The Big 5 - Oh! happened already?

Amidst the gloom and grave uncertainty, I am moving over to the other side of 50. It's (I can hear you mutter "not necessarily") mandatory that I do some introspection? What does 50 look like? 

Before I started writing this, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and carefully examined myself (note to self: that mirror needs cleaning). More wrinkles? More greys? I counted and there’s no significant increase from the last count. So, what’s the big deal? If I skip all the zoom birthday parties lined up, I could just convince myself I am still in my 40s. I am not an ageist though. In fact, I have been looking forward to hitting this milestone; why, I wouldn’t know. And here it is!

Cut to the chase, fifty feels like ripe middle age. On this milestone birthday, I know fair share of my life has already been lived (how morbid)!

Given that the journey ahead is shorter, I realise my choices will have to be wiser. And choices there will have to be. First off, no spreading thin - that’s not going to happen. Next is, more curiosity and less opinion in order to understand people, culture, history, politics and life, in general. Talks over chat, assertion over aggression, (even more) hope over despair, no struggling (with those I am not enoughs) and no obsessing (trying to get to being good enough) AND reinventing myself periodically are going to be firm choices. I realise while we are all unique, we are also alike in many ways. With that understanding, I will continue to share my stories here.

Somethings won’t change – they make me - so those will stay. The world continues to favour those "playing cool" over leaping towards connection; however, I would continue to unhinge my rib cage and open myself for some people, even if it leaves me with a broken heart. Some old-world charms will be my constant companions – long walks, holding hands, marvelling at nature - the sun, moon and the changing colours of seasons, falling in love with music and any work of art that tugs at my heart, Tamil proverbs, train journey, solitude, quiet of the morning, sentimentality, conversations and chivalry. 

I think I will continue to be annoyed by Bombay rains and incessant honking.

Corona has taught us the importance of being in the moment, patient, dealing with uncertainty and to just BE! I hope I retain these learnings and I can’t stop being amazed at how adaptable we are, as a race! In these times, gratitude has helped me stay sane; well, most of the times.

Like most things in life, what I intended to write and what this post turned out to be, are very different. Be that as it may.  I will now go and practice being 50! With the bar suddenly well stocked (credits will roll, soon), bring on the birthday!

Arriba! Abajo! Al centro! Al dentro!

(Until the next travel, memories of Spain will keep us wandering souls alive…)

I miss you too, Mumbai! But this is caution in the times of Corona...

“Spirit of Mumbai” is legendary. Whether your house went under water, or you saw a train compartment being blown up, or terrorists held hostages 5 buildings from your work place - we took pride in getting up the next morning, dressing up, jostling on and showing up at work or school or wherever one needed to be!
We just do it, time after time, during natural calamity, grief, loss - we throw ourselves at routine or work. Sublimation- it’s been our collective defense mechanism. We block out the unpleasantness or fear, so we could go on with life, as if nothing happened.
What happened to the victims / their families? How are the authorities handling it? What emergency measures? We don’t delve much into it, for we don’t want the emotions coming in the way of our routine, our professional or social life- it’s both an escape and comfort.
Whether you are a Mumbaikar or not, it’s time for you to strip yourself off the armour called “mumbai spirit” (or whatever you call it in your cities and towns). It’s not going to help this time, to “get up and show up”! That spirit must feel worn out, don’t summon it this time, please!
It’s ok if you missed a deadline, a shipment didn’t leave or had to skip a brainstorming session. Stay well and alive and help others stay well and alive, and you will have enough people to sell your goods and ideas to, hopefully in the not so far future. Shut yourselves at home, so the hospitals don’t have to be bursting at their seams.
Be scared, be vulnerable and stay indoors. “Paranoid survive” is truer now than ever. Being brave worked in most situations. But COVID doesn’t look like just another situation that we got ourselves into. We all know life goes on. But we would save ourselves from horrid memories, if we all slowdown - just a bit. What’s a fortnight or a month in our nice, long lives!? And nice, long life is all what we want, right!?

Loads of love, strength and namaste from our home to yours

Know thyself. Love thyself.

I walked into 2019 beleaguered by panic attacks. Towards end of 2018, massive fear gripped me, weighing like a boulder on my chest, my heart was beating in my ears and I was engulfed in darkness. 

I entered 2019 with anxiety, fear, loneliness and huge void inside me.

When you are caught in these spaces, often, you are by yourself. That’s the nature of the beast.  You could see a doctor for the anxiety attacks or confide in a dear friend / spouse  about the trigger – but you are pretty much on your own.  It's like undertaking a journey to unchartered territory - blindfolded.  It's impossible to articulate exactly what you see / experience . So people around you can only help so much!

There are times (thankfully not often) something simple and beautiful, suddenly ties itself into knots – and you have no idea how to untangle it or turn the clock back.  You see yourself losing grip over the situation and this other person is constantly shifting your coordinates, allowing no time for you to acclimatise. You are confused and spinning out of control, on top of which you are made to believe, seeking to understand these rapid changes amounts to being demanding or a nag. The negative spiral is so vicious, it really turns you into a nag or so you begin to believe. And then, you set yourself on a path of  self doubt and self flagellation. This about sums up!

While the confusion and utter callousness of this other person threw me off, at the core of my angst was the realisation as to how little I understood myself at an emotional level. Or it could well be the fallout of the self-critical state I was in.  The more confused I grew, the more caged I felt and I was angry at the situation and the person who led me to it. I was frustrated, helpless and at wits’ end.  I felt powerless, desperate to be understood and made allowances for, given my vulnerability.  Could someone or something affect so deeply? It did, to me! The fact that I am highly sensitive and my emotions are almost always magnified, didn’t help either! To cut the long story short, I was having a breakdown.  My battered inner-self was becoming desperate and screaming for attention and help. It was no longer business as usual; it was a crisis. 

I am seeing a therapist now and on the path to self-discovery and hopefully recovery too.

Why am I making this struggle public? From talking to the therapist and reading up on human psychology, I find it a profound relief that I am not the only one. Hence I have reason to believe that my narrative will most likely help others see that too - we are not alone.  Besides, sharing this / writing it down is helping me overcome guilt and shame over my angry outbursts and poor grasp of my very own emotional makeup which led to temporary insanity.

I quote this from a book I read recently “without having any of the dramatic talent of a Sophocles or Shakespeare, we need to tell our own stories of loss and error with some of the same generosity that they employed, thereby holding on to what can often feel, especially at our lowest points, like a hugely improbable idea: that though we have failed, however stupid our mistakes, we remain deserving of that gracious and grand epithet, a gift from the Greeks to all humankind: a tragic failure“

I don’t know how I would ever have gotten well if I hadn’t fallen ill?!  Self is a mystery and self-discovery should be a constant endeavour  – and this is what I learnt in 2019. I am grateful for all the hits and misses and insanity of 2019 as I have emerged stronger to take on 2020s.

And we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.

For old times' sake be your own best friend and serve nothing but kindness to yourself? Just this year?

Who hijacked the wedding?

Over the extended weekend, I attended a wedding in the friemily; probably my first elaborate one in Bombay – spreading over several ceremonies and celebrations. 

Wedding is a culmination of two hearts and in Indian context, it is also an awkward coming together of two families; more mixed the marriage is, more is the awkward quotient.  But this makes weddings more effective in shrinking (read uniting) our country, which is so huge (and divided) in terms of its culture, traditions and languages.  I am digressing, though. I was going to write about who hogs the limelight in a wedding.

Women sashaying, with their silks rustling and diamonds glittering, men not to be left behind in their Nehru / Modi jackets and dhotis in varying styles OR satin pocket squares matching their wives' saree colours,  giggles and guffaws of young friends of the bride and groom, crowding the corners, where everyone is looking for someone,  aroma of flower and food wafting through the air and the happy mayhem gets you lost, you ask an important question.  Who is the VIP in these ceremonies?

Did I hear you say, the bride? No, she isn’t; not by a mile. She is busy trying to keep up with a hundred ceremonies, attires to go with it and her hairdo and makeup. She is not thinking beyond the next event that she has to get ready for.  Is it the groom, then?  In middle of a dozen celebrations and given the male impatience  (that’s sexism! Nonetheless, most of you would agree!?), he is busy questioning his sanity, having signed up for this.  Parents? Don’t even get them started.

The ghoda wala,  dholak wala, footwear thieves (from both sides, no less!) are all mild disruptors – trying to steal the show for a moment or for an hour. The real showstopper in a wedding, is the photographer (photographer"s" in most cases).  There are a million photos taken (not counting the photos on cell phones) from various angles, action replayed, priests and ceremonies interrupted, people (who are genuinely interested in witnessing the ceremony) pushed out of the way - so that photos can be taken - which maybe revisited (on an average) once every 5 years by a bored family member.  Maybe!

Since when did the tail start wagging the dog? Are photos becoming more important than the moment that’s being celebrated? I know, I know, it’s not just in the weddings.  Our lives now revolve around recording more than living (such as my indulgence in writing this piece).  When I got married, (agreed, that was a long time ago) and in my mulk, the photographer’s territory ended just where the priest’s started.  The almost always angry and perennially rushed priest, wouldn’t have any of the retakes and replays that the photographer constantly demands today.  Those were also the live-thro-the-drudgeries days and not the click-and-share days (which yours truly is guilty of, most often). 

Time to delve into what is the real utility of these photos other than the best ones serving as your DPs and adorning your walls (virtual, mind you!). While at it, I am going to tell, anyone who would listen, that photographers are hired by the family and not the other way round.

Here’s to more magical moments and less madness of bombarding the cloud with cool pics!

T M Krishna

தழய தழய கட்டிய எட்டு முழ வேட்டியில் கை அகல அரக்கு கறை, கோபுர பார்டர் சகிதம், நிமிர்ந்த நடை, தீவிர (intense) நோக்கு... அட அட அட....
(I couldn’t have described that in any other language)

TM Krishna is a name that’s synonymous with maverick. He is a non-conformist and taken his music from sabahs to street corners and kuppams (slums). There is ease in everything that he does - his music, losing himself in the magic that his accompanists dole out, standing up for what he believes in - the list goes on.

I have been reading his views on varied subjects and listening to his songs on YouTube for many years now and been a huge fan. This morning, I attended his concert and am still on a musical high. When he sings, he has a subtle arrogance (not indifference, mind you) that comes not just from being extraordinaire, but from being “the man” with his revolutionary thinking and backing it up with action and his words - oh so powerful words! (You almost want to tell him that the subtle arrogance looks so good on him).

He is one of the few musicians who brought Tamil compositions to the forefront. It’s only fitting that he started today’s concert with a Nammalwar pasuram and seamlessly moved on to Thyagarajar keerthani (both in same raga), Dikshitar composition in mayamalavagowlai, a tillana, soulful Kannada song composed by Basavaiah and was rounding it off with an abhang (Marathi land after all!). He got a Standing ovation of course, but people just stood there, frozen, unwilling to accept that the afternoon is at its end. Deepa Devaraj said, “but we don’t want to go” and I sheepishly added, “could we have one more please” - musicians were already packing their instruments, but TMK obliged and indulged us with a Tulsidas Bhajan. What a morning it was!

He would have made a great dancer too - catching a note from here, plucking another one from up above, flying a kite, or shifting gears, and using his long fingers to orchestrate - his fluid movements were as delightful as his music. When an artist of his stature enjoys his performance, resultant is an enthralled audience. His brilliance was so palpable and was shining bright all through 150 minutes. There wasn’t a dull moment.

His carefully selected crew was excellent. The instruments (mridangam, kajira and violin) came alive at their touch and TMK let them weave magic, encouraging them with his shabashes and bhales quite generously but deservedly. There comes a point (rather early in the concert, almost as soon as he is satisfied with acoustics) after which TMK has eyes only for his accompanists. You almost feel like an outsider, if you know what I mean. But that’s just an aside.

Despite the fact that he is neither a purist nor traditionalist, he still gives a sabah goer what he or she is looking for. He is a Carnatic musician at heart and thank God for that. And even more gratitude for taking his music to a different plane and making it accessible to everyone - புறம்போக்கு பாடல்கள் for பாமர மக்கள்.

TMK’s thought leadership is a different subject altogether and that’s for another post. For now, his music is ringing in my ears across ragas and his very animated performance fills my being.

Thank you, #TMKrishna

(TM Krishna for Crossroads at Balagandharva Ranga Mandir, Bandra West on Nov 25, 2018)

women like attention; serve men some solitude, maybe?

A friend of many years sent me a meme last week, which read, “to make a woman happy give her these three things, attention, affection and appreciation” and asked me what I thought of it.  I didn’t respond to him immediately as I didn’t have the emotional space to think about it, then.

Now I am wondering aloud – isn’t this something everyone likes?  Attention, affection and appreciation – don’t men feel nice receiving these? I have never been a man, so I don’t know how exactly a guy feels when he receives a compliment on his tie or on being congratulated on a task well done or on being asked out for coffee (I imagine most guys would do a headstand! No, I am not being arrogant, here).

The problem, like in most gender issues, is one of stereotyping.  “Women like flowers”, yes we do.  Have you tried giving a bunch of flowers to a man? Have you even asked a man if he likes receiving flowers? I have a guy friend who will forgive me all my faults if I bought him dark chocolates. Go figure!  I have known men to like flowers, gifts, compliments and attention – attention with a capital A and capital everything that follows. And I see nothing wrong with that. 

The one difference from my own behavioural pattern and my observation of others is, (most) women need validation (and attention and all that faff) from their significant ones. This is not a need that dies down with time or familiarity. In fact, the more we get it, the more we want it; whereas with men, (and like most things with men) beyond a point, these validations have very little effect on them (or so it’s shown).  Read validation from the “same” person; also please note bosses are exceptions -even if they have had the “same” one for 15 years.

On a more serious note, generations of conditioning may have turned women into insecure beings – gender hierarchies, stereotyping, inequalities that still exist – have a deep-rooted effect on women’s psyche. Their need for recognition and expression is more pronounced, though the innate need is as prevalent in men.  Add to it the burden to appear macho - conditioning that men have received over generations, you get a very confused and complex creature called a man.

So my dear friend, women love all the three “A”s, we also like conversations, occasional solitude and men who are articulate.

p.s: Today is International Men’s Day – to raise awareness about men’s mental health. Here’s to you, gentlemen!
It’s time you guys find the male equivalent of feminism if that means tapping the feminine side of you. It would truly be an equal world!

24 and counting...

We have just arrived in Vienna and it’s our anniversary. Soft music playing in the background that I chose (note that “I”), on YouTube, as I am ironing my saree, preparing for a nice anniversary dinner…

“I have never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight

I have never seen you shine so bright

I have never seen so many men ask if you wanted to dance

They’re looking for a little romance, given half  a chance”

I am heady and feeling special imagining myself to be the lady in red.  It’s Vienna (again!) - city of music and I am feeling all musical and romantic (duh!).  Next YouTube doles out Rod Stewart's "Have I told you lately"

Out comes the husband showered and almost appropriately dressed for the anniversary dinner. I am in a beige linen saree and ebbing with confidence and love (in that order!); daughter is looking on like I am a creature from another planet. I walk up to my husband of 24 years, all prepared for a slow dance for Rod Stewart’s romantic number.  He looks at me like I have lost it and asks me if I want another Vodka shot. Whatever happened to romance, people? I threaten him that I will write about my loveless life. Isn’t he the brave heart? Just didn’t budge. Daughter looks vindicated! They sure are a team. I settle for the vodka shot.

We follow our host’s advice and a walk a few blocks to the cobblestoned street and pick a restaurant called Porzellan. It’s a lovely place serving Austrian and Italian cuisine. Husband orders a beer (men!) and I order sparkling white for my daughter and self and tell Marcus to suggest something that’s palatable to the vegetarian us! The striking young man (originally from Linz) says, “I will bring you two dishes of my choice, is that alright?” Me, the reject (remember the dance episode!?), hurt but not retired, smiles and says, “go on and surprise me!”

While I was getting drunk on the bubbly, Marcus brings the most delicious Georgian & herbs – that consists eggplant and crispy falafel AND homemade ravioli. Eggplant is my absolute favourite, ravioli, my daughter’s and husband happily drunk on local beer.  When Marcus smiled his most adorable smile and served us food, I thought to myself  “God exists for sure and sometimes he could be the eggplant on your plate or Marcus who serves it.  Life is good and eggplant is great! I am ready for the next 24; bring it on"

Happy Anniversary!