A ghost has left me in the lurch!

There's been a host of spooky stories doing the rounds of late. Such as cooking range turning on by itself, headless bodies floating around, figures sitting on sofas in living rooms, kids' defunct toys functioning and so on...

I've heard several such first-hand and retold-accounts over the years [below are a selected few], and have duly ignored all of them. But for the latest one. I'm still reeling under its effect.

Stories/incidents

1. A family in Allahabad would hear the sound of a woman's anklets  everyday precisely around midnight. The sound would enter the house from the garden and walk off into the courtyard and disappear. The
narrator, who told me this, one night questioned his aunt about the sound. She, inturn, casually said. "Remember the bhabi who passed away a few years back. She comes to check on us. In fact, I keep water in the courtyard for her every night. Haven't you seen?"

2. While on the topic of water...my maternal grandmom doesn't have breakfast without offering the plate of eateries, including glass of tea, to her son who left her almost two decades back. She says the
'offered tea' is tasteless, sans sugar, when she drinks as her son has had it.

3. My editor told me of his father visiting him while he was fast asleep one night. On hearing someone enter his pitch-dark bedroom, he reached for the switch, only to see "dad in his trademark headgear and
payjama" sitting crouched beside him on the bed, "looking worried". The old man requested his son to get married, who in turn had to assure him he was capable of taking care of himself and pleaded with him - "please go back to where you have come from and rest in peace".

4. My senior said how he waited anxiously to check out a silhouetted figure of a woman in a burqa pass by the corridor. Every evening, around the  same time, if he sat with the front door open he would see
the woman walk across. But all his attempts of taking a closer look was in vain. The moment he ran out to pursue her she would vanish.

5. Another incident in the same building relates to three headless bodies suspended in air hanging out near the balcony that leads to his bedroom. These 'objects' made an appearance quite late at around 2am at night. When the narrator stepped out into the balcony one night, these 'objects' started to come nearer to the wall. Apparently, they had no distinctive features, yet they resembled human heads. He told aloud: "My God protects me. Don't enter my home. Whatever it is you'll want to do, it should be outside the walls of my home." And he saw the 'objects' slowly float away.

6. A man was knocked down in a north India state after peeing on a cemetary. The blow was so bad that it took him almost a month to walk unaided. This guy, a non-believer, to prove his people wrong went to
the place a few days later and did the act again. This time not only was he knocked down unconscious but on regaining his senses, the hitherto desi guy spoke only French. It is believed the tombstone belonged to a very distinguished and learned man from the days of the British rule in India. "He felt insulted."

Well, it's up to each reader if you want to believe in jinns and ghosts and spirits or not. I guess the effect defines beliefs. If the experiences affect you [in some way, positive or negative] then they become incidents else they remain stories...

But one such tale has left in the lurch...

Househelp saga

"My husband hits me. He pulls my hair and throws things at me. He refuses to eat what I cook. I can't lift my arm..." These are excuses my househelp gave me last week minutes before she announced, "I cannot
come from tomorrow."

I'm no elitist. Trust me. But cannot fathom how domestic help across boundaries cite similar problems to switch jobs!

"So what's your salary expectation," I ask. And there she begins singing my praises. It was an impromtu act, else I would have recorded it to bargain with her successor. "You are the best madam, I've worked for. You gave me more than what anyone has ever given me..."

I didn't hear the rest as I was zeroing in on friends who could give me househelp contacts.

Well, the long and short of her announcement is ever since she moved into her one-room sharing accommodation a year back, she's had no peace of mind. Because years ago a woman was murdered by her man in that particular room. Since then, couples renting the room have been fighting with each other, told neighbours. So she's found a safe place on the outskirts of the town and cannot commute everyday to help me out.

So much for the ghost who hates families...I'm left in the lurch!

Let there be more Doom's Day prophecies

At last Nostradamus seems to have got a break!

In the recent past Mayan followers have been warning mankind about the world coming to an end next year, but now certain independent Christian groups have joined in the apocalyptic predictions. They are ranting about the ultimate day being even closer - May 21, 2011 - a little over a month from today. However, they've stopped short of calling it the Last Day. Instead, it's called the Judgement Day to be followed by the end of the world after five months on October 21, 2011.

Now is that some sort of a grace period given to push the maximum numbers through. I'm reminded of instant exams we had in college. Students who failed in no more than one subject were allowed to take 'instant exam', conducted within 45 days so they do not lose an academic year. It not only benefitted students but also institutions that showcased a better pass percentage. Similarly, those who haven't so far accumulated the required scores, I guess, will receive a five-month grace period to pull up their socks when the final callsheet will be marked in October when they get the previlege to hang their boots!

The Dooms Day theory goes something like this...(the little I understood from the cacophony around) people who are adamant about not improving themselves, even after next month-end, will be left on Earth to suffer post-October.

Family Radio Worldwide, an independent Christian Ministry, based in California is the one pulling out all stops to propogate their so-called logical prophecy, simply because they claim it to be Bibilical.

So where do people get to see their progress cards? Hope Camping (leader of the Family Radio) will display them preferably online or on his favourite platform - billboards. 

Interestingly, Mayan followers are quiet after Camping and his brood took to the roads. Probably adopting the wait-and-watch policy to alter their stance. Lucikly for them there's more than a year. Have enough time to alter or even edit their prophecy. However, they seem to be more practical or rather astronomical!

Their explanation is in 2012 the Milky Way galaxy will assume a rare alignment which occurs once in about 25,000 years. And that may cause a shift in magnetic poles, which in turn will affect weather patterns.
There are other groups who associate this shift with the inner self... of spiritual awareness or consciousness.

Then we have the ever-potenet Research Sect suggesting the Sun will release solar flares disrupting life on planet Earth, which they themselves say is not unusual.   

Any proof. Well, wait and watch. As for Family Radio and Mayan prophecies, pick up their respective books and decipher the so-called hints. That is if you care.

Remember the Millennium talk in the last quarter of 1999? Of how the computers would go blank and the self-prophesied geeks going crazy taking back-ups of stored data because they thought many computers wouldn't know what the year 00 would be? What happened? People ushered in the New Year rather the New Millennium and logged in to send greetings. 

Similarly, last month the tale going around was that of the Supermoon. When the Japanese were struggling to cope up with the devastation, astronomical fanatics were debating their assumptions of how the Supermoon was the cause of the killer tsunami. If it was a coincidence that the earlier tsunami in 2004 was close to one such Supermoon, then we need to wait at least two decades to prove it. As astronomers say such a phenomenon will occur only after about 18-odd years.

So let's wait for at least two more decades to see if another killer tsunami will follow a quake which in turn will follow closely or precede the Supermoon or choose to go tangent. This will also buy us time to check on the Mayans, the Campings, spiritual leaders and any other sect who would want to join in the melee.

The more the participants the more the theories that will unfold and even more the confusion that will ensue. And the more the consfusion the better the reason to live - don't we wake up each morning with a purpose of proving another wrong?

Why cricket should be the National Sport of India

Rightly anticipating the reaction if India becomes the new cricket champions
of the world, I was determined not to write a piece on anything even
remotely associated with the game - that is even if my nation were to lose
the finals. No, it's not disrespect or attitude (Gosh! I treasure my ribs in
place). Coming from a land where cricket is religion, don't I know better.
The truth be told - I can't think of unused superlatives and frezied one-
liners that began inundating the media from the run-up to the finals. How
much do I tweak the already consumed words to sound different? Friends
sugested a comment on the final day performance or the individual scores or
even the future of the champions... Well, leave me alone, I'm no game.

However, if I still choose to waste time and space on the hit-and-run
issues, it's because the chases and misses have crossed the borders. Was
heart-warming to see Pakistani Prime Minister Yousuf Raza Gilani and the
Indian Premier Manmohan Singh sit close together without much ado and
presumaly enjoying a game very unfamilar to the one they are masters at.
After the hype of political presence at the stadium even days before the
actual semi-final match, it wasn't surprising to hear the Foreign Secretary
issue a statement. Yet I think any other lower-ranking official could have
read the statement.

If the might and power of this game is such that it is expected to boost
cross-border camaraderie, then shouldn't it be upgraded as the National
Sport of India? Hockey players haven't ever received the same attention,
forget adulation, in free India. They've tried playing, then comparing,
pleading and complaining...miserably falling short of even the deafest
of ears.

Well, the debate has been doing the rounds since a while. Popularity,
remuneration, win-loss statistics, trophies, ground realties of the two
games have been compared and rumenated over the years to no definite
conclusion.

Now, here's one reason why cricket should replace hockey as the National
Sport - the government has endorsed the game. Period.

Home is where the celebrations are

Celebrating festivals at home has a rehabilitating effect. Something akin to leading a nomad to a shelter home and asking him to cool his heels, where he gets to see people of different shades and hues who learn to exhale their myriad lifestyles as they adopt their new-found status.

After more than a decade when I saw flouroscent paints splashed across faces ruthlessly and people going berserk during the festival of colours or Holi ,  did I realise how far I had walked into the woods.  In my adopted land, all the festivals are celebrated on the weekends for convenience. Up until the weekly off there are no signs that remind you of the significance of any particular day that visit us enroute. Of course, e-mails and phones do the buzzing where menus are prepared through the week and the place of get-together and invites are decided over. This is followed by traditional attire being dished out form wardrobes to be straightened out at the laundry in time for the celebration in air-conditioned halls. We hug and kiss each others’ neck on arrival, get about doing the customary ritual of that particular festival and proceed to hogging yet-another traditional meal discussing traffic and work before waving goodbyes to meet the same group in different attires and make-up at another place for another festival. In fact, I thoroughly enjoy this. We are keeping the tradition and culture alive for progeny.

But a trip back home during one such fest changed my perspective... first about people. Family and friends alike said the fast-developing Indian economy has taken the sheen away from most festivals. But I would beg to differ.  With caution out of the windows kids and adults, thronged the streets and spared no one who crossed their path.  So where’s the vigour lost? Well, the celebration began around 7am and lasted around until noon unlike earlier days when families congregated and spent time with each other from the run-up to the day.

These days, people don’t make an effort to make delicacies, said my neighbour. Youngsters are too busy and the elderly do not have the energy anymore. They buy a few and distribute them. Shops at the local market was doing brisk business, all sweet shops stocked fresh supplies. Can’t understand what’s the harm in buying stuff to celebrate?

It’s only when you move farther away from your roots that you begin seeing your real home.  Yes, the development and economic prosperity over the years has altered the way festivals are celebrated in India but they still continue to hold the same significance. The rituals associated may be slightly rushed for want of time but they are never compromised. The preparations may be hastened and pushed to the ninth hour but they are done, nevertheless. The Family Congregation may not take place as nuclear families are the norm, but the so-called break-away units do observe the trend in their own miniature forms.  If traditional dishes should form the menu for any particular fest for lack of time the number of items may be reduced or better still instant mixes bought to dish up things but never is fast-food ordered to save time and energy.

So all those who say festivals have lost the sheen, is probably going colour-blind or are being too rigid in their minds to accept the old in the new formats. It’s time they take sit back and watch their own adapt the new as they try to preserve the old in the best way possible.

Holiday thoughts

The mere thought of going on a holiday comes across as glistening dew in the morning sunrise,
With the run-up to the season being the most wonderful of times, packed with dreams, plans and all rosy thoughts;
Though execution of practical dos become akin to throwing a spanner in the rosy world of expectations, 
Yet eagerly we wind it off at the earliest to jet set off to a land, even nearby doesn't matter,
As long as we are away from the routine alarms, deadlines, greetings and dressing-ups,
Even the mere thought of going on a holiday comes across as a glistening dew in the morning sunrise!


No sooner the destination is reached than your plans and dreams squabble with one another for attention,
That you soon forget you were to pamper those tired bones that creaked loud back home; 
Dreams sans gravity takes the lead followed by plans that trigger your velocity to zap past,
In earnest and new-found vigour you savour the days and nights alike...
Hobnob with friends and gossip with relations until your neighbours drop in to say a good word 
And you excuse yourself with an long-due appointment at the tailor and rush off to stop by the cinema;
Famished of tastes at old joints, diets and caution up in thin air you stir up nostalgia,
Gargle out all sane suggestions until you get a warning from within
Some unwanted choices and yet you refuse to rest for a few hours to settle that grumbling tummy;
All in the name of experience you zip it up with an excuse of real work to be done and dash off to the insurance firms and banks and the likes;
That's when you are reminded of religious rituals and offerings that can't wait until the next visit and so you trail the elders;
Having pleased all near and dear ones you draw out the list thrusted upon before take-off,
Special ones from close friends and if-you-don't-mind requests from colleagues all you sincerely check out;
Now lemme kick those shoes off and relax - you tell yourself,
Only to hear, so what time is your return flight tomorrow?
Time flies and you realise you missed those glistening dew and gosh even the crimson sunrise!


The thought of winding-up the holidays pricks you sharp like misplaced thorns on a bouquet of roses;  
Packing the bags you feel it is the most torturous of tasks you've undertaken,
So much so you simply toss them all in and shut before they spill out;
Travel documents you are reminded to check as goodbyes and regards choke amid withheld tears;
Finally, aboard the flight you heave a sigh of relief!
Now is that of a hectic holiday left behind or of chores awaiting you?
Before you can even fathom you begin to hear those tired bones creak and you wanna kick off your shoes,
When the fasten-your-seat belts sign comes alive and its time to land
Time to return to all that is yours and only yours


Duties, responsibilities, aches, pains, yearnings and pleasure in no particular order begin all over again;
But you take time out to look up and see the full moon as you jog and lo! even smell a rose before you walk into that party hall,
Yes, you even get to see the crimson sunrise as the alarm vibrates your ear drum each weekday morn;
This is life! you reconcile and a fleeting thought of positiveness passes through and you bask in its vibrancy for sometime
Before something nags you yet again into that foul mood and you long for those holidays - a far way off.

Girls' loyalty is considered their weakness

I felt wonderful on March 8. Returning home after a rather bogging day at  work, my girl surprised me with a card she drew in school. And whiff went my tiredness...the vibrancy of her joy in presenting me with the hand-made card momentarily swept away all worries off my head.

'Happy Woman's Day, Mama', read the card with a lovely orange rose. (Because  I love the colour) So thoughtful! My eyes brimmed. There were also a few lines written on the card she made of ruled paper torn from her notebook.

I just adore anything my daughter gives me. But the last line - 'Hope you like this' - became fodder for my brains.

A while later, after I had collected my thoughts and edited the words carefully, I sat beside my little girl and explained how much I loved the card; how I'm moved by her thoughtfulness to remember my favourite colour and above all how much I appreciate the effort she took to complete the task before I returned home so as to surprise me. (She wanted to know the meaning of the word appreciate with examples)

Then I very carefully got on to explaining the trickiest part. You should be proud of yourself for thinking and executing the card. It shouldn't matter if I loved it or not. She gave me a hard look with a little pout and said, "but I want you to love and keep it". I will always treasure what you do for me. But when you do similar things for others you just do your best; you do what you believe is right; you don't have to do it to please them. She passed of with a casual 'OK'.

Determined to drill in the subject a few weeks later, I sat before the TV, with a cup of coffee, surfing channels, when I chanced upon NDTV debate on 'safety of women'. The panel included the Chief Minister of Delhi, parliamentarians, Shabana Azmi and others.

The statistics the host revealed on the show was mindboggling. Every minute on an average about 18 girls are attacked in India.

There were some rather interesting thoughts thrown around by men and women alike. Madam Chief Minister's sentences were quite politically constructed. Something on the lines of...this is a issue which has to be delt with deeply. What's deep and how deep is deep enough when it comes to issues such as these, I can't fathom. The parliamentarian said this is an issue prevelant in many other countries, India is not the only one. Well, it makes us feel good. Shabana Azmi spoke of the disgracefully low percentage of women representation in Parliament, more than six decades after Independence. Glamour quotient of the show Kareena Kapoor spoke of how she, unlike other stars, does not have male bodyguards around. Now that's, indeed, a safety measure.

The 'common' girls on the show agreed on one point - they are 'harrassed' more on the roads of the capital than anywhere else in the country. In Mumbai, for instance, women gang up and confront oglers, which does not happen up north. That's something to be pondered upon.

One of the guys said it has to do with upbringing. A well-educated boy brought up with correct values and principles in life in a stable home will never look down upon women. Guess that's right.

That led to discussion on confidence in girls.

It should be agreed that when girls have confidence in themselves they'll easily stand up for their rights. If they get it in the still-male-dominated country is another matter. But at least they will survive each day without much damage. In a country were female foeticide is rampant instilling confidence become a mamooth task, indeed.

So how to go about it? To have confidence in oneself, you need to first start believing in the self. Principles, values, education, etc., are very mechanically carried out in most urban and semi-urban households across India. Even in villages, for that matter.

A loyal person (read girls) is considered to be 'cultured' in the Subcontinent. That loyalty, unfortunately, is taken to be submissivness by the muscle brand.

Again subconsciously girls are  'trained' to please others. To hell with what others think. I will do what I feel like doing attitude is far and few between. But men are from Mars and women are from Venus! Indeed. The tanget has to meet somewhere. Glad the media and public in general have started speaking up even if its only once a year. But as Women's Day is celebrated on different dates worldwide, let's expect to hear more  frequent debates.

To eat and be treated... I only trust my intution

I trust my intuition when I need to choose hospitals and eateries. No word of mouth or over-the-top advertisements or star campaigns can lure me enough. I need to see people around. Not a few rather a crowd.

I prefer hospitals and clinics where I'm told the appointments for the day are full. And I'll patiently wait my turn to meet the over-worked and tired doctor and invariably feel better by the time I hear my name or token number being called out a couple of hours later.

Similarly, I like to walk into neighbourhood restuarants and spent sometime on my feet looking for an empty table. And then continue sitting, looking at others eat, waiting for my orders to be taken, than to be ushered in by a dozen waiters into a deserted interior and bulky menu cards handed over even before I take my seat.

Elitist may call my paranoia 'budget culture'. To them I will say, "Thank You. Sneer at me if you please, but I will stay put."

A few years earlier, when I was in pink of health my back decided to turn red. To be more precise my lower back decided to call it quits. I did give it ample time to reconsider its decision, meanwhile, as a prudent and haughty manager, I started looking out, telling myself: 'No one is indispensable! If either of us had to laugh, I will have the last laugh!' So I spread the word around and did my own homework and zeroed in on the three most recommended doctors.

Called up hospital A and was told appointments for the whole week for that particular orthopaedic were full. However, I could walk-in any day. Next called up Hospital B and was told I could go anytime between 5pm and 9pm except Fridays because it's the doctor's weekly off. Something in me said, check Hospital A again. Called up and asked for Friday. "Friday is the most busiest of days, madam. I suggest you do not walk-in on Fridays," cautioned the receptionist.

I still walked-in on a Friday (those were the days I worked 6-day weeks) to Hospital A and waited until my patience parted ways. A cool four hours. When I walked out I decided never to return for the follow-up five days later as advised by the doc. The efficient self-manager that I am, I had the last laugh, or so I thought then. Didn't require a follow-up. My back got its acts together and returned to serving me submissively within two days.

However, a couple of years later, the back began protesting yet again. Had a quick word with patience and invited him for an evening out. He outright denied. Anyways, had an option. Research comes in handy always. Walked into Hospital  B. Was greeted by the recptionist and was ushered to the doctor's room in barely 10 minutes. Wow!

The doc spent an hour with me. First enquiring about my discomfort, then diagnosing, later instructing the nurse and prescribing treatment. Of that whole hour I barely spoke for two minutes. The diagnosis, prescription and instruction took another five minutes. But when I got up to thank the doc, I was asked to take my seat. For the next three-quater of an hour she advised me of how to live a stress-free life. I was somewhat, yeah somewhat, intrested. Sort of liked her, too.

But this time I had to return for a follow-up as I didn't feel better. Again I got an audience within 10 minutes of walking-in and spent an hour with the 'philosopher doc'. At the end of the sermon, I was offered an Amway product with a running commentary of the benefits of the herbal powder. The doc was one of the local agents of Amway - a direct selling company and manufacturer that uses network marketing to sell a variety of products.

I discontinued the medicines immediately and opted for Hospital C.

There I was escorted to the orthopaedic within half-an-hour. I briefed him about my history and while he sat examining my records (of Hospital A & B) I couldn't help but notice the Lucky Bamboo on his left, a water fountain behind his chair; a large ruby encrusted in silver on his middle finger; a yellow sapphire on his index finger; an emerald held within a glittering gold ring on his little finger...

Before I could study more, his voice called my attention. "So what did the other doctors tell you?" And I vomited all that I was told by the other two docs. "OK. You first get an MRI scan done and we'll take it up from there," he said. "Is it something serious," I ask? "You are asking me this. You know your own diagnosis better than me. Nothing to worry."

I thanked him. Didn't want to be rude so took the prescription and walked out never to return to that street. I should have walked out the moment I noticed the assorted stones on his fingers. Superstitious doctors! I just can't fathom.  

With restaurants, I never had the nerve to experiment. "Let's try out a new place today," said the husband one weekend. "Tired of the same joints every week." And we called up to book a table. We were escorted to our place upon arrival and had one waiter at our service immediately. Enjoyed the meal listening to the light music playing in the dimly-lit interiors. Had to remind my child to lower her voice several times, for her voice literally echoed in the place. There was just another family beside us. Placed our generous tip and drove out.

That night we took turns visting the toilet. Luckily, my child who stuck to her standard menu of yoghurt-based dishes was spared.

I've nothing against starry joints. They do serve well and it digests well, too. But no matter how many stars they display, I make it a point to peep in first to see if the place is full before deciding to eat there.