(9 Nov ’08)
I’ve never had a
career. I started working at jobs pretty late in life and have been exposed to
several industries: the print media, hotel and healthcare. Also, I’ve set up
home in various parts of the country. As a result, I have a motley collection
of acquaintances.
Recently, I went for
Anjali Purohit’s exhibition of paintings. I wasn’t really friends with her in
school though we were in the same batch. It’s only a couple of years back that
we bumped into each other again, and since she lives very close to my work
place, we meet occasionally, have discovered common interests, and shared
interesting conversations. She’s a lawyer-ex-bank-manager-turned artist. She’d
actually given up her job to raise her son, but now that he’s in college, she
has the time to express her creativity. The theme of her exhibition at Nehru
Centre, Mumbai, was “Erasures”. It was a trip down nostalgia. I got to see the
sights of my childhood: Irani restaurants and mills, mainly. A bit melancholy,
but it held one’s attention, for it’s part of Mumbai’s history, recent and old,
and being razed rapidly to give rise to monotonous, sky-blocking buildings.
She’d invited me for an evening with some ‘good people’. A film maker, some
journalists, a college principal, a printing press owner, and others. The talk
revolved around what Mumbai no longer is. I’ve visited art exhibitions but
never been part of the talk behind, around, about them, so this was a novel
experience for me. Anjali belongs to the rare breed of women who makes
everything at home: masalas, naanchni-biscuits, nothing is bought off the rack.
Ah well, once upon a time, I did that, now looking back I wonder how…. So much
simpler to encourage those talented housewives who sell
puran-polis/chaklis/ladoos to earn some pocket money.
Through Anjali, I met
Rita, who is now an ‘email friend’. I have ‘road friends’ and ‘hospital
friends’ and ‘market friends’ and ‘friends’ friends’, too. Rita confessed that
we wouldn’t know how ‘deprived’ she was for human company and so we met over
coffee at a little shop in the neighbourhood. That was another round of
stimulating talk. From adoption to fashion to Chaatt Puja, we voiced our
opinions over plenty of laughs.
Now am looking forward
to an evening with my classmates from school. One of them has made her annual
trip to India from the US, and it’s time for us to get together with those who
can make it.
The nature of my job
requires me to meet people, but that doesn’t culminate in friendships. These
meetings, at home, over snacks and beverages (chai-coffee-limbu sherbet) help
to forge relationships and stimulate the mind. One gets to know about Obama
from the tv channels, but one can’t ask the screen questions. One can’t respond
to an opinion as one can in a small, lively group. One gets to know different
points of view and learns to accept them. One builds relationships in spite of
conflicting ideologies. Provided one has opinions and ideologies, that is.
I dislike the idea of
having a statue/picture of a god in an office area. The staff working under me
insisted and practically quarreled with me to have a Ganapati idol in one
corner. I said it shouldn’t be more than two inches. They listened, but gave it
a stool to sit on, and a canopy to cover it, and the whole thing comes to six
inches now. It was installed with a small puja, and for many months each
morning someone would enthusiastically put flowers on it. For Diwali, there was
a small rangoli there. Now I’ve found that the interest has waned. The flowers
were stale one day, the rangoli had smeared. My lectures on tidiness didn’t
work. Then I threw a fit. If they couldn’t keep the place clean and tidy, the
Ganapati would have to go. It worked. They’ve become more particular. So I have
learnt to accept their point of view. In the name of religion they can keep a
place in order. I now want to make friends with some holy man or woman (I’ve
steadfastly stayed away from all such) to ask whether they could make a
difference to the garbage situation in the country.
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