Random Musings

Today, my mother called up Padma, the house help, to find out how she was doing. She has been with my mother for many years and this Lockdown period is probably the longest ever that she hasn't come home. They had a long heart to heart chat. Following my mother's side of the conversation, I could make out that she was missing my mother as much as my mother was missing her, if not more. My mother is her confidante, her mentor, her counselor, her mother-figure all rolled into one. For my mother, who lives alone, she's like a family member. She knows more about what is kept where in the house than either I or my brother, who are but just visitors. She claims an ownership with my mother and the routine of the house more than any of us can ever do. She asks to speak to me as well, and when I enquire about her well being and how her family is managing, she says all is well and that her husband is at home too. There's a catch in her throat. I know the subtext to that. Her ...

One of the most daunting chores I have at home during this period of Lockdown is making the "Muggu" daily in front of the house. Staying with my mother in Hyderabad during Lockdown entailed this new learning experience! 'Muggu' is an essential part of almost all Telugu households. For the uninitiated, it's a pattern made of either rice flour paste or special Muggu powder in front of the main door or main gate. It's called "Kolam" in Tamil and "Rangoli" is the colourful North Indian version. Any South Indian worth their salt has to know Muggu/Kolam. Mornings in most South Indian households start with the mandatory Suprabhatam/Vishnu Sahasranamam by M.S.Subbalakshmi. As her divine voice pervades the house and wakes you up from a deep slumber, the heavenly aroma of filter coffee percolates all corners of the house. And usually, at this point the lady of the house or the house-help sweeps and mops the area in front of the main door and adorn...

Home. Today, we hear this word more than ever before. StayHome StaySafe, is the mantra that is echoing in all corners of the world. In the current situation of Lockdowns across many countries, Home has different connotations for different people. For some, it is a safe cocoon, for others it is made up of anxiety-inducing, claustrophobic four walls, for some it is a living hell of domestic abuse, for yet others it is an uncertain mirage, a wistful hope. A young girl sitting alone in her studio apartment dealing with loneliness, or the old couple yearning for their children in the convalescent centre or the young mother who finds herself suddenly in the company of extended family in a strange city away from her four year old daughter, the migrant worker pining to go back...all dream and long for their Homes. To some, Home is the presence of our loved ones around us, to some it is the small mud house lovingly built by the family in a barren piece of land, for some it is the Neem tr...

He and She stood at crossroads. Dark clouds enveloped the skies Belligerent Lightning thundered in the horizon He shuddered and shook She steadfastly stood. Wish it didn't have to come to this, she sighed Never knew you were so hurt, He spluttered Why didn't you say anything before this, He catechized I cried many times, hoped you would notice my pain, She answered You didn't care, you didn't listen, She continued. I thought we were just going through a rough patch, He rued Frankly, I never ever imagined it would come to this, He mumbled. You never cared beyond your own self, She stated. How is it wrong to think about oneself, He retorted. It's not.. it's just that you never cared about me alongside, She elucidated. He paused and pondered. She held back and hoped. Can't we put this behind us, He implored. Only Time will tell, She whispered. He held Her closer Can't we go back to how we were, He pleaded. Don't you remember ...

Today, I miss him more than other days. As I was going through the morning chores in an almost meditative or maybe just a mechanical way, I was pondering how easy life was when he was around. Didn't have to think about certain things at all...anyway, what's the point now. I shrug off the thought, as I contemplate another day in Lockdown mode. When I visited my mother a few months back, I came to know about the development. To put it very mildly, I was shocked beyond words. How could this be happening, I thought. At first, there was denial then i thought it was a cruel joke, but then, when i saw the reality unfolding right in front of me, i felt a vacuum in my stomach. How can I break the news to my brother, who's across the seven seas? Okay, maybe not seven. But definitely, a few thousand miles away in the US. And how will I break the news to my daughter? This would really shatter the two of them. Should I deal with my own sinking feeling first or should I take both ...

I was in my mid 20s when this happened. One day, I came to know that a young pilot who lived in the neighbourhood had died in a chopper crash that day. Bad news tends to travel like wildfire and the palpable gloom that enveloped the community was evident. I remained confined to the house with my toddler when a friend came up and rang the bell. Aren't you coming to visit Mrs. S to offer condolences? she asked. I don't know her, I mumbled. It would be odd to visit her for the first time given the circumstances. She will be surrounded by friends and family, it would be very awkward and what would I say, I muttered feebly with diffidence. It is to express solidarity, she said. It doesn't matter that you don't know her, it doesn't matter that you don't know what to say, just come and be there. In times of grief and crisis all that matters is that people, even strangers stand together to offer comfort to the person, my friend insisted. When i went to meet the l...

Now and then, I look out of the window. It's the same quiet, silent street, hour after hour, day after day...Day 7 of the Lockdown and this seems to be the new normal. A few days back, the bustling streets I used to see having my first cup of coffee, used to chide me sometimes, as it were, for lingering over the coffee while everyone on the street seemed to be bustling about quite hurriedly. The tea vendor used to be the focal point, where many regulars and passersby stopped to have a cup of tea and discuss the morning newspapers. Leaning against the bikes, the day's paper would be quickly distributed between the group of the regulars. The agitated conversations of the sanitation workers sweeping the roads noisily, the barking dogs frolicking and hoping for a bite of the biscuits that the tea drinkers would throw their way...all painted the picture of a noisy neighbourhood. Behind the tea vendor, a little to the left was a hair salon, he was usually the next guy to open th...