Glunker

 Today was an odd day. I have realised that if my work day begins with a call, no matter how important it is, it's hard for me to stay on track. And today I had insisted that my brother and father come to visit me. Preparing for their visits itself is a huge leak of energy. I don't know why I stress so much when they come. For one thing it would be good if everyone just ate the same thing. This business of menu-planning is such a bane. 

Anyway brother and I went for a walk to Carter's. It's strange. We both grew up here but he doesn't feel anything here...no real attachment or anything. And when I left Bandra, I kinda left Bombay. I guess our childhoods were different and what we remember from that time is different. We had gelato and I took him to another vegan place which he hated. I have a sneaky feeling that he has started disliking Bandra because of all the vegan fare I am asking him to try. 

But he did enjoy the paneer bhurji I got my cook to make for him. He ate that with pav, something he doesn't have too much of in Vashi.

Anyway, I am not feeling on top of my time, energy and schedule. Something is going on with me that I can't figure out. 

There's this thing I read, an advice from Buddha, "If it comes, let it come. If it goes, let it go. See what stays."

So now the plan is to wait...to see what stays. 

Bandstand, pani puri, and the love affair between the moon and the sea

 Things have been a little rough since the last two days. I have been dealing with a fair amount of churn and guilt. And when things start getting nauseatingly bad is when I connect with V. If nothing else, he talks extensively about Tandav and that oddly is a stress buster.

Anyway, the other day I picked him up and we went to Bandstand. There we were at our usual little coffee and snack tuck shop. V was telling me an interesting story about the huts near the sea. A beautiful dog was moving around here and there. The cafe people were shooing him away but they were doing it with so much affection that it was almost like an invitation for the dog. Still...he seemed lost. Not wholly agitated though. (But I hope he reached wherever he had to.)

Anyway, after that, V and I were sitting on the promenade itself. It was cold. Really cold. (V told me today that yesterday was the coldest day in Bombay so far). The moon was high, almost perfectly full, dripping with pearly light and glow. The sea was rich, luscious, dark. We noticed, as always, people going into the water following a narrow rocky strip. Even further into the distance, there were boats and strings of blinking lights. V told me that those boats are there to guide the other boats in. 

I had started shivering by then. So I had a hot cup of Boost the wandering vendors sell. V and I were silent, just looking about. The moon was riding higher. 

Then V told me to notice the sea closely. Especially around a boy with a backpack who was earlier sitting on a rock by himself. But now had stood up and was looking for a way to get out. 

The tide was high now and the water had started coming in. Slowly, steadily, silently. The boy finally made his way out. It must have been scary. There you are, sitting on a firm piece of the earth believing that you are safe. And without any warning or drama, without any crashing waves or anything, the sea was reasserting it's dominion, changing the world around you, making you the misfit.

It was beautiful. I looked up. The moon was slowly drifting higher and the tide was rising as well. The moon seemed to be gently pulling in the water. I do realise that there are scientific explanations for this. But it looked and felt like an art of seduction. Between two elements that are as coveted as they are hard to attain.

Then it got too cold for comfort, so V and I decided to head back. On the way, I had a plate of pani puri. It was quite tasty.

The day ended well. 

Saturday

I got some bad dreams and had to work today but I didn't. Was getting stressed out. Very tentatively, I asked V if we could catch up today. I know V and I are friends but sometimes I feel he has such a big life that catching up when bored doesn't seem to fit in his radar. Anyway he was sweet enough to come.

I finally got a string of lights up and we chatted. I like our evenings like this... comfortable, peaceful, and homey. We were looking out onto the traffic, the city buzz, the glittering ephemera that an address like Bandra West, Pali Hill brings. Only to us, this address was a candy-rock neighborhood before it became THE address. Actually it's strange. V and I didn't know each other growing up. Our paths barely crossed and then one day, well into adulthood, our paths crossed again.

But today when we talk of our time in Bandra, it's as if we had spent our lives in two corners of the same page. Maybe that's how it is as you go through life in a volatile world and start losing people or drifting apart from them...some precious connections remain as bookmarks to your story - the one that you forgot.

Friday

So, here's what happened...brother and I met up at Carter's and I took him to a vegan place close-by. Portions were small. I like the food there but small portions really rile up the brother so he was gloomy throughout dinner. 

Here are pictures of a smoothie bowl and a vegan pizza. 

What else?

Oh yes! Yesterday, I talked to my broken toenail, ate my meds, prayed, and today the toenail came off. It's such a relief. Toe still throbs and hurts but it's much better now.

Yesterday when I was tending to my toenail, when I was cleaning it, etc., some really tough memories flooded my mind. Memories of a past relationship that had gone toxic beyond recognition. Had become abusive. Suddenly all those memories of me walking up stairs, fumbling to get through the door, with a knot in my stomach so afraid that I wouldn't know what I would find, what kind of language I would have to hear...it was sickening. My toenail was broken and bloodied. It still held on to the skin in quite a tough manner. It seemed like this toenail reminded me that even though that relationship was over, I still held on to some hatred and grief related to it. And that was possibly far more hurtful and damaging than I realised. I then prayed for strength to forgive that person and myself for allowing myself to be treated that way. It was time to be free of the pain... holding a grudge didn't help. And just as I exhaled, the nail came off.

I wish that was the happy ending of this predicament. But it's not. So many things started churning inside me. So many memories. So much loss and anger and just plain sadness. It made me nauseous and breathless. I sat down on the bed and thought of Mom. Thought of what she would tell me.

Very slowly things eased up and I could do some work. But I was put through the wringer today. I really feel emotionally exhausted. I wish, I wish, I wish I could take this year off to just reset to peace. 

It's strange...how much of an autobiography ones body is. How much trauma it holds on to. How much of a compass it becomes for ones future.

Well, tomorrow is another day. I'll live. 😊

Toe

 Today I tended to my toe. Had contemplated going to the doctor but didn't. Had a call in the morning and then there is the whole sweet deal of coordinating when the cook and the cleaning help arrive.

Anyway, it started hurting badly again in the night. So called up my friend who recommended that I wait it out if I couldn't stand the pain. I have to clean the wound and all that. I think it is one way to really get in touch with the body. 

I had read Louise Hay's 'You can heal your life' many years ago. I had loved it and it spoke to me. 

It is a book about the general mind-body connection and how diseases and ailments point to the out-of-sync conditions we put ourselves in. The foundational concept of this book is that if you experience pain or trouble in the body, there is an accompanying mental thought pattern to accompany it. It naturally follows, then, that if you want to resolve the problem, you change the way you think (by also taking other measures if that's what you are comfortable doing.)

Anyway, according to the book, nails represent protection and toes represent thoughts of the future. So damaging the toenail could indicate that I am feeling unprotected and vulnerable regarding the future. In my case, at least, this part is slightly true. After leaving my brother and father's place, at times, I do feel a tad overwhelmed. Of course, I am in a state of great privilege that I am grateful for. But that sense of just having to handle everything alone may have been operating on my psyche too much.

Anyway, I got the meds. I will faff around for a bit and then get to dressing my wound. 

Now I know it sounds silly but whenever I feel pain in my body, I talk to it. Talk to that part of the body that hurts and talk to the pain as well. It's not really pain. It's something wanting my attention and it usually is something that has wanted my attention for a while. Maybe it's time to say hello to the bloodied toe and find out what's happening.

That's that then. 

Pain and Punjabi music, Soothing and strawberries

 My toenail was hurting a fair bit and I went to the doctor, much against my will. He was going to pull out my nail because it has turned black and it had been bleeding for a while. I got fever yesterday and my head and hand had started hitting as well. I couldn't allow him to pull out my nail though. I screamed and he told me I was being a wuss and my nail wasn't really paining. Well, it was. It was. It was. I don't know why doctors and dentists don't believe that there is pain. Anyway he said that there was no way out and I had to just summon up the courage and get it done. I told him I needed time and could I get anaesthesia. He said that the injection would hurt more.

Anyway I called V, who had offered to come to the doctor with me. I don't know whether he really meant it or not. But I was very upset and I really was in a lot of pain. Talking to him was a mistake because he said it wasn't paining as bad as I was making it out to be (what is it with these men?) And he could come home and pull it out himself. I have no clue why he even offered that as a suggestion. Anyway, he perhaps sensed that all this tough talk was not helping so he has volunteered to come with me tomorrow. But I don't know. I am scared. Dear Ma Kali, please please ...just heal this overnight so I don't have to go to the doctor again. I am really praying for a miracle.

I didn't realise how sick I may have looked. My cook was quite concerned. She offered to massage my head. I thought I would go to Carter's for icecream. On the way, a girl stopped me and asked me if I was okay and if I needed to talk. That was so sweet. I told J also about my immense pain and all of her advice to me usually involves something from Star Wars or doodh haldi. Anyway, it is always reassuring to talk to her. Even if the advice is banal. 

Carter's was nice as was the strawberry gelato. 

And then I walked back home listening to songs that cheer me up:

1. Kudi nu nachne de: https://youtu.be/3lhQX5GvMe8

2. Udtaa Punjab (this is ONE HECK of an album): https://youtu.be/Ezsb5afVXQQ

3. Ex calling: https://youtu.be/3ierD2MJEjY (This singer's voice is so light and cheery. You imagine him smiling when he's singing even if he is singing about his ex).

Well, that was that for today. 

How the day went down

 Things were good. Didn't go for a walk today but it was a beautiful evening. V came home. I lit some candles because I wanted him to experience what I experience at the end of the day. I realise that I would need chairs or something if I have to entertain people. But we talked. 

I realise that I was holding it against him for not coming to meet me after Ma passed on. We spoke about it. I don't know if I am over it. Hopefully in time. I know that the kind of freedom I want...the kind of freedom I really want...forgiving and letting go is a very crucial part of it. V is a good guy. He just didn't think that I would want something like that. I am so tired of feeling let down or feeling guilty for letting people down. 

Anyway, my heart feels heavy now. But it was a good evening with lots of stories. 

Don't want to...

 Today I am in some pain.

My toe-nail nearly got ripped off and is throbbing and bleeding. Still I went for a walk, spotted a vegan restaurant, and sat at Carter's. Bought Dettol, bandaid and cotton and considering I am the most cowardly, squeamish person in the world, I don't know how I will manage to wash and dress my wound.

My throat just swelled up for no reason. My friend tells me that my lymph nodes may be infected. I am supposed to gargle today but I haven't yet. 

I saw a lizard in the house and that also shaved off 5 years off my life. 

I have so much to finish. I haven't even started on that yet. 

Okay, now let's see all the good and happy things that happened:

1. I fit into my pants from H&M Bangalore, which I am so happy about. Looks quite good, I think.

2. Watched Tribhanga. I really liked it. I thought Tanvi Azmi was lovely. I know the movie has received a fair amount of criticism for being too 'pat' but I didn't think so. I think the movie just shows a compassionate view of how we are all creatures of compensation. If we don't get what we want from our parents, we will sculpt a life working out those choices.

3. Tried the vegan burger from 'The Good Do' on Carter's. It was nice. They had forgotten to give ketchup or hotsauce...but it was okay. 

I have to muster up the courage to dress my wound or live with the pain. Choices, choices! And then maybe get to work.

Sicketsy. (I like this word that I made up...sicketsy.)

Sunday

Today V accompanied me to Mount Mary. I wanted to offer some candles for my friend's father's death anniversary. I had gone for his death ceremony to Dibrugarh. I had never met him but A, his daughter, is a very dear friend. I wanted to meet her.

V doesn't visit church. He gave some long spiel about having a pact with God where God doesn't visit him in his house and he doesn't visit God in His. Melodramatic scenes of Amitabh Bachchan clanging temple bells yelling at Shiva about how he never asked God for anything, etc. came to mind. Anyway, we weren't wearing masks as we got down from Mount Mary's. Got caught and fined. 200 bucks each. 

Then we went and sat close to the rocks, chatted a while, and had coffee. I have noticed something strange in my talks with V. It's usually about similar themes...Bandra, our growing up years, modern-day relationships, sex, its importance and uselessness (depending on which of us is talking), etc. But then he will talk about his travels or something he noticed with a friend's child and I glimpse something... something dark, uncomfortable, and kind. Like a cave that stays empty until a meditator gets there to infuse it with his innocent chaos. There's a lot of unknown in that man. 

And then he will notice me noticing that. That's when he will turn the spotlight on me and start listing all the ways I can improve. Make a joke of it. I will laugh. He will laugh. A cloud will pass over the moon and cover it. The cave shuts itself down. And we revert to a fascinating yet routine circus act.

Then V took me to Manju dosa and I loved the butter sada dosa I had there. Sure, it's a place that the dosa purists will hate...what with Schezwan and pav bhaji dosa, etc. But I loved my crisp, buttery dosa with tasty coconut chutney.

Today I ate a lot. Yet again, my brother had promised to come and he didn't. I had a lot of food prepared for him and I anyway ate a lot of that. Also, I was reading 'The drama of the gifted child' and it's a tough read. It forces you to re-examine your childhood, your relationship with your mother, what unresolved feelings you carry with you and project on to the world In this part that I am reading, Alice Miller presents a few case studies. Those were heart-wrenching. I felt quite exposed and vulnerable. Slept off for a few hours in the afternoon and had difficult dreams. So a lot of eating today was stress eating. That's okay. I walked up 8 floors to my flat. It's fine.

A conversation

 

Today V called. It made me happy. I couldn't meet him because I was waiting for my brother who didn't turn up. But it felt good talking to him, making plans for next week. He was telling me about the new, winter fruits and vegetables that are available in the local market. And then he made fun of me for wanting to visit the farmer's market in DeMonte Park tomorrow.

I love black candles. Love, love, love them. I love all candles but black ones especially...they look so Stoic, dignified, and majestic. I bought a few of them from Mount Mary. Lit one of them tonight. I was hoping to save them for a special occasion. But heck...I am a special occasion.

Time to unwind. My drink of contemplation for tonight is a cold Diet Coke. And let's see what comes up in rumination. 

There comes the sun, there sets the sun...

 Some pictures of Bandra today/ yesterday. (I didn't make it for the morning walk but stepped out when there was still light. So that's something.) Here are a few pictures from my walk:

This Tanjore tiffin room is somewhere on Carter's. It looks empty-ish but I love tiffins. So nice and wholesome. Will try this out sometime.

This filigreed skyscaping of trees and skies is what softens the edges of rough days. It's gorgeous! 

Okay. This photograph, rather photographs like these...of roads leading into a promenade and ending with a splash and burst of sunshine...is what generally fills me with glorious hope. 

A friend had once told me the story of one of the poets - either it was Robert Frost or Robert Browning, whoever served in the war. He was going away on war and his wife was upset because he wasn't reassuring her of returning. He told her, "The sun doesn't promise to rise again."

In certain places, like such bends in Bandra, I feel the strength and support of a good, kind world. Whatever it is, we'll make it.

This is a cafe I stopped at to eat - Seeds of Life. I had avoided coming here because the name reminded me of sperm. But it is a vegan place and I have found this spot charming, so entered.

Was thinking of bringing V here sometime. His 'pork' jokes would be very amusing.

Ate an almond flour and banana pancake dotted with melted cocoa bits. It's all organic and wholesome but it wasn't too sweet. Also it was really small as well. I asked for sugar and they gave me a teeny portion of coconut sugar. I mean health is all very well but there's comfort in maida and cheeni that very things can rival.

My favourite, favourite part of the day. In some shape or form, I have survived one more segment of time. Now, what's past is past. My bag is slightly emptier and slightly fuller. I switch off all the lights, light a candle, make myself coffee or pour myself a drink, and watch the city. My favourite city. My beating heart. My broken heart. My magic. My mess. My muse. My melody. Mine. Me.

Moods

Today was nice-ish. It was quite restful for the most part. Had a friend over in the evening. We went for a walk up Pali Hill. It's just such a pretty place. I think I will try to get a walk up there in the mornings as well as the evenings. I am sure it must be pretty.

I start a new assignment tomorrow. Really looking forward to it. 

Then I have to make a few decisions regarding a couple of other things. That's not going to be easy. 

Then there's milk to buy and budgets to work out and clothes to sort out and stuff to order from Amazon for the house. (Am still living without curtains. But I love the flooding in of sunlight in the mornings and flecks of citylights at night.)

But I will try to make it for the morning walk. It's important to begin with joy. 

Good

 I just had cold milk and bikis. Oreos, I think they were. Felt good.

I think between today and the coming week, a few projects and engagements will fall away and I may get more space in my days to breathe and dwell. Let's see how this goes but looking forward to it.

I was a little antsy and upset today. Sometimes I feel that a lot of people take me for granted. That they will behave however they want and I will not do anything or say anything. I don't like feeling that way. Sometimes I sense the defenses coming on and I know that maybe I wall myself up to my own detriment. It's not a good feeling to have but for now, I can't do much about it.

I met V for a walk in the evening today as well. It was splendid. He waited below my building and we went to the same spot on Bandstand for a couple of coffees. (We went there last time as well). It was such a glorious evening. There was a steady, cool breeze, and soothing streetlights. I can't say for sure but the weather is usually good when he's around.

After coffee, we sat on the rocks looking at the blinking lights in the harbour. There were fishermens nets in the water and their huts on the side bright still with fairy lights and lanterns. It's such a charming little spot.

V being V was funny and loud,  making bawdy jokes about everything. There was a couple sitting next to us who were trying really hard to control their laughter. I suppose we must have come across as silly. 

According to V, sex is the answer to all problems. According to me, it's the cause. He feels that every person needs a solid, sexual life to be able to create and be productive. I feel that every person must practice abstinence if they want to do something of value. Then he always finishes off such talks by saying that my brain is damaged due to excessive vegetarianism and then he will offer to get me pork. The way he says 'pork'...like it's a double-meaning thing always makes me laugh.

Strange that I can never accept this kind of talk from anyone else. But from him... it's just shooting the breeze.

Then is my most favourite part of meeting V...our walks. Today I told him that I would drop him to his place and then head home. He resisted at first but then agreed. We usually walk through tiny lanes in Bandra with gorgeous houses. We see balconies with flower beds bursting with jewel-like blossoms. We see tastefully decked porches of duplex apartments. Today we spotted a white and gold piano in a room painted sage and cream. It was stunning. We saw lace curtains swishing in the breeze and a large dog snoozing on the couch. V will point out these things, the way people will point out stars or interesting constellations in the sky. He tells me interesting things about the older villas and before I know it, it's time to part.

Meeting him today was such joy! I hope we do it again sometime. He has promised me excellent sandwiches the next time we're out. 

Looking forward to that! 

Uhusseds

 Today after a walk at Carter's, I stopped at Bagel Shop for a cup of coffee. As with much of the charming coffee shops in Bandra that flout civic rules with such pomposity, this one too apparently does not give water. You have to buy it. The server was rather pinch-nosed about it. I was about to throw a sweaty little tantrum to make that genteel crowd uncomfortable but I refrained. I ordered coffee but went to the medical store opposite it to buy water.

Those guys didn't have change. (I don't use a debit or credit card and none of the Gpay or such variations.) So I asked the shopkeeper that if I bought more things (which I needed), would he give me change? He said he was all out. 

He handed over the bottle and said that I could pay him any other time. I told him it will be a while before I got change. He said it's no problem. He could not possibly refuse me water.

A food and beverages establishment had refused me water.  

The posh part of Bandra is not the part I grew up in. 

But to be fair, Bagel Shop's black coffee with a shot of hazelnut was excellent. 

(The title of the post is a made up post.)

What I thought about today

 The extent of effort some people will take to hide the fact that they are married is...I mean...complex world problems can be solved with that kind of focused, deep, persistent thinking.

Today I spoke with a friend from Pune who is likely to be visiting Mumbai in February.  So yay! Yesterday I spoke with a dear pal who has moved to Pune from Bangalore...I hope to meet her soon! We were talking about going to Lonavala and catching up there for a weekend.

I got Kombucha! Was savouring the happy rose and lavender flavored one and life felt good.

Today had a couple of discussions where I felt quite deflated. Sometimes I feel I have not accomplished anything in work. I still have to persuade some quarters to pay for writing. Not just because I need the money. But because writing as a process also needs the buttress and value that financial sufficiency affords. I don't understand why writers are considered so menial. Like all the important work happens AFTER stuff is written. I mean...even if it's a small job, it's still a job. Someone is doing it. It's still the trade-off of someone's life. 

In so many years, I don't think I could make a dent in that understanding. Oh well. No point in ranting. As my brother told me once, it's not all writers who go through this. "It's only you", I believe he mentioned. 

Maybe.

But on the HUGE upside, street shopping is back! 

Pictures!

 

A strip of cobbled road, lights... because celebrating is something they do, and a cheeky Social promising dope coffee right above CCD whose coffee beans do seem roasted and ground in the pre-COVID era. #bandrawest

The label as ticket to understanding and being understood

 A friend recently informed me that the new(ish) term for conditions such as ADD is 'neurodiversity'. I thought this was really good because it takes the shame and sense of 'being wrong' from a condition. Which anyway is not true. As my friend explained, one can have laser-like focus for some things but be completely scattered about other things. But diversity indicates that there is more than one way for your synapses to fire together,more than one way for the brain to make sense of the world, more than one way to cope, and therefore, importantly, more than one way to survive.

One of the chief virtues of diversity, I think, is that it presupposes coexistence. And coexistence in turn presupposes safety and absence of threat. Then why do we get so triggered when we encounter something different or unfamiliar? Because, I feel, the lack of diversity does not really present a clear and present danger. To see the danger of excessive homogenization, one needs to take a long-term and very wide view. That perhaps is too much trouble and that may be a little scary - because to to think about everybody means to think of everybody and nobody really knows everybody. So, one will have to accept to oneself that there is so much that is not known. And it is so unfamiliar and sketchy. That may be the rub. 

One way to overcome this is perhaps aligning with advice I heard from a stylist once. She said that before you buy anything new, think of 3 different kinds of outfits you could come up with it, without pairing it with anything black, white, navy or denim. The new piece must go with at least three other elements in your wardrobe when it comes to prints, textures, colours, etc. That's when you know it's a fit and it will be worn and won't remain like a funky novelty item. 

To think of an extended 'family' so to speak is actually a habit. t doesn't (always or necessarily) have to spring from the goodness of one's heart. If one has to think of a value one has than see how it may affect oneself, one's family, someone from a different country that you know, and someone from a different country that you don't know, one may start getting a little sensitized to the interconnectedness and the ripple effect of thoughts across groups. I don't know. It seems sketchy. As in why should I think of a Swedish photographer when deciding between buying poppy or parsley? But perhaps the fact that I have thought of her will stretch my consciousness just that much so that when the full embracing has to happen (if it ever does), I don't snap and break.

Today ended well

The way it began held no clue to what a sweet, tender, gentle finish today would have.

V took me for a frankie and a coffee near Bandstand. Bandstand was gorgeous. It was cold and breezy and it was high tide. There was a churn and a roll in the sea that felt so good, so instinctive...I didn't know how much I had missed just listening to the sea. 

We sat at the steps. V laughed at a few couples around us. I thought, just as I always did, that it was cute. V took me for a walk in the little bylanes of Chuim village...the tiny little houses of his Koli friends who had spread the net and would watch over the nets until 4 am the next day. Their houses always had the sweetest decorations...lights shaped like dolphins, etc. V told me about how he thought that sharks were intelligent. He's grown his hair. Looks pretty good. And he knows it. He played with a couple of Huskies near Pali Hill. We walked past all these tiny alcove like swish shops - boulangeries, suit makers, florists, candy and cake stores with dainty window dressings.

He walked me home and then proceeded to catch up with other friends. 

I had the best time! Can't stop smiling! 

Blungerkund

Today was a sweetish day. Lost my cool only twice but otherwise managed to hold it together. 

Met up with a friend for coffee and dinner. We, umm, unwillingly pub-hopped. Finally, we went to the terrace of a restaurant where friend enjoyed chicken lollipop and I got shitake and spinach mushrooms. We talked about books, stuff she has watched, her plans, 2020, and it felt good. 

Mellow fairy lights around us. Pretty people smiling and greeting each other. Guys smelling nice. Girls charming in heels and silk. It felt good, nourishing, in fact, to be out with a friend enjoying a meal, talking about a little bit of the life that we survived. 

We both were talking about our favourite restaurants in Bombay...and we were describing it as eras in our lives. Like the way Candies near Aamir Khan's house was an era of my school days. There was the era of Zenzi. Then both of us...or most women our age who started working and earning well around the time we did...spent a lot of time in Colaba. So there was the era of Moshe's that introduced us to fondue, Rubois tea, different kinds of cheesecakes, and the like. There was the era of Oven Fresh. There was the era of Shiv Sagar. There was the era of Mondegar (Mondies) for the jukebox and triple Schezwan rice.

I think it has the making of a book. 

For me, 2020 was really not that bad. Or if it was harrowing, I don't remember it that way. I just recall being shaken...even now I feel unsettled...when I think about the first sightings in the news of the migrants walking home during Covid. Children, old people, pregnant women...tying up their entire life's belongings and returning home at such risk. And we let them. In the blazing sun, on rough roads, with so little...we let them. In fact, even that didn't disturb me as much as one statement issued by the government later that they didn't have data on how many migrants died. I think something collapsed in me then. 

To matter in India - to even be counted as living, you had to be young and rich. 

Earlier that day I had gone out to buy an ice-cream for my father. We had all had it rough but I wanted him to have a small treat. It  was raining hard. There was no auto. I was soaking wet. My specs were slipping from my face and there were open potholes. I wasn't carrying enough cash to rick it back. There weren't too many of them plying anyway. No buses because public transport had stopped.

I tripped and the icecream fell. I couldn't buy him another one. And I was still quite a distance away from home. That time, I felt very unsupported and overwhelmed. If anything happened to my brother or me, l wondered how my dad would manage. We weren't a society anymore that looked out for the vulnerable. It was an 'each person for himself or herself' country.

If you aren't young or rich in India, what do you do? You are part of an invisible database where your existence doesn't even count.

Whatever internal shifts that people say Covid has brought within us...I am not sure. Something like this will happen again and we will forget. 

A collective amnesia is more conducive to survival than a collective memory.

I think that's why I write a little bit about my life every day, whether in a blog or my diary. It's my way of telling the slipping sand in the hourglass..."Hey! I see you."

From that tiny bit of noticing comes my own sense of dignity. Lord knows that it can and does get eroded every day. One has to do what one can to keep the sanity.

No title so shoot me

 Stupid day.

Today is a stupid day. Dumb day. Stupid. Stupid. STUPID.

And there's no malpua in the house or anywhere closeby. I don't understand why rasmalai is more freely available than malpua. Stupid rasmalai. Overdesigned idiotic sweet. Malpuas are better...dark, soft, spongy, juicy and sweet with coconut milk batter, parts of it slightly crisp from the deep-frying. 

Eaten with eyes half-closed in reverence. If life is kind, you eat malpua with a thick helping of dense, flavorful, cool sweet rabdi.

Stupid day still but it made me think of something nice. So now it is a sweet, stupid day. 

Finding collectibles today

 First, there was the poem, Thinking' by Danusha Lameris.

Don't you wish they would stop, all the thoughts

swirling around in your head, bees in a hive, dancers

tapping their way across the stage? I should rake the leaves

in the carport, buy Christmas lights. Was there really life on Mars?

What will I cook for dinner? I walk up the driveway,

put out the garbage bins. I should stop using plastic bags,

visit my friend whose husband just left her for the Swedish nanny.

I wish I hadn't said Patrick's painting looked "ominous."

Maybe that's why he hasn't called. Does the car need oil again?

There's a hole in the ozone the size of Texas and everything

seems to be speeding up. Come, let's stand by the window

and look out at the light on the field. Let's watch how the clouds

cover the sun and almost nothing stirs in the grass.

Next, there was the delectable poha that my cook makes.I find Maharashtrian poha to be the best, especially made with potatoes. I prefer it to Indori poha, although sometimes that too is very flavorful. I don't really mind the avalakki I ate in Bangalore but once I had this avalakki mae with red poha. It was more coarse but very distinctive. That was nice too. Poha and ginger tea was nice!

I am currently reading 'The Drama of the Gifted Child: The Search for the True Self' by Alice Miller. In a nutshell, it's a psychoanalyst's theory of what's wrong with us. But it is so insightful that I often find myself wondering where this book has been all my life.

I found my soft suede tunic in rust. I'd been looking for it forever. And then I stopped looking for it for three years and voila! There it is...all sweet and happy! I will wear it later today as I slog it out. I would like to take some time out to wear it and treat myself to coffee and leisurely reading. Let's see. Once you have picked out a happy outfit, it's like the day's destiny comes scampering in. But I have a call in the early evening. No matter. 

Day is almost over, not over. Year has changed, not changed. Droll.

So it has begun

It's like the deep cells in your body and your gut don't know that the year has changed. That there ought to be fresh resolve. If not fresh resolve, then at least a fresh set of angst. But no. It's a continuum. The constriction one felt in the past comes along. 

Sometimes I marvel at this stubbornness of ache. There's a line in Ernest Hemingway's, 'Old Man and the Sea'. It's a favorite line of mine. When the old man is trying to reel in the fish but the fish won't give in. The old man ceases his struggle for a bit and admires the fish's tenacity. He is taken in with the strange nobility of the fish. The line goes, "There was no panic in his fight."

That's a gorgeous sentiment.

Anyway, that's what I am thinking about the faint soupbof anxiety, dread and ennui I have been feeling since a few months now. 

Well, a worthy adversary is still something to be thankful for.

Dredging up the past

 You see the sweet, cuddly depiction of Winston Churchill in 'The Crown' and almost forget his role in the Bengal famine of 1943 - a famine that occurred in the year when rain levels were higher that average, when Bengal produced enough to feed the entire region, and a famine that caused close to three million deaths.

 My father tells me stories of the famine. He tells me of the time when poor and hungry people stormed to the Park Hotel where the British and the elite were still wining and dining...but they stopped at the gates. Even under the provocation of fatal hunger, even as a mob, they wouldn't storm into place and claim food because it was not 'their place'. This word 'aukaat' in Hindi - I don't know what the closest word in English is for it - it's not caste or status...it's this unalterable place in life - that no matter what happens, you don't get to move out of your groove. Your children don't. Generations after you don't.

One can't blame Churchill. He was making all kinds of decisions to win the war, against all odds. But I think India and Indians have had issues with boundaries. I also think, not historically or anything, just from what I observe in my own work and in context of those I work with, there is an inverse relationship between your boundaries and your limits. If you have strict boundaries, you can be limitless in what you achieve or create. But if you have lax boundaries, you will erode under the crushing weight of constraints. Then you will necessarily limit what you can accomplish. 

One only needs to look at the schedule for a day and know this to be true.

Third of January, 2021

 Lots to say but it's past midnight and I just warmed up my tea. So there's that to get through.

I ate a roti rolled up with a slice of cheese and strawberry jam. Ate a bowl of spicy potato topped with daal and some thetcha. I love thetcha. Thetcha is a Maharashtrian chutney made with spicy green or red chillies, salt, and garlic. These are the basic ingredients but there are some slight variations. I love this a lot. My favourite way of having this is with hot rice and ghee. 

Speaking of chutneys and powders, there are so many varieties you find in Gujarati and South Indian households. I like the nutty, spicy and savoury ones that one generally has with rice, rotis, idlis, dosas, etc. But they can be smeared on bread in a pinch or even used as a dry rub marination. I have given up non-veg but my friend, who's from Hubli originally but is now in Bangalore, has a pudi (powder) which has cumin, curry leaves, tamarind, chillies, hing, and a few other things that are divine. My friend herself is a great cook and I think her bisibele bhaat ought to feature in a premium cookbook somewhere. But the bisibele bhaat with that powder is soul satisfying.

Anyway back to her pudi (and she gets batches of a lot of these great things from Hubli)...I think they would make a great dry rub for rohu pieces for a crisp, flavorful fish fry. I had once used it to season a plate of mushrooms and some potato wedges. 

It was tasty.

Second January 2021

 Things that happened today:

1. I saw a kite and a crow at my window-sill when I woke up.

2. Unboxed my first box of books from Bangalore. I still haven't installed all the shelves in that bookshelf (couldn't manage). But stacked whatever I could.

3. Watched AK vs AK. Really enjoyed it other than Anurag Kashyap's alarmingly stolid performance. Why? It's quite disconcerting. One of the things that has always blown me regarding Anurag Kashyap's movies, right from Black Friday and a pirated copy of his first unreleased film 'Paanch' was how superb he was with casting. And he works with such blazing talent...I couldn't fathom why he thought he would be good here? It's another matter that Anil Kapoor raises the bar ye high. He is fantastic. Still. In a movie with Anil Kapoor, if YOU are the one who is hamming, it's a surreal alternative universe. Anyway, as movies about movies go, this one is quite a delight. I don't think comparisons with Bowfinger are fair. This one has distinct flavours of our world. I liked it.

4. My Lenovo laptop is having issues. I need to replace my battery and that battery is not available in the market. If it does become available, it will cost me quite a bomb. But it's the battery. So, in a bid to get it fixed, I went to my usual spots in Vashi plaza. They couldn't sort it out. One of them told me to check it out in the Lenovo service set up near the mall. So I went there. It was all pretty and lit up and sparkly. The guy said that they were the Sales center. The 'Service' center was elsewhere. And that 'elsewhere' was in a building so dilapidated that one expected to see Anurag Kashyap or one of his cast members there staging a chase sequence...all dark, dingy...But the guy there was sweet. He too could not do anything but said he would revert on Monday. It's so telling, isn't it? The Sales center is someplace else and the Service center is hidden somewhere else, designed to be inaccessible. Funny.

5. Stats about this blog and some comments that people have made about Chiffonesque are interesting. When I started out and for a long time after that, my main audience was young girls between 24-35. Then the target audience was guys between 24-30. Now it's mainly men between 35-50. When the target audience was women, they usually appreciated what I wrote or disagreed with it. They never commented on the topics I chose to write about. The men, irrespective of age, however, comment on what I write about. Why are the topics always so sad? Why are they always so superficial? Why are they so personal? Why are they so impersonal? 

These are things to think about, considering I am planning to do more content marketing work in the coming months. Actually this insight is even good for the instructional design work as well. Women will accept stuff offered for free and will generally engage in the framework that the interface will allow them to. Unless the content creator has specifically asked for recommendations or feedback, they will not venture it. Men, on the other hand, are invested in the choice of content you put out. They would like to have a say in the earlier stage of 'content stream' to begin with. If they are patronizing a site with their 'attention', they would like their investment to yield better returns. 

Maybe gender and associated receptors play a far more important part in training than what we factor in. If your team consists of mainly women, you can design something and it will mostly fly. At least the training will be consumed. But if your workforce has more males, it is important to have their views represented earlier on in the design cycle. I realise this sounds stilted. Ideal situation is irrespective of gender, (and I am unfortunately limiting this to only CIS and binary gendered categories), you first ask an adult learner, "What would you like training on?" There's no guarantee that one will get an answer that is useful...but if my blog is any indication, even the initial engagement gets you a lot of traction. I'm talking in the zone of nearly three to four times the regular number. 

Actually the reason for not involving learners, especially in compliance training or anything related to vision-mission orientation type stuff, is the assumption that they will not have the answer, they are mostly blue-collared so their opinion on stuff like 'policy' and 'orientation' is out of their league, etc. But the truth is so much of these policies etc. is so anti-worker that it's not funny. (So much of this world and market is anti-worker that it's not funny. If everybody has to only 'strategise' and 'lead' and have 'visionary tendencies', who executes then? Who rolls up their sleeves and works through cranks when the shit gets real? It's like the difference between the Sales and Services offices of Lenovo. The Service place didn't even have a lift and it's on the 3rd floor. And there was some dingy loo with a flickering bulb. And those are the guys who are doing the grunt work. The only time the management will deign to look at them is to give them training. Why should they be amenable to it? If the only time my seniors look at me is to tell me how I can be 'fixed' some more with training, I won't like that at all. 

I really want to work with/ for a company or an L&D division with some guts. In the training feedback form, have a check box that says 'This was a waste of time.' Or rating scales that have a smiley face, frowning face, and the third finger from either side of the hand raised. 

In talks with some people who at least say that they want to try stuff. 

But I really want to do something in training that is for the LGBTQ community. It's time. Not token stuff. Important, serious, research-based assignments.

It will happen. 

First January 2021 in pictures

 Make of this what you will.