I was born and raised in a Hindu family. I went to a Catholic school. I have Jewish and Christian relatives, and some of the dearest people in my life are Muslims. I have experienced peace and the presence of a greater being at the Vatican in Rome , the Jama Masjid in Delhi, the Aarti in Haridwar and at the Suvarna Mandir in Amritsar. Religion has never taken center stage in my life. And I'd be hard pressed to tell you whether I am an agnostic or a Hindu.
All I know is that I take pleasure in doing the surya namaskar each morning - greatful for a new dawn, even as the namaskar sends the blood coursing to muscles that are only now making their presence felt. The surya namaskar always makes me feel warm and out of breath as I struggle through the transition from pose 7 to 8.
India - more so than any other country has been witness to religion turning neighbor against neighbor. And yet all these great religions coexist here in harmony. There is a large Hindu temple and a Gurudwara of great significance within walking distance of the great Jama Masjid. Places of worship seem to be clustered together rather than pigeonholed in different neigborhoods. Is this coincidence or part of a diabolical plan to ensure that no one religion stakes its claim on a neighborhood ? I don't know.
The other peculiar thing I noticed is that though India is a secular country, with Hindus being the vast majority..... every rickshaw driver, every truck driver will bow his head to a place of worship irrespective of his faith.
Personally, I have yet to get comfortable saying Jai Srikrishna, Khuda Hafiz, Shalom or Sat Sri Akal - to recognize these as acknowledgements of the other's religion rather than a committment to a specific faith.
Last year, I had the opportunity to visit Haridwar - Hari (God) - dwar (door). It is located at the point at which the holy Ganges - Gangaji or Ganga ma - emerges from the mountains into the plains.
We'd really gone to Ananda in the Himalayas - a spa designed to make you believe in something... I am not sure what - perhaps to make you believe that it is worth working very hard and accumulating a lot of wealth so that you can then afford to vacation at Ananda. Ananda was everything the brochures said and far more. Up on a hill - far away from the dirt, noise and bustle, surrounded by luxury, rose petals, elegance and abundance - it was very easy to believe you were god, or certainly very close to God.
After a full 24 hours of this and other treatments... we descended to Haridwar. We gathered at the Har-ki-Podi (the feet of the Gods) along with other devotees to witness the aarti. To say that I was a non-believer and very skeptical of the goings-on around me would be an understatement. But you've got to witness the aarti once in your life, and this was my turn.
The lamps were lit. The horns were sounded. The images of the Gods were prepared for the night. The chanting began and the aarti blared over the loudspeakers. Money was collected for prayers. Baskets of flowers with lamps were sold. I decided to participate - I bought some prayers and some lights and floated them along with hundreds of other devotees. Believer or non-believer, that was a truly moving and magical experience.
The next morning we took a cable car to the top of one of the surrounding hills, to the temple of Mansa Devi. People say that if there is something you really want, ask Mansa Devi and your wish will come true. I asked for stability at my data center (i had had many sleepless nights as our systems kept going under..and this was truly what I wanted most). The first week upon my return we had an outage, and I thought perhaps it was because I lacked faith.. but in the next few weeks things started to shape up. Some people say it is because of the focus and discipline I brought in. Sometimes I think it was just sheer luck. Other times I think it is because I really wanted the stability. But always I think, that perhaps, just perhaps Mansa Devi had something to do with it.
It suited me to believe it was Mansa Devi - so a few weeks ago I went back to Haridwar and the Temple of Mansa Devi. The idea was to go back and offer thanks, and perhaps ask for something else. All the way there - I kept trying to decide on the one thing I wanted most. There were so many and prioritization was not easy. When I made it to the front of the line, my elevator speech abandoned me - all I could do was acknowledge her presence in my world and ask her to watch over me.
Living in this Dev Bhumi (God's land) perhaps I too have become a believer.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
Kajra Re
"Kajra Re, Kajra Re, Tere kale kale naina...." I first heard this song at Bana's house. Her then 2 year old son reacts well to lively music - this was a guaranteed to distract away the tears kind of tune.
Now I must state up front that I have never been a fan of Bollywood, nor have I been particularly fond of dancing. My parents enrolled me in dance class when I was in the 2nd standard. 3 classes later, I informed them that I was done. I preferred reading and elocution. I was the classic wallflower at every party I ever went to.
So never in a zillion years did I think I'd be writing a blog carrying the same title as a popular Hindi song... then again I did not know what a blog is - so maybe this is also a limit of my imagination.
Now I have this cousin (actually that sounds like the name of another blog I've been thinking of) who is a very accomplished dancer. She trained with the Padma Shree Birju Maharaj and is rated as a Class 1 artist by Doordarshan.
Parul (the cousin) was part of the "Diwali at Hema's Space Station" event in 2005 essentially . I had recently acquired a new music system but I did not have very good music - and I had NO hindi music. So DD - who wanted to go to the mall more than she wanted to listen to music - volunteered to walk to the mall and pick up some music for us. In the stack she brought back was Kajra Re.
Parul danced to all of the music for us, encouraging us wallflowers to participate. She has a graceful flowing style, and there is nothing she enjoys more than sharing her art form with the people around her. The classical moves were well beyond my abilities, but this free form bollywood style - this I could do. Parul took it upon herself to teach me to dance. We danced all weekend long. And when our 1-year old grand-niece - Dhruvbhai's granddaughter Pia came to visit - we danced with her.
Kajra Re has now become my signature song - everytime I hear it I just have to get up and start dancing. On occasion I have also used it as a fairly effective threat - Listening to the song does become a little complicated when I am listening to it while sitting in the back of my car on my way to work... after all it would be very inappropriate to scare the chauffeur.
Seriously though - it is a great song with great visuals, great sound, beat, dance moves.. but I think I like it most because it reminds me of the wonderful time we had that Diwali, and all the wonderful times I continue to have since then.
Now I must state up front that I have never been a fan of Bollywood, nor have I been particularly fond of dancing. My parents enrolled me in dance class when I was in the 2nd standard. 3 classes later, I informed them that I was done. I preferred reading and elocution. I was the classic wallflower at every party I ever went to.
So never in a zillion years did I think I'd be writing a blog carrying the same title as a popular Hindi song... then again I did not know what a blog is - so maybe this is also a limit of my imagination.
Now I have this cousin (actually that sounds like the name of another blog I've been thinking of) who is a very accomplished dancer. She trained with the Padma Shree Birju Maharaj and is rated as a Class 1 artist by Doordarshan.
Parul (the cousin) was part of the "Diwali at Hema's Space Station" event in 2005 essentially . I had recently acquired a new music system but I did not have very good music - and I had NO hindi music. So DD - who wanted to go to the mall more than she wanted to listen to music - volunteered to walk to the mall and pick up some music for us. In the stack she brought back was Kajra Re.
Parul danced to all of the music for us, encouraging us wallflowers to participate. She has a graceful flowing style, and there is nothing she enjoys more than sharing her art form with the people around her. The classical moves were well beyond my abilities, but this free form bollywood style - this I could do. Parul took it upon herself to teach me to dance. We danced all weekend long. And when our 1-year old grand-niece - Dhruvbhai's granddaughter Pia came to visit - we danced with her.
Kajra Re has now become my signature song - everytime I hear it I just have to get up and start dancing. On occasion I have also used it as a fairly effective threat - Listening to the song does become a little complicated when I am listening to it while sitting in the back of my car on my way to work... after all it would be very inappropriate to scare the chauffeur.
Seriously though - it is a great song with great visuals, great sound, beat, dance moves.. but I think I like it most because it reminds me of the wonderful time we had that Diwali, and all the wonderful times I continue to have since then.
Today I rode the bike again
No, no this is not going to turn into a journal of bike riding, though come to think of it, what is wrong with that ?
This morning, Archana, my yoga teacher said we were going to ride my bike.
Okay bike riding is not exactly Yoga, but then Archana is more fitness trainer than yoga teacher. She told me the other day that I could lose weight with breathing excercises, but it was likely to take longer than her and my lifetime put together.
Archana rings my bell at 6:30 every morning (and this is our winter schedule - in the summer it was 6am) . Every morning when I wake up somewhere between 5:45 and 6:15 I have this crazy urge to send her an SMS asking to skip the class, and huddle back under the covers. I have done it once maybe twice under dire circumstances. More often, I drag my feet at the beginning of the class, and Archana is constantly looking for ways to snap me out of it.
We did tubes one morning (loved it.. but hurt like hell for days), gym ball a few times, dumb bells... I am amazed at the repertoire she carries in her gym bag. And we havent even got to basket ball and swimming yet. Swimming wont happen for a long time cos they've drained the BPII pool following the dengue scare. Besides its too cold to swim right now. Who knows what place I will be in in life by the time they fill that pool again. Besides I dont know that I have the physical and moral fortitude to swim.
So anyway, the biggest quandary after acquiring the bike on Saturday and learning how to ride it on Sunday was how would I practice so that it became second nature, and I could lose some of my inhibitions. Besides, the fact is that I can ride a bike, but I need help starting it, I panic like hell when I see another car, bike, human or animal (yes you have to worry about them too in Delhi) alongside me; I struggle with the brakes and until this morning I could not turn. So okay, "I rode a bike" "I can ride a bike" all these would be slight euphemisms. Best case I would have to wait till next Saturday to ride the bike.
So I was thrilled when Archana said we would ride the bike today. But then reality hit me. The forecast had been for a frigid night... so chances were it would be pretty cold in the morning. And it was still dark out. The good news is that most of Delhi is asleep at 6:30 in the morning. I was not likely to make a spectacle of myself at that hour - Archana's biggest dread is that I will run into another of her clients who will comment on the excercise. (She had told one of her other clients she was teaching me to ride a bike, and the comment back was "Why ? Doesn't she have a car ? Why would she want to ride a bicycle at her age ?"- this from an upper middle class resident of BPII who pays a personal trainer to come excercise her every day - Archana who herself had ridden her scootie from her home some 5 kms away, and who is always freezing, said it was not so cold. So I said "in that case to hell with what the neighbors think".
It was dark and cold downstairs. But the chauffeurs - the biggest gossip network in town - and the cars were not up and about. Archana held the bike steady issuing instructions in Hindi.
First thing that passed us was 2 women who looked like they were in their 40s. They were talking about me!!! When I got closer one of them cheered me on, and said "Hey if you learn to ride a bike, maybe we too will be inspired to do the same!" Does anybody in this city know how to ride a bike ??????? Ok so I exaggerate - my cousin Bana from down the street and her 6 almost 7 year old son are avid bikers, and I have an invite to come ride my bike down their street any day. Right Bana... so a precocious 7 year old and a 3 year old on a tricycle can roll on the floor laughing as they watch me wrestle the bike for control.
Anyway - I rode the bike - I panicked when I saw a car coming out of the garage - struggled with the brakes, struggled with the restart.....blah blah blah.. I completed 4 rounds of BPII - 3 of them without Archana . Status - I think I've figured out how to apply the brakes instead of trying to stop the bike with my feet, I can make 90 degree turns - next time I have to try circles - though why would anyone want to go around in circles ? - and I still panic (but I do that even when I drive a car - and I've been driving a car for 20 years so maybe that isnt going anywhere for a while ? ) . It was exhilirating, and I cannot wait to ride again.
This morning, Archana, my yoga teacher said we were going to ride my bike.
Okay bike riding is not exactly Yoga, but then Archana is more fitness trainer than yoga teacher. She told me the other day that I could lose weight with breathing excercises, but it was likely to take longer than her and my lifetime put together.
Archana rings my bell at 6:30 every morning (and this is our winter schedule - in the summer it was 6am) . Every morning when I wake up somewhere between 5:45 and 6:15 I have this crazy urge to send her an SMS asking to skip the class, and huddle back under the covers. I have done it once maybe twice under dire circumstances. More often, I drag my feet at the beginning of the class, and Archana is constantly looking for ways to snap me out of it.
We did tubes one morning (loved it.. but hurt like hell for days), gym ball a few times, dumb bells... I am amazed at the repertoire she carries in her gym bag. And we havent even got to basket ball and swimming yet. Swimming wont happen for a long time cos they've drained the BPII pool following the dengue scare. Besides its too cold to swim right now. Who knows what place I will be in in life by the time they fill that pool again. Besides I dont know that I have the physical and moral fortitude to swim.
So anyway, the biggest quandary after acquiring the bike on Saturday and learning how to ride it on Sunday was how would I practice so that it became second nature, and I could lose some of my inhibitions. Besides, the fact is that I can ride a bike, but I need help starting it, I panic like hell when I see another car, bike, human or animal (yes you have to worry about them too in Delhi) alongside me; I struggle with the brakes and until this morning I could not turn. So okay, "I rode a bike" "I can ride a bike" all these would be slight euphemisms. Best case I would have to wait till next Saturday to ride the bike.
So I was thrilled when Archana said we would ride the bike today. But then reality hit me. The forecast had been for a frigid night... so chances were it would be pretty cold in the morning. And it was still dark out. The good news is that most of Delhi is asleep at 6:30 in the morning. I was not likely to make a spectacle of myself at that hour - Archana's biggest dread is that I will run into another of her clients who will comment on the excercise. (She had told one of her other clients she was teaching me to ride a bike, and the comment back was "Why ? Doesn't she have a car ? Why would she want to ride a bicycle at her age ?"- this from an upper middle class resident of BPII who pays a personal trainer to come excercise her every day - Archana who herself had ridden her scootie from her home some 5 kms away, and who is always freezing, said it was not so cold. So I said "in that case to hell with what the neighbors think".
It was dark and cold downstairs. But the chauffeurs - the biggest gossip network in town - and the cars were not up and about. Archana held the bike steady issuing instructions in Hindi.
First thing that passed us was 2 women who looked like they were in their 40s. They were talking about me!!! When I got closer one of them cheered me on, and said "Hey if you learn to ride a bike, maybe we too will be inspired to do the same!" Does anybody in this city know how to ride a bike ??????? Ok so I exaggerate - my cousin Bana from down the street and her 6 almost 7 year old son are avid bikers, and I have an invite to come ride my bike down their street any day. Right Bana... so a precocious 7 year old and a 3 year old on a tricycle can roll on the floor laughing as they watch me wrestle the bike for control.
Anyway - I rode the bike - I panicked when I saw a car coming out of the garage - struggled with the brakes, struggled with the restart.....blah blah blah.. I completed 4 rounds of BPII - 3 of them without Archana . Status - I think I've figured out how to apply the brakes instead of trying to stop the bike with my feet, I can make 90 degree turns - next time I have to try circles - though why would anyone want to go around in circles ? - and I still panic (but I do that even when I drive a car - and I've been driving a car for 20 years so maybe that isnt going anywhere for a while ? ) . It was exhilirating, and I cannot wait to ride again.
Monday, January 8, 2007
Fine Wine Anyone ?
18 months is a long time. I have many things to write about. I will probably never write all of them, but I will try to capture the highlights. This is something that happened around Independendence Day the previous year (Aug 15th 2005).
I had been in India less than 3 months. I still followed the instructions of the travel doctor in Poughkeepsie to the T. "Every morning after you shower, slather on the mosquito repellent, when that dries slather on the SPF 90 to prevent sunburn." Wear sunglasses and a hat, light colored or white clothes. And if you want to absolutely avoid sunburn and insect bites, try not to leave the hotel room.. -okay that last bit was part of my strategy. I did not eat raw fruits and vegetables, only drank bottled water and clutched my passport with both hands at all times. However, I was still enamored by Indian food, and made it a point to never eat anything else, except perhaps American Chop Suey at the Chinese restaurant.
I was on a business trip to Bangalore. A friend was going to be meeting me there the next day, and we were going to travel on to Ooty where we would stay at the home of someone whom I had perhaps met before, though neither of us could swear to it. We would be staying there courtesy the friend who was meeting me in Bangalore.
I was a captive at the Park hotel, having dismissed the Hertz car for the evening. So I decided to check out the restaurants in the hotel. After much back and forth, it seemed that the Italian restaurant was my best option. Having eaten in some of the finest Italian restaurants on the Atlantic and Pacific seaboard, my expectations of food, quality, service etc were low.
So I was very surprised when they brought me a wine list. I opened it , very patronizingly, thinking the concept of a wine list at a Italian restaurant in Bangalore was nothing short of absurd.
Imagine then, my surprise, when the very first wine on the list was a beautiful Burgundy from Casa d'Estronel in the South of France, with a whopping price tag of some INR 12,000 or about US$270. Now do not for a moment get the impression that I am deeply acquainted with wines or am able to quote memorable wines. I just happened to have had this wine at a very special celebration in Feb of 2005 at the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park. The CIA has a very well stocked cellar and they do a very fine job of pairing the right wines with the right food and ambience. We had enjoyed the wine so much that I had gone looking for this wine in various stores and on the internet.
Now I was in a dilemma. I had finally found this wine. If I did my math right, I really could afford the wine - so what if it was more than the salaries of all my household staff put together. If I was brutally honest, I could not afford the wine. After all, wealth, poverty aren't these all states of mind..? And when would I ever be presumptuous enough to think I could buy such an expensive bottle of mind.
It was clear that I lacked the strength to buy the bottle that very evening. It was also clear that I lacked the moral conviction to decide I would not buy the bottle at all. It was time to secure both options.
The helpful staff explained that the restaurant opened at 1pm - well after my scheduled departure. Just as I was starting to breathe a sigh of relief, thinking that perhaps I will not have the option to buy it after all - they informed me that they could leave it with the coffee shop. Aaah but we will not have glasses - " Oh do not worry madame, we will get you glasses. ....And yes we take American Express."
I really did have the option to buy this bottle of wine. I decided to test my conviction by sleeping over the decision.
It was a long night during which I made a phone call to the US, many trips to the Internet and asked myself over and over again if I had the nerve . Morning came, and I was as undecided as I had ever been.
I related the entire story to my friend. "That is just a little more than I would spend on a bottle of wine myself". "Yes, it is a lot of money.. but what the heck... why am I here working so hard if I cannot buy myself this indulgence.. after all this is a bottle of wine I've been looking for for a while..." "Well we don't have glasses... " "Yeah but they will give us some..." "Alright lets do it - but only if they give us the good glasses"
So we sought out the coffee shop waiter, and asked if he could fetch us the bottle of wine. The coffee shop had no instructions from the restaurant, who clearly must have encountered many clients like me. "But wait, let me make some few phone calls". 15 minutes later the whole thing had been sorted out, and the bottle was presented for our inspection. The maitre'd packed a pair of glasses, took my American Express card and handed us the bottle of wine.
While they were packing the glasses we struck up a conversation with the maitre'd. They only had the 1 bottle of this special wine. They sold about 1 every year. This was the first they had sold in as long as he could remember. He was sure we would really enjoy it.
We decided not to share it with the friends in Ooty - after all, I might have met the wife ... but I could not remember what she looked like. She did not remember me either. This turned out to be a very good decision , since the couple turned out to be teetotallers.
We decided to save the bottle for my next trip to Mumbai.
I had been in India less than 3 months. I still followed the instructions of the travel doctor in Poughkeepsie to the T. "Every morning after you shower, slather on the mosquito repellent, when that dries slather on the SPF 90 to prevent sunburn." Wear sunglasses and a hat, light colored or white clothes. And if you want to absolutely avoid sunburn and insect bites, try not to leave the hotel room.. -okay that last bit was part of my strategy. I did not eat raw fruits and vegetables, only drank bottled water and clutched my passport with both hands at all times. However, I was still enamored by Indian food, and made it a point to never eat anything else, except perhaps American Chop Suey at the Chinese restaurant.
I was on a business trip to Bangalore. A friend was going to be meeting me there the next day, and we were going to travel on to Ooty where we would stay at the home of someone whom I had perhaps met before, though neither of us could swear to it. We would be staying there courtesy the friend who was meeting me in Bangalore.
I was a captive at the Park hotel, having dismissed the Hertz car for the evening. So I decided to check out the restaurants in the hotel. After much back and forth, it seemed that the Italian restaurant was my best option. Having eaten in some of the finest Italian restaurants on the Atlantic and Pacific seaboard, my expectations of food, quality, service etc were low.
So I was very surprised when they brought me a wine list. I opened it , very patronizingly, thinking the concept of a wine list at a Italian restaurant in Bangalore was nothing short of absurd.
Imagine then, my surprise, when the very first wine on the list was a beautiful Burgundy from Casa d'Estronel in the South of France, with a whopping price tag of some INR 12,000 or about US$270. Now do not for a moment get the impression that I am deeply acquainted with wines or am able to quote memorable wines. I just happened to have had this wine at a very special celebration in Feb of 2005 at the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park. The CIA has a very well stocked cellar and they do a very fine job of pairing the right wines with the right food and ambience. We had enjoyed the wine so much that I had gone looking for this wine in various stores and on the internet.
Now I was in a dilemma. I had finally found this wine. If I did my math right, I really could afford the wine - so what if it was more than the salaries of all my household staff put together. If I was brutally honest, I could not afford the wine. After all, wealth, poverty aren't these all states of mind..? And when would I ever be presumptuous enough to think I could buy such an expensive bottle of mind.
It was clear that I lacked the strength to buy the bottle that very evening. It was also clear that I lacked the moral conviction to decide I would not buy the bottle at all. It was time to secure both options.
The helpful staff explained that the restaurant opened at 1pm - well after my scheduled departure. Just as I was starting to breathe a sigh of relief, thinking that perhaps I will not have the option to buy it after all - they informed me that they could leave it with the coffee shop. Aaah but we will not have glasses - " Oh do not worry madame, we will get you glasses. ....And yes we take American Express."
I really did have the option to buy this bottle of wine. I decided to test my conviction by sleeping over the decision.
It was a long night during which I made a phone call to the US, many trips to the Internet and asked myself over and over again if I had the nerve . Morning came, and I was as undecided as I had ever been.
I related the entire story to my friend. "That is just a little more than I would spend on a bottle of wine myself". "Yes, it is a lot of money.. but what the heck... why am I here working so hard if I cannot buy myself this indulgence.. after all this is a bottle of wine I've been looking for for a while..." "Well we don't have glasses... " "Yeah but they will give us some..." "Alright lets do it - but only if they give us the good glasses"
So we sought out the coffee shop waiter, and asked if he could fetch us the bottle of wine. The coffee shop had no instructions from the restaurant, who clearly must have encountered many clients like me. "But wait, let me make some few phone calls". 15 minutes later the whole thing had been sorted out, and the bottle was presented for our inspection. The maitre'd packed a pair of glasses, took my American Express card and handed us the bottle of wine.
While they were packing the glasses we struck up a conversation with the maitre'd. They only had the 1 bottle of this special wine. They sold about 1 every year. This was the first they had sold in as long as he could remember. He was sure we would really enjoy it.
We decided not to share it with the friends in Ooty - after all, I might have met the wife ... but I could not remember what she looked like. She did not remember me either. This turned out to be a very good decision , since the couple turned out to be teetotallers.
We decided to save the bottle for my next trip to Mumbai.
Sunday, January 7, 2007
Today I rode a bicycle
Today I rode a bicycle without falling off !! For the very first time in my life. It was exhilirating and liberating but only after I got over the fear of falling down.
My last attempt to ride a bike was when I was about 7 years old. I recall vividly - my 3 brothers taking me to the compound of a local municipal school. We rented a bike from the bike shop across from New Talkies. It was a little bike - to match my height, emerald green in color. I remember falling down multiple times, despite my brothers efforts. And I remember after the nth fall, my brothers saying it was time to call it a day and that I really did not need to learn how to ride a bike.
I do not remember exactly how I felt - but it could not have been too bad, given that I had not attempted to mount a bike since. Over the years, I've ridden stationary bikes in the gym and cars have been a pretty satisfactory means of transport. But in the last few years I've thought about learning how to ride a bike - especially after I heard about all the biking vacations and how much fun those could be.
Sadly, I was too embarassed to admit that I could not ride a bike. Unfortunately such an admission is the key to getting started with the bikes. I was further embarassed after I mentioned this to Salyani. Salyani is a young woman in her late teens, who cooks and cleans for me. She was born and raised in a remote part of Assam. She had not seen a TV set or a movie prior to coming to Delhi. I gave her her first paying job. There are many things Salyani has not had exposure to, but she too rides a bike.
About 2 months ago, the young niece with the indomitable spirit that persuaded me to start blogging, posted a blog on biking to the waterfronts of Mumbai on Saturday morning. And I recall thinking that that was an incredible way to see the city I love. And I thought it was pretty sad that I could not bike. But when she blogged about biking around Pondicherry, and getting a valet to park her bike.. .I knew I could not put this off much longer.
Teaching me how to ride a bike became the big project in my household. Mukesh - my chauffeur and Archana the Yoga teacher came with me to the bike shop to help pick out a bike - both complained about the price of bikes these days. We brought the bike home and parked it outside the apartment. Last night Salyani watched over me as I rode the bike in the long hallway of my apartment, and tried hard not to laugh.
This afternoon Archana and her colleague took me to an alley behind Beverly Park II where they held the bike steady as I attempted to ride it. Thre were a handful of spectators. I did not notice anyone I knew.. but there are many people I do not know who seem to know me.
I was doing well until I noticed Archana running alongside me - she was not holding the bike. I almost fell off. After I steadied myself and had been riding around for a bit. Archana asked me to go take a break and rest up a bit. Then she started teaching Aarti how to ride..... So much for me thinking I was the only one on the planet that could not ride.
My last attempt to ride a bike was when I was about 7 years old. I recall vividly - my 3 brothers taking me to the compound of a local municipal school. We rented a bike from the bike shop across from New Talkies. It was a little bike - to match my height, emerald green in color. I remember falling down multiple times, despite my brothers efforts. And I remember after the nth fall, my brothers saying it was time to call it a day and that I really did not need to learn how to ride a bike.
I do not remember exactly how I felt - but it could not have been too bad, given that I had not attempted to mount a bike since. Over the years, I've ridden stationary bikes in the gym and cars have been a pretty satisfactory means of transport. But in the last few years I've thought about learning how to ride a bike - especially after I heard about all the biking vacations and how much fun those could be.
Sadly, I was too embarassed to admit that I could not ride a bike. Unfortunately such an admission is the key to getting started with the bikes. I was further embarassed after I mentioned this to Salyani. Salyani is a young woman in her late teens, who cooks and cleans for me. She was born and raised in a remote part of Assam. She had not seen a TV set or a movie prior to coming to Delhi. I gave her her first paying job. There are many things Salyani has not had exposure to, but she too rides a bike.
About 2 months ago, the young niece with the indomitable spirit that persuaded me to start blogging, posted a blog on biking to the waterfronts of Mumbai on Saturday morning. And I recall thinking that that was an incredible way to see the city I love. And I thought it was pretty sad that I could not bike. But when she blogged about biking around Pondicherry, and getting a valet to park her bike.. .I knew I could not put this off much longer.
Teaching me how to ride a bike became the big project in my household. Mukesh - my chauffeur and Archana the Yoga teacher came with me to the bike shop to help pick out a bike - both complained about the price of bikes these days. We brought the bike home and parked it outside the apartment. Last night Salyani watched over me as I rode the bike in the long hallway of my apartment, and tried hard not to laugh.
This afternoon Archana and her colleague took me to an alley behind Beverly Park II where they held the bike steady as I attempted to ride it. Thre were a handful of spectators. I did not notice anyone I knew.. but there are many people I do not know who seem to know me.
I was doing well until I noticed Archana running alongside me - she was not holding the bike. I almost fell off. After I steadied myself and had been riding around for a bit. Archana asked me to go take a break and rest up a bit. Then she started teaching Aarti how to ride..... So much for me thinking I was the only one on the planet that could not ride.
New Years Day 2007
In 2005, I let the legendary Delhi fog and the associated snafus keep me from venturing out. Consequently New Years Day 2006 was a very cold, lonely and depressing. The hangover from the night spent drinking and celebrating with people much younger than I, underscored the folly of my decision and I only brightened up when I landed in the Ahmedabad sunshine for Utran in the middle of January. But that was 2005.
So this year - I snapped up the first invite I got to go to warm Mumbai, and rushed out of town. I purchased tickets such that I was only travelling in daylight. That way the fog would not stop me.
The plans worked out very well.. and the entire weekend was a whirlwind of activities, new experiences, old friends, good company, and mostly warm not hot, not cold, just warm - sunshine. No hangover, despite the plentiful Sula Brut, just the great warm feeling of a weekend spent among loved ones. Lots of drama and enjoyment - but that is not the topic of this post.
I caught a late afternoon flight, designed to arrive in Delhi right before the fog rolled in. We departed Mumbai on schedule and had an uneventful ride until our descent into Delhi. I started to congratulate myself on my great luck. And then, just like that , right after I could see the traffic on NH8, the airplane ascended and flew away from Delhi. Visibility had just dropped to an unacceptable level, and ours was the first flight to be turned away. The flight 70 seconds ahead of us was allowed to land. Clearly my calculations were in need of a little more calibration if I was to stay on the edge rather than fall over it.....
I braced myself for the nightmare ahead even as I reminded myself it would be more fun if I pretended it was an adventure.
A couple of hours later we alighted at Jaipur airport. We actually landed there an hour later, but they kept us on the plane for an extra hour. There was the usual mad melee of sorting out what was to happen next as 300 Type A passengers tried to find their luggage, the coach that would take them to Delhi or a coach that would take them to their hotel. There was a government official on board who had someone carry his bag for him. There were several folks returning from a New Year's Eve Party in Mumbai.... There was a smart young woman and her colleague who had a car waiting to take them to Gajraula that evening - I never could figure out what business she was in, but it sounded very very intriguing. It seemed that everyone was determined to get to work the next morning. There was much talk of taking the coach to Delhi.
I messaged my various well wishers and minders - some of whom were already aware of the fact that my flight had been diverted and had started making hotel reservations for me. I was advised not to attempt to drive into Delhi as the fog had turned really ugly and we could be stranded on the road.
I was impressed by the Jet Airways staff - they were polite, calm and collected. Not particularly organized - come to think of it I was itching to help them get the logistics together but very polite and unflappable. So I got my name on a list for the hotel and boarded the coach for the hotel, and sat in the seat right by the door so I could be the first one to get off. Silly me, I thought that would help me get the first room when we got to the hotel.
There was yet another unflappable, courteous and equally disorganized gentleman at the hotel counter. The general way of assigning rooms was to allow everyone to stand around and stick their boarding passes at him. Priority was given to people holding multiple boarding passes, as it was assumed that these would be people sharing rooms. Room after room was assigned to families and couples. But after the young lady from Gajraula finished getting her 2 rooms - 1 for the colleague and 1 for herself - "cos I cannot possibly share the room with a man" - I could not stop myself.
I asked the young man behind the counter to explain the system he was using to prioritize the allocation of rooms. The man picked up on my foreign accent, and decided it was too much trouble to explain - he just grabbed my boarding pass and assigned the next room to me. Relieved I went upstairs to my assigned room. Despite the modern lobby and the pretty christmas lights, the room was shabby - I got the distinct impression that the hotel was under renovation. For a while I was persuaded to spread my shawl on the sheets so I did not have to make contact with them. I told myself to get over it. The bathroom had all the appropriate plumbing fixtures, it even had 2 towels and 2 tiny bars of soap.
I went down to the buffet dinner that had been prepared for us. It looked like the stranded passengers were the only guests at this hotel. While we were eating the guy from the front desk came in and aggressively and tactlessly tried to get people to share rooms with some of the folks who had not been assigned a room yet. I left before he spotted me and decided to ask me to share.
At 5:45 am they knocked on our doors, and told us breakfast was ready, and the coach would depart at 6:30. Not having learnt my lesson - I was the first person on the coach at 6:20. I had the prize seat again and when the coach finally arrived at Jaipur airport at 8am - it did not leave till 7:30- I was the first one in line waiting to get my boarding pass for Delhi. When I got to the counter , it was the same lady from the previous night who politely asked me to wait till they closed the flight to Mumbai.
I hovered, and a young man politely asked me to make way for the folks going to Mumbai. Finally the Mumbai flight was closed and once again I joined the line. Meanwhile my co-passengers from the previous night had all lined up at a different counter. When I finally got to the counter they redirected me to the other line. I stood in line for an hour. When a passenger 2 places ahead of me got to the counter, they told him the Delhi flight was full and they did not have a seat left for him .
While the rest of the passengers engaged in a shouting match, I stepped aside and sought the help of one of my well wishers to get me a car to drive me to Delhi. She undiplomatically informed me that had I taken the car at 6:30 instead of now, I'd have been arriving in Delhi around now. After that I had a pleasant uneventful ride arriving home a full 24 hours after I'd left my parents home in Mumbai. New Years Day was almost over. The rest of the year can only get better.
So this year - I snapped up the first invite I got to go to warm Mumbai, and rushed out of town. I purchased tickets such that I was only travelling in daylight. That way the fog would not stop me.
The plans worked out very well.. and the entire weekend was a whirlwind of activities, new experiences, old friends, good company, and mostly warm not hot, not cold, just warm - sunshine. No hangover, despite the plentiful Sula Brut, just the great warm feeling of a weekend spent among loved ones. Lots of drama and enjoyment - but that is not the topic of this post.
I caught a late afternoon flight, designed to arrive in Delhi right before the fog rolled in. We departed Mumbai on schedule and had an uneventful ride until our descent into Delhi. I started to congratulate myself on my great luck. And then, just like that , right after I could see the traffic on NH8, the airplane ascended and flew away from Delhi. Visibility had just dropped to an unacceptable level, and ours was the first flight to be turned away. The flight 70 seconds ahead of us was allowed to land. Clearly my calculations were in need of a little more calibration if I was to stay on the edge rather than fall over it.....
I braced myself for the nightmare ahead even as I reminded myself it would be more fun if I pretended it was an adventure.
A couple of hours later we alighted at Jaipur airport. We actually landed there an hour later, but they kept us on the plane for an extra hour. There was the usual mad melee of sorting out what was to happen next as 300 Type A passengers tried to find their luggage, the coach that would take them to Delhi or a coach that would take them to their hotel. There was a government official on board who had someone carry his bag for him. There were several folks returning from a New Year's Eve Party in Mumbai.... There was a smart young woman and her colleague who had a car waiting to take them to Gajraula that evening - I never could figure out what business she was in, but it sounded very very intriguing. It seemed that everyone was determined to get to work the next morning. There was much talk of taking the coach to Delhi.
I messaged my various well wishers and minders - some of whom were already aware of the fact that my flight had been diverted and had started making hotel reservations for me. I was advised not to attempt to drive into Delhi as the fog had turned really ugly and we could be stranded on the road.
I was impressed by the Jet Airways staff - they were polite, calm and collected. Not particularly organized - come to think of it I was itching to help them get the logistics together but very polite and unflappable. So I got my name on a list for the hotel and boarded the coach for the hotel, and sat in the seat right by the door so I could be the first one to get off. Silly me, I thought that would help me get the first room when we got to the hotel.
There was yet another unflappable, courteous and equally disorganized gentleman at the hotel counter. The general way of assigning rooms was to allow everyone to stand around and stick their boarding passes at him. Priority was given to people holding multiple boarding passes, as it was assumed that these would be people sharing rooms. Room after room was assigned to families and couples. But after the young lady from Gajraula finished getting her 2 rooms - 1 for the colleague and 1 for herself - "cos I cannot possibly share the room with a man" - I could not stop myself.
I asked the young man behind the counter to explain the system he was using to prioritize the allocation of rooms. The man picked up on my foreign accent, and decided it was too much trouble to explain - he just grabbed my boarding pass and assigned the next room to me. Relieved I went upstairs to my assigned room. Despite the modern lobby and the pretty christmas lights, the room was shabby - I got the distinct impression that the hotel was under renovation. For a while I was persuaded to spread my shawl on the sheets so I did not have to make contact with them. I told myself to get over it. The bathroom had all the appropriate plumbing fixtures, it even had 2 towels and 2 tiny bars of soap.
I went down to the buffet dinner that had been prepared for us. It looked like the stranded passengers were the only guests at this hotel. While we were eating the guy from the front desk came in and aggressively and tactlessly tried to get people to share rooms with some of the folks who had not been assigned a room yet. I left before he spotted me and decided to ask me to share.
At 5:45 am they knocked on our doors, and told us breakfast was ready, and the coach would depart at 6:30. Not having learnt my lesson - I was the first person on the coach at 6:20. I had the prize seat again and when the coach finally arrived at Jaipur airport at 8am - it did not leave till 7:30- I was the first one in line waiting to get my boarding pass for Delhi. When I got to the counter , it was the same lady from the previous night who politely asked me to wait till they closed the flight to Mumbai.
I hovered, and a young man politely asked me to make way for the folks going to Mumbai. Finally the Mumbai flight was closed and once again I joined the line. Meanwhile my co-passengers from the previous night had all lined up at a different counter. When I finally got to the counter they redirected me to the other line. I stood in line for an hour. When a passenger 2 places ahead of me got to the counter, they told him the Delhi flight was full and they did not have a seat left for him .
While the rest of the passengers engaged in a shouting match, I stepped aside and sought the help of one of my well wishers to get me a car to drive me to Delhi. She undiplomatically informed me that had I taken the car at 6:30 instead of now, I'd have been arriving in Delhi around now. After that I had a pleasant uneventful ride arriving home a full 24 hours after I'd left my parents home in Mumbai. New Years Day was almost over. The rest of the year can only get better.
Saturday, January 6, 2007
About Poisonwood - Desidiary
For 2 years now, I've sat on the sidelines envying the bloggers that share, document and sometimes entertain with their uninhibited expression of feelings and opinions. Today, thanks to the unrelenting persuasive efforts of a niece with an indomitable spirit , I join their ranks with my first post.
So lets start with the name of this blog - Poisonwood - Desidiary. Why such a complicated name ? Because - all the cute names I could think of are taken. Seriously though -
I learnt about Poisonwood from Barbara Kingsolver's novel "The Poisonwood Bible" - a very unappealing title - until I needed to read it to impress someone.
The lesson of the poisonwood is one of the most relevant and powerful lessons I took away from the book : It does not matter how successful and smart you think you are. It is presumptous, indeed perilous, to believe that you can affect the lives of people that seem less successful and smart than you, until you have achieved success by the the rules of the environment they live in. And oh by the way - they may actually be far more successful than you first thought, perhaps more so than you.
Desidiary : Perhaps it is my age, or the place I am at in life... or it is just the incredible experience that is India - but every single day here is remarkable - every single day my life is enriched by a experience, nuance, subtlety that takes my breath away.
And so welcome to this - my diary of my experience in my desh -to which I thought I had returned to teach the local people a thing or two.......and 18 months later I find that the balance of trade is still very much in my favor.
So lets start with the name of this blog - Poisonwood - Desidiary. Why such a complicated name ? Because - all the cute names I could think of are taken. Seriously though -
I learnt about Poisonwood from Barbara Kingsolver's novel "The Poisonwood Bible" - a very unappealing title - until I needed to read it to impress someone.
The lesson of the poisonwood is one of the most relevant and powerful lessons I took away from the book : It does not matter how successful and smart you think you are. It is presumptous, indeed perilous, to believe that you can affect the lives of people that seem less successful and smart than you, until you have achieved success by the the rules of the environment they live in. And oh by the way - they may actually be far more successful than you first thought, perhaps more so than you.
Desidiary : Perhaps it is my age, or the place I am at in life... or it is just the incredible experience that is India - but every single day here is remarkable - every single day my life is enriched by a experience, nuance, subtlety that takes my breath away.
And so welcome to this - my diary of my experience in my desh -to which I thought I had returned to teach the local people a thing or two.......and 18 months later I find that the balance of trade is still very much in my favor.
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