Bala aahe ka?

Bala aahe ka?

When I was a kid in Bombay, I had my parents, Grandparents and my Great Grand Parents with me..! So we were 8 of us in a 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom flat in Prabhadevi, Mumbai! Looking back, I wonder how we all managed.

The nomenclature was unique. We called our Great grandparents Anna and Ammai. My grandparents were Thatha and Granny(cool name!). My parents were Appa and Mummy(because Ammai was already taken)

My Great grand mom and Granny gave us unconditional love like no one else can.

I can write a whole book on my Granny.

My Great Grandfather was that typical former civil servant, the  ‘propah’ British type, who drank Horlicks, insisted that we all read Shakespeare( never mind that I was less than 10 years old then) and was a hypochondriac! He was a sucker for all medicines and ointments released in the market. In fact, he must have been the only person to have ever used “Rubex”, which was a product launched to compete with Iodex and must have gone off the shelves within weeks!

Occasionally, he ventured out to buy fruits and used my services as a translator/negotiator. He would don his checked flannel shirt and muffler and set out ready to brave the Bombay winter! On one such visit he asked the vendor “Apple kitna?” thereby using up 20% of his Hindi vocabulary. The man replied that it was Ten rupees for a dozen. His immediate reaction was “This is daylight robbery! I won’t pay a naya paisa more than Twenty rupees!” The vendor and I spent the next ten minutes convincing him that he was actually getting it cheaper!

My Grandfather was the exact opposite. Totally laid back. He used to sit in the balcony all day in his easy chair, in that Bombay heat and humidity, and never once complained. He read anything given to him from Alistair Maclean to Agatha Christie to Hardy Boys! He loved playing cards and carrom with us. He was deaf, but we communicated using sign language. He even devised a method of telling the time by looking at the shadows which fell on the tiles of the balcony...something like a sundial!

He used to go for a walk every evening to Siddhivinayak temple.

He wasn’t keeping well so he missed that walk for a few days. Late one evening, I heard the doorbell ring. I opened the door to find 3 dabbawallas, complete in their Dhotis, Gandhi topis, the orange kumkum and butter tikkas on their foreheads, Kolhapuri chappals & thick moustaches.

One asked “Bala aahe ka?” For a moment I thought that they have got the wrong house, but then they saw that puzzled look on my face and explained that they are looking for an old man who used to come walking and hasn’t shown up for the past few days. They were concerned and came looking for him to see if he was ok! My Grand dad's name was Balakrishnan!

I later learnt that these dabbawallas used to play cards in the park next to the temple and Thatha joined them every evening!

What was interesting was that my Granddad was deaf and only spoke English and Tamil and they only spoke Marathi!

They came in and the conversation was fascinating!

Dabbawala : “Balasaheb, tumhi kashe aahat? Barpoor aaram kara”

Grand dad: “ Don’t worry, I will be fine. Just old age and the usual problems that come with it”

Dabbawala: “ho ho bhare”

We were just spectators in this bizarre reunion of old pals!

They all left with time, but lived simple, yet very fulfilling lives.

There was no space in the flat, but lots of space in their hearts.

All the world's a stage...

All the world’s a stage…
My kids go to a school where all the children are exposed to plays, dance, music and public speaking at a very young age.
During my childhood, only a select few got the opportunity. Those selected were either good at speaking, teacher’s kids or cutlery (chamchas)
I was fortunate to get a role in a play as early as KG. I played a tree and I had to stand still holding some branches in front of me. Well…I turned a new leaf after that.
I got a bigger part in Grade 1. It was an “Emraan hashmiesque” role where i got to kiss my stage wife at the end! I was the main actor during primary school but my budding career ended after that.
I participated in a fair share of elocutions and debates but I was a nervous wreck. My knees used to shake like a rattlesnake on tequila.
I love to watch the programmes in my kid’s school.
Especially the little ones who go on stage for the first time.
The school has a state- of- the- art auditorium. Kids have collar mikes. There is a video grapher and the event is even projected on a giant screen on stage.
The girls are usually dressed up in pretty frocks or gowns and their faces have make up. They give you a sneak preview of how they will look when they are 18!
The boys dress in tuxedos or suits and with make up too... So your son starts looking like your daughter.
There is this little fella who has rehearsed the nursery rhyme at school, strictly following the method that his teacher has drilled into him. The parents add some last minute changes which has the kid thoroughly confused. By the time he goes on stage, he has a full bladder and an empty mind.
He has been told to stand on the X marked on the stage, so he remembers to do that. Then he strains his eyes, let's his retina adjust to the darkness in the hall, furrows his eyebrows and looks for his parents. He can't find them, because all he sees is a firing squad of hi tech cameras aimed at him with huge lenses like bazookas. The mother has her face covered behind her iPad. She is keen to get the perfect video recording of her star child, so that she can post it online quicker than breaking news on CNN.
The kid is staring blankly.
The class teacher who is hunching next to the first row of VIPs is whispering "Twinkle twinkle little star...” while enacting it with her hands, like she is changing some low hanging light bulb.
The kid is still staring blankly…
The mother now worries that her recording has been on for 32 seconds and junior is wasting precious megabytes. She doesn't let go of the iPad but starts mouthing twinkle twinkle to urge junior.
Her head is rocking back and forth behind that tablet. From afar, she looks like some Shaolin kungfu expert about to break a tile with her forehead.
The father is kneeling some metres away like a trained sniper. One eye closed, the other eye on the target. Cross hair on the forehead, ready to shoot...
By this time, the little star has lost all his twinkle.
Just about then, he sees from the corner of his eye that he is on the big screen! He decides to turn a bit and admire himself. And while he is doing that, he senses that there is a tantalizing blob of booger ripe for picking...
His forefinger starts its journey towards his nostril and he finds it thrilling to see the progress on the big screen. The teacher and the parents are singing twinkle twinkle little star in a trigonometric chorus, in a desperate hope that their chanting will reach his ear and distract him from the task at hand.
It’s too late. His booger seeking finger finds the blob. He hears their singing. Suddenly it all comes back and the 5 year old realizes his raison d’etre. He joins the chorus, still multi tasking with his forefinger and completes the rhyme with a flourish “…up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky!”
He even remembers to bow and walks off rubbing his finger on the tuxedo.
Crouching tiger and hidden dragon are upset that the footage is not upload worthy and even forget to applaud.
Not a great debut, but then, life is not about how you start but how you finish.
I confess that I have been guilty of this as well, but as parents, it is a constant struggle to find the right balance. How to encourage without being pushy.  Make them participate even if they are not good at something without feeling self conscious. We should accept our kids for whom they are. Not try to mould them into what you want them to be or should I say, not mould them into what you couldn’t be.
And while I like the social media, I feel that some encouragement and a warm hug feels much better than counting likes on Facebook.