The Mosquito Net ( aka machhar dani aka moshari )

I am sure a lot of you already know what a mosquito net is and for those who dont know, let me tell you it is the most hideous piece of bedding I have known.It is a net which can be hanged over the bed to cover the bed from all sides, it is capable of giving you a good protection from the menace of mosquitoes. In a tropical country the net is definitely an important part of your bedding in case you cannot depend too much on mosquito repellents.

My hatred for the mosquito net is as strong as my father's obsession with it. My father being a stickler for discipline that he is always made sure that I had hanged the net over my bed before I went to sleep every night.This is one exercise I just hated doing and there were multiple reasons for my hate

•  unfolding the huge mosquito net itself was the worst thing to do and the feeling of its coarse material against my skin was just horrible
•  hanging the mosquito net over my bed every night was no less than climbing mount Everest for me, it required a perfect combination of timing and agility. If you dont have these two in perfect combination you will never be able to hang a net in minimum number of attempts. Given the geography of my bedroom this was not an easy task to achieve.
• after managing to hang the net from four corners, there was more to achieve, one had to successfully tuck the net under the mattress all around and this movement from being outside the net to going in and tucking the net needed to be really swift, taking into account the fact that you could not afford to let mosquitoes enter inside the net in that fleeting moment that you yourself were getting in.

Well now with the net all hanged successfully you would think that finally you had the chance to drift slowly into your dreams. But wait, that drifting slowly towards my dreams never happened inside a net, I was always overtaken by this sense of extreme suffocation inside a net, the air from the ceiling fan was barely able to touch my body. Believe me dreams were never sweet inside the net.

But my father always made sure that I had hanged the net before I went to bed, he knew that I would try to avoid it and act too sleepy so he started reminding me from the dinner table itself."Mamon, showar aage moshari tangiye niyo " ( Mamon, put the net on before you go to sleep ). There was no escaping this dictom even for a single day.On days I would even try to outsource this job,beg my mother and my brother to do it for me but no one came to my rescue, well the rule in my home was always do your work yourself.

But once inside the net, you were safe from mosquito bites, no matter how many of them buzzed outside, no matter how thirsty they were for your blood, you could not be harmed when inside the net. Even though I have despised the net so much I must admit that I have realized that my father's love is also like a mosquito net, from inside it may feel suffocating, his rules, his code of conduct, his attention to detail, all felt a little overwhelming from a close distance but it were the very same things that have always protected me from the outside danger.

Today I am looking at the act of hanging my own net always and getting inside it from my father's point of view, it is similar to his more important lessons that he taught me , to be able to make my own safety net always in life, to be prepared to face the difficult situations of life. On this Father's Day no amount of gratitude will be enough to thank my father to have taught me something so special in such a simple way.

P.S : Dont forget to hang the mosquito net tonite :)

The Music Maker - Part 2

I was on the terrace of my mamabari (maternal uncle's home) when Deedun (my grandmother ) called me from downstairs, "Mamoni, come down quickly, your mother is waiting for you on the phone". The year was 1996, mobile phones had not yet revolutionized our communication process in India, we had the good old land line phones, which did not have the silent mode, when they rang, your neighbors till next three doors knew that somebody was calling you. I ran down the stairs, two at a time to take the call, "Mamon, Baba has got your GUITAR from the store today, when are you coming home? " I heard my mother say from the other end.

That same evening I was back in my home ( my mamabari is also in Jamshedpur) and for the first time when I laid my eyes on my HOBBNER ( a guitar brand ) I fell in love, there it was brand new, sleek  and shiny. It was as if for that moment I had completely forgotten the PIANO of my dreams, as if the Piano never existed. The guitar had completely shut the Piano out of my mind, like when you saw this really cute boy in school and you completely forgot about your crush on a movie star. And when I gently took it into my arms and strum the strings for the first time, our affair had already begun. The Guitar was now the center of my universe.

My cousin came down to meet me the next day, " Heard that you are on your way to become a guitarist ", he mocked me as always and I offcourse paid no attention. "Are you sure you will be able to hold it because you are only a few inches taller than the guitar ", he mocked again. I smiled sarcastically at him because he didnt know that true love can overcome any physical incompatibility and I had truly fallen in love with my Hobbner.

My guitar classes began very soon, every wednesday and saturday of the week , all my time at home was spent practicing. Now when I think of it, I realize how much of a pain I have been to my family and neighbors  when I started playing initially. I soon began playing pretty good and impressed my music teacher, since I learned classical music, the first raag that I learnt was Wilawal and the first raag that I played for an exam was Kafi and so many raags from then on but the one that I liked to play best was raag Desh ( to be played in the morning ), simply mesmerizing, from the first time I played it till today Desh has been my favorite raag.

Time really flies, before I knew I had played my guitar for three years, I was no longer a torture to my family, even my cousins started liking to hear me play. In the meantime I had performed in many functions, won some prizes also ( they are still there in my home ). I was slowly becoming more and more involved in my music, I was playing with students who were much older to me, some had even got their degree in music. I was really happy.

They say that love and marriage are not always the same thing, you may love someone with all your heart, with everything you have and yet you may not be able to marry them , maybe they are rite , maybe they are not, who knows.It was the year 2000 ( yes I know the year of Y2K, that scared the hell out of people ), but it was not Y2K that scared the hell out of me, it was my 10th board exam which I was to give in 2001 and for that I was expected to study diligently throughout the year.

The do or die question stood in front of me, studies or music? A good score in the board exam has its own importance and advantages, specially when it comes to getting admitted to University. I was in the worst dilemma of my teenage life...what to do? The music lessons were also becoming more intense, they demanded undivided attention, lot of effort and dedication, it was no longer playing just for fun, it was much more serious business now. My teenage head won over my teenage heart and my beutiful guitar, the first love of my life was packed into its box to be kept temporarily on top of the Godrej almirah in my study room.

Just as lovers console each other that their separation is short- lived, I promised my guitar that our separation was only momentary, we would be together again very soon, making beautiful music which we had always done.    (..... to be continued in final concluding part )

The Music Maker - Part 1

The hall burst out into applause as I finished hitting the last notes on my piano, the echo of the applause kept reverberating inside for some time. It had been an awesome performance and the reaction of the audience was giving proof to that. This was a dream come true for me , an auditorium full of audience applauding after my piano recital, what a day, one that I had waited for a long time". Mamon wake up quickly or you will miss your school bus and you will then have to run after it till the next stop." My mother's voice doubled up as an alarm clock for me,my dream was broken and I was back into reality, Where was my piano? Where was the auditorium? And where was the audience?

I started getting out of bed slowly, all the time thinking to myself why did I always have the same dream, the same grand piano, the same auditorium and the same loud echo of the audience applauding. Was it a mechanism my sub-conscious had employed to make me aware that I now wanted to be the owner of a Grand Piano. I had to tell this to my mother, but wait what would I tell? That I wanted to play a piano? The one that I saw in my dreams was so big, it would never fit into our living room...hmmm...wait a second....maybe if I could convince my mother to move all the furniture out of the living room, then we could fit a big piano. The problem now was how to approach my mother to buy me a piano....yes I knew what I would do....I would ask it as a birthday gift....smart isnt it.

I started dragging my feet towards the kitchen, my mother was standing with her back towards me, busy packing our lunch boxes. "Maa, I was thinking.....", I started, "there is no time to think now, hurry up and take the shower and get into your school dress, never seen a lazy bone like you ", replied my mother before I could complete. "Maa, listen please, I have been thinking and I wanted to tell you, I want a GUITAR for my birthday " ( WHAT?? I had blurted out a GUITAR instead of a PIANO, what was my sub-conscious doing? replacing a PIANO with a GUITAR).

"Get ready for school quickly and we will discuss more about this in the evening " was my mother's reply, the whole day at school I could not concentrate on anything , my mind kept jumping between PIANO and GUITAR, I could not decide. Well a guitar seemed more practical,I could carry it easily, I knew there was a music school teaching guitar near my home, and it would not need any furniture to be moved. But what about my dream ? Only time will tell :)

My mother was waiting for me at the door of our home when I came back from school in the evening. "Mamon, your Baba and I have decided that you can have a guitar for your birthday but you will have to promise that you will learn to play it till the end, you will not discontinue your guitar classes like you discontinued your classical dance class ".  I was thrilled,I am going to have my own musical instrument, I could not believe. "Maa, thank you so much, I promise I will learn till the end, I will play it beautifully you will see, I promise I will ". I had made the promise to my mother that day....but did I keep my promise....did I finish all my music classes?     (...... to be continued )

                                                                                                       

At the dining table

"Mamon, have you become deaf?" My mom's voice jolted me up at my study table from whatever I was thinking that Sunday afternoon. "Why what happened, I am not deaf, even though I should have become one by this time" , I replied back." I have called you three times to come to the dining table for lunch, how many more times should I call you?". " I have a lot of work to do and what is that you are so engrossed in reading? I am sure it is not your school book, must be one of the Alistair McLean thrillers you always read."

" No Ma really I was studying for school, not a story book thats why I didnt hear you call me, anyways I am ready for lunch where is Tinku? Is he still in the shower? One day he will beat all the girls in taking a shower." I could hear my brother singing in the shower. God how could a boy take so much time in the shower. I sat down in my chair, Baba was already there waiting patiently for us to join him. It was a sunday afternoon the only day of the week we four had lunch as a family at the dining table :)

 Tinku came out of the shower rubbing himself vigorously with the towel and all the time checking himself out in the mirror. Baba looked at me and I looked at Baba and we both smiled. Maa was telling "Tinku is just like your grandfather, just as good looking like him, tall and dark"." Yes Maa,you are right I hope he has got some of dadu's brains also not only his looks, I am sure he will need the brains more."

 "First you worry about your own brains, if you have any" Tinku replied back to me obviously not being able to digest the insult I had just hurled at him. "Yes I will definitely but can you please quickly finish your grooming session and join us at the table? We are all feeling hungry". "What is there for lunch Maa ? I hope you have cooked my favorite chicken curry and not didibhai's favorite fish curry. " Tinku asked.

 "I have cooked both because I have no choice, the two of you never eat the same thing, have you ever thought how difficult it is for me?". "Dont tell anything to me Maa, I am a true bengali and I love my fish , it is more healthy and I cant do without it ". "Tell Tinku to change his tastes, he can only eat Chicken, Egg and Paneer ". "Tell him to cultivate some fine bengali taste otherwise later it will be difficult to get him married ". "Why dont you worry about your own marriage for a change?" Tinku replied back angrily, looking deeply hurt because questions had been raised about his Bengali tastes.

 "Enough of fighting you two, eat quietly whatever your mom has prepared ". Baba spoke for the first time. "Mamon, how is school going for you, did you get to know your score in any of the subjects for the exam ?" "Yes, I scored 97 out of 100 in Maths ". I happily replied to Baba very sure of the appreciation I would get from him and Maa. Just at that moment Tinku interfered "What 97 out of 100, how did you loose the 3 marks? See Maa she must have lost the 3 marks due to carelessness."

 I was shocked at his audacity, I almost choked at the piece of fish I was eating, I almost felt like thinking out aloud, how much did you score in Maths, did you even manage to score 40? But I just ignored his comments choosing not to pay any attention to what he had said. Well every dog has his day, the day my results will be declared, his results will also be declared,I will also see where he will hide himself that day.

 "Tinku just dont eat the chicken, eat the vegetables too ", Baba was telling Tinku. "And after lunch try to study something for school dont watch any television and dont go outside to play in this hot sun wait for it to become evening at least ".

And on and on our conversations went during lunch time on a Sunay afternoon. I never realized I would remember these simple conversations so vividly after so many years. Well looks like I certainly do :)  that picture is still alive at some corner or my mind and it is almost like I had hit the rewind button while writing up this piece.

How much I miss that lunch now, why because now I have my lunch in a different continent :) But, I am sure the next time we four sit down for lunch again history will repeat itself :) :) :)

Faith

Yesterday a friend asked me to write about 'faith'...now I was seriously not prepared to write anything about faith..yes I do need some preperation for writing,you can figure that out from the fact that I wrote only two blogs in a year.Even when the topic is decided by me I need some time what if the topic is decided by someone else...how much time? But, then I decided its always good to do some unprepared things, amazingly they always end up surprising you.

That got me thinking what could I write about faith and then I remembered a story my mother used to tell me so often when I was small. A story whose meaning I never understood at that time but was still fascinated enough with to ask my mother to repeat it again and again maybe because of the magical feel attached to it.

In a certain village lived a very learned pundit who considered himself an authority on religion, vedas and everything else under the sun. This guy was famous throughout and naturally was also very proud about it.He used to think that no one can be compared to him when it came to offering the puja and rituals to GOD.

A lowly woman from the lower caste used to bring the milk to this pundit's house every morning.Now, there was only one thing that used to surprise the pundit...how did the woman manage to bring the milk and keep it at his doorsteps everyday so early even when the sun was not up.The pundit knew that the woman came from a very far place and had to cross the river on her way, then how did she manage to cross the river at so early an hour.

The pundit wondered and wondered, there would be no boats in the river so early in that case the milk maid would have to cross the river by swimming...how could she swim across the river with the pot of milk with her. So he decided to ask her himself. The next morning he met her at his doorstep and asked her this question to which she simply replied 'I am a poor woman sir, I have to come early to keep the milk because I have to do the same at many other houses, I cannot afford to be late'.

To this the pundit asked how she manages to cross the river so early without any boatman being there or how can she ever swim with the pot?. The woman replied 'How can I swim with the pot? 'I cross the river by walking on the water'.Now the pundit was very angry at the audacity of the woman to give such a reply to him. But, the woman was adamant with her answer that every morning she crossed the river by walking on the water. The pundit was sure that this uneducated, illeterate woman was making fun of him. So he decided to follow her the next day. The next day without letting her understand the pundit followed her to the river.What he saw at the river was unbelievable, the woman actually crossed the river by walking on the water with the pot of milk on her head.

The pundit was convinced that this was no ordinary woman and that he must learn all methods of such great knowledge from her. So, the next day he requested the woman to tell him the secret to walk on water.The woman replied that there was no secret, she was a poor woman and it was very important for her to deliver the milk early morning so before stepping on the water she just prayed to GOD to be able to walk on the water. She told that she had complete FAITH in GOD knowing that he would never let her down and so she could fearlessly walk on the water, crossing the river by walking effoertlessly on the water with the pot of milk on her head because she had FAITH.

I guess I dont need to write anything else on faith now...this simple story has the capacity to convey to one and all the mighty power of faith. Let each one of us be blessed by this power. Amen.

Failure

Failure refers to a state or condition of not being able to meet a desirable or intended objective...yes this is how wikipedia describes failure. But, how will I describe failure if someone were to ask me...I would say failure is that one thing that scares all of us to the very core of our being.And how much does it scare us? Well that is simple its directly proportional to the extent of the desire the bigger the desire the bigger is our fear of failure. Failure is the opposite of success and since we all attach so much importance to success failure automatically becomes a stigma.But, is it really that bad to fail? Who decides that you have failed and which is more painful failing in the standards set by others or failing in the standards set by youself?

There is something which is worse than failure - it is the fear of failure.If you are scared to fail it means you are scared to try and if you are scared to try then nothing can change.If each one of us were to look back at the life we have had till now we would realize that whatever success we have achieved till this moment is because we were not scared to try. And yes each one of us would have failed at some point of time in some or the other way. The pain would have been immense at that point of time but overcoming that pain has definately made us the person we are today - better and stronger :). That is why I would say our sweetest success comes from our greatest failure ( please do let me know if you dont agree with me on this).

Failure infact is not that bad as long as you dont allow it to break your spirit. Failure teaches us some of the most meaningful things of life. It teaches us the most imporatant thing humility. The moment you have lived through your worst failure....the moment you have faced that which you were most scared to face and overcome that believe me after that moment you are not the same person....you have changed and for the better.Thanks to failure for making us a more confident, stronger and better human being.

The School Bus

Everyday for 10 long years it came at 9:30 in the morning yes my school bus from monday to friday of every week. Its coming defined a routine not only for me but for my mother also because she could heivgh a sigh of relief only after me and my brother got into the bus. We were off to school in our school bus whose name was Kutta Bus. Actually my school had 3 buses the smallest was called Chuha Bus, the middle one Billi Bus and ours which was the biggest is size was called Kutta Bus. Rumour has it that the school purchased the Chuha Bus from the town prison when those guys were selling it, it was actually used to transport the prisoners...yeah thats the irony of life. But our bus was good its was quiet big it carried double the number of students it was supposed to carry so 50% of the students used to make the journey standing. Thats the reason the bus used to move real slow reaching school in more than an hour which would take 10 mins normally.

By the time the bus came to my stop in the morning no seats would not be there so most of the times I had to stand but my favourite place to stand rather half-sit was on the rod behind driver uncle's seat. I could stand there undisturbed and without anybody stamping on my shoes and feel the wind on my face coming from driver uncle's open window. We were dying to stand there.

During the rainy season the condition was worse. We would get up on the bus wearing our rain-coats with water dripping from them and the moment we got up the students sitting comfortably would push us away from themselves bcoz they didnt want the water to drop on them...there were books in the bags you see.

Seat reservation for friends was also in full swing so some seats would go empty till 3-4 stops till their very deserving occupants got up :-). Another favourite place to sit for seatless people like me was on the engine cover. Sometimes during summers when the engine got really hot it was a little difficult to sit on it I agree :-)

While coming back from school all of us would try to run at top speed to get a seat,the day I would get a window seat it made my day that meant I could gaze out of the window for one long hour see those very things which I saw everyday yet wanted to see one more time.

Seat or no seat I had the time of my life travelling to and fro from school in that bus for 10 years. We played all types of games that were possible to play in a moving bus. Some ambitious students even managed to study in that din, there was one girl specially who would always study in the bus no matter whether it was exam time or not. I now wonder why did she study so much and what had she to study that she kept on reading in the bus also :-) Many long lasting friendships were formed from that one journey friends who are still with me now :-)

Whenever I go home now, at 9:30 I have to go out and stand near my gate and first I hear the sound ( it still moves slowly na) and then comes my blue colour School Bus. The scene inside is same as it used to be when I rode on it but I wonder who half-sits on the rod behind driver uncle's seat now?