Back from Ahmedabad

If you are a Gujju, with a weak heart and feel strongly for Ahmedabad, I suggest- stop reading further. Chances are that you will get up from your seat, throw away the chivda packet in your hand, call all your fellow Gujarati friends and pass judgment in Gujarati and then, when the anger subsides, you’ll again pick up the chivda packet and start munching on it, since Gujjus don’t believe in wasting anything that costs money.

So, I land in Ahmedabad, and see fog outside. Believe me, for a north Indian who is now settled in Mumbai (where it never gets cold. NEVER!), seeing fog was thrilling. My heart was pumping harder to get out of the plane and feel the weather. Everything was going perfectly normal. Just like any other airport, there were families waiting outside to receive their people. Most of them were FAT Gujju aunties, who had come to receive their dear ones with one BIG tiffin each, which I am sure, was loaded with Thepla and khakhra. Every family that came out had at least 4 huge cartons/ bags, which were piled up in one trolley blocking the view of the person pulling it. I sure have seen such scenarios in Punjab but that was quite some time back.

I then, headed towards my office (where Nirav was to give me contacts of some brokers); pretty much relaxed, since Binoy and Pratixa had assured me that finding an accommodation in Ahmedabad would be a cake walk.

Cutting the long story short, it was nothing like I expected. The city was over polluted. It was hot, maybe not as much as Mumbai. But still hot and dry. It seemed like a dead city. No life. Everything was moving in slow motion, like how they show in movies when the focus is to be on the actor and rest everybody is in standstill position. I met with almost 10 brokers who showed me nearly 40 places in 4 days and yet nothing worth it. It reminded me of the time I was looking for an accommodation in Mumbai. Only difference being, the situation now was even worse.

I could have killed Binoy for telling me the Ahmbad is a clean city. By no means did I find it clean. In fact, all the houses that I was taken to were in a run-down condition, shady looking and pan spits on the stair-cases with men in their banyans roaming in building corridors.

I also did get the luxurious opportunity to have lunch in Ahmedabad, (apparently, Ahmbad is known for its food). No doubt the food was delicious but I can’t let it go without narrating my experience at the restaurant. The place was overcrowded by a load of noisy, thick-armed women, who carried large heavy shopping bags and were accompanied by the ripe mixture of odor. While I stood in the buffet line, I couldn’t help but notice this lady’s plate who headed me. It merely had any place left, yet she struggled to fill it as much as possible when a voice came from around the corner,

“Madam, this is buffet system. We won’t charge extra if you come back for a second helping” (of-course the dialogues were in Gujarati)

Her square body remained ponderously immobile, but she turned her head around as far as her massive neck would permit and rejoined:

“Yeah, I know. I just didn’t wanna rise up from my seat once I am settled.” (Either she was making it up for saving herself from the embarrassment or she was too lazy)

After all the struggling with her food, she came to her table and narrated her little conversation with the waiter to her friends and added “As though I am dumb” at the end. All this was said in a tone intentionally loud enough to entertain everyone, and the women showed their appreciation by cackling loudly, rocking their bodies as much as the crowding permitted.

I then realized, Gujjus are all about FOOD.

With the intention of not hurting my Gujju readers’ sentiments, I shall not say anything controversial anymore, expect for narrate the following incident:

So I call up this broker whose name in his visiting card was printed as “Hasmukh Bhai”

Me: Hello! Hasmukh Bhai?

Him: Haan! Deepali Ben, bolo.

Ben, Ben, Ben… the word echoed in my head and I stood in a moment of shock till I shouted out “Dude! If you call me Ben, I am not gonna do any transaction with you”

Eeewww, if I stay here for long, I’ll become a Gujju ben. The thought scared the hell out of me.

At least one good has come out of my visit, I can read Gujarati now. Well!!! Do I have any other option? All the sign boards, all the hoardings, name plates and even big showroom names like Provogue and Nike were written in Gujarati. And then they talk about Raj Thackeray inexcusably promoting Marathi.

Ahmedabad awaits me!!!

I knew I was God’s favorite child the day I instructed him to set the question paper for my History exam according to my preparation. He was kind enough and did exactly what I had asked. For some reason, other kids (who claimed they had slogged more) were upset over the fact that their hard work was all in vain. That day I knew that god was on my side.

Today again he has proved me right. I have detested Mumbai since the very first day, and my aversion is clear from all those post in the past describing Mumbai. Chances are, if you are a Mumbaikar, you will not like my blog and if you are not, then you’ll probably be able to relate to my posts. Also, I fear if my blog gets very popular and somehow Raj Thackeray reads it, I’ll be punished to either leave Mumbai or write all my posts in Marathi. (BTW I know the Abu Azmi incident was such a shame, but honestly I thought it was hilarious. It’s been a long time since I have seen such fights. Last time I saw it, I was in 9th standard and two boys fought over ice-cream. It was something similar).

As I was saying, I have tolerated this city for 1.6 years and am finally shifting out, to Ahmedabad. No, I am not getting married. This was the first thought that crawled minds of my warden, watchman, cook, my train- companions, and many others. Why can’t a girl as old as 18, be left alone from the thought of marriage? (Ok fine! I am 24). I am just shifting jobs.

At first I was reluctant to go to a completely new place. No friends, no relatives, no one known, no life, no alcohol, no non-veg. Even though I don’t consume alcohol or eat non-veg, I just thought of penning it down to illustrate what a DRY place Ahmedabad is. ;-). Pratixa, Nirav and Abhishek spent nearly a week in persuading me what a clean and desirable life Ahmedabad has to offer. Understandably so, since their home town is Ahmedabad, or is it because they cannot tolerate me here anymore and so much so, want me to leave the city altogether so that I am nowhere in their vicinity.

Whatever the case maybe, I am not as scared now. Maybe because I am more excited about the fact that I’ll finally get to stay on my own. The real-estate prices being so cheap, I can finally afford to rent an apartment and live by myself. No more yelling warden, no more irritating roommates, no more sharing my space, and no more interacting with people who get on my nerves but only because I have to stay with them, I have to be nice and sugar coated.

Lets see what is in store for me.
Wish me luck people!!!

Silly Me

It so happened that I was sitting on Marine drive. For those socially unaware people, Marine drive is the place seen in most movies shot in Mumbai. One of the very FEW good places in Mumbai to visit. Actually, the ONLY good place to visit in Mumbai.

Coming back to the topic and not wasting another post on how filthy and smutty Mumbai is, I overheard this little girl ask her mom:

“Mom, why is it called Dandi March?”

“Beta, because Gandhiji walked all the miles with a stick in his hand”, her mom replied.

The little girl seemed to buy that answer while I smiled within me wondering how gullible this kid was. Or was it the conviction in her mom’s voice. (Or did her mom really think that ‘Dandi March’ has been named after a stick?)

Maybe, it was the conviction. What was I so amazed about? My mom had managed to pull the wool over my eye for a long time herself.

I remember admiring myself in the mirror as a kid (Yeah! Self obsession started at a very young age), and asking my Mom, “Mom, when did I get glasses?”

“It came free when you were born”, my mom said.
“Wow, God is so generous. He parceled me and my glasses at the same cost, with no extra charges.” I thought to myself.

Another time, when I had just learned the art of lying, I told my mom, “I have completed my home-work for the day. Can I please go and play outside with my friends now?”

“Since when have you started lying to me”, my mom yelled. Her voice loud enough to scare my friends waiting outside.

“How did you know I was lying”, I inquired. I was curious to know as it took a lot of skill for me to come up with that false.

“When you lie to your mom, your ears move”, she said with confidence shimmering in every word.

Hence, next time onwards, I would cover my ears with my palms and lie to her. That made it even easier for her to catch my lie. Bingo! She had managed to fool me yet again.

But I can’t blame her for all my silliness. Some of the instances didn’t involve my mom and yet I was silly. Like, I was in 9th standard when we bought our new computer. It was a huge box with millions of wires attached, an even bulkier CPU, keyboards with jumbled alphabets and a mouse which I wasn’t scared of. I took extra care of our computer and would clean it every day to prevent it from Virus attacks. Until I grew up and learnt that virus attacks are not caused by dust particles.

Also, whenever I read “Use dipper at night”, I thought it to be “Use diaper at night” and would wonder why do drivers need to wear diapers at night. Maybe because night driving is more difficult than day driving and the driver is more likely to get scared and wet his seat, making him even more uncomfortable.

“To Let” sign board, was always a spelling debacle for me. It should have been “Toilet”.

I realize I should end my post here, before I start embarrassing myself.

cya

On why I pity my kids

My mom is a cleanliness freak. Had she left it to me, I would brush my teeth once a week, take bath on Sundays and save washed clothes only for parties.

My mom would find faults with everything. It would start as early as 6 a.m (that is pretty early for me) - and say: “I couldn’t get the stain of Frooti off your school uniform. What do you girls play with Frooti anyways?”

Bathrooms were a horror. Here are some of the sentences we got to hear…
“What? You just went inside. There is no chance you could have brushed you teeth the way shown at dentist’s clinic”

“Are you sure you had bath? Your towel it pretty dry.” (Damn it! Next time, I must at least wet my towel)

“The walls are all soap. Can’t you pour some water or be careful while bathing?” (What am I supposed to do? Lie down on the floor and take bath?)

“Did you notice the soap box? It is full of water!” (Mom, I was just trying to save water for the rainy day.)

And just when we were done with the ‘bathroom bashing’, and dressing up for school when she would barge in and say “Just look at your wardrobe.”

“Yeah, I saw… what is wrong?” I ask

“Now, look at mine. Everything is washed, ironed and kept properly,” she says.

“Yeah,” I reluctantly agree. More because, back answering your mom is considered rude. But in my defense, she is 28 years elder to me and has as much experience of keeping a clean wardrobe.

Now we move on to the breakfast table, where we get scolded for being magnanimous enough to drop a cereal for the ants that have formed a cantonment in our house. We also got berated for flushing away our milk, and for sharing our breakfast with our dog. Anything we did in our house was required to be done in another way- the supposedly cleaner way.

And what annoyed me the most was that I was expected to clear up the mess created by my little sister. She would give the crappy “You never did this when you were my age. I’ll learn when I am as old as you.” I would buy that, thinking that some day she will be as old as me. The naïve girl that I was, lived in this illusion but that day never came.

Now, I am nothing but a replica of my mom. A ‘cleanliness freak’. My children are gonna have a tough time. I pity them already.

Unbelievable

China might be great in technology, US might be leaders in Science, and Singapore might top the developed country’s list. But there is one area where no one can surpass India. It’s ancient art. Without wasting space and time in explaining what I am talking about, I shall simply narrate an experience which kept me spell bound. This is how it goes:

Life has not been at its best for the past couple of months. Lots of queries about my future, my job, relationships, and many more, had clouded my mind. This is when I decided to visit ‘Nadi Jotish’, the much talked about topic amongst my friends circle. Even though my mom is a typical “How can this happen, when it wasn’t written in your kundali?” types and the types who would make you wear stones and rudraksh to keep the evil away from you, I have had very little faith in astrology. But I decided to give it a try.

So I enter the place and they ask for my thumb impression along with the initials of my name i.e. D P L, and asked me to wait for 15 minutes. While I waited outside, and had barely read 1 chapter of Chetan Bhagat’s “2 States”, I was called inside again.
“We have found your thumb impression”, a mellow voice came from behind me as I observed pictures hung in the room. He was a typical looking swami with long beard and moustache, draped in white dhoti and a shawl and smelling of chandan.

“What does that mean?” I enquired. Didn’t I give them my thumb impression myself? So what’s the big deal?

There lay a wooden log on the table with both of us sitting on either side.

“This has the some leaves in it. Out of these, one of the leaves will have your details.” He said, while pointing towards the wooden loaf.

“So let me get this straight. Are you trying to say that one of the leaves is mine? With my name, my past, my history and my entire life story encrypted on it?” I said inquisitively

“Yes, you just have to answer me in a “Yes” or a “No”” Swamiji said

“OK”. This was getting very exciting. I wanted to see if he will actually find my leaf. Despite the fact that I am no celebrity, I’ll have a leaf of my own.

He started questioning, turning each leaf ahead:
“Are you the youngest daughter?”
“No”
Next Leaf
“Are your parents separated?”
“No”
Next leaf… He had to turn about 20 leaves till he asked me, “Is your dad a govt servant?”
“Yes”
“Are you 2 sisters, you being the elder one?”
“Yes”
“Have you completed dual qualification?”
“Yes”
“Is your sister studying overseas?”
“Yes”
“Is your dad’s name Raj, Mum is called Geeta and sister is Shifali?”
“Unbelievable, how did you know?” I shouted in excitement while I got goose bumps on my arms.
“It is all written on this leaf”
“You mean my name along with my family’s name, my future, my past, everything?”
“Also your past birth and your future birth”

After that, he told me about my future, year by year. The year when I’ll be married, to whom I’ll be married, my future job, where will I be settled, etc. I don’t know how far is this gonna be true but I was truly astonished by the way he found me leaf.

My suggestion to you people: Even if you do not wanna know about your future, at least go there once to check out that there exists a leaf which has your details on it written ages back by some saint. Isn’t that amazing in itself?
India is India!!!