Getting started!

There’s no way I can begin my journey through ‘Blogspot’ without dedicating my first ever post to the one and only Lohitha! Thank you, Ms Reddy for initiating me into the wondrous world of blogs by giving me the first taste of it through your salacious jottings! I owe this one to you!!

This blog is born out of an impulse, though it has been on the cards for a while. I’m glad having finally created it and the fact that I’m typing this maiden post in the dead of the night – 2:42 AM to be precise – is adding a certain forbidden thrill to it! I’m glad I finally have a medium that allows me to vitriolic, vain, whimsical and also verbose!

Amritsar

Life here has brought its own set of learning and yearning! I spent much of my day in the house, shut off from the rest of the world (that is, if you rule out Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn; the works!) and I could be living in Ahmedabad or Kolkata! But the random excursion to a dhaba selling exotic Kulche, the huge, ubiquitous signboards painted in Gurmukhi or the rustic aplomb with which my domestic help asks, “Kake, Ae ki khalara paya hai?” reminds me that I’m part of a most unlikely setting now! I’m in Amritsar – the epicenter of Punjabi-hood!

A visit to the Golden Temple about a month back brought home an endearing sense of fulfillment. The radiant Harmandir Sahib sat glowing, amid the dark, calm water of the sarovar, exuding piety, inspiring awe and supreme devotion – truly a sight to behold. We were glad we could visit it in the night when the temple is at its resplendent best!

The langar was another revelation: hundreds eating in one batch and several batches every day. Hundreds providing a helping hand, serving food, wiping the floor, cleaning the dishes, with a simple thought guiding them all: service is godliness. If you want a roti, you need to join your palms and it’ll be dropped on it. That’s when every trace of vanity evaporates. You beg to the Benevolent One and he obliges.

The man whom I saw sweeping the marble steps of the Harmandir Sahib with just his bare hands, collecting the dust in his palm, will stay with me for long. He’ll come to my mind whenever I meditate over the idea of unadulterated devotion. Every Sikh dreams of visiting the temple at least once in his lifetime. It’s the Mecca of Sikhism and it was a few days after the visit that I discovered why. The sanctum sanctorum houses the only copy of Guru Granth Sahib handwritten by the great Gurus – the sacred relic. This s what makes it the holiest of all Sikh shrines in the world!

The city and us

Ever since moving to the city, my mother has been distressed over the fact that her enviable collection of sarees is of no meaning here. Everybody wears salwar-kameez. If you go out draped in a saree, you’re declaring being an outsider and asking to be treated like one. “People think you’re deficient in some way. You can see it in their eyes,” says my mother, feeling utterly baffled that wearing a saree can actually make her feel bad in India! “99% women are in salwar suits,” she observes, as we drive through the city. She infers sadly that the only kind sporting a saree comprises laborer women and domestic helps imported from across the Indo-gangetic plains. “We keep the sarees for special occasions. Parties, functions, formal meetings,” my Punjabi landlady explained. “How many parties can one attend?” my mother wonders. “My collection is doomed to rot in the wardrobe!” The next time we visit the old market in the walled city, she makes it a point that she buys five new suit pieces.

Mummy hasn’t moved here for good yet. She’s a teacher and is waiting for this session to get over. She is putting up alone for now, in a cozy little apartment provided by her school. This is her chance to discover the delights of being completely on her own like a college student – something she couldn’t do when she was growing up. My father misses her food though. Very badly!

He hates the dhabe ka khana that he has to chomp down every day. Tandoori rotis are no fun if eaten twice a day and seven days a week. He is considering going on a diet where he eats lots of fruits and not much else. His new job requires him to be proficient in computers. He had never thought he’ll someday have to exchange so many e-mails on a daily basis. For years, my sister and I had taken turns to manage his email account. He’s now learning to use a computer and the internet, and getting better at it every day. He writes emails to his brothers and friends every night after dinner and, then, excitedly goes through the replies from the previous day. He’s found a new engagement after years. His new job is tiring yet fun and he loves every moment of it! It’s a rebirth of sorts for him, full of promises…

I am, in the meantime, learning the art of being a house-son! Having lived away from my family for more than six years, I find being at home somewhat disorienting. But I enjoy taking a break from my books to engage in the chores every now and then. I get up in the mornings to prepare some light breakfast for Papa – butter-toast, noodles or fruits. We wash clothes on Saturdays, and I make sure they’re ironed well in time. I shop for the grocery and plan the monthly budget too! Every night before we go to bed, I give him milk mixed with Protinex. And he sees it all, genuinely happy with the unexpected diligence with which I go about it. For me, it’s been one of those times when you just grow up, without actually having made an effort! It’s fun to go with the flow sometimes…

On a parting note: The erudite Abby once said, "Success is like the smell of potty! Bearable only when it's your own!..."