Isn't that how festivals should be?

“Please, Mamma, may be do Ganapathi at home?”, my kids asked me.

“No way. I am not killing myself any more”, I replied. “You want to celebrate, you celebrate. Leave me out of it.”

Last year, I had sworn not to celebrate any festivals at home. All the hard work wore me out, nobody appreciated the effort, and I ended up snapping at everyone in frustration. Life became much easier after I started ignoring festivals.

And then the kids wanted to celebrate. I let them take charge; helped when they asked. We have fun.

Isn’t that how festivals should be?

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We haven't yet got to a stage where we celebrate obscure festivals like this one where images of the Mother Goddess seem to be worshipped at home, but we have celebrated at least three major and many minor festivals, and had fun. Taken at the local market, in December, this forms a part of my Pictorial Flashback of 2012.

The Mother of a Reader

“Haven’t you already read this book?”, my husband often asks. “Why are you reading it again?”

“For the same reason you keep watching the same match on TV”, I tell him. “Because I want to.”

Non-readers just don’t get it. Reading is not like watching TV. Reading needs you to concentrate, to put in effort. Why would you do that, when you already know the ending?

But a Reader knows that it is precisely when you are not rushing towards the ending that you get the most out of a book.

I am glad I am the mother of one.

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When I first read Vikram Seth's "A Suitable Boy", I nearly got a stress fracture on my wrist because of the weight of the book. One decade, two kids, and many life experiences later, when I returned to the book this year, the book gave me just as pleasure as it did the first time I round. I am glad I discovered it, gladder that I re-discovered it. Taken at a Cafe outside my sons' school in November, this photograph forms a part of my Pictorial Flashback of 2012.

You don't have to be good....

They had strung a net across the road, and using streetlights as floodlights were engaged in a game of volleyball. None of them was particularly skilled; they had to keep interrupting the game to let pedestrians pass. But they were all having fun.

“Why have you blocked up the street”, and elderly gentleman reprimanded. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

They smiled and asked him to join in too. He didn’t, but stayed to watch.

You don’t have to be very good at something in order to enjoy it. That you enjoy something is reason enough to do it.

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Just off one of the busiest streets in Bombay, is this narrow lane where traffic is so sparse that people can actually block the road off to play a game of volleyball. Taken on a cool October evening, this forms a part of my Pictorial Flashback of 2012.

I discovered cooking

Mine is a family of fussy eaters. Of people who think nothing of leaving their food untouched and ordering greasy takeaway. Never a passionate cook, I stopped cooking a long time back. Till I realised I could cook for myself. Recipes my mother used to make, and which I had almost forgotten about. Recipes given by friends. Recipes sourced from the internet. Cooking became fun again. And with me spending more time in the kitchen, my cooking became more palatable to the family.

Though I have been cooking for over 25 years, this is the year when I discovered Cooking.

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Despite the fact that the hubby doesn't have egg yolk, in all these years of married life, I clung to my principles of never baking an eggless cake. The first eggless cake I baked was for his 40th birthday, and it came out really well. This photograph of the chocolate-banana cake forms a part of my Pictorial Flashback of 2012.

Judgement to be Swift

While the entire nation is signing petitions demanding death penalty for the rapists in a particularly heinous crime, I hold a contrary view. People want the rapists to hang, so it will serve as a deterrent for others, but if that were the case, there would be no murder or terrorism. What strikes fear in the hearts of people is not the severity of punishment, but the certainty of punishment. And if death is the punishment, any judge will drag his feet.

The lynch mobs can continue to scream for blood, all I want is for judgement to be swift.

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"The Doors of Perception", is what I call this composition. What you see, depends on how you look at it. Taken in August at one of our favourite restaurants, this forms a part of my Pictorial Flashback of 2012.

Will this ever end?

Crimes against women are on the rise. Rape, assault, murder. Instances of acid-throwing, of faces being slashed. Crimes by strangers; crimes by loved ones. Crimes reported; crimes unreported.

Crimes that make you seriously consider donning a veil- except that never stopped a sexually frustrated male, did it?

You can blame tradition that put women in a subordinate role. But actually, it is popular culture that is to blame. It is Bollywood that reinforces the view that stalking a woman is the way to win her. That when a woman struggles, she’s enjoying it.

Will this objectification of women ever end?

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This picture was taken from a cab on a monsoon day in July. Words are not required, those eyes say it all. Taken on Tulsi Pipe Road, this forms a part of my Pictorial Flashback of 2012.

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.