Day 80: Favorite childhood Memory

Day 80: one of your favorite childhood memories

Firstly, I have to thank God for a truly wonderful and blessed childhood. It was full of fun and frolic and lots of little pleasures and simple joys.

But of all those cherished memories, one stands out. And that is my habit of checking out every nook and cranny of my home after a stay away from home. Whether it was our ancestral home that we visited every summer or coming back home again after a holiday, I loved exploring our home.

Every time I came home, I would rush through the mandatory ablutions (imposed after a long trip) and glug down the glass of milky concoction before impatiently running through all the rooms. In our ancestral home, I like to see all the new plants, the solid old tamarind tree with its outstretched arms, the ancient discarded wooden boxes (full of junk but nevertheless exciting) and the wild, unattended garden. On coming home, I liked to see if any new birds had succeeded in making any nest, if my stuffed, furry friends were still waiting atop our bed, and that all my diaries/ scrapbooks were unspied upon (despite the contents being disclosed by myself :)  ).

Why does this particular memory mean so much to me? Simple. It wasn't the differences in decor or verdant growth that I sought to see, it was the reassurance that no matter how old I or the homes got, the welcoming havens would remain the same. I was always comforted by the security of knowing that these were safe cocoons that would have a embrace me in their warmth and affection no matter how naughty or annoying I was.

Isn't that a truly a memory to cherish?

Day 19: Family

Day 19: your thoughts on your family


Home is where the heart is. And that is why my heart is eight thousand miles away with my family.


My thoughts on Family? Well, here goes:
They are a bunch of people you can turn to whenever you feel like ad know that you will always be welcomed.
You can be your own self with them. Good, bad and the ugly- they accept you for what you are and still think of you as one of  the best things that happened to them.
Grandparents who pamper you, parents to support you, siblings who tease, nieces and nephews to lavish affection on, doting aunts and uncles and gossip inspiring distant relations- it's a mixed bag but one that you know you love.
Family is forgiving.
No matter how heated or ugly the fight, you can always get time-outs. (Even if you don't; Moms will always impose snack breaks.)
For personal cheerleaders, turn to the family. They are perpetually happy no matter what you do. Well, all the important times anyway.
Who else can you blackmail with embarrassing stories only to have your own get braodcasted?


Okay, I shall end this post on this note. There is a certain bro of mine I need to call and irk. So long then.

Let them sweat!

Let them sweat. I think as I look at my windows. Not the technological ones. I mean the shut and close types. I am in Chicago and winter is beginning to set in and my windows are open.

Brrr!! It is cold. This city is cold. And winter has not even begun properly yet. Coming from a hot and humid country, especially from the seaside city of Mumbai, I find the Windy City quite frosty. I don't mind the unpredictable rains here- as a matter of fact, I love it. It reminds me of the incessant rains during the monsoons back home.

But the cold. Oh dear. I am one of those millions of fellow Indians who bundle up at anything below 25 degrees Celsius and grumble at how chilly the weather has turned. So, coming to a place that has single digit temperatures is hugely difficult.

It's not just the climate that I am adjusting to. I am also getting used to the simple actions that are a given in cold climates. Like sealing air conditioners. I never knew people do that. Like buying multi-layered winter gear that needs to combat extreme winter, severe moisture and blasting winds. Like adjusting temperatures on the heaters. Temperature monitoring was something I have encountered only in my college laboratories.

I did not even know until this first winter that windows sweat. That was only for people- especially in overcrowded trains. It came to my attention during when I first looked out for tiny snowflakes. Ah, the first sight of snowing is indeed a delightful one. But then I got distracted by the row of dewdrops on my clear glass windows. Daily wiping was now leaving me vexed, so we called the apartment staff who oversee such stuff. An affable, burly engineer informed me: Madam. your windows are sweating. I've used a sealant but you will need to keep your windows open for a while daily -just a crack. Especially when you cook.

An inwardly horrified me kept a pleasant face. Even after the poor guy happily mentioned- it is just around seventy outside. [in degrees Fahrenheit]. I nodded by way for reply. But I don't think he believed it. And he is right. Seventy is cold for me. Keep the windows open indeed. No, I won't.

Let them sweat, I thought as I stared at the windows. But they stared right back at me with tear-rimmed corners. Hmmph! Oh well, wiping windows is a bigger ordeal. So, here I am, coffee mug in hand; bundled up in a cosy sweater, writing away madly while the cold swirls around me from the open windows. The freshly brewed coffee is healing, the melody of keys being typed is soothing and my clean, dry windows are offering me a beautiful verdant scene- almost like extending a magnificent olive branch. I think I've taken it.

Mumbai

Mumbai! Seems so far away! Well, geographically it is - since I am in a suburb near Chicago, but never mind that! This article is a tribute to the city I grew up in- Mumbai.
I did not always think that my heart was so attached to Mumbai or that it's essence and character were so deeply entrenched in me,

I believe in the maxim of 'Home is where Family is'! I've moved in quite a few places and have never even stayed in proper Mumbai. But even then, I realize that I actually miss the place almost as much as I do my family.

It never occurred to me, Ms.Am-So-Comfortable-With-Myself, that I would ever feel such over-whelmimg love for a city. After all, I have never succumbed to discriminating based on city or region, I am very much secular and I look down on dumb generalizations based on one's place of residence. I admit our location does shape us as we sport certain habits but that should not influence our judgement of people.

Anyway, back to my point. I'm proud of being from Mumbai. Yes, but the magnitude of my love of this city sunk in only two  months ago when I was watching the song 'Rim Jhim Gire Sawan' [Lataji's version]. I love this song as my parents resemble the star duo in mannerisms- especially my Mom laughingly trying to keep pace with my tall Dad. I've watched it a million times. But the moment of truth came when my hubby asked me with some curiosity- What? He knows I am a fan of Big B but I surely don't look so adoringly at anyone but Hubbyji. My answer stunned me- Mumbai! And in that moment, I knew that this city has a place far larger in my heart than I ever imagined.

After this startling relevation, I decided I might as well as accept the inevitable. I love Mumbai. Proud to say that - loud and clear.
I love the rains, the trains, the tall skyscrapers, the moviemakers, the street food and Fashion street, the malls and the road stalls. I adore the Queen's necklace and the crowded beaches where I find solace. I am proud of the fact that like all train commuters- I consider distances in terms of time and time of the day. I know that like every Mumbaikar, I am resilient and possess an ambitious streak tempered by a tendency to indulge in myself and have fun along the way. I am glad that I lived in a city that embraces all- rich and poor, young and old, classy and dhinchak, khadoos and bindaaz. I am so glad that I am a Mumbaikar.