Harassment

 In this Self Obsessed World, made much worse by the Corona corrosion, most all meanies are out to deceive others in multiple ways. What such small souls do not realise is the fact that they thus lose on credibility, and forever.

 Actually, it is credibility alone that can stand a human being in good stead. If you deceive a person knowingly, the person would regret his/her mistake of believing you, could get that work completed by someone else. It is you who has added to your own bad "karma", as it is known, which is sure to haunt you in myriad ways. So why harass in any way?

Actually, Aai-Papa brought up all the three of us in a very ethical, honest, ideal way. There is no way hence that we would ill-treat or harass anyone in any way.

But, now-a-days, I feel that life is not so straight in any sense of this term. In the current scenario, perverts of all types, some of them power crazy perverts, some of them money crazy and hence pervert, some of them with a pervert mentality and/or sexuality are trying their level best to harass a Person Superior to such mean creatures in every which way. 

In a world of wicked perverts, it is wrong to be harassed. It gives a kinky kick to such dominating dastards. No need to confront them unless and until you have solid proof that cannot be prevaricated by buffoons of all varieties.

Anyways, for harassment to be successful, just as a sadist (whatever might be one of his kinks described above) is required, equally necessary is a masochist. The best way to face harassment is to establish efficiently but quietly that you refuse to play the masochist game.

Instead,I believe, in such a victim position imposed on one, one should directly or subtly let everyone in one's safety net know everything that is happening to one. All along, one must continue with all the aspects of one's creative, intellectual work that would prove all the canards of the sadists as lies. 

The best way to answer a fool is to ignore such weak wicked wonks, and all along continue to make your line so, so much longer and deeply etched that the sadistic fools would never ever be to wipe it out either as an individual or as mafiosi gangsters who may parade to be gentleman!Gentleman, phew, poor wor(l)d!

pratima@to thine own self, be true and forever

The Aai Feel:Mother's Day Today.

 It is Krishnashtami today. Raju sent a lovely bhajan. Remembered Sanju's flute that Aai was proud of, and felt happy about. Her niece sent a flute rendition.

Well, as for me, I like this day for two reasons. First and foremost, it is also the birth anniversary of Sant Dnyaneshwara, my favourite most saint. He had the heart of a mother. No wonder, at the tender age of twenty one, he was known as the jagat mauli, the Aai of the whole universe. 

He was the bestest of the best, was treated worse than the worst, and yet radically changed a very mindset. Such a motherly heart he had that he could connect sensitively and tenderly to the soul of a he buffalo, and could make it recite the ved richas. Some power of the motherly feel the miracle is!

As for Lord Shri Krishna, his story reflects a lovely paradigm of motherhood, too. He is born as Devaki's Son, but is most lovingly and selflessly brought up by Yashoda. On the One hand, this myth proves that motherhood is a feel, not a biological fact. On the other hand, he has a kind, gentle feel for the whole universe. He can orphic-ally connect to the flora and fauna. Mountains can hear his gentle call, and move so as to rest on his tender finger. As a much loved child by both sets of parents and the entire Gokul, he has so much kindness, tenderness, gentleness overflowing that he can, like a mother, understand the problems of his best friends, be it Sudama or Arjuna. For Draupadi, he has a tender friendliness that is most motherly, too. Even for Radha, it is hardly a sexual feel, whatever Bollywood may make of it. Like a mother, he can be fond, and yet strict; gentle and yet guiding.

In brief, in my opinion, it is the Indian Mother's Day today, on Krishnashtami! So I dedicate this blog to Aai, and Papa who had a very motherly heart.

Pratima@Aai's patient listen-in's to many of my such reinterpretations of the traditional tales

Fragrance

 Aai loved the chapha or champak flower a lot. In our garden, we have four different varieties of this divine flower. She liked all, the pale yellow one with almost like a bud shape, the bulbous variety, the Green champak and the typical golden yellow variety.

Aai liked all of them, but she adored the Golden yellow and the truly rare Green variety. Champak is a Sanskrit word adopted by English. Sure, there is a scientific taxonomic term: 'magnolia/michelia champaka'.   I like the dialectal variants of the name much more. Champak is known as the 'yellow jade orchid tree' and the 'joy perfume tree'. I think, I like both these variations of the name, especially because they encapsulate why Aai loved the flower.

The Golden champak has a rich, luscious yellow colour with a faint ochre like-golden shade to it. The shape is unique, too. Aai liked the colour. Yellow anyways was her favourite colour. She loved its fragrance.  I had made her a garland of it when she returned from the Chardham Yatra. The whole day I was busy with my research and my journalism related activities. I had to hence surreptitiously make it on the train. The whole compartment was afresh with the fragrance. 

Yet again had I made it for her when she turned seventy five. There were exactly seventy five golden yellow champak flowers in that garland.Her grandsons, whom she loved above all,  made her wear it on the "Holi" Day, her tithi-wise birthday.The "Holi" that year thus became truly holy.

As she loved the flower, I always bought it, however off season it may be. The room , her pillow near which I used to keep the flower, would have the fragrance lingering on and on. Like her Love. Often, I used to get the champak veni, woven the traditional way, because she loved the flower. It used to rest at the feet of the Dnyaneshwar idol she truly liked because Raju gifted it to her when she topped the merit list of the Dnyaneshwari  course final examination.

She loved the Green variety hugely. She loved it because because this absolutely unique tree was planted by Papa. Incidentally, it is known as the"Pooja flower", and Aai used to be hugely happy when it could be part of her daily prayer. Known as "Balaji flower", named as it is after "Lord Venkyatesha, our family deity, a daily pooja with that flower from late January through June-July was special for her.

This particular variety, absolutely green, is difficult to see/locate easily, but once it blooms, it fills your very being with its special, unique fragrance. Exactly like the love of parents! Hence as a consolation token to my colleague who lost her mother to corona, I gave a few seeds of this variety, and they have started sprouting in her garden. Exactly like the ever blooming love of parents!

Pratima @if fragrance be the feel of love, bloom on!

P(l)ain echoes

 Yet again a truly brief  write-up. Well, the second jab of the vaccine needs nursing still. I feel drowsy yet, though the mild fever is gone, and the terrible body ache seems to subside earlier this time. Even then I am not exactly my own self. So this short version.

Well, have you realised that the moment we are in the throes of any deep feeling, we remember 'mother' the most. At least in Marathi, the linguistic echo of any pain, grief, disappointment, hurt of any type, physical or psychological, any excitement seems to be an intense call to "Aai", right?

Remember how, during his heydays, Sachin Tendulkar had popularised a certain Marathi expression as a signature tune of his feelings? Some proof that should be of my point of view. In a way, we also use " bap re" to show of our deep feel of any kind.

Wonderful, is not it, how Marathi uses the closest and the absolutely irreplaceable relationships to express any and every intense feel that echoes in the chambers of our heart, soul and head. Losing parents is indeed missing wor(l)ds! Forever!

Pratima@ p(l)ain echoes!

A mother is born

 Let us explore a unique, touching and yet amusing paradox today. When is a mother born? What a question to ask, you would say, right? A mother is born obviously on her birthday! For sure! Yet I have a different take and a delightful answer to this question.

A mother is born when a child is born, I think. Oh, no, I am not leading you back to that eternal egg-hen dilemma in a new garb. What I mean to say is that surely when the first child is born, actually when every child is born, a mother is born, too.

Physically indeed it is as good as her rebirth, especially if it is a normal, non-Caeseran birth. Beyond that though, with a child's birth begins a brand new phase of her life, of  her self, too. She has to constantly re-invent herself, begin anew, all over yet again, every thread of her identity. For her, too, the very feel is a re-newing, a re-making, a re-building of herself. Now that I have broached this topic, what do you feel about it? Agree with me? And, oh, yes, I am not being flippant. Not at all. I will explore the theme in depth yet again. 

Right now a "good night" because today I stand certified as a totally vaccinated citizen! I need to nurse that new avataar of mine at least tonight or may be throughout this weekend, right? Hence a quick "au revoir" right now.

Pratima@  a Baby born, a mother (re)born

The Mother Feel

 Today it is Aai's fifth mensual death anniversary. How time flees!Like a thief! Stealing a precious person, a really  relevant relationship from me, from us! And,yet, despite this fleeing time, like a river in spate, her memory stays afloat, sheer beautiful and pure, like a swan, all the dross getting washed away.

And what a coincidence! Today it is the birth anniversary of Mother Teresa, who herself an ideal teacher, died on September 5. Right now, however, what seems truly touching to me is that today they both, Aai and Mother, share between them this Day.

Sure, their spheres were so very vastly different. Yet the intense feel was the same, the deeply loving care for the child. If Aai could pull out of the jaws of death her child, Mother cared for all the rejects of the rejects. Sure, Mother's care had a vast scale, but this quantitative difference apart, the quality of the deep feel was the same.

In fact, for Mother Teresa, even the unborn child deserved a deep bond. Just as Aai would share a feel for her Baby right from inception, Mother could care for someone else's foetus. There could be issues regarding this stance as there was a furore about many aspects of Mother's charity. Of/for a public figure, such a coercive/corrosive look at the flip side of her contribution is but inevitable.

Her work, moreover, reveals an interesting facet of the motherly feel, namely, that motherhood is not merely physical. Rather, it is a feel, an emotion. Of that EQ and SQ underlying the mother quotient, More discussion some other time.

Right now, I would like to remember that Mother's work was much honoured, beatified, venerated. For Aai, the consecration of her Love And Care continue to be our lives, being and becoming batter and better still, every which way, till the last second, without a lost minute, and thus our true and total return gift to Aai, and,yes, beyond doubt, to Papa!

Pratima@as God cannot be everywhere, He created Mother!

Abuse!

 Afgani  citizens! Till Yesterday late at night, I had two visions:the Panjsheer Fighters or the abused common citizens ready to tie themselves to a flight to flee the motherland. I kept on defending both the versions in a protracted online argument.

It was in a rather aggrieved mood that I was looking up Afganisthan. I was agitated that America could not see the injustice of its actions. And then there was this news item. It said that much worse than the Taliban was this very common, absolutely regular Afgani practice of "bachkani" whereby boys were regularly made to wear women's dress, made to dance in all male parties, and were then abused!

Despite having read "The Kite Runner" and thus having overcome the childhood naivete of a "Kabuliwala", this news, with terrible pics, of regular abuse made me feel so disgusted that I questioned my own misplaced sympathy for such abusers. Indeed, can an abuser pretend to be the abused? Can the inherently evil pretend innocence? Can those, who for their own silly, vicious fun, often momentary, destroy, scar for a lifetime someone else, completely innocent, totally vulnerable? 

No, is my resoundingly echoing answer. No difficult context can justify their current victim card game. Why could they never wipe out such evil from their social practices  when the times were amenable? Where was their civil society, their civic sense when such a tradition was rampantly allowed? Can they then call out (to) the rest of the world? Is abuse inherent to their very being? If so, how can the abuser be the abused in any context?

True, life is never black or white. Surely, political contexts are harsh. Even then, I find it now difficult to assume a kind of moral relativism whereby the endemic abuser presents self as the abused!Unethical is such a convenient use of abuse, I feel.

Pratima @ would not like to even mention Aai-Papa in such a write-up!

Why be so oh-so-very-much-holier than thou??

 Human condition, as philosophers call it, is indeed funny, if not downright crazy, to put it mildly. Had many a close encounter of this variety today.

There was this student who was speaking as if I am at her beck-n-call. Of course, I managed to overlook her impudence as her anxiety. Then there was this parent who had completely forgotten all our earlier repeated discussions! Patience, in such contexts, is itself th communication, I felt.

Next was some crazy wapp message from some "rarruddin" which turned out to be something else from Tamilnadu according to the true caller, and hence I re-directed-cum-forwarded it with the message/the number where it deserved to go!In addition, getting the TDS certificate was starting to look like an adventure, while it should have been ready in the beginning of this month itself. To top it all, an 'Americanised' cousin kept on arguing about the U.S. goodness in a way that was more American than the Americans themselves. Better agree to disagree at times, I felt 

Worst of all though was this message by a member of a group that poses to be veeeerrry open and democratic. Often the members would sneer subtly if anybody else beyond their own closed circuit comes anywhere near to express "their" ideas or know more than what they actually do. I indeed find such pretences extremely amusing because they always preach what they never practice, all along screaming to the rooftop how holier than everybody else they are!

Thank the Lord, Aai-Papa never allowed us to be so crude  or rude. We were immediately corrected if we ever pretended to be uppity in any way. Hold your head high, but feet firmly on terra firma, was how we were brought up, and I thank them both from the core of my heart and soul for such an upbringing as more and more chicaneries of the wor(l)ds reveal themselves.

Pratima@healer, heal thyself first!

Preparedness

 I get to read many a post on varied research groups. Post lunch, I read a terrible prognosis about the dreaded Covid on one such site. First I counter checked it for veracity. Apparently, it was authentic!

Despite the troublesome projection, it is comforting to know that the medical fraternity, under the aegis of the government and its agencies/institutions, thus gets 'breathing space', both literally and metaphorically, to put the health system on top gear. None wants yet again those dreaded days haunting the very life.

Indeed, preparedness is all. I am indeed thankful to Aai-Papa for inculcating it is us. Such readiness reduces stress, a state of mind absolutely needed now as otherwise Cortisol can kill. 

We could face the rough and the low of life because Plan B was ever ready, at least as a rough draft. We could hence resiliently bounce back from any bothersome brink. Any nightmare, that frenemies could diss up, could not disturb much as the worst was already thought through, and thus lost its vicious sting. No difficulty dared hence to despise us. Not mere prudence, preparedness added to our IQ and EQ. Praise be to Papa-Aai for thus making us wise, psychologically healthy, and hence happy!

Pratima@pre-empting prejudiced plans

Bandhan/bond

 The Rakhee Pournima as usual was celebrated with all its razmataaz. Was a rather difficult day emotionally, but throughout this year, it is going to be so. Inevitably time flies away, but the "bandhan" is eternal. So it continues to be a wound that is tear tender, and is most easily lacerated. 

Actually,  in Maharashtra, it is the Narali Pournima, a prayer for calm seas, now that the monsoon would already be playing the retreat "band". Of course, nothing is now 'that' regular as in yesteryears! Human interference in the natural order has already invited many a disaster. For me, Narali Pournima is ever the occasion to remember Papa's love for Raju, as Papa would without fail offer a coconut to the sea, given Raju's shippie profession.

Rakhi as a festival that is nation wide is more a creation of the Bollywood, and the market forces in its wake. Does not matter much though. In this hectic life of ours, vrooming back to the pre-covid pace beyond any online zoom meets, such moments of togetherness matter. We can make it meaningful as a day dedicated to our siblings, right? So let us keep on looking forward to the line up of such togetherness-es that would bind us in to " band-han"s/ bonds galore.

pratima@ in certain bonds, is a unique freedom

Sister

 On the eve of the Raksha Bandhan, let us try an acrostic!

She shared with you long lost eons full of joy

In the salad days, no grief, a smile itself a toy

She forever your support, you always hers

Tho' now you meet to share a chuckle  terse

Ever you both remember those days blest

Right now when Life oft tosses a tough test! 

Pratima@  sibling succour!

Aai: Definition Extended

 There was this ad by the Chitale Bandhu Mithaiwale. It set me thinking. During the Covid pandemics, the doctor and the nurses, who despite the threat to themselves and by extension to their families, chose to carry on with their duties surely had a motherly heart.

If her child is ill, a mother would go to any extent, sacrifice a lot personally and professionally, but would nurse her child back to normalcy. She gains nothing out of it, no monetary gains, no professional graph spiralling, no nothing. It is love, sheer affection, that drives her. 

In fact, I would like to extend this motherly feel beyond the typical patriarchal paradigms and prjudices.Often, a father, too, sacrifices a lot for his children's welfare. In return, there are absolutely no expectations. A father, for the sake of his child's welfare, foregoes professional development or better placements in his own growth. Such a father, too, has a truly motherly heart. 

Filial feel is indeed special. It is a great combo of selfless love, great sacrifices, no expectations of any favours in return. Our parents, both of them, showered it in abundance. Lucky us!This little tribute hence to that forever fount of love and concern!

Pratima @ filial is forever

Aai Always!

 Received a rather interesting wapp message today as well. It told the story of a typical Aai who was trying too hard to please everybody in her family. Actually, she had thus no space of her own. Neither had she any place in 'their' lives or minds. Her family thought her to be too clingy, too possessive, too irritating to be liked by 'them'. 

Suddenly one day she seemed to be truly aloof. Whatever the family would do as was their wont, she kept on responding " your choice."

They all demanded an explanation. Very calmly she responded, " I realised that your life is your responsibility. Luckily you have all the possible resources to overcome any difficulty whatsoever. I shall continue to love you deeply, I shall never ever waver from praying for you, I shall try giving you advice or help if you ask for it, though following it would be your choice."

Indeed how much taken for granted are the parents, especially the mother, aren't they? If many children treat the father as a walking talking ATM, the mother is the doormat. Often the feel is that nothing is so great if parents do their duty!

Of course, however hurt deeply, parents continue to care deeply even for their heartless progeny. No arrogance, no rudeness s the last straw. Ever! Wish children realised what they are up to before it is too late!

Pratima@ "Oh, Lord, you guarded us like Father/Like Mother you cared for us/A child's countless crimes/A parent forgives hundreds of times": my translation of two shlokas from Shri Vyanktesh Stotram

Indeed interesting!

 I received a very thought provoking wapp message today.  It talked about the Google Maps. The message argued that the g-maps app never is irritated with us nor yells at us when we go wrong despite the route it so clearly dictates. Instead, it re-directs us to a better alternative in the given context so that we get back to the best route yet again. 

The message suggested that thus should be our relationship with our family, that is, our near and dear ones, as well as with our teammates, especially our juniors, our students in case of lecturers, et al. Indeed true!

Our goal is to reach the destination, not fret over the minor mishaps on the road. Actually, all the major accidents at present anyways seem minor mishaps n the long run. The stress hence should be on the supportive structures.

I feel very happy when I think of Aai-Papa in this context. As and when life was cruel, they never screamed at us, nor was there much of a blame game.  Instead, we were generously told to get on with life, with clarification regarding the better way. No wonder, it is said a child's best friends ever are the parents!

 Pratima @wherever I be, be my companion

A few jokes more

 Well, my laptop seems to be grouchy. Rather like the mother-in-law in the western world.Today as well, I shall have to do with the jokes as typing a blog on the mobile is tough.

I have consciously chosen to turn the paradigm upside down by concentrating on the wife's mother as the mother-in-law because this genre is comparatively less known in India.I am choosing, moreover, such jokes that do not directly maul a woman, but rather make fun of "attitude ". 

There is this cartoon which shows a wife welcoming her mother and simultaneously, the son-in-law is calling up an insurance agent to guard his life with a policy. Then there is this joke wherein a Man takes his dog to the veterinarian and asks him to cut the tail of his dog. The surprised vett says,"But why? There is nothing wrong with the tail." Promptly answers the son-in- law, "My mother-in-law is coming this evening. And I want nothing in my home to suggest to her that she is Welcome!"

Quite funny and harmless. At times, the mother-in-law jokes can be a great play on words, but with a harsh content. Listen to this son-in-law who declares, "Of course, I have a soft spot for my mother-in-law. It is in the backyard, and freshly dug!"

Pratima@ banter is better?

A mother in law

A mother is love incarnate.  A mother-in-law, however, is hated more than  the devil himself. Why is it so? Some time later, we shall analyse this dialectic truly thoroughly and theoretically. Well, right now, my laptop is kaput. So let us do with an anecdote that tells its own tale.

If it is the husband's mother who is a terror hereabouts, in many Western countries, it is the wife's mother who is a horror. A mean money bag, she dominates both, her and her husband's husband. No way is this a negation of patriarchy though it may so appear at the first sight. Rather it is a continuation of the harridan imagery. But such an analysis for later. Right now let us deal with the anecdote.

There is this very bossy And snooty mother-in-law who is always testing her sons'(as she pretends to call them) loyalty. On a Sunday, she takes her eldest sonny boy for a walk along the famous bridge and suddenly jumps in to the river screaming away, "help, save me, I am drowning." The good soul jumps in to the river, pulls her out, and packs her off to her house  in a passing cab. Next morning at his doorstep, he finds the latest mean machine of a two-wheeler with a message "from a very loving mother-in-law".

The next Sunday, it is the turn of the second son-in-law. The same dramatics follow. The Man is a generous soul. He fishes her out, takes her to a swanky restaurant, and after a sumptuous breakfast, sends her to her house in an air-conditioned car. The next morning, there is a Volkswagen at his doorstep with the same message, " from a very loving mother-in-law."

The Sunday after, it is the turn of the youngest chap. He cannot stand the sight of the woman. So when she jumps in to the river, he is quite cool, and goes home. The next morning, there is a helicopter at his doorstep with the message, " from a very loving father-in-law"

Sure it is an intelligent laugh, but, as usual, at a woman. So the need to analyse it, though sometime later!

Pratima @ is the laughter always the best solution?

Let my country awaken

 August 15. The day is finally here, and over. But thus begins formally the year-long series of a flurry of programmes leading up to the next year, the actual seventy-fifth year of the Indian Independence.

This year, as usual, but in a more intensive measure, were the dollops of public patriotism. Obvious, expected and hence normal in a way because everybody ( in caps and bolded) is aware of the historic event next year. In other words, 2022 is right now so much more seminal to India that the "dis-ease" 2020 pales in comparison.

Hence the need to (re)imagine the India that we want henceforth. Let us together pray for a country that can overcome the problems of the post-LPG world released by the TNC's. Let us Hope for a humane India that cares for mankind, the flora and the fauna. In a way, this is the prayer that Sant Dnyaneshwar known as Mauli (the Aai as kindness personified),fervently presented at the end of hus treatise that re(de)fined a way of life.

That kind of prayer for a total defeat of the wicked and the glory of the ethical is what Aai-Papa envisioned for us. In this context,let me sign off with a mention that if the Indian iconography for the nation is mother ( a metaphor much explored, even critically), the Vaterland is how the German language thinks of one's own native country. In other words, in the very imag(e)/(in)ing of the notion of the nation is inculcated the parental paradigm!

Pratima@ "now that it is "that" date of the year, August 15, of the year/to be alive in India", with apologies to Robert Browning

On the eve of the platinum jubilee

 Today marks the beginning of the landmark year for India. It is known as the platinum jubilee, though there is some confusion regarding the exact nomenclature. But as Shakespeare put it, what is in a name, right?

There was this idea of singing the National Anthem. Got to know about it a little too late, at about 8 p.m.  Practised it a little and tried to sing it. Actually, it was a good try. Well, I sing rather OK. That is to say, nobody runs away, faints or feigns sleep when I sing. Given hence that grand-n-vain need to improve on my first attempt, I decided to give it a second try.

Suddenly there was the instrumental karaoke, and I was totally flabbergasted because I never sing with a karaoke, and surely not without practice. So!

Anytime any such fiasco happens, I acutely remember Aai coz she liked (being my Aai, no alternative!?!) my singing! Aai herself sang quite well, Papa was more a listener though he loved to hum Natya Sangeet. His favourite most was "parvashata pash daive" (the fate has tied me to dependeency/non-freedom), a song that was once upon a time used by the drama people to awaken the common man in pre-Independence India.A form of cultural critique initiatd by Lokmanya Tilak who inspired and ignited such brilliant dissent.

Tonight is to remind ourselves of that great saga of the freedom struggle. And as ever Aai-Papa because they never gave up on the sense of honour, idealism and self-respect, the immediate aftermath of Independence in/to our nascent nation. On the eve of the Platinum Jubilee, hence in every sense of the term, let me end with "Ma, tuze salam"!

pratima @ bliss it was in that dawn to be alive/But to be young was very heaven!  

Nag Panchami

 It is Nag Panchami today. Remembered Aai a lot. In fact, ever since the Shravan began, her memory is almost like a shadow.

When we were small, both of them followed all the customs most zealously. Literally every Day of Shravan used to have a festive feel, almost like a mini Diwali. 

On the very first Day of Shravan, Aai used to put up the "jiwati" photo, and thus would begin a month of both, holy piety and yummy sweetmeats. Aai had such a wonderful way of cooking that even a banana-milk pudding, shikran, every Shravan Monday, used to acquire a heavenly. taste. She used to follow all the traditional rituals devoutly, and year after year. Thus a Shravan Shukrawar used to be a delight, given her divine puran poli's And Katachi amti, not to forget the special milk for the evening haldi-kunku, a way of womanly togetherness.The Narali Pournima/ Raksha Bhandhan would be sweeter still, given her Narali Bhat. She never needed any fancy ingredients to make the dishes so very fabulous. 

She used to recite all the traditional stories associated with every Shravan  festivity. So the environmental awareness so central to our lives today was ingrained in us through the story of the snake who was angry because the farmer almost cut his small ones into pieces, but was appeared when he saw the lady of the household pray for them. Aai never used a simple cutting board on the Nag Panchami day, and yet made veggies that would make a chef blush. 

The mehendi, the swing at home, everything used to make Shravan sunny and shiny, radiating a warm feel, like the nature's glory out there. It is that month yet again, but, oh, the difference to me!

Pratima@heard ditties are sweet, but those often heard are sweeter still.

An acrostic after a long time

 Money bringeth Thee price, only this much

 Others, then, for their profit, Thee touch

 Them Thou mattereth not that much

  Harm alone thus Thee reacheth as such!

  Enough of this wicked world, is Thy wish

  Re-turn Thou to Thy Makers to  flourish!

After many a days, have I attempted an acrostic poem. Such a poem begins each line with the letters in a given word. In the case of our blogpost, it is 'mother'. 

I have consciously written it as a sestet. The quatrain and the couplet are thematically arranged as problems of the  wearying world which the blessings by parents "re-solve". 

In addition to the rhyme and rhythm (mostly iambic tetrameter, with a trochee), I have consciously used the archaic language with the religious overtones. Hope you like the acrostic. I keep on attempting this type of verse now and then because Aai liked crossword puzzles a lot

Pratima @ pain, pain, go away/thou canst  not me so sway!

Mother Tongue

What exactly is a mother tongue? Sure it is our mother's tongue. We hear it in the womb itself .  As we grow up in our babydom, by the time we are one-ish, it becomes our mode of communication, too. Actually, in a way, it is the motherese which shapes our very cognition.  As we know, a child's brain grows, and fast, in the first few years. It is the parents, especially the mother, who thus shape a child's entire personality. So the notion `mother tongue'.

In this context, despite the threat of being considered conservative, I would like to say that a joint family is good for such linguistic and hence overall cognitive growth of a child as the child gets, in  addition to truckloads of emotional support, a huge linguistic exposure, the bed time stories being an example, to the mother tongue, not to forget the affection resulting in a wonderful EQ, the need of the hour.

If a child's base in the mother tongue, the L1 as it is known, is thus solid, any medium of instruction, any field of study is easy to navigate. Ideally though, at least till the primary level, the medium of instruction should be the mother tongue as the threat quotient for a child grows less, as the child has to face new knowledge base  through a language she is by now proficient in. There is yet another practical advantage. Most parents do not know the mother tongue efficiently, forget the foreign langauge called English. As a result, the child has none to guide her, resulting in a thoroughly confused, utterly half-baked personality.

The mother tongue is often related to the community identity as well.  It grows regional, moreover. In such a scenario, it is necesary to remember that no language is superior, every langauge is a mode of communication, and every language has a great fund of experience enriching it. No language is either superior or inferior, and the more languages you know, the better for you. It has been observed, it seems, that a child who speaks multiple languages in his childhood, has a better cognitive quotient. Remember in this context that every language begins in listening and speaking, and progresses to reading and writing at a much later stage. 

Yet another tricky issue related to the mother tongue is the standard language versus the multiple dialects. They are indeed worthy, but if at all regular statecraft related business is to continue, there has to be a mother tongue.  Look at London, for example. There are so many languages, including the numerous dialects, that get spoken on London streets that the multi-cultural, multi-lingual metro is a proper Babel of our times. Yet all "serious" business of all the fields is executed through the standard R.P. English!

Well, let me end this piece with a truth learnt the hard way, namely, speak to a person in his mother tongue. Oh, no, this is not Business Communication gobbledygook entitled "b2c" `bond' et al. What I mean is real visceral. 

It is no use talking to an insane fool in a sane language, is what I mean. He needs tongue lashings on his own terms. Sure, even then, the fool will not understand much, given his highly deficient IQ, EQ, and what have you. At least, he will think twice before bothering you. 

Remember the story of the Sadhu and the serpent whom the Sadhu had to finally explain that for self defence, it is necessary to raise the hood and hiss. As Samarth Ramdas puts it, "thakasi whave maha thak, shatha si maha shath", that is to say, treat a crook the crooked way. Says Tuka, "Mau mena hu ni amhi Vishnu Das/kathin vajrasi bhedu aise". Let us summarise it as a precis. No use being soft and gentle with a rogue. Neither your mind nor your tongue sullies if you hoist him by  his own petard!

pratima@ ah, to be using every language as if it were the mother tongue thus being/becoming a true `interpreter' of reality!

"Mother of"

 "Mother of" is a curious expression indeed. Beyond the physical expression obviously involved, it has unusual interpretative possibilities. "Mother of pearl", for instance, is as precious as the human mother.

During the Bush-Blair tactical siege of Iraq in multiple modes was born the term "mother of all wars". Thereafter, memes of this mode of expression proliferated fecundly. A truly fertile expression "mother of" was. So you had "mother of success" stories, "mother of" a win, anything and everything under the sun, but not merely of the son. "Mother of" suggests anything and everything on a huge scale, most often in its best avatar, at least in its noteworthy version. What a tribute to motherhood indeed!

Unfortunately, however, in many a language, all the dirty curse words are always related to the mother relationship, followed closely by the sister, who, anyways, is often the 'little mother'. Why indulge in such nasty native (non-)sense, generated by the patriarchy, right?

Instead, let me tell you a story of Iravati Karve, in a way, the mother of  anthropology and sociology in Maharashtra/India. Apparently, she is feted fabuously at work. When she is returning home, at the gate, she hears,"see, here is the mother of...(her child's name)" which makes her truly elated.

Well, in a way, it has happened to me. Once while coming back to Pune for a weekend, I boarded the Mahatma Society Bus at the Pune railway station terminus/bus depot. At the next stop, got in this smart kid who chose to sit next to me. He asked me where I was to get off, and when I answered "Woodland", he asked me my surname. When I said "Agnihotri", he said, "Oh, the aunt of..." (my nephew's name), with such a lovely intimate feel that my day was made.  Anyways, "aunt of", if you remembe the Marathi proverb, is not so very distant from "mother of" indeed!

pratima@for the world, mother is a word; for the child, the word is the world.

  

Yet another definition of "Mother"

Can an institute be your mother? Yes, it can be, and it used to be often so. Earlier. During the freedom struggle, many an inspired thinkers, social/political activists and freedom fighters such as Tilak, Agarkar tried such a feat. In the early stages of the Independence era, too, opening an educational institute was not exctly a profit amking business.

It was not, moreover, merely educational institutes  that used to be run with such dedication. Many people took their profession very seriously. Why give any other example? Papa himself took his job very seriously. I do indeed think that for him his work, otherwise so very official, dry as bone, was worship. And, oh, yes, I do think that it is because of such very, very few people in every field that institutes are alive, though surely not kicking as that assinine  work is reserved for the others, the vast majority mostly interested in avoiding actual professional work as much as possible.

That is not my theme today though. What I am interested in is analysing what the metaphor of an institution, the workplace, the profession as a mother implies. All the genuinely maternal  qualities indeed! Genuine love in abundance, an eternal bond, readiness for sacrifice, a feel of inseparable togetherness, for instance, right? The best sterling qualities that make this human life truly humane. Like our mother!

pratima@definig and celebrating an eternal bond

The Real Braveheart

`Theirs is to do and die' is how a soldier's life is described. Actually ideally a war should not happen at all. In reality, however, it does, and often. What would then be happening to the parents, especially the mother, of the soldier at the border?

In a way, due to Raju's shippie job, I do know the eternal tension such parents must face. It is now much better, what with the mobile communication and the internet "meet"s of all varieties that make you believe that your near and dear, who is actually miles and miles away, is there, right next to you. During the 1980's and early 1990's, the heydays of Raju's ship bound livelihood, such luxuries were not available. So I can guess the worries and stress soldiers' parents must face as they would not be allowed to use the internet access that easily even now.

But that is when all is quiet on all possible fronts. But be it the border skirmishes or the all out war in India or on the soil of some allied/friendly country or the Naxalite confrontations, it must be the siege days for the soldiers' parents. " I shall return with the tricolour or covered in the tricolour" is an easy statement in reel life, but in real life, it is heart-wrenching, soul-searing. 

Well. even if there is no war, to be guarding the high altitude army posts is indeed a Himalayan task in all sense of the term. Hats off to such jawans, their parents and their forbearence. 

Finally, a solid salute to Kavita Gadgil crusading against the `flying coffins', the MIG 21 fighter jets, that have snuffed out the lives of many dashing young flght lieutenants or squadron leaders  due to technical malfunction. Indeed, ma tuze salaam!

pratima@the pity of war, the pity war distilled!      

Sehat ke liye hanikarak?

Initially I thought that today I would write about the `Made in/for/by India' medals medley. Honestly though, I know precious little of golf or javelin throw. In a blog, there is no need to gush about `fields' one is not knowledgeable about. True, a blog is part of the social media, too. But it is not the Institute Whatsapp or University of Facebook that one has to show off any punditry.  Nor is it the multi-channel tv or the now rather marginalised editions of newspapers to gas about in an unschooled way, right? 

Can I instead think aloud a little about what/how  the state of mind of the mother of an Olympic Gold Winner could be? Her award winning child now would be the son she would be meeting the last. Did you notice that Neeraj Chopra has `virtually' faced any number of press meets and a batallion of journo's, and bigwigs. He had `virtually' no precision though regarding when he could talk to hia parents/family. As it is the preparation period must have taken him away from them for years by now. In fact, the coach, the supporting staff must be more with him than her or his father. Very simple people, would they know much about his sport? Would they have worried about his uncertain future in the initial stages of his career? Now cocooned in his glory, he would be chasing more and further victories that would take him often, and further, away from his parents, his family, right? And the lead leitmotif of that voyage would be "mud mud ke na dekh", right?

Jounalists coo about how players stay from pizzas-n-parties. Who thinks about the simple mother and father who stay away from their child, worrying about his welfare being their only saviour. " Beta, tu sehad ke liye hanikarak hai" could be their ditty, right?

Come to think of it though, this "empty nest" feel is the fate of all the parents of all the sucessful children. A brilliant child, whatever might be the field, gets so engrossed and taken up with his/her career, his/her win-win situations that the parents are left with the `his/her win, we lose' feel that is a combo of happiness, pride, joy, and loneliness. No wonder, when Raju went on his shippie duties or Sanju went to the States, forget Aai, even Papa, too, could not stop his tears. Even when they would be in Pune, that `his one more win' feel would assume another avatar. Just as, for example, both of them were proud of their sons' lovely flats, the sense of separation was anguishing, too.

I remember once Aai was admitted in Mangeshkar, and her urologist had to check her twice for a few days. So busy he used to be that on the very second day itself, Aai started worrying (so you can imagine how much soul enrgey she must have spent on our far-n-away schedules) whether he gets time at least for a brunch. When next he came for his round, I mentioned Aai's worry to him. Dr. Shivde seemed genuinely moved by her concern.  "Remembered my mother," he said.

In brief, hats off to every mother who unties the cords of her heart for her child's welfare, kudos to every father who sheds tears none can see. Ma-Bapu, aap ke sehat ke liye hanikark hota hi rehta hai apka pyar, apka lad-dular.

pratima@child's success/win, parents' proud defeat! 

Parent Pride

Consciously have I chosen the title today. Well, there was this pic of a lion pride. Even if you are not exactly an `English nut', you would know the meaning of pride in this context, right?  Obviously, there were cubs who mirrored the pre-lapsarian innocence in their happy playfulness. Sure, the mommie and the aunties were indulgently taking care of the small ones, as they do in any pride. What I found rather  cute and quite heart-warming was the alpha male of the pride allowing the cubs be. Very in and contemporary the animal parents, especially the Papa's of the pride, seem to have grown, what with the constant connect with hip human beings, due to all sorts of jungle safari's!    

Honestly, the animal parents are so contented and happy pampering their brats that often there is literally a shadow of a smile on those otherwise terrifying visages. That is parent pride, right?The kids seem to be learning the rules of the game most leniently indeed.

Recently I saw a Toronto zoo video of a tigress playing with her daughter. So playful and cheery was their togetherness that each time you saw it, you fell in love with the cutest cub ever and its gentle mother who, otherwise, can be cruelty personified. 

It looked as if she was showing off her pretty, playful baby to the onlookers in the zoo. She consciusly seemed to be inventing games with her moppet. That is parent pride, right?

Believe me, animal parents show you their babies in a very proud way. Our cat used to hold her entire litter in her arms, and look up with a gleeful, happy  challenge. She literally used to doze off with her front paws on all of them the way a mother cuddles a baby.

It is not just the pets who indulge in such exhibitionism. When my nephew was small, I had once taken him to Peshve Park which was a zoo those days. It used to house gorillas as well. As I was showing my nephew the huge forefather of all of us, the female gorilla kept on cuddling her baby, showing it to me and pointing her finger at my nephew in my arms so as to say "hello, here is my baby, too."

Oh, yes, there are lovely videos of elephants disciplining their naughty calves. And who can forget the lustrous large eyes of a cow go moister still when she beholds her calf. Parent pride indeed.

pratima@primal parent pride 

Why the story yesterday?

.Let me tell you the tale of the tale I told yesterday.

Well, I do feel that parents should never be blamed for every and any act of their progeny. Children never ask parents for permission, especially when it comes to misbehaviour. 

Children are in to addiction, for instance. No parent would permit it. Nor do children ask for permission in such a case. Hence I wrote earlier once that a parent should not be oh-so-friendly that (s)he shares a glass or a fag or downright arrogance. 

Trendy such behaviour might be, but tricky it is. In the story yesterday, for instance, the mother had NOT asked for what she got. Her son did not take HER permission for what he did. She suffered its consequences though , and yet continued to love her son. 

That is the strength of parental affection which alone stands for the child till the end as the story yesterday proves.

Pratima @ the parental love that never leaves us alone

A Mother's Heart

May be, this anecdote is an apocryphal story. It reveals a lot about a mother's heart though. 

Once upon a time, as  stories go, there was this son. He was his mother's heart beat. Literally. Once he had a tiff with his wife. To placate her, in that mood of a truce, he asked her what she would like as a gift.

The wife, waiting for some such moment, a great opportunity to get rid of her mother-in-law whom she detested given her husband's love for her, promptly jumped at the Godsend, or rather the stupid husband send. 

She insisted she wanted his mother's heart as proof of his devotion. Well, the son was  not smart like Lord Ganesha who circumambulated around his parents as a token  traverse of the entire universe.

So he promptly did the needful, and was scurrying back faithfully to wifey dear when he slipped in a crater on the road which even those days resembled the lunar surface.

As he was trying to balance himself, the mother's heart in his hands fell down with a thud. When he tried to lift it, said the mother's shattered heart, "my dear, did you hurt yourself?"

That is Mother's Love which even in death wants the son's welfare, which would not even think of cursing the heartless progeny.

In the original story, there is no reference to the father. Most probably, the mother raised the son after his death, all alone. I am absolutely sure though that even if it were the father's heart, it would have exclaimed the same way.

That is 'the' Parental Love. The heart, in the art, that is, the story, may be the property symbolically. As the story implies though, the welfare of the child is the only concern of parents "in life and beyond life" as the insurance taglne goes. 

In brief, the child is the world for them. Hence the need to care for them, give them succour, and beyond any laws the government is now forced to draft!

Pratima@ parents' care in both the senses of the term 

Defining Friendship

Defining Friendship

Now is the time to talk about the precise  definition of friendship. The entire celebration is now over, a  celebration undoubtedly driven by market forces, like all other 'days'.

It is certainly right to feel a little queasy about the monetary trappings.

Try as I do my level best, I cannot be  so very enthu about the market variety, a monster .in its own way. Nor do I cynically dismiss the day merely through the market forces either.

So this definition of friendship that explains why there must be a day, at least one such  day re(de)fining the possible meaning of friendship beyond all pretensions and high-faultin hypocrisies, and/or money/market muscling in on friendship. 

Friendship, in my opinion, is that silence which needs no words to celebrate the other because such a celebration comes from the understanding which comprehends the silences, the non-said, the unsaid as the said.

May I point out that the filial relationship often has this base? A mother/a father 'knows, understands' what the child has never said, and vice versa, and hence is the best, lifelong friendship!

Pratima @ a friend in need of words may not be a friend in deed/indeed!

Our Bestie

Jimmy was a riot of colours. His back literally had a palette feel as it boasted most all colurs. His tail was a beauty. Curved like the crescent moon, it was billowy white, his soft fur undulating in the gentlest breeze. Barking away to glory was his hobby. Quite mild-n-gentle, he was a terror for the strangers. Always at the front gate he would be, except during the Diwali when he would slink beneath the bedroom cot, afraid as he was of the crackers.

When first he came to us, he was just a bundle of bones and skin. Someone had poured kerosene on him. Sanju loved him the moemnt he saw the helpless puppy. He got him home holding him in a hand while riding the bicycle. He cleaned him up, nursed him back to normalcy. May be, that was why Jimmy literally worshipped Sanju. Even in deep sleep, he could hear Sanju's vehicle a lane away and he would start wagging his tail so vigorously that at times you would wonder if it were going to fall off.

Jimmy adored Sanju, my affection he tolerated, with Raju and Papa he was at a respectable distance though he used to be very sensitive to their moods, but it was Aai who he thought he could bank on. We would all go out, Papa to office, we to school/college. That was okay by him. If, however, Aai were to wear a new saree, he used to get terribly upset. He would guess that he would be alone at home. Literally he used to howl, openly showing his displeasure. As he would keep on wailing till she or one of us would be back, our neigbours used to throw stones at him. If he were kept locked in, his anxiety at being left alone used to find an expression in chewing up my books!

As dogs do, he understood every word spoken at home. He loved kids. Amar used to put his entire hand, palm to elbow, in Gimmy's mouth (as a child, he could not say Jimmy, so it was always Gimmy), but there would not be neither a scratch nor a bite. May be, he loved Amar because all of Amar's left over baby food, dipped in ghee and milk, was his to lap up.

Though we lost him tragically, he is forever there for us. Memories of him waiting for Sanju to return from hospital while Papa was in hospital due to a scooter accident, the way Sanju and I took him to Katraj zoo as the Diwali that year was to be celebrated in Mumbai, the way he was excited when he saw us ready to take him back home (it was the day Indira Gandhi was assassinated and yet both of us managed to get him back in a basket), the way he would insanely scamper around after a bath, the feel I had when I bought him expensive tonics many a children would not get, the way he would gobble up a laddo and behave as if he never knew anything at all but with guilt written all over him, he was our best buddy.

Equally a great bundle of joy is Sanju's Tasha, superbly intelligent, highly emotional and with a great memory. When Sanju gets him to Mukund Nagar, there is a set routine he has to follow. More about him, later.

And, Manu? She would need an entire chapter devoted utterly to her. She loved nestling next to Aai, and purring away, her ice-white tummy softly undulating in deep sleep.

What a friendship indeed! Enriching  and making me realise that the same soul inhabits all, the biped's or the quadruped's. No wonder, the great sage Dnyaneshwar could make a he-buffalo rattle away the Vedic richas!

pratima@ `pet' friendship is an ideal camraderie 

More analyses

The theme "can parents be friends?" becomes more focal today as it is the Friendship Day today. A good friendship means to understand and to be understood. Parents can be friends in this sense. In fact, they are the best audience in the whole world. They 'listen' to us, they 'hear' us out. They are `active listeners' as contemprorary commnication theory goes.

In my opinion though, the best definition of friendship is rooting for each other and making space for each other to bloom and blossom. In this sense, the best friends would indeed be parents. Nobody. except parents, is so selflessly, without any jealousy or a sense of competition, be happy when we are in a `win-win' situation.

The best conclusion to the parents as friends debate hence would be `limits define paradigms'. In brief, be friends with parents, but do not except them to be your 'partners in crime', right?

pratima@a friend makes us laugh louder, cry nary a tear and live longer !