On Fathers...

The room is sweltering hot, this awkward silence seems to dominate the room, and all the people in the room seem to have nothing to say to each other, probably because they've never met each other before. Some are trying to make small talk, but the air is heavy with expectation and anxiety.

It is the beginning of a counselling session, counselling for the future. Something like what the character of Ewan McGregor- Mark Renton, in Trainspotting said- "Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a starter home. Choose dental insurance, leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose your future. But why would anyone want to do a thing like that?"
Well, turns out lot of us have to choose life, because unlike Mark Renton, most of us don't want to fall back upon a euphoric heroin-addicted state of living, although there may be exceptions!

Let's not get diverted. Where were we, yes, it's a counselling session on the brink of beginning. Students have been asked to wait for the appearance of the authorities, in the hot, depressing room described above. I sit there, studying my nails intently, because there really is nothing else to do. Suddenly, a face pokes in the doorway, the figure is holding up a hand and calling someone from the room to go upto him. All heads turn up to see who it is, and the figure is all-too-familiar, the white hair, untucked shirt and trousers, and the belly, courtesy his sedentary sarkari naukri- it is none other than my father! And who is he calling to from across the room...no surprise there, really.

Now all heads in the room follow my agonizing journey from my seat to the door, while I'm thinking, "I thought parents were supposed to wait downstairs, who let him up here?!"
And why did my father call me out of the room, let's say the reason is not worth mentioning. Dads are always too cautious about little things.

After satisfying his curiosity on a minor detail, my dad disappeared. During the counselling session, some of us had the guts to actually start talking to each other, and the task of filling up the forms became considerably less onerous. Suddenly, a voice behind me says-"Hi Dinna!" Well, well, well, it's daddy dearest again, this time wondering how long I would take to fill a single form.(It was 6 pages, back-to-back! 6!!)

There were three fathers, who were hovering around their daughters, and guess what, all of them were Bengalis. I thought, this might be a generalization, maybe any other father would also be there for his daughter, but no...my suspicion turned into a certainity when my new Bengali friend said- "Gosh, Bengali fathers can be so funny! I told my father to stay back home and that I can handle this, but no!"

That's right people, Bengali fathers are not anything if not protective, concerned, anxious, impatient and sometimes plain nosy. And surprisingly, my father is none of these things otherwise. He's very calm and composed, never gets fazed. You know, years of bureaucracy can do that to someone. Just that day he metamorphosed into this anxious, nervous, worried person. This new avatar of his is what my brother calls the "senile Baba". My father!

Maybe the company of other Bengali fathers affected him so! But most probably he was just plain bored. Because the counselling took a gruelling 3 hours to complete. Ordinarily, a very busy man, what could Baba do in the circumstances? He was very sweet, brought me cold water, photocopied some documents, which was my job to do, and solved all my queries accurately :)
"Baba, what's our permanent address?"
"Baba, you won't believe this, they're asking for the village and post office where I was born. Asansol's not a village, what do I write?!"
"Baba, I don't know your monthly income...(pause)...wow, really? I didn't know the 6th Pay Commission could be generous. Do I get a raise in my pocketmoney...?"

I told him- go back to the car, and enjoy the air conditioning. But my selfless, sacrificing father would have none of that. His mysterious disappearances once in a while were when he was walking around the campus in the heat, on the lookout for forms for accomodation. Accomodation for me. He was also probably reminiscing his days of education in the same campus.

Aren't fathers the best, except when they're frowning so much you think their faces would get set that way... :D
Well, I guess littering the area around the TV with chocolate wrappers, and bottles of water(doesn't chocolate make you very thirsty?) does warrant certain amount of frowning...
But let them frown, all the frowning just disappears when they give you a beautiful smile, when you've done something to make them proud. (Seems a while since I were on the receiving end of "the smile", and the frowning is kind of tipping the scales...)

Anyway, the day was a great success, all thanks to my father. Were it not for his eye for details, fast thinking and meticulous planning, I would probably be wailing my lungs out!
Baba, you're the best.

Exam fun :D

When the exams are inching closer, I do the most outrageous things. I won't list any save one, for fear that you might think I'm crazy. For those who know me don't really need a list. In my defense, in a mad world, only the mad are sane :D
Anyhow, one thing that I love doing is bugging Parul with the most inane messages.

Atreyee: Guess what the maid just told me. She said I'm not like "aaj kal ki ladkiyan", that I'm very simple and "bhagwaan hamesha mera bhala kare". (This crudely translates into the maid thinking I'm very naive and innocent, and that I need the Lord God above to protect me from the big bad world. Ha!)

Next message-

Atreyee: And they're painting the campus all over again. The earlier paint is fine, but NO! Let's waste money.

Again, another message-

Atreyee: I love messaging you random stuff. It's so much fun imagining your expression while you're reading it!

Parul, who is known for her succint messages, replies to my saga of messages-

Parul: *profanity* I'm in class. And padh le. Fail ho jayegi. (Study. You'll fail.)

:D That's that.

A good lesson learnt

A recent converstion with my 10 year old niece, while walking on the streets of Kolkata on Diwali night.

Niece: Maashi (that's ''aunt'' in Bengali), can I ask you a question if you promise not to tell my mother?

Me: (glancing uncomfortably at my sister who's walking a little ahead, wondering what kind of situation I'm leading myself into) Yes, go on...

Niece: (in hushed tones) What do you think of the dress 'bikini'? (breaks into mini giggles)

Me: (totally flabbergasted) Er...it's alright I guess...

Niece: No, seriously, what do you think of it? You'd look good in one, maybe a sky blue or light green to match the sea..do you have one in Delhi?

Me: (feeling very, very uncomfortable) Ahem, not really. Well, would you like to wear a tiara darling? Dad! Buy us some tiaras, they look so cute!



The conversation is halted as we excitedly choose tiaras from the roadside peddler. The golden ones look hideous, but we manage to settle for some nice silver ones. Both of us immediately put them on our heads. I look like a queen, and she a princess :)

We attract a lot of gazes on the streets, some are even sniggering and pointing at us, but a queen is never hassled by rowdy subjects, so i keep the tiara on, feeling giddy with happiness.



Dad: Dindu, take it off, you're embarrassing me. I don't know you, ok? Don't call me.

(He walks off, and my sister is laughing at the both of us)

Niece: So, the reason why I asked was because I want to be a model when I grow up.

Me: A model!!

Niece: Ssshh, Maashi!! You want Ma to hear? Keep it low!

Me: Kid, you have a set of good brains, why do you want to waste them?



Then suddenly I realize my terrible mistake, my statement was totally judgemental, and based on personal biases. Yet, images of Madhur Bhandarkar's 'Fashion' flash through my mind, and I instantly feel like protecting my much loved niece.



Niece: What do you mean?

Me: I mean that if you want to be a model, go ahead, but there are other options as well.

(Inside, my head's screaming- she's in 4th grade! I used to pluck flowers and play in the garden when I was in 4th! )

Niece: Such as?

Me: You can be a sociologist :), a lawyer, a journalist, a doctor, a teacher, an astronaut...

Niece: (cuts me short) A sociologist? What on earth is that?

(I'm thinking, how much longer until we reach our destination? I'm beginning to feel thirsty. At that moment, I realize how important this conversation is to an impressionable 10 year old who looks upto you, so I launch into full grown-up career counselling)

Niece: Wow! I never knew that all doctors dont always have to cut up humans. And social action is beginning to just about interest me.(She's an extremely smart kid, and at that moment I'm a very smug aunt :)

But I think I'll be an actress instead.

(The smug look drops instantly. But then I decide to indulge her, as I always do)

Me: Of course sweetie. You do whatever you want to. Even I wanted to be Miss World when I was your age.

(You think the tiara on my head is proof of the vestiges of my childhood dream?)

Niece: Aww Maashi, whu didn't you?

Me: I dont think I have the looks.

Niece: (in a bossy tone) Well, I think you do. You shouldn't let anyone or anything come in the way of your dreams, never. Oh, look at that pup, isn't he cute?

Me: (overcome by feeling) Aww...come here you little baby...(big hug and kiss) Maashi loves you lots, you know? :)



It's then that I realize how being grown up has changed me, how easily we let go of our little hopes and desires, how we fiddle with life's trivial things while time flies. Put new heart into yourselves, throw caution to the winds and once in a while, let a young mind change your take on life :D

Erm...why?

Some things will never cease to confuse me.

1. How some people will always, no matter how emphatically or angrily you say it, not understand the word 'no'.

Aunt: You want another helping of rice?
Me: No
Aunt: Alright. (She says this while adding a generous portion of unwanted above mentioned rice to my congested plate)

2. When people write- "Oh, i read so-and-so book, more out of curiosity than any real interest"...I always thought that when you succeed in finishing an entire book, then your curiosity can't possibly remain that, it has to be translated into some sort of "real interest" at some point of time.

3. Why we absolutely must smile while getting photographed.
It's such a big deal, looking good in photos...I'm a big believer in looking good in photographs myself, and if I don't pass muster, I choose to delete them :D But that doesn't mean this entire thing doesn't bother me!

4. This time, during Durga Puja, I was walking towards a 'pandal' with friends and family, and between loud announcements of "Mr.Das, please report to the counter immediately, your annoyed wife is waiting for you!", we heard "Pedestrians are requested to please use the footpath and not prevent the flow of traffic".
Trust me, all of us searched in vain, being good pedestrians with strong civic sense, but never found the footpath!

And pedestrians remind me of Kolkata's public- they are the worst pedestrians on the face of this earth...they cross busy roads as if they own them, just with the power of an outstretched arm! A nightmare for drivers, I tell you!
And god forbid, if you stop your car just centimeters away from a pedestrian, you shall have to hear words which can make your ears singe with embarrassment. Being a woman driver has its advantages that way, the 'you'd-rather-not-hear-word' is on the tip of their tongues, but as soon as they see your pretty face behind the wheel, they'll gawk for a few seconds, moments of uncertainty when they're deciding whether they should finish what they almost started or just glare and continue crossing, or worst case scenario, give you a sloppy half apologetic smile for disrupting your already wrecked drive. I'm sure the crowd in Delhi would not hesitate to do the first!

5. And finally, why Kadi-chawal is not removed from the hostel mess menu. Every Tuesday, oh the torture! Fluorescent yellow in colour, taste bordering on fermentation, and pakodis that hold promises of heartburn during afternoon lectures.
"Khosla ma'am, Kissi ko Kadi pasand nahi hai, itna bekaar hai, please kuch kijiye!"
"Beta, food comm se baat karo."
I can only say, thank god for the Momo-wale bhaiyya outside college :)

Should I even care?

Once, I was on this train to Delhi with a friend, and I heard the most outrageous comment- "90% of all Indian women suffer from an inferiority complex". Now, this incident ticked me off for several reasons-
A. The man (a woman couldn't possibly pass such a heinous comment unless she was vain enough to believe that she belonged to the other 10%)...anyway, the man kept repeating this line, over and over again!
B. He kept looking at the few women around him (which includes my friend and I) while he said this, as if he were waiting for us to challenge him.
C. "90 % of all Indian women suffer from an inferiority complex" ??!! I mean, has he done this huge survey of women all around the world, and concluded that only the Indians are the unlucky ones?

SO, while he rambled on and on and gave the most random explanations to prove his hypothesis, my blood kept boiling...but, thanks to my friend, who has a very level head on her shoulders, I could keep my temper in check, or the co-passengers would have to witness a very ugly fight, which might have been far more entertaining than the instrumental music that Rajdhani forces on its passengers.

I concluded, this man is lonely, going through a mid-life crisis and wants attention from some women, because his wife was so not listening to a word of what he was saying! Also, 47.6% of all statistics are made on the spot...so i guess the 90% in the statement was just that-random!

These incidents made life much more interesting though, after all, what is life without friends, enemies and arbitrary people on trains? :)

Baby Blues

No, this has nothing to do with the comic strip with Zoe and Hammie, it has nothing to do with any hormones or pregnancy...its to do with the extremely uncomfortable time I had during this movie called "Singh is Kinng", with a huge baby (and a huge mother) in the seat right next to mine.


First I tolerated the kicks and punches I received throughout the first half, mainly because I was too busy trying to grapple with the extremely complicated Punjabi they spoke in the movie. Then came the soft whining, to be replaced by cries, and these cries were then punctuated with short screams...quite shrill, if I may add.


And then, to my utmost horror, the mother who looked like she could give Hitler a run for his money, tried to placate the child by feeding him Pepsi!! Imagine, a baby being fed Pepsi- you have your ultimate horror story right here. I was also by this time sick of laughing at the lame jokes cracked by Akshay Kumar et al...


So my day of expected comedy gradually turned out to be a day of tragedy...how I wish babysitting was popular in India... That would be a blessing indeed, for parents, as well as others!