Love at Tiger Point, Mahableshwar.

Mahableshwar is a lovely hill station in the Western Ghats. Its proximity to Mumbai and Pune make it a paradise for honeymooners. A quick trip to Mahableshwar, a visit to the numerous points and lousy food which is a strain on the purse is our modern day majnu's and laila's idea of a honeymoon.
The guys walk around in a daze and their wives look like brides run away from the wedding hall with their mehendi laden hands and feet all attired in jeans and fancy tops coupled with the traditional 3 dozen bangles on each hand and a sindoor laden forehead.

En route to Arthur's seat I got tired of walking and sat near a point called tiger's point. Here you will find a spring of cold, refreshing water and every tourist guide who walked past me explained to his group that at night there are four legged animals who drink from the spring but during the day there are two legged ones drinking at the spring.I sort of got bored by the guides repeating the same same story and concentrated on the conversation between the koochikooing couples. A young couple stood at the spring with the husband trying to coax the hygiene- conscious wife to drink from the proffered glass of water. She daintily refused but condescended to wash her face with it. Another couple wanted to pose for a romantic photograph and with the wife giving a thousand instructions as to where the camera should be placed for the perfect picture the husband finally got it right and the photo was clicked.The wife was seated on a rock and after a plea of 'help me down honey' the husband valiantly carried her off the rock. There were couples who spoke every language that India boasts of. A middle aged couple arrived on the scene and the husband told the wife to drink water from the spring as it would give her extra energy to roar like tigress. He also explained that it was useless for him to drink it as it would not help him to be the boss in his house.

At this point I had to get back to the car and the pleasant sojourn into the minds of other fellow humans had to be stopped.

Fascination for the 'Queen's Language'

Indians have been forced slaves to the queen's language since the British East India company conquered India. The freedom movement saw us throw off the yoke of British Imperialism-physically at least.
Mentally we remain slaves. I, for one, can think and write in English with greater ease than in my mother tongue.Our generation was exposed to the spoken language since we grew up in a state that did not teach my mother tongue. Today's generation of parents have taken slavery one step further.
As I travelled to Hyderabad with a young couple and their 4 year old kid the appalling state of our slavery could be seen in the way the couple spoke only in English to the kid. Right! Mr. Technocrat your kid stammers and stutters through English. You want him to 'whine' and 'dine' in English,but I shudder to think of the scene 10years hence.
Now the conversation went as follows:
'Oh! mommy I am bored.'
'Look there is an engine is that Thomas?' (Thomas being the name of some engine in a story book.'
'Can I have some shoup?'
'Not shoup its soup.'
'shoup' went the kid. Mommy started feeding the child some soup.
'Its hot.'
'Is it hot or spicy?' Mommy was quick to put in a lesson on the difference in meaning between the two words.
The parents spoke to each other in Telugu but always in English to the kid. The kid also had a first name, second name and surname pattern which is very alien to us Indians. They probably wanted to jettison the kid straight from the creche to the' land of opportunity.'
I wonder what happens when the peer pressure sets in and the talk becomes 'Hiya Machaan'
'Whathcha doin'
I felt sad that the kid was being cut off from his roots. Can a tree blossom and bloom without roots? Something to ponder about. In another few generations our rich culture and heritage will be lost forever to the world if we stick to English and forget our mother tongue.Indian children being brought up in other parts of the world are taught their mother tongue along with English. My brother and my sis-in-law, who were bringing up their children in the USA made a conscientious effort to speak to their children only in Tamil[being the father's spoken language],
and Bengali[being the mother tongue] and the children automatically learnt English. Hats off to such thinkers who plan well for a problem free tomorrow.
The point to ponder about is whether we are missing the forest while concentrating on the trees.
Let us not deprive our children of their rich heritage and make them, 'Dhobi ka kutta, Na ghar ka na ghat ka.' Learning to speak only English from birth does not make one a Britisher.

Dalhousie-a trip into the hills

The Vaishnodevi pilgrimage was completed and the majority of the party departed to Delhi. My sister Vandana and I stayed back as we wanted to visit some places in the North that we had not seen and were curious to see the places that we had only read about. From Jammu we boarded a bus that took us to Pathankot there we had yummy aloo parothas for breakfast and started inquiring about a bus that would take us to Dalhousie. We were told that there was one only at 11a.m so we decided to take a taxi to Dalhousie. We had a lovely drive up into the hills and later checked into the Hotel Geetanjali that I had booked through the net. Though the hotel was very old and worn out it was comfortable and a huge room which consisted of a dining room, a bedroom and an old British style bathroom. There was no other means of sightseeing so we asked the taxi that had brought us to Dalhousie to take us around. The taxi took us to a place called Khajjar which is also known as Mini Switzerland it was a beautiful meadow surrounded by pine trees. It was a picturesque place. We lazed around in the meadow, had lunch and started our return journey to Dalhousie. The natural beauty fo the place was breathtaking but the other places like saatdhara etc. were a waste of time. Then it was time for what women do best-shopping we got off at the Mall and window shopped at the Tibetan market . Then we drove to the hotel watched some T.V and crept into bed after a few painkillers as our limbs were still aching after the arduous Vaishnodevi trek. Next morning we drove back to Pathankot and got a bus to Amritsar.

Summer of 2008

Jai Mata Di!!!

This was the cry that echoed through my mind when I agreed to join my sis and sis-in-law on a pilgrimage to Vaishnodevi the abode of Mata Vaishnavi. We planned our journey well in advance and everything just worked out well as a jigsaw puzzle falling into place. There is a strong belief in devotees that the journey is possible only when the Goddess wishes you to visit her. I had images of hindi movie heroes and heroines walking up to the shrine to have their problems solved and I also wanted to experience the bliss that they had experienced. The numbers in our group kept on increasing with my cousin Hema also joining us for the trip. It was a nice get together as we cousins had spent many summers in each others company as children this was probably a first as we reached middle age. Finally we were five cousins along with my uncle and aunt and Hari and Pavan as the male escorts. We all congregated at Jammu on the 9th of May and drove to Katra on the 9th evening. My aunt and uncle were booked for the next day by helicopter so twelve of us proceeded towards the Trikuta mountains.We reached there around 9 p.m. and stood there trying to assess our physical capacities , some of us chickened out of the climb and got onto ponies others started the arduous trek uphill. Exhausted we reached the shrine at around 2 a.m. had darshan and started the trek downwards at 7 a.m. reaching the hotel by 10 a.m. It was a dream fulfilled.

Journey through India.

A lazy morning had me heading towards crossword where I decided to browse through the latest Shobhaa De offering, 'Superstar India'. Reading this book set me off into my own train of thoughts on India. A very picturesque insight into the confusing land of mystics and technocrats-- India. A jumbo jigsaw puzzle which fits in so well as if ordained by the Gods . Hundreds of languages are spoken all over the country but an Indian will never feel he is in an alien land as he accepts the alien language as his own.He may not understand the exact meaning but the gist of the matter will be absorbed. Seems as though the creator was thrilled to create a complex jigsaw named India.The author opens our eyes to the idea of simple living and high thinking when she tells us how the have- nots seem happier than the latest mobile flaunting,jaded rich citizens.

Life in India is technicolour 70 mm as wedding and funerals are opportunities for feasting and rituals. The meaning of the rituals have vanished into obscurity but yet we hang on to them with the assistance of the 'cell toting merc driven 'pujari.The poor don't mind getting into a debt to ensure that their parents are helped on their journey towards heaven. The greedy pundit makes hay while the sun shines. Lavish weddings are supposed to ensure your daughter's happiness .

The other day when I went to a multiplex to watch a movie, I casually looked around. This seemed strange to my daughter and she asked me why I was staring. I found it a very trivial thing then but on reading Shobhaa's book I realised that unconsciously we Indians who do not belong to the 'cool crowd' do have the habit of staring. But that is 'Mera Bharat Mahaan' so here's to folk like me, I promise not to make eye contact when I leave the desi shores.

Ah! The food in India is something to dream about. The variety of spices does make India a land of gastronomic delights. A lifetime is too short to master the delicacies of the various cuisines in the land of my birth. Of late pizzas, pastas and sandwiches are making their presence felt but the masala dosa of Vidyarthi Bhavan in Bangalore will have you salivating in your dreams. The Vada pav of Joshi vadewale in Pune and the special misal pav will drive all thoughts of dieting out of your mind.

Jai Bharat Maa. I am proud to be born here.

The seven notes
today I read a book called "The Silent Raga' By Ameen Merchant.A well written book portraying the life of an eighteen year old Tamilian Brahmin girl and her revolt against the double standards in society. Was impressed by the forceful ending which was very philosophical in nature.
I quote to the best of my powers of recall.
Sa is for Sarpa the serpent around Shiva's neck, In its skin we see our world reborn eternally.

Ri for Rudraksh a necklace of tears on your chest.In every purple bead we feel our worldly breath.

Ga for Ganga the heavenly river in your wild hair. Her waters cleanse our skin.

Ma for Mruga the deer you hold in your hand. The world is just an illusion.

Pa is for Pushpa the lotus you dance on.That is our world at your feet.

Da for damru the cellestial drum of creation. It is the music of our inner world.

Ni for nisakara the crescent on your head in it we see the time of our world.

A meaning beautifully portrayed.