A summer in Simla

Twenty years later, am sure i wouldn't even acknowledge him if he passed by on the street....but that one week in summer, he meant the world to me. He was good looking, rakish and a charmer...just what my frayed nerves needed. We met at the hill station where my grandparents lived. Where i knew people and they knew me as the studious, intelligent kid from the city...which in my head i heard as the nerd, the overweight, dull kid. I saw him one morning walk past our cottage, whistling and humming to himself. I smiled, i knew he was beyond my league but just his gait, his demeanor, his joy made me smile. I waited the next morning and he was there again at the same time. This time my grandmother was with me and she informed me that he was the good for nothing grandson of her friend. He had decided to quit med school to come and write plays in the hills. writers were not supposed to be good looking i remarked. The next morning I came out of the shower, my hair still wet and found him sipping tea with my grandmother in the garden. Casually he commented that I should wear my hair loose, it really suits me. once we got chatting the chemistry was electric. When he suggested showing me an exhibition on the history of simla...my grandmother was delighted. She was glad I had some company and didn't have to take off on my own. I could swear he had a wicked grin even then when he thanked her and escorted me out. We had a week together and spent every waking moment together. He was funny but complicated. He was charming but had a glad eye. He was a great lover and said just the right things. What I loved the most was the adventure, running down slopes, him plucking wildflowers that i wore in my hair and ears....kissing by the brook, cuddling because it was cold...and sneaking into my room at night since it was raining and i didst want him catching a chill! I blushed and stammered in his presence and thank god my grandmother talked so much and didn't see too well... Surprisingly when I kissed him goodbye I knew it was the final bye....I could not handle his over powering, overwhelming persona in my "real" life, in the city...but this summer romance was a boon that would keep me smiling for a long long time...

Carmem~ a new word i made up!

Carmem~ memories associated with travelling in a car I was supposed to be in a bad mood that morning and yet I was giggling like a schoolgirl....carmem at work again! I was late for work, hungry, skipped breakfast, had a spat with my mother on the phone and yet as soon I drove passed "that" spot I was in splits. That was where I met the nerd every morning who was my carpool buddy. He was always late and had a ridiculous excuse, I pretended like I was driving past and he would run after me like a scared child. We lost touch but the carmem lived on…

Sex and the city

Shifa Maitra recounts a recent late night ordeal in Mumbai, and says that Mumbai is only slightly safer than Delhi. So Delhi is an awful place and women shouldn’t even visit. Well, Mumbai is just a tad better. Having lived in both cities and having returned here after a five-year stint in Delhi, I can tell you that living on your own as a single woman here isn’t as great as it used to be. I am not comparing it to Delhi, but let’s put it this way, women can’t be as bindass as they used to be here. With women being molested outside a five star hotel on New Year’s eve, to a security guard sexually assaulting and killing a bright young lawyer, to acid attacks, stones being pelted at the ladies compartments in trains…all of it is a nightmare. I recently had a shocker of an experience when I was returning home from a late night shoot. Thank God my driver was driving. It was around 3 am and at the Juhu beach turning, an SUV came very close to my car, with some guys inside it waving and screaming. My first reaction was to see if it was someone I knew, but my driver sensed trouble and stepped on the accelerator. I could see them screaming and making lewd gestures. I panicked and my driver warned me that he would be speeding – this car tried to block our way and stop in front of us. The entire ordeal lasted a few minutes but it was nightmarish. When I looked up, my driver had taken another route till we lost them. I was telling a friend the next day about this incident, and she said that something similar had happened to her and a friend when they left from Wtf in Versova and were going home. We don’t have a Chief Minister, yet, who tells us that women should stay at home to avoid such incidents, but we are getting there. Pepper sprays and learning taekwando are all very well. Drunk driving is something the city has been able to get under control, but all the same, driving alone past midnight is best avoided. A friend had a flat tyre late at night at the Garage Road in Santacruz, and she was pretty shaken up by the time she got home. Another thing to avoid is going for a walk or a run at night. From Versova’s back road to the Carter Road promenade, women have had to deal with unwelcome attention for no fault of theirs. Allowing electricians, plumbers and watchmen inside your home when you are alone is again a no-no. However inconvenient, call a friend or neighbour to hang around till the work is being done. Someone I know runs an agency for guards, and he was candid about the fact that background checks on those employed are not always done. Taking an autorickshaw at night is asking for trouble. God help you if you light up a cigarette, you really may not get home. People who seem perfectly ‘normal’ when alone, when in a group become a mob that can’t be trusted. Colaba Causeway, Gateway of India, Linking Road and Juhu are areas that are hellholes, given that streetwalkers operate there and any woman out at night alone is instantly branded as one. Crowded places are again a bane, whether it is Ganpati visarjan or Holi. New Year’s eve or the Bandra Fair, the minute a woman is in the crowd, it is assumed that the woman will ‘enjoy’ being groped and molested. Sad but true, that women are better off staying off the roads when these hooligans reign. Well, the silver lining is that if a woman asks for help in a public place in Mumbai, people will step forward and help her. Walking into a cop station is also not as daunting as it would be in Delhi. Keeping your mobile phone charged at all times helps, and calling up a friend when there is a hint of trouble makes sense. A friend who lived alone had a drunk neighbor banging on her door at one in the morning. Thankfully, she called us instantly and had only frayed nerves to deal with. So, trust in God but lock your car, as the Dalai Lama said. Of course Mumbai is a rocking, fun city, but don’t push your luck. Shifa Maitra is a media professional based in Mumbai. (Picture courtesy Joshi Daniel)

Friends and Lovers

She: you know what, I don’t think we should work together
He: even if I promise not to be such a brat?!!!
She: that’s not the point, it will ruin our friendship
He: think of how wonderful it will be to kiss and make up. Besides I’d like to see you crack the whip
She: don’t you ever get it?

A month later
He: who the hell do you think you are? What were trying to prove????
She: I was doing my job and I was well within my rights to question you
He: ya right! In front of ten people? And don’t you dare start the “I told you so” number
She: and why am I supposed to make concessions for you?
He: coz we are friends, or at least I thought we were…

Two months later

She: I don’t want another coffee, can we please go home
He: ok babe, just that I want you to know that am really sorry, I screwed up
She: I have heard that before and honestly I am tired, I need to sleep
He: My wonderful back massage is what you need. Come on lets go home
She: I am going home, alone. Am sorry I don’t feel like company tonight

Four months later

He: come on, admit it. My idea was super and you still thought the jerk had a better idea. Are you doing him?
She: will you stop it. And don’t you dare to talk to me like this
He: aww, drop the boss act babe. Remember I am your best buddy who has a right to know what’s happening in your life?
She: so that I can be discussed at the lunch table tomorrow?
He: if you stepped out of your ivory tower and joined us for lunch, you’d know we have more interesting things to talk about

Six months later
She: ok so it’s done. Honest to god, I tried. But I am not the sole decision maker around here
He: you really are enjoying this, aren’t you? Telling the world that I am a jerk and you know it all
She: where did that come from? And why would I want to do that?
He: coz I treat you like a human being and not a demi goddess. And reality bites honey!!!!
She: it does? So maybe it’s time you got real. And faced the truth. You are mediocre and not because you lack talent. Only due to the fact that you are lazy
He: Gosh! And I actually thought you were a friend?

Pretty woman

The first time I saw her she was leaning against a bench and laughing at me. Ok, I agree I was overreacting to a situation that nobody could do anything about. I was mad at a local in the scenic hill station because I had not been warned that it could start raining on a perfectly sunny day.
I had come to chail, a couple of days ago, to clear my head. Didn’t want to meet anyone I knew or anyone who remotely had led a city bread life. No plu’s- people like us. Yet this woman who was an epitome of grace and beauty even at her age, was clearly someone who was moneyed, classy and well educated. I was intrigued.
I followed her and she walked quite a distance before she turned into a cottage with a white wooden gate. She looked back at me and gestured that I come in. I was embarrassed and awkward but she waited for me smiling. I went in, the house was cozy and classy. Wooden flooring, a fireplace, plush rugs, antique silver, comfortable sofas and overlooking a beautifully tended garden. Without asking she walked into the kitchen and came back with mugs of steaming hot chocolate. It was divine and I felt a sense of peace that I hadn’t experienced in years. Riya Ghosh, is what she offered as an introduction. Bookcases lined with books intrigued me and as if reading my thoughts she said that both she and her husband loved to read. They had different tastes so hence she had an eclectic mix.
Over the next couple of hours and four rounds of coffee riya knew all about my life. I couldn’t believe how much I had shared with a rank stranger. She smiled and said perhaps it was easier because I didn’t know her. But it wasn’t that. She had a peace that was rare. Now i needed to know her views on my life. I had ranted and told her all about how I was about to call off my wedding with Ronak who I had been dating for the last four years. I loved him immensely yet his irritating family, his lack of ambition and his laid back attitude was driving me up the wall. I wanted more out of life and I wasn’t willing to compromise.
She asked me to forgive him and forgive myself and build a wonderful life together. I looked at her angry and she asked me to go back to the hotel and come the next day. I mumbled something and walked away, sure that I wouldn’t be coming back.
Yet all night I thought about her forgiving myself stance that I did not get and wanted to meet her again to know more. I also needed to more about her life. So I went back. She had a picnic basket ready, like she was expecting me. We went to a brook nearby and sat there for hours, she had an awesome voice and we sang to the birds. It was so wonderful and healing. When I got back to my room I realised I hadn’t asked her a thing. It was so magical just being with her.
I went to see her everyday for the next two weeks. Always after eleven because before that she taught local children and looked into her correspondence. Soon I got to know that included mentoring phd students who were studying comparative world religions. A subject she was an expert on. Each time asked about her life, she would smile and say she would tell me some day.
And one day she did. Told me what had happened over the last 70 summers of her life. She told me about her childhood and youth in Amritsar where she lived in a progressive Punjabi family. She grew up with her grandparents since her father was in the army and her parents kept getting posted to places that didn’t have good schools. How she met and fell in love with Inder, who was from a huge land owning family. How they dreamt of a future together, how they met on the terrace, how they wrote poetry for each other. How he had decided to rebel against the family and marry her as soon as she turned eighteen. How his family would disown him but they had already found a piece of land they would till and live on. She came to chail for the first time with him and they decided to live here when they were old...
Inder got killed by terrorists one evening. Just like that, to prove a point to rich families that were not coughing up money to support their cause. Riya didn’t know who she could cry in front of. Other than the two of them no one knew of their wonderful love and future planned out.
Riya moved to delhi and did brilliantly in academics. Her parents fretted over her wedding and she always said no. Till Major ranjan ghosh was decided upon by her father. He had known him since he first joined the army and was a liberal, understanding man. He would let riya work and she had no reason to say no. She married Ranjan and was the dutiful wife who never felt any love for her husband. Ranjan sensed that and gradually over the years, the mundane humdrum of marriage made her get used to Ranjan. He was a wonderful patient man, a solider with an artistic temperament. A writer who only let his wife read what he wrote. She fell in love with him but unlike Inder this was a mature, deep, calm love. They never had children and after a point never missed them. They were just so happy together, cooking, reading, gardening, listening to music. She still celebrated Inder’s birthday every year and Ranjan never objected.
Post retirement ranjan wanted a quiet place in the hills and chail beckoned. They bought a plot and hoped to leave the nomadic life at some point. But ranjan had a sudden heart attack and passed away. Riya was alone but not bereft. That was Riya. The memories of having been loved so completely by two wonderful men had given her a lifetime of memories to live by. That is what she was doing. Happily, grateful for what she got and not resentful of what she didn’t have.
I felt so small compared to her and yet she never told me what I should do in my life. She was just who she was and if someone could get inspired by her, so be it. She never went out of chail so she didn’t attend our wedding but every summer ronak and I come and spend some time with her in chail. We would always go back rejuvenated and when she kissed me on the forehead before we left and blessed me, I felt truly blessed.

HERE COMES THE BRIDE

“You don’t expect me to be wearing THAT???” and both of us smiled. We just knew this is what Anju would have said. Shaila, anju and I had been friends for the last thirty years. We met as 8 years old. Through thick and thin, marriages and divorces, birth and death, across time zones and continents we had stayed connected. For the last couple of years we were all in Bombay and each other’s support system. Kudos to girl bonding, though at 38 none of us would actually qualify as girls!
Sometimes we envied anju’s single status and sometimes we pitied her because of it. She knew that and loved us all the same. She seemed pretty reconciled to singledom and led a full life with her practice and patients, plants and nieces she doted on. Yet it seemed unfair that such a loving, giving person was actually alone.
Cupid struck unexpectedly and soon she was spending a considerable amount of time with her new found “friend” Ashish. He was her co-worker’s brother. A widower who was much of a workaholic as her! Of course our approval mattered and on a dinner organised by me, ashish won hands down. They had similar interests and seemed comfortable in each other’s company. None of the awkwardness and trying too hard that usually happened. They were also old enough to know the differences were vital too. Anju admitted that she liked his company yet didn’t know if marriage was really needed. A holiday in the hills...a bout of flu and she said yes when he proposed yet again. Anju being anju was matter of fact about it even when she told us.
Ashish was a lot more excited and so were we. She wanted the wedding over a weekend so everyone could go to work on Monday. We all scoffed the idea but agreed that a simple court wedding was a good idea. She wanted everything simple and low key and reminded us sternly. We tried to look suitably mature about it but her thirteen year old niece one evening declared that this wasn’t fun. Anju said it wasn’t aishwarya abhishek’s wedding so everyone needed to calm down.
She forced us so we had to do things behind her back. Like organise a lunch post the court wedding at her favourite restaurant with her favourite people. We got her bookings at the fancy spa and beauty parlour. She had to be begged and cajoled to go but came back looking and feeling awesome. Next came shopping and as usual the muted shades and practical saris is what she wanted. So we bought the peach and pink chiffon with zardozi work, behind her back.
She kept working and going through life like it was someone else’s wedding. There was just a week to go and ashish casually mentioned that she was seeming so edgy these days. One evening she snapped at shailia’s daughter when she mentioned a mendiwaali. It was clearly a case of nerves and we decided to do an all girls dinner. We told her it was ok, everyone goes through this before they get married. Whatever age and stage. She stopped mid sentence and looked at me...”really?” then she started talking. She didn’t want any fuss because she was scared. She didn’t want ashish to think of his first wedding, she didn’t want his family to compare and she didn’t want to look silly.
Amidst much hugging and moist eyes, we assured anju that nobody was judging her. she knew she was being illogical. A trait that she was so unfamiliar with. We promised not to rib her about this or tell ashish ever. We told her what we had done and how her masi was also arriving from Gorakhpur the next day.
It was a lovely evening at home, with a dholak and folk songs. Anju and all of us had mehndi applied. Ashish’s mom sang Marathi wedding songs and anju blushed as much as any bride to be...

THE SINGLE’S CLUB

“You know why, you’re still single?” a friend’s mom asked him angrily. “It’s because you’re closest pals are single and no one wants to end this party” we laughed out loud..yet amongst the gang I know all of us said a silent prayer and thanked god for having each other.
The gang began with about seven of us who were in our twenties and full of dreams and ambitions. About ten to twelve years later we are about ten of us, with a few from the orginal days. What our gang has is the fact that we are all single and our support system. Sure, we love our married and hitched friends. Yet there is some hesitation that has crept in. Both sides try to deny it. Yet that smug married vibe has set in. And I for sure can sense jealousy too!
For me, it was tough when about five years ago, I wanted in...again. From being a single who was loving it, I suddenly crossed over. Got married, moved cities, changed worlds and thought this was life. My single pals kept teasing me on how I had done a volte face yet I knew they loved me all the same. I did not make time for any friends or family for that matter caught up as I was in creating the perfect marriage.
It went kaput. The house of fog came crashing down. I was woken up with a jolt and all I felt like doing was curling up and going back to sleep. I moved back to my city. Family and friends held me together and almost protected me like I was made of glass. Actually put me back together.
The way parents saw the situation, the way siblings wanted me to be, the take married pals had, it all made sense. Yet what the gang said rang even more true. They were home. They had accepted me back as one of them, I didn’t feel like I was at a half way home. Didn’t have to laugh at couple’s ribbing each other or get ecstatic when a four year old learnt how to say balloon.
I could just vegetate on the couch all day at my artistic pal’s place and know that she would go out and have a good time if I insisted I just wanted to watch tv at her place alone.
My crabby banker buddy who just asked no questions but would land up at the crack of dawn to make sure I went for a run with him. I didn’t have a choice. He never asked me what went wrong and yet knew the answers. My physical and fiscal health was what he took over.
The dadima of the group who had been through hell in her marriage, quietly started nourishing my soul. We just did the things we did before I moved. At first it seemed a bit forced but she just wouldn’t let me brood. It was so endearing this act that neither of us dared to stop the charade.
Then there was the intense brooding pal who never had been a favourite. The truth be told, I had a crush on him and he was the confirmed bachelor. Yet once I was back the unspoken equation we built was comforting. He just bailed me out of situations and conversations that were uncomfortable, with uncanny precision. Without expectations and the complications of sex, here was yet another space that helped the healing. Just a late night drive on a monsoon night with this gang worked so much more than any therapists’ session.
In about a year, my well meaning siblings and smug married pals were trying to get me hitched again. I came back from those evenings feeling like I was being stubborn and unreasonable. So I went on a couple of dates. Most of us in the gang dated. Yet when someone gets serious, it’s stock taking time. So it happened in my case too. Like S the banker says, since each of us is the other’s mom, dad, sister, brother, shrink, banker and confession box. So we have to know what we are going to be dealing with. Am sure it can be daunting for a new comer. All that scrutiny and checking out. Yet it’s fun. So when after a couple of times, we all realised that the guy was just not comfortable in his skin, “we” decided it was time to bid adieu.
It’s been almost five years now. Together we have made it...for all of us. I have my own home, a job I love and the guts to dream again. That’s a lot. We all have to be there for each there and that’s a commitment this amazing group of people has. It’s never easy yet this is one roller coaster ride nobody wants to get off! Someday we will all grow old together. In a commune, by the beach. Single, Successful and Senile....