Thursday, March 24, 2011

An Ode to My Mom

The summer of 1992, to be precise 9th April 1992, is etched in my memory vividly. The day my mother, whom I feared the most between my parents for her strictness regards studies and food, stood by me like a rock - nurturing me through days of low to bring me out strong and a champion.

It was the D-day. The day my plus two results were to be out. I was at my friend’s place preparing for the entrance exam that was soon to follow. I was unable to concentrate on my studies and could hear my heart beat fast. I was dreading this day, understandably so, as I had not written my exams well.

How I wished this day never came. But it did. My friend’s dad came in to the house clutching in his hands the mid-day newspaper, which had the plus two results. I almost froze. I did not want know how I fared.

My friend browsed through the newspaper and declared loudly with a wide smile that she had passed in first division. After some quick exchange of congratulations, hugs and kisses by her immediate family, my friend turned to me and asked for my hall ticket number. My mind went blank. It was not until my friend repeated her question did I give her my hall ticket number.
She searched for my hall ticket number in the First division section meticulously. When she started to search for my number all over again, the fear in me started to take monstrous size. She then looked at me – her eyes filled with pity for me. I asked her to give me the newspaper. I went over the First division section hoping my friend’s eye missed to locate my hall-ticket number. I could not locate it. With eyes brimming with tears I began to scan for my hall-ticket number in the Second division. I found my hall-ticket number – under second division. My mouth went dry, my head felt heavy and a dizzy feeling started to set in. All the sympathetic talk by my friend and her mom sounded distant.

I had brought disgrace to my family. How will I face my parents who had so many expectations from me – had pinned so many hopes. These were the thoughts that kept racing through my mind. But the one thought that occupied prominence among these maze of thoughts was how would I face my mom? The thought almost killed me.

I had every urge to not go to home. But my feet took me there. With great fear, I rang the door bell. My mother opened the door with a smile on her lips. I did not have the courage to look into her eyes. I dragged myself to my room. She followed me. And then followed her question in a stern voice, “What’s the result?.” I turned back looked at her and managed to say “second class ma” and burst out crying. At that moment my mother took me into her arms, hugged me tight and let me cry my heart out. Slowly, she eased herself from the clasp, planted a kiss on my forehead and left the room only to come back with a plate of steaming rice and my favorite dish, eggplant curry (masala baigan) – probably she had made it as a treat for me believing that I would fare well in my exams. This thought pushed me into another bout of crying. Mom gently manouvered me to sit on the bed and then fed me the meal.

During the next couple of days, mom prepared the dishes of my liking, ensured I had a healthy meal; took me out for shopping, treated me to movies and snacks, while constantly instilling confidence in me. It was during one of those days that I decided I will make her proud one day. And, proud I did make her – after three years – when I secured a rank in the entrance exam for MBA. That day, she jumped along with me in joy when she saw my hall ticket number in the mid-day newspaper.

Left Stumped!

“Does she enjoy?” This question left me stumped and then had me thinking.

It was late Friday evening, I was busy tending to my one-and-half year old baby’s demand to play hide and seek game after a hectic day at office, when the door bell called for my attention. Ensuring that my baby is safe on ground, I opened the door. At the entrance stood a girl in her pre-teens clutching a pen and a sheet of paper in her hands. She introduced herself as a student of a well-known city-based school and the purpose why she was here. Her purpose required me to make monetary contribution towards the well being of the inmates at an old age home.

While we were engaged in a dialogue my little one decided to take a look at the visitor. With great excitement and a sense of purpose my daughter darted from the dining area to the living room and stationed herself at the door fixing her gaze at the visitor.

Not letting my eye off my kid I quickly grabbed my bag kept on the coffee table to give my contribution to the visitor. While filling in the necessary details in the sheet she held in her hand, my visitor asked me, “Is she your daughter aunty?” I replied, “Yes”. Her next question was “Are you working?” To which I again replied in the affirmative. She then asked me looking at my little one, “Where does she stay when you go to office?” “With her grandparents”, I replied smiling, probably secretly priding in the fact that I have not put my little one yet in a crèche. “Does she enjoy?” was her next question. I did not respond to this in words for I could not gather any, instead I made a meek attempt to smile.

It’s been some months now after this incident, but the question continues to ring in my ears. I am yet to decipher the meaning and the thought behind the question. Was my preteen visitor communicating through this question that she went through a similar childhood and that she did not enjoy it or was it the other way round?

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Mindless Mayhem


My heart bleeds for my city, Hyderbad. This city, which gets praises and compliments for its cleanliness and beauty from visitors is being abused by pro-Telangana people. And this time their target was the lovely Hussain sagar lake or Tank Bund as it's popularly known. They mindlessly pulled down some statues that dotted this stretch of bund that connected the twin cities - Hyderabad and Secunderabad. Statues of Sri Kirishnadevaraya, Gurujada Apparao, Kandukuri Veereshalingam, Annamacharya and a few others were pulled down - the reason because they were from Andhra region!


But do they understand that these statues represent the Telugu culture. Do they even have an iota of idea the efforts and the number of days that have gone into making what Tank Bund is now (or rather was). I am a witness to the development of Tank Bund as a citizen of this city. I have seen it grow into a beautiful landmark over the years. I remember my father holding my hand and walking me towards each statue and relating the importance of them in our Telugu culture.


If you have to know, I am from Telangana but do not subscribe to the views or acts of these Telangana activists who are being used to fulfill the political aspirations of few.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Back on Blogging Circuit

Am back on blogging circuit after two long years. I have no reasons as to what stopped me from coming here. I just did not feel like.
And then the color green did it or shall I say the magic of this color touched my blog too. The color synonymous for new start, life and abundance just prodded me to shake my lethargy. And, here I am. And this time I made a promise to myself that am going to be regular with posts on my blog.

Green is the New Black for me



I am an ardent fan of the color black. At one point my wardrobe was dominated with outfits in this color. But of late, the color which has caught my fancy is green - dark green, leaf green, lemon green and the shades may go on. And to justify my new found fancy i have bought an outfit in green, a large earring in green, a crystal necklace in multiple hues of green and purchasing a saree in this rich color is on anvil. And yes, your observation is good, I have changed the background of my blog too - to green. Need I say it was black earlier?
Oh! I forgot to mention. One of the walls in my living room is also done up in a shade of olive and dirty green :)
PS: Catch a glimpse of the wall paper in my living room and the green drop earrings