

अधपकी दाढ़ी के पीछे काइयाँ सी हँसी 

इधर आना बेटा कह कर पीठ सहलाते 

फिर राह भटकते उसके खुरदरे बदसूरत हाथ

चेहरे पर टिकी, तौलती भूखी आँखें 

एक पिता ताउम्र साबित करता हुआ 

कभी शब्दों की ,कभी लातो की बातों से 

अपनी मालकियत ,अपने परिवार पर 

बचपन से ग्रसित भावनाओं का ग़ुलाम 

वक़्त बदलने की आस में ज़िंदा 

इंसान तब भी था ,आज भी है 

गर्दन घूमते ही लगा कि सब वही है ,सब यहीं है 

क्या था ऐसा पीछे जो अब नहीं है ।

सिरहाने

Collection Of Chaos - Book Review.

                                                                   

                                                                                 

Blurb:

(From the foreword by Kris Saknussemm) As with all the poets I most admire, words are living things for Tikuli. But as you will come to discover, they are never deployed for their own sake. She uses them to tell stories. The images, scenes, characters and fragments of visionary empathy that you will find in this book are all rooted in her native India-and yet they reach out far beyond national and cultural boundaries. They do so because they have an interior cohesion of spirit. Her subjects are often the dispossessed, the lost...the abused. There are undercurrents of sorrow and anger. And yet love shines through, even when it seems to be fading away. Above all, there's a powerful sense of hope at work-a conviction in the redemptive strength of poetry.

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

                                                                               

                         
Brought up in Delhi in a family of liberal educationists Tikuli is a mother of two sons. She is also a blogger and author. Some of her short stories and poems have appeared in print and in online journals and literary magazines including Le Zaparougue, MiCROW 8, Troubadour21, The Smoking Book (Poets Wear Prada Press, US), The Enchanting Verses Literary Review, Mnemosyne Literary Journal, Women's Web.

Some of her print publications include poems in Guntur National Poetry Festival Anthology and much acclaimed Chicken Soup For The Indian Romantic Soul(Westland). Her work has also been featured on websites related to gender issues and child sexual abuse. She blogs at 

http://tikulicious.wordpress.com/

                                                                   
                                                                    Stalk her @
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 MY REVIEW
When I picked up Tikuli's Collection of Chaos,the first thing that struck me was the ability of the poems to cast an emotional effect on the reader the way music would on a listener.Her poetry is not merely a sequence of words expressing emotions.The poems turn anecdotal at times and dramatic at other.

What her poetry really expresses is the mind’s apprehension of itself. All the ingredients of her poetry stand out individually but the real essence is their cohesiveness. Her chiseled phrases stroke the reader’s appetite and never fail to tickle his imagination. The descriptions are vivid, lifelike even as many of her poems deal with harsh realities of life .The feelings are myriad, expressions overwhelming and yet the words used very simple and effective.

 As I immersed myself in the lines and turned the pages, I felt that the poet was becoming more and more aware of herself and the world around her. She has used effects and descriptions to create linguistic images . The narration at times has powerful emotions and at other times there is tranquility in her presentation.

    ....Her elegant frame silhouetted in the moonlight
 Her intense eyes,
        Brimming with grief and pain
 Her gaze penetrating into the quiet abyss
        The maelstrom inside her resounding
in the stillness of the night
         Nothing is moving,not even the
 dewdrops hanging from the leaves....

 The complete absence of titles in this collection of poems confused me at first but as I began reading further, I went with the flow and the experience of not having a beginning and an end worked for me. There is an underlying pattern in each individual poem and the commemorative effect reflects the poet’s state of mind. She tells stories, short ones, in simple words. Her words flow effortlessly, her lines come across as merely spoken and then improvised on the spot to give it an aesthetic poetic form.

 There are moments, luckily not many, where description of the mundane causes the collection to lose ground but immediately the poet succeeds in re engaging the reader. Far from stagnant, Tikuli’s work is over all engaging and leaves me with a lingering impression that this collection is going to meet the expectation of a reader who is used to contemporary poetic literature.

 The fact that the beautifully crafted lines come across as raw and unpolished when it comes to emotions, may prove to be the collection’s strength.Collection of chaos by Tikuli makes a truly satisfying read.   

                         

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BREAK THE WALL OF SILENCE…

Anju is a certified sex educator from the Indian Institute of Human Technology.She regularly conducts puberty,safety and sex education workshops for children and teenagers in Mumbai.A double graduate in law and Mass Communication,she has also worked as a journalist and copywriter for twenty years.She has authored two books and is currently writing a series of books on sex education for children and adults.She is also working on a sex education video for children.

She writes a guest post today, on my blog, about breaking that wall of silence at home.

                                                        

                                                           

The shocking rape of a 6 year old at a reputed Bangalore school recently, sent shivers down parents back. This was way too close for comfort. Most of us believe that these things can’t happen to our kids…kids of upper middle class families, studying in top of the line schools. Welcome to reality!

According to a shocking report by the Ministry of Women and Child Development, over 50% of children in India are sexually abused at some point in their growing up years. This means that every second child is abused. Now that’s something to be really worried about!

Instead, we in India worry about our society and culture, which does not encourage these kinds of talks with children.Our culture supposedly stops us from talking to our kids, but why doesn’t the same culture stop people from raping their own daughters? We are the second most populated country in the world, yet we don’t talk about sex…we just indulge in it aplenty!!

Every second day, there is a newspaper headline screaming ‘Rape’ & ‘Child sexual abuse’ in some part of the country. But are we really listening? We momentarily feel bad, shake our heads in horror and resignation before turning the page, secure in our belief that it cannot happen to us!

Wake up! Child sexual abuse (CSA) happens across all segments of society and both boys and girls fall prey to it. And most of the time the perpetrator of the act is a person known to the child and family – a family friend, a neighbour, an uncle, a domestic helper…people who are a part of the child’s life- someone a child would normally trust.

Sexual abuse is not the only issue we need to speak about with kids. Growing up, changing bodies, changing feelings, sexual feelings, sex, sexuality and safety are important issues to be discussed with growing children. Sex education is as important as learning to read and write.

The word ‘Sex education’ is actually very misleading. It immediately conjures images of the sexual act. Well, talking about the sexual act is just a very small part of sex education – there is so much more to it than that. Infact, at times the sexual act is not even spoken about. So when you are talking to the children about the good touch- bad touch, there is no mention about the sexual act. When you are talking to kids about puberty, there is no mention about the sexual act. It is just in our minds that we have conjured up this big bad image of ‘Sex education’. Maybe, we just need to coin a new term to make it more acceptable.

Is it too early? Will it put thoughts in my child’s mind? My child is too innocent…I don’t want to corrupt him….these are just some of the excuses we come up with to avoid the talk.

All research on the subject conducted by various agencies all over the world repeatedly say that Sex Education does not lead to an increase in sexual activity…infact it leads to more responsible sexual behavior, delayed experimentation and more positive interactions with the opposite sex.

There is no right or wrong age to start talking to your child about growing up, changing bodies, unsafe touch, sex etc. It is the language you use that makes a difference. The way the information is presented to kids can be positive or negative and not the information by itself. Again, research studies say that the child will only retain what they understand and the rest of the information will be filtered off. It’s better to talk to them a year earlier than a minute later.

Having hesitations to broach the subject are fine and also natural because most of us were not spoken to as kids and we are clueless about the right way and time to broach the subject.

A growing set of parents want to talk to their kids, but don’t know what to say, how much to say and importantly when to say what! Fair enough, but don’t let these hesitations or limitations come in the way of speaking with your child. Find a way or devise a way because exposure levels of kids are high and the silence levels at home are shattering!

If you don’t talk to your child, google uncle will do the needful -giving them uncensored and age inappropriate information at the click of a button, causing a lot of harm. According to a survey by Times of India, the average age for viewing porn on the internet is 11! In this scenario,having that all important ‘chat’ with children and keeping the doors of communication open becomes very important.           

The key thing to remember is that your child is your responsibility, your most treasured possession (if they can be called that!) Then how can you fail to protect them or fail to give them the information and skills required to protect themselves?Don’t let our so called cultural taboo take predominance over the child?

                                           

                                 Break that wall of silence at home!

                                                      Anju  Kishinchandani                                                                                                               Sex Educationist

                                                            Out of the Box

                                                           anjukish@hotmail.com

                                                   

Book Review - Where even Present Is Ancient.Benaras

The Blurb

Where Even the Present is Ancient: Benaras is a book that seeks to tell the little stories that make us who we are. The author believes that Benaras resides in all of us Indians, in some beautiful often-unknown way. The author is the Sutradhar, in that she attempts to connect an India that many do not realize exists, in that it is everybody’s story. Radha, Krishna, Ganga, Benaras and Me are all characters in this deluge of poems. This attempt at telling the story of the ancient, of love and of faith is to instil the confidence that poetry exists in all of us, everywhere, all that is needed is to smell its fragrance. To those outside India, the book does not seek to be a representation of what India is or was, but a whiff of what it also can be. It is an attempt to ask people to see the little stories that govern all of our lives, stories that we often don’t see, but those that are important. The audience for this book might be strewn across the globe, for faith is not religion-centric, it is people- centric and often without dimensions. In poetry there is no beginning, no middle, nor no end. Like faith it is everywhere, it is omnipresent. The book affords no answers, nor no questions, but if you listen and read carefully you will see new things, a new beauty perhaps, one that has been silent so long.

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   My Review

This collection of poems paints Benaras vividly. The poet ,Maitreyee B Choudhury , an established author,sets the tone of the book by calling Benaras a long lost poem in itself.For a reader like me who has had a love hate relationship with the city in the past, this promised an interesting read.
She describes Ganga , the Vishwanath temple, the various ghats and almost everything about the city of Benaras very passionately much as an artist would paint his muse.If the reader has never known Benaras,he would be intrigued enough to make an attempt to see what this historical city is all about.For some who have breathed the air in this city of Gods, each poem is like revisiting the spiritual city all over again.
'Vishwanath 'I had come
your doors were closed however
with people,full of you
and yet themselves..
Here she talks about the famous Vishwanath temple and says a lot more in these two lines again,
"I decided not to leave that Rupees hundred Fluttering in the Benaras breeze ,
at your doorstep"
There are many Gods in this city which promises Nirvana with a dip in the holy Ganges. You touch a wall ,a God stares back. Rituals ,like Gods are  many and like a maze, one can enter and completely lose himself.
Through the eyes of the poet a reader makes a journey through the narrow lanes of Benaras .Many hate it the moment they step in the city but for some, it offers salvation. Love it or hate it, but Benaras stirs that something in you that lingers on..
Like the poet says "..someone spits a Benarasi Kaththaa ,and the fragrance sticks to me." this is what the book has done to me. It will stay with me for a long time to come.
I rate it  4/5
                         

About the Author
 

Maitreyee B Chowdhury is a web columnist and creative writer. She is author of Reflections on My India, a book of Indian traditions and spirituality in parts. Maitreyee is also author of Uttam Kumar and Suchitra Sen- Bengali Cinema’s First Couple and Ichhe Holo Tai, a bilingual muti media presentation of poetry. Maitreyee is featured amongst other Indian writers such as Gulzar, Shashi Tharoor and Deepti Naval in an anthology of Indian writers Celebrating India.

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Just a matter of time

This story is part of  edition 8 of Indifiction Workshop.The theme given is horror and the plot was  given by Jayashree Srivatsan.

The story:

Just A matter Of Time.

I am kind of wary of  this man who has walked with me for over ten kilometers through this dense forest.He keeps talking to himself or may be  to no one in sightl. Why does he have to look up to trace the heads of the tall trees every now and then?I wish I was alone in this big escape plan from the heavily guarded central jail of Bandipur. If it was not for his strong sense of direction and extra sharp sensory perception,I would have never let him in my plans.Something about him is not normal.I have seen many ugly faces but this one is not normal.Thank God he agreed to leave his constant companion, that scary black cat behind, before we escaped from the prison.. Read the full story here....

A letter to my Words

I stood wide eyed and gazed around,
you seemed so far away..
Woebegone,I closed my eyes
and I found you within my own self ,
in my heart and all over my mind.

Since then...
I have used you as crutches, I have used you as my shield
I hid behind your thick foliage, in hope and in despair,
I expressed  love, I conveyed  detest
For shaping my thoughts my words,  I thank thee..

Could never imagine in the wildest of dreams,
my world without you and your quaint twine
Lost in oblivion,I did stand perplexed,
in the complex  maze of my own  words enmeshed.

Until ,lies and deceit, became ,but just a shade of the truth
They looked like truth and they did pass  as one.

But you stood right  beside and never  failed me.
In your victory my words, I came second to none.

Why I Write

I write because
                    I see...
I write because
                    I feel...
I write because
                    thoughts wander in my mind,
                    and tend to slip away
                    far into the oblivion
                    and I want them to stay..
I write to play with the stray thoughts
                     and string them together..
                     and weave a quilt,
                     warm and comforting,
                      a fabric,unique and so -me .
Or, perhaps I write merely because,
                      when my name and I , cease to exist..
                      my words will still remain,
                      for someone on this earth
                      to remember me and cherish,
                      even as they read..
                   
This is my response to this week's prompt on Write Tribe- Why I write
                           

                                                    

Sanjha- Chulha by and for the Blogeshwaris.

Indiblogeshwari forum -A significant part of me, turns a year old and it is celebration time!
This is a Sanjha - Chulha for women from all walks of life. Sanjha chulha for the uninitiated , has been an old tradition in rural Punjab where women gather to cook in a huge tandoor which they share with their neighbours .Women shared much more than food around these community stoves.They shared their grief and their joys . IB is pretty much the same for us, albeit virtual.What is cooked here is unbelievably interesting.The basic ingredient ( read- a random post) is provided by one woman from somewhere across the world and the flurry of activity has to be seen to be believed ! Food for thought is always more in supply  than the demand so there are simple and exotic  ingredients thrown in for good measure from all over the world by hyper excited bunch of women and the final dish turns out to be beyond anybody's imagination ! We can start a discussion from a book review and end it with dadi ma ka nuskha for acne !  The tandoor of this sanjha chulha is hot 24x7 and apart from fresh bread and what not being baked here ,what radiates in abundance from the chulha  is warmth...and it is never in short supply.If you think the ladies do not indulge in leg pulling and the vessels are not flying around all over the place,you are hugely mistaken .You just do not hear the sound! Suddenly, during a tu-tu-main-main, someone mentions something interesting about a handsome hunk and the delicate  fingers begin a mavali dance on the keyboards. Talk about one liberated group and you don't need to look any further.
The young and the old mingle here freely to exchange thoughts-kabhi gossip kabhi wisdom ! I have spent few of my most memorable afternoons with Vinita,Corinne and Janaki ,three key members of the IB gang.Thanks to them, I got  my ROFLMAO days back after I last experienced those while  in college.
'The Elusive One ' was the prompt given at the beginning of the month by the principal of IB college .I do not wish to be introduced to the vikral-avatar of lady Vinita Bahl ,so here I am back on my laptop after a month to blog about my elusive one.
Come April and my house helps, all three of them vanished for a long vacation. My daily grind and housework woes is not the subject matter of this post ,so you can relax and continue to read further :)
-I explored hidden corners in my own house and found stuff which I had forgotten completely about. Some things were found tied neatly inside a polythene bag  and placed beneath the old printer .To think that the said object was on my priority 'to buy' list.
 -I found so many wires and cables that if I lay them end to end ,I can connect it to a laptop as far as  inside the airport lounge.
- I opened another polythene bag and the next few minutes were spent saving my head from crazy balls flying and bouncing crazily all around.I also realized that it was that simple to make my family laugh!!
-I found ALL my butterfly clips ! I do not need to mention here that they were part of another treasure in yet another plastic bag.
(The list is still under construction ...)
I realized that my  full day house help had been stuffing things inside plastic bags all over the house, behind ,under and over the cupboards and lofts.All this, in the name of dusting and cleaning !What she thought was unimportant,promptly got stuffed and kept out of our sight and beyond  our reach.
What I did next was to take leave from work ,make sure that Hobbs and son were lost  in an interesting gadget exhibition for the whole day and then perform the most difficult task of throwing the unwanted stuff out of the house. The stuff was sorted and the objects that were out of sight for more than three months and were not missed ,were discarded. The Raddiwala was called on the sly and was instructed to take it all away as fast as he could. My home had lost a lot of weight and pleased as a punch on a great mission being successfully accomplished,I sat down with a cup of kadak chai .That is when Hobbs and son rang the doorbell.
The wires ,the non functional old printer and the broken Gameboy had found their way back home with the duo. Sigh!!
What I decided after this whole episode is that I ought to reduce my dependency on the house helps .Every now and then, from now on,I do this one job and many other odd ones around the house ,myself. I can not function without helps but I will definitely not lean on them completely. Your best wishes will be more than welcome :)

100 words On Saturday - Your Call

Endless wait stretched for days .Her life back home was waiting for her.She had been informed about three weeks back and she flew down as soon as she could, to fulfil her duty .Did she have to?No ! Did he deserve it? Not at all!

A decade ago,she had left it all behind,his maddening rage,abuse and the marriage.

 He met his match in a disgruntled servant who smashed his master's skull in a fit of rage.He lay in the hospital bed on life-supports.

A shrill ring and a voice -"Your call madam.....the hospital". 

                                             

                             

Quiet Communication--100 Words on Saturday.

Did you say something ? I felt it in silence and we shared that silence .

Your unspoken words  have that  power to reach out .

They find ways to convey  they have messengers ,able and eager, to help them in this endeavour. 

Little gestures ;  tilt of the head ,narrowed  eyes, hands folded  or lips forming a smile....they all speak.

It may take a while for my eyes to linger longer, to meet your eyes but I will learn.

In this cacophony of sounds and words ,there is space for the unspoken. To hear the sound of  'quiet ' will take some time.

                                  

                                           

Z---Zooming in

     
                                     


         Zooming in at this nook
where soft drizzle of words pooled in
         this is my Zen moment

                                                   

                                                        

                                                                           
                                                                     
The above attempted lines are dedicated to our own nook ..our nukkad or adda where jab bhi we met, it rained words.. This is my Zen moment as I successfully complete the challenge with your support and appreciation. Thank you all for dropping by,reading me and supporting me :)




                                                                           

       
     
                                                         

Y---Yeralti Sehri

Yeralti Sehri is an amazing underground city in Derinkuyu province ,Cappadocia ,Turkey. The inhabitants of the region took shelter in this city from the raids of Arab armies. In Byzantine times it contained a full complex of food stores,kitchen,stables,schools,churches ,wells, wine and oil presses and much more. The underground city had a total of 13 level subdivisions spread over eight main levels. The total depth is 85meters under the ground with many shafts opening at the ground level.It had the capacity of accommodating around 20,000 people at a time.
The city aptly translated as 'dark well' ,is the largest known example of troglodyte living in Cappadocia. Eight of the levels are open to public ,with the lowest level at the depth of 54m ( 177ft).

                                    Planning of the underground city...
                     
                       
Vents doubled up as entrances as well as ventilators for the city. There are numerous vents that open up to the ground above .
                                       This is how the vents look like ...
                                             
                               

                       Various tunnels open up into numerous interconnected chambers.

We were told that this was the school in the olden times ,where scholars  conducted their classes .

The young tour guide played a prank on us.. He dared us to enter the small narrow tunnel (in pic below),and warned us that it was extremely dark and claustrophobic inside.Unable to resist the dare, I entered through one of the openings and within seconds came out of the other  :D

 This tunnel felt like it would never end. Thankfully, it was one of those few which had lights to guide us. One constant thought that stayed with me was that if I were a few more inches than my present frame,I would probably have stayed on top and not have ventured below. It was thrilling to go deeper and deeper down,exploring the underground levels but by the time we reached about 54m it was scary .It was amazing that we did not experience lack of oxygen even at the lowest permissible floor.Various vents maintained ventilation at the levels. I have to admit that the climb while on our way back ,required will power..a lot of it !

   
                   

Those rare moments when I am glad that I am vertically challenged !! The tunnels were much less than five feet in height and even I had to bend ! This gentleman had to double up..
                                             

 There was light at the end of this tunnel ....

Saddened to see that miscreants and love birds did not think twice before damaging this heritage !
                                             
                                       

W--Witch,Wicked Woman

Ever since I saw the film Ek Thi daayan, I have been thinking a lot about witches .Loosely used ,The word witch would mean a wicked woman or so I thought until I read that all witches are not wicked and all wicked women are not witches. Now since this fact is almost sorted,I feel a little relieved because I have been hiding a wicked woman inside me for a long time. Under normal circumstances,this lady is in a  comatose state sleeping in the deepest strata of my subconscious. Very rarely though,some mortals succeed in shaking her up from her deep slumber.One of the many occasions ...

 I was waiting for the lift with my sister in law .The lift was coming up and we saw a man inside who in turn ,saw us waiting .He went up while we girls got busy chatting.We could hear the lift singing the irritating tune "Kripaya darwaza bund karein....kripaya daar bunda karaa...please close the door " in the loop.We could also hear a man laughing and chatting with someone on the top floor,obviously keeping the lift door open. Good  eight minutes later ( we did count !!) the lift came down , but the guy had his back towards us.Ready- to- punch- his- face- but- controlling- our- anger ,-that was our state. Can you believe that he did not stop at our floor ? Now THIS was an insult !We pressed and held on to the lift button with our dear lives....

Within minutes,the lift brought him up to our floor.

He- ???

We-????????

We entered the lift, I excused myself , made an exit, kept the lift door open, gave a shout out to someone imaginary on the floor, asked myself  aloud  if I had forgotten something ,checked the door of my house by hanging on to it and then re entered the lift.

He-!!!

We-!!!!!!!!

By the way we both were in perfect sync ,there was no scripting required and it was all impromptu.

Wicked ? Oh yeah !

It is beyond the scope of this post to illustrate all the wicked / witch moments experienced in this lifetime so I would like to throw this question to you instead. If you have no answers to  this question,you belong to the Himalayas.

What /who brings out the wicked person  in you ? 

V--Vegetarians and Vegans

Read on Twitter -
Q-How do you recognise a vegetarian / vegan at a party?
A-Wait for five minutes,he will come and tell you on his own.

Scene-1

A man seated for dinner in a restaurant, opens his bag, retrieves two big packs of ready to eat meals,calls the waiter and spends the next ten minutes instructing him on how to assemble it. A confused waiter flips the pack and reads the simple instructions,nods and walks towards the kitchen. Five minutes later,the guest starts fiddling with the cutlery,drops a couple of them, makes some more noises with the crockery and casts furtive glances in the direction of  the kitchen. Finally ,unable to contain his restlessness,he walks towards the kitchen,opens the door and enters it. Seconds later,he is ushered out by the polite waiter. He stares at the door ,paces a few times and then stands on his toes to peep through the looking glass inside. While looking,his expressions change, he moves his head side to side and his palm meets his forehead. He looked as if he was doomed .He walked like a defeated man towards his table and sat down with slumped shoulders. The waiter served his food in a while and the man spoke to him for some time telling him how exactly the food was to be served. I saw him eat his two bowls of Rajma-Chawal  in silence .He then walked towards the dessert counter at the pre arranged buffet of the restaurant .He prodded each dish with a fork,disgust writ large on his expressions. He made faces at the texture of the dishes and finally picked a few fruits before walking out.

He was later seen taking a brisk walk by the poolside, talking loudly on his phone. He spoke about how the waiter used microwave oven to heat his Rajma rather than boiling it in a pan.The dish was too hot for his liking. How rice was not soft and was giving him gases and that is why he was out by the poolside, walking. He was digging his gums  with a tooth pick ,which  was expected to do the work of a shovel. 

Did I imagine, earlier at dinner  or did the same waiter's gaze linger a wee bit longer at me when he realised that I was a vegetarian too. My plate was full with delicious local food ,chosen by me from the variety of food on display.

Scene 2

There was a little agitation in the lobby of the hotel with a large group of travellers arguing with the tour operator about jalebi not being served the night before for dinner. The eggless pastries were not relished by the group and the Gulab Jamuns were too dry for their liking. Someone remarked that the whole excursion was a flop because of the missing Jalebis.
Scene 3
In a wine and food appreciation meet for bloggers,I was  seated next to a lady who proudly stated that she was a vegan. Well nothing unusual about that but the way she manipulated the servings , sent the organisers on guilt trips ,had to be seen to be believed.The harassed team had a tough time  keeping up with her  demands and the fellow bloggers could not understand her contempt for their food choices.

Decades ago,on my first overseas trip,I survived on bread and fries from McDonalds .After having salads and fries for three weeks, the sight and smell of McDonalds was enough to put me off food. Those days, there was no internet ,no awareness and limited resources to indulge in the luxury of vegetarianism in a foreign land . I hated the idea of carrying theplas ( spiced flat bread) but I did,for emergencies ,while continuing my search of vegetarian food locally. With the internet, things are much easier now for vegetarians.One can research local vegetarian fare and locate diners serving veg food in the vicinity of their stay and even order Indian food in the comfort of the hotel room. I have done all. I however prefer to experiment with local veg fare as far as possible.

Staying in apartment suits also helps the cause if one doesn't mind cooking on a vacation. I do take those.apartments once in a while but prefer not to cook as far as possible. 

  So ,how particular are you about your food choices when you are away from home .Is food so important that if you do not have it your way,there  can not be any other way ?

A sneak peak into what I ate...on my recent trip...
The biggest tray and vegetarian spread on the right (egg was passed on to the family) with apple tea for breakfast.

Something to start with...before the lunch gets ready...

 Mushrooms and choice of veggies served with sticky rice and potato on the side.

   

U---- Unaccustomed girl in Unfazed Mumbai

 All of 24 years and fresh out of college,I was already working as a lecturer for my parent institution in my city .The transition was overnight and I had to remind myself time and again that I was on the other side of the table. I got married.. and very soon it was time to shift to Mumbai. I was quite uptight with the thought of the impending shift. Thoughts of  lifestyle changes that may be necessary while setting up house and work in Mumbai often crossed my mind.On one such occasion ,I expressed my doubts aloud and my teacher remarked-"You still look like a student , when you go to Mumbai as a lecturer, remember to don a mature  look and behave like a teacher."

This stayed with me and I packed a lot of saris to wear to work.

 I dressed carefully for my first day at work in Mumbai. A  blue sari in crepe chiffon ,teamed with delicate high heeled footwear.A functional bag, long hair tied neatly,I set out confidently for work.Hobbs had explained two ways of travel from Vile Parle to Victoria Terminus (now CST), -direct bus or local train with one  change of trains at Dadar. I have always been adventurous, so I took the bus while going and reached the hospital in 45min flat. Hah ! This is a breeze ,I thought !In the evening ,I decided to take the local train home.A student ,newly introduced to me,gave up her regular space for me to sit till Dadar. All was well till we reached Dadar. Then all hell broke loose. Ladies,like a swarm of bees  crossed their paths on the platform.Their was buzz all around.I could see only heads all around.A confused me,looked around for that familiar face in the crowd.There was none. I looked around at the indicators and reached the  platform to catch the next train to Vile Parle.

I patiently waited a little distance away from the lady in front of me when I heard someone ask me equally impatiently,"Jaane ka hai ?" ( Do you want to go ?). I nodded a weak yes."Naya hai ?"( Are you new to this city?)-she asked. She knew that I was,I need not have answered that one.This gave her the right to make sure I was on the train.No,she did not gently hold my hand to guide me,she just pushed me hard from behind so she could enter the train. I took 5 seconds to look for an empty seat ,so at the end of it,there was none left ! I tried to hold on to the ground for the next 40 minutes while I got pushed,pulled,pressed and squeezed by women of all sizes.There was absolutely,remotely nothing sexual about it.
According to my calculations,Vile Parle was fast approaching and I was not sure on which side of the compartment would the platform be.I asked someone.The lady in question looked horrified as if I had staked   claim on her property.She pointed in the opposite direction as her expressions changed from horror to pity.She then called out to a fisher woman who was returning home after her day's sales. " Parla la utrao tila, naveen ahe wattae." ( she is new,help her get down at Parle station ) The well endowed lady was quick ,she grasped my shoulders and pushed ,yelling on top of her voice," Bajoo...bajoo...baasi machchhi hai "(calling out to people to move away as she had stale fish in her bag).I felt a liquid trickle down the nape of my neck while cold ,clammy ,scruffy from use, hands of the lady pushed me out of the compartment. I was stinking  but relieved to be in one piece and on the platform staggering on my feet. The lady slapped her palm on her forehead " Deva..wachav  .. kai bi khara nhai ya porincha " ( God save these new age girls ) and took her position on the door of the same compartment as the train moved.
I gathered my wits,my bag, and realised to my horror that my sari lay unfurled on the ground. I clutched my bosom ,thankfully,my pallu was  pinned up in place still covering my 'izzat'.I gathered the pleats only to realise that I had only one shoe with broken heel on my foot. I saw the other one slip disappear beneath the moving train. I kicked the other one too off my foot .
While the world zipped by,unfazed and uncaring, my own confidence was shattered to bits.
The humiliation I felt is indescribable in words.
In that unsettled state,I left the station .
It was on that platform on that day of August that I pledged to give away all my saris .My mom and mother in law were the beneficiaries.
Today,this once unaccustomed girl  has an undying love for this city of Mumbai. Under the over bridge of fast life in a fast lane there is a soft belly .This city of my dreams is home and home is where the heart is!

T-----Tongue Fu

 

A difficult, rude man boarded a completely full flight .He began complaining loudly about anything and everything in sight. His bag not fitting the overhead bin ,he being sandwiched into the middle seat of the middle row, the delay in serving lunch and the lunch being a mere sandwich etc..He then proceeded to take a bite of his sandwich and dropped it back in the tray and angrily pushed the call button.

The flight attendant appeared promptly and asked him very politely, “Yes, how may I help you ?“  

He shoved the sandwich towards her and growled,” This sandwich is bad!”

The girl looked from him to his sandwich. She then looked back at him and stared at his sandwich long and hard. She focussed on him and then shook her finger at the sandwich and scolded, “Bad sandwich, you.. BAD sandwich!!”

The man was taken aback, a stunned silence followed and then everybody around burst out laughing, including the man.

Someone asked the girl later, how she came up with the idea. She explained that in her profession, she was required to handle such difficult people almost every day. Humour was a perfect antidote for the poison of rudeness, she said. Humour   was her mantra for people management at work and beyond.

The above excerpt is from an interesting book called Tongue Fu by Sam Horn.

Tongue Fu is the verbal equivalent of Kung Fu ( a martial art form ) .To deflect, disarm and diffuse any verbal conflict ,the art of Tongue Fu can be used.

Sam Horn has described various real life situations with rude or difficult people from all walks of life and how to tackle such people. The book is laced with humour in the form of  funny anecdotes and that makes it a delightful read .

Anyone who feels tongue tied in the face of a conflict, can use tongue Fu to create connection instead of alienation. Many pearls of wisdom in this book come from eminent personalities but I loved the real life anecdotes the most.

I picked this book ,only because the title intrigued me.I had not heard of the author before and  I am glad the book did not disappoint me.It is an easy read and I finished reading it in two days.