Love Today

It’s a day after Valentines and one can still feel the lingering presence of love in the air. Love, which in our daily lives we ignore for want of time but feel the overwhelming need to express in the most clichéd style on this one day. Love, which is thought to be the most pure and selfless form of human expression, is quantified and measured with the worthless baubles and gifts one receives. Love is no longer personal but has to be a public display with lots of pictures on the various social media handles. Is this love? I don’t know.

In one of the dailies yesterday, there was an article about an elderly couple who have been together for nearly 50 years. Unimaginable in the present situation, right? Well that’s how it was all these years for the earlier generations. It was all about getting along and making the necessary adjustments. Imagine our young couples doing that? Totally not happening!

For me the most romantic couple would be my maternal grandparents, my nana-nani. It will be difficult for me to be impartial because I simply adore them but believe me, it is not undeserved. A quintessential English “bhadralok” brought up during the British raj in an affluent family, he had the luxury of going abroad for his studies and then landing a good job once back. His only requirement for his marriage was that his future wife be English literate. So, steps in my grandmother. Her 4 feet some inches diminutive figure took up the challenge and wrote a letter to my grandfather in English, after months of struggling with the language. They would have completed 70 glorious years next year had he not passed away last month, leaving my grandmother heartbroken.

Their romance is legendary in the family. He indulged her in every way he could – shopping, movies, jewelry, etc. etc. but he also pushed her to get out of her comfort zone. She could discuss anything, from politics to movies to books, because he insisted she know about the world; and she reciprocated by becoming a keen learner. She didn’t have to. Ladies in those times were restricted to managing the household and children. But she did. Even till recently they would sit outside in the verandah, reading newspapers together and discussing the current affairs.  She, in turn, made him more “desi”, that’s what he used to say! At the dining table, it was customary for them to share the last chapatti and jam, a dessert. Can it get any sweeter? It’s always been like this for as long as my memories go. But it had been like this even before me, I’m told.

Cut to the present day. A dear friend proposed marriage to my niece and she, after giving it some thought, turned it down. Reason – it was not working out!?! It’s marriage one is talking about, not some business contract. They had many reasons for not going ahead, starting from financial arrangements to location to individual careers and many more. What happened to a “lifetime together” and “making it work”? Well this is how it is, love for the millennials. They don’t have time or patience to understanding the basic need to adjust, accommodate or compromise to make any relationship work. I don’t think I ever can understand this whole thing.

So, what about love and romance? I am still old school and totally believe in it, minus the chocolates and roses of course. It still exists but out there, it’s a sad state of affairs, no pun intended!

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Many Roles In One Lifetime

How do you describe the roles you play but by the many relationships you have? I mean you are someone in every interaction. You play a parent to your child, a wife to your husband, a daughter to your parents, a teacher to your students, a customer to your vendor, a client to the manager. There is never a moment in your life when you aren’t playing a role. But what defines you as a person are the roles that are important to you.

As a woman, role-playing comes easily to us. As a mother, the role gets further refined by the many jobs one handles -  coach, cook, chauffer, teacher, medical assistant, friend, guide, philosopher, mentor and much, much more. One changes from one role to another like a chameleon – the external appearance changes but the basics remain the same. Sometimes the change is smooth and the transition effortless. But sometimes, the changes need much more than just one’s participation.

While in school and college, I remained a student – free of responsibility, totally self-involved, short-sighted about life and the world at large. Once I stepped over the line which marked the transition from student to professional, the magnitude of the roles being played increased both in scope and intensity.

As a teacher for the primary classes, I realized I was more than just a teacher in the class. The waist-high students, all hungry to grow up and emulate an adult, were watching my every move. I was being evaluated, in their subconscious, to see if I was a good role model. It was a big responsibility. The expectations of this role were high and that meant I needed to re-examine my own self.

The day I donned the uniform for the first time, I realized my role as a Naval officer went beyond the pristine whites I wore. It was the symbol of our nation’s pride and strength. I no longer was a young carefree woman who could do what she wanted without giving a thought to what the world thought about it. Now I was responsible to the nation. I had hundreds of young girls looking up at me as their role model. And I couldn’t just shrug it off. This role was challenging as well as exciting.

The role which has been the most exacting yet enjoyable was the one I started playing when my first born arrived. My world spun in an unknown orbit and I was absolutely clueless. I had to learn from the moment I first laid my eyes on her, and believe me, I am still learning.

Life is dynamic and that’s the beauty of it. With every change that it brings, it ushers in a new role for us. And the joy of this new role is that you learn something new about yourself. I’m waiting to see what is the next role I get to play.  

Thank God It's Monday!

Thank god its Monday – TGIM! I so look forward to the beginning of the weekdays, the regular working days, that its almost criminal. My kids refuse to look at my glowing face on the Monday mornings when they are all groggy and could do with a few more minutes of the shut-eye. And there is the mother sounding so chirpy and happy about it being a bright morning and with hopes of it transforming into a great day! I know gives you a sense of déjà vu, doesn’t it?

Well after a back breaking and hectic weekend, which just happened to zip past in the most breathless pace, I’m sure I deserve a peaceful, Zen-like time to myself. Of course, it can’t be that peaceful what with the occasional interruptions from the raucous ringing of the doorbell. The maid, dhobi, maali, pav-wala, each has to make their presence felt. And I can’t ignore them, they are after all the life support of every housewife. All jobs done. Now to settle down with Sunday Hindu newspaper and a cup of hot green tea with lemon and honey. Perfect! But where the hell is the newspaper? I spent some time looking for it in all the regular locations and then it struck me…my husband was busy clearing the basket with all the old newspapers; and I’m sure having finished reading it, he had kept the said newspaper away too. There goes phut the bubble of paradise. Now I know why I’m so stressed out on Sundays.

Sundays are cleaning days in the house, a ritual religiously followed by my husband. Like a true-blue Virgo, cleaning and organizing are the air he breathes, much to the discomfort of all the other regular-born family members. Even I am a very organized person and like to keep my things in their place. But I’m ok if I find my pen stand on the right-hand side of the desk instead on the usual left side, or if the books are stacked up on the study table instead of the bookshelf next to it. And the children, those poor disorganized angels who derive absolute joy on finding anything in the first go in their room, their weekend turns to nightmare at the very thought. He’s a man possessed when he’s getting them to clean the room.

So, going back to the reason why I’m so stressed out during the weekends is because I play the negotiator, the peacemaker, the arbitrator – call me anything but it all means the same. I am the one who gets caught in the crossfire between the two warring sides. Neither side is ready to compromise on their standards. The father wants a spic-and-span “cabin cupboard” (a terminology used often in my house by my ex-Navy husband!) and the children want things to be “arranged” in such a manner that they can locate it in future without shouting out to the mother for emergency assistance. After an hour or so of shouting, arguing and angry outbursts, this exercise finally gets washed away with crying, howling and sobbing by the girls. Thus, ends the weekly exercise and then I play the pacifier. Sometimes I feel like an acrobat, balancing my sanity and my household.

After this narrative, I’m sure you agree why the Monday mornings are most sought after. Now for that cup of hot tea!