Durga Puja.. Looking back and forth..

Dear Ninni

Owing to a complex cross cultural upbringing we are giving you where Navaratri, Dusshera, Karva Chauth, Diwali are being celebrated with full pomp and festivity, we took special care this year to give you a feel of  ' Durga Puja'.  Strange, something which has been such a vital part of our young days , me and your father's, something which we would long forward the whole year,something which would begin with the whiff of ' Shefali or shewli ' flower in the air, sky a shade bluer and gear up with the beginning of  many shopping trips by ma and neighbouring aunts. Many shopping trips didn't mean they used to shop like we do now, it was like one saree at a time  after a lot of shop scanning and the next trip to return it as neighbour aunty has remarked something negative or may be simply raised an eyebrow in disapproval!! I have seen my father's extreme irritation but guess that was the fun of Puja shopping and  final envious nod by neighbouring aunt and Mashi...the battle was won!!

You of course have seen malls and supermarkets by the time your senses worked, learned to take a trolley and pick up your stuff, have seen your ma shopping, learned to check the price tag as ma does though unable to decipher the meaning. While we were young, when lucky, ma used to take me along for shopping  and believe me it was a very boring affair.We would sit in the shop, the salesman would get out sarees, after around a dozen is seen ,colour,design demanded , price bargained..it was a daunting task to walk out, but the trick was if you walk out and if your bargain was correct salesman would call you back ' Arey boudi.. madam suniye to' .. still you have to pretend to walk out till he gives a call again!! Since my mother emulated our neighbour aunt and it seemed ma always felt she was a master at bargaining and walking out so she followed it when we went for shopping. It never worked as fine and the salesman always did not call back!! If he did.. ma would doubt, not only doubt but try to bargain further as she thought he agreed a bit too soon!! 'Perhaps her face.. she makes it so grim.. they give in' she would remark about her neighbour.  Shop hunting in the busy alleys of Fancy Bazar  Guwahati before the pujas.. was an experience into  itself.

After Ma's saree part , our outfits.. sometimes ill fitting (no trial rooms that time), shyness and awkwardess dominating during teens, white based typical Bengali sarees for oldies, totally white dhoti like cloths for the widows in the family (though things changed gradually..widows were given normal sarees but white had to be dominant), Baba's outfit came last and sometimes he went without new cloths..may be to cover up for the expenditure incurred or as he would put it.. ' I don't need new cloths..'  By Mahalaya ( It marks the beginning of Devi Paksha in simple words the Puja season) preparations would gear up..in the Mahalaya day Ma would invariably switch on the radio at wee hours of the morning and Birendra Krishna Bhadra's unmistakable voice year after year ' Ya Devi Sarva bhuteshu'...and in the early years all would wake up in the morning, the entire neighbourhood, collect ' Shewli' flowers. These subsided gradually with just lame playing of audio cassettes then CDs and no early morning walks.

Finally Pujas would begin. Shoppings completed, gifts distributed, showed to all and sundry who come home. No parlour hopping that time by Ma or aunts..things were simple. In the Shaptami day Baba would give the first report of the idol in the morning of the Puja in neighbourhood. We collected flowers..those Shewli strewn in the ground..filled our baskets..not an easy task..braving vector bites (thankfully no dengue that time), squatting all the time and then stitched garlands to be put across the photo of Goddess at home..these seem a fairy tale to me as well now!! And yes all those Sharadiya Bangla magazines ( Sharadiya because of Sharat season I guess), we would finish the novels one by one me, Baba, my aunt, grandma later my brother and discuss which was the best. You know one of the most loved writers, creator of ' Kakababu' expired this year and I have read Kakababu from the first Puja magazine I learnt to read. But this is life... some new writings are good, some are average and this year I haven't read a single one because I could not go to C.R. Park and get the magazines in time. Another young character I was so fond of when kid ' Gogol' also disappeared with the writer's early demise like happy Puja days.

In the evenings we would go out with parents mainly, sometimes with Bubu (my aunt), pandal hopping and inspite of father's strong dislike me and ma would go for the carts selling hot chaats!! Ma used to be extremely happy as she was relieved of cooking at least in the evenings though no formal 'eating out' then. In the Ashtami day sometimes we would visit Ram Krishna Mission offer Anjali amidst the huge crowd, stand in queue for Khichuri served as prasad. When a bit older I started visiting with friends, neigbouring Didis and there was a different aspect to Puja.. getting dressed in your best and longing for attention...I understood that gradually as I noticed them getting all attention from boys and they laughing it off with  pride..there was envy for the pretty girls and extreme consciousness and gawkiness in the teenage days would lead me to stick to parents  or friends and never venture out alone.

In the Dashami day when the idol was immersed I also went behind the truck with my neighbouring aunt ( four years older to me) and her father when we were kids and saw boys dancing in Mithun Chakraborty style and I remember she also trying some moves with slogans like ' Asche bachar abar hobe!!' Evenings were reserved for offering ' pranams' to elders, tying the sacred thread around wrist and then gorge on coconut ladoos , nimkis, sweets.. gradually less home made stuff and more outside stuff.

A void used to be there after Puja was over, though holidays continued but the climax was over.. While we grew, up me and brother, some years we used the holidays to go out for a trip with parents and sometimes got the chance to watch the Kolkata Pujas or Delhi Pujas, sometimes we missed it altogether but now..since my brother moved out of Guwahati , coming home is a must for him during the Pujas and me.. after you have come I'm a diligent pandal hopper though before you in Delhi I longed for the cultural programmes and the big names who performed but with you I want to feel the ' Durga Puja', both your father and I. just like bygone days brushing us with a breeze, to show you, a part of us we left back home in a different time, balloons, toy pistols what not...we got them only in Puja time and my neighbouring aunt I talk about ( Tutu pishi) , she preserved her cherished balloon beneath the lid of a drum containing rice ( earlier we used to have drums or tins containing rice and we used to have rice thrice a day) so that it survives a longer time and believe me it did to my surprise and she would open everyday and show me her blue balloon!!

Last year in Barapani I was not able to show you Durga Puja, this time we took you around Delhi and though we thought it was more for you guess it was more for us..to find a bit of lost days again, a bit of togetherness in this tight paced life..

Leaving you with some pics.

Love

Yours Ma

During childhood we used to have idol counts to boast of to friends and peers so just an idol count for you

Elite Puja of GK II.. Pandal is all empty before 11.. good for clicking pics

Olympic rings at Matri mandir Safdarjung Enclave

Dont miss the huge vessels of delicious prasad..:)

Pious you...

Original you?

Mayur Vihar Puja had Rabindranath theme

Your mom going all traditional

All India Radio

When i first fell in love, i can,t even remember, may be  my first crush hit me  when i was about ten. This love affair with radio..exactly when it happened. Early childhood days, i remember my father shaving in front of the mirror and the tiny radio playing Assamese songs and  father waiting for the 9'o'clock news. ' This is All India Radio.. the news read to you by..' what a voice..stern, so nonsense..and that impeccable English which i could make out most of the times. Confession..many times I,m happy with subtitles in Hollywood soaps and serials..and a hush hush thing even if i watch an episode of Friends for the nth time there is always something new that I,ve missed before or so it seems.

Grandpa owned something like it
Google Images

 My early childhood days ma used to switch on the radio at mid noon 12:30 which started with the music of a Bengali song ,' Hao dharamete dheer, how karamete beer nahi bhoi..'  I hardly ever heard the song but the music was a phenomenon.. 12:30..just the middle of the day..and the music..then came my favourite ' Sainik Bhaion ka Karyakram'  It started with ' Aaj ka Geet' requested by many Sainik Bhais later i remembered the names as well... Radio became such an integrated part of daily life as i began to enter teens, a getaway to the outer world may be from the tiny room i occupied for studies, from Bhupen Hazarika to Kishore Kumar, Manna Dey classicals to English country songs..i remember carrying  the little magical device with me bathroom bedroom to the bed..people began calling me akin to the daily labourers, rickshaw pullers loitering around with a pocket radio..i was embarrassed but radio, me, eagerly waited Chitrahaar songs to be played again we sailed along...

Evenings most of the days I,d wake up to the 5:15 request programme on Guwahati Station.' Chitramanjari'if i remember correct..alternate Assamese and Hindi songs..i,d wait for the Hindi songs and kept falling in love with the Assamese songs bit by bit..Night was on with 9:30 request programme by Vividh Bharti followed by Chhaya Geet.. theme songs so to say with an anchor with romance and nostalgia in voice and then finally request programme again from 10:30. But not to be satisfied with these and taking lessons from my neighbour i listened to Nepali channel at night for Hindi film songs complete with Nepali ads!! Then my discovery was All India Radio Urdu service I guess it came upto 12 in short wave and with words like ' fankar' , ' mausiki', ' nagma nigar' ( If i can spell them correct) my Guwahati nights in early nineties were indeed colourful. Though in between constant changing of the band from short to medium wave  Papa,s radio gave in.. and did i give in as well...

Got a new radio in my 10th class birthday..and newly found was film ads programme Chitralok..came right in the morning 8:15..All these before onslaught of television and onslaught of the mind.. I didn,t fall out of love with the tiny device college, university, working days and it didn,t let me down either .. FM the frequency modulated wave band gave it a new lease of life. FM began in small towns with broadcast of Vividh bharati programmes, lots of  request programmes with names of a host of listeners and mostly ' chalu' songs but good audio quality after all..long awaited for listeners like me.

Almost like the one i had
Google Images

Delhi gave a host of channels to choose from Radio Mirchi, Radio City, Red FM but somehow I missed All India radio difficult to trace in the FM jungle...constant chatter of RJ,s, flurry of new songs with missing melody..was i missing my old love in my old home. My new radio in the city was again a combined gift by my colleagues when we joined workplace newly, needless to say i went about demanding unashamedly for a radio in my birthday!! Purani Jeans in Radio Mirchi, Love Guru in Radio City and yes the story of a girl called Maya in her husky voice and her army boy friend at around 12... those were my initial days in the city.

After marriage a different tussle altogether..soft numbers lulling me to sleep was a no no as husband longed for some 'peace and quiet' ( though full volume Radio Mirchi in the car did not give him his quota of peace and quiet). My radio crashed and i nagged after husband to get it mended.. ' In Delhi..where do i fix a radio...' he sounded clueless Mobile was the latest gadget for radio and i managed to acquire one , by that time i had discovered FM gold. Finally i settled with the radio in digital photo frame at home placed comfortably at bed side with FM gold and BIG FM churning old numbers through out the day...( I still could not set the other channels)

The one i have now

I didn,t know when i beacme an old hindi music lover..and new songs barring a few failed to leave a mark..Gulzar, a dash of Urdu at times and some Ghazals at FM gold 5:10 show . My parents.. Baba always spoke about Akashvani Kolkata and Anurodher Asar and how it used to be a festival in the  neighbour hood and Ma about Radio Ceylon and Binaca Geetmala when in those days Hindi film songs were a taboo in Bengali household and she used to switch off as soon she heard her father,s footsteps.. This also reminds me  of Radio in Kolkata during my short stay the variety, the melody the mix of  Bangla and Hindi songs, R.D, S.D combos added to the charm of the city apart from the spectacular food and gregarious public

So many shows.. so many songs..one stumble after another..i remember Phone in Kalpataru ( Kalpataru as in ' The wish fulfilling tree') from All India Radio Guwahati and the mesmerizing voice of the anchor. It used to come every first and third sunday, my mother drooling over ' Koto jawanor mrityu hol' by Bhupen Hazarika ,me listening to Pal Pal dil ke pass umpteenth time, sharing in morning assembly at school with my best buddy the songs of Chhaya Geet previous night..

I still listen to the radio.. ' yaadon ke idiot box' sometimes with middle class nostalgic sentiments, ' Purani Jeans' with RJ,s having good voice and command , ' Andaze Bayan'...and most of all i love the radio while driving, my newly acquired skill in very raw form while Delhi roads are a delight ( very rare instances) and lazing about in bed after sending daughter to school and if some rain behind the window.. and Aaj hoon na aye balma...sawaan beeta jaye and a cup of tea with Jhalmuri..( yes yes very bong style)...My first love and me we came a long way....together.

Happy Birthday....

Dear Ninni

A post about your third birthday..before that let me tell you as all mothers do..three years..a long time and time does fly and see from the tiny bundle the doc got out of me, stands here chatting babbling dancing, a bundle of energy now, a living soul full of life. Babies are born, turn to infant, grow  to toddler, be the child..perhaps the most normal cycle yet each phase is no less than a miracle for the parents. Yes me and your father continue to be dazed fascinated by your antics and share this silent pride at bringing you in this world. Perhaps this phase you can understand when you become a parent yourself, this is like your own creation unfurling slowly in front of your eyes, with each turn a new dimension which leave us flabbergasted.

Sometimes I do try to be practical and know this is so temporary. This joy won,t be ours forever. Soon you will venture out of our world and move into your own. But as long as it lasts.. we are overwhelmed, overjoyed.. Why is it that we would always want the people we love to be just like us, it can,t be and it won,t be. Just hope your father accepts it easily.

You have crossed the three a year mark approximately a month back. I think as a child you are like any other talkative, active, cranky, moody, selfish. I have no idea what sort of person you would grow up to be but it seems at this stage you are friendly, long for company, more or less get along with other children of your age, can strike up conversation at public places and enjoy attention. This is a relief because I fee to a great extent me and your father were shy , loner and confined to our worlds upto a certain age then only we learnt to ' speak'. May be you or hardly any child of your generation with the kind of exposure you get won,t be soft spoken or shy.Another thing, kind of whirlwind life we gave you since your birth, sometimes your father away, sometimes I,m off to night duties leaving the little you to wail all the night, sometimes moving to Allahabad, Kolkata , Barapani you seem to have pretty much adjustable nature. You have accepted people coming and going in your life and only recently the picture got a bit clear when we came back to Delhi that you do have a Baba like Gudia, Shashank and the Mummy Papa picture got framed in your mind when you started going to school .

Apart from babbling too much, imitating Nobita from Doraemon using sentences like ' Baba tum kabhi nahi sudhroge!!!!' or the girlie stuff like ' Mummy bhi naaa' with a wave of hand, I am afraid I do not see any great sparkle in you as of now ( most mothers do) though I thought you were brilliant initially when you showed a inclination for reading books and identified the letters A-Z too soon. But then I learnt through mommy blogs of all the brilliant toddlers around achieving much more in less time so left  it at that. Also your interests are very short lived ( can,t blame you really if you take on your mom ) books, jigsaw puzzles, cartoon shows and from one to ten it has been never an easy ride from eleven onwards and since you were least interested I left it at that as well :) . 

You can throw tantrums at any time you please, yes I know I am not a strict parent. And we are in awe when we go to the market because your tantrums get endless but my money isn,t!!! Specially the last year in Barapani each time we went to Shillong or even the local market.. you would blackmail me like anything and being a single parent I had to give in many times.I handled your ' terrible twos' almost alone. Really tough believe me, specially in public places it gets so embarrassing. Once in a Guwahati Delhi flight you were sitting on the floor and counting the beads of a pink chappal of the elderly lady beside and needless to say the lady wasn,t pleased. In our frequent train travels you would lift the curtains and try to tug at the socks, never sleep at night in trains unless past midnight. Once we were travelling in AC 3 and did not have a lower berth you refused to sleep in the middle berth.. started howling.All elderly persons were there who cannot climb, one lady did try but was about to slip and fall.. you started howling more. Finally following your father,s suggestion I spread a bed sheet in the floor of the train and lulled you to sleep there with me gradually. Yes this is true.. though it brings a smile in my face now. 

One good thing as of now you have learnt Hindi well.. survival technique may be but would you continue speaking Hindi with us..shudder at the thought..we will see as you grow up. Cannot go against time but at least I will try.. so that you learn to speak and read Bangla. But as of now though we speak Bangla, you reply in Hindi and gradually we are moving towards Hindi..child is the father of man..they say!!

This was meant to be your birthday post so coming to that we had a nice time in your birthday. I baked a cake, took leave from office, your father too came early, your pishi made payesh..really sweet. Then the coming weekend we had a party at our Gurgaon home. Though I always  feel we should keep it short but somehow me and your father ended up throwing a good party I must say. Your first two birthdays were spent in Silchar so in a way first in Delhi. We worked hard me and your father.. though your father would object and say that only he worked hard!!! You looked lovely in the red frock I am so in love with, we ordered a Doraemon cake for you, all in all things went well as you can see in the pics. This is the first time you enjoyed singing ' Happy Budday to Youuu'. Food was ok.. and you had a fun time playing with kids.

So dear daughter..this was about your third birthday..two loving parents doting on you, spending your birthday, trying to be with you most of the time..even your pishi cooking for you, I need to mention her, she loves you a lot. So with lots of love and many many best wishes..for the lovely girl you are and in anticipation the beautiful human being you are going to be..

Love

Yours Ma

Kitchen of awadh...( An attempt at food review)

Food and me..me and food... we had been sharing a long bond..grown weaker over times..with age when you cannot indulge in all sort of unhealthy junk at anytime you wish.. when the worry of High BP, cholesterol and above all the perennial weight issue bogs you down. But first love survives..and hence first food blog. 

Being in a land locked island called Barapani for almost a year deprived of ' Outside ' food..but relishing the joys of fresh garden vegetables (donated by neighbours, workers or from the weekly market), some bites at Shillong food joints, Delhi offers myriad options.But when options are many exclusivity diminshes.  Anyway I discovered ' kitchen of awadh' when after a huge face off with husband over not going out for dinner and he convinced me he would order ' good food' at home. Though being the nagging grumbling wife I am went on blasting him as usual. My husband had ordered for a minimal menu..since I would blast him more if the fridge is piled with leftovers.. so it was Chicken Tikka ( Safe bet to order always), Roomali Roti , Murgh Biriyani and Awadh Daal ke Kebab. 

Chicken Tikka was normal stuff.. the colour a bit too eye catching, but then The Awadh daal ke kebab.. I just had opened my mouth before grabbing a bite ' You ordered veg kebabs!!!' ( Nothing can be more criminal).As my teeth sank in and the aroma filled the space.. and we just stared at each other ( I might add this was one of the rarest of rare cases.. as our eyes met and spoke!!). Soft, delicate, the aroma was amazing.. My husband basking in the glory of kebabs declared ' This was my discovery in this year.. in your absence'. Indeed for once without retort I was nodding and savouring the amazing kebabs.

The real surprise of the pack was ' Murgh Biriyani' sealed in an earthen pot.. being Miss Know- it -all I began explaining my maid.. ' this pot is only for packing.. they don,t cook it here' . But the after the ordeal  of unsealing the pot..the first  whiff completely numbed our senses... Biriyani was way above the normal stuff we have without being overly spicy or laden with ghee, the pure joy of Dum Biriyani wherein the aroma of the earthen pot mingled with the rice and chicken.. aah sure bliss...the door to a different world..

A great discovery by my husband.. I have to admit .. and just waiting for the next day we would order again hoping to be immersed  in the senses, elevated to an aroma world and relish the tickling of the taste buds. And yes the price was not exorbitant.. these four items cost near seven hundred, quantity was generous, food was delivered in reasonable time, hot and very well packed.. should be a delight for Mughlai food lovers.

P.S. they have delivery at South Ex, Defence Colony, Golf Link, Jor Bagh, Niti Bagh, Hauz Khas Gautam Nagar etc in Delhi and closed on Tuesday.. So Happy Eating...

Outsider

The hills, the greens, the jack fruit tree in front, the mud ridden path to the well in the backyard, bricks strewn along to step in, in the muddy rainy days...I remember my home, my childhood in the state I left for quite some time now. Remembering.. getting nostalgic.. we do it so often though when I left my state nobody forced me to..and many like me, we left willingly in quest of a better career, better life. The state rides over our thoughts in a wave of nostalgia, romance, fond memories hardly of any relevance now.. except may be visit once a year, parents, relatives and the world of childhood changed a long ago.. the city has grown from a fledgling struggling teen to a youth in full bloom.

And then I see my city in headlines.. molesting a teen age girl , seemed a joint venture of so many sick men. But I see my city grabbing attention.. media.. TV channels, newspapers... Barkha Dutt arguing, politicians storming into the scene. Did we not wish Guwahati to be in lime light, to be in the mainstream.. so badly in our school college days.. and did we not vying for attention and ' mainstream' gradually made a beeline for greener pastures.. Yes we complained.. our state , our city not getting enough ' footage' in TV channels, national media, we stay isolated...and years after when I see the ' footage' the reason brings a lump in the throat. This is nothing new.. this had happened before many times many ways.. and it happens again.. among the glare and light of the watchdog media..

My state grabs headlines again, this time for a longer duration, this time when the entire nation felt the pain of the state, the tears of the region. Riots, deaths..hatred like infection caught the entire country, the ' exodus'..and we stand and sigh. I make a silent rewind of the journey of my childhood in my turbulent state..my first school days in Jorhat, three to four years of schooling in Goalpara, then back to Guwahati where I finished college and university. Jorhat I have a very vague recollection guess I was too young, but Goalpara flashes vibrantly in my memory..the Brahmaputra.. closest I have ever been to the river.. hardly five hundred metres.. cross the wide stretch of sand..and.. the river. Foreign influx, immigrants.. I had a vague recollection in Goalpara.. the vegetable vendors, the fish vendors who would come to our house sometimes would  talk of their hardship and from elders I would know they are ' Bangladeshis'. Rest apart the town was a mix  of all kind of population with a language of its own.. Goalparia.. a special genre of music with great Bhatiali notes specially catering to the songs of the river. I learnt my lessons of ' Assamese' there and with age was learning not to speak Bengali in public.. not because anyone told me anything..most of the people understand Bengali there but there is a feeling at work.. same feeling may be makes my 3 year old daughter speak in Hindi in Delhi without anybody asking her to...

I remember happily visiting my father's colleague,s house in Ramzan evenings..the aroma and the variety of food..mind boggling. I remember them coming to our house and putting up for weeks when the town was flood affected...through our relatives raised eyebrows, we cooked in the same oven and ate the same meals.. May be it was the time when the fruit of hatred was not ripe, seed has been sown into history though. As I spent my remaining childhood and teens in Guwahati  knowing it to be my hometown, my motherland..though accepting the fact that Bengali to be spoken in home and with other Bengalis. There was a time like all Bengalis I longed to be in Kolkata, listen to Tagore songs, watch Bengali movies, read a lot more of Bangla and speak openly. But then random visits to Kolkata never made it my own..may be the language and yes the raw accent of our sylheti  Bengali would draw the ridicule and sarcasm of the Kolkata Banglans. Therein surfaced the identity crisis gradually.. we are Bengalis from Sylhet uprooted during partition, settled in North East. I was tired of answering the question ' where are you from' with..' I am Bengali.. settled in Assam.' All drew a blank.. I can,t blame north or south Indians even fellow Assamese when the West Bengalis also remark , ' You mean you are from Kolkata'.. I am not , I never was.

But me and many like me.. rootless.. we began to love the city we were in..city has a common culture. a common lingo..and fell in love with Brahmaputra with Bihu and when a bit older with Bhupen Hazarika..and sometimes with Zubeen Garg and with All India Radio Guwahati.. churning out Assamese , Hindi music. The land became our own, the language our own and my closest friends whom I could tell ' I dont like your bland Assamese food'  and who could tell me ' Oh these Bengalis.. can.t speak a correct Assamese sentence.'

My land is burning today...lots I can relate to..lots I can,t. Lots I feel..of leaving my home, leaving my land..leaving my parents..of not being loyal to the land which knows to give and greet. of not being able to return anything to the land which gave everything to me..feel the pain of my land scarred by the immense strain of all the complexities, of the different population mix.. and the feeling of ' my state'and ' my city' deep inside me, may be an outsider myself in the dark pages of history..

Of Dreams Desires and Delhi

So many things I have not done in life rather failed to do in life..list is long .. dancing ,driving I guess tops the list. What,s with this D word.. I wonder. This city of D..one cannot survive here without sitting beneath the wheel and without shaking a leg..and I have hopelessly failed in both D,s many times. The office I work in is generous enough and most of the girls and guys working here and even the fresh ones have a car and.. how much I whine and howl..most of them drive. I have somehow managed to take free rides and be the ' passive partner' for car pooling all these years. In fact I have even offered my husband,s old Maruti 800 to the guys to drive and though they cursed and sweared under their breath while driving in the blazing afternoon ( of course the car had and still has an AC !!) .. they did drive home our car. Now that I am back after my one year hiatus..and there is actually no one to take me along to office!!! So putting up a brave front... I set course for duty by public transport. Public transport in this city of D...with the airport Metro closing down options are too less and sometimes too bad. First hurdle.. hurdle number one.. I don,t know since when I began to feel shy about using public transport..when I reached bus stop for the first morning duty.. only people  I could identify was one of the cleaning ladies in office ..and another man equivalent to her rank.. na , na... I am not being sarkari casteist... Group D and all.. I was plain happy to see them ..after so many days .. what I have to do is just follow them.. where to get down and where to catch the next bus..

As flurry of cars zoom into the office gate..I sneak in through the little side gate for pedestrians.. shyness creeps in again..and me being an old stuff now..most of the older stuff do not fail to remark.. ' Madam aap bus se..' as I paste the smile in my face without replying and several retorts stumble inside. some more generous comments... ' Arey yeh sab to hum logo ke liye.. aap jaise ofsar..'  Yes yes I am supposed to have a car and drive that too..and I can,t .. and that is that.

So coming back to public transport ..first day i boarded the bus to office..first thing which felt so Delhi like was the voice of  Lata Mangeshkar.. ' Ajeeb daastan hain yeh'..the melody pouring in though from a worn out pair of speakers and I realised this was something I missed back there in Shillong..familiar radio stations and familiar music from familiar voices. But then public transport in this city specially in this sweltering heat is nowhere near being just about adequate..let alone be fun. Nearest to fun being a ride in the ladies compartment of Delhi Metro. Just looking at the chics you know what you have missed out..whether coloured flip flops or stilettos, capris or hot pants, kurtis or tunics, sleek bags or colourful jholas, bright nail paints or nude ones, latest fashion statements.. and at once you realise lot to catch up on fashion front..and if you wonder from exactly where to begin..take a look at these chics closely..and dont forget to keep your ears open...' Agla station ... Doors will open to the left..please mind the gap.'  We don,t mind really, the AC and the comfort..the traffic less , red light less ride..but closing down of the Airport Metro leaves no option..but newspapers tells me Government has given 3 month time for the problems to be fixed..

Newspapers also told me there,s a dearth of buses for the commuters in Delhi.. only I didn,t need newspapers telling me that.. most of the days after sweating, puffing in the sultry weather..waiting more than 30 minutes.. i,m bargaining with the autowalahs and dishing out 100 rupee note to reach office and that too no auto would drive to our office, I have to catch bus from a  point.Since the new airport emerged out of the barren lands.. our office stands sidelined from the main airport and hence all public ransport deserted it. Shift timings changed too..upto 8;30 in the evening from earlier 7:30..but who complains.. all car owners and an extra day off to compensate for.

But at least some buses run in that road.. allowing me to sneak in unnoticed .. carless..careless.. trying to be a true citizen taking pride in our public transport system..yes credit goes to my (un)driving skills but I am waiting to join the bandwagon get a car and drive... till then..the road , autos, buses and me...

One year of solitude

Dear Ninni

It is over.. our time at Barapani..and we are on our way...and since I could not complete on the go..I  just  thought I would finish it in the sweltering heat of Delhi. Yes this has been our home for a year. You me and your Pishi and sometimes your grandpa grandma.Nestled in between hills, bathed by rains , swept over by clouds at times..and lush green all around was our ' home' a year.

    

This is how you looked when you followed your Ma to office with the invisible umbrella in hand.

You were closest to earth as you ever could be..





 
Gudia was the first friend you made in your life. Some months elder to you, moody.. she looked just like a doll. And both of you spent hours playing..I was so happy that Gudia was there and I could leave you comfortably with her and go for some badminton in the evenings.

This black one.. she gave birth to twins.. one black as her another grey.. they were so weak..we fed three of them.. fish rice...biscuits..


                                           Ma,s office was the best place to hang out

 

                   

                        


You loved Shillong.. you could always blackmail into getting unnecessary stuff for you

We are posing in front of the Centre Point restaurant Shillong..

 This is ma,s FB profile pic..:) Taken at Elephant Falls Shillong

 We had several visits to Orchid The Lake Resort

                                                   This is ' Gungun' another of your friend







                                     

 
                                   Thanks to the few jigsaw puzzles and   cards ..kept u busy

Ma spent her time in SUDOKUs why would you be left behind....



                
                                                          Baba was there too sometimes..
 

  

                           
                                        Cherapunjee with Baba , we were stuck in incessant rains... 

She brought you up....

We are so thankful to her..soetimes I used to get irritated..I still do..but at the end of the day she did a great job.

It had been a short stay may be.. but eventful for you and me..from a tiny two bedroom apartment locked from inside.. we were somewhere where stepping outside was being close to nature.. the hills and the greens..where getting daily vegetables and grocery and keeping sufficient inventory level was a matter of awesome management..' managing' a trip to the near by army shopping complex in the office vehicle.. or hand over a list of groceries to anyone going to ' city' or shopping complex.. aww it required some management, the place where there is no other option but to walk two kilometres for a public transport or procure a decent packet of biscuits. And you know after many days I talked the way I used to.. the languages I have known throughout my childhood.. though I don,t know how you picked up Hindi so well... Grandpa grandma ( my parents) made regular visits here.. they won,t anymore.. But this is life and we have moved on from Barapani to Delhi in the maddenning heat and madder crowd.

Just tried to assemble some pics so that when you grow up and look at me blankly when I speak of 'Barapani' .. that magical land where we stayed for a year.. I have something to remind you..

Love

Yours Maa