Always...

Close your eyes and think about all the "always" in your life. When we are kids we know parents, teachers, homework, play, punishment would always be there. Years go by, the list get altered. Some friends, parents, professors make it to the list. Then begins the quest of finding that someone who would always be there.
On the most important day in our lives, perhaps in the most romantic setting by the sea or mountain or it could be a drab old ruin standing as testimony to the years gone by or it could be in a cozy corner in a restaurant that the words are uttered, "I"ll always be there for you". Short sentence but think about the weight it carries. The dreams it helps to weave along. The peace and strength that the word "always" can offer. Its powerful, magic almost eternal.
Years have goneby and my "always" list has gone through its fair share of changes. Some forever and others I hope to bring back to my list someday.
It was August and I was busy shopping for my daughter's birthday. Hopping from one shop to the other, bargaining, looking, buying some and then moving on. Suddenly without notice big drops of rain started falling and before I could say "umbrella", I was soaked to my skin. Quickly I moved under a shelter because that is what we have always done. I couldn't help but curse my self about forgetting to get my umbrella along. Why is it that I always forget it when I leave home? Age catching up I told my cold self sternly.
The rain decided not to stop. I looked across the road and saw a bunch of kids playing in the rain. We always did that when we were young. Then a bus came and stopped, out jumped a little schoolgirl with ponytails. Simultaneously, a lady dashed from beside me, swiftly opening the umbrella and holding it above the girl. Did I spot a moment of disappointment in her eyes but it soon broke into a smile as she greeted her mother. I heard their fading conversation as they walked away. The girl was saying "I knew you would be there with an umbrella".
Thats why I forget it everytime!! I always knew that there would be someone with an umbrella everytime it rained. "Always" change to "sometimes" if we are lucky.
A little tug at my sari made me come back to the rain. A little boy with soaked clothes offering me an umbrella to walk to my car. A rupee he said were his charges. I smiled and walked out with him. Thank God that still there is someone to hold an umbrella even if it comes with a paltry price.

Fairies and Magic

Early '60's was when I was born. A little unusual in those days to be the only child and to have working parents. "Loner", "Lonely" were commonly used to describe such children. But not me for I had my Grandma who took care of me and was a big part of my life.

Today, most families have only one child and parents are working. Call it the need of today or progress. Television, game stations, nannies, mobile phones, computers are companions of today's child.

I am here to tell my story.
No television or computers in the early '60s for us. Radio was meant for news and quietly listening to songs in the afternoons while breezing through a book. I recollect my summer holidays which meant that Grandma and me were together from 9am to 6 pm.
We would firmly shut the compound gate after my mother left slinging her bag and as she left she gave strict instructions to my grandma of not giving me fried food and seeing that I finish my studies. I don't know if my mother saw my grandmother nodding to all that she was saying. "Party time" I would scream silently. Study books firmly shut, I opened my magic box. Tumbled out from it half dozen dolls in various stages of nakedness, tiny utensils, broken boxes which served as sofas for the dolls. Match boxes were useful for making any furniture. But my favourite was a bottle of beads that my uncle gave me. I loved their bright colors and would often string them randomly and gift it to the most deserving doll for that day! Grandma would stitch me tiny frocks for my dolls. She had a magic bag too! It was full of things that we term as "junk" today. Tiny cut pieces of cloth, some wool, multi colored thread (which almost looked from pre independence days), chalk pieces, rusty needles of all sizes. Our house was spring cleaned many atimes but Grandma never parted with this bag. A canary yellow top with a tangy orange skirt and lime green sleeves, she put together the pieces and looked at me smiling. Oh what a pretty dress it would make! Out came her sewing machine, almost as old as her but as efficient as her as well. Within minutes the disjointed cloths took shape of a frilly, girly dress and she even stitched a button at the back. Wow today Alice, blue eyed doll got lucky. I still believe that their painted smile broadened each time they got a gift like this.
I got busy to give Alice a few fashion accessories like a bead chain and a tiny bag from the cut pieces that still lay cluttered on the floor. Grandma had quietly gone into the kitchen and was frying bread pieces until they turned golden brown. On it she sprinkled some sugar and yum they became the most delicious dish for me. How I savoured every bit of it and 40 years later, the taste still lingers.
Mid morning she would call me out into our little kitchen garden. I learnt how to weed delicately. She would go round with a bunch of sticks, supporting plants, tying a thread loosely around it. Our garden though small but was blessed. We had a pomegranate tree, a guava tree, a coconut palm, a wide variety of vegetable plants and flowers too. Pumkins would grow to the size of Cinderella's carriage! We never had to buy corriander, it was always there in a cluster in a corner. She knew like a magician which plant needed what nutrition. Any plant she touched would never let her down. Be it flower or fruit it would always put up its best show.
Afternoons were for warding off little birds that would descend on the garden to feast on little saplings. Grandma would sit on a mat with a huge stick in her hand and tell me the most fascinating stories of kings and queens, demons and elves, fairies and goblins. But my favourite was of mythological stories, How God's came down with the first rays of the sun. How a rainbow was an escalator for the pretty maids of Goddesses!
As the clock neared five in the evening, I hurriedly stuffed back my dolls, kissed Alice good night into the box. Then hid it in the corner behind a cupboard. Grand ma also did the same with her bag. Carefully removing all items and hiding her bag. My school books that remained firmly shut, opened them again and stared at the boring alphabets. My mind wandered off to the unfinished tale of this afternoon. The wicked king had imprisoned the beautiful princess in a tower. When will Prince charming come along and rescue her...did the bee carry the message to the Prince...A sharp shrill door bell brought me back from fairyland. Ma was back. Tired, she loosely flung her bag on the bed and went towards the wash room. "Curtains" for today I told myself and looked at Grandma who got busy with household chores.

Understanding Change

Let me begin with change, our constant companion. Once I was asked how difficult or easy would it be for me to change my choice of morning beverage (tea for me). "NO WAY" was my first reaction. Am sure it is the same with each one reading this.
My son just left home to pursue his studies in a foreign land. New people, new culture, climate and even the biological clock had to be turned back to awake and rest with the clock of the land there. It was change in capitals and bold for him. It took a few days but he settled in like million other travellers and students.
In my email to him I often write asking him to perform better, attempt new things, be alert. All that parents normally say. Recently he underperformed in one of the class assignments and I tried to be as soft about it but the message was loud and clear : "You Disappoint".
My son wrote a mail back, perhaps he couldn't say it or his voice got washed away by my advice. He wrote that it was a huge transition for him, he now has to take care of a lot of things that were previously not in his mind. The academic level is no more of high school and research was the key word. Sleep has become a rare commodity because he always has some assignments to pursue. He hates the feeling of disappointing us, he continued. He wanted us to give him a little time to adjust to the sea change he is facing.
It struck me reading through his mail that sometimes how unaware we are to the change affecting even our close ones and in this case it was my son! I was aware about all of it theoratically to say but understood it only after he expressed it in so many words.

Everything Under The Sun