Category: Musings

Helpless

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 3 Comments

The launch of Raghu’s book ‘Return to Jammu’ went well, with lots of discussions and participation from the audience.

But I felt, through the event, a sense of sadness. Why? Because a good part of the book is set in J&K, with places near and like Kathua. And central to the book is a theme of violence against a young girl in communally troubled times.

Apart from feeling anger and outrage, sadness and despair, is there anything we can do? Is there something we can do? Is there nothing we can do?

I am sure all of us have been through this. What do we do? Join rallies, vigils? Write about it? Vent our frustration on social media? Does any of it help?

But I can’t even understand what is happening and why. Is it the depravity of individuals finding justification in ‘causes’? Is it because perpetrators are sure that they will suffer no consequences? Is it because violence like this is becoming more and more common—and when something becomes common, it slowly becomes more and more acceptable?

Is there anything I can do? Something I can do? Or nothing I can do?

How-to-be-Happy Curriculum

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 2 Comments

Psyc 157: Psychology and the Good Life is reported to be the most popular course ever offered at Yale University. Within a week of registration being open, nearly one third of Yale undergraduates had signed up for the twice-weekly lectures. What is the course all about?

Basically about teaching college students how to be happy! In an age where “getting there as quickly as you can” and “excelling” are seen to be the key indicators to success, it is sad that young people who are just about entering one of the best phases of their lives—with so many journeys of exploration and discovery ahead of them, need to take a course that teaches them how to lead less stressful, more satisfying lives. Such is the irony of the times we live in.

I think back to my undergraduate days as the most enriching, exciting, and yes, some of happiest years of my life. Ok, so I did not go into the ‘pressure cooker’ of an IIT or a medical college (I was “one of those Arts types”) but I did get into an Indian equivalent of an ‘Ivy League’ college. For someone who had never enjoyed her school years as much as many seemed to have done, stepping into college, was from day one, a joyous journey that lasted three years. It was indeed a time of the opening up of the mind, not just in terms of the curricular, but more so in the extra-curricular. It was the Film Club that opened windows to different ways of seeing; the Hiking Club that opened up unforgettable vistas of nature; it was the invaluable exposure to music and dance and theatre, all of which we always had time for.

Even more precious it was the making of friends that have remained so for almost fifty years! This was the gang for hanging out with in the canteen, with laughs and giggles, and the pouring out of woes. It was the bunking of classes to go see the morning show, or catching a bus to go all the way to centre of town just have a lassi between classes, and the book fairs at which entire wholly satisfying, and oh-so-happy days were to be spent.

College was indeed the cradle for what was later to be described as the “all round development” of the personality, for which today there are Life Coaches and Grooming Gurus (not forgetting the ultimate go-to-Guru Google!).

Sadly college life today sounds different—unhealthy competition; the pressure of justifying the sky-high fees that parents are shelling out; the continuous looking at how to ‘plan’ one’s future career; and the dangerous encroachment of politics into campuses….and news that young people are ‘burning out’ at an age when they should be blossoming into vibrant human beings…What a tragedy indeed!

To top it all we need a Yale Professor to remind us that feelings of happiness are fostered through socialization, exercise, meditation and plenty of sleep! How sad is that?

PS: I am proud to be an LSRite!   (And yes, intercollege rivalry was healthy and produced excellence rather than antagonism).

–Mamata

Proud to be a Mirandian

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 1 Comment

The newspapers have announced the results of the higher education survey, and Hey! My alma mater, Miranda House, is right on top there as No. 1 college in India.

Ahead of Stephen’s, ahead of Hindu, ahead of LSR. For those who went to DU, it is obvious why this feels so good. MH, after being queen of the campus in the ‘50s, ‘60s and early ‘70s, went to playing 2nd, 3rd and nth fiddle to these.

It is such a long time that I passed out that it takes an effort to remember what college was like. Lovely old red building and green lawns. A fiercely dedicated and committed faculty at the Chemistry Dept from where I graduated. We had Dr. R. Usha, Mrs. Sunita Narayan, Dr. Popley, Ms. Adarsh Khosla, and many others. Good infra, good labs, no shortage of equipment or reagents.

For some reason, MH students who took Physics as main or subsidiary had to go to the main University Physics Dept for classes. I never quite understood why, and not sure if the situation still persists. But we had no complaints—it was lovely walking across the DU campus, especially in winters, with a riot of flowers blooming in the lovingly tended Univ gardens. And it sure made us feel grown up and important, to go to the Dept for classes!

The saddest thing I think was this paper called ‘History of Science’ a compulsory subject for all Science students across the University. What should have been a fascinating and mind-enlarging foray into understanding the spirit of science and the spirit of enquiry, was reduced to a thin ‘kunji’. I think it is a real loss that generations of students did not take this seriously. But students will be students. Maybe the system should have ensured that it was taught better.

I do remember I enrolled for the NSS, but nothing much ever happened. Of extra-curriculars, I cannot recall much. And anyway, being ‘sciencies’ we were a bit lower down in the pecking order overall, and were probably not included.

But the taste of the college canteen samosas and kaddu sauce (passed off as tomato sauce), remains etched!

I recall an interesting story about the name that my father told me. Apparently the college was named by Sir Maurice Gwyer, who was Vice Chancellor of DU from 1938 to 1950, and who founded MH in 1948. He named the college after his favourite Shakespearean heroine, Miranda of The Tempest!

-Meena

B.Sc (Hons) Chemistry, 1977-1980.

Swimming 101

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 7 Comments

Yes, I am a 101. What is more, I have been at 101 for well over 101 months! And after making close to 101 attempts!
I did try to learn swimming back in the day. If anyone recalls, those of us who did the 11 year ISC (Indian School Certificate), used to have a 7 month break between school and college. Our exams would get over by December, and we could join college only the next July. What a glorious break! While we did our best to do nothing (except read Mills and Boon from the nearby lending libraries), parents were hell bent on sending us here and there, to learn this and that. Not as wide and exotic (and expensive) a menu as today. The staples back in our time were typewriting (yes!!), swimming, a foreign language (usually French), classical music and dance (the last two especially for the Tams). Supplemented by usually-unsuccessful efforts to get us to learn basics of cooking.

Accordingly, I too was shunted to most of the above, including swimming. I showed no talent for physical activities and swimming was no exception. I caught myself a pretty bad infection in a week, and that was the end of that first foray.
I kind of gave up (or did not see a swimming pool) for close on 25 years. But about 15 years ago, when we moved into an apartment block with a pool, the desire to glide like a fish took over. Accordingly, we hunted up a coach and early morning classes started. But the water was cold and Day 4, when I turned my neck in a panic to breathe, it caught. The classes stopped the next day, but the pain persisted for a month!
Next summer, I decided to go to the school down the road which opened up its pool during the vacations for swim lessons. Being in the pool with 15 below-15s did nothing for my ego or my skill. That too ended without much progress.
The year after, using a host of contacts, was able to organize for lessons at the pool of a big club. Slipped and fell on the side. Bruised all limbs and was stiff for a week. End of lessons.
Then we moved to another city and another colony which had a club with a nice pool. Year 1, I did try sincerely and flapped in the water for a month in summer—it was a case of two strokes forward, one stroke back (pun unintended). But next year, there was a dispute between the club management and the residents, and the club closed for the rest of the time we live there.
Then, three years ago, we moved into our permanent home. For the first two years, I just walked around the pool in the society. It was too cold; or there were too many kids; or it was raining; or I was sure I was getting a cold.
Then a week ago, I met a friend on my evening walk. We got to talking of swimming.

‘I can kind of do the back stroke’.
‘Me too’.
‘I can do a few yards of freestyle, but after that, I can’t breathe.’
‘Me neither.’
‘I have tried attending classes many times but the coaches say they can’t teach me anything more. That I know the basics and it’s up to me to practice.’
‘Same here.’

‘Really wish I could swim’.
‘Me too.’
So both of us decided—literally—to take the plunge yesterday.
Dug out our suits (thank god I still fit). And our caps. And towels. And bags.
Landed up at the pool. Showered and were in.
Flapped around a bit. Did a breadth or two of backstroke. Swallowed a lot of water. Felt the chlorine sting our eyes. But did not go too far anywhere.
Got back home. Decided to turn to youtube for a few lessons. Realized I had forgotten to breathe out in the water when I was trying the freestyle.
Now fully charged up. Easy peasy—it looks in the video.
And I have been practicing all day (on land, I have to confess)—blow, blow, blow, breathe in; blow, blow, blow, breathe in.

Today, I shall do it! I shall graduate this time. I shall overcome. I shall glide like a fish.
Do not under-estimate a matriarch.
PS: If I don’t, I won’t be telling you about it!

—Meena

The Cup That Bonded

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 2 Comments

So the newest management mantra is FIKA. This is a Swedish word that roughly translates as drinking coffee, munching homemade goods and spending time with people. In many companies it is mandatory for all workers to have a designated time during the day to sit down and do fika. Most Swedes have Fika several times a day.

Over two decades before Chai pe Charcha became the flavour of the nation, CpC was an integral part of our working day. Twice a day, as the footsteps heralded the bearer of the teas, it was literally and (later) figuratively ‘pens down’. Time to cluster around and “fika” as it were. It was a time for sharing—news and views, happenings and unhappenings (propah English not mandatory, and language khichdi quite delicious!), cribbings and crabbings–and above all, energising. There were snacks too—“hey taste what I baked yesterday,” “oh great, banana chips all the way from home state”, “guess what, I discovered this new naasta shop with 50 flavours of khakhra….”

Tea table became the venue for easing in the newcomers; teasing and ribbing the old-timers; there were no hierarchies and no bosses. The agenda was whatever the mood of the table—sharing, admonishing, admiring, agonising and venting, and yes, laughing a lot.

It was an important support system in so many ways. After just 15 minutes, one returned to one’s desk feeling much better. You weren’t the only one who struggled to keep going as you juggled work and home; your child’s behaviour was not as worrisome as you imagined it was; and yes, in-laws happened to the best of us!

It was not only about chit-chat and food; it was where serious discussions took place—about work and work culture; about the state of the world and the nation; about books read and films seen, people met and to be met. It was where so many “aha” moments happened—the title of a new book; the resource person to invite; the sequence of sessions for the seminar…

The two tea times were the significant watersheds of our daily schedules. I did not realise how much we took this for granted, until I spent three months working from an office in Washington DC. Everyone was so “busy”–each communing with their machines as they sipped their coffees (also from a machine) in silence, and lunch sandwiches in solitary isolation. I craved so much for some human connect and communication, I took myself off, to perhaps some raised eyebrows, to the nearby park to spend 20 minutes watching the world go by. “Time wasted”, my diligent workmates may have thought; “what wasted opportunities to bond” thought I.

It’s not just in a CCD that a lot can happen over a cup of tea!

–Mamata

At the Gym

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 3 Comments

Designer derrieres

And sculpted six-packs

Designer track suits

And funky shoes

Designer keto shakes

And salads and bakes

 

Hunks who could strut into

A wrestling rink

And girls who could walk

On any ramp

 

And then the four or five of us

Desperately battling mid-life bulges

Sagging muscles

Unruly paunches

 

As if that were not enough

I had to overhear this yesterday:
One PYT to another:

‘All the uncles and aunties in my office

Are damn inspired by me, yaar

They all want to start coming to the gym

You know, all those 35-year old ancients.’

 

And I picked up

My 55-year old face and muscles

And slunk out.

 

-Meena Raghunathan

P.S: written a few years ago!

In Pursuit of Happiness

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 2 Comments

March 20 has been celebrated as the International Day of Happiness following its proclamation, in 2013, by the General Assembly of the United Nations as a way to recognise the importance of happiness in the lives of people around the world.

Bhutan gave us the concept of Gross National Happiness (GNH) as a new approach to development which measures prosperity through formal principles of gross national happiness (GNH) and the spiritual, physical, social and environmental health of its citizens and natural environment. The Bhutanese government believes that every citizen’s pursuit of happiness is its main goal. This goal is actually enshrined in article 9 of the country’s constitution.

Another country that joined the race for happiness is Venezuela who has reportedly created a Ministry of Supreme Social Happiness in 2013.

In 2016 the UAE announced a National Happiness and Positivity Programme which consists of five pillars: the science of happiness and positivity, mindfulness, leading a happy team, happiness and policies in government work, and measuring happiness. It appointed a Minister of State for Happiness and also a number of Happiness Officers who would be trained at the University of California, Berkeley and the Oxford Mindfulness Centre of the University of Oxford, two of several international partners enlisted by the UAE government to ensure the success of its programme.

Closer to home, Madhya Pradesh is reported to be the first and only state in India to have created a department of happiness to boost the wellbeing of its citizens, and appointed a Minister for Happiness.

Time was, not all that long ago, when happiness was not measured by data and official policies. Happiness was not analysed and planned; it was not pursued under any DIY guidelines or international training programmes.

Rather happiness was what you felt (and not all the time), what you shared with your family and friends—not through ‘events’ and slogans, but over a family meal; exchanged lunch boxes in the school recess; through letters and cards, and other simple joys of life. The same was done when one was feeling sad, or tense or confused. It was a time before emoticons summed up the way we felt.

The 2018 theme for International Day of Happiness is Home. In keeping with the times, sharing an online recipe for making a happy day!

Smile, share, eat healthily, exercise, be grateful, give back, think positively, spend some time with friends and family, spend some time alone, be mindful, dream, listen to music, say thank you and mean it, compete, be charitable, say “all the more” instead of “nonetheless” – you get it. Do what makes you happy. https://happinessday.org/

In the meanwhile–from the global to the local–it had been reported that the minister for Happiness in Madhya Pradesh, whose arrest had been ordered by the court on charges of murder, had gone missing. Last heard of, the police were in hot pursuit of Shri Happiness!

–Mamata

Writing Poetry

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 1 Comment

The only other time

Ever I wrote poetry

Was when I was fifteen

 

And pretty awful poetry it was

Generally whiny and confused

Written in a fit of anger

Against the world (as personified by my mother or teacher)

Or from the depths of despondency

(After a ‘I’ll never talk to you’ fight with a best friend)

 

Never did it rhyme

Have a spark of originality

Or rhythm

Or any redeeming grace

 

Now that I am fifty five (plus!)

I find myself writing poetry again

As awful as before

As whiny and confused

As graceless—if slightly better spelt!

 

Second childhood I have heard of,

But why did no one warn me

That adolescence and the mid-life crisis

Have so much in common?

-Meena

Nose No-Nos

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 3 Comments

So now plastic surgeons (that’s what they were called in our days) are being asked to ‘fix’ noses so that they look good on selfies! It’s not enough to use all the technology the digital wonders provide to shape and mould, and shade and light our faces to look oh so picture perfect in every selfie, pelfie, helfie, welfie and ussie (no I did not make those up!)  taken every moment of our waking lives!  According to a 2017 poll, 55 percent of facial plastic surgeons reported seeing patients who wanted surgeries to help them look better in selfies, up from 13 percent in 2016.

Researchers are working out mathematical models to help describe how selfie cameras distort the face. They found that when taken 12 inches away, selfies increase nose sizes by 30 percent in men and 29 percent in women compared to photos taken five feet away, a standard portrait distance. And yet, in the quest for the perfect picture, cosmetic surgery is seen as the perfect answer.

What an unimaginably narcissist society we have become! Time was when noses were a distinguishing feature of one’s face. We were born with them, and we lived with them. Maternal and paternal aunts would argue about whether the new baby had the father’s nose or the mother’s nose. Characters in stories were described by their noses—the handsome hero with the Roman nose, the wicked hook-nosed witch, the cute button-nosed toddler….

When my daughter was born, my paternal aunt told me that I needed to pull her wee little nose every day to give it shape and substance. That was almost 30 years ago. Last week daughter and I took an ussie. And she looked at it and said “Mama, you and I are both growing into Grandfather’s nose!” Like it or not that’s our heritage, and makes us uniquely what we are!

–Mamata

 

 

 

 

 

DISTANCES ARE MEASURED IN?

~ millennialmatriarchs ~ 3 Comments

How strange to live in a world (or shall I say, a city)

Where distances are measured not in units of length

But in units of time!!

So that when Kiran says

“I am at Bannerghatta. How far is your place?’

I say not ’10 kms or 12 kms’

But ’40 minutes–keep your fingers crossed.’

 

And distances depend on time of day and day of week!

So that when Pramod asks me on a Sunday afternoon

‘How long will it take me to get to your place?’

I say ‘I will put on the tea. You can be here in 10 minutes.’

But when his wife calls on Tuesday evening and asks me the same question,

I say ‘Oh, oh! Our other guests will be here in 15 minutes,

And its going to take you at least 45!’

 

They also depend on time of year

For after the monsoons, when the roads are more holes than road,

A 1 km stretch is a 15 minute ride

While in winter, with the roads freshly—if superficially—done up,

It is a whiz-past of 2 minutes!

 

And did you know, distances depend on who is in town?

For when the PM or the FM or any other M visits,

We count distances in hours, not in minutes.

 

My science teacher, who poor soul,

Lived in as high an ivory tower as is possible,

Will be most deeply disturbed

Because it seems

That nothing is absolute anymore!

–Meena