Maha's musings

Last week, I visited my niece's school for the monthly grand ritual— Parents Teachers Meeting, as her parents were out of station. It turned out to be one of the epiphanies of my life. Being a teacher myself, what I witnessed there caught me by surprise. It was a well-known school situated in the heart of the city. The students were seated in a classroom next to the hall where the meeting was conducted. There was a teacher deployed to monitor the students, all the while the meeting was going on in the next room.  There were some four parents seated along with their children when I entered, shepherding my niece. The teacher was seated in her chair and a dozen of printouts were found scattered on her table. It was visible that she was juggling with all of them.  She was no less than a machine with great agility to answer the parents as well as to get the number of forms signed. Every time a parent went to her one after another, she gestured them to sit and started in...

"Happy teachers' day, mam!!!" Every September-5 dawns with this cheerful note. It's high time that I wish all those lovely souls back a bit earlier and remind them of the good time spent together!!! It is a six-year-long journey from an amateur instructor who fussed over everything to an even-tempered teacher who tries to embrace the challenges posed by the students. It's been a journey of twists and turns. I have been noticed, listened to, loved, cared for, comforted, entertained and what not? Despite some momentary stress and occasional outbursts, it has always been a source of delight for me. Right from the bus driver to the tiny little toddlers, everyone has impacted me immensely.  The funloving (equally cringy) colleagues who give me numerous funky names and with whom I can share all the serious things over a cup of tea in the funniest way possible  (special mention to Mr.D, my audience and Mr.Nyaayam), the senior colleagues who counsel me or mock...

  "That one slap reminded me of all the unfair things which I had undergone, ignoring" This is the punchline of Anubhav Sinha's movie, Thappad (2020) . It shows Amrita (Ammu), a certified classical dancer who gets married to a fiercely ambitious, affluent young man— Vikram and chooses to be a typical housewife rather than pursuing her career. Right from waking up in the morning to going to bed at night, she makes herself available for all the becks and calls of her husband and takes good care of her mother-in-law. As a couple, they share the dream of relocating to London as a part of Vikram's promotion. This aspiration grows gradually into an obsession in Vikram's mind which nobody visibly notices.  On the day of the announcement of his promotion, he throws a party for their family members, neighbours and office acquaintances. Ammu, in her high spirits,  arranges that in a grand way and is having a gala time with her loved ones.  It's by then, th...

Book Review RETURN TO INDIA -A MEMOIR- by Shoba Narayan Home is where the heart is... Indian diaspora is rich and widespread across the globe. Shoba Narayan, being a part of it, shares her journey from being a rebellious Indian teen who aspires to be an American citizen to becoming a naturalized American who yearns to go back to India, the homeland. This coming of age memoir deals mainly with the author's life and how she feels alienated in America— the country which she once thought to be her Utopia. Shoba Narayan deals mainly with the growth in the psyche of an Indian teen (in eighties). In the earlier chapters America is shown to be a dreamland. The relatives abroad, the series, comics and other entertaining things foster in her a deep sense of longing for America. She deems it to be an escape from the tight clutch of her orthodox family and to be a place where opportunities are abound.  "It was the land of the free, home of the brave. Struck in a s...

Vice versa!!! Peem....peeeemm.... a horrible hooting roused me from my sleep. I woke up startled tucking my disheveled strands of hair behind my ears. "Oofoo these bus drivers are horrible. Their day will be complete only when they startle a handful of people everyday", I muttered as I came back to reality. I was on our school bus; it was just ten minutes to six and I was exhausted— the gift of the day long jam-packed schedule.  As I peeped through the window, I saw a college bus veering past. That reminded me of the carefree college days. It has been more than half a decade since I ceased to be a student. Being a teacher has changed me a lot— a funloving, boisterous girl to a grim faced, focused woman. I have been a part of so many conveyances— auto-rickshaw,school van and I even have cycled all the way to school. That was the era of sheer freedom— insert a key, clutch the handle, mount the cycle and pedal, feeling the late evening breeze on the body with a sense...

AL WIDA GRANDMA!!! The hall was crowded with random women that we had to wade through shoving. The ambiance was spookily calm. My tongue lurched in horror when I saw my grandma lying down nearby her bed on the floor— LIFELESS .  Her last weeks were so awful. She suffered an unbearable pain both mentally and physically— It was an ordeal. We all wished that she could get through that soon. Even the doctor had warned us a week before that she was beyond any cure and was counting her days. But still, I couldn't stomach that she had left us that soon— within a fortnight, so abruptly.  It seemed that my grandma was sleeping and was alive. But in reality, she was no more and was just a corpse with her eyes closed. "Will I ever see her?" my guilty heart questioned. For some minutes, I turned out to be the one whom I hated the most in the whole world for not visiting her for one last time, as everyone kept insisting. I started banging my head. Asked numerous sorries to...

But she was so calm, listened to me patiently and told that she felt sorry for me. "Ma'am, could you manage if I avail leave tomorrow?",I blurted out abruptly without thinking of any better way to put it forth, more ceremoniously. "We shall see to it...ummm...can.. rope in someone else in case of emergencies or even put off your works until the next day", she said magnanimously. But she was not certain that she could manage.  So I added, "It's not sure that I'll avail leave, ma'am.. you know in case.. " I was in search of better and less ominous words to complete the sentence, desperately. "Oh that's totally fine.  Drop me a message or call me, if you are availing leave and take care", she ended with a supportive tone sensing my unease. "Ooof... finally!!!", I felt relieved that I need not worry about the next day. But it gave birth to the main discomfort— my grandma's momories. Even by then I didn't have a b...

She was devastated. It seemed she aged all of a sudden— Her cheeks seemed more sunken, her eyes were unhealthily puffy, her usually well-oiled strands were fluttering frizzily, her erect shoulders, slouched against the seat. I couldn't make out what to do. Just kept mum. It was only by then I got a call from one of my colleagues who was also a part of paper evaluation by then. I told her about my situation and added that I could not come to the centre the next day, if something untoward happened to my grandma.  She was sorry for me and instructed me to inform the same to our H.E. (Head Examiner) for she had to deploy someone else in my place. I thought it was not needed since I believed strongly that nothing would happen to my grandma. Yet, something in me interrupted, "what if...?"  It was already ten past nine. I didn't want to nag her by calling at the late hour. So, I texted her asking whether I could call her and was waiting for her reply. Though she was offline,...

I was relieved to spot my mom gesturing from one of the platforms and reached her, panting. She shot a furious look which  I didn't acknowledge. (The best way to escape a mother's wrath is, to pretend that nothing happened)  "Thank god. I came on time", I breathed out; but no response from her side. I paused. "It is quarter to nine now", I tapped on the dial and rolled my eyes (intentionally dramatic) to seek her attention.  "Did you lock the door?", she fumed. It sounded alarmingly cold. "No, dad asked me not to", I replied replicating her tone. It was just ten minutes to nine. As we stood cocking, I spotted the bus slowing down to a halt with the usually irritating whistle of the conductor.  To my surprise, there was no crowd to push my way through boarding. There was no one to fling towels or cloth bags through the windows to reserve seats; only a handful of passengers trudged past due to the day long exhaustion— Some daily wages, retu...

As I said no, my dad left home leaving me to take decision on my own. "Okay call me if needed", he muttered before leaving. It was 8:00pm by then. My phone rang. This time it was my mom's chithi. She was at my grandma's house. When I got a call from her, it was a bit more intimidating.  "Hello..", the voice started in a weighted down, throaty voice. "Tell me, gran. How is grandma? Is she alright now?", I levelled all the questions without bothering to get a reply. But she intruded— "grandma isn't well at all. Won't you come to meet her?",she sounded dramatic. And I had to console her by assuring that I would visit grandma ( before she breathed her last! )  As soon as I hung her call up, I dialed my dad and informed him about my grandma's condition. He sent an auto rickshaw within minutes (luckily not that old grumpy man). When I heard the hooting of the horn at the doorstep, I went blank. I didn't know what to take and wha...

It must be my mom again, I guessed. I rushed to answer it but before I could fish out the mobile from my bag, I missed the call. By then the uncle dropped me at home. I thanked him and he veered past with a mild smile.  When I entered home, it was just 10 minutes to 8pm. I called my dad to ask where he was. "I will be back within minutes. The mechanic is dealing with the bike.", he soothed.  Just then I noticed that my mom had even packed my dresses for the night stay at grandma's house. It was so fishy. She wouldn't encourage me to stay away from home during weekdays. That too— it was a Monday, hence five days away from the weekend.  I phoned my mom back, to ask where she was. By then, her worries had snowballed into a well-formed frustration. "Where on the earth are you? Can't you attend the call?....", She bellowed. I turned red too. "Maa..first let me answer. You don't know what happened. I couldn't board the overcrowded bus– called dad ...

He seemed exhausted too. Got down from the bike to examine the tires and found out the reason. "It's already 7:40; I've to board the bus...", I moaned. He stayed calm and composed as usual and instructed me to call my mom and findout where she was which I didn't dare to do. "I don't want to nag her at this moment..", I dodged.  Within what seemed some three minutes, there was an auto rickshaw passing by; when we tried to stop, we saw that it had its passengers already. I was caught between Scylla and Charybdis — on one hand I had to board the bus on time; on the other hand the flat tire has to be fixed.  I rolled my eyes in irritation targeting my dad. He gave his signature sheepish grin and shrugged, "What I did?" He was right. Things backfire in horrible ways sometimes. My dad called the mechanic. Luckily there came one of his customers on an old bike. He held on seeing my dad and what-happened-to-you enquiry went. Only when my dad introd...

"Umm... Grandma is not keeping well again. Chithi had called me....I have got to go....." She went on and on all the while stuttering. It was difficult to decipher too. Still.. the very thought of my grandma and her declining health made me all jumpy. "Maa.. tell it clearly. When exactly you are....?", I  snapped her.  "Right now", she countered me even before I could complete my sentence and added, "She wants to meet you we guess. MAYBE FOR ONE LAST TIME !!! So come home on time. The bus will start at 8:30pm from Chathram...", the words were so intense to sink in. Yet she spoke without stopping.  I tried to explain that I missed the bus and was waiting for my dad to pick me up. But it was in vain; she hung up abruptly. It really irked me. (Later it turned out that it was because the bus came 15mins earlier to the stop. So she had to board it in a jiffy)  I stood puzzled and equally pissed off. But still... I felt heavy. That was too strange a fe...

I had no other go than to nag my dad. I dialed his number. To my annoyance it went on ringing but no response. Being a daughter to a shopkeeper is unpredictably whammy that one has to adjust a lot. I felt as though I was strayed amidst an arid desert. For a minute, I scolded myself for having been so negligent in boarding the bus despite knowing that it would take another hour for the next bus.  After a minute or so, my phone buzzed. "Appa"— the screen flashed. What a relief! I swiped up to answer. It's typical of my dad to holler into the phone against the noisy surroundings. Esp. in the evenings— the peak hours of the day.  "You had called me, why?" He yelled. "I'm in TVS Tolgate. I missed the bus....ummm... the bus was.... ", I started meekly to explain (to justify)  "Okay. Stay there itself. I'm coming." Having said that he didn't bother to get a reply;  disconnected the call. That's my dad. No more coaxing, nothing! He ne...

The day was as usual as every other day. I woke up to the tone of my alarm; got ready with excessive enthusiasm for some reasons unknown; boarded the bus as usual on time and reached school in time. As a devoted daughter, I called my mother to inform my safe arrival and asked when she would return from grandma's house.  It was in fact the second week since my grandma was hospitalised for her wheezing and other co morbidities (and it was not the first time) if truth be said, my mother is a devoted and dutiful daughter. She took care of her mother like no one could do. She would go to hospital every single day sometimes night with undaunted spirit (physically exhausted though) That day was just another such day; my grandma had just been discharged and my mom was there with her at home. When I called her, I duly enquired her whereabouts and just ignored my grandma's. (After all when hospital becomes one's second home, who will bother much.) The convo lasted roughly for a minut...

Whenever I open my cupboard, it never fails to amaze me with its contents. Sometimes my old notebooks used years before, sometimes a leaf file with my random scribblings in it, sometimes bits of papers filled with random  English words whose meanings yet to be found out, sometimes my college books with some ten to fifty rupee notes in them.  The joy of bumping into these old pals is something that only the messy people like me can understand. It was purely serendipitous that I chanced upon this bookmark wedged between two hardbound books. It was so special for two reasons— 1. It was so reminiscent and unique 2. It was handmade (by me)— a collection of some five circular charts with same radius (most probably of 2cm each) glued together vertically as a single whole. That's undoubtedly way too big to be a bookmark. But I had my reasons behind that.  It was because, I had to write the titles of the books I read, on the charts each and every time I finished readin...

Kamala Das— a renowned poetess shares her mental agonies when she sees her 66 years old, senile mother who is no longer the one she used to see in her childhood days, in one of her poems— " My Mother at Sixty-six " . It inspired me to scribble something about   My Mother at **age can't be mentioned** Dear mom.. You are awesome.You know something? I envy so many of your qualities— the never give up attitude, keeping up with the pace of life without complaints, being readily available for the needy (it stretches even beyond our family), straightforwardness, etc.,  You have always been a source of solace for me. You have given me both the best and the worst advise.  Rewinding the past I can remember the days where you used to wear that "STRICT MOTHER" mask and would never miss any opportunity to straighten your daughter out. (The means were alarmingly diverse though)  I believe that you too still remember those hundreds of situations where you fo...

No more alarm to be set earlier; no more rush to board that "7:50am" bus; no more flower vendor to inquire, "why are you late to the stop today?; no more 15-20mins of free roller-coaster ride with a bag hanging over the shoulder; right hand, clutching the railing and the left hand, carrying a water bottle and my mobile. No more cardial smiles and unexpected assistance, offered by the strangers; no more bumping into the long lost people out of serendipity; no more leisurely walk basking in the soothing sun and sniffing the inducing aroma wafting around the hotels on the way; no more kiddish satisfaction—"I'm the first to reach today!" No more random thoughts that keep me engaged for another 10-15mins along with the breakfast I prepared; no more random smiling faces which enquire my whereabouts and kickstart a lovely day;  No more chance to witness the teachers, juggling with so many forms and answer booklets to be evaluated— red pen at one hand a...

Every single person was deeply engrossed in something or other. Some were seated in pairs and were chattering as if they were a part of a fiesta. It didn't seem that they were teachers from different schools rather a part of a huge extended family. Some were dressed in sarees and a few were in salwars. Some were modest in their cosmetics and others were entirely showy; some sported gaudy jewelry whereas others, formal in their outfits. Needless to be mentioned— there were merely three gents whowere left to be seated in the last row.  There wasn't much diversity in their attires too.   Despite the amiable atmosphere, I felt like a kid stranded in a huge mob. My eyes searched for Ms.Vedha who had also been designated as an evaluator from our school. She even spoke with me over phone and told me that she had reached the spot five minutes before. But to my annoyance she wasn't to be found anywhere there. Plus some pairs of eyes were even glued to me as I advanced. What else c...

Being a teacher demands us to take numerous incarnations and gives unpredictably diverse tasks to be done. One has to run helter skelter fulfilling the duties endorsed on him/her.  They don't just have to teach;  They have to teach, they have to set question papers, they have to conduct tests, finally they have to correct the papers too. Do you think with that their duties end? A big NO! who will tackle the parents? For the children's dipping marks? Undoubtedly THE TEACHERS!!! And these are just the concrete, materialistic side of the profession.  There are so many self imposed abstract things like motivating, inducing, igniting, inspiring, habituating, etc., too, which almost nobody outside cares about. Being a part of this noble profession, I'm in no way exceptional or exempted from such predicaments. Here I'm sitting among a mob of diverse people whom I have never spoken to or even never met before. Here I'm not just Mahalakshmi. They call me Examiner no.xxxxxx. ...