From & To Sathish #5 - Page 25

One, Two, Three. No that will do. One will do

They told you to be good and righteous and not to do bad. Sadly, they forgot to tell you about the broad line called Gray that lies in-between. They told you in school about reproduction and in detail explained the organs. Sadly, they did not tell you anything about the main organ " The Brain " which is the Boss. Not just any boss but the Big Boss.

Flashback He said She said about arranged marriage

She said- An animal. Brute and practically raped me and that set the tone and 30 years later the divide still exists.

He said- I honestly did not know what to do, meaning how to go about it. So, downed a few and sat and smiled and then piled on to her.

They taught you about flowers, bees and pollen and yet they forgot about the first night or even the first date.

Good vs bad

I tried to be good, do good but ended up feeling bad and all shi..y.

So, I tried to mix it up a little and now I am cruising with my own concocted brew of good and bad and all Gray.

Before s.x, you undress each other. After s.x, you dress yourself.

Moral of the story: No one helps you once you’re fu..ed and nobody helps you search for your undies and bra.

Honestly, I thought about it and damn if it is not true and This universal law of undressing applies to your own bedroom and if you are lucky in the bedroom of someone else's house. OOPS. Sinner. But face it, it is kinda funny and we are all adults here.

I remember my elder sister Aruna in my younger days pointing to crows and trees and yelling

One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy

and we would all look excitedly at the branch and depending on our luck see just one. I am kidding ( Two)

Sadly, she did not tell me or warn me that those damn crows choose that time to let go of their tummy bombs and down they come on to your head, shirt or arm and you go " WTF, what about crows crapping. one or two at the same time?"

But she was right and she was slightly wrong for two is joy and two is also sorrow. Also the same applies for one and in different situations when life craps on you.

Siddhartha himself must have heard that rhyme and ran out in the middle of the night to find the meaning behind one, twos and three and sat under a tree and decided, ' O..a. f..k., another, love and bonds bring hurt eventually. So, break bonds. make no bonds. lose all desires and ache for none.'

Easy for him to say after having lived a princely life and after having married Yasodara and made baby Rahul with her.

I lie awake like a madman and stare into the darkness and ask myself, ' What if you steal out in the middle of the night and just vanish away? Put distance between you and all that you hold dear and just disappear into oblivion?'

I nearly peed in fright and cursing myself, and went back to sleep and returned to my two favourite actresses, Poonam Dhillon and Jaya Pradha and ran around the bushes singing and romancing them in my wideaawake dreams.

Not one. not two but a safe threesome.

After reading my pun if you feel like breaking my buns, you can but hey......

Nameless, seamless and endless

I am not comfortable in gumbals( Crowds) and have always felt more comfortable and at home in the company of a few souls and who are a part of my soul.

Many a time over the years, I get invited, " come na, spend some time, have a drink, chill and enjoy " and have baulked at the very thought and concept of it.

WHY, because even a little time is a slice of life, a part of my breath and I would much prefer it in the company of a few of my own flock than in the company of strangers. Sorry. But, this is me.

Growing up lonely, I always kept putting down my solitude and my own self induced solitary confinement and chiding myself as weird and weary and then I realized that I was the happiest when I was alone. Not alone, not entirely alone but with my books, music and thoughts and those thoughts were full of my loved ones.

So, you see, even in solitude I am a party goer, doer and not just a pooper. ( sorry, sounded neat)

I see now that life, time, moments and breaths are all experiences. Seamless and endless.

For me, each moment and experience is my graduation to the next moment and experience and though I might fail and get demoted, I do my best to get a double promotion the next time. ( Kidding)

I am sorry to say this, to state my opinion but most people are not comfortable being alone and feel totally lost and loony. Why?

WTF. People, it is your answers to my question.

“Life is not just the passing of time. Life is the collection of experiences and their intensity.” — Jim Rohn

Remember that line from Kungfu panda when Po's dad tells him about the secret ingredient in his secret soup.

The secret ingredient is nothing:

Mr. Ping: The secret ingredient is... nothing!

Po: Huh?

Mr. Ping: You heard me. Nothing! There is no secret ingredient.

Po: Wait, wait... it's just plain old noodle soup? You don't add some kind of special sauce or something?

Mr. Ping: Don't have to. To make something special you just have to believe it's special.

Po: There is no secret ingredient...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MiE4UI5mfaA

If someone came and told you that they are going to take a bit of this and a bit of that and churn it in a mixie and try to create life, You might go " what", I know, that would be exactly my reaction. You might just leave the person with a swollen cranium, me, I would....

Yet, it is true for if the Earth is a mixie, a concrete mixer churning around with all sorts of gases, solids and vapours inside its belly then that person whose cranium got split was not very wrong.

But, Mother Earth took billions of years and also with that something called, Let me borrow the term " God Particle " for that magic ingredient.The secret ingredient.

You. It is you and I and all life around us that are the secret and magic ingredients Otherwise, why would Mother Nature use so much energy in diversity and procreation and continues its creation in evolutions.

Today, our planet is filled with nearly 8 billion of us and yet each and everyone has a different fingerprint and DNA.

Cos, each of us are the secret and magic ingredient.

Me, I don't know what age I am in most of the time. At least, not when I am playing and rolling in the beach with my doggy friends,forgetting that I am an adult, an actor who is somewhat recognised and am reminded of that, only when people passing by, stop to stare at my face and then seeing what I am doing,cluck their tongues and walk away shaking their heads in disapproval and also filthy curses. I carry on, for gone are the days of me worrying about what others think of me for i am now blind to all of that and enjoy myself where ever I am. But,is there a way to behave at a particular age for it seems so, as most adults get on their high horses and pass judgement on how one should live and behave. Shun those people,turn your backs on them as I have been doing. My ears are deaf to those people's voices, for life is short and seems forever to be hurtling towards the edge, the end. Knowing that, how can one still resist being happy with their thoughts and existing in their own world and creation.

"Last night the moon came dropping its clothes in the street. I took it as a sign to start singing."

Laughing faces do not mean that there is absence of sorrow! But it means that they have the ability to deal with it.

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MiE4UI5mfaA

Avan, Aval, Adhu 76

Madhu answered Gayatri's call with several questions swirling in her mind for it was unlike her step-daughter to call so soon. Usually, her calls were few and far apart, sometimes, many months apart. But as far as she was concerned her step-daughter was her responsibility and a promise that she had vowed to her late husband.

' Hello, Gayatri. Good morning.' Madhu spoke into the mobile.

' I am okay, Madhu. Better than yesterday.'

' Why, what happened yesterday? Are you all right?'

Gayatri smiled and replied in a soft voice, ' I am all right, Madhu. Just that I think I...'

Madhu knew better than to interrupt Gayatri when she was speaking or trying to say something and more than that she feared losing this newfound communication link between themselves by saying something and ruining it.

Then without warning, Gayatri asked her a question and that too about something that she had least expected her step-daughter to ask or even talk about.

' Madhu, do you think I am too old to........?'

Madhu not knowing what to say or how to say anything without upsetting Gayatri's psyche, chose her words carefully and asked slowly, ' Too old for what, Gaya?'

' Too old to fall in love again and if possible marry that person?'

In Mumbai, Madhu removed the mobile from her ear and stared at it as if it was Gayatri's face and stared at it with confusion and placing it back in her ear, replied, ' No, you are not, Gaya. You are just 41 years old and then again, one is never too old to fall in love or marry again.'

Madhu waited anxiously for Gayatri to say something remained silent for she did not want to ruin this precious moment that as far as she was concerned was more valuable than all the gold in the world to her.

Madhu's only priority was her stepdaughter's welfare, safety and future. If that was taken care of then she could, maybe she could go in search of the soul that she had left behind in Kumarapalayam.

She was brought out of her own thoughts with another bang of an unexpected question from Gayatri.

' What about you? why didn't you marry again?'

Madhu smilingly, ' Me, why me, Gaya? What is the necessity for me to get married again?'

' Okay, what about the person who you loved? have you ever tried reaching out to him?'

The words she heard felt like large bombs exploding near her ears and even bigger bombs exploding inside her head and inside her heart and all she could do was croak and ask, ' Whaaat, Gaya, what did you just say? How do you know that?'

' Dad told me Madhu. Not the full details. Not even the name or where you met him before you came to Mumbai. Just briefly and bare minimum details.'

Madhu felt her legs begin to tremble in fear and in guilt and she tried desperately to reply and managed barely, ' Prem told you. But why and when was this?'

' A few weeks before his passing. You were not in the house and had gone out to meet some specialist doctor who had arrived from London.'

' What did he tell you?'

' He said that you were an angel and the kindest and gentle human being in the world and that you deserved someone better than him and someone whom you loved. Like the person that you held close to your own soul.'

Avan, Aval, Adhu 77

' I am sorry, Gaya. But, your father was the real angel. Not me' Madhu said in a slow measured voice.

Madhu's face slowly searched, seeking solace and finding Prem's eyes smiling from a world called death and beyond, ' He was the one who rescued me, protected me and cherished me even though he knew my heart was not in the marriage that bound us both and to you.'

' Why Madhu? why did you force yourself to marry my dad even if you didn't love him and knowing full well that he was much older than you?.'

' The situation that I and my family were in at that time was a very bad one and I had no other go but to do what I did then.'

' Madhu, would you do the same thing now, make the same decision now?'

Madhu smiled, ' yes. Hundred per cent. There is no doubt in my mind that I would have married your father again and again.'

' But what about your love, the man whom you had loved?'

' Sometimes, it is not just about you and your needs and your emotions. Life is more than that, Gaya.'

' It has been 10 years since Dad left us both and yet you stayed and still remain. Why? What is holding you back now from going to meet the person that you had loved and finding out more about him?'

' You. Gayatri, you. I have remained in this house for you.'

' What? I don't understand, Madhu. Why should you wait on my behalf and that too after all the crap and filth that I dished out to you and hurt you again and again?'

Madhu smiled and replied in a voice that filled and choking in emotion, ' Because I promised Prem, your father that I would look after you, protect you with my last remaining breath and never let go. Ever.'

Each and every word were like sharp nails being hammered into her heart and all she could do was apologize to her stepmother.

' I am so sorry, Madhu. Please believe me when I say that for I mean it and swear it on my father's soul that I am sorry. I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me for all the pain that I caused you and dad.'

' Gaya, there is no need for me to forgive you for I forgot all that a long time ago and all that remains now in my heart is your safety, well-being and a peaceful future.'

' Thank you, Madhu. I just have one favour, a promise that I need you to make for me. Please, will you do that?'

' Silly child. I am willing to give up my very life for you and here you are asking me a favour and a promise. I will do anything that you ask. So tell me what you want me to do.'

' Promise me that you will attempt for my sake to go in search of the man you loved and still love to this very moment after I get married again and am settled happily. Promise me, Madhu.'

' Is that it? Is that all that you want of me? Okay. I promise. Now tell me about this person whom you have fallen in love with and the place where you both happened to meet?'

Readers, have you ever stopped and wondered aloud to God or no one in particular, ' Why is this happening to me or to them? Why is fate playing such cruel tricks on me and tearing me apart?'

I have, do and have no doubt that I will do so more in the future.

It's not about what you want.

It's not even what you deserve.

It's not about bad karma and good karma.

It's not about how much you pray.

In the end, it is all about what life dishes out and when it does and how much it does.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining; Behind the clouds, the sun is shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life, some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Ravi, Madhu and Gayatri. Avan, Aval, Adhu. Adhu means love. That abstract thing that beats on and that which dances to a different and vague tune.

This is the story. A story about people, love, sacrifices and the choices we make and do so with love and in devotion.

This is not your average sweetsmelling lovey-dovey story but a voyage in which I want to discover more about myself and love through the lives of Avan, Aval and Adhu.

This is my all-time favourite scene and it explains so much. It is also my favourite because my Guru Nadigar Thilagam is in it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lr5lhSod98A

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mbr22AHaSE0

Avan, Aval, Adhu 78

Gayatri tried to search for the proper reply to her stepmother Madhu's question and came up empty.

' Gaya, it is okay. You don't have to tell me anything about this gentleman you are interested in. It's just that I worry about you and your safety and I don't want you to rush into anything that you might regret later.'

' No, Madhu. I am very sure that I will not regret anything about this man for he is special. The reason for my hesitation was that I am not yet sure about his feelings for me.'

The streets of Madurai were filling up with traffic as peak hours approached and Gayatri continued her conversation with Madhu.

' I don't know if it is weird or crazy but this person reminds me of you and Dad. I mean that in the best sense.'

Madhu thought for a second and said, ' why don't you just tell him how you feel and then ask him if he too feels the same way about you?'

Gayatri burst out laughing, ' God No! He is not your average man or for a matter of fact, he is unlike any man I have met in my life and to be honest, I think even dad will lose out to him.'

' Wow! who is this guy, Gaya? Sounds to me like the perfect man who all girls dream of, and wait for him to come and sweep them up into his arms and carry her off into a fairytale-like life.'

' I know, Madhu but he is all that and more than that. I don't know if you ever did this in your teenage years. But I did. All through my college life, I dreamt, hoped and prayed to God to send me someone like Shah Rukh with a guitar on his shoulder and who would sing and serenade me like he did Kajol in " Dilwale Dulhania le Jayenge. But as we stepped out of those romantic dream-filled high school and college days, we realized that all that was just a phase and that a woman needs more than just romance and that she needs a real man. A good man in flesh and blood.'

Madhu wished then for Gayatri to have been next to her for she would have hugged her tightly and done her best to console her. Sadly, she just had words with which to console her and she did.

' Gaya, I am sorry that your marriage did not work out. I tried to do my best but we were not even on speaking terms then and your dad was really sick at that point in time.'

' It is okay Madhu. I know how much you and dad tried to help me but my marriage was doomed to fail from the start and I only learnt much later that I was one of the main reasons why my Ex-husband Siddarth did all that he did to me and to himself.'

' Please, Gaya. Don't blame yourself for what that horrible man did to you. It does not matter what you did but I am sorry, Physical abuse cannot and should not be tolerated and I will never condone or pardon that psycho of a man.'

' That is just half of the story, Madhu. I think my half might explain what happened to the sweet, caring Siddarth that I fell in love with and eventually married.'

' Why do you say that, Gaya? You never hit him or abused him. It was he who physically abused you which resulted in the miscarriage of your child and that too in the sixth month. Sorry, that man was an animal. If he had a problem then he could have just left and asked for a divorce rather than beat you up daily.'

Gayatri smiling calmly, ' Madhu, I have made my peace with that part of my life and learnt many things in those sessions with my psychologist.'

' Oh, I was not aware of that' Madhu lied for it was she who had arranged for the psychologist but discreetly.

' Liar. I know it was you who arranged for the psychologist.'

Madhu was caught Flat-footed and had no words to say in defence of her action and it was Gayatri herself who helped her out in the end.

' It is okay Madhu. In fact, I am grateful that I had someone to talk to and unburden myself and I am glad that I had the best in the business to share my problems.'

A silence encompassed their conversation and after a few moments, Gayatri asked her stepmother if the Psychologist had reported back to her about their sessions.

' No, he did not and I swear to that on your father's memory. In fact, it was Prem's suggestion that I get in touch with Dr Gopal Shetty who he knew very well and then the rest happened.'

' And it turned out well, Madhu for it was in those sessions that I learnt I was one of the main reasons for all the abuse in my broken marriage.'

' Please, Gaya. Please don't say that.'

' It is true, Madhu and it all started with the pain of losing my mother and then watching my dad drowning his own pain in booze and just when I thought that I had hit rock bottom, he married you and brought you home and all hell broke loose. You became a target, an outlet for all my pain and I proceeded to mentally abused you by ignoring you, taunting you and then verbally lashing out at you and calling you filthy names.'

' Gaya, I would have done the same and reacted in the same way. You were young and you had no one to talk to, turn to in that hour of your pain and then there was the age difference between me and your father.'

Both cried their pain out and the tears flushed away their hearts and lit a flame of a new bond that flickered into life.

Gayatri whispered, ' Madhu, Please promise me to leave the man alone.'

' What are you saying Gayatri?'

' Please, I know the reach of our wealth and the power that it exudes and that you wield. So, no checking on this man without my knowledge for it will hurt me very badly. I am not threatening you. Just speaking my mind out. I hope you understand where I am coming from.'

' I do, Gayatri and I promise not to come between you and this man and will not do any kind of background checks on him. But, you have to promise to keep in constant touch with me and that you will introduce this gentleman to me at some point in the near future.'

Both promised each other and like you know in this Kali Yuga, Promises are meant to be broken. Intentionally or unintentionally.

Easy Indian fermented pickles:good for your gut.

By Shoba Narayan, Hindustan Times, September 21, 2021

In Kerala and Tamil Nadu, soaking day-old rice overnight, letting it ferment and then drinking it like porridge the following day with pickles is a common practice. Not only does it taste delicious and refreshing, it also fills you up without making you feel bloated or heavy.

How many times have you shelled out Rs. 300 for a bottle of kombucha and wondered why there was no Indian equivalent? Where were all the gut-friendly, probiotic fermented drinks (and foods) in Indian cuisine?

Of course, there are. As with anything in India, every state has its own variations. In Kerala and Tamilnadu, soaking day-old rice overnight, letting it ferment and then drinking it like porridge the following day with pickles is a common practice. Not only does it taste delicious and refreshing, it also fills you up without making you feel bloated or heavy.

North Indian kanji too, is a delicious winter drink. Made from black carrots (kaala gajar), which sadly are not to be found here in Bangalore, this drink too involves natural fermentation for a few days. Nisha Madhulika’s popular Youtube channel has the exact recipe. My version here in Bangalore comes from my friends, Kavita Gupta and Raj Himatsingka.

It was in Raj’s house that I had my first taste of beetroot kanji. Made with sliced beetroots instead of the dark carrots, the kanji is made with yellow mustard seeds powdered with some black salt, asafoetida, pepper and mixed with the beets or carrot. You then pour water and allow it to ferment for 3-5 days. By then, the water is infused with a beet red colour and the sour flavour of the yellow mustard seeds, all of which warm you up for the winter.

A more local version is the karindi chutney. I had it first in Sirsi district in the Uttara Karnataka, one of the most beautiful and verdant places in the state. Cleaved by rivers with poetic names such as the Aghanashini and framed by the Western ghats, Sirsi is where new frog species, flora and fauna are found. It is where school girls with twinkling eyes use giant colocasia leaves as umbrellas as they walk home from school. In this budding blossoming generous land, medicinal herbs sprout from the red under the pouring rain every few steps. Some tender touch-me-nots shrink as you step on them.

Modest homes cook up nourishing simple healthy dishes. Karindi is one of them. The base is flaxseeds, called agase in this state. High in Omega 3 fatty acids, these seeds are left out in the sun or gently roasted. There are several recipes online for karindi. The one I make has equal quantities of the following ingredients: flax seeds, green chilies and garlic. I grind these three together along with 1 teaspoon of salt, fenugreek seeds, cumin/jeera, black mustard seeds. In the end, throw in a handful of fresh coriander leaves and curry leaves. The paste will end up in a rich green colour. Empty into a pickle jar. Separately, cut one cucumber and carrot in small pieces. Fold the vegetables into the paste. Add a bit of water so that it becomes like a porridge. Cover with a piece of cloth, cover the pickle bottle and leave out in the sun for 5 days so that it ferments nicely. The heat of the green chilies goes down as it ferments. So depending on your spice tolerance you can adjust the number and size of the green chilies. Remember, the fatter the green chilly, the less hot it is.

Karindi is used a lot by the Veerashaiva community who often eat it with jolada-rotti or jowar rotis. It is kept outside in the kitchen shelf– not the refrigerator– and served with everything including hot rice. If you pour a little ghee or coconut oil over it while serving, this adds to the taste. I store it in a earthen pot and have it everyday with pretty much everything. You can smear it over bread for a taste that is akin to English mustard but more nuanced. It can fare really well in a panini because it has girth from the green paste and crunch from the cucumber and carrots.

Recently, I found a win-win recipe which incorporates two of the culinary world’s current darlings: millets and fermented foods. The fermented food in this combination is the karindi. The other part of this handshake comes from my neighbouring state of Tamil Nadu. Go to Madurai in the summer and many homes will begin their day with Samai-arisi-kanji. Made from cooked little millets, this too is mildly fermented. What you do is cook a tablespoon of little millet or samai and mash till it is soft. To this add buttermilk and stir in a glass till it become like a porridge. Finally, make a seasoning to sprinkle on top. Heat oil on a pan, add black mustard seeds, cumin, salt, asafoetida, and curry leaves– also diced garlic if you want to amp up the immune-boosting properties. Add this to the porridge, stir and leave overnight. The heat of Madurai makes this dish ferment nightly. In Bangalore, particularly in September, when the temperature is cool, fermentation is more gentle. In the morning, drink the little millet kanji with a teaspoon of karindi like a pickle. Your stomach will thank you.

The Secret Lives of Marwari Housewives

By Runa Mukherjee Parikh, Arre, August 4, 2017

In Gujarat, Marwari women lead dual lives. They fast with their mothers-in-law and sip mojitos with their friends.

As we wait in our car, Parul dutifully bids adieu to her mother-in-law who is standing at the gate. In a gorgeous white, pink, and golden sari, Parul looks as pretty as a flower.

Finally, she enters the car. As we start the engine, she opens the velcro at the pleats of her sari with a flick and divides open the six yards like a magic trick. Inside, a pair of jeans makes its presence known.

My mouth is still open when she takes out a white toga top from her large purse and dons it over her blouse. Soon, the blouse is discarded as efficiently as Joey unhooks women’s bras. She finally manages to see the shock on my face and says, “Karna padta hai, yaar.”

I had just moved to Ahmedabad and it was my first brush with the Marwari women of the city. Of course, I knew some Marwaris in school back in Delhi. They were the ones who refused to share lunch with me the minute they discovered a boiled egg sitting cosily in my tiffin box. They were also the ones whose mothers kept fasts during Navratri. But they were still young girls, not women, and their lives hadn’t split into two roads – the public and the private. At that age, their individuality and their caste sat comfortably together in their young bodies.

And then they grew up.

In Gujarat, where majority of the people either belong to the Gujarati or Marwari community, my encounters with these women increased manifold and their split lives came into sharp focus.

There was Sejal. Every day at 7am, I would hear violent thuds outside my flat. Sejal, who lived in the house opposite ours, had already moved on to dusting the doors after doing the puja and cooking lunch for everybody in the house. She was three chores down by the time I lazily picked up the newspaper lying on the doormat. She gave me an envious smile from the folds of her ghunghat. That smile told me everything I needed to know of the difference between her mornings and mine.

Unlike the Delhiites who fast with fruits and farali chips, Amdavadi women like Parul actually fasted, sans a morsel of food, and still got all the house work done as if on Duracell batteries.

One afternoon, she came to me with a prospectus from a jewellery design course from a nearby institute and sketches of earrings and pendant designs. “I really want to pursue this course, I have an eye for these things,” she said. I gave her a thumbs up. “You have a future in this,” I told her.

She looked shocked at the idea. “Oh no, I don’t. I just sketch when no one’s asking for me in the house,” she said wistfully.

Almost all the Marwari women I met were like Parul and Sejal: They would slog all day in the house, cook food even when they could afford 10 cooks, patiently serve the elders of the house, and not have too much of an opinion on anything, but their split lives came into focus only when they stepped out of the house.

Once on a getaway with husbands, Parul whipped out a hot pink bikini and dived into the pool only to emerge at the other end and grab a mojito. Sipping her drink as it drizzled, the transformed Parul grinned at me and said, “Life is perfect.”

Once back in the city, this mojito-sipping Parul disappeared, and what emerged in the religious month of August, was a woman who fasted every alternate day along with her mother-in-law. She wouldn’t go out for a movie or shop because dinner had to be cooked by 4pm after which there was a religious discourse to attend. Also, unlike the Delhiites who fast with fruits and farali chips, Amdavadi women like Parul actually fast, sans a morsel of food, and still got all the house work done as if on Duracell batteries.

A week or three later, Parul and her gang were two sizes down. When I met the super-thin Sonam in the bazaar and commented on her frail appearance, she laughed it off. “Wedding season is coming, so it’s good that I have lost weight. Can flaunt my figure na.”

Sonam soon invited us to her house, a few days later, when her saas and sasur were on a pilgrimage. Abstaining from onion and garlic seemed like a thing of the past, as delicious pulao, pakodas, and kadhai paneer were ordered from a local restaurant and orange juice was spiked with that-you-must-not-name. Night-long fun ensued and I learnt about yet another mind-boggling trivia: Most of these women were perennial pill poppers. Their men found the idea of using protection ridiculous as it “takes away from real pleasure”. So they popped pills to prevent pregnancies, popped pills to delay their periods if there was a festival or function coming up, and they also popped pills to be able to do house work if the other bahu happened to be on her period and couldn’t enter the kitchen. No amount of argument about the danger of this habit got to them. It was simply the way it was to be.

As an outcast in this patriarchy carnival, I often wondered if the secret lives of these Marwari women would ever go mainstream. I wondered if any of them had even entertained the thought that life could be any different. If they could even imagine a future where they didn’t have to live in hiding? I wondered if their daughters would also grow up to live this split life and one day sip on a mojito in a bikini and say, “Life is perfect.”

Recently, Parul invited me to the opening of a big temple that her family has partly sponsored. “Wow, you guys sponsor temples,” I asked.

“Most of the families do. No biggie, really. But hey, I am more excited about my daughter getting through this amazing school. If she is any good, she will go places and I will let her,” she said.

It was a subliminal message to me. Parul was letting me know that she did dream of a different life, one which was not spent secretly putting lipstick under her metaphorical burkha, and that that life was not to be hers, but one day, it would be her daughter’s.

Vaanathai Pola 384

The Boeing A380 Qantas flight was huge and unlike any other cockpit that Raman had seen before. He had been invited by the pilot of some of the military aircraft to visit the cockpit and had even sat in a simulation cockpit that is used to train pilots and yet nothing prepared him for the size, space and electronic and computerized interiors of this Giant.

' WOW! This is spectacular' Raman explained and observed and the man nodded and sat down and said cryptically, ' Man has indeed come a long way from the times of the brothers.'

Raman sat down in the huge pilot seat and looked at the stranger, ' What do you mean by that?'

' True. Man is an exceptionally brilliant animal and has been blessed by the universe with so many gifts.'

' I am sorry but I asked you what you meant by the times of the brothers?'

The stranger smiled, ' I meant the Wright brothers, Wilbur and Orville and their first flight in 1903 and just 11 years later what was a dream became a nightmare as the new invention and power of flight was forged into a weapon.'

Pointing to Raman's mobile phone, ' Do you know how fast mobile phones have become today when compared to computers just twenty years ago.?' and shaking his head, ' yet he builds more advanced weapons and means to deliver them. If only they learnt from the mistakes of earlier wars and used their knowledge to better their lives and save their future.'

Raman sighing frustratedly stared at the stranger who was busy filling the two glasses with the expensive wine and a thought sparked into life, ' What if I attack him now when he is busy pouring wine?'

The man with his back still slightly turned said, ' You will not do that for it is not in your blood to attack another when he has his back turned to you' and turning to face Raman offered him a glass of wine.

Raman's eyes opened wide in shock and surprise, ' you read my thoughts. Didn't you? You too. F..k me, this whole world seems to have been suddenly taken over by mindreaders and bodysnatchers.'

Taking the glass of wine, he looked at the stranger, ' I doubt if drinking alcohol is going to pose anymore threats than that already exist on this plane.'

' A drink before war', the stranger said and looked at Raman, ' did Churchill really say that? I wonder. Maybe it's true for I have heard people say that he loved his Scotch and never slurred in speech and thought and remained steady on feet and in battle.'

Raman sipped the wine and placing the glass on a tray nearby looked pointedly at the stranger, ' what do you mean by drink and war?

' Exactly that. Soon, you will not have enough time to even breathe for the game is now really afoot.'

Raman used both his hands to wipe his eyes and in a tired voice said, ' Mister, I have neither eaten properly nor slept well in days.So, I beg you to forgive my impertinence while I ask you rather impolitely," WTF is going on here? Who are you and what is going on here?'

' A secret global war has been unleashed Raman and in the name of all that is good and pure in this world. But little do they know that they are misguided in their thoughts and actions and that they are really being guided by an ancient evil and so that brings it back to you and me and why we both are sitting here sipping wine.'

' I don't get it' Raman replied and then asked in a curious tone, ' ancient? like decades or?'

' Millennia, Raman.'

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uDVTm1Xbc9k

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCGJo1-1fgc