The Father

So there are these Gauri vrats and Jaya Parvati vrats the Gujarati unmarried girls observe.  It's for a good husband.  Each vrat is of 5/7 days, and are to be observed for 5/7 consecutive years.  Girls dress up and eat dry fruits and other fasting food, which is typical to this fast.  All my cousins and friends used to observe this back in school.  (usually these fasts are kept by school going girls, mainly cos they love dressing up and eating dry fruits)

I, on the other hand, didn't observe these fasts.  Well, I once tried it, when I was in 1st standard, and all my friends were observing the fast.  I just wanted to feel like one of them.  I fasted for 3 days, and I hated the fasting food.  I don't like dry fruits and other "fun" stuff girls apparently loved.  That evening, the dinner was hosted for all the "fasting" girls at naani's place.  She had invited all the cousins, and it was to be one big happy dinner.  Just that, I was sitting in a corner, because I didn't like anything that was cooked. (c'mon, I was 5)

Dad came from his office to pick up sister and me.  He saw me sitting in a corner, having lost all the smile from my face.  He asked me if I had eaten anything.  Apparently, I hadn't.  He took me to this south indian food joint, and I ate a rava dosa and broke my fast.  He never let me fast again.

Dad and I have frequented the fairs and exhibitions that happen in the city.  We go, check out ridiculous stuff, interesting stuff, and come back, usually with a bottle of organic rose syrup.  We would observe people, and have conversations on what would they be talking about.  He would also point out strange looking women in the crowd and ask, 'doesn't she look like your mom/sister?' (depending on who was with us, and we would high five each other.)  Two days back, we went to this book fair.  Neither of us got any books, but well, we did eat a vadapav there.  On the way back, while I was driving, and he was sitting next to me, he was generally talking about how he is proud of his daughters.  He said he is glad he has brought up well, and before he could appreciate us any further, he changed topic and talked about Govinda in Sandhi Sudha plus ads! He's like this, he has never appreciated any of my achievements.  Maybe he is not the kinds who can express himself well, but then, for any daughter, the validation that matters the most to her is from her father.

And then, it's the sense of humour.  I think I'm funny. Random, yes, but funny too.  It is the Mehta gene that makes us like that.  I guess, only we find ourselves funny, but then, that's okay. :P

Sample this conversation I had with him few years back while I was getting my passport renewed.

Me : But Pappa, wasn't this police inquiry thingy removed from the passport procedure? I
applied with Didi only and she got her new Passport without any inquiry!
He : Perhaps you are having some kind of criminal record.
Me : hmph, Perhaps my father has some kind of criminal record.
He : Did you see they had the kaachi jail for the first time offenders?
Me : No. You should have shown me! I never saw a jail!
He : Don't worry, you might just get a chance to be there!
Me : Pappa, please! I am your daughter!

Needless to say, not many people get our jokes. :P

But now, the thing is, he has probably not yet fully accepted that I have grown up.  Or if he has, he is in denial that I can take decisions independently, without involving him all the time. And that I could drive on the highway, for over 300 kms, while he sits in the backseat. That the roles have reversed.

We fight, we argue, we throw tantrums (oh, yes, fathers can also throw tantrums).  We may not tell sorry to each other, but after that one argument we have, dad brings home my favourite chocolate cream biscuits from this bakery, and slyly asks mom to put them in my room, just to break the ice.

And just like that, things are normal, till the next time I bring up a revolting idea to him.

what's my kind?

So today I've been asked what kind of guy do I get attracted to?  This made me wonder, "what's my kind?"

I have always been attracted to guys who write.  My first online crush was on this guy who wrote hilarious movie reviews on this website, mouthshut.com, back in 2004.  And then on this blogger from IIM Calcutta, who wrote incredibly hilarious blogs.  I eventually went on to become good friends with both of them, and the more familiar I got with them, I realised, I cannot hold a serious conversation with them.  It was all about Alok Nath references and Ranjeet dialogues. I quickly got over them. (also, I think one of them was gay, and there was no point in pursuing him in that case)

I have also been attracted to geeks. (do I hear you guys go d'uh!)  No, really. This one guy, sent me these winzip files everyday, where I had to guess the password to open it, and inside it were these wonderful letters he wrote.  He called it "Message in a Bottle".  It was very exciting, the whole process of waking up to an email everyday, with a hint of mystery attached to it, trying to guess the password based on the talks we've had the previous day.  Always made me smile.  There is something about the beauty of the written word that makes you fall in love with the writer.  Of course, few days later, I guessed the password of the file I was supposed to open after we meet. And rest, as they say, is history.  I haven't heard from him in 4 years, and well, I still don't know what went wrong.

I like a bit of arrogance too.  And why not? For someone who thinks Fitzwilliam Darcy was the most romantic character ever written, and swears by Pride and Prejudice, a bit of arrogance is something that is too hard to resist.  And when arrogance is coupled with a hint (or loads) of mystery, it just adds to the excitement.  Of course, when you come across such characters, chances are, they are either taken, or they *friendzone* you.  You end up being their best friend, their confidante. [i'd still fall for Darcy anyday - go watch bridget jones' diary - colin firth - he tells rene zellweger, "i like you, just as you are" - though arrogant, i think that's the most awesome line ever - i'd go weak in knees if my darcy tells that to me!]

And then there were the eccentrics.  They talk about psychology and finance with equal passion.  Oh, and they also are premier B-school grads and are strange in their own way.  Perhaps the fact that they've been overachievers all their lives have made it difficult to accept emotional failures, like love.  While they want you to confront your fears by using psychoanalysis techniques (which they have acquired after reading dozens of books), they themselves like to stay in denial and don't address their own feelings.  They will also vanish mysteriously, leaving you wondering, what went wrong.

So what exactly was about these guys that got me attracted to them at different stages in life? They were so different! Maybe it was the smile they brought on my face, or the times I laughed so hard to myself while reading some of the things they wrote, or the piercing gaze into my eyes while asking me about my fears, or the very fact that someone took efforts to do something special, like writing a letter (and password protecting it) just for me.  They all made me smile.  They all made me feel special at some point.

As I re-read this post, to bring a suitable ending to it, I don't really know what to write.  Or was there any point in writing it at all.  Maybe I just wanted to talk.  Or write.  Or hope someday, these guys read what I've written about them, and smile, because they made me smile, at some point in time.

The Friendship That Was

Disclaimer: I have tried to write the following blog as neutral as possible.

It has been 10 years since perhaps the worst riots broke out in Gujarat.  These riots could be traced back to the 1992/93 riots, which have their roots deeply set in history.  You cannot change history, it has happened, what we could change is the future.  Of course, like everything else, it is easier said than done.

I have always lived in the urban ahmedabad. (heh, yes, such thing does exist)  Lived outside the municipal limits till few years back when they included our area in the municipality.  The real Ahmedabad is the walled city, on the bank of river Sabarmati.  For years, Hindus, Muslims and Jains have lived there, and the area is so communally sensitive (politically motivated or not is secondary) that riots could break out even if a hindu boy cuts a muslim boy's kite during uttarayan.

Today, parents, and cousins and I went to the old city for dinner from the roadside stalls the old city is famous for.  On our way back, dad pointed out to.. for the lack of better politically correct word.. a place where swords and other form of ammunition are allegedly kept.  And if a riot were to break out, within seconds, it would be impossible to get our alive from that lane we were passing through.  And yes, it was so eerily silent, I would actually believe what dad was telling me, though I am sure it was exaggerated.

When we left that lane, dad told me, "... things became so bad, J had to leave Ahmedabad, and that is why he went to Canada."

J was his Muslim colleague in bank, who had a son who was a year older to me, so in 2002 he must be 17 and a daughter, a few years younger to me.  I asked him, oh, but I didn't know they were harassed during the riots.

"No, nothing happened to him", he said and went quiet.

There was silence in the car for a few minutes.  I asked him again, what had happened to J uncle.  And this uncle was someone who had been dad's colleague since almost 20 years.

He thought for a while and recounted how my parents used to visit them on Eid and how J uncle and family would visit us for Diwali. They lived in the "communally sensitive area" of Ahmedabad. His son, S, used to also go to the Madrassa for learning Quran.  And his family was one god fearing family.

2-3 days after the riots broke out, J uncle saw his son run up to their house.  He was out of breath for running in such a hurry.  J uncle got worried.  Everyone lived under the threat for those days, because people (not hindus or muslims) were stabbed and killed and burnt alive.  Anyway, so S ran up to the house, and J uncle visibly worried, asked him if everything was alright with him.  He went to the kitchen and brought out the butcher knife and started for the door.  J uncle asked him where  he was going.  S said, "woh XX jagah pe do logon ko kaatna hai" (at XX place, we have to kill those two people)

J uncle was stunned beyond words.  He could not believe what his son, all of 17, was telling him.  His son, who used to learn the teachings of the Holy Book, and go for Namaaz 5 times a day, and was a bright kid, studying to be an engineer, was talking of killing people.  He had not brought up his son with these ideals.  Neither did the holy book taught him that.  "He was influenced by the company he kept".

J uncle slapped S hard, and the very moment they left their house and moved to his sister's place in another area, and two days later, they moved to Bombay, where they decided they were moving to Canada. For good.

One family had to leave the city they had lived all their lives in.  No one from their family was killed.  None of their property was damaged.  They still long to come back to India.  It has been 10 years now.  Life in Canada is a struggle for them.  But the very thought that this is the same city their teenaged son picked up a weapon with an intention to kill someone shatters them.

Dad tells me J uncle cried like a baby in front of him.  He said, "we used to come to your place for Diwali, and you also know my entire family, but now, it is so painful for me to even look into your eye".  Dad tried to console him, and how S is like his own son too, but J uncle retorted, "but he picked up a knife to kill someone who was like a father or a brother to him too".  Dad had no reply.  While recalling this tale, dad's eyes became a little moist.

How one incident had changed relations forever.

ps - if you do decide to leave comments, please refrain from commenting on Narendra Modi or his role in riots.  I will delete those comments.

Coup ka Prakop

पार्वतीजी और शिवजी कैलास परबत पर बैठे शिवरात्रि की बची हुई भांग मिक्स expire होने से पहले पार्टी देने की बातें कर रहे थे.  अचानक पर्वजीजी बोली, 'स्वामी, यह coup क्या है?'

शिवजी की तीसरी आँख खुलने ही वाली थी और उन्होंने गुस्से में बोला, 'क्या? तुम फिरसे farmville खेलने लगी? मैंने हज़ार बार बोला है की में तुम्हे chicken coup बना कर नहीं देने वाला'.  तभी पार्वतीजी अपने नए iPad को एक ओर रख कर बोली, 'नहीं, नहीं, स्वामी, यह "coup " to आज का Twitter trending topic है.

"अरे, क्या बात कर रही हो?" शिवजी चौंक गए.  "Times of India में तो सिर्फ IPL की Opening Ceremony की चर्चा है. कितनी मस्त लग रही है करीनाजी. ओर प्रियंकाजी की भी काफी अच्छी फोटो छपी है.  आपने देखि, प्रिये?" वे मुस्कुराये.

"और अब क्या करें, इधर The Hindu तो आता ही नहीं है. वोह तो मैं online ही पढ़ लेता हूँ.  सुबह से आप Temple Run खेल रही है, तो मैंने अभी तक पढ़ा नहीं." आज शिवजी कुछ ज्यादा ही मझाकिया mood में है.

"अरे, हमारे घर Indian Express नहीं आता, इसलिए हमें पता नहीं, ज़रा गूगल करके देखते है", पार्वतीजी बोली, ओर मन ही मन में तय किया की आज शिवजी को dinner में maggi noodles ही मिलेंगी.

"स्वामी, कुछ Indian Army की tank की news है.  लेकिन आज कल इस देश की हालत आपने ऐसी कर राखी है की लोगो को कोई भी बात पे गुस्सा आ जाता है" पार्वतीजी बोली.  आप हमारे घर Indian Express क्यूँ नहीं मग्वाते?

शिवजी मुस्कुराये ओर बोले, "प्रिये, जब हमने आपको पूछा था तो आप ही ने तो कहा था की आपको Indian Express ओर Mansarovar Mirror में से Mansarovar Mirror चाहिए.  खैर जब तक वोह विष्णु अपना दसवा अवतार नहीं लेता, यह सब तो चलता रहेगा."


तभी पार्वतीजी की नज़र दुसरे Trending Topic पर पड़ी.  #YouShouldNever वे मुस्कुरायी ओर अपनी Twitter ID, @MrsShiva से एक tweet कर दी, #YouShouldNever troll God.

@ThirdEyeClosed ID से शिवजी ने वोह tweet retweet किया, ओर बोले, 'प्रिये, इस साल गर्मी ज्यादा है, सोचता हूँ AC लगवा दूं, IPL देखने में मज़ा आएगा"