Happy Birthday!

25 years since we last met.

But have i really missed you? 

How do you miss someone who is omnipresent?

 You come up as a question while talking to a new found friend and in my slightly wistful reply to it

In the mirror ,On every birthday morning 

A mirage in the audience of every stage I ever stood on

Beside me when I looked  every report card, every certificate and every promotion letter 

When I stepped out for work the first day 

When I brought back home my first salary

When the showers of rice poured from above at the wedding

When looking at your granddaughter for the first time and wondering if it was you

And wondering again and again every time she hugs me

Hearing you with every reprimand I give her

In the wafting flavors of hand mashed spinach curry 

In my love for pickles 

In every lady whom I called  amma

With my need for hot lunches

When retelling that crab story

Every time I open the jewelry box

When I see sewing machines at the store

In my love for learning

In the opportunities that you never had

In my passwords

In sickness and in every hand that comforted 

In  times of trouble 

In moments of elation

At every decision I had to make and with every jubilation and regret that followed

In the hollow nights remembering memories shared with just you

In trying to be you

Do I miss you? 

How do you miss a presence not seen but just felt

Happy Birthday Ma!

Untouched

The shrill sound of the milkman’s cycle bell wafted through the windows. Sunanda shook herself awake. She knew that she needs to switch off the alarm before its ring wakes up the household. It showed 4 am and Sunanda wistfully longed for a longer snooze though she knew the disastrous effect of waking up late.

Shekar has a meeting today and Shreya needs to take a picnic snack to share with her friends.  She quickly folded her bedsheet. Shekar was still sleeping. He had stayed up late preparing for the meeting.

She had an hour to prepare. Idli, she wondered. “Amma please don’t give me boring idlies. My friends tease me about your last year’s picnic menu”, Sunanda remembered Shreya’s warning last night.  But quickly remembered Shreya’s complaint last night. She decided to forgo her morning coffee and quickly started washing vegetables and slicing them. Soon the kitchen was filled with the aroma of Vegetable pulao and kadai paneer. 

She heard Shekar getting up and she put the kettle to boil and quickly prepared two cups of tea for both of them. “Sunanda, did the ironwallah give my suit yesterday?”, Shekar called out from the room. “Its in the guest room wardrobe Shekar”, Sunanda answered as she washed the vessels. “I really can’t find it Sunanda. You know how important this meeting is. Come and find it for me”, Shekar was ranting as he browsed the morning paper and finished his hot tea. Sighing, Sunanda wiped her wet hands on the dish towel and quickly went to the wardrobe to find the suit hanging right in front. What was it with these men and kids who cannot seem to find things that are probably visible only to a mother’s magic eyes.

It was 6 am and Sunanda went to the corner room and started waking up Shreya. It would take another 30 minutes to get her beloved daughter out of bed and into the bathroom. Gently pulling herself out of the warm cuddle of her sleeping girl, Sunanda quickly finished her bath. She could hear Shreya singing in the bath and wistfully remembered her own carefree school days. “Shreya, you have only 30 minutes for the bus. Quick “she chided as she stopped to wear her pressed salwar kameez.  She paused to think if she should wear a saree remembering her colleague Sangita dazzling the office in crisp starched cottons and delicate organzas. But the thought of wearing these sarees on the train put her off. Ï would probably reach office looking like a rag picker”, and so she quickly wore her trusted wrinkle free pink salwar. On a whimsy she added the pearl earrings that Shekar had gifted her two years ago. She was about to wear lipstick and Shekar hollered, “Sunanda, I’m leaving”. Oh no “Shekar wait, breakfast is ready. And please take your lunch ”Sunanda begged. “No no. It’s getting late. I will just take the toast. You keep the packed lunch in the fridge. I will have it for dinner”. Giving her a hug, her husband of 10 years rushed out.

Sunanda sighed. Quickly she unpacked Shekar’s lunch and repacked it in microwave bowls and put them in the fridge.  

She peeped out to see Shreya still loitering in her uniform. The time was 7 am and the school bus and the shuttle bus would be arriving in 10 minutes.  With panic building up, Sunanda upped her voice and quickly combed Shreya’s hair into a braid.  “I don’t want breakfast” whined Shreya. In the next 5 minutes, Sunanda threatened and cajoled a slice of toast and a cup of milk.

The sound of the bus turning into the complex jolted Shreya out of her morning reverie. “Bye Ma, she shouted and started going down”.

Sunanda saw her morning hard work of the picnic food basket still sitting on the table and her heart sank. “Wait, she yelled and quickly grabbed her handbag and the picnic bag and rushed behind Shreya. She managed to lock the door in record time and flew with a prayer on her lips. Oh please don’t let the bus leave!

Thankfully the bus doors were just about to close when she reached the bay.  She handed the picnic bag to Shreya and ignored the frowns of other mothers and the bus driver. She was just in time to catch her shuttle bus that would drop her at the station.  As she plopped down on the seat, she ticked of her checklist mentally - "Gas switched off, windows closed, door locked"  and let out a sigh of relief.

Inside the house, the hum of the morning slowly subsided and only the waning fragrance of one untouched cup of tea starts to permeate everywhere. 

Being Human – Japanese Style

I woke up with a sudden jerk. Even a minor disturbance can be enough to make you jump out of sleep if it’s happening at 35000 feet. We were on a plane embarking on a vacation that has been in the anvil for more than 8 years. We were going to Japan.  My small family including my husband and daughter has been on many holidays over the last 5 years but they have all been short stays and beach vacations that were a hop skip and jump away from Singapore. We wanted to do a “country vacation” where we can experience a different culture, different weather or at least a different cuisine. And Japan ticked all the boxes.

I felt the plane slowly easing its way down from the clouds and soon the rolling dark hills came into view and soon we could see the shoreline. Through the window we could see rows upon rows of bridges and buildings and then the plane touched down at the Kansai International Airport – Osaka signaling the beginning of our Japanese Adventure.

We weren’t here for a vacation. We were here for a 15 day “experience” of the renowned Japanese culture – the change of green leaves into autumn colors, a taste of Japanese cuisine to take us beyond sushi and of course to experience firsthand the legendary courtesy and kindness of the people of Japan and ofcourse to spend time with our extended family here.

 We made our way through the airport with our itinerary in hands eager to take in the sights and sounds of the castle city.  As we ploughed through the grueling itinerary and eager to not miss out any of the sights, we were not disappointed.  Autumn was setting in and someone was just beginning to start painting the town in varied shades of yellow. The delicate petals of cherry blossom flowers were withering away in the “not so cold yet” autumn winds. But hot bowls of miso soup and many ramen courses later, we were still looking for one experience that was proving elusive-the fabled Japanese kindness.  “Maybe it’s because we didn’t have to ask for too many directions (most signs were in both English and Japanese) or maybe Japan has become more globalized”, we wondered looking at the serious executives in suits filing themselves in neat rows waiting to board the trains.

After spending 3 days in Osaka, we embarked on a visit to the ancient capital city Kyoto. By this time all the walking and the unaccustomed cold weather was slowly catching up with us. Adi, my 7 year old started complaining of all the walking her little legs had to do inspite of  having never ending playtime with her cousin who lives in Japan. We had just finished going around the Kyoto palace and slowly made our way through one of the deserted side lanes behind the palace. It was 3 pm in the afternoon and no sight of any tourists around. Suddenly Adi screamed and we turned around to see her with one foot inside a rocky pit near the palace wall. We quickly pulled her out and checked her leg. Fortunately it was only a topical wound, though a bloody one. Out of habit we quickly scanned the roads to see if we can spot a 7eleven or Guardian forgetting for a moment that we were in Kyoto and behind a palace. Cajoling and consoling Adi, we started moving in the direction of a main road.

  “Sima Sen”, a soft voice called out.  We turned around to see a lady with a beautiful angelic face wizened by age. She had passed by us 10 minutes ago and had returned to us hearing Adi’s screams.  She bent down and examined Adi who had tears streaming down her face. Looking up the lady spoke rapid Japanese to which we helplessly nodded which translates into “No Japanese”!. (My brother-in-law who is fluent in Japanese later explained that she had asked if she can help us with the child). She understood and quickly waved her hand. We watched in fascination as she then went on to pull out a delicate purse from her cane bag. And gracefully pulled out an even smaller pouch from it. Opening it, she pulled out a Band-Aid and smiling widely she removed the tape and put it on Adi who by now had stopped crying and was watching in sheer wonder.  We thanked her profusely in the one of the two Japanese phrases we knew and she dismissed it off with a shy smile and a pat on the cheek for Adi.

And just like that, in the most unexpected situation, we had the first of our many brushes with kindness of the people of Japan.

 For a country ravaged by violence over 70 years ago and by natural disasters ever so regularly, it is enlightening to see its citizens without bitterness in their hearts. Instead every place we went, we were welcomed by gentle humans with souls painted with kindness. The stranger who took pains to return our lost rail pass to a police station, the officer who went out of the way to arrange for the pass to be collected in another city, the little boy who instead of pointing at the way, walked along with us for a kilometer to go out of his way to show directions, the hotel staff who had thoughtfully arranged a smaller bathrobe for Adi and to many others we met in those 15 days, being human is not a gesture. It’s a way of life.

                                                                                                                Aishwarya Ananth

Matters of the Heart

In our house, every decision is analysed in different ways. Let me make this clear. I think from the mind i.e Mind Thinker - analysing pros and cons, benefits and advantanges, consequences and outcomes. My husband - Prabhu thinks from the heart i.e Heart Thinker - feels, believes and goes by what his heart wants him to do overruling the mind.

I have always been a cautious person when it comes to financial aspects of my life. When it comes to decisions of the purse, I am a complete "mind thinker" rather than a "heart thinker". (shopping ofcourse is an exception!). And living with a complete "heart thinker" does not make things easy as well. So when something happened last week, it made me rethink on a lot of things that are argued between a heart thinker and a mind thinker.

Ganapathy is a handy-man from the village. He used to do the odd jobs and cleaning chores whenever we moved houses in the city. A reliable man with a small family - he used to call us whenever he comes to the city to check if he can do some odd jobs and thereby earn some money for his family.

Sometime last year, I got to know that Prabhu had given him Rs.10000 (which is a big sum if you are desparately trying to save money for a house) for some treatment. No doubt - we had a huge argument on with my contention being not on the gesture but on the high value. While both of us were aware that the chances (or rather the capacity) of Ganapathy returning the funds were slim, the issue sometimes kept cropping up while discussing other financial decisions. We infact were close to forgetting about it, when we got a call from Ganapathy asking if there were any odd jobs to be done at home as he is in Chennai and had come to return the money.

I was humbled. Here was a daily wage laborer for whom Rs.10000 was a princely sum and was probably an amount he would earn in 5 years time. We had never asked him about it over the last one year (as we had mentally written it off) and we were not expecting it at all. His image doubled in my mind when he told us that he only had Rs.5000 in his savings and had borrowed the additional Rs.5000 from the local bank. We told him that he can return the Rs.5000 whenever he can. He told us that it is easier for him to repay the bank in regular installments as it is a definite committment.

In the midst of affluent folks who borrow on circumstances and "forget" about it, here is a man who stands tall.

For once I concede defeat to thinking from the heart. And maybe I will not be cautious about people borrowing money. Maybe.