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.

I don’t know what’s it with people. Whenever I am introduced to someone, about one time in ten, someone will say that I look like someone. Sometimes its a friend, relative, sister, daughter…. or its some famous personality. The most common ones being Sushma Sharma (an OD consultant) Urmila and Smita Patil.

A friend of a friend actually convinced his wife when I went to meet her after having delivered her first child that I was Urmila’s sister!!!!

Naturally, this is not what I want. I’m certain all of us look like someone or the other, but hey, I am me, not a photocopy of someone.

Out of all these, the only comparisons I like are that with Smita Patil and Sushma - I honestly admire the women. The “fire” and passion in Smita’s roles, the assertive personality….. and its also in me. The spontaneity and presence of Sushma …… So at least I associate that comparison with someone acknowledging that in me. Urmila…… not a chance….. I just am not that stylish.

I don’t particularly look like either of them though….. you figure it out if you can:

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 am currently involved in an online debate about the conditions of women in society. As a self-aware individual, I am aware that I find the perspectives put forth extremely repulsive.

There seems to be a stereotype of “woman” that is endlessly needy, fragile and “requiring encouragement” for their “upliftment”. Worse, there are women who see themselves like that, rather than choosing to see what it is that they are doing that they could change to be in a condition they would enjoy better.

It is really superficial to say that women are victimized. What I see happening is a callous lack of looking beyond stereotypes. I see men victimized too, when their emotions need to be in a certain format for the world to acknowledge them as humans. Really, is crying the only symptom of sorrow?

What I see is a sheer lack of sensitivity toward self and others leading to messes that just don’t get solved with patchwork.

The woman is a victim, because the husband yells at her. Fabulous. Here, we are de-humanizing this said husband, who seems to be like a comic book villain, incapable of having anything good in him. What is really happening, is that there is a lot of emotion churning in this guy, that leads to him yelling to force his point home. Do we yell, when we feel that we are being heard? On the other hand, this woman is a pure victim, and someone needs to rescue her from the aforementioned villain. Does she have no responsibility for what is happening? Is she indeed so powerless that a person can come and yell at her and she will not respond? And if she is, how is setting her free going to achieve anything beyond changing villains? Because, believe me, there are plenty of people who are happy to walk all over people who will take it. We are de-humanizing the woman as well, by believing her as incapable of acting in her own self-interest.

Then, we have a whole rush of patchwork to explain how the yelling must not be done, and how the woman is a “poor thing” who is basically dependent on the man to do her a favour and change.

It happens in all situations. Yet, solutions are not looked for by looking at what people in healthy relationships do. Solutions focus on erasing symptoms and creating a “happily-ever-after” image ASAP.

Wake up folks, there is no such thing as happily-ever-after except in fairy tales. Good relationships require commitment from both  ends. They need acknowledgment of the other’s perspective (not necessarily agreement). I find a very subtle but important factor at play here.

This is our stereotype of men. “Men don’t cry” “Men provide for the woman” “Men are stronger” “Women are emotional” etc. This is reinforced so strongly with time, that even men who will proudly say that they cry at times will not be able to admit that they “don’t know” or “are helpless” when they are. What is really happening to the men here, when their emotions are not even looked at as relevant to their being? Is it any wonder that the few times we see emotions, they arise from frustration/desperation and come out with excessive force? Who wouldn’t use all the force they have to ease their own discomfort and make stand if they believe that it will not be heard?

An excessively possessive man, is looked on as an extremely undesirable thing. Yet, do we see the caring and wish to protect and need to continue being loved that drives that insecurity (even if we don’t want to be protected)? Do we see it? So, if his caring hasn’t registered, and he sees the object of his love doing somethig he perceives as dangerous, how many choices does he have that don’t involve “laying rules”?

Does the woman really acknowledge his love for her and reassure him that she will be careful, and not take unnecessary risks, or does she simply see the dominance and rebel or succumb? What choices does she have when her freedom is sacrificed that are other than rebellion or becoming victim?

I don’t see how we, as a society can lay down endless rules for behaviour and upliftment, without empowering people with self-awareness and sensitivity toward others.