IGNORE TO IGNORE

“Anuja?” I heard a female voice from behind. It sounded familiar. I turned towards the direction of the voice. Standing a few feet away was my school-friend; smartly dressed in black t-shirt and track pants, with sweat tickling down her forehead. She looked exactly the same even after four years.

I felt a bit surprised to see her approach me. Not that we were close friends in school. Just simple school-mates. Surprising that she comes and meets me like that.

We spoke. It made me feel good, rejuvenated. I don’t know why. Not that we spoke about some dramatic change in our lives. The usual hello-hi-wassup- let’s meet up someday, and then the bye.

My eyes followed her as she disappeared in the crowd and my mind dipped itself in a stream of thoughts. What was so great about the whole incident? Why did I get such joy out of a mere casual talk? What was so unusal? Maybe, it was the simple fact that she had the courtesy to come and say hi. She could have just walked past me and ignored me completely just as I had been ignoring so many people even when they passed by, right under my nose. Oh I felt like a master in the art of hiding my face!

Her simple gesture taught me an important lesson. And soon I got an opportunity to implement it. As I walked towards my house, my eyes fell on an old lady walking slowly towards a local clinic. Yes, I knew her. She was the same old female who used to drop me from school bus to home. It had been years since I had met her last. I went and tapped her shoulder gently.
“How are you Chandra ben?”
She turned her shriveled body around and squinted her eyes to have a closer look. Her lips cracked into a smile. She hugged me with her weak arms and enquired about my where abouts.
“You still remember me? I thought I was forgotten! No one really cares, you see…"
  As she ended her sentence, shame filled my conscience. I tried laughing.
“Tell me, what do I get for you the next time we meet?”
“Just get me my Anuja, like you got her today…”
I was left speechless. A fool I was all these years to have missed the joy that came by simply observing the happily twinkling faces of people….the twinkle that came just because of a hi.

I realized, one need not go out of one’s way to maintain relationships, just a little bit of concern, that’s it. What is the use of making 1001 friends on facebook when you can face none in real life? To get in touch, you don’t need to poke someone, a gentle pat is enough. Why build a wall and write on it when you could go beyond it? Why press the accept button online and prefer the ignore button offline?

BEAT IT OR CHEAT IT?

I was lazing around that day. I didn’t know what to do? Or maybe I knew what I was supposed to do but didn’t feel like doing anything. Next day I had my GK (General Knowledge) exam and I was supposed to study for it. But who cares for a graded subject like GK? That to in standard fifth? I wasted my time doing all sorts of useless things- watched TV, hogged on the snacks, blew bubbles with soap water…All the activities which gave me everything except GK!

The next day arose. In the school bus, I just went through the thin GK book. Last minute studying, you see! I entered the school gate, with the GK book stuck in front of my eyes and tried to figure out what was in it! Till I could fruitlessly figure it out, the assembly bell rang and it was time to ‘keep aside all your things and thank Lord for His blessings’ (that was the typical dialogue our Sister Principal).

It was of no use to butter God because God only helps those who help themselves. So, during the entire assembly I was busy thinking about GK than about the Lord- What is the capital of Gujarat? Where is Mica found in India? Unfortunately, I could not recollect answers to any of these questions!

The assembly ended and the question papers came in our hands. I quickly jotted down the answers which I was sure about, and for the rest of them, I scratched my head. There was a big question mark on my head. All the resources I had were now exhausted! What do I do now! I thought, when resources deplete in a nation, what is recommended is ‘IMPORT’.

I gave a devilish smile to myself. I was going to import resources from others, in short cheat! No, no, I wasn’t an expert at cheating. It was my first time! I remember how I was poked by my conscience- how cheating for me was a sin, how my sister, the captain of the school then, had always been the ideal student and inspired me to become one to…and ‘I’ was going to CHEAT! But the devil in me killed the angel. I asked my friends for answers. I CHEATED!

Days passed after this incident and I was being eaten up by the guilt within me! I was ashamed of my act. Whenever I would see my sister, I would ask myself ‘What did you do!!!’ I had no guts to tell anyone in my family about this silly act of mine! But for how long could I hide it?

One day, when Tai’s final exams were going on and mom was busy taking up her studies, dad sat beside me and with a jolly mood asked me to get my science text book. I was hesitant to sit with him because I knew that if I would do so, I would surely vomit out the truth! But I did as he said. I got the text book. He took the text book and flipped through the pages. As he did so, he looked back to me and gave a smile. I smiled back and suddenly burst out in tears!

For a few minutes my dad was confused. He did not understand why I was sobbing so terribly! I gathered courage and told him about the deep, dark secret- I HAD CHEATED!!! I was surprised to see my dad coolly giggling instead of being angry! He didn’t shout at me at all but patted my back for being honest. He told me that my confession had washed away my mistake. I promised him that I would study hard the next time and not cheat! And you know what? My dad actually took up my GK for the next exam! How sweet of him! I never felt the need to IMPORT again!

THE JOURNEY TOWARDS CLASSICAL MUSIC

I was seated on the front-seat of our car and mom was driving it. Dangling my thin legs, I was humming the aalaps which were taught to me by my Guru during the previous class. The car took a turn and entered the galli of my singing class. The feeling that I used to experience after that turn was a horrible mixture of guilt, fear and boredom! Guilt for the fact that it had become a routine for me to rehearse at the eleventh hour…err…or should I say, 59th minute? My riyaaz consisted only of the few minutes of the car-travelling. The one hour of the singing class would be very slow and painful for me as my Guru would repeat the lessons of the previous class. As a 5th grade kid, I found all this quite boring. I would just repeat the lessons like a parrot. I didn’t know for what I was learning and for whom?

My mother had become the target of my temper tantrums, my sulking, my complaining and after becoming vary of all this, she allowed me to go my way and I discontinued with my classical lessons. She was happy with the fact that I was at least taking interest in my light-music classes. But she never gave up her effort to develop interest in my mind regarding Classical Music. She would lovingly take me to classical music concerts, where I would be the only black-haired among the white-haired people. I just remember the two things that would happen- the beginning aalap of the singer and the final applause of the audience which would awaken me!

I hoped to learn classical because I had to, not because I wanted to. The force was always external, never from within. Worse was the fact that my concepts were not clear. For me, there was no distinction between Carnatic and Hindustani music! Taali, khaali, bhaari- all were one for me! For me, catching hold of the ‘sum’ and calculating a mathematical ‘sum’ were equally problematic! My definition of classical music was singing some piece of composition with a heavy voice and then adding jerky and fast paced music pieces called by me as ‘Aaaa’! Maybe what I lacked was not interest, but maturity.

Thanks to the ‘n’ number of attempts my parents made, and the ‘n’ number of the people I had tried to learn from; I slowly started to decode the hidden beauty of the art called as ‘Classical Music’. The frequency of dozing off during a concert reduced drastically and I started making a genuine attempt to guess the taals, the structure and slowly I started concentrating more on the over-all effect, the mood that was created after a performance. And lo! I found contentment! I deciphered the meaning of classical music! I realized that it did not mean chasing the taal or competing with the harmonium but it meant achieving a balance between the musical elements. It means to achieve satisfaction, expression and it meant moving towards a higher level of living.

The so called ‘ugly-duckling’ by me, was developing into a beautiful swan. As I became acquainted with the musical concepts, I found myself falling more and more in love with it. I started realizing how a classical musician had the power to excite people yet sooth them. I slowly started feeling the ‘pull’ towards learning classical music!

To get acquainted with the little drops of this vast ocean, I decided to join the course in Mumbai University and this time it was ‘me’ who took interest! Thanks to the efforts of my teachers, seniors and other staff members, my ignorance regarding the various aspects of classical music was brushed off drastically during a short span of 2 years. I can proudly say, that my journey towards exploring classical music has definitely begun! There is a long way to go, but as it is said, when you have music along with you…even miles are crossed in a few seconds!

THE COLLEGE HAVING A FEW STORIES

Rigid. That’s the word which will come in people’s mind when you ask them about me. Throughout my school life, I had been known for my stubborn, inert and ‘mini- Hitler’ like behavior. Due to this rigidity, I had never mastered the ‘art’ of making good friends. I wanted to improve this aspect of my journey and thankfully I got a new chance, a new life- the college life.

I remember, when I was in the fifth standard, there was this fare-well arranged for the tenth grade students. Seeing them, I day dreamt of my boards, my farewell and how life would be in college. More than anything else, I was excited about the fact that I would have complete freedom to apply nail-paint and mehendi, whenever I would wish to! In this way, each year something new was added in the ‘what-to-do-after-school-life’ list. As the level of maturity increased, the priorities moved from childhood fantasies to improvement strategies.

Finally, the day of choosing a college had arrived. I had decided the college I would go to and had also written its name on the front page of the college note-books! But it seems that destiny did not go through these front pages and transferred me to a college which I was the most hesitant to go to- St. Xavier’s College!

Shocked, aren’t you? Even when it is the best for arts, why did I hesitate to become its alumni? The only reason was, my ‘rigidity’. I had stereotyped the Xavierites as students who were spoilt brats, having noodle-like hair, wearing tattered clothes and acting like modern-hippies. This was a perfect example of how stereotypes can make you take wrong decisions, but thanks to my family and friend’s persuasion, I at last got into Xavier’s.

As I got to know the college and as it got acquainted to me, I found out that the students here, were not different than me! The FYJC life was hectic, but fun. Loads of group projects, the nervous shivering while presenting them, the smiles we exchanged after exams ended and the most important part- the joy of having great friends! I loved the way we mixed! I loved the way we explored! I loved the way we defined life! Not only friends but also the teachers- each with their unique style of teaching. I never knew that college-professors take such a lot of interest in student-improvement!

The SYJC was even better! As friendships deepened and new friend joined in, my mind-set opened and the rigidity, surprisingly started dissolving. This college not only helped me to learn the art of friendship but also added a spiritual flavor in my life. As the interactions between us and the professors increased, I found a new explanation to the term ‘knowledge’- which was to learn more from beyond the four walls of the class-room.

This college was not a mere building, but was a care-taker, a knowledge-giver, a philosopher and most importantly a mother, my alma mater! I remember everything- the foyer, the libraries, the ‘Harry Potter’ steps, the chapel, the computer lab, everything! Everything!

This cozy little nest of ours helped us to come out of the shell. Tomorrow the birdies will glide away in different directions… but we will definitely not forget Xavier’s, who strengthened our wings…Hopefully after SYJC, I return to this nest to reach the higher skies in future.

NO LIFE WITHOUT STRIFE!!!

I walked down the building steps just to be confronted by a heating argument between two women. “How dare you throw that dirty water from your floor? Couldn’t you have warned us before doing that?” Said the huge lady with a red-angry face. “What do you mean? I did come to tell about it but what could I do if you never responded to the door-bell of yours?” answered the other lady with equal aggression in her eyes. “You think you are very smart, huh?”, “Yes, I am! What will you do?, “ Mind your bloody tongue, you @$#%”, “Shut up you *^%$#@^"...the virtual war went on. I slid silently from there, not knowing whether to laugh aloud or sigh at this childish behavior.
As I was crossing the road I noticed that a crowd had gathered nearby. Falling prey to my overflowing curiosity, I peeped in to watch the scenario. Two men were having a nice wrestling match, or maybe a ‘who-breaks-who’s-teeth-first’ competition! Nearby were two dented cars and broken glass pieces accompanied by the heavy spells of slang language in the back-groun d. It was becoming clear, what exactly might have happened. Even when I wanted to stay there and watch the interesting, sensational ‘breaking’ news, I had to carry on as I knew that if I wouldn’t, I would have to take a shower under the insults in my college!
During the History lecture, our professor taught us about the Mughal era. He went on to the socio-religious life during that period. “There were major conflicts between the Hindus and the Muslims due to their contrast way of living and unique culture…” I wondered, how foolish people could be to fight in the name of God!? You have so many other weird reasons and topics to quarrel on! At least leave Him alone!
The personified strife seemed to follow me where ever I went. While returning back home, I was again sand-witched between a group of ‘desperate to fight’ women in the train. Poor me!
I reached home and with a hope to get away from this ever-arguing world I switched on the TV. And lo! Mr. Argument had even entered the idiot-box! The conflict in between the saas and bahu, given encouragement by the spices added by the sister-in-law! Enough is enough! I need a break!
I thought about all this for a while and landed to a conclusion that, strife enters those places where he notices lack of adjustment. Today people want to obtain things easily. They have forgotten what patience is and the word adjustment does not exist in their dictionary. To add to this, entire people do not want to accept their mistakes! They do not realize that by doing this, they are doing nothing but inflating their dear egos!
I think taking life coolly, is the only way we can kick Mr. Strife out of our lives! What say people?

Mother, I salute thou!

“He is no more…” says the eighty-seven year old independent lady as she speaks on the telephone. The body of her son lies motionless in front of her eyes, the same eyes that had taken the first glimpse of her son and had seen him grow from a child to an adolescent and from an adolescent to a confident young man. She saw his success, his journey. These eyes had shed tears of joy at his birth and today they are filled with the sorrow of his departure. I wonder how difficult it might be for a mother to see her child blossoming and then even withering away in front of her, and she can do nothing but be helpless.
I still remember the days when I had felt like a mother to a little kitten in our building compound. My bond with it was so deep that I could understand its feelings. I was totally shattered when the little one had been thrown into the mouth of death by a group of wild crows. If this is the case between me and an animal, what might be the case between a mother and her child? If there would be something beyond shattering it would be the mother’s state, on seeing her child depart to the abode of death…
As I think about this issue, my mind takes me to the memory of the ill fated night. I had switched on the television to have a look at the news when my eyes fell on the picture of a lady crying uncontrollably in front of her martyr son’s body. Her son had given his life in the service of his dear mother land…her true, dutiful son.
This brave son had at least given his mother the opportunity to shed tears of pride, but what about those sons who make their mothers weep blood? This is one of the reasons why I most dislike the people who smoke, drink, gamble and indulge in all such type of vices. Does a mother give birth to a child and tolerate all the pain just to see him burning in the fire of his vices? Is this the reward we have to give her for keeping us for nine months in her womb and later selflessly nurturing us? It is impossible for us to repay her but we also do not have any right to hurt her.
A mother’s love is priceless, and her world revolves around her child. Let us not do anything which will cause pain to her delicate heart. After reading this article of mine, I would like you to instantly go to your mother, hug her tight, and say “I love you.” She might give you back a tight hug and whisper back “I, too, love you” or might just say, “What’s happened to you suddenly?” But believe me; you will never be able to measure the immense amount of joy she received just because of this little act of yours… :)

THE EXHIBITED TRUTH

On a bright Sunday morning, my father took me to an ethnic exhibition at Bandra. Being well-acquainted with my taste, he was sure that I would enjoy it. We reached there and I was pleased to take a view of the brilliantly organized exhibitions set there and experienced the power of our Indian culture. There were stalls displaying beautiful bronze deities, intricately carved wooden statues, authentic dress materials of a particular state, and wonderfully designed Sarees and ornaments. But one of these stalls pulled me towards it and the centre of attraction was none other than the idol of Lord Jagannath Maharaj with His associates. I love collecting idols related to Shri Krishna and always ask my parents to buy them for me. This time, too, it was the same case. I dragged my father towards the stall where the tiny idols were placed well decorated with bright paint and shinny dresses. As we reached there, a stout man with paan-stained teeth welcomed us. I asked him to show me those small idols. Before even giving me those idols the man started blabbering about his store, “We sell all authentic Orissi goods. You are lucky, girl, you have met Jagannath Maharaj. Take Him, take Him!” His tone sounded so fake and business like. I had a look at the beautiful idol, when he again started,” It’s made of pure neem wood…it won’t decay, buy it!” I looked at my father. My father doesn’t like people who chatter so much in the first go itself. I could see the awkward look on his face but for my sake he asked the shopkeeper, “Beautiful idols! What might be their cost?” The little man, trying to sound religious, opened his big mouth again, “I won’t tell you its cost till you actually decide to buy it. “ He said this by pointing his red eyes into my father’s eyes. I could see the discomfort overflowing from my father’s body. I pulled him away from the stall and did not even ask him to get the idols. We never went back to the store. This time I wasn’t the usual me throwing tantrums. Nor did I find myself upset because I hadn’t got my way. Surely the idols were pretty, but prettier was the lesson that they had taught me. I always searched for God in idols and always thought that, the more idols you buy, the more God will stay with you. That day, I realized that God was always within us. Jagannath Maharaj is always within me. Devotees may say that I missed an opportunity to welcome the Master of the universe in my house but, I say that we always- everyday, every minute, every moment have the opportunity to realize God and welcome Him in our lives. It’s just for us to realize.
















Jagannath Maharaj (Extreme right), along with His
brother, Balarama ji (extreme left) and sister,
Subhadra Devi (centre).