Nuggets of Life

NUGGETS OF LIFE : Mirror O’ Mirror

If Alice did not fall through the looking glass, and if Snow White’s step mother had not asked the magic mirror on the wall – the stories we live by would have been different. What was instrumental in the deep inversion of lives of these characters was none other than the mirror.The mirror – a portal, a reflector!

Often we don’t pay attention to the kind of mirror we inadvertently end up using in the larger story of our life…
The symbolic mirror held up by a good friend who opined it’s “too early for grey hair”, or the mirror held up by the cousin who believed “salt and pepper, always so classy.” Or the mirror of our dressing room where each morning our gaze greets our gaze and opines “You do what you do!” But what if the mirror is distorted? Like the convex and concave mirrors at the famous Rock garden that entertained my little one and her friends evoking amusing little moments of carefree laughter. For a moment we were bulging outward with long necks like a Brachiosauraus and the next we had eyes popping out like some alien from Mars. And what if the kids really believed that is how they looked. Perceptions and reflections go deep hand in hand, don’t they? Just like the fact that the letters don’t get reversed in the mirror, it is us who flip the letters to read it in that mirror and eventually end up reversing them but the mind believes otherwise.

Thinking of mirrors, I couldn’t help run through vignettes of my memory when I was a kid or should I say the time in sepia for all of us when an entire generation believed in covering the mirror of the dressing table with a sheet or have flap doors on the sides of the portable dressing tables to open and shut the mirror as and when wanted. Were mirrors considered superstitious or magical in their era? Or was it a simple cord cutting between their everyday movement in reality and the world of illusion they could conjure up in their time of leisure perhaps while putting up the bindi or tying the turban.

Mirrors can certainly evoke strong feelings and provoke imagination. No wonder why mirror gazing has become a popular meditative therapy. Simply sit still and look into the mirror. It will either calm the nerves by bringing you into your present or release your inner emotional turmoil in a gush of tears. After all, there is an innate desire in us humans to be seen and mirrors do exactly that. However, they have another Freudian side to it as well when they act as a self portrait that we humans like to project on the outside world. Perhaps,the same psychological fundamental that has addicted the next generation to social media.

Talking about social media, don’t you think dear reader that it is the real magical mirror that should be ritually covered with cloth?! Because logging out has failed to keep people away from it! How we love to tune into our faces; sharing and oversharing our lives in a metaverse that tip toes on a thin rope of self and construct, narratives and counter-narratives. It certainly makes for a far more fancy, complex and interesting mirror that humankind has ever had (in Freudian sense and otherwise).

And I honestly cannot help with the wonderment of what Alice’s experience would be like if she falls through this new looking glass! A dimension yet to be completely explored.

NUGGETS OF LIFE: The Tiffin Saga

The times change and so does the content of these little portable boxes packed with food, but it is interesting to note how its varied roles never change.

Each morning I switch on my daughter’s zeal for school by alluring her to solve a riddle. The riddle of what is inside her tiffin. I would tell her that I have packed a yellow crescent moon with tiny red hearts while combing her brown curls. Well, at times her conjectures are right while other times they are not. There is always a mother’s urge compelling me to reveal the secret and put her to ease but I purse my lips and hold back until she finds it out on her own in the class.

I am sure it is tiffin time she must be looking forward to with all her heart. Not so much because of the food or the hunger pang but the grand revelation – the answer to what’s inside her tiffin. It’s mostly fruit and nuts. She knows that well and proudly tells everyone that she is a ‘fruitarian’ except on one occasion when she went and asked the cook why he does not pack burgers and pastas for her. He politely sent her back to me with ‘ask mama’ statement for an answer. I tried to explain her the ill effects of junk food, yet to keep her heart, I gave her once a week junk food day concession for her tiffin.

But sitting in my room I thought to myself that the peer pressure had already begun at this tender age. I imagined red, blue, pink, round and rectangular, Spiderman and Frozen, tiffin boxes being opened during the food break and burgers, pizzas, muffins and pretzels shimmer through as the lids are removed.

This took me back to my school days when we friends would open our tiffin boxes. Potato patty, spinach parantha, dhokla, parantha with mango pickle, veggie sandwiches, home baked cookies, cold coiled maggi were our generations thing. Although to this day, with a giggle in my head, I do not understand how cold maggi in our tiffin was a happy thing back then! Tiffins were always shared. Each time everyone liked the other person’s parantha or pakora more than their own stuff and a sense of bonhomie prevailed.

The times change and so does the content of these little portable boxes packed with food, but it is interesting to note how its varied roles never change. They are snugglies for kids which give them the warmth of home in their classes. They are a box of rest and pause in a busy man or woman’s day. They are comforting connection to cultural heritage for people working in foreign lands. They are a travelers box of security. A dabbawala’s bread and butter. A laborer’s box of well being. A wife’s box of love. A mother’s prayer. A cook’s art.

Anyway, my role is duly accomplished every day when my daughter comes back home and gives me the answer to the morning riddle. Much to my happiness and peace of mind I would then know that the tiffin box is empty now.

Published in The Post India on 31.10.2022

NUGGETS of LIFE: When the New meets the Old

Art is just used to depict those emotions.

When I recently visited my parent’s house, my mother took out a stack of yellowish worksheets. Some of them were from my kindergarten days, while others were from various other junior classes. My daughter sitting in my lap carefully observed or I would rather say inspected them. She pulled out a particular sheet with men and women dancing and asked, “Mama, who are these colourful uncles and aunties?”

The very next second I was in uncontrollable laughter. I tried my best not to embarrass my daughter but she was spot on with her remarks. Of course, my mother stepped in and chided me for not answering her granddaughter. “These are men and women celebrating a very special day…” my mother explained, “…long time back people were thankful and celebrated all plants and trees when they gave us food to eat.” My mother spoke in very simple terms so that my toddler could understand the message she wanted to convey. Still giggling I chipped in, “Yeah mama BUT who dances like that in the fields on Vaisakhi ever? Why did they even make us draw that in school?”

My mother was in no mood to extol a lecture, so came in a sarcastic gibe “If you haven’t seen doesn’t mean people never celebrated! There is something called Punjabi folklore! Thank God you kids did all this in school otherwise you wouldn’t even know what Vaisakhi is!” (For parents you are always kids even when your hair starts to grey).

This made me curious. Even though I come from a family with agricultural background I haven’t seen Vaisakhi being ever celebrated with bhangra on dhol beats or folk songs being sung by women with saggi phul glittering in the daylight. So I asked my mother if she has ever seen it. “No” came the straight reply. “Art, culture, folklore are immensely symbolic. May be in the bygone era they actually did it but it mainly symbolizes culmination of hard work into a fruitful yield. Even the LokGeet are all about husband and wife bickering around the harvest time because there is so much work to do and they do not get to see each other for days. Eventually the bountiful harvest brings good times making every one forget the bickerings”, she smiled. “Art is just used to depict those emotions”, my mother added.

That day when I went to bed I was wondering what the next generations are going to draw. They are more familiar with ballet dances, moon walking and remix music than bhangra, jindwa or traditional Lok geet. As far as bountiful harvest – with change in climate and dropping water levels, yields are affected now. I do not know what the next generation is going to paint for Vaisakhi but if we continue to ignore, somebody in next generations might certainly paint Edvard Munch’s famous painting ‘The Scream’ again.

Published in THE POST INDIA on 29.4.2022

NUGGETS of LIFE: When I missed mishap by an inch

Did the zebra cross the road? - The Hindu — I could not stop thinking and overthinking about what went wrong.

The incident left me numb for several days after it happened. Each time I would sit down for some peace and quiet, ‘the incident’ would play itself in my head. It happened the day, I drove down to my daughter’s school and parked a little ahead the front gate. As per routine, the nanny takes about five to 10 minutes to go get my daughter from class and accompany her back to the car. However, that day she was out in no time and I could see both of them walking down towards the car in the rear-view mirror. So, I did not shift the gear to parking mode. And that was it! That’s when it all happened…

The nanny was settling down my daughter in the car and I had my face turned towards both of them. The moment they settled in and I turned my face in front while lifting the brakes; a man and his son were passing right in front of my car. It shudders me to think that in that moment I could have rolled over them for my car had promptly drifted forward.

God was kind that day, and the petrified father and his cute son, who had no idea what could just have happened, were saved, because I applied the brake in the nick of time. However, for a few seconds after that, I could only shake my head stupidly. Onlookers may have seen me mumbling sorry from behind my face mask, and perhaps the father could have taken my head shake, as either aggression or simply a “gone-nuts” case.

I politely gestured them to take their time and cross the road. The father thankfully nodded when he passed by and I was still stupidly shaking my head. Anyway, I drove back home at the speed of 20km per hour that day much to the nanny’s irritation. It was a simple human error. It might have happened to many. Yet, I could not stop thinking or over thinking about what went wrong because with due humility I say I am a good driver despite my gender (sarcasm intended).

It was a simple pick and drop your kid from the school task and yet my reflexes were not square enough. I scrolled through doctor Google and came across a recent published study that said that over the years with upgrade of technology, especially the internet, our attention spans have greatly reduced. We have become more absent minded than ever before, losing touch with the subtleties of life that bring the real joy because everything is getting automated. No wonder, our generations have forgotten the art of knitting, the touch and feel of the slumbered brown paper of a Nietzsche book, the thrill of using manual four by fours.

Surely, fancy technologies in our daily lives are altering our behaviour pattern, our instincts and reflexes. Or perhaps, I should stop over thinking altogether because “there no zebra crossing” as my father opined.

Published in Hindustan Times Sunday Read on 28.11.2021

NUGGETS of LIFE: Fleeting moments turn lessons for a lifetime

Some moments turn into lessons for a lifetime

I fell down, got up and dusted my knees for the third time, and smiled back at my father. That was precisely when he took the photo. Holding it in my hand after all these years now brings that smile back again. I was trying to learn to ride the bicycle. In fact, I was learning the biggest lesson of my life: Learning to balance and getting back after a fall.

It’s wonderful how photos capture emotions and feelings, freezing them for life.

As I flipped through the album, my fingers lingered along another picture that has made me stop every single time. A little girl, that’s me, is sitting on a chair with a big pink turban on the head. It was my grandfather’s turban and I was posing like a queen. It makes me laugh hard when I see it as a grown up. But did that little girl understand that symbolism? I bet not. There was a powerful lesson that I was taught gradually as a kid. My grandfather was indeed a progressive man and he would often say: “It doesn’t matter what your gender is, what matters is how you honour your turban.”

Years rolled by, and there came my wedding album. I’m smiling through all the pictures. Even during my ‘madhania’ moment. How is it you didn’t cry during your ‘vidaai‘? Some friends and family were pleasantly surprised. I would answer, “Why? Nobody was dead”!

It depends how you look at it. I was embarking on a new phase in life, and starting it with tears wouldn’t be the last thing that I would’ve done. Those moments captured in photos have left a happy impression on my mind and a lesson reassured. Whenever you begin a journey, career or life, begin it with all your heart; let the fate take care of the rest.

Yet, years later when I became a mother and now when my daughter scrolls my phone gallery, full of her pictures, she hugs and cuddles me seeing them. There are pictures of her dancing, posing, celebrating, and playing pranks. I find the whole joy of the world captured in the photos. They too remind me of a lesson, that pure love transcends you to your happy place – to your best version.

Before I close the album, there are many more blank pages to be filled with love, laughter and happiness. As I look ahead, I’m amazed at how these pictures turn a fleeting moment into a memory for a lifetime that not only provides an immediate connect but also serve as pearls of wisdom gathered as life rolls on.

Published in Hindustan Times on 15.10.2020

NUGGETS of LIFE: Warming up to welcoming the winter

5 health benefits of sun during winter | TheHealthSite.com — Paradoxical it may seem but look at it from another looking glass and it would dawn, that winters have been adding memories to our memory flora since generations.

Robert Frost felt that “An hour of winter day might seem too short, to make it worth life’s while to wake and sport”, while for Matsuo Basho, “When the winter chrysanthemums go, there’s nothing to write about but radishes”. Whether it is the evil queen of frozen Narnia or the terrible icy ordeal of Leonardo DiCaprio in The Revenant – winter has symbolically represented negativity in almost all the literature and movies I have come across. It might be right for the West, but should we be indoctrinating our mind with what is right for them? Are these white winters really so whiny, rigid and bad?

Well, these waves of thought regarding winters were set in motion when on a fine day in December last year, an aunt of mine asked me how I was doing. My spontaneous jolly reply was, “Very well! Enjoying the winter”. My old aunt raised her brows and looked at me rather petrified and affectionately corrected me saying, “Biba sardiya manaai nahi jandia katia jandia ne” (winters are not to be enjoyed but suffered through). Well this time I raised my brows – a little puzzled, a little amazed!

I cannot deny my love and optimism for winters, not that I’m a sadist! Perhaps, my love for this cold season emerges from the realization how warm and welcoming winters are from inside. Paradoxical it may seem but look at it from another looking glass and it would dawn, that winters have been adding memories to our memory flora since generations. Only we have failed to notice!

The happiness of eating oranges under the balmy sun on a winter day or the sense of relief when a hot water bottle is tucked inside the quilt at night – are all little moments that make for a beautiful life, but sadly enough we often neglect it in the larger pursuits of our lives. It is worth noting that one cannot even enjoy the warmth without experiencing the cold.

My happy memories don’t just end with this! The memory flora rather blooms as the chilling winter approaches and I get to relive the vivid pictures of my childhood – of family reunions at our hill estate around bonfires – peanuts, baked potatoes, cakes, the whiff in the air of rums and whiskies! Or the one and only sarso ka saag and makki ki roti back in Punjab! And yet every year there is more to add, because ironically despite the chill – we still decide to save the dates for the wedding of our loved ones in this season.

My winter cautious aunt also got married in winters and so did I. Certainly my winter saga has lot more lovely stories in its fold and as the season approaches, my mind rings Terri Guillemets words: “Welcome, winter. Your late dawns and chilled breath make me lazy, but I love you nonetheless. “

Published in Hindustan Times on 3.11.2017