Random Musings

Yet another day in Lockdown and I receive a call from a long lost friend. The voice sounds exactly as it did more than a couple of decades back. Does Time not touch our voices as it does everything else, I wonder. We talk about old times, when the kids were just babies, when times were simpler, happier and friends were the only family we had in the far flung areas that we all lived in as a community. Like a quick replay button, all the memories come flooding back. I tell her how I still gulp a spoon of Jam as an instant energy booster, a quick-fix solution she had suggested (or so my memory claims!). She promises to get me a bottle next time we meet, but a gourmet homemade one this time! We laugh. We tear up. We reminisce. We become wistful and we exchange pictures and hope that we can continue to stay in touch. Life has taken us on a roller coaster ride, barely giving us time to pause and think and build and work on our friendships. Yet, here we are today, thousands of miles apa...

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...