The Gift

I want to give Mark Zuckerberg a great big collective hug from all of us prehistoric beings (read as 'those born before the times of the internet')...

You see, Facebook is giving us a very special gift indeed!

How else would I have located my teen-time buddy, with whom I pretended to study Chemistry and Physics, studied neighbourhood boys, read 'hot' bits from Mills and Boon novels, and painted the town red?

And in what other way could I have reconnected with my very first 'best friend' - one who wrote a poem about me in Class 1... and for whom I ran to reserve space on the school merry-go-round at breaktime everyday?

There are many many others, with whom I had lost touch decades ago, but found via FB in the last 2-3 years. But a handful of them, like those above, are truly special. Finding these special ones and sharing your lives all over again is a thrilling feeling indeed!

Last week Mark Z's baby did it once again. I found a couple of long lost friends on FB... and with that, discovered anew an important phase of my life that has, at least in recent times, not found pride of place in my reminiscences. And so, now I must share the story of the Kalonia sisters, and some memories from the first few years of matrimony...

Kalonial Times

Dan-ta-ra. Flashback..

Sudarshan and I are just married, and leading a hippie-like existence in a 1-bedroom flat in Munirka. Sudarshan has to travel a great deal. But he always comes back on time though - on time for his next trip. That leaves me with a lot of time on my hands... and no one except the portly middle aged neighbourhood ladies for company. The idea of mingling amicably with them in my free time to talk about maid-servant hassles and in-law woes is quite alien to me. Of course, there are our neighbours upstairs- a joint family where a live soap opera plays out daily. But after some time, one gets tired of the same old melodrama, and even the thrill of learning new swear words in Hindi and Punjabi wears off..

That's when I found the Kalonia sisters - Vaishali and Sonali. It is difficult to explain what exactly they were to me. Technically, I was their teacher, since I was teaching at the Naval Public School where they were studying. But the actual equation we shared was hardly teacher-student - let's say it was more 'Abe Oye' than 'Good evening Ma'am'. Vaishali and I hit it off at once - we got along like a house... rather, a whole colony on fire. Sonali joined the party some time later, no doubt impeded initially by the fact that I was teaching her Math (her most hated subject) at school.

Very soon we became sisters-in-arms. Upon their return from school, they would barely touch home before they were in my house. We would hang out together, cook up interesting snacks, share music, or just indulge in wink-wink nudge-nudge girl talk. Once in a while, we would have a sleepover at their place, talking late into the night over food and the latest Grammy videos.

Their Mom frowned upon this arrangement though - she thought I was a bad influence. Can't really blame her, since I behaved more like a debauched hippie than a prudent and respectable teacher. To make things worse, I wore no sign of being legally married - no mangal sutra, no sindoor, no 'shankha-pola'... nothing. So for her, I was a libertine whose origins, morals, and marital status were all suspect - a total no-no as a companion for her daughters at that impressionable age..

But Vaishali and Sonalil were at that point in their teens - when if your follks want you to go East, you naturally go West.  And I think I had not outgrown my teens either. So we drew even closer.

Ditched!

My reminiscing about those days will be incomplete without one particular story.

Soon after we were married, Sudarshan (for reasons unknown till date) had decided that I needed to learn that one thing every new bride must know (no no, it's not cooking... or the finer points of Kama Sutra) - riding a bicycle. Accordingly, he spent a couple of days to teach me to ride. Which, incidentally, was not a simple job, since I  seemed to have had the singular knack of turning the handlebar of the bike directly towards any approaching vehicle or person while riding . So, to avoid giving heart attacks to unsuspecting drivers and pedestrians, I started practising daily in the afternoon, when there would be fewer moving objects on the streets to try and run into.

This seemed like a great idea... till that fateful day when I fell off the bicycle while trying to stop it (you see, Sud had only taught me pedalling... not how to start or stop that damned thing!). So, there I was - sprawled in a ditch at an awkward angle, with the bike twisted over me at an even more awkward angle. And having so carefully chosen a time when the streets were deserted, there was no one to rescue me.

That is the situation in which the Kalonia sisters found me. And it is not everyday that you see your Math teacher lying in a ditch. That too, one who resembled an overly ambitious contortionist - bent at an impossible angle and  waving her legs in the air, seemingly pedalling at the bike that was lying atop her. (I was doing this in a  rather futile attempt to dislodge and kick away the bike...).

To cut a long story short, the Kalonia sisters rescued me, and it kind of sealed the friendship.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Last month, we made a brief visit to our old house in Munirka. And as I gazed fondly at the spot where I had lain in the ditch, I resolved to try and find Vaishali and Sonali again.

And last week, I did. And it definitely is an event in my life. Because the times we shared were not only the growing up years for them, it was growing up years for us too - as a couple, and as individuals living independently for the first time. For Vaishali and Sonali our house meant a taste of grown-up life and freedom, for me their company meant the stolen joys of youth in the times of sudden hardship and responsibility. Reconnecting with them brought back waves and waves of memories - all the struggle of those early years of marriage, and all the fun...

The interesting thing is, I don't think the coming generations are going to experience the thrill of finding a long lost friend at all- Messrs Zuckerberg et al will make sure people never go out of touch in the first place! A good thing? Umm... maybe, and then again, maybe not!

You lose something precious, think it is gone forever... think of it less and less often as time goes by... only to discover it suddenly, after years, at the most unexpected time and place. And the joy of that is absolutely unparalleled!

Vaishali called me - all the way from California, barely minutes after she confirmed my friend's request on FB. 2 days later, it was Sonali. While ending our call, Vaishali said, "Now I'll have a smile on my face throughout the day!"

And the smile on mine is still going on, and on, and on...
                 

Our Leh-Days

Leh jayenge!

It looked like it was going to happen after all - the four of us taking off for a family holiday to Ladakh!

This might seem like a simple enough task to some families - but for us, it was not. Let me explain. Honestly, in the past 5 years or so, it might have been easier to get Shahrukh, Salman and Amir in the same room rather than the 4 of us!! Our schedules were definitely mismatched - maybe even our preferences. Sudarshan only took time off from his work and tours to visit home once in a while. Amartya's attitude towards home was that  'it's a decent place for getting a bed, a clean loo, and breakfast - FREE!'. And as for me, people had started commenting that my laptop and I would make a great Fevicol ad.

So, you see, it was no mean feat to get our act together and actually take off for this holiday as a team.. 

'Don't be a Gama in the Land of Lama'

View of Leh

Landing at Leh airport, we were met by our college-time-ka-yaar Amit, now Colonel Amit Srivastava - and promptly given (in true military style) a talking to about the do's and don'ts of being in a high altitude cold desert. This was summarised best in the one-liner posted on the walls of the guest house at the army camp : "Don't be a Gama in the Land of Lama". Simply put - I think this translates into 'Leave your ego behind and don't try to prove your physical prowess when you come to Ladakh.' :)


We soon realised that when they say Ladakh is a place of 'breathtaking beauty', it is quite literally so!! The awe-inspiring visuals hit you even as you land at Leh, but so does the lack of oxygen. We wheezed and panted at the smallest hint of physical activity..

First day at Leh: Much puffing, panting and TT

So, for the next 1.5 days we cooled our heels (or should I say warmed them?) in our cosy beds with the TV, and Asterix & Obelix for company. When tired of resting, we would all troop off to the sports room - where 2 of the adults would take turns to play TT, while the third tried to restrain Ananya from decimating the pool table with the cue...

On the third day, just when we were starting to feel  rather settled in our warm rooms, we had to leave for a day-trip to Pangong Lake - which many now refer to as the '3 Idiots Lake'. On the way, we had to cross Chang-La pass, the third highest motorable road in the world, at a height of 17586 ft. While driving up to the pass, we came across our first snow on the hillside - some old, sad looking, mud splattered snow. Since the kids had never seen snow before, we asked the driver if we could get down and touch it, because we might not find any later. He gave us a look that was 75% amusement and 25% disdain, and said, "Aage snow hi snow hai, aur kuch nahi dikhega." 

And so there was! Soon we were amidst the real thing - deep, pristine white snow all around! It was absolutely fantafabulous! But as luck would have it, we got stuck in a bad traffic jam near the pass. Now, the menfolk - namely Sudarshan, Amartya and an army jawan who had accompanied us, had not paid heed to the warning of the first day. So, trying to be Gamas in the land of Lama, they had come without adequate warm clothing. And at 17586 ft that is not a joke! Well, they had to pay the price for their indiscretions... To cut a long story short - by the end of the trip, the only ones who had not revealed (in grisly detail) the contents of their breakfast, mid-morning snack and lunch, were Ananya and I... :)

Pangong Tso - Serenity unlimited...

But the one hour we spent at the Pangong lake made it all worth the while. As I keep saying, you can't get much closer to heaven on earth than this place...

Over the next 4-5 days, we saw the magnificent Indus (Sindhu) river winding its way through the mountains; sighted marmots, kiangs, and yaks;  travelled over the world's highest motorable road at Khardung-la to cross over into the mesmerizing Nubra valley; saw the sand dunes at Hundar and got a taste of the Silk Road experience on the two-humped bactrian camels ...

(Here, Amartya and Ananya remind me that I have forgotten to mention the most remarkable thing we experienced during the trip - the butter chicken served at the army guest house at Pratap Pur, where we spent the night at Nubra... :) )

We even experienced a fresh snowfall (near Khardungla) and a sandstorm (at Nubra) - within a span of 24 hours...!!!

Seriously, how much more can you live life in one week? :)

'Test your Nerves on My Curves'

:D

Wondering what that is? Well it's only one of the many quirky road signs you see while driving in and around Ladakh. While some of them make you grin ('Lower Your Gear, Curve is Near'), others make you wonder ('Darling I like you, but not so fast')... and still others are pretty bizarre ('If You Are Married, Divorce Speed'). What about bachelors, divorcees, widowers et al, you ask!

Well, if nothing else, at least some people slow down near the signs just to read them for their entertainment value!

Jule, Ladakh!

A word about the Ladakhi people. Initially, we felt quite shocked hearing the taxi fares etc. in Leh - and were just starting to feel that rank commercialization is taking over the place. But once we got talking to the taxi drivers etc, we understood exactly how tough life is for the locals - for most of them, it's severe weather and no income in the six months of winter. But still, they are always courteous and cheerful. The cheery 'Ji ji ji' with which they pepper all their talk stays in your mind and makes you smile long after you have parted...


Mesmerizing visuals. A surprise waiting almost at every turn of the road as the visuals change dramatically. Exotic animals. Amazing serenity. Charming people. Ladakh is a magnificent place indeed, but one of the main reasons for this trip being really special for us was the special people there - our old friends. There was Amit and his family, with whom we shared a few quiet evenings over cocktails or kawa chai in the strategically located gazebo at the army camp - surrounded by the mountains and howling evening winds.


And then there was Colonel Sonam Wangchuk and his lovely extended family - Sudarshan's friends and neighbours from his childhood days in Delhi. What a great yakking session we all had... transported back to those old days in R. K. Puram - those days when we would play outdoors till late in the evening, sleep in charpais out in the open, bunk school to go and catch the latest Amitabh Bachchan flick, and so so much more! All this over steaming bowls of thukpa and some enchanting live music provided by the two boys, Amartya and Riggyal (Col Sonam's son)...


(Incidentally, Colonel Wangchuk is a Kargil war hero, and a Mahavir Chakra awardee. There is even a scene in the film 'Lakshya' that is based on his feat at Kargil - but we really couldn't remember when we last met such a down-to-earth, and totally chilled out person! We felt so proud knowing him!)


We left Ladakh wishing to return someday, with much time on hand. And yes, we felt much closer as a family than we had felt for a long time. So, "Jule, Ladakh!" it is! Jule - that priceless word in the local lingo which means everything from 'hello', to 'thank you'...


Jule, indeed.

Leh Gate

The kids fooling around on the banks of Indus

The silk route experience on Bactrian camels at Nubra valley

Falling snowflakes - at South Pullu
 on way to Khardungla pass

No escape from traffic jams - even at 17000 ft
(near Khardungla pass, the world's highest motorable road)

Pontifications on Auntification

Ok… I have swept this topic under the carpet for long enough now… it is time I outed it. Friends, sisters, countrywomen…it is time to protest against a grave injustice being done to us. I am talking about that serious threat to the well being of urban Indian women– the menace of ‘Auntification’.

Consider the scenario. You are a woman some years above 30 (let's leave that part vague). You consider yourself fairly presentable, and a pretty good amount of attentiveness comes your way. You are used to jaws dropping when you reveal that you have kids, and the same dropping 2 inches further when you reveal your age. And then the bubble bursts – some full grown adult goes and calls you ‘Aunty’…   

And at once, you know- your time is near. Even before you can spell 'AUNTYJI', all that attentiveness and jaw-dropping will be gone. Soon, you would firmly be sent on your way with a one-way ticket to Auntyland.

I clearly remember the first time someone called me 'Aunty'. It was a neighbour of ours in Munirka. I was all of 23 and just married. Well, having been brought up in Delhi with colourful Punj neighbours, I felt like retorting, “%%$$##@, Aunty kisko bola be? Tu hoga Aunty. Teri behen Aunty. Tera poora khandan Aunty...!!!"

But then, that is not authentic Auntification. At 23, if a 30-year-old oddball decides to call you 'Aunty' just because you happen to be married, you can afford to laugh it off. I am talking SERIOUS Auntification here.

Of course, we are prepared for the final slaughter from early on – we have a kid when in our late twenties or early thirties, and the kid’s friends start calling us ‘Aunty’. So, by the time we reach the forties and serious-midlife-crisis time, we are kind of numbed to the 'A' word. But still, the initial stages of true Auntification – when full grown adults, not just kids, start calling  us ‘Aunty’, is hard on us – really hard..

Well, it’s an age-old problem (pun unintended), as you would say. But I say, why only us? Can you imagine being called ‘Aunty’ - not only by young adults in the neighbourhood, but also by casual acquaintances, the plumber, the watchman, and even strangers on a train - if you happen to be living in the US, or Japan, or the UK? Even if you are classic Aunty material, you would just be 'Suchi' to most people, without that abominable ‘A’ word to remind you all the time that you are getting on… and deepening your midlife crisis. X-(

Thankfully, rural India is as yet untouched by the Aunty Affliction. There, 6 to 60-year-olds call you ‘Didi’ rather endearingly. In villages that are close to a town it is sometimes ‘Madam’ (which is distasteful, but one can shrug it off). Strangely, when a 60-year old village woman calls me ‘Didi’, I don’t mind it at ALL- rather, it induces quite a pleasant sense of camaraderie. On the other hand, when an urban adult calls me ‘Aunty’, I feel quite, quite keen to strangle him/her with my bare hands…

And so, we fight back. With all we have got. Trying to delay the onset of Auntification, we slather on age-defying creams. We run on treadmills as if for dear life. We join programmes that promise to vibrate all the wobbly we-are-your-mortal-enemy chunks of flesh off our body. We worry more about our peeping grey roots than we do about a nuclear holocaust. We look up (for newer and more outlandish ideas of preservation)  to well-preserved idols like Demi Moore - who regularly botox  and detox (using leeches, apparently) - remaining gorgeous, naturally… (Pun very much intended.)

Really, is this all not getting a bit too stressful and demanding?

So I say, it is high time, ladies… let us rise as one against the rampant Auntification of our society… let us revolt... start a movement!

What is that - a meeting of the movement to discuss strategy - next week, you say? Sure thing, suits me just fine - gives me just enough time to get my root touch-up and anti-aging facial... I'll go call up the parlour RIGHTAWAY...

(This write-up was inspired by Seema Goswami's article in HT Brunch) http://www.hindustantimes.com/Brunch/Brunch-Stories/Who-are-you-calling-Aunty/Article1-830289.aspx