Monday, July 09, 2007

Part of the problem is her ability to go away, disappear. Even when she here she's not here. How can one possibly form any kind of relationship with her. Sometimes I have asked myself, why did we meet and come together.
What do two people who come very close have in common that binds them for that one moment or a lifetime. And why is it a lifetime's wait in one case while it's a lifetime's sharing in the other. Would I trade one for the other?
Its evening and everywhere the corners are taken. Groups, couples lounging against them and a familiar chatter paints my background. I risk looking up and see the barman waving at me for more ice. Its best to sneak into the kitchen. The heat is killing me. The ice tray is full, I empty the contents in the box and shield myself from the burst of laughter that rings as I approach the makeshift bar. 'Hey.' .....'Oh My God, My goodness, .....You? All this while ....', a familiar voice asks me the question I have been avoiding for the past so many years. There was silence for that split second.And suddenly voices engulfed me, everywhere I turned they threw the questions. 'Its you, isn't it?' 'Where were you all these years?' 'We thought we'd lost you' 'Are you sure you are not mistaken, she looks different, what do you think?'...
Women walk slowly, dancing through a maze of endless direction. Dark eyes gaze across the skyline, watching birds going back home. It's time and not yet time for some to go. I ask for additional light to screen the frame for a soft mellowed effect and we begin shooting again.
Some people have asked me if this will work, if this story will make any difference to the way these women live. If this story will bring them change, relief. Perhaps not. The documenatry will be screened at some places, they will discuss the subtle aspects of craft and direction and pass witty remarks over clinking glasses of vodka or rum while some others will plot schemes to negotiate grants and aids into their well meaning NGOs so dedicated to the task of upliftment in this community.
Dusk has settled like a fine wrap on the edges of the hills, dark and soft and beautiful. In the distance one can hear the soft sounds of the cattle beign led back home. Its time. I want to go back. But where is home?
There's the heat that courses in my veins and settles down under the arm pits, a musty smell that grows and weighs on me with a tanglible force so heavy and darkly humid that I can slit its gut with the razor sharp knife made from cold ice.

My face rests against the cold wisps of air that float in the refrigirator. I look into the caverns hoping to find something that will take away this ancient endless thirst.

And yet it may all soon become a distant part of this summer's fading memory. I'm waiting for the full burst of monsoon. But for now the room seems heavy and dark and uncompromisingly hot.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Reference to Barkha Dutt's article in HT-Lib Service, TV-Style

Who is the liberal amongst us all?

I am surprised and saddened by a whole generation of educated women who have watched the K-serials and either lauded or felt mesmerized by the persona created by a la Tulsi or Paravati. I would have understood an uneducated woman responding to it with enthusiasm but can’t comprehend the enchantment in the other.

I almost feel as much threatened by the impact these serials have had on women who were in some cases pioneers in their own small ways when they started out in life. This generation of women that constitutes our grandmothers, mothers or mother-in-laws and aunts have fought and made difficult choices at one stage or another in their lives to create a change, to achieve that one right that would separate them from the repressed and help them move into the modern and liberal world.

Mind you they didn’t get that easily. My eldest aunt’s right to education came after a long struggle; perhaps my mother had it easier than her! My mother-in-law is a teacher for heaven’s sake. My husband’s aunts are all educated, self sufficient and independent. They must have battled with their own to win the right to just be who they want to be. They couldn’t have had it any other way.

Such women from normal, middle class families created the category of the working women in yesteryears. These same women in other circumstances create a hierarchy while in the company of women from the villages or small towns. They see themselves as different.

Why then do they find it so easy to consort with the likes of Tulsi? Why then is my generation being compared with the likes of Tulsi and shown lacking in many ways?
Why then have they lost their ability to understand and respect the small victories they helped us achieve? Our conception by all means wouldn’t have been possible if they had not broken the first barrier. After all we are what we are today, because they took that first step ages ago. Sometimes I feel the uneducated have shown me more respect, appreciation and tolerance. They seemed to be growing and evolving whereas these educated women have become complacent in some way, have stopped the process of accepting growth, change and building new ideas.

Maybe the dynamics of what represented liberal and modern then and now has changed but surely they are capable of sensitivity or awareness of an individual’s right to form, dignity, and independence as well as the right to self-expression which is exactly what they fought for in the past.

So who is the liberal amongst us?

Why does the woman in us split and become two contrasting people? Sometimes I feel we are a nation filled people who have no idea of the word tolerance or an individual’s right to personal space. Sex, gender, religion, education, profession, caste, place, people, name, brand, lifestyle-all these categories exhibit a clear lack of tolerance or an individual’s right to personal space or freedom in term’s of self expression.

If educated, independent young women who are leaders in their profession and in a position to make a difference in society begin to respond to such regression by not raising a voice what will be the outcome of their conception? If they allow the split or allow it to coexist with their other self, what might just happen? That thought worries me.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Knowing each other....

I think appearances are deceiving not the superficial ones on the surface of how one looks or carries their particular shape, size or form. But the ones that seem to exist in our minds and yet never take shape or form outside of it. Sometimes I wonder why we can’t face the parts of us that other people know and see so clearly. There’s this absence of awareness both in the case the self and in the case of another person whom we love or whose friendship we treasure. We never get to know either the self or another completely.

I sometimes find this absence of awareness distressing. Sometimes painful. Any thoughts.

Monday, March 26, 2007

How often do we encourage creativity to flow, develop and flower as a big part of our lives both professional and personal? How often do we make time to nurture or indulge in creative processes? Most people talk about that one-day when they will make time to take up that course in pottery or get back to their singular talent of painting or singing. We shy away from learning, especially the sort that does not lead to an academic end or fulfills a professional goal or objective.

Most people treat education as a phase of life that falls away into the past and reminds one mostly of pleasant memories of growing up, friendships and change. No one thinks of revisiting this phase in the role of a student again, especially as an adult. Somewhere the urge to fly and indulge in things that make us wonder, things that fill our imagination with countless possibilities and make us explore our curiosity have disappeared. The clutter of information all around, available at the click of a button has turned the spirit of adventure to mundane clicking.
Can one understand the challenges that stop people from exploring and indulging in creative learning in later lives?
How should one define creative learning? Why would anyone want to indulge int it?

Trying to be on a break...

I have been on the move so long. For the past three months literally I have been living out of a suitcase. Somehow all my vacations get crammed up with activities. The weekend breaks to Bhopal are no different. But its monday morning here and Abhi is at work and I suddenly have time on my hands and I don't know what is the next best thing for me.

This page is soft, white and inviting and I am free. Free to do as I please. Countless chores come to my mind seeking attendence. But I don't want to bother with them. I'd much rather pick those up that have been on my to do list since ages and have nothing to do with my daily routine, my work life. I'd love to pick up soem thing interesting and new, something just for the sake of indulging.

I don't want to waste a single minute sorting through the options I just want to indulge, go ahead relax, sit, sleep, write, cook( I wish I could but Abhi's one room set offers no kitchen!) and here I am with my feet up wanting to write but knock, knock...there are no thoughts pounding at the doorstep aching to be written down.

So I guess I should simply wait and do nothing for the time being!!!
What is it that people do when they have a break?

Friday, March 23, 2007

This morning:

22.03.07

The season rests on the edge of a change, breeze brushing gently against the tress, leaves whispering down the sidewalk, cushioning the earth with its softness and I stand watching. This is a moment for peace, for quiet watching, for listening to silence and thinking about changes.

I am back at work; last night wasn’t so far away in the distance. It seems like only moments ago I’d left the place and I’m back here in the room that has no window. Wish I could watch out and see the morning change before heat of the late morning declares the onset of summer.

I find I am thinking about a friend again this morning; sometimes I wonder why he hasn’t kept in touch. It’s been such a long time since we have spoken and now I find it quite difficult to send him messages, I sort of shy away. It’s as if I know he wouldn’t respond back though I don’t know why he wouldn’t.

If I ask, would he tell me? I am filled with the feeling that perhaps he won’t and my hopes of being connected will fall down like the soft leaves in this changing season.
Why do we lose touch with people we care about?

Thursday, March 01, 2007

A dried leaf wept
yet shed no tear;
In the silence of a winter
night, it swayed until
dawn found it lying still.

Winter stood watching
so close at hand wanting, yearning,
aching to touch.
In the exact moment of connect
everything went still.

Night and dawn fought over it
curling, sheathing, they both sought
till wind came snarling, hurling, slamming
in the dark of the night
and the light of the day
and claimed one tiny shaken leaf
and took it away!

Challenges...

Memory holds strange textures of sounds and smells that paint the canvas of our life and then suddenly spreads them loose one night, in the distant future reminding one of past dreams, fears and anxities;
While working on a tongue twister today-"Dream machine streams amazing dreams" I asked the children to create their own dream machine and try and sell it to a group of customers. The children came up with amazing machines that could do just about anything.
Sometimes, I wish I could weild the option of simply wearing such an extraordinary ring or the fantastic dream goggles and switch the channel to watch my favourite dream play over and over again.
But alas like one wise 12 year old pointed out to the customers-the problem with dreams coming true was that till such time that we wish and the possibility exists of its not coming true or turning disastrous the excitement for the dream machine lives on, but the moment they begin to come true, one wishes for things to go back to normal as there is nothing new left to explore!
Challenges in life are like that! One shouldl just wait to see and hear where they might lead us!!!
What do you say?

Changing patterns

29th January, 2007


In a blur of colours and patterns that changed around us almost every single moment that day, Abhishek and I in a small and quiet ceremony, tied the knot at the Guruvayur temple in Delhi.
We got married the Kerela way; he looked like a Rajasthani instead of the Kumaoni groom he was meant to potray and I represented my stock- a mixture of kashmiri and tamil origins!!!