Morning Musings: February 25, 2014, Mumbai

One of the things that my friends in US comment about India is the obvious disparity existing side by side. You see an upscale skyscraper and a slum right next door. It feels as though you can never escape the poverty.

                      

Then, there is the moral dilemma of what the rich must do for the poor, who live right next door. Why do we let this side-by-side contrast exist? Have we become blasé to the scenery that surrounds us, when we walk past it every day? I was confronted with this question within myself when I went on a walk in Mumbai where I walked past tiny homes as well as huge apartment buildings side by side. I observed the people coming in and out of the small homes kludged together with corrugated metal sheets. A lady walking out of a toilet, a teenager hanging over the flimsy balcony chatting with an aunt downstairs, kids walking out to go to school with parents in tow – if I took away the condition of the housing or the clothing that one was wearing, they could have been in any neighborhood. None of them were sitting around moping to be living in these conditions – they were all working, moving about their lives making the most of it. Sometimes I wonder what keeps a person living in a small house spare the rich that spend more on the petrol in one day than the poor person’s entire monthly salary.

As I walked by these homes and the large apartment buildings, I could not help but feel a sense of beauty in this obvious disharmony. Why should only those who can afford it inhabit a wonderful place by the sea? There is some poetic justice in sharing the view with those less privileged as well. Since you live next to each other, the one in the small home might not feel the urge to torch the sprawling buildings next door, merely out of neighborly grace.

I found another option that could make up for the disparity in a lady I met on my walk. I noticed a group of children gathered around her with their notebooks. I stopped by and asked her if she was running a school here. She is Mira of Navjyot foundation. She said that she comes there every morning 7:30 to 8:30 am to help local kids with their homework and other questions. She said that the NGO does not need money but they need people to donate time to join her every morning.

                         

As I walked away from her and her volunteers being surrounded by kids, I was left with a sense of hope knowing that the neighbors care.

I feel that the obvious disparity that exists could depress me, but the efforts to bridge the divide certainly left me with a deep sense of hope.

Get Involved with the Navjyot Foundation: Contact Mira Mamnani 
[ Phone: +91 9004390819, +91 9819421398, +91 2226409348; Address: 52, New Silver Home, 15 New Kantwadi Road, Bandra (W), Mumbai 400050 ]

The Road Not Taken Part 2

Just a few days ago, I was in Jaipur and saw a road less traveled by and wondered if it was safe for women to take the path. I lamented on the fact that we even have to think twice about it. And I found my answer this morning. I went on a long walk with my neighbor Bharti. She is part of a team that just completed doing a 100K walk and I wanted to check on my own ability to walk. Bharti and I took off at 5: 30 am and walked for about 3 hours through the villages that surround our gated community. She had a GPS device and was trying to map out a route. Along the way, we got off track and kept walking anyway. We walked through small communities as well as empty fields. And we DID come across two roads that diverged in the woods.  And we took one of the roads and did not even worry about our safety, as we had each other.

So, I felt as though I found the answer for my own fear. The way to take the road less traveled is a matter of taking others into your confidence and being there for each other, instead of doing everything by ourselves. May be in our sharing, we become stronger individually, as well as a community. I thoroughly enjoyed my long walk and will continue dreaming of the 100K walk next year.

Bharti and me

The Road Not Taken

There are about half a dozen poems that shaped my life. The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost is one of them. I find the image of a lane leading to an unknown destination, especially a lane that looks quiet, empty, devoid of any human presence, truly desirable of exploration. When I travel, I walk through different neighborhoods, taking in the sights and sounds of that village, town, or city - be it in India or anywhere else around the world. I love the quiet time and the feeling of not knowing what to expect. I love to walk by homes of all sizes and shapes, and watch people go about their lives. A glimpse of someone brushing their teeth, or another reading a newspaper, or someone bargaining with the vegetable vendor, or even the stillness of a silent home -- all of these give me a unique insight into the lives of those who inhabit this Earth along with me. The purpose of these walks is largely to stay fit, just so that I can keep up with my energetic and curious 10 year old, but the icing on the cake is the opportunity to observe how others go about their lives, and perhaps the occasional conversation, or a new friend I may pick up along the way.

I was in Jaipur last week and as usual, I stepped out of the Le Méridien hotel to go for a walk. I turned right on the main toad and walked along the main highway with trucks and cars whizzing past me. After walking for a while, I saw a group of women turn onto a lane off the main highway. They had this purposeful, quick gait and were chatting enthusiastically as they walked. I decided to follow them, walking a few yards behind them. One of the women turned to me and asked me to join them. She wanted to know why I was walking alone; she said that I should always have a walking partner and that I should not be by myself for my own safety. This woman explained to me that all of them were farmers and that they were all going to their fields. She added ", Maybe doing the walk will help you reduce some weight!" I loved her honesty, her simplicity, and a sense of chiding me to do the needful to get into shape! I took a photograph of that lady in red and turned around to get back to my hotel.

The lady in red

As I continued to walk, her comment about needing someone to walk with stayed with me. Has it become so dangerous that a woman has to think twice about taking a morning walk alone? Maybe we all need to think of going in groups, of having someone with us. It is not the immediate solution that worries me. The next day on my walk in a different direction from the hotel, I saw a lane that was quiet, like the road not taken. Somewhere in the back of my mind, what the woman said rang out and for a moment, I hesitated to take that road. I forced myself to take the road because I did not want to succumb to that fear. I felt that it is this constantly cautious state of mind we are asking women to adopt could be preventing them from developing their full potential in the long term.  But how can I guarantee my own safety in the short term?  I am “allowed” to take whatever chances I want to take with my life, but what right do I have to give that guarantee to someone else?

What if our young women cannot take the road less traveled for fear of their basic safety? Taking that road has “made all the difference” to me. Will the young girls of today be denied of that difference? That would be a truly tragic day. For now, I keep taking that road and support anyone else who wants to do the same. 

Capturing happiness

I love writing. I feel as though I go into a different world when I write. The world becomes tiny, contains just me, my laptop, and my fingers that move on their own accord converting my thoughts into text on screen. With increasing responsibilities of running a startup, my writing has become rare. My friend commented that I seem to be writing only when I lose someone I love. When I looked at my last few blogs, I realized that she was right. I wrote when I lost my aunt, or my adopted dad, or when something made me really sad. That got me thinking about where the inspiration comes from. I realized that I have been writing only when the pain has been so great that there was no other escape except through words. I feel that I need to find the same inspiration from happiness as well. Else, there is a danger of mistaking pain as an essential ingredient for inspiration. 

There is this unspoken understanding that true creativity comes from pain, bad relationships, occasional drugs, and definitely a painful childhood. Does this mean that those who have regular lives, who had an uneventful, happy childhood cannot be creative? NOT TRUE. So, here is what we regulars, who want to belong to the “creative” class, need to do. We need to learn to derive as much inspiration from happiness as we do from sadness. The issue with happiness is that we take it so for-granted that we don’t let it overflow. I think that we need to record every moment of happiness and let it stick. When I look back at what I record, I don’t want to have memories of only what gave me sadness. I want to record those happy small moments that go unnoticed in the same way I record my moments of sadness. So, here is one such moment for me...

I was driving my car and noticed that the tire signs were lit, which means that something is wrong with the tires. The first thing that I wanted to check was the air in the tires. I have a confession to make. I have been driving for almost 30 years but I do not know how to even check the air in the tires. I pulled over at a gas station and asked a young man, who was working in the garage to help me. He asked me to pull over at the Full service station, checked the tire pressure and pumped in some air and made sure that I was okay. He went out of his way to help and did not make a big deal of it. As I was digging into my purse to bring out some money to tip him, he gave me a wonderful smile and walked away to his work. It’s not that he did not want to wait but it did not even occur to him to ask for a tip. In that moment, I felt really grateful for finding someone who was so gracious. It is such a small moment that it would have totally been lost in another day or two. But, by publicly recording it, I have given it a permanent place to boost up my happiness quotient.

Aging gracefully

There are supposedly four stages of life – childhood, young age, working age, and retirement age. Many books teach us what we are supposed to DO in each of these stages. I think that the most important thing to learn is what we need to BE in each of these stages. As a child, we are expected to be naive, inexperienced; as youth, we need to seek knowledge, learn the ways of the world; in our adult working years, we need to maintain the enthusiasm of a child, and at the same time be responsible for the world that we create around us. It is in the final stage of our life, when we are expected to retire, we are supposed to be severing our ties with the material world. In the old days, one would be expected to disappear into the woods or the Himalayas. In today’s world, we need to stay home and in a place like India, most of the older people stay with their families. My father always used to say that you need to learn how to give up the control of the house and let someone else make the decisions. This is the hardest transition for most of us.

In this stage, each of us could be the child that we once were. My father became a knowledge hungry student. He read every newspaper, book as though he was preparing for an exam. He would analyze, interpret, and write his own articles and books. He stayed mostly with my sister and brother-in-law in India, but visited me. He let me drive him around, introduce him to my friends, and integrate him into my life as a mother would integrate her son. He asked for books he wanted, made me take him shopping for his favorite kind of shoes (off-white shoes with Velcro instead of shoe laces), books, and different colored pens – simple stuff that a kid would want. He did not interfere with my day to day life but was always there when I wanted to cuddle or discuss something that troubled me.

And my aunt became a child who wanted everyone around her. She would call each of her kids and grand kids on a daily basis wanting to know their routine, she would play along with her grand daughters, and laugh heartily reminiscing old times. She lost her eyesight for the last few years of her life, and yet did not lose her sense of humor. She would let her grand kids dress her up and take photos. She went along being their favorite baby. Her granddaughter Syama would dress her up as a dacoit, or a little girl, or any type of a character, and she always played along.

In her life, she experienced many injustices but was always strong. She was passed over for a promotion to be Head Mistress just because she was a woman. She did not get mad and walk away but stayed and showed the management that they could not ignore her. She ran it with authority, grace and integrity. As an aunt, she was affectionate as well as strict. I remember her hearty laughter, but the person that I saw with her grand daughter was a person I did not know. I loved the way she developed even a greater sense of humor and enjoyed her time as a kid who would be happy to let others dress her and have fun. Even when she could not see, she let others see her in the best form.

My aunt as a pirate

A Grand Daughter's Memory

I sometimes wish that we have our eulogies when we are alive, so that we can hear what others have to say about us. If success could be measured by the number of heartfelt memories we leave behind, my aunt was a super success. Just this letter from her grand daughter Syama, says it all.

"To my loving Grandma

How do I start?? What Can I Say?? Why she had to go?? You (Granny) made my life lighten up with your amazing smiles and talks. The bed time stories and tales told by you would take me into that world in dreams, the Epics of Rama, Mahabharata and the story of notorious Krishna. I miss the explanation of the words heard by you... you would describe how that and this happened, now no one is with me to describe.

It's still hard and painful to believe that you're gone. You always cared about my Health, nutty acts, and was the support bone when I got scolded by mom, saying “not a word on my granddaughter”. Now where has everything gone?? Who will Support me the way you did??  I am unable to bear the vacuum created by you. Even in the last days you used to call me "Syama! Syama!". I can still feel your voice.  I rush to your room now wishing that you were waiting to take my hand for a kiss as you do always. Now to whom I will say “I LOVE YOU AMAMMA” and who will I decorate with different Ornaments??

Grandma! the greatest reward in my life is knowing you. Nothing in the world could ever replace you, even for one second .I was lucky enough to spend more time with you more than anyone. I can never forget spending the nights cuddling you, putting my legs on you, sleeping with you, watching you prepare Yellow rice (Pulihora -all kinds of flavors) to all your Grandchildren with so much love and affection, making us compulsorily eat and made all those delicious dishes with your hands... The best treat was the mixed essence of PICKLES so peppery and seasoned with zesty taste which made our mouths water seeing them.

I can see you still hanging cloths in the front portion of our old home, because it was impossible to get them to dry in the rainy season... Those made me come into a playful mood. I know how much you enjoyed them. Can I get back those moments?? Can I have a Time Machine?? I loved just to sit and talk with you about anything and everything, no matter how trivial. You never thought about yourself but you always cared about others and their problems. You always listened to their stories, you have helped so many people. They were and will go on cherish your deeds.

All your staff and friends are missing you - Padmavathi Garu is missing her daily routine fights with you, Lalitha as usually gets up and checks the clock to tell you the time as you used to ask her daily and waiting with the Phonebook in her hand to dial the numbers ordered by you, Premraj is waiting to take you on a walk in the balcony.   Who will call Himaja in America  to ask her Day to Day and Hour to Hour updates?  On whose lap will I keep my legs so authoritatively and sit in front of the Television? Who will I butter for the things I want to buy, You were the one who used to convince Himaja to buy those thing. Come back once again to give me all these cherished moments my dear Granny. You always had time for me, you were never too busy and you never pushed me away. You held me and hugged me saying, "always be a good Girl my Bangaru Thalli". You laughed with me when I was happy and hugged me so warmly when I was sad. You always told me, "Everything will be alright".

God had a special plan for you I guess, Grandma. I think He knew that Heaven with Grandpa couldn't ever really be Heaven without you. Amomma (Grandma), please watch over all of us, but if I can ask for one more thing, it's that you please watch over Mom. She's the best Mom anyone could ask for. She gave up everything to care for you in your last days, and she needs you now more than ever. Everyone has gathered today to say our goodbyes and honor you in the best way we can. You are incredibly special to everyone who ever met you. You are one-of-a-kind and we all miss you terribly. Know that you are happy now where you are. I can only imagine how joyous the reunion was with all the family members you've lost over the years. Please enjoy them and don't be sad for us. You gave everything you had and more to make us all as happy as possible, and now it is finally your turn. Your sacrifices did not go unnoticed. Your love is forever appreciated and valued more than you may ever know.

Please stay in mummy’s heart and give her some of the strength you had. Thank you for always thinking of everyone else long before you ever thought of yourself. Thank you for making our lives far more special than they ever could have been without you. Come back for me Amamma! in any form – may be as Himaja's daughter or son! I am waiting for you. I love you more than anything else in this world and I'll see you again someday.

Love, Syama"

Best travel companion

I love road trips and traveling of any sort.  I love the idea of going to a new place and walk around aimlessly till the streets and the buildings become your friends.  It is as though the inanimate aspects of the place come alive and become your friends even in just a few days.

My love for road trips started with my father. We would go to Praturu, to visit our home. or we would go to Guntur or Eluru, to visit our relatives. We would take off in the early hours, often 6 of us in our FIAT. Around 7 am, stop for breakfast and then continue on our day journey. Usually, holidays meant visiting relatives. I played with my cousins and neighbors, read incessantly often finishing 2 books a day, watched movies, played cards and sat around for hours telling jokes and stories. These trips were always about people and not about places. I loved staying with our friends and family. Maybe, that’s why, even today, I love staying with people more than staying at hotels. The thought of going to a place where I did not know anyone, primarily to enjoy the beauty of that place was a foreign concept to me.

It was my aunt, Kasturi attayya, who changed all that for me. She loved to travel and she used to organize school trips over long holidays.  We were all from middle class, ordinary families and could not even think of traveling by flights let alone staying in hotels. She would organize about 50 of us in each bus and typically, a 3 bus caravan would go on a 10-15 days roadtrip. We would take a cook and his assistants with us. At meal times, we would pull over close to a large open area next to the freeway.  The cook and his assistants would pull out the stoves and make a simple meal of rice, sambar etc., The kids would all play in the open area while the spicy fragrance of the food being prepared would make us even more hungry.  When the meal was ready, we would all eat in disposable plates made from banana leaves or other leaves.  We would even get special snacks in the evening at another stop by the roadside. At night, we would sleep in the buses or in choultries (dorms made for travelers), where 40-50 of us would occupy a room, once even on a train platform. 

These road trips changed my life for ever.  We went to Goa, Nasik, Aurangabad, Chandigarh and many more places. To this day, I can clearly hear the guide telling us the story of the Daulatabad fort, of how this was one of the most intelligently constructed forts. It was impossible to conquer as there were so many obstacles and traps.  I was mesmerized by the beauty of the world – the brilliance of the fort, the expanse of beaches in Goa, the organized construction of Chandigarh, scenes of the countryside. We did not care where we slept or what we ate, we were excited by the smallest purchases (probably we each had only 200 rupees or so for the whole trip to buy anything). It was as though the secrets of the world opened up to me with each step I took in a strange city -- telling me stories of the feet that walked past and lives that went by.

Today, we have Google maps, GPS, cell phones, roadside fast food places and so many other aspects that make travel easy.  I think of the times gone by when none of these things were there, when my aunt and the teachers had to plan the route, places to stay, everything that we needed for meals like rice, dal, flour, snacks, banana leaves and most importantly, the safety of 150 or so young girls who went on the trip.  We were paired with each other, with teachers watching over us.  We felt carefree and totally safe.  Even when we all slept on a train platform one night because a train was late, we did not worry at all.  In fact, we all felt as though that was one the best adventures of our lives. 

It was in these trips that bonds were formed among teachers and they became a family in more ways than one. It’s no wonder that in my 12 years of being at that school, I did not know of a single teacher who left to take a job at another place. If there was any loss, it was because the teacher’s husband got transferred to a different place or because the teacher passed away. 

I also realize that for all the women of the school, my aunt provided a vacation that was more than seeing the world.  All these women, who were expected to behave a certain way and please everyone, who spent their days juggling their time among children, in-laws, spouses, student demands and school administration - she offered an escape to see the world in a way that was unimaginable for them.  They were free from duties of being a daughter-in-law or a wife or a mother for those few days and they got to experience freedom in a whole new way. She gave everyone the opportunity to discover the world beyond their daily existence, a world where they could discover the child within themselves. That’s why, to the day she took her last breath, she was a mother to every teacher and student who stepped foot in her school. 

Today, I have traveled across every continent except Antarctica, and I still have vivid memories of the night on that train platform under the stars where the mosquitoes did not bother me, where I lay excited to see the next town, the next wonder. In some ways, I never changed. That world that my aunt introduced me to, still beckons me and I have been sharing it with my 10 year old ever since he has been born.