D day - 31st March

         The last quarter of the financial year is always a hectic time. As March draws to a close, there is a frenzied atmosphere in the office. There are deadlines to meet, targets to fulfil and matters getting barred by limitation of time to be completed. The sacrosanct date of 31st March is a Lakshman Rekha one cannot dare to cross. 
       There are no weekends and no holidays.....every second counts. The office is abuzz with activity, a virtual warzone. People work hours on end, non stop. Information trickles in from different quarters right upto the last day and they are acted upon at breakneck speed. Coordination and team work take centre stage.
          The office takes on a different hue. One can literally feel the surge of vibrant energy everywhere. Despite myriad infrastructure and logistic problems, efficiency is at its peak proving wrong the notion that government officials don't work.
           The pressure mounts with every passing day, reaching a crescendo on the D day - 31st March.  The clock finally striking 12 at night marks the close of the year.

         The next day normalcy returns. The past is left behind. A zen like calm heralds the beginning of the new financial year.

My first hero.....my papa

     How can I even move on without talking about my first hero.....my papa. 

    An army officer, he is disciplined, hard working, a selfless team leader, extremely punctual, straightforward and kind - values which I always admire him for. Hailing from a very small village, having to walk hours to reach his college; his was no mean achievement. 

      He always encouraged my brother and me to try out new things. He taught us that perseverance was the key to success. He left no stone unturned to see that we had access to everything that was essential for us. 

   Among the countless memories I shared with him, this one deserves special mention. When I was in the 11th standard, without informing my parents, I changed my college, mid-session, as I wanted to change my stream. Nervous, I mustered up courage and informed my father expecting to hear an earful. However, I was surprised when he told me that he trusted my choice completely if I was sure of my decision. That day I made a promise to myself that I would not let him down.

     Thank you papa for believing in me. Had you not shown faith in me that day, I would probably not be where I am today.

Mumbai locals - a curtain raiser

         On completion of my training in 1997, I was transferred to Mumbai. This was the first time I was living in a big city all by myself. I traversed from the suburbs to South Mumbai in the famous locals, the lifeline of Mumbai.  Like all Mumbaikars I have many anecdotes to tell....but that will have to wait for another day. Today is just a curtain raiser.

         9.25 Fast, Goregaon - Churchgate. On your marks, get set, go. The toil, the sweat, the grime, the struggle.....a virtual battlefield. People in a frenzied mood, each trying to outdo the other, whether by swiftness, age, physical endowments or clever calculation and execution. There is no high or low, sophisticated or unsophisticated, employer or employee, old or young. All minds are clamouring and working towards one goal. It is the survival of the fittest. It is a question of now or never.

      Window seat, any seat, sharing seat, prized place near the exit, place under the fan, any place to stand......adjust karlo please. Fifty minutes of soul searching, gossiping, reading, singing, just doing your own thing - the coach bursting at its seams.

     10.15 Churchgate. Goodbyes till the evening. Each one scattering in different directions towards their workplace. The theory of social stratification, of the haves and the have nots, the lucky and the not so lucky rules the roost once again. Veneers of sophistication and all that is good, apparently, comes to the fore. A lull transcends the multitude until a rewind of the entire sequence above takes place on the ride back home.

Ana

     Another woman who had a great influence in my life was my maternal grandmother whom we called Ana. My mother fell very ill after I was born and so it was Ana who took over her role in my life during my initial years.

         I was Ana's shadow everywhere. I would never leave her side. If she went to milk the cows, I was right behind her carrying my own little bucket. If she went to collect the eggs, I followed straight after with my basket. When she went to nurture her kitchen garden, I accompanied her with my own tiny spade. I visited all the Buddhist pilgrimages with Ana - Bodh Gaya, Sarnath, Rajgriha, Nalanda, Rewalsar (Tso Pema). I was the first grandchild in my large joint family and so I became the cynosure of all eyes.

         With the passage of time, I moved to a hostel. Many other grandchildren joined the family keeping Ana as busy as ever. I stopped becoming her shadow but I knew I always had my own little nook in her heart.

       Today Ana is over 93 years old, matriarch of our huge family. She is the epitome of sacrifice, resilience, compassion, love and goodness. I know her blessings and prayers are with me everyday. No one can take her place in my life.
         ....For me, she will always remain my very special Ana. 

Maa

           My mother was a working woman. With her earnings, which supplemented my father's income, we had enough to live a decent life. She would meet me in the hostel once a month with lots of goodies that we called 'tuck'. During our holidays, she would cook all our favourite dishes - barfi, gulab jamuns, pickles....she had the Midas touch. When we fell sick, she was our Florence Nightingale. During our exam preparations, she was up night and day, with coffee, tea and savouries on demand. As she waved us goodbye after our holidays, I could see her bravely trying to hold back her tears.  She was quite a disciplinarian but beneath this strict veneer was a person with a heart of gold. 

          One pearl of advice that she always gave me was that I should get educated and become financially independent. She would say that I should never be in a position where I would have to ask my husband for money even if I needed to buy a small supari (in our side it was commonplace then to eat betel nut which cost about 10 paise in those days). This invaluable lesson I held close to my heart.
         Yesterday, on Women's Day, I bowed my head in reverence before my icon for emancipation and empowerment - my mother. Thank you Maa....this valuable mantra you imparted, I will pass on to my daughter and to every woman. 

Tomboy

          I was a tomboy for the greater part of my school and college years. I sported a short haircut (we used to call it Diana cut then, after the beautiful Lady Diana). I loved wearing jeans and t-shirts and kicked up enough dust in the games field. Even in stage shows, I was always playing the male actor's part. Studying in an all girl's institution all my life, some of us had to don that role and I was more than happy to lap up the same. I would look at all my lady like friends and wonder whether I could ever be like them, all dainty and pretty. 

          My first brush with my feminine side was at the farewell function in my college hostel. One of the beauties of our batch, who later went on to become an air hostess , convinced me to wear her red dress with a clinched waist. She made me sashay down the hostel corridor. I attempted what I hoped had some semblance of a catwalk. Thus, my initiation into the world of dainty darlings was well mentored.

      However, old habits die hard. Immediately the next day, I was back to my old tomboyish self again. I knew that this was who I was and I was so comfortable in my own skin.