Posted on by nikita

The Art of Balancing — Is it for real?

“NJ, you are an inspiration for the other team members regarding work-life balance”.

These were the words of one of my colleagues during my farewell. While I was at my job, many co-workers admired and respected my inclination for work-life balance.

But the recent statements by Infosys co-founder Mr. Narayana Murthy and the chairman of L&T Mr. Subhramanyan have not only shocked me but also compelled me to rethink my work habits and even question my capabilities. 70 hours a week? 90 hours a week? Was it possible for my brain to work sanely beyond an 8-hour job?

And to add to this melancholy, I don’t even have a spouse to stare at me. At least, it would have taken away a bit more of my remaining 16-hour day, in addition to cooking and cleaning.

Of course, Mr. Murthy’s and Mr. Subhramanyan’s approach to work is their corporate way of enjoying life, which is different from mine. To each their own — just like families, friends, and relatives at a marriage, each with their own expectations.

One of the most common scenarios in Indian weddings is the helplessness of the bride and groom in maintaining a balance between their in-laws’ excitement during photography. It’s like a tug-of-war — which family will click photographs first with the newlywed? It’s amusing to watch both parties in constant tussle trying to prove who has the upper hand. Who is superior? Because it doesn’t stop with a single family photo; they gather a crowd of relatives and friends on their sides, each waiting for their turn to be clicked with the couple —  proof of their attendance at the wedding.

Hardly anyone cares about the comfort of the couple in question. No one notices their efforts in balancing the weight on their heads — the groom with a heavy headgear in the form of safa (turban) and the bride with the stiffly and densely pinned pallu to her hair-do.

The newlyweds aren’t the unusual Kumbh Mela babas who seem to have mastered the art of balancing: like the one with a 45 kg tower of rudraksha beads on his head, and another with a pigeon perched on his head. (I thought only Sooraj Barjatya was fond of pigeons who could get his lyricist to compose a hit song on a pigeon in the 1990s.) Such an ability to balance can be achieved only after years of practice and penance, which the newlyweds lack.

This brings me to an understanding that balance isn’t everyone’s forte — whether it’s physical, social, or mental. Whether on the head or in the head. Take YouTuber, Ranveer Allahbadia, for instance, who is all over the media for his inappropriate comments. His apology seems to convey that there was some chemical locha in his mind during a reality show appearance.

Did the chemicals in his Beer hit him so hard that he lost the ability to distinguish between ‘pure humour’ and ‘putrid humour’?

Apparently, at this point, even his Biceps can’t help him fight the backlash he’s facing. And that too for copying the content from an Australian reality show, Alan Vs Sam.

We don’t know why he said what he said.

Whatever the reason, the art of balancing isn’t as easy as giving advice — whether in work, personal life, or maintaining a public image.

*****

An afterthought: What about environmental balance?

*****

Husband: You should have been vigilant about the stuff our child watches.
Wife: I have a WFH (Work FOR home) job. Just like you.

Posted on by nikita

A visit to a hospital – Putting things in perspective 

When we were young, we used to get essay topics such as – ‘A visit to a zoo’, ‘A visit to a hospital’, ‘A visit to a museum’, and so on. As these were places I had never been to, extending my imagination beyond a certain limit wasn’t easy. 

But if I were to write an essay today on a visit to a hospital, it would be very different, of course. It would be more philosophical than sheer imagination. 

*****

When friends and relatives visit a hospital, they come with the ‘WH’ questions for the family members sitting there in the waiting area. Questions like — ‘What happened?’ ‘When did this happen?’ ‘How did this happen?’ ‘How and when did you come to know about this illness?’ ‘What did the doc say?’ ‘How long will it take to cure this disease?’ and so on.

And the family member(s) is left with no alternative but to tell his/her story. The patient’s father, mother, sister, brother, wife, husband, son, or daughter is expected to narrate the ordeal like a film script. The family member is made to relive the entire painful experience. It starts with the time, the day, and the date when a particular illness invades a body of the loved one. The irony is that the more they want to forget about distress and suffering, the more they are made to experience it by replaying the same account for every new visitor. It’s exhausting.

Sometimes, the visitor already knows the story, yet he/she will still ask questions seeking confirmation of the known details. It could also be a sincere attempt to connect to the family’s emotional burden.

Also you may come across some family members who seem to find comfort in verbalizing distressful episodes. Generally, they are well-versed with voice modulation. They know which words and phrases require emphasis, and when to pause. They seem to enjoy being the center of attraction, even if it’s momentarily or for the unfortunate circumstances. And with every new visitor, the narration slightly differs since one can’t remember the exact words and phrases. 

And when there are too many visitors at the same time, which generally happens in a big family, the same experience finds various narrators. Even the visitors become storytellers for the just-arrived visitor. They also seem to enjoy sharing their part of the story, with some improvization in the script. They like playing the cameo role of a comforter in the family’s tragedy because, after all, sharing is caring.

An observer and listener, sitting in a corner wonders — Aren’t people tired or bored relaying a story repeatedly? Do they find solace in retelling a tale of affliction? Are their actions out of love and care? Or is it to gain attention, acknowledgement, and sympathy? Or an attempt to make emotional connections?Are they waiting for some validation of their feelings and emotions? Or is it a cathartic moment for them? 

*****

I was waiting for my turn to meet the patient. This hospital was like any other hospital. For me, hospitals look somewhat like railway stations. The only difference is that at the station, we see people with baggage in a literal sense; in the hospital, they carry mental and emotional baggage. 

The hospital I visited also had hurried faces walking briskly towards the medicine counters, lifts, emergency wards, inquiry desks, or doctors on the move to have a quick word with them. The burdened faces of the relatives of patients sometimes appear oblivious to the world around them, like the people at the railway station. 

While waiting for the visitor pass so that I could cross the threshold guarded by security personnel, an unpleasant conversation hit my attentive ears. The man, who seemed to have lost a family member to death, got infuriated when he was asked to show his visitor pass. The fact that the security man hadn’t recognized him even after regular hospital visits seemed surprising to him. With intense displeasure and ire, he blurted, ‘There’s a death in the family and you wanna see my pass! Where will you end up after death!’ 

Once the angry middle-aged man left the scene, the agitated security guard vented his anger in front of his supervisor wearing a black safari uniform. His face and his uniform were uniformly creased. 

This incident made me wonder — Was the security guard at fault for following hospital protocols? Did he even know that there was death in that man’s family? Was the behaviour of the relative of the deceased acceptable? Would it have been difficult for him to follow a simple protocol despite whatever happened in his personal life?

I stood there thinking until the visitor pass was passed on to me and I went to meet the patient.

*****

Teacher: Raga, what’s your essay topic?
Raga: A visit to America. 



Posted on by nikita

From peri to post, the bells are ringing

Jingle bells, jingle bells, 
Jingle all the way,
Santa Claus is coming along,
riding down his way…

Why am I singing the Christmas song before Christmas? It’s still time for December. Christmas is still away. Of course, I know. I am just trying to keep up with the ‘pre’ trend. 

Nowadays, many things happen ‘pre’ to the event or festival. Like a pre-Diwali lunch or dinner. Pre-Diwali parties. It’s understandable though. You can’t be at different places simultaneously on the same day. You aren’t the omnipresent and omniscient God; you’re simply god-like. And to become a god or be considered God, you should be able to do godly things for real. 

Like the way, women can do certain things akin to god. For example, enduring pain in all its forms – mental, physical, and emotional before and after giving birth to a new life. They create a new life on earth. Isn’t it godly? 

Or even enduring pain every month from the age of 12 or 13 (it could be early/late for some) till the age of 40 (again, the age could vary).  And the painful cycle (many theists might consider it a Karmic cycle) doesn’t seem to end. Appears eternal. Because she still has to go through the stages of menopause — perimenopause and postmenopause. (Premenopause isn’t the correct medical term though people use it quite often.)

In keeping up with the pre-trend, I stumbled upon an amusing idea of connecting these prefixes to different stages of marriage.

For example, peri-wedding — the joy around marriage. It could be the courtship period once the wedding bells are rung, alluding to the likelihood of marriage between two people. There’s joy, excitement, fun, and jingling bells all around. The would-be bride and groom become Santa Claus for each other — giving gifts and surprises to each other, dashing through the metaphorical snow to meet each other. 

Then comes the pre-wedding aspect — the pre-wedding photo shoot. Quite in vogue currently. It’s like helping couples get comfortable with the photographer before they can get comfortable with each other — I mean, getting them to become more confident in front of the camera before the wedding day. 

The photographer gives lessons on the real-life application of math —  what should be the width of their smiles, the space between their lips, the distance they need to keep between them, the angle at which they hold their hands, and so on, so that the couple is thoroughly prepared for the day of marriage. 

And then there’s marriage. There’s music — the dhinchaak music during the procession— filling the air in a literal sense. There’s a Santa-like figure in white attire, the white beard replaced with a black beard (or no-beard), with a garland of flowers or currency notes around his neck, riding in a sparkling horse-drawn carriage. Sleighs can’t run on bumpy Indian roads, I suppose.

For the first few years of marriage, there are flowers, stars, moon, poetry, and everything that sounds and feels romantic under the sun. You are still Santa Claus to each other, but the size and the type of gifts begin to change. The pleasant surprises gradually lose their charisma, along with the hormonal changes. And sometimes you feel shocked not to receive those once-upon-a-time-lovey-dovey surprises. Your reactions are so much similar to hot flashes during menopause. 

But since you are in a karmic cycle, life continues. Until one day, you begin demonstrating post-marriage symptoms. This is the phase when you get used to each other, taking each other for granted, and the jingling bells transition to resting bells used in Buddhist meditative practices. You start considering the sound of everyday music therapeutic in nature. Sometimes, the absence of it brings discomfort and disquietude. The sonorous sound and the wave-like vibrations created by striking a gong (read kitchen plates, here) make you feel like an eternal celebration of the ritual of marriage. 

Whatever the stages be, you live happily ever after.

Happy New Year

*****

Friend (a prediscussion): Where did you get this idea for your blog?
Me: Why? Does it ring a bell with you?

Posted on by nikita

Upcycling Recycling Downcycling
         

Suddenly the concept of upcycling has come to the forefront. Reels on upcycling your mom’s saree, your dupatta, or a pair of denim are on the surge. A wonderful idea but not at all new.

Upcycling is a unique concept if one thinks from the point of view of sustainability in clothing. Less dumping, fewer landfills. Indeed, upcycling provides an opportunity to see the same saree or dupatta in a different light. A better light. Philosophical ha!

I still remember transforming my mom’s jamevaram and pethani sarees, and even my embroidered dupattas, into beautiful dresses. I do it even today. It allows me to explore and expand my creative realm.

Back then, we didn’t use the technical term ‘upcycling’. That’s the only difference. And  neither social media was available to make the concept popular.

Like we didn’t use the psychological or medical terms like ‘anxiety’ and ‘depression’. Most of us must have experienced emotions like fear, anger, sadness, restlessness, shame, nervousness, and many more that drained our happiness from within, like a lamprey fish that feeds off its prey and sucks its life. Either such emotions were considered natural while growing up or for most of us they weren’t worth an intervention. Maybe, we never realized how these emotions would shape an individual if unchecked and unattended.

Like we hardly realize (or we pretend not to realize) that the constant flood of motivational thoughts and beliefs in the modern era are nothing but the ‘recycled’ thoughts and beliefs of ancient wisdom. Of ancient philosophers and thinkers. It’s just that these learnings have become more accessible and fascinating because of technology and the way they are presented. Or represented?

I’m not sure if any learning is happening though.

But, surely, Ms. Atishi has learned the art of being a politician. In a press conference, before taking oath as the Chief Minister of Delhi, she analogized her situation with Bharat, the younger brother of Shri Ram. Akin to Bharat, in the epic The Ramayana, who had declared not to occupy the throne of Ayodhya since he considered Ram as the rightful heir, she announced that the Chief Minister’s seat would be occupied only by her brother Mr. Kejriwal. She was seen sitting in a chair next to Mr. Kejriwal’s throne-like red-coloured chair in the office with pictures of Bhagat Singh and Babasaheb Ambedkar on the wall in the background.

No sooner did this self-proclaimed-morally-superior analogy leave the premises of her mouth than there was an uproar on every news channel. Ms. Atishi had cleverly employed an ancient thought in the modern context, considering herself and Mr. Kejriwal to be the Bharat and the Ram respectively of the kalyug. Of course, she couldn’t replicate the part where Bharat placed Ram’s padukas on the throne. Mr. Kejriwal might be having only one pair of  footwear since he is an Aam aadmi. 

Wondering if the comparison is even fitting in the first place! Instead, isn’t it ‘downcycling’ a religious event?

Ram gave up his claim to kingship when he was exiled for 14 years. Shouldn’t Mr. Kejriwal have relinquished his chief ministership when he was jailed for around 6 months, setting the right example for future political leaders, especially if he aimed to emulate the principles of Ram? Also, are the citizens of Delhi eagerly awaiting Mr. Kejriwal’s return to power, just as the people of Ayodhya awaited Ram?

Difficult to say. India’s 2024 general elections  resulted in a surprising paradigm shift. So, let’s wait for February 2025.

*****

Me: Give me another word for ‘religious doctrines’.
Friend: Chinese whispers.

Posted on by nikita

Calls, Covers, Celebration and Commotion

Rakshabandhan is around the corner and we can already smell excitement in the otherwise drowsy atmosphere. The shoppers appear more attentive in following the city’s green, red, yellow, and orange traffic lights rather than the colour-coded alerts that didn’t actualize as cautioned by the Indian Meteorological Department (IMD). Instead of raining cats and dogs as predicted by the IMD, only to be proven predictably wrong, it’s raining sales and discounts everywhere.

However, not everybody would be thrilled about the approaching festival. Some see the rakhi celebration as just another family gathering, and I don’t completely disagree. At the same time, that’s what festivals like Rakshabandhan, Diwali, Utarayan, and many more Indian festivals have evolved into — a family feast.

And today when joint families are becoming less common, such festivals could be considered a need of the hour even if one sees a family member only on special occasions, once or twice a year.

In fact, such a celebratory moment could be used as a springboard to start a conversation with this one-time-in-the-year-meeting brother or sister. To catch up with some of the latest titbits of each other’s lives.

I agree that more often than not there’s more commotion than communication during such gatherings, but that’s what life is all about—without chaos, can we understand calm?

And your peace is tested in every imaginable way — from selecting rakhis and gifts to finalizing the menu for the celebration. The prepping up for the celebration is more interesting than merely the day of celebration.

It begins with making calls by the ladies in the family to mama ki beti or bua ki beti or chacha ki beti or mausi ki beti, or a couple of these betiya, or all of them when there’s a Suraj Barjatia movie-type family. And then there are 3rd generation betiya also for whom calls are made. There’s a complete checklist of names the mother or the wife needs to keep a tab on so that none of them is missed.

Thinking out loud — why is it that the woman of the house (in most cases) has to make calls? Is there any such clause in the Constitution of Patriarchy that feminists should be directed to?

Or possibly, such a work of responsibility is awarded to women since they are the ones who score higher than men in areas of interpersonal relationships and social responsibility? Someone who understands how to bind families together. There are exceptions, of course.

Once you (the sister) have received the calls and checked the box next to each brother’s name, the scavenger hunt begins. You dash from one shop to another, looking for the right and affordable gifts for your brothers. (You generally have a budget to follow unless the Ambani(s) is the limit). Because there will be some who love chocolates, some who love mithai, some who prefer sugar-free cookies, and some who are under an oath to not have any mithai, chocolates, or cookies for a certain period.

Buying thoughtful gifts for your brothers can be daunting, but it’s fun too. Of course, brothers also make a humongous effort to prepare envelopes, also called covers (which again are generally bought by the woman of the house) for their sisters, considering the creeping inflation. Hopefully! 🙂

The covers remind me of the generation-old practice of maintaining a book to record the money given and received during festivals and marriages. Have you come across a 100-page hardcover notebook in your mother’s almirah, where they made a note of who gave what and when?

Preparing covers for numerous sisters is not as simple as Mr. Gandhi’s remark about ‘budget ka halwa’ might sound. Like the ‘halwa ceremony’, marking the final stage of the Budget, brothers decide on a budget a few days before Rakshabandhan — a traditional practice of deciding whom to give how much. Your bond with your brothers could be one of the criteria for the amount you would receive in a closed envelope. A deciding factor.

Might not be true for every individual. Because not everyone believes in following their parents’ age-old footsteps. Just as smartphones become smarter with each new update, brothers are becoming smarter by the day. They understand that, with time, the value of money has changed and so should the weight of the covers. (Some hint, just in case…:)

And finally, there’s D-Day. Happy celebration and happy commotion. Colourful rakhis, kumkum, fancy covers and gifts, and family lunch or dinner.

*****

A quick reality check:
Are we celebrating the bond between a brother and a sister for the sake of it? One more example of conditioning since we’ve been tying rakhi from a very young age? Is it perfunctory? Or are genuine emotions of love and care at play on both sides?

*****

Brother: What do you want for this Rakshabandhan?
Sister: Acknowledgement.

Source of the image – https://cdn.siasat.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/images-11.jpeg