He can READ

“Mamma, what is the meaning of RAPE?”, my six-year-old asked me. Any mother would have been horrified that he had stumbled upon that word. Instead, I was thrilled. Thrilled that he had learnt to string sounds together to form words. Thrilled that he liked reading enough to voluntarily pick up the newspaper. Thrilled that the universe of knowledge had opened up for him.

When he entered second grade, he struggled to recognize even three letter words. Guiding him was not easy, but his determination and my faith in him did it. He can READ.

But, that question still needs answering!

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In June, I visited a summer camp where underpriveledged children were given supplementary coaching to bring them to normal school levels. Some of the methods they used helped me in making that critical breakthrough with my son. This picture taken in a slum community about a mile away from my house,  forms a part of my Pictorial Flashback of 2012.

Even dusting!!!

“You son tells such wonderful stories”, my mother told me. “You should write them down.”

“I just don’t have the time”, I told her. “I am barely surviving. I cannot make time for something else.”

“It is not as though everything you do is essential”, she insisted. “You can cut down on something else, and do it.”

But that is exactly what I do. Cut out what is not essential. There are the things I need to do to survive. There are the things I do to retain my sanity. Everything else is unessential. Everything else I ignore. Even dusting!

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There are many paths to Peace of Mind. Meditation is one of them, but that is not for everyone. What works for me is attaining Balance in my life. So far, so good. Taken in May at a monastery in Ladakh, this forms a part of my Pictorial Flashback of 2012.

The first generation

Spotlessly clean uniforms- shirts tucked into their skirts. Hair neatly combed and plaited- every bow of the ribbon perfectly arranged. Sitting crosslegged in straight rows on the floor- backs straight, not ever fidgeting or whispering or passing notes.

I couldn’t help but compare the disciplined group of schoolgirls from a tiny tribal hamlet, with the unruly mob that inhabits the school my kids go to. The kids with movie-star hairdos and messy clothes, who unthinkingly flout every rule in the book!

It is obvious who values education more. Naturally too- they are the first generation to have access to it.

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I took this photograph in a one-room one-teacher school in a tribal hamlet near Bombay. The photograph taken in April forms a part of my Pictorial Flashback of 2012.

There are decent people everywhere

The cab-driver who drove a few miles out of his way to return the phone I left behind in his cab. The man who bought a bottle of water for my son when he was carsick, and disappeared before I could even thank him. The shopkeeper who called me back and gave me the change I forgot to take. The people who went out of their way to help me when I had a nasty fall.

Why do we presume people are out to get us? If only we look for them and acknowledge them, there are decent people everywhere.

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This photograph of the rear window of a cab was taken during one of my numerous rides across the city. All cab-drivers are presumed to be cheats, but this was one of the several who didn't try to to fleece me. The photograph, taken on my phone-camera in March forms a part of my Pictorial Flashback of 2012.

I let him grow

“Please may I go to the shop and buy a packet of biscuits?”, my then eight year old asked me. The store is barely 300 meters from my place, no roads to cross, no difficult stretches to navigate. My son was fairly responsible- I knew he could be trusted to not do anything foolish. Why then did I hesitate? Was it because I thought he was too young? Or was it that irrational fear of letting go?

It took me three days, but I eventually agreed. His joy was unbounded. I am glad I trusted him, and let him grow. 

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I nearly killed this plant by watering it too much. Luckily, I caught it in time, and eased off. Kids are like plants, aren't they? Overwatering stifles them almost as much as neglect. Taken at home in February, this forms a part of my Pictorial Flashback of 2012.

Facing your Fears

After my disastrous first marathon, I resolved never to attempt the distance again. And yet, even as I made that resolution, I knew I would have to return at least once. If only to prove to myself that I was not scared.

I trained hard for it. Almost let it become an all-consuming passion. And in January, I did it. I exceeded my wildest expectations; ran a marathon of which I could be proud. On my birthday, I ran the distance again. By the end of the year, I ran my first ultra.

When you face your fears, they disappear.

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While I was running on the Bandra-Worli Sealink during the Mumbai Marathon, I saw the Sun rise over the waters of Mahim Creek, and paint the sky golden. I couldn't resist whipping out my phone, and snapping this picture. It is symbolic of so many things, and forms a part of my Pictorial Flashback of 2012.

Happy Birthday

“You look just like your mother”, people often tell me.

“Don’t let her hear that”, I am quick to retort. “She’ll not like being told she looks like me.”

Whether we look alike or not is debatable, but on the face of it, we are completely different. She’s gregarious; I’m reserved. She loves bright colours and dressing up; my wardrobe is made up of monochromes. We can’t stay together in the same room for an hour without fighting.

And yet, in the things that matter, we think alike. She’s the first person I think of when I need a hug.

Happy Birthday, Mumsie