Being local guardian of US boys

 http://dailypostindia.com/news/30507-being-local-guardian-of-us-boys.html                               

• 8/25/2012 5:23:33 PM

Not that the US-born-and-brought-up boys were coming to India for the first time, but that this visit was endearing and special one besides being a challenge of sorts. It had me have a mixed feeling—of taking the responsibility-at-home in India and making their trip enjoyable. Now as the date of my nephews’ flying back came close, I recall how excited we and them were about their visit. This was the first time when 11-year and 14 -year old Rohan and Varun respectively were travelling all by themselves from New Jersey to New Delhi. Add to this the Airline’s courtesy. Their mother was bit worried, as all mothers would be, the younger duo was super excited about their a month and half of wholesome unadulterated vacation, and on the sheer thought of enjoying freedom—a byword Americans live with.

We three had spent lot of time together earlier too during my US visits, but for the first time they were going to stay away from their parents for so long. We had decided to make their holidays a memorable experience. So that they did not feel homesick, did not get bored, and had a gala time here. On their arrival here what followed was a guarded week by extra cautious me. Above everything what I was worried most about was that they might not get sick because of any ‘unsuitable’ edible stuff. After this chary week of acclimatization, started the real fun with spicy Indian food, chaat-golgappas, movies, outings, visits to relatives and friends, shopping, excursions, and what not!

Every time they visit India, we try to show them different places to make them familiar with glorious history and vast spectrum of India’s varied culture. This time I decided to take them to Indian hills and so we went to the Queen of Hills–Shimla. With a splendid salubrious weather, breathtaking views, clouds floating around, narrow and steep uphill drive to Tara Devi and Jakhu temple, the huge Hanumanji’s statue, mischievous monkeys, horse-riding at Ridge, trekking to Glen-all this kept the boys action-packed and cheerful. And when they rated Shimla visit at eight and nine on a one to ten point scale, the effort seemed to be rewarding and well attended to with minute details. The short trips to other places in between maintained the entertainment quotient high and evaded boredom, which teenagers start grumbling about very soon if they do not find any pursuit to keep them occupied. Back in their India home what ensued was their Hindi learning classes with their Hindi professor turned principal maternal grand aunt. These were more of fun than the learning as they practiced Hindi hardly ten minutes out of the two hours stay at her place. Rest of the time was spent in her persuading them to study with lot of pampering in the form of candies, chocolates, mango shake, kheer, pakodas, and tandoori chicken. Time just flew with them. Now that their holidays are coming to an end what I dread is missing their fun-filled fulsome masti with massi!

A Much Spiced Nation

http://dailypostindia.com/news/18120-a-much-spiced-nation.html
 

4/17/2012 12:32:04 PM

 

Spices have always been an integral part of our food culture and commerce

Spices spruce up taste. In fact people in the Indian sub-continent have taste-buds different from those elsewhere in the world. Ours is a ‘spiced nation’ in all the nuances of the word. The traditional therapeutic systems of medicine proscribe consumption of what is called ‘Tamsik’—that which gives the body unwanted hot elements that trigger undue excitement and negative stimulation—food .

And so we like to add extra tinge of flavour in whatever we eat. Be it McDonald’s burger or Pizza Hut’s pizza, we have customised them to suit our taste buds. We like masala fries, masala noodles, masala corns, masala Maggie, masala dosa and so on. And to add this masaledaar aroma to various delicacies, we have a wide range of different masalas like –chat masala, garam masala, chana masala, chicken masala and so on. Even the tea is not spared and we add chai masala to that. Recently I found garam masala tea in the menu of a famous Coffee outlet.

Not that it’s something new; spices have always been an integral part of our culture and commerce. It were these spices only which brought Portuguese sailors and traders from many part of the world here who established their own empires in the southern region much before the East India Company invaded us. But seeing the highly spiced state of affairs, I feel, Vasco da Gama needs to visit India again—even if he has to rise from his grave! And I am sure this Vasco will find better business prospects in the vast variety of spices other than those coming from herbs.

Since we eat and drink so much of masala, it has become an integral part of our disposition and endurance. We are just not satisfied with seasoning in our food; rather need it in every facet of life. Leave apart the political, social, historical, mythological, demographic scenarios, our inter-personal relationship is hinted with spicy flavour giving a fillip, unique variety and ready acceptability to our gossip topics in particular.

One must not forget George Leonard’s words, ‘if you make spice the whole meal, you’ll be sick.’

Masala news is one such big indulgence, where gossips spice up the conversations and take over the real news. This is rather a national craze. The boost it gives to the TRPs of these channels making them hunt for such masaledaar khabar all the time. In the cut-throat competition, maybe the channels themselves serve their stuff with overly marinated spicy toppings and icings.

Politics also could not help being influenced by this masala fad, and so there are shoegates, slapgates, inkgates with sped up frequency. Seeing the swaying power of such scandalous incidences, film stars too joined the wagon. A SRK allegedly slaps Farah Khan’s husband, grabs the spotlight on all channels making them relegate all important issues for another day. Such incidents sets a trend to be followed by others—the ‘Khans’ lapping them up more than any other not-so-popular lesser mortals. And it becomes even more essential if it ‘times’ before their film’s release.

That’s not all. Films are major souk of masala feed, hence sizzling item numbers from Munni to Sheela, to Jalebi to Chameli stay as the mainstay for a box-office jackpot for the makers of the movies. Taking a cue from the masala-marinated sequences, even the TV channels have started adding besides pulp, some steam to their plots—yes you guessed it right—‘Bade ache lagte hain’ takes the cake, cooked by the redoubtable Ekta Kapoor.

With so much of masala floating around, everyone wants to have a taste of it turning out to being more salted, pickled and thus, sought after. Of course a bit of spice adds variety to the life, but one must not forget George Leonard’s words, ‘if you make spice the whole meal, you’ll be sick.’

Missing you O' Miss

http://www.tribuneindia.com/2012/20120330/edit.htm#5

If a recent movie, ‘Tell Me O Kkhuda’, was a fictional tale of a girl in search of her biological parents, there are many similar real ones too which keep appearing in newspapers, magazines, missing columns, etc. Everyone seems to be in a perpetual search — of someone, or something.
On a philosophical note, for some it is a search for identity, or an exploration of their selves, seeking to find roots and recognition, maybe, for very personal reasons. Whereas in the physical world, parents should lament their lost children; and children should be trying to find out their parents if there were no links leading to them.
Lately the virtual online world has also come to facilitate most sought after vantage point to look out for missing people. Net users are taking to social networking sites vehemently in their effort to find their old but long lost friends and acquaintances. I have heard stories of friends who were lucky enough to locate their school friends, classmates, teachers, and old colleagues.
I too am trying to hit at a 'Miss' — Miss Manocha, our teacher in my college. She had a charismatic personality. Draped in colourful chiffon sari, shielding herself from sun with a matching-colourful-floral-umbrella, when she reached the college in a rickshaw, none could afford to miss the sight of her. Within the first year of college, we were so mesmerised with her persona that we sometimes bunked classes to have a glimpse of her.
For four years we kept admiring her quietly from a distance, looking forward to attending her lectures some day. Finally, she took our class in the final year of the graduation degree. And believe you me, ask any of the students of those times about the course he/she liked the most and it was invariably what Miss Manocha taught.
More than what she taught we made the best of the long awaited opportunity to be in her class and get a chance to observe her being closest to her. She had a very soft voice, but a peculiar style of speaking. Her expressions were very rhythmic. While busy noticing and copying her style and gestures, what I had missed was that being the class topper all those four years, it was not easy to remain unnoticed, and the worst part was that teachers expect answer for every question from you in the class. And this made me too her favourite student.
My association with her grew stronger when she took our class on an educational trip to visit a hospital, in Shahdara, Delhi, and made me the group-in-charge. I admired her to the extent that I imitated her style when asked to mimic my favourite teacher at the farewell party. Soon after I passed out of the college, Miss Manocha got transferred, being promoted as Principal. I too got busy pursuing my masters. And I completely lost all connections with my beau-model.
I miss my Miss. And am fondly in love with her despite her whereabouts not being known to me. A real miss for me!

Travails of Being a Psycho!

http://www.tribuneindia.com/2011/20111118/edit.htm#5

SO, you are a psychologist! You can read one’s mind, isn’t it? I implore, please tell me what is passing through my mind now?” This is the first reaction when people get to know if one is a psychologist. Some others would tend to be a little paranoid when they will challenge, “Okay, I’m not going to speak a word now since you should be analysing me!” Still others won’t take it lying down and would seek more and share less.

The first category is of the ones who would want you to tell them about their personality and thought process. For them psychology is fun, or some interactive game, or a mysterious science like astrology, or tarot reading. They also believe that a psychologist is a mind-reader, who can surprise them with some fascinating information. The poor psychologist will then have to eat a humble pie.

The second category is of the tight-lipped ones, but they are a more anxious tribe. They feel suspicious about the psychologist knowing everything and investigating one’s behaviour all the time. Therefore, they try to avoid any conversation with them. They don’t realise that the non-verbal communication is more pertinent to be analysed — a fact known only to the psychologist.

Another type of people are the most nagging ones and should be best avoided. They want to tell you all about their problems and want you to provide solutions too. That’s true for every person whether it is someone you meet at a party, a fellow traveller, or someone a psychologist encounters elsewhere. When people know that you are a psychologist, they assume that you are the know-all. They will come up with varied problems, ranging from normal anxiety, phobia, obsessions to schizophrenia.

A senior colleague of mine, who is a counselling psychologist, travels far and wide frequently. She often encounters such inquisitive fellow travellers or seatmates. She tells me, “Once they know you are a counsellor, they begin seeking advice on a solution to child abuse, marital adjustments, infidelity or a breakup. They would not realise that what you need then is a short nap; or maybe you would like to refresh your presentation to be made at your destination.” She now does not reveal her identity. If people ask her what she does, she talks of weird professions about which they are usually not too eager to know.

Another friend informed me that whenever she went to parties, friends would discuss how to tackle their children who do not listen to them; why they were not serious about their studies; what could be done so that they started studying seriously and methodically. The buck stops at seeking advice on motivating children on not making boyfriends or girlfriends “at that tender age and in those formative years”.

Heartbreak and depression are other favourite topics of discussion to be taken up with a psychologist. As if this was not enough, the seekers would also like to know what medicines/treatment should be given for an autistic child or a schizophrenic adult. And if you tell them that this is not your area of expertise but that of a psychiatrist, they consider you not so knowledgeable.

The worst part is that being a psychologist, you are yourself under the scanner of the hoi polloi who would dub you as one of those suffering from some mental ailment since you couldn’t help but being on a slippery ground tackling “insane” things all your life.

dailypost: The dreaded call

My Tribute to my Ever Loving Mom

dailypost: The dreaded call

The Dreaded Call


Neelam Rathee

Mother’s interest in Cricket was never more than asking for the score once in a while or if India won or lost. Yes, she did know some popular cricketers of her times. One day when she called me early morning; with apprehension and being worried since Mom was not keeping well I took the call.

“Do you know how Nawab Pataudi died? I heard he had lung disease”. Knowing well that Nawab Mansoor Ali Khan Pataudi had Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis – an Interstitial Lung Disease, the same my mother was suffering from, I got anxious if she had become aware of her life threatening disease, which we hadn't disclosed to her till then.

I kept my calm and assured her, “No Mom, he had a much serious problem than yours, you will be fine soon”. She was assuaged and sounded positive, “Yes, I am feeling better now, but there's so much swelling”. I again tried to pacify her saying, “Mom you know that it's because of steroids. They are going to withdraw them slowly with this newly administered medicine, and you are going to be your healthy self once again like heroines of your times”. I tried to amuse her and she felt convinced. “Maybe then I won't have to take any medicine, I am fed up with them.” She said and hung up. I could hardly control my tears.

I didn’t have the courage to tell her that she might have to take these medicines as long as she lived, and her condition might improve and remain stable for the time being, but will worsen with every passing day. My sister and I had decided not to tell her about the seriousness of her malady. We didn't want her to die every day in anticipation. As per her doctor's opinion, she still had 3-4 years. Had she known this that her condition will deteriorate with time, she would not have been at peace with herself. She had been very active all her life and never wanted to be dependent on anyone for anything.

Putting down the phone I was lost in memories of the good old days. Mama was a very vibrant and a woman full of life. She was still quite outgoing and social, always there for others in their difficult times, helping them out in every possible manner. She had an elephantine memory, and we all used to turn to her when ever had a disagreement on dates or details. She had an immaculate dress sense, was very beautiful and had a very graceful and impressive personality. Above all, she was a great cook. And not just cooking, she was a real 'annapurna' as she loved to feed all. Every time I came back from home to my work, she will pack food for me and my friends. All our relatives and friends cherished her paranthas.

Then one day phone rang again early morning. It was not her this time. What I heard was shocking and beyond belief. Mother had gone. How could it be possible when the doctors had given us 3-4 years time? When just the night before we both sisters had a long chat with mother? And she was genuinely sounding better than before. But the worst had happened and true to her words, she did not take any aid till her last breath. She bid good bye to us all and left for heavenly abode very peacefully.

Though I still feel her divine presence around, but she is not there to tell me, “eat your dinner, beta” as she always used to and which were her last words to me.

Miss you Mom! Lots!

Indian Express Article