Birds of a Feather Flock Together! - A Poem

 

Free of any rein, harness, or tether

An invisible bond holds them together

Given any time, situation or weather

An adventure, leisure, or under pressure

Birds of a feather flock together!

Voice opinion, whether generous, incongruous, or displeasure

Being what you truly are and accepting is the endeavor

No judgment whether tender, moderate, or aggressor

Birds of a feather flock together!

In times of need whether Jan, June, or December

Whatever, whichever, wherever, and whenever

Whether a loud shout, quiet share, or a gentle whisper

A friend will be there for you forever

Birds of a feather flock together!

Sweet n sour, spicy, tangy, salty, or pepper

Like two peas in a pod, or different as apples and oranges flavor

A special bond that can remain forever

Only if we give it time, attention, and savor

Birds of a feather flock together!

G.O.A.T conversation with my teenage niece on WhatsApp Chat

Me: “Hi, how are you Monu?’’

Niece: “Suh Mossy. All g!’’ (that’s what she calls her Maushi)

(There is a silence for seconds which seems like minutes.

I presume what she actually meant was, ''what’s up and all good'' but I don’t want to sound uncool so I don’t ask)

Niece: “Mossy, how are you? You there?”

Me: “Y. All g with me too” (trying to sound like her).

“How is school sweetie?”

Niece: “School is sick as usual!”

Me: (Rolling eyes emoticon) “Why sick? I thought you enjoyed going to school.”

Niece: “Sick as in cool Mossy. Not the sick as in the ill types.”

(“Duh, Mossy!”…I am sure she must have thought in her head)

Me: “Oh yeah, of course! And how is your Math class going, coping well I hope?” (Quickly moving to another topic to bury my embarrassment.)

Niece: “TBH, I was going tots cray with Math as you know….”

(Niece still typing)

Me: “Sweetie, too many typos…what was that?” (Me asking naively)

Niece: “…but RN, my Maths is on fleek. Touch wood!”

Me: “What, what, what???”

(I am too flummoxed)

Niece: “Mossy! (inserting a tired smiley face) There are no typos. I just said, ‘To be honest, I was going totally crazy with Math earlier, but right now my Math seems to be going perfect.”

(Whoa, enlightenment!)

Me: “Oh gotcha! That’s awesome.”

(Trying to sound cool and hip like her)

Me: “How about your drawing and drama classes?”

Niece: “hmm...drawing classes are kind of basic but drama is lit AF. We really have the G.O.A.T during drama classes!”

(Here we go again. I know this time these are no typos and the words do mean something for sure. I quickly google on my phone to check the meaning and bingo! I was right. No typo, these are actual words used by Gen Z.)

Niece: “Btw Mossy, I have been asking Mamma to get me a phone and she has been saying NO. Please convince her to get me one. I am 13 now and it is high time she gets a smart phone for me. Everyone has it and I just totally miss out on all the tea that my squad has to share. It really makes me feel salty.”

 (I am wondering, how is not having a mobile phone related to missing out on having tea. And why is she feeling salty about it?...A la Zeenat Aman in Pukar song ''Samundar mein naha kar''. I somehow sum up courage and ask sheepishly)

Me: “But sweetie… you don’t drink Tea, nah. In fact you don’t like it. So how can you miss it! And what is their to feel salty about it?”

Niece: “Mossy, tea is gossip. Feeling salty is feeling irritated.”

(Another Aha! moment for me)

Niece: (continuing) “My squad has their own Instagram accounts. Wait! They also have Finstagram. And look at me, I don’t even have a mobile phone.”

Me: “OMG. Now, what’s a Finstagram? Is that a new social media platform?”

Niece: “No, Mossy. It is a Fake Instagram account. You should check the photos they upload. They are so savage. And look at me! I don’t even have a phone.”

Me: (gathering my wits) “No way are you having your own phone till you complete your 10^th standard. Have you read the many articles which talk about how distracting they are for students and how it ruins…blah blah blah blah!”

(Suddenly it strikes me. A new salvo (read word)was fired and I almost missed it)

Me: “And by the way, why are they savage?? Hope the photos are not too wild, crass and violent. That’s precisely the reason your mamma is not getting you a phone like your squad, ok!”

Niece: “Mossy, you are defs iconic! (Wink emoticon) It is ''savage'' as in cool and nothing beastly about it.”

Me: “Oh ok. Anyway, let me discuss with your Mom on this new phone thing. ”

(Also, to find out how she deals with this cryptic language everyday)

Niece: “Ok. Pls do convince her. Btw, sorry, I have a French class RN and I have to go. When you are free tomorrow, HMU or I will DM you.”

(This aunt by now had made use of her fastest fingers to know what HMU and DM stood for before the niece wrote her off and logged out.)

Me: “Ok sweetie I will Direct Message you tomorrow evening on your Mumma’s phone or you can Hit Me Up. I will be waiting for you defs.”

(My last ditch attempt to be the aunt who still had the goods)

P.S: For those uninitiated like me who may still be stuck at G.O.A.T, may have realized by now that the conversation had nothing to do with the four legged animal or a mutton recipe nor about getting my goat. Although I did teeter between a peaceful and pissed state of mind for a few moments there. 

And yasss, G.O.A.T stands for Greatest of All Time!

Note: The above is fictionalized account of a conversation with my Gen Z niece.

(Pic courtsey @Adobe Blog)

Truly, madly, deeply!

Woody is my cousin sister(s)'s 15-year old pet dog. That makes him 105 years old in human years. As old as a dog can get. He is counting his last days and looks like, he too knows it. It's a pitiful sight to watch him. More so because his younger self was always a mischievous, sprightly, playful, amiable and a visibly active dog. Someone who loved the company of humans and more so children. Someone who teased us to play with him. Someone who goaded us to become alive and childlike again. Someone who made us forget our worries and be in the moment completely. In fact, I always had a surreal feeling that he was an angel sent from above. A kind and a noble soul. I love all dogs, but this humane quality of his was perceptible in him more than any other dog I had known.

Now given his age, the last six months have not been kind to him unfortunately. He has aged progressively in the recent past. He does not move much. He is laid up in bed for most of the day and has also lost his appetite. Since he does not eat, he has also become emaciated. He needs to be force-fed and carried around most times.

A few days back, I had gone to meet my cousin sister as she was flying back to London the same night. And just like me there were other cousins/relatives too who had come to meet her.

As is expected with cousins coming together after a long time, all of us were making a racket, chatting up, and laughing out loudly. While all this was happening in the living room, oblivious to our self-indulgent human senses, Woody was resting quietly (as was his routine now) inside the bedroom.

A little later we suddenly saw his frail frame emerge in the doorway of the living room. Apparently, he had heard our loud voices across the passage. And in spite of his poor health, he had quite gallantly hobbled out of his bed. Limped all the way up to the living room with halting steps, came and gently sat right amidst us. As a younger self, he would have typically come running and thrown himself straight into our arms but today he just came and sat, and with immense difficulty.

Till then, we in our ecstatic stupor had forgotten all about his presence in the next room, and were completely immersed in our idle chatter. But Woody, given his amiable, social and affable personality had just done what he always did. True to his inherent loving nature he came seeking for us, notwithstanding his weak health. And we, who are considered to be the more evolved and emotionally superior living beings, had not given as much as scant attention to him or his whereabouts.
That very single moment left a deep impact on me and a special connect. A connection that no social media worth its salt is capable of doing.
He had with his single act conveyed to us what companionship and belonging truly mean. A display of selfless love that is much deeper than what most humans are capable of realizing.
A lesson that will last a lifetime and a gesture that will remain in my heart as a beautiful memory forever.
Without a whimper or a whine, he just sat there all through the evening. And he sat although uncomfortable right till the time we left from there.

Woody, I salute your undying spirit, your unrequited love and what you stand for...the most loving, tender and generous soul. An angel.You will always remain the favorite!

Pic courtesy: Vinita Dhume

P.S: Woody breathed his last on Jan 16th, 2015. He died a peaceful death in my aunt's lap. This post was written a week before his death.

Destiny's Children

There lived a young and beautiful couple, not very long ago

in a humble abode they stayed

with two little daughters on whom they used to dote.

They pampered, they indulged yet never too much

Showered them with love, happiness and laughter.

Brought up the kids in a fine environment

truly blessed were they but to the girls it never really did occur.

Perseverance, dedication and sincerity they tried instilling with example

Meaning of unrequited love, which they displayed to them in ample.

They taught them to keep their balance aloft, in times of difficult moments.

And also keep their heads on shoulders, stay grounded and not foment

In spite of life's many troughs and peaks, they made their life seem easy

Never did they realize when tough times came, for the daughters it was always breezy.

Beaches and parks in free evenings, holidays in vacations

Life was full of experiences rich, never a day of dull moment.

Yet keeping the girls on their toes were some dos  and don't s

which never should be forgotten.

If childhood was full of gay abandon, running, playing or climbing an odd tree

As the daughters became a little older, they taught them independence, being purposeful

and ability to foresee.

Sound advice, a helping hand, a shoulder to lean on always

Silently shaping their future, supporting, empowering them in many ways.

And now as they look back, the children realize,

how truly blessed are they and indebted to them forever.

A humble ode dedicated to their parent's selfless life,

are these scant words of praise, we hope do justice even for a moment mere.

A letter to my dearest school

My Dearest School,
Here is an honest confession coming your way from one of your progeny. I am writing an open and heartfelt letter to you for the first time in the last 25 years. My sincere apologies for the inexcusable delay and no words can undo this thoughtless inaction of so many years. Albeit awfully late, by the time you finish reading this piece I am hoping you would have softened your stand towards me.
Indeed a very long time to connect back to you, my alma mater, a very beautiful and prodigious institution. And what better occasion than now when you are completing 50 golden years of your remarkable existence.

As I sit down to write to you, it has instinctively opened the floodgates of all the sweet and delightful memories of you and everything that’s part of you. For me, you are like this great matriarch watching protectively over its little children all through the day. Sheltered by your discerning eyes, whether when we are running and playing with gay abandon, outside on the vast playground or studying in the close confines of the classroom, whether when we are carelessly experimenting with beakers and tubes in the labs or during the recesses when we tumble out with unbridled enthusiasm. Your solid silent protective presence, I feel even today.

There are also some fun and childlike moments I carry with me, about my growing up times with you. It was the time of homework - not always completed on time, sitting on the last bench in class– chatting and hoping that me and my friend won’t get caught, black polished shoes/white clean socks – an intense regime for me, red hairband – that never stayed on the head, PT exercises – and the art of slacking off slyly, short and long recess - sharing interesting stories over tiffin boxes with my school buddies, being in the classroom during sessions – and sometimes not really being there (figuratively speaking), being an outstanding student -for truly standing outside class(thankfully, not many times), Ranks and Report cards – The moment of bitter truth and many such indelible memories that have stayed with me even after all these years.

Another great quality about you is that you are truly all-encompassing. A precise reflection of our city- Mumbai, the real melting pot. We the students come from all cross sections of life, diverse social and economic backgrounds, different classes, castes and what not. And yet, you embrace all of us with equal magnanimity and affection. We children never ever feel different from one another in your loving hold in spite of the inherent differences within us. That is a wonderful trait very few schools can either embody or boast of.

You are the epitome of dynamism and silent fortitude, brimming with energy of thousands of kids cozily ensconced in your warm embrace. Whether learning by rote systematically in class rooms or shouting out to each other from school buses, whether singing harmoniously during prayer time or kicking up a ruckus on the playground for no rhyme or reason, whether marching in a synchronized upright stance in their NCC and RSP uniforms or cheering on top of their lungs for their favorite Kabaddi team, whether somberly answering the exam papers for unit tests or final exams or bustling with renewed energy on hearing the last bell ring for the day. The energy and exuberance of your lively environment can never be replicated by any other.

You, my dear school always encourage and inspire us to do well and perform to the best of our capabilities. Whether it is the English or Math scholarship exams, singing, dancing, elocution or drama competitions, Cricket or Kabaddi inter-school tournaments, handwriting or craft competitions or quiz contests you push us to do our best. Always nurturing and growing new talent under your able guidance. It’s no wonder then that many great stalwarts and luminaries from various spheres of life have been conceived and born out of your hallowed womb and continue to do so.

And so finally, I find myself asking this hard question to myself. What have I given you (my dear school) in all these years? Well, all I can say is that I have only taken you and your existence for granted, like we do all those who we truly love and can’t do without. But still, you never ever complained. You always personify the grace and poise befitting a noble matriarch.

So strong is my feeling and attachment for you my dear school that I cannot live without feeling fervently or impassioned for you. I adore you, lovingly complain about you, I am passionate about you, reminisce about you, also sometimes (yeah, sometimes) talk judgmentally and critically about you but at the end of it all I am happy that I am a part of you and I sincerely am proud of it!

It’s been an incredulously long 25 years from that momentous day when I crossed over the threshold of your sheltered, carefree and happy upbringing which I enjoyed for more than a decade. It just seems like yesterday that this misty eyed adolescent looked back with a twinge of sadness to bid adieu to you and the entire ecosystem that was Indian Education Society, English Medium School aka King George English Medium School. How time flies! Though it was with a heavy heart that I turned around the corner and simply lost sight of you so many years back, I am very sure that you stimulate the same warm feelings in thousands of children who came before and after me in the last 5 decades. Providing relentlessly the same motherly guidance and affection and help them soar to greater and new heights in their life.

As you complete your 50 golden years of your remarkable existence I can’t help but salute and thank you my dear school, you have been the beacon of wisdom and inspiration for me and many generations of students. This letter also cannot be ever complete without me saying a big thank you to all the wonderful principals, teachers, administrators and staff of the entire school for their steadfast dedication and tremendous contribution to the field of education, and society as a whole. And more importantly, for touching our life beautifully as only they could.

To the mother of all schools, Maa Tuzhe Salaam!

Last but not the least; I would like to close my letter with these beautiful lyrics from a popular song which aptly personifies my feelings for you, my beloved school.

Did you ever know that you're my hero,
and everything I would like to be?
I can fly higher than an eagle,
'cause you are the wind beneath my wings.
It might have appeared to go unnoticed,
but I've got it all here in my heart.
I want you to know I know the truth, of course I know it.
I would be nothing without you.

Thank you,
Yours sincerely,
Priya Wagle Awasare – Batch of 1989

 Above : Early evening of 4th Jan, 2014 with the ex students just about pouring in to celebrate 50 years of IES English Medium School now known as V.N.Sule Guruji Vidyalaya

 Above : Sameer gets to fulfill his long withheld yearning, finally!

 Above : Mrudula, Shruti, Chandani, urs truly, Anita, Amita, Vaishali, Sameer, Amrita, Swati and Nilesh. The gang of 'B' division poses outside its class...but misses the charm of the open balconies which have now been grilled.

 Above : A little fun in the corridor where some were involuntarily declared 'outstanding students' many moons back.

Above : Reliving the moments of the past...sitting in the same classroom as we did 25 years back. Though this time breaking the ritual... guys and girls actually sitting together on the same bench. :)


Image Creative courtesy: Aparna Wagle Telang
Pics courtesy: Chandani Fernandes, Mrudula Kulkarni and Sameer Warik

Seriously, not kidding!

The summer has been extremely unkind so far. Never has been the Mumbai heat so dehydrating and torturous as this year. To add to our sweltering woes, we (as in Ashish my hubby and me) have absolutely no escape plans to retreat from the heat of this summer. But hey, inspite of the situation and right in the midst of this unbecoming weather, we both (ashish and me)have a broad grin on our face since past few days. Grin which sometimes dissolves into hearty peals of laughter, on few ocassions leads to tears (of joy)strolling down our cheeks and other times complete bewilderment.

Confused?...Ask me why?

Like a fresh breeze of cool mint air, my niece has wafted into our lives to provide us just  the refreshing relief we were yearning for badly these past few weeks.
Though she is here only for couple of weeks to spend her summer holidays with her aajju (her grand mom) and aajja (her grandpa), I have not been able to contain (ironically) my childlike excitement since the time she has arrived. Her presence amongst us has not just enlivened and rejuvenated us into new beings but also every moment we spend with her is entertainment and freshness personified.

Like any other child her age, she is full of joie de vivre, with abundant energy and with a extra spring in her hurried steps. She talks nineteen to the dozen and regales us with her delightful puneri phrases (yes, she lives in Pune) and anecdotes. She is full of (camera worthy) expressions and dramebaazi. Never runs out of questions and counter questions. Keeps us on our toes and some times brings us to our knees. She is the energiser bunny, a stand up comedian, observant sherlock holmes, a demure barbie fan, mischievous elf,  and a very curious cat all characters rolled into one.
Ok, so that's my niece for you in a nutshell. And I am sure other kids her age would also show the same characteristics with a few plusses and minuses.

So what am I trying to say here!

This young girl within a short span of few days that she has spent with us has helped us to relearn a lot which we had left behind many years back. This blog post is all about what we secretly imbibed from our little niece when we were overtly reveling in her joyful company.

Below are those 8 virtues we realised we had forgotten as adults :

1. Pristine innocence tinged with naughtiness
2. Keen observation
3. Ability to forget the past (more so the negative)
4. Unbridled energy
5. Contentment in life's simple pleasures
6. Straightforward as an arrow
7. Curious as a cat
8. Fearlessness

If you look at all the above qualities, isn't it what we all yearn for and seek as adults. Its incredible that we sometimes don't have to read books, watch videos or look further for inspiration. The kids can be our best teachers and icons .
Seriously, not kidding!

The story of our life!

Here’s a small exercise for your brain. Flash back to the time in the past when you were a little kid. Go to that part of your sunny life when your mom would try to force feed you with the green veggies at lunch/ dinner. Now jump to that part when she used to (in vain) try to put you to bed.

'So what about it?' ...I hear you ask.

Now try to recollect, what was that one thing that you would 'bribe' your mother with each time? That’s for agreeing to her above 'requests'.

The most effective and lethal negotiating tool in the hands of that little kid then was... guess what!

'A story'

"Aai, mala aadhi ek goshta saang"..."Mother, tell me a story first and then I will go to bed". Or     “A story first then I will eat this palak sabji'

Nothing worked better than a 'story telling session' as a good negotiating tool in the hands of both the parties- mother and kid.

Yes, it was definitely a win-win situation for both. For both because the kid got her story and the mother was happy with her incredulous achievement.

Whether my mom invented the story on the fly, read it out from the book or worse still, recounted the story for the zillionth time, it always worked like a magic potion. The taste of the green veggies on my plate would suddenly become more palatable and yes, it would also calm down the overzealous hyper active kid and put her to bed at night.

I still remember vividly the story of Ramu and his flying white horse which my mother told me many times over as a kid. A story she may have weaved out of her imagination but a perennial in my classics even today. It was always with the same zeal that she narrated the story, like she was recounting it for the very first time. And even I as the kid used to listen to her wide eyed, with rapt attention as if was listening to it for the first time.

After so many years it’s still cozily ensconced in my memory logs.'Kalicha ghoda' it was called in Marathi. Those were the days, sigh!

“Ok, so what about it? Where are you leading us to?” - I hear a few of my impatient friends ask.



Since time immemorial, wise men have been communicating new learnings /philosophies of life through a story format which has been passed on from generations upon generations. Can you imagine how tough it would have been for them to communicate and for us to grasp if not for the interesting story format. Without the persuasive power of a story, the learnings would have remained just another piece of dispassionate paper document (or palm leaf in those days). With a story it moved the listener/reader emotionally to take the necessary action.

And now take the case today where nothing much has changed.

In our corporate life, a successful product presentation has to have a believable story to hold its audience's attention. Not bullet points and boring graphs.

An effective speaker has to have a compelling story to engage and connect with the audience.

Movies need to have a good script/story to have the box office registers ringing. Have you ever seen how the audience tumbles outside a theatre animatedly discussing the story of the movie they just saw.

Sales pitches and TV commercials make the most impact only with a good story supporting the product USP. 'New improved' claims don't work, they also need an emotional appeal through a good story.

At parties, the person with the most audience would probably be recounting an interesting story. We are always game for 'Once upon a time...' and yes, even when we are grown ups.

A good leader has to have great communication skills with a good story up his sleeve always (based on his experience) to inspire his team members. If you have heard Abdul Kalam ever speaking you would know what I am referring to. His speeches are laced with interesting anecdotes from his rich experience and never preachy in tone. That's what holds the attention of his audience and they are literally and figuratively moved by his words.

There are many examples from our everyday life where stories are essential to make maximum and desired impact. And if told with passion, simplicity and earnestness...believe me has the ability to stay with us for a long time. 'Once upon a time.....' will always remain a favourite regardless of age, class and education.
That my friends, is the story of our lives. So go ahead, let your story be heard!

Sister's Garnish

Many moons back, I was asked, "What special gift would you like for your wedding from your dear sister?"

At that time, even though I was not so young a bride, my cooking skills were still a disaster.

Without much ado, I replied to her, "You could write me a book of your favorite recipes, my dear sister. And thus unravel the mystery of cumin seeds, star anise, fenugreek, green chilies, and coriander.''

 

So was born the idea of 'Sister's garnish,' a book wherein all the lip-smacking gourmet delights would lie.

With this little black book added to my might, I was confident that my culinary future was going to be indeed bright.

 

In my younger days, the kitchen was never really my playground, forte, or battleground for any gourmet foray.

I would enter the arena when all the heavy lifting was done, sit in front of a laid table, and make comments or compliments pay!

 

My sister was a faithful ally for my Aai in the kitchen in those days, and I was happy about it during those carefree days.

This allowed me enough freedom to go out, have fun, and do so without a fuss, saunter, and play.

 

When it was time for me to come back home from play and inevitably, I would be late.

My sis would longingly wait for me, look out for me in vain, and that would make her infuriate.

I was meant to do many things, and I didn't do as the younger sister; she would hate,

With sweet words, hugs, and kisses, I would melt my sister's ire like sugar, jaggery, figs, and dates.

She was and will remain, my confidante, friend, adviser, guide, soothsayer, and devil's advocate.

Her actions and kind deeds would remind me that Priya, you have a lot to learn, my mate!

Such was my life so sheltered by my sister's shadow.

I could get away with almost all, but not my mom and dad's not so friendly banter.

In a way, they would remind me that one day I will have to figure out my way around the pots, pans, spoons, and hot decanters.

 

My relationship with my sister was indeed like Indian garam masala fare.

Sweet, sour, peppery, pungent, and sometimes too hot to bear.

But at the end of it all, it always felt like an enticing aroma that enveloped all the five senses in a warm fuzzy embrace as it went wafting through the air.

 

Her sartorial and creative tastes I would entirely depend upon, even if they were handed me downs, I would not bother and willingly sample.

She was my fashion guru, and I was a willing disciple, I would ape and follow her fashions in her clogs, platforms, or sandals.

 

There were many times when I made some silly mistakes, blunders, and gaffes in my young days.

And then she would invariably bail me out, take my side, stand by me like a rock in many ways!

 

So I say my dear friends that all those loving, sweet memories of long ago still linger in my mind like it happened yesterday.

My sister being in my life makes it whole, warm, and complete, just like a little garnish on a mouth-watering dish, goes a long way.

Doordarshan, Playgrounds and Story books - Part 2

Doordarshan, Playgrounds and Story books - Part 2

 

Gold Spot, Parle Poppins, Orange Candies and Chiclets

When paise had a value and pocket money was never less

Ringing of school bells at recess brought us happiness

Sitting with your gang and sharing dabbas was priceless

Guileless and innocent in a reckless, free mould

God, let me go back to this wonderful world!

Hero Pens and Camel Ink and Orange compass boxes
Journals and Experiments and Orals and Projects
History was ok but Drawing and PT was much fun
Laboratories and school grounds full of kids always on the run

Canteens we would throng but teacher’s room was so cold
God, let me go back to this wonderful world!





Colour, Colour, bursting Bubble paper and many other silly things
Canvas shoes on sports days and National anthem we would sing
Langdi and kabbadi, TT and Dodge Ball
All the games we would love to play in spite of bruises and many a fall.





Home work was the only dark spot in this spotlessly clean fold

God, let me go back to this wonderful world!


Playing in spite of bruises and riding bicycles with failed brakes
Coming back home tired and drinking directly from water taps
Climbing on door beams as high as we could scrape
Name, Place and Animal Thing was something we loved to play

Staring at the clouds above, to find a known shape or mould
God, let me go back to this wonderful world!





He Man and Spider Man, characters we loved to ape
Walkman and Floppy discs, camera rolls and video tapes
ECTV, Crown TV and now Kodak RIP
All these brands now no more, but were a big part of our family

Lemon drops and dial phones and inland letters too
God, let me dive into this beautiful pool!





So when I am feeling low, under the weather and the mood is a little sour, sad
I simply go back to this wonderful world and then I am upbeat and go crazy ........a tad!