CAN CREATIVITY BE ENSLAVED?

Would you believe that my creativity quotient has touched an all time low for the past so many days? Laughably I’m being wedged in the maze of dust and dusting? Rightly you’d respond, how silly and confusing! To be frank and precise, my wits are miles away from the ideas stage, why? Because of the onslaught of the paraphernalia you are surrounded with, when you finally plunge into million times postponed venture of renovating your house.

In fact our house was crying hoarse and showing its displeasure through tell tale signs of chipped wall paint and minor cracks in the floor chips for quite sometime. Probably you’ve seen the SBI debit card TV ad showing its annoyance via crinkled nose, for being used only in the ATM and not for shopping and eating out. Similarly via a tactful move our house ensured the end of the overdue rot.

The nemesis came when the kitchen hob, which has served us loyally for more than three decades, suffered a gas leakage, which was beyond repair. It was really an alarm bell for our dithering decision making. With a heavy heart and patting our limbs before they could express their inability to confront the heavy handedness of the labour force and face sundry hitches and glitches which are unavoidable in such situations, we took the plunge.

With all my apprehensions intact we’re in the throes of the elephantine exercise of restoring the lost glory to our house through a make over of sorts. It is like being skinned a wee bit every day.

Just as one feels scared even before a minor operation likewise I balk every morning before the brigade arrives. Anxiety, tension and inconvenience were daunting when the new hob was being installed on the kitchen main counter where a new granite slab was also put in place. Imagine the unenviable task of improvising the cooking process in the lobby and utensil washing in the back verandah by a snooty part time help.

With my mind overflowing with these ‘must happen inanities’, no more do I assert with Descartes 'Cogito ergo sum’. I’m just being mechanical. Not only I’m unable to squeeze any time for the luxury of thinking thoughts with the masonry scattered around but ironically enough I’m also unable to assuage a nagging minuscule part of the brain, for being deprived of its pleasurable pastime. I know you know, what am I referring to? May be you’ll say smiling, what a bundle of contradictions this!

Actually restoration work is a lot more cumbersome than building a new house. Here your fully operational house is turned topsy turvy and your movements are restricted. This apart you’ve to be at the beck and call of the workers for meeting their demands of fridge cold water and cups of strong tea overloaded with sugar. But your patience boils over when at the end of a hard day; you find a lousy job done.

So friends howsoever much I tried to put some thoughts together yet my brain did not budge as if the creative sap has been dried up in retaliation of its neglect.

In fact missing my morning walk is a dampener for my spirits as well as for igniting the creative spark. I deliberately avoid going near my computer, imagining the blank screen giving me disparaging looks. Hence no new posts. Today however, I had made up my mind, took a chance and dragged myself to my study lest I should face a drought like state. I egged my mind to offer at least a little bit of inspiration to break the writing impasse. Thus here I am with this short piece underlining my tight spot in a self created situation.

I think this is the dilemma every one faces at one time or the other.

Do you agree?

Pl. give your comments.

DUSSEHRA GREETINGS TO ALL!

Wish you dear friends a very happy Dussehra! This great festival is celebrated in North India with enthusiasm, excitement and joy. It has a deeper signifance as it represents victory of good over evil. With the start of  Navratras( nine nights) stage performances (Ramlila) depicting scenes from the epic Ramayana are brought forth by amateur artists in major cities. The audience in these late night shows are regaled by a fusion of piety and enjoyment.  On the tenth day (Vijay Dashmi) i.e. today, the effigies of demon king Ravana along with Kumbkarna and Meghanand,  stuffed with fireworks and crackers are consigned to flames to the joyous uproar of crowds ,timed with the setting of the sun in a central place of the city, where hundreds converge to witness the celebrations.The sky around the venue of the event becomes resplendent with red and golden flames devouring the evil within  all of us, through the symbolic medium of Ravana's destruction.

The sun is on its last leg and I do hear explosive sounds in the distance. The grand finale is certainly on!

....LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER?

The other day I read an article in one of my favourite blogs,* about the first year of marriage being the hardest in compatibility, understanding and adjustment. I got interested. To brainstorm on a subject that never loses its sheen and element of curiosity is creatively challenging. After some pondering and empirical debate within, my take on the fascinating theme emerged. This is how I figure it out.

I feel marriage is a rediscovery of oneself at every stage. But let me begin at the beginning. This particular journey starts on a high melodramatic note, accompanied by no holds barred celebratory grand show of jubilations, excitement and enthusiasm. Euphoria as always is transitory. So the hyped tempo changes dramatically soon after. Within a few months of marriage, the intensity of physical attraction starts waning and the mystery of romance and union ,the powerful factors behind the feelings of mutual passion slide down. The mundane routine sets in. A girl who had drawn an idealistic picture of marriage feels disillusioned and bored to tears.

Men regard marriage as a part of life, subservient to their career and other interests. A woman on the other hand stakes everything on the premise that she is entering into wedlock with her dream prince charming and a rosy life of love, romance and passion is there for her, as a matter of course. How stupid dear darling! Her feel good hormones around matrimony elevate her spirits into an emotionally excited state which is akin to sweet insanity. She remains in a state of blissful day dreaming when the ceremonies are underway, anticipating vague magical moments, with the handsome young man entering her life. Her fluttering heart places him on a high pedestal ,where he epitomizes grandeur of undying love, chivalry, goodness and images of how he would sweep her off her feet in an electric embrace. The emotional roller coaster of her heart freezes the voice of her head.

But sadly the sensuous sandy castle crafted by the bubble of honeyed prospects, bursts too soon ,throwing a young lady into a shock. She feels cheated by deglamourized reality.

A man doesn’t have such unrealistic expectations though. After the honeymoon is over he resumes his routine as usual and his girl feels let down and confused. She faces unpleasant surprises, which are bound to be there.

This I think happens in every marriage because a girl has grandiose notions about her dream man, who fast enough turns out to be no way nearer the image of a debonair and a gallant young man portrayed in Mills and Boon romances of her adolescent years.

(Actually the success of soft romances is due to this very fact that these take a woman on a fancy flight into a paradise of sorts where the hero is strong and dashing and prepared to risk jumping into the lions den for his lady love. But such romances are comforting as leisurely read for pure pleasure of expressiveness.)

Such is the stuff that an educated girl feeds on – a world of fabulous fantasy where she and her dream guy are the protagonists and nothing else matters.

But if a young girl overcomes this period of unpredictability and opens up to ground realities, slowly overtime the married state falls into a pattern of  modest love hate relationship, alternating between intense moments when you hug your man on impulse of reminiscence, or teary eyed you use choicest expletives under breath to vent your anger at his stubbornness or some perceived injustice.

This is the beginning and married life goes on, competing in a continuous hurdle race. And the show goes on with twists and turns, with some hotspots, some spills of over reactions, some wordy battles and some placidly flowing serene moments of togetherness.

For marriage to sustain, being incommunicado is no option at all. Anger and grievances fester in silence. Ego should not be allowed to impede the first move to break the ice.

Respect and acceptance of each other, an apology here and there and a caring attitude, go a long way in smoothening the furrows and abrasions of hurtful situations. Though the two bars of the rail track never meet, but they reach the destination at the same time.

*

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THE BLESSED MONTHS

Nature is a great puppeteer and shapes our moods, according to the seasonal changes in its persona. With October finally stepping in our midst, anxious wait has come to an end. We welcome it by soaking in the cool breathing space which it has blessed us with. We in North India were restless in the sea of sticky heat and suffocating humidity. Undoubtedly the last many months had been hard on us. Thankfully this is the beginning of a much deserved respite from the bone aching syndrome, caused by whirling fans and whirring ACs.

The scenario is changing .The ravages and last remnants of the unruliness of the rainy season are being eliminated at an express speed. The lawns and plants are getting a face lift. Home owners are busy in getting the lawns mowed and weeded. The plants are being rid of unwieldy and haphazard growth. The gardeners are cutting the unnecessary shoots and pruning the extra growth here and there. The flowering bushes are also under the scalpel for restoring the erstwhile presentable look. Hoeing is being done in the flower beds and excess bulbs have been uprooted from my lily patch ,to give it a neat and manageable look. The Tulsi plant and mint bed’ve been subject to a thorough cleaning, to remove dead, diseased leaves and already fresh green leaves are on the way. A small bed has been readied to sow fenugreek-methi-seeds, my winter weakness.

The wild growth in my favourite park has been taken care of by the extra hands engaged for the purpose. The water logged patches are drying (the park lacks drainage system) and the fungus ridden walking area has been swept clean.

It is actually the assorted bird families and lovely squirrels who show the utmost pleasure in the changed weather. The gay abandon is obvious in their every flight and in their lively tweets My freshly mowed front lawn attracts many winged friends in the morning, who busily nose their way into the soil for some grain or grub.

The wood pecker, a frequent visitor, wastes no time in looking around while gorging on the delicious fare which only his long and sharp beak can procure from deep under.

On the Neem trees across our boundary wall an exciting orchestra is played in the mornings and evenings as the birds assemble their in the safety of the thick spread. Probably to exchange views or to plan the day’s rendezvous or simply to gossip. However, what these notes convey I don’t know, apart from feeling the sheer mystique of the music.

***

Nevertheless, calling October and November as blessed months reflect my personal perception based on observation and experience. Let me share it with you.

Instead of the debilitating sweaty mornings, the fragrantly cool breeze welcomes you when you venture out first thing in the morning. You relax sitting in a chair with your cuppa of tea in one hand and the newspaper in the other, to spend your quality time with both, while fanned by the gentle wind which slightly ruffles your hair and stealthily enters inside through your loose clothing and softly tickles your body into a kind of stupor. Result: the mind clock stops ticking. It is you and the soft feeling of a mystic experience, making you feel feather light.

The soothing environment bolsters your spirits. It motivates you go to the nearest park for a stroll and feel the freshness in your limbs. Your arms automatically move up and back, exercising your shoulders and stabilizing your neck muscles, relieving the annoying stiffness and aches. The muscles of your lower back, pelvic area, buttocks, thighs, knees and lower legs are lubricated and strengthened and you feel more energetic and confident

The outdoor activity around plants, birds etc. help you relax and unwind your stressors. Who wouldn’t be enchanted by the playful squirrels when they tease you by jumping ahead of you, behind you, around you and at the sign of proximity, make a single flawless jump onto the nearest tree trunk?

The comfortable weather conditions give an impetus to creativity. Ideas germinate and blossom into works of art. Writers, painters and proponents of other art forms get enough inspiration for their craft and food for thought. Moderate weather of these months enhances productivity and wellness.

If we can’t live by bread alone, likewise we can’t live by creativity alone. We need good food to keep the fires burning. Markets are all agog with fresh vegetables and fruit and you can luxuriate in the sensual pleasures of the palate with combinations of various haute cuisines.

Just sitting alone in the open in a contemplative mood, listening to the music of rustling leaves and chirping of birds is a reward too deep for words.

****
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WITHER INDIAN YOUTH?

Some disturbing trends proliferating in society catch your attention and you can’t help mulling over them. My observation in two states in the span of a few months has convinced me that a particular malaise is widespread and a telling symptom of the moral collapse of the youth of our country. How our youth is increasingly being misguided into a self destructive mode, is a point worth pondering! There seems to be a complete erosion of values which guided all of us in the past.

The case in point is the increasing inclination towards irresponsible drinking habits amongst our young population. A few days back we were on our daily walking regime in the park, when I saw some littered stuff near a bench. On closure inspection, it became evident that some people had a drinking session in the safe twilight hour. There were plastic tumblers, left over of snacks and small liquor bottles scattered there. On enquiry it was revealed by the residents who have their residences around, that some boys invaded the peace at night, guzzled alcohol and  were forced to leave by some brave hearts with a warning.

However such elements roam freely, indulge in questionable behaviour and pose a danger to the peace loving citizens. These are the ones who violate laws, snatch chains, commit day light robberies, and take part in kidnapping to make easy money. They indulge in drunken driving, cause accidents and take innocent lives. One can imagine the fate of their families suffering in silence. But can they absolve themselves of the blame? There are many such worrying examples reported in the press day in and day out.

A similar scenario, confronted me in Himachal Pradesh. One day, while enjoying a morning walk on Nahan road, we saw card board cases of branded liquor bottles, eatables and glasses thrown indiscriminately by the side of the newly constructed parapets. At many places empty bottles and food stuff containers are seen littered on the road itself. What impressions are created in the vulnerable minds of children, who pass by such scenes on their way to school? Once I saw stray dogs licking left out liquor in the abandoned glasses

The disillusioned youth take recourse to wrong choices and naively think that such actions make them trendy, in sync with the fickle world of movies. Most of the movies are harbingers of negative aspirations among the youth. They try to relate themselves to the larger than life images shown on celluloid and get a jolt, when these acts land them into trouble and public censure. For example drinking, sex and nudity are integrated in the screen play for its own sake, to titillate the youth who constitutes the large chunk of film goers.

Drinking has become a fashion these days even among highly educated and respectable families. There is always a danger of social drinking leading to alcoholism which has ruined many families. Murders, rapes, suicides and other forms of violence under the influence of liquor are daily occurrences these days. Women and Children are the worst victims of such episodes.

Since the excise duty on alcoholic drinks is high and also Governments earn huge amounts as revenue in the auctioning process of liquor joints, the ruinous effects of drinking are sidelined for the sake of taxes which get generated to fill the empty state coffers. Mushrooming of vends selling this stuff is evident every where, when you drive through the highways.

The easy availability of alcohol without any checks emboldens our youth, too young to gauge the consequences of their dangerous forays. A few months back(as reported in the newspaper) a couple of school girls, accompanied by boys, skipped their tuition classes and went in for experimenting with drinking and were found vomiting in a park by the police. In ‘Tanu Weds Manu’ and ‘Rock Star’ the heroines drink liquor neat and I’m sure, that was the inspiration for these girls to copy the act. These poor girls didn’t know perhaps that it was part of acting, at the most with coke filled bottles. One can imagine the stigma and lifelong mental scars which the girls and their families will have to suffer in a society which slanders rather than supports.

Many parents in their pursuit of glitzy possessions remain oblivious of the activities of their wards thinking that they’ve discharged their duty if they stuff their children’s pockets with moolah. Such an attitude of indifference and neglect results in the undoing of the children. Avoidable tragedies happen and the families are doomed for the rest of their lives.

Here are a few suggestions:

Parents must monitor their wards' lives to the extent possible. They should be weaned away from excessive use of addictive phone applications and virtual cyber world, which isolates them from the real world resulting in psychosomatic problems, which can wreak their lives.

Parents’ and teachers should always keep the communication channels open with the children and teens, creating a comfort zone where they can discuss their problems with them freely.

A provision of counselling for all kids should be there in the school curriculum, where such habits take birth.

The teachers must encourage children to frequent libraries and help them choose good motivational books.

Taking part in sports should be compulsory for youngsters to canalize their energies in healthy pursuits

T.V. viewing should be monitored and time limit put in place.

Rich parents in place of spoiling their kids with expensive gifts should take interest in their lives and imbibe in them the spirit of giving to the less fortunate.

Vocational education for teaching employable skills should be introduced from lower levels to ward off frustrations. All children are not made for higher education.

Elders should lead by example rather than by precept.

The Police must take stringent action against violators of law and judiciary must ensure speedy justice with deterrent sentence.

Members of civil society should not look the other way when they see teens indulging in unlawful acts. Concerted efforts by all sections of society are needed to steer the youth towards the right path.

*****

Pl. share your views in the comments section.

A LITTLE GIRL..A VENDOR..AND HEAVENLY JOY



Vehngi of the vendor looked like the
one in this historic painting.

It is true, but hard to understand why value of money has eroded so exponentially since the last decade. Perhaps it is all due to unbridled inflation in our country, fuelled by faulty economic policies and the scourge of widespread corruption.

There were days in the long gone past, when hundred rupees’d buy provisions for the family and one paisa had some value. Let me take you back to nineteen fifties when I was a little girl and had a friend who had many siblings and her mother was perpetually in some stage of pregnancy. (My later deductions). But financially they were sound as the father of my friend had a well paying job. You won’t believe, but on the outer wall of their house was written in bold numbers Rs.500/-Tankhah (salary) for public consumption. I read it whenever I visited the house but never gave it a thought beyond the mere numbers. One day I overheard my mother and a neighbour referring casually about this aspect. Rupees five hundred was a large sum of money in those good old days and thus was publicized perhaps to proclaim the family’s exclusive status. People were tolerant then and accepted it anyways. So much for this amusing idiosyncrasy!

Traversing the past through the memory lane, here is a sneak view of the spending power of a paisa then.

It was about that time that I joined primary school and my mom used to give me a taka (a two paisa coin) as pocket money in the morning (some days) before I went to school. It was like possessing a fortune. I soon graduated to one anna after throwing tantrums. Some children just got one paisa, but that didn't dent their joy. This was enough to buy a handful of groundnuts and gachak (jaggery mixed with nuts).There was sufficient choice though. The vendor used to have triangular shaped paper bags to give the stuff in. In the last period before recess, we experienced over active taste buds, in anticipation of the mouthwatering goodies to be consumed. As soon as the bell chimed, the jubilant youngsters’d run to the vendor, encircling his wares and creating a din, wanting to be the first to be served. The poor man joyfully attended to everyone and even gave the jhunga (small amount free) to every child, who’d scamper away victoriously The nuts tasted swell and sometimes few shells were munched along with the nuts to prolong the finishing point. The simple fare was a favourite of all and each day the desire to enjoy the stuff in no way lessened. The law of diminishing utility was irrelevant then. The kind vendor had a special place in the hearts of children, as his wares provided untold joy.

His silhouette is still outlined in the reservoir of my childhood memories. On digging deep, I spy a swarthy, middle aged, lanky figure, attired in grimy whites- a loosely tied turban, a full sleeved shirt and a large sheet of cloth tied to his waist which covered three fourth of his legs and bared sharply boned dark ankles and thin forelegs. On his feet were shoes made of cheap, partially treated, brown leather by a village cobbler. He balanced a wooden bar (vehngi) on his sinewy shoulders, carrying his wares in, two large, round, flat bottomed, short brimmed baskets made of bamboo.They were threaded securely at three places each at the bottom with sturdy ropes and tied through a hole to the edges of the wooden bar, suspending it down to waist length. I can recollect his receding figure moving jauntily away and the pleasure of doing good business palpable in his steps. He charmed the little ones with his heart of gold.

A little later in time, while coming home with friends after school hours, during hot summers, we ‘d converge around a hand cart selling barf da gola (grated ice formed into round shape, around a stick and saturated with multi-coloured sweetened water). We were transported onto seventh heaven of pleasure as we sucked and licked the iced magic. We were picture of innocence and naivety and free like birds. The only thing which mattered was the simple joys in the company of friends.

*******

The denomination of Indian currency before decimalization in 1961:*

One rupee = 16 annas / 64 paise / 192 pies

Atthannee = 8 annas / 32 paise

Chawanee = 4 annas / 16 paise

Dawannee = 2 annas / 8 paise

Anna = 4 paise

Taka = 2 paise

Paisa = 1/64 rupee

Dhela = ½ paisa

Pie/ Dhamri = 1/3 paisa

*Our Arithmetic sums in school had a lot of inter-conversion of various denominations.

Image courtesy: Wikipedia.com

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SWEET AND SOUR HOME RETURN

I was jittery about coming home from the hills after four months of stay there. Though in between we had a whirlwind visit to Patiala, managed food from outside or ate sandwiches, but kept our eyes closed to the dusty interiors. I knew about the tsunami of work, I’ll have to undertake when finally we came back. Hence my paranoia.

My fears weren’t without reason. The first look, after arrival at the neglected house warned me about my fate in the next few days. We opened the doors to the residues of monsoon smells in all the rooms and decided our priorities there and then. My house didn’t look like a home but lifeless and dull, where every nook and corner stared in the face for tender care. To transform it back to a home, certainly required patience and vigour and we donned the role of management gurus to accomplish the task in record time. The first choice was to expend our energies right away to make the bedroom livable and the food court operational. Yes, you heard it right. Readying kitchen to enable cooking to satisfy the hunger pangs, in order to go through the mammoth cleaning spree, became the foremost priority.

Accordingly I embarked on the jumbo task of changing the unruly, dusty and colourless look of the kitchen into an inviting one. The kitchen obviously missed the aroma of variety of dishes and its all important status in the domestic hierarchy. But first thing first. Scrubbed the shelves clean, washed the pots and pans, cleaned the refrigerator and shoved the water bottles in it as the RO system was made functional immediately on arrival. Replenished the fridge with eatables which we got on the way, knowing that once back in the house we’ll be unable to go anywhere for a couple of days. The demands on our energy reservoir, built painstakingly by long walks in the hills mounted, but there was no choice.

This done I moved towards the bedroom, before it started throwing tantrums against cruel indifference. The beds got dusted and attired with crisp bed sheets from the cupboard (I manage to keep many extra pairs).Other pieces of furniture also got their due care. Soon I sprawled on the bed exhausted due to heat and humidity and cajoled dear hubby to prepare some tea to fuel the sagging spirits.

Dear friends, it is damn difficult to manage your household tasks, if you love your independence and personal space and disallow any intrusion like the irritating disturbance of a full time help. So making do with a part time one is the other alternative. I’ve chosen the second option. Besides reliability in the tribe is suspect these days.

Homes are extremely demanding entities. When you desert them frequently, they are difficult to bring round. Now look at my Study, which showed plain disapproval of my neglect and had to be pampered and reassured tactfully. The dismayed look of my personal library was enough to make me feel guilty, leaving it thus in the sizzling heat, behind closed doors, while I enjoyed the cool environs of the hills. My Cambridge Dictionary sat listless on the computer table, pouting childishly, expecting appeasement. Graciously all grudges’ve been attended to and friendliness is restored. Laptop is installed, BSNL is working and AC is helping me to take to writing, I was sorely missing being knee deep in chores.

A pet beta noire of mine is the presence of queasy lizards, whose obnoxious side is evident when you come home after a gap. Their droppings lay scattered on the kitchen shelves and in the bath rooms. How they scare you, when you shake the curtains and one of them lands on you making you jump and scream! How fast they multiply! I’m sure to encounter their broken egg shells when I decide to have a look in my lower kitchen cabinets filled with surplus stuff. No spray works on them. My Internet research failed to offer any solutions. Apart from kitchen and bathrooms, their preferred hideout is behind the sofa cushions. Out they jump suddenly when you remove the sheets, which you cover the sofas with, before winding up the house. I wonder what they survive on, these hateful creatures.

However, normalcy is slowly and steadily returning. My pantry has been replenished with groceries and condiments. SAMSUNG washer took care of the piles of laundry and the house is regaining the features of a comfortable, secure and buzzing home. The resettling process is like running a marathon.

I’m done with the inside of the house. Outside the lawns look unwieldy. There are more weeds than grass. That was expected of our gardener who follows the maxim, “I will play when the mistress is away”. Potted plants show utter neglect and it’ll be sometime before the plants will be back in shape again. The experience though undergone many times, remains a challenge each time.

I’m falling into a healthy routine necessary to pursue my interests. Our morning walk is on, though the sticky weather is a deterrent still.

Friends, I think, life is more a labyrinth of compromises than free existential choices. One can’t luxuriate in the cool serenity of the hills in summer, without paying for it in the plains.

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