My Quest...

I stood there at the crossroads

Not sure of what lay ahead…….

Staring at the paths before me

Not knowing where each one led


 I then got one chance 

To view my life up-close
A chance to understand it

Before my path I chose

I traveled to a far land
To the mountains in the mist 

Whose barren peaks towered high

As the deep blue sky they kissed


 Valleys in the middle of nowhere

With tiny flowers in bloom 

Growing against the odds

Braving the icy winds and gloom

In splendid colors they dotted 
The gently rolling hills

Such a marvelous display of

Their Creator’s brilliant skills


 Perched on a rocky mound

Stood a crumbling monastery 
It seemed to be beckoning
Calling out to me

      Overwhelming exhilaration… 

As I began to ascend

For I knew this was the moment

When I’d begin to comprehend

 

 

 A glorious view of the valley
Bathed in the sun’s glare

It was then that I saw them

Dancing gaily without a care

 

A youthful group of monks 

In their robes orange and red 

Moving to the rhythm of the drums

Their tonsured shining heads

No creases on their brows 

No worry for the morrow

Their laughter enough to drown

Mankind’s burden of sorrow


   And I knew then that the path I chose

Would be of no consequence 

My attitude and my Spirit
Would be my life's essence!

 

  

Life and Death

Life and Death

There comes a stage in one’s life when one suddenly becomes aware of death…and that ironically is also the moment when one becomes aware of life. Two sides of a coin, two faces of a truth…call it whatever but life and death always go hand in hand - without the other each ceases to have a meaning.

The first encounter…

I got a chance to see death up close early, much earlier than I actually sat down to think about it. It was during my training as a doctor when I was in my early twenties. My reaction to death at that point was of shock, followed by fear and then deep sadness. The first time I actually saw a life ending, it was unfortunately a very young life- a child with burns sustained from a kerosene stove that had exploded. What could have been done better to save him was a question that troubled me for days. It even put a question mark on my desire to pursue the career for the rest of my life, as I was not sure whether I would keep reacting the same way to the suffering and its inevitable end or would I just get used to it with time.

The life goes on the love lives on….

The first loved one I lost was my grandfather. He would have been eighty in a less than a month after the day he died. He had smoked a “hookah” all his adult life – probably his only indulgence- and that led to the end- he died of complications of chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. My sister and I arrived at my grandmother’s house only after the funeral had taken place. The crying, the mourning all seemed unreal. At the meal that followed, where we all sat down together, everybody was eager to help, to do their bit to make it easy for the others. Serving the food, passing the plates….death had somehow brought the whole extended family closer even if it were for a brief time. And for the first time I realized that life does go on after death for the ones who are left behind. The love that is created and nurtured in one’s life continues to live in the hearts of one’s loved ones. This year in October was the 18^h anniversary of his passing away and even though a lot of family equations have changed since- the cousins, aunts, uncles have drifted apart, made our own lives, had new additions to our families, and had our share of disagreements and tensions- a common bond still exists. That love, that bond we had felt for each other on the day of the funeral still remains buried, blurred somewhere in our hearts.

Pick that phone before it is too late…

Impending death can make you do things that you would otherwise not do. About four years ago my uncle and aunt were busy with the preparations of their son’s wedding. I had called them to congratulate them and express our inability to attend. Though I am very close to my Aunt and interact with her on a regular basis, it was probably the first time I was talking to my uncle over the phone.  He was either away at work tending to his business whenever we visited my Aunt’s house or he would retire into background after the usual greeting and small talk about the welfare of the family.

He sounded happy. He hadn’t been keeping well but that was attributed to the hectic pace of activities preceding the wedding. In the nine months that followed the wedding, the nightmare unfolded. His unexplained fever could not be diagnosed initially and later turned out to be a malignant blood disorder.

The trips to the hospitals, the never ending blood exams, the changing prescriptions of medicines- keeping a tab on everything became almost a mission for me. The relatively frail financial condition of his family and the fact that he was the primary bread earner added to my worries. I had several conversations with my uncle during this period. On one occasion when I called after a longer than usual interval, my aunt told me he had been asking why I hadn’t called for so many days. I remember my last conversation with him- he was in hospital with a worsening ascites and was not responding to the medicines- “you have to do as the doctors tell you”, I told him. “Yes, of course,” he said but I could sense that resignation in his voice. He returned home after that and I never got a chance to call him again as he passed away a few days later. I had been thinking of calling him but the inconsequential demands of my daily routine had kept me away from the phone…

Those nine months could be a compressed life time….we know people will just go away one day…what prevents us from picking up that phone and reaching out to them, I wonder…

How young is too young…

We tend to mourn more for the deaths of people who pass away before completing the average human life span. “He was too young…” or   “she did not get the chance to live her life”, we say. A call form my sister at a very unusual time of the day surprised me that day. She had been on the IM over the computer with an old school friend who informed her that another school mate, who also happened to be a our close family friend had suffered a  severe heart attack and had succumbed to it….at just 36 years of age! It was tough to believe and even tougher to accept. So many memories came rushing back. Carefree days of our childhood spent together- running around, climbing trees, laughing… What if he knew back then that he had only 36 years in his life…would he still be that carefree, ever smiling, full of life boy back then? Isn’t it good then that none of us is aware when we shall depart? Our ignorance offers us the opportunity to make the most of the life that we have been blessed with- for 36 or 100 is just a number and what you do in your time here is much more important than the time itself.

Death gives Life its meaning…

Death is inevitable, we all know that, but accepting and more importantly comprehending this universal truth is what life is all about. As I approach what is probably mid-life for an average human being, I feel more aware of life… and of death. My reaction to death today would probably be different from the 22 year old medical intern that I was when I first witnessed it. Am I more prepared for the death of my loved ones or for that matter even my own, I can’t say. Losing anyone would be tough even if you had prepared yourself- living without them would take a lot of inner strength and courage. But thinking about death has made me aware of the brief and fleeting nature of life. As I go through the motions of life- meandering through the joys and disappointments, the ups and downs, the successes and failures – I no longer feel that I am groping through the dark. We experience this journey differently but all our journeys will end in the same way, sooner or later.

Leaving behind enough love in the hearts of people is what matters; and cherishing the love that was left behind for you is what keeps you going!

Loving, Living and Longing in Mumbai

Mumbai-  a city , which if you’ve stayed in…it stays with you forever, a city of paradoxes, a city so crowded that it has burst at its seams and yet it is the city where you could be the most lonely…

A city that overwhelms you, inspires you, and sometimes makes you numb, apathetic! So if you have ever walked with the winds on the Marine drive during the monsoons, or braved the crowds during any festive season or planned your daily schedule around the timing of the ladies special, you will know what I am talking about…and you will also love this movie called Dhobighat- A labor of love, a tribute to this city of dreams.

The most stark paradox of Mumbai of course is the classes. The first is the rich, traveled around the world, living in sea facing apartment class, the second is the behind the scene machinery that makes Mumbai tick- the bais, the dhobis, the chauffeurs, the dabbawalas ; then there is the intellectual , creative kinds who sip champagne in art galleries and seek inspiration over cups of tea and coffee  to write stories  or lyrics that they hope will become the fancy of the nation when it watches them on celluloid. And finally the outsiders who come in for short duration because of careers,  or as tourists or students- who either live and love the city and make it a part of themselves, or struggle to come to terms with it. That’s Shai, Munna, Arun and Yasmin for you- the four main characters of Dhobighat.

And the intertwining of the lives of these four classes in Mumbai is inevitable. The bai that comes to clean the house brings a little bit of her waterlogged slum into the living room during the monsoon and the young housewife chronicles this, along with the other mundane happenings of her life into a video cam. An artist wears the love and longing of another person, who he is never met, in a chain around his neck and it inspires him in way that he hasn’t been inspired in a long – long time. And a small town boy can almost touch his dreams when he sees them through the lens of an expensive camera while he leads it to capture the real Mumbai- of the dhobighat, the itr waalas, the ear cleaners and the rat killers. All the four characters live and experience the same  city in their own way…so while one tops his drink with the incessant Mumbai rain and raises a toast, another, not so far away struggles to  contain the same water in a plastic mug as it drips through the leaking roof of his shanty.

They all live through the various stages of love too…the innocent excitement of falling in love for the first time for Munna, the curiosity that it evokes for Shai, the hopes and dreams of a young Yasmin who has accompanied her husband to the new city, the disillusionment of the divorced Arun that makes him fear love, and then the letting go- whether its Yasmin’s final goodbye or Munna’s accepting the reality and giving Shai her chance with Arun.

The performances by the main cast can all be ranked excellent. Pratik who left us asking for more after his debut as the heroine’s artistic, bordering on mad, brother in Jaane tu ya Jaane na is back and how. He plays Munna with ease and charm and gives such nuanced expressions at times that it is hard to believe that this his only his second film. Monica Dogra with her accent suits the role of an Indian banker from America, while Kirti , who only talks through and to the camera in the film impresses with her emoting and is very believable as a small town girl. Aamir too proves through his expressions, as he watches the video diary, why he is rated as one of the finest actors of contemporary Hindi cinema.

But the real heroine of the movie is the debutant director, Kiran Rao. Her sensibilities , her writing , her feelings are the pulse of Dhobighat. She, it seems had a clear vision of what she wanted to show and she has used the screenplay, the music score, the performances, the camera – all very skillfully , to bring it to us.

Go and watch it to fall in love with Mumbai all over again!