Lucky Aruna - Ramblings of a righteous Wren!

LESSONS FROM TWENTY ELEVEN AND BEFORE!

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 13:55:00 +0000

At the threshold of a brand New Year I always send out a special message to my friends and family, a message that reflects my mood-of-the-moment and encapsulates some of the lessons I have learned in that year and before and that I wish to share with my immediate, larger and virtual family. The message goes out as New Year greetings and to my mind serves to fill the time slot and opportunity that ending of one year and beginning of another present.

Here is a quick trip back in time to those messages, if you wish to revisit –2008, 2009, 2010.

The time between Christmas and New Year brings in mixed feelings and conflicting emotions. There is that inherent sense of festive cheer which is balanced by hours of introspection about where we were, what we have lost and gained and what lies in store. The excitement of making new resolutions, kick starting the New Year on a positive, dynamic, successful note is peppered with pensiveness about the resolutions from the past years that we failed to keep up with and dropped along the way.

The biggest of all human traits has to be hope as we pick up our fallen faces at the thought of failure, failed attempts or fewer accomplishments in the time gone by; paste a radiant smile on the visage reflective of the gung-ho spirit within as we ready our mind and mettle to face the time to come with resolve and promise, energy and enthusiasm.

A few days back I put out my strongest wish into the Universe underlying how I want Twenty Twelve to turn out for me. I said, “If 2011 has been a good foundation-laying year then let 2012 be the year of deliverance.” But the wish would remain embedded in rhetoric if I did not learn from the lessons of Year 2011 and the earlier years and tied them in neatly in the tapestry of my thoughts and the fabric of my fortified actions.

Here are the lessons, in no particular order, flowing out just as the reflections reappear on the horizon of my mind and the thoughts take form. I may have learned much more, either consciously or subliminally; so why just 31 lessons? I did the simple math of adding 20 and 11 together. Perhaps I could do a part 2 to the ongoing process. But here are my 31 cents worth whatever they may be in the lanes of life, aspiring to be important milestones on its meandering roads -

Lesson 1 – The most important guest that you should usher in is Opportunity. Opportunity, nay, opportunities knock on the mind’s door – loud and clear. You must be ready in your Sunday best to greet them and be hospitable towards them. You must always be fitted out in branded clothes to welcome this VIP guest and the brand must always be of hard work, calibre and perspicacity.

Lesson 2 – You must believe in yourself, your ideas and your skills. If you do not believe in yourself then how will others; after all you know yourself the best. What’s more, in times of doubt, complexes and depression it is this belief that helps steer your ship towards the shore.

Lesson 3 – On the days when your belief in yourself takes a beating, there will be a providential sign through a friend’s comment or a reader’s remark or family’s know-all declaration that will help you put back the belief in its place and carry on with zeal and zest.

Lesson 4 - The Universe, through its forces and elements, reflects your spirit. Sunny, solemnly downcast, stormy, sizzling, barren, breezy, peaceful, passionate, pouring, parched – the Universe and You are mirror images with the former feeding on your innermost fears and feelings, emotions and thoughts.

Lesson 5 – The online Social circle of friends, connections, tweeple and the like are a far more charitable and philanthropic lot. They will not think twice before sharing information that could save a life, collect funds or help to eradicate hunger in the third world.

Lesson 6 – The very same group of people are also excellent networkers and active information-sharing community that thrives on adding to the knowledge bank, posting interesting features and tutorials, passing on useful links in general. It is because of them that there is so much to know, learn from and re-share in the dynamic world of web where nothing is beyond one’s reach any more. To be a part of this community is an enriching experience.

Lesson 7 – When the idea lights up like a bulb or when ideas flow, you must capture them on a pad or iPad, note it in your diary or save it on your desktop and get to it as soon as you can. If the a-ha moment of the idea is lost then it either flows away or stares you back as a boring piece of balderdash that is not worth your time any more. The point is to seize that moment and make it into a meaningful exercise. You will never ever regret this. Ask me! I have for proof a large pile of beautifully written pieces – prose or poetry depending on the idea and mood and a larger pile of half-written words and sentences that I do not know what to do with now.

Lesson 8 – When things go wrong with you, as they will many a times, it is family and then friends that rally around you. Nurture your inner and outer circle well, invest in it and see what a big difference they make to you and your life.

Lesson 9 – The best antidote to seasonal flus, moody blues, fevers, shivers, disease, moments of mental freeze, depression, feelings of oppression and anything else that you can think of are dogs. Period! Really so! Much more than rest and medication! Not much can stand up to the cheerful demeanour, wagging excitement – always, the unconditional licks of love and adorable hugs of attachment, the desire to be by your side at all times no matter what; it indeed is a formidable bond and friendship that can help you withstand any concern or calamity.

Lesson 10 – The pet children do have a fantastic vocabulary and understand all the languages you use rather well. Their vocab seems to be growing with every passing year just as your need to spell out more and more words instead of speak them out in their presence.

Lesson 11 – You have the power of making a difference to people’s lives, sometimes by your pre-meditated actions of kindness and sometimes by the unplanned, sudden acts that bring a smile to a stricken-with-grief face, that lift the heaviness off a sorrow-laden heart, that relax a reverberating-with-worries mind.

Lesson 12 – It is possible to lose weight at any age – before 20 after 40, pre menopause or post. Yes it is. You just need to keep up with the effort. Just as anything else in life – when the stakes are high and the task tough, the efforts must be as intense – the same with weight.

Eating right and healthily is not for a season or two or for the period of time in which you wish to lose weight. It is a life-long process and should be part of your perpetual life-style.

Lesson 13 – More than anything else, more than wealth, fame, happiness and prosperity, what is really limited and reducing constantly is TIME. After every passing year, at every decade of your life, the truth is going to hit you even harder. The time to do something about it is NOW.

Lesson 14 – Just as you dive into the ocean of life and dig out bounties from the depths of the Universe, so should you be putting back into it - to whatever extent and with as much ability as you can. Make no mistake about it – it IS a two-way process.

Lesson 15 – I first saw my parents live that kind of life; then years later I heard Oprah say it on her show. And I DO believe that you do not need money and certainly not large trunks of it to do charity. It should come to you as easily as your need to breathe and eat. It has to be a part of who you are.

Lesson 16 – In whatever profession you may be, you must read – extensively and widely. There is no better education than that.

Lesson 17 – Whatever your craft – you must practice it every day. If you are a writer or wish to be one – you must write daily. I am enamoured by Stephen King’s passion – who wrote even on Xmas Day, Independence Day and his Birthday.

Lesson 18 – You must have a hobby – developing and maintaining a garden, taking photographs, travelling, singing, painting art, buying art, cooking, drinking wine whatever does it for you – you must have one or two or more.

Lesson 19 – Be dogged with your good ideas. People may call it pushiness, I call it perseverance. If you keep at your good ideas for long and strong, there will be a chunk of people who will see those things the way you do. The article that you think has mass appeal, the book idea that you believe is saleable, the job that you feel you are really best suited for, the strategy you have thoroughly thought out and are certain that it will reap the benefits – hold on to them, reinforce them amongst the significant publics and Voila! you will find support from the same quarters.

Almost in the same breath, I hasten to add, be ready to drop the bad idea at the drop of a hat, without any thought or emotion that may ride with it.

Lesson 20 – Age and the experience you gain with it are the best, lifelong teachers you could ask for. Be thankful for all of your life’s experiences – good or bad, trying or stimulating – they all leave important lessons behind.

Lesson 21 – Be grateful for what you have. There are hundreds of others who are not as privileged be it with money, cushy life, family, unconditional love, sound mind, healthy body and a lot other parameters.

Lesson 22 – Have a daily dialogue with The One Above – in whatever shape and form you see Him or Her. Yes you heard me right – it is a dialogue. You just need to be tuned enough to receive His or Her signals.

Lesson 23 – There may be thousands of people writing on food, or travel or PR or whatever - then should you be adding your two cents too? Yes, without any doubt; because yours would be a unique take on the subject, shaped by your unique set of experiences.

Lesson 24 – It IS possible to spend the whole day doing nothing of value, whiling away your time in inane, absolutely useless activities; but the huge sense of guilt thereafter is killing, brutally cruel and crushing. So, it is much better to accomplish your goal or at least a part of it every day.

Lesson 25 – Remember what all the Management Gurus have been telling us for long? They ARE telling us right. You must learn to divide a huge task into smaller, manageable portions and get cracking on those parts. In time you would be reaching the end of the big job itself.

Lesson 26 – In the same vein as above, I have realized that I must tackle the most difficult job of the day first and then scale down to the simpler, easier, more fun tasks. It helps me be more efficient and effective and gets me to accomplish more in the day.

Lesson 27 – Just about anybody can become your teacher for a moment, for the day or for a long period of time. Over 2011, I picked up valuable lessons from my caretaker, the Gardener, my young soul child, my old mother-in-law, the peacocks that came to eat their daily stock of grain in my garden, the rude neighbor and of course my two pet children. Specially the last two, as their intelligence, kindness of heart, clever ploys and playful antics did not cease to amaze me.

Lesson 28 – With us celebrating a decade and a year of marriage, I realize that it is important to have an extremely understanding, kind and thoughtful soulmate who respects you for who you are and what you bring to the union. In today’s world of chaos, confusion, comparisons and conflict this is one of the most significant and sanity-maintaining aspects of my life.

Lesson 29 – With age and experience, I must keep learning to laugh a lot – at myself, at situations and generally in life.

Lesson 30 – Health is the most important asset that I can have. It can help me move mountains or compel me to stay withdrawn in the confines of my bed depending on which side of health I am standing on. Along with the physicality of it all, it is as important to have a beautiful, brilliant and sound mind.

Lesson 31 – Finally, I have learned the importance of developing role models – not just the towering figures of our times but also common people in our circle going about their commonplace lives with all that grit, gratitude, dignity and diligence. It helps me not get bogged down and pick myself up fast if I crumble down at times.

Have a wonderful, inspiring, fun-filled, love-laden, hope infused, intellectually brilliant and healthily sound 2012! Go on; create your own miracles in the New Year!!!

Note - Pic. courtesy - www.deviantart.com

FOODIEPAEDIA, FOODOPHILE and the amazing world of all things food!

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 12:50:00 +0000

On the eventful late evening of the 24th Day in the fifth month of Circa 2011, I turned a lexicographer. I coined the word Foodophile and submitted the entry to Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary. Merriam-Webster - An Encyclopaedia Brittanica Company - has been a dictionary of repute and has ranked amongst the top reference sources for readers worldwide. Hence to get my word included in its online pages seemed like a highly motivating feat that emboldened me to get into more word coinage as I trundle along my moments in a day and days in my life.

But first a formal introduction to you with "FOODOPHILE" and how it appears on Merriam-Webster. It appears under "FOOD" in the 'New Words & Slang' section of The Open Dictionary of Merriam-Webster's online edition. This is how it is showcased -

foodophile (noun) : a person who has a great fondness for food : an ardent food lover

"She is such a foodophile that most of her life is devoted to thinking about food - how it tastes, how it looks, how it smells."

Submitted by: L. Aruna Dhir from India on May. 24, 2011 09:45

Here's the link to corroborate my claim to fame -

http://www3.merriam-webster.com/opendictionary/newword_search.php?word=food

"Foodophile" has, since, also debuted on Macmillan Dictionary, Urban Dictionary, in the User pages of Wikipedia, Wiktionary, Definition-Of - Community Dictionary by Farlex and Pseudodictionary. Please find the links below for each of these references -

http://www.macmillandictionary.com/open-dictionary/entries/foodophile.htm
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=foodophile&defid=5955025

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/User:L._Aruna_Dhir
http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/foodophile

http://www.definition-of.com/foodophile
http://www.pseudodictionary.com/foodophile

With this kind of encouragement, it is time now to create a brand new term, especially because there is that vacuum in our lexicon that this word can admirably fill. So, here's unveiling - FOODIEPAEDIA. Amongst the deafening sounds of trumpets in my head, let me announce that "Foodiepaedia" is a portmanteau of two words - Foodie and Encyclopaedia. This emphasizes the etymology of the term.

Dictionaries define Foodie as "a person keenly interested in food, especially in eating or cooking." According to Wikipedia - Foodie is an informal term for a particular class of aficionado of food and drink. The word was coined in 1981 by Paul Levy and Ann Barr, who used it in the title of their 1984 book The Official Foodie Handbook.

And now we have the more formal word "foodophile" to describe an ardent food lover.

Encyclopaedia is defined as "a book or set of books containing articles on various topics, usually in alphabetical arrangement, covering all branches of knowledge or, less commonly, all aspects of one subject."

Hence, Foodiepaedia is coined as a "noun" and stands for a Foodie / Foodophile or Food lover's Encyclopaedia holding within its fold a treasure trove of information on the subject of food, be it the origin, history, etymology, facts, trivia, tips, recipes and pictures of food, presented in an alphabetical order.

And to be Foodiepaedia, the tome needs to give all this information and more, bound and limited only by all that is available, searchable and known; as beyond these realms the writer / researcher cannot go. It needs to be as exhaustive as possible and as well researched as it can be, in order for the book to be elevated to the status of Foodiepaedia. It is a collective of thematic information on the chosen subject of food and aspires to become as wide and deep in its richness as it is possible at the time with propensity to be revised with newly added information as and when such information comes up in context.

Here's an example on the usage of the word -

1. Larousse Gastronomique - that age-old culinary bible - is a highly respected Foodiepaedia and provides rich information on food for use by a Foodophile.

2. Alan Davidson's Oxford Companion to Food is a definitive Foodiepaedia that must always enjoy a pride of place on a Foodophile's bookshelf.

3. "The Cheese Lover's Companion - The Ultimate A to Z Cheese Guide by Sharon Tyler Herbst and Ron Herbst is an excellent Foodiepaedia on Cheese and is a wonderful resource on the subject."

I hope the coinage of these two interesting terms - Foodophile and Foodiepaedia adds more colour and character to our usage of the English Language and helps us become more lucid and interesting in our writing and speech.

Pictures courtesy - www.deviantart.com and Google Images

LIFE WOULD BE SO LONESOME, IF NOT FOR THEM!

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Tue, 05 Jul 2011 07:02:00 +0000

It was half past Eleven and my handset beeped ominously, twice for good measure. Just as I was drifting into dream land, having decided to take an early night, I struggled out of bed to reach across to the techie life line. As blood coursed rapidly through my veins and my heart pounded loud enough to pierce the snores of my tired better half, my mind sprinted an Olympic 100m to run through a gamut of thoughts ranging from alarming to bizarre. I blinked a few times and rubbed my eyes vigorously to get to the SMS, with a nagging thought that Some Most important Stuff was resting on the machine for me to read and consume. I needn’t have lost even the initial part cycle of sleep as it was only a good ol’ humanitarian trying to urge me to buy that sauna belt I was shying away from, all in my interest so that I could get back to my shapely self. Yes, even close to the witching hour, these good fellas have your interest in their minds.

But that was last night. Today I was in the middle of my morning monologue with the Almighty and the inevitable happened. The most familiar tone in my life rang, first gently then crescendoing up to a shrilly pitch till I excused myself from His chamber to pick up the persistent call. It was another of God’s good men coercing me to invest my hard-earned money in the BEST instrument ever and see my money treble in a short span of time. I knew in that very instant that I was the chosen one and God was sending me a special message via this kind man. Dammit, I had not even finished my prayers for the day and was already beginning to reap benefits.

The good news is that these chosen angels – men and women – will find you anytime, anywhere. Forget about tapped phones, the ED, CBI or even the FBI, it is these good Samaritans who are not just watching you but watching out for you. Even if you do not have the resources they have the commodity to sell to you – Platinum / Titanium card, Penthouse in the toniest part in suburbia; you may not be sick but they have the cure – weight loss in five days or guaranteed money back; from Psoriasis, Piles to Pulmonary tuberculosis they have the panacea; you may not be bald yet, but they will have the best technology to recommend.

The only piece of bad news in this whole do-gooding thing was when DoT tried to create DNC registry. But thank heavens that it sank before it could float and is now lost in the quagmire of Do Call and Do not Call business.

So these good fellas are back in business with a vengeance. You are out of town and your cell is on roaming – it beeps, rings, beeps, rings……….till you feel lighter at least in terms of the paper you carry in your wallet.

Some of these good people seem to hit the bull’s eye each time they call or send an SMS. I often get the sauna belt / guaranteed Ayurveda weight loss / lose flab in three months flat and never put it back……type of messages almost every day. I thought only my close ones or I knew that I am pining for that second dream home in Delhi. I am wrong. Even they know. Otherwise how do you explain all those alluring messages selling me beautiful homes in Orange County, Olive County, Golf Estate, Diamond Towers and the like? This god-send force of people also knows that I am on a self-imposed sabbatical and have begun sending me tips on “Earning the EXTRA income.”

But there could be those odd times when they miss it by the long shot. Like when they sell Japani technology to increase height in a fortnight to my husband who hovers just a few notches below 6’1” or when they urge him to buy ‘fashion in plus size’ (kxy) for women who are not just large hearted but generally large.

I come from the hospitality industry so a call from hotels always shoots the antenna up. It could be a job call, a consultancy request or an ex-colleague wanting to touch base. But these days they are calling to make me a member of their loyalty club or send me a platter of unsuspicious looking promotional cookies along with, you guessed it, the promotional mailer.

But do not get irritated. The number of messages and calls you get depends on how important you are. Here’s the logic - the more important you are, the more number of credit cards you have, more bank accounts, and club memberships and so on. Which means that there are more avenues for people to sell your number to these DM sharks, sorry I mean God’s own people.

I wonder when I am being laid down to rest six feet under or my last mortal remains being incinerated to ashes – depending on the sentiments I leave behind with those who are left behind – would my un-biodegradable instrument ring or beep for that one last time for me.

And here is a piece of the best news – your relationship with these good men and women is forever. You cannot unfriend them like in Facebook or remove the connection as in LinkedIn. With them, it truly is, till the end of time. Time to pen down a new ballad, then, eh?

But hey, wait a minute! My cell’s ringing. You never know it could be Branson’s bright boys this time selling me the dream inter-galactic trip!!!!!

**************

“WATCHING LIFE GO BY”

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Thu, 09 Jun 2011 08:42:00 +0000

How many times have I stopped to smell

the scent of a flower;

How many times have I seen through the clarity of water

and peered into my soul;

How many times have I stopped to

listen to the silence of the woods;

How many times have I asked ‘How are you?’

and then genuinely wanted to know;

How many times have I appreciated the honesty of a child

However, may have, the bluntness hurt my pride;

How many times have I corrected myself

before setting other things in order;

How many times have I looked at the complete picture

before filling in the shades of grey;

How many times have I watched the first ray of the sun

and marveled at the miracle of life;

How many times have I given a part of me, not for the goodness of it

but simply to share;

How many times have I painted my dreams in wet colors

and not worried about the stains;

How many times have I heard the music and waited long enough

to listen to the notes;

How many times have I cared to laugh from my heart

and smile with my eyes;

How many times have I lived life to the fullest

and not simply watched it go by.

******

Picture courtesy - www.deviantart.com

My Passion for Poetry - "LOVE NEVER CHANGES"

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Mon, 02 May 2011 13:30:00 +0000

"LOVE NEVER CHANGES" - My second poetry anthology published by ARCHIES G & G Ltd. in February 1999

POETIC PRIDE OF PLACE - "FRIENDSHIP IS FOREVER!"

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Mon, 02 May 2011 12:42:00 +0000

FRIENDSHIP IS FOREVER - One of my Poetry Anthologies published by Archies G & G Ltd. in February 1999

ILLUSION!

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Sun, 01 May 2011 14:14:00 +0000

First penned on 11th April 1995

Like a whiff of fresh air

you came into my life

And vanished with a sudden sweep of the breeze;

Like the soft shining dew

on the face of a petal

You rested on the surface of my palm,

But one ray of sunlight

And you just washed away;

Like an early morning dream

You blinked on the lashes of my eye

But disappeared into oblivion

With the first woken moment;

You were there yesterday

Next to me in flesh and blood

Today you are lost

Wrapped beneath the sands of time;

You hummed in my heart

Like a tune echoing in the woods

But amidst worldly din

You turned into silence of the dead;

Like a lone, exquisite icicle

You hung from the isolated

corner of my mind

But onslaught of maddening thoughts

And you melted away;

Like an illusion harbouring on the subconscious

You played with my life

But a return to reality

And you were nowhere in sight.

*****************

Picture courtesy - www.deviantart.com

A BITE OF THE BIG APPLE

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Thu, 24 Feb 2011 10:27:00 +0000

CLARIFICATION –

1. This ode to New York is based on a pre-9/11 visit.

2. World Trade Centre was very much a part of our reality then.

3. Global terror had not reached its current proportions.

4. It was much easier and more pleasurable to travel across the Atlantic. No body scans, no overly suspicious security checks.

5. The Pierre was a Four Seasons Hotel and not a Taj Hotels managed property, which it is today.

6. The prices listed are dated to that visit and no longer valid now.

7. Gai Brodtmann, my ex-boss and dear friend is now a Member of Parliament in the current government in Canberra, Australia.

8. Pierre Jochem, my other ex-boss in now the Regional VP & GM at the Raffles in Singapore.

‘You will simply love New York’, friends proclaim to me as I experience the best of Americana, both along the east and the west coast.

And true to its reputation, the Big Apple, the City of lights, the City that never sleeps is as trendy and as glitzy as they come.

Nothing, not even my two and a half months long stay in the US prepares me for New York. And to add to the glitter I am staying in Manhattan, easily the best burrough in New York, the ‘IN’ place to be located in. My address for the Four-day long stay is going to be ‘The Pierre’, the most elite and exclusive Four Seasons hotel located on the trendiest Fifth Avenue. The name is enough to add oodles of glamour to the introductory lines of my conversation, raise many an envious brow and catapult me from the identity of a commoner to the Ivy League of jet-setting, globe-trotting clique that sets an Armani cash register ringing. But more on The Pierre later, the Hotel that embodies the big-ness, the High-Profileness of New York in superlatives, that is a residence to scions of some of the famous business families including Rockefeller, whose list of regulars include names like Naomi Campbell and where it is easy to spot the Casanova of modern-day love ballads, Michael Bolton cradling his favorite drink in the Hotel’s unobtrusive Bar.

You can arrive at New York by getting into either the JFK airport near Queens or at the Newark airport in New Jersey. While a cab from Newark into New York would cost you about $80, a cheaper and easier (given the infamous NYC traffic jams) way could be to get on to an airport shuttle and get dropped at the doorstep of your destination. As against the daylight robbery of a cabbie I pay an affordable $16 for a comfortable 1 ½ hour-long ride into the Big Apple. The only sore point was a bit of ego bruising. Here’s what happened. Upon being reprimanded for not knowing the directions to The Pierre like the back of his hand my shuttle driver admits that ‘this’ is the most posh area of New York and that he’s never had the reason to be here before. He further adds that ‘anybody who stays at The Pierre, I don’t think comes by a Shuttle’. I am slightly hurt by the driver’s blunt statement but soon forget the insult as the gracious doorman takes my hand to help me step down. The jarring comment soon becomes a matter of the past as I step into the legendary Hotel and am made to feel absolutely at home by the warm and courteous hotel staff.

New York is easily the world’s ‘Action’ capital. There’s something happening for everybody all the time. If you are the ‘arty’ kind then NY presents ample opportunities for you to get lost in the world of museums. A guide to New York states that you could devote an entire month to museums in the city and still not do them justice. But if you are hard-pressed for time, like I was, then I would recommend that you see definitely two of the biggest that New York boasts of. The Museum of Modern Art that prides in itself for housing one of the world’s best and most comprehensive collection of modern art. And The Metropolitan Museum of Art, popularly called ‘The Met’, which is the biggest in the Western world. The treasures of “The Met” include a vast collection of American art and more than 3,000 European paintings, including masterpieces by Rembrandt and Vermeer. There are also many Islamic exhibits, and the greatest collection of Egyptian art outside Cairo.

When time is of essence, one of the most intelligent things to do, I have discovered, is to get on a guided daylong city tour. While it may leave you ‘not fully satisfied’ it still manages to give you a fair snap shot of the city. Plus you can easily make a claim to the fact that you’ve been there and done that! I got onto one of those conducted by Grayline Tours on my second day in the city.

After a sumptuous breakfast of toast, bagel, cream cheese, egg white omelette with herbs and tomatoes, fried potatoes, Blueberry pancake, Grapefruit juice and coffee, I take a cab for the Grayline Terminal in time to start off at 8 sharp. (Contrary to what I had been told, cabs within the city are not that expensive and cost anywhere between $6 and $10 on an average. However, a 10-15% tip to the cabbie is considered mandatory).

The tour begins at Saint John the Divine – the largest Gothic Cathedral in the world. A magnificent building, currently under renovation, the Cathedral has some beautiful stained glass works. Since the “Manhattan Comprehensive Tour” is resolved to pack a lot in the day, the first half of the day is a quick drive through the famous Harlem (known for its glorious heritage as the intellectual, political and artistic capital of black America); Museum Mile (stretching from the Carnegie Mansion to the modernistic Guggenheim); Rockefeller Center (home to Radio City Music Hall and famous for its giant Christmas tree and ice-skating rink); Times Square, Greenwich Village & SOHO (the trio to which I return later, with a vengeance); Little Italy (offering both casual outdoor cafes and fine restaurants featuring food from every Italian region); Chinatown (a bustling, multicultural “city within a city”, Chinatown contains more than 150,000 residents, making it one of the largest Chinese settlements outside Asia. Personally, I much preferred its counterpart in San Francisco and found it to have more vibrancy and character).

With one half of the ‘Touch and go’ tour over at the stroke of half past noon, we are right in time for a 3-course lunch in a traditional restaurant in the heart of China town. Spring-rolls, fried rice, vegetable noodles – Cantonese style, pork spareribs, chicken Manchurian-style, dry chili lamb, Chinese green vegetables (with the over powering presence of PakChoy) all washed down with the oh-so-American coke, diet and regular and rounded off with delicious mango ice cream and fortune cookies (mine reads ‘you speak beautifully,’ putting a smile on my face, perhaps also having met with its purpose).

Soon after lunch we drive, on a balmy afternoon that is increasingly becoming warm, to one of the tallest buildings in the world. The twin buildings of the World Trade Center at 110-storeys are simply overwhelming. The World Trade center is home to 450 businesses and 50,000 workers. For a tourist, however, the main activity involves a visit to Top of the world for breathtaking views from the 107^th floor (the express elevator takes just 58 seconds to reach this level) of the Center’s glass enclosed Observatory and 110^th floor outdoor deck. The view of Manhattan, the beautiful skyline (immortalized by scores of Hollywood films) and the majestic Empire State Building is awesome. A movie about the history of New York in the Center’s Simulation Theater is yet another major attraction.

The second half of the Tour begins with a Ferry ride over the Hudson River to the world-famous Statue of Liberty and the historical Ellis Island. The Statue of Liberty, declared a national monument, is the most American of Americanisms. Anyone who sees this spectacular Green Lady is astonished by its beauty (sculpted in a thought provoking manner by Auguste Bartholdi) and gigantic size (height from ground to top of the torch – 305 ft, 1 inch). While the museum in the vortex of the ‘Lady' could keep you occupied for a couple of hours (with easily an hour or so going away in queuing up to get in), a ‘must do’ is the strenuous climb up the 354 steps to the Lady’s crown.

Before returning to the Battery Park, the Ferry takes a detour to Ellis Island entrenched in the Immigrant American history. More than a hundred million Americans can claim ancestors who came through Ellis Island. A movie on the epic Immigration, a museum, audio tour, The American Immigrant Wall of Honor and live performances make learning about American History fun and informative.

Battery Park, to which you return after the second half of the day well-spent, is a hub of activity – carts selling hot-dog & pretzels, street musicians, interesting sculptures and excellent portrait artists abound.

The Tour ends with a quick passing through Wall Street (‘The’ place of green bills in the Finance Capital of the world), United Nations and South Street Seaport (a restored historic district which has restaurants and shops located in and around the piers overlooking the East River and Brooklyn).

My second night out in New York is spent dining at Amaranth – ‘the’ place to dine in, currently, in Manhattan. Amaranth (an imaginary flower that never fades) at 5^th Avenue on 21^st East, 62^nd Street, true to its reputation, is buzzing with activity thronged by trendy New Yorkers draped in latest designer wear. While Amaranth may be making waves, it had a set of discerning guests to please that evening. My host for the evening is Pierre Jochem, the handsome and debonair Hotel Manger of The Pierre together with his young, strapping son Cedric who is currently interning at the other Four Seasons Hotel – considered an institution in Hospitality circles. Pierre insists we are seated in front of the restaurant. “Being seen and being noticed is an integral part of dining out in New York,” he explains to me.

Pierre, who was the Food & Beverage Director for Hyatt International at the age of 25, is a tough customer and chooses the menu for the evening as if he was buying a masterpiece. Cradling our welcome drink of Champagne with guava and peach, Cedric and I engage in some looking around leaving Pierre to select the wine for the evening (Cennatoio Chianti Classic 1997) and the food. Forking in our choice of appetizers (Baby Arugula salad with shaved Pecorino Toscano, Caprese salad, Buffalo Mozzarella with tomatoes and basil and Prosciutto di Carpyne served with Figs) we see Paparazzi narrowing down on a couple seated near the entrance, hidden behind dark shades in that evening hour. ‘It is not uncommon to chance upon well-known TV and movie stars in restaurants on 5^th Avenue or Madison Avenue,’ Pierre tells as I forget my Gourmet meal desperate to find out ‘who’ they are. As we weave our way through the carefully selected main course of Tagliatelle with mixed wild mushrooms; Four cheeses Raviolini with butter and sage and grilled Halibut with extra virgin oil and vegetable relish, I am delighted to be the center of attention for one of the paparazzi whose flashbulb focuses on our table. Pierre tells me that the man mistakes me for a ‘Maharani from India’ but Cedric and I are certain that Pierre, with his movie star good looks, is the real object of the lensman’s desire.

Feeling pretty important and adequately noticed we round off our meals with Apple Tart with Sherbet; Lemon, Raspberry and mixed fruit sorbet and Biscotti with a Berry coulis and vanilla sauce. Pierre makes his wallet lighter by 205 $ as we sign off a thoroughly enjoyable evening.

On my third day in New York I have this strange sinking feeling of there being a vacuum – a queer sensation of emptiness.

So far I’ve touched New York but not felt it. So, I decide to get on to a walking tour of the ‘Happening’ City (walking in New York is certainly one of the best ways to see the city and let its essence sink in).

I take a cab from The Pierre to Café Riviera on the West 4^th Street, which is New York’s oldest neighborhood dotted with beautiful, brown-stoned Town houses, small cafes, salons and unique shops. Many famous movie stars live on this street. Walking towards 8^th Avenue I make a left on hitting the 8^th into Bleecker Street. With its set of unique shops, bookstores and café’s, this is the main shopping street in Greenwich Village. I find an exquisite Asian art shop from where I pick up a unique fruit bowl from Bali made in antiquated wood. I’m sure it will make a nice farewell gift for a friend.

Having trudged purposefully some more I find myself on the Crossing Christopher Street in the Greenwich area, known to be world’s most famous “Gay” street where Gay Pride began.

I am in the vicinity of New York University with its impressive building and thickly shaded boulevards. I turn right on La Guardia Place onto West Houston or West Broadway (the same street changes names) and find myself in South of Houston (pronounced ‘Hows’ ton) filled with the trendiest shops, unique NYC designers, cafes and some of NYC’s most exclusive art galleries. Popularly called SOHO and once the neighborhood for New York’s budding artists, it is known for its chic boutiques, popular art and photography galleries and make up salons. Cobblestone streets give this neighborhood a very European feel.

I moved through some more cafes, galleries, antique shops and designer boutiques on Spring, Green and Grand streets before turning right to the 6^th Avenue. The walking tour through the Greenwich, University and SOHO areas took me about an hour and a half.

And if you were to take a No. 6 bus to 45^th street and walk west you would find yourself walking through the Theatre District. Broadway gave us Cole Porter, George and Ira Gershwin, Neil Simon, Eugene, O’Neill ……….., who in turn gave us Carousel, Gypsy, Oklahoma, Annie Get your Gun, Sound of Music, West Side Story, Phantom of the Opera…….. A ticket for Broadway show costs anywhere between $100 and $250 depending on the popularity and the show’s novelty. However, if you have the patience to stand in serpentine queues at the Times Square or the World Trade Center you can get the same day show tickets for half the price.

Walking through the crowded Broadway Street I bump into a friendly Gladiator. He obliges me with some pictures and I walk ahead finding myself face to face with that much-hyped monument to man’s modern mindset. Times Square, a place of intense activity, has been described as a “wall of light and color, urging the onlooker to chew gum, drink beer, see the world’s most beautiful girls………”

For most of the last 100 years, the Great White Way has had the biggest, the gaudiest, the most remarkable signs in the world. While I am looking around, I see a couple of American Indian musicians set up shop at the Square and start playing to the passing crowds. Quite a few like me stand to listen and sway to their music and upon leaving either drop a dollar in a box or buy their CD (Angel by the duo called UMBRAL, mixing sounds of guitar and a traditional wind instrument, is one of my favorite CDs). In a typical tourist fashion, I also buy some ‘I love NYC’ T-shirts for $2 at the Square.

After my official meeting at the Marriott Marquise a stone’s throw away from Times Square, I wander around the stylish Madison Avenue before taking the bus back to The Pierre. You must remember that the buses in New York only accept 1.50$ and all in coins.

The Pierre, as I mentioned earlier is a very exclusive hotel and a home to several kings and queens, Heads of state, Corporate big wigs and movie stars. The day I was checking in, the Hotel was swarming with black-suited security personnel in attendance for the Israeli Prime Minister.

The Hotel brochure states, “From the multilingual Concierge, to the elevator attendants, to the housekeepers who visit twice daily, guests enjoy quiet, unobtrusive service with a standard-setting degree of personalized attention.” I couldn’t agree more. In less than four days I am addressed by name and my preferences are already finding their way into the Hotel’s guest profile. I am staying in the beautiful Boudoir room that comes for $ 950 plus taxes a night and located on 37^th floor offers a breathtaking view of the NY skyline anytime of the day but much more spectacular at night. The Hotel uses Bvlgari range of cosmetics and offers complimentary newspaper and shoeshine service. Marked a VIP guest, I also get complementary bottles of Evian Natural spring water, S. Pellegrino sparkling natural mineral water and a plate of chocolates or petit fours depending on the Patissier’s creativity.

In the evening I am connecting with Gai Brodtmann, my ex-boss and friend who’s also in New York to attend a conference. Gai insists that she will take me out for dinner provided I can find an excellent Indian restaurant. I entrust the task to the Hotel Concierge who come up with the name of the current hot favorite - Tamarind.

Gai, looking ravishing in black pants, a pink body hugging high neck, black stilettos and a pair of her favorite Gucci sunglasses, meets me at The Pierre Bar to catch an early drink before we walk through the famous Plaza Hotel, diagonally opposite to The Pierre and now a landmark for the movies such as Pretty Woman and Home Alone that were shot there.

We hop into the taxi (the fare comes to about $8 including the tip but Gai decides to leave a cool $10 bill) and race towards ‘Tamarind’, located at 41-43 East, 22^nd. Tamarind, run by Restaurateur Avatar Walia, has been voted the finest Indian Restaurant to open in New York in almost a decade and is featured regularly in Crain’s New York Business and New York Times.

The restaurant opened four months back and has climbed to the top in this short time. Avatar Walia is a proud owner as he tells me that even “Lord Lichfield from England voted us the Best Indian Restaurant in the World.”

Tamarind’s clientele is upper class, hip and younger and a fair mix of Indians and Americans. Its décor is minimalist, consciously moving away from loud, in-your-eye Indian and with aesthetically placed Rajasthani screens, traditional textile prints from Gujarat and temple bells. Its kitchen is run by Chef Raji Jallepalli–Reiss who hails from Hyderabad and Memphis and whose extensive menu is multi-regional.

We choose Fume Blanc, Robert Mondavi ’99 and the unavoidable beer (for Gai) for the evening and enjoy the most authentic and delicious Indian meal this side of the Atlantic. Our choice for the evening – an assorted Appetizer platter of Raji’s aloo tikkiyas, vegetable samosas and bhel puri’ jhinga angarey (Jumbo prawns marinated in yogurt and roasted with chili and cilantro)’ Raji’s machli tikka’ Chicken shahi korma, paneer makhni, achari mushrooms, Tamarind rice, assorted breads and kheera raita (passing off the dessert completely) – came to us for $130. Apparently the pricing is also right at the Tamarind with an average check for two running upto $40-50 for lunch and $80-90 for dinner.

While the current Mayor has done wonders to New York’s reputation and cleared up the streets, earlier unsafe with criminal activities, it is still possible to get mugged in the Big Apple. Being careful and vigilant are the buzzwords. The other trick is to totally avoid risky neighborhoods – Bronx and Central Park at night are not the safest places to be in. Also avoid taking buses and walking alone at night.

There is a certain, specific way of hailing cabs in New York. Get off the kerb, onto the road in full vision of the cabbie and stretch up and flail your arm(s) as far as it goes. If you are lucky you get one in 5-10 minutes, otherwise be prepared for a 20 minutes wait especially at night.

In the day, however, it is really convenient and economical to bus it in New York. And it’s not even down market as you find men in business suits, well-turned out older ladies and the younger crowd in trendy outfits using it as a preferred mode of transport. Given the scenario, shuttling between the Fifth Avenue and the swanky Park Avenue and back to the Central Park is a cakewalk.

While in New York, one of the musts that you just have to do is to walk through the legendary Central Park. Stretching from 59^th to 110^th streets, the urban park spans 843 acres. Highlights include the Central Park Zoo, the Wollman Memorial Ice-skating Rink, horseback riding, Belvedere Castle, Bethesda Terrace – the formal center of the park with the famous Bethesda Fountain, the memorial to the Late John Lennon and a battery of caricature and portrait artists. The Park also is a jogger or walker’s delight.

It’s my last day in New York. I’ve seen New York but not enough of it. I’ve already spent four glorious days but a few more would have been nicer. I’ve had one helluva time in the Big Apple and as an icing on the cake on my final day, I am lunching with Pierre Jochem at The Pierre’s famed Rotunda – the Hotel’s renowned signature room with its intimate, private clusters of seating and loveseats, splendid trompe l’oeil murals and ceiling, created by American artist Edward Melcarth.

My lunch comprises of orange juice, the classic Pierre salad followed by vegetarian Risotto for the entrée capped off with cappuccino (given the good living in New York, no dessert for me please). Pierre picks up the soup of the day (a special sea bass soup) and crab cakes and washes it all down with two cups of Espresso. As I look onto another table I can swear that we have Christina Aguilera as our lunching companion that afternoon.

At the stroke of five, having packed and rested a little, I find myself comfortably ensconced in a chauffeur driven, shiny black limo with compliments of The Pierre racing towards JFK airport via Queens with Pavarotti for company.

(Picture courtesy - Google Images & Flickr)

***********

MY WISHES TO YOU FOR A SUPER 2011‏

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Thu, 30 Dec 2010 17:57:00 +0000

My Dear Friends,

Here's my A-Z Bucket List of wishes for a super 2011 and many, many more to come -

A - Accomplishments that you, your parents and progeny will be proud of.

B - Bravado in taking the right stand, even in tricky scenarios.

C - Courage to admit your own mistakes.

D - Divinity and your proximity to it.

E - Ethereal sense in even the most mundane of things you do.

F - Faith in the One above.

G - Grit and Gumption as two of your important traits.

H - Hope and Happiness as two strong allies.

I - Ideation and Imagination as your trusted lieutenants.

J - Joy of life; and Justice that you endeavour to bring out in your hemisphere.

K - Keen and sharp mind even in your twilight years.

L - Love of family and friends.

M - Music of the Universe that you develop a fine ear for.

N - Noble mindedness, Nice manners, Nourished soul, Notable achievements and Nirvana as the
      final reward.

O - Opportunity to grow both as a fine individual and an above-par professional.

P - Passion for life and its finer elements.

Q - Quest for knowledge, perpetually.

R - Respect for animals, nature and what you have been bestowed upon.

S - Sensibilities for discerning right from wrong.

T - Trust in your own ability.

U - Uncompromising stand towards all that is unjust, corrupt and malaise infested - both in our
      minds and the society we live in.

V - Vision for charting out your own unique course.

W - Warmth stemming out of the coziness of your relationships with all your significant others
        including your pet children.

X - Xperience (sic) in life replete with all its vicissitudes and tribulations AND that little XTRA
      (sic) that allows you to give your individualistic spin to your personal matrix.

Y - Young spirit that conquers over an aging body and tired mind.

Z - Zest, Zeal and a Zillion dreams to enrich your own lives and to make this a better world to live
      in.
Have a wonderful 2011.

With fondest wishes,

L. ARUNA DHIR

A BEAUTIFUL IRISH STORY!

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Fri, 26 Mar 2010 11:05:00 +0000

His name was Fleming, and he was a poor Scottish farmer. One day, while trying to make a living for his family, he heard a cry for help coming from a nearby bog. He dropped his tools and ran to the bog.

There, mired to his waist in black muck, was a terrified boy, screaming and struggling to free himself. Farmer Fleming saved the lad from what could have been a slow and terrifying death.

The next day, a fancy carriage pulled up to the Scotsman's sparse surroundings. An elegantly dressed nobleman stepped out and introduced himself as the father of the boy Farmer Fleming had saved.

'I want to repay you,' said the nobleman. 'You saved my son's life.'

'No, I can't accept payment for what I did,' the Scottish farmer replied waving off the offer. At that moment, the farmer's own son came to the door of the family hovel.

'Is that your son?' the nobleman asked.

'Yes,' the farmer replied proudly.

'I'll make you a deal. Let me provide him with the level of education my own son will enjoy If the lad is anything like his father, he'll no doubt grow to be a man we both will be proud of.' And that he did.

Farmer Fleming's son attended the very best schools and in time, graduated from St. Mary's Hospital Medical School in London, and went on to become known throughout the world as the noted Sir Alexander Fleming, the discoverer of Penicillin.

Years afterward, the same nobleman's son who was saved from the bog was stricken with pneumonia.

What saved his life this time? Penicillin.

The name of the nobleman? Lord Randolph Churchill .. His son's name?

Sir Winston Churchill.

Someone once said: What goes around comes around.

Work like you don't need the money.

Love like you've never been hurt.

Dance like nobody's watching.

Sing like nobody's listening.

Live like it's Heaven on Earth.

A New Year Wish for a stupendous Twenty Ten!

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Fri, 01 Jan 2010 02:30:00 +0000

Dear friends,

On the threshold of a brand new decade, I wish you two imperative things - to my mind, at least - in order to bring in a happy, healthy, hopeful and prosperous New Year. And they are -

"A network of energy flows through all living things. All energy is borrowed, and one day you have to give it back." (Borrowing shamelessly from AVATAR)

AND
"Try your best to treat others as you would wish to be treated yourself, and you will find that this is the shortest way to benevolence." Mencius VII.A.4 (Quoting Confucianism)

Here's wishing you a 2010 filled with promise, peace, passion, purity and perseverance. Go on, leave your footprints on the sands of time.

My best,

ARUNA DHIR

Picture Courtesy - www.deviantart.com (a picture by Emily Stevenson) and Google Images.

"HOPE"

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 13:06:00 +0000

By L. Aruna Dhir
First Penned on 28th July 2002 and published today on the blog.

Hope is
a single drop of rain that falls on a
piece of parched earth;

Hope is the slight heave of an ailing chest
that comes as a sign of life;

Hope is a little kick in the side of an
expecting bride,
that tells her she is now a creator
like the one above;

Hope is the curve of a smile that
breaks on the canvas of an angry face;

Hope is the glint in the eye that
creases out the stress from a frowning brow;

Hope is a morsel in the mouth that
quells the harshness of hunger;

Hope is a hint of sun peeping out of dark clouds promising that
the rainbow is just around the corner;

Hope is a child folding hands for his evening prayer showing that
faith thrives in a believing heart;

Hope is a human touch that crosses
the barrier of caste, colour, race and religion,
affirming that caring for the other
and peace in mind is the ultimate power.

**************
(Picture courtesy - Martin Gommel (http://kwerfeldein.de/) from www.deviantart.com)

I AM ANGRY

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 15:11:00 +0000

First penned on 26th June 2003, published today on the blog.

I am angry
when I spend a couple of thousands for a meal in a day,
And million mouths feel the pangs of hunger;

I am angry
when I work hard for my living,
And see bureaucratic India setting back the clock
not by hours and days but years and generations;

I am angry
at the bastardization of my culture,
5000 years old and rich in tradition;

I am angry
we wear personas so many,
With no face to back our words;

I am angry
our words have no meaning,
And our speech is dispassionate and hollow;

I am angry
as a country, we instead of blossoming to the world,
Are increasingly becoming inwardly drawn;

I am angry
we have lost our values,
Somewhere in the crowds of a billion;

I am angry
we have double standards,
One for ourselves
and the other for the rest of the world;

I am angry
we sometimes trade our souls,
For lucre and lust
that remain illusive as ever;

I am angry
we are not beleaguered by real problems,
and rage on petty and non – issues;

I am angry
we are presenting a world to our children,
That we did not inherit from our ancestors;

I am angry
we have added to our woes,
By losing the “e” from human;

I am angry
that in order to keep a balance on the surface,
We have stopped to stir up a storm within;

I am angry
we wait for destiny to knock on the door,
And fail to step up and take charge;

I am angry
that in the struggle to survive,
We have lost respect for the world we live in
For the people we live with
And most importantly for our own selves.

(Picture courtesy - www.deviantart.com)

**********

THE MAGIC OF MONSOON

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 14:43:00 +0000

It is like moments of truth. Everybody has one or maybe several. So it is with times of inspiration. Everybody has that reference of sight, smell, sound, touch, feeling or piece of imagination that inspires. For me, one of the strongest times of inspiration is when the sky opens to pour its heart out in a manner unrestrained and unabashed. The good thing is, I am not the only one raising a toast to the rains.

From Bollywood’s ‘Tip Tip Baarish’ to Hollywood’s a la Gene Kelly Tap dancing to the beats of the peltering rain; from Pop music’s ‘Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain’, and ‘Raindrops keep falling on my head’ to our very own Raag Megh Malhar; from art to fiction to poetry……… monsoon has always inspired the positive and bright side of things all over the world and from time immemorial. So, who am I to remain stoic towards such a divine sensation.

But the charms of monsoon have everything to do with the place where you are. Imagine the traffic jamming, gutter flowing, drain clogging, humid rains of Delhi and you will instantly know what I mean.

My association with monsoon spans different continents and saddles varied time zones. Walking on an old street in quaint little Alexandria in Virginia to the tunes of talented buskers playing to the gallery with dogs of various shapes and sizes and their owners - so much the same, that is shapes and sizes - for company. Cruising over River Seine in the heart of Paris with soft rain, like a companion, caressing my face. Raindrops falling on my head in oh-so-picturesque Engelberg at the foothills of Mt. Titlis in Switzerland, falling in step with the jingling of cow bells. But not quite the torrential rains in Amsterdam ruining our otherwise pleasant canal cruise - said to be the best way to see the beatific city. Or the angry downpour in Volderdam drowning all plans to seek vicarious pleasure in the country’s famed and legal night life.

The best and the strongest memories are those that belong to the hazy realms of childhood. The whiff of a freshly baked apple pie from a loving mother’s kitchen, the fragrance of aftershave used by dad – certainly the strongest man in the world at that all-knowing age of five or six, the blotches – sometimes hard to wash away - from jumped in puddles on spic and span white uniforms – a mandate at super-strict convents or the smell of earth after the first fall of rain – with several lines of poetry and film lyrics wasted on it and staying to be inspiring until that telling moment when a desensitized science-type friend opened my eyes to it stating so unromantically that it was actually earthworms that smelt thus and not the heavenly marriage of waters from the sky and mother earth that led to it. Remember what I told you about sensory references. So be it.

My fondest association with monsoon is in idyllic Dehradun, nostalgic memories of which act as perfect stress busters even today. Living in my mother’s mansion had its privileges. For one, you could always see the many moods of Mussoorie – the Queen of Hills – through the day or night by just peering over the boundary wall and looking up to the nearest cluster of clouds on your right. Trying to spot Muss (that’s what the hill station is called in local parlance) in the peak of monsoon wasn’t easy but certainly a lot of fun. Raindrops falling on my head in misty Mussoorie as I walked the length of scenic Camel’s Back Road was also an oft-repeated heady romance that brutally ended when on one such trek I was horrified to discover a leech crawl up my ankle.

Walking barefoot on the freshly rained-upon soft, velvety front lawns at home is an experience that gives a long run to squishing sand in between your toes at some touristy beach.

One of the nicest things about my mother’s abode is its big windows with a view on every side. After having worked with the hospitality industry for more than a decade, I can tell you authoritatively that hotels charge a premium for a good view. So imagine rooms with wonderful views all my growing up years. My mother had nimble green fingers and we seemed to enjoy, amply, the fruit of her labour. She had developed her backyard into a mini orchard with a myriad fruit trees – mangoes, peaches, plum, pears, apples, litchi, grape fruit, papaya, even grapes – providing shade from the Summer sun, swaying to the Spring breeze, shedding their coats to autumn and lending that extra chill to the winter. But it was monsoon when they looked their prettiest best. Freshly scrubbed, in lovely shades of green, either cradling crystal clear pearls on their belly or with rows of raindrops hanging from their edges. It doesn’t take the eye of an artist to appreciate this breathtaking sight. If I was deft with the brush then you would have seen several canvases titled RAIN in my home studio. But I chose to sing an ode to it right from the times of amateurish poetry to the time when as a professional creative writer I sold mush to couples in as far and wide places as India, Europe and the Americas.

Another nice monsoon sight is the lovely white wild flowers that take over a full hillside or come up around brooks. The off-white wild mushrooms along the grass or by tree trunks are quite irresistible too. I remember picking the flowers and the mushrooms in my cane basket and bringing them home. They would sit pretty in a corner as I would get lost in my Enid Blyton or Lewis Carroll through the afternoon with the big toadstool, typically, assuming a character in my favourite story.

Monsoon is also about food. Who can resist the wafting aroma of hot pakoras or delicious samosas to be devoured with tangy mint chutney and a piping hot cup of tea? Back home I would often bake the most luscious of sponge cakes (and I do have the nicest of recipes) on a rain-soaked afternoon. The smell would engulf the whole house, as I would bring the cake out to the kitchen table, drive a knife through the hot center and serve it with melted chocolate. These days I do hot aubergine slices with salsa toppings or baked cheese on potato dices with a dash of oregano and chilli peppers. The result is as mesmerizing.

Rainy season is on our threshold. Delhi may still not be up to it with constantly irritating constructions happening everywhere. But a short sojourn to Doon over a wet weekend is certainly within my reach.

Anybody who wields a pen almost always has a book in them. So, come rains and I am off to the family pad in my favourite valley succumbing to the muse in the lap of inspiration in Nature’s inimitable style.

**************

Fond Farewell to the King of Pop – MJ - truly one of the world's biggest entertainers of all time!

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 15:18:00 +0000

R.I.P. - Michael Joseph Jackson (August 29, 1958 – June 25, 2009)

I was acquainted with his music when I was in my teens. While the highpoint of the Convent Prom was that boys from St. Joseph's School, our brother school, were going to be there, the singularly most important part of the evening that made it so memorable was not the lanky boys in their new stubbles and croaky vocal chords, not their thin frames and cocky swagger, not even the fanciest of dresses that the girls wore. The lasting memory of that end-of-school-year Prom has been his distinctive voice that sang in a unique note, the sound that fell in its own genre and like no other and the overall music that just swept me away.

The second initiation came when I, freshly, got into college; and a friend who was a BBC Radio regular boasted about being abreast with the latest musical fad of that time, yes Beat It, Billie Jean and Thriller. The initial drive for me was that I didn’t want to be left behind from the mass hysteria that was fast engulfing my generation. Once I had been indoctrinated by a gentle nudge from friends, I soon, of my own volition, got baptized into this holy sect of scintillating, never-heard-before sound. Such was the pull and the drawing power of the music and the magnetism of its creator that we simply got sucked in. The western music loving people of my generation had found a new God and his name was Michael Jackson. He was more than an enigma or a phenomenon for us. To us, he was our musical messiah who herded us to the blessed land that lay beyond our daily trials and tribulations.

We grooved to his music at our dance parties that became so famous that they were sought-after in the Doon Valley. No jam sessions were complete without MJ’s albums being played to high decibels. My dancing partners and I chose Michael Jackson’s songs for our piece-de resistance in the dance competitions which we ended up winning. Today, I would like to give credit to the music more than my alacrity and nimble-footedness on the dance floor.

Over the years, Michael Jackson’s music meant different things to me at different times. During the monsoons in Doon, I swayed to the lilting tunes of Ben, The Girl is Mine and Man in the Mirror. During my dancercises I shook my body to his foot-tapping hits. Later, I marveled at the emotionality of his artistic temperament as I tuned into ‘We are the World,’ ‘Heal the World’ and ‘Black or White.’

Now with this musical idol gone forever into the realm of the unknown, into the arms of his creator; I would like to remember one of my greatest influences thus. Here’s my tribute to the one-and-only, to MJ, I loved, adored and revered.

1. Acceptance – We were part of this large international community of young ones who were MJ converts. We had been transformed by his music and we were his disciples following his every dance move or new release. We found acceptance for ourselves amongst our peers and a sense of unity with the global world.

2. Confidence – That is what he instilled in us even from across the Atlantic. We knew his songs, we tried his thrusts and shimmies and walks, we swayed in consonance with his music. And because we did all this, we were never the shrinking violets or the wall flowers who dotted the corners of the room. We were out there having fun, bringing in a lot of back-slapping bonhomie, being the heart of the gatherings – the inspired lot who in turn inspired the others in our coterie. And because we were confident souls in the social circuit, we were also bold not brazen, self-assured not cynical in our other pursuits as well.

3. Popularity – Because we attempted to move like him, because we were in step with what was in, because we were the groovy lot that jived to the MJ beat and were well-conversant with the MJ lingo, because we were this hip set that could sing MJ’s songs backwards and could use slang such as Beat It with a lot of élan; boy, were we popular. I will always be indebted to Michael Jackson for helping me get an image makeover from a studious bookworm to this bubbly babe whom everybody wanted to know in college. And guess what, because I regarded MJ’s music with a sense of sanctity and enjoyed it for its sheer brilliance, uniqueness and ingenuity, I did not allow my reverence to get diluted with any peer pressure. So, I did no drugs, did not enjoy tipple – a dance party mainstay, did not let my grades fall and generally remained a good girl who was popular and fun-loving at the same time.

4. Style - After his demise, I read in several of the obits that MJ was regarded as a style icon. My generation began following him long before the phrase was coined. We came out with our own versions of fedoras, white glove and socks, black shoes, skin-tight jeans and yes, belts. We not only cultivated this ‘MJ’ style but also had the smarts to carry it with a lot of chutzpah.

5. Stress – I don’t know about the others, but for me Michael Jackson’s music has been one of the biggest stress busters. In my last job, at one point of time, getting to work became a nightmare. The commute to work used to be filled with dreadful thoughts of facing the hell boy at work, the only bright light being the Jackson CD playing on the car system. Willy-nilly it brought a smile to my lips, put a song in my heart, lightened my steps and proved to be more meditational and therapeutic than the entire course of Art of Living (Is Sri Sri Ravi Shankar listening!). Similarly, after a hard day’s work that stretched well beyond 10-11 hours, it was Thriller that put the thrill back in my spirit and Billie Jean that helped me battle the stress.

6. Happiness – Again, I don’t know about you but I can speak about myself with the utmost conviction and say that Michael Jackson’s music has always made me happy. Even ecstatic, at times euphoric, a lot of times rapturous but always, overridingly, happy. If I wanted to shake myself from a state of ennui, if I wanted to put on my dancing shoes, if I wanted to beat the blues, if I wanted to stop being lazy and go for that walk, if I wanted a little pick-me-up, all I had to, nay have to do is listen to an MJ number. It always works for me. His music has that inherent feel-good quality to it that spells bliss, bright and bold. Given the tragic life that he has had, I wonder if he really knew how many lives he has touched positively and brought happiness to.

7. Treasure trove of Talent - Michael Jackson was a huge trove of talent. He was one of the most sensational singers of our time, his dancing skills were such that they are emulated to this day, his song writing skills were extraordinary, his videos are legendary and above all, he was the most composite and ultimate entertainer. MJ has taught us that we, too, can multi-layer ourselves with multiple talents and endeavour to reach the zenith in our chosen areas.

8. Lessons of life – Finally MJ’s iconic yet tragic life holds a lesson for all of us. Here are a few that hold a lot of meaning for me -

You can assume responsibility for your family and loved ones even at the tender ages of five or 11. You only need big shoulders and a genuine inclination in that direction.

You can face any assault to your person or mind and come out stronger. At least in the first 3-4 decades of his life, when he rode the upper crest, MJ seemed to have overcome all the negative influences of his childhood rather well. And then there are several examples from the high and mighty from whose lives you can learn to slay your personal demons and emerge stronger and better.

In his leaving for eternity he has left this eternal lesson with us on how not to lead our lives. Drug abuse, child molestation, several liaisons – secret and otherwise, masks & gas chambers, needles & scalpels, tabloids & glowing tributes…………. Certain things in some professions are inherent. They come with the package. But for most, we ourselves are the decision-makers.

In his death, he has shown us that this is no way to go for anyone, leave alone a legend of his stature. The choices are in our hands. Are we willing to turn the stumbling stones into building blocks, the hazards into how-tos and the turbulence & turmoil into a tryst with destiny that strengthens the spirit and lays down the path for betterment.

MJ has taught us how to treasure all that one accumulates not by the stroke of luck but by the dint of one’s hard work. That he dithered it all away in his later years should come as a sharp reminder to all of us, when we tend to get smug and snooty about it.

Michael Jackson, with his choicely penned lyrics and thoughtful words, urged us to look at the “man in the mirror and change some of his ways.”

He has shown us how talent and hard work can prevail over the biases. How the gifted and the genius can win over the prejudiced. In the global and huge, incomparable recognition that MJ has received in his lifetime and so much more in death, he has overpowered the bias of colour, creed, race or religion.

In his musical prowess, his inventiveness, the sheer mastery over his craft and his uniqueness, Michael Jackson has taught us all to strive for excellence and aim for the stars.

And because he had it all before he lost everything – family, fortune, fame – Michael Jackson, in his tragic, untimely death, has taught us how not to squander away the reputation built with the building blocks of inspiration, perspicacity and sweat.

With his fan base and hysteria surpassing that seen for the likes of the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll or the People’s Princess, Michael Jackson filled our hearts with love for him and adulation like for no other, just by the magic of his music and the brightness of his brilliance.

I salute the legend for all this and more.

Michael I will miss you. And I will indeed ‘Remember the Time’ when I used to ‘Rock with you.’ May you rest in peace, now that you are in God’s embrace, far from the world of ghouls and ghosts you created for yourself. Amen!!!

(Picture courtesy - Google images)

एक याद धुंधली सी!

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 10:23:00 +0000

10th दिसम्बर 1993 को लिखी और आज ब्लॉग पर पुब्लिश की.

ख़ुशी में बीतें कुछ पल
कभी आसुओं में छिपती हंसी
उदासी को अपने पंख पे ले उड़ती
भीनी-भीनी सी एक मुस्कान
आँखों में सजाती अपना बसेरा
एक याद धुंधली सी

जीवन के पथ पर साथ चलते चलते
दामन छुधाता एक अजनबी सा होता हाथ
गूंजती जैसे दूर से
एक पहचानी सी आवाज़
बीते हुईं कल की चादर ओढे हुईं
एक याद धुंधली सी

आशा की किरण संजोये षण
उम्मीद पे टिका वजूद
वक़्त की लपटों में
खोयी उम्र की दास्तान
आगे बढ़ते कुछ थके से कदम
दिल पर आती एक दस्तक
पीछे यूँही अचानक मुड़कर देखना
पर नज़र आती
एक याद धुंधली सी.

(Picture courtesy - www.deviantart.com)

************

RULES OF LIFE

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 10:07:00 +0000

Speak so that you are not just heard
but understood

See so that you don’t simply look
but observe

Hear so that you do not just listen
but comprehend

Touch so that you don’t just hit the surface
but feel

Taste so that you simply do not eat
but savour

Smell so that you do not just notice the scent
but allow the fragrance to engulf you

Feel so that you are not just aware
but are driven by empathy, by compassion

Criticize, not to spite
but to change for the better

Pick up a pursuit, not to fill the emptiness of time
but to raise it to a level of passion

Work not just to earn a livelihood
but to carve a niche, an identity of your own

Do, not just so to lead a life
but because you want to shape your destiny

Walk not just to cover the distance
but to leave footprints on your chosen path

Talk not just to add noise to the existing cacophony
but to leave an imprint of your words of wisdom

Leave an impression, not of power but value
Of not just awe but admiration

Sympathise not because it is good to do so
But because it is what you really want to do

Fall for very little
but stand up for a lot more

Act not because you want to be noticed
but because those actions define you

Uphold an ideal not because it holds a universal value
but because it forms part of your belief

Amass not just for the self alone
but to share your life with many

Live, not in an isolated, individualistic microcosm
But to bring in your unique meaning to the Universe.

(Picture courtesy - www.deviantart.com)

**********

Count The Blessings!

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Thu, 28 May 2009 13:27:00 +0000

Penned on 26th June 2003
Published on the Blog on 28th May 2009

I mourned the death of an unborn baby,
But failed to rejoice the survival of
an ailing woman who had almost been a mother;

I wailed at a thorn pricking my flesh,
But ignored the scent of jasmine that
stayed on my hands for lingering moments;

I was angered by the war of words with my soul mate,
And glazed over the unspoken language of love;

I lamented the loss of one opportunity,
And shut my eye to other doors that fell open;

I rued my weakness in wit,
And refused to recognize the strength of spirit;

I craved for what might have been,
And overlooked to thank the Almighty for what was;

I crouched in fear with irrational nightmares,
And blinded myself to dreams that would set me free;

I sought and demanded, wished and desired,
Rusting my tools that I could create with;

I pined for that exciting turn in life,
While killing time with disinterest and ennui;

I aspired to be exalted,
Without realizing that I was missing the human in me;

I dreamt of reaching out and touching the sky,
While losing the ground beneath my feet;

I cried shamelessly for my despondency,
And forgot to smile and count my blessings.

Picture courtesy - www.deviantart.com
****************

"AUR TERE BAAP, BHAI, BETE KA KYA?"

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Tue, 26 May 2009 16:29:00 +0000

And in my case, Pati too.

I recently posted a query on Indians on a professional networking site, by way of research for a non-fiction that I am, kind of, working on. Kind of, because the pace is abysmal, the sense of discipline completely lacking and the effort downright shameful. But that's another matter.

Back to the question on Indians. What I asked was non-controversially true but definitely offensive. I, to my innocent mind, felt the points cited were more offensive to the eyes and the sensibilities than to the ears.

While a lot of the responses were intelligent and gave comparable data from other nations; the others wrote back as if they have been struck across the face, personally affronted and belittled. Now, I really wasn't expecting this.

One respondent said that while he agrees that Indians are all this and more, I should not talk about it openly on a global and public forum such as the internet.

However, one Gujju Bhai out of Oklahoma took the cake. If I were to translate his response into Hindi, this is what he said - "Aur tere Baap, Bhai, Bete ka kya?"

Here is my question that is raising hackles with many -

As an Indian I have conflicting emotions for my country and my fellow countrymen. While I am extremely proud on one end, I am sorely ashamed on the other. I invite comments from Indians and the international set on what happens in their country and why?

I am extremely proud of India's history, culture, heritage, democracy, tolerance, festivals, religiosity or rather spirituality, languages, unity in diversity, natural endowments, colours, cuisines, pot pourri of different influences that have confluenced into an unique amalgamation we call India and the other usual suspects.

I am quite ashamed of the other, darker side of the continuum. Sample this -

1. A high percentage of Indians are illiterate or ill educated.
2. A lot of Indian men urinate in public.
3. Poor India defecates in the open.
4. Most Indian men spit in public.
5. A lot of Indians lack civic sense.
6. A lot of hypocrisy besets our attitude.
7. In our general bazaars, there is no honest price. We all need to haggle. But not in branded shops.
8. Most young urban and semi-urban India is rude, impolite and misses on basic etiquette.
9. Many of us deface our historical monuments.
10. We Indians litter our streets and public places.
11. Several Indian men are lecherous and have little respect for women.
12. Most Indian places are not safe for women, particularly in the night.
13. Eve teasing and other forms of harassment against women is rampant in India.
14. We do not preserve their culture and legacy well.
15. We have no driving etiquette.
16. We don't like the concept of queues.
17. We love to break the rules.
18. A lot of Indian offices thrive on politics.

I could add more...............

But at this stage, I'd like to understand from my fellow, literate brethren why we are like this only. And I would appreciate if the global community could give examples from their geographical region.

Further, I am of the strong view that Indians weren't always to be accused of the things I have in my list of 18. Yes, India has had a checkered history - British, Mughals, Aryans, Turks and so on. The young today, blindly ape the West. My agenda is to hold a mirror to ourselves, admit what is wrong (and what was not, traditionally, always so) and rectify it lest we be labelled a race and culture that is known for these very attributes.

India is an emerging democracy with its economy on an upswing and its democratic government going strong. I feel it is up to every individual to make a positive contribution.

And what you do not recognise or accept, you cannot change.

At this point of time I am looking forward to intelligent responses that put into perspective whys and wherefroms of these issues that I have raised. I am not concerned whether it happens in other countries or not. I am hotly bothered about why my country is afflicted with these malaise. Have we, traditionally been so, or have been a victim of myriad influences that have shaped our history. What can we as individuals do to make a difference? Are there positive examples from other countries that we can emulate?

I am proud of India, you see, but ashamed of what Indians have turned it into.

I would welcome your insight on the following -

1. Why do we have these issues in India?
2. What is the genesis of these issues?
3. What are the solutions - education, awareness, government, NGO, individual support etc.?
4. Which other countries have had similar issues and how have they tackled it? For instance, one of the respondents advises me that UK used to have the problem of men urinating in public and they have passed a law against it.

Picture courtesy - www.googleimages.com

***********

BUT ONE OF THESE DAYS I’LL GET UP AND GET GOING...............

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Fri, 22 May 2009 15:20:00 +0000

I’ve been soaking in the Sun
I’ve been dancing with the Moon;
I’ve been lazing around
I’ve been, cosily, home bound;
But one of these days I’ll get up and get going...............

I’ve been sleeping on the pill
I’ve been waking up at will;
I’ve been pottering away
I’ve been putting off to December, what I could do in May;
But one of these days I’ll get up and get going...............

I’ve been making excuses
With simple ingenuity, oh how me it amazes;
Rainy day, grainy day, gaming day, taming day,
Sunny day, funny day, grouchy day, slouchy day
I while away time as I may;
But one of these days I’ll get up and get going...............

A large to-do list to work on
Of banal and blah, of insipid and ho-hum
I’d like my days to be shorn;
But one of these days I’ll get up and get going...............

Many a responsibility to shoulder, many duties to take upon
The hideous, the heinous, the beastly, the basal, the villainous, the vicious
With measures of goodness and honesty, I wish to con;
But one of these days I’ll get up and get going...............

Square up my shoulders for people to lean on
Extend a hand or two to help the desolate, the lovelorn
Get run off my feet to run an errand for someone
Lend a patient ear for grief, for problems, for fun;
But one of these days I’ll get up and get going...............

Think fast on my toes to make decisions
Look the trouble in the eye and work out solutions,
Strive to have answers on my fingertips to satisfy the curious mind
Infuse the spirit of harmony, with which relationships to bind;
But one of these days I’ll get up and get going...............

Comb out the tangles from a messy mop of a loved one’s head
Crease out lines of worry and wipe out the sweat,
Sniff out chaos and commotion before they grow in proportion
Comfort a forlorn soul with a kind heart and compassion;
But one of these days I’ll get up and get going...............

**********

MOTHER

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Sun, 10 May 2009 06:40:00 +0000

Penned on 16th March 2005 and re-published on the blog on 10th May 2009 as a tribute to 'MA' on Mother's Day!

I cradled in her arms
blissfully ignorant of the ravages around
into a faraway land of calm and comfort;

I rocked to the lullaby of her heartbeat
reassuring and divine
long before my ears got attuned to the cacophony
of care and concern;

My small, groping hands
pulled and tugged at her face, hair, clothing, whatever
latching on to the lifeline that gave me life;

I drank from her bosom
the elixir of life
long before my palate discerned between
myriad tastes and aromas;

My feet kicked her when I was within
and kicked her again when I found ground
yet, she gave me in return love with no conditions
and an identity I would call my own;

She brought joy, eased off pain
and ushered in rays of hope
she nurtured me with patience and passion
often making several, unnoticed sacrifices along the way;

I took her for granted
blamed her for what was not
and showed no gratitude for what was
yet she called me her own, a piece of her
content with precious little that I returned to her;

Now she is gone
and I will never get her back
I crave for the moments
when I could repay if only a little bit
love back till it hurt
share my life till the end of time;

All I am left with
is memories so treasured
of a woman who created me
of a mother who brought me to life
and stood for all that I AM.

Picture courtesy - www.deviantart.com
**********

DOG RESCUE APPEAL

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Fri, 08 May 2009 08:45:00 +0000

The Rescue Mission Secretariat at +6012 378 3730 (Janet) or +6012 320 8090 (Zalina)
The Sec's E-mail is dogrescue.pk@gmail.com (see updates page for info)

Fellow bloggers, you can also help by embedding this appeal poster on your blog and linking to http://www.mycen.com.my/rescue

You can follow the progress of the rescue via the updates here.

We are aware it is a monumental task and appreciate all forms of support, assistance, suggestions, encouragement and your prayers.

Thank you.

YOU KNOW YOU ARE FROM DOON IF -

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Wed, 06 May 2009 13:37:00 +0000

We have virtually grown up and lived most of our lives in Doon - from the age of three to 24 and then have gone back several times a year because the parental house is in Clement Town. The plural WE denotes contributions by yours truly and my not-so-little-anymore niece Karuna Dayal -

1. You have something or the other to do with Ruskin Bond, Victor Banerjee, Nayantara Sahgal et. al.

2. In spite of making a career killing elsewhere, you have still done your B.Ed in those decisive years when you didn't know what to get into. Plus you must have also sat for those CPMT exams..........

3. Number One and Count Down are places where you first started going out to, as a young teenager, and enjoyed your first espresso, pizza, burgers, Chinese food etc.

4. Stick jaws and plum cakes are your favourite sweet things and gift ideas to bring back to people.

5. You are so proud of the fact that 45 minutes out of Doon in ANY direction gets you to a scenic spot.

6. You have often trekked to Muss. or gone on day visits on many a weekend.

7. Walking on the Mall in Muss., leafing through new arrivals at the Book stores next to Chic Chocolate and enjoying chocolate softie and cheese buns at Chic Chocolate were your idea of up market fun.

8. You have gone to Tibetan Market again and again to beef up your wardrobe with the replicas of stuff popular on the international fashion scene - scarves, jackets, hep T-shirts with pictures of Rock stars, belts, socks, shoes.............

9. You hated the Welhamites because you were from CJM and they seemed more elitist or had an ongoing tussle with you on YOUR brother school - St. Joseph's.

10. A family dinner outside meant at places like Kwality, Madhuban and Moti Mahal...........

11. YETI was the hallmark for Chinese food in the Valley for decades.

12. If it is Chaat and Aloo tikkis you craved for then the place to go to, ALWAYS, was Chaat wali gali, diagonally opposite Gaylord's.

13. You always caught the nicest of Hollywood flicks in CAPRI or the morning shows in Prabhat - Tootsie, Rambo, Against All Odds, Lonely Lady (yes that Harold Robbins semi-porn too), Omen series, Nightmare on Elm Street, Heavenly Bodies (which the local louts thought was a blue film and sadly for them turned out to be a dance flick)............

14. Doon is famous for a lot of its localities' names ending with the famous 'walla' word like Dalanwala, Doiwala, Bharuwala, Beriwala, Lachiwala, Bullanwala, Harrawala, Teliwala, Banjarawala, Jogiwala, Mohabbewalla, Morrawalla and the list goes on and on...

15. Visits to FRI, IMA, Wildlife Institute of India was a moment of honour for school children though most of it was for fun and it is only now that we realise that we have these premier institutions in Doon.

16. You have always been proud of all the ranges of Rajaji National Park and have gone there often for excursion, picnics, safaris etc.

17. Having moved out of Doon and into flats for professional reasons, you have always been slightly snooty of the fact that you have a sprawling bungalow you can boast of, back in Doon.

18. Having a mini orchard of guava, papaya, litchi, plum, chakotra, mangoes and pear trees, in your backyard, is commonplace for you.

19. You MUST have witnessed the POP - Passing out Parade at IMA at some point or the other.

20. Your idea of fun and sports has included Horse Riding and Swimming.

21. In certain years, you have enjoyed snowfall in Muss and the surrounding hills and heard from the older generation of the time when it used to snow in Doon.

22. You have cycled to school and bicycle has been your mode of transport for several of your growing up years.

23. You've been taken to Sahastradhara by your family either for family picnics or sulphur cleansing rituals.

24. Willy nilly and regardless of your religious non-inclinations you have been on spiritual treks up the various hill peaks to all the Devi Dhams - Surkhanda, Santala et. al.

25. On purchase of any new vehicle - Luna, Scooter, Bike, Car, you absolutely have gone to Daat Kali for the mandatory puja and breaking of the coconut in front of your vehicle.

26. Your idea of pure fun and dare devillery has stemmed out of bike rides through the Daat Kali tunnel.

27. You've taken part in several Dance Competitions held at St. Thomas, Hotel Aketa and that Hotel near MKP whose name escapes me at the moment.

28. Having done your schooling from Doon, you've most often than not graduated from MKP, DAV, DBS before moving onto greener pastures.

29. You thought that the Bun Samosa at the chai-ki-dukaan on DBS Chowk was unbeatable and it WAS.

30. You knew that the place to go to for keema samosas was NANNY's and no other.

31. If you studied in MKP then you detested its real name that MKP expanded into and you never ever referred to it by the full name.

32. The place to get good English music was always Pratap's on Rajpur Road.

33. Dance parties at your home or your friends' places was your idea of weekend fun and New Year's Eve always meant party hopping.

34. As girls, you always gazed at in fascination and then jeered at the Gentleman Cadets (GCs).

While the above are our own, here follow some other interesting ones posted on the Facebook Group - You know you're from Dehra Dun if..., created by Kamayani Sharma (Fergusson College) and managed by Nakul Saxena (India)- Jobless but painfully cool man about town. Their list is -

- You and your gang from the city refer to it as Doon

- You're still unsure of the spelling of the damn place after having spent almost all your life there...is it Dehradun? Dehradoon? Dehra Dun or Dehra Doon????

- Telling people where you're from elicits heavy sighs and an expression of envy, usually followed by them saying, "It must be very green and beautiful na?"

- After the aforementioned question, you struggle inwardly about whether to keep up the illusion of Dehradun as a cosy, idyllic hill station that has been perpetuated since 1923 or disabuse them of the notion and tell them exactly how populated, polluted and criminal it has become.

- You're always asked whether you went to Doon School or Welhams (even though you haven't)

- People squint their eyes and mumble a sentence with the word Mussoorie in it right after you tell them you're from Dehradun

- You have gone to Saluja's or Universal's right after report card day and the blokes at the counter handed you a pre-packed set of textbooks, notebooks and a plastic box of crayons

- You and your friends have seen English films dubbed in Hindi at Prabhat, Krishna Palace or Natraj (Makdimaanav, Loha, Sitara Jung: Humshaklon ka Hamla etc. etc.) and have heard horror stories about what seedy places Chhayadeep and Payal are

- You have defended your school's honour to the death at tuitions when people from other schools ganged up against you

- You have spent more than Rs. 100 doing vellagiri at CCD and Barista and then wished you had spent Rs. 10 for an A1 coffee at the Buffet next door

-Pizza Hut and McDonald's opening up was a big event

- You have seen adolescent males wearing fishnet/bicep pinching shirts, bum-hugging jeans and 200 year old Cuban heels ('stud waale'), usually with their hair swathed in smelly, roadside-barber gel and these people have leered at you

- You know what BTM (Behenji Turned Mod) means

- You use the phrases 'jhak maarna', 'jhand banana', 'launde/laundiyan', 'bhayankar', 'ajee ghanta', 'oh bhains ki', 'deewar taapna', 'kaam tepna' and the like liberally in every conversation

- You curl the ends of your Hindi words regularly (eg. kar liyo, de diyo etc.)

- If you go to college slightly down south, people marvel at your level of Hindi and the Sanskriticised form you use

- Momo has to be had every week from whichever street stall you can find

- You've been illegally manouvering a two-wheeler around town since you hit double digits

- You don the helmet only when kindly autowalahs warn you that 'aage polees hai'

- Flapping your hand for vikrams and then clambering onto them, squeezing into the tiny space next to an obese woman or a lecherous oik, has been done ad nauseum by you

- Peering closely at every vikram to make out the no. has been done ad nauseum by you

- Swearing you'll "never take a fucking vikram again" has been done ad nausem by you (and then conveniently forgotten because it's still THREE EFFING RUPEES)

- You do the following at least 3 times a week: flag down an auto, tell him where you wanna go, have him quote an exorbitant price (coz naturally, there's no meter), try and negotiate, have him shake his head sullenly, pretend to walk away and have him call you back frantically as he agrees to meet your price halfway. Rinse, repeat.

- Rajpur Road and Astley Hall were the cool hangouts for you

- Ellora's has been the one place you can expect to sate your never-ending lust for good bakery products

- You know sinister-sounding places like 'Chakku Mohalla' and 'Khooni Gali'

- Bindaal Pul has to be a constant geographical fixture in nearly all direction-giving exercises

- You've seen Gandhi Park smack in the middle of the city for years but have never bothered to go

- You were sad when Kwality Restaurant closed down in 2008

- In the pre-Pizza Hut/McDonald's days, you had birthday treats at Bossa Nova or Countdown or Udipi

- You get your household sweets from Gupta's, Kumar's or Bengali Sweet Shop

- You have ever been hit on by RIMC cadets

- You have seen 'So-and-so 4 G.S./P.S.' sprayed all over the walls and wondered what the abbreviations meant

- You remember being shamefully thrilled when it turned out the guy who'd shot Phoolan Devi was not only from Dehradun but also remembered him being a 'So-and-so 4 P.S.' in question!

- When references to the IMA, Ordnance Factory, Survey of India, Wadia Institute, Wildlife Institute and the FRI invariably crop up in textbooks, everyone in the class gives each other retarded smiles

- You have sat next to/shopped with/eaten alongside/leched at Tibetan Buddhist monks (or perhaps are one,although the chances of that are quite low,what with all the 'abstinence from worldly matters' thingy) and sneaked a peek at their shiny sneakers peeping out from beneath their maroon robes.

- Someone you know has made it to the IIT

- You have the dirt on everyone in each school because of the tuition network and have mastered the art of turbo-goss by the time you're in college

- You manage to keep tab on what everyone else from Doon is up to and can be counted on to tell anyone about anyone else (specifically city/college/current lover) at any given point of time

- All said and done, you LOVE GOING HOME AND BEING THERE, flaws and all!

If there are any that I have missed, kindly message me and I will put them up...everyone from Doon is welcome!

By popular demand:

-If you have gobbled down bun tikkis from the stall at Dwarka Store

-If you have sniggered x number of times at the name GAYLORD...Gay Lord...geddit geddit *sigh that one never grows old*

-You have passed weirdass billboards advertising DJ Melodica

-You have seen most Hindi films on the local cable channel - PRIME TV - and you have mocked their channel colofon

-You have burst your seams guffawing at the infamous Babool Patta Store ads and everyone knew the words of the voice-over by heart.

Special mention to Pulkit Sharma:

-If you have passed the wheeled platform/orchestra/paraphernalia of Rawat Band in some seedy lane

-If you have laughed HARD AND LOUD at the way that the 'frontman' of Rawat Band bawls out a genocidal version of ALL the frikkin' Hindi songs ("BOLO TARARARA")and then proceeds to systematically slaughter 'Englis' songs by bands at least a decade outta style eg. Vengaboyz

-You have passed Digvijay Cinema next to Ghanta Ghar and pretended not to notice it if you were with adults (coz it's X-rated) and cackled at the classics being shown there if you were with friends. Pour exemple: 'Maalish Waali', 'Chulbuli Babie', 'Maut Ka Nanga Naach', 'Din Mein Sister, Raat Mein Bistar', 'Din Mein Bhaiya, Raat Mein Sainya' etc. etc.

Submitted by Nakul Saxena:

-Your school organised an annual trip to Lachchiwala,called it a picnic.....

-...And on reaching there you found out that four other schools had the same recipe for fun

-You proceeded into the Paltan Bazaar only after religiously tasting the Gaylord softy....and a few more steps led you to the aroma of sambhar emanating from the Laxmi Restaurant

-You felt exceptional excitement because of the fact that your state name has an abbreviation U.K.

-Your guests and visitors (from outta town) waited eagerly for it to get dark so that they could see the twinkling lights of Mussoorie from your terrace

-The density of nursery schools ran into thousands per square kilometer.

-You have spent half of your lifetime in a traffic jam on Chakrata Road.

- Despite being one of the most important landmarks,you never cared what the clock atop Ghanta Ghar read.

-You believe the most torturous place on the planet is the 50 odd meter stretch through Machchi Bazaar and you became capable of holding your breath in for record-breaking stretches of time as you wound your way through it

-On seeing foreign tourists in the city you thought "Abe yahan kya dekh rahe ho oopar(Mussoorie) jao na.."

-You used Rajpur Road like hell and never knew where exactly Rajpur is

-You never realised that 'Vikram' is actually the trade name of the vehicle and (extension mine) at some point in school you had a shitty policy debate about banning vikrams except it was discussed under such respectful fonts as 'My Doon: Clean and Green' or 'Pollution Control in Doon Valley'

Some more of my own:

-You have seen stuff like 'Sirf Tum', 'Dekho Magar Pyaar Se', 'Buri Nazar Waale Tera Muh Kaala' (replete with black faced, red tongued matka thing painted on) behind vikrams along with Nirvick Chhajta's worthy additions:
'Rab ne likhi saddi kismat, kachi pencil naal';
'Main bade hoke truck banuga' (that one's behind autos);
'Zakhmi Parinda';
'Malik di gaddi, driver da pasina, chalti hai road pe , banke HASEENA'

- You thought Bobby Soup Bar opposite Orient Cinema constituted fine dining

- The local ice creams of choice were Rita, Jolly, Joy, Tivoli and Mebrose...and you'd see their carts being wheeled around all the time

Courtesy Lakaki Pant:

- While coming from Delhi or Lacchiwala, you always spot hundreds of monkey sitting alongside the road

- Before the opening of all the major brands in Doon, shopping meant going to Paltan Bazaar

- You have often had hawkers coming to your doorstep to sell flower pots

- Living in apartments and flats seems like a very new concept to you as a few years earlier there were none in Doon

- You have often done a 'tripling' or even a foursome on a two wheeler and no one seems to think it's something out of the ordinary

- Hot Bites is one place you aways go when you don't want to be seen

Rakesh Bhatia's insight:

- You know what Fantu and Fantu-bazi means and use it daily in your conversations.

- I read BTM somewhere, but there was something called BHMB as well (Won't expand it here)...

- You have scrolled down on your scooter/bike/Hero Puch from Rajpur to atleast Astley hall hundreds of time

- You like Kumar ki Kulfi and Kotwali ke saamne ke Gulab jamun

- You relished Joshi/Buffet ka burger

- Have spent lot of time at Capri shopping center surfing internet during the initial days of cyber cafes.

- know "Bangali Mohalla" and "Nalapani" as some of the dreaded places

- Guchupani was one of the favorite hangouts

- New guys wont understand this... Entering and stealing from Amrood, Aam aur lichi ke baagh.

- If you like Orient ka paan

- If you remember some of the best hotels as Hotel Nidhi and Shahenshah (Now Great Value)

The three components of good management!

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 06:15:00 +0000

Picture courtesy - www.deviantart.com

What is more important in good management -- education (knowing why), training (knowing how) or experience (knowing when)- a friend asked sometime back.

I would say that it has to be a composite of all three.

Good education is like a strong foundation. It is a resource that you keep dipping into consciously, sub-consciously and unconsciously all through your work life.

Training is like the cement and mortar that fortify the structure of your house (you in this case). You keep adding suitable inputs given the kind of outcome you wish to see.

Finally, experience is the beautiful structure that you have built / acquired through years of slogging and tilling away in the right direction.

And I do agree with the others that for a well rounded management, you need to add understanding, compassion, wisdom, adaptability, humour, MBWA, lead by example, Gestalt and fore and farsightedness.

PDD or PDU

noreply@blogger.com (L. Aruna Dhir) — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 16:11:00 +0000

PDA or Public Display of Affection is the latest fad being talked about these days. Indians are rising up to the occasion to hold hands, hug or kiss in public almost as second nature and not just do their thing behind the bushes or in old monuments anymore, with the ancient dead & buried royals for company. Whether it is fine or not and to what extent it is OK is the subject matter of another discourse.

But Indians have been exhibitionists of a different kind altogether for as long as one can remember. It’s been happening in my lifetime, my parent’s lifetime and perhaps in their parents’ lifetime and over. That is the Public Display of Defecation AND Public Display of Urination, which is rampant in almost every part of the country and makes for truly one of the most secular activities that we indulge in, that too openly and with gay abandon. This is one Indian trait that binds us into one homogeneous species like no other.

While the whys and wherefores of this natural act by all Indians - rich or poor, northern or southern, men or women (though more pronouncedly the former), young or old, educated or illiterate – is subject matter for yet another rant, I want to draw your attention to a serious issue within our living spaces, in our very own neighbourhood.

I am a complainer by nature and personality, particularly more for the social issues rather than my personal woes. Which means that I become the easy, more overt ogre going about raising my heckles for issues that bother me all the while and possibly many others around me, as those many others choose to remain silent in a state of chosen inertia. I end up raising my eyebrows and voice, often together, when somebody breaks a queue to break into it, when someone forgets the mobile etiquette in sensitive places like hospitals, theaters, restaurants and the like, when people push and shove you in probable places like Chandni Chowk and improbable ones like Khan Market or Greater Kailash, when people don’t mind their p’s and q’s and are hatefully rude and impolite, when people throw their personal garbage on the roads while walking or traveling in buses, autos, rickshaws, trains, cars – fancy or basic, shorn of frills.

So imagine my consternation, given this predisposition, when I catch people peeing in the lush parks that beautify our colony or against boundary walls or behind the flats in the supposedly less used pathways. More often than not, these people come from a certain strata – the drivers, guards, maids, domestic helps, courier boys – in short the very lifeline of our daily existence. I have pulled up people for committing this social sin on several occasions as I have caught them red-handed in the despicable act. What is even more exasperating is that they are seldom red-faced when caught. The reactions from the offenders have been checkered ranging from very rarely shame to a quick apology before they scamper about to confrontation – the last being more common, mostly in women. The confronting has made me seethe in rage as one half of the civilized me expects them to feel deeply ashamed and take an oath to never do it again. But these days, perhaps as a sign of maturity, I have begun to see the bleak, pitiable side of the entire scenario.

The offenders I am talking about come from the background where they have no toilets in the shanties they call their homes. Often, there are no public conveniences either. And if there are any then they are in a state of ‘throwing up’ squalor and filth, very slum doggish (to validate the new jargon, if you please). What such public conveniences go onto serve is not release or relief but dissemination of more germs and infections. Hence, the naturally familial and societal schooling is such that it is easier to relieve oneself in open spaces, unmindful of the fact that they are roadsides, backs of houses, lanes, colony parks or any other such public domain, in so doing, impinging on another person’s private or not so private space.

Secondly, if there are worthy-to-use shauchalayas, then they are hardly ever free and go about charging Re.1 for peeing and Re.2 for crapping, per use. For a set of people who go about making anywhere between Re. 50 to 100 per day (i.e. 0.99 to 1.98 USD a day), it is sacrilege to spend a sizeable percentage of their daily income on something that you pass out several times in a day, thereby increasing the spend by several times. The money could rather be used in buying food or clothing for self and the family. In such an abysmal state, spending to spend oneself out seems like the highest kind of wastefulness.

Thirdly, an average Indian of means lacks the intent or compassion for thinking about the guy next to him. The selfishness quotient is so high that it prohibits us from seeing beyond our noses. I am not talking socialism or altruism; we seem to even lack the basic sense of empathy or kindness that is an integral part of being ‘thinking-feeling’ humans. Perhaps this is why we waste food or allow our kids to enjoy their favourite ice cream or burger while the street urchin watches them with wide-eyed hunger; we stash our kitchen cabinets with the fanciest of ingredients – olives, caviar, pâté, asparagus, wines, exotic spices etc. etc. – while our help at home struggles to make ends meet; we spend thousands of rupees over a luxurious five-star meal in one sitting and refuse to donate a share of our income in selfless acts. The examples are many.

Besides, we Indians continue to be saddled with the deeply ingrained system of caste and class discrimination. We thrive on a retinue of servants to clean our dirt and muck but we cannot share our place with them. How many people have you seen hugging their servants in a display of emotion on a task done well or as an act of sympathy or out of affection? We get these very hands to do our chores but we are wary of holding them. With this mindset or value system, how many of us are advanced enough or kind to allow our servants to use our bathrooms? I haven’t heard of many cases, have you? When I was growing up in my parent’s sprawling bungalow in the verdant Doon valley, this was never an issue as the Bungalow boasted a nicely done-up servants’ living quarters with an adjoining bathroom. But once I moved out on my own in the big capital City and into a flat, this became part of the agenda that I brandished my cause-consciousness with. My sight and senses were rudely exposed to the harsh reality that people who came to work for you, passed out stuff out in the open. In this case, ignorance had definitely been bliss.

But how long can we shut our eye to a problem just to wish it away. We lament about the fact that these dirty, uneducated lot spoil our surroundings and make them unlivable when being under the uncontrollable urge of their bodily functions.

Ranting without reason, sordid complaining without solution, whining without duty-bound worrying is all pointless, meaningless and hollow. Therefore, I’d like to present some solutions for what seems to be an epidemic in India and endemic to Indians. The first solution rests on the State or the Government. It is a political issue and a policy matter. It is the right of citizens to demand clean sanitation and a duty of the Government to provide the basic necessities to the people of the country it governs. It is not a matter of choice or a point that remains un-ticked on the election mandate. Hence the Government needs to provide for conveniences such as Sulabh Shauchalays – free, accessible and clean - in healthy numbers that cater to the masses.

Close on the heels of the above, comes the duty to impart education which not only encompasses the three Rs but goes onto include aspects of health and hygiene, rights and duties, laws and lessons on civilized living et al. Again a matter of the State.

This brings us to the responsibility of the individual vs. the State. Each of us has a role to play, a duty to be bound by and socially relevant morals and laws to adhere to. We cannot simply turn a blind eye to that.

The math is simple and basic. Pay Re.1 X five times a day, roughly X 30 days for our domestic servants multiplied by the number of servants we have, either as part of the pay to our helps or to the management of the public toilets. Or else get our Residents’ Welfare Associations or Governing bodies to contract rates with the ‘Public Conveniences Board’ or whatever it is called for the Housing Societies or the commercial complexes.

Additionally, within the confines of our homes, we can take on the responsibility of educating these people on the basic aspects and not just be selfish about getting our work done. Is it too difficult to talk about the virtues of washing one’s hands, taking baths frequently, wearing clean clothes and the like instead of either thinking of it below one’s dignity to get into a conversation with the lowly lot or treat the maid as the local gossip who brings the spiciest neighbour-news to your doorstep?

The mantra I’d like to advocate for myself and those around me is simple – if something worries you then it should wake you up into taking positive action, if an issue bothers you then you should be ballsy enough to get bolstered into taking a concrete step towards righting the wrong. Otherwise stay in a suspended state of ennui and simply don’t bother, either with the stench or the sight.

*************