It was about a quarter of a century ago in Matheran (when I was all of 20 years) that I discovered that the sky was blue. Rather late in the day one might think. If you are however brought up in Mumbai you would have never seen a blue sky. I dare say that this is true of most Indian cities. Finally looking up at the heavens in Matheran that I managed to confirm what I had learnt probably in kindergarten.
It was during that trip to Matheran that I also discovered the meaning of another expression “Blue Haze of Smoke”. All had just started smoking. It wasn’t until I visited what is described as the world’s smallest hill station that I was finally able to grasp the meaning of the expression. Finally, I could see the blue haze of smoke as it wafted it ways across to the sky.
Naturally, the first thing that I wanted to see when I visited Matheran this weekend was to check out whether one could still see the smoke. Forget the fact that I had quit smoking or there is a ban on smoking in public spaces, I could clearly see the person in front of me smoke as I rode on a horse covering the last mile in Matheran. Sure enough the kid in front of me (possibly 20 years) smoking and the blue smoke curling up. The smoke however didn’t travel the distance. I asked the escort\owner of my horse as to whether the climate in this hill station had deteriorated. He answered in the affirmative. This despite the fact that no pollution emitting vehicle is allowed inside Matheran. After all even this hill station could not remain immune to the overall deterioration in the atmosphere.
Over the course of the next 24 hours I had to concede that the place had retained its pristine purity and not fallen prey to commercialization unlike other hill stations. While I rode on horse most of the time, my wife and son rode on a rickshaw drawn by two people. Horses and rickshaws are the only two modes of travel available in Matheran. Since my 4 year old son vetoed the idea of riding on a horse, we had to enlist the services of a rickshaw. This set me thinking again.
Matheran had managed to retain its charm by not falling prey to commercialization. Maybe the decision to not allow vehicles in just had something to do with the fact that the roads are extremely narrow. At any rate, this had resulted in many of its inhabitants having to take up pulling risckshaws for a living. Something against which the very fiber in one’s body revolted. If other hill stations had paid a price for commercialization, the residents of this hill station had paid a price for not going the commercial way. Taking the road less travelled clearly extracts a price too.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Connecting with the Mahatma
This weekend I was at New Delhi to attend a wedding and I took the opportunity to visit Rajghat, the memorial of the Father of the Nation—Mahatma Gandhi. This is the second or third time that I am visiting Rajghat and the experience has always been the same. A sense of peace and quiet descends on me. Indeed it was this search for peace that took me to Rajghat again. It was as though I wanted to reconfirm that I would feel this peace again.
As I closed my eyes before the Samadhi, I saw before me the light (the jyoti) which was enclosed in a glass container of sorts. Till that point I was merrily clicking pictures on my mobile phone. It seemed to be sacrilege that one should click photographs at a spot like this. While I refrained, I could not but see that crass commercialism had intruded here too. A photographer was offering to click anyone who wanted to pose at the Samadhi and give instant photographs for a fee of course. .
While this sight filled me with revulsion, on closing my eyes I not only experienced overwhelming peace and quiet but also felt energized. I think that perhaps I went into brief meditation. This is not something that I have experienced even in religious places and maybe this has something to do with the fact that I am not particularly religious by nature. Gandhiji of course stood for religious harmony which is a strong article of faith with me. The Mahatma is perhaps my shepherd.
As I walked away from Rajghat and went about the daily business of life and living, I could not but think of Jawaharlal Nehru’s famous speech after the assassination of the Mahatma—The light has gone out of our lives. After beginning with these lines Nehru says in his speech, “The light has gone out I said, yet I was wrong. For the light that shone in this country was no ordinary light. The light that has illumined this country for these many years will illumine this country for many more years, and a thousand years later that light will be seen in this country and the world will see it and it will give solace to inuumerable hearts.”
Gandhiji had fallen to an assassin’s bullet many years before I was born. The light at Rajghat not only gave solace to my heart but enabled me to connect with the Mahatma.
As I closed my eyes before the Samadhi, I saw before me the light (the jyoti) which was enclosed in a glass container of sorts. Till that point I was merrily clicking pictures on my mobile phone. It seemed to be sacrilege that one should click photographs at a spot like this. While I refrained, I could not but see that crass commercialism had intruded here too. A photographer was offering to click anyone who wanted to pose at the Samadhi and give instant photographs for a fee of course. .
While this sight filled me with revulsion, on closing my eyes I not only experienced overwhelming peace and quiet but also felt energized. I think that perhaps I went into brief meditation. This is not something that I have experienced even in religious places and maybe this has something to do with the fact that I am not particularly religious by nature. Gandhiji of course stood for religious harmony which is a strong article of faith with me. The Mahatma is perhaps my shepherd.
As I walked away from Rajghat and went about the daily business of life and living, I could not but think of Jawaharlal Nehru’s famous speech after the assassination of the Mahatma—The light has gone out of our lives. After beginning with these lines Nehru says in his speech, “The light has gone out I said, yet I was wrong. For the light that shone in this country was no ordinary light. The light that has illumined this country for these many years will illumine this country for many more years, and a thousand years later that light will be seen in this country and the world will see it and it will give solace to inuumerable hearts.”
Gandhiji had fallen to an assassin’s bullet many years before I was born. The light at Rajghat not only gave solace to my heart but enabled me to connect with the Mahatma.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Sachin Tendulkar : Man or Myth ?
This week I too but cannot celebrate the genius of Sachin Tendulkar. I am reproducing below an article I wrote in 2005 when Tendulkar was out of the game with an injury and facing tremendous criticism for his alleged lack of performance.
Article:
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At sixteen he burst into a nation’s collective consciousness Sixteen years later, the nation is questioning whether he has the right to occupy that consciousness.
Today, as he grapples with injury and hears questions being asked about his legacy and indeed even if there is one, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar might be forgiven for thinking that he lives in an unfair world.
The knives are in many ways out for this man who the great Don Bradman said –reminds him of himself . Tendulkar is in many ways being asked to being prove himself all over again. The man who owns practically every record in the books ironically finds his greatness being questioned for precisely being buried under the weight of runs. Records are fine his critics say, but where are the match winning innings ? What is the use of the solo shows, when it did not translate into wins for the team?
Haven’t his contemporaries achieved more ? Lara at Barbados, Laxman at Kolkata and Dravid at Adelaide ? Further, how many times has Tendulkar pulled India out of trouble a la Dravid, played that defining knock Laxman knock or simply redefined batting like Lara?
Also, can this man display the bravado of a Sehwag or play with the abandon of a Gilchrist when the chips are down?
By the way is this guy as tough as Gavaskar.? Didn’t the original little master play better quality attacks especially the famed west Indian quartet and get runs by the ton.? Is this little man really as great as Vivian Richards ? Is the to be or not to be version of Tendulkar a patch on the king who reigned for much of the seventies and eighties.For that matter was he ever that great at all ?
Finally, isn’t this guy who gazes out of cola ads and plugs cell phones a pure creation of marketing hype? Have Sachin’s over enthusiastic spin doctors done the little man a disservice by creating a level of hype that perhaps helps him earn millions but also created the image of a fairy prince who was slated to lead the nation out of the cricketing morass it found itself in for a large part of his career but simply couldn’t?
Instead even while one associates a fairy tale victory to Mohammed Kaif and Yuvraj Singh like the Natwest trophy final at Lords in June 2002 the enduring memory of Tendulkar is perhaps that of the man who almost pulled it off against a rampant Pakistan at Chennai.. Indeed Chennai has in many come to characterise the Tendulkar cricketing story, runs for the man which couldn’t prevent ruins for the team..
There is merit in all these arguments. A Lara on song is probably the best batsman to have played the game after the Don. Dravid continuously redifines mental toughness while Laxman seems to conjure up the big one just when his team needs it the most.
At Kolkata his innings turned a series on its head, while his wand of courage in the last one dayer at Pakistan ensured that India beat its arch rivals in a series in their own backyard for the first time in history.
Further, it was Sehwag’s triple hundred that set the tone for the epoch making series win in Pakistan. Bowlers round the world have described Gilchrist as the most dangerous batsman in the world.
Certainly, Tendulkar has not faced the same quality of attacks that Gavaskar did. To be sure, Richards imposed himself on the facing some of the best bowlers in the history of the game in a way that Tendulkar hasn’t.
Make no mistake though. Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar is not just one of the all time greats of cricket but sport. No man in the history of sport has been subjected to the pressure of expectations that this man has been. For a billion Indians watching Tendulkar is not about witnessing one of the finest feats of batsmanship but an act of catharsis.
For a nation that has been perenially starved off heroes, watching Tendulkar was not about witnessing a divine feat of batsmanship
but an escape from a dreary and dull existence. In some ways watching Tendulkar bat was for a billion people a fulfilment of themselves. In some ways, in the satellite television era Tendulkar more than the afternoon matinee hero, the man who allowed India’s billion to surf their dreams.
.
The greatness of Tendulkar is that despite being subjected to such wild expectations he carried on with the business of scoring runs. Inspite of being part of a team that played during circket’s darkest hour, Tendulkar still played two innings at Sharjah against Australia in 1998 that was his own version of operation desert storm.
Remember that Lara who too faced enormous expectations almost fell away. Don’t forget that he too has had to go through his version of trial by fire. There have been times when he has just got away from the game and worse has had his own team mates say that he considers himself larger than the game.
True Dravid and Laxman have delivered when the team needed it most. Further, Sehwag and Gilchrist play with an abandon not witnessed in the history of the game. Where however were the expectations.?
Sachem Tendulkar unlike communism is not the god who failed but a man who has faced expectations never experienced in the history of sport. Despite this he has performed and well has retained his sanity cum humility. Don’t forget he came back to shoulder India’s burden in the 1999 world cup just after paying his last respects to his father. Greatness is not just about winning matches. For Sachin Tendulkar it has just been leading his life.
Article:
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At sixteen he burst into a nation’s collective consciousness Sixteen years later, the nation is questioning whether he has the right to occupy that consciousness.
Today, as he grapples with injury and hears questions being asked about his legacy and indeed even if there is one, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar might be forgiven for thinking that he lives in an unfair world.
The knives are in many ways out for this man who the great Don Bradman said –reminds him of himself . Tendulkar is in many ways being asked to being prove himself all over again. The man who owns practically every record in the books ironically finds his greatness being questioned for precisely being buried under the weight of runs. Records are fine his critics say, but where are the match winning innings ? What is the use of the solo shows, when it did not translate into wins for the team?
Haven’t his contemporaries achieved more ? Lara at Barbados, Laxman at Kolkata and Dravid at Adelaide ? Further, how many times has Tendulkar pulled India out of trouble a la Dravid, played that defining knock Laxman knock or simply redefined batting like Lara?
Also, can this man display the bravado of a Sehwag or play with the abandon of a Gilchrist when the chips are down?
By the way is this guy as tough as Gavaskar.? Didn’t the original little master play better quality attacks especially the famed west Indian quartet and get runs by the ton.? Is this little man really as great as Vivian Richards ? Is the to be or not to be version of Tendulkar a patch on the king who reigned for much of the seventies and eighties.For that matter was he ever that great at all ?
Finally, isn’t this guy who gazes out of cola ads and plugs cell phones a pure creation of marketing hype? Have Sachin’s over enthusiastic spin doctors done the little man a disservice by creating a level of hype that perhaps helps him earn millions but also created the image of a fairy prince who was slated to lead the nation out of the cricketing morass it found itself in for a large part of his career but simply couldn’t?
Instead even while one associates a fairy tale victory to Mohammed Kaif and Yuvraj Singh like the Natwest trophy final at Lords in June 2002 the enduring memory of Tendulkar is perhaps that of the man who almost pulled it off against a rampant Pakistan at Chennai.. Indeed Chennai has in many come to characterise the Tendulkar cricketing story, runs for the man which couldn’t prevent ruins for the team..
There is merit in all these arguments. A Lara on song is probably the best batsman to have played the game after the Don. Dravid continuously redifines mental toughness while Laxman seems to conjure up the big one just when his team needs it the most.
At Kolkata his innings turned a series on its head, while his wand of courage in the last one dayer at Pakistan ensured that India beat its arch rivals in a series in their own backyard for the first time in history.
Further, it was Sehwag’s triple hundred that set the tone for the epoch making series win in Pakistan. Bowlers round the world have described Gilchrist as the most dangerous batsman in the world.
Certainly, Tendulkar has not faced the same quality of attacks that Gavaskar did. To be sure, Richards imposed himself on the facing some of the best bowlers in the history of the game in a way that Tendulkar hasn’t.
Make no mistake though. Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar is not just one of the all time greats of cricket but sport. No man in the history of sport has been subjected to the pressure of expectations that this man has been. For a billion Indians watching Tendulkar is not about witnessing one of the finest feats of batsmanship but an act of catharsis.
For a nation that has been perenially starved off heroes, watching Tendulkar was not about witnessing a divine feat of batsmanship
but an escape from a dreary and dull existence. In some ways watching Tendulkar bat was for a billion people a fulfilment of themselves. In some ways, in the satellite television era Tendulkar more than the afternoon matinee hero, the man who allowed India’s billion to surf their dreams.
.
The greatness of Tendulkar is that despite being subjected to such wild expectations he carried on with the business of scoring runs. Inspite of being part of a team that played during circket’s darkest hour, Tendulkar still played two innings at Sharjah against Australia in 1998 that was his own version of operation desert storm.
Remember that Lara who too faced enormous expectations almost fell away. Don’t forget that he too has had to go through his version of trial by fire. There have been times when he has just got away from the game and worse has had his own team mates say that he considers himself larger than the game.
True Dravid and Laxman have delivered when the team needed it most. Further, Sehwag and Gilchrist play with an abandon not witnessed in the history of the game. Where however were the expectations.?
Sachem Tendulkar unlike communism is not the god who failed but a man who has faced expectations never experienced in the history of sport. Despite this he has performed and well has retained his sanity cum humility. Don’t forget he came back to shoulder India’s burden in the 1999 world cup just after paying his last respects to his father. Greatness is not just about winning matches. For Sachin Tendulkar it has just been leading his life.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Roebuck Rhapsodies
“Watching Brian Lara bat has been a delight to put alongside African sunsets, dry white wine, eating a ripe mango, catching a wave, reading P G Wodehouse and listening to Mozart and Bob Dylan”.
I doubt whether anyone else has captured better the joy of batting epitomized by Brian Charles Lara. This is Peter Roebuck writing at his very best and this is not even a book about the great Trinidadian but an excerpt from “In it to win it---The Australian Cricket Supremacy”
The book puts in context the Australian psyche, the country’s history, the influence of the Chappell brothers, the rise, fall and the rise again of Australian cricket. The book gives an insight into the psyche of Allan Border which was so scarred by repeated defeats by the West Indies that, the great Australian captain displayed timidity when the rivals were down and all but out. It takes you through the Mark Taylor and Steve Waugh eras and ends with the triumph of the Englishmen in the 2005 Ashes. It throws rare vignettes like how Matthew Hayden who destroyed bowling attacks at will actually needed reassurance from his captains to do well.
The book manages to add a context and perspective which is not easily seen in other writers. For instance the rise of Indian cricket is juxtaposed with the country’s economic rise and the ability of its people to embrace the best of both East & West.
In the end the book is much about Roebuck’s felicity with the pen as about Australian cricket. Peter Roebuck may have been a batsman of modest ability and never donned his country’s colors (England) although he had a good record for his county-- Somerset. When it comes to cricket writing he clearly stands a class apart. The former Somerset opener may not be in the business of writing to win it. Maybe reading Roebuck may not give one the same pleasure as watching Lara bat but it comes pretty close. If Lara made the ball race to the boundary with a deft flick of the wrist, Roebuck’s writing has the touch of a master if not a genius. Clearly, the purple patch that eluded him in his career as a cricketer has given way to purple prose.
I doubt whether anyone else has captured better the joy of batting epitomized by Brian Charles Lara. This is Peter Roebuck writing at his very best and this is not even a book about the great Trinidadian but an excerpt from “In it to win it---The Australian Cricket Supremacy”
The book puts in context the Australian psyche, the country’s history, the influence of the Chappell brothers, the rise, fall and the rise again of Australian cricket. The book gives an insight into the psyche of Allan Border which was so scarred by repeated defeats by the West Indies that, the great Australian captain displayed timidity when the rivals were down and all but out. It takes you through the Mark Taylor and Steve Waugh eras and ends with the triumph of the Englishmen in the 2005 Ashes. It throws rare vignettes like how Matthew Hayden who destroyed bowling attacks at will actually needed reassurance from his captains to do well.
The book manages to add a context and perspective which is not easily seen in other writers. For instance the rise of Indian cricket is juxtaposed with the country’s economic rise and the ability of its people to embrace the best of both East & West.
In the end the book is much about Roebuck’s felicity with the pen as about Australian cricket. Peter Roebuck may have been a batsman of modest ability and never donned his country’s colors (England) although he had a good record for his county-- Somerset. When it comes to cricket writing he clearly stands a class apart. The former Somerset opener may not be in the business of writing to win it. Maybe reading Roebuck may not give one the same pleasure as watching Lara bat but it comes pretty close. If Lara made the ball race to the boundary with a deft flick of the wrist, Roebuck’s writing has the touch of a master if not a genius. Clearly, the purple patch that eluded him in his career as a cricketer has given way to purple prose.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
The Worldview of the Child
“Hi, which class are you in,” asked my friend Prasad to my four year old son Sanjiv. “ I am in junior KG,” Sanjiv replied. “ When will you go to senior KG,” Prasad asked ? “When I become big,” said Sanjiv. “And when will you become big,” continued the irrepressible Prasad. “ When I begin eating vegetables,” replied Sanjiv as all of us in the room dissolved into laughter. Sanjiv’s last remark was prompted by everyone at home constantly telling him that it was important for him to eat vegetables (for which he exhibited a child’s disdain) if he were to grow big, strong or for that matter get better than his friend and rival Siva.
Children I have noticed have a logic of their own which clearly defies comprehension by an adult. Many, many years ago my friend James’s nephew took a look at the water tank in his building that was being cleaned up and came up with the classic—“ Orange water”. He didn’t see the dirt or the grime but only the orange colour.
Another child, my nephew –Manav—I suspect regards me as McDonad’s uncle as I make it a point to take him to Big Mac every time we meet. Once when I was fooling around with him and was quizzing him about girlfriends he turned around and asked me
“Isn’t Vidya mami your girlfriend”? While I thought it was worth a good laugh, Vidya mami who happens to be my wife certainly didn’t. I had to listen to a lecture on the inappropriateness of such jokes being cracked with children. Serves me right I guess.
I haven’t yet stopped cracking jokes with children. Although I am now careful about not cracking what is termed as “inappropriate jokes” No more talks of girlfriends. Just sticking to the mundane. A child’s worldview is however anything but mundane. Whether it is about eating vegtables, catching a glimpse of orange water or quite simply talking about girlfriends.
Children I have noticed have a logic of their own which clearly defies comprehension by an adult. Many, many years ago my friend James’s nephew took a look at the water tank in his building that was being cleaned up and came up with the classic—“ Orange water”. He didn’t see the dirt or the grime but only the orange colour.
Another child, my nephew –Manav—I suspect regards me as McDonad’s uncle as I make it a point to take him to Big Mac every time we meet. Once when I was fooling around with him and was quizzing him about girlfriends he turned around and asked me
“Isn’t Vidya mami your girlfriend”? While I thought it was worth a good laugh, Vidya mami who happens to be my wife certainly didn’t. I had to listen to a lecture on the inappropriateness of such jokes being cracked with children. Serves me right I guess.
I haven’t yet stopped cracking jokes with children. Although I am now careful about not cracking what is termed as “inappropriate jokes” No more talks of girlfriends. Just sticking to the mundane. A child’s worldview is however anything but mundane. Whether it is about eating vegtables, catching a glimpse of orange water or quite simply talking about girlfriends.
Monday, September 7, 2009
A Tribute to the Mulund Mountains
As I was walking down Devidayal Road in Mulund (Mumbai’s northernmost tip), the sight of the mountains filled me with wonder. All of 16 I turned to my friend Dharmesh (nicknamed Bhauli) and asked, “ Do you require to use oxygen masks to climb that mountain”. Bhauli burst into laughter and said, “ Certainly not. I have climbed this mountain many times with other people quite easily.”
Soon, I was off on an expedition with Bhauli and the rest off the gang to climb the mountain. As we climbed, I realized that it was not one but really three mountains. The first was a small hillock which was taken in one’s stride quite easily. The second was a bigger mountain where we all relaxed for a while and then began the assault on the third one. That was quite big. Just before we reached the very top we struggled a bit and then were soon witness to breathtaking beauty. We could just see two of the lakes that supplied water to Mumbai—Tulsi, Vaitarna and could catch a glimpse of a third lake –Powai. The natural greenery all around and a hint of wildlife all added to the mystique. We boys often promised ourselves that we would one day get tents and park ourselves for a night on the mountains.
Soon it became quite a routine to take my cousins, friends whoever visited us for that matter from outside Mumbai\Mulund for a trip to the mountain. The effect was always the same—a gasp of admiration for the beauty at the top.
A couple of years after my first visit to the mountain top, we moved to a larger flat in the same building on the fifth floor and we had a picture postcard view of the mountains in the living room. My father says to this day that he paid a premium for just the view.
Over the years, the view of the mountains became a part of my life and would play an important role as I studied for my B.sc final examinations. My frayed nerves would be often calmed by the sight of the mountains. I came to understand the expression –rock of Gibraltar-much better. I realized that exams and for that matter life itself is transitory. The mountains would go on forever. Sometimes uphill, sometimes downhill but they would always be there. Withstanding the ravages of time and civilization they would remain a mute witness to life and history. Giving to the world beauty and serenity and really taking nothing away from it.
Soon, I was off on an expedition with Bhauli and the rest off the gang to climb the mountain. As we climbed, I realized that it was not one but really three mountains. The first was a small hillock which was taken in one’s stride quite easily. The second was a bigger mountain where we all relaxed for a while and then began the assault on the third one. That was quite big. Just before we reached the very top we struggled a bit and then were soon witness to breathtaking beauty. We could just see two of the lakes that supplied water to Mumbai—Tulsi, Vaitarna and could catch a glimpse of a third lake –Powai. The natural greenery all around and a hint of wildlife all added to the mystique. We boys often promised ourselves that we would one day get tents and park ourselves for a night on the mountains.
Soon it became quite a routine to take my cousins, friends whoever visited us for that matter from outside Mumbai\Mulund for a trip to the mountain. The effect was always the same—a gasp of admiration for the beauty at the top.
A couple of years after my first visit to the mountain top, we moved to a larger flat in the same building on the fifth floor and we had a picture postcard view of the mountains in the living room. My father says to this day that he paid a premium for just the view.
Over the years, the view of the mountains became a part of my life and would play an important role as I studied for my B.sc final examinations. My frayed nerves would be often calmed by the sight of the mountains. I came to understand the expression –rock of Gibraltar-much better. I realized that exams and for that matter life itself is transitory. The mountains would go on forever. Sometimes uphill, sometimes downhill but they would always be there. Withstanding the ravages of time and civilization they would remain a mute witness to life and history. Giving to the world beauty and serenity and really taking nothing away from it.
Monday, August 3, 2009
A day in the life of Baby Sanjiv
Hi, I am Sanjiv and I am about 4 years old. Today is Saturday. It means Ravi appa will be at home and play with me. He will also give me a bath. He is supposed to do it on all weekends. Actually, he does it everyday. Why? I simply holler and force him to give me a bath in the morning. Good thing too. Otherwise he will continue sleeping.
Today it has been no different. Ravi appa tried getting out of it saying that today Amma will give me a bath. Usual tactics. I cried and there he was giving me a bath. What is more he took me to the bank. There was one long queue and I kept wanting to go-back home. This time appa won (ie because I also did not cry).and later on took me to the ATM. Now this is something that I have never been able to understand. Whenever I ask Appa why he comes from office so late, he says that he has work to do. When I tell him to simply sit at home and not work , he says he needs the money and for that he has to work. This is very confusing. All you have to do to get money is to go to the ATM and do some thing with the keyboard there. Now why don’t grown ups understand simple things like these ? If you want money simply go to the ATM. Why work ? When I ask Appa this question he simply laughs. That is not funny.
In the afternoon Appa took me and Amma to a movie—Love Aaj Kal at Nirmal mall. Very confusing again We go to the mall to eat, buy books, have a ride on a toy horse and see the movies too. Anyway I enjoyed myself. I asked for popcorn before the movie and during the movie. Appa had to go and get it right in the middle of an important scene. Serves him right. He had most of my popcorn the first time. Appa grumbled that the movie was very bad. Really, I enjoyed myself. Lots of noise and I went for a walk whenever I felt like.
After the movie I asked for balloons and a ride on the toy horse.. When I didn’t get it, I tried my usual hollering. It didn’t work this time.
We next went to uncle Ram’s house whose daughter Anagha was celebrating her birthday. I was really naughty there. I ate all the cake and didn’t wish Anagha at all. I really don’t like babies all that much. They cry too much. At night Amma had to forcefully put me to sleep. This time I didn’t holler. Look I am not really a cry baby. Anyway I was very tired and was happy going to sleep. I dreamt of popcorns and money making machines. Appa says that he dreams of them too.
Today it has been no different. Ravi appa tried getting out of it saying that today Amma will give me a bath. Usual tactics. I cried and there he was giving me a bath. What is more he took me to the bank. There was one long queue and I kept wanting to go-back home. This time appa won (ie because I also did not cry).and later on took me to the ATM. Now this is something that I have never been able to understand. Whenever I ask Appa why he comes from office so late, he says that he has work to do. When I tell him to simply sit at home and not work , he says he needs the money and for that he has to work. This is very confusing. All you have to do to get money is to go to the ATM and do some thing with the keyboard there. Now why don’t grown ups understand simple things like these ? If you want money simply go to the ATM. Why work ? When I ask Appa this question he simply laughs. That is not funny.
In the afternoon Appa took me and Amma to a movie—Love Aaj Kal at Nirmal mall. Very confusing again We go to the mall to eat, buy books, have a ride on a toy horse and see the movies too. Anyway I enjoyed myself. I asked for popcorn before the movie and during the movie. Appa had to go and get it right in the middle of an important scene. Serves him right. He had most of my popcorn the first time. Appa grumbled that the movie was very bad. Really, I enjoyed myself. Lots of noise and I went for a walk whenever I felt like.
After the movie I asked for balloons and a ride on the toy horse.. When I didn’t get it, I tried my usual hollering. It didn’t work this time.
We next went to uncle Ram’s house whose daughter Anagha was celebrating her birthday. I was really naughty there. I ate all the cake and didn’t wish Anagha at all. I really don’t like babies all that much. They cry too much. At night Amma had to forcefully put me to sleep. This time I didn’t holler. Look I am not really a cry baby. Anyway I was very tired and was happy going to sleep. I dreamt of popcorns and money making machines. Appa says that he dreams of them too.
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