A Loss Not Lamented

A popular newspaper supplement carried an international study report on “A woman’s 20 most common criticisms about herself”. I was hardly surprised to see “I am too fat/overweight topping the list. It was something that is of great concern to me, and I often worried about the  excess flab that I carry around.

At 51 your weight determines the state of your mind and body. Needless to say that I was fat, and have been so for many years.  Motherhood was a turning point in my life. They say a child gives birth to a mother and in my case a ‘fat mother’.

Post my first delivery I was huge; I jumped a couple of dress sizes. I wasn’t too perturbed and hoped to get back in shape by Christmas. (I had delivered in September) Aha! No such Christmas present for me. I was heartbroken. I was never going to get back into my old clothes. Nevertheless I decided to work on the flab. I tried a variety of diets, but was always cautioned by the elders to go easy on the diets. New mums must feed themselves and their precious bundles of joy well.

Two years later, I am a mum the second time around.  Not quite rid of the first post-pregnancy weight gain, I now had to contend with a few more kilos staring me in the face.  The prospect of losing weight seemed as remote to  me as landing on Mars. It was back to diet and exercise and extensive research on how to be rid of post- pregnancy flab. All those new mums in fashion catalogues looking so trim and toned. Here was a mummy, but hardly yummy!

The intervening years have seen me vacillating between despair and delight over my fluctuating weight. The sun shone brightly, the birds sang merrily and all was well with the world on the day the needle pointed to what I wanted to see. On other days I plunged into the depths of despair, worrying and obsessing. I was also committing the cardinal sin of diet and weight loss – eating kiddy leftovers. And what did you say, added up to a waist basket?

The child-bearing years had by now long gone. The sons had grown, but as somebody said, the body and fat had become good friends. I plodded on. Between envying the mums with a – figure – to – die – for, I exercised, tried to eat healthily, gave myself pep talks and tried very hard to ignore sweets.

Then one fine day, I decided to seek professional help – a combination of diet and pills. It worked like magic and although I was warned of the pitfalls of pills, I jumped right in. a whole new me was evolving – curves in the right places, a new pair of jeans, a brand new dress with brand new measurements to wear at Christmas and I was on cloud nine. Oh! Could it get any better? I even attended a school reunion flaunting those curves, looking down with disdain at my more than pleasantly plump classmates and feeling mighty pleased with myself.

It is Christmas and I wanted to reward myself. I had worked hard. What possible harm could some items of very delectable confectionery do? I couldn’t be more wrong!

All my disdain for my overweight classmates flew right out of the window as I scoured the internet, books and magazines for tips and tricks on how to recover those lost measurements. If one tip was telling me to eat something, the other said to ban the item from your life. What misery! Anyway, I did manage to whittle my waistline a little. The weighing scales on rare occasions tilted in my favour, but more often than not loved to tell me the ugly truth.

Then two years ago, an accident left me housebound for a couple of months. Two months later, when I went out, I could hardly step into my favourite pair of jeans. Friends were blunt – “what the hell has happened to you?”All chubby cheeks and triple chins!

It was back to diet and exercise. I read and reread all those success stories more determined after each reading, but of course Rome was not built in a day. I rose each day determined to live healthy, think healthy and eat healthily. Promises are meant to be broken, and made again and the circle of life continues.

Shilpa Shetty’s The Great Indian Diet sits on my bookshelf. I have registered with an online weight loss programme, wherein I communicate with my coach on Whatsapp, and am sent reminders about my water intake etc. I feel better,clothes fit better.  Determination and moderation is the key. Progress is slow. However, slow and steady wins the race and this is one race that I am determined to win.

In God’s Own Country

God’s own country, Kerala leaves you spell bound. This tiny state   in the southwest of India, lodged between the Arabian sea on the west and the Western Ghats on the east is amazingly beautiful. Kerala has been named after ‘Kera’ or the coconut palm which is so inherent of its landscape and economy.  The land has been blessed with a long coastline and numerous beaches and is a vacation hotspot. Kerala is a happy harmony of red, green, yellow and blue.

 Historic monuments, some magnificent fauna and flora, glorious sunshine, miles of endless sea and stretches of yellow sand, is what makes kerala a perfect holiday package. I was fortunate to spend my last summer vacation in kerala. Summer may not be the best time to visit Kerala but some last minute plans led us to holiday in this awesome land.

From the moment we stepped down from the plane, it was a series of aahs and oohs as we soaked in the breathtaking beauty of the land of coconut palms and cashewnuts.Visiting five different places we stay at a Club Mahindra resort at four out of five places. The ambience in each resort matched the landscape of the land.

Kochi is a city steeped in history. The city essentially comprises a group of islands, namely Willingdon island, Fort kochi, Mattencherry and a few others.The Arab, Dutch,Portguese influences are all very palpable in Kochi.The Saint Francis Church, built in 1503, happens to be the oldest European church and also the burial site of Vasco da Gama , whose remains were later moved to Lisbon, Portugal. His tombstone in the church is quite a tourist attraction.

Mattencherry in Kochi is a neighbourhood about nine kilometers away from Ernakulam district and a popular tourist destination. Populated by various communities and cultures, Jew town is the historical part of Mattencherry. It was here that the ancient Jews began trading. Numerous versions abound regarding the existence of the Jews in Kerala. Legend has it that there were once thousands of Jews in Kerala but today their numbers have dwindled to not more than sixty.As per some records dating back to the 17^th century written in Hebrew, the first Jews sailed to South India on the ships of king Solomon. Other records tell of the Jews coming to India during the Babylonian exile. Some records say that they fled to Malabar after the destruction of the second Temple. Most of these stories centre around an ancient trading centre called Cranganore, north of Cochin. In the early sixteeneth century there was a mass exodus of Jewish refugees from the Spanish and Portuguese invasions.  Stroll down the lanes and bylanes of Jew town now flanked by antique showrooms, drink in the old world charm and rejuvenate mind and body. The Jew palace and Jew synagogue are important landmarks.

True to my sun sign, I am a waterbaby.The golden sands and mighty ocean at Cherai left me feeling like a cat who got the cream.

Willingdon Island is a man-made island named after Lord Willingdon, a former British Viceroy to India. The islands boast the best hotels in the city of Kochi and serves as the Port trust headquarters of the Southern naval command, Cochin Harbour.

You can’t leave Kerala without experiencing its wildlife. The Periyar Tiger Reserve is spread across the dense Evergreen deciduous forests and grasslands of Thekkady and is home to a number of wild animals like the elephant, tiger deer, etc.Sighting the animals as they come to drink from the artificial lake across the  Periyar river is an unimaniginably exciting experience. The sightings can be done from a boat cruise, trek, or a jeep safari. Sometimes it is your lucky boat cruise and sometimes it is not. We were fortunate enough to spot a few deer quenching their thirst. The early morning hours and late afternoon are the best times to go on these expeditions as it is then that the animals generally make an appearance. The watch towers in the forest enable tourists to watch jungle life close at hand.

It is believed that kerala’s spice connection is about 3000 years old. History tells us that travelers from various countries flocked to Kerala to partake of its myriad spices. Cloves, cardamom, mace, nutmeg, ginger and turmeric all grow in abundance.Vasco da Gama too ventured into India to avail of his slice of spice. Spice gardens and plantations abound all over Kerala. Our tour of one such spice garden in Thekkady saw us breathing in the heavenly fragrances of myriad spice plants growing all around us. Besides, spices there were a number of fruits and vegetables too. Some exotic, some commonplace. Spice plantations may also offer accommodation or a ‘homestay’on the plantation where guests savour traditional home cooked Keralite delicacies and simply enjoy the wonder and beauty of nature.

Are you a tea drinker? Then make your way to Munnar.Lose yourself in the winding lanes, extensive tea plantations, rolling hills, waterfalls and babbling brooks. The winding roads did not go down too well with me.(motion sickness victims , carry your stock of tabs along!)The very picturesque hill station is situated at the confluence of three rivers and was once the summer resort of the erstwhile British government in South India. In fact, the word Munnar means ‘three rivers.’Munnar’s breathtaking beauty makes it a popular holiday resort. Besides some very fascinating fauna and flora, the hill station boasts of having the highest peak in South India – Annamudi at 2,695metres is a trekker’s delight.

The Eravikulam National Park is home to a plethora of varied animals, birds and butterflies and offers a stunning view of the tea plantations and hills. The main attraction in the park is an endangered species of the mountain goat called Nilgri Tahr. The hills of Munnar take on a bluish tinge every 12 years when the Neelakuringi flowers. The next flowering will be in 2018.

The Tata Tea Museum in Munnar located in the Nallathani estate tells the story of the evolution of tea plantations in the hill station through old machinery, photographs and curios. The CTC manufacturing unit showcases the old method of tea production, while you savour a variety of flavours in the tea tasting unit.Furniture from the colonial era which includes wooden chairs, tables, iron ovens and some office furniture used on the tea estate are displayed at the museum.

View the magnificent valley from the Mattupatty dam, Devikulam, Kundala lake and the Kolukkumalai lake. Scream your loudest at Echo point, 15 kms away from Munnar and wait a moment!

The waters beckoned once more and to Ashtamudi in Kollam we proceeded. The Ashtamudi lake is a large palm-shaped eight-armed water body and a popular tourist attraction. Also known as the gateway to the backwaters, Ashtamudi means eight coned. The 16km long lake empties itself into the Arabian sea through the Neendakara estuary. The coconut groves and palm trees along the shores of the lake simply enhance the splendor of the landscape. The backwaters comprise a network of waterways, inlets from the sea, estuatries, lakes and natural canals connecting coastal towns. The waters are teeming with aquatic life and cruising the backwaters could be the best thing that could happen to you in Kerala.

At Club Mahindra we stayed in one of the numerous wooden floating cottages. The cottages overlook the placid lake waters. Our fishing expedition from the balcony of the cottage provided for much excitement. The first-time fishermen – offspring and father – went hook  line and sinker to fish( all provided by the resort).Undoubtedly their patience was rewarded sometimes with a single fish sometimes with a couple. ‘Happiness is…getting lucky on your very first fishing expedition.’ The resort might even cook the fish for you!

Gazing at the tranquil waters is unadulterated rejuvenation for body, mind and soul. The resort arranged for an hour long houseboat cruise which to me was the best part of the holiday. The District Tourism Promotion Council and other private and government organizations arrange for boat rides as well as houseboat cruises. On the eight-hour long cruise between Kollam and Allappuza, you discover the network of waterways that is so unique to Kerala.Some houseboats are equipped with a fully  furnished kitchen, bedrooms and bathrooms. You could spend a night on the boat and be treated to a typical Keralite meal and chill out with some beer. Yummy, yum, yum!

When in Kerala, tuck into the ultimate Keralite cuisine. From Appams to Avial it just gets better and better.

Carry away a little of Kerala with you. Go home with loads of spices, cashewnuts, tea, coffee, handicrafts and coconut products. Massage your woes away with an energizing Ayurvedic massage available at most resorts. There is so much to discover, to experience, put Kerala on your bucket list.

The Bogeyman

He's a bogeyman

He's loved and adored

By the mathematician and  the nerd.

Not me.

I shiver and quiver

At the mention of his name

He's also caused me

To hang my head in shame. 

Mother tells me to make friends with him

But that is just so terrible a thing

I'm never able to figure him out.

Numbers, equations and problems

Give me a headache

That no Aspirin or Crocin can take away

I wish I could be rid of him

run away to a land

Where he does not exist

Then how happy I'd be

Living life bogeyman free.

I am Fifty and Fabulous

I hit fifty in July last year. I am now a golden girl with streaks of silver in her hair and a few pounds heavier everywhere.

At fifty you enter a whole new phase in life. You discover yourself. You are more cautious about your diet and are advised to have regular medical checkups, exercise is now a way of life and you are  expected to wear ‘age  appropriate’ clothes. Fashion at 50 takes on a whole new meaning and who says you can’t be fifty and fashionable?

Iconic French designer Coco Chanel rightly says, “You can be gorgeous at 20, charming at 40 and irresistible for the rest of your life.”

Oh yes! At fifty what should my style statement be?  How should I dress, what should I wear? A wardrobe full of clothes but nothing to wear is every woman’s nightmare and with age may turn to the queen of all nightmares.

I may be fifty, but I do not have to lose myself in baggy, ill- fitting, dowdy garments. I do not have to give up being fashionable altogether; keeping in mind a few factors I have to  find the right colours and clothes.  I must develop my own unique style, I must be comfortable in what I wear and look elegant.   Since body parts are not quite what they used to be I will not blindly follow trends, but wear clothes that flatter my form and figure.

I remind myself that the time has come to choose softer and good quality fabrics. Tailored and structured garments will be more my cup of tea. Loud is out. Bling is taboo. I may not have gained an inch around anywhere but I just cannot afford to wear clothes that I wore as a twenty-year-old because I am not forever 21.Knee length hemlines, age-appropriate jeans and modest necklines will give me that grace and charm befitting my age.

 ‘If you ask me personally, I like to dress young the way I feel but I don’t go overboard with frills and the girlie stuff”, says a 65 –year-old mother of four. “A bit of dignity befitting my greying temples doesn’t go amiss. I love bright colours and avoid too much brown and grey.”

My teenage sons sport hair longer than mine and berate me every time I get a haircut. How long should I wear my hair? A difficult decision to make at the halfway mark!  I guess all I have to do is place my tresses in the hands of a quality professional stylist… and keep my fingers crossed. Bangs, layers, angles, highlights, and lowlights done correctly will soften features and draw attention away from wrinkles and lines.

I realize that changes are inevitable with age and those strands of grey are just nature taking its course. Grey doesn’t confer senior citizen status on me. I haven’t found cause as yet to reach out for that bottle of colour. (I just might someday.) Presently I can live with my silvery highlights.

If I am to don those layers of greasepaint, I remember to keep it minimal, soft and subtle. I try and follow a skin care regime that suits my skin. Personally, I prefer the homemade lotions, potions and packs. They are a lot more effective than the ready-made stuff.

 Have fun accessorizing. The plethora of accessories in the market leave me spoilt for choice. I have been advised to keep clothing simple and hence try and adhere to a few guidelines in the accessory department:

·    Stay away from the small and unnoticeable. Develop the art of Mix&Match to get that stylish look.

·    Get handbag savvy. Number one on the accessory list, the handbag can make or break your look. Get a few handbags in different shapes, sizes and colours that can be matched to outfits and occasions.

·    Banish the stilettos and platforms. Wear open-toed sandals, go in for a pedicure now and then, paint your toe nails and you are feet pretty.

·    Do not ditch the glasses. They add character to your face. While shopping for the latest frames, buy one that suits your face. Glam up with the glares!

·    You don’t have to adorn yourself with the most expensive jewels to look good. Imitation jewellery works equally well. Necklaces, chains, pendants, bangles, bracelets, beads and earrings are all yours for the taking. Easy on the eye and inexpensive, a piece of imitation jewellery gives life to the plainest of outfits. Contrast colour of jewellery to colour of outfit so as to blend.

·    Scarves, stoles, shawls and belts also figure prominently in the fashion bible. Accentuate your trim waistline with a belt. Throw that scarf and stole over your shoulder to give you that hot and happening look!

·    Keep accessories to a minimum if the  outfit is colourful. Do not over accessorize, or you are going to look like an overgrown teenager.

·    Smile!

A friend sums it all up when she says, “At the back of my head I know I am 50+ and soon my skin,
nerves and bones may just let me down, so minimal make is the way for it to ring the bell that
soon, makeup should fade away as I approach 60, as this will not hide my age or my skin.
In a line, dress modestly, simple yet stylishly, wear confidence on your face, let the bounce
in your walk say that you are in love with life and have a kind word for all. 50+ is the age
to smile at the memories of the past and await the future with the eagerness of a child
waiting to open the present Santa just slipped down the chimney on a cold wintry night.”

Retired But not Tired

My mother-in-law is a feisty 82. She worked hard to raise her four sons. Once she retired from the teaching profession she assisted one son in his bean bag business. Then at 75 she did a course in professional baking and that was followed by an art class. For all practical purposes she is a senior citizen but to her age is just a number. A keen yoga enthusiast, she bakes a mean fruit cake and is quite adept at splashing colour on a canvas besides playing chef and homemaker. She is just one among the countless retired senior citizens who now in their sunset years develop new interests and strive to live life to the fullest.

"You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream,"said C. S. Lewis writer of the universally acclaimed Narnia Chronicles.

Our seniors have fulfilled roles and obligations, discharged their duties and responsibilities and now feel the need of simply putting their feet up and focusing on themselves. Yet there are those who, between babysitting their grandchildren, doctor's appointments and taking care of their own homes find the time to pursue their hobbies. Health impediments will restrict activities but they march on.

Living alone has its pros and cons. Seniors live alone by choice or circumstance. When children are scattered across the country or globe, their parents will have no choice but to live all alone and if health does not permit then they will generally be placed in a 'home for the aged' or a health care facility. Some children, however, choose to take care of ailing parents or even senior uncles and aunts.

Living alone will not negatively impact their lives, if our elders choose to be socially active and gainfully occupied. A good network of friends is the best panacea to any sort of isolation or loneliness. If the right friends are not available, then joining a senior citizens club or a support group would help.

Seniors may choose to live alone (as far as they can help it) so as not to infringe on the time and space of their loved ones. It works well for both sides. Both sides visit one another; spend time with each other and nobody feels too cramped.

A certain senior is in the process of changing residence. Health does not permit her to ascend and descend three flights of stairs any longer(the building has no elevator) and so she will move to a new home which is on a lower floor, in a building with an elevator and just quarter of an hour away from her son's home.

"When I was young I used to hope that I wake up looking beautiful, these days I just hope I wake up." says a Facebook post.

As twilight sets in, and the can'ts slowly edge out the cans, it is for us, the younger generation to urge our dear golden - oldies on, to encourage, to make them feel loved and wanted and to lift their sometimes drooping spirits.

Aging is inevitable but as Charles Schultz of Peanuts fame once humorously said, "Just remember once you are over the hill, you pick up speed."

The twilight generation certainly do not want to termed as Technophobic, says a very recent newspaper report. Be it Face book, playing games or WhatsApping, they want to be in the groove. Technology allows them to be constantly connected to their loved ones. Companies are even designing senior friendly smart phones with large key board and fonts and health apps that enable them to track sugar and blood pressure. Quite a few are computer savvy too.

Their values, principles and oodles of wisdom have seen us through many a difficult situation. In days of yore instead of flying off to exotic locales, children looked forward to that annual vacation with the grandparents.

When in their prime our golden-oldies have sacrificed aplenty to allow the next generation to live more comfortably. We must respect them and treat them with care and concern just as we would treat our children. Old age, they say is a second childhood.

Mama's Valentines.

Mama's little hearts began to beat within two years of each other. Two little boys, as different as chalk from cheese, ironically share the same date of birth. Needless to say they turned Mama's world upside down.

She changed not just dress sizes, but her entire way of dressing. The little black dress made way for the more comfortable, salwar kameezes. Easier to run behind children! She promised herself she would get back into shape one day. Mama stayed awake devouring not her favourite author, but changing nappies and rocking babies to sleep. Telephone conversations were punctuated with a "Hold on" while she attended to a piercing scream or ended abruptly, with "I will call you back" or "Talk to you later". She watched with bated breath and relief as the loves of her life said their first words and took their first shaky steps. Running noses, spotty skin, trips to the doctor, she learned to take it all in her stride, to take one day at a time.

She played peacemaker during their, hair-pulling and screaming matches. They emptied drawers and gave the walls a whole new look, fed their bodies, clothes and furniture at meal times, yet when they smiled, she was putty in their hands, her cares and woes forgotten. She played with them, cuddled and hugged them, tried to remember that a child needs hugs more than he needs things, she read to them, their favourite fairy tales, over and over again till they were telling her what came next. But there were also times when she was screaming louder than the two of them put together. (Not a good habit, she learned later.) Some days they drove her bonkers, and on other days, her heart simply swelled with pride. When they got interested in watching television, she cautioned them that too much of T.V. would ruin them. There were of course fireworks. 

Time flew and soon she could hear the school bell ringing in her ears. How would they cope? Would they mix? There were a few hiccups initially, but gradually they settled down. Hiccups will always be there.

Now at 26 and 24 she still worries about them as they carve niches for themselves in the big bad world. A mother will always worry but que sera sera...

#WriteAPageADay

TRAIN OF THOUGHT ON A MUMBAI LOCAL.

The quintessential Mumbai local is not for the faint-hearted but is the cheapest and fastest means of transport in the linear city. The Mumbai suburban railway comprises a network of trains referred to as local trains. The local trains serve almost 7.5 million commuters daily. The network is an extension of the railway system built by the British in India and is the oldest in Asia.

Overcrowded and claustrophobic the Mumbai commuter stalks life and limb when he boards a coach of the Mumbai local. Yet he must take a particular train to work every single working day. He scrambles jostles, cusses and fusses as he strives to find a seat. In spite of trains running at intervals of 3 minutes the crush and rush at peak hours is simply unimaginable and bust be seen and experienced!(put it on your bucket list, if you as yet  have not  experienced the bitter-sweet ride on a local).Very often your day is doomed if you miss your ‘regular’- A fast or slow to  your destination. Again, you might experience times when you don’t have to move to exit or enter the train; you are simply pushed in and out. The first train starts at approximately 4.00 hrs and the last train to anywhere is at 1.30 am.

I commuted to and from work on the Mumbai local many moons ago.  I slipped into the ladies’ coach in the early hours of the morning then frantically looked around for a window seat or parked myself on the nearest available seat. I also had to change trains but commuting in the early hours in the morning I escaped the crush and rush. I have fond memories of shopping trips with mum to Marine Lines and Crawford market, commuting by the local.

 As for me, at fifty plus I enjoy the occasional ride and like most women continue take pleasure in ‘local –train’ retail therapy.It also happens to be the fastest means of commute, given the merciless traffic jams that the hapless commuter is subject to when travelling by road. 

The trains today, are undoubtedly sleeker and prettier in mauve and white as against the previous yellow and maroon but Mumbai is bursting at the seams. Commuters tumble out and stumble in as the train halts at each station. Seats are occupied in the blink of an eye and on a bad day you may find yourself standing for the entire journey.

Entering and exiting the ladies’ compartment is no better but the compartment is a ‘people and place watcher’s’ delight. Women will exit each lady’s coach while another group impatiently prepares to enter. Tucking in her saree palao, gathering their children close to them, tightening their holds on their bags and generally preparing mentally and physically to board or disembark, the ladies are ready. The train halts for two minutes at each station. Within that time, ladies as everybody else must exit and enter the coach. You might trip over a hot- headed fisherwoman who has no qualms about parking herself at the entrance of the compartment, but you don’t want to mess with her. The lucky ones get the coveted window seat. Those of more generous proportions while asserting their right to a seat will try to squeeze in attracting some killer looks and caustic remarks. Three can comfortably occupy the long wooden seat, the fourth must sit a tad uncomfortably but then ‘beggars can’t be choosers.’ A common query- cum- request is, “where are you getting off? Please keep the seat for me.”

Harried housewives, giddy collegians, nerds, mothers with young children, a few senior citizens, the single lady, a new bride all must catch the local to their respective destinations. While some are the stern-faced the ‘mind your own business’ type, others will deign to exchange a smile with you. You can safely tell your life story to the lady sitting next to you, with never a chance of bumping into each other again. The collegians are talking a dime to a dozen, while the nerd prefers the text book. The office-goer tidies herself up and the harried housewife takes a nap. The senior citizen opens a prayer book, the new bride takes a call on her cell phone.

Very recently the railway authorities have experiment with closed door coaches in the first class ladies coaches and the reactions have been mixed. Speaking to the Free Press Journal, Sudhita Chodankar, a commuter from Borivali, said: “Despite just four people being present in the compartment, it felt stuffy and dimly lit... Thought in terms of security, closed doors seem to be a safer option for females, especially in the night.” 

The skeptics felt that the concept would not work, given the Mumbaikars’ penchant for standing at the exit or hanging from the door.

You grow up with childhood friends, school friends and college friends then forge office friendships. If you are a Mumbaikar you will have made another class of friends – ‘train friends.’ So very often train friendships are converted to ‘best friends forever friendships.’ Train friends celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, promotions and life in general.

When hungry on a Mumbai local, don’t worry! Vendors selling bhel, chiki, samosas and an entire array of snacks are constantly breezing in and out. Stock your refrigerator with vegetables and fruits available on the train. Many a working wife or mother may get down to cleaning the vegetables there and then. Stationery, handkerchiefs, toys, fashion jewellery, and a host of cosmetics which include lipsticks, nail paint, eye makeup are yours for the taking.

 

Gentlemen generally scan the newspaper, catch up on lost sleep, get together for a game of cards, discuss films, politics or cricket or simply stare out of the window, watching the world go by. The odd vendor may try his luck.

The Dabbawallah (lunchbox carrier) collects hot homemade food packed in dabbas  from residences of working people and through some amazing networking and coding delivers the lunch boxes to the office goer. The Mumbai local is his means of transport. How dabbawallahs coordinate and deliver the food.

The city lifeline is a great leveller. Religion, caste, creed, social status have no place  as you are jammed together like a pack of sardines, with a common goal of  each reaching  your destination. The first class compartments are a shade less crowded than the second class coaches but all the same chock-a-block. It is not unusual to see dare devils travelling on the roof tops, footboards or on connecting bumpers in between bogies all for the lack of space. 

Commuting by the locals is nothing but the ‘survival of the fittest,’ as the newcomer will learn. His argumentative skills are also honed every now and then and in no time he is transformed into a true Mumbaikar. Undoubtedly the heartbeat of the city would be stilled without the quintessential Mumbai local.

Fast forward to 2019. There's been an addition to the local train family. I find myself stepping into the newly inducted air conditioned local train. Orderly queues mark your entry, no vendors and basically a more comfortable commute. 

Welcome Metro - Taking commute to another level. 

Seventy Times Seven

1.

A maid is an integral part of any self-respecting Indian household. There are the full-time maids who reside with the family and there are the ‘top-women’ or part time maids who flounce in and out of our house at what we term as Indian stretchable time. The top women generally do the dishes, mop the floor and wash utensils at a speed that may even defy the speed of lightning. Yes, you can’t live with them and you can’t live without them.
My pet peeve is that my maid neglects to inform me of her impending absence. She owns a cell phone; I own a cell phone. I have requested her to at least give me a missed call. I can return the call and hear her a familiar,”I will not come to work today.” So after a lot of ranting and raving she deigns to agree to give me that missed call. I must add that still the missed call is as often missed as she is from work.
One Thursday, as the clock ticks on,on my maid my eyes don’t set upon. Thursday gives way to Friday and then Saturday it is. No sign whatsoever. Not a peep. I find the missing lady pottering around the house like business as usual when I return home after Sunday morning mass. 
“How can you?” I yell. “How can you do this to me? Three whole days have passed and not a whisper.” She mutters something about an injured foot. “You should have at least given me that missed call,” I say. ”My phone is not working,” she responds. “Why don’t you use your husband’s phone?” I say. ”The numbers are all saved in my phone”. I turn away exasperated, vowing a major pay cut.
An uneasy calm descends for the next few days until she breaks the ice with small talk which eventually leads to a heart-to-heart on her son’s impending board exams and, like any other mother, I find that she too experiences doubts and fears. Déjà vu. Didn’t I spend a few sleepless nights a year ago, storming heaven…? My heart goes out to her. The boy has to walk a long way every night to fetch water for his family’s daily needs. The whole exercise takes him about an hour. His father, not quite fit after an illness, is of little or no help. His siblings now share the unenviable task. 

A few days into the exams, I receive a frantic call from her. “My son has misplaced his hall ticket.” ”Doesn’t he have a xerox? Send him with it,” I shout back. Luckily he is allowed to answer the paper on the basis of the xerox copy. The next day she is missing again. I call her, her daughter picks up.Mummmy has gone to school to look into the matter of the missing hall ticket.” “Will she come to work? I ask.“I don’t know… She will not come.” the reply.”Why did she not inform me”? Silence at the other end. In the background a teetering pile of dishes seem to mock my helplessness. I am enraged because yet again she has failed to turn up or inform me of her absence. How can I take her to task in such a situation? The hall ticket has been carelessly left behind by the boy in the school centre and carefully kept by a peon who hands it over to mother and son the next day.
I am one confused “Aunty”. I shut tight both my eyes to the quality of her work. Constantly reprimanding her would leave me with no choice but to take on her tasks myself. I am always threatening her with dire consequences like a replacement or major pay cuts. On payday my heart of stone turns to putty and I find myself handing her a nice fat pay packet. I can rant and rave and threaten all I want but a few missed calls will always be missing and my stony heart will always magically turn to one of gold.
And we’re back to square one.