Never give up on anyone

 Two years back, when I returned from a work trip, I found my mother had thrown out my plumeria.

“That plant is dead. You are just clinging onto it because you are too lazy to throw it out”, she chided when I asked her why she’d thrown out a perfectly good plant.

To be honest, she wasn’t entirely wrong. I am too lazy to weed or prune, and I almost never give a plant up for dead. The plants in my garden thrive on neglect and hope. And in this case, I had hope that, though it had shed all its leaves, the plumeria still had life left in it.

I sneaked the plant back in, and kept watering it. It appeared dead, but I insisted it was just dormant, and six months later, it proved me right by letting out two leaves.

A year back, we moved homes, and with much more direct sunlight, the plant thrived.

“You are lucky to have inherited your Patti’s green fingers”, my mother told me when she last visited us. I didn’t tell her the plant with the glossy leaves in front of her was the same one that she had given up on.

 

A couple of weeks back, the plant gave out buds. Plants often give buds but don’t bloom, so though I hoped for a couple of flowers, I didn’t get my hopes up. I knew I would continue to love the plant even if the buds dried up the way they often do.

But this plant is a survivor. It had to show me what it was capable of.

 

This may be the only time the plant flowers. Or this may be the first of many flowering seasons. But one thing I know.

Whether it is plants or people- never give up on them.

Hawa, air

For all that we cannot survive without it, Air is something we all take for granted. Which is why it is surprise that ‘hawa’ is seldom used to mean what it is supposed to mean. 


Yet, when the person changes because of changed circumstances, ‘hawa lag gaya’/ ‘air has touched (him)’ is the slightly contemptuous way in which it is described. Though, why it should be so, I fail to understand. If you go through life without allowing the places you live in and people you live with to change you, isn’t it a very narrow life you are leading?
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There are words, and there are words. Some words can be easily translated, others need to be described.  In April, I’ll attempt to capture the Soul of 26 'Indian' words in a  drabble of exactly 100 words.

The intrinsic goodness in us all

Running on my normal route yesterday, I took a nasty tumble and bruised my hand. I continued running, but took a longish detour to the only water-tap in the area so I could wash out the wound.

I took nearly 20 minutes longer to return to the starting point. “Where had you gone? I was starting to get worried about you”, said the man at the milk-booth which I normally use as my pit-stop between loops.

I don’t know him, but he was still watching out for me. Did I fall, so my faith in intrinsic goodness could be renewed?
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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

Is he deserving of deification?

Steve Jobs headed an organization that created products that set new benchmarks in innovative product design, and marketed it well to the target audience. He helped create shareholder value, and users of his products swear by them.

He was a good manager, designer, and marketer. A visionary, and a leader. Nobody can take that away from him. But to glorify him almost to the point of deification is to take it too far.

I admire the man for his professional achievements, and his personal philosophy. But I do not think he deserves the deification that is being thrust upon him.
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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

What does it take to say "no"?

No!!!!! That’s the first word kids learn to use in the proper context. They are emphatic in making their point- a “no”, means No.

When do we lose the strength of character to say “no” when we do not want to do something? How often do we end up saying “yes”, when actually we mean “no”. Why do we cringe from uttering the word we mean, and then hate ourselves for being coerced into doing something we do not wish to?

If we were honest enough to say “no”, when we mean “no”, wouldn’t we all be much better off?

"A 'No' uttered from the deepest conviction is better than a 'Yes' merely uttered to please, or worse, to avoid trouble. "

Mohandas Karamchand "Mahatma" Gandhi

2 October 1869 – 30 January 1948

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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

What is news?

When Amy Winehouse dies, it makes front page headlines in India. Her “career” is recounted; and the cause of her death much speculated upon. She is news, after all- alive or dead.

But when Wangari Maathai passes away, we only hear of it through the electronic media- facebook and twitter. Mention her name, and all you get are blank stares- the first African woman to receive the Nobel Peace Prize, a winner of the Right Livelihood Award, someone who worked tirelessly to make the world a better place for everyone. And she is virtually unknown.

Except to those who care!

 "When we plant trees, we plant the seeds of peace and seeds of hope."

Wangari Maathai 
(April 1, 1940- September 25, 2011)
Requiescat in Pace 

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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

Connecting instentaneously

Not often do you meet people with whom you are chatting like old friends within minutes of shaking hands with them. Not often do you run into people who don't ask you how old you are, or where you work, or what you do. Not often do you come across people who make you laugh as much as I did today.
I am blessed to have two such sets of people- my online blogging community, and my running fraternity. I guess when you share a passion, externalities don't really matter too much.
And I wish the world could realize that.

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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

"Don't bring it up, at least not now", I advised a friend who thought he was being grossly underpaid. He was upset because others less experienced than him were earning more, and refused to see reason when I told him that he was getting more than he would in any other organization.

He demanded a rise. Pretended he had a competing job-offer, and threatened to quit if that fictitious salary was not met. The organization was looking for an excuse to fire him, so told him to take up the other offer.

Why couldn't he have let sleeping dogs lie?

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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.

Portrait # 6

She may be only one among the 20 million people who call Bombay home, but that doesn't take away from her individuality. She is 'She'.

Flower vendor in a busy market in Bombay, India

Portrait # 5

The mangalsutra (literally sacred thread) is the mos

t commonly recognized symbol of marriage worn by Indian women. Though there are regional differences in the form the necklace takes, it is typically made of gold and is offered to the bride by the groom's family at the time of her marriage.

Few women in the city, however, wear mangalsutras made of gold- most prefer either gold plated ornaments, or ones dipped in gold paint. Since they are much cheaper than gold, you can have many different necklaces to choose from, and you don't have to worry about being mugged for your jewellery.

Which is where, vendors like this one come in.

A token of marriage for one dollar, anyone?

Buying lace

As a nation, we love bling. Sequins, glitter, stones, and.... lace.

I would love to know if she is buying the lace with a particular garment in mind, or if the garment will come later to match the lace.

Portrait # 4 - Flower Vendor

Though I rarely wear flowers in my hair, I often buy these jasmine strands just so I can soak in the fragrance. If I keep a couple of them beside my pillow at night, I can be assured of great dreams.

Strangely, most of the vendors of these very feminine of things are men!

Portrait # 3

She is the lady I normally buy my vegetables from. In the lead-up to Diwali, her shop transforms into one selling earthen lamps (diyas).

Portrait # 2

This picture was taken on the day state elections were held in Bombay. The man saw me with my camera and insisted I take his picture. Have yet to figure out what exactly it was that he was trying to show off - definitely not the lack of election mark on his finger.

Portrait # 1

The start of a series on portraits of the ordinary people you encounter on the streets of Bombay everyday. This is a vendor selling lanterns made of glittery paper.

Portrait of a burqua clad woman

“Mamma, why don’t you buy that dress”, asked my five-year-old pointing to a burqua.
I was left speechless, like I so often am these days.
"But that dress is so pretty, and black is your favourite colour", he persisted, sensing my hesitation.
Wanting to avoid an elaborate explanation, I muttered something it being too hot for satin, and distracted him with a poster of SRK.

But of one thing I am glad. Despite the environment of hatred and mistrust, we’ve brought him up believing that wearing or not wearing a burqua is a sartorial choice, not one dictated by religion.

Nadas....two for ten bucks

I seem to get most of my best shots on the local train.
Maybe because that is one time when I am not rushing from one thing to another, so have time to actually look around me. Or maybe it is just that the suburban trains are really interesting places.
Strangely enough, for the amount of interest her 'nadas' generated, nobody seemed to be buying them. Wonder why, because nadas are one thing no saree or salwar kameez wearer can ever have enough of.