Tuesday, November 08, 2011

Make fire and get married...


….. Well yes. That's true.

 Can you make fire without your matchstick and lighter? If your answer is an emphatic ‘No’ then chances are that all you guys would not be seen as being ready for marriage in Batek tribe of Malaysia..

The Batek are one of Malaysia’s 133,000 Orang Asli, which simply means ‘original people’ in Malay. They lead nomadic life and have little to no formal tradition of story telling.They have their own language although now they have picked up malay too

As with other tribal groups, urbanisation, development and the logging of their traditional habitats has resulted in their numbers falling and has pushed them deep into the protected national park of Taman Negara. There are an estimated 750 remaining Batek living in this dense rainforest  The best way to access the remote region is by water, down the Sungai Tembeling river on a traditional wooden long boat. The journey is lengthy, but it offers the chance to contemplate the density and vastness of the rainforest.

A typical hut
The two main tribes in the area have built around 20 villages between them. The village is made of rectangular huts in plan and raised on stilts. The settlement is mostly parallel to the river in a sandy, man-made clearing. The raising of the huts is nothing to do with the proximity of the river but rather to encourage air movement beneath the building. ( A common sight with a lot of other housing style in Borneo )The shape and size of the huts are determined by the limited roof-span and by palm widths. The structure is made from assorted hardwood branches lashed together, while the walls are bamboo, which is hammered flat and held in place by two sticks on either side.Despite interaction with people from the nearby Malaysian village, corrugated metal sheeting hasn’t yet reached the Batek. Instead all the roofs are constructed in atap, traditional leaf thatching. Batek women who are taught to weave from an early age make all the roofs while the men make the hut.  

They survive on a combination of hunting and gathering wild food and trading products like rattan an resins. In return they get money which they use for buying food products. Men also trade it for tobacco!! 

Hunting is purely a male domain.They go out alone or in group.Sometimes when without any catch they have to remain in the forest for 3-4 days. Women in those situation land up to the nearby river for fishes.

Everything in the village is shared, including the food, whether it has been hunted or gathered. Food is divided for the entire village with immediate family receiving portions first, then the extended family, then other families

Here come the smoke
Vigorous rubbing of bamboo plank
Marriage happens within the Batek tribe. That's where the art of making fire plays an important role. All men must know how to make fire with the help of bamboo plank. Besides they also need to perfect the art of making blowpipe- their weapon for hunting. The blowpipe is a work of art, hollowed from two trunks of young palm using monkey bone tied to rattan. Once hollowed, a piece of cane is used to make the smooth barrel bore. Resin seals the mouthpiece. The darts are made from pine leaf, which is thin and flexible. The dart’s plug creates an airtight seal. The tips are then dipped in a natural poison that can paralyse and kill a man. With monkeys watching from the trees, a villager demonstrates how it’s used. Amazingly he’s accurate to the millimetre from a distance of over 30 metres.
 
Sharpening the dart
The Batek also believe that all food belongs to the forest, so a person in possession of food has a moral duty to share. In addition, upsetting someone in the village may not only cause anger among the community but also to the spirits. The fear of supernatural reprisal is enough to ensure the Batek are a peaceful society. This also explains the social importance of communal meals and the grand bamboo dining table, complete with bamboo benches large enough to cater for the entire village. Bamboo is tied together using bark lashing to form benches, while the table top is constructed from flattened bamboo similar to the walls of the huts.

Marriage is not an elaborate affair. It's performed in the middle of the jungle with entire village as attendees. Post marriage the bridegroom is supposed to stay in the jungle for at least a month ( sans the bride of course) a ritual to make him realise what they are leading to ( hunting hunting and hunting)

The Batek have no concept of land ownership. They are just caretakers, looking after the land. So they have no difficulty in moving every five months to allow the forest to replenish. All Batek are animists, without organised or codified religious beliefs. They see the world, especially the river and jungle, as being animated by spirits. It is the respect for the spirits that command the entire village to move if someone dies. The departed are very important and are considered to act as intermediaries between this world and the next.

Uprooting the village is just the start of a hugely elaborate burial ritual, in which the body is brought by procession to a hut, similar to the ones in the village, but constructed in a tree some 50 metres high. The body is covered and left with its possessions alongside it, together with food for the spirits. It is then left undisturbed for two to three years, upon which time the village returns to procure a bone from the skeletal remains. This is then buried, so returning the family member to the forest.

And thus continues the cyclic process of moving from one village to another.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Aam ke aam, guthliyon ke daam



Some few kilometers away from Varanasi, along the national highway is tucked this sleepy and dusty village called Pakadi. Parallel to the highway lies the neatly laid up aam ka bageecha ( Mango orchard), quintessence of any eastern UP rural landscape.

As a kid I remember spending most of my summer vacation at Pakadi ( named after Banyan tree which is colloquially termed as ‘pakad’). So the aam ka bageecha welcomes you to the village. And then there’s acres and acres of green field stretching out on both sides of topsy turvy ‘kaccha sadak’..

So while the ‘gaon’ has so many mango trees, it’s mostly barren for most of the year… only few lucky trees used to bear fruits.. Our tress usually didn’t. So we would always stare the ones with those fresh juicy mangoes lustily.

So I guess one year God paid heed to those greedy eyes. That year God blessed all the tress of Pakadi with loads of mangoes. All the kids of the family would tag along with Baba ( grandfather) carrying the daliyas ( bamboo basket) and walk that approximately  3 KM stretch to reach the ‘bageecha’ ( Orchard). The heat.. the rain.. the pebbles on the road… the distance… nothing deterred the charm of eating freshly plucked mangoes.

So it was one of those days when me along with my sister and bua had gone to the bageecha along with baba.  That day my mango vocabulary got richer by two words.. Baba made something which in UP and Bihar is referred as Sattu-pana. Hadn’t known about it before that day and refused to believe that the drink he prepared was called sattu pana. Both me and my sister ( whose name is panna) thought that baba had named it after my sister. Anyway I would request panna to have a satttu-panna recipe soon @ http://sinfoodie.blogspot.com/ 

After the splendid sattu pana devouring it was time to have something sweet. Baba said he would get us the sweetest mango of the gaon. Just when he said that we saw an old man who was limping a while ago climbing a tree and plucked some mangoes. One look of it told you that it wasn’t any ordinary mango.. Baba called us and told us to have those ‘langda aam’.. I was surprised and shocked by the way he referred it. The otherwise  softspoken baba referred to that old man who plucked the mangoes for us as ‘langda’.. how was it possible. But then we thought may be the entire village calls him by this name and therefore baba did too.  It was only after few days when we got to know that ‘langda’ is a very popular mango breed and it has nothing to do with that old man.

That year Pakadi witnessed  exceptional mango growth with us thriving on sattu pana and langda aam...

p.s : am officially unemployed now and am not complaining :) and i seriously hope i would write more regularly.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Living with the deadliest pain....


It wasn't any usual evening. I was going to Hong Kong next day. I was quite excited. Hadn't travelled much in the last few days and my camera was just looking for an opportune moment.. Was desperate to see the Victoria harbour... the ships... the water and the sea... Wondered how everything would be... With these thoughts at the back of the mind i was trying to sleep.. Not realising that few minutes later my life was going all topsy turvy...

At around 10:00 PM, i had a strange searing pain shooting through my left side of the head passed through the face and extended to the nerves of the neck... all on the left side.. I just held my head tightly believing that it would go away... but it just kept on increasing... the pain cannot be described in words... it was like somebody was stabbing you continuously... as if electric current was passing through your nerves.. I managed to get up and take out Arcoxia.. which according to my dentist should be taken only if the pain becomes intolerable... I waited for 10 min... the pain just kept on increasing... took another arcoxia.. my mind was not functioning.. that didnt work too... in the next 2 hours i gulped down 8 painkillers believing and praying that probably this time it would work. It didn't. ...  i dont remember when and how i slept that night... And when i got up in the morning, everything seemed normal... except that i could feel the chemical in my mouth and stomach... the pain had gone!! And my apprehensions too. I believed it to be one off thing and left for HK the next day. Things were perfectly alright.. So much so that i thought that probably it was just a bad dream...

Got back to KL after few days.. although had decided that i would go to the dentist over the weekend and let them do whatever they want. I am so scared of injections... it makes me giddy... but no... before that pain strikes again, i should get that sorted out.

Exactly a week later I was in the middle of finishing off my report.. and the dreaded thing started off again.. This time it was not gradual... right at the onset it became fierce.. somehow my trust for the painkillers hadn't died. As a kid when i got to hear about something called painkiller, i was thrilled. And i had wondered why people undergo those painful surgery when a painkiller would have done their job... as to why people screamed when they had a fracture when all they needed was just a painkiller... Why cant the doctors just give their patients just the painkillers.. Did we need anything else?? Hadn't had too many in my life so that perception still stood valid...

I had that last Arcoxcia with me.. exact repetition of what had happened a week back.. 10 painkillers in 2 hours.. i knew i was doing something that was so stupid.. but at that time my mind had no place for logic and reasons.. I wanted to scream but could not... i wanted to jump out of the window ( Although i wouldn't have died jumping from that height)... God.. what should i do...'excruciating' was an understatement... tried calling the hospitals but in vain.. the pain was getting worse every moment.. something in my mind told me that i cant survive the day... that this is not normal.. i had no idea as to what i should do next.. i went to the bathroom and that entire night i stood under the shower with the stream of boiling hot water.. i was indifferent to everything around me... the hot water was doing wonders to my nerves in the brain.. i didn't come out until wee hours..

Next day without any delay i went to the dentist.. sick like crazy... so chemicalised...  ufff.. !! Well, the dentist felt that the pain had nothing to do with my teeth but it was a nerve issue.. He took me to the neurologist there.. and then that's when i got to know about this strange ailment called Trigeminal Neuralgia. Hadn't heard of it ever.. i just hoped that the medicine would do wonders..I was given Tegretol, an anticonvulsant to treat seizures. Once again with high hopes i got back home believing that may be this is the end. I really didn't know how deadly was this pain.

And then day 3 saw the same thing... what do i do now.. again a night with 15 pain killers... though none helped.. again a night under the shower's hot water. God. i could not deal with it anymore.

Despite taking the medicine the pain persisted...all throughout the day... all throughout the night.. and the side-effects of the medicine just added to the misery. Went to another doctor.. She thought it was a brain tumour.. !! i was so terrified by all these things that i just wanted to leave KL and go back to home. Thank God for having Shruti in my life. Thank God!!

Tegretol had started working to some extent but i was too scared to stay back in KL. Went back to Delhi. Doctors in Delhi also confirmed Trigeminal Neuralgia and now i have another set of medicines. couple of them reacted badly... getting used to the new ones... It's better than Tegretol but am completely intoxicated the entire day.. So all my friends who've wanted me to have the taste of those few pegs, be happy. Am always in 'nasha' now. Walk like a zombie... and am legally 'high'!!

I am yet not sure of the prognosis. Unfortunately, most narcotics are absolutlely useless for this type of nerve pain. A horrifically overdosed coctail of Motrin, Midol, Tylenol, and Arcoxia did zero to relieve the pain or intensity of the attacks. The only drugs that have any effect on the pain are anticonvulsants. They don't moderate the pain, actually, but they moderate the severity of the attacks. The same drugs in epileptics tend to have similar effects: they stop the seizures entirely, or mitigate their effects so they are not as severe.

Hot water shower with my left side of the head strategically positioned under the stream helps me the best. But well, this also means that i need to be home 24 hours. It lessens the pain somewhat, and keep me from being completely incoherent. Without them, the pain's so bad that my whole body like freaks out: I'm left trembling, hardly able to stand, not entirely in control of my muscles. The pain is so bad that I can't think of anything else, it's really hard to be rational and avoid hitting things.

Unfortunately, the only known permanent cure involves surgery, where they unwrap the artery from around the nerve, and sheathe the nerve with Teflon.. but no. No incisions on my brains please Mr doctor! But i don't even want these intoxicating medicine all throughout my life.. I'll be on this drug for about 2-3 months, varying the dosage until we've reached a point where it completely prevents attacks. If it doesn't, then we'll get to experiment with other drugs... and another and another.. and another..


As of now the pain is very erratic.. this pain kills me... It's so intense that everytime i have an episode i become completely incapacitated... i feel there is blood inside my mouth... i feel 100000 injections is being pierced into my head and face... i feel that that this is it. I don't want you to reside in my body. It kills me. But, what kills me even more is the fear of getting the pain any moment. The anxiety... the apprehension stays with me every living moment... yeah, fear of suffering is worst that the suffering itself...

So is it all that bad??!! Not really... cos this has made me do what i would not have done very easily.. I have quit and am back to Delhi soon :) And I am extremely extremely happy about taking this decision. Though the thought of not working scares me but at this moment i really dont care..
Though this entire thing would bankrupt me... but i really dont care...
I really don't!!!

Here begins a new journey.

:)

A big hug to all my family and friends for being there with me... And any thank you would be small for shruti... so no thanks to you.. lots of love...

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Do you speak Bihari?

 "So do you speak Bihari at home?"

More than often we are stumped by this question. Am sure, most of the fellow Biharis never knew that there is a certain language called' Bihari' before they left Bihar. No parents told us this... no school book taught us.

My answer to that question was always a big 'No'.No, because i never knew what 'Bihari language' meant. What we speak at home is Hindi and that's the only language i am familiar with, i know of and i speak.

For long I defended that there is no such language called Bihari.. We have Bhojpuri, Angika, Magahi, Bajjika and Maithili as dialects of Hindi in Bihar but nothing as such which would be referred and recognised as 'Bihari'..

However, lately if posed with the same question, my answer has been in affirmative...and primarly because of love for the place..

Alright. So back to the same question.

What is Bihari language?

a)Is it a different language?
b)Is it a Hindi dialect?
c) Or is it Hindi?

Is it a different language: Am not a linguist but i would still want to believe that Bihari is not a language. It has 'devnagri' script.. it has 'Hindi' grammar.. It doesn't have it's own script and vyakaran.. so surely not a different language

Is it a Hindi Dialect: Not sure as how one would define 'dialect' as? If i look at other 5 Bihar dialects- Magahi, Maithili, Bhojpuri, Angika and Bajjika.. i am able to differentiate the sound of it.. the tonality.. the words.. the specific districts where it gets spoken. I am not able to imagine "Bihari' in the same light.

Is it Hindi: That's what i always thought of.. .. so I would stick to it. But yes it is surely different from Hindi that is spoken in the mainland in various ways..


For e.g.
1) the way we speak... so we love strectching the word ( खींच के बोलना या रेघा के बोलना  )

2) We know the distinction between तालव्य, दन्त , and मूर्धन्य theoretically... And we also say हर्स्व  and दीर्घ instead of badi and choti matra...( Something that seems to be absent in other region)  but mess up with the pronunciation. So Sheela  would become sila...( or silwa) silsila would become shilshila.. We also mix र and ड़. So घोडा is घोरा and घर is घड़.

3) We might be excellent with our Hindi vyakaran and adept at all those अनुप्रास, श्लेष, यमक अलंकार et al or निबंध लेखन  but we mess up with gender. So though we know that dahi is khatta ( grammatically) but in practice when we are speaking then we'll say, ट्रेन आ गया.. बारिश हो रहा है..  I think we are fond of using masculine gender for most of the things. Although the interesting thing is that while writing, our sentence construction is correct. So in our essays we would write, गाय घास खाएगी और ट्रेन आएगी.

4) We don't like saying things straight. When was the last time your name got pronounced as is. We love suffixing. so Nina becomes Ninwa... rohit would become rohitwa.. ruchi would become ruchiya.. khao would become khaiyebe.. nahao would become nahaiyebe.. andhera would be andheriya and  so on.. so each of the Hindi word would have it's suffix according to what suits the pronunciation... so 'suffixing according to convenience' is one of the intrinsic characteristic of Bihari Hindi.

5) Then we don't even like answering straight. You ask a question and you get another question as an answer.

Question: खाना खाए? 
Answer: खायेंगे नहीं क्या?

6) Fetish for affirmation: Like my friend Ejaz rightly says that after every two sentence you would end up saying- "ठीक बोल रहे हैं न जी" :-) 

7) The use of 'हम' , हमको' instead of 'मैं' and 'मुझको'. I have actually always wondered about usage of hum in Bihar particularly. 'हम' to me is an urdu word so i would understand it's wide usage in awadh belt  but Hindi in Bihar does not have Urdu influence. Never understood how 'hum' got calibrated with Bihar's Hindi

8) As my sister sushmita says, Bihari Hindi exudes respect for one and everyone. So we say 'आप' 'तुम' ( not तू) जाईये instead of जाओ. 'गा' used as a prefix for lot of words to suggest respect like: जायएगा, आईयेगा...etc...

9) Then we have super rich vocabulary which only Biharis would understand. And well, it extends beyond the popularly known 'burbak' and 'baklol

I have been trying to recollect the words which you get to hear in Bihar only..

Spontaneous ones.. :-)

So you make bhaat in tokna and eat in a chipli.
Tarkari is made in kadhahiya with the help of cholni
You take out daal from the tokna with the help of dabbu
Roti is rolled on a chokla  with the help of belna
The sisa ka  sisi ( glass bottle)  has got a thepi
 You see your face in an Ena ( Not Aaina)
You wipe your gor with a ghamchi
Sugga ( parrot) has a 'laal lol'. Sugga eats boont  and sings sita ram sita ram
Mummy would make nenua and kadima ka tarkari today
One is 'ek tho'.. two is ' doo go'
You sit on a peedha and when your eyes water when you cut the onion then that's 'jhons lagna'
When somebody is screeching then he is 'chichiya raha'
You go to school 'Bhihane' ( Morning)
Kapda feechna is washing clothes
Okta jaana ( not ukta) is getting bored
When you are stubborn then you are 'thethar'
Jonk ( earthworm) is 'jhonkti'.. and mitti ka cup (kulhar) is 'kaptee or cuptea' :-)
Butru kaan raha ( the kid id crying)
Bartuhar or Kutumb are coming home to see the girl
And even if they like her they would ask for grand 'tillak'
Door is Kiwad and chouraha is 'chaubatiya'
Samosa is Singhara, chahe baliya ho ya Aara
Gulab jamun is kala rasgulla and if you have sore throat then do 'susum paani ka kulla'
Desi daru is 'taadi' while the meetha sugarcane is 'ketari'
Cut the 'kasaili' with a 'Sarauta'  ( betel nut cutter) and the tarkari on a 'hasua'
Eat 'boont ka saag' garnished with mirch and tel that should be 'Karuwa' ( mustard oil)
You go to maidan with a 'lota'  and if you spot a big black ant, then that's a 'khota'
Go to 'kansaar' for 'bhunja bhunjane'
When you get lost then that's 'bhutlaana'
Polythene bags are 'Panni' and hard board would be 'koot'
'Gaach' would be tree and 'fawa'  is free :-)
Kheechad is "Kaado" while hibiscus is "arhul"
Handbag is 'jhola' and you store water in a "ghaila"
Mirch is ' Marchai' while chai is still a chai :-)
You jamao the dahi in 'matkuri' while the kaccha aam is 'Tikola'
And if there's a hailstorm then that's called 'oola'
Ribbon is 'feeta' and teekha is 'teeta'
You 'chilo chimdi on your kotha' in jaadey ka mausam
And if the milk is lukewarm then it's called 'susum'
Bindi is 'tikli' and a gold chain is a 'sikdi'
Mattress is tosak you wrap yourself in oodhna
Your head is 'kapar'  while a tattoo would be 'Godna'
Wife is 'kaniyan' and Jeth is 'bhaisur'
Jethani is 'gotni'.. while a sasur remains a 'sasur'
'Biha- saadi' ( vivah- shaadi)  is the biggest celebration
And if you didn't serve 'Buniya ka laddu' then that's quite an embarrassment
To see is 'laukna'...  and to to slip is 'sasarna'
If you blink then that's 'matki marna'
And if you limp then that's 'lengrana' ( not langarana)

Ok.ok ok...The list can only get longer... as i am writing this, am actually being able to think of so many words which had almost become absent in my vocabulary. ( sorry.. bhocabulary.. that's the way we would pronounce it)

Anyways, the point is not to create the shabkosh but just to establish that Bihari has a distinct 'shabd-kosh'.... that the way we speak is slightly different.. that we have used all our freedom to make it flexible... But at the end of the day it is HINDI.


कुछ बुझाया की नहीं?

Monday, February 21, 2011

Ek chitthi pyar bhari


Three days back Ruchi opened the old rusted iron box which she got from our native place this time. Box full of light brown coloured paper..worn out papers, torn edges.. faded ink.. emanating that distinct old paper smell which for once was not disruptive.

As we shuffled through those papers we accidentally found a letter... A letter which none of us other than ma was aware of... a letter which is more precious than anything i can imagine... a letter written by Babu ( maternal grandfather) to our Nani in 1938.. 13th Oct, 1938, 7:30 ( AM or PM, not sure) from Ranchi.

Ruchi hurriedly started reading the letter.. first aloud and then to herself.. struggled with few words...then smiled... awed... and smiled again. I could make out that this was not just a normal 'haal- samachar patra'. Babu had written this letter to our Nani who was apparently 'roothi hui' ( can't think of any better word in English expressing the same emotion) and Babu was in 'manana' mood..

Once i got the letter, i could instantly feel the 'babu touch' with that familiar handwriting. I was still struggling with few words. It was one of our cutest discovery. He addresses her as 'Pran-priye... prem smaran..' Nani, from what it appears from the letter is upset about the fact that babu had not been writing to her... and apparently she had also returned some of the gift that babu would had sent her. Babu has just passed out from the college and is struggling to get a job in Ranchi. He was going through a tough time and didn't want Nani to be distracted by his ordeals. A long silence from Nani's end wakes him up and he resorts to cajoling and persuading. Without going much into the context, what's interesting is the choice of words. He has taken all the effort to floor her through words. And am sure she would have just melted reading this.

None of us know anything about her. She had passed away when ma was just few months old so there is nothing we knew of her other than the fact that she had beautiful eyes and was referred as 'Mrignayni' by babu. So this letter manages to etch those 'aadha tircha' lines on a blank slate. At the same time it also talks a lot about our cutest Babu.This indeed is priceless and adorns the safest place in the house.... beneath mummy's pillow!!

Lots of love to both of them.


Other related post:
first-man-in-my-life
unwritten letter

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Dubai diary: Moments and memories- Ummm Naisha and Abbu Naisha..




Ummm Naisha, to begin with is perfect. Just so perfect. If there would be a superwoman then it would Prachi. And she does everything with such perfection that all of us sitting around her feel what useless breed are we..and i really wonder if i can ever be like her!!

She walks with confidence... she speaks her mind... battles it out even if it means being alone at the other end..and then with equal ease tame people like Garima ( in Garima's own words..)

She does the best presentations which gets showcased globally and is loved by clients all across...

And in Nilanjan's own word, she is one of the best marketing brain he has known in the research. One would not disagree with this at all...

But besides this Ummm Naisha's bollywood numbers would put munni and sheila to shame. So what baby Naisha doesnt get tired watching sheela and munni. She just needs a 'jhalak' of her ma..

And well, she does get stressed too... and you know it when she starts eating her nails (How many of you have noticed her doing this!!)

Prachi and I have spent lot of time together esp in the office as we used to sit together.... and there are some of them which just cant be compared.

The day when she told me that Naisha was to come in this world.. achanak se... she said.. ' i have to tell you something..'.. and i almost knew what she was going to say...

Then one day both of us were engrossed in our work.. It was one of those busy days when you dont even get a minute break.. then again achanak se she says.. " Richa jab tumhari shaadi hogi to main dance karungi..' and this was not fun conversation. She was serious.!! Haan prachi. Jab bhi hogi shaadi, you would surely come and dance.

She is planned.. matured... structured.. everything that i think i am not..!! And despite sitting with her for such a long time, i haven't learnt my lesson..

Strong she appears to the world, and which she is... But she breaks down on the phone when her friend is on her way to the airport. Ironically, it was she who made her take the final decision to take this plunge. Your phone call that day made me wonder if i was doing the right thing.


She has immense power... so much so that after the third floor in Belhaul building, most of the presentations were written in 4th floor of discovery garden.. Nilanjan, Noby, Maha, Garima,.. everybody  has had their day and night outs at her place. And if this was not enough, she was efficiently supported by abbu naisha...

She makes the most wonderful khana and the bestest khadi chawal... and can we forget that wonderfullll kheer!! and the best part is that she knows what everybody likes to eat.. so dosa for prashant.. kadhi chawal for Richa... Pasta for Varsha...

She runs like a roller coaster throughout the day... and then at 10:00 PM, 'needra devi' jolts her.. so she would go to the bed along with Naisha to make her sleep and would tell us that she would be back in 10 min.. But she doesnt come back.. !! After 40 minutes you realise that both Umm naisha and baby naisha are already asleep..


Then abbu naisha explains... 'you cant help.. she has been up since morning'..

Abbu Naisha who is always 'busy' and Naisha knows it so well, is mostly 'bilkul seedha sada' but don't go by his 'seedha' looks.. He mixes vodka in Masi Naisha's coke and gives her without letting her know. Masi Naisha now refuses to even have normal water from him..

Then he resorts to emotional blackmailing and doesn't let her go to click the pictures of Burj Khalifa fireworks on new years eve..

Baby Naisha who was tiny miny few months back, loves sheila and Munni. She can watch both of them dance endlessly...( You dont need to guess where she gets her dancing genes from)  Men, stay away from her. You'll be welcomed only if your name is Manas or you have a Galaxy tablet which plays munni and sheila..

Suneeta's ladu and mamma's gugu is a real gudiya. Richa Masi misses clicking this chotu doll..


I miss you all ..  :-(

Lots of love..


Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Dubai diary: Moments and memories- 'G'- the electricity







She is a Hindi poetry, when you look at her.. 

A heavy metal band, when you let her speak...

Jat from Ajmer is what she would introduce herself as.
The concoction gets deadlier if you get to know where are real blood comes from ( Lebanon)


She need not ring the bell to announce her arrival... 
the air around her travels in the form of her voice five minutes before she comes

She would not let you speak as her kitty is never empty

She wants to get married tomorrow but the next second she reveals that she is not fit for it..

She is gorgeous.. she is glamourous.. she is gregarious...
and in the past 6 months, she galavants in style in her high heels..


Her kitchen is full of gourmet books... and all she claims to make is a very nice tea ( which she does)
She loves rock.. and her jazz and god knows what!!

She is hyper... full of temper... difficult to control.. is always in on a roll

She is the hurricane.. the electricity.. unfazed... uninhibited...
Gori' for sudeshna... 'grrrr' for Prachi.... towny for kinchit is what she is referred as..

Thats Garima singh for you... that's Garima singh for the world...

She is papa's darling daughter and he surely is proud of her

She is bharat's loving sister, and his inner strength

She is Ma's pyari putri and makes sure that she does everything to make her happy..

She would come back from office at 11 from Abu Dhabi and would still go to Varsha's place for the final meet

May have a deadline next day but would still stand by her personal commitments

She is very intelligent and probably was the last person to leave the office along with some other stupid souls..

She makes you cry on her farewell speech..

She falls in love and believe me, that really makes her happy ( despite her hazar claims that she is not cut out for shaadi)

She is that sweet little girl who you failed to see all this while...

This is what Garima singh is for me..

Ajmeri Garima and Mungeri Richa shares lot of common dreams..

She knows me completely.. and yes Garima, I am indeed that doe eyed girl waiting for some miracle moment.. ( aur jab tak nahin hota tab tak i will click and write and do some research)

Wait for another 5 yrs ( or may be even less than that)... and you'll know what stuff she is made of..

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Dubai diary- moments and memories- Mr and Mrs Sharma


He calls her sharma ji and she calls him sharma ji. These two sharma ji's are straight from any of these MB novel. Know each other for more than a decade and yet you feel that they have gotten together just now. As uncle ( Prashant's dad- Prashant- the 'he' sharma) says the he got transferred to Bhubneshawar ages back only because these two sharmas were meant to be together. So their topsy turvy love story sailed through all the rough patches and it continues to do so. Sorry.. I can't reveal much as I am supposed to write their biography.... and then do their portfolio... and pata nahin what not!!



Mr and Mrs Sharma had a beautiful house which had the 'very varsha' touch. Very beautifully done up house. So whenever anybody came to their house, they took a trip so see what 'jadu' varsha had added to  every nook and corner. There was this room up there which they introduced as 'richa's room to everyone. ( Unfortunately i don't have any picture of that room).. So that beautiful 'deep purple' room was mine  which i used to royally occupy most of the weekend... they gave that quiet space to me and a lot more than that...Lots of dhoop... early morning chai ( at 1:00 PM)... story telling sessions... and again chai. They would come all the way from their place which was some 40 KM away at midnight to just pick me up... and when i was in the hospital and unwell, varsha would act mommy, tracking each and every medicine i took....Never felt out of place because of you all ( of course along with Pratibha, prachi and deepak being my support system)

And there were times when the husband-wife duo would bully me really bad!! Oh yes, Prashant is all shareef and nice, but there is of course that other side of his which he displays occasionally!

And then there were days when we would have serious discussions on what we wanted to do in out life... the bigger dreams and goals..The good part is that those conversations are not just restricted to living room discussions.

Everybody would agree that all the festivals got a new meaning in Dubai only because of Prashant and Varsha.. Holi never looked more colourful, Diwali was never this glittery and New years was never this patakhedaar.. Not to forget our nine days navratri vrat which began with that pooja in the poojaroom..Both of you were the perfect host for all of us on all occasions.. For me it had the double mazaa as i was mostly part of the preparation process.. so be it choosing the kheel batasha for diwali or inflating the mini swimming pool for Holi..




It's pure co-incidence that varsha and me met after almost 10 years after the college. Although we hadn't spoken to each other back then but knew that we existed. So even after meeting we could not instantly recognize each other. But then that lasted for only few minutes...Varsha and me after few months ended up sitting in the same room and then after every 40 minutes we had our chai break.... so much so that people ended up saying that are you guys always together..!!! We would often break into our toota foota bhojpuri dialect and reminisce about old Hindi poems in school.. Everything looked so perfect.. so much in order....

And then suddenly this disruption in our lives... all three of us have often inferred that there is a reason why we have taken these drastic steps. Suddenly we are there in three different corners of the world. When Prashant sent the message that the movers and packers have come to pack the stuff, i could almost feel the pain. Par jo bhi hoga achey ke liye hi hoga...

Sharma and Sharma would sail through all rough patches.. like they have done in the past...best wishes..

Lots of love








Monday, February 14, 2011

Dubai diary.... moments and memories..



It's been more than a day now away from this city.. feels really weird... really weird. For the first time it did not hit me that i had landed in Delhi until i reached home. The last day in Dubai made me really weak. And Prachi's phone call just before leaving made it even worse. Good thing is that am lucky to have such nice people in my life... love you all for such unconditional support and love..

Laura, you are one of the sweetest person i have ever met. Sad that we could not spend as much time as we should have... but the other reality is that i probably have not spent as much time with anybody else..

We were so different... and yet so similar... you the chirpy and the exuberant one.. me, the quiet and composed. You, super active and me so lazy. the house looked so organised when you were there.. and kitchen loved the presence of the pasta and pan-cake maker... everybody loved your salad in the office. You the green tea drinker and me the ginger tea drinker... Yes, we were very different...

I remember those difficult days when you had come to Dubai.. God.. each day had it's own story. there were days when you lost all the hope and there were days when you were in your real spirit... what remained common was the determination to stay in the city. And you did it. I rememeber the day when you finally got the offer. I remember the message you had sent.. I got so scared. ( Please note: in India 'urgent' has a very negative connotation). and when i was back home, i could not believe you!! happy we were..

Loved your surprises... the occasional flowers that you got for me ... the chcolates... the surprise tea sessions.. you listening to Hindi songs and then trying to sing it.. your favorite one being 'tera hone laga hoon..".. and you making faces at Sanjay dutt and wondering, who on earth considers him as good looking ( I don't)..and then in the spice souk on being asked where were you from, you would say that you are from Hyderabad and that you cant speak Hindi because you know only Telugu and English!!

I wish we can make that same egg biryani and eat it together with lots of ginger tea.. lots and lots of love

Wednesday, February 09, 2011

My last post from this home



More than two yrs back, we met almost accidentally... i was looking for that perfect you, and there you were just waiting to welcome me in... And it didnt even take me more than 2 minutes to realise that we were to stay together..

You were not all that imposing. In fact you were barely noticeable but your warmth made you stand out.. If i was away from you, wanted to desperately come back to you... and once back, nothing else mattered...

Nobody knows me as well as you do... you looked happy when i was happy... you consoled and comforted me the days i would break down.. you pushed me out the days i would give up.. you embraced me the days i would think i had won.. you were there.. always... with me... all throughout...witness to all my emotions... witness to all i was and all i am..

Today, it pains me to see you so empty.. !! I may never see you again in life... you may never be the same without me... both of us would miss each other..

Hope, the new person in your life loves you as much i did.. Love you my sweet little space @ 605- Buhaira corniche.

Lots of love.. and lots of thank you

And sorry i did break those few tiles in the kitchen... and i did pierce those pointed nails on the wall .. :-(


Monday, January 31, 2011

2nd Nov 2008- 30th Jan 2011- my two wonderful years at TNS- Dubai.




Well, this is not enough. This is not complete.. there is so much that i have to say... so much that i have to listen to...
And, as promised, i would soon write about each one of you.
I feel really blessed to have received so much love and affection from you all. Really really lucky I am.
See you all soon.

Lots of love
Richa


The last day...




Monday, November 15, 2010

The unwritten letter....





Two weeks ago, when I had almost lost my wallet, the only thing I feared losing was a letter written by my best friend… Everything else was substitutable, except for that handwritten letter, which has been there in that wallet for almost 2 and half years… It is in shambles.. has become yellow… the ink is fading… but at this moment, it’s one of my most valued possession… Unfortunately this is the only handwritten letter I have at this moment…
It wasn’t long ago, when all of us would eagerly wait for that one person everyday… The postman in his khakhi. In Munger they used to walk down to each and every house…Each postman was allotted specific ‘mohallas’.. and didn’t we love them? As he clanged the bell, our heart beat would stop.. and if he walked pass our house without delivering anything, my face would drop…And if he handed over the letters then just wished that there was something for me… This anticipation and endless wait for postman continued even while I was in Allahabad. I exactly knew the time he used to come ( Between 11:00 AM-11:15 AM).. I exactly knew the way he used to ring the bell… and if that familiar bell didn’t ring in those 15 minutes, I would get upset for some few hours.. and post that, wait for another day would begin
Letter writing in our family was a ritual… something that had to be followed very diligently. As a kid, never realized that letter was the only bridge that connected Papa’s salty water world and our world… Could not imagine at that time the joys our letters would have brought forth… If I would have, then my letter would have experimented more with words.. All my letters to him started with “ Aadarniya papa, sadar-pranam”… and ended with “Aapki pyari beti Nina”… But then as I grew up, I wanted to impress him with my literary skills and would hunt for words which sounded fancy interspersed here and there in those letters written largely in Hindi.
Coming back to the ritual of writing those letters… so there used to be two options. The yellowish cream coloured pre-stamped lifafa ( Envelope) which at one point of time had 35 paisa stamp on it.. This was primarily for bulk letters.. When all sona,nina,panna,ruchi,champak and mummy had to write in one go..So there we had blue ribboned white paper torn from our school copies.. And then the fountain pen freshly filled with Chelpark ink..And then each one trying to write their bit in their best handwriting… ‘motiyon jaise akshar’…slowly, carefully, each word well crafted… after all papa would be comparing the handwritings over there and the best one would be praised ( And didn’t we all die for his one word of appreciation)..Despite all our efforts, none of us could match Papa’s handwriting….So well, that one envelope could accommodate close to 6 letters. ( And you thought G-mail gave the maximum space!!) And well, it was not just the letters. There were times when we had sent his ‘Prasad and kali baddhi’ ( Black thread) from Deoghar in the same envelope along with letters.
And there was these blue coloured ‘antardeshiya’, inland letters…So over here, you had space restriction. One page from ma and the rest one and half for all of us. So ‘Aadarniya papa, sadarpranam’ written in four different handwritings in that same inland letter…
So this was from us… Till the time I was there in Munger, I had nothing much to write except for school.. After moving to Allahabad, the content changed… the length changed.. the frequency changed…( Aadarniya, still remained as is.) And it was not just a ritual anymore… then it became more free-flowing… more open..
Papa’s letter were mostly very frequent… His well calligraphied letters.. Religiously, the place and the date was written on the right hand side of the page..I specifically remember him writing several letters from Rotterdam as it sounded very familiar to our school and all of us would rhyme Rotterdam-notredame… Early this year when I was passing through Rotterdam, there was that sense of Nostalgia..Those few drops of salty water had trickled down.. and I remember me telling my fellow Dutch passenger on the train that I have received several letters from my father written from this place. It just felt that he was there around somewhere..
So he used to write one letter to ma and then other were more in combo. Sona-nina ;panna-ruchi… and probably when he was slightly more generous, then we used to get individual letters.. Each one of us then preserving it in our own ways… Thank God, we moved to different places and then each one of us got our own letters!!
These letters were not words put arbitrarily here and there..It made you slow down and feel about what you wanted to write… Got good marks, you got to tell that!! Got an award, papa needs to be informed…. Somebody getting married… he needs to be told so that he can make it… Somebody ill, oh well we should not be telling him… and then sheepishly write that we missed his lots…
Letters, which probably at times made us cry while writing… and made few tears drop while reading..
Letters, which made us smile.. made us read again and again..
Letters, which announced his arrival ( Along with those occasional fuschia coloured telegrams)
Letters, which made us anticipate…
Letters, which made us wait..
Letters, whose absence made everybody restless.. ( And there were times when we had not received anything from him months)
So that was then… some 15 yrs back when the world hadn’t seen the advent of SMS… when the word ‘digit’ meant numbers and not ‘digital’… when ‘phone’ meant luxury and we never had one… and when my dear papa was there thousands of kilometers away from all of us… and when the only thing that connected us was those handwritten letters… those letters which were never thrown away.. which were well stacked in those polythene bags and locked in those aluminum trunk…
The last letter I wrote to papa was almost one and half years back.. it lies right at the side of my bed.. Am sure he reads it everyday.. ( And for a change the letter starts with dearest papa)
While we have butchered handwritten letters, and limping ahead with technological advancement… where emails and facebook has replaced those inland and yellow envelopes, I am still comforted by those handwritten letters… Letters which are not just plain black and white alphabets but which has the ‘writing’ of somebody who you know so well.. it has the touch and smell of the writer.. It feels. It lives. It breathes… It cannot be deleted. It’s to be preserved.
Aapki beti..Nina...

Tuesday, November 02, 2010

Shukriya zindagi...


2nd November... A baby step or a giant leap??
Well, 2nd Nov 2008 was indeed a baby step, when i stepped out of India for the very first time with my fresh, fifteen days old passport. My biggest fear at that time was stepping on to the escalator.. My Delhi friends would never forgive me for forcing them to take stairs/lift and not the escalator... and all along i just hoped that Dubai airport would have stairs...
2nd November 2010- so that baby step was just the beginning.. discovery of 'chakra' . ( They say it that if you have chakra on you feet's finger then you travel a lot... and apparently sita and ram had chakra on all their fingers and hence the aajeevan jungle bhraman).. These two years would go down in history as milestone years for me. ( taking the escalator with ease is one of the many things that you have helped me do) And thank you Dubai for these blissful days. Thank you.
Dubai, 'jalta hua ret' ( burning sand).. or pighalta hua paani ( The AC all around is freezing... so much so that i actually wear a sweater/jacket even when it's 50 degrees).. Dubai... where, Hindi/urdu is the first language ( And well, i do break into my mungeri Hindi and gazipuri bhojpuri as well).. and Dubai, where my colleagues are from different parts of the globe...
Dubai, which is more Indian than any other Indian city... bhelpoori to kulhar wali chai... Durga pooja to diwali ( oh well, i managed to get proper vrat wala khana during navratri).. where you have not less than 5 Hindi FM channel...where i can see Hindi movie even before it gets released in India
I thank you for exposing me to so many different cultures... of mesmerising me with some peculiarity each passing day ( Even though most of the time it throws me out of the track).. of letting me know that Lebanon was not just about Civil wars, but a country where you find plastic surgery clinic in every nook and corner... ( And if you are a single woman, then getting a visa to lebanon is soooooo tough)... of telling me the difference between habibi and habibti.. of letting me know that make ups are beyond kajal... .. I thank you for these small lil pleasures...
And i thank you for letting me meet so many wonderful people... And i thank you mummy for making it easy for me...
I thank you Dubai for these two years... happy second anniversay...

Monday, November 01, 2010

Yesterday and tomorrow





I must have been out of my mind...
Or was i just too blind??
Was it just a figment of imagination
Or was there a lesson for life??
Did i not try hard enough??
Or was the fight to save too weak??

Did we ever walk that path...
the path,we never actually tread...?
the path which saw it's end.....
...much before it began...
breathlessly i ran...
Did we ever weave those dreams...
... or did it get entangled in it's own mesh

Did you ever see those drops of salty water..?
Which has completely dried now...
Did you see that glint in the eyes...
Suddenly dissipating into nothingness
Did you see the chirpiness dissolving into the air...
and what prevails now is just those silent utterances...

I know you don't...

Yes, You walked ahead..
And i stayed back and bled...
Am proud to have loved...
to dream... to surrender..

While i bathe in your indifference
I have those memories to lead me ahead...
.... the path, where there was dream of you....
Yesterday would linger on...
And tomorrow will just lead me on... :-)

RR