Tag: Living with Hope

  • The Master’s Mantra

    The Master’s Mantra

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    Illustration by Harshita Bandodkar

    [/vc_column_text][vc_empty_space][vc_column_text]The landing announcements had been made and the flight was on schedule.  As the craft started its descent, the Venetian sun began to rise, its soft orange light streaming in through my window.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]When we landed, it was early morning with little activity around and MarcoPolo airport was still waking up. I completed the arrival formalities and headed to the water taxi dock. A chilly early summer breeze greeted me as the automatic doors opened, sensing a new visitor to this old famed city. A motor boat had been arranged by the hotel for pick up. (more…)

  • The Stranger In Your Mind

    The Stranger In Your Mind

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    Illustration by the author

    [/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]Never mind the sunshine,
    No matter if it rains
    Never mind the pleasures
    No matter you’ve incurred guilt,
    fear & pain
    Never mind the sorrows
    No matter all the joys
    Nothing lasts forever
    All these things will soon,
    one day pass away[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Never dread the threats of war
    Prejudice nor revenge
    If helpless, homeless, hungry now
    No matter you’re insured yet
    still feel insecure
    Never mind your power ploys
    Nor being a helpless pawn
    Or if dignified, highly qualified,
    Certified insane, outcast or addicted to some cause[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Never mind you’re sick or dying
    Or if good health is a friend
    Never mind your pretty face
    Time will steal your youth or
    an accident could scar you for life
    Never mind your cozy job
    Nor being unemployed
    Your flashy cars and cool lifestyle,
    Famous or unsung or
    poor as a humble church mouse[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]If you’re trying to fit the pieces
    Of the jigsaw puzzle of this life
    If you’re hoping to steal a glimpse
    Of the big picture which the truth reveals
    All you have to do is to look within yourselves
    Pride is the mist which clouds your inner eye[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Don’t regret your marriage vows
    Don’t drown your spinster cat
    Don’t discard your tattered hopes
    No matter if you’re broke
    Suicide is only a dead end
    Never shun your enemies
    Forgive your fickle friends
    Never mind you’re an atheist,
    Agnostic, pagan or believe
    blindly in God’s plan[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Never mind your crooked past
    Nor if you’re straight or gay
    Don’t condemn your dirty thoughts
    Shun hypocrisy
    Don’t question your pious, celibate ways
    Never mind your victories
    Learn from your defeats
    Don’t bandage-up your wounded pride
    Humility is the key which unlocks your higher self[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Never mind the game of life
    No matter all the strain
    Living strictly by the book
    Never mind if you’ve rebelled
    And broken all the rules
    There is neither good nor bad
    It’s all in the mind
    Life’s a tragi-comic dream
    All we do will soon fade from memory….
    When the truth wakes you up,
    you’ll feel like a stranger out of time…
    The truth is stranger than
    This fiction that you call life…
    Crazy truth is saner than
    The madness of human strife…
    Humble truth is wiser than
    All foolish ego strife…
    The truth stands alone
    A stranger in your mind !!![/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_btn title=”The poem set to tune and sung by the author” color=”green” align=”center” link=”url:https%3A%2F%2Ffundamatics.net%2Fdeploy%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2021%2F04%2FStranger-in-the-Mind.mpeg||target:%20_blank|”][/vc_column][/vc_row]

  • #AnEveningWithoutHashtags

    #AnEveningWithoutHashtags

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    Illustration by Pradnya J

    [/vc_column_text][vc_empty_space][vc_column_text]It happened one evening in Bombay. An evening like any other, by all reckoning. The young, the old, and those in between doing their regular evening things – walking on the seaside promenade, surviving the last meeting of the day, taking a train back home,  catching up with friends over a drink, preparing dinner, playing with friends.  [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]And then, it happened. In an instant and without any warning, all the mobile phones in the city disappeared. It was like they dissolved in thin air. Everything else remained the same. Apparently.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]A group of teenagers was found on the seaside promenade, one of them with an outstretched arm while the rest pouted in unison, looking purposefully at the palm of the said arm. They held their pouts and their poses steady, conjuring up hashtags in  their heads for their social media posts – #friendsbythesea #byebyesun #sunsetmadness #eveningfuntime [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Men and women who had jumped into the Andheri local at Churchgate to grab coveted seats, sat with earphones in their ears with the jack at the other end hanging loose. They stared at a 2-inch gap between their thumbs and index fingers. Some kept rolling up their thumbs over an empty palm. They could not stop.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]At a bar in the city, colleagues who had caught up for a drink after work and a quick bite to eat, waited with the food and drinks on their tables. They placed them like an art installation and waited while one of them held her hands over them – thumbs and index fingers apart. Many hashtags were being thought up while she held up her hands – #drowningworkstress #happyhours #colleaguesatthepub #eveningafterwork[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Back in many homes, banana bread and muffins were being pulled out of the oven. Kitchen counters were cleared of all the mess, and the fresh bakes were placed on pretty plates under concealed kitchen lights. The burnt bits were scraped off the bread and muffins. The fresh bakes looked perfect and absolutely ready – too hot to be eaten, but  just right to be photographed and posted with #bananabread #homemademuffin  #destresswithbaking #bakedathome[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]

    And then, it happened. In an instant and without any warning, all the mobile phones in the city disappeared. It was like they dissolved in thin air. Everything else remained the same. Apparently.

    [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]A couple sat with cups of tea in the living room of their apartment and stared at their palms, scrolling up the air with their thumbs. Their children were playing in the parking lot of the building, with at least a dozen others. They ran around, screaming, shouting,  laughing, and arguing, with not a care in the world.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Some people were driving back home from work in Uber taxis, the voice of Google Maps guiding them back on familiar streets. The taxi drivers lost control for a few seconds,  when the electronic voice disappeared, mid-sentence. They gained back control and told their passengers, “Aapko rasta maloom hoga. Bata dijiye.” [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]As the reality of the vanished mobile phones hit them, the group of friends by the sea sat down on the parapet, one of them pointing towards the mangrove. “Maine suna hai  mangroves are the only plants that can grow in saline water.” At the same time, the couple looked at their empty teacups and then at each other. “How was your day? Who did you meet? What are you working on these days?”  [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]At home, the baker picked up a slice of burnt banana bread and ate it. They may not make for a pretty picture but it is the burnt bits that were the tastiest. As the Andheri  local drew into Prabhadevi station, Sunita thought to herself, “I had seen a photo on  Facebook but never saw for myself that the board saying ‘Elphinstone Road’ now reads  ‘Prabhadevi’.” And, at the bar, colleagues looked at each other, picked up their drinks, and dug into the food before them. One of them turned to another and said, “Did you say you grew up in Raipur? Which school did you go to? My wife grew up there too.”[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Meanwhile, the children in the parking lot continued playing, with no interruption or disruption. Nothing had changed for them. Their friends were right there, with them.  They could touch them, feel them, talk to them, push them, race them. They were here and now. Without any hashtags or pretty pictures.  [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]They say, if you listened very closely that evening, you would be able to hear the sound of sighing. Sighs of relief of a million hands, fingers and thumbs.  [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Just imagine an evening like that. Imagine, even as you scroll with your thumb to the end of this piece.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

  • A COVID Tale from Melbourne

    A COVID Tale from Melbourne

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    Illustration by Pradnya J

    [/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]Nandita and I, both IITB EE grads [1971 and 1972], have lived in Melbourne, Australia since September 1990; our sons were then but 11 and 4. We’ve lived through many struggles, trying to establish a new footing. Fortunately, we were able to give the boys a fine education, and a lasting set of values. We now have two delightful grandchildren: Asha nears 11, and Alex 8.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Both of us retired in the last decade after rewarding careers. Twice-yearly overseas travel brought added pleasure to domestic holidays, with accompanying photography. No place was too far. In January 2020 we celebrated Nandita’s 70th in Singapore, joined by her sister and brother-in-law from Bombay.

    Then Covid struck.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Mobility crashed as we entered lockdown for an unprecedented 111 days. Far from travelling country-wide or even across the state, we had to remain at home, unless shopping for essential groceries or medicines; visiting medical facilities; care-giving; and limited exercise – all within 5km of home. Severe fines applied to transgressions. Businesses large and small had to shut. Restaurants and cafés closed, laying staff off. Weddings, birthdays, and funeral ceremonies vanished, seemingly forever. Schools and universities resorted to online instruction. The once-busy streets were deserted. Aircraft were grounded. Despondency was writ large on most countenances.[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]

    The once-busy streets were deserted. Aircraft were grounded. Despondency was writ large on most countenances.

    [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Online ordering of groceries proved a disappointment. Supermarkets substituted items unilaterally. Pickers were known to load a two kg bag of potatoes instead of two loose potatoes. I received croissants instead of a wholemeal loaf; the subcontinental van-driver had swapped my labelled bags for someone else’s, and a prompt refund was no consolation. I resorted to personal shopping instead.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]We seniors were allotted a 7−8am slot for grocery shopping. I mastered the art of waking at 6, rushing through my ablutions, driving 1km to the shopping centre, showing my driver’s licence as age-proof, dropping all the needed supplies into the shopping trolley, going through the self-checkout, and rushing back to the car. On one such morning, I found a deep gouge along the left-side doors of my beloved 10-year-old station wagon – clearly, the elderly driver of the Benz parked beside me was totally ignorant of motion-physics as he reversed out of his slot. I could only gnash my teeth in fury, and pray for forgiveness for his miserable soul.[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]Our sons played a vital supportive role in keeping us sane and healthy. Shom (41), a Consulting Physician and Rheumatologist, was on the front-line looking after Covid patients in one of the major hospitals to which he is attached. He visited us once a week for a sanity look-in. Never entering our home, he spoke from the porch, two metres away, fully masked. Neel (34), a Business Strategy Consultant with Booz Allen, delivered our groceries weekly, per the list his mother texted him, to discourage our venturing out. They were a blessing, indeed![/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]In our Bombay days we had watched the incomparable Jeremy Brett [no-one else comes close] in the televised series of Sherlock Holmes stories. The lockdown prompted an online search for discs of this British show. A set of BluRay discs surfaced on Amazon/Spain, with selectable soundtracks [English or a Spanish dub]. 41 stories had been televised before Brett’s untimely passing. Nandita and I watched an episode every third day, revelling in the flawless characterisation of Holmes delivered by the actor. [I know many of the dialogues by heart, owning the complete set in print].[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Netflix and Amazon Prime played supporting roles admirably. We discovered The Crown, as well as the wholesome joys of Vidya Balan, and even the symmetrical face of Taapsee Pannu – hitherto unknown stars in our firmament![/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]For Bengalis such as we are, socio-religious events are markers of the passage of time, as are weddings held in the traditional style. My bagfuls of Nikon gear find deployment at a minimum of three Puja events; all were cancelled last year, as were weddings, at which I delight in shooting detail.[/vc_column_text][vc_custom_heading text=”Glimpses of Durga Pujo 2017″ font_container=”tag:h2|text_align:left|color:%23dd9933″][vc_column_text]

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     Digital photography by the author using Nikon DSLR gear

    [/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]My pictures are treasured by my subjects, and equally by those hosting the events, for they are very different from those shot by the professionals – they are very personal. The gear has, sadly, been languishing for over a year. A fast, new lens arrived from the US, only to be put into safe storage. Disappointing, certainly, but this will end, and the ecstasy will return.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]The resilience of my compatriots in general, and Melburnians in particular, has been wondrous and inspirational. Yes, the government stepped in with generous relief payments to the affected, to keep families afloat and businesses in slow preservation. Yes, vaccines were promised; they have been developed. And some will be manufactured right here in Melbourne.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Teachers acquired new skills, and rose to the occasion to deliver online remote learning to their wards. We witnessed how Asha and Alex maintained steady progress, completing and submitting assignments, and participating in group discussions, online. Memories of our lectures at IIT Bombay flooded back – we had “live” teachers, in physical classrooms, and never dreamed of the facilities and devices taken for granted by our grandchildren. We wondered – so much progress, in our lifetime, before our eyes?[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]

    We continue to live in a virtual bubble; international travel is forbidden. Yet, in all this, we see a glimmer of hope.

    [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]The pestilence has not disappeared, though we have hardly any of it in Australia and New Zealand. We continue to live in a virtual bubble; international travel is forbidden. Yet, in all this, we see a glimmer of hope. We are in our autumn; winter will come, but spring will follow, as will Christmas in the blazing summer.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]If we behave ourselves, and follow the rules, we shall be permitted to be with our loved ones in near and distant lands again. Good things come to those who wait, we were taught in childhood. In our 70+ years we have seen enough to have faith. As Hamlet had said to his friend: There are more things in heaven and on earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]We’ll just carry on![/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

  • The Bytes We Snack On

    The Bytes We Snack On

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    Illustration by the author

    [/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]In India, the late 90s saw the arrival of Ready to Eat food products across the country.  They were amazing, high on taste, available easily and the best part was there was something for everyone from poorest to the richest.  Prior to that, biscuits and candies and a few chocolates were all that was available.  Anything fancier would have to be made at home.  But the packaged food took the ‘fanciness’ to very different levels.  People went high on snacks, some even skipped meals as the snacks would satiate them.  Snacks had the answer for everything — lack of time, feeling stressed, feeling ecstatic, feeling depressed, feeling angry…bite a snack, sip a drink and you will be in heaven.

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  • The Underdog

    The Underdog

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    Illustration by Teesta Chakraborty

    [/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]In another place and another time – definitely not lock-down days – Xander would have been a part of history that harked back to princes and kings who fought wars on horseback, perhaps even riding on elephants, while phalanges of foot soldiers marched towards the battle-field at double time, and in the spaces between, dogs like Xander, panting easily, tongues lolling out but swallowing air effortlessly, went about their job, readying themselves for their real work – waiting for the night when their handlers and the rest of army took a well-deserved rest and the dogs like Xander, kept watch, guarding the garrison against the possibility of an enemy stealthily creeping in with the night.

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