Memories

They are fragile, these memories of you, 

Kept them safely tucked away for years. 

Handled with greatest of cares and, love.

Every now and then I would open them up, 

to peak inside, maybe with a laugh or a smile.

A warm feeling within me that would spread through my being, making me alive again.

Then, the reality would sneak in and try to color them with the truth.

So, I would shut it and keep it hidden in the deep recesses.

I have been waiting, hoping against hope, 

that someday these memories would bring me joy, instead of  reminiscent feeling of something I lost. 

Alas! it's time to put them away.

Carefully wrapped them in my dreams,

secured with ribbons of my smiles, 

Laid inside a beautifully carved box of emotions, tightly shut.

Buried it with a seed of hope under the soft white snow.

One day the tree will bloom pretty with my beautiful memories of you.

Where it will bask in the sunshine and sway with the light breeze, 

nothing bad can touch or destroy it.

Only time will take its toll, like on everything else, 

Until then...

Points To Ponder

 Adulting .. I have seen this word so many times on Instagram posts and memes, its always a funny verb albeit does bring with it a sense of responsibility. Something you always thought your parents had it figured out. I was seeing a post on a fifteen year old Indian American who has apparently has had major  accomplishments which most of us hadn't even thought of. I suddenly realized that she could  have been my daughter and, that's when it really hit me! That I am indeed slowly inching towards middle age ( dragging my feet, kicking and screaming and sometimes head down and shoulders braced for whatever is coming my way)

I unfortunately don't even know when I hit adulthood, let alone middle aged one at that, and so my pondering begins...When exactly do we become an adult? When we turn 18 , with right to vote (and change the world) and drive, or is it 21 when we can legally get married ( and embark on an adventure), drink ( responsibly, I hope). Maybe its 25 when you finally get a job after your masters and start paying taxes  (And complain how underutilized the tax money is and how corrupted the officials are). Or when we get married and have kids( definitely hope you are an adult by then). But what of those of us who aren't married or have kids? Do we get to stay a kid for the rest of our lives?  My logical side begs to differ as suddenly in your wrong side of thirties two things hit you . One is that you will retire soon in less than  2 decades hopefully which will fly by judging by the speed at which  the past 2 decades have flown. I still remember taking admission in the college, standing uncertain and being clueless as to what my future holds. 20 years later, I still seem to be experiencing similar emotions. I am still pondering on how to make millions before I retire (Only partly kidding). Debating the personal/ professional choices you have made in the past or contemplating the future of your career graph or the lack of there of.   The second one is the most popular faced by millennials evidently-  existential crisis. Spiritual exploration ends up being a more complex one, when you start contemplating the purpose of your existence or your calling in life.

You realize you have none of that figured out, or even understand the basics of it. You always thought there was time. You will deal with it when you are an " ADULT". Evidently I am one by popular opinion, although for the most part I don't feel like one, I almost wish there was a cheat sheet and an exam before they gave you the title. Adulting evokes in me another emotion..  Fear. My biggest fear ? .. Regret. I don't want to regret the time wasted. I already have a bag full.  Regret of not pursuing passions or the courage to defy the societal norms. Regret of not following the dreams, Regret of not expressing to the loved ones. Regret of not keeping in touch with old friends and relatives.  Regret of never asserting oneself . I once read that you never regret things you have done, its usually things you haven't. I realize that by experience to be a word of truth.  How would life have been if you had done exactly as you wanted to, maybe things would have been better or, worse and maybe you would have regretted taking that path....But wouldn't your baggage be so much lighter, without the burden of regrets and dreams that never took flight? 

A Bengali for a day

 Its a sunny friday afternoon, May 1st-  Pandemic of 2020,one of the not so good weeks with two of the bollywood favorite actors' deaths one after the other (one of them my favorite) on top of everything else. These are the days of staying in and staying safe. My escape- books or cooking and other hobbies that have kept me occupied. Although, I do miss my traveling more than I thought I would.  Not having eaten out in 3 months,  I am try to re-create some dishes at home (to keep my sanity), successfully and sometimes not. Talking on the phone gets old sometimes, with nothing new to talk about. I get excited with a new good movie I saw or a book I read. Food is a solace or an experience, for a foodie. (People who want to judge at this point, can go for it, I am past caring, Each one to their own). Food is also part of travel experiences that I miss.  

   I  just got done marinating the fish for machher jhol ( famous bengali dish to be eaten with rice) and making okra sabzi or dry variety to be eaten usually with Rotis. I decided I was going to be a bengali for the day.  Trying to relive some of my vague and vivid memories of Calcutta during kindergarten years. I remember our maid Konu and her sister Gayatri coming home to help mom. Its interesting I remember their names and vaguely their faces after 30 some years,  especially when I forget some names from yesterday (maybe its just my short term memory deficit with aging). Some memories are hard wired for sure.  bhindi sabzi I make often is one of my all time favorites, taught by Kono.(Mom made even after we left Calcutta by popular demand) She also got some catfish for me to eat and remember having the thorn stuck in my throat, not fun. Luchhi or Puri stuffed with peas and eaten with paneer gravy was another of those memories of attending functions. I had a neighbor who usually kept some jalebis for the Thakurji. I remember going to her place and being given some, except, mom told me later that I went and asked for "jilabi" 😜 That's when I found another favorite dessert of mine. I guess, I was a foodie with a sweet tooth as early as 4 years old. Definitely not averse to going and demanding from others. (Nothing comes between me and my food). I  would probably even sit and pray if that was the reward. Interestingly, even then I never developed a taste for bengali sweets, too sweet for me, although my family and friends love it and think I am weird. They could be right. I wont explore it, just yet, I do like mishti dhoi or sweet yogurt.  

 I loved my days in Calcutta. Carefree with my dolls, talking to myself (which worried my mom to no end) Kids do that all the time, have imaginary friends since I did not have any neighbors my age to play with. I remember the house we lived in distinctly, it was traditional old bengali house with our landlord living on the floor above us.  We had a mental hospital close to our house (I think my dad did not realize that until after he rented the place), as it was near our schools. I do remember occasionally hearing the screams in the silence of the night. Maybe someone getting their then "treatment". Not sure if it bothered me much or if  I even understood anything then. I wasn't scared, that much I know, as the memories don't hold any fear.  Maybe I just built my own world around me with my books (I am good at that). That  was when I started my fairy tales, still remember my Rapunzel book. My sister made me learn to read my books as she refused to read it to me. 😢 I did learn a little bit of bengali, ( maybe a stretch it was mostly just poems that my sister had to learn, I can still recite one verse, 😉Younger siblings , we always have to mimic our older ones, its in our DNA ). Calcutta is a city of readers, books galore. Mom found a library close by and still kept herself busy in the new place reading in her free time, I always remember her with a thick book and her nose buried in it. My two close friends Ashwini and Nisha then ( no way to contact or trace the whereabouts). I wonder sometimes what they've been up to, if they remember me. I don't have any pictures of them, their faces and our games were vividly clear but clouds with the passing years (I did try looking them up several years ago on facebook, but its tough if women change names after marriage). 

Few years ago I saw Rabindranath Tagore series and Macher jhol on netflix that brought back memories that lay dormant. Whenever I see a movie or read  a book set in calcutta/ Bengal , there is a yearning to go and re-visit the city with fresh pair of eyes and open mind. I vaguely remember the tram and metro rides. When things get back to normal, and I can make plans for my trips, would definitely have calcutta/ Kolkata on my list. To experience all that the city has to offer from food to culture, everything that makes the city unique.😊

  P.S. My macher jhol flopped a little, belatedly realized the mustard oil has expired. Debating between buying one today or using the expired oil. Making it with regular oil won. Taste is not bad but definitely not authentic or even close, I am sure. For now I am just happy I tried it. 

Hope springs eternal

When the summer ends and sun sets early, I live in hope. 

When it’s stormy outside and everything seems dark, I live in hope. 

The cold of winter will turn to spring, I live in hope. 

Someday the world would stop fighting each other, I live in hope. 

We would hear kids laughing and playing with no fear, I live in hope.

Women could go out and be safe in the dark of night, I live in hope.

When future seems uncertain and bleak, I live in hope.

Life decisions to make with no one to lean on, I live in hope. 

when everything goes awry and life doesn’t play, I live in hope. 

It’s the end of the world and nothing’s changed, I still live in hope, until I live no more... 

Holi - colors of life

  Holi was always fun festival, Stopped playing it too soon. Holi marks the beginning of spring!  Holi fire burnt on the previous night Holi or a born fire based on mythological stories of pralhad. Holi also celebrates the legend of Radha and Krishna which describes the extreme delight, Krishna took in applying colour on Radha and Gopis. This prank of Krishna later became  a trend part of the holi festivities. The word Holi is filled with childhood memories , boisterous and bold fun. Attacking people with water balloons, courage to approach strangers and commit the transgressions  of throwing/ applying color or gulal on them, with a smile and a "happy Holi" !  The smell and taste of holige / puran Poli/ obbattu , a special sweet made with split chickpea stuffed in the Indian bread and eaten with ghee. Bombay Holi memories are special to me now, since I hadn't played in over two decades.  

Today, my first Holi in USA. The weather co-operated, could not have been more perfect, gloriously sunny and warm. I went with hopes and, was afraid of an impending disappointment. I was reminiscing the old days, telling my friends all about the mischief that surrounded the festivities. The slow trickling crowd started assuring me, as we Indians are usually on our IST. By 2 pm, it was good turn out. Glad it was outdoors. Watching My friend was more fun, sneaking up on kids and people, hunting for the color innocent and striking. Created a monster there! This was her first Holi, she caught on pretty good, I should say!  No Holi is complete without music and dancing, DJ with songs from 80s and 90s with even recent popular ones. Dancing  to the bollywood beats for almost 2 hours was a different high... I had most uninhibited fun in the longest time, company does matter!  And I had the best! Someone  snuck bhaang and my friends tasted it! Interesting fact, I haven't had bhaang in my life.   

I love the festivities, it allows you to forget everything and just be you, laughter and fun, meeting strangers and seeing festival through my friends's eyes. Not being Indian, it was definitely a different experience! For that reason, this will always be a memory to be cherished. I am glad they could make it and  that I got this opportunity to share the fun. Happy Belated Holi!    To many more Holis-  Bura na mano Holi hai!  ( Don't get offended, its Holi! )

A Flawed Reality

  As a woman and a single one at that I realize how important looks are. Especially if you are going out on dates. Interestingly, I used to just dress up  with minimal effort and turn up. Then I realized men expect more, winter doesn't make it any easier, spend more time on matching my scarves or sweaters to my tops, agonize over earrings, shoes, purse or lipstick shade. Most importantly try to keep all this under 30 mins unsuccessfully. It feels good to look pretty and dress well, get compliments, does make one feel confident. But the more I get into all this the more futile it feels. Its all for naught, in the end its about compatibility with personalities and goals. Men are lucky, they just show up in jeans and shirt or T shirt. They don't have clothes strewn over their bed when they return from their dates. Some of the women I know who are into the clothes and make up spend hours in front of the mirror doing the artful makeup and choosing the right clothes for the occasion. Women who have made beauty a full time job. I know its not easy, I have total respect for them. With clothes, jewelry, shoes , fitness and planning your diet and watching your calories, getting your nails done, hair, waxing and list goes on. I sometimes wonder where they have the time. When all I have energy left after the day is to cook, eat and sleep and maybe read. 
  But I also realize I have other plethora of things I am interested in that takes my time, aside from my full time job and keeping my house, financial responsibilities, hobbies. I try to dedicate my time for cooking, reading, sketching everyday. 24 hours is not enough to do everything. Somethings end up suffering, either my cleaning schedule or my routine fitness regime. I do realize how much time  we women spend on looking good, which is not only temporary but superficial. Men don't need compliments from women all the time to boost their morale, nor do they seek reassurances from the opposite sex. When I talk to men I meet, I am always fascinated with how much traveling they have done, tried variety of sports or the knowledge of finance or history, whatever it may be. They have so much time because they don't spend theirs on superficial stuff, they are busy planning their careers, financial growth, time they spend on learning something new, something more lasting. 
 I always thought that I needed my time and my thoughts for things that are more important than looking pretty. Then I thought of changing my priorities under peer pressure. Yes, you feel it even in your mid thirties. How many times have I been lectured on trying to make the attempt to look pretty, so "I can snatch a husband "! Sometimes I feel we haven't come out of 18th century. No matter how independent a woman is or whatever she achieves in life, being an arm trophy or eye candy makes her a more desirable candidate. I have decided to stick to being who I am and go out with a smile and some panache. I will make the effort when the occasion requires, but otherwise I need my wits about me to apply myself for more important life decisions. Something that will make a difference and prove beneficial in the long run, something more lasting and meaningful. And if I can't find a date to like my personality as it is, or chooses to judge me on my style or lack of thereof.  Maybe he is just not the right person for me. I would rather wait for someone who makes me want to be a better person, but loves me as I am. 
           NO BEAUTY SHINES BETTER THAN THAT OF A GOOD HEART.

The Gratified Voice

     Its winter, well, almost, Diwali is over and thanksgiving is going to be upon us. This Saturday morning, I  sit down with my coffee to paint watercolor, self teaching, weekends are my time for creative outlet, also some self reflection. Work is usually physically and mentally challenging but dealing with complex cases also leaves you emotionally exhausted. Dealing with death sometimes its difficult but in some cases its probably a welcome end for the patients. These things do affect us as we spend an hour with patient everyday, learn their quirks , their attitudes, to gauge people and what works for them, if they are sincere or faking. Work comes with many challenges like dealing with different personalities on daily basis, which, of course, we all do at work. Now, add severely sick and debilitated patients, who are in constantly pain or can't breathe, to the mix. More often than not, it makes me think of how I would be if I was in their place. With all the challenges, biggest one is trying to understand the patient, language does seem to be a barrier when the patient is Vietnamese, Korean, Cambodian or Mexican, etc..

   Lip reading, is an art form that I haven't mastered. I never realized how important voice is, I am not talking about the deep baritone that some of us have a penchant for, but just the sound and how often we take  it for granted. Some of patients can't talk permanently, because they have had their larynx removed (usually former smokers), or ones who can't temporarily phonate due to tracheotomy. We struggle to understand them, but then I realize how frustrating it is for them to make their basic needs known or talk to the family. Phone is out of question, unless you are texting. We then resort to writing, but that makes its tougher in patients who can't write due to poor grip  weakness, pointing is our next option provided you and they both know how to spell the word. Finally it is phrases or pictures. It's tough to carry on a conversation with this population. So it's wonderful when they start talking, I guess the excitement is almost, if not quite as toddler who has spoken his/her first word.  As much as I am getting better with lip reading. It's still challenging when some of them barely move it or over exaggerate.

  When I was doing my short stint with Carnatic vocals, I got easily frustrated with my inability to take certain pitch, then reminding myself that I don't practice like I should be. But then I think of people who can't talk and wonder how they would feel day after day not being able to voice their needs, emotions, let alone their opinions. Aren't we blessed! But we take it for granted and complain about things we don't have. I guess it is human nature, to be dissatisfied, to compare, to envy , rather than accept. Maybe those negatives do make us do better for ourselves. I wonder if our expectation from ourselves and those around us is escalating. We seem to have we lost the ability to just enjoy our gifts, our present and be thankful for all that we have and all that we are. I wish an alarm would ring loud and notify me whenever I forget to be thankful. So let's for once, not compare, not expect, not worry, just smile and offer thanks.