Just words

Like a million broken pieces put together,

some shards, some whole.

Some with a hint of a crack.

Where I am today is just that,scattered bits mended,

some fragile,

some resolute.

Fused in.

It's not about the life you are handed out,

it's what you do with it once it's yours.

Chaotic,frenzied yet calm,serene,

the balance comes when I don't look for it.

stop the struggling,

the resisting,

the pushing

the controlling,

and what is mine comes to me magically.

Like a door that's ajar waiting for me to enter

Gentle steps in

The world awaits me!

Loneliness...............

The thing about loneliness is that it catches you unawares.

I am beginning to feel it, in its essence and to be with it whenever it decides to visit.

When a child flies the nest, it is supposed to be a natural event that’s bound to occur at some point in time in ones life. However much I may know this to be true, I was unprepared when it actually happened.

The sheer sense of loss, of missing a quiet presence, the feeling of being overwhelmed emotionally that tears flow at the drop of a hat…I sum it up as an ‘Empty home-Heavy heart’ syndrome. I am told ‘give yourself time’, ‘distract yourself’; ‘it isn’t the end of the world’. Some friends look at me benignly; some don’t know what the fuss is all about.

But then I know, it’s not about what about others think. This is about me. The same measuring bar cannot apply to all mothers and daughters. I know that my daughter and I shared a unique relationship that words would do no justice to.

I wear something new and there is no one to ask, ‘How do I look’? I don’t get to hear, ‘Mamma, that’s not you, don’t wear this!” or “Mamma, I am hungry”…I miss all of that and more. I miss her gentle presence in our home. I miss the loud music blaring through the hallway disturbing my TV show. I miss the wet smelly towels she would leave lying around for me to pick up. I miss her attempts at making me relax and unwind. I miss our sharing on books, music, people and general observations that only she and I could do together. I miss our silences as well.

Her clean unoccupied bed lures me to mess it up. Her spotless bathroom dry, devoid of her books and odd lingerie makes me sadder than it should. Her cupboard, so neat and tidy now, the towels (blue and white) arranged awaiting her arrival some day soon...Her room is off bounds for me right now. I fear to step into it because I might just dissolve into tears and feel that ‘loneliness’ visit me again.

There are distractions, there is work to be done, and there is a life to live. I know that. But somehow I am lost in this ‘transition’ phase. I feel shaky yet stable. I feel the loneliness yet I feel blessed. I don’t want to be busy and distracted in the false hope that I will be okay. I want to allow myself to feel every bit of what I am feeling-the loss, the loneliness, the sadness, the moments –precious ones I have spent with Ananya as she grew up and see for myself how these 18 years have passed. And how in these 18 years I have changed as much as she has! This new stepping out of comfort zone is as much a challenging phase for her as it is for me and for us as a family.

There is an upside to this. I get more hugs from A, more ‘I love you Mamma’s’ from Diti. Syrah my cat never leaves my side as if sensing I need company. I am using Skype finally and can see and hear Ananya. I am making the effort to write and blog. I am also giving myself time to adjust to a home without her. I am learning to detach!

What gives me a kick is seeing her quiet confidence, her adaptability and flexibility and her courage in handling anything outside of her comfort zone.

There are going to be wistful moments, tear soaked meat curries (her favorite), silences, and moments of exasperation and imaginary conversations….

And in the last 2 weeks, I have begun to glimpse what lies ahead. It’s the norm. Letting go, however clichéd the term may sound is an integral part of ones life. Hold back and you are stuck. Let go and you are free. 

Letting go

The phrase ‘Letting go’ keeps cropping up in my life and in my activities almost everyday.


I have used it with my swimming instructor when he has tried patiently to teach me to swim (I have tried to learn a zillion times and failed each one) and I just can’t seem to ‘let go’. I can’t let go of the sides of the pool. I can’t imagine myself free in the water even on a float. I have the overwhelming need to simply hold onto something amidst that vast expanse of water. The more I delve into the why’s and how’s the more is I realize how futile it is to explain it to him. He knows like I do that it is all in the mind and unless I tackle that block, there is going to be no swimming for me. So I gave up trying to learn. Instead of tackling this ‘letting go’ feeling!
It came up again during my yoga classes while I was doing ‘shavasana’.I have been regular with yoga and pranayams now for some years with a wonderful teacher who is simple and dedicated. Most of all he understands what I mean by “letting go’. I delight in the fact that I am able to come out of my yoga sessions with deep stillness in me and also able to carry it through the day(most days atleast).While doing “shavasana” which is very often guided by him, I find myself reaching a stage where I don’t feel my breath. I am cold with no sensation in arms and legs and no breath. I don’t know what seems most frightening at that specific moment. A big part of me is simply letting go of everything of the outside world and my body. But I resist. My mind that was deeply relaxed is now filling up with stray thoughts of ‘Where has my breath gone? My body-has it melted into nothing? And then I twitch my legs gently to reassure myself that am still with a body and breath…

What I never understood until later is that if I simply allowed myself to be okay with all those sensations, I would move into a higher state of awareness of self. But then ‘Letting go’, you see prevails.

That one crucial moment when I am about to let go, fear creeps in.

I shared it with my yoga teacher who heard me out. He understood without me having to elaborate and told me when fear creeps in to become aware of my breath and to go back to the deep state in which I was in. It actually seems a possibility to me and a barrier that I am going to overcome.

Friends

It has been a hectic December for me.
I still find it hard to believe that I returned from a vacation just a month ago. It feels like its been years since I have had one...

I have enjoyed the last month of this year thoroughly. For a couple like us who don’t have much of a social life (in fact we are each others best friends), the last month has been an incredibly hectic social month. I don’t think it’s because of the Xmas season and holidays because then it should have been this way last year as well.

I had my mother in law visiting us after a year. I soon realized how easy it is to get used to having someone around at home. I am used to an ‘alone’ existence most of the day once the girls are at school. But now I had someone to breakfast and lunch with. I delved into different recipes of grilled fish/chicken and assorted puddings and my kitchen acquired different aromas over the last month…challenging yes but very interesting in its own way.

Ruchi my friend from Green valley where I live and who now lives in Germany was here on a fleeting visit.Atleast I got to meet her and spend half an hour with her and more with her daughter Prisha.

I had a sudden surprise visit from a very dear friend from overseas Vaishnav.He gifted us a Woodstock windchime that has added magic to our home...

Around this time we decided to host the Connect ticket meet –the 1st ever in Pune.We have hosted prayer meets when we lived in Bombay earlier and I had no worry about planning and hosting it. Once the meet details were posted, I met 2 members of our group from Pune who came over home and spent time with me asking me about the forthcoming meet and what it involved and how they could help. The meeting finally took place on the 19th December Sunday with a whopping 58 people attending and all of us praying for one another. Meeting the old CT members evoked nostalgia in me. Each of them has seen Anandita as an infant with her C-arch and in a severely spastic state. Very few could believe that she was the same child each of them had prayed for.

Meeting the new members meant new young energy and I felt like one of the old ‘been there done that’ members. Overall so much fun and energy that it’s incredibly hard to express it in words. I even blogged about the meet but fell short of words

Meeting Gauri after 8 months was like meeting a family member. She blends in so smoothly with my home and family that hers is like a gentle presence that I miss desperately once she has gone. Her mother, her calmness and love for my garden made me feel like reaching out to her constantly.

Judika from South Africa has been my friend since 4 years. Our children who have cerebral palsy in common brought us together through the Internet. We both tried our hardest to figure out how we had connected in the 1st place but didn’t manage to remember. I met her for the 1st time when she came down with her husband Naresh and her twin sons Shivaar and Shikaar.I am just glad I could finally meet her.

And then my Neha…My 1st friend in Padma Vilas enclave, Pune the 1st person I went out for a girls evening out leaving kids and husband behind with no qualms and guilt. Now that she visits India just once a year, makes even those 1-2 days when we meet worth the while and moments to be cherished. Some connections amaze me .Nothing to do with how we gelled and how much we had in common. just the fact that easy conversations with her were so much a part of my day and life that I do wish she still lived in Pune.One of the few friends I miss a lot and one of the few who when I meet, there are no gaps at all. We just catch up from where we left off

It’s now the last week of this decade and I don’t remember when I have had a single free moment to myself...this last monthNo gym no walks and suddenly I find I don’t know what to do with my free time.
But I would never trade these precious interactions that I have had for anything else in the world..

On Hearing and Phonak

On Saturday I finally managed to visit my audiologist after 3 long months and many cancelled appointments. I have recently shifted to using a Phonak hearing aid (Exelia art) since April this year. It was a major shift for me as I have been using Siemens for the last 12 years. Perhaps a disillusionment in my hearing quality, perhaps faith in my Pune audiologist and the fact that he was willing to give me a trial of an expensive hearing aid so that I could understand its nuances made me go in for the Phonak eventually..


Saturday was a new experience for me. I began using the Click n Talk wireless transmitter which turns my hearing aid into a wireless headset when I need to use the phone. My hearing aid uses the Phonak HiBAN (Hearing Instrument Body area network) and the click talk mechanism streams in telephone calls into both my hearing instruments simultaneously. The quality is digital and crystal clear. It does shut off outside sounds while I talk, so sometimes that can be a disadvantage. (When am on the phone, I may not hear my door bell).But the joys of having clear phone conversations is something I am beginning to cherish and delight in.

The click talk transmitter is part of my hearing aid and comes in as a valuable accessory. However it is not compatible with a Nokia hand set. It has to be used with only with Sony Ericsson mobiles.

So that meant in order to use it, I had to purchase a Sony Ericsson mobile.Amit and I soon realized that there were very few Sony Ericsson mobile outlets in Pune and sourced two of them. One outlet in Viman Nagar was hell bent on selling me the upper end mobile phones of touch screen. It put me off totally. I am such a non tech person that it takes convincing to tell the man, all I need a mobile is for talking, messaging and also a good organizer. For me it’s a necessity not a designer accessory. Anyway that outlet was not an option for me. Customer service and good quality at that works for me brilliantly. Not otherwise.

So Tilak road it was. After 2 hours at the audiologist, we headed for the outlet and finally managed to find the small little store.

We spelt out our needs. While the proprietor-a well heeled, intelligent person was really clued on to the type of mobiles, he had never handled a click talk and pairing it to the new phone and the processes involved. Initially he was perplexed by me and asked me where my hearing aids were. I told him I am wearing them and that the audiologist had already paired my hearing aid with the Phonak click talk. He looked at me in wonder and genuine curiosity waiting for me to speak more. He was keen to know how the devices had been paired and where. His questions were many but it delighted me when he told me that this was the first time he had handled a hearing impaired customer and figured out the click talk transmitter pairing...

I sensed his curiosity about my challenge .To many who meet me for the first time the challenge seems invisible because I am carrying on conversations like a normal person does. There are times I forget myself that am impaired. I was reminded of my challenge yet again at the audiologist where in the course of conversation the topic of television came up and he asked me how I was hearing the TV.Immedietly I blurted out that I watched the programmers with subtitles and not otherwise. He ofcourse sent me away with a warning that I did not want to make the effort to hear and how would I handle it 10 years hence when the hearing got worse. I ofcourse had to tell him, how much worse can it get when it’s already beyond 100 decibels. He is an encouraging audiologist while am the stubborn customer who tries to have an answer to anything he has to say….

The truth of his words still ring with me. I am at times just too lazy to make the effort to hear. I would rather understand the subtle humour of “Whose Line is it anyway’? through sub titles than having to struggle to hear what those brilliant actors are saying...

Raising you

Raising you in your infancy-early childhood was a cakewalk. I must admit that.As a first time mother I never really felt at a loss or helpless at any point of time.You listened, you rebelled, you threw tantrums, you screamed and yelled when things didn’t work your way and you were a stubborn baby. But yet it was a cakewalk. As a first time mother, I had to rely on only one strength of mine in raising you-- my intuition. No Dr Spock could teach me that. It was innate and I relied on it as a natural process...


I won’t get into the clichéd phrase of ‘how time flies’. It does and we know it especially when one has children.

Now you are 15,.I do get nostalgic about the way you have blossomed in to a beautiful (within and without) young lady with a mind of her own. You have strengths that I lack, that of making friends, of confidence, of being immensely mentally organized and yes a beautiful blend of logic and emotion.


Why is it that with time I have stopped using my intuition in understanding you? Is it because I know and sense you have grown up and are less dependant on me in many ways. Why do I forget that like babies, even teens are vulnerable and emotionally ultra sensitive?

Why has my confidence as a mother been replaced with helplessness now? I feel at a loss at handling your emotions. In the peak of the moment, I fail to be objective. I react rather than observe. And I forget to listen.

I forget to listen when you ask me how am I to discover my passion in life...

I react when you speak to me about your friends, some of whom I have distaste for…

And then the damn maternal guilt springs up unknowingly.Its rather strange how it always lurks under the surface.



Your growing up didn’t happen overnight did it? My realization was late. Realization of the fact that hugs just don’t work for a 15 year old like it did when you were younger.Listening, just listening quietly, giving you my undivided non judgmental attention works. No sermons, no patronizing, no exclaiming-“when I was your age”!



I think the beautiful part of parenting you is understanding my own self in a way I have never understood before. I have always wondered, is it that I resent your growing up and your desire to find your wings? Is it the regret of all the mistakes I have made while raising you—the dos and the don’ts, the perfectionist streak that overwhelmed my early parenting days…

Or is it that I am just setting such high standards for myself as a parent? As your mother? Some part of me craves for you to understand what I experience as well and at the peak of the moment; I actually forget you are 15 and not older.



There has been a letting go on my part that was not there earlier. The struggle within me was about letting go of you and a refusal to accept that you have an independent mind of your own. Now that you are away at camp, there is emptiness, yet a sense of appreciation of what you bring into my life each moment that you are with me. There is also a strange sense of relief in knowing that I have grown up as a parent and no longer wish to play a control-game with you.

Love you my teen.

'Having to'

I have been thinking of this phrase 'have to' and I keep seeing it in a new light. When I think to myself, I have to lose 3 kilos to get back to my earlier shape; does it really really work for me?


If I think Diti has to learn to write neatly and legibly, does it work that way? Or that she has to learn Hindi/Marathi languages in the way that is set? Or that Ananya has to study everyday no matter what?

“Having to’ sounds punishing to my ears. I know that there are certain things that just have to be done like getting out of bed, seeing the kids off to school. preparing the various tiffins,cooking lunch. sorting out clothes, my writing. But when I tell myself I ‘have to’ do them, it creates a stress in me that doesn’t go away until the job is done. And the job I end up doing may be done half heartedly.

Is it that all of these jobs need to be done or am I allowing myself to make a choice. A choice on how I see these tasks and chores. Maybe I don’t need to do all of them together in one mad frenzy. Maybe I can look at them differently. Maybe I don’t need to do them at all within the time I set for myself. Maybe I change the order of the tasks!
Maybe Diti need not learn to write legibly because she has an option of using a computer as well. Maybe she doesn’t need to learn anything in a certain way or a specified time. I don’t wish for her to look at learning anything where it becomes a punishment or a subtle order. I don’t want resentment to creep in somewhere along the way in my children or me, a resentment that removes the joy of the task and makes me complain and grumble a lot.

Doesn’t life find its own rhythm eventually when we look at it differently? When we look at it as making choices and having options rather than simply ‘having to’?

Understanding hearing impairment.

Of late I have begun to understand hearing impairments better. I am more intrigued about it. It’s not the reason why it occurs that intrigues me. It is the way it differs from person to person, from someone who is born with it to someone who has acquired it say once they have completed their education and crossed language/speaking barriers. After the discovery of my hearing impairment in 1998 when I was 31, there followed a brief period of denial, counseling and ultimately acceptance and now I am at a stage when I can even laugh over it. Especially when I mishear things and it comes out all funny.


I seem to dislike using the word ‘deaf’. I don’t know why. Maybe ‘deaf’ , ‘blind’, ‘mute’ sound harsh and blunt ,like a label that refuses to peel off.( I know that is a reality).I seem to prefer using the words hearing impairment maybe because impairment sounds more gentle, less judgmental and less labeled.

I need to give credit for this sudden revival of interest to my new found friend Ruchi who has a 6 year old daughter, Prisha who has been hearing impaired since birth. As a mother it has been an amazing and challenging journey for Ruchi.When one meets Prisha and hears her speak it would be very difficult to determine that she is totally hearing impaired and has successfully crossed her language barriers. She speaks fluently and does not lip read. She can hear even in the dark with the help of her hearing aids. When I see her and since I am hearing impaired, I begin to see a bit of me in her and a bit of her in me. Maybe a bond that links us though we are ages apart. Although there is very little to give away her impairment, there are subtle nuances that make me aware of it. I also realized that here the challenge is for her mother-caregiver as Prisha has never known a world of sound. Instead she has been guided in to that world of sound with the help of her parents, speech therapist along with the indispensable hearing aid.

My hearing loss is so vastly different from hers yet am also hearing impaired. I rely on lip reading which is more or less guess work. I also tend to gesture more. I cannot hear in the dark even with my hearing aids on. I always need to face the person I am speaking with. My hearing loss was however discovered when I was 30 although the process of degeneration must have begun much earlier when I was unaware of it. It’s a progressive hearing loss that is to do with nerves or medically put- a Sensorineural hearing loss...Understanding that this condition came from ‘deafness’ genes took me a long time. A journey of blame and regrets followed which fortunately I have passed through now. I recollect my childhood of sign language and raised voices to communicate to my mother but then I never really understood the ‘difficulty’ in that situation. As a child it came naturally to me and naturally enough to accept my mom the way she was.

From a world of language, music and being able to carry on normal conversations even from a distance, I progressed into a new world where I adapted myself to my dis-ability.I miss, missing out on witty comments, wry humour, jokes and even gossip. There are times I laugh when everyone is laughing. I have to tune in to the group around me and this I notice is becoming more frequent. The struggle to cope with group conversations where sometimes I just tune myself out is really becoming a struggle.

Does it matter? Yes, it does.
Is my communication lesser than before? It is.
Does it leave me feeling sad? It does at times especially when am in a conversational mood and I know phone conversations don’t come easily to me.

I struggle in a movie theatre or while watching a play. Its tough to lip read then and I settle down to tune into body language and doing my usual guess work.I cannot hear an alarm clock or my mobile buzz in case I need to wake up early morning. I have stopped using them and rely on my body clock that doesn’t seem to go wrong as long as I believe in her. I long to hear the words of songs as they play on my CD or on the car FM and have to keep asking my family, ‘Which song is this?’, that’s one part I miss the most because music was always an integral part of my early life.

Are these regrets? Now after 12 years of hearing aids and slowly losing out on sounds, I also value this world of silence. It has honed my other senses remarkably. I am far more intuitive than most. I am also better at reading facial cues and eyes. And I love it because I have a partner who refused to let me become dependant on him to hear and carry on with normal life. Instead he encouraged me to hear, make mistakes and move on. My daughters who in turn empathize with me as well as roll with laughter over it. They can say something perfectly ordinary and I hear it as something so different that it results in peals of laughter all around. It has its merits. At night, I don’t hear the sounds of traffic and I don’t hear the watchman sing aloud to keep himself awake. The watchman by the way sits right below our 1st floor apartment. And I can conveniently miss out what I don’t wish to hear. ‘Selective hearing’ as A puts it.

I love to watch movies with subtitles because it makes my world a lot easier. I am so glad for sms’s and the internet (when I use it) although they by no means replace actual direct conversations. Thank god for technology.

I just wish I do not reach a day when I am unable hear my own voice, the voice of my girls and of A.

Tolerance

Have you heard of a neighbor cutting down a bougainvillea shrub because it peeped into their garden? Mine did just that. Not only did they cut down the part that grew over their side of the fence but they cut my side too. Why? Don’t ask! When asked, I was told that it was done by the workers without their knowledge.
What about the lemons from my lemon tree? Did you take them too?
No- no they just fell into our side of the garden.

I hope you get the drift.

And yes of course Mrs. C who decides to have the huge mother tree facing her home chopped down leaving several squawking birds, lost without their nests and homes. And why did she do it? Her home needs more sunlight you see.Hey! What about the birds?

Let me move onto another neighbor down my lane. Any maid who works in my home has to be stopped by Mrs. M who will inquire in detail her name, work timings, where she comes from, her references and how much she is paid and the grand last question of all-‘Why don’t you work for me instead? Well!

My maid (they are the stuff legends are made of in Pune) deigns to come to work 5 days out of 10.The day she decides to do so, she walks in slowly and as soon as she catches me looking at her, her expression undergoes a swift change into one of tiredness and a slight huff and a puff. I don’t need to ask her. I know her answer already. It took her ½ an hour to cross the road.
I can’t change maids here in Pune because a maid in the enclave I live in is a rarity. If available they are unaffordable. ‘Patience-have patience I tell myself each day, have the faith that you will get support’, I reassure my fatigued self. Most of the time I am crabby and snappy. Especially when I am told ‘This the way it is here. You can’t change a thing Jyo.Either accept it or do all the work yourself’. I am no lazy bum but cleaning 3000 sq foot of space is not something I can handle each day, every day.

It’s not about maids and neighbors alone; it’s all about being patient and tolerant in this city that I have made my home since the last two years.
We chose our home with great care, a home that would suit our needs-space, a garden, a sit out area and serenity... Choosing my home was definitely lot smoother a process than choosing my neighbors.

Can I do something about this? Can I be a good neighbor despite the attitude, arrogance and churlishness? Can I be a laid back occupant of a huge bungalow who doesn’t care about the home being cleaned daily or not or if the children have been fed healthily? Can I ask the friends who drop by( and keep saying ‘Wow’ ‘ Wow’, this is some villa you live in) to not look up towards the ceiling when they walk in out of fear that they will have cobwebs staring down into their faces.. Can I ignore so much more-the poor customer service that exists even in expensive branded outlets where I have had hilarious experiences buying lingerie? Or in restaurants or the roads where I have to drive at a snails pace just because the two scooterists in front of me are having an interesting conversation right there in the middle of the road. mindless of the traffic and my honking?


I have asked A and myself this question many a time, during those rare moments we get to spend together in conversations. Rare moments of sipping tea in the shady verandah, watching the bulbuls and mynahs take their bath and nibble at the bird feed while D plays with the strewn orange leaves of the huge gulmohar tree. Those rare moments with nature, the chirping of the birds, a wide-eyed owl looking down from its tree hollow, a cheery smile from my milk man, the gentle sounds of the morning as the world arises is a reminder to me that the world and the people in it are not going to change. All of it is simply worth tolerating and a part of my ‘life’s’ experience in a different city.

Baking

I baked today....finally! After some 11 months,I actually felt the urge to bake.So 2 batches of brownies it was.And what a wonderful way to unwind.I have had a rough 3 weeks with A not around and have been caught up in the routine of daily life and constant rush.No maid,bleary eyed morning 5 am wake up and frayed nerves almost everyday.

I had my dinner and then decided to bake.The kitchen was clean and quiet.The girls were up in their room with their books and music and I loved this me-time ..alone,humming and enjoying every bit of the baking process from mixing the ingredients to tasting them as well :).No noise,no bells-just peace.
Soon enough the aroma filled our entire home and the girls were most curious as to why their constantly harried mom had decided to bake late at night.They usually don't worry where I am or what I am doing as long as I am at home.But today was different.Two puzzled and yes,hungry faces looking up at me very sweetly.They not only devoured half of the first batch ,they were longingly looking at the second batch as well.

I now know how the fragrance of freshly baked warm brownies can soften the hardest of hearts and cause instant mood changes from sad t0 happy.
Excellent form of therapy it can be!
Now am left wondering why do I feel so full-perhaps all that tasting...

Impromptu venting

Why does poor customer service always get on my nerves? Not just my nerves, it just gets to me totally like very few things do. I actually see RED.I have to stop myself there and then from giving a long speech on the importance of a customer and what good quality service can achieve. Sadly I never stop myself.

I am no perfectionist but I hate being served a lukewarm hot chocolate when the menu reads “Hot Chocolate”. The chap at Coffee Day served me just that –a luke warm hot chocolate and I was having one after ages. Something I wanted to savor and relish right from the first sip. I took a sip and there it began—this feeling of being cheated. I returned it with a request to serve it hot but then when it arrived the charm was lost.Aaargh !!

I opt for a large branded store which I assume would stock a variety of lingerie since the shop is so huge. When I arrive, the store is filled with numerous attendants but none in the lingerie section. I look around for help and it seems to me the staff refuses to catch my eye. Perhaps they veer away from the lingerie section. I cannot think of any other plausible reason. Finally some help arrives after 10 minutes, albeit with a reluctant blanked out look. And I eagerly tell her my size and requirements that are simple and no frills(I mean for my lingerie).She sizes me up and shows me hideous padded ones in midnight blue and shocking reds and believe it or not leopard prints. I didn’t ask for them, I tell her. She tells me that these are all they have. Damn! I see red again, hold myself in check and politely walk away. I ask for the head of customer service (if there is one), she isn’t available. I tell the staff who is looking most uncomfortable, “The service here is pathetic. You need to streamline your operations” and I say it all straight-faced with not a hint of the anger I am feeling. And before I can complete what I need to say (I do have lots to say by then), the lady starts apologizing profusely. (How does that help I wonder? I still haven’t got the bra I needed. Fruitless trip! Except that the anger has not only hit my nerves but my poor brain as well).I am left wondering who wears bras like those. I guess there must be takers since that is all they stock.

At a restaurant where the children and I are having lunch, I chose a Tandoori Roti and the girls ‘Naans” along with their side dishes. The food arrives after a good 45 minutes though we are the only patrons. No worries. I am willing to wait over an animated conversation with the kids. The food arrives...my Tandoori Roti looks exactly like the Naans that the girls are eating! There I go again. I call the chap who has taken the order and ask him whether he got the order right about the Rotis. He happily and nonchalantly says, “Yes Madam, yours is the Tandoori Roti and theirs is the ‘Naan’.I ask him what the difference is...“they look the same”. To my horror he tells me ‘Madam, There is no difference between a Naan and a Tandoori Roti.The Naan is a little bigger that’s all”! Huh!!Now if anyone has ever eaten aa aan and a Tandoori Roti, they would know that there IS a difference. But he is firm. And I chew down the thick bread wondering why if the darn Naan and Tandoori Roti are the same; the restaurant has it listed separately in their menu.
When the chap arrives again to ask me if I wish to order more Rotis, I look at him with a raised eyebrow (I actually managed that) and tell him,” You were right earlier. Not only do they look the same, they taste the same-like leather’ (ha ha ha...He slinks away so sheepishly that I don’t catch a glimpse of him until we leave).

And all of this leaves me wondering. Am I demanding or expecting too much? I have been told my previous job has made me set high standards for service and that I am too sensitive to small trivia like this. But I feel like screaming that this isn’t trivial or small. It means a lot. Maybe it is to do with me. Or is it Pune? Or is that Bombay has spoilt me for other cities? Well I know as I spend more time in this city that now feels like home, the answers are bound to unravel.
Here's to a more chilled out laidback ‘Me’ and no more ‘poor service’ experiences(fingers crossed) :)

Random musings after ages

It has been three months since I came by here,to my own blog.Not been writing.not been reading for so long that I am beginning to feel disconnected.
The year started off great ..I completed a powerful workshop http://www.ssy.org
I cannot write much about it only because its difficult to express and share what it was all about.It was powerful and transformatory in many ways....
:)

Rushed times

I haven’t written in ages. Not a word although they seem to spill out of somewhere in my mind and all its clutter. There is so much going on in my life that the thoughts become a jumble and my words seem incoherent…

There is a sense of time flying and me trying to keep track of it. The last 2 ½ months have been rushed. I have become forgetful-forgetting to respond to calls, mails; even perhaps forgetting to connect with myself. It feels different. I have to remind myself to just be. Not read, nor think, nor look at the dusty table with a vengeance or scout around for a dusting cloth. Or struggle to remember those things that I need to remember.

Perhaps the wonder lies in moving through those busy periods of ones life with the same grace and serenity as the peaceful times. I need to remind myself of that.