I have a distinct memory of a ride in a local train when I was two years old. I remember crazy traffic on Mumbai roads - the reason why my parents chose to take a local train even though they were with two young children. I remember boarding the local with my mother, somehow. I remember that a gentleman - who I distinctly categorised as a 'kind uncle' - put me on the luggage rack, out of harm's way. I remember wide-eyed, yet dry-eyed, fear as I looked down at more people than my childish brain could process. I'm sure time has embellished the memory, but that was my idea of a 'crowded' local train. Fourteen years later, when people warned me that the local train from Kharagpur to Kolkata would be crowded, I admit I was more than a little nervous. I dressed simply - no loose clothes that could get caught in other people's things. I carried no luggage at all because I've heard horror … [Read more...]
On Being Outdated
The other day, I saw that the window of a friend's car had not been raised. She had just parked, and was using the remote to lock the car. Helpfully, I told her that the window was open. She grinned and said, "I know", and proceeded to use her remote to raise the window. I gaped and shook my head. Technology moves too fast for me. Yet, that's just one of many incidents that make me realise how easy it is to become outdated. I find myself sympathising so often with my grandmother, who asked me long ago in utter confusion what a Facebook was. Last week, I went to withdraw money from an ATM at a kiosk attached to a bank. It was a slightly fancy place with two machines, and I confidently went up to one and swiped my card. I was told that my transaction was not allowed. I tried again. It still didn't work. Shrugging at how inefficient banking can be with machines instead of people, I went … [Read more...]
Apricots at Midnight
Many would say that Apricots at Midnight is an outdated book: old-fashioned and preachy. Yet, the simple childlike stories made it altogether loveable. Imagine a patchwork quilt, in which each little bit of cloth has a story to tell. I wish I had one! Apricots at Midnight has the sense of a collection of stories, united by this idea. A young girl listens to her aunt Pinny talking about her childhood and the making of the grand quilt. Affection takes away the sordidness of poverty, and imagination makes every tiny bit of cloth a wonderful new world. There's nothing at all romantic and exciting about poverty, Aunt Pinny is quick to point out. Poverty coupled with the attempt to appear respectable makes everything even more difficult. Clothes need to be made out of old drapes and cushion covers. Even the tiniest sliver of soap is a treasure. Yet, the biggest … [Read more...]
Reflex
If I don't read, I can't write. It's as simple as that. My mother introduced me to Dick Francis years ago, and I never imagined I would like more than one odd book about jockeys. I'm not horse-mad, and I don't like the idea of horse races. It's a lifestyle about which I know nothing. In Reflex, Francis too answers the question as to how racing contributes anything at all to society and to humanity. Yet, I find myself turning to Dick Francis every now and then for different reasons - the stoicism of his characters, the simplicity of the narrative, and the pace of the story. Reflex, like so many other works by Francis, explores a world about which I know little, or rather, two worlds about which I know little. It is, as usual, set within the racing circle, but the narrator is also a passionate photographer, solving puzzles left to him by another photographer, George Millace. The … [Read more...]
Performed today!
Nothing is the same without our teacher, but we did what we could anyway. The good news: We carried off Pinnal Kolattam well - no mistakes, thank God for that! Even with our teacher not there, no one's hair fell, nothing terribly embarrassing happened, thank God for that too! Changes were hurried, but were carried out as well as we could, each girl as independent as she could be. The strange news is that the interval was far longer than we planned, for the most bizarre reason ever - no one was able to draw open the curtain! What got us stressed was the fact that we were sure the audience thought we were taking ages to change, but that was not true! The button to operate the curtains didn't work, and we couldn't draw them open manually! For twenty minutes, people ran up and down, trying to figure out what to do, even calling up the person who installed the curtains. Finally, the … [Read more...]
Performing Tomorrow!
As part of the Golden Jubilee celebrations of St. Mira's College for Girls, the Academy of Indian Dances will be putting up a programme of Bharatanatyam and folk dances on Tuesday, the 22nd of January, 2013. We begin with a traditional Ganesh Vandana - an invocation to the elephant-headed god. After that, we travel from state to state, giving our audience glimpses of different folk dances, traditional costumes and cultures - West Bengal, Kerala, Maharashtra, Tamil Nadu, Gujarat, Rajasthan and Nagaland. As a tribute to St. Mira, in whose college we will be performing, we will also perform a Mira bhajan in the Bhagavatamela (dance drama) style. Performing in the absence of our guru is a challenge indeed, and we hope to do her credit! Programme: Ganesh Vandana Bengali folk dance Malayala kummi Marathi folk dance Kuratti kummi Pinnal Kolattam Mira bhajan Dandiya Garba Naga tribal … [Read more...]
Walking in Varanasi
Varanasi, the immortal, eternal city, is one with narrow lanes and even narrower by-lanes. Getting to the hotel was like winding our way through a maze, where we had to walk in single file, lugging our backpacks and looking down to avoid stepping in fresh dung. I plodded grumpily at the back of the line. We were travelling with two French friends and being guided by someone from the hotel. We passed people at shops and at doorways nonchalantly brushing their teeth. In Varanasi, unlike in most other parts of the country, foreigners aren't a rarity to be ogled at. It was business as usual for them, calling out to one another across handcarts that looked as if they would never fit in lanes like that. They shouted off and on, and I ignored them as I wrinkled my nose to shut out the animal smells. "Ay, ey, ey!" One part of my mind did think that they were calling to me, but I was not … [Read more...]
Peach Juice
My sister and I coined a beautiful parameter for comparison. "It's like peach juice" means something special to us. Backpacking in Greece, we did something very smart. We realised that we were constantly thirsty and often in need of energy. So we took to buying large packs of juice, rather than shopping all the time for food, and hunting for water fountains. It was an intelligent thing to do - it saved money and kept us active. Both were equally important, and we felt good about ourselves for having thought of it. Later, we would use the same carton for water, filling it at fountains, carrying it around with us. Unfortunately, I don't like fruits much, and so, I don't like juice much. As a result, we ended up buying one particular brand of mixed fruit juice all the time. It was delicious, but repetitive. One fine day, we decided that we would try something different. We decided to buy … [Read more...]
The Awful English Language
Teaching English is impossible. Words like 'enough' are enough to put anyone off, but they don't even begin to scratch the surface. It so happened during one class that I had to pronounce all the words - though, thought, although, rough and plough. The hilarity and bewilderment are impossible to forget. One particular class stands out in my memory as I write this. I remember once being asked what the word 'hook' means. I painstakingly explained the hook and the eye, as well as the hook you hang clothes on in the bathroom, and the hook often associated with the missing hand of a pirate. With my drawing-skills, it requires unlimited imagination to understand what I'm trying to communicate. I felt pretty victorious because my communication was successful, and because I had thought of all three usages. I then asked what the context was because there was still utter non-comprehension in the … [Read more...]
The Ant Colony
Books that I've loved and re-read time and time again have nearly always emphasised character over plot. Take, for example, Anne, Emily, Little Lord Fauntleroy and the little princess. There's something about character that just warms me, perhaps because it's like discovering a friend, rather than having an experience. Stories with exciting plots are certainly a joy to read and do give me a thrill, but sometimes, I need more than that. I need to know all those people who are having those experiences. The Ant Colony was one of those books where I got to know the people in the book, and wanted to get to know them better. I just kept reading it until I had finished! It's one of those books that makes you smile and cry and wonder. So many books that I've read recently have concentrated on complexity of plot at the cost of fullness of character. This one had a simple plot … [Read more...]
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