It's that time of being

It's that time of being
When nothing's in my hands
No thoughts listen to me
No dreams stand by my side.

It's that time of being
That all is well
Yet all is in shambles;
No thoughts listen to me.

It's that time of my being
That memories insist to stay,
The present begins to fade,
The past has begun to take shape...

It's that time of my being.

-Gauri

To meet ol' friends

To meet ol' friends
You need no introduction,
No elaborate parties,
No reasons, no celebrations...

Just a cup of tea
And so it be.
Lots of laughter
And memories...

To meet ol' friends
You need no clothes new,
No perfume, no jewellery
Just your smile will do...

To meet ol' friends
You need nothing else,
All you need to do;
Is your being You.

What teachers teach...

It seems that the one person who never really grows old is a teacher. In the company of his students, a real teacher never loses the pace of time, he always remains youthful in his thoughts and attitude towards life.

This species of human profession is most easily the one to be long remembered with deep gratitude and fondness. Everyone has a corner of reverence reserved in his heart for some special teacher. Here are a few golden words from my most beloved teachers…

“No matter what, love your students”, said Fr. John Joseph Morondo, the most lovable septuagenarian teacher of our high school.
“Some (students) might be naughty and some might be outright irritating, but no matter what, you should learn to love them all” answered Fr. Morondo when asked what he thought a good teacher should be like.
His way of teaching was passé any description- he drew and explained biology diagrams with the most obscure similies. Our favourite was when he likened a typical nucleated animal cell after drawing a largish cuboid with a circle inside- to a ‘washing machine’. His classes were pure, simple biology taught in the most direct and lighthearted manner…



Read, Read and Read More said Ishwarbhai Patel. He taught mathematics, but as is the wont of all good teachers, this septuagenarian taught his students much more than numbers.
He implored us to develop a solid reading habit and urged us to read: anything and everything from newspapers, magazines, literature to general knowledge. ‘The more you read, the more you grow’ was his motto.

Learn to say ‘I Don’t Know’ said Joseph Pinto, our editing professor. He was a taskmaster and scoring anything above six in his tests seemed a feat. He took the ‘I Don’t Know’ rule very seriously and promised us to give half a mark on each IDK in the answer sheet rather than we beat round the bush and ‘make silly stories’.
‘You either know, or you don’t know. There are no two ways about it.’, thundered Prof Pinto and how we still fondly remember that growl…

“Have a cold shower”, said Rajendrasinh Jadeja, Camp Coordinator at the wildlife camps we went with him. ‘Cold showers shake of your sleep instantly’, he said. Hot water baths were a strict ‘no-no’ on his list and he supplemented his dislike for a hot splurging luxury by adding ‘It only makes you sluggish.’
Discipline was a way of life for this nature-lover and he saw to it that for the little while that we were at the camp, we stopped being the spoilt brats we were and adhered to a well-chalked out daily schedule.

“Respect food” urges my seventy-nine year old grandmother as often as she can. Aaji, herself a teacher by profession, taught unaccountable number of things- the foremost being respecting food. She insists that any kind of wastage of food is simply unacceptable- given the thousands of those who starve each day in spite of toiling hard in our country.

By Gauri Gharpure

A bookmark

I had once made a bookmark
Out of pink bougainvillea leaves
I wonder where it is now,
And if it still lives.

If it lies forgotten in books
Or if it still marks a page,
Whether the pink has faded to yellow
But if the memory still stays.

I wonder who has it now
Or rather, who hasn’t
I had made a bookmark once,
Out of pink bougainvillea leaves…

September 2, 2007



-Gauri Gharpure

Celebration

I will cook tonight,
All your favourite dishes.
A long drive after that, may be?
Or whatever you say, we will...

Say Cheers, Dear...
Or even if you dont, I will.
Dont be modest, don't you underplay it
(Still, whatever you say, we will...)

I won't nag tonight
(If I say I won't, I will!)
It's time to celebrate, isn't it,
So whatever you say, we will...

Let's make new memories
And let the old ones fade
Let's celebrate tonight,
Each being the other's reason...

A Chocolate cake?
But you don't like sweets...
Ah! I know what,
Veg Frankies and Cheese!

Let's begin the journey again,
The way we did (Remember Feb the 24th?)
A long drive, may be?
Or whatever you say, we will...

The Sycophant Circle

What has the classroom become like?

Simply put, it has become a venting machine of sorts for them to come and puke out their frustrations and inaccomplishments. They call this teaching...

The process boils up to be a personal vendetta table, where you cross each name which begs to differ. It's an opinionated hierarchy. But mind you- the opinions can arise only from one side of the room, any idea arising from a bench- however genuine it may be cannot hold grounds against the table on which the attendance sheet lies...

There's no space for discussions, arguments, there's no space for a difference of opinion. Often the teacher will go round and round a topic, criticising students for their answers till he himself produces his 'right stream of thought'. Was all the prodding merely an exercise of ego-satisfaction? An exercise in which students are tended like a flock of sheep, expected to walk on pre-decided terrains and think only on those lines which the professor thinks right? Today, education has become more or less a passive exercise- questions are not entertained, unless they are the sort of questions which the teacher can answer...

And then there's this Sycophant Circle...

It's a gathering of ambitious wannabe intellectuals who have just about started preening their down feathers and dream big to fly the same dictatorial regimes like their well-chosen idols...

Classrooms have turned into the battlegrounds of bureaucracy, the centre of attention of any educational institution is invariably a dingy canteen, the centre of affection the canteen staff, which doesn't feign hypocrisy while providing low quality food for high rates. They cheat with a sense of open dignity. That's why they win our affection.

Education?! It's cheating all the way through under the mask of pseudo intellectualism...

Bheja Fry....

Bheja Fry is actually therapeutic! It can leave a rib-tickling sense of pleasure long after you have left the movie hall...

The witty storyline revolves around the perverse tendencies of human nature and takes a hilarious turn when our perverse, rich businessman Ranjeet Thadani (Rajat Kapoor) comes across an uncanny 'bakra' for his weekly friday parties.

And then he breaks his back, thanks to which the audience can enjoy Bharat Bhushan (Vinay Pathak), the 'bakra' in his unrestrained lyrical and comical and bhojpuri glory...

Bheja Fry, to put it in the most understated terms is a humourous delight.

To describe the comic nature of this movie is albiet tricky...The sheer purity of humour in Bheja Fry lies in the subtle and keen observations of daily life transformed with utmost skill on the screen by the story writers, artists and the director. Case in point is the 'It's ringing' alert which Bharat Bhushan insists on giving every time he dials a number and the crackling sound of the red and yellow plastic bag when our when he proudly takes out his scrapbook...

The more or less dark lighting, clever camera angles highlight the tasteful interiors, huge paintings and work to keep the two central characters in focus while also successfully giving a rich look. Somewhere under the wraps of sheer laughter, thanks to the utter incorrigible tendencies of Bharat Bhushan, also lies a trail of irony, sarcasm and misplaced morality directed at the businessman whose marriage suddenly seems all set to break- and the timing couldn't be better!

Thanks to his self-chosen 'idiot', a number of calls to trace his wife lead to a lucid plot, fast and happening and full of punch- bringing on scene a nymphomaniac, his wife's former lover, and an eccentric income tax officer...

Debuntant director Sagar Ballary should get a standing ovation to bring to Indian audiences one rocking movie...

-Gauri Gharpure

Where the road ends...

Evening time, especially on those days when it gets cloudy for no reason at all, seems ideal to allow melancholy to set. And when you let your thoughts loose in such quaint, lonely moments, you are often astonished at the expanse of subjects your mind can brood on...

On many a silent evenings like described above, I pass by frail old men and women and my thoughts find themselves wandering about in many hither-to untreaded terrains...

Some grandpas and grandmas are bent horizontaly from the level of their waist, almost parallel to the street they are advancing on... And then there are old gentlemen who religiously go about their evening strolls irrespective of the unruly traffic and the general self-engrossed buzz of life around them...

On one walk back home, an old man walking in front of me simply fell head straight on the road. He started his efforts to get back to his feet as soon as his nose bit the dust. With some difficutly and a little (politely refused) help, he was standing up again, although a somewhat sheepish, helpless emotion now covered his face.



What was he thinking when he resumed his walk again, I wonder... What does it feel to get old? To know that you are at the end of your existence and to be remined of the fact time and again by such incidences when your faculties start failing you?


It was late one night when we were leaving a restaurant. While we were looking for a rickshaw on the deserted road, we saw this strange figure totally leaning on a bicycle, shakily covering small distances in patches- with small breaks to catch his breathe. He pulled his body and the bicycle in a slow, effortsome manner... When we asked if he was sick and needed some help, he happily started explaining that he was perfectly alright and he was returning from a friend's place after watching his favourite film. He then he described his love for cinema and proceeded to tell us where his residence was. The distance he was to travel to reach home was another three kilometers at the least...

Gloom was definitely not on the mind of this old man, his spirits were livelier and his passion more passionate than even many of my age. His enthusiasm more than made up for his failing body...

My superstitious mind could not help assigning a deeper meaning to this chance meeting with a zealous old man in the middle of night, whose spirit far outweighed the decline of his health. It was one of the best lessons of enthusiasm and independence that I have ever learnt.

The thought of age, rather, the thought process of the aged always leaves me intrigued. Old people walking on busy streets, lonely men and women gathered in parks, or those unfortunate aged who's family seems to have completely forgotten their existence- how do they feel about the prospect of approaching death...

It's a very sensitive topic, but then, don't many old people whom we communicate with have that characterisitic emotion of resignation equalling to something like 'dont discuss the future with me, I may not be there'. They may be the strongest and most talented bunch of people, yet something about their attitude is way too realistic and philosophical to ignore. Actually, it's scarry...

When my aaji laments how her memory has begun to fail her, a painful shudder passes my heart. On the rare moments when that strong lady talks about the future with a sign of resignation and uncertainty, the helplessness we mortals associate with death stares in my face...

Old age is a very sensitive mixture of emotions... An old person should be regarded as a treasure for any household. The experience which comes with years is beyond evaluation. Their health may be failing them and also be a matter of concern for others, but give attention to their thoughts and attitude and you may learn a few important tips to sail the business of living for your entire life. Such is their wisdom.

I only hope all homes which are blessed to have the company of the old realise the significance of what they have- and what through they may soon lose- the wisdom of age...

GauriGC

Love me like you hate me.
For often, hate is more passionate than love...

Gauri GC

A thin layer...

A thin layer shields

Love from lust,

Desire from want

And sin from the sacred.

That clever masquerade

Of good covered up as evil,

And the bad done up as lucrative;

Of pros mingled with cons

And fake draped with genuine…

A thin layer indeed

Of right distanced from wrong.


Gauri GC

March 31’ 2007

Thoughts...

I wish sometimes, if i could live between the illusions of life and dreams, tread the mystical path of the subconscious, and freeze the existence which lingers between living and dying. I wish I could be more awake in my sleep, and bring out the meanings of the bittersweet intercourse I have with my memories, my future and my sorrow...

********
If I were you, you would not hesitate to tell me what you really think of me... That's the way I am... And perhaps that's why you and me don't get along.

****************

Let me be me.
That's the introduction I am most comfortable with.

*******************
Gauri GC
Feb 19, 2007

Thought for the day...

Guard your dreams with ferocity, with passion. Be brutal to those who attempt to scorn at your idiosyncrasies. And stay away from them for good...



-Gauri

S0me more points t0 p0nder...

Hey Nehal,

I appreciate your comment on my post about suicides..(read bel0w)
It's a well thought 0ver, rather emotinal response. The points you have made: like suicide being a personal decisi0n, the absurdity which seems t0 y0u in it been labelled a 'crime' d0 n0t appear ill0gical on the surface..

But let me tell you one thing, when I interviewed Ms Anju Sheth of SAATH in 2004, the 0ne p0int she repeated frequently was that a maj0rity of suicide cases are a sheer act of impluse.. there's this crucial period less than half an hour t0 ten minutes when the person l0ses all h0pes, sinks int0 depression and gives up 0n life rand0mly, on impluse...

Can y0u then, justify these m0ments as th0se of astute decision making?? I think not...

Further, she went 0n to say that it is in this crucial period that he/she needs help.. A simple talk, a phonecall, just about anything that takes his mind away from the depressing thoughts can make him pull along...

I would be the last person to take a judgemental stand and say pe0ple wh0 c0mmit suicides are c0wards... H0wever, at the same time, I firmly believe that suicides are not a decent way 0f paying a tribute t0 the life we have g0t...And last of all, t0 call a justifiable decision, however pers0nal it might be...

I w0uld feel bad f0r th0se wh0 take the drastic step 0nly because 0f the extent 0f life they readily all0wed t0 g0 waste on mere assumpti0ns...

It is perhaps through writing and speaking more ab0ut such things that we can do our bid: to let s0me ann0nym0us people kn0w, as i put it, that n0thing is never the end.. and that s00ner or later, life really rules...

Keep writing, keep reading and yes! keep living!!! in the true sense 0f the w0rd :)

PS pl bear with the '0's, the key is giving me trouble...

Why suicide....

It was with utter shock and sadness today that I took the news of a college senior who committed suicide ... We could be passed as friends, a little more than acquaintances definitely.. The little moments I remember of having spent together are full of the most silly PJs and lots and lots of carefree laughter...
The smiling face refuses to fade, the happy tone... O it's so shocking...

Why??? What sort of moment it would be when a lively youth is so depressed to shed away the urge of giving in to the utter ecstacy of life? I only hope and request that if anyone comes to such a desperate point of misfortune, simply hang on... Somewhere there, beyond your knowledge, would definitely be someone who thinks of you and would be more than willing to listen out... Just hang on...

Here's a number in Ahmedabad, a suicide helpline service which simply talks to people on the verge of commiting suicide...
SAATH- 079 26305544

I wrote an article in Education Times, Ahmedabad when the high rates of suicides after (or before the board exams) shocked and saddened me greatly. I reproduce the same below....

Desperate Measures

You do not get a life to give it up…


After having done with the board exams, when all students are enjoying their summer vacation, a few individuals who gave up too easily to the mounting exam pressure, now linger as a distant, painful memory. With the rate of suicides committed by young students rising to alarming levels in the city, it’s time to deal with this sudden social upheaval urgently. The hype created by the competition crazy and mark maniac exam system may shake the students, however, they should understand that no ‘reason’ cannot be a reason enough to give up on life.


Disturbed by the alarming rates of suicide cases in the city, Mrs. Anju Sheth established SAATH in 1998. SAATH is an NGO, which provides support and counsel to people with suicidal thoughts. Anju Sheth opines that majority of suicides by the youth are a result of impulsive behavior triggered by loneliness, lack of support or the complete loss of hope. Hence, it’s extremely important to patiently listen to whatever your child, friend or student, without being judgmental. SAATH functions by ‘Listening Therapy’ wherein trained volunteers lend a patient ear to the caller. Many a times, the conversation is active on the callers’ side and passive on the listener’s side. Sometimes, if a person with depressing/suicidal thoughts simply gets to vent off the pent up feelings, he might get a reason enough to think on positive lines and give up suicidal thoughts.


Petrified by the fear of consequences following a failure and lack of awareness, students fail to see many different career choices available, many students and parents give up too easily and fall prey to dejection, opines Nimrat Singh, a career counselor.

Dr. Khushnuma Banaji, a professor of Psychology in St. Xavier’s College opines that there’s no knowing when the threshold levels of stress may be crossed. Many a times, very good students find it difficult to accept that they are unable to cope up. They live in state of turmoil, and fake up normal behavior to live up to the façade of being a bright student. Her colleague, Prof. Ami Mehra informs that some tell tale signs like the lack of eye contact while talking, the unwillingness to carry on discussions, sudden irritation, restlessness or a slouching body posture, if noticed, should not be ignored.

Friends, who spend a lot of time with the concerned person, can easily detect such signs. Hence a huge responsibility lies on the peers to listen to their friend’s fears, provide a firm support and work towards sensible solutions. If dealt understandingly by peers, they can also be convinced to share their feelings with parents as well as to see a professional counselor.

It is unfortunate that depression, which is perhaps as normal an illness as common cold is wrongly perceived as a taboo and dealt with in a clandestine manner in the society. Many a times, family members try to sort such situations by themselves without seeking the help of counselors or psychiatrists.

Mrs. Anju Sheth (SAATH) opines that sometimes, medical assistance becomes necessary. There is a need of increasing the awareness that to seek the help of a counselor is only another way of taking care of yourself, which no one has a right to look down upon.


Rita Shah*, who gave her 12th Arts exam this year misses her close friend who committed suicide a few months back. All she can say about her friend’s drastic decision is that there was no reason for her to escape away like this…

Life is beautiful and sooner or later people agree on this fact.


* Name changed

In case someone shows suicidal tendancies

DO NOT
Negate the feelings expressed
Mock/ridicule whatever is said
Avoid stereotype assurances
Emphasize on the shortcomings
Attach excessive importance to passing/good marks


DO
Listen patiently
Encourage positive thoughts
Encourage meditation
Indulge in recreational activities, hobbies
Sign in a different short-term classes- language, public speaking, etc.
Be vocal about your feelings
Generate alternate career options
Get medical assistance/counseling if required

SAATH-079 26305544


- Gauri V. Gharpure

I am tired of Radio Mirchi... Vividh Bharati rules!!!

It was sometime during my jewellery making spells that I started getting majorly irritated of Radio Mirchi... The RJs are always hyper active, hyper excited, hyper happy, hyper artificial... Perhaps they are groomed to appear 'bubbly', 'youthful' and 'fresh' 24 7, but they have been grossly overdoing their acts of late...

It was also during the same spell of gritting my teeth everytime an RJ went overboard in his/her hyper spells, that I started tuning in to Vividh Bharati. Vividh Bharati is accused of being stagnant, of being operating by the same rulebook that it was initiated with: more weightage to classical music, followed by old hindi film songs.

Vividh Bharati, I discovered is quite efficiently living up to the 'image'. And due to this very image, it will definitely stand out with its own loyal and huge fan following in future. More predictably, almost all media are populated by the hyper active communication style which has become fashionable today and so will be the radio. But sooner or later, people will grow tired of the induced excitement and constant chatter, of the forced vivaciousness and high pitched action based information. They will want something sober, something more balanced.

The best thing about the simplicity of Vividh Bharati is that you can indeed keep the radio as a 'background' compnanion and proceed about your chores without distraction. The music is soft, the presentators calm and composed. The melody as well the the presentation does not interefere with your work. The 'rjs' here dont order you about in the shrill screams and hyper urgings to go see the latest movie, and dont play some horrible, far fectched jingles idolising anyone from filmstars to sportsmen. Talking about idolising, I was pissed off beyond the levels of my tolerance on hearing a jingle sounding like a garba aarti, which sang praise of Indian cricketor Sreesanth after his performance in a match against South Africa... Outright ridiculous!...

Vividh Bharati offers its listeners a well planned schedule. The variety of the contents took me by a pleasant surprise. The simplicity of presentation was something I was to eager to welcome. I remember listening to A K Hangal's radio interview one quiet night about a month back. I shall be indebted to some anonymous team at the radio station who put the programme together to bring to us A K Hangal's old shaky voice, the nostalgia of past evident from the highs and lows of his talks, the emotions and the pieces of history saved for ever thanks to an excellent interview on the radio waves.

Sometime in the morning the presentators (Mahindra and Mamta Singh)were reading letters sent by Vividh Bharati listeners from far away corners of the country. One listener said of taking help from someone to write the letter and walking a distance of twelve kilometers just to post it. Her indigience when she complained that her letters were not read up was justified. I listened to old Hindi film songs coupled with information about the composers, the lyricists, programmes giving information about some famous music directors, lyricists, film makers. A slot for instrumental music in the afternoon, a programme for youth, small plays... Vividh Bharati...O! I am fascinated...

New Year's Eve


I walk along the familiar paths

As some friendly hopes give me company,

Little regrets wander along

And few desires go out of sight,

arguing with the future...

Carefree laughter still echoes

The difference those kind words made, shows.

A few more events add to the memories

I'll fondly look back to...

As time ticks unhurried, I walk along-

On this New Year's Eve.

-Gauri G

The goldfish in the bowl
An orange dollop of life
She laps about in circles
For but a rubber playman,she is alone, all alone...

The goldfish in the bowl
Have you ever seen it closely
Or is she just for show?
For but a rubber playman, she is alone, all alone...

That dollop of orange,
how she slithers her paper thin fins,
And how gracefully she turns and bends
within the scarcity of life she has...



How her shades of orange change,
From a vibrant orange to reddish,
A tinge of golden here, a hint of yellow there,
An orange dollop of life, that goldfish in the bowl...

But sometimes, the colour begins to fade...

How she refuses feed one day,
And then the day next...
how the water turns murky,
And how her fins go limp...

That dollop of orange,
will just fall still one day
And float in the glass bowl
O how ugly would it look!

The goldfish in the bowl,
Do you see it daily
Or she is just for show?
For but a rubber playman, is she alone, all alone?...

****************

Please keep pets only if you can keep them with love, care and proper medical treatment...

****************

By Gauri Gharpure

In that small moment
When I lost you
Life ended and began all at once
Everything smelt new...

Time betrays without a tinge of emotion
And the clock ticks on.
Why then, live a burden of memories
When life never ceases to make new songs?

In small moments
I look at raindrops clinging to green leaves
And sparrows hopping about on window ceils;
Squirrels scampering up the trees

Time smiles a sly smile
And says: 'Nothing will change
Whether you be
Or choose not to be'

I would rather choose to be me
Than trail in the shadows of expectations
I would rather be me
Than my father's daughter,
My husband's wife
My aaji's grandchild...
I would rather be me
By my choice.

For in small moments,
When I lose many more
Life can begin all over again
For nothing is never the end...

Gauri Gharpure

The neem tree cried yesterday
It had seen me grow...
It shed lush, bitter tears,
And hustled about in pain
As I got ready, bejeweled and made-up;
It suddenly began to rain.
The neem laughed at the irony
At relief and salve unasked;
It wanted to brood in solitude,
pampering the pain.

My grandfather would sit below the tree,
Bare-bodied, with only pajamas on.
The neem would sway from side to side
to greet the old man a good morn.

As I ran about from shrub to shrub
Marvelling at the nests littles birds made,
My granpa would hold out his arms
in an effort to embrace...

Grandfather is gone,
the tree sways in loneliness.
It has grown heavier under the burden of memories
And servants urge that the tree be relieved.
As I agreed, in a hurry to go
The neem tree overheard.
A loud cry it muffled.

The neem tree saw me grow
The tree saw me go.

Gauri Gharpure

Eat, Drink and be merry
Party, yeah, party real hard…
Dance: twirl yourself round and round,
In circles till you get dizzy…

Drink, drink and Drive.
Party, yeah party real hard…
Then drive your costly car;
Drive, drive real fast…

Drive fast and rash and rude,
Drink while you drive,
And scream while you drive
Play music loud and clear…

Then sip some more from the
Whisky and the beer,
Then, drive fast, faster
And mow up someone sleeping still…

Put just a few people to sleep-
Sleep, Sleep, a peaceful sleep…
By driving your car over them,
But still, drink, drink and drive, you will…



Then get out of the car,
And shout, shout an arrogant shout,
On the recently bereaved…
Whose dear ones were crushed in sleep…

*************

- By Gauri Gharpure

To the youngsters who allegedly drove over sleeping daily wagers at Carter Road, Mumbai- killing six on the spot, including one seven month pregnant woman… Several more lie seriously injured…

To them, (and such alike…)who still showed no remorse…

Click here and here to read more about this accident.