Tumble down in fun Monday, May 17 2010

Personal appearances did not matter. But presenting a spic and span house did. The few occasions when I entertained guests, the house had to sparkle. This was paramount. I sweated over small stuff, fretted and fumed. Hid things under the cot and piled stuff into already stuffed cabinets. I personally supervised and re-arranged everything even though hubby had gone through it. This paranoia lasted 15 years of my marriage.

On the 15th year something fell apart. Maybe age set in firmly and resolutely. Maybe I was too tired to care. Maybe tension dissipated. Whatever the reason today I can no longer see the mess in my house. And that includes when I entertain.

When I returned from Umrah, I had well-meaning friends drop in every evening. Some came by with expensive hadiyas (gifts) and some stopped to chat. That’s when with, trial and error and overwork and irritability, I learnt how to handle guests the easy way: I relaxed, didn’t try to do everything right, didn’t rush to clear away the detritus of daily life and present a spanking clean house as if it were our everyday abode. I just enjoyed their company and overlooked a passing cockroach unfazed. If there wasn’t time to prepare the three-course treat I’d wanted to — so what? A happy sandwich could do wonders for companionship, and I’d have energy left over to laugh till tears streamed.

The new look to life has changed my appearance. I look less harassed, there is upward smile to my lips. The wrinkles have crinkled into laughter lines. At night I carry a pile of clothes from the cot to the living room and come morning I carry them back to the bedroom with no feelings of guilt attached.

Tumble down is indeed fun.

Leave a Response »

 

Avatars from the past Monday, May 10 2010

It’s the green fad I told myself, deleting the Earth hour and Earth day emails in my inbox. But I cannot escape it. The newspapers report how switching off lights for 60 minutes helped save millions of mega-watt hours of electricity. Impressive statistics achieved in one hour. Yet it is the collective bid to do something even in the name of fad that interests me.

When I was young conservation was a way of life. A wasteful lifestyle was abhorred. In the wee hours of the morning, my mom would get up and switch off the fans and open the windows. Was she saving electricity or was she just letting oxygen in. I never knew. All I heard was the sound of her voice waking me.

The daily run to the milk booth was my duty. I would step out into the mist blotted winter mornings in Calcutta and make my way to the match-box sized dairy milk counter. At 5 am a serpentine queue of men and women was already formed. I would join them holding my coupons and ID card tightly as instructed by my mother, till my turn came to exchange the coupons for milk. I counted four bottles of milk for our family of six. I checked for leaks. None. No wastage.

Very often on my way back I would meet my brother who made the run to the grocery; like me he would wait for the vegetable vendor to dish out fresh vegetables. Check them for flaws, weigh them, pay for them and return. Frozen vegetables long withering in the fridge or decaying, waiting to be thrown was unheard of.

Then came the Sunday mornings… the afternoons were spent reviving the barter system of exchanging old clothes for brand new utensils from a hawker at your door step. Re-cycling was not a word, only an act. The walk to the ironing man, three streets away, for Dad’s trousers and mom’s starched sarees was a child’s duty. The last minute dash to the neighborhood cobbler for a patchwork of my school shoes which must not catch the eye of the school prefect. Waste was curbed in every way. Walking was a way of life. No petroleum wasted at long traffic signals. Not that there were many options. Effort and cause were always attached to the hip.

Those were the days when taps were closed after use. Forget to do it and you got the spanking of your life, lights were turned off as a habit, one-bucket of water per person was allotted, showers were relics that sprayed rust instead of water.

Earth hours were like any other hour of the day. The cumulative saving was higher than the latest statistic. These avatars of the past are unequalled. Today when I walk past a never ending aisle of stocked milk of different varieties and brands, I am reminded of a life that was fun, natural and rhythmic. There was no dearth on earth then.

Leave a Response »

 

Bait Allah Monday, May 10 2010

A flash. A bar of black was all I saw when I stepped into the Haram Shariff at Mecca. Beside me my daughter whispered, “I saw the Kabah, mom”. She confirmed my first visual treat. I moved to my right and got a full breathtaking view. I had waited many years for this moment. I had heard so much about this minute. I had rehearsed a thousand words for this second. But the power of black silenced me. I blanked out, two words escaped my lips. Allah hu-Akbar. I gathered my sense and said and did what every Muslim the world over does. Which you and I know.

The sanctity of the place, the sheer reverence and awe, hit me harder than the rivers of lava flowing out of erupting, active volcanoes. Bait Allah. Was I really here? Is this the stone I had seen in a thousand pictures in a million homes? Was the touch against my fingers real? Tears flowed uncontrolled. My sins of the past and dreams for the future inundated me. Subhan-allah – Wallah Hollah wallah quwwatah.

Proud to be born a muslim. Proud to believe in a religion so meaningful and rich. I stood humbled before the ‘first wonder of the world – the well of zam-zam. I drank of the cool liquid. It was a hair raising experience as I thought of the pain and hardship of a mother when her child was crying for water – alone on a deserted piece of land. I pressed my bare feet hard on the man-made rocks of safa and marwah and I felt the pain again. This is the reality. This is where it all began. Here is a slice of the tranquility of Paradise – the promised home for all good deeds. May my duas be accepted and may my sins be forgiven. Ameen.

In the light rain we circumambulated the Kabah, I wanted to stay here forever. I wanted to freeze the moment. We returned every day, spending hours revelling in this wonder and beauty. But the moment had come for Tawaaf – e- vida..

Convinced beyond doubt that I must come again, I kissed the stone and made my exit. Lightened in heart and clear in my head about where my future lay.

One Response »