No risk, no gain

Pongal is a celebration of nature's bounty. It's an expression of gratitude for the fruits of labour in the life cycle of the farmer. The celebration is rife with symbollism like all other agriculture-related celebrations worldwide.
One of these is the boiling of the rice pudding called 'pongal' which comprises rice, milk and jaggery and garnished with  sugar candy, nuts and raisins. In short, it symbolizes nourishment that is rich and sweet to the palate. The 'pongal' is to be cooked in a new claypot and the concoction must boil over to signify that the year ahead will be blessed with overflowing joy and prosperity. And while the sweet and rich contents of the pot boil over, one is supposed to cry out in joy 'pongala pongala' that literally means 'boil over, boil over'.
 Although I rejoice in celebrating these traditional events, I usually resort to short cuts. So yesterday being Pongal  Day in Tamil Nadu, I decided to substitute the rice pudding for my daily quota of milk and decided to standby and wait for it to boil over. Now, nine times out of ten the milk boils over when I am absent minded and get involved with some other household chore. But on this pongal morning under my watchful eye, the milk just refused to boil over. As the level rose, I kept coaxing it to boil over with feverish chants of 'pongala pongala'; it rose into a huge bubble and stayed delicately poised over the brim of the vessel, but it refused to boil over. So, I said to myself, "Well, I shall have enough of the good things in life this year, but not a surfeit. So I should be contended." But that brainwashing was not satisfactory. I felt the need to see that the milk boiled over so I could be assured of overflowing goodness all year round.

I had to use some strategy. I shut the window of the kitchen in a bid to dissuade the gentle breeze from keeping the milk level down. But this didn't work. Now, a different analogy began to play in my mind.This is like the sensex, it is trying to gain the 20,000 mark but keeps sliding back and forth while the speculators are watching with bated breath. The need of the hour was a change in strategy. So I changed the stove placement and placed the vessel on a higher intensity flame and 'voila' the milk promply boiled over. But in my excitement, I forgot to cry out 'pongala pongala' at that strategic moment.

As I cleaned up the stove, I realized the lesson to be learned from this incident. Sometimes one needs to take greater risks in life to strike greater rewards. Well, that is the story of the stock market! The higher the risk, the greater the gain. So while I had placed the pot on a lower intensity flame, the milk just rose but didn't boil over; but when a higher flame was used, the results were fantastic!

My mother's words came back to me. 'No risk, no gain'.

The heartache of being lonely

Woke up this morning very broken-hearted. In the early hours of the morning I encountered my dad in a dream. Spenta, Jamsheed and I seemed to be passing by our Homi Villa in an old Fiat car. We were invited to dinner by Polly and were enroute to her place. As we passed the old family home, I requested the driver to stop and walked into the home. It seemed so crowded with old Parsi men and women, who I assumed had made it a habit to visit our home in order to keep Dad company. But the shy man that he always was, he was not seated with them. Actually I felt quite irritated seeing them all over my home behaving in such a patronizing way. I found my Dad in one of the inner rooms. He looked just as he always did in his late nineties, and was wearing his striped night-suit. When I saw him I asked "Daddy kaise ho?" He appeared so lost and sad and answered 'Mai khaata peeta hoon, par neend nahi aati." And there were tears in his eyes. It struck me that he was terribly lonesome and I was overwhelmed with a feeling of unbelievable guilt. How could we have left him alone! He seemed like a lost and confused child. I promised him that my kids and I would come back and stay the night with him and left.
When I returned home I set about cleaning up the place that seemed to look so neglected, replacing all the soiled linen etc. Then on the chest of drawers I saw a heap of Mummy's nighties. At once I wished to take them with me, but I didn't want to deprive him of her memories and asked him for permission to take them. He said "Ha, ha, le jaao.".......
Just then Spenta woke me up from my sleep. My heart felt so burdened that I immediately wept uncontrollably. It was the agony of loneliness I had glympsed in him that I had felt so accutely. I revealed my dream to Spenta and she just kissed me and reassured me that it was just a bad dream.

But to me this dream seemed to have a purpose. It has lingered all day in my consciousness. Perhaps it is holding up a mirror to my attitude to people these days?

Human relationships need space to grow. Especially in modern times there is a wall of privacy around every individual that must not be peeped through or scaled over. Of late, I too have been developing this attitude and have become unmindful of the needs of some people who do not understand this phenomena. I have begun to shun them. Was this dream a warning to show me the pain of loneliness that people can suffer and to tell me that what I have been indulging in is not right?

Catching up with the future

It has always been a race... Slipped into my mother's high-heeled shoes, draped her discarded sari on a dull rainy day, played 'mother-baby' like family games or 'teacher-teacher' with my buddies. Longed to catch up with age, to be able to wear lipstick and have boyfriends. Marriage was another dream to daydream about and then having real babies to fawn over. Wished to have a career and accomplished that too.
Now, facing with a frown the sixtieth year of my life that will soon arrive at the door, I still need to catch up. This time it's with the youth all around me. Oh, can't I just take up a mobile phone and explore its mysteries or confidently surf the mindboggling vistas of the Internet without having to beg my nimble-fingered children or nephews and nieces to show me how to wend my way through this maze of technology!
Having longed in my youth to put on some more kilos and some oomph in vital places on my thin frame, now in my middle years, I am longing to catch up with the definately-illusive 'zero-size' benchmark; have to remember to discard niceties like "I'm fine thank you' and brush up on 'I'm good, dude! or "I'm cooool man, coool!' When something goes beserk I need to stay my ground and not run for shelter but sport a glassy-eyed disdain and declare 'Just chill out...'
Am I trying to keep up with the Jonesses or just trying to fight to retain my space in the sun? Whatever, still trying to 'Catch up!'