Posted on by nikita

Chai pe charcha

street vendor making traditional indian chai

It wasn’t simply a conversation over a cup of tea, but the charcha was all about the amusing variety of ways people consume a cup of tea. 

For example, let me tell you about a friend of my cousin: he would arrange seven saucers on the dining table and pour tea into each of them. Then he would slurp it from every saucer, starting from 1 through 7. 

Instantly, this anecdote conjured up the image of Tom from my favourite Tom & Jerry cartoon in front of my unblinking eyes. Tom lapping his tongue, relishing what’s on a plate, before getting instigated by his all-time friend and foe, Jerry.

Just as their friendship is full of twists and turns, the real-world alliance of President Trump and his one-time dear friend, the Indian chaiwala, is also not immune to twists and turns. Lately, all his frequent taarif in honour of Mr. Modi seems to have turned into a virulent tariff. 

*****

Taarif karu kya uski jisne tumhe banaya…— an acquaintance who would empty the contents of the cup, the tea, into a thali and let the heat dissipate, thereby cooling it. By this time, she would get her daughter ready for school — dressing her in the school uniform, combing her hair, and preparing her lunchbox. Of course, she would know the difference between a tea that’s gone cold and iced tea. 

Just wondering, what she did with the tea scum? Would she just let it slip down her deprived throat, akin to kids who let bitter medicines glide down their resistant throat, or would she pinch it with her index finger and thumb, a neat pincer grasp, and discard the scum?

Surely, many of us must have come across people who remove tea scum and place it on the rim of a cup or on the side of a saucer. The sight of this waxy residue, stuck to the surface, is quite grotesque, like a ghostly skin on something once appealing. And if the vessels aren’t soaked or washed immediately, the scum gets as stubborn as it can, eventually bearing the brunt of the soapy scrub that is rubbed to and fro over it. 

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Scum. 

Sounds so derogatory. Like — ‘Hey! You scum! How dare you float on the surface of my tea! You thin, brown, good-for-nothing!’ 

Take a chill pill! I’m neither being racist nor disparaging. It’s just a vituperative outrage. Nowadays, the tu tadak and offensive language is considered normal, whether it’s satta, samaj, series, or cinema. Swearing seems to be the new vibe. 

Consciously or subconsciously, pejoratives are interwoven into many people’s day-to-day communication just like their staple food. It’s like daal-chawal for some, the absence of which is considered an incomplete meal; while, for others, it could be as soothing as an adruk ki chai.

*****

Chai adrukwali ho ya elaichiwali, no one dared to compete with a person I knew from my adolescent days when it came to drinking piping hot tea. For clarity’s sake, let’s assume that there were four people in a room who were to be served tea. This person would finish his tea before you reach the third person. We felt pity for the tender tissues of his mouth and tongue, and offered our condolences to them. But that’s how he enjoyed having his tea. 

And why just him? My aunt, who would always prefer things that are hot and happening, would cover her cup of tea with a tea coaster after pouring the first installment of tea into a saucer. Once she sips it, relishing every drop of it, she would pour the second portion into the saucer. That’s her style. 

It’s difficult to break the atomic habits she has built over the years, and why would anyone expect her to revise her preferences? After all, she doesn’t have to pay any GST on sipping the tea the way she wants. And, just as I decide what goes into my blog and what doesn’t, she also holds the fundamental right to determine what comes out of her cup.

*****

Journalist: SIR, how did you feel having tea with the ‘dead’ voters from Bihar?
Rahul: As dead as the Indian economy. 


Posted on by nikita

Reborn — The X-factor

‘Why don’t you buy a pet?’ comes one recommendation. 

Pets are adorable, but I prefer to be at arm’s length from pets and pethood.

‘Why don’t you adopt a child?’ That’s another.

At that moment, all I could hear in my mind’s ears was the beautiful song from the movie ‘Maachis’ — Chhod aaye hum woh galiyan … Gone are the days of potty training, teething troubles, and midnight burping. At the menopausal stage, managing my moods is somewhat challenging for me — how do I summon the elon to babysit a child as the trolled President Mr. Trump unintentionally did at the Oval Office? 

While Father Musk, an X-DOGE, was addressing the reporters regarding the scope of the Department of Government Efficiency work, Grandpa Trump was unexpectedly seen babysitting Musk’s X. Mind you, it’s not an Ex, it’s just X. Confusing naming trends, much like the language itself. After all, names are born out of a language.

The world is not unknown of the fact that Elon Musk takes his little X to almost every meeting, disregarding criticism — is it a gesture of parenthood or for creating some public perceptions? Similarly, many women across Brazil and the UAE are spotted taking ‘Reborn Dolls’ to different places, making me wonder for a nanosecond — How about adopting a reborn doll?

For those who are unaware, these dolls are gaining attention globally due to their life-like realism and intricate craftsmanship. A hobby turned into a million-dollar business for many craftsmen, and an adorable collection for art lovers. These dolls have also proven therapeutic benefits for women who struggle with infertility or infant loss.

Sifting through different options and on conscious pondering, I realize that I can’t adapt myself to adopt either a pet, a child, or even a reborn doll. I ain’t that adept. 

And seemingly neither is the LOP in India. Considering the current political status of the INDI alliance, they need to be adept enough to Modi-fy their weak and outdated narratives  — not just with slogans, but with substance — or it might cost the party more senior leaders (one could be Mr. Shashi Tharoor) who appear to be modi-fying themselves. The party may want to learn a different RaGa and reinvent itself from its threadbare political structure. It needs to become more realistic in its approach to fill the void of a strong opposition in a democratic nation, akin to the hyper-realistic reborn dolls, which fill the void in the lives of many women across the globe. 

Because Modi — a political figure who consistently and effectively redesigns his vision for a new India, for better or for worse? — doesn’t just believe in surgical strikes when needed, he also has the acumen to strike the spiritual chord of global citizens, as seen in his introduction of the Indian practice of yoga on the Global stage. From local to global — a shared vision for a healthier and more conscious world. 

Inspired by such initiatives, I decided to incorporate a few more yogic postures into my simple exercise routine, and in no time, the universe conspired to help me achieve it. In a couple of days, a good friend of mine shared information about an online yoga session. My third eye, meditatively trained to remain alert, immediately captured the message of the universe. Without much ado, I registered myself for the session. And in a couple of days, in harmony, my body and mind — which are not mine as per the spiritual concept of Sadhguru —  revealed to me that my not-so-younger tissues and muscles need to be reborn. 

All said and done, aren’t we all trying to reborn ourselves in one way or another? Be it at a personal, professional, or spiritual level.

*****

Friend: If given a chance, what would you want to be reborn as?
Me: The grass in my garden is sufficiently green.


Posted on by nikita

Rains, ruins, and remedies

Premature birth results from internal complications within a mother’s body; premature rains, the consequence of human-induced external disruptions. For instance, deforestation and urbanization. Unchecked human activities have a ruinous effect on the environment. 

One such corroboration is the recent unseasonal rains in May, affecting the mango crop yield in Gujarat. Not to mention the strong winds that knocked down baby mangoes from their mother tree. Prematurely. 

These are known facts. But I wonder if this untimely rain carried some subtle message for the city’s municipal corporation. 

Hey, when an apathetic civic authority finds it difficult to understand the obvious grievances of its citizens, how will it decipher hints from a voiceless rain? 

So, here I am — the voice of the rain, communicating its pitter-patter as a forewarning, something I attempted to decode.

  1. Make sure your city roads are sturdy enough to defend themselves from the mighty showers. Designer roads with different-sized patchwork don’t last long. Patchwork is aesthetically pleasing only on clothes, not on city roads. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell what’s weaker—the roads or the human conscience. 
  2. Make sure that the recently repaired roads across the city—which you’ve dug up again, this time for installing water pipelines—are timely and evenly smoothed out. On my last visit to Earth, hillocks of soil and gravel were visible on every other road.
  3. Make sure I don’t get mixed with the sewage waters in case I come down as torrential rains. Presumably, the city’s sewer system and drainage infrastructure are in place. I don’t want your citizens to blame me for any waterborne diseases. After all, ‘jal hi jeevan hai’. 
  4. Make sure there’s no waterlogging in the city. I don’t enjoy staying stagnant in one place. And that too, bearing the angry brunt of the commuters. I despise people giving me disdainful looks even when the fault isn’t mine. Let me reiterate—your city’s drainage infrastructure must be well-maintained.
  5. Make sure that after a week of my coming down, you install sign boards at every meter or two on the roads, especially cautioning the commuters on motorcycles about the menacing craters since these vehicles have little cushioning. For example, place sign boards indicating the width of a pothole – 3-4 feet, 4.5-5 feet, and so on. Possibly, also mention the depth of these potholes, warning the commuters to maintain their speed accordingly. Water-filled potholes camouflage their actual depth. These depressions not only reduce the vehicular life but also shorten the life of the riders because of accidents. 
  6. Make sure to also place sign boards indicating ‘KEEP RIGHT’ and ‘KEEP LEFT’  to guide the commuters through their dreadful journey on two-lane roads, helping them to dodge as many potholes as possible. That many of these two-lane roads have shrunk into a single-lane road because of the Metro project is a different story, though. On these roads, the commuters can only shift their bums right or left.  
  7. Make sure that the traffic police are effectively managing traffic jams, especially when the traffic signals are dysfunctional. More often than not, the traffic personnel are on their phones managing calls and messages, which leads to chaos at the crossroads. 

That’s all for now.

See you soon.  

*****

Mr Sharif: Mr Modi, can India give us lessons in effective rainwater harvesting?
Mr Modi: Talks only on terror and POK.



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

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.