Exercise

This is a writing task I am given, but I'll publish it anyway :-)

My long term fling with footwear started long before my first crush (And my first crush was kind of premature when I was a little over half a decade)

From White Sandak sandals that reinvented themselves as off-whitish brown over a short period of hard use to the deliciously red suede Birkis that I am currently wearing, my love for shoes explored new paths and evolved as a complete and mature facet of mine.( Now I wish I'd said the same about the other more significant facets of mine)

The "complete and mature facet" part is open for debate though, as not so long ago, I'd had a lemming for a pair of metallic neon green Birkis dressed in chunky white and blue rhinestones and those twinkles sporting 'Swarowsky' name on their sleeves didn't in the littlest bit spruce up the "pre-teen fashion Blunder" look. Nor did the legendarily sexy Heidi Klum's name associated with the pair of sandals did.

After window shopping in the windows of my window to the world, I finally clicked the big and bold "complete my order" button.

In less than a week I was walking around in my lounge wear and a pair of the most noticeable accessories known to the human kind suffocating my dainty feet. My feet, the only part of me that did'nt look seriously post 'post partum' but thanks to Heidi Klum's imagination, they matched in with the rest of my being ! Not just that, I looked like the infamous Bjork in her swan outfit walking down the red carpet.

A good reason for models to showcase their bods instead of their design sense is the fact that the decoration on the gaudy leather made the sandals look like the illegitimate child of classic birkis and Joan river's fashion jewelry - the line that the designer hawks on QVC.

I bailed myself out of the fashion blunder by bidding adieu to the specimens of art, entrusting them in the insured hands of the USPS. The free return label provided was a great consolation.

The "de-retail" therapy worked like a charm. Once in a while if my foot-fashion sense suffers a sprain, I am thankful to the good old USA's "no questions asked" return policy.

catching up

చాల కాలం తర్వాత నాకు మల్లి బ్లాగ్ వ్రాసే అవకాసం దొరికినందుకు ఒక చిన్న తెలుగు వాక్యం వ్రాసి ముగించాలని ఆలోచన.
ఎవరైనా నా అబ్సేన్స్

ను గమనించారా?

Recap

Like the ones forgiven,
The ones buried
Deep in the soil of a subconscious memory -
Why doesn't forgetfulness grace
The tiny notches of the grey cells
And valves of the bloody red ticker?
Why do memories metamorphosis into Memoirs
Like the garish, yellowish light of a solar garden stake
That looms instead of the darkness around
with mock illumination?
Why don't unpleasant flashes of images
cease to reappear on the canvas of the human mind?
Why oh why
Do souls suffer the sabotage of unfading reminiscence?

Vision

Guess whose imagination is running far and wide and of course wild?
Yeah, the little brat around here. Mom and daughter had a bitter battle of ego yesterday when daughter dearest not only announced that she'd do it, but also drank water out of her brand new (thankfully) crocs. I know, eek, gross and all that! I was speechless. Didn't know how to deal with the fully blown, busting at the seams ego of the two something toddler. I promptly took the shoe out of her hand, didn't threaten her of her usual time out mecca (read garage!) and tossed it into the recycling bin. She cried, threw herself on the floor, rolled around , protested, campaigned, pleaded and finally begged to get her shoe back. (She did get it after mommy dearest (the tough, sadistic disciplinarian) made sure that the teachable moment and the value that needed to be inculcated was driven home loud and clear. No messing with momma! The house rules are set and are seldom amended :-))
So, the point here is not about how firm I am to start discipline before it is too late - it is more about how Aarti's imagination is treading new, sometimes annoying and sometimes amusing paths.
Yesterday, she came out to me in the backyard with her Dora fun float sipper. The sipper has the silhouette of a wine glass , except with a cage like base where a little Dora figurine floats in teeny sparkles. The transparent liquid (probably water) formed a light froth on the surface and Dora is fully immersed. "Those are spilled M&ms all over" she explained with dilated eyes "and Dora is taking a bubble bath while spilling her M&Ms all over" she continued. Now is this another writer, painter, poet, director, handy person and blogger on the making??
Proud momma has a track record of her own fertile imagination. Darling daughter just follows cue!

Picture courtesy - Aarti Addanki's maiden, original artwork!

How much is the dog in the window?

New Jersey trip was fun - well, mostly! Mostly because my kid sister's hospitality put my diet in drain and Aarti learnt the buzz word "mine" fighting with her cousin Lasya. So, otherwise it was pretty fun. I got a chance to experience the Mumbai Prabhadevi's Navakar grilled sandwich in the heart of Edison. Imagine all the money I'd saved on the flight tkts to sink my teeth into the luscious layers of cucumber laden with mint sauce?? Yum Yum.

Geeta and I painted the town a bright crimson. Yeah, red is kind of cliched. In the process we'd visited the Woodbridge mall twice. As always, visiting a Disney store was loads of fun. I scored a cute pink T with a piglet sketch which is now tucked into the armoire in fear of wearing something way too symbolic. LOL. Anyway, I wish I was as cute as him!

Cute brings me to the actual reason for blogging. After we'd loaded two hands full of shopping bags, Geeta volunteered to dump them in the trunk of the car so that our hands could get themselves around more shopping bags. In a desperate attempt to keep Aarti from running after her aunt, I dragged her into the nearest store not glancing again to make sure that I am not dragging her into the likes of Fredrick's of Hollywood! Thankfully it wasn't the kind at all. I ended up with my eyes locked with the most soulful brown eyes ever. They looked into mine almost like a plead. If having a kid didn't make me realise how much work caring for a kid is, I'd have picked that cute little pug (that I named Peppy the moment I set my eyes on him) and brought him home notwithstanding the hefty tag that was attached to his cage. But alas, pups are as much work and commitment as kids and that chickened me away.

So Peppy haunts me to date. And for once, I am extremely green of all the lucky souls who have the privilege of having a pet. One day, hopefully, when I am brave enough to let Aarti have a brother or a sister, I might let her have a Peppy! Till then Peppy, who is probably out of that cage and in some loving home by now, will haunt me with those soulful eyes!

Admiration.

One of the things that never ceases to charm me is Rehman's ability to churn a better tune than the one before every time he is at churning one. It seems like yesterday that my laptop played Jodhaa Akbar on repeat (and it still plays Rang de Basanti till date) and comes the new tune on block in an effort to cheer the acidity causing Aditi, the lead of Jaane Tu!

I first listened to it in the wee hours of the morning while fighting a very strong urge to close the laptop and catch on some sleep, sply since my mind and body were functioning in a time zone three hours ahead. Then Santu comes and tells me about the song and how he'd listened to it on repeat all day. Okay, He's my kid bro and we have strong addictive tendencies meaning we'll do things repeatedly and with increasing passion every time we repeat it. So, addictive tendencies - inherited defect. Anyway, I listen to the song again and feel like a teenager. Probably like Aditi who is fortunate enough to have a dedicated group of friends who try to cheer her up. That is the ability of Rehman Bhayya. He makes me feel like the character involved in the song. I feel the heartbreak in Yeh Ajnabi, the vigor in Chayya Chayya, the playfulness in Yeh tara Who Tara, the devotion in Pal pal hai bhari, the sorrow in Lukkha Chuppi, the passion in Jiya Jale, the patriotism in Yeh jo des hai mera, the Love in Roja janeman and the energy in Rang de basanti. These are only a very very few of the emotions he makes me feel. For a song to do this to a hard to please person like me is pretty impressive. My "up scale taste"(read hard to please) as described my kid bro instantly approves the talent of Rehman. He makes me feel so much more of a better person when I listen to his music. Now, I don't know how some music can make anyone a better person, yeah it kind of sounds weird but it is exactly how Rehman bhayya's music makes me feel - better as a person. Probably because he shows to me thru the medium of his compositions, my ability to react to things! Doesn't make sense, I know! I cannot help it either! LOL.

So here goes a premature ending, just in awe, in absolute admiration for a talent so immense that it makes me wonder how it is humanly possible to be such an exhaustive source of art.

Rehman Bhayya, I bow to you and touch the feet of Saraswathi that lives in you!

Words fail me further.

BTW - For now, I am Aditi, mourning the little kitty:-)))

Mood

A dash of laughter
A pinch of a pinch
Probably of being human
Or inhuman?
A little woe
A wee frustration
Smidgen of childishness
Heap of introspection!
Immature conflicts within
Ripened thoughts to contradict

Life seems to be a celebration
Of occasions, victories, anniversaries
And most of all, the fight of living
With a conscience
Triumphant, tarnished, twisted
By some seriously silly thoughts!

Connection.

God bless the Internet.
God bless Google
God bless perseverance.
:-)
God bless all of the above and me!

Madhavi Lata is easily the closest friend I'd had till date. Except that We did not speak to each other sine 2001. Yes, weird. We went to school together, shared a heap full of childhood and adolescent dreams together, talked incessantly about out sweethearts (who we are happily married to now!), shared hopes of being in the same profession and watched the mushy Telugu version of Maine Pyar kiya with hands held all thru the movie. (Phew...I dunno how we managed that, being 13 probably helps a little bit! LOL)

It was buddy hood at first sight for us - no. We didn't warm up to each other the moment we met. There was inertia, there were prejudices but all of them culminated into a beautiful relationship that I caught up with just a few minutes ago. When they say that a true friend is someone who never falls out of touch, they are probably true. I met her for the last time when she was preggers with her first baby. Now she has two girls, one six and one 4. Her hubby changed professions since I last met her and I have gotten a promotion too, as the mom to the cutest little brat around. We caught up, we laughed and we cracked jokes on who would be the heaviest among the two of us. "I look like a white pig now" I exclaimed. "No, you cant be a bigger, whiter pig than I am " She insisted. We were transformed to our eighth grade - days of absolute bliss, the days that are the happiest of memories. The past that revives the child in me!

So, I resolved that I'd talk to her today. I googled and googled for the local white pages listing and finally reached the web page of BSNL. After severe persistence and a lot of strain to the memory to recollect her last name (her hubby's) I finally succeeded.

It is amazing that the world is so small now. I wonder how people survived without the Internet, I wonder how researchers gathered information and dear ones communicated. Look, in the seriously wee hours , I am here typing my heart's content and letting that world know that I'd just caught up with a friend after seven years and we felt like we'd left off the conversation yesterday. Lahari, Ravi Kanth, Nalini and a whole lot of people who frequent here will know it as soon as they open my blog. Ahhh.....the boon of technology, the blessing of the world wide web.:-))

So, here I am gushing like a 13 year old and almost feeling like one in the triumph of tracing a long last friendship and in the bliss of discovering that I am blessed with a few things that'll never change.

My happily settled homemaker friend Madhavi might never venture out on the net to see what I'd to say about today but I am sure she'll have an ESP strong enough to know that long after the catching up is done, her childhood friend is still thinking about her and feeling extra fortunate and extremely blessed to have a friendship that is this precious.

Inspired.

I am inspired. It's been a long time since I felt a strong urge to write. I am not feeling the urge right now, but I somehow feel that an inspiration has stuck me. When I was in second grade, I suddenly realised that I could attempt to draw. It was the last period of our day and Bala Miss who taught her Science was in the class to manage us for an absent teacher. I looked at the picture of a girl on a cover of my notebook. She looked like someone that'd come out of an English story (more like Shakespeare though He was non existent to me at that time). I grabbed a pencil and started sketching. To the teacher's surprise, I did quiet well. Then came Hardy (the one from Laurel and Hardy). I'd sketched him in my third grade. All my friends were in awe. Anyway, I did sketch a lot and I do it now too though I am not sure if I'd still believe that I am sketching masterpieces like I'd believed when I was a child.
The laptop feels wonderful. Sarat just gave this to me and I am getting over the fear of ruining a brand new, state of the art machine - Sleek and cute all rolled into one. Computers is one thing that intimidates me more than fascinates me. I have a uber brainy friend who is working on his start-up in Stanford (watch out, he could be the next Bill gates and I'll probably put up a picture of mine with him and start boasting.. "I know this new "Bill Gates"" "We were in the same class" blog. Anyway, He once told me that I cannot say that I hate computers when I use the technology. He is true. I should not. So..back to what I wanted to say - The laptop feels like a sports car. My fingers just glide on the keypad and it is sheer pleasure seeing my typing appear on the cute screen. I miss the knocked tooth one. It has all my pictures and unpublished writings and too crappy to publish ones as well. I'll probably carry this baby with me and try doing some blogging while I am in NJ.
Nj brings me back to drawing and painting. I did some of them on huge canvasses. Huge like the wall of our house. Literally. I should upload the images sometime. So, sketching and blogging so far and may be technology. I sometimes dream about being a techie and impressing my already impressed hubby. May be he'll see me in a new light like this uber brainy thing and not really play the "you are not technical" card. No, actually he doesn't play it. I am the bad guy most of the time. Sarat is pretty flexible. He is a little strong. Those number nines:-( But that is just how they are I guess. Till the sixes come into play. 9 and 6. Librans and Virgos. They are star couples. No I didn't make this up.
Singing is one more thing I enjoy. As a child, I once broke into the song from Saptapadhi clear and loud when I saw my Uncle come and hang a calendar that was compliments of Chamundeswari chitfunds. For those of you who know the song, it is the one that sings the accolades of Goddess Shakti. I actually did a mock classical number along with it for my couple of friends. It is amazing how free spirited I was. Look at me now. I go to the cardio tennis class and wonder what the instructor would be thinking of me "a not so fit housewife ruining the perfectly trained class" or " a way too un-flexible to be playing with the trained pack" LOL. I think I like the former better. But isn't it true that we should not bother what other's think as Santu says?

Writing poetry started in fifth grade.
I came up with weirdo stuff like these original examples below.

In the life of cricket
We should not lose the wicket
If we lose it
Our life will become a puppet!

What shall be I think
The roses of Pink
Or the dew that is twinkling
In the sunshine Blinking.

Wait, may be I didn't improve much in the past two decades on the poetry front but I am the only poet in the family right now. At least till Aarti catches up with her weirdo, wacky bathroom humor laden nursery rhymes. Yess....for the time being, I am the only poet and that is all that matters. It doesn't matter what you think. I'll moderate all the comments. Don't forget that :-)) ROFLMAO.

So what was I saying ??

Drawing, blogging, singing, dancing and writing verse - The simple, most precious pleasures of life.

:-)))
It's your turn to throw eggs and tomatoes ( be considerate. Only the non-rotten ones please!)

Pic courtesy - Mrs. Mahalaxmi Krishnakumar, the Multi talented mom of my friend Satya.
Aunty, if you ever get to see this blog, Your pic just reminded me of all things creative and here I am strolling on the memory lane all egotistic and ecstatic.

Daytime blog

Off late, I see that I am writing more about serious stuff like philosophy, trust and taken-for-gr anted women. SO I thought I'd write about something different. The difference is not that this topic is not serious, but it is just that it might not be as serious to you as it is to me and that would make a not-s0-serious reading. You might laugh a bit, but sense of humor is not a must have for a woman anyway since sense of humor is like beauty for men and women need to have beauty no matter what (and I'll kick but of humility and admit just once, that I am not horrible looking! LOL)

So, after my long enough prologue, (yeah, I talk a lot) I'll announce what I am writing about. It feels good to blog in the afternoon, under the endless cathedral ceiling of our formal living room when sunlight peeps thru the maple wood blinds creating a candle light effect on things around me. Aarti is watching her infant hood tapes, and before her attention span burns out, I better put my touch typing skills to use and finish off with this venture.

A day in the life of a Toddler's mom.

(disclaimer - I am blogging about an average day with average timing of things we do. It may be better or (usually) worse than what it is depicted to be.

8:00 hrs - I try to do some stuff before she gets up, but usually I just end up brushing and nature calls and browsing thru a fresh copy of the Wall Street Journal (if sarat didn't already take it to work in hopes of reading it on BART)

8:30 hrs - My reading bliss is punctuated with guilt of not doing the laundry or last night's dishes so this is not exactly the bliss one imagines it to be.

8:40 hrs - Toddler stirs in the bed impatiently and displays her lung capacity by yelling to me in repeated intervals. I drop the messy newspaper on the floor and run to her rescue. Toddler still feels lazy to get out of bed. She forces me to cuddle with her and tell her the story of Hita's birthday party for the millionth time in my life. I oblige hopelessly!

8:55 hrs - I convince her that she needs to brush her teeth before she could listen to any more stories. Our fight for the day commences with the teeth brushing routine. Toddler has more collection of brushes and tooth pastes than Purutchi Talaivi allegedly has jewelry or shoes. I offer her choices, she picks up a pink or blue paste and the Dora or Soccer ball brush. after a good 20 mts, the process of selecting brushes, paste and brushing with an attempt to minimize swallowing happens. The whole process is sprinkled generously with stores about having to go the doc if tooth brushing routine is not followed. The doc story works like a charm. Dr. Homer our super sweet pediatrician has no idea, poor man, that he is the substitute of Gabbar Singh in our daily routine!

9:15 hrs - Now the battle to give toddler a bath starts. Toddler is very fond of water, so bathing her is not as big a challenge as making her to make me give the bath is. The fun and freedom loving toddler wants to empty the water resource in Dublin paired with the bottle of Aveeno bath gel before she decides to get out of the tub. Toddler's recent obsession is the bubble bath that I foolishly introduced her to. Now after every attempt to use the big potty, toddler insists on a bubble bath instead of a "wash/wipe butt routine.

9:45 hrs - after the long process of bathing is done, the process of selecting a towel to dry the toddler starts. Toddler usually prefers a fresh and colorful towel after every bath routine. No, she is not concerned about the greenness of our planet - unfortunately!

9:55 hrs - It'll take me a good 25 minutes and lots of exercise to the lungs and legs before toddler gets herself moisturised, sun screened and dresses. I am skipping the part of messing the closet selecting her outfit because you might think that I am dramatizing details and I do not want people to get me wrong :-)

10: 20 hrs - Easily the worst part of the day. Getting the toddler to eat the first meal of the day. She would have had her glass of milk on getting up, but getting her to eat something like cereal or some crackers with string cheese is like a torture of first degree. I try not to give in but I usually do probably due to lack of will power or patience or sheer perseverance or probably because the toddler did not inherit the lack of these qualities form her mom!

11:10 hrs - The day is still not even into early noon and the stress starts showing on how I handle myself. By now, my hair is all frizzy and my complexion is all ruddy and the stress eating gets a jump start as I polish off the barely nibbled string cheese and barely touched honey bunches of oats with a cup of organic milk, leaving no trace that needs to be cleared in the wash basin. Toddler decides to munch on the apples that I diced for myself in an attempt to lose the seriously post-partum ponch!

11:30 hrs - Toddler wants to either get her face painted, or read a book with amma or meddle with amma's tolietries or pretend play and make amma some coffee in her kitchen. The reader should notice that 'AMMA' is the buzz word in all these activities. Amma usually ends up doing a 2o time imposition of any chosen routine including the face painting thing (yes, including the face painting)

12:15 hrs - Amma realises it is past noon and time to take a shower. Toddler takes advantage of amma being locked in a shower. Toddler pulls amma's glasses out of the night stand, puts on amma's moisturiser all over her feet and in the process on the area rug in the bedroom, toddler tries to pull out amma's nikon form its case to capture herself or just plain pulls out all the neatly folded laundry that amma postponed to put away last night in a desperate need of sleep.

12:25 hrs - I walk into a scene that resembles more of a battle field and less of a bedroom. Unable to decide where to start, I leave the mess as it is till another bout of energy hits my nerves.

12:35 hrs - I finish my preoccupied daily prayer as I am trying to consolidate the things to be done in the coming hours. Toddler insists on blowing the candle I just lighted to make the home get rid of the morning's cooking. Toddler goes crazy spotting a candle since she is looks at a lighted candle as an opportunity to sing a happy birthday song!

13:00 hrs - After making the toddler do all that she wants to do , I attempt to eat my meal before feeding her hers (it has to be in this order for the mom to stay conscious to feed the toddler)

13:10 hrs - toddler orders for a complicated dish - usually aloo or gobi paratha. I make it diligently without complains as I save my complaints for the evening when toddler's dad comes home.

13:25 hrs - the tougher than the toughest part comes to play. Toddler comes up with all types of creativity to skip lunch. Toddler wants to feed while climbing up and down stairs, walking in the front yard and playing with the water faucet in the kitchen. I obey with mouth shut and nerves grating, but mouth shut as I'd said. The project-feeding is never a complete success in spite of all the climbing up and down stairs and playing with paint and water and creating a messier than messy kitchen and living space.

14:30 hrs - Dead meat me is in for the binge of her life. Gulping everything down that the pantry and kitchen has to offer. Food therapy is the best therapy of all.

14:40 hrs - Toddler insists on watching something on TV. Toddler never watches anything seriously but the volume has to be full and the program has to be always teletubbies or kelly kubbies. Some freaky looking alien like creatures bombard me loud and clear with something to the effect of "lala's ball, lala's ball, lala's favourite thing of all" times one million two hundred and twenty. The little grey matter that grows back in sleep everyday is dead by now and I am waiting for the toddler's dad to arrive home.

15:00 hrs - I call toddler's daddy to see when he would come home. The calls is answered by a freaky sounding shrill lady's voice that asks me to leave a message. Desperate, I cut off the line hitting the fridge for more strawberries and cream from Coldstone.

15:10 hrs - Toddler wants to go out and play. I drag her with one shoe on and one sock off to chucke cheese's or super franks or Barnes and Noble. The toddler is usually hyper in public places and runs like a little chicken on loose bumping into people who look at me like I need to take parenting lessons. I conveniently ignore that looks discounting them as too old to have forgotten their own kids' childhood or too young to have kids of their own.
Toddler puts up a fierce fight to get into the child restraint after the said outing. I manage to get her there with minimal force and threats in a fear of being mistaken for a child abductor. Toddler sulks for some time before she gets into the "gimme attention" mode. I use the time to quickly go thru mail and collect the bits of Lego block and toys on the floor before toddler's dad comes home.

17:30 hrs - toddler gets on the small trash can and uses it as a step to the big trash can and gets on the island while I cut veggies for evening dinner. I freak out and yell to keep her hands off of the cutting board. Her inquisitive side kicks in. We get into a playful 'what is this' mode asking questions and giving silly answers. Toddler learns a few new words of the day.

19;00 hrs ish - After repeated phone calls and tracing, toddler's dad finally shows up. Toddler jumps ecstatically at the sight of dad and runs into her dad and looks at me like she'd seen a crazy monster (me) for the first time ever in her life.

19:30 hrs - toddler's dad shows signs of fatigue already from being toddler's primary care giver for half hour. Heated arguments and name calling follows in a language that toddler cannot follow (responsible parents you see:-)0 and I agree to take toddler away for a while so that dad has some breathing space.

20:00 hrs - ( Details edited ) In short, the third and final meal of the day progresses at a snail pace punctuated with lots of extreme scenes where toddler's dad and I exchange verbal weapons (edited to keep the blog PG 13) and after a good hour and a half, I win half and lose my last ounce of patience and sanity.

21:30 hrs - After a quick bath and shunning the delicate white gap dress that metamorphoses like the rag I use to clean counter tops, Toddler chooses her tooth paste, brush and night dress. Dr. Seuss comes and goes a million times in the form of sleep book , cat in the hat and green eggs and ham before Toddler decides to sleep for the day. Not to mention, the practise for my vocal cords singing turtle dove and shiny Dinah a hundred times each.

22:30 - toddler is asleep and toddler's dad is co-ordinating with his off0shore team. I get to re-cap with PG Wodehouse for the fifteenth time since I'd rented it from the library. Deciding that library books are jinxed, I started buying the likes of Jackie Collins and Sandra Brown.

00-00 hrs - Toddler's dad and I settle on either side of toddler, sharing stories about her cute ways and little tantrums and looking at a peacefully sleeping toddler in the middle of the bed. For those who are curious when the toddler will have an infant sibling, this should answer their question.

Note: I omitted the regimes of diaper training and art and craft projects for easy reading.

Note again: I'd taken twenty three (no exaggeration) breaks and three re-boots of my lap top to complete this blog. rather, I'd taken 23 little breaks form being a toddler's mom to complete this blog. For those of you who are curious why my blogs are usually late-night, this should answer their question.

Yet another note: For all those who wonder what I do at home whole day, and if I work - Yes, I have a schedule tighter and more nerve wrecking than an average career woman and yes, I do work without the luxury of having a paycheck deposited in my account every other week. Mind you, I am not complaining. As my good friend Valentina once said when I was considering taking up a job, Money will certainly come but the time spent with a child at home being a full time mom is Priceless!

;-)

Trust.

Sometimes it is hard to have trust. Actually a lot of times. I hear my friends sharing something with me and repeatedly telling me that it is classified information. Okay, why just my friends, I do that too! So my point of ponder today would be 'trust' or 'faith'. As a teenager when I was travelling alone in train, I met a young man who was my fellow passenger. I was leery of talking to him, let alone trusting him with something. He was a plain, normal young guy like me, almost of my age I guess. "Don't trust strangers. Don't eat anything anyone would offer" my mom's words rang in my mind loud and clear and I was looking at this guy like he is a threat to human kind. So, at a major station, where the train halted for quiet sometime, this guy got down and disappeared for sometime. He came back with a bunch of fruits munching on one. I tried to look away. He offered me a fruit. I took it, just to be polite. I didn't eat it.
"Please have the fruit" he urged me. "You look tired and it'll be a bit before we reach our destination" I didn't budge. Didn't think how concerned he was. I was plain rude and kept insisting that I was not hungry. After a while he stopped asking me and just put me on ignore. I probably deserved it:-)
It happens to us all the time. We are way to scared to trust people. We are scared of our trust being deceived or it might be some kind a defect that human beings have acquired in the modern world. Or it is just because words like trust don't make any sense in a endangered world where people look for opportunities to take advantage of others, or it is just because trusting someone at sometime had gotten us bad results.
My MIL, bless her heart, is a very kind woman. So after she retired from her services she wanted to sponsor a needy student. Who does she get to help? A loafer who lied to her about studying in some polytechnic college and kept on his highway robbery time and again asking money for fees and books till she learned one day about the deception. Now she thinks twice before she offers help to anyone.
So somewhere in between being trustful and trustworthy, we all lose the balance. It is a pity that we are advancing so well in many fields and that Apple guy outdoes himself with the IPhone ever other day but we seem to be so primitive in our basic things as trust, love and faith. We are in constant doubt about the people around us, even ourselves and most pitifully about the Almighty. I try to seek answers to these dilemmas in vain!
I'm often tempted to stop my car and give a lift to the guy eagerly looking for one but who knows if he would strangle me for money? The beggar around the corner of the block is probably buying drugs with the spare change he collects form people. The shopkeeper is probably cheating me on the price of the hiked rice - These are a few thoughts that cross my mind when I look around the world.
I once read in a book written by Swamy Vivekananda that we have to be filthy to notice the filth around us. There was an example quoted by him - something to the effect of saying a little kid would not identify a robber even if the thief does the robbery before the kid's eyes since the kid does not have a robber in him. Those words stuck me hard. We look around and form our opinions and look down upon all the bad things that happen around us. It is ironical that filth is everywhere including our own minds and we behave like a bunch of hypocrite bastards.
I do hope though, that Aarti would live in a world where being trustful or trustworthy does not come with a baggage and hope that I would not have to warn her about not trusting her own fellow human beings. I know I am dreaming but a mom can dream. Right??