The Batch of 2021

Saturday, March 14, 2020 was like any other day for my son. He went to school, took his exam, and returned home. Some of them planned to celebrate the end of the exams on Tuesday by going out for a milkshake, so the good byes were rather hurried. Little did any of them suspect how long it would be before they met again.

That weekend, the Telangana Government declared that all schools would be shut for two weeks. The exam was hastily postponed to March 31, and my kid grumbled at having to revise Science for two weeks instead of two days. Then lockdown was announced, and extended. Somewhere, the school authorities decided to promote the entire class.

Grade 10 started with online classes. A few weeks dragged into a few months, and then into the entire year. There was a project they were working on, which lay in school abandoned. Even if we wanted to rescue it, we couldn’t have.

My son never really spoke about his classmates, but you could see he was missing school. “I wonder if someone is feeding the rabbits?”, he asked once. We concluded that it would be the goat that most missed the students and the staple diet of cold rotis and subji that they fed it.

Mid term exams came and went. The second semester began. There was talk of Practical Classes being conducted in school, but to the delight of the teachers, the parents vetoed it. Instead they were given substitute experiments they could perform at home.

We had to go to school to fill up the forms for the Board Exams. There was awkwardness when they met their classmates. It was as if the masks established barriers of formalness, and they could only be themselves while interacting online.

The curriculum got over. The online classes were for revision purposes only. This was the time when they should have been having farewells, both formal and informal. When they should have bunking classes and playing their last basketball games in the grounds that had been home for six years. When they should have been watching the last cycle of tadpoles metamorphosis into frogs in the lily pond. When they should have been reading the last books two books left unread in the school library. When they should have been reliving old memories and creating new ones what would last a lifetime. They were isolated at home, instead.

My son’s batch has been luckier than most. None among them tested positive for Covid. The parents that did were largely asymptomatic. There were no major upheavals in any of their lives. Very few of them lost family members from the extended family. But a year back, would we have considered that ‘lucky’?

The batch was supposed to have their Board Exams this year- that rite of passage that marked our graduation from kids to young adults. Despite an academic year like none other, the Board Exams were going to be as conventional as they had always been, with the addition of face masks and sanitizers.

Then the Exams were cancelled. People said they were ‘lucky’ because they passed the exams without having to take them. But is that really luck? Despite all the uncertainty, they worked hard throughout the year. They self-motivated themselves and attended the classes even though they knew the teacher would not find out if they didn’t. They adapted to a teaching methodology as unfamiliar to the teachers as it was to them. They figured out ways to seek help from each other, despite being miles apart. They were denied a ‘normal’ year, yet they did what they had to. They were also denied a logical culmination to the year- despite having prepared for them, they would have no Exams.

They should have been chilling after taking the Board Exams, trying not to think about the results. Instead they are at home, cut off from each other, unofficially locked down. They can’t bring themselves to put their books away, and to look at their ugly school uniforms one last time. They are worrying about COVID. They are trying to help connect people to resources. They are trying to distract themselves with the IPL. They try to escape reality, and they try to pretend this is what is normal.

As a batch, they have coped with more uncertainty than any other. They have developed a resilience which even many adults do not have. They have grown as people. If the Board Exams are a rite of passage, the Batch of 2021 didn’t have it, but they have learnt so much more.

They had a farewell party on Friday. They should have worn their sarees and suits. Taken lots of photographs. Eaten and drunk and danced too much. The party was on Zoom. My son didn’t attend.

Gratitude

 

‘It is the height of hypocrisy to celebrate a Harvest Festival when the milk comes out of a plastic pouch, and the rest of the ingredients are picked up from the grocer’, I would rail during my rebellious teenage years.

But gradually, I came to realize that Pongal wasn’t just a Harvest Festival. It was a chance to acknowledge the things you take for granted, to be appreciative of what life has thrown your way, and to hope that you will continue to be that way.

In Gratitude for all I have. In Hope that I will always have enough.

شکر

Not Summiting Bongir Fort

“I don’t think I can go on much longer”, my friend told me when we were halfway up the final ascent to the citadel of Bongir Fort. “You go on up. I will wait for you near the temple.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. If you aren’t going up, I am not either.” I shot back.

Predictably, it started off the familiar game of, “in that case, I’ll come with you”, and “absolutely not. Let’s turn back.” 

It is always that way. When you are with family or friends, you are constantly trying to out-guess the other person and doing what you think they would want you do to, instead of what you really want to do. While we stood on the rock surface and argued, the sun was getting hotter, and we were getting more and more drained.

“Listen, we have absolutely no idea how much further we have to go”, I said, trying to sound reasonable. “It may be just a few meters more, or it may be much longer. Let’s just turn back.”

“I tell you what, let’s go till that turn in the rock and decide”, she told me.

“No, let’s turn back”, I insisted. I knew my friend well. She wouldn’t have even suggested turning back, unless she just couldn’t go any further.

“I have come here when I was in school. You haven’t. You go up. I will wait.”

I tried reasoning with her. Told her that I had three reasons for suggesting we make the trip- I wanted to see the famous batholith of the Deccan, I wanted to hang out with my friend, and I wanted to see the view from the top. Achieving two was more than sufficient for me. But she was not convinced. We would have stood there arguing for the next hour, if we hadn’t sighted a family of three making a descent.

“How much further to the fort?”, she asked in Telugu.

“Chala duram”, the lady replied. The two of them launched into a long discussion on how much “duram” the “chala duram” actually meant, but I was having none of it. I grabbed my friend by the arm and started walking down. “If she says ‘chala’, she means chala. We are not even attempting it.”

“But why don’t you go up. I will wait”, she began again, but this time she was speaking to a retreating back. I didn’t let up my pace, till we had climbed down 100 meters and reached a lily pond nestling in a small depression in the rock face. In admiring the stratifications in the rock face, and wondering if the lily plants had been introduced there, or if they had found their way there naturally, we forgot all about the citadel that we didn’t reach.

After talking about a hundred photographs, and giggling non stop for what seemed like forever, we made our way to the temple, and plonked ourselves in its shade. The granite rock rose in front of us. Shaped like a whale and much more massive, it towered over us. It did not require much imagination to picture the molten magma pushing its way up from the centre of the earth and solidifying into that gigantic egg shaped rock.

We pictured the awe our ancestors must have felt when they first stumbled on the batholith. We marveled the audacity of the builders who decided to perch a fort on top of the rock. We saluted the engineers who chose to construct over the rock, instead of blasting it as we now do.

As we marveled at the rock, we heard of group of women talking among themselves as they made the climb. They were beautiful in their multicoloured sarees, but when you pictured them against the backdrop of the rock face, you realized with a start exactly how massive the rock was.

At that moment, I truly appreciated the grandeur of the site. Had we climbed all the way to the top, we may not have stopped to rest where we did, and we may have missed out on what turned out to be the most memorable part of the experience.

That also encapsulated what 2020 has meant to me. This was the year before my 50th birthday, and there was a lot I intended to do this year. There were places I wanted to go, and things I wanted to experience. But the pandemic scuttled all those plans.

However, the year has also given me  a lot. It has given me time with my family. It has made me reevaluate the things that are important to me. It has taught me patience and gratitude. To accept and appreciate what I have today instead of seeking something I feel I must have. It taught me to let do, and let life take its course.

I may be back to Bongir to attempt another ascent. Or I may not. Either way, the awe I felt when I sat under the shade of the temple and stared at the rock face will not diminish. That will forever remain one of the moments when I witnessed eternity.

May 2014: You may succeed, or you may not

You can continue leading your predictable life, where almost everything is planned, and within your control. It is a safe life; a comfortable existence. You don’t have to change it, because there is nothing really wrong with it.
But is that really enough? Sometimes, you need to take a leap of faith. Do something which goes outside your comfort zone. Something that shakes up your controlled life.
You may succeed or you may not. If you do, the new life you lead is your reward. If you don’t, you are richer for the experience, and you can always start afresh.
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Against a picturesque sunset, my son took off from the board, during our Summer Break, in May 2014

2014: The Year That Was

Nothing Ventured: day 36 of #100happydays

There are some things that we attempt, fail at, and decide not to try again. And there are those other things that we never attempt because even without trying, we are convinced we cannot do them. Baking bread fell firmly into the second category, till a chance encounter with a packet of yeast got me addicted. Over the weeks, I’ve experimented a lot with bread, and am getting better at it. Confident enough, to try even the tough ones.

“Nothing Ventured, Nothing Won”, is the topic my older one chose for a school essay. I could be writing that myself.

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This "sunshine bread" is one I would have never even thought of attempting a few months back- just like I would never attempt to wear a dress that looks gorgeous on a supermodel. But then I tried, and it wasn't so hard after all! 

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Beauty Unexpected- Day 9 of of #100happydays

When I signed up for #100happydays, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was reasonably happy with my existence- did I really need something like this to make me grateful for what I have? And can those fleeting moments of happiness be captured in an Instagram© image?

A couple of days into the challenge, I realize that the real challenge is not in finding something to be grateful for, but in picking one image out of all the ones that defined the day for you. Sometimes, it can be as simple as a reflection on a painting creating Beauty Unexpected. 

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This Ravi Varma painting gifted by my mother hangs in my balcony, watching the world go by.
 

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It doesn't mean you quit

“Slow down”, my body screamed five weeks back. “I cannot keep up.”  But I refused to listen, and had my legs give way under me. I was lucky it was just my legs that gave way- nothing that fluids, salts and sugar couldn’t heal.

Yesterday, a man was not so lucky. He pushed himself, collapsed at the finish line and breathed his last in an ambulance.

Yes, it is good to push yourself, necessary even. But sometimes you have to listen to that voice in your head. Slowing down just means you are slowing down. It doesn’t mean you quit.
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A Drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

The last time

I little over a year back, I ran in the Aarey forest for the last time. I had been running there for nearly nine months. It was where I put in the miles that made me a marathoner. I loved the place.

After that last run, I tapered for the marathon. And when I re-started with lower mileages, the neighbourhood park just seemed more convenient. Travelling a few kilometres to run no longer made sense. I never went back.

If I’d known then that it was the last time I would be running there, would I have done anything differently?
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A Drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

Setting a goal

“But I can’t read”, my six year old said two months back when I told him I was buying him a book without colourful pictures.

“So what, we can learn”, I told him, before adding, “Why, Are you afraid to try?”

His competitive nature couldn’t resist the challenge. It was a tedious task, but he persevered. The fact that the English language is not predictable only made it more complicated. But by the end of the month, I know he’ll be able to read that book.

When you set yourself a goal- a tangible, non-negotiable goal, you do often succeed.

The greatest gift

“But I can’t do it”, my son told me.

“Of course you can.” I didn’t particularly want him to jump off branch, but even less did I want him to walk away from a challenge he set for himself.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

He closed his eyes, pushed himself off, and landed perfectly on his feet.

“How did you know I could do it?”, he asked me much later.

“Because my parents taught me that if you believe you can do something, you can do it”, I told him.

The greatest gift a parent can give a child is self-belief.

Happy Birthday, one day late

The world knows him as the man who revolutionalized Science. While most people do not claim to understand his work, he is deemed influential enough to have been named the Man of the Century by Time magazine.

But to me, Albert Einstein is more than a great scientist. He is a man who never shied away from standing up for what he thought was right. His words, “the world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it” will continue to ring true forever.

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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

Excuses

“I’m late for work, because just as I was leaving home, some guests turned up, and I had to stay back till they left.”

“I was set to run the marathon in 4 hours, but got hit by cramps and finished in 5:27.”

Practically everyone seems to have an excuse for everything, even if the excuse is something that could have been predicted easily. There are times when you can almost see the excuses being formed and polished, even before things actually go wrong.

Why can’t people take responsibility for what they are supposed to do, instead of making excuses? 

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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

Making you Smile

My program manager choosing to quit on me. Assignments that the third grader needs help with. The younger one going through one of those difficult phases. The marathon coming up on Sunday. Itchy throat, runny nose. Sleepless nights. Early morning conference calls. In five words- Life Spiralling Out of Control.

“Out with my plants”, I thought. “I need to simplify my life.” Maybe I could stop watering them, and they would just go. But you can’t let plants die, can you? Grumbling, I reached out with a watering can. And saw this.

Nature has a way of making you smile.
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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

The best we can be

“How do you find the answer so fast”, asked my son in wonder when I mentally calculated the long division he had been struggling with for the last several minutes.

“Practice. Nothing but practice”, I replied.

“But you still did it so fast”, he said. “Did you know the answer from before.”

“No, I calculated it right now.”

“But how could you do it so fas?”, he asked. “Are you the best in the world?”

“No, Sweetheart, I am not.  But I do try to be the best that I can be.”

Isn’t that what we should strive for, always?

_____

Flashback 2011 - December 

I would probably call this the "Best" Sunrise I witnessed during the year, but there have been other memorable sunrises too. In fact, truth be told, Every Sunrise IS the Best, in its own unique way. Taken in December during our holiday in Goa, this photograph forms a part of my Pictoral Flashback of 2011.

You can't do both

“But it’s raining”, is the excuse we hear constantly during the monsoons. Everything is put on hold because you presumably can’t step outdoors in the rain.

And yet, few things beat the pleasure of running in the rain. Raindrops falling on your head. Feet splashing through puddles. Newly washed leaves on trees. Wildflowers that bloom only for weeks. The smell of fresh earth. The cool air hitting your face, caressing your bare arms. Bliss.

This year, I’ve learnt. You can either make excuses, or you can do what you want to do. You can’t do both. The choice is yours.

_____

Flashback 2011- August 

The photograph was taken in August at a colonial bungalow where we stayed during an outstation run, and forms a part of my Pictoral Flashback of 2011.

Courage is....

The eye-surgeon with a flourishing practice, who returned to his village and set up an eye-hospital for the poor. The retired bureaucrat who runs a school exclusively for boys from a community that has been shunned for generations. The articulate woman who’s dedicated her life to rescuing and rehabilitating victims of the sex trade.

They could have led comfortable lives, but chose to do something meaningful. They may not flaunt the material trappings of success, but they are the richest people I know.

Gandhi said it best. “Seek not greater wealth, but simpler pleasure; not higher fortune, but deeper felicity.”_____

Flashback 2011- June 

When it rains, the dry bed turns into a gurgling stream. In the dry months, it could be mistaken for a trail. Water comes and goes, but the rocks stay on forever. This photograph, taken during a trek in June forms a part of my Pictoral Flashback of 2011.

I had savoured the beauty

“DOOONNNN’TTttttt….”, the word was still in my mouth, when it happened. My son’s hand swung out, knocking the stem off my plumeria plant. A moment earlier, I had been gazing proudly at 17 buds poised to spread their perfume and beauty outside my bedroom window. Now all there was to see was the stump of a stem, bleeding milky white discharge.

These would have been my first flowers in four years. I would have seen their perfection first thing in the morning on waking up. I wept.

And then I stopped weeping. In my mind, I had savoured the beauty.
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Flashback 2011- March

These flowers bloomed on the same plant, but not as easily visible as the other ones would have been. Would I have even seen them had the other lot not been tragically lost? This photograph taken in March forms a part of my Pictoral Flashback of 2011.

Setting the right goal

I gave my all in the race. Shattered a barrier I have been struggling to break for years. I should have been happy, and proud. Instead, I collapsed in a heap and burst into tears. The race had taken everything out of me, and I wasn’t sure if it was worth it.

Nothing had registered. Not the scenic route, not the cheerleaders, not the live bands. Nothing. All I had been aware of was my pace and the distance left to cover. Was this what I wanted?

Before you work to a goal, it’s prudent to set the right one.

_____

A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

The debate was still raging

"Why are you flogging yourself? Give up, and go home."
"You've come this far, you owe it to yourself to finish.""This is only a stupid training run. Who'd even know or care if you abandon it?"
"You’ll never be able to live with yourself if you quit. Don’t!"“Don’t make things too complicated. Just quit and go home!"
“Quitting is never an option.”
While a part of me was listening to my id and ego arguing, I kept putting one foot in front of the other, again and again. The debate was still raging, when I finished my 20-miler.
_____

A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

Daring to make mistakes

“And what if I make a mistake?”, my colleague asked me, when I delegated something important to her.
“We’ll take care of that”, I replied. “Unless you make a couple of mistakes, how are you going to learn?”

Two days later, she made a mistake that I knew would take me a couple of hours to rectify. My instinct was to yell at her, but I held myself back. After all, wasn’t it I that had told her she shouldn’t be crippled by the fear of making mistakes?

I was right. By making mistakes, she’s learnt faster than I expected.
_____

A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

And when I signed up for NaBloWriMo, I was sure I was making a huge mistake. For someone who had taken an unintended sabbatical for nearly three months, wasn't it ridiculous to commit to blogging everyday? And yet, I managed, because how can you finish something, unless you first have the courage to start.
Thank you for being with me.