A Tale of Two Cities

Never the latitudes and the longitudes played a pivotal role in my life. For me, they were just another lesson in my elementary geography course. Learnt one day, poured in the paper the next day and forgotten later on. My change in relationship status from single to committed has made me suddenly more aware of the global time zones and the technicalities involved in trying to talk to someone on a different time zone. The process that I followed earlier to see what time it is has few more additional steps. I subtract 4.5 hrs from the current Indian time and mentally figure if the daylight saving has started or not in London.

I have realized, it is not political boundaries nor race neither religion nor culture that divide the world but the segregation is according to the time one follows. It is the world of ESTians, CSTians, ISTians , GMTians etc. People in the same time zone follow the same routine. They wake up approximately at the same time, their work hours are almost parallel and their leisure time coincides with each other. An alliance among people in the same time zone set is the most convenient, easiest and beautiful one. The trouble is for those who are from two different sets trying to make their courtship as memorable as can be. I am in the latter category who would like to modify the line ‘Distance makes heart go fonder’ to ‘Distance makes connecting with one another longer’.

The communication more seems like the one we experimented as kids, with two cans attached to one another with a string. The excitement is the same, as the kid at each end experiences just the difference is that the string is the internet the two cans are my ThinkPad and his Mac respectively. The glitches faced to connect are paramount, or they seem to be. When the free time coincides, the internet slows down, if the net is fast, a sudden power failure happens. Each glitch acts as the new age villain for us. Skype seems the only savior amongst the baddies. I am sure the idea to have a technology like Skype must have germinated in the mind of those who were in the same boat as me.

Time Zones, not only act as deterrents for two people in love but also as the world goes flatter in terms of work and the concept of cloud computing steps in, arranging a meeting when the team is widely distributed around the globe can be havoc for the chairperson. Picture this, how to coordinate the perfect time for people to meet on a web conference when one sits in Australia, the other in India, one in UK and one somewhere in USA. So mostly in such web conference you have a chirpy person about to start the day, a drowsy individual fighting the mid afternoon siesta and a tired person waiting to call it a day. I am unaware how to rectify the problem. A remedial solution does not seem to be there, as hampering of earth’s rotation is still not viable. The only thing I can tell my sweetheart is no matter what, lets just ‘Stay Connected’.

When will we decide to kill the Raavan inside us?

If a new movie comes to theatres, I would watch it on the subsequent Saturday. More than a hobby, it has become a ritual for me. Not going by what the critics have to say, or the ratings the film receives. I am there to watch it and form my own opinion on it. Sometimes, its worth the money spent and sometimes, it is a pinch for every penny spent.

Recently, I saw two movies Rajneeti and Ravaan and found a striking similarity. Both have been inspired by India’s two great epics Mahabharata and Ramayana respectively. Both bring in the essence of these stories in today’s world. This leads to an amazing realization, over the ages in our dynamic and ever-changing world, one thing has remained static - The Human Nature.

In every era, people have shown traits of Ram or impersonated Ravan. Amidst us, there is always a power hungry Duryodhan and an ever plotting Shakuni, a helping friend like Karan, a righteous man like Yudhishthar. The silent suffering Sita and the emancipated Draupadi walk in tandem in our society. Like the predicament, Arjun faced in the battlefield of Mahabharata, we all have our shares of testing times and we all have a mentor like Krishna to give us solace.

For centuries, these epics have been recited in various forms and are an integral part of our society and culture. Thanks to BR Chopra and Ramanand Sagar, we all have these epics in our memory cell scene by scene, episode by episode. We all know that while Ramayana showcases an ideal life, Mahabharata on the other hand shows how to perform ideal actions in not so ideal circumstances.

Yet it is a pity, we have still not been able to imbibe the values and morals the two highlight in totality. The entire crowd gives a standing ovation when Ram’s arrow hits Ravan’s naval at the Ramleela grounds, but we are yet to kill the Ravan inside us. We all despise Dushasan for insulting Draupadi and ill-treating her, but how many Dushasan go scot free in our society after committing horrendous crimes against women. We admire the words of wisdom quoted in these texts but fail to implement them in our lives. I think it high time instead of applauding various narrations of Ramayana and Mahabharata we should start absorbing the lessons they teach.

What's Your Attitude?

I usually hear statements form all corners speaking about attitude. If I illustrate some, the famous ‘Wear your Attitude’ or ‘Attitude is everything’ or the very motivating ‘Attitude makes Altitude’. Ruminating over this topic brings just one question in my mind, what kind of attitude do these lines suggest? What kind of attitude should I build? Should it have elements of arrogance in it or humility? Do I put in it traces of sweetness or curtness, a welcoming attitude or a distancing one? Ingredients are many but the perfect recipe is a mystery. A simple and easy practice I decided to follow is the Attitude of Gratitude. The beauty is in its simplicity. I do not have to exert myself for this; neither do I need to make tall claims. I just need to practice one thing and that is gratitude. Instead of cribbing sessions, I practice the thank you sessions. Instead of regretting what is not with me, I cherish what I have. I try to make it a point to thank god for the beautiful gift called the day that he gifts me every morning. Avoiding those that bring negativities in my life and indulging in the things that bring a feel good factor in me helps me increase my list of gratitude. Mourning on relations that turned sour is what I have stopped,treasuring the relations that have nurtured through time is what I practice. Regret has taken a back seat rejuvenation is in the forefront. Despondency has evaporated delight has settled in. This simple philosophy has a very long lasting and fruitful effect and has made me realize that appreciation and thankfulness are truly the key for joyful living.

A Forgotten Relation

One thing is certain, Indian mornings are always chaotic. While the kids and their dads get ready hurriedly, the mums rush in all household chores. If this is not enough for the nerves, well then you have an irritant ‘the constant buzz of the door bell’ - The newspaper person, then the car cleaner, then the cleaning ‘bai’ etc. Much has not changed from my days as a kid, but I do miss one individual amongst this frenzied morning atmosphere the ‘doodhwala’ or the milkman.

He was always peculiarly dressed. Clad in messy and about to tear apart dhoti, a contrasting sparkling white kurta and black mojries adorning his feet. A red cotton cloth called gamcha was always with him, the most multipurpose apparel I had seen. He would sling it around his neck while pouring the white liquid in the container and then tie it around his head when he was ready to leave. This could wipe Spilled milk efficiently and sweat during peak summers. Rajdoot was the official carrier of all the milkmen in town, with noise loud and clear to make us all aware of the arrival. Our milkman’s education level was rudimentary but he still applied the laws of physics very well by balancing the level of milk in each container stationed either sides of his bike to prevent any fall. A daily ritual he used to pour a fixed amount of milk in the container and if we wanted any change in the quantity prior notification was must. Mum used to take the milk and dutifully write the amount taken adjacent to the date in the calendar hanging in her kitchen. In the end, the doodhwala’s bill was tallied with the jotted readings on the calendar. While this was checked, his words were enough to accept the purity of the milk poured. It was the most peculiar relationship where trust and suspicion went in tandem.

The quality of the milk was never questioned on seeing the viscosity of the liquid or the cream it produced on boiling but by any deterioration of health or delay in the increase of height in the household kids. Another constant threat to the precious milk was that did the milkman mix water in it and if yes hopefully not tap water. To this, the milkman in his theatrical best use to tell ma that he shall give up milking cows and go to the himalyas if water was ever found in his milk. In addition, if one day the cow was sick or the milk man got late in milking it we had to do away with powder milk that came in the most repulsive package and was equally repulsive in taste. We shared Joys and sorrows with him. He got new kurta and mithai on festivals and joyous occasions and a lending ear for his sorrows. He brought special ghee for us sometimes stating it was good for the brain during exams.

Today, I see a completely new milkman emerging, he no longer runs pillar to post to sell his milk. He has contracts with dairies and large corporations who buy his cow’s entire yield. In addition, we have succumbed to convenience by having tie ups with the nearby grocer to provide us packaged pasteurized milk. 24 hours availability, improved quality and convenience are felt, but the bond between the household and the doodhwala, two entities from completely different lifestyles, has dwindled away.