Life as I find it

He’d throw a fit at his granddaughter calling him an awesome guy. “Disrespect!!!” he’d call it, while chuckling about this post if he reads it. Must ask my cousin to show it to him.

Ajoba, if you’re reading this, its Soni. Gundi shared the post on Sobati about you, and I’m very happy and proud to see you featured there. I’ve saved your video clips.

Since that post is in Marathi, I thought I’d write something for these day’s young people who don’t read Marathi fluently.

Sobati is a group in Vile Parle. It means “Companions”. This group has been an important part of Ajoba’s (grandfather, as I call Mr. Balwant Godbole) life or as much of it as I have seen. Their get-togethers have always been a high point in his social life, and I remember many times as a child when he used to rehearse some song or the other to play at their meet ups, with us three grand daughters listening and providing unrequired feedback.

What I find special about him is his energy and enthusiasm for his interests, and his ability to be at peace with what is irrelevant to him. I have never seen him unnecessarily voice an opinion or gossip. His chief interest in life is music and recital of religious texts.

I grew up with him, and I remember countless nights when I slept to the soung of the Ramraksha or Gita….. I don’t have any religious inclination, and studied in a convent, but I know a surprising amount of Shlokas by heart just from having listened to them so many times in my childhood. Its strange. Someone asks me if I know them, and I say I don’t. Then I recite right along as I hear the words…..

Another of his loves that he passed on to me is music. He plays the violin really well. As kids, music was a big part of our childhood. Learning to sing, play the violin, keyboard…. were all highly appreciated things a child could do. I learnt to play many songs just because he played them, and I wanted to “copy”. Slowly I developed a ear for music (and it has been in my blood ever since) and as a teenager, the sounds of ajoba’s chanting in the dark were replaced by Kishore Kumar songs being played on a keyboard by me. To date, when I meet him, this subject comes up. He wants me to sing or play some song.

There’s a whole slew of memories, but one that my husband will remember forever is the first time he met my grandfather. A lot of Raka’s friends are into music, and he had heard a lot about ajoba from them before we even decided to get married. He was slightly awed when I took him across to meet my grandparents. Aji (grandmother) was alive at that time.

After some pleasantries, I suggested that ajoba play something on the violin. I knew Raka was dying to hear it. As ajoba got out his beloved violin, Raka put himself on alert to recognize some fantastic classical piece from some ancient times. Imagine his shock when the tune that hit his ear was “Aika dajiba” (for those who don’t know, this was a current “pop” song doing the rounds with an extremely peppy beat)!!!

This is classic ajoba - no stereotypes - he goes with what he likes. I’ve known him to play latest Hindi hits happily when I used to live with him. He thought that a young “javai” (son-in-law) would want to hear something from his generation, so he went for that. Raka still hasn’t got over that surprise.

What more….. there’s so much.

Once when I spoke with Ajoba, I was in Bangalore. After exclaiming that he could hear my voice as clearly as if I was next to him, and some trivial stuff, he ended the call with “Have a jolly good time!” How can anyone call this 88 year young man old when people a quarter of his age end calls with insipid murmurs?

If you’re reading this post Ajoba, I want you to know you’re totally awesome and that I love you and am very proud of you.

BTW, head over to that post on the Sobati blog if you want to hear Ajoba play the violin.

Those who know me well, know me for a coward when it comes to being poked by sharp things. Needles are sharp. It is not so much the pain of it as the whole idea of it coming closer and closer and I know it will hurt. It goes against every instinct I have to sit still and allow it to happen.

I’ve been hiding a secret in my mouth for years. You guessed it. Its a cavity the size of a parking lot (actually there are two, but I’m ignoring the one that doesn’t hurt). It grew into these majestic proportions due to the sanctuary it got from my fear of dentists.

Logic says that I should have dealt with it before it grew big enough to hurt me…. but I guess its the kind of creeping pain that you somehow don’t notice till it gets too much, while doing something involves someone poking around in my mouth with sharp things….. is it any wonder it flourished unharmed for so long?

Actually, the cavity had made a smart choice when it chose me as its shelter of choice. It probably knew that I wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt it as long as I had a breath to fight.

Alas, it miscalculated. It exploited the very environment it lived in, and bits and pieces of my tooth cracked, and my nerves got exposed, etc. The dentist described it, but I was busy focusing on how I was not going to faint like some Victorian heroine, so there are gaps in my knowledge and teeth that will always remain thus.

But I digress. Coming back to the point and the plight of this cavity, it found itself in a situation where I didn’t have any breath to fight for it, as I was panting through the pain it had caused, and when the doctor told me that I would have to agree to a root canal or else, I was at a point of nodding at anything …. ANYTHING he said if he would make the pain go away. Thus the appointment was made.

The dentist reassured me when I arrived there jumpy as a frog. He told me it wouldn’t hurt, etc etc but I knew better. Of course it would hurt to have him poking into my mouth, but I was beyond caring - I think I was in shock from the cavity.

I clenched my hands, since the good man wouldn’t let me clench my teeth, and stared at that needle coming closer, and closer, until I couldn’t see it anymore. It pricked me, did its stuff, and I was set free to marinate my aching self in the anesthesia. I enjoyed the numbness, and for all my flinching and readiness to register and yell at the slightest pain, it actually didn’t hurt. The dentist (oh that droolworthy handsome man!) said that root canal practices have been much refined in these last few years. Sure felt like it. I don’t remember being willing to listen to any dentist before.

And the cavity? Good you asked. Wouldn’t want it to depart this world uncared for. Alas, it died. We shall mourn its sad demise.

In the meanwhile, I am now hunting for justifications to postpone the treatment of the other tooth (the one I am busy ignoring). So far, I have:

In favor of going ahead and getting the other one done too:

• It doesn’t hurt yet. When it wants the attention, it will ask for it, but then it will hurt more.
• The less the mess, the less the bill
• I liked this dentist. Don’t mind him poking around in my mouth. He’s careful.
• He’s handsome too (or at least seemed that way after this treatment - could be relief).
• I might as well get it done and put it out of my mind

In favor of postponing:

• I could put it out of my mind without doing anything to it too
• Just see the advances in dentistry in the last few years - a root canal is now painless. If I wait for a few more years, I could be spared the pain of the injection as well….

Nah…. I’m not going to analyze it too much. Let’s see what you guys have to say….

Funny, naughty and irrepressible girls having a great time on a top berth of a train

In a world of speed and luxury, I had forgotten the charming sloce of India - long distance travel in Sleeper Class on Indian Railways.

This time, I was attending the HID Forum’s Group Relations conference on Leadership in a Gendered World in Bangalore which was based on the Tavistock model of sensing unconscious group processes, which is a different story. I decided to travel the way I used to travel with my family in my childhood - Sleeper Class.

So here I am on the Udyan Express that left at 8:05am sharp. This Indian Railways experience of mine is complete as I booked a waitlisted ticket days in advance and then tracked its progress eagerly, until it became RAC - Reservation against Cancellation.

Itsdifferent being a kid travelling with a family and the compartment my playground to be an adult female travelling alone, with an unconfirmed ticket and responsible for securing her own seat. Not that I hadn’t travelled by train since then, but Air conditioned compartments are just not the same thing.

I arrived early (being anxious to check my seating status) and ended up entering the train as one of the first passengers in our compartment when it was unlocked.

My first sensation was the smell - its a dingy, ammonia laden horrible smell that is particular to a sleeper class compartments with closed windows and unventilated for some time standing in a busy long distance train terminus with all its implied toilets contributing in turns towards nurturing that particular stink.

I few passengers coughed and opened windows, which brought my attention to a group of four handsome young boys a few seats down. They were watching me with equal interest - the beginnings of long distance train intrigue. More windows opened, more passengers came in, and the smell changed. It was now a complex hybrid of our original smell, perfume, hair oil, sweat, different kinds of food being opened and that typical train smell….. quite overwhelming and kind of nasty but intriguing.

The train took off and things settled down. The smells grew less intense, movement of people stilled, sounds lowered. I had claimed a top berth on entry as usual, intending to sleep my way through the otherwise monotonous journey. Plus, I felt that I had better get some sleep done while the owner of the berth sat below, as I didn’t have a confirmed berth for the night.

Lous tea vendors woke me next and I looked hazily around to see that most top berths were occupied by sleeping passengers - I guess everyone had woken up early to be on the train.

Honestly, I slept for most of the journey, but what I do remember is the sheer diversity of people. All kinds of colours, clothes, languages, foods, ages…… the informal friendliness that needs no introductions….. and three mischief making girls sitting on a top berth near me - they were partt of a large family group going to visit their village temple. Take a look

A most interesting weekend. Raka had gone to do his ALHP with ISABS. I thought that after a week of sensitivity training kind of stuff, he might appreciate the opportunity to find some peace before returning to the bustle of life.

So, I went to Modi Resort on the evening of the 5th which was the party night for their event. I knew over half the community there, and was made very welcome and enjoyed the opportunity to connect with people I knew. We danced for a looooong time.

I spent the next day lazing around, and finally, when Raka was free from the event, we went to a friend’s bungalow near Neral, at a place called Keki Baug, which is full of well maintained bungalow plots for people to relax in. This place belongs to Harsha Joshi, a friend of a friend of ours called Raghu. Actually, Raghu stays there more than Harsha.

Raghu is this nature lover, who once was a business partner with Harsha in some electrical business, which is now Prolite Autoglow. Raghu is famous with all the women, because he is an amazing cook, a bachelor with no intentions of marriage and an amazingly caring heart. Raghu often keeps an eye on this place (and enjoys it) for Harsha.

Harsha is the guy heading Prolite Autoglow, the head of a joint family of fourteen members in Mumbai in todays day and age, a guy whose circle of loved ones expands with each person he comes across.

So, we went there for a spot of peace and quiet and romance before heading to the chatter of the city. It was fabulous.

The house itself is in a well maintained lawn on a slope, with a stream like fountain with a bridge across it. Very picturesque and peaceful. At the foot of the property, there is the backwater from a dam and the season meant that they vally is absolutely beautiful……

What’s even more beautiful is the people. Harsh and family bring “open door policy” a whole new meaning. An example would be that Raka had never met them before, and a day after we arrived, they arrived with some friends from abroad expecting and empty house, and we all had a great time together when they found us there. How many people can bring special guests home to find people they don’t know settled happily and be genuinely happy to find them enjoying the space?

We felt that it was our home too, and indeed it reflected in all we did, from caring for the place to planning future visits…..

More than the land and the home, it is this inviting nature that had us feeling so…. healed. In a world where people are so focused on owning their properties that they forget to enjoy them, Harsha’s attitude enriches all it touches.

We ate pakodas to celebrate the rain and spent a most enjoyable evening with Roxanne joining us for a while. Roxanne is a story in herself. You shant there and do nothing and she happens to you. She tells you about things, asks stuff, and answers herself too…. an animal lover and the manager for the property, Roxanne is one interesting person to meet. May be I’ll write about her separately.

I’ve been able to flow from one work to another almost all my life. Curiosity got into me, temptation, the lure of quick money, desperation…. you name it, me done it.

Sometimes I wondered if I was some kind of a freak who was good at so many things, yet didn’t have lasting experience with anything and when I moved on, it was usually to something totally unrelared. The only pattern I saw was chaos, which reflected the chaos in my emotional life as well (born in an unhappy family, fostered with grandparents).

My jobs ran included (in approximate sequence) part time work with a cable TV service, running children’s camps, partner in a new layout design business, modelling, teaching English tutions, working on outdoor education/experiential learning programmes, instructing on Himalayan Adventure tours, working as a cook on treks, guiding treks, cultural tour hosting, pack horsewoman on treks, joyrides on horses, conducting surveys in remote villages, “home remedies and first aid” for local horses and dogs, transcripting interviews for documentaries, research for cocumentaries, film making, outdoor adventure training, facilitation on management training programmes, website design, SEO, content development, promotion, blogging……

A varied life…. and it still goes on…..

When I first learnt that a website could be created with a little effort, I remember my wonder - I had thought it to be an exotic and expensive thing, and yet, with a free host and an internet connection and some googled up tutorials, I could do it for free! It seemed impossible and impractical at that time. I had wanted one, and couldn’t afford any money, let alone the fancy quotes I got from designers.

Its been exactly 2 years and 7 months since my first website (which was largely white with some text on it), 13 revisions of my website, as I kept learning new things and stuff. I write on three blogs, run 7 websites (some for friends), earn enough from it to keep myself in necessities, and keep discovering new people, information and dimensions to the world.

This  category of posts - my journey - is a documentation of this strange, but satisfying journey of mine, that needed me to sweat blood, but rewards me just as intensely.