I am ’stealing’ time from my holidays to scribble a few lines..

My visit to BengaLooru this time was a little tizzy at the start. I stayed with my bil and family at Koramangala and once our planned activities got over we statred freaking out to visit all the malls in the vicinity.

We circumambulated Forum, Star Bazar, Big Bazar, both the Lifestyles, Garuda …… Our footwears showed signs of wear and tear and by night my twice injured  left foot ’sang’ songs . Once home I felt as if I was still precariously walking on the slippery mall floors…And  soon started expecting  an escalator in the next room or a Macdies in the  next floor ..

My senses were  revolted by the overdsose of vanilla essence near the cookie /cream and fudge  factories  ,the sight of dark red chaats in the roadside eateries, the open gutters in national games village, the kids ‘playing’ in barricaded play pens at the so called fun  place  in  one such mall.

The kids were being minded by teenagers who were more interested in chatting with themselves, or tossing the balls among themselves.I don’t blame them, however. The poor kids were in a make -believe playground. The slides and seesaws were all so cozy that it wouldn’t have been any fun !! There was no thrill in sliding down those slides as the gradient was so simple , the ‘plastic’ world around was exactly that!There was no sand for them to play with. Instead they had a wide array of coloured plastic balls to throw at each other or sink into.The place was quite tiny. Elsewhere it was full of virtual games letting out  screaming lights and sounds.Yeah, the lights were screaming too.. They were that obnoxious. Kids were  busy counting the tickets won and calculating what they would eventually get . They barely enjoyed the game as such.The ‘gifts’ on display included silly looking incorrect  rulers and  useless pencils. There was just too much of showiness and unreality in the whole place. Some grandparents were enjoying more than the kids. This was the only pleasing sight.

When I came down to Malleshwaram, I somehow felt I had come close to my old BengaLooru. The long , slow sojourns on Sampige Road and Margosa Road , the scents of mallige and grandhige angadies, the sight of MaakLi beru, nallikai, Amtekai , the discourses at Madhwa Sangha, the taste of Panchaamruta at the SP extension Rayara Mutta ,the slow climb over the 11 th cross , the gradual roll down of the 10 th cross , the lure of Sandiges from Loveluck Stores,the scented adike from Srinivasa Stores, the visually appealing Hurigaalu angadi, the beckoning happalaas of Radhakrishna Stores, the come hither looks from the second -hand , yellowing ,ageing ,books , the unputdownable Real cane (this was available at K mangala in an unappetising way ,though  ) the ‘aaseya dukhakke moola ‘ freshly unravelled jackfruits , the  unrelenting call of the friendly  hanchu, sowtu , baandle ,halguLu mane shops , the stop – pray and scoot shrines that abound here …….

…Oh!! Paradise revisited.

These last few weeks have been hectic.

An academic  session is coming to an end.

I have been stealing glances at some blogs and commenting too.But somehow couldn’t manage enough time to write.

The day I bid farewell to my Std. II kids was very emotional.

I felt I was sending them away to an unknown place.

Sahil was worried why I held on to him with a tight hug for a long time.Being the most restless and talkative kid in class, he has all my empathy… But I know it will be an uphill task for the new teacher next year.

Abhipsa , being the reticent and shy artist has all the ingredients to bring out the protectiveness in me..

Shruti, the perfectionist makes me want to ruffle her dress and shuffle her books so that she relaxes and learns that there is  more to life …

Akansha, the kid who is expecting a  sibling after ruling the house for seven glorious years gets a special hug. I know she will face a few tough months ahead getting used to sharing space …. 

Mayuresh with his thick glasses had finally learned to write …

So many thoughts and time slipping by..

I know that this hurt is inevitable every year. It is a sweet pain. As a teacher one wants to be gradually dispensable…

A teacher has to develop detachable attachments,else she will wallow in her past pupils and fail to take the new ones in to her fold.

I had read somewhere that parenting is like kite flying..one has to let go to succeed in the job..

As a parent I am restless. I keep auditing myself and my skills of parenting. And like all auditors , I keep finding glaring errors. Was I too soft in allowing him to  play computer games for  60 minutes this week ? Was I too harsh  when i refused to allow him to read the third story book this week ??   Was I barbaric when I forced down the badam milk down his gullet ? Was I  hitlersque in not allowing noodles more than once a month ?

Was I ?

Wasn’t I ? 

What would his reaction be ? What would I have done in his place ?

Whay? Why?

Could I have done this /that in a better way? WAS there a better way?

I was an auditor as a child too. I would point out how better I could have been brought up,That is in MY view ( highly prejudiced  My mother would console me by telling that iItoo qwould get my chance and I could do it the right way then.Now I have  my son saying that i am not an ideal mom !

His ideas  of parenting are quite well thought out-even as a  12 year old.

I am not worried. I am more worried about his ideas of  ’sonning’

More on that soon .

Most often my  auditing is done at night. If I am  tired sleep takes over otherwise auditing takes over the sleep.Many a times my son would have found it amusing that I would be extra careful on some mornings in handing out decisions /orders.He would have expected  the usual  military general barking orders….and he is stunned to see a liberal, ‘cool’ mom accepting his verdicts without a syllable of dissent. Mornings such as these must be  a kid’s dream beginning of a new day.

One of my friends,Mrs. S always told me that her dress selection for the day depended on her mood.She also kept in mind the work she had planned out for that day.

It soon  got to be a joke(for me ) as many days she would claim success in her work was due to her choice of colours in the morning.And on other days she would feel that all her plan had gone waste as the choice had gone wrong!

She would associate white with peace..many a time she would end up having a heated argument with her colleagues.(she would later claim that she COULD  kep her ‘calm’ only because of her white outfit! 

She would wear greens and oranges on the days she felt she needed a boost to her self confidence.

And because she religiously believed it it worked ..for her.

Now the scene today in the Town hall of Delhi has made me wonder..

has colour anything to do with our thoughts or actions  ?

The councillors were mostly dressed in white…but their  thoughts and actions were decidedly BLACK.They looked as if they were remnants of the time when ‘man’ didn’t bother with clothes. Or of that time when ‘he’ wasn’t evolved into a man yet.

‘Clothes maketh you ‘ say some.

I doubt.

 This happened on the journey back to Goa.V and I were accompanied to Yeshwantpur station by my coz, my uncle and aunt.When we got into the train we realised that the bogie was full of tourists, many of them of them were young guys. Now this variety is too boisterous and likely to make a lot of noise till late into the night with /without the help of Bacchus. There were hardly any women passengers in the bogie and this made me a little wary of these guys. As soon as we sat down the guys told me in broken Kannada that I should move to berths 27, 28 so that their friends could sit with them. I told them I would change only after the TTE checks our tickets. Actually I wanted to be sure that those seats were really theirs. The journey started, my coz was apprehensive leaving us amidst those noisy guys. I told him I was capable to manage things. He said, “They too were capable!” J           As we crossed Chikkabanavar, we took out our books and got lost in reading .I could faintly hear the guys discussing among themselves as to who would remind me to change the seats. As I didn’t even look at them they became silent.After Tiptur         I overheard discussing their plans for the return reservation. They could not arrive at a consensus. Then one of them suggested asking me about the return trains. Then somebody said that forming sentences in Kannada and English was strenuous for him. He had to write them down before speaking out. I felt bad and thought of entering the scene.But I wanted to tease them a little. Even as one of them asked,” Madam, can you tell us about train from Goa…”I asked them which languages did they learn other than Telugu and English at school. One replied that he had learnt Sanskrit. Others were confused as to why I had asked that question. I just wanted them to use the rashtrabhaashe in case of doubt and not depend on English.  Then one guy said,” I am a businessman. I have studied only up to third”.          Immediately I felt I had carried it too far. I said “Naaku Telugu vastundi, meeku e information kaavaalo adagandi.Nenu meeku Hindi vastundo ledo kanukonedaaniki ila chesaanu…”        They were stunned and embarrassed and some of them ran away to the next bogie! Others tried hiding their faces in the windows. I felt wretched and amused at the same time.     I realized that I was very cruel to test them like that.We soon started chatting and they told me that they were from Tirupati and that they saw Hindi films only rarely . The businessman produced his business card and made me promise to contact him as soon as I landed in Tirupati. He extended all help in the temple town.          Soon they were saying, madamku Kurkure eevandira, and baabuku biscuit eevandira …etc.We declined politely. The TTE was nowhere in sight. I had now relaxed to the extent that I offered to use the top berths incase they wanted to play cards. I had also decided to move if need be. Night came by. We had our dinner, they had theirs. They helped us lift the middle berths and told us that we could use their bags as pillows! They switched off the lights and went to sleep! TTE was nowhere in sight.I slept so well that I woke up only after the train reached Goa border. I fell asleep again and woke up only         when we were very close to my destination!!I smiled at my fears of the previous evening and thanked God for a safe, hassle – free journey.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

My son and I travel five kilometres on a two wheeler to school.

We pass  four schools on the way.

At the entrance of each school there is nothing short of a chaos.

Some scenes are funny–

A parent is seen combing the child’s hair/forcing a banana down a reluctant gullet/forcing the child to blow her nose/pushing a packet of biscuits into the already full bag/threatening–if you don’t write…/hugging tight as though the child is proceeding to the border/wiping baby-crocodile tears of a mini protest nagraaz/—–

But a scene which makes me burst into verbal fumes and fireworks is the attitude of   certain formula 1 parents who can see their child’s school gate and nothing else.

The very sight of the gate makes them blind to oncoming traffic/pedestrians and even their child’s classmates.

They just vroom into the gate as if their kids are to be deposited

right onto their benches.
Maybe they have some insurance and assurance that they will be safe from harm,but what about other mortals on the road??
And another question comes to my mind–Aren’t they teaching F1 ways to their kids as well??

I have changed my theme because on the original theme I couldn’t get widgets.

I changed it again so that it has some colour.

Let me experiment,Vani before I give up and send you my password.(You ARE my blog-guru Dronacharya and I am  your blog-ekalavya!)Like Niks who is my main E Guru!!

Why are human beings often cribbing about something or someone?

Either it is about spouse,work,kids,servants,weather,water(shortage),food,house(maintenance),lack of ‘good’ clothes,…..

We must be spending about 99% of our time doing nothing but cribbing.

Life would be more fruitful if we take some time off from cribbing to appreciate great gifts of God like absence of major diseases,presence of healthy spouse and kids, sufficient food and water  for sustenance,enough clothes to drape a bus full of refugees!!and what-not!!

Old age—

Is it a curse (on their children who think they are ever – youthful?)

Is it a boon (on those who have spent a lifetime working and are ready for a bout of pampering and understanding?)

Most people in their thirties and forties are unaware that they will also age.

Even the appearance of fifty doesn’t open their eyes to their oncoming old age.

“I will not become senile like my in-laws/my parents. I will remain young and aware and active and understanding and disease-free.”

This is what most people tell themselves often.But, somebody is eavesdropping and— smiling. No one is immune to ageing.