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Our Favourite Park

The last couple of days we have had wonderful weather, and taking advantage of it we have been having some lovely picnics with the pets at one of our favourite parks close home. This park has actually a pretty gruesome history. Till a couple of years ago, it was just a huge chunk of land where the vegetation had gone wild. It was almost like a jungle, and over the years a couple of dead bodies were discovered, all of them murder victims. When the last dead body was discovered the State Government decided to clean up the space, do a bit of landscaping and covert it into a real work of art. Of course as things go, work here takes time up but it is a fantastic place now.

Though landscaping work is still in progress, but it is a huge place so I guess it is expected however it shall be over by this winter. Our favourite spots when we are with Gucci are normally places where there are a lot of trees, flowers. Gucci has to say ‘Hello’ to every tree that comes her way; she truly is like a little dogmatix who loves trees. Flowers, Ducks, Butterflies, Deer, Rabbits nothing can distract her. All she loves in the park are trees and squirrels, she is happy as long as trees are there and scents are there for her to explore.

She can walk a good 2 hours non-stop if you just let her, and she is excited as if she is in paradise. I love her happiness, her sparkling eyes; happy smile when she is there you can see she feels the magic of the place, the beauty of the nature and her love for trees. We love walking her, it is a huge park and she can go non-stop in its exploration. Strangely even I don’t feel tired when I walk with her, I can’t imagine walking this length of time without a break, but when I’m with her the miles never show.

With Bambi it is a different tale, she is quite a monster once she is out, quite territorial, and she doesn’t like the strays that wander around, her predatory instinct surface if she spots a bird on the ground and she doesn’t like people invading her space. So it a part nightmare, and part fun; she loves to play fetch in the park but we have to be on guard every second and keep a look out for any strays or people approaching us, so normally with Bambi we settle in a pretty secluded area, so the odds of people coming there are less, and she can have a good time, instead of barking her head off feeling territorial. We generally end up settling where the landscaping work is still in progress.

Taking both of them together has been bit of an ordeal with Gucci wanting to wander, explore and Bambi wanting to play but refusing to have Gucci out of sight. So generally Gucci ends up feeling like a chained bird, we took them out twice together but then decided to take just one of them and have a great time rather than taking both of them and Gucci, always being short changed. Though she is a sweetheart and doesn’t complain but you know she hasn’t had a great time when her eyes don’t sparkle with joy and merriment. One of her favourite spots in near the garden boundary extending to the Lotus temple, she loves a spot of rocks and flowers there.

We love taking them out, picnicking at one particular spot, the view is great there.

On one side it is just green, another side it is a riot of colours with all the flowers in full bloom announcing their spring glory and another side it is the tall buildings of the real world. It is a delightful place to picnic and Gucci is underfoot roaming in the grass and just having a great time checking out the place, this is one spot where doesn’t care if you are feasting on chicken, she won’t even beg for it, after all how can a mere chicken compete to the zillion scents that call out to her?!

For all of us this park, is a favourite, for it means feeling relaxed, unwinding after a long day and just having a good time, enjoying nature, the long walk, the uphill climb and the steep descent, the contrasting feel of the place in total harmony with compelling unique beauty.

Squash and the saga continues........

Sports and I have had a long-standing relationship of being extremely unflattering on each other. I’m a total disgrace to any sport and probably the only saving grace is that I try my best. I remember in school I was a nightmare to my Coaches I could shoot baskets in basket ball pretty well but was pathetic in dribbling and any semblances of ball control, in Cricket I was a total source of exasperation for everyone as I couldn’t ever connect the bat and ball, Volleyball I’d connect but couldn’t ever get the concept of aiming shots, same goes for Carom, Table Tennis and Badminton. Baseball wasn’t so bad because of the rule three strikes you are out and of course that is where I was. The most distressing thing about all this was that I wasn’t one of those girls who’d stand out the class and gossip I’d love to play so I was always in the field much to the nightmare of everyone, team-mates, coaches, opposite teams. The only game I was good in was Throwball where the area of error is very little, sadly no one ever wanted to play it.

Later on I moved on to play pool which again I wasn’t too good at, tried learning to swim but fear of water caused my coaches a tough time, finally I learnt only the back-stroke properly, which I guess everyone knows is no great feat. Now I’m learning to play squash and once more history is repeating itself, to say I’m a bad shot is an understatement but I love the game and the coach is in for a harrowing time once more! I love the game but I wish the squash ball was the size of tennis ball, and then I might get my shots in right. On our trial practice with the coach I was such a bad shot that he was quite amazed at the fact that in front of him stood a completely uncoordinated idiot, who refused to stop playing even when she couldn’t connect a single shot. After 10 minutes of trying to coach me he gave up and decided to coach Bhai, and needless to say Bhai was good at returning shots and the coach was happy. At the end he was all smiles for Bhai and quite pained at the thought that we were a bundled package.

As usual I decided to be a real pest and learn to play this game the best I can, since the coaching is only on the weekends I decided to go pull all stops during the weekday practice sessions. I must say that I quite surprised myself by finally getting the shots connected! But it was quite a tedious process and very entertaining one for Bhaiyya. Initially, he didn’t even need to play to win all he needed to do was serve. I’m trying to do the best I can say but he has a whale of a time teasing me that I should enter Club Squash championship, if not anything else I’d be great for my opponents ego or I might even end up winning as people will just abandon matches knowing they are up against me and maybe I’d be banned from the courts.

Well, I’m glad he is amused but I haven’t seen the coach after that session, the following two weekends he’s been missing and the next two we were busy. I’d like to think it is just a coincidence however Bhai is going on like 'maybe you scared him off'. Last couple of days I’ve been a tad too preoccupied to hit the courts but I’m dying to get back, this has been the only sport my determination has actually translated into some semblance of improvement I’d like to see finally if practice can make it perfect. Here’s hoping it does happen.

School and Lessons: Cruel Summer

As a child was a quiet and timid kid, so I’d never get into any mess big time, though I did my share of ‘terrible deeds’ but still it wasn’t much to the tune that my parents would wonder if they’d sired a monster. I didn’t have much friends but I wasn’t lonely I had my siblings, and my books when we got into a fights. Where I wasn’t a rabble-rouser I wasn’t an angel either.

But I made it a point to not get into any kind of big-time trouble, nothing of the sort where people would’ve to call on my parents for a chat on discipline. I tried to not get into trouble, for dad had too much going at home, the last thing he needed was one of his kids getting into trouble. In fact all of us were near-perfect angels outside, it was only at home sheer devilry would possess us.

I put up with a lot of abuse at school, at the hands of school mates who’d bully me as I was easy target as they were sure I’d not hit back and some of my teachers too, who’d do their best to make me the dunce of the class, one particular English teacher was rather extremely abusive she had labeled me ‘Mute’ and the whole class would jeer at me, with her. I longed to tell at home, but I just learned to keep quiet and keep my own counsel, after all how long could it last? Well it didn’t last long for my teacher had come up with another insulting epithet.

I marked her as crazy in mind and didn’t react much and the quieter I was, the more annoyed she was I realised, so I’d just keep quiet and drive her crazy! But this blog isn’t about her; it is about another episode in my life, which involved another teacher. This blog deals with when my dad had to make a trip to the principal’s office because of me. Though it wasn’t for a big crime, like blowing up the chemistry lab, though I wish it was. It started pretty ordinary, it was a dazzling Wednesday of sunny summer and beauty and I was a few weeks into my 8^th grade, I had managed to not do the homework, this was a new teacher and since it was the start of the academic session she decided to make an example out of me. So I was made to stand in front of the class plus she wrote a note to my parents which I had to get signed by them. Well 45 minutes of standing and pondering was rather laborious, so I was happily looking out of the window and wondering why I didn’t just do the blasted assignment? Well, I didn’t look very sad, so she was all the more irritated.

I bet she kept thinking about the trouble I’d get into at home. Anyway for once I wasn’t too happy about the school getting over, all the thought of taking the note to mom, who’d tell dad, was preying miserably on my mind, dad would feel so let down. It was all awful but nothing could be done about it. I broached about the episode of not completing the assignment and its subsequent fall-out to my mom, I narrated it feeling truly sorry and added the most cute look with it, for all it helped I could’ve done without the cute effect; she was quite horrified at what I’d done, and instead of us reaching an accord of the kind ‘that it was the first and last time, she’ll-overlook-it’ kind of deal, she said she’ll not sign the note and I’ll have the honour of informing my dad. Boy! Was life dealing in spades at that time!!

Anyway, evening came, dad came, and the inevitable came. Somehow I gathered courage and told dad I was in trouble at school, he was disappointed in me even before he had the details, and quite disillusioned when he heard the details, he asked me if I had finished the assignment now. I replied in affirmative. He asked if I’d finished today’s assignments, I nodded in affirmative, the fact he needed to ask this was rather upsetting, he told me not to do it again and apologise to my teacher and signed the note.

Now in an ideal world this would have been the end of this chapter, mistake made, price paid and lesson learnt. But there wasn’t one single thing idealistic about my world. The next day I apologised to the teacher, gave her the signed note and submitted my assignment. I don’t know if she was having a bad day, she most certainly was having a bad hair day, anyway in a moment of madness she decided this wasn’t retribution enough. She told me my dad’s signature wasn’t enough there has to be an apology from the parent too. I decided enough was enough and decided to take a stand. I was furious little tyke at that point, I decided no more being happy-camper with this she-devil and told her on no uncertain terms that my father will not apologise for my mistake. Well like most of my ideas that sound very good in my head this one too turned copper in the real world. Well I can tell you there was no applause for my grandstand. The class lapsed into silence at this sheer act of stupidity and my teacher was struggling for control. I was turned out of the class, the fun thing about here is when you’re turned out of the class you can’t just wander around you have to actually stand outside the class, dealing with the smirks of juniors, jeers of seniors and contempt of teachers and God forbid the principal was on his stroll of the school at that time. I was standing out and praying for time to fly, spiritually quaking at the thought of being spotted by the principal.

Once the bell rang, she left the class, meeting me outside she told I better have an apology the next day. I didn’t tell anyone at home what happened. Those days every time I wished the teacher to be absent desperately, they’d always be absent or indisposed to take the class. Now this mental trick was my secret. The next day was a Friday, all my way to the school I prayed she’d not be able to take the class, and as always I had it my way. She was absent that day and we had a rather wonderful substitute teacher, I was so happy, I was sure over the weekend she’d forget all the fracas and life will be smooth sailing again.

So in this highly optimistic and chipper mood I enjoyed my weekend. Now I don’t know what ill befell on her, which caused her to be absent that fateful Friday, but she sure wasn’t treating it like a welcome break or a Godsend long weekend. She was in rather ill-humour when she came to take our class on Monday. Now whilst I in the foolish optimism of youth thought she’d have forgotten all about it, I forgot my remarkable face may just cause all the memories to come flooding back. So the axe fell, one look at me and she was breathing fire, and baying for my blood, well at least my parent’s apology, she asked me if I had the written apology from my parents. I shook my head in negative; she had not a whit of sympathy and bang! I was directed to stand outside the class while she furiously scribbled another note. Well as I was standing outside the class I was pondering over the great mysteries of life in general and the current situation in particular. I was wondering if my goose was truly cooked this time.

I wondered what she’d have written down, how big a trouble I was in, why do ALL my good ideas always blow in my face. Once the class got over and she came out, she handed me the note and told to give it to my parents, as I went back in the class, I read the note it was horrible beyond my nightmares she had written down that I was in firm need of some discipline and my parents or guardians have to meet the principal. There have been very few days in my entire life I wished I was dead, the journey of those days began with that unfortunate Monday, which started out so well. I got home, but it seemed my exploits had traveled far and reached my sisters ears before I could tell. It seems one of my loud-mouthed classmates had told his sister who was in my sister’s class.

Well as it is like a badly scripted movie everything was falling apart. And I appraised mom on the new situation. I knew mom was too unwell to really make it to a trip to the principal, but still a part of me held hope. But it was a summer of being hopeless. Mom was livid at what I’d done, she said I should’ve told them on Thursday, itself what had happened, the fact that I kept quiet didn’t stand me in good stead. So my good Friday, happy weekend all metamorphosed into sitting on top a powdered keg which the fire-breathing dragon of a teacher, lit on miserable Monday. Dad was shocked at this turn of events. Needless to say he was deeply disappointed and furious at me for hiding it, and positively annoyed as to why he had to apologise. He was all for meeting the principal, which was the only silver lining in my gloomy cloud. I was of course punished and grounded big time for hiding information and reprimanded deeply for my deception.

Tuesday, bought with it some hope, though I was marched to school like a criminal, but I was glad dad had the same stance as I did on this issue. Dad was there in time for the appointment with the principal, but he had to meet the teacher before hand. She told him a whole load of crap and my dad asked her only one thing, the fact I didn’t do my homework and the subsequent punishment was fine but why must a parent apologise? She back-tracked soon enough and said she, never said anything like that she only asked me to apologise to her and I didn’t. Thankfully dad knew this kind of disobedience was beyond me, so he asked her what was the misbehaviour indicated in the second note all about, she cleverly replied it was the apology I refused her. I was kinda zapped! I mean! Talk about turncoats!! She could pick on a kid like a big bully and now finding she had bitten off more than she could chew she was lying through her teeth. Dad said if that was all I’d have no problems apologising, I apologised for not doing the homework again.

She accepted it and told dad, fine then he could go, and she’ll set it alright with the principal. Dad was smart he told her no, he’d like to meet the principal for she had made a lot of charges against his daughter. Just then the messenger said we could go in the principal would see us, she tried to dissuade my dad and but there was no moving him. He went in. I was out with her; she told me if the principal asks me anything to just say it was all a misunderstanding on my part. Just then the principal summoned us, while I was wondering what I should do then. Should I tell a lie and let my dad down so bad or should I tell the truth and face her fury the entire academic year. Thankfully God decided to spare me, as the principal asked the teacher to narrate what exactly happened, she narrated the same story of me misunderstanding what she’d said. To which my dad replied, ‘ok call any 2 students from my class and ask them what really happened, whether his daughter misunderstood, or something was wrong.’ The teacher just blurted all that isn’t necessary and I think the principal understood what truly transpired but he couldn’t let his staff down, so he apologised for the misunderstanding to dad and told me to be more careful about my work and drew curtains on the episode.

Dad was ok with the apology, the teacher was not so smug but that entire year I just borderline passed her subject; she took it out on my grades.

But it was a horrible experience, one I didn’t care for a repeat. After all these years too I can still recall that ghastly teacher and the entire experience as if it just happened last week. I keep thinking about my mistake in not telling my parents when it went wrong. I keep wondering whether that stance got me anything positive. I keep wondering if I’d do the same second time around. Too much happened that year to be just forgotten. I learned lessons the school didn’t intend to teach me that cruel summer.

The Gandhian Philosophy Almost A Century Later.

There are many excellent ideologies which can be so wonderfully interpreted that you’d find yourself mystified trying to figure out the way the human mind works. Now most of you know about Gandhi and his philosophy of non-violence. One of the stellar chapters of Indian History is the civil disobedience movement and the non-cooperation movement. Now they were great concepts, about making a point, or rather punching home a point without violence. They contributed greatly to the Independent India.

Now almost a century later, how is this theory applied in daily life? Well, on close observation the theory has been wonderfully stripped to its basics, which is, ‘If You Are A Pain In The Backside People Will Just Leave You Alone, To Do Your Own Thing’ I don’t know if Gandhi visualised it the same way but the essence of the concept is this. Now my brother practices it rather well, tell him to do something, he doesn’t like, he’ll never say No. No protest, no complaints, no grumbling. Just the plain ol’ Gandhian philosophy at work, he’ll do such an awful job of it that you’ll get a headache seeing the end result. The work done shall be perfect, but the area where he worked would be a comprehensive mess.

Tell him to get something, he won’t say no, he’ll go there, look for it and say it isn’t there; even if you give precise location like, “look in the refrigerator, middle shelf, blue packaging, right behind the box of strawberries” still he’ll return back empty handed and say it isn’t there. Of course it shall be there. Remove it from there and show it to him, waving it like a conclusive proof of his crime, he’d shrug his shoulders and say it wasn’t there when I looked. While you battle between exasperation and having a stomping fit, he’d leave and you know he’s mentally whistling a nice tune.

Of course, I gradually learnt to not call on him for any help, over the years I struggled to get him to help but once I cracked his Gandhian code, there has been no looking back, he wasn’t just resisting my attempts of get him to work, he was cleverly training me to not assign him a task he’d rather not care to do. Before you think he’s mean, let me clarify, he’s the best brother. He’s amazingly helpful, forever ready to take care, there for me in an instant if I’m blue, he’d even cook my favourites to get me out of the blues, but try to push him to anything he doesn’t care for and you have the recipe for disaster. He’ll be such a pain, that the next time you won’t even consider him for the task, in fact you’ll wince with pain at the remembered memory, if anyone suggests him.

The more I think about it, I realise more people have figured the essence of the Gandhian code, I swear in my last office, there were a couple of workers who’d never be assigned pretty much any additional responsibility for the boss would be sure of their messing it up. These guys definitely weren’t ambitious blokes; they never were fired with the vision of achieving the organisational goal. They just wanted to do their assigned work, not one thing more; leave at the close of official hours, not a minute later than 6 you’d find them around, and they’d never do one thing more than necessary, they’d figured they were just hired for so much; and rewards etc cut no ice with them, it just never motivated them, they were happy with the regular salary. No starry dreams of heading the department etc, for them. You try your best to motivate them and eventually you throw up your hands and just learn not to consider them for the extra bit.

They were happy in their word and you learn to let them live there. This of course brings me to my profiling the employees idea but I’ll take it up later, I’ll stick to just interpretation of the Gandhian Ideology. This trick is employed by peaceful souls, who abhor violence, and disagreements, so they settle issues before they become disputes. Now I’ve also managed to incorporate the Gandhian philosophy in my life. Instead of throwing in the towel, I have figured how to be a greater pain by making my brother clean-up, the mess, while I supervise, and it works like a charm. Off-late he’s stopped messing up stuff. Gandhi rocks I must say!

Specimens and species............

Well since I blogged in yesterday, I’ve decided to do it more often, our daily life is filled with more humour than we really register. This day forward I’ve decided to actively seek the humour around me. The weather is great again today, I’m over yesterday’s deluge, and Bhai and I are best buddies again, so my world is picture perfect.

Today, I was at the bank, one of the charms of my country is the complete and utter disregard for rules, I was waiting in the line, it was quiet a big queue and slow moving, the skills of the teller were….well let’s say they were not stellar. Now though I’m not big on patience, weather like this has songs running through my head so somewhere in mind gets confused and forgets to be impatient and I really don’t mind the delay much, I was mentally karaokeing and just waiting my turn. Now the lady behind me was a restless soul, constantly twitching and shuffling her feet, her restlessness quite grated on my harmony, but I decided to ignore it.

This went on till the gentleman in front of me got his turn. Now there is a clear sign that says ‘Only One Person Beyond This’. Plain simple English shouldn’t be complicated for anyone, so I stayed on the other side of the line whilst this gentleman was doing his transaction. Now as I was waiting this restless two feet behind me started feeling envious of the wide gulf between. She decided it didn’t go along with the pattern of the line and started nudging me, I decided to ignore it first, then came the jab, now usually I’m a pretty tolerant kind of soul, but this jab pushed the song from my head, and I turned to give her a lethal Icy stare to quell that rebellion.

But I was rattled, this seasoned Icy-stare gatherer was left unmoved and she gestured me to step ahead, a part of my mind was grappling as to how to deal with this new specie on whom my much practiced stare was the like the water off a duck’s back. As I tried to conjure a fitting response, the gentleman in front of me was done. So I had to move ahead. Now as I did she did to as if we were the Siamese twins. As I gave in my slip, I was just about to introduce her to the concept of privacy, when the slow moving teller, displaying a mental agility I didn’t associate with her, pointed out a detail I’d left blank, so I took the deposit slip back from her and stepped aside so that I wasn’t holding up the queue.

As I put in my John Hancock, this lady had a withdrawal to make and she had to put her signature too at the back of her cheque, she didn’t have a pen on her, so what does this Emily Post flunker do? She just thrusts her hand forward to me, no please, no would you, no could you? Just a very communicative hand, I thought it would be very mean-spirited to ignore her so I gave her my pen, she put her signature and thrust the pen back as if she was contaminated! Now, suddenly she seemed interesting specie worthy of a study to me. So I observed her, mind you no ‘thank you’ was even at the fartherest recess of her mind. And I watched her fascinated, her transaction done she stood there and counted the cash, while I deposited mine. We both finished at the same time, so as we turned to leave, I thought I’d acknowledge her with a smile.

I don’t know if I over did my enthusiasm, but she looked at me as if I’d sprouted horns. Now, I know they are there but I take great care to keep them hidden, and out of sight, well she then just quickly mentally concluded I was some sort of psycho and moved away hurriedly. A part of me was wanting to go behind and observe this new puzzling animal in its natural setting but I thought I’d truly frighten her, if my simple smile could have such a reaction, no telling what a follow up would do, so I let it be and as I left I stumbled upon another wondrous specie, the ‘checkered’ idiot with a ‘striped friend’, they were quite a couple. But you’ll hear more about this new element in my tomorrow’s post. I invite everyone to contribute the amazing specimens they have come across. Till then keep the good cheer and seek the humour. Lol.

Catharsis

I’m quite annoyed today and I’ve suddenly realised the merits on ranting and raving, which is precisely what I’m going to do. As of now I’m warm and toast but I’m spewing inside from what happened today and this blog is going to be the catharsis.

There are days when you just don’t know what is round the corner; it keeps you on your toes for sure. Just yesterday when it rained I was happy, happy that the winter that was packing her bags and going was gonna stay a couple of days longer and keep me company. I truly enjoy the mild winters, the days seem so dreamy, I, am dreamy, and the world seems to appeal to my mind as never before. Though yesterday I had a mild case of tripping and knocking my knee out real bad, oscillating between crepe bandage and knee support, still the rain was enough to make my world all right.

Well that was yesterday, today it rained again, I was ready to face the day in a real good mood, I was so happy that I decided to break the rule of wearing Churidar Kurta only once a year and accessorising also traditionally, most of you know that I keep this wonderful attire for weddings, and mom’s birthday only, Ma was quite delighted that I made an aberration an wore it, I wear it only on her birthday and it is the best birthday gift for her as far as she is concerned, of course she was gushing that I looked beautiful, my maid went a step further and said I was stunning, well I know that but I hate wearing these girlie stuff . Anyway, I just brushed it aside, and left for my daily grind.

I’d had a great day, when the weather itself is a shade of romance, it takes a disaster to get me out of good humour. I loved this day and for a change I felt totally alive and alert past noon, too. I got back home and Bhai was home, I was absolutely delighted and asked him if we could just hang out and have a chillax time doing nothing, he said OK, and collected his stuff and we guys headed out to Nehru Place, walked around there and chatted. It was a fine weather to hang out and of course as usual we ended up at a book store, the shop had second-hand stuff on discount, so obviously we guys went berserk, of course it wasn’t all great books but we did manage to pick up a few Agatha Christie’s and a David Baldacci. It was sheer fun while we were at it, then came the trouble, it started raining, normally it would’ve added to my delight if I was equipped to handle it or it was summers, now this was a rather unwelcome turn of events.

It started with a drizzle, and boy did it get worse and we had to be home in time to walk the dogs so we had to leave in the rain. Generally I wouldn’t have had any complaints, but it just so happened while I was stranded without any protective gear, Bhai had a raincoat. Picture this, no umbrella, no raincoat, already half unwell with a damaged knee and you have a raincoat what would you do? I think most of you would’ve have offered me the raincoat, (unless of course you decided to avenge some past life misdeed) but my brother….? Hell, no. He said, since you are already unwell you can afford to be totally bedridden!! I’ve raised a monster I feel.

Anyway I knew I couldn’t argue with him when he got on the ‘if you do the crime you do the time’ mode, the crime being not prepared for the rain when it has been a rainy day. So as we headed back apart from generally being in a murderous mood, I was wondering why spectacles are not equipped with wipers. Why did I wear glasses instead of the contacts? Why the roads are dirty? Why did I wear white? Why did I wear the traditional leather slippers? Why did I ask this idiot out? As I was seething inside I was also, chilled to my bone by the time we got home. Now I’ve changed and I’m toasting myself, and plotting revenge!