Good Old Days!

GOOD OLD DAYS

Ha, just finished with the event for the year at the school the kids are going to. The Annual Concert, titled “Think Out Of The Box”. Now I can breathe easy till next December, hopefully. The whole thing was by the children of the school – the scripting, directing, organizing, designing, et al. A wonderful effort and major confidence booster. It’s just that when watching the plays that I got a little rattled. And let me not even go close to discussing the dresses, the songs they danced to, the dialogues in the skit and of course the costumes. Did I just time travel or is this the actual reality? I mean the kids were mouthing dialogues which even my college plays didn’t match in content. They were talking about boyfriend ditching, father cheating on mother, etc. So yes, I was a wee bit disturbed when I heard them. I fail to understand the rush the li’l girls are in to grow up. You have got your whole life for that. Enjoy your childhood and adolescence and allow us to enjoy having you around as kids. No wonder it’s called the jet age and I just don’t like travelling at this speed.

The long ride back home in the cab got me thinking about the many Annual Days (well that’s what it was called in our days) I had participated in my school days. School days were fun. Some of my close friends are from my school days.  Life was rocking and oh, so simple. Annual days were school events - for the parents, by the school. No cleaning the bank accounts to pay for everything from the costumes to the venue or the snacks. Phew, it would’ve been cheaper to go on a small vacation!  Parents would happily cramp up and settle down under the shamiana erected in the school playground. The stage would be made up of the school desks put together and tied up. Of course, we (I mean the school) later graduated to using the local tent walla to do the job, so we had one less job to do.

Preparations would start off a month in advance since we had to make the props and decorations. I remember in one of the school’s I had attended, the primary classes were tasked with making the multicolour streamers and ribbons, and the senior classes had to make the props. The artistically gifted children did the drawing and the lesser skilled ones filled them with colours. I don’t remember any themes or titles for our Annual Days. We did plays, which were shortened and rewritten to fit the time allotted. There was always one comedy and one thriller. The parents of the students participating in these plays would be sworn to secrecy not to reveal the story or the ending. The parents promised and we, in all our naivety, believed them. Those were the days! Alas, how I miss them.

The children with good English writing skills were roped in to do the script, with the help of the English teacher. Those were some really high standards to maintain, believe me when I tell you that. In my last school, we were taught English by the Principal and nothing would please her. And when she expressed her displeasure, well we needed a translator (I don’t think Shashi Tharoor is in any way related to her but I won’t be surprised if they are!). So, with such expectations, we worked and delivered.  

And then there were the dances. No Justin Bieber, Lady Gaga or Bollywood numbers please. There was always a welcome song and dance, with girls dressed up in tradition dresses (mostly resembling the bharatnatyam costume). The rangolis had teams of children slogging over to create visual masterpieces. That was rivalry at its creative best! Then followed the remaining programs. They were mostly folk or tribal dances. The accompanying songs were normally folk songs, sung by the students. I remember one bhangra dance where the kids were dancing with so much gusto that the stage started shaking dangerously. The all-time favorite Goan dance would have a peppy number in Konkani language. We had even done the famous Cheraw dance, or more popularly known as the Bamboo dance, from Mizoram (I’m wondering if our kids know where this state is?). It was a herculean task managing the traditional costumes but we did it. It is still one of my most cherished memories. It was just a wonderful learning experience. No wonder we learnt so much about our country without even the internet or google!

At the end of the programs, the children waited with bated breath for the chief guest to make THE announcement, that it would be a holiday the next day. And the hall would break into a rapturous clapping and shouting as soon it was announced! It all looks so funny and silly now, but back then it was close to heaven. The camaraderie shared with the teachers on those days was so uncomplicated. No WhatsApp, no Instagram. Just them and us. No wonder they knew each one of us inside-out, much better than we did ourselves. They knew our strengths and how to use it for our own betterment. I remember once the complete responsibility of managing the backstage was given to a group of notorious boys from the senior classes. It was a big risk but our Principal (Father Francis, God bless him!) stuck to his decision. The results were totally unexpected. Not one item lost or misplaced, the programs progressed seamlessly with no chaos behind the scenes. Their organizing skills would put our present grossly-overpaid event managers to shame. I don’t know where those boys are now but I’m sure they are doing well with the lessons learnt then.

I know, I know I digressed but can’t help it. Every time I start off about my school days I just can’t seem to stop. So many memories, each jostling to gain a few extra seconds of my attention. I guess we each feel that way. But will our children also feel this way? I mean it’s all so disconnected and commercial now, will they feel this nostalgic years later? Their minds are so visually overloaded because of the myriad options, they will need to declutter their minds before they can preserve such gems for posterity. Either ways, at least now I don’t laugh or smirk when I hear someone older say “In my time….”

*****

Happiness At Your Tips

1. Jumpstart your Day!

Your attitude when you wake up sets the tone for the day. So start your day with a smile and a happy heart. Mornings are best if you want to do some exercising. 30 to 40 minutes are enough to elevate your mood and make you feel better. This should be an absolute must-do on our daily schedule. After all the excessive indulgence of food and drinks and fast-paced lifestyle, exercising will lead you to be more conscious about your body. Exercising need not be restricted to the high-end gyms with the expensive personal trainers. It need not be a HIIT circuit or running a marathon. It could be anything that you enjoy which would make you sweat it out. A yoga session, a game of badminton or tennis, a few laps in the swimming pool, a run around the playground. Anything but something meaningful, something focused, with honesty. The only person reaping the benefits is yourself. Our lifestyles don’t allow the luxury of time to indulge in “me-time”. Let’s not use that as an excuse. If we can make time to sit and relax before the TV, watching senseless, mind numbing programs being repeated in different formats in different channels, I’m sure we can manage a few minutes to do something more useful for our own self. The changes will not be restricted to just the physical but will also extend to our mental health. We will begin to feel nice about ourselves. Our posture improves as we walk tall, indirectly impressing everyone with our growing confidence. The calmness of the mind reflects on the face. All this happens because we decided to love ourselves and spend some quality time on nurturing our weary body, heart and mind.    

2. Food for Thought

While some people live to eat and others eat to live. Neither of the options is a healthy one. Enjoying eating and trying out new things is a passion incomparable. But that doesn’t mean we have to gorge on unhealthy food right from the time we wake up. It’s important to understand food and make the necessary changes towards a healthy balance. Skipping breakfast is an absolute NO. On the contrary; breakfast is and should become the most important meal of the day. Various studies have time and again proved that breakfast should not be avoided. It’s the first meal of the day, after a long gap during the night. A balanced breakfast provides the body with the much-needed energy to start off the day. A well-fed stomach will prevent distraction because of hunger pangs when you should instead be concentrating on work. The type of food we eat also affects our mood; like rich heavy food makes us sluggish and dull. Instead on gorging on oily burgers or chole-bature during the delayed lunch break, develop a habit of having small meals at regular intervals. This way your stomach is always full, and you don’t have to stuff yourself because you are starving. Include healthier options like salads and yogurts. Avoid bakery products which are full of white flour and sugar. Small changes can slowly but surely bring about big differences in our lives.  

3. Don’t be shy. Be heard

It’s nice to express your opinion or thoughts, and not keep them to yourself at all times. There’s a difference between being assertive and being aggressive. Being assertive needs you to be confident of what you are thinking, of knowing what is correct and what is suitable for the situation, of being in tune with the requirements and feelings of the others around. The person who is aggressive would be operating with only himself or herself in mind. This kind of attitude certainly doesn’t help in building a strong team or fostering team spirit. In a team, everyone matters. So speak up. Your thought counts. People who tend to keep to themselves, seldom speaking out, get ignored and gradually fade into oblivion. This leads to isolation, both social and emotional. These people are more susceptible to suffering from depression or low self-esteem. So, first step to feeling better is to talk; talk to your family, your peers, friends and colleagues. Whenever possible, step up and contribute to the discussion, express your ideas doesn’t matter how weird or funny or irrelevant you think they are. Let people notice you. Being heard makes one feel more important and increases our self-worth.

4. Enrich your Life by investing in Experiences

There’s no escaping the realities of life – the mad rat-race, to come out on the top. But is it all you want to do with your life? I mean when you encapsulate your life, it should not be restricted to just going to work and back. Travel, see new places, explore the lesser known. There’s so much to see and explore that even a lifetime dedicated to it is not enough. Studies have shown that travelling is one of most favoured forms of destressing and always ensures a sense of satisfaction. Choose your style. Or pick up a hobby you have been wanting to learn for some time. Join some classes – baking, painting, dramatics, languages. Don’t restrict yourself to the same old rut. Invest time in yourself. It’s the best form of investment, with assured high returns in the form of happiness and contentment. Every time you look back, it’s bound to bring a smile to face. Material acquisitions bring temporary happiness and have a shelf life, which lasts as long as their requirement exists. So, don’t be miser when investing in experiences. Surround yourself with happy memories like photographs and memorabilia from various trips or celebrations, or of your family and friends. It will never fail to bring a smile to your face. Happiness depends on small things, if only we knew where to look.

5.  Let the Challenges test you and make you Stronger

One who said life was a walk in the park, has either never lived or hasn’t been born. Life is all about challenges - big, small, beautiful, horrible, enriching, depressing, learning, unlearning. In short it is full of experiences. And it is these experiences that make us who we are. Challenges are seldom easy and often test you. The only choice you have is to face them. Running away does not make them disappear; they just become more daunting and overwhelming, waiting to devour you. So the simplest thing to do is to first accept it and then work towards resolving it. Procrastinating or ignoring it magnifies the challenges at hand. This leads to unnecessary building up of anxiety and stress. Work on the problems. What needs to be done, how to go about it, when to start work on it, etc. - all these questions require your attention. Making a list always helps organise your work and also makes it look doable. Prioritise the jobs for better results. Find out what calms you – many agree that listening to music is therapeutic. Try it. Maybe listening to your favourite tunes will make the work more enjoyable, and assist you in completing a task that was otherwise a dreary challenge. Look at it as a path to rediscovering yourself, learning more about who you are and what you are capable of.     

6. Be Grateful.

Feeling grateful is the first step towards becoming a better person. We need to understand that we do not work in isolation. There are many seen/unseen people assisting us as we go through our day. So often we tend to take things for granted and notice them only in their absence. Being grateful makes us more humble and empathetic. One is better able to appreciate others and look beyond ourselves. Our daily lives are structured and moulded to make us the centre, self-involved and selfish people, with little time for anyone or anything else. And time is off premium value. In these circumstances learning to be grateful is important. It is not only the acknowledgement of the contribution of others in our lives but also creating an awareness about our surroundings. Start off with simple changes like smiling more often, being nice to people you meet, greeting them with a positive vibe, using those magic words we all learnt at school, saying thank you and please generously, and most importantly being grateful. There’s enough anger and negativity without you trying to add to it. So try sincerely. You will notice the wonderful results soon enough, encouraging not just you but others, those who have benefitted from your benevolence, bringing forth more such changes.   

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Not Another Social Gathering

Gathering of any sort, where there are more than a few unknown faces, is certainly not for me. I prefer the comfort of friendly known faces where each one is stripped of his or her mask. I enjoy and cherish the time spent with the few friends I have.

Social interactions are not one of my favourite activities and I have over the years put in the very best efforts to be as inconspicuous as possible. And what gets my goat is the first thing people, the unknown, never-met-before, ask is if I’m on FB or Instagram or twitter?  I mean ask me my name and interests and hobbies and qualifications and I can start connecting with you. But why the social media handles (I hate this word - I mean handle to what, my life, your control?) excuse me Mr/Ms Sorry-didn’t-get-your-name, don’t you have anything better to do than to peek into my life?    

I joined FB after a lot of persuasion and cajoling from my friends since all, yes all of them without fail, are inhabitants of this virtual world. Even my ground floor neighbour has sent me a request and I’ve met her just a couple of times when going to my car. Thankfully my dhobi and sabjiwalla haven’t sent me any requests (I'm still reconciling to my maid sending me Whatsapp messages and forwards!)

So back to attending social events. Yeah would love to attend some book releases and something related to books. Had attended a few when I was working for a publishing house. Thoroughly enjoyed the interactions. (Even more the wonderful spread of snacks and beverages. Absolutely heavenly!) I did make some contacts there, actual contacts where I physically sighted the person, introduced ourselves, exchanged cards and later kept in touch. But that’s it. I prefer this kind of connecting. I attended a book reading once. I came back with a bunch of complimentary unsold or unpopular books by the same publisher. Some were interesting but the rest went into the trash bin. 

So, yeah, I guess social events are not my scene till it’s something that gets MY attention, not my social media handle’s!  

Book Review of VOYAGE OF THE DAMNED – Gordon Thomas and Max Morgan-Witts

The opening phrase on the cover describes it as “a shocking true story of hope, betrayal and Nazi terror”. It’s that and much more. It’s about people. Good people, bad people and, the worst of them all, the indifferent people. Voyage of the Damned is another beautiful book describing the Nazi politics. It brings to light an important point, which normally tends to get ignored in most of the books with similar settings, that not every German was a Nazi or Nazi follower. There were good Germans, who were proud of being Germans and were also good human beings.

The book is about a shipload of Jewish passengers, escaping persecution by the Nazis. Some of the Jews had been released from concentration camps and given a few days to move out of Germany. In the case of them being found after the stipulated period, it was back to the concentration camp and the gas chambers. Some of the passengers were luckily not arrested but were trying their best to escape from Germany before the Gestapo caught up with them. Some were trying to escape alone, some with their families. They came from diverse background. Some were well established professionals and had enjoyed moving with the crème-de-la-crème of the society. Some belonged to the middle class, working hard to provide their families with a decent life. But it didn’t matter what they did in another lifetime. Their biggest, and only, crime was that they were JEWS. And that made them the target for oppression and exploitation of the worst kind.

St Louis was helmed by Captain Gustav Schroeder, a man who took pride in his work and the efficiency of his crew. A thorough gentleman and decent German soul who “loathed the Nazi ideology” so much so that he briefed his crew to treat the passengers with the same attention that they offered their regular passengers. The crew respected their captain and did their very best to make the passengers comfortable once onboard. There was, unavoidably, a party leiter onboard along with a dozen party workers. Their only job was to constantly remind the passengers about their status and the Nazi dominance. On the part of the Nazis, under the instructions of Joseph Goebbels, who was their Minister of Propaganda, propaganda agents had been sent to Cuba to create an anti-Semitism atmosphere and spread misinformation about the arriving refugees.  

The ship sailed from Hamburg on May 13, 1939,  for Havana in Cuba. The book covers a few passengers and their experiences, both before and after, embarking the ship. After an uneventful passage they reached Havana and that’s when trouble started. They were not allowed to come alongside at the port as the Cuban officials did not find the visas issued to them ‘correct’. The truth being that the propaganda machinery had successfully planted doubts in the minds of the otherwise compliant nation. Days of negotiations between the rehabilitation committee and various government officials went round in circles but to no avail. The desperate passengers sent cables to as many world leaders as possible to help them out. US was adamant about not taking any more Jewish refugees for political reasons. UK and France were in two minds. The ship had to sail out of the Cuban territorial waters to avoid any further complications. They sailed around aimlessly, with depleting fuel and food stocks, while the refugee rehabilitation committee worked relentlessly to get some country to accept them. Finally the governments of Belgium, Holland, France and England agreed to take the refugees. The story ends with the passengers being sent to the various refugee camps in the respective countries. On Jun 21, 1939, the last of the refugee passengers stepped ashore in Southampton amid great fanfare. 

The narration is crisp and to the point. The events were described as they had actually happened. The humanness of the ship’s passage touches you as you feel their happiness, sadness, desperation, frustration, anxiety, hopelessness and despair. Each one them, the passengers and the crew, was a victim of circumstances beyond their control and understanding. One cannot ignore the efforts put in by the crew. They were commendable and brave. Going against the Nazi policies and helping the Jews was not for the fainthearted. It’s a well-documented and researched narrative, given along with photographs and timeline. A must read for all who enjoy the World War II genre.

Time to Think

I have been feeling very disturbed the last couple of days and I really don’t know why. I tried thinking about it but every time I would zero in into a cause, it didn’t make me feel any better. So I tried to go through as many reasons as possible to figure out the reason for my unrest. Then it slowly dawned on me. It was not a single reason or reasons. It was the generally apathy and stupidity which I had to endure daily when reading the sensational headlines. I have to read the morning newspaper in the morning daily or my day doesn’t start. And what do our front pages offer? After turning over two or three pages of full scape advertisements for luxury apartments or phones or online shopping festivals or even grocery shopping, when I do finally reach the “first” page of the news, it shows some silly headlines. I mean how does one start off the day on such a note? I really want to ask my other newspaper reading friends does this bother them too or have they too become immune to such things?

Gau rakshaks, social vigilantes, farmers. The list of well-meaning citizens is endless. To get what they want they resort to senseless and often unnecessary violence, all in the name of asking for what is their right. Right? No. No farmer in his right mind would ever think of destroying his produce. It’s the result of his hard work and sweat. It’s not easy money. So when I watched pictures of cans of milk being spilled by smiling, camera-friendly “farmers”, I just couldn’t get it. Trucks filled with farm produce getting spoilt waiting for reach the markets could have been sent to some of the remote areas where children are dying of hunger. Wouldn’t they have then made a point, a very strong point, with the unfeeling government? That they, the farmers, are the providers, nurturers, and their grievances should be given a fair hearing. What one doesn’t do for keeping the chair! Sad!!   

We seem to have developed a taste for witch hunting of late. And the favourite is the Army. Any Tom, Dick and Harry can pass a judgemental comment from the confines of his or her air-conditioned accommodation. But to understand why they do what they do, one has to be there. The human shield became a big issue. Wonderful, you well informed citizens. But why didn’t you speak out when the trouble makers used women and children as shields and fired from safe confines of some of the houses? Oh you couldn’t because they would’ve come and shot you in your homes. I feel bad for the Army, the CRPF, and for each one them wearing the uniform. They didn’t sign up for this. It’s because of them, their courage and sacrifices that today YOU are able to safely type away on your iPhone and macPros. They should make military service compulsory for every healthy citizen. Our powers to be will be the first to object. They will use their wily brains to wriggle out of it. Their baba log will have every health problem that is possible to stay out of the uniform. And then they will say – Army kuch nahi kar raha hai! Ha, patriots!!

Oh and how can I forget my dear gau rakshaks, the new sword wielding protectors of the holy cow. Thank god my grandparents sold off the cows they had at their house or god knows what all they would have had to do to prove that they are good caretakers. It’s total nonsense I tell you. If they are so worried about these cows then do something for them. Build them shelters, educate and train people. But then all this takes effort and more importantly is neither financially profitable nor will get them their two seconds of fame. Cows have always been holy to the Hindus. I don’t understand this new fanaticism. If they really want to lynch and kill then do it to all those rapists who do not think twice about their victim, age is certainly no bar for them. Kick them, castrate them, hang them. Do anything and the citizens of the country will thank you. If a holy cow can invoke such passions then why don’t they feel the same way when something happens to the women? Are they on an even lower social stratum then these animals? Instead of concentrating on banning beef eating and cow slaughter, maybe we should first deal with the real threats to the society. Totally misplaced priorities. Very sad state of affairs.

I know it reads like the ranting of another cynical Indian. Maybe it is, maybe it’s not. I don’t know. All I know is it’s the voice of my frustration, my inability to do anything. One can fight anything but not something as abstract as non-existent IQs and nationally acceptable apathy. My humble request to the occupants of the fourth estate – the next time you are covering any incident, please brush up on your adjectives. We have had one too many “gruesome, horrifying, chilling” news to deal with.  

      

Book Review of SITA - Warrior Of Mithila

So, the wait was finally over and I slept peacefully after devouring the second book of the Ramachandra series. This book delves on the other significant central character of the epic Ramayana, Sita. It’s written in the same simple, easily flowing signature style of the author. No big words, no heavy philosophy, just simple interactions of the regular people, which though are not as simple or straightforward as they appear. 

It’s the story about how King Janaka and his queen Sunaina found the baby Sita in the woods, resisting the wolves, fighting to survive. It took one strong woman to recognise another. Sunaina nurtures and moulds the little Sita to become the future ruler of the small kingdom of Mithila. Sunaina's dreams for Sita and Mithila are intertwined and become the core of the mother-daughter relationship. 

What I liked about the book was how the character of Sita was developed. She’s no longer the docile, subservient pati-parneshwar woman who meekly followed her husband into the jungles without as much as a word of protest. From the very beginning Amish has focussed on the individuality of Sita, as a strong, self-willed, intelligent,  sensitive, pragmatic individual. Even as a child, she had clear ideas about right and wrong. Her feisty nature is evident when she breaks the royal seal which Kushadhwaj, king of Sankashya, brings with him when he tries to assert his superiority and manipulate Mithila into becoming its vassal. Amish brings out her planning and strategizing strengths from time to time. Not demure beauty waitng for her prince charming, Sita manages to get Ram to Mithila to participate in her swayamvar. Her heart may skip a beat whenever she’s with Ram, yet it’s her head which works overtime trying to evaluate every action. Both as a husband and as Vishnu, if Ram had to be her partner, he had to pass through a series of evaluations to meet her expectations. That Sita was also an able diplomat was brought out in several instances in the book. The way she handled the sensitive ego of the Maharishi Vishwasmitra, avoiding confrontations with Maharishi Vashistha, and convincing the Ayodhya princes about their participation in the swayamvar. It all needs dexterity and subtly which she exhibits with aplomb. Sita has being created as the perfect combination of beauty, brains and brawns. Yes. She could fight like tigress, has the stealth of a cat and the eye of an eagle. 

Now for the drawbacks or things I didn’t like. For starters, there were too many references to our present society and social conditions. Similarities like the gang rape and brutal murder of Manthara's daughter is very similar to the infamous Nirbhaya case. Or the mention of Jallikattu, the controversial game from Tamil Nadu which burned the headlines for a long time. Or the constant jibes referring to "India" and our lack of respect for rules and laws of the land. What was most jarringly out of place was the use of “India” instead of Bharat. I mean, I don’t think India even existed then; it was Bharat. Such socio-political innuendoes were not palatable, at least to me. Comparison to the Shiva trilogy is unavoidable and inevitable. Yet the one thing that stood out distinct in the earlier series is the way the society was described and developed that it made the reader feel as if he or she was living there. It engulfed the reader in its flow and rhythm. This kind of connect was missing in this book. There was something seriously amiss. Maybe the characters were incomplete and aloof. Or the flow of the story was not keeping up with the characters. Or maybe an absence of some form of seamless continuity.

On the whole, was a wonderful book. Certainly, worth the wait. Looking forward to reading the third instalment. It’s about Ravana (have read the promotion booklet which was sent along with the book). Ravana is one of my favourite characters from the epic. Became my favourite after reading Anand Neelkantan’s book “Asura”. Anyways, keeping my fingers crossed and waiting with bated breath.    

Book Review of Lanka’s Princess by Kavita Kane

Book Review of Lanka’s Princess by Kavita Kane

The current breed of Indian writers is a brave lot. They are not scared of experimenting with the set-in-stone mythologies which have been part of our ‘cultural upbringing’ diet for generations. The Rama of Ramayana and Krishna of the Mahabharata have been humanised, making their follies look more acceptable; Ravana is no longer the blood thirsty brute nor are the Kauravas just power hungry brothers. Instead of just concentrating on these handful of central characters, a lot of writers have rewritten the mythologies from the view point of the women in these plots. This point of view is refreshingly contradistinct and forces the reader to look at the same oft-heard stories from a totally antithetic and colourful perspective.

I recently finished reading the Lanka’s Princess by Kavita Kane. It's Surpanakha's story, told from her frame of reference. Each of her family member is no longer set in the pre-set molds but is described by Meenakshi, or Meenu as she is fondly called. The events in the book unfold and we hear about the same mythological tales from someone who was instrumental in making the events happen. Mythology apart, the book also delves deeper and looks at the status of women in the society. The millennia were different but the circumstances and situations remain very much the same. Women were the pawns; marriages were for political reasons more than for love.

The most striking part of the book is the protagonist, or more suitably the anti-hero(ine). Meenakshi is not the quintessential beauty but it’s her strong personality which is her most alluring characteristic. She has a mind of her own; she’s opiniated, head strong, self-willed and extremely passionate. It’s this passion that leads to her subsequent downfall. She has her own fixed ideas of right and wrong, and refuses to see it any other way other than what suits her. Kavita has successfully created a character one would both love and hate at the same time. Meenakshi was rechristened Surpanakha by her mother Kaikesi, who detested her from the moment she was born, who saw her for what she was - an evil mind with a vitriolic tongue. Surpanakha’s only objective in life was to avenge the murder of her husband, Vidyujiva, even if it meant the annihilation of her family. Her hatred for Ravana far exceeded the love she felt for everyone put together. Her jealousy and hatred for him overshadowed every happy event in her otherwise ignored life. Her single minded dedication, patience (as she waited years for her plans to fructify) and commitment to see the destruction of Ravana and Lanka gives both the chills for the cold hearted execution and awe inspiring respect for the manner she single handledly  went about the whole operation. Anyone who crossed her path, or her, was in her cross hairs. This included Rama and Lakshmana for spurning her advances and mutilating her. Even after the decimation of her brothers and destruction of Lanka, she headed to Ayodhya to avenge her humiliation by the Dasarathputras. Here she met her match in Urmila, her wise wife of Lakshmana, who made her see the senselessness of her  pursuit of vengeance. Her advice to learn from her pains to better her life opened Surpanakha's mind to a more giving and embracing attitude which melted away her pain. The book ended in a more or less expected manner where she sees the mistakes she has made and accepts them, without blaming someone like she always did.

The narration was beautiful. Meandering through the stories we know, retaining their essence yet creating a whole new view point. It’s like seeing parts of the Ramayana through a kaleidoscope. Each character was well defined.The rakshasas were not disfigured ogres; Mareech and Subahu were men of knowledge, Taraka was a beautiful learned asura queen. Ravana was a larger than life person. A flamboyant charmer with good looks, a scholar of Vedas, Upanishads, tantravidya, astrology and occult sciences and could play the rudraveena; Kumbha was the huge lumbering giant with an even larger heart, the most sensible and humble of all the siblings; Vibhushan was all brains with no spine, his knowledge restricted to the books and not to life

I enjoyed reading the book. It made the epic look more interesting and dynamic. The dormant characters suddenly were drawn out in flesh and blood and appeared real. It’s in short a woman’s struggle to seek justice for the wrongs done to her, or so she thought. Her suppressed anger, indestructible prejudices and relentless pursuit of justice make up the core of the narration.

Recommend read it at least once for its refreshing perspective.      

Revisiting Resolutions 2017

We're already two months into the new year and I decided it's not to late to revisit my resolutions which I had made last year. Yes its true, I'm not joking. I had in all my excitement made some simple resolutions in the beginning of 2016, with the naivety of being able to follow them through. What I didn't know was that life loves throwing bouncers at us every now and then. And inspite of years of trying to dodge them, we mortals still haven't learnt to predict them or even avoid them. Anyways the bottom line of my story is that I don't know where the last year went. It just zipped past at a pace I still haven't come to terms with. It's all a blur. Too many things happened, some simultaneously, some giving a breather in between. And before I could figure out what's happening, I was writing 2017 in the date. I still keep fumbling with the year like I just woke up from a deep slumber and found instead of a Prince Charming, a new calendar! I don't want to think about it anymore. Forget it (no pun intended). No regrets.

Welcome 2017. My resolutions, made in January 2016, remain steadfast and remainded me of the tasks cut out for this year. The one major resolution I had made passionately and with absolute strong-willed intent was to become more conscious of my health. I guess this is an ailment which all of us who have crossed the dreaded 40s are inflicted with. After years of indulgence and neglect, the body starts showing the after-effects. The last year, the invisible 2016, didn't help matters. So now is the time for action I decided on the cold January morning of 2017. I searched, located and cleaned my sneakers, tried out my gym pants (thank god for the breathe-easy material, they fit even after all the extra kilos and inches!), updated my playlist on my iphone. I was all set to go, no one or nothing was going to deter me this time. The alarm was set. As I got ready to go to bed, I worked out the routine for the morning. My kids would leave for school and then I would hit the road. Maybe run for a couple of kilometers. Perfect. All set.

I woke up with the first ring of the alarm and was raring to go. Everything went as planned. I did a few warm up exercises and started the walk/run. And then it happened. A few minutes into the walk (I had still not started with the run, thank god!), I was huffing and puffing and looked ready to collapse. I braved on, blaming the cold air, my old shoes, the uncomfortable socks, the ill fitting clothes, anything. But after a few more minutes, my brain wouldn't think of any more excuses. It was just gasping to survive. I had to admit to myself that this was not working out (what a choice of expression!!). I was too out of shape. I had to start from the scratch. I could no longer give those fat aunties condescending smiles and privately enjoy their unsuccessful efforts at losing weight. Hate you, Shilpa Shetty! 

Got back home, feeling depressed, defeated and severely dejected. Come on, come on! rethink, replan, redo the plan of action - I kept repeating to myself so as not to slip back into the comfortable lifestyle that I had been enjoying for the last couple of months. So, ok! The next step I decided to try out was to exercise under supervision. Actually it was more to ensure that I kept to the plan. I joined the gym in our society and went all prepped up to work out a good sweat and watch those calories burning away. Ha! not so easy babe! After two days, I was reminded of Sanghi ma'am and her Bio classes in school. How many muscles (or is it muscle groups?) are there in our body? I just don't seem to remember, however much I tried. Every body part screamed out for mercy, every muscle begged to be let off. As for me, I was wondering what was I doing - I mean voluntarily getting ready and heading for the godforsaken gym which was located, ironically, on the first floor of the community centre. Looking at those stairs (of course there's no lift!) one had to push oneself further, motivate oneself to climb up those stairs and into the gym, to be welcomed with a big smile by the taskmaster, I mean the gym instructor. My torture didn't end there. My gym instructor would push me harder, after knowing about my history of fauji training and marathons (full, half, quarter, whatever) and outdoor activities. And I couldn't even curse him because inspite of being the tall, overpowering hulk with rippling muscles, he was such a soft spoken person that listening to him over the loud music was itself an effort. Another effort. Also I guess because my mind would be so numb with exhaustion and concentration that thinking anything was impossible. Kind of reminded me of my days at the Naval Academy where it was easier to just follow orders instead of trying to understand and make sense of them.

Anyways, I'm still very much alive and certainly not in a very much kicking state. I just had this overwhelming urge to pour out my grievances on paper. Hence this blog. My biceps and triceps are crying for compasson as I type. Well if you don't hear from me for some time, you know the reason why. 

Here's to the never give up spirit. Hope you all also have a wonderful and healthy 2017. Maybe a little less painful. But then again - no pain, no gain. Till then, stay healty.