TORN BETWEEN CONCRETE TREE ATTIC IN BOMBAY & SPRAWLING FARM HOUSE IN DEHRADUN
A POINT OF VIEW - MENTAL FRAME WORK
MENTAL AGONY CAUSED BY LIKES, DISLIKES, COMPARING, PREFERRING ONE OVER THE OTHER/THIS OVER THAT.
PARENTAL FARM HOUSE - FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD
At Nana’s farmhouse in Dehradun, tea-time was a ritual. At precisely 4:30 pm, Nani would switch on the kettle. In ten minutes, its twee-tweee- tweeeiiiiiiii-, so like a train signal, would lure Tina and me from the gardens. ‘No dogs allowed!’Bahadur would capture Tina in his rough hands and carry her off. I would shoot her one wistful glance, but I was more interested in Nani’s tea and sugar-encrusted Nice biscuits.
My Nani, plump, squishy and ever-smiling with red-apples-in-her-cheeks looked like she had walked out of Heidi. Ridden by arthritis she moved slowly, preferring to stretch and bend rather than shift her knees. To me she looked like a dancer, bending to the shrill whistle of the kettle, clinking cups and saucers to their proper places on the carved wooden tray, pouring amber liquid from the kettle to the pot while nightingales cooed in the gardens. The dance would climax and the tea-tray would emerge with holy smoke around it, deliverance music in the background, a perfect symphony. I can still picture the tea tray clearly. The large pot under the plump embroidered tea-cozy, two sparkling white tea-cups with green curly designs on the rim and shining silver handles, the squat sugar bowl, the dainty milk jug. To me they looked Mother Ganges pouring into her tributaries. The old wise queen of sea and her little mermaid daughters. A mother space ship and its fighter jets.
INNOCENT PLAYFUL GRAND CHILD ON ANNUAL VACATIONS
I was nine and I had an active imagination.
‘Bahadur!’ Nani would call him to take out the tray. I would follow Bahadur, my eyes on the Nice biscuits arranged in a perfect circle on a white quarter plate.
Nana would be sitting in the verandah, sun setting behind him, its crepuscular rays streaming through the clouds like golden rays shining behind Hindu Gods and Goddesses. Nani was short, fair and plump. Nana was dark, thin-as-a-reed and six-feet tall. It was said that they saw each other for the first time on the wedding day, by which time it was too late to do anything about it.
I would sit at the table with Nana, happily dunking Nice biscuits in my milk so that they would dissolve to soft mush in my mouth. The biscuits would disappear in a flash and then I would eye the cream rolls on the table. They were a treat; Nana would buy them every Sunday from the Tibetan bakery in town. I was allowed to have only one at a time, but Nana would smile indulgently and slip me another.
‘Are they just like scones?’ I would ask Nana, eating them carefully, following the curly pattern of the pastry with every bite and leaving the sugary cream filling for the last.
‘Scones! Hah! These are ten times better than scones!’Nani would mutter.
She didn’t understand.
GENERATION GAP - DIFFERENT NEEDS & PRIORITIES
My parents didn’t understand either. In a country that took pride in community, Nana had chosen to live alone. ‘Mad!‘Your father is mad,’ Papa would declare to Mamma. ‘Living in the jungle like that. What if they need medical help? There isn’t a doctor for miles.’
In Bombay, food was meant to be eaten in melamine plates, or from steel tiffins, predigested smelly oily gunk, or from cardboard boxes delivered by a fast-food chains newly opened up in the city.
COLORFUL ENTICING FARM HOUSE
Built outside the town of Dehradun on the foothills of Mussourie, Nana’s house was a picturesque red brick house in a twenty-acre plot. Nana had planted every fruit tree, every rose shrub in the plot, painstakingly converting it into lush green countryside. Banyan vines swung in the mild summer breeze, Nightingales cooed on the roof, plums and apples dotted the green meadows, dogs barked in the background. In a struggling nation where cities were beacons of hope and prosperity, My Nana, my England-returned, retired-from-British-tea-companies Nana had defied common sense and built a country farmhouse.
‘Roses grew in Spring in England, you know,’ he would tell me, shoveling the dirt from their roots. ‘They had them in so many colors, purple, pink, red. You would have loved it.’
I did love it. I loved Dehradun. I loved its Englishness. Its Enid Blyton-ness, its Sherlock Holmes-ness. In Dehradun, Tina and I would embark on a new adventure every day.
‘Lets follow the dastardly thief in our caravan!’
‘Goodness Gracious! I’m starving! Oh look! Gran has packed us some ham-and-cheese sandwiches!’
‘Hark! Was that a rabbit you were chasing Tina?’
My friends in Bombay had long given up on Enid Blyton. They’d moved to American fiction: to flaky Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, Archies and later, even worse, to Asimov. Bloody traitors, the lot of them. I stuck to Blyton, Bronte and Dickens.
Other things were changing too. Coca cola was now available at the corner store. McDonalds had opened up its first outlet in Bombay to long snaking queues. In a city that had never seen a curfew, they were religious riots and massacres.
Bombay was changing. Bombay was growing up. Bombay wasn’t even Bombay anymore.
A homegrown American arrogance was taking over the country. Servile non-violence was the past. Unity in diversity was the slogan for Bombayites. Brown over-educated, tea-sipping sahibs were the mascots of Bombay. The future was Mumbai, it was unapologetic; it demanded its place in the world. Mumbai’s mascot was the Mythological Narsimha- a lion-man with a kataar in his hand, tired of the nonsense, forever angry.
THE PERILS OF GROWING UP
My childhood was divided between bustling polluted Bombay and idyllic Dehradun, between people like my parents who were keen to escape to the future and Nana who floated outside the very edges of the past. The future was beckoning, it was winning. India was a nation on the brink of change, a revolution was sweeping the past away silently, meeting no resistance.
My friends tried cigarettes, passed chits to boys and ogled over Dirty Dancing. I was called Fatty-four-eyes and left to my Classics.
As long as I had Dehradun I could remain a child forever.
This is the story of Sandy in her own words - Author of Burnt toast.
EXPLORING MENTAL AGONY / PERCEPTION - Two points of same view
The conflict between our grown up Sandy & her man, who are TOTALLY different in major aspects is bound to happen.
One is white, female, young, free, & natural.
Other is black, male, educated, busy, & normal.
Can you visualize how diverse these two people are in five dimensions, poles apart. They are bound to have opposite view points about the same object/topic. They are never going to agree on most of the issues between them. Once we understand their stands, then it becomes a little easy to see through their own personal perspective of daily situations.
Now we go into the depth of their mental process/activity about the same OBJECT.
1 FORM - Shape of the object, its configuration. Process of looking at the object - ATTENTION SPAN, AWARENESS LEVEL
2 PERCEPTION - Process of becoming aware about the object through the five senses. Act of seeing - KEENNESS OF OBSERVATION, COLLECTION OF INFORMATION, VARIABLE PARAMETERS.
3 FEELING - Realization of reaction & associated emotional state. Clarity of feeling depending upon - ATTITUDE, INCLINATION, MEMORY RETENTION.
4 IMPULSE - Influence of particular feelings. View point assessing CLASSIFICATION, RANKING, GRADING.
5 VOLITION - Power of using Will, capability of conscious choice. Decisions & judgments based on - UPBRINGING, LIKES, DISLIKES, COMPREHENSION, DESIRE FOR 2ND LOOK.
6 CONSCIOUSNESS - State of being aware or awake of surroundings. Differences of opinion, gap becomes basis of - CONFLICT, AGGRESSION, ASSAULT, BATTLES, WARS.
There you are, much wiser than before, go figure, call off the battle please.
HANDLING OF KARMA'S WITH RESPONSIBILITY
INITIALLY SCREWING EACH OTHER FOLLOWED BY REVERSE SCREWING OF OTHER EACH
Skewed people & adverse situations in your present lives are your very own Karma on its return journey from the distant past. Beware of this predicament, & do not suffer on this count. In the past life both partners were of the exact opposite sex and you screwed each other. Now both of you have come back to complete the reverse screwing, hence take it lightly, lying down in good humor. It is helping you stamp out your own false EGOS, therefore be grateful for this gesture - Thank you for coming into my life is the syntax used very often. Do we mean it as in the above context. Think again.
INITIALLY SINGLES MATCH FOLLOWED BY REVERSE SINGLES MATCH
In lawn tennis match tournaments too, they first have singles match and then they have a second round of reverse singles match. After both the matches they decide the winner.
EXERCISE, RITUAL, FRAME OF MIND, MENTAL SETUP FOR PEACE We transmit & receive intentions, thoughts, feelings to & from our partners, neighbors, relatives, friends and strangers all the time. Therefore to protect your self from such negativity floating in the surroundings you have to make some harsh choices and take drastic steps.
Firstly DETACH quickly by WITHDRAWING internally and LET GO at once externally too.
Secondly ACCEPT & acknowledge them as they are, right or wrong, good or bad for your own benefit & peace of mind.ACCOMMODATE & TOLERATE the less fortunate souls who like you are different in their Sanskars but other wise just the same Soul energy. See them with the eyes of love, like a child does. Practice COMPASSION by forgiving self & others right now.
Thirdly DISCERN in light of greater good. When you see things as they are & don’t want to change them then everything becomes more open to change. When you don’t judge anything, everything starts moving towards goodness. CONTENT just to BE.
Fourthly DECIDE to act it out lovingly. Create happiness on purpose with good intentions for all.
Fifthly FACE boldly, now that you are armed with the above six powers. Give freely, quickly, gently & generously without any expectations of return. Give thanks with an attitude of gratitude to enhance the value of what little you possess. Live simply with bare basics in abundance mode.
Sixthly be still, yet vibrant inside. Hear attentively & free your mind from yourself. PEACE will sit next to you. Befriend SILENCE and make room for GOD into your heart. Stay light, dump your baggage of past & shine lovingly to show others the way to Bliss. COOPERATE with all, at all times. Serve others joyfully to reap your harvest of CONTENTMENT.
Are you prepared for this question : Dear Soul WHAT IS YOUR SPIRITUAL NETT WORTH. Ponder over this statement for a day for a month & still if you do not have an answer then surely something drastically is wrong in your life choices. Before you ask me about the currency to measure up your nett worth, the answer is Contentment, Happiness, Peace. All your financial nett worth can not be traded for even one hour of Contentment.
Rohit Khanna - Soul In-dewlling, therefore content & Blissful.
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