All is well (by God's grace)

After the initial excitement of being true to the wedding vows ("I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health....I will love you and honor you all the days of my life" etc etc...) I thought of getting a little practical!!!
A careful scrutiny showed that The Almighty had after all shown some partiality to the fair sex and did not include "in business and on official tours" in the list of vows exchanged...so without a feeling of having disobeyed Godji's commands, I made up my mind never to accompany Husband Ji on a business tour!
The comfortable environs of my home were so much more luxurious and engrossing than the boring confines of a splendrous hotel room where all by myself I would hardly know what to do while husband-dear-husband busied himself in an endless chain of discussions/meetings.
Yes! I could go out to see places of tourist interest, check out on some nice eateries or just shop-n-hop around....Alone?
In the twentieth century when I was a newly married woman that was still a far-fetched idea, which hardly ever crossed the minds of females-from-respectable-families (At least the kind I was brought up in).

So it was decided. While my husband would be on a business tour, I would utilize my leisure to pamper myself, doing whatever pleased me...... like rearranging the furniture in the house or eating oil-dripping spicy food or weeding the flowerbeds (getting my hands and nails real dirty!!!!)....and of course watching television late into the night. On his return he would be face to face with a thoroughly spoilt brat !!!!

But six years and two children later one is a lot more wiser! I also learnt to adjust and adapt!!! I think even the man learns his lessons. He tries to become not just a good father but a better husband too. So when he asked me to accompany him on one such trip to Delhi I agreed, much to the delight of our children.

There were two important things on our joint agenda.
a) Taking the children around Delhi
b) Visiting my Mumanijaan's "maaika". (Her mother had expired a couple of months ago, and we had still not been able to visit them)

Not being able to find even a day off Javed arranged for the safest way for me to take the kids around: Delhi Tourism Department's luxury bus ride across the City. It was just perfect. Comfortable vehicle, non-interfering passengers and a helpful guide, who even took care of my children! The day went off very well.
But it was not going to end before some unforgettable drama!!!

The bus had taken off from the Tourism department's office, and assuming it to return there my husband promised to meet me at that same palce in the evening. But to my utter surprise the ride terminated at a completely different place. I was horrified. Delhi is so chaotic. Suddenly it looked monstrous too. But the obliging Guide offered help when I told him about the situation.

There was no other option, and so wiping off fear from my face I walked behind him with the children. The place was pretty crowded, I could have lost his sight in just a second. He did not realise that for me and the children it was hard to match his speed. But somehow we managed to pull through.

The office staff made us comfortable with tea and biscuits. And then the wait began.
Minutes passed like hours. I lost the count of them. But Javed did not come... I called up his meeting venue and was told that he had left, I tried the hotel. He had not returned to the room yet. This was getting worrisome. Even the children were now feeling the discomfort.
I was sure he would not go to my relatives' place without me. But even then I decided to check out with my cousin.
"Oh!Dearest Zohra Baaji....where in world are you?!! Javed bhai, and of course we all are so extremely worried about you and the children. He called up four or five times!!!" Exclaimed my cousin in one breath.

I narrated my side of the story to her. Gradually we calmed down, much relieved that the ordeal was over. And as I replaced the receiver back in place the concerned faces around me relaxed too, brightening up with genuine happy smiles.
Javed came in about fifteen minutes later.

He said he had come to the office at the appointed time and was told that the bus ride terminates at another place. He immeditely rushed to that place, terrified at the thought of the worst that might happen and at the same time praying that no harm should come to me and the children.
Meanwhile I had used my intelligence, and we ended up crossing each other quite like Bollywood films.........
But all is well that ends well.

It was dark outside and a bit deserted too as we walked towards the parking lot. Javed a little ahead of me, Faizi holding his Abba's hand in a secure grip, talking incessantly and Usman perched proudly on his arm, quietly observing the world through keen eyes.
I had contained my urge to burst into tears far too long.....but on the dark deserted road where no one would see, the stream had broken all barriers even before I knew !!!
An elderly man crossing the road stopped by to ask :"Is everything allright beta? Why are you crying?"
I just smiled through my tears of immense unspeakable joy...

Hope against Hope

The evening was cold and dark as I entered a fenceless compound that had been brazenly encroached upon. The dilapidated structure, a little further down the path, which was house to at least two families stood bravely bearing the painful scars of a mulilated relationship between two brothers .

Had prepared myself for sad faces and a glum meeting as I rang the door bell reluctantly, as if still seeking an excuse to avoid this encounter. The excuses would have worked, in fact no one would hold it against me had I chosen not to visit this couple. But it would be a little cruel on my part if I had not come. I would hold it against my ownself for a long time, if not for the rest of my life.

The lady of the house opened the door. Wearing a musturd color neatly embroidered woollen shalwar kameez and a smart maroon jacket, hair styled elegantly, she was smiling. My lips also curled into what must have looked like a smile...
I did not know if her's was an artificially pasted one. But I knew mine was. It was just not the kind of atmosphere that makes one happy.

She welcomed me to the huge and graceful drawing room. It perfectly reflected the personality of its owners. Our conversation began on a much expected gloomy note as she and I discussed her husband's health. He was suffering from cancer and the condition was not getting any better even after getting the best of treatment available.

Both her sons are away from home for work. She is a Professor, now deputy director of the training institute that trains the teaching staff of the University. Her husband had a flourishing business before his health made it impossible for him to go on working. She said she would happily move to another job if it would take the couple closer to at least one of the sons, and away from this daily grind of unpleasantness. Surely if all their prayers cannot be answered at least this one should long have been.

Not that I did not sympathise with her, but helplessness thy name name is human being. I wanted to get over with this uncomfortable feeling of powerlessness at the soonest. The first opportunity I got, I told her most politely that I would better leave. But her hospitality amazed me.
"How can you go without a cup of tea?" She asked me, and without waiting for an answer, she was already on her way to the kitchen.

Over hot cups of adrak-waali-chaai and samosas we chatted of other things. It was like a break she had been most eagerly seeking. I could feel the sense of relief she was experiencing from being able to put the agony of a painful existence behind her, if only temporarily.. She was beaming like a winner at having wrested from the clutches of suffering more happiness than life allowed for her.

She then took me to the adjacent room to meet her husband.
He was so weak and frail that from under the mass of a shimmering sea-green silk razai his head popped up with some difficulty to rest against the pillow...
She instinctively went to his side and made him comfortable.

He had to make an effort to speak, but he talked pleasingly. Right in front of my eyes was a lonely middle-aged couple, struggling to stay afloat in the midst of devastatingly stormy high seas.

For every smile that lit up her husband's face I saw her shine with a thousand rays of hope. Life is strangely very easily optimistic.

Her smile was for real.
And this time round mine was real too.

Au Revoir Lucknow :-)

Lucknow has never been a place of residence for me. But strangely it has always been a part of me. Most of my lost-and-found bonds in life have a bit of Lucknow in them. It hass been always there for me. Has been kind to me. Generous to me. Being in Lucknow has been like being in a mother's protective care.

Have travelled the winding route from Allahabad to Lucknow countless times with family in our station wagon-ish car. But this time it was different. For the first time I was travelling in a bus. Allahabad to Lucknow. And it was also different because this time it was a trip for the family. The sole purpose being connecting with the family in Lucknow. Just that much. No business and work strings pulling me apart. So I was at peace although the bus was running far too much behind my schedule. My younger son and I were supposed to join cousins and their children for lunch at a place near Hazratgunj.

The evening was dusty and grey as the bus reached its destination at Alam Bagh Depot after what seemed to me like having spent an entire lifetime in that bus!
From the bus depot to my cousin's place, I would have preferred a leisurely ride in the cycle rikshaw, but it was already well past lunch time. I knew how disappointed my hosts must be, hence we took an auto rickshaw to speed up a bit on a winter evening that darkens even before it really sets in.

The house was as warm and inviting as it always had been. It was like my own. Nothing was apparently amiss. Yet I knew everything was not the same. One of the most affectionate person of the household, the adorable caretaker, that wonderful guardian who could play all the roles from being a gracious host to being a concerned elder had left us forever, leaving an emptiness that could not be filled even by a crowd of thousands.

A hot hurried shower refreshed our bodies tired with sitting for over four hours in almost the same position. Cozy cups of tea were followed by a lavish "lunch" which brought back the aroma of a cuisine that belonged to the days of those long lost expansive kitchens which once buzzed with activity in my parents' ancestral Kothis. The fragrance of hand-ground masalas and the clay choolahs, the distinctive smell of rotis being cooked on the heavy iron tava kept inverted on fire, and corriander leaves and green chillies being ground with a few garlic cloves into an appetizing chutney....memories of the days that are now found only in the pages of Family History.

In the coversation that went hand-in-hand with the meal , we travelled the path to our most loved places of those enchanting yesteryears...the courtyards, the corridors, the "beri" and "amrood" trees, the huge rooms within rooms...we shared our present with the past, we brought to life in our conversation the people who had once-upon-a-time lived in those enchanting dwellings and had been a part of our growing up.

Between my cousins, their families, me and my family there was so much to know and say. I was with the people who had supportively shared my family's downturns and were now mellowly joyful to see us mercifully blessed by The Almighy God.

Crouched in the warmth of colourful soft Jaipuri razais, away from the cold and frigid world outside, I could have lived my life in that dream-like togetherness. But soon it was time for dinner. Delicious once again. The unforgettable shakarkandi-ki-kheer and strawberry souffle merit a fond and special mention.

Then a drive through deserted foggy avenues of the City to reach Lucknow Railway Station some time before midnight for our train to Delhi.
The night was lit with silvery street lamps, glowing through the fog like mysterious far-away stars. But bright enough to show the way through darkness.

That night as I boarded the train I was loaded with a bountiful treasure of happy moments to cherish all my life.
The goodbyes that night were expectant au revoirs...till we meet again  Lucknow .... !

Sweetest Dard e Dil-li :))

A few hours more than twenty-four spent in the wintery warmth of Delhi were very special and extremely emotional as each passing moment connected family fragments in a happy reunion.
The platform was cold, foggy and dusty at about noon as my younger son and I alighted from the comfortable confines of the airconditioned compartment of the train that brought us from Lucknow to New Delhi.

The morning I spent in Delhi was invitingly sunny and the fragrance of nostalgia filled every little space around me. As my son navigated his way expertly through the majestic blocks of Connaught Place, I remembered the time, not so long ago, when I used to take the children around these very exquisite corridors during our winter holidays in Delhi...shopping, eating and having so much fun.

Commuting in those days used to be a nightmare in Delhi. But now the Metro is amazingly swift and convenient. We had to buy a couple of things before reaching my cousin's place in Jamia Nagar. Having done that we got on to the Metro. Everything perfect so far. But within a few minutes of being in the Metro my son realised that his wallet was missing.
The money he was carrying and his cards were gone....and we were like, "Oh! My God....what are we going to do now???!!!!!!!"

Frantic calls to get the cards blocked were made simultaneously as trying to get an FIR lodged for the missing things. Then a visit to the nearest branch of our bank to arrange for cash. All this took up most of the afternoon.

At my cousin's place everyone was waiting over "lunch". When we finally reached her place tucked away from the hustle and bustle of a polluted over-populated Delhi, the sun had already begun calling it a day. We were all ravenously hungry. Freshening up was hurried. But the sumptuous supper that followed was deliberate, lazy and so completely engrossing. Endless cups of tea and an unending chatter came to a halt as tired bodies succumbed to the coziness of luxurious silk razais in a room filled with the fagrance of affection and fondness.
After a comfortable night, morning came rather gradually and indolently as the Sun fought its way through the stubborn fog.

For the "breakfast" at another cousin's place at Akbar Road, we reached half an hour before noon!
The vastly spread out green lawn was filled abunduntly with the reclining rays of the Sun, mellowed in intensity as if shivering in the face of a bully called Winter!!!
The paradoxes of the morning were no less amazing as freezing arms bonded in warm embraces, and in the biting cold of the North we relished steaming hot idlis, dosas and sambhar perfected with rich authentic aroma of the South.
As the Sun spread its rays over the plentiful flower beds there was colourful resplendence all around.
We were in another world, where no dust, no pollution and no frosty feeling could ever reach...

Dev Anand: 1923 --- forever

Sunday 4th Dec.
I was getting ready to go to a place that, to me is as dear and sacred as any place of worship. 

Whenever I pass Mehboob Studios I have this craving to go inside and pay my respects to all those wondrous men and women whom I've revered like prophets of Art and Creativity. 

But apart from my uncontrolled craze for Hindi films, there was nothing else that could possibly justify my presence at that monument which is symbolic of a glorious era Bollywood itself perhaps longs to go back to.

But the previous day, Saturday, 3rd Dec had been astounding. 

I had actually walked past the gate and strolled around that extraordinary palce, where Bollywood History was shaped. 

Films like "Mother India" and "Guide" were nurtured. Sheer nostalgia it was. And I did not want to come out of it.

Times Literary Carnival was an absolutely gratifying experience. Quenching the thirst for good poetry and prose were Gulzar Kalra, Swanand Kirkire, Anurag Kashyap, Kabir Bedi, Fatima Bhutto, Mohammed Hanif.

One was almost spoilt for choice and so I will not even count the presence of the likes of Shobha De and Suhel Seth and many others !!!

Sunday was going to be interesting too. And I did not wish to miss even one session. Swallowing my dry toasts with tea, I switched on the television to catch the morning news just before leaving. 

And that was the end of my Sunday plans ...

Time suddenly froze. 

Nothing seemed to matter.
Just a stoical numbness took over me as the news reader announced Dev Anand's death.

I was being made to realise that the man who symbolised every beautiful colour of life, and most importantly life itself, was no more.

I sat glued to the television, not wanting to miss even one alphabet of the words being spoken. There were the reactions of people from the Industry trickling...and a little later pouring in.

Shekhar kapur said "We talked of him as if he'll live forever....may be he will!"

Anand Mahindra said, "As long as Dev Anand lived, I though I'd live too..."

Rajnikanth said, "We salute your zest for life and spirited energy for work..."

Hema Malini said:"Seeing him work was like taking a vitamin tablet."

Manoj Kumar recalled how well behaved, honest and thoroughly well-bred Dev Anand had been. Sharing with the viewers the time when his father's death had traumatised him deeply, Manoj Kumar said that Dev Saheb would come to his palce every evening to cheer him up for more than a month.

Waheeda Rahman, while remembering Dev Anand's generosity, said, "The most important film of Dev's life, "Guide" was the story of Raju, The Guide, but he made sure that Rosy (Waheeda Ji's character) was in no way over-shadowed...such was his stature and so secure he was as an actor."

Times Now had done an exclusive interview with Dev Saheb just before his film "Chargesheet" was released. Also they had done a "Total Recall" on him. They kept playing those tapes in between. And I for once completely agreed with Arnab Goswami that it was a complete honour to be in Dev Saheb's presence.

He was right there reliving his life's endearingly precious moments, sharing his incredible energy, his youthful intellect, his infectious vivaciousness with his fans, and very interestingly remarking:
"If you take someone else's idea and do a song or a film, you instantly become second rate. I cannot live like a second rate, therefore all that I do is my own creation. Good or bad, it is original."
He also said:
"After I make a film I don't talk about it....I let the world talk about it!!!"

Talking of "Hum Dono", "Guide", "Hare Rama Hare Krishna", Guru Dutt, Navketan, Sahir, S.D.Burman ... and so much more ... there was always that enthusiasm around him which like a sacred halo made everything shine with his light.
Only for a fleeting moment did his face betray him.
It was when the song "Gataa rahey mera dil..." was played and Arnab asked Dev Anand what the song reminded him.
He started saying everything from how beautiful the song was, how they had waited for Dada Burman to recover from an illness and then compose it, and how RD had composed the mukhda before the older Burman could do the rest of the song.
But the deepest feeling of pain he wanted to escape.
In vain, he tried hard to let go of Vijay Anand's memory. But sometimes even the best of eefort is not enough.
So finally when he did speak about Goldie, the pain could not be contained within. His eyes had a far away look, as if he could see Vijay Anand when he said,
"I remember Vijay Anand, who is no more ... he was a great director, a great maker ... a great companion ..."

But the very next moment he was back with the mask of happiness swaying his head to the eternal "Main zindgi ka saath nibhata chala gaya ...", saying "I salute Sahir! He gave me this incredible philosophy of life ..."Main zindgi ka saath nibhata chala gaya ..."

But I think the song that would suit his life more, and which in my opinion is an extension of Sahir Saheb's philosophy is Shailendra Ji's all-time classic "Din dhal jaaye, raat na jaaey ... "
I feel it is a song that has sadness, longing, pain ... and yet a peaceful acceptance of facts that times gone by are gone for good ... so let go, let things be... and so the sadness does not sadden you ...... great words, awesome music ....

Dev Saheb, in his own words, was forever learning and growing ... So how can he ever cease to live ... ?
A man who never paused ... a man who worked tirelessly, the only actor who lasted more than five decades as a leading man ...
He must be celebrated ... because he was life personified ...

But rest he must ... now that God has so willed it for him ... Rest in peace Dev Sahab ...
Don't worry ... your unmatched melodious legacy lives on ...

Rishtey

Kuchh rishto'n ka koi naam nahi hota
Shaaed koi matlab bhi nahi hota

Kyon judtey hain, bikhartey hain
Socho to samajh kuchh nahi ataa

Bass wo hotey hain....
Har pal, har saan's ke saath

Aur unn ke honay se....
Hota hai zindgi  ka wajood 
Be-maani se palo'n ko mil jataa hai matlab jaise
Lamha-ba-lamha aati-jaati saans'on ko mil jaati hai dhadkan jaise...."
(Shazi)

Siblings: Rivals or best friends

Picture childhood. And rushing in come the many pillow fights and trivial tiffs over Mamma-loves-me-more-than-you, I-did-the-dishes-and-dusting-when-the-maid-was-away etc etc among siblings. These are memories for which one will be ready to part with one's entire wealth if they can be brought back.
And the reason could be more than mere nostalgia. Sometimes one also longs for the clock to go back so that the wrongs of the past could alas be set right.

Sibling rivalry is a comparitively less talked-about subject when it comes to discussing relations. However it is an important aspect which effects human behaviour and relations in a very profound manner.

In a film I saw there were these two sisters.
The elder: Beautiful, vivacious, lively, energetic, extrovert, hard-working.
Hobbies: swimming, driving, acting, going on picnics...and of course, making friends.
The younger: Ordinary-looking, unambitious, introvert
Hobbies: reading, films, day-dreaming

Of the two girls, the younger one was tired of being compared with her more endowed sibling. Was it any surprise then, that she grew up to be her own best friend with a terribly shaken self-confidence? Friends and family spared no opportunity to make her aware of her ordinary outward appearance, which according to the accepted societal norms was her shortcoming.

Another case which I read some time back was incidentally about two brothers.
Fairly good looking and innocent. The elder one simple, the younger one looking out for mischief. The elder one helpful, younger one always asking for help.
Both in love with outdoor games. Cricket topping the chart, badminton following closely. Summer afternoons reserved for carrom and cards. Together they had their share of fun and mischief, and often shared a good spanking session from their strict father, if the naughtiness went overboard. But Mamma was protective and would more than make up for the punishment with an extra bowl of ice-cream or some cream biscuits in the tiffin the next morning...

Growing up was like a song.
But not without some notes going out of tune at times. Nothing unusual about that. Happens everywhere. And this could be your story as much as it could be mine.

Going a little further and assuming human nature to work as it normally does, sibling rivalry would certainly be lurking right there in the backyard.
What happens when they are apparently mature adults, married and living their own separate lives.
How would it effect the shaping of future relations between these individuals....and also the bearing it would have on their personalities?

While on this hypothetical exercise, I am reminded of the time when my second child was born, I was advised by the elders in the family to take extra care of the elder one.
"He will not understand why the new-born needs more attention. Instead he may become jealous of the baby." My sister-in-law informed me.
How extremely ironical I thought!
My elder one had been waiting eagerly for his sibling to arrive. I was to come to know later that he had told all his friends in school about the wonderful new friend who would soon be his closest and dearest companion.
He had come straight from the play school to the hospital, and could not for a minute take his eyes off the infant, staring at him in disbelief and exclaiming adorably, "Amma! He's smaller than my teddy bear.....Was I so small too??!!!"

But the inevitable comparisons started raising their head even before the younger one was in school.
The granny would say:"Look at your elder brother...how obedient he is".
A guest would remark:"Wow! your younger one is so gorgeous!"

And once they both started going to school, the teachers contributed their bit too.
I was aghast and angry. But a more experienced friend told me to relax and not pay much heed. Teachers, she said, often inadvertantly (and at times knowingly, in order to bring out the best in students) compare siblings.

Thankfully there seemed to exist a pleasant bond of friendship between the boys.
One day the younger one came home looking sad and went straight to the grandmother's room. There he declared bravely:
"Dadi! Tomorrow I'm not going to leave that boy who hit me today!"
Dadi tried to calm him down. With a smile she asked him why he had not got even with that boy already.
The answer was full of innocent revengefulness. And we all could not help laughing as the younger one confided very seriously: "That boy is elder and stronger than me. Tomorrow my Bhaiyya will come with me and hit him nicely right and left...." and then looking at the elder brother, he asked as if to be reassured: "Bhaiyya you'll come no...?"

Is it some strange coincidence that God makes siblings in striking contrast? So how does one compare two completely different individuals when there is no basis for comparison? Comparing siblings and thus "creating" and "fanning" rivalry between them is, in my opinion the most uncivilised right that our civilisation has so generously bequeathed to each one of us, and justified it too. "Isn't healthy competition a pre-requisite to any development?" They say.
A little envy and ambition is required to fuel that healthy competition, which in turn would ideally ensure the blossoming of a personality.

However one must never forget that most certaily relationships developed in an environment of trust and understanding are by far more dependable than the ones that are fuelled by envious ambition. In times of need selfless associations become reliable shock-absorbers helping one to return to normalcy. It seems almost a necessity for us to seek such understanding in friends after being fed on the age- old adage by some bitterly hurt philosopher who said: "We cannot choose our relatives. But thank God we can choose our friends" or the more contemporary one which said "Best friends do not have the same nature, but they have the best understanding of each other's nature."

Why can't there be such an understanding between siblings who have grown up together and shared so much in their lives? Just a small chat over the telephone with someone who understands you is enough to take the stress off your mind.
And why can't that person be one's siblings? Why can't one's sibling be one's friend too?
It is just a matter of digging deeper into one's conscience and soon enough a voice will say:
"I want to go back to the days when siblings were my only foes" !!!!!