The shrill sound of the cell phone alarm roused Sunita from her fitful sleep and she switched it off hastily before it woke up the others.Her eyes heavy with sleep,she nudged the sleeping form next to her,”Go and fill the buckets na please..if I get up now,Monu will wake up.”

Muttering and grumbling,Ashok dragged his feet across the room carrying two empty buckets and a large pot to fill water from the community tap which will run only for an hour before it ran dry for the rest of the day.

Sunita sighed and touched Monu’s forehead gingerly.It was cool and sweaty.His little body had been shaking with high fever throughout the night while it rained torrentially outside.

This year they had not managed to save enough to get the leaking roof repaired and had no recourse but to place pots and pans strategically below the dripping water.The room smelled of damp clothes and mould.

The medicine did not seem to take effect and Sunita kept sponging Monu’s frail shivering body again and again despite his feeble tearful protests.Finally,in the darkest hour before the crack of dawn, the fever decided to leave him.The rain also seemed to let down a little as Sunita’s tired eyes drooped in sleep..

Sunita’s aching body protested

while she hurriedly prepared lunch and packed Ashok’s tiffin box.Her morning cup of tea went cold…The long and tiring day loomed large ahead of her and for a moment she was tempted to go back to bed.

An hour later, she was ringing the doorbell of Madam’s flat in a high rise next to the slum where she lived.She held Monu’s small hand in hers while he clutched a packet of biscuits in his other.Sunita knew Madam had to leave for office on time and she did not want to inconvenience her in any way!

…………………………………………..

According to the International Labour Organisation women represent

a)50% of the population

b)30% of the labour force

c)Receive 10% of the world’s income

d)Own 1% of the world’s property.

The statistics say it all!

97% of the total women workers work in the unorganised sector in India in farming,at construction sites,in factories,as house help etc. where their work is invisible and unrecognised.There is no guarantee of a minimum wage,lack of job security and a high risk of exploitation.

In addition to legislation,there is a need to create an awareness among women workers about their rights.The social outlook towards women in general and women workers needs to change.

(Pic source-Internet.)

Abhi’s most prized possession was his drawing book.It was inseparable from him once he was back home from school.It would always be in the crook of his elbow whether he was eating,playing,watching TV or doing homework.At other times,he would be poring over it,drawing or sticking pictures on it or just flipping the pages while a smile lit up his face..

The book was a gift from his Ma on his previous birthday.On the first page she had drawn the figure of a boy under a sky full of stars.”This is Abhi”,she said,”surrounded by the big,beautiful sky full of twinkling stars,which disappear during the day..but are always there..and reappear again in the night..every night.”The stars in the sky were Abhi’s second most favourite thing.

Abhi had started filling the pages with his drawings and scribbles rightaway..and with dried leaves and flowers,an interesting twig,a piece of string that had got stuck under his football shoe,a few hairs from the neighbor’s dog,toffee wrappers.. and so many other things that he held precious.His neighbourhood friends always asked for a peek into his book and would sneer and giggle when he refused.Abhi guarded his book fiercely all the time and wouldn’t let them anywhere near it.He even had a secret hiding place to keep his book safe.

But,Jash was different.He was older,bigger and stronger.. and protective.He would drive away the other kids when they pestered or teased Abhi.”Always be kind to Abhi and see to it that the others are kind too”,Jash’s mother had told him.There was a boy like Abhi in Jash’s class too and Jash was one of the boys whom the class teacher had entrusted the job of helping with his class work.Jash enjoyed making Lego toys with Abhi and marvelled at the ease with which Abhi made elaborate cityscapes with the Lego pieces.He was the only trusted friend that Abhi had.Abhi even let him go through his drawing book and showed him the secret hiding place that he had for it.

—————————————————

That Sunday it had been raining since morning.Not the heavy drumming kind of rain that made Abhi cover his ears and cower in a corner,but a soft,light drizzle that tickled his skin when he stretched his hand out of the window.He could hear the noisy children kicking a football in the play ground below but what piqued his interest was a huddle of boys sailing paper-boats in a rectangular ground containing swings and slides that had become a pool of rain water.He spotted Jash among them and went down excitedly to partake in the fun.As he stood behind the gaggle of children,Abhi thought that the paper- boats somehow looked familiar… and then it struck him.They were made from the pages of his precious drawing book!

Abhi’s limited vocabulary of emotions did not contain the word ‘betrayal’ and he couldn’t fathom why in the world his tears just wouldn’t stop flowing…

(The artwork was done by sonny a few years ago.)

Dust collectors.

This dubious distinction goes to certain items that didn’t fulfill their promise of potential utility that they made at the time of their purchase.

Some were emotional buys that tugged at the heartstrings with their sheer beauty or usefulness that could only be stuff of dreams.Sadly,the dreams remained unrealised.

Take for instance,the salad cutter.A sleek contraption with a shiny body,an elegant funnel on top and a rotating handle..which looked nothing short of an engineering marvel!It miraculously spewed perfect slivers of potatoes,cucumbers and tomatoes and shreds of carrots and cabbage from its mouth in the pictures on the box.Alas, it was a lesson in broken promises.All it produced was an undefinable mulch …and to add to it,the pain of setting it up and then dismantling and cleaning all the parts after use!Needless to say, it went back into its box and is now gathering stardust.

The coffee maker was a gift.An exquisite creation of glass and steel which can make fresh,aromatic coffee for your guests while you sit and chit chat with them.But wait,you have to figure out how to use it first,and then go through a multitude of systematic steps,manual in hand.Like its fellow gadgets,it has to be dismantled part by part for cleaning after use.You must have already guessed its final resting place..its cardboard box.

The Exercycle seemed an exciting way burn calories and tone one’s calves while reading or watching TV..but que sera sera,it was used only once and now sits in the waiting area of my consultation room for parents who might want to make the wait useful while their children play with the toys.I haven’t seen anyone use it till date..

The foot massager is a favourite.A soft,snuggly cocoon for the feet fitted with a heater and a vibrating pad.It induces images of me in a satin robe relaxing with a cocktail in hand,feet ensconced in its warm hug,watching Netflix.It seems it never occurs to me to take it out and plug it in or I am plain lazy at the end of the day!

There are many others vying for this title including a food processor,a smart mop and a couple of vacuum cleaners of different sizes to name a few.

But,I have decided!I am going to dispose off all the things that I don’t need and only retain some absolute essentials…like the food cum facial steamer that I have been eyeing for a while now…

Dear Ma,

I can almost see your face Ma when you see this letter,a mixture of anxiety and fear writ large on it.Relax Ma..I only want to talk about love today,not anger or hatred.

Ma,it has been three long years since I have left,or rather,was thrown out of our house.I know Ma that you have been shedding silent tears every day,and believe me,it has been equally tormenting for me too.

I still vividly remember your shocked and hurt look when I told you about my love.It was heartbreaking for me to feel your momentary revulsion towards me.Yes Ma,I could sense it,though your only stoic response was,”Don’t tell your Dad.”…My loving and protective Ma!!

Ma,some of the best moments of my life have been spent in your company..listening to stories and lullabies,learning things,watching you do your hair,cooking with you and talking..just talking…

But,I did keep my innermost secrets from you Ma because I was clueless and very very afraid for a long time.Later I was ashamed.Probably,it was only my drive to chart a successful career that kept me sane and stable.

I still remember how elated you and Dad were when I got the coveted job and your disappointment when you learnt that I would have to live away from home in a metropolis.But, I could see in my occasional visits home afterwards that your lives had settled into a comfortable pattern and you had managed to adjust to my absence.

And then,on that fateful day during my last visit,Dad heard me talking to Akash on the phone when he entered my room unexpectedly. I had never seen him so mad with rage ever.Remember Ma,how he dragged me out of the house and shut the door behind me despite your pleading and beseeching?Ma, I could not go back to work or even leave my room for one whole week after that.If Akash had not been there,I would have done something drastic even.

Ma,Akash and I share true love with one another and are totally committed to our relationship.Believe me Ma,we have been living together for more than three years now and each passing day makes me fall more and more in love with him. I cannot imagine life without him Ma.He is my soulmate.

Hope you and Dad are able to understand this someday.Love is love na Ma..no matter who is the object of one’s affection..

Waiting in hope to have you back,

Love,Kabir.

(Draped and embraced white..the amalgamation of all the colours in the spectrum of light.)

#Pridemonth.

Note:The letter is a work of fiction.

Nothing unites people more than festivals and food!

It’s impossible to remain untouched by the festivities in one’s building,housing complex,neighbourhood or city,irrespective of the community celebrating.

The month long fasting and feasting during the holy month of Ramzan exemplifies this perfectly.For the foodies of Mumbai,a visit to Mohammed Ali Road and Minara Masjid area is a must in order to sample the delectable fare that is served during Ramzan for iftaar.

It’s unlikely that one’s cab will be able to reach right up to the lane through the seething mass of people and one may have to ditch it and walk through the festive crowd towards the end.

The area dazzles decked up in strings of lights and festoons.The stalls selling brightly coloured frilly frocks,zari embroidered caps,toys,shiny footwear,glittering jewellery and whatnot do brisk business on the footpaths.Children tug parents excitedly towards these alluring bright spots as the sound of toy trumpets punctuate the surrounding hubbub…

The tantalising aroma of grilled meat permeates the air as the skewers in the open grills are fanned and rotated,the smoke from them wafting gently upwards.Seekh kebabs crackle and splutter above the fire while red,green and yellow chunks of marinated chicken await their turn in skewers dangling on display.A roomali roti is flipped up high and comes down like a whirling canopy only to be deftly thrown up again.Kheema gets tossed around on a tawa with chopped onions,tomatoes and spices while biryani and haleem slowly cook it their handis.Chunks of chicken tikka are briskly stuffed into rotis along with sliced onion and chillies and a dash of green and red chutneys before being tightly rolled and handed over.A huge kadhai of khichada simmers in a corner.Competitive as ever,ubiquitous Indo-Chinese chilli chicken,chicken manchurian and sizzlers also vie for attention here and there.Giant malpuas swim in huge vats of oil.Kulfis get chopped and served with falooda and a drizzle of rose syrup.Firnis sit congealing in their earthenware bowls and shahi tukdas are weighed down with rabdi and chopped nuts.

A young lad calls out to entice us into his shop and we succumb readily.

Anyone would.

(Pic source-internet)

Another thing that has finally come out of the closet (totally unrelated to Article 377)is the sanitary pad!

Thanks to a Bollywood film on the subject and an Oscar winning documentary ,campaigns about menstrual hygiene and celebrities talking about it,it has become much less of a taboo subject than earlier.

The local chemist no longer delivers it surreptitiously,wrapped in newspaper,tied securely with a string,handing it over gingerly almost as if it was a country made explosive about to detonate!The colourful pack now proudly holds its own amongst the biscuits and bread without feeling awkward about its existence.

..Sanitary pad dispensing machines are being installed in many schools.

..Fathers and daughters together openly discuss menstrual problems with me without the slightest awkwardness.

..The young mother no longer tries to hush her child in embarrassment in the supermarket aisle when he excitedly runs towards her shouting,”Mommy!Your diapers are here!!”

..Now,only if they stop spilling gallons of blue ink in the ads to demonstrate the absorbent prowess of the sanitary pad!!

On a more serious note,there is a long road ahead before healthy and hygienic menstrual practice is in place universally and the taboos surrounding this normal human physiology are totally eradicated from the society.We must continue to create awareness till that happens.

The high point of the childhood summers used be sleeping on the terrace at night.

Preparations would start in the evening itself…There were unmarked boundaries demarcating each bedding place and it was absolutely forbidden to defy that unwritten rule unless one was game for some good old fashioned tongue lashing!!

Some of us used to take considerable efforts to keep their section of the terrace cool,by watering it in the early evening..This had to be done repeatedly as the first instalments were soaked up instantaneously by the hot and thirsty surface…A combination of steely resolve and hardwork finally resulted in a cool and damp patch..

By late evening,a cool breeze started to blow,replacing the hot local wind or ‘loo’,giving an indication of the pleasanter night to come…

Post dinner found us huffing and puffing as we carried our rolled up beddings on our shoulders up the treacherous steps..Spreading out of the bedding would be done with surgical precision by some,by first laying out a burlap on the cool patch,topping it with the mattress and bedspread and tucking in the edges neatly,leaving not a single wrinkle on its unblemished surface..Needless to say,it was the most heinous crime to even think of tarnishing that work of art before its rightful owners lay down to rest on it!

For others like us,the biggest challenge was to keep the billowing bedsheet anchored to the mattress..The next step would be to find strings long enough to suspend the mosquito net in place and to find hooks and nails on the railings of the terrace to tether them to..Soon ,there would be zigzagging lines of these strings all across,like the electric and telephone lines over a small town made of ghostly,transparent mosquito net houses floating surreally in the breeze..

There would be rounds of singing and playful fights over the beds before the gradual arrival of elders would be announced by their heavy,laboured footsteps over the steep stairs…

Finally,after everyone took their places and the chatter slowly died down,lying below the canopy of stars,peace gradually descended and eyes turned heavy with sleep even as a night bird called forlornly…

“It’s a sign of weakness to shed a tear”,I was taught while growing up,”the strong put up a brave face..”

So,I learned to fight back tears..never let them show at the cost of sometimes appearing cold even.I never cried at disappointments..relationship struggles or unfair twists of fate.Though my heart bled at other people’s sorrow,I was inept at crying for and with them… I just did all I could to help.Actions spoke more than display of emotions for me..

Through clenched jaws and swallowed tears, I saw my mom off at the hostel gate..

..A few years later,after the fairy lights had gone and the wedding finery removed,I bade goodbye to the house I grew up in,choking on my tears all the while…

..Every time I went back,I tried hard not to cry while leaving..

..I did not shed a tear when diagnosed with a life threatening illness,though I spent sleepless nights wondering “why me?”…

..I struggled to stifle my tears in public when I lost some of my near and dear ones to death…

..I bit my lips during the spasms of labour pain that shook my body,not letting even a whimper to escape them…

And then…the little guy with a crinkled face and blind trust flipped a switch in my heart!

I laughed and cried with emotions unimaginable..

..I cried with him during his colicky evenings..

..I cried after dropping him to school on his first day looking at his forlorn expression..

..I cried when he was bullied in the school bus..

..I cried when he felt hurt..

..I cried when he fractured his thumb during his first summer vacation..

..I shed tears of joy at his small successes..

..Tears stream down my face when he plays soulful music on his piano..

..Silly me,I now cry copiously at the stupidest of tearjerkers…

Crying is a natural response of humans to a range of emotions including grief,stress and joy.It has been shown to have a self soothing effect and causes release of ‘feel good ‘hormones like oxytocin and endorphins which promote mood elevation and a sense of well-being.Crying also helps in seeking support from others in a tough situation and to recover from grief.So it’s time we did away with saying things like ‘boys don’t cry’ or ‘only the weak cry’.It’s perfectly alright to shed a few tears than internalise one’s pain with detrimental effects on mental wellbeing.

Abhi could not understand what the fuss was about.Ma was certainly behaving very strangely today.For one,she was in a tearing hurry and was unbelievably short with him in the morning when Abhi wanted to snuggle a little more with his favourite blanket on waking up..She seemed to be forgetful too.She forgot to keep Abhi’s toothbrush with toothpaste on it on the right side of the wash basin the way he always wanted it.She even forgot to give him customary kisses on his cheeks after combing his wet hair!

She seemed to be harried and distraught,muttering under her breath something about tokenisms and the thousands of things she had to do singlehandedly..

Height was when she wanted him to wear a blue T shirt instead of his favourite yellow one!Though all this was making him very annoyed,Abhi did not say a word but sulked stiffly and refused to cooperate while changing.Finally,Ma calmed down a little and coaxed him gently to wear the blue T shirt only for today as it was a special day, and he could go back to his yellow one tomorrow.She sounded so warm and gentle that Abhi had to give in,though he completely missed the tinge of sadness in Ma’s voice.

Abhi’s favourite part of the day,the car ride,lasted longer today..He loved sitting with Ma in the cool quiet interiors of the vehicle while the scene outside played out like a silent movie.He watched mesmerised,his nose touching the window,his breath a circle of mist on the cold glass pane..

Curiously,almost everyone who had gathered under the awning in the park was wearing blue.Many children from his school were also there..some quiet,some upset,some difficult to control.What Abhi resented most was when random people tried to hug him..he just pushed them away.

But he realised that his ordeal had only just begun when one by one,people climbed on the makeshift stage to speak on the microphone.The loud words with the intermittent squeaks and screeches from the mike was nothing short of an assault to his ears and Abhi had no choice but to cover both his ears with his hands and cower in his seat.He would have definitely run away had it not been for Ma’s restraining arm across his shoulders.After what seemed like an eternity,it finally got over and Abhi had his moment of joy when a large bunch of blue balloons was released into the sky.Abhi’s gaze followed it as it went up,crossing first the tree tops and then the fluffy white clouds,till it became a mere speck in the infinite blue..

Abhi had no intention of eating the snacks that were distributed..he did not like the feel of food on his bare hands.But just for once,Ma allowed him a few sips of the soft drink that was served,warning him all the while to stay quiet.

Abhi could finally breathe a sigh of relief when they reached home and his familiar surroundings,secure in the knowledge that his routine life would resume unaltered from tomorrow…

(Abhi is a figment of my imagination and I tried to imagine his feelings on this day when the society tries to create awareness about children like him on Autism awareness day.Wore blue in solidarity too.)

When spring is in the air and Nature lavishly displays its colour palette of myriad hues in the abundant foliage and blooms,comes the festival of colours.

The word Holi evokes images from childhood of groups of youngsters with faces smeared with black and metallic silver colours trooping down the street,knocking at doors and calling out their friends who hid behind locked doors or on terraces.The children would run around in the courtyard spraying colours on each other with water pistols.Sudden squeals would be heard from the kitchen when a nephew or niece would sneakily smear colour on the cheeks of an aunt from behind.The solo TV channel would run Holi songs from Hindi films endlessly.

Today,Holi means raucous music being belted out from gigantic speakers and people dancing under rain showers..a cacophonous celebration like many others!

We all have our colour associations and preferences ..many imposed by societal conditioning.Red is celebratory..pink is girlie..white is for mourning..green represents fertility..purple is regal..monochrome spells elegance and efficiency…

I used to love my smart red and white school uniform and this combination invariably reminds me of those days.

Teenage made me a temporary recluse,attending winter weddings in Ma’s off white and beige sarees,hoping thus to remain invisible.During Medical studies,I always wore blue for exams,considering it a lucky colour for me.

Over the years,my preference has included bright and vibrant hues as well..

I love the warmth of yellow,the colour of hope,energy and positivity..of dappled sunshine..of a sudden dry leaf inside a book..of the soft down on a songbird’s breast..of distant stars from the terrace..

I love reds and orange and fuchsia..of the streaks of colour in the sky at dusk..of the nameless blooms carpeting the hillsides..of the colour bursts on shrubs and trees..of the pop of colours on manicures and lips..

I love the jewel toned green..of the iridescent flecks in a cat’s eyes..of freshly bathed trees after a sudden shower..of pools of water in forest glades..

Finally,the amalgamation of all the colours of the spectrum..the brilliant white!

I used to be always wary of wearing white in the past..for white comes with an impeccable reputation!I didn’t want to make it dirty and sully its whiteness,its flawlessness,its purity..

The wiser self is afraid no more..for isn’t it what white is made for?

To be written on..

Painted on..

Lived on..

With the colours of life.