The bell does not toll for thee

Here again i come to muse ...the sight yesterday was heartwarming, complete strangers that otherwise amble by in sweet ignorance on other days were seen hugging each other in joy , thunderous clapping, almost rhythmic, was heard from the cafeteria as the runs to win dropped serially from 10 to 4, united in victory , divided in apathy ..such were the goings on at the workplace as collective eyeballs were glued to the most mouthwatering face off between India and Australia yet on TV live from Ahmedabad. The mass fervor triggered off when the National Anthem played out at the beginning of the match.It unfolded many times over through the course of the match in a sudden cry, a quicker pulse or a skipped beat . How startling the camaraderie , how wondrous the joy when mundane boundaries of designations, roles , teams and processes were forgotten in the name of one binding force - INDIA .I had the strangest feeling that the mass hysteria generated magnetic vibes which somehow managed to pass through in a supernatural sphere to the boys in uniform prompting them to perform .

Cut to today, after the initial euphoria , little else is different. It is business as usual. What is with the short lived patriotism i ask ,why do we cheer in an inane cricket match , display all the misplaced fervor and passion and then inch back along life like nothing happened?Why do our collective heartbeats skip as we wait for the ball to cross the boundary or that bat to swing or for that "NOT OUT " sign to emerge and then merrily sleepwalk through all the other national maladies afflicting our lives?Why do we not cry hoarse at the roads that never get built or the ones that do and crumble almost instantly?or the water supplies that run out before summer barely arrives ?Why do we not question where our tax money goes while the Hasan Alis of the world hoard their black crores?Why do  we watch in horror as scams after scams tumble out like skeletons in the closet one minute and then as tardily switch to the entertainment channels?Why do we let a frivolous few control our lives at large and not take charge of  issues that beckon us ourselves?Why , in our minds , are we so disconnected with each other ? Why don't the deaths of our soldiers or our policemen affect us? Why don't the rampant rapes and murders of women in our country spur us?

Surely , when John Donne wrote this, he didn't mean us .

No man is an island, entire of itself
every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main
if a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were,
as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were
any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind
and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls
it tolls for thee.

No , my dears , he didn't mean you and me , no other man's death outside our family diminishes us. We don't think of each other as part of one country, forget the continent .No, we are not involved in mankind and no you don't think that when the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.

"Tumhare Chehre Ke Jhuriyon Mein Mere Jeevan Ka Saaransh Hai"

Was up watching the 1984 movie Saaransh on Zee Classic late last night.Unlikely, most of the time that , an 80's hindi flick would keep me up all night considering, that according to me, it was the decade of cliches in Bollywood.You may beg to differ but 80s were a decade that saw little experimentation barring a few notables like Masoom ,Ijazat etc and were largely marked by brazen dialogues mouthing "main tumhare bacche ki maa banne wali hoon" or some such , garish song and dance sequences (remember the jitender and sridevi number "tohfa tohfa laya laya") matched by equally flashy outfits .

Saaransh ,on the other hand had me completely glued . A compelling story of an ageing couple in suburban Bombay trying to come to terms with the death of their only son, Ajay,in a mugging incident in faraway USA.With no income coming in for retired Headmaster Pradhan (Anupam Kher) and his wife,Parvati (Rohini Hattangadi) , they sub let the room that once belonged to the son to small time actress Sujata(Soni Razdan) involved in a discreet relationship with the spineless Vilas, son to a local politician crime lord.She soon transforms from a stranger to a confidante.

Anupam Kher and Rohini H's performances are so real and their grief so all encompassing that you find yourself  nodding in total agreement when she says "Hamara Ajay wapas aa raha hai ", reacting to the news of  Sujata carrying her love child whose paternity Vilas retracts from claiming under duress .Suddenly , the old couple is thrown into a scuffle with all and sundry ranging from the local goons employed by Vilas's father to the corridors of power,basically the world in general exposing , along the way, cracks in society's attitudes to single women, corruption and economic disparity, all in an effort to bring Sujata to justice.

While Pradhan is doing all this to find reasons to keep living , Parvati is selfishly protecting Sujata believing she is,in fact carrying her son, Ajay .One cannot grudge her conviction in the punar-janam of sorts because Rohini as Parvati is brilliant in her role as a grieving mother alternately bordering on insanity.It is hard to believe this was Anupam Kher's debut film, so accomplished is he in the craft that one can't help but feel moved when he attempts to pull Parvati from the depths of despair as he tells her "Tumhara anth hai. Mera anth hai .Magar jeevan anthheen hai.", loosely translated to mean, you will end someday and so will I but life itself is endless. It has to go on.

And that's the way it is!

The deciding moment is here , the voice in my head tells me , now is when all the forces of the cosmos combine to make all things possible, take that step, enroll in that dance class, go to that fitness programme at PINK, watch all those Oscar nominated movies, finish all those books you've been trying to finish for a while now( right now at the end of DORK , somewhere in between The Reluctant Fundamentalist and vaguely at the begining of  The Liar's Poker)...show some spirit woman!

The job that you now do only for the paycheque, the CV that you've been meaning to perk up with that certification for god-knows-how-long!, the people that you need to shut out and those that need to be welcomed, the friendships waiting to be renewed, the trips that you've always been planning but not taking (reasons too insignificant to be bloggable).....only one tip for these.....YOU KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO!....

Just so that the above homily is not brought to nought , listen to this song for some additional adrenaline rush:

Better Get Livin'- Dolly Parton

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKeulwZ3sGE&feature=player_detailpage

From me to you

Lively bouncing come my love
Alter this weary overcast day ,
And like you always do
Show me the way,
But for your comely smile
And the balmy self,
Little else is worth merit
In this imperfect world,
I know I can be quite the peeve
Make you fret and fall,
And drive you up the wall
But know this always in your heart, my dear,
That if you were to part,
My wounded soul shall weep and bleed
and remain there like a void so deep
that no one could ever hope to fill.

Ode to a time gone by

The flutters inside
the tears i cried
the miles we walked
the hours we talked
the pain you caused
the smiles you brought
the hands that held
the hurt you felt
here lie the tokens of the times that froze
when we lay by the shores
the songs we sang
the stories they began
the eyes that bore
the thoughts of yore
oh were those the days!

What i learnt in a score and some years.......

The 27th birthday hangs ominously in the background. Minutes before the move from the mids to the late twenties.Its funny how much change the 20s can take .One second you are the dewy eyed , green-behind-the-ears fledgling and the next the seasoned experient doling out your two cents worth on work,love,life and what have you to all and sundry. Anyway i digress .The theme here is lessons the previous decade had to offer.

1. You already have everything you need.
2. I have read enough war stories by now to know that things like taking a walk in the park, reading your favorite book, sipping orange juice and having someone to love are precious and not to be taken for granted.
3. Its a good thing to introspect once in a while. It has the power to turn a thick skinned ,pig headed soul around.
4. Most tiffs arise over trivial matters.
5. Its wiser sometimes to keep quite than than play the smart alec.
6. Lots of guys will call you pretty.That does not determine who you are.
7. None of the self help books will make sense unless you help yourself.
8. The movie "Shawshank Redemption" taught me everything there was to know about perseverance and planning .(and many other things but these two will do for now.)
9. Its not how much you make but what you do with what you make that will determine your wealth.
10. Talking about wealth, don't begrudge the wealthy.Most people make it the hard way.
11. When picking vegetables, pick the best looking ones.8 times out of 10,you won't go wrong.
12. People don't change people.Circumstances do.
13. Children of the household where friends and guests are always welcome grow up to become pleasant beings.
14. Stole, handbag, kajal, lipstick - a girl must always carry off these very well.
15. Have a hobby and life will never be a bore.
16. Crosswords, Sudokus and other puzzles. Solving them keeps the smarts going.

Bamma and I

She walks in expressionless. A shadow of her former self, she seems smaller than in my last visit to her a week ago. Dressed in an oversized nightgown and a bright green cardigan, her thinning hair is neatly tied into a ponytail. This is not how she always dressed. I remember Bamma (my granny) in her heavy set zardozi saris, an elaborate collection of which she proudly treasured in that elusive rosewood wardrobe, always out of my reach as a child. The nurse finds her easier to attend to in the current wear.
When I ask her who I am, she nods absently, not sure it is indeed her oldest grandchild in front of her. I hear a flutter inside of me and I am pretty sure those are the sounds of my heart breaking. Not fair, I think, she at least recognized me between the sibling and I just last week. “This is how dementia is”, granddad tries to comfort me, memory lapses alternate with sudden flashes of memory.
I wonder what she’s thinking, if she remembers any of her former life. Images of the freedom fighter, the orator, the history teacher, the strict mother, the devoted wife, the doting grandmother all whirl around us , Bamma and I ,as we sift through bundles of family pictures I bring to her on every visit . She points at herself in a picture of her speaking at a seminar for women’s rights or some such before quickly moving on to another with such swiftness that I wonder if the details are lost on her.
Her gaze fixes on my mauve footwear, all the pictures are forgotten and she asks to try it on her. While trying to get her feet into them, I am just grateful for any trace of her former craze for trendy footwear returning. I tell her I will get her a new pair the next time .I don’t understand if her grunt means a yes or a whatever. I take her out into the garden for some fresh air. As I seat her on the bench, I offer to sing her favorite songs and she says yes, please do. When I ask her which one, I am met with silence. As a child, her unending requests for me to sing would irritate me. She loved to hear me sing while I‘d much rather go out and play. I start singing her favorite song and my eyes well up with tears with each passing note until I can sing no more. I stop and look into her eyes .For a full 30 seconds, our eyes meet. In a moment of total understanding, she takes my palm and kisses it. We watch the sunset and the birds fly back into their nests. We head back inside, Bamma and I ,and we are all good.