Yesterday, my daughter was deeply disturbed when she returned from college. Her Journalism Teacher – with strong right-wing leanings - was at it again: minority bashing, rumour-mongering, malice proliferating… The lady in question is doing her doctoral thesis on two prime ministerial candidates – Rahul Gandhi and Narendra Modi. She spares no occasion to vilify the former and exalt the latter. Fine. Each one is entitled to their personal opinions and beliefs. But if you are going to be using your opinions to brainwash a group of gullible future citizens who sadly don’t seem to be able to think for themselves, I do think it is a matter of serious concern. Especially when all the so-called research that the lady relies on seems to be internet forwards that claim that Indira Gandhi’s husband was actually a Muslim, that Sonia Gandhi is actually a Russian spy, that Sanjay Gandhi stole cars in the US…. Right, so she does not like the Gandhis. But should you allow your opinion to cloud their thinking? Should you – by feeding stereotypes in class after class, fan the flames of hatred and create more divisions in an already fragmented society? Should you poison minds and churn out citizens who base their opinions on malicious lies and half-truths?
I tried my best to console my daughter – who bases her opinions on extensive independent research and refuses to accept what anybody says as the whole truth – but it was hard to find the right words. Even for a mother who is a wordsmith. “The worst part is that all of them in class actually believe her!” she lamented. “I feel so disillusioned. What’s going to happen to our country?”
I pointed out that there are many sane voices out there. Journalists, activists and right-thinking individuals who walk the less-trod path. Who seek out the truth and then share it with others. Who refuse to be brow-beaten. Arundhati Roy, Mallika Sarabhai, Javed Anand, Teesta Setvald, Yogi Sikand, Jyoti Punwani, Harsh Mander and publications like Tehelka and my personal favourite The Hindu. “But there are such few voices”, she protested.
“Yes, there are. But their conviction, their courage and their moral uprightness makes their voice louder and more impactful than a bullet from a gun in the hand of a coward”.
I do not know if this has alleviated her anger or reduced her disillusionment. As an aspiring journalist and a child born to a Muslim mother and a Hindu father, my daughter, I know, must be ready to face many challenges in the future. I pray that she has the strength to do so, without losing her equanimity, her strength of character and her conviction.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
10 Things I love about Bangalore.
There are dozens and dozens of reasons why I love Bangalore – the city where I got my first job, first fell in love, where I first set up my own home, the place where my daughter was born, where I first became an entrepreneur…. but let me share my top ten here.
I was not born in Bangalore, but am a Bangalorean at heart. This city, along with Chennai were our regular holiday destinations. We always drove down the 300-odd kms from Bellary in whichever car Abba then owned. I always remember how I felt when we entered the city. It seemed so different from our sleepy town. The roads were broad and clean. The trees looked lovely. The people looked so… well, so ‘hep’, as we said in those days.
I came to Bangalore in 1986 to join a small outfit as a Trainee Copywriter. And gradually fell in love with the city. Here are some of the things that I most love about Bangalore. As I mentioned before, this is not an exhaustive list and is not in any particular order.
1. Vidhana Soudha
I remember when I was staying in the hostel in Sampangirama Nagar and my room-mate and colleague Kamala and I would take the bus to our office - MC&A on Millers Road. The bus would wind its way across Vidhana Soudha and the lovely buiding would just take my breath away! It looked so magnificent in the mornings and my heart would swell with pride. While the Vikasa Soudha has been designed just like the Vidhana Soudha, it is no patch on the original. It probably has to do with the way the stones have aged over the years… Vidhana Soudha really has so much character. I don’t know if I can say the same about the people, inhabiting it, though!
2. Cubbon Park
I think few places in India can boast of such an expansive lung space right in the heart of the city. Driving through Cubbon Park is sheer joy! The majestic Attara Kacheri (as the High Court building is known), the Central Library, the Jawahar Bal Bhavan with its toy train, the Rose Garden, the fountains, the statues, the bandstand and of course the dozens and dozens of trees that dot this over 300-acre garden, make this place truly unique. You can actually feel the difference in temperature when you enter Cubbon Park. It is a couple of degrees cooler and the gentle wind sings a sweet lullaby for many a tired and distraught soul who finds refuge on the Cubbon Park benches. Cubbon Park was our favourite location for photography when Anu was small. We have pictures of her hugging a bamboo, sitting on the steps of the band stand and perched on one of the large boulders there.
3. Jacarandas
While they are not really “native” to Bangalore (like the large population in this city), Jacarandas have become as much Bangalorean as you and me! Come spring and the jacaranda trees cast their magic spell. The yellow and purple flowers form a splendid canopy and a carpet that would give any Persian rug the run for its money. Driving down the Windsor Manor Bridge the Jacarandas near the Cauvery Theatre make me feel good to be alive. I feast my eyes on the delightful blossoms and am grateful to be living in this beautiful city.
4. Good Food
Bangaloreans love to eat. Not surprising for a town named after food (Bangalore, many believe, is the anglicized version of Benda Kaal Ooru – the Town of Boiled Beans). Bangalore is dotted with eateries, restaurants and cafes. There are the Darshinis – where there is literally ‘standing room’ only, the Udupi & Andhra Eateries, the Pizza Burger joints, the Dhabas and the Chinese, the Thai, the Italian, the Lebanese, the Mexican and the Fusion Food Restaurants… of course who can forget the street food? The Bhelpuri Stands, the Pani Puri Wallahs with their mobile store that they can put up anywhere and my favourite: the steaming corn on the cobs, sold on hand-carts!
The best part of the food scene in Bangalore is not just the availability of any kind of food but what I’d like to call the good “in-between” kind of places. Restaurants that are comfortably ensconced between the Darshinis and the Five Star Restaurants. Where good food and great ambience don’t necessarily burn a hole in your pocket.
5. Weather
Bangalore weather is famous – and rightly so. Though summers are getting warmer with the increase in population, traffic, concrete structures, the cutting down of trees, et al, the city still remains pleasant almost all through the year. I have always maintained that Bangalore weather spoils you for any other city… despite being born and brought up in Bellary where summers can be scorching and despite doing my graduation and post graduation in Chennai, where it is summer all through the year… I just cannot take the heat now. Holidays to Nagpur (another hot city) are planned during winters. I avoid Bellary in the summers. And after a hot and sweaty break in Mumbai last summer, I have come to the conclusion that the best place to send my summers are in Bangalore, until I can take off to Switzerland, that is
6. Overall Cleanliness
I hadn’t really paid any attention to how clean most of Bangalore is until I noticed the dirt in a couple of other cities, Mumbai and Chennai for instance. Early in the mornings if you drive down the city, you will see the BBMP sweepers at work, sweeping, clearing the garbage and generally keeping the neighbourhood clean.
7. People.
Before I actually started living in Bangalore, I was told that the people of Bangalore were terribly materialistic and cunning. That they would steal the shirt off your back. But that’s such a myopic view. Like every place in the world, Bangalore has its share of crooks and cheats, but then you have the good Samaritans too. On the whole, I believe that Bangaloreans are a real helpful lot. Ask somebody for directions and chances are they’ll actually take you there! It has happened to me a couple of times. I have found ready hands when my bike broken down on the road or when my car got into a ditch that I did not see. Bangaloreans are largely peace-loving, the “swalpa adjust maadi” types. Sometimes this “adjusting” nature means that we put up with a lot of stuff that we should not, but I guess there are pros and cons to everything.
8. The Volvo Buses from BIAL
I have been seeing the bright red Volvo buses since the new International Airport started. Living en route the Airport, I would see the smart and shiny buses zipping on the roads. In the beginning they were almost empty. But now, most of them are full. I first tried out the BIAL shuttle last year when Anu and I flew down from Mumbai and I was real impressed. The conductors/drivers spoke courteously and helped us with the luggage. The commute was comfortable. The fares were reasonable. And I enjoyed the ride. I think BMTC is doing a great job with this top-notch shuttle service.
9. The Bangalore One Centres
A truly superb E-Governance initiative, Bangalore One demonstrates how technology can be used to make life simpler and easier for the common man. My first experience with Bangalore One is when I went to their Malleswaram Centre to pay my Electricity and Telephone Bills. I was asked to sit while my number was called. The centre was spacious and well-ventilated. The chairs were comfortable. The people were professional and knew what they were doing. Compare this with having to stand in long lines in the electricity and telephone offices and you’ll know what a distance we have travelled. Today, there’s a Bangalore Centre in almost every nook and corner of Bangalore. They are open all days of the week from 8 am to 8 pm. And they have added on to their services – besides paying your utility bills, you can get your bus pass, renew your license, pay your property tax and do so much more. So very convenient!
10. MGs, Commercials, Brigades
Forget the malls, its Commercial Street for me! I am not a big shopper, but Commercials (as the locals call their main shopping street) is where I like to go simply because you get just about everything here! Clothes, accessories, footwear, knick-knacks, stuff for your home, lingerie, stationery, jewellery, electronics, music…. Everything! The narrow streets that lead off from Commercials have their own charm with their tiny stores where smart-alecky salesmen and their ready repartees are sure to make you smile.
MG Road and Brigade Road is where we used to ‘hang out’ when we were in hostel. This is also where I take visitors to Bangalore for either shopping or just a quick drive through. I love the way Brigades looks during Christmas and New Year. But with the Metro work and the demise of its once famed boulevard, MG Road has lost a lot of its magic.
The only negative about these places is the parking.
Monday, June 29, 2009
The Eloor Lending Library
In a world, where things seem to change in the blink of an eye, it’s good to come across a place that has remained just the same… and I mean that in a nice, complimentary way! I went to the Eloor Lending Library yesterday, after almost five years…. And felt I had come home!!! The Library was just the way I remembered it. Even a couple of guys at the counter were still there, looking just the same! The books greeted me like long-lost friends and begged to be taken home. And how could I refuse them? There was Dean Koontz, who I was introduced to, right here in this Library. I remember picking up my first Koontz from here: “From the Corner of His Eye” and I was blown away. I became a HUGE Koontz fan since then… today, I have a small Koontz Collection in my home. The Orson’s Farm Comics used to delight both Anu and me when we used to come here almost every other Sunday, before we moved to Jakkur. Anu went through the entire collection of Nancy Drew, Goose Bumps, The Baby Sitter’s Club. Princess Diaries and the Fearless series at Eloor. “They have changed their entire Children’s Section”, she said, “Anyway, I do not qualify now”. The books she picked up this time were more grown-up, including Arundathi Roy’s “The Shape of the Beast”. She too recalled fondly how we would stock up on our books before her holidays. What pleasure these books have given us! They have travelled with us on holidays, making the long train rides to Nagpur shorter. They have also provided me excellent reference material for assignments I would be working on or for Anu’s school project. I have been educated, entertained and inspired by the collection at Eloor – easily one of the finest any Library can boast of.
I have discovered many new writers here. I would read some great review in the paper and ask for that book at my next visit and there it would be! Some best-sellers would always be “out” and I would finally reserve them. Sometimes, the amount I have spent on Late Fees (entirely my fault) could have bought me the book itself…. But who could give me access to so many titles? Who could connect me to so many writers and introduce me to so many genres under one roof?
As I walked up to the counter hugging the books I had picked up, I wondered if the Membership Number was right and if my Membership was still valid. It was and I happily watched the new addition of a bar code scanner that made the book entries so much simpler. Since this was an unplanned visit, we did not have a carry bag for the books we had just picked up. But no worries! Eloor even had a carry bag that they generously offered. Now, if I could only find a way to fit Eloor back into my regular routine….
Eloor Lending Library is located at Blue Cross Chambers, Infantry Road Cross, Bangalore – 560 001.
I have discovered many new writers here. I would read some great review in the paper and ask for that book at my next visit and there it would be! Some best-sellers would always be “out” and I would finally reserve them. Sometimes, the amount I have spent on Late Fees (entirely my fault) could have bought me the book itself…. But who could give me access to so many titles? Who could connect me to so many writers and introduce me to so many genres under one roof?
As I walked up to the counter hugging the books I had picked up, I wondered if the Membership Number was right and if my Membership was still valid. It was and I happily watched the new addition of a bar code scanner that made the book entries so much simpler. Since this was an unplanned visit, we did not have a carry bag for the books we had just picked up. But no worries! Eloor even had a carry bag that they generously offered. Now, if I could only find a way to fit Eloor back into my regular routine….
Eloor Lending Library is located at Blue Cross Chambers, Infantry Road Cross, Bangalore – 560 001.
Monday, June 22, 2009
MOTHER’S LITTLE CONSCIENCE-KEEPER
On June 16, 1990 Рto use a clich̩ РAnu was born and I was born too Рas a mother.
It seems an under-statement to say that my life changed the day my little bundle of joy was placed in my waiting hands. I know trillions and trillions of parents would have gone through that life-changing moment, yet it is something truly personal and unique.
As I have said many times before, Anu hardly troubled me as a child. In fact, the landlord’s son would tell his mother, “You hardly know that there’s a baby in the house”. There are so many memories of Anu that I cherish. I’ll never forget how she had put a peanut up her nose and we had to rush her to the doctor to get it removed! Then there was the time that she had applied honey on her face because Cleopatra is supposed to have used it. When I returned from work, she told me “Cleopatra must have felt really sticky!” Of course her long, solitary walk from school to Nandidurg Road in first standard is something all our friends remember vividly!
Anu had this delightful habit of writing little notes when she wanted to tell me something – whether it was apologizing for not getting good marks in a test or to ask for some money every month “like a salary”. I have preserved those notes till today and while she finds them silly, I really love them!
Anu is extremely honest with a very strong sense of right and wrong. Over the years, she has become my moral barometer. Whenever I am in a moral dilemma I sound her off and can be sure that I will be given the ‘right’ advice. Sometimes, I wonder who the mother is and who the child! There are other times when I may not actually seek out her advice but mentally test myself – would Anu approve of what I am doing? What would she say if I told her about this?
And she always has a lot to say when she feels I am not doing the right thing. “You were rude. They are just doing their job” she says when I rave and rant at some hapless customer service guys. “Why do you yell so much?” she grumbles when I scold the maid. “That was mean of you”, she points out when I say or do something that she feels is not right. She was the reason I went and voted this time. “Don’t grumble about the system, when you are not even willing to make the effort to go and vote” she told me again and again. There are innumerable incidents where Anu has – intentionally or unintentionally - helped me do a reality check on life.
She has also helped me see the “greys” in what I previously thought were clear black and white situations. Her perspectives have made me rethink on many issues like homosexuality. Of course, she also has her own dilemma s and sometimes asks me for help. “Having a conscience sucks” she said once, when I told her to do what she believes is right.
For the most part, she is a very truthful person and has never ever cheated in her exams. I remember once when Anu was in school, her teacher erroneously given her extra marks for Kannada (or was it Hindi?) Anu faithfully pointed it out to the teacher. The teacher told her that she would correct it in the Report Card, but forgot to do so. So Anu again walked up to the teacher and told her that she had forgotten to correct the mistake. “The extra marks are for your honesty”, the teacher answered.
Of course, it has not been all rosy and hunky dory. Life never is. As Veronica, her school friend, used to say: “Life is like the left bum of a black man. It is neither fair nor right!” We have had our share of fights and misunderstandings, we have gone through our ups and downs, we have said some hurtful things to each other in fits of anger, which we never meant….. but that’s alright. At the end of it all, I know Anu loves and respects her parents and I hope she knows the feelings are reciprocated many times over.
I don’t know if I have been a good mother, but I am blessed to have such a wonderful daughter. I love her concern that I can see in so many little things she does for me, in the way she senses when I am upset or worried, or when she can make out from my voice if I am having a tough day. .. I can go on writing reams and reams about my favourite woman, and I know she will brush it aside with “You are saying that because you are my mom”, so here’s just wishing you Anu a truly wonderful birthday from me and papa. We love you loads!!!!
Thursday, November 13, 2008
DREAMS DO HAVE A WONDERFUL WAY OF COMING TRUE….
Maybe not exactly the way you want it sometimes, maybe not right away. But they do come true, if you believe in your dreams and hang on to them. I recently read the “Last Lecture” by Randy Pausch. A Professor at the Carnegie Mellon University, Pausch was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Knowing full well he had just a few months to live, he stood before a 400 strong audience to deliver a last lecture called “Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams.” That got me thinking… and counting. Counting the many dreams that have come true for me. Let me share some of these here.
I dreamt of doing English Literature.
In the early 80s, living in the small town of Bellary that had one Women’s College which offered one ‘Arts’ combination (History, Economics, Logic & Political Science) the dream seemed almost unachievable. No girl had left home to study. We had a strict grandmother who did not think girls needed to be educated all that much. But fortunately we had fairly liberal parents and I had sisters who supported me. So off I went to Chennai (Madras in those days) to do BA English Literature in SIET Women’s College. I was probably one of the very, very few students there who was doing the course for the love of it. I thrived in the course, loved every subject and did every assignment with such passion that the teachers loved what I did.
I dreamt of doing Journalism.
I always wanted to write. Journalism was the next logical step. So I stepped into the soaring portals of the University of Madras to do my post graduation in Mass Communications & Journalism. Sari-clad (in those first few days when I thought all PG students must wear saris), a long braid, big glasses... I was quickly branded a “paavam”. Until of course my first assignment that I had to present in class. I had chosen the topic: “Magazines in USA”. Besides a detailed background, I had taken two magazines as case studies: Time & Reader’s Digest. We had to present our assignments in class, not just hand it over. I had gone to great trouble to research my subject. Of course it helped that I was really interested in the subject. That assignment presentation changed the way my classmates and my lecturers looked at me. Again, I was among the few who were doing this out of genuine interest.
I dreamt of being a ‘working woman’.
No girl from our family had ever worked before. So this dream seemed another crazy one. By then, my grandmother had passed on. I did this written test for PTI (The Press Trust of India) and was selected. I was expected to do a stint in Delhi. But Destiny had other plans for me. My cousin never gave me the letter I got from my PTI. I answered an ad for Trainee Copywriter in a small ad agency in Bangalore without knowing what I was getting into. I was selected and found my designation was a misnomer. I was a Trainee Copywriter and there was nobody to ‘train’ me. But that I found was the best way to learn. I took to advertising like the proverbial fish to water. And it has been a wonderful journey since then.
I dreamt of marrying Sunil – my first, and only love.
I met Sunil at my first job. We probably worked for just 6 months or so. But that was more than enough time for us to fall in love. Given our disparate religious, social, cultural and economic backgrounds, our love story seemed doomed from the start. It would never work out I thought. I kept breaking up with Sunil and going back to him again. Sunil never wavered – not for a moment. Through the most tumultuous and traumatic period in our relationship, I always kept telling myself “Someday. Somewhere. Somehow”. In fact I had these words neatly written and framed. The mantra worked. Despite seemingly insurmountable obstacles, we did triumph and got married in 1989.
I dreamt of having Anu.
I somehow always felt that I would never be able to love a son as much as I would love a daughter. I always wanted a daughter. In fact, during our courtship days, we had even decided on the name for our child of love: Anandita. A name I had come across somewhere and that I loved. When we met, Sunil and I would always talk about Anu. So when I was pregnant, I so, so wanted a girl. And Anu was born – the best gift that I could have ever got from a benevolent God and a kind Universe. I remember when Zarine came to visit me at the hospital, she said “So this dream of yours has come true too!” Anu is all that I wanted my daughter to be. And I am so very proud of her.
I dreamt of having my own agency.
This was probably Sunil’s dream first. He always wanted to have his own agency. Because of our complimentary skills, we were kind of preparing ourselves for Jumde Art Copy. There were many, many times when I was working in Adwit that we would have these meetings and training sessions and were asked to list out our goals. I would always say I aspired to have my own agency. Things fell in place and Sunil and I started Jumde Art Copy in 2000. I joined him full time two years later and by God’s grace there has been no looking back since.
I dreamt of owning a beautiful home.
Sunil and I started our married life in a tiny rented home with literally nothing. We did up our home slowly – bit by precious bit. When we bought our own 2 Bedroom Apartment in Sultanpalya, almost seven and a half years later, we were thrilled, but finances were tight, so we had to do up our place on a shoe-string budget. Major furnishing stuff was done one at a time. A wardrobe one year. The kitchen the next year. A book case a year later… And then another seven years later, we bought this lovely home in Sobha Zircon. It was all that I wanted my home to be. We were in a better position financially and decided not take any piece of furniture from the old home, except for the two chairs that we have had since the first year of our marriage. We did the entire home at one shot and we love the effect.
I dreamt of having my magazine.
When I was doing my journalism I always wanted to have my own magazine. I decided I would have a magazine for the youth. While I don’t actually “have” my magazine, my name appears in the masthead of ‘Rave’ as Creative Director. Jumde Art Copy has designed the entire magazine and the credit should go to the entire team, but it’s my name that’s on the masthead!
I dreamt of writing a book.
This dream is ‘work in progress’. For as long as I remember I wanted to be an “Author”. I remember writing that as my ambition is somebody’s autograph when I was in school. Maybe the third or fourth standard. I wrote a Mills & Boons type of novel to prove a point to my friend Nimmi when I was in the 11th or 12th. It was titled Sweet Sorrow and had a French setting. But that was an amateurish attempt. On and off, I have been writing poems and thinking of getting them published but wondering if they were good enough. All along, there was part of me that yearned to write a book. Goaded by friends and well wishers and my ever-supportive husband who believes that I am destined for great things, I have embarked on that adventure too. I started my book in December last year and have done 14 typed Pages in all… Anu tells me that at the speed I am going, I will finish the book by the time I am 90! But it’s shaping well. Anu was the first one with whom I shared it and her feedback? “I never knew you could write so well!” Encouraged by that I plough one. And when I shared it with my best friend Ranjana, she said “Wow! This is professional stuff”. So I am hoping I am on the right track.
There are many more dreams awaiting fulfillment. Like owning a Greek island! And with the way the property prices are going down, who knows that dream may be realized too!
Ranjana tells me all my dreams will come true, because I have a clean heart. I think it’s not just me. I think the dreams of most people come true, but they are so focused on worrying about the future or fretting about what they don’t have, that they miss seeing all that they have. One of the Internet forwards I received had these wise words that I tell myself every other day… I plan to frame them and put them near my desk.
“God answers all prayers in three ways.
1. Yes.
2. Not now
3. I have something better planned for you”.
I have always been amazed at how people give up on their dreams so quickly and so easily. If you really, really want something, hang on to it. There was this quote I had read when I was in school: “Hold fast to your dreams, for if dreams die, life is like a broken-winged bird that cannot fly”.
I dreamt of doing English Literature.
In the early 80s, living in the small town of Bellary that had one Women’s College which offered one ‘Arts’ combination (History, Economics, Logic & Political Science) the dream seemed almost unachievable. No girl had left home to study. We had a strict grandmother who did not think girls needed to be educated all that much. But fortunately we had fairly liberal parents and I had sisters who supported me. So off I went to Chennai (Madras in those days) to do BA English Literature in SIET Women’s College. I was probably one of the very, very few students there who was doing the course for the love of it. I thrived in the course, loved every subject and did every assignment with such passion that the teachers loved what I did.
I dreamt of doing Journalism.
I always wanted to write. Journalism was the next logical step. So I stepped into the soaring portals of the University of Madras to do my post graduation in Mass Communications & Journalism. Sari-clad (in those first few days when I thought all PG students must wear saris), a long braid, big glasses... I was quickly branded a “paavam”. Until of course my first assignment that I had to present in class. I had chosen the topic: “Magazines in USA”. Besides a detailed background, I had taken two magazines as case studies: Time & Reader’s Digest. We had to present our assignments in class, not just hand it over. I had gone to great trouble to research my subject. Of course it helped that I was really interested in the subject. That assignment presentation changed the way my classmates and my lecturers looked at me. Again, I was among the few who were doing this out of genuine interest.
I dreamt of being a ‘working woman’.
No girl from our family had ever worked before. So this dream seemed another crazy one. By then, my grandmother had passed on. I did this written test for PTI (The Press Trust of India) and was selected. I was expected to do a stint in Delhi. But Destiny had other plans for me. My cousin never gave me the letter I got from my PTI. I answered an ad for Trainee Copywriter in a small ad agency in Bangalore without knowing what I was getting into. I was selected and found my designation was a misnomer. I was a Trainee Copywriter and there was nobody to ‘train’ me. But that I found was the best way to learn. I took to advertising like the proverbial fish to water. And it has been a wonderful journey since then.
I dreamt of marrying Sunil – my first, and only love.
I met Sunil at my first job. We probably worked for just 6 months or so. But that was more than enough time for us to fall in love. Given our disparate religious, social, cultural and economic backgrounds, our love story seemed doomed from the start. It would never work out I thought. I kept breaking up with Sunil and going back to him again. Sunil never wavered – not for a moment. Through the most tumultuous and traumatic period in our relationship, I always kept telling myself “Someday. Somewhere. Somehow”. In fact I had these words neatly written and framed. The mantra worked. Despite seemingly insurmountable obstacles, we did triumph and got married in 1989.
I dreamt of having Anu.
I somehow always felt that I would never be able to love a son as much as I would love a daughter. I always wanted a daughter. In fact, during our courtship days, we had even decided on the name for our child of love: Anandita. A name I had come across somewhere and that I loved. When we met, Sunil and I would always talk about Anu. So when I was pregnant, I so, so wanted a girl. And Anu was born – the best gift that I could have ever got from a benevolent God and a kind Universe. I remember when Zarine came to visit me at the hospital, she said “So this dream of yours has come true too!” Anu is all that I wanted my daughter to be. And I am so very proud of her.
I dreamt of having my own agency.
This was probably Sunil’s dream first. He always wanted to have his own agency. Because of our complimentary skills, we were kind of preparing ourselves for Jumde Art Copy. There were many, many times when I was working in Adwit that we would have these meetings and training sessions and were asked to list out our goals. I would always say I aspired to have my own agency. Things fell in place and Sunil and I started Jumde Art Copy in 2000. I joined him full time two years later and by God’s grace there has been no looking back since.
I dreamt of owning a beautiful home.
Sunil and I started our married life in a tiny rented home with literally nothing. We did up our home slowly – bit by precious bit. When we bought our own 2 Bedroom Apartment in Sultanpalya, almost seven and a half years later, we were thrilled, but finances were tight, so we had to do up our place on a shoe-string budget. Major furnishing stuff was done one at a time. A wardrobe one year. The kitchen the next year. A book case a year later… And then another seven years later, we bought this lovely home in Sobha Zircon. It was all that I wanted my home to be. We were in a better position financially and decided not take any piece of furniture from the old home, except for the two chairs that we have had since the first year of our marriage. We did the entire home at one shot and we love the effect.
I dreamt of having my magazine.
When I was doing my journalism I always wanted to have my own magazine. I decided I would have a magazine for the youth. While I don’t actually “have” my magazine, my name appears in the masthead of ‘Rave’ as Creative Director. Jumde Art Copy has designed the entire magazine and the credit should go to the entire team, but it’s my name that’s on the masthead!
I dreamt of writing a book.
This dream is ‘work in progress’. For as long as I remember I wanted to be an “Author”. I remember writing that as my ambition is somebody’s autograph when I was in school. Maybe the third or fourth standard. I wrote a Mills & Boons type of novel to prove a point to my friend Nimmi when I was in the 11th or 12th. It was titled Sweet Sorrow and had a French setting. But that was an amateurish attempt. On and off, I have been writing poems and thinking of getting them published but wondering if they were good enough. All along, there was part of me that yearned to write a book. Goaded by friends and well wishers and my ever-supportive husband who believes that I am destined for great things, I have embarked on that adventure too. I started my book in December last year and have done 14 typed Pages in all… Anu tells me that at the speed I am going, I will finish the book by the time I am 90! But it’s shaping well. Anu was the first one with whom I shared it and her feedback? “I never knew you could write so well!” Encouraged by that I plough one. And when I shared it with my best friend Ranjana, she said “Wow! This is professional stuff”. So I am hoping I am on the right track.
There are many more dreams awaiting fulfillment. Like owning a Greek island! And with the way the property prices are going down, who knows that dream may be realized too!
Ranjana tells me all my dreams will come true, because I have a clean heart. I think it’s not just me. I think the dreams of most people come true, but they are so focused on worrying about the future or fretting about what they don’t have, that they miss seeing all that they have. One of the Internet forwards I received had these wise words that I tell myself every other day… I plan to frame them and put them near my desk.
“God answers all prayers in three ways.
1. Yes.
2. Not now
3. I have something better planned for you”.
I have always been amazed at how people give up on their dreams so quickly and so easily. If you really, really want something, hang on to it. There was this quote I had read when I was in school: “Hold fast to your dreams, for if dreams die, life is like a broken-winged bird that cannot fly”.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
BANGALORE WEATHER
The last few days we have been having some lovely weather. The famed “Bangalore Weather”. Cloudy, pleasant and some nice showers. And imagine all this in March – which is supposed to be summer. Raises doubts about Global Warming, huh? Anyways, it happened so suddenly. In the middle of a warm day, the storm clouds gathered. That evening Sunil called me to show the lightning in the sky. This time God had decided to put up a silent show. There was no sound of thunder. Just strangely coordinated streaks of lighting from left to right and back again. That night it rained and it’s been pleasant ever since.
A little while ago, I was standing outside office and enjoying this lovely weather – just one of those things that I love about Bangalore. There are hundreds of other things that I love about this city. But I won’t get into it now. Will just stick to the April Showers in March for now…
It’s perfect weather for cuddling up in a blanket with a favourite book. Maybe some hot pakodas and masala chai. Or even better – corn-on-the-cob straight from the boiling vessel on a hand-pushed bandi, with a dash of lime and masala. Aaah!
I believe Bangalore’s lovely weather spoils you for any other city. Despite being born and growing up in a ‘hot’ city like Bellary (where temperatures can touch the high 40s in summer) and then spending 5 years in hotter Chennai, I now find it difficult to ‘take the heat’. Summers I find are best spent in Bangalore.
A little while ago, I was standing outside office and enjoying this lovely weather – just one of those things that I love about Bangalore. There are hundreds of other things that I love about this city. But I won’t get into it now. Will just stick to the April Showers in March for now…
It’s perfect weather for cuddling up in a blanket with a favourite book. Maybe some hot pakodas and masala chai. Or even better – corn-on-the-cob straight from the boiling vessel on a hand-pushed bandi, with a dash of lime and masala. Aaah!
I believe Bangalore’s lovely weather spoils you for any other city. Despite being born and growing up in a ‘hot’ city like Bellary (where temperatures can touch the high 40s in summer) and then spending 5 years in hotter Chennai, I now find it difficult to ‘take the heat’. Summers I find are best spent in Bangalore.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
GOING HOME
Every trip back home is nostalgic…. A thousand memories come crowding back, popping out from a corner, peeping from behind a half-opened door, looking down from a framed black-and-white photograph… Mubarak Munzil – the rambling bungalow I grew up in – was home, a long time ago, to our seven-member family – my domineering grand-mother, my aloof and strict (as I perceived him then) father, my timid mother, my three siblings and I. There were, of course, a houseful of servants. A cook who called me “gori” and who we called “nani’. A man servant who literally grew up in this house, got married and had several children, who grew up with us. A series of drivers (one who for some strange reason put it into my head that I was an adopted child. Vulnerable and hypersensitive as I was, this thought gnawed at me and troubled me for years). And an assortment of animals: buffaloes, dogs, cats, hens…
There was, I believe, something magical about my home. It was noisy – happily so. There were always people walking in and out of the large rooms. The six-seater dining table was not enough for all of us, so my sister would sit on a baby high chair, years after we had all outgrown it. Summer holidays saw our cousins coming over, spelling more fun. Summers also meant sleeping on the terrace. And there was a whole ritual to it. We would lug up buckets of water to the terrace and splash it, to cool the terrace. Once it dried up, the beds were neatly rolled out. My dad who loved to read, and passed on his passion to all of us, had even set up a reading lamp, so we could cuddle up with our favourite books and read till sleep claimed us. Many were the nights we’d lie on our backs, gazing at the stars and counting the planes that flew across the night sky. Sometimes the sky would open up and big, fat drops of rain would drench us. We would quickly throw down the pillows and sheets into the courtyard and run giggling to complete our interrupted sleep indoors. I remember once when my little nephew was sleeping on the terrace with us. “What will happen if it rains?” he asked innocently. My sister, always ready for some mischief, said “You’ll shrink”. I can never forget the expression on his terror-stricken face!
There was no TV in Bellary when we were growing up, but we were never, ever bored. We spent hours playing hop scotch, seven stones, four houses, dark room and dozens of games we invented ourselves. Friends and their cousins were always in our home or we were in theirs. We laughed. We talked. We dreamed. We planned. We went on picnics. Had moonlight dinner parties on the terrace. Went around playing pranks and scaring neighbours. We climbed the gulmohur trees that grew close to the compound wall. Then, as we grew older, we sat with our cups of steaming coffee in the verandah and gazed at the purple hills in the horizon, through the leaves of the neem tree. Today, the gulmohur trees have been uprooted. The neem trees are still there but the purple hills are no longer visible. Hidden from view, first by the other houses, and now by a raised compound wall.
Today when I walk through the silent rooms of my home, memories are all I have. The girls married and moved away. My brother made his life thousands of miles away in the USA. And after my dad’s death in July 2006, my mother lives all alone in a house that was once filled with voices, music and laughter. Trips home these days are always disturbing. Cobwebbed corners, dusty shelves where once books nudged each other, empty spaces filled with an aching loneliness… my house seems sad. Almost like an old, past-her-prime diva who knows that her ‘golden period’ is gone forever.
Like me, my house seems to know that memories are all it has.
There was, I believe, something magical about my home. It was noisy – happily so. There were always people walking in and out of the large rooms. The six-seater dining table was not enough for all of us, so my sister would sit on a baby high chair, years after we had all outgrown it. Summer holidays saw our cousins coming over, spelling more fun. Summers also meant sleeping on the terrace. And there was a whole ritual to it. We would lug up buckets of water to the terrace and splash it, to cool the terrace. Once it dried up, the beds were neatly rolled out. My dad who loved to read, and passed on his passion to all of us, had even set up a reading lamp, so we could cuddle up with our favourite books and read till sleep claimed us. Many were the nights we’d lie on our backs, gazing at the stars and counting the planes that flew across the night sky. Sometimes the sky would open up and big, fat drops of rain would drench us. We would quickly throw down the pillows and sheets into the courtyard and run giggling to complete our interrupted sleep indoors. I remember once when my little nephew was sleeping on the terrace with us. “What will happen if it rains?” he asked innocently. My sister, always ready for some mischief, said “You’ll shrink”. I can never forget the expression on his terror-stricken face!
There was no TV in Bellary when we were growing up, but we were never, ever bored. We spent hours playing hop scotch, seven stones, four houses, dark room and dozens of games we invented ourselves. Friends and their cousins were always in our home or we were in theirs. We laughed. We talked. We dreamed. We planned. We went on picnics. Had moonlight dinner parties on the terrace. Went around playing pranks and scaring neighbours. We climbed the gulmohur trees that grew close to the compound wall. Then, as we grew older, we sat with our cups of steaming coffee in the verandah and gazed at the purple hills in the horizon, through the leaves of the neem tree. Today, the gulmohur trees have been uprooted. The neem trees are still there but the purple hills are no longer visible. Hidden from view, first by the other houses, and now by a raised compound wall.
Today when I walk through the silent rooms of my home, memories are all I have. The girls married and moved away. My brother made his life thousands of miles away in the USA. And after my dad’s death in July 2006, my mother lives all alone in a house that was once filled with voices, music and laughter. Trips home these days are always disturbing. Cobwebbed corners, dusty shelves where once books nudged each other, empty spaces filled with an aching loneliness… my house seems sad. Almost like an old, past-her-prime diva who knows that her ‘golden period’ is gone forever.
Like me, my house seems to know that memories are all it has.
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