Perspective.

(5 April ’09)

            Looking back at the last eight years, I wonder how I’ve managed it all. A full time job, managing the house with a part-time (one-hour) domestic help, six books (my pride and joy) and freelance writing. Some say I’ve turned into a machine. Some say it’s stressful. Can’t say. For I’ve also taken great holidays, read books, witnessed incredible classical performances (music, dance, plays) on stage.

            I’ve lived in a colonial bungalow in Jodhpur, right under the shadow of the Umaid Bhavan, in Bareilly where my house stood in the middle of an acre sized compound… I’ve set up home in the most beautiful places: Ooty, Srinagar, Avantipur, Hyderabad, Tambaram, and yes…Goa. They’ve all been charming. I’ve tended rose gardens, had monitor lizards as ‘pets’, chased my Labrador away from squirrels, fed peacocks on chilly Halwara winters, done several treks in the Himalaya and the Sahyadris, drunk wine straight out of the cellar at Nashik, cooked leisurely meals, para-sailed, participated in dog-shows (well, I didn’t, you know that), and more. It’s been an enviable journey.

I’ve worked in Delhi and Goa.

But it was Bombay that gave me attitude. It sharpened my mind, it taught me to value merit, work hard, focus on the task at hand. It taught me not to take professional criticism as personal comments. It taught me to sift and select the correct things from tradition and not follow blindly things my grandmother did. It taught me that a good worker was more important than which community s/he belongs to. It has stimulated aspects of my life, allowed me to speak fearlessly. The feudal nature of other parts of India are less (not entirely absent) here. Relatives don’t rule every aspect of my life…well, at least one has a choice of leading one’s life the way one wants to without imposed familial dos and don’ts.  It has given many courage to live on, live on, live on.

In spite of the clean, bright blue sky which I love, the green expanse, the fronds of my favourite tree: coconut, the juicy flesh of my favourite fruit: mango, the flavour of my favourite seed: cashew, in spite of the fact that I love my home state, I find myself clinging to Bombay. Friends tell me that one’s energy levels don’t depend on where one is, that Goa’s not necessarily laid back, it depends on what one does, and what one chooses to do. But clinging to Bombay is about other things. Here, neighbours are friendlier, for the colony or society culture, which is but an extension of a village-spirit is alive and kicking.

It is Bombay which has shed the curtain on the ugliness of incest and child abuse so common in India. I am amongst those who believe that India is one of the worst culprits of children-abuse in the world. Ok, maybe parts of Africa, Pakistan, Bangla-desh are competitors, I don’t know. Whether it is to make children work or take advantage of their helplessness to satiate adult lust, I believe India leads. Why? Because of the silence that is expected from children. Because of misplaced loyalty that one expects from family. Because of the way we glorify suffering in silence. Bombay breaks away from that norm. At least, it tries to. Whether it’s defying extreme right-wingers or encouraging gay movements, whether it is living together in harmony after inter-religion riots, whether it is championing animal rights’ movements, or saving a heritage locality, whether it is ‘adjusting’ in a packed train compartment (unparalleled anywhere on this planet)… Bombay leads.

Having said that, having lived and worked in other places, I can confidently say, the only other place where, in spite of the occasional hiccups, women can live, work and travel on their own, where the oppressed have channels to speak their mind, where the old and the modern meet is Goa. Not internationalized Bangalore, not power-packed Delhi. I hope these elections give us a government that nurtures that spirit. I trust Goans will make that happen. That’s the only ‘item’, ie: political awareness and public will, where Goa leads and Bombay lags.

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