The Hushed Facts of Married Lives!!

Oh well, let me tell you this write up will have a lot of you interested, or so is my guess, because it has all the key words like marriage, relationship, companions, etc, which attracts a lot of non-readers too. Shortly, I went on a purely shopping trip, courtesy my younger brother’s forthcoming wedding. And I thoroughly enjoyed the Kolkata shopping extravaganza with indulgent dollops of lip-smacking street-food. However, the pre-wedding processes have me thinking about post-marriage lives.

Needless to say, that my younger brother’s wedding totally excites me as a sister and the fact that it’s really the first love marriage in my immediate family, makes it a tad more interesting. Getting married for love, I totally love the idea. Yeah, it might sound anachronistic where marriage is definitely losing its ground conceptually and really to more convenient and practical arrangements. But I still don’t think it’s such an outmoded or anti-climax concept, even after considering everything that happens after a few years of happily married life. And though I am no authority on any subject, I know enough because I have been married for a long time now.

What I personally think or feel is irrelevant and I aren’t talking about specifics here. Let’s talk about the generic trends of our times. A very vital fact is that no marriage or relationship by far can retain the same amount of excitement and wonderfulness of the initial years. The novelty of it is bound to wane. As the years pass by, the monotony of it catches up, rather becomes routine. Then arise situations of non-spousal attractions, distractions and fidelity. The perception of fidelity is very open to subjective and to an extent gender biased interpretations, so there’s no point commenting on what is right or wrong or acceptable. It’s just sensible to accept that questions about it do come up and people are dealing with it in their own ways. However, it’s quite interesting to note that such flirtatious straying or coquettish attractions (not talking of full blown parallel affairs here) don’t happen because couples are unhappily married or have incompatible partners. It happens to a great number of happily married and content people.

So then why does it happen? Because we are fickle humans and new things attract us, excite us, gratify us but old things comfort us. People share great companionship, sensual intimacy, loud laughters and a solid support system with their spouses but after good many years that bit of tingling attention, zesty freshness and tantalizing spiciness comes from another face. It’s reflective in our daily demeanour. You want to have your best hair day, look your sexiest self and be your charming best when out on those first few dates with anyone including your spouse. However, years later with that same person, you don’t even care to comb out your hair, don’t mind looking somewhat flabbier or mangy, worry about being your crankiest worst or scream your opinions out without being judged. Well, some might say that that happens out of disinterest in your partner or taking them for granted over the years. But I think an aged marriage or relationship rather gives you the amazing freedom to really be yourself, to be uninhibited in your expression without consequences, to be in that comfort zone where hair and attires don’t matter anymore and you live assured that those daily tiffs will resolve out naturally.

At the same time, you still want to look impressive and be your dapper best when in the company of others you are physically or mentally attracted to especially if its mutual. The new attention, the new distraction, the new connect, the new compliments, are all too provoking and enticing. You want to keep foot tapping on that risqué rhapsody, somewhat straying at the corners and knotting-in in the glimmering gossamer fabric of pleasure. While, hoping and believing that your core and old comfort and support zone remains intact and unaltered. Basically, you want the best of both worlds. Who doesn’t? Some do succeed; others might not be that lucky. Now, whether or not it is acceptable, fair, right, wrong, inappropriate or hurtful is another debatable and controversial topic, which I would refrain from here because my personal views are immaterial. What is important is that we are talking about it, acknowledging it and understanding that it happens across societies. However, something happening widely doesn’t necessarily legitimize itself. It probably only comforts you that you aren’t alone in this grey shaded pleasure phenomenon trending upwards.

Coming back to my brother’s wedding, it is the most anticipated moment for them right now as was for most of us back then and will be for others in the future. And it should be so in all rightness. What happens or doesn’t happen in the post wedding era should have absolutely no bearing on that beautiful moment when you decide to immerse and share yourself physically, mentally and emotionally in all honesty with the one you feel makes you whole.

A dozen married years later I know it all exists – the beauty of love, the joy of marriage and the flutter of those veiled attractions.

Kids with Alexa, Parents on Insta!! A legacy I am unsure about...

We are constantly watching, hearing and reading about the world and its newfangled ways and I am sure it generates opinions, reactions and responses within you as it does to me. One such instance set me thinking; the other rattled me while a book I read was an eye opener with hope.

“Alexa” is the newest addition in our family. And the kids have embraced her with so much love as if it has filled a void in their lives. By the grace of God, my kids are born with a silver spoon in their mouths but this good fortune somewhere and somehow makes them dependent and unprepared for their own chores. They pick up to order and instruct others rather soon and with élan. I cringe a lot at this unwarranted transfer of responsibility and try to veer them against it while atleast be grateful for what they have. But there is only so much that I can do. So when Alexa, (if you haven’t figured it yet, she is the intelligent girl born out of Amazon) was plugged in and ready to roll, my kids went nuts with excitement. There was this non-stop bombardment of commands, “Alexa, what is the capital of Hungary?”, “Alexa, what is the score of India Pakistan ODI?” Before Alexa could answer either, the other one screamed, “Alexa, play the song Swag se Swagat”, the song had barely started when “Alexa, can you tell me a story?” boomed another voice. I knew it was the first day zeal which would settle in time but their intensity and ability to order someone with such authority rattled me.

Alexa is only artificial intelligence; she doesn’t deny or defy anything except saying “Sorry, I do not understand this or that.” She doesn’t feel stressed at the constant hollering; she doesn’t even feel bad at the impervious tone of orders. She doesn’t expect or understand kindness, worthiness or respect for her work. And it set me thinking, what if my children start looking and treating people working for them as Alexas? Let’s face it, our times aren’t particularly compassionate or optimistic for humanity. In the changing lifestyle of everything materialistic and artificial, my concern isn’t baseless. I worry if my children will learn humility, will respect fellow humans irrespective of social hierarchy and work classification and if they will learn to accept refusal without resentment.

Talking about this artificiality, makes me recollect an article I recently read about the lives of professional content creators. And it flabbergasted me to know that buckling under competitive stress and falling into depression is not an exception but a norm in this profession. Content creators are constantly writing content for shows, entertainment, news-feed and incessant updates and stories on various topics mostly for the digital media. It made me so queasy to read their plight. Why do we need this crazy amount of content and information and why are people ruining their lives to provide it? What have we really accomplished by this mammoth influx of avoidable and dispensable buzz feed anyway? We were leading perfectly normal rather healthier lives before this dementia causing content invasion. It’s so ironical that comedians, who are making hundreds and millions of audiences laugh, are in truth fighting chronic depressions. And there is no better case in point than Kapil Sharma. The constant stress of upping your game, making viral videos, attracting millions of views and likes, content for following episodes and handling trolls, is damning.

Connecting to the entire world and complete disconnect with yourself, is how the world chooses to be. People and professionals now talk about digital detox, where they would sign out off the social media for a specific duration. I am not so naive to undermine that all professions and work need effort, cause stress and require fighting competition. But what sorts of work are we choosing to promote and patronize that cause mental illnesses. Why have we become such hyper frenzied souls, living in bizarre worlds of mindlessness? May be I am old school, or maybe I am missing a point completely, but I don’t understand the passionate zeal for everything “insta”. People are literally going mad and into depressions creating content and following it. Maybe it’s time to take a reflective moment to streamline our hollowed existences because this is a real epidemic, not just some report about an obscure issue.

Yet, there’s always hope for us, not in a consoling sense but in an affirming scientific way. The renowned cell biologist Dr. Bruce Lipton’s book “The Biology of Belief” does it with assurance and assertion. It was an eye-opener to understand the miracle of our biology from a totally different perspective. The power of belief is stupendously fantastic which is backed by scientific reasoning and working of the trillions of cell community making up our body. Without getting into the biology and chemistry of it, the crux is that there’s real hope and chance to rewire our thoughts, our lives, our world and humanity. Nature operates not on randomness but perfect sync, not on competition but co-operation. And we are an undeniable part of this natural order and creation.

Reading through my own write-up makes me realize how we are constantly reacting and responding to environmental stimuli - from the raising of my very dear kids, to the depressed status of strangers in this world, to the affirming notes of a scientist. On the whole it just tells me that we might need to reassess and readjust our physical and mental worlds. It is time to step back in time to a simpler and more cohesive lifestyle which was more natural and closer to our inherent wiring. A less materialistic and digitally invasive life will reduce so much physical burden on the depleting resources at the same time release as much mental space from our asphyxiated minds. Let’s make this Diwali count, let’s organize our minds and lives before our homes.

AFRICA DIARY - MUSINGS FROM THE SAVANNAH

I am not particularly inspired to write anything actually but funnily I have guilt pangs if I haven’t scribbled something in a long time. It’s one of my active vocations and seems to me that if I don’t pursue it, I might lose some personal sense of identity. This fear is remarkable, because it isn’t even a real fear. My writing doesn’t support me financially or professionally, that not doing it might cause me any measurable hardship. It’s a purely personal gratification and validation which reinforces to me suitably that my thinking faculties aren’t dormant yet. This self belief is the quintessence of our life.

I recently went on a holiday to the exotic Kenya and Zanzibar. It was obviously a wildlife trip focusing at the Masai Mara National Reserve with some surf and sand in Zanzibar. Being a non-naturalist and non-wildlife enthusiast, let me tell you it was still an absolutely sensational experience to see the wild and beautiful beasts in the Savannah of the Mara Reserve. It’s a thrill of another sort when you suddenly catch the majestic lion with its full mane devouring a fresh kill. The anticipation of one of those Nat Geo moments literally keeps you on tenterhooks. The adrenaline of locking eyes with a handsome leopard, peering through his amber eyes straight at you is unforgettable. Or the pandemonium that a lone black rhino could create, making the hartebeests, impalas and topis to sprint and leap through the grassland remains vivid with life. The land migration of tens of thousands of wildebeests walking in perfect queues, except for the few miscreants, is incredulously mesmerizing. The entire landscape dotted with these creatures for miles, is a sight I had previously watched only on Discovery channel. Beholding it with my own eyes was a different spectacle altogether.

The majestic lion with his fresh breakfast of wildebeest

The beguiling amber eyes 

The mass migration of wildebeests

 There are some truly amazing memories of this trip, which are flooding me now and fighting for space in my posterity. The vastness and rawness of the landscape is overwhelming at first sight. Sauntering next to the magnificent giraffes and gorgeous zebras on the walking safari in Crescent Island makes you love them, while the gazelles and impalas are the daintiest and most curvaceous beings you will see beating the likes of Shakira and Gwyneth Paltrow hands down. The wonderment of seeing the animals up and close in their natural habitat (though unnaturally invaded by human beings of course) is an experience you really savour after having lived it. The rock climbing and trek through the gorges and canyon at Hell’s Gate National Park was so much fun. The sheer scale and uniqueness of nature is riveting, almost driving the point of man’s diminutiveness against the natural. But surprisingly, I wasn’t really inspired to put this trip into a travelogue until I typed in the first paragraph. And somehow in the course of writing, it seemed essential to treasure every detail into words.

A sight truly beautiful

However, there was a certain incident during the trip that twitched my mind and got into a mental note. On the last stretch towards the Masai Mara National Reserve, the tar road gradually disappears and the four-wheel drive really comes into play over this beaten terrain. As we were trundling in the jeep, a loud screech of the tyre jolted the vehicle and us.  We had a problem!! Okay nothing major, but there in the middle of nowhere amidst clouds of dust even a flat tyre seemed such a hassle. However, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise...

Standing there while the tyre was getting fixed, a group of young Maasai teenagers came by. “Maasais” are the native tribe and poster people of Kenya standing out in their bright red robes. They gave us amused looks and we did the same. Finally the ice was broken by waving arms and with the Swahili greeting of “Hujambo”. We had picked up a few local phrases by then. As the interaction progressed, more teenagers and kids joined the scene and by then the conversation had switched into lucid English. It wasn’t a surprise that English was a widely known language amongst the country’s urban population, given its heavy touristy appeal and colonial history. But I was honestly zapped, to see those native kids in the remote villages of still-developing Kenya converse in perfect English. We talked about their homes, families, cultures, their love for animals and regular sightings of wild cats around their dwellings.

It was interesting to realize how the animals, for which we travel across continents, are assimilated as part of their daily lives. Another interesting thing I noticed was the hair of the Maasai girls. They are cropped as short as the boys.  This was hugely contrasting to the elaborate braided hairstyles of the city girls. When I asked the girls about it, they said it was their culture to keep the hair short no matter how much they adorned themselves in lady-like beaded jewellery. By then my son had gotten into a ball game with the younger kids, while my husband found a Chelsea team lover in Lucas who was keenly aware of every football progress happening in the world. I was genuinely wide-eyed at that. How the hell do they know so much when the basic infrastructures are still missing from their lives and the way of life is far-flung? But to my pleasant distraction, a Maasai granny all giggly and excited had arrived on the scene with her hidden wares. After some animated gestures between us, she showed me a simple but pretty yellow necklace. And for some reason I felt compelled to buy it, didn’t even have the heart to haggle with her much, so there it was around my neck. I don’t think I could have had any more authentic, original or interesting cultural experience with the Maasais on any organised village tour as I had there on the wayside of that dusty trampled path.

Our Maasai friends

We clicked pictures with them, said our Swahili byes and left a box of Indian mathris and cricket ball for them. In those moments, I felt a genuine emotion which is neither cooked up nor exaggerated for melodramatics. I felt...no matter how incredibly and massively different we all might be in race, culture, beliefs or religion living across seven continents, there is a common human blood that undeniably binds us all. The futility and crassness of waging wars and killing each other only seemed bizarrely heightened. There we were, amused, observant and appreciative of our differences. It was pretty simple at that level. Couldn’t our world and we retain this simplicity or will we unflinchingly continue to regress to the basal instinct of power hungriness?

 As the journey progressed, my thought was only gaining conviction.  We were now in the beautiful island of Zanzibar and had chosen to stay in the old town part of the city called the Stone town. As we drove into the city, its Islamic culture was evident all around us in sights, smells and sounds. It was a bustling old town market place with women in abayas and men in skull caps. But as we navigated through the hordes and traffic to locate our hotel, it lead us to a very different setting. Stone town is all about narrow alleys and strolling your way through them, admiring the ramparts of a bygone era with its Moorish architectural influence. The crowd was suddenly a melting pot of nationalities and ethnicities (of course most being tourists) with little cafes, bistros and inns lining the streets. There were equal numbers of women in abayas as were in shorts.

The vibe was that of an unhurried day. We sat down for a languorous first lunch in a Spanish Taperia, run by a Spaniard who came to Zanzibar and didn’t return. The next day we lay on the white sands against the turquoise waters, sipping Sangria in an Italian’s beach shack. While Haji, a local operator took us snorkelling the third day and refrained from drinking on religious grounds. The human connect only seemed to run deeper. Here was a place as are many others, where the natives were still holding their traditions and heritage with pride but a whole new set of people had been accommodated seamlessly within them who chose to respect each other. Each could retain and evolve his individuality while accepting the other’s as well.  Harmonious living without clash of interest or beliefs seemed very easy in those moments.

The surf, the sand, the sangria at the Nungwi beach. Life doesn't get any better !!

That’s where my conviction in the human connect resurrects itself despite the gory reality of our times trying to slay it.  I believe that everything that can possibly be evil, wrong and unjust has been happening in our world since recorded history, yet the world survives. Only to prove that there still exist enough neutrality and goodness, the collectiveness of which is not letting the world topple just yet. I can only think of John Lennon’s classic here, “You may say I am a dreamer, but I am not the only one. I hope some day you’ll join us, And the world will be as one...” Amen.

A trip is probably about seeing sights, eating food, laughing loud and making memories while a journey is about thinking, understanding and seeing beyond the sights. When both combine, a travelogue is compellingly born out of me.

Photo Credits: Abhishek Mimani (my best half)

Both fight. Both suffer. Both make up?

Relationships and marriages are such an incessant source of inspiration for humour and all the jokes constantly being forwarded and laughed upon. Funnily, no one laughs so much in a real marriage.  There is definitely some honesty in those jokes but the rest is of course ingenuous spicing up of the matter.

Cutting the long story short, people get into relationships and even marriages for all the right reasons. Soon after, several wrongs start cropping up which is predictable, normal and usual. The wrongs are not about the people, they haven’t changed nor have their values. What’s changed are expectations. For the major part, all conflicts are a result of unmet expectations. And I’ll be quick to surmise that we all have expectations from our partner, companion, lover or spouse by whatever name and status they go. And it’s ALRIGHT to have them, not necessarily RIGHT. I mean we are reading, listening and seeing a lot on how to change the focus of our life from changing others to changing ourselves. But it will take time, a lot of practice and a sincere will power. So that should be our eventual goal to work towards but for today I think it’s wise to acknowledge that we stand neck deep in them.

With this very clear background of differences and disappointments between couples, my focus and interest is now on what follows next. What comes next is anxious suffering between them and after enduring enough of it, comes the step to normalize or neutralize things. My husband and I had one such episode not so long ago. We had suffered for two days by then, the usual isolated indifferent, not-talking-type, estranged couple scenario. On the morning of the third day, I saw our little girl climbing, leaping and frolicking all over my husband’s arms, shoulders and head. Nothing unusual here, she does this acrobatic fun all the time. What struck me was that she had been strongly reprimanded by him just a few minutes ago and yet here she was all normal and they were already back together. While there we were, abnormal, sulking and upset for two whole days by now. I was honestly envious of the ease by which the tension could dissolve between them in a matter of minutes.

  

It made me wonder what was stopping me from liquefying the strain. And what was stopping him as well?  Not that the conflicts between couples are of some profound or grave magnitude always, most times they are as simple as kids’ fights or trivial misunderstandings. What then resists us from making peace and prolong the suffering? Only our big fat EGO. Who makes up to whom becomes the all pertinent and important question. Each is waiting for the other to take the initiative, to accept his wrong (mind you which is wrong according to you), apologize and make up.

A vicious circle forms when the fight begins in the first place out of some unmet or unmatched expectation or a clash of perspectives, which is further aggravated by the fact that the partner didn’t realize his fault and apologize or atleast not immediately, another unfulfilled expectation. Finally the circle breaks when one of you shows some sensibility to take the first step and talk.  Soon thereafter the stress begins to dissolve, the anguish begins to evaporate and the head and heart feel lighter. Despite this well vouched and personally experienced way, we choose not to do it.

I have an explanation for that because I have belonged there too several times. Our rationale is that why should I always make up or take the first step, after all I am not even wrong. Well, you should and you might take the first step because you are sensible, sensitive and after all suffering. So in your personal interest it’s the best thing to do. However, the ego will cross your path like a jinxed black cat right at the moment you set out to make things right. Dismiss the black cat and go ahead. I try to remind myself that being the first one to make up or communicate; neither depreciates me nor makes me vulnerable. It rather shortens my misery and proves that I am stronger than my ego.

Children are usually much closer to their divine self, which makes them more innocent and less corrupt, more easygoing and less egoistic. And probably this explains that no matter how much of a conflict comes between them and you, it resolves and neutralizes so much sooner. Also, with your kids your ego doesn’t flare up so much, hence there is minimum egoistic resistance from either side, there is a tender and affectionate exchange of energies, which is comforting. And it is well within our means to adopt this same approach with our partners. In fact we use our kids to start a conversation with or convey messages to our estranged spouses, because we shut down all forms of warm and direct responsiveness with them.

Life and people in it are precious. Differences, disagreements and expectations with these people are natural and predictable. We all have them but let’s not waste our days and mind by unduly stretching that rancidity and strain in relationships. Trust me it’s the most unproductive state of your mind. That morning my little sweetheart taught me to be quick to hug, quicker to hold hands and quickest to swallow your pride. By evening her lessons yielded me happy results.

Above all, why you should do what you need to do is because as Sister Shivani says, “let’s not be reflections and reflexes of others’ behaviour with us, let’s be our own.”  

GENERATIONAL GOSSIP

We are well in June and to the relief of majority parents, most schools have reopened or shall shortly do. The long summer holidays aren’t entirely regretted by mothers; after all it’s a welcome break from the monotony of the machine like mornings. But beyond the late morning joys, everything else is dysfunctional. My kids and their cousins cribbed that they were being constantly nagged for eating food that too home cooked, for showering on time, for watching too much t.v. or i-pad and not being allowed to play cricket in the hot sun. I don’t deny the charges. I un-fondly realize that we were indeed haggling over these issues every morning.

Such haggling usually drifts to mutually cathartic conversations between parents which then stray onto comparisons. Comparisons between generations as redundant as it is to do so, still happen and it is strangely entertaining like gossip. So my case is that we as kids weren’t as undisciplined or as spoilt for choices, or for luxury or tantrum throwing so why must my kids be. Can’t they be more disciplined, responsible and less reactive?

So now when this kind of conversation and comparison was happening on the dining table, my mother couldn’t be quiet for long. She started her story about how as a young daughter, daughter-in-law and mother their lives were so restrained and bonded, how they feared their in-laws, they didn’t go partying late nights, they were always cooking by hand for guests (of course they didn’t have swiggy), using diapers for their infants was a luxury and how much they sacrificed in the process of raising us up. I have heard this story several times before just as my kids have heard mine and secretly we both wish that our respective parents could stop narrating it another time. In fact when I meet my grandmother or grandmother-in-law, they too often narrate lives and culture of their times and funnily what stands out like in any gossip, is that that the narrating generation is always the nobler and more efficient one.

The point is when cultures change, social norms change and lifestyles change, it is inevitable for people not to change. These changes are for better or worse is another thing. When we are a very different set of parents today, how can our kids not be different than what we were? So how and why do we compare our children to our own childhood? Or why does a mother-in law compare her time as a daughter-in-law to her own daughter-in-law. Such generational comparisons are pretty much futile and out of context. What needs to be learnt, taught or corrected in every generation should happen but making comparisons to the past don’t serve that purpose at all. However, the undeniable fact remains that there are real challenges in bringing up children today, from the day to day food squabbles to other graver and intrinsic issues.

Yet, another not so acknowledged fact is that dealing with parents is not any easier either. Some matters of conflict are generational while some are specifically personal. Our parents and our kids both have their strong back stories, while we have our own. We are each coming from a different mind space with our accumulated baggage both conscious and subconscious. And from where we see, the other person’s behaviour seems highly unreasonable and inexplicable at times. A friend’s mom doesn’t seem very keen that her daughter steps out for fun or enjoys the night with her buddies. So most times her illness subconsciously gets worse on those occasions and it seems valid to her for my friend to cancel her plans. It sounds pretty irrational and is frustrating for anyone to endure.  A reverse case I heard of was of a young girl slipping into depression. She was a sweet, intelligent and talkative kid but some skin and metabolic disorder changed her a lot as a young adult. In her condition, a petite and fashionably dressed mother strutting around doesn’t help an iota to her confidence level.  While for the mother it might be disturbing to see a young depressed daughter.

In both the cases, they are all fighting their own demons. As an objective spectator, I feel my friend’s mother and the depressed daughter must be battling through intense insecurity to act unreasonably or feel dejected. Of course these cases are oddly numbered, but we all go through hiccups and hitches while dealing with our elders or younger ones. A parent child relationship at any age still has a lot of interlaced strings of responsibility, expectations, and attachments. As trivial as they are in the larger picture of life, they are highly significant in maintaining the daily harmony in homes.

The problem is that we are all looking at each other through the wrong lens. The lens which doesn’t depict the other’s reality but our own reflections or shadows.We are either trying to project ourselves in our kids or endeavouring to live upto the lingering standards and expectations of an older generation. And I don’t think this is changing anytime soon.

The most important job any generation can do for its next is to pass on the experience of compassion, respect, humility and humanity to feel and follow it on. If so much is accomplished I guess we can live with the nagging and haggling of food and screen time. Maybe that non-destructive chaos and conflict is really the essence of a parent and child bond of every age and generation.

P.S. (But sadly some conflicts are sometimes extremely vindictive and self harmful, and it’s best to seek counsel at the earliest.) 

“HAPPY HIGH” is PERKY, till it turns MURKY

You know, I have these moments where little embers of thoughts crisscross and fly around all over in my head. A hundred thoughts floating on the brain waves and you don’t know which one to ride upon.

However, this one particular ember is rather quite alive and sparkly even after days and takes me back to a party of few weeks ago. The razzmatazz of it is still vivid in my mind. The mood was upbeat, the music was foot tapping and the feet were inebriated. It wasn’t my first time to such an address but what I felt that day kind of made its way to my deeper cerebrum. As we were swaying to desi rap, I caught sight of this lady in her late fifties swinging with groovy vivacity without missing a beat. I have known her well and never would have I imagined her to let loose like that in a very familiar big crowd. I felt amazingly good to see her relishing that moment to herself. Maybe a few years down, she might feel nostalgic about granting herself that “happy high” carefree evening. 

In a lot of communities and families, alcohol is still a taboo or culturally totally unacceptable. It has a valid reasoning to be so, yet as a thinking adult I might not want to label it as black as it is done by some. A few swigs sometime so long as it doesn’t affect your rational judgement or kill your liver might be alright. But of course I know trying to set a social limit to it is not only quite naive but also undoable unless you stick to the medically approved limit. I am not validating this “vice” because it makes you an unabated dancer, but just that it lets you drop your guard a bit and shed your hesitation. Not in the wrong sense at all that you get disrespectful of your family or disregard culture or traditions or cast off your civility. It just helps you slow down your conscious self, and lets you be the person you want to be at that moment.

My analogy here might be faulty but it is something like the Sufi dervishes dancing in trance lost in the music of their higher energies. Or people fervently dancing at mata ki chowkis or kirtans. Before you label me sacrilegious or hold me in contempt of religious sentiment, let me clarify I am not comparing the occasion or the sentiment of two, I am comparing the similarity of the chemical influx that happens in the mind in both cases.  A devotee loses his self consciousness naturally in presence of that pure vibe while stimulants help to reach that subconscious pleasure zone where we wouldn’t naturally reach otherwise. As I always disclaim, I am not endorsing or promoting any chemical, organic or alcoholic intake or think it as a positive lifestyle trend. But it’s my personal belief that it sometimes lets you be or enjoy as a person you would wish to but wouldn’t dare.

At the same time, I see this glaring trend all around me viciously confining the definition of fun to nights of cheering and clinking glasses or rolling joints. There is this growing tribe who almost cannot believe that people can have fun or good times or memorable nights or trips without being “high”. And I literally cringe and rebel every time at such ridiculous opinions. I have enjoyed, laughed, danced and made memorable nights as much without a pitcher of sangria as much with it and anybody and everybody else can too. This escalating ubiquity and dependence on stimulants and making it as much a part of our routine like lunch or dinner is indeed terribly worrisome. It makes you wonder about the deteriorating mental landscape of our generation, which is so highly dependent on stimulants to have a good laugh. Only if we weren’t prone to being carried away into over indulgence and abided by some drinking discipline and moderation, it would be so much healthier physically, mentally, socially and culturally.

We are brought up and live in a society of several norms and restraints. And they are probably needed to avoid anarchy and instability at large. But a lot of times, we pay the price as individuals to conform to these obsolete or unneeded norms. Generations before us, have paid that price more so. But ours and generations after us are more non-conformists or pragmatists, who are unwilling to accept or follow customs that need some revision with time. That evening, what those couple of drinks did to that lady was not made her dance, it let her shed her inhibitions and find joy in her movement. A dance of sheer pleasure. It’s not that she cannot step out a few nights for fun; she may well outright buy off a few clubs. But we are so socially conditioned and chained in our parochial mindsets that a lady in her late fifties, swaying in a disc with her set of friends seems almost impalpable as much to her as to others. How many of us can imagine our parents, no matter how fond they are of dancing on good music upon neon lights or simply “hanging out”, take a leap into a night club or a disc? Abysmally few.  Not because they didn’t want to but because they were conditioned to believe that they shouldn’t. The conditioning is slowly falling apart and I wouldn’t say it’s wrong.

It’s a fairly recent cultural change to see these bunches of late teenagers, this crowd of early thirties to early forties and a ghetto of late fifties all under the same roof of any resto-bars enjoying the same atmosphere but in very different ways.  In the larger picture, it is not about consuming alcohol or being a teetotaller; it is about accepting change with time and letting it assimilate in our mindsets. Moderation is the key to any sustainable social fabric; it is only the extremity of any which makes it a vice. A little bit of discipline can go a long way in creating so much more fun and openness between generations and social outlook.

I raise a toast to good times with moderation!! Makes sense, our kids are growing up fast, let’s be open but better examples to them.

What Comes Before and After Love?

One evening, over dinner, I spent the entire dinner time validating my role as a homemaker to my son. He simply commented that he has to get up early every morning, go to school, study there, go for tennis coaching, etc, while I can just be sitting at home. Of course I couldn’t take offence to a seven year old's understanding of my work or my choice, but I couldn’t leave his flawed notions of a homemaker’s job unchecked. Thankfully, my father -in-law was right around and he pushed my case rightly so. This piece of writing is definitely not to glorify the role of a homemaker or prove the worth of my work to anybody. Nevertheless, I tried my best to change my son’s ideas about it.

However, after our little talk, I realized what I was trying do all along. I was desperately trying to establish “respect” for my work and myself. “Respect” is somehow an underrated value in our sensibilities; we do not fully comprehend or appreciate its dimensions in our lives. Some people earn salaries, some earn fame, some earn fortunes but every single man irrespective of his age, class, profession or job strives to earn respect, without so much as knowing it. Even a toddler demands it in our dealing with him. And the moment he perceives it, he is so much more receptive to our talking.

It’s a need which stems from the fact that while we aren’t looking for veneration or admiration all the time, we are certainly not fine with anybody disparaging, undermining or trivializing our individuality. Good attention from anyone at any age is always heartening; coming from the opposite sex is more so exciting. But at a whimsical youngish age it is somewhat self affirming and confidence boosting. Long ago when I was at that age, I told something rather sensible to my still younger cousin. I told her, “You know darling, ten guys might like you and ten guys might not like you. But what’s important is that all twenty respect you.” Years later, she still remembered it as wise words from a sister. Having grown from that juvenile self to a slightly mature self, I do feel that we reach a stage in life where we aren’t looking so much to be loved, as much to be respected; we aren’t looking for so many compliments, as much for assurance.

    

That night of the dialogue with my son, I didn’t get much sleep and this tangent question constantly drummed in my head, “how much we yearn to be significant in the lives of those who are significant to us and how much that relevance or influence upon them comforts us?” At first thoughts, you might really not know how to answer it in terms of your own life. But just revisiting our interactions and our emotional needs, makes it apparent. When you tell a loved one “Miss me”, you want that your absence doesn’t go unnoticed or unaffected by them; you want to be a part of their thoughts in some little way. When you tell your friend or partner over any important matter, “Call me as soon as you finish it”, you want to be the first one to partake in his joy or thrill. When your child comes home running looking around for you, it shows you have a certain comforting place in his life, when your husband wants to have a drink with you at the end of a long day, it just means he enjoys unwinding with you. There’s a need for significance and an assurance of significance in these gestures without professing love.

I know being significant and being respected are two different things and yet I am writing about it in the same breadth because in close-knit relationships they get inter-related. It isn’t enough to be significant sometimes. I knew I am important to my son, he needs me around him, and I am the one he turns to for every need.  Yet I had to make sure he respected me and what I stood for. It is my need to be significant with dignity. With people close to your heart and life, you want both in reasonable measure. With my son, it was simpler to establish or almost ask for “respect” because of my age and current significance and position in his life. However, the situation is precarious when it comes to relationships of conjugal nature or between equal individuals. Even when you feel it missing or lacking from the opposite person, you are hesitant or embarrassed to ask for it lest it looks like charity or punctures your ego. Both relevance and respect are genuinely meaningful and satisfying only when they are naturally felt and expressed by the other.

We all want it, we all crave for it, we all wait for it, so it might do good if we are vocal about it, expressive about it, and cherish it.  We have a thousand times told our loved ones the three beautiful words ‘I love you’, but this might be the time to say the three significant words, “I Respect You.”

One Heart that Beats Twice

Post valentine seemed like a good time to mull over some love issues though I worry that putting it across on a public domain might stir up a hornet’s nest. Nevertheless, with all my sincerity I am asking it upfront, “Is it possible to be in love with two people at the same time”? I assume a very instinctive, strong and divided opinion base has already quelled up amongst the readers in this very instant of reading the question.

At the outset, let me be clear about it, it isn’t talking about double dating, flings or some such frivolous stuff because you can most definitely be enjoying multiple dating fun depending on your wooing skills. What we are talking about is having some honest, genuine and sincere feelings for more than one person at the same time, and it of course includes the romantic angle. People in a committed relationship and bound by it may not necessarily be happy in it. So they naturally tend to look for companionship elsewhere or are attracted to another who might fulfill that lacking in their lives. However, the question here is that you might be completely satisfied and happy in one relationship, but have genuine feelings for someone else as well. And that someone could be somebody from your past or somebody you met later.

It’s not criminal or scandalous or unthinkable to love more than one person. It is a natural occurrence which gets pushed more so by human infallibility. Not that I am endorsing multiple love relationships or consider them sacred,  all I am putting forward is that the idea or the act of loving more than one person is not so blasphemous or far-fetched after all. It is arguable that if you are already in love and happy with one person, why would you or how can you love another. Well, love is a very nuanced emotion and you might feel very distinct love for the two people which doesn’t overlap or hinder one another. It would rather be wrong to compare the two or weigh them against any scale.

I wouldn’t say very simplistically that love just happens. It happens because you feel a “connect” with the other, a vibe which is more than pleasant, rather euphoric, and you are drawn to them for no particular reason or many reasons. And this “connect” might happen at the first sight or after knowing them for a while. There is no law whether natural or man-made which forbids a person to love another while still in love with the first one. In fact it would be the most unnatural or hypocritical thing to deny it.

Whether or not you can love two people simultaneously is merely a question, the real quagmire is what do you do of that double love filled in your heart? In monogamous societies, we are of course by law precluded from having multiple legal partners. So the question of legalizing it is redundant. But what matters is the choice you make and the stand you take on a personal level. Feeling love for someone, having expressed it and being reciprocated for it takes you to a sublime state, which you wouldn’t want to snap out of ever. However, because you love and care for both sincerely, your euphoria is marred by a sense of guilt. This guilt is not about loving another but for hurting the first and usually the lawful partner. You may not have established any physical or tangible relationship with the other, but even an emotional or mental connect can be as disturbing and difficult for the first partner to accept.

As liberal minded and accepting we might believe ourselves to be, and expect or hope that the other might also understand and look at things the same way, it doesn’t work. Despite the fact that your newer feelings have been purely accidental or instinctive, haven’t changed the dynamics or equation of your existing relationship in the slightest, and that you only enjoy and cherish the other person without restructuring anything in your life, it will but cause stinging pain to your first partner.

The reasons are simple and all too human. It feels like they are being replaced, like they aren’t enough anymore and somebody is invading their personal territory. There might be traces of ego giving rise to that pain, but it is more like losing their beautiful intimacy and precious something to someone else. Today you might be in love with two people, but tomorrow if roles reverse and you become one of the two lovers in your partner’s life, trust me it will hurt you as much. Your open mindedness, your own experience of doing it, your attempt to be accepting, nothing will help from not feeling that stab of your space suddenly being slit and shared. You might rationally understand your partner’s perspective, which will make it easier to let go eventually but nothing prepares you from not feeling the crushing of your heart. However, such experiences don’t necessarily apart the couples or partners forever. We are greatly vulnerable humans both physically and emotionally but accepting and understanding those vulnerabilities can draw us closer and stronger.

Human that we are, we feel by instinct and human that we are, we act by deliberation. Human that we are, we may love simply, but human that we are, we live complexly. Human that we are, we can love two, but human that we are, we might have to make choices. Human that we are, we raise questions, and human that we are, we tend to judge the answers. I will not comment on any answer to my question, all I feel is that if one love hurts the other for its place or survival, the joy in it will soon begin to perish anyway. And love without that seamless joy only remains a barren word whether it’s for one or both.  

"The Good Mother"

“Motherhood” – a role which we have collectively epitomized as an ocean of unconditional love and care, and personified to unparalleled sacrifice and goodness. Probably it is for this lofty character that a mother is always standing in the court of opinions where judgements are constantly passed upon the efficiency of her job.

However, times have changed and the mother is no more the supremely sacrificing, innocent, simpleton lady. She is the all knowing, in-charge, clever mother who believes in putting herself at priority at times. But one thing that hasn’t changed is her position in the judgement box. And this became starkly clearer when I attended a session called “The Good Mother” with the very renowned Shobha De and Natasha Badhwar as panelists. The fact that there was such a session conducted corroborates its relevance without a doubt.

At the end of the session, there was a recently divorced lady who put forth this question to the panelists, “Ma’am, after living and trying to accommodate in an unhappy marriage for years, I finally decided to come out of it. Am I still a good mother?” She meant that she put herself before the consequences of a broken marriage for her daughter. And in having done so, is she right as a mother. This made me realize how much approval and validation we are looking for, while playing this very instinctive and natural role of motherhood.

I have been a mother for good eight years now and yes there are those amazing moments when you feel so accomplished not so much as a mother but a nurturer. When your kids show that unexpected innocent kindness or honesty or affection, you feel like you might be raising them right. But trust me those moments are hopelessly few when compared to the other ones. Because there are absolute times when a mother’s sanity is relentlessly kicked and bruised, her patience is slashed and slit, and every ounce of her good-naturedness is tried and trampled upon by her very adorable kids. And when she reiterates, the world around her is quick to frame opinions and express their uninhibited judgements upon her insensitive and callous ways of treating her child.

The mother tagging is rather the privilege of all generations including your own kids. For all the days in a year, if you need to tell the kids, “please change into your night clothes, it’s bedtime”, “please sit and eat your food on the table”, “wash your hands and feet after play”...and not on a single day do they do any of it at your first time request, at your second time instruction, at your third time desperation, the fourth time even an angel will yell. And then you hear a second voice, “Don’t be so impatient and impolite with the kids.” And you gape open mouthed like ...Huh? This second voice is not your own inner soul reprimanding you; it’s a third person’s take on your behaviour or your own kids shoving advice to you. Every time I scold my four year old munchkin, she makes me say sorry to her without exception.

I am in my late thirties, and so a lot of mothers or parents in my generation will relate to the fact that we had strict parental upbringing. And when I say strict, I mean you needed to pick up behavioural cues only by the eye movement of your parents. No words, only non-verbal cues. And there wasn’t any leeway to go wrong or you have had had it. So now when this older generation comments that you are being very hard on your kids, you are too stern with too many rules, I find it laughable. I mean, did you never scream at us, did you not slap us ever or threatened to lock us in the bathroom? So why these judgements when we are going through that same arduous task of raising kids.

I am by no means supporting that what’s wrong should continue in every generation or there shouldn’t be a change for better. But there’s more scope for understanding the situation than liberally announcing your opinions. It might look like what’s the big deal if somebody calls you a stern mother; it does matter or hurt because to the mother’s ears it sounds like you are a “monstrous” mother. And it is frustrating. Funnily, I have also observed that it doesn’t end at being insensitive, there is this huge baggage of being an under nourishing mother as well. The moment you birth your child, there is an inundating flood of food advice. About how you need to give almonds, raisins, walnuts, honey, tulsi, amla, even barley water, and on and on to that baby. And whatever you might be doing, there will always be a gap and need to go a step further for his better nourishment. In some cases the advices are an ongoing process no matter how old your kids have turned. 

  

I did attend a wonderful course on parenting and I wholeheartedly agree that as parents we do need to change some of our ways both in upbringing and dealing with our beloved kids. I try to be as mindful as I can but yes I fail often. But seriously you need to cut some slack to the poor yelling mother. People, it’s inevitable sometimes, almost ritualistic to scream in certain situations like, “switch off the bloody T.V.” or it never happens.  

The whole judgement thing is not about these seemingly trivial or routine matters. We as a population and tribe are prone to comparisons and judgements. There are all sorts of mothers, working mothers, home maker mothers, active mothers, lax mothers, liberal mothers, strict mothers, etc. When you hold your opinion or judge her as an individual she doesn’t mind it so much. But when somebody targets her role and her place as a mother or parent in her child’s life, it feels rancid. In all societies, there is paramount cultural pressure upon mothers to succeed as mothers. And under its pressure, we are constantly justifying ourselves or looking for validation.

At the end of the day, what matters as a mother is not how much or how little I scream or yank at my kids, but if I give them so much more love and security to fade away the memory and drown the noise of those screams? And despite seeming like a cranky virago of a mother, if my love reaches and is received by my kids’ eager hearts and it heals and nurtures them when it should, I think I might be a fairly good mother.    

The Story behind Your Being

Ever wondered, why do we call ourselves human beings and not homosapiens?

Sebastian Faulks is an accomplished British writer and reading his recent interview nudged my curiosity sufficiently. “Who we are” and “What we are”, are the two impertinent questions underlying the theme for most of his books, which he has endeavored to answer. Though I haven’t read any of his works, it prodded me to think of my own about it.  

It is conclusively rested that we are homosapiens, who chose to evolve superior in the Darwinian selection to create our niche. But what followed next is of real interest to me, the journey that made us call human beings from homosapiens. In this context, “Who and what we are”, is largely shaped by and is in relation to our surroundings.

Over the eons, we have zealously outperformed ourselves repeatedly, from the cave hunters to multicultural civilizations, from the modest discovery of wheels to Elon Musk’s space vehicles, from settling at the river banks to carrying our legacy to the peak of Mt. Everest, from hieroglyphics to sensory detective communication. This is an astounding, fantastical and overwhelming inheritance of human journey which has been passed down and shall continue to with all its social, economical, cultural and artistic entourage. However, in essence of the two underlying questions, we are most visibly and evidently so much more than our marvellous legacy.

It bamboozles me utterly to think how in the natural selection of our evolution, did we chance upon the stupendously intriguing and intricate faculties of emotions and mind to work upon. There is a constant juxtaposition of feelings and intellect that we all experience. And against the backdrop of this emotional and logical battle it is particularly relevant to answer who we are?  We are charlatans who play gimmicks of the mind and heart. And while trying to be tricksters, funnily, we so often get tricked by our own games not in the least realizing it.

Let’s consider a simple situation, say you had fallout in a relationship. All of us do. However, after that fallout, didn’t you expectantly wait for that one call which might make it right again? And all the while, while waiting didn’t you deceive yourself by repeating, “I don’t care a damn if he/she calls or not”. Well the fact is that you and I give the entire heck to hear that one beep of his message. This is exactly why I say we are charlatans. We aspire love and acknowledgement to the core but fear to admit it. And I haven’t researched but I believe that even the over-evolved humans like Einstein, Freud, Beethoven or Steve Jobs would have aspired as much love and respect as any common man does.

So who we are? We are simply creatures of love. We have established unflinching superiority as homosapiens but at the very crux of life we are no different than any other organism on this planet. A favourable environment of positivity and love affects every living organism in the same way be it homosapiens, animals or plants even water as famously claimed by the Japanese researcher Masaru Emoto. Having accepted that, shall I ask what are we? I think we are frightened love seekers. We seek what we lack. And the fact that we crave for so much love outside, implies we lack it so much within. But we are scared to accept this because it makes us feel incomplete and imperfect.

When we expand love from a personal perspective to the vast universal level, it is no longer limited to romantic or platonic love relationships. It can best be defined as an abstract feeling of goodness. The moment a fellow human’s act or gesture made you feel good, or yours did the same to him, it is an experience of love. And this definition holds perfectly true even on a personal basis. Love isn’t a reductionist potion of simmering egos or dependency. But yes at the current stage of our emotional evolution, it is an exchange of expectations. That’s how it works in the real world. Let’s not be unrealistic and think of it in a utopian spiritual scenario. As long as we can give and get love, I see it working well.  The only test in this exchange is that, the moment it loses its airy, buoyant and vibrant stimuli and begins to strangulate, the expectations need a check. Readjustment is tricky but not out of question. After all, our mental faculties have developed intelligently enough to work it out if we wish so.

The irony or the anticlimax as I might say of our evolution is that we evolved and progressed incredulously for almost nothing at the end.  From Neanderthals, to homosapiens, to human beings we wrote literature, poetry, songs, we created music, dance, drama, we invented gastronomy and technology. In our progressive giant leaps we have phenomenally indulged every sensory dimension of our existence. But when it really matters at the heart of being who we are, absolutely nothing of the above counts. What matters is the unspoken, untouched, intangible connect of love, which reaches another with the sheer blink of your eyes, sometimes even without that.