Saturday, November 25, 2006

Teachers

I would be lying if I said I had been sceptical of going back to the department. I never wanted to go there. But I went. Why? I really don't know. May be I was simply greedy to know whether my teachers remembered and recognised me or not, but I cant be sure of this reason.
Anyway I decided in the favour of going. The signs were good. The weather cleared and it became sunny. By the time I reached there classes were over and I got to meet the teachers. They recognised me but that was not what I felt a gush of relief about. Rather the new building was what I felt proud of. I also realised that anyone who dissociates himself/ herself from the dept for any reason at all is purely lying or seeks attention, which they never got while they were there.

Recasting

Bui is strange. She cribs a lot. May be that is why she has not had a lot of success with Buaiji. Seeing them I realise the importance of owning a home. In the dusk of their lives and not a place to call their own..hmmm.... I would want to go back to Palampur and stay there but well I would want my own home. I know the construction work is very demanding but I would want sensibly put up rooms and ah!! to have the finances/ resources to do it up in my own way.....the vision is beautiful.
I have had this dream since I was a kid, a home that has beautiful beadspreads and rugs all around it. A home that is sprinkled with photos in wooden frames, wooden furniture and quilts and books and magazines.
How can any dream be complete without my beloved books. I have begin reading once again. This time authors that I haven't ever read or have appreciated from the wayside. Have picked up Mrinal Pande to begin with. Daughter's Daughter smells of mama's childhood. I want her to read it.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Yatra

It all had begun with a telecon. I was asked to suggest ways with which to make female readers feel more connected to a certain daily paper. No one ever told me what happened about my esteemed views but I got a call to attend an all women's journo's conclave in Bhopal.
As a rule I detest all kinds of congregations and gatherings, where I am on unfamiliar grounds or among half-baked acquaintences- that too women. But as anyone might guess that I would not have been writing this piece had I been able to get myself out of the situation.
On a not-so-hot afternoon, thanks to my travelling companions, we managed to miss teh bus that was to take us to Delhi. Anyhow we loaded the luggage and selces on to a taxi and headed out of the city. Though we reached the railway station an hour before the train's scheduled time yet boarded the wrong compartment owing to the fact that the woman who guided us to our seats was looking at the return ticket rather than the current.
And then, when after a lot of running around we managed to reach our seats we were told by a kind stranger that the train had no pantry car and hence no food till we reached Bhopal.
If you have to undertake travel in any part of India, you are told a hundred times not to talk top a stranger and even a greater numebr of times to not to take anything to eat from a staranger. Un/fortunately ew did nhot have much choice and had to share the kind gentleman's biryani.
So much so for the yatra, but one look at the hotel where I was to stay made me forget all woes. A breathtakingly beautiful lake welcomed us as the sun rose from the horizon. An early fisherman was spreading his net on the waters as his son looked over with sleepy eyes.
I wondered like a sleepy cloud.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

identity

I have come across so many people wanting to create an identity that it has suddenly made me wonder why haven't I ever pined for one or are they suffering from an identity crisis.
I consider my name as the part of identity, the face with which the people recognise me- part of my identity, my work a larger part of my id. I assume that all the other people also have been blessed with similar stuff then why are they clamouring to carve identities. Am I being presumptuous?