What's in a Name?

Friday, February 26, 2010


Shakespeare asked,
“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.”


But I have my doubts about the great Shakespearean question concerning a name, for in my life, I am fortunate to have two persons sharing the same name and by a happy coincidence, both of them happen to have come closest to my heart and soul.


My youngest sister Richa is someone whom I consider as my alter-ego, for she has been one person in whose company, both physical and metaphysical (via intuition), I have always felt loved and deeply connected. My hurt brings tears in her eyes; my achievements become matters of pride for her; my guidance and advice become the cornerstone of her decisions, my reprimand brings about the desirable change in her; and my kids find the doting version of their mother in her. My relationship with her transcended the state of sibling affection, and took the colors of parental-filial attachment. Everything related with her - her studies, her career, and her marriage, remained a matter of concern for me till she found her soul-mate in an intelligent and loving husband.


By the time one Richa settled in her new world, the other Richa, my cousin’s wife, slowly entered my life. She was my confidante when my heart was bursting to share its pain with someone. She had been initiated into Sahaj Yoga, and was practicing it regularly. I wanted her to be my Guru and guide my confused mind to the realm of peace. She sat with me when I wanted to cry my heart out, and listened to me with such compassion as I had never experienced before. She initiated me into Sahaj Yoga and taught me to find solace in the teachings of Shri Mataji Nirmala Devi ji. I, however, had much to travel and explore in the world of infinite peace before I could achieve the desired state of complete silence and boundless joy. She, nevertheless, was someone with whom I started experiencing the same affinity and comfort level that I had with my sister Richa.


I know that had their names been different, they would still have influenced my life in the same way. But the fact that both have the same name and both have affected my life in the same affectionate way, makes me think of their name as a talisman of love in my life.

Healthy Influence

Thursday, February 25, 2010

For me, a typically good day starts with getting up at 5.00 am. I have always seen my Grand-parents and also my parents start their day at early hours. I, however, thought that I belonged to the ‘nocturnal’ category of humans, who can stay awake and active till very late at night, but could only laze around with a heavy head and tired body if made to get up early. It took me more than three decades to finally develop a routine in which I am able to get up at 5.00 am without experiencing any unpleasant lethargy.

My Chachaji has always stressed upon the importance of doing the same thing, be it meditating, preparing for exams, or doing creative writing, at the same time and at the same place. It is only now that I have started experiencing the power of maintaining regularity in my writing work.

My father says that learning and playing a sport is the most interesting form of exercising. For past few months, I have been playing tennis on every alternate day. I jog for a couple of miles on the non-Tennis days, always reminding myself of what Doctor Sanjay Gupta says about the wholesomeness of jogging in the open air as a form of exercise. I could never really appreciate the tremendous power of some breathing exercises till one day I sat through the entire video program on Pranayaams taught by Baba Ramdevji. I made it a habit to do Anulom-Vilom, Bhrastrika, Kapal Bhati, and Bhramari every day after coming back from Tennis and jogging.

I learnt to practice Yogic breathing and Yoga Nidra at the Shri Shri Yoga program. Yoga Nidra is an amazing technique to relax our body and freshen up our mind in less than fifteen minutes when we cannot afford to sleep for a couple of hours.

I learnt to meditate and retrace the lost connection with the Infinite by practicing the techniques taught in the lessons that I receive from the Yogoda Satsang Society founded by Shri Paramhansa Yogananda.

Mrs. Aine Greeney ,a prize winning  Irish author, in one of her workshops on Creative Writing, taught me to develop and maintain a strict discipline of writing at least one page every day.

With each passing day, I have started realizing that a good life is but a sum total of all the good influences received, retained, and put to use.

  

Innocence and Experience

Wednesday, February 24, 2010



I witnessed two separate worlds – the World of Children and the World of Grown-ups, at the ‘Get-Together’ I wrote about in my previous write-up. ‘The New Bride’ at the ‘Get-Together’ seemed to have created a bridge between the two worlds by sharing her thoughtful attentions between them. It seemed quite symbolic of her present situation when she herself is progressing from the Age of Innocence to the Age of Experience.


The children are innocent by their very nature. The way they perceive the World, relate to the people around them, and enjoy an uncomplicated version of life, is a gift that God sends them with. In the process of growing-up, most of the children either misplace that gift of God and then forget all about it, or are forced to shirk that accessory in favor of ‘higher’ rewards that await them for excelling in the world where they are made to believe in the theory of ‘Survival of the Fittest’.

The Grown-ups, especially those, who chose to throw away the gift of Innocence in their mad pursuit of experience and success, find their lives revolving around the materialistic aspirations. They perceive the World as a dangerous place and tell their kids that ‘ours is a dog eats dog world’; they relate to people only superficially and think of them as ‘the others’; they make their life a continually complicating gizmo where there is no place for simple joys of life.


There are, however, some Grown-ups who hold on tightly to their most precious gift while learning new things that Life is continuously revealing to them. They are the ones who master the art of not letting a single drop of oil spill from the spoon in their mouth while travelling the whole world and marveling at the greatness of God manifest all around them. Such Grown-ups are the ones who really GREW UP and not just became old. These people leave behind the ‘childish’ tantrums, but never the ‘childlike’ simplicity.

The New Bride

Tuesday, February 23, 2010




I had a feeling that my blog for today would find its source in the ‘Get-Together’ that I was going to attend in the evening at a friend’s house. The ‘Get-Together’ was organized by her to enable her friends to meet the new bride in her family, who had come to Pune from Allahabad for a few days to collect her office papers. I had heard about the new bride from my husband yesterday as he had picked her up from her office in his car. I, however, had no intention to write about the obvious i.e. ‘The New Bride’ till, of course, I met her myself.


On being introduced to me, she, draped impeccably in a pretty sari, and with her shoulder-length silky straight hair framing a lightly made-up smiling face, moved gracefully towards me and started to bend towards my feet. I quickly moved to hold her gently by shoulders and gave her a light hug instead. She touched the feet of other elders with reverence thus performing to perfection the duty of a newly-wed bride towards offering her obeisance to the elders related to the family of her sister-in-law.


While she joined her sister-in-law in the kitchen, I took my daughter to the kids’ room. There I set her up with some crayons and a coloring-book, and asked her if I could go back to the living room. She didn’t let me as she didn’t have her brother for company, for I had dropped him to his music class before coming there, and usually takes some time to mingle with the other kids. I made myself comfortable on the kids’ bed, and started talking with children. A class II student among them excitedly told me that he was going to appear in the role of a Rat dancing to the tunes of ‘Pied Piper of Hamelin’ going to be performed in his school the next day. I asked him to show some of the moves, and he instantly broke into the jump and dance action. The younger son of my friend, a class I student, quickly grabbed my attention by showing off his cool collection of ‘hi-fi writing instruments’. I expressed my awe and envy at his collection, and was immediately told by one older boy of class V to hold my sense of wonder till I saw the great stuff that he had amassed at his house. My attention was then summoned by the elder son of my friend, a student of class VI. He gushed that he had become a millionaire in a certain computer game. I wondered if he could exchange his game booty for some real-life money, and he said that had his game been a more popular one, he could have sold off his virtual money for the real one. My friend came in to call me for the yummy snacks that sat on the dining table waiting for the guests’ attention. She asked her elder son to go fetch my son from his music class, and then got busy with serving piping hot pakoris to her guests.


I came back to the world of the grown-ups, and found them engrossed in chatting away happily about grown-up stuff broadly falling in the categories of Food, Clothing, Shelter, and Socializing. I found that I was forcing myself to look interested, laugh aloud, and listen attentively to whatever went on among the older humans. Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and my son came in with his surprise escorts for that day. He looked thrilled at having been picked up by his friends, and ran with them to the kids’ room. After a while, a soft voice addressed me asking me if my son wouldn’t have any other snacks besides Pasta. It was the new bride of course! I hadn’t realized that she was quietly taking care of the needs of all her guests, and had gone after my son to offer him the snacks. I once again found the lost thread of interest as the new bride played a perfect hostess bridging the world of grown-ups with that of the young children.

Sparks of Brilliance

Monday, February 22, 2010

I had to literally usher my husband to make him read my very first Blog. He is a self-confessed recluse in the world of intellectuals, and always fights tooth and nail to avoid getting involved in anything having the slightest hint of abstract thinking. I, nevertheless, make it a point to drag him into the conceptual world with me whenever I happen to visit it.

I urged him to read aloud my Blog so that I could detect any awkward sounding phraseology in it. He started reading it in his crisp voice, and seemed to have carried on with the reading without once pausing for breath. My ears were pining on the sound of his voice while my eyes scanned his face. He was quiet for some time after having finished reading. I waited patiently for his comments.  With seriousness resting on his face, he said, “You won’t believe me if I told you how I felt while reading your blog.” His statement seemed quite dramatic to me and holding on to my stoicism, I prompted him to clear his chest of whatever he held there. He said, “Would you believe me if I told you that this is one of the best stuffs that have passed before my eyes!” I said with non-chalance, “This shows that much hasn’t really passed before your eyes.” He ignored the quip, and said in definite tone that the blog had all the ingredients of greatness. I sat breathless for some time slowly absorbing the shockwaves that his feedback had sent my way. He then advised me to term it as ‘The Prelude’ to the series of blogs that I planned to write under the title ‘One Day of Conscious Living’. I saw the big sense that the proposed sub-title made, and accepted it instantly.  

One day, after coming back from office, he came up with a suggestion for my core service area i.e. Counseling. He suggested that instead of waiting for the troubled souls to knock at the doors of my Soul Counsel office, I should offer my services to schools as the Counselor who can help identify strengths and talents of school children, thus acquainting them with their hidden capabilities.  I felt fortunate to have a ‘Counselor’ who could counsel the Counselor in me.

Yesterday, I received a mail from my website designer asking me if I still wanted some changes in my website. I, once again, turned towards my very own ‘Counselor’ to have a look at my site and suggest some improvements. He, after much persuasion from me, sat down to review my website, and started talking like a hard-core Software Consultant that he is. His suggestions, if implemented properly, are such as can bring to life my static looking website.

I have always thought of him as someone whose pure potentiality is but a puff of air away. The moment you stir his ashen appearance, sparks of brilliance start flying all around.

My 'NO' Child

Sunday, February 21, 2010



Her singing aloud of her favorite nursery rhyme ‘ek mota hathi jhoom ke chale…’, or a dramatic monologue with her Barbie doll, makes me aware of her wakefulness in the morning. I rush to her room to greet her with my sweetest ‘Good Morning meri bitiya rani’ and find her hidden under the wraps of her blanket. A little more honeyed talk, and there she is, revealing her ‘angelic’ face glowing with freshness and a radiant smile. Talk to her a little more about whether she is feeling happy after her sleep, and she becomes all set to descend from the top floor of her bunk bed. The extreme care that she takes in taking each step while coming down the ladder makes me think of her as a feather-footed classical dancer. While mid-way on her ladder, she jumps into the arms of her gushing Mother, treating her to a soft, warm embrace. Having nourished my sense of hearing with her ringing singing voice, sense of sight with her happy smile, and sense of touch with her cuddly hug, she slowly but steadily readies to don her ‘hard nut’ avatar for the rest of the day.


Watching her laze around for about half an hour after leaving her bed, I say, “Please come to the bathroom to get fresh.” She says, “No, its Bhaiya’s turn first.” After the kids get freshened up, I say, “Will you have daliya kheer for breakfast?” She says, “No, I want bread-butter with Bournvita milk for breakfast!” After finishing with the breakfast, it is time for bath and getting ready for school. I say, “Take bath first, and then you can play some more.” She says, “No, you take bath first and let me play in the meantime.” Controlling my growing irritation, I somehow manage to get her ready for school. “What have you kept in my lunch-box today?” she asks. I say, “Your favorite fruit and some chapatti-subzi.” She says, “No, I want Maggie for lunch.” After much convincing, she agrees to have Maggie for her evening snack, and then asks me, “Am I going to school by school-bus today?” “Yes,” I say. She screams, “No, I want to go on your bike.” Again, some last minute negotiations take place, and she agrees to go by her bus only if I allow her to take two pink roses (one for decorating her head with, and the other for her teacher) from my potted garden in the balcony.


In the evening, she wants to be left alone with her wardrobe. I say, “No, I will not allow you near the wardrobe.” She tries to manage with whatever dress I select for her, but then wants to be allowed to remain close to my cabinet of lotions, creams, bindis etc. I say, “No, I cannot see you mess with my stuff.” She wants to sit before the TV till her Princess movie gets finished. I say, “No, you have to go for your skating class.” After the skating class, she is allowed to play in the play-ground outside our house but with strict instructions to come back home with her brother only. She, however, starts missing her computer games after having played on the slides and the swings for some time, and stealthily escapes from the playground. At the doorbell of her house, her index finger twitches into action letting out a non-stop procession of ding-dongs till I rush to open the door. I, irritated to the core, shout, “No, you cannot come home alone. You have to come with bhaiya only.” She joins her brother who was worriedly looking for her in the playground, and then comes back home with him after half an hour. She wants to go straight to her computer, but I say, “No, you have to first finish your home-work.” At the dinner table, on her asking for giving her something else for dinner, I shout, “No, you have to eat this food first, and then you can eat the sweet of your choice.” While brushing her teeth, she demands to have her Papa help her with it. I tiredly ask my husband to take charge, and then hear her say to her Papa, “No, I don’t want this night-dress. I want the one with flowers on it.” Finally, I hear her say from her bed, “No, don’t shut the door of my room. I want to see you and Mummy while i am sleeping.” My husband surrenders before her last demand for the day, and comes back to me asking how I manage to survive day in and day out with this ‘NO’ girl of ours.


I remain quiet and let Osho reply to him in one of his famous talks on ‘How to deal with a gifted child whose every answer begins with a big NO?”

Sleepless in Pune...?

Saturday, February 20, 2010




Today my eyes opened on their own accord at 5.00 am. My body felt fresh and my mind was light. I tried to remember if I had had a dream while I slept during the night. There was none! I had experienced an ideal sleep!


I’ve suffered from a mild version of insomnia all through my life. To be able to sleep at night has been my biggest struggle. I toss about for hours in my bed before finally catching some sleep. My erratic sleep pattern slowly pushed me towards ‘Chronic Fatigue Syndrome’, a state of chronic fatigue that exists without other explanation for six months or more. However, there have been certain periods in my life, like the two years of my Higher Secondary School, a month or two after I first met my would-be husband, and some of these past months during which I have consciously tried to be creative, when I have been able to enjoy the luxury of a peaceful and uninterrupted sleep. These periods tend to be the ones during which I was basically happy with myself.


Sleep, as it turns out to be in my case, is more of a psychological than a physiological activity. It has always indicated at my state of mind.


I’ve arrived at a certain conclusion about those who belong to the ‘Thinking Person’ category. Such people need to apply their mind to some creative activity or the other. Their urgent need to give expression to their creative ideas is similar to that of a woman experiencing labor pains…the longer the idea or the baby stays inside them, the more unbearable the pain associated with it becomes.

Food for Soul

Friday, February 19, 2010



My son went to his first ever music class yesterday to learn Hindustani Classical Music from a lady teacher residing in our township. I had been making inquiries about a vocal music teacher for quite some time, and then, all of a sudden, every other mom I talked to about it, started singing praises of the singing and teaching capabilities of this particular teacher. I went to meet her and found her a warm and affectionate person. She agreed to fit my son into a relatively smaller and newer batch of young students.


I had heard my son singing a devotional song in Raag Bhup taught by his school music teacher. I found myself making mistakes in singing that song with my son. I told him that he could already sing better than his mom, and with some really good training, he could really do wonders with his voice. He looked unimpressed with my ‘high talk’, but gave his consent to join a private music class. I have always thought highly of my son’s voice, and was eager to know the opinion of his new music teacher in this regard. Before I could ask her about it, she herself told me that my son is blessed with a beautiful voice and that he could sing with ease a particular note that kids his age find very difficult to sing. I thanked her for the evaluation and requested her to train him under her guidance.


I had attended with my family the musical program called ‘Antarnaad’, and was deeply moved by the gayaki of Hindustani Classical Music Maestros Pt. Rajan and Pt. Sajan Misra. Sri Sri Ravi Shankar ji’s simple message to let the power of music rule over us, struck a chord in me, and I decided to give my son the gift of a proper training in classical music.


Both my paternal Grand-parents are in their nineties, but when in one of their sublime moods, can still be witnessed deeply immersed in the waters of music – my Grandfather gliding his trembling fingers over the keys of his Harmonium, and my Grandmother matching the soulful tunes with her steady singing voice. They believe to the core in a Sanskrit shloka that says - ‘sahitya sangeet kala viheena, sakshat pashu puchcha vishan heena’ (a human being devoid of interest in literature, music, and art is similar to an animal without a tail ! ) and therefore, show their children by their example that music is the food for soul and one’s pursuit of it should go on till the very end of one’s life.

Symbols of Knowledge

Thursday, February 18, 2010



Roland Gelatt, in a review of Caroline Pratt’s book I Learn from Children, describes the phenomenon of ‘How adults stop building their vocabularies’ as follows:

All normal human beings are born with a powerful urge to learn. Almost all of them lose this urge, even before they have reached maturity. It is only the few…who are so constituted that lack of learning becomes a nuisance. This is perhaps the most insidious of human tragedies.

I was struck by the tragedy described by Roland Gelatt, and the only silver line bordering the dark cloud was my constant uneasiness about this affliction. My friends used to console me when I blundered with my vocabulary in English Language, saying that probably it was because of my efficacy with more than one language, namely Hindi, Urdu and English, that I sometimes tend to mumble jumble my words. I had the sense to quietly disagree with that diagnosis of my problem.


Actually, I too tried to fit in an interesting theory explaining my tendency to use a very limited range of vocabulary while trying to articulate my experiences, both external and internal. My theory was that I tend to be simple and frugal with words because I have started journeying inwards from the world of words to that of silence – shabd se nihshabd ki disha mein! I thought that the more profound our experience is, the simpler our expression of it becomes. But, I knew deep within that I was trying to shy away from some important learning.


Finally, I have arrived at the answer to my question in the book ‘Word Power Made Easy’ by Norman Lewis. It says – Words are the symbols of knowledge, the keys to accurate thinking. Is it any wonder then that the most successful and intelligent people in the world have the biggest vocabularies? It was not their large vocabularies that made these people successful and intelligent, but their knowledge. Knowledge, however, is gained largely through words. In the process of increasing their knowledge, these successful people increased their vocabularies.

'Grand' Parents & Children

Wednesday, February 17, 2010


Yesterday I received a call from my Mother asking me if she could send Gujias and Gajar Halwa for us with my Mother-in-law. My In-laws and Parents live in the same city, Meerut, U.P. My Mother-in-law is coming to be with us on the occasion of our first Holi in our new house in Pune. We came to live here in July last year, and have ever since tried and succeeded in having some or the other family members with us on the occasion of major Hindu festivals. We had the family of my husband’s elder brother with us to celebrate the victory of Good over evil on Dussera; both my Parents came to brighten the lights of happiness and wisdom on Diwali; my younger sister and her husband came to celebrate the New Year; and now, we’ve succeeded in having my Mother-in-law and my husband’s cousin with us to bring colors of joy and fun on Holi.


I have observed that both my kids benefit the most when our relatives and friends come to our house. Their benefits range from tangible ones like expensive dresses, story-books, toys and sweets to intangible ones like an enriched environment of affection and attention, break from the monotony of school-home-school cycle, relief from their Mother’s continuous interference in their lives, opportunity to visit new places with their guests, and most importantly, new people to escort them to their school bus-stop.


Kids born and brought up in nuclear families mostly miss out on their Grand-parents’ care and love. The connection between the two generations is of paramount importance. The Grand-parents rejoice in identifying the continuity of their values and traditions in their grandchildren’s lives, and almost effortlessly, succeed in inculcating in them many desirable qualities. The grandchildren, on the other hand, find the company of their relaxed and easy Grandparents acting as a balm on their minds tortured constantly by the worries of academics, parental expectations, and onslaught of a maddening pace of the world that they live in.

In God's Own Image

Tuesday, February 16, 2010


The other day, my family was going to MG Road in our car. My husband was at the wheel. On our way through Pune Cantonment area, my husband noticed some lackluster white-washed buildings. He remarked that in those buildings must be living the low-ranked army personnel, whereas, right across the shiny mortar road were the huge and splendorous bungalows of Colonels and Brigadiers. He wondered why such disparity existed among people. He then asked me, “How is it possible that even the two sons of a family fare differently in life when both had the same parentage, same gene pool, and the same upbringing?"

I thought for a while and replied that exercise of will power and hard work determines the degree of success among people who otherwise have every other factor in common. God gives each one of us enough talent to work on it and move towards perfection. One person may apply himself to identify that gift of God in him and use it to the best of his capacity, whereas, the other may choose a seemingly easy life of laziness and short-cuts.


The same night, before going to bed, my husband started reading aloud from a book titled ‘The Divine Romance’, Collected Talks and Essays on Realizing God in Daily Life, Volume II by Sri Sri Paramahansa Yogananda. He opened the book at random and started reading from page 48. To our utter surprise, the page started with the heading –

Why We Are All Different From One Another

Behind the light in every little bulb is a great dynamic current; beneath every little wave is the vast ocean, which has become the many waves. So it is with human beings. God made every man in His image, and gave each one freedom. So even though God made us in His image, no two people are alike; each has used his God-given free choice to make something different of himself.

The Birthday Party

Monday, February 15, 2010



The friend who invited us for her daughter’s birthday party was the one about whom I had rightly guessed at the beauty salon that she was a ‘Punjabi’ and a ‘lecturer’. I had met her on one Saturday morning at the salon, and on the very next Saturday evening, she had done her part in taking our incidental meeting at the salon to the next level by happily agreeing to come with her two daughters to my kids’ birthday party.


We are new in Pune and have very few friends whom we’ve known previously. So, most of my guests at the aforesaid party were the people with whom I had interacted either at the Tennis court or at my kitchen window (my neighborhood friend stays in the apartment opposite mine and we can see each other through our kitchen windows!). It was very amusing to introduce my new-found friends as ‘my window buddy’, ‘my tennis buddy’, ‘my beauty salon buddy’…


The Birthday Parties at my house have always been great occasions for me to make friends with my kids’ friends’ mommies, neighboring families, my husband’s colleagues’ families etc. These parties tend to test my various faculties… for team-work, creative decoration, music sampling and deejaying, social networking, cooking involving minimum effort but maximum effect, organizing party games, sensible photography, and most importantly, keeping my nerves intact under total chaos.


However, all the hard work gets paid off when our guests’ faces radiate happiness and contentment at having spent an evening looking their best, dancing to the current chart-busters, playing party games, eating goodies to their heart’s content and carrying back with them colorful books as return gifts.

Books as Gifts

Sunday, February 14, 2010



Today I was invited with my two kids to the birthday party of a friend’s daughter. We took a thick book of '365 Fairy Tales' as our gift for the seven year old birthday girl. We had a gala time at the party. My kids’ joy knew no bounds when they removed the gift wraps around their return gifts – my daughter Meera had received a brightly colored graphic novel named ‘Meera Bai’ and my son Dhruv, though got the book named ‘Karna’, was excited to discover that someone else got the book named after him ie ‘Dhruva’.


The importance of giving and receiving books as gifts was stressed upon by my Papa who came to meet us in Pune with some very useful books as gifts for my husband and me. He had rightly said that a good book can change our lives forever, and thus deserves the place of honor in the ‘giftlist’.

Power of Simplicity

Saturday, February 13, 2010

The two of them came to my house in order to register my name for Sri Sri Yoga program. Their smiling faces and chirpy presence represented whatever Sri Sri Yoga stood for. Looking at their exuberance, I asked them if they were still studying. They laughed and thanked me for perceiving them as young students though they were software professionals. They looked pleased with the general décor and the large Photo-frame displaying numerous photographs on the wall of my living room. The most welcome query that any amateur photographer always craves to court came from the boy, I mean the young man. He asked me about my camera, my education in the field of photography, experience at photography, the locations where some of the photos were clicked and so on. I happily answered him and then remarked that a person with such lively curiosity must be an artist himself. He shyly told me that he too indulges in photography. His companion, a young woman, was animatedly looking at the photos and listening to the photographer duo. They had a little orange juice and promised to come again for a lavish treat sometime.


I was happy and felt connected with the most desirable of human company – the company of joyous, lively and positive people.


My experience at the five-day Sri Sri Yoga program found expression on the Comment Board as thus –       “ My silence has deepened; smile has expanded; thanks to Sri Sri Yoga!”

Then happened the Antarnaad…a voice within - An enthralling symphony of 2750 Hindustani Classical Vocalists in the Divine presence of H H Sri Sri Ravi Shankarji in my city, Pune. A musical program of mammoth magnitude showcased the priceless gems of Hindustani Shastriya Sangeet by its most renowned exponents namely Pt. Rajan & Pt. Sajan Mishra, Shankar Mahadevan, Chitra Roy, Kedar Pandit, Gayatri Ashokan and other Celebrity Singers.


Gurudev H H Sri Sri Ravi Shankarji spoke to us in his mellifluous voice calling Music and Meditation as twins of Mother Nature. Summon one of them, and the other follows suit, he said. He traced the origin of Saat Sur or Seven notes from the voices of seven different animals, thus highlighting the close relationship between Music and the Nature.


Gurudev asked all of us to follow three simple rules – Think Well of Everyone, and we shall be returned in the same coin; Use Native Seeds, and our farmers will never have to suffer again; Take Care of the Girl Child, and our Family, Society, Nation and the World shall always be happy and healthy.


Everything about Gurudev and his People stands out as Simple and yet Powerful.


In His life, it clearly gets manifested that the higher our consciousness rises, the simpler our life becomes. Another living example of the maxim – ‘Simple Living, High Thinking’

Loss of Innocence

Friday, February 12, 2010

After coming back from my Tennis class on every alternate day, it’s a race against time for me. I come back tired and tend to laze around a little with the fresh newspaper. Then suddenly my husband shouts from the bathroom to alert me to the tasks of preparing breakfast, dealing with the crankiness of my 4 year old daughter, sending her to the bathroom, etc. My job doesn’t finish with bringing the breakfast to table, I then need to plead with my already delayed husband to give himself just five more minutes to eat his breakfast. I remind him that he has to go by his own car, so, it wouldn’t bring the sky down if he takes a little more time to give his body a much-needed meal before embarking on his 1 and a ½ hour drive to office.


Yesterday, after coming back from the class, I received a phone call from my parents. It further added to the rush that normally awaits me. I was about to bring the breakfast to the table when I heard my husband opening the main door. I shouted that the breakfast was ready, but that day, he was in no mood to forgive. He curtly announced his departure and suddenly, all hell broke loose. I asked him to close the door and come right inside the house. He sensed trouble instantly and quietly came back inside. All my pent up frenzy took hold over me and then started the oral fireworks which stopped only when I realized that my daughter was yet to be sent to her school. I went to her room and found her engrossed in her art work, seemingly oblivious to the domestic disturbance. While I was readying her for the school, she asked me if Papa could take her to her bus-stop. I told her to ask her Papa about it.


My husband, having sent our daughter to school, asked me if I was done with my ‘talking’ with him, and whether he could go to his office. Interpreting my silence as an answer in the affirmative, he finally started for his office.


In the afternoon, both my kids were having their mid-day snacks when my daughter gestured towards her elder brother and asked me if he knew anything about Papa’s story. Astonished by her question, I asked her what she meant by ‘Papa’s story’. “That he did not have his breakfast and then you shouted at him,” she said. “But Mummy, you should not scare Papa,” she added. Her query stood in stark contrast with her calm demeanor at the time of our quarrel.


I realized that our children tend to grow old when they witness their parents indulged in childish squabble. I want my shame to go deep down within me and stop me from robbing my own kids of their childhood.

Say NO to Injustice!

Thursday, February 11, 2010

We wanted a new LPG gas connection at our house in Pune. The old gas connection that we had in Mumbai couldn’t get transferred to Pune because our HP gas regulator was misplaced by the tenant in our Mumbai apartment. We, however, had an old gas regulator and a couple of cylinders to be used till the time we got our new connection.


My husband visited the nearest branch of HP Gas to get the connection. Even after making seven rounds of that branch office of HP Gas, he was curtly told by the official in charge of giving new connections to come the next day at 11.00 am. My husband had started getting frustrated by then and asked me to continue using our old gas regulator and exchanging our empty cylinders with the filled ones by paying a little extra money to the man delivering cylinders in our area. I didn’t like that idea and asked him for the directions to the Gas office to go there the next day.


At the Gas office, I was rudely told to wait for an hour or two for the ‘Sir’ who issued new connections. I informed that my husband was instructed to be there at 11.00 am and I had come in his place at the exact time, why then I was asked to wait. Nobody bothered to offer a reply. I stood there with others like me for about half an hour when a woman employee at the office started taking our filled application forms and fees. Somebody said that he already had a cook-top and didn’t want a new one with the connection. It was told that the cook-top had to be bought with the new connection. By the time my turn came, the cylinders got finished, and I was asked to deposit my application form and come again the next day. The next day, I was fortunate enough to see the elderly ‘Sir’ this time, and told him that I had come to take the new connection. He asked me to come after 2 days as the stock hadn’t arrived by then. I felt a rush of blood in my head and took the ‘sir’ to task by asking him to give me his boss’s phone number. He arrogantly said that I could do whatever I wanted, but he had decided not to give me the connection. I shouted for the number and somebody obliged. I talked to the lady on phone and told her that it was the 9th time that my husband and I were made to visit the gas office and now I was flatly denied a connection. She politely asked me if the person in charge of the new connections had asked us to come at a certain time and then not given the connection. I stressed the number 9 while repeating what I’d already told. She asked me to give the phone to the concerned person. After talking with him, she gave me the number of a still higher official and told me to get in touch with him. I talked with the higher official and he assured me that my gas cylinder, regulator, gas pipe and the Consumer Card would reach my home by 4.00 pm the same day.


At around 3.30 pm, I saw a gas delivery person in my building’s parking area. I asked him if he had come to set up the new connection at my house. He laughed at my face and said that in his entire service as the gas delivery man, he had never delivered the new connection at anybody’s house. I said that one of his bosses had told me that it was the responsibility of the Gas office to bring the new connection to the consumer’s house and set it up. The man looked puzzled and said that whoever got the new connection, took the entire kit home by himself. I waited for my new connection patiently and at 4.15 pm, my door-bell rang. I found the same man with whom I had talked in my parking area come with my new cylinder, regulator, gas pipe and a cook-top. I told him that I already had a cook-top and didn’t want another with my connection. He once again informed me about the tradition of his office to compulsorily give the cook-top with the new connection. I too told him that his boss had clarified that buying a cook-top with the new connection wasn’t compulsory and I could ask for the refund of the money charged for the cook-top. This time, he didn’t argue and quietly took away the cook-top with him.


This incident exposed not only the corrupt functioning of a particular office providing an item of utility, but also the extent to which people tolerate high-handedness and dishonest practices. Time, Money and Effort of the consumer can be valued by the service provider only when the consumer himself values them over his tendency to take the path of least resistance. One who tolerates injustice is as guilty as the one who perpetrates it, remember?

My Love... Vividh Bharti

Wednesday, February10, 2010

Today at exactly 5.55 am, i switched on my radio set and tuned in to All India Radio / Akashvani / Vividh Bharti at 101.0 MHz, FM channel. The radio immediately emanated ever-the-same haunting tune to announce the break of dawn. It got followed by the National song 'Vande Matram' and then the news in Hindi at 6.00 am. I usually prepare lunch boxes for my kids while listening to the Bhakti Sangeet that follows the News broadcast. I am either in the midst of preparing dinner or at the dining table with family while the Hava-Mahal plays in the background.


I’m in love with Vividh Bharti and my love for it was inherited from my mother, who is an avid listener of this unique channel right from her childhood as well. The USP of Vividh Bharti is its socially relevant programs, presented by people with gifted voices and in a solemn style that has refused to be affected by the pace and noise of other radio channels.


I missed this channel when in Boston, USA, and tried to search if it was available online like many other radio channels. But, alas, that was not the case. I tried to convince myself that the appeal of Vividh Bharti lies in its old-world setting only, and by becoming available online, it might lose out on the hearts that love to feel nostalgic thinking about the good old days that Akashvani symbolizes.

Havan at Our House

Tuesday, February 09, 2010

Havan or Yajna, its Vedic antecedent, procedure for performing it, its connection with the five elements of the Nature, and its scientific nature was brought to light in my previous write-up. I would now like to talk about the importance of Havan in my family’s life.


I come from an Arya Samaji family. My earliest memories of childhood are filled with the resonance of the collective chanting of Vedic mantras and the aroma of the fragrant smoke rising up from the Havan Kund. I remember reciting mantras in tune with the rest of the family even as a small child. Sanskrit shlokas always sounded exquisite though their meanings remained incomprehensible to me. The first time I heard the meaning of Maha Mritunjaya Mantra from my Chachaji. He was hinting at the transitory nature of our existence in the World and stipulating an attitude of ‘detached attachment’ towards our worldly possessions to his Mother (my Grandmother). The meaning sounded very grave to me and I chose to remember only the ‘fragrance of a mellowed melon’ part of the meaning.


I got married into a ‘Sanatan Dharmi’ family, meaning those who worship various incarnations of God in idol form. My husband and I decided to pray to God in both His ‘Nirakaar’ and ‘Saakaar’ forms and thus, have a Temple in our home and also perform Havan.


Havan at our home is interpreted differently by different member of my family. For my husband, a day of Havan means thorough cleaning of the entire house, decorating the Temple with fresh flowers and garlands, and instructing his wife to prepare special sweets for Prasad; for me, Havan means relishing the rich sound, smell, taste, sight and feeling associated with it; for my son, it means pretend reading of the Sanskrit mantras from his own copy of the book ‘Yajna Parva Sudha’ and singing Bhajans in his lyrical voice; and for my daughter, like every other occasion, the occasion of Havan means another chance to get dressed in her expensive salwar-suits or lehnga-cholis.

The Science of Havan

Monday, February 08, 2010

On Sunday morning, we performed Havan in our house. Havan or Vedic Yajna involves recitation of Vedic Mantras while making offerings of Pure Ghee and dried herbs to a small wood fire. It is the ancient form of prayer that was performed by Hindu Rishis and Yogis in India. Maharishi Dayanand Saraswati was instrumental in bringing the oldest scriptures, the Vedas, back to the common man through his extensive research into and translation of the meaning of the verses of the Vedas and the Upanishads in his book ‘Satyarth Prakash’. In the Vedas, he learnt about the significance of performing Havan, and popularized it as a form of prayer among his followers. Havan, he discovered, is a scientific way of thanking all the five elements of the Nature - Earth, Water, Air, Fire and Space; and returning them to the Nature. Havan involves burning of Holy Fire, a symbol of destruction of ignorance by wisdom; offering pure ghee and aromatic herbs to the fire releases gases that purify the Air; using clean Water kept in copper bowls signifies its purification and ionization; conversion of wood, ghee and herbs into ashes rich in minerals for the Earth; collective recitation of Vedic Mantras in accordance with the lyrical meter prescribed in the Sam Veda is known to produce harmonizing vibrations in the Space.

Well Wishes

Sunday, February 07, 2010

My husband had told me about this family of a friend of his. The friend’s wife was expecting her second child anytime soon when we first went to their house in the same township as ours. I found them a cordial couple. I invited her to come with her son to the Mom and Kids Party that I had planned for my kids’ birthday, but she couldn’t make it as some guests had unexpectedly arrived at her house on the party day. Just two days after that, she gave birth to a baby boy. A few days later, after sending my kids to school, I went to her house on my bicycle to see her new bundle of joy. Her parents-in-law and co-sister were at home with her. I ate sweets and had tea with them. I felt very much at home talking to her mother-in-law and co-sister. One thing that prominently struck me about them was that everyone in the family thought the world about each other. I felt happy after coming from their house.


About a month later, my husband told me that his friend had switched job to a company in Gurgaon and came home to Pune on week-ends. I was surprised that he could manage to do that with a new-born baby at home. His parents, however, were staying with his wife and provided the much needed support. I invited them to come to our house with the new baby but the friend’s wife told me about a practical problem in doing so. Though her husband left the car keys with her, she didn’t know how to drive. Moreover, the chances of getting an autorickshaw in our township became dramatically less in times of urgent need…Murphy’s Law, I guess! I too couldn’t pick them up from their house as my husband took our car to office daily.


Then came our new auto-gear scooter and also the answer to the above mentioned puzzle – how to get our friends to our house? I offered to come to their house on my scooter, park it there, drive them to my house in their car, drive them back, ride my scooter parked at their house and come back home. She liked my idea but thought it was too much trouble for me to go to and fro in different combinations and drive an unfamiliar car. I told them that I was always up for trying new things and if doing so solved a month old puzzle, then why not?


Everything went on smoothly as per the plan – on a Friday evening, after dropping my kids to their skating class, I went shopping for some hot from the pan samosas, kachoris and kala jamuns for my guests, picked up kids from their class and dropped them home, went to the friends’ place, drove them to my place in their car, spent about an hour and a half with them showing them our newly colored and done up house, and serving them tea and snacks, then took them back and returned home on my scooter. Amidst this action sequence, I heard my guests praising the décor of our house, saw them enjoying the photos clicked by my husband and me, found them listening interestedly to the little details that we shared with them about the context and location of some of our favorite photos, and felt happy that they relished the simple tea and snacks served by me. While going back home, Auntyji expressed her appreciation for us and our home. She sounded happy and affectionate. I thanked her and then said to her, “It is your goodness actually that makes you see good in us Auntyji, for this world is but a mirror to who we are.”


It is so rare to find people who meet with you with their entire being, have their senses and heart open to receive whatever you present to them, have the genuineness about their appreciation for others and most importantly, have the generosity to offer sincere praise.

The Signs!

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Yesterday at the Tennis ground, I noticed a new girl of about 23 shadow practicing the actions involved in a forehand stroke. She was practicing at a distance from the court on which the more experienced players like me were playing. Something about her held my attention and I casually told one of my co-players to look at her and then commented – “How lovingly she’s swinging her racket; looks like she’s dancing with it.” At the end of the class, I approached that girl and asked her name. She was busy putting her racket back in its case and my voice made her turn around and look at me. She smiled and told her name. Her eyes, her expressions and her quick smile, all seemed very familiar. I said bye to her and came back home.

The next day, when I reached the ground, she was already there getting ready for practice. I said hello to my co-players and also to her. She smiled again. I asked her, “What do you do?” She replied that she works for Accenture in a nearby office building. We got busy with our practice and at the end of the session, while packing our gears, I asked her if she danced. She looked puzzled for a moment and then nodded in affirmative. As she started to say more, I quickly added, “I meant if you’re trained in a classical dance form.” She smiled. I again said, “Bharatnatyam?” This time, she almost laughed and said that she had indeed cleared all the levels of Bharatnatyam dance form. I was thrilled at my guesswork and boasted ‘ek heere ko johri hi pehchaan sakta hai’. One of my co-players laughed and commented, ‘ise kahte hain apne muh mia mitthu hona’. I then elaborated on my observation about the dancer girl telling that her face and eyes reminded me of a cousin of mine who is also a great Bharatnatyam dancer. My co-player teased me that it was the facial resemblance that made me guess about her being a dancer and not because I was a ‘Parkhi’ of dancers.

I, however, had a similar experience at a beauty salon once. I was getting pedicure treatment there and got into a conversation with a lady. I noticed red and white bangles in her hands and asked her if she was a ‘Punjabi’. She was surprised at my guess but than clarified that though she was a ‘Punjabi’, she married a ‘Bengali’ guy, and her red and white bangles were part of her ‘Bengali’ attire. After having talked with her for some more time, I asked her if she was a lecturer. This time she laughed and asked me back if I was a face-reader. I said that it was her choice of words while conversing with me that made me think of her as a lecturer. She happily agreed that she was a lecturer at ICFA Institute.

I think that our body tells tales about who we are; what we do; we only need to have perceptive eyes and a quiet mind to hear them!  

Lyrically Yours!

Thursday, February 04, 2010

The other day, my 8 year old son came home a wee bit more excited than usual. He had recited a poem at the school poetry contest. He said, “My recitation was followed by the loudest applause; my class-teacher’s face was bursting with laughter; my best friend clapped for me the longest and the loudest…” I asked him to recite it before me and he instantly took his position – body straightened, heels together and toes apart, hands folded in front of chest with the fingers of the two hands clasping each other like a hook. He started with a calm expression on his face – “Good Morning. My name is Dhruv Goel. I study in III-B. Today I’m going to recite a poem. The title of my poem is ‘Mother Doesn’t Want a Dog’ by Judith Viorst.

‘Mother doesn’t want a dog.
Mother says they smell,
And never sit when you say sit,
Or even when you yell…’

My hands clapped in delight as though charmed by the lyrical voice and flawless rendition of the boy. I gave him a tight hug and then asked him to wash and change.


I had heard him recite his school poems before. While walking together in the park, holding hands with him, I would often suggest him to recite a poem or to tell a made up story of his own. He always obliged graciously.


I too participated in my school’s poem recitation contest every year. I used to walk up to the dais, legs shaking, hands sweating, butterflies in stomach – a complete picture of nervousness, and then somehow introduce myself in an already faltering tongue. I could never recite beyond the first line of the poem. I never really understood the lyrical beauty of any poem, but all the same, every year stood at the dais in order to try remembering more than the first line of the poem.


Nature has its own ways of rewarding one’s perseverance, and mine got rewarded in the form of my son whose lyrical as well as literary abilities make my heart glow with warmth.

Bonds of Love

Friday, February 05, 2010

Today I got up in the morning thinking about my maid-servant, no, about her mother! For the last two days, she had been coming along with her daughter to work at my house. This is the second time that she has felt the need to accompany her daughter to my house. The first time, about a month back, I tried to adjust myself with both of them for a week and then decided to make a discreet call to my maid asking her to come alone to my house as I’m not particularly fond of two persons working at break-neck and sometimes ‘break-glass’ speed in my house. Her mother is a respectable, middle aged woman, efficient and fast, too fast actually, for my comfort level. Her speed at doing dishes in my kitchen took its toll in the form of a cracked crystal glass and one more glass item not yet identified by me.


I employed my present maid two months back after getting rid of another ‘speedster’ that my previous maid was. My ex-one was fast and inefficient, making her dangerous for my glassware and peace of mind. My present one is an intelligent and quiet girl of 18. At times, the quality of her work even surpasses the expectation of a ‘perfectionist’ like me. While working with her in my kitchen, I sometimes talk with her about her life and family. She was made to leave her studies by her mother because her alcoholic father couldn’t feed a large family of 4 girls and 2 boys. Looking at her intelligent ways, I’d asked her to get training in soft-skills like tailoring, embroidery etc. She said that she was already attending tailoring classes in the evening.


My experience with maids has always been great. Once I find a maid of my choice, I make sure that she is well cared for and amply paid in cash and kind. She becomes an integral part of our family. I actually have some tales to tell about my domestic helpers.


After my marriage, I shifted from the working women’s hostel in Bandra, Mumbai to my husband’s rented apartment in Kandivli, Mumbai. Shobha, a mother of 2 girls and separated from her abusive husband, used to work for us there. She was too good and intelligent for her lowly station in life. Her quality of work never left any scope for criticism. She was my first visitor at the hospital room where I had delivered my son. She gave me hot oil massage for 15 days after I returned from the maternity ward and saw my little thin bundle of joy grow into cute chubby boy. I had gone to my parents’ house in Chandigarh one month after his birth, and returned when he became 4 months old. Her cheerful comment “Arre, Mannu toh Tannu ho gaya” after seeing his round face, has been used by my husband as a caption in the electronic photo story of my kids. We bought an apartment in CBD Belapur, Navi Mumbai, and shifted there before the first birthday of our son. Shobha was with us till our truck started to move and bid us farewell with tears in her eyes.


Once in Navi Mumbai, I was once again fortunate to have a very sweet-natured Muslim girl named Shabeena working for us. She was not yet married but soon became like the second mother to my son. She was his play-mate, teacher and friend. I used to teach her Arithmetic and English; had discussions with her on ethical and spiritual matters for she was an insightful girl; worried about her marriage with the right kind of person; even got her to sleep at our house when my husband was gone to the USA for 2 months. I was pregnant with my daughter when my husband decided to take us with him to the USA.


I gave lots of household stuff and a few thousand rupees to Shabeena’s mother as a token of our gratitude and affection for her daughter. On our last day, she kept working tirelessly with us till I asked my husband to drop her to her house on his bike. When he came back, he told me Shabeena’s farewell message. She had said, “Bhaiya, please take very good care of Didi. Always keep her happy.”


I’ve decided to talk to my maid’s mother directly this time, and explain to her that in my household, it is more about a relationship that I develop with my aide than about the quantity and quality of work done by them, and that her hasty presence tends to disturb the delicate harmony that I share with her daughter.

Devtaas and Asurs

Monday, February 1, 2010

On Sunday evening, I went with my daughter to the birthday party of a friend’s son, while my husband and son were in Mumbai at a friend’s place. The party was the usual ‘fun, frolic and food’ kind. The children were busy playing around the house, while the grownups chatted away merrily. The birthday boy’s mom shared with us a very pleasant memory of hers. She told us that her husband was working in Mumbai when she got married to him. He had rented an apartment there before going to his hometown for getting married and left the keys with his relatives living in Mumbai. When the newly married couple arrived in Mumbai, their relatives brought them to a beautifully done up apartment with a kitchen complete with all the supplies, crockery and cookware. The new bride was welcomed into the house in accordance with the customs and traditions of the family. The couple was served rich food in elegant dishes. The bride was impressed beyond words at the beautiful welcome presented to her by her hosts. The biggest surprise came to her when she discovered that those welcoming her were not the hosts, but guests themselves in the couple’s new house.


Her musings about that incident brought to my mind a story.


Once a feast was organized by Lord Vishnu and all the ‘Devtaas’ were invited to it. The ‘Asurs’, however, were left out of the party. As the feast began, Vishnuji was surprised to see that there were far many guests than were invited originally. He looked at his guests carefully and saw that each one of them had the appearance of a ‘Devtaa’. He understood that there were many ‘Asurs’ in the guise of ‘Devtaas’. He announced commencement of the feast. After the plates were laid before each guest, he, however, made another announcement. He said that he had plans for some fun at the feast and requested his guests to allow his servants to tie a stick around their elbows before beginning to eat. The guests found his idea funny and agreed happily to get their elbows tied to the sticks. The guests were then asked to enjoy the feast. After some time, Vishnuji started taking rounds around the party tables and saw that some of his guests had started to feed each other, while others were frantically trying to take food to their mouth but ended up throwing it behind their backs instead. Vishnuji then asked his servants to untie all the sticks. He waited for everyone to finish eating and then said that his party was for the ‘Devtaas’, for it is possible only for the ‘Devtaas’ to enjoy the party that our life is, as they are the people who serve others before serving themselves.

Time Management - the Panacea

Wednesday, February 03, 2010

Last night, I slept thinking about my Tennis class at 7.00 in the morning. I wasn’t feeling enthusiastic about it, because the memory of the Monday class still hung on in my mind. On Monday morning, I got up at 5.00 (my usual time), exercised, meditated, cooked lunch for my kids and then rushed for my tennis class just 2 minutes before 7.00. I try to go to my classes on my brand new bicycle and avoid using the car until and unless I’m frightfully late or have an aching body. The reasons why I chose to keep a bicycle handy are many. Firstly, I believe that my constitution is of the primitive kind which makes it difficult for me to use mechanized things; secondly, if and when possible, I love to expend bodily energy over any other kind; thirdly, I am frugal with resources, natural as well as personal; fourthly, I like to look and feel young in body and in spirit; fifthly, I believe that even a little effort on an individual’s part to avoid spreading the harmful fumes in our surroundings can go a long way in keeping our Mother Earth in good health. And now, back to my narrative…at 2 minutes to 7.00, I was standing by my bicycle, a picture of ‘dusty’ beauty with its tires looking a little flatter than usual. I hastily pressed my thumb into a tire and found it soft. Dusting the seat and the handle, I nonetheless rode it and started pedaling hard. By the time I reached the tennis court, my legs started feeling heavy and shaky. I took the customary round of the ground jogging slowly and then joined in the group taking practice shots. After coming back home, I kept feeling the urge to take to bed and actually did so immediately after sending away all the family members to their designated destinations.

Later during the day on Monday, our new auto-gear scooter got delivered. The need for the scooter was felt for taking kids to their activity classes, as my husband takes the car to office. I had proudly declared to my family that the scooter would never be used by me for my personal use, and that I would use it only when kids needed to be transported within the boundary of our Township only.

Now, back to my last night’s thinking process. I slept convinced that I would use the scooter for going to my tennis classes. After all, I ought to be more responsible towards my body than my spoken words, I thought.

Today again, my day started as usual. I was sitting deep in meditation when an idea slowly descended upon me. Why couldn’t I start for my tennis class a little sooner, dust my bicycle thoroughly and fill air in its tires with my easy-to-use air pump? The answer lay in better time management! So today, I was by my bicycle 10 minutes earlier than usual; cleaned it nicely, filled air in its tires, pedaled it in rhythm with my body, continued focusing on my breathing, and was at my destination on time. 

Door Darshan Beckons!

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

Even after six months of stay in our present house in Pune, we don’t have a TV cable connection. It was our collective decision to not have this medium of information and entertainment at our home. The reasons were numerous – firstly, we thought that the news and information provided by newspapers and Radio broadcasts were quite sufficient for us; secondly, we hated the quality of entertainment that current Indian TV channels provide; thirdly, we wanted our minds to think beyond TV when at leisure. We were satisfied with our current setting involving newspaper reading in the morning, doing household chores with the Radio playing in the background, and watching Bollywood and Hollywood movies of our choice during the week-ends. But then Australian Open Tournament happened, and all I got to see and hear of it was through my tennis buddies’ expressions and opinions pertaining to the match played the previous day. I found my craving for viewing some live action increasing each day, and hence, decided to talk with my husband regarding the ‘Idiot Box’. He, however, isn’t much of a sports enthusiast and thus, found my demand for the TV as a backtrack from our aforementioned decision.

I thought of a solution that could accommodate our former principles as well as my new-found interest in viewing some world-class action on TV. The solution was to subscribe only to our dear old DoorDarshan (DD), and stay away from the rest of the plethora in the TV World. No sooner did the supposed solution came into my mind, I made some important inquiries from my maid-servant who was recently gifted an old TV set by someone. She told me that they called an electrician to fit an old-fashioned antenna to the TV and now they could watch all the DD channels! I was filled with nostalgia over my girlhood days when we too were served the DD channels by our large antenna. I got the chance to revive my old fascination for our dear old DD on Sunday when my husband and son were safely out of my way in Mumbai. I summoned an electrician, told him that our LCD TV set had come from the USA and had some NTSC / PAL conversion issues, and then asked him if he could still bring DD channels to my TV. He hummed in affirmative and quickly erected at my balcony a ‘not-so-big’ antenna on a large steel pole provided by me. Hours passed by slowly after that and still nothing came on my TV screen. I came out of my computer room to see him from time to time and found him fumbling with the TV’s remote control in an effort to tune in the elusive channels. I finally lost patience with him and asked him if he had done anything about the TV’s NTSC / PAL compatibility. This time he spoke out that he knew nothing about NTSC / PAL conversion. I felt like shouting at him but controlled my anger and asked him to leave immediately and come later with someone who had the requisite knowledge. He hesitatingly said that he had paid 300 rupees for the antenna and cable. I gave him the money and asked him to come again soon. Half an hour later, he called me up telling me that installation of antenna for DD channels was no longer in practice now. I was taken aback and somehow controlling my agitation, told him that my maid-servant had got it done recently, and moreover, he needed to solve the NTSC / PAL problem in my TV rather than telling me tales about DD. He further informed me that the shop-keeper who sold him the antenna and cable would not take back the cable. This time I lost control and shouted at him to come back and take away the rubbish from my balcony.

I felt cheated. I inhaled deeply a few times and sat pondering over the whole situation. I analyzed that I had lost my money and time over the electrician’s foolishness, but then I gave a thought to the electrician’s situation. He too spent his entire day at my work; went to and fro many times between my house and the electricity shop; looked and felt miserable at his failure to do my work and would now lose some money too if I insisted on his taking back the stuff and returning my money. I decided to forgive the poor man, and started to feel light and happy again. When the man came back, I asked him about his charges for doing the work that he ‘undid’ at my house and also about the money that the shop-keeper would give back on returning his stuff. He said that he charged 200 rupees for similar work and the shop-keeper would return 180 rupees for the antenna. I quickly did my math and told him to take away the antenna and the cable with him and not to bother about returning my 300 rupees. Color returned to his pale face and he happily pledged to help me in getting the colors on my vacant TV screen soon. I, however, had had enough and wanted neither ‘Colors’ nor DD on my TV for quite some time!