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Incidents

Team Tiger Trails – the journey so far

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Categories
Short story

Chasing Rainbows – fiction

‘Chasing Rainbows’

Fiction on the topic ‘When an NRI Returns… Observations and Experiences’

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‘You must be out of your mind!’ Neetu bangs the bowl so hard the shiny black table, that it cracks. The bowl, ofcourse, not the table!

From where I can see, they are having one of their routine weekend arguments. Come Friday night, and these two start off their incessant bickering.

‘Ravi! Did you meddle with my iPhone again? Something’s not quite right!’

‘Not pizza again, Neetu! Let’s have some ‘proper’ Indian food. Why don’t we just hire a cook?’

‘Ravi, your dirty clothes are supposed to go inside the laundry bag, not outside!’

My ears ache. I am often tempted to use those white sponges – er, what Neetu calls ‘ear-plugs’ – you know, the thing she always steals from hotels!

Some weekends however, are different. The house is filled with silence. Eerie silence. Those are the days when these two go absolutely mad, and cannot stand the sight (or sound) of each other! Comparatively pleasant, I have to confess.

Three months. Exactly three months since my children returned ‘home’. When Ravi left Chennai nine years ago, to work in London, he said he would return in just two years. Two rolled into three, four, five, and slowly nine. Finally, it was my illness that called him back. I know Neetu did not want to come back. After all, she is an educated modern girl. What is that thing she says all the time? ‘Spaaace’. Yes. She screams ‘I neeeeeed my space, Ravi!’.

Really, what is this space??! We have a beautiful 1500 sqft apartment! On the main road. In the heart of the city. That too, just next to the bus terminus! If I was young again, I would just get into my favourite Bus 12B and travel all the way to Marina beach and spend the day there, for just Rs.5!! Did you know, they have introduced Air-conditioned buses too now. That ticket costs Rs.10, and personally, I do not mind paying that much. But you know, my milkmaid – Bala, she says it is exorbitant. Poor woman. Carrys her aluminium tin full of milk packets in the bus and even on her head.

Anyway, Neetu is always asking for ‘space’. I think she has forgotten,  that her apartment in London was only 700 sqft. I went there once, you see, when Ravi’s Appa was alive. Nice city, actually. Though, I do not understand why those people always say ‘How lovely to meet you!’ What is so lovely about meeting a stranger?! But they are polite, those English people. We can actually learn some manners from them. Here, even walking has become a nightmare. Never know who will bump into you, or land his motorbike right on your feet, and not even bother to say ‘Saari’.

But nothing like ‘Home’. London was very peaceful. But it was dead. Perhaps any city would be ‘dead’ for an old woman like me. But here in Chennai, I am alive. Every moment. I wish Neetu would also realise this.

‘Crash! Bang!’ – more plastic cups flying across the dining table now. Ouch! This must be a really big fight. Talking to you, I seem to have missed what this was all about! Let me listen carefully.

There is a slight drizzle, and altogether, it makes a very pretty picture. The setting sun, the pitter-patter of raindrops, the aroma of hot samosas…

‘I hate this place, Ravi. I H-A-T-E Chennai. I am going back to where I belong!’ she cries.

‘What do you mean ‘where I belong’?? You lived all your life here, my dear. Have you forgotten your childhood days in Mandaveli area?’ he yells.

‘I have not forgotten. And that is EXACTLY the reason I cannot stand living here!’ she gets hysterical.

If you ask me, Chennai has changed so much in the last decade. When these children left for London, what we had was a quiet, old-fashioned city. Today, it is a modern metro. Complete with metro, shopping malls and the works! In those days, there were a few excellent schools and colleges for the youngsters.  Some new foreign banks had opened. That is where Ravi himself joined. Rukku Mami was so jealous about Ravi’s good fortune. To counter it, she used to brag about her daughter, Paddu, who had joined some ‘software company’. Shameless!

‘What’s your problem, Neetu? We have great jobs. You yourself earn a lakh of rupees a month!!’, Ravi continues to argue with Neetu.

‘You don’t get it, do you, Ravi?’ Neetu is on the verge of throwing a glass vase.

Please, not that vase, child!! I want to scream! I bought it about twenty years ago from Poppat Jamaal – what was then, one of the biggest shops in Chennai. Please choose another vase. Like that cheap imitiation you brought from London. Do you remember, how we laughed, when we turned the vase over and it read ‘Made in China’? Throw that one, please. Of course, she does not heed me. She never does.

‘We are both happy here! We have everything we can dream of!’, Ravi pleads.

Well said, Ravi. You both do have everything. Neetu also is doing well, I suppose. She has made so many new friends in the last two months.

She is very fond of driving, and in London, she never managed to get a license. Can you believe it? She tried four times, each time, she failed. As soon as she came to Chennai, she called ‘Metro Driving School’. They got her a driving license without her even going for the test! Five thousand rupees and two photographs – job done!

‘Ravi, can’t you see how congested this place is? India is just so polluted. Every time I step out, I end up coughing like an old woman!’ Neetu continues to whine.

Now, this is really getting annoying now. What is so dirty about India? Agreed, the roads are very congested. But the government has built so many flyovers. Many roads are one-way, and traffic is quite smooth, if you ask me. Ofcourse, you won’t! It is not fair, I think, that people obey rules and follow one-way signs when they are abroad, and when they are here in India, they crib that it is causing delays!

But look at it this way, our immune system is so much better than those who are living abroad. Our children roam around in the hot sun, but do not fall ill. I remember Neetu used to apply some expensive sun-screen lotion during the few summer months in London. We never do this drama! We are naturally robust.

Talking about being robust – look at our mental strength! Our country has been attacked so many times, in the past, and even now. The Mumbai blasts, terrorist attacks… every day, some part of our country is destroyed, damaged. But we Indians bounce back to Life. That is our biggest strength. I wish this girl could see these finer points of life.

‘We have to start a family, Ravi. Look at the free health system in London. Excellent education too, and all free!’ Neetu is pleading her case very hard today. I do not know how Ravi will reply to this.

You see, in India, education is not ‘equally’ available to everyone. There is a huge difference in government schools, and private funded schools. The former are usually very mediocre. There are some bright students, ofcourse, but they do not always get a fair chance. The poor people cannot afford a decent education for their children.

‘You’re right, Neetu. State schools in London are world-class. And free. But we can afford to give high quality education to our children. And we have the best possible schools here. Look at your own nieces and nephews. They go to the best school in Chennai. Haven’t they turned out brilliantly?’

But Ravi, what about our daily commute to work? I spend two hours on the road every day, in the dust and heat, travelling to the outskirts of the city on work. This will take a toll on my health, don’t you think?’ Neetu seems to have softened her tone a little now.

‘Darling, you used to travel an hour a day even in London. Remember those horribly crowded underground trains, in peak-hour. And every other day, there would be a delay because of some signal failure! Atleast, you get to car-pool here. Or travel independently, if you like’ Ravi gently kisses her on the forehead. I have to turn away now. I know where this is leading!!

‘But the corruption, Ravi? Everywhere we go, we have to bribe something to someone. Otherwise things just do not get done. This country runs on money. Only money’

‘Now, Neetu, don’t be unreasonable. Every country has its faults. I know we have not seen much corruption in London. The machinery moves even without the ‘extra’ oiling. But do you see, how slow things are there? It took us three weeks to get a broadband connection. When Appa fell ill, we had to wait two whole days, to get an appointment with the government doctors. See how accessible things are here in India…’

‘Hmmm’ I hear Neetu’s unspoken words. She cannot refute the points my darling son is making.

 ‘Remember the day we landed? You and I did not have to do a thing!! Helpers did everything for us. And what did you do? You yelled at poor Lakshmi-amma, for not wiping the mirrors well enough’.

I see Neetu squirming. Now her cheeks are turning red. Oh no, Ravi! You have treaded dangerous territory now! Seems like Ravi has heard my alarm too.

Sorry, darling. I did not mean it that way. I was just trying to make you see how convenient it is to live in India. We have so much help. You do not have to lift a finger! In London, we did everything, from cleaning bathrooms, to painting the house. We have people to do every little piece of work here. All you have to do manage them!’

At this moment, the lights go out. Before I assume these children are upto some hanky-panky, I hear a loud knock on the door. ‘Nityasireeee, Current illaya?’ (meaning, no current?) comes the booming voice of our neighbour, Chandra Maami. How much I miss her. We used to leave our front-doors open, and sit in our respective hallways, and chat with each other, during quiet evenings. Her children live in Seattle. Naturally! She educated them so well. IIT, IIM. And what did they do? Flew away to the USA, and settled there. I know exactly how she feels. I used to feel the same way. Until Ravi and Nityashree returned. Such a beautiful name – ‘Nityashree’. She gets angry when anybody refers to her by this name. She said her friends found ‘Neetu’ easier to pronounce. Sigh!

Sometimes, I think the best way of putting some sense into her head, is to show her the restaurant bills they have both run up in the last two months. One would think they returned to India for me. From the way they have been ravaging the Chaat shops and Dosa-outlets, it looks like they have been starving for the last nine years. ‘Mmmm… mmmmm…’ is all I hear when they bring home a take-away. Slurp. Of all the food they have gobbled, I loved the aroma of pav-bhaji most! I know – Ravi knows it is my favourite dish. He is a loving boy, my Ravi.

He remembers Chennai, the way it was. Madras.

The quaint old-fashioned city with its quiet, cultured inhabitants.

The streets where one would find a beautiful old temple, a relatively new Mosque and a historically important Chuch, all within five minutes walk of each other.

The beautiful Marina beach. If one could just ignore the number of slum-dwellers who performed their morning ablutions in front of our eyes! Still, it is a beautiful beach. Countless families who relish their Saturday evenings. Lakhs of ‘lovers’ walking hand-in-hand, dreaming of a future so bright, and in a world miles away from here. Little realising, that this place – right here, and right now – is a heaven on earth itself.

Call me a frog-in-the-well, if you like. I have breathed my entire life in this beautiful city. In this magnificent country, India. By far, I believe this is the most wonderful place ever.

‘This is the most wonderful place, ever, Neetu’ says Ravi, almost echoing my thoughts.

They have lit a candle. In the darkness, all I can see is Neetu’s eyes, glistening with tears. And Ravi caressing her gently.

‘I miss my life in London, Ravi! I miss those beautiful rainbows on a quiet summer evening’ Neetu whispers.

‘Oh, I miss my Tropicana orange and Cider too, Neetu’, Ravi says teasingly. And Neetu bursts out laughing. She actually looks quite pretty when she is happy.

‘I know you miss London. I do, too. But we cannot deny the fact that whatever be the case, we led a monotonous life’, Ravi looks quite serious now.

‘We spent our days shopping, travelling, eating, drinking…’ he continues. ‘Which is not bad at all. That is exactly what everybody wants to do. But you will realise, some day, what I mean when I say Life must be more Fulfilling’.

Neetu starts to get up. Ravi holds her hand and pulls her back.

Really, these children have no shame. Holding hands freely, in front of elders. Er, is this what Neetu means when she says she wants her ‘space’? Anyway, I have to perk up now, if I want to catch any more of their argument. Which I know, Ravi is going to win!

‘We want to start our family, Neetu. How do you want our children to grow up? In play-groups or nurseries with strangers? Or with your own family here – with your parents! Do you want your child to be lonely and bored despite having expensive toys? Or do you want her to simply walk down our apartment complex, and just join a bunch of energetic children playing excitedly?’

Neetu nods slowly.

‘Neetu, you do not have to turn into another Shahrukh Khan from Swades!

You do not need a dramatic tryst with poverty and misery – for you to have a change of heart.

You do not have to stumble upon an orphanage, to realise how much there is to be done here in India.

You just have to open your heart and mind, and realise that there is so much more to share here. With so many more people. You can share your sorrows. Your joys, even. There is just so much to give, and to receive too!’

I feel a lump forming in my throat. This boy is wise beyond his years.

‘We cannot change this country, Ravi. You’re being dramatic!’ Neetu argues.

‘Nityashree!’ (Ravi only uses this name when he is very serious). ‘I am not trying to change this country. All I am saying is, give us a chance, to return home!’

Well said, my boy! I almost whoop in delight!

Look around you! Your life is brimming now. With people, activity, laughter, sorrow, noise, light… you and I, are fully alive! Unlike our depressing winters abroad. There is something about the air in our country, that makes me feel alive. I hope you will realise it someday, too’.

I feel a tear roll down one cheek. I feel alive here too, Ravi. I want to walk right up and embrace him.

‘When I came back to Chennai last year…’ Ravi continues. I suspect a tremor in his voice.

‘When I came last summer, Appa was already gone. But Amma – the sight of her shook me. She was alone, naturally. But she was so content. Simple, yet, so peaceful and calm. That is when I realised, that we, despite all our material comforts, were sorely missing something by being away from our homeland’

When Amma also died last year, I realised that the most important pieces of my life were gone.

First my father, and then my mother. The only thing I had left now, was my hometown – my country, my home. My roots. I could not reverse Time. But I could gather the remnants of my life…’

Neetu nods slowly. She looks up and stares at me. Rather, at my photograph that hangs on the mango-yellow wall.

Her gaze meets mine. Hers, undecided. Mine, pleading.

‘He is right, child!’ I want to cry, ‘I hope you too, realise that a large chunk of you belongs in your roots. No country, no home is perfect. But if you give it a chance, you could actually stop chasing rainbows, because they are right here – even in a drop of adulterated water, even in a ray of light. Happiness in every breath! Well, almost’, I plead silently.

‘Ok, Ravi’ she finally whispers. ‘Let’s do this!’ she says more affirmatively.

In a rather filmy way, the power suddenly comes back on. In the distance, I notice, what most certainly looks like a rainbow! I know that my children will notice it too. Soon!

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Categories
Thought and Reason

From ‘Taboo’ to ‘Tolerance’

Team This post has been published by me as a team member of Tiger Trails Team for the SUPER 6 round of Bloggers Premier League (BPL) – The first ever unique, elite team blogging event in the history of blogging world. To catch the BPL action and also be part of future editions and other contests, visit and register at Cafe GingerChai

 

LOVE AND INDIAN SOCIETY – TRANSITIONING FROM ‘TABOO’ TO ‘TOLERANCE’

It is summer. Imagine you are walking down a long dusty road. You are tired, your throat is parched. A little water to drink is all you need. You have two options:

1-     A roadside tap with cool, fresh water – but you do not know the source

2-     An unopened, branded can of still water – but which is a couple of months old

What would you choose?

Er, let me guess. Most would choose Option 2. The reason: We assume it is safe, because certainly, it has been officially approved.

Well, this may be an awful example. But this is exactly how we treat this commodity called ‘Love’.

Indian society is known to have classified its people into different castes, groups and sects. This has always been the case. Even so with Love. We believe Love is divine. We worship it. And we divide it into Pure and Impure. Just like that branded and unbranded water!

So long as Love refers to ‘clearly named and approved’ relationships, it is accepted by society. Therefore, affection towards parents, love for the spouse (own spouse, of course 😉 ), children, siblings…is respected and appreciated. But love that crosses any of these boundaries immediately turns on the danger signals!

And that exactly is where problems begin. We build a mass of unwritten rules about love.

Parents must love their children…Children must reciprocate this love by looking after parents in their old age…Young girls and boys must not fall in love with each other (unless of course, its a very brotherly/sisterly love!!)…One must Love within the same community…etc. etc.

Now, I am not saying these are all bad. But these rules are way too rigid!

We are utterly emphatic about our limited understanding of ‘pure’ love, and disparaging of anything beyond that, which we conveniently denigrate as illegitimate!

Indian society is brutally intolerant towards emotions that cross approved peripheries.

Let us take a few examples from recent times:

–        An honour killing takes place in the most gruesome manner because it is love across ‘approved boundaries’, a panchayat wants to ban same gotra-marriages and a survey shows most people actually support it!

–        Certain self-proclaimed moral police / Sena threaten to marry off couples who were found celebrating Valentine’s Day and supposedly in love!

–        A famous educational institution suspends a professor on grounds of him being homosexual! So if the same professor had been with a female lover instead of male, then it was alright? It is a shame too, that he will – forever – be remembered as ‘the gay professor who committed suicide’.

–        A film actress, who actually has a Temple built for her by fans, is worshipped for her ‘on-screen talent’. The same actress however, is taken to court for because she dared to support pre-marital co-habitation. So in reel-life, one can be in love multiple times, and still be respected, because in each film, the ‘character’ was supposedly a devoted wife/’sincere lover’. However, in real-life, the thinking individual is veritably excommunicated because she challenged unwritten social norms.

–        If a girl were to express the slightest interest in a neighbour who belonged to a different caste, for example, what are the odds that she will be asked to tie a Rakhi for him and firm up a ‘chaste relationship’!

We are witness to such violence emerging out of ‘love’. And all this, because in our society, Love is an emotion that is largely overrated.

We are passionate people! And I don’t mean that in a weird way. In the true sense of the word, we are over-excited about Bollywood, Cricket and Love.. And not necessarily in that order! We toss these on a pedestal and worship them!

Therefore, ‘Love’ moves from being an everyday, common emotion, into something absolutely sacred. And something that is taboo!

We do need to realise, though, that like hunger or thirst, love too, is an everyday, common emotion. It is not a secret! It certainly isn’t untouchable!! We are not guardians of ‘love’. We are just insignificant beings that feel the emotion. Simple!

The quicker we accept this fact, the lesser the importance we will award to all those unwritten cobwebs of rules that have served to build our perception of Love! And then, we might also stop confusing Love with other things like Virginity, Duty and Responsibility, amongst other things!

We can bid adieu to all those moral policemen who try to formalise and shield Love, to those followers of Godmen, who confuse love with sex, and to those hate-mongers who use Love as a pretext to inflict more violence on society!

When Love isn’t taboo, then ‘honour’ killings are meaningless, too!

When Love does not bind you to someone of the opposite sex whom you do not actually love, then certainly, we would make a more tolerant and happy society!

It is extremely difficult, but it is the only way forward!

Indian society at large, has to liberate itself from its monumental perception of ‘love’. It has to broaden its boundaries. Nay, trash all boundaries, and accept that Love has many different forms (defined and undefined), and that they are all natural, human emotions. When we accept this fact, Love will not be ‘taboo’.

So, again, let me ask you a question.

It is summer. Imagine you have reached that long dusty road. You are exhausted, your throat is parched. A little water to drink is all you need. You still have two options:

1-     A roadside tap with cool, fresh water – you have no idea of the source, but it seems clean

2-     An unopened, branded can of still water – which could be a little stale

What would you choose? Er, let me guess. Option 2!!! Bah!!! I told you, that was a bad corollary to Love.

But I do hope this post made you think. And accept the fact that Love is just another emotion.

Let us stop idolising it.

The mantra is not ‘Taboo 😦’ but ‘Tolerance 🙂’.