Notes:
1. Gudhi Padwa marks the beginning of the Hindu lunisolar calendar, i.e. a new year’s day.
2. Gajar halva is my favorite carrot pudding that my mother often makes.
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I was happy that morning because it was Gudhi-Padwa. I knew mother would make gajar-halva; I’d seen her buy carrots yesterday. It was my favorite dessert and I was really looking forward to it.
Unfortunately, mother fell ill that day.
“I’ll cook it tomorrow my dear!” she said, seeing me upset.
“NO!!! But it’s a holiday!! Why did you have to get sick today?” I pouted and yelled. How could she do this to me?
A realization stuck me few hours later. My stomach churned and I felt awful for being so inconsiderate. I hadn’t even asked mother how she was doing! I was being totally selfish…me!me!me!
Then it came to me – I should cook gajar-halva for her!
Here’s how to cook when you are clueless: I picked up a carrot and, with great difficulty, managed to accumulate a few spoonfuls of shredded carrot in a cup. Now I just needed milk to make it perfect! I poured some milk and mixed it with the carrot. But it looked terrible… nothing like the gajar-halva that mom makes! I panicked, and in the process knocked over the milk pitcher. It fell on the floor making the loudest noise ever.
Mother came to the kitchen to check. She saw me there standing in a pool of milk with carrot shreds everywhere and a cup in my hand…
Well, the rest of the story is not as interesting. But my mother says that it was among the best Gudhi Padwas she’s ever had!
This post has been entered into the Grantourismo HomeAway Holiday-Rentals travel blogging competition
The other day I was seated in a bus, listening to music and reading a book. Like any other regular person, I didn’t know who was sitting next to me. I only looked around when my neighbor nudged me gently.
“Hi! Sorry, You got time?” It was an elderly lady.
(Translation: You got time? = What is the time? I have no idea why people use this phrase.)
“Yeah, sure.” I told her the time and got back to my reading.
“You know, one of these days I am going to have a heart attack and fall on the street and nobody’s gonna notice.”
(HUH! I couldn’t believe she was actually talking to me. Wearing headphones is as good as putting up a huge ‘Do not disturb’ sign.)
I acknowledged hearing that and got back to my book.
“The other day I was walking and I needed to ask someone for directions but I looked around, everyone was wearing earphones. I felt like I am walking alone in the city. There wasn’t anybody I could talk to.”
Although irritated, now I was very curious to hear her. Removing my headphones, I asked, “Why not?”
“You know, everyone is in their own world, nobody wants to talk and if they are wearing earphones, I don’t want to interrupt and annoy them.”
(Except that she did that to me just a minute ago. Nevermind.)
“What if an ice block is falling on the sidewalk? If I see, I will shout for the next person but its useless because he is wearing earphones.”
(During winter, snow accumulates on top of windows, turns into ice and crashes on the pavement below. It is hazardous indeed.)
“I just wished people listened to me. I’m glad you did, sorry to bother you, you seemed like a nice guy.”
“Uh, thanks.” I got off at my stop, shaken with the problem of the aged and unable to fully understand what just happened.
What do you think?
- She is an old lady. Probably she doesn’t have anyone to talk to.
- She is used to being ignored by others.
- She wasn’t interested in knowing the time. She simply wanted to talk to someone.
There are so many problems in our society. Some visible, most invisible.
The view of the window from that night is printed in my memory…
This incident goes back to December 18, 2003 at 03:15. The picture above shows the windows of my room (my parents place in Mumbai.)
My bed is about 3 meters away from the window. I left windows open at night but there was a window grill that kept us safe (or so we thought.) I’m a light sleeper, and wake up even if a needle drops! That night, some strange sounds ruffled my sleep. There are many sounds at night and I dismissed this disturbance too. But my eyes opened for a split second, and I glanced at the window.
The sight gave me the shock of my life.
The metal grill on the window had disappeared! The window looked like a big hole in the wall.
[Now let me explain. The windows are fitted with metal grills that have 3 screws fastened into the wooden frame on two holding sides. It is easy to unscrew them, remove the grill and enter the house. I've done this myself once when I forgot the keys. 
And now someone had done just that!]
So, I heard some noises, woke up in the middle of the night, saw my window opened and found a stranger next to my bed. What the heck was going on?
The intruder peered over my mosquito curtain (मच्छरदाणी) to see if I was awake. I froze. I shut my eyes so hard that they almost came out from the other side of my head. Have you heard the phrase “..was so scared, could hear his heart beat” or “…was so shocked that he couldn’t speak”? Ha! I experienced it! The intruder then scanned my desk, but found only thick volumes of Coulson & Richardson’s Chemical Engineering, which were probably the most expensive items in our house, but he didn’t know. He then went to the bedroom, where mom was asleep, via living room. I heard a familiar noise of the cupboard being opened.
After I told my heart to stop pounding and stop getting scared over an intruder, I started thinking (still lying in bed.) I had seen a wooden stick lying around and I got up and grabbed it. Probably useless since I couldn’t physically challenge that guy who was armed with god knows what. …He peered over the mosquito curtain to see if I was awake. I froze. I shut my eyes so hard that they almost came out from the other side of my hea…I went to the living room and opened the door of our apartment. It’s noiseless, and I can be quiet as a cat. I rang the neighbors’ doorbell. The lady (काकू) yelled from inside – “Who the hell is at the door at this hour?” (अीतक्या रात्री-अपरात्री कोण अालंय?) If I spoke, the thief would hear. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t get help. So I said, “its Priyank.”
thudd… thump… I heard noises from the bedroom, the thief probably heard me. Now I knew he would emerge from my parent’s bedroom, enter the living room, go to my room and escape from the window. Armed with a stick, I came back into the living room too. I saw him. Something mysterious got over me then. I screamed and hit him. With a force I never experienced ever, I hit his forearm.
The stick broke into two, the thief let out a frightening painful cry, but still somehow escaped, empty handed.
By now, mom woke up, the neighbors arrived, and then the usual stuff…
: : :
Last night I casually glanced at the window and this whole incident flashed in front of my eyes. Pretty interesting, huh!
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I apologise for making frequent design changes to my blog. I intend to keep this one for a long time. Meanwhile, if you tried to subscribe by e-mail before, it probably didn’t work. Please try again. Thanks!
“Your website looks great, do you use Dream weaver?”
I get that question sometimes and it always used to bother me. But I don’t get annoyed anymore. Instead, I quote the following story:
::::
A photographer was invited to a dinner and he took along some photographs to show the hostess. She looked at the photos and commented, “These are very good! You must have a good camera!“
He didn’t make any comment at that time, but as he was leaving to go home he said, “That was a really delicious meal. You must have some very good pots!“
::::
Lance Armstrong, in his book It’s Not About the Bike, wrote a whole page describing some neat features of his cutting-edge bike. That description alone would make a bike enthusiast like me quiver. But he concluded it saying (paraphrased) – “But at the end, it’s not about the bike!“
::::
I worked for 3 years as a project planner. People’s standard question was: “Do you need to know Primavera and Microsoft Projects to become a planner?” (those are the two leading project management software.) I wish I could say “Yes”. A planner, like Isaac Asimov’s Hari Seldon, accumulates current data, examines macro/micro factors and uses historical behavior to predict the future. I wish it was as simple as clicking some “Tools > Plan Now!” button.
::::
I thought of the following people while I was composing this post. They (I think) get lots of comments about their ‘art’. Care to tell me:
° Nita, Prax, Bob – If online research is one mouse click away, why don’t we find blogs that are comprehensively researched as yours? Do you think that research is an art and online resources are mere tools? Taking it one step further, how much do you think have certain tools helped you become a journalist, stock market specialist and an astrophysicist respectively?
° Rambodoc – How much of today’s medical marvel is attributed to the surgeon’s instruments? (I desisted from using the word ‘tool’ – some readily available fodder for your twists that would occur anyway 
)
° Shantanu – About software tools and Dilbert’s talent! You are also welcome to add a story about chefs and foods!
::::
For a long time, I thought that I needed a brand new Sitar from Kolkata and only then I could play some awesome music. Fortunately, few months back I met some guru who plays the Sarod. He picked up my Sitar and played something beautiful casually.
“Wow! I didn’t know you played the Sitar too!” I said.
“No, ofcourse I don’t…. But I know the basics of music! 
“
I regret not meeting him before. But hey, its never too late
::::
To end this non-travel post, I leave you with a quote from J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
If you are a wizard you will be able to channel your magic through almost any instrument. The best results, however, must always come where there is a strongest affinity between wizard and wand… An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand.
::::
Question to the reader: I think that it doesn’t really matter what tool you choose to express your talent. If you are not the right person (by birth or by training), the tool won’t make you one. What do you think? Any stories?
Busking: Busking is the practice of performing music, dance, juggling, magic, and similar activities in public places to entertain passersby and solicit tips. People engaging in this practice are called buskers. Busking is a British term used in many areas of the English-speaking world and in former British territories. In the United States, buskers are more often called street performers or street musicians. Some buskers only work part time, while others make a full time living performing on the streets…. Read more on Wikipedia
I had a Sitar gig last night and by the time it ended, it was past midnight and it was also raining. I stood outside the Queen subway station, waiting for the streetcar (tram) for almost 20 minutes, not quite enjoying the drizzle. My Sitar was tucked away safely under some large window frame.
3 moderately drunk white boys arrived at the streetcar stop and looked curiously at my Sitar bag. It was well past midnight on Friday, so I wasn’t surprised at all.
“Hey, what is that?”
“Its a Sitar”, I said non-enthusiastically. I get this question often.
“Woooowh! I never thought I would see a Sitar for real!”
And then they spent next 5 minutes asking me questions about the instrument. I was surprised that they knew so much already. I promised to show them how it looked like once we were in the streetcar.
“You must play it too”, he said
“HUH ??”, sounded like a crazy idea to me.
“Yea man, and I will pass my hat around. You can get your bus money back!” (he took off his hat to show me how)
So we got into the streetcar, full of sweet party people (drunk people are usually fun). The guys couldn’t wait to see how a sitar looked and they oohed and aahed when i took it out of the bag. Most of what I played wasn’t legible since it was quite noisy around but I think they liked it anyway. After I was done, there was some clapping and the guy took his hat off and passed it around.
Nobody put any money in it, haha.
The guy was disappointed more than me. I guess he didn’t want me to be a musician who doesn’t get tips after he plays. Then the sweetest thing happened. His buddy put in a dollar. And they passed the hat to me.
“Here!, Great show!”
And folks, that’s how I earned my first dollar on the street playing music.
The grass forest
Wet and dry spells of rain pound Mumbai during the monsoon season (June-September). After a couple of months of rains, most of the empty grounds, waste lands and hitherto barren soils, get covered by wild grass that is almost a foot tall. When you are kid that swamp is named “the grass forest” or even “the secret forest.”
I have fond memories of the grass forest on the outskirts of my little suburban town (Dombivli). Many evenings were spent there – playing amidst itchy vegetation, mud, dirt, all varieties of insects, bugs and other yucky stuff. I’ll write about my adventures with bugs, earthworms, frogs, wild flowers and such other amazing creations of nature in some other post because this post is dedicated to the one and only चतुर (Chatur, meaning ‘clever’).
Chatur
Photo: Dhanashri Avalaskar
Chatur is called Dragonfly in English. Wikipedia says this: “Dragonflies typically eat mosquitoes, midges, and other small insects like flies, bees, and butterflies. They are therefore valued as predators, since they help control populations of harmful insects. Dragonflies do not normally bite or sting humans, though they will bite in order to escape, if grasped by the abdomen.”
The sport
One of our favorite ‘sports’ during monsoon was catching the Chatur. We usually caught the chatur and released it after displaying our conquest to mates. It was the coolest thing to do and scores were discussed next day at school. Catching a chatur is an art that requires an amazing combination of patience, precision, alertness and timing. A chatur will typically hover over a blade of grass for barely a second and then move on to the next. At the same time the chatur is quite sensitive to any motion in the surroundings, so an extraordinary amount of patience and steadiness is required while approaching it.
There are two ways to catch a chatur. The most common method is to grab the end of the chatur‘s long and tiny tail. The tail is used as a rudder so the chatur vibrates and turns it unexpectedly. After studying these movements for a while it becomes easy to read patterns. The other method – the one that I strongly disapprove – is to catch the chatur by its wings. I think this method is easy but barbaric because it could potentially break the little guy’s wings, render them useless and thus lead to the chatur‘s death. As a rule, we never could let any chatur die.
The Blue Chatur
On one such evening I was chasing a particular chatur when my attention was distracted by something blue and brilliant, fluttering inches away from my hand. It was possibly the most beautiful chatur I had seen lately. I left my current perusal and went after this little blue guy instead. After a bit of chasing I finally caught my prize!
I was holding the blue chatur‘s tail between my thumb and index finger while placing it gently on the palm of my other hand. It made some attempts in vain to flutter away. My friends gathered around excitedly and I narrated them a long (and probably fake) tale about how I caught it.
I was going to violate an unwritten rule of the grass forest –
“मी घरी घेउन जाणार आणि ह्याला पाळणार” (I will take it home and keep it as a pet), I announced.
My buddies didn’t care. In fact, they agreed because suddenly it was a treasured possession of our gang and it would be good to display the blue chatur at school tomorrow. The other gang at school has been bragging about their catch in some other secret grass forest lately and we had to beat them.
Suggestions poured in about how to keep the chatur safe overnight. I could either tie its tail to a string and fasten it to a window railing or put it in a box. I chose to put it in a large match box since I thought that was less brutal. Then I inserted a twig of tender grass for the insect’s dinner (I didn’t know that it was a non-vegetarian). Content with the hospitality, I put the box away in my school bag and went to bed looking forward eagerly to the next day. I was soooo excited about my new pet that I woke up in the middle of the night to check if it was doing okay. It was, I loved my new pet!
I rushed to the school after checking that the chatur was still safe inside the box. I and my buddies decided to talk this thing up and create suspense among the classmates before we showed them the real thing. The plan was working well so far – everyone in the class was looking forward to seeing the mysterious blue dragon fly. Dude this was going to be awesome!!
No sooner than the recess bell rang, everyone gathered around me. Very ceremoniously and taking extra extra extra care I started opening the box gently while telling everyone how it was impossible to catch this rare species, how it bit me, blah blah (ah, I am was such a drama queen). I finally opened the box… viola!!
There were screams of excitement from my peers! Lots of wow’s, compliments and admiration. My buddies were proud of ‘our’ catch but…
….but I was choking; I felt like someone ripped my heart out of my body and there was just a void there. My eyes were wet and I started shivering…
My beautiful new pet was lying in the box,..
Lifeless.
And that was the last time I caught a चतुर.
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