High Chair

It is a beautiful Sunday morning in Goa.It is so peaceful and calm. As I laze through breakfast savoring the scenic view of the endless sea at this fancy restaurant, I suddenly happen to glance at a very neatly crafted high chair across my table. As I look at it, lot of thoughts came to mind

I am reminded about the numerous instances where my friends, cousins, aunts etc have requested for a high chair for their little ones. when we had dined at restaurants. I think about the times I have laughed at the young parents trying to keep the energetic kid seated on the chair, or the times they have struggled to feed the little one.Times when I have really felt sorry for these young parents who had to keep up with the tantrums of the little one, just taking away the pleasure of having even one peaceful meal

As I looked at it again I wondered when I would need to ask for a high chair. Over the past couple of years I have developed a sudden fondness for children. It’s fascinating to know that just a small cell has the ability to grow into something so beautiful, so innocent, and so joyful. I wonder how my parents feel when they see me. They have probably seen me in a shape of a little cell, and today, I am this overgrown infant.

Motherhood must be such a divine experience. The ability to give birth to a living creature just fascinates me. I have loved to hear the fascinating tales of young parents. Stories of not being able to sleep, holidays turning into disasters and the un- explanatory satisfying stories of the first walk, the first word, the first day in school etc.

So as I sit here on this lovely Sunday morning, free from of any worries, any responsibilities, equipped with the freedom to do what I want, I wonder if I really want to be the one asking for a high chair. But I guess life is about having a plethora of experiences, and the film that the almighty has scripted for us definitely has Time for everything. ( just like that famous song from Forest Gump. There is time to laugh. There is time to cry..). So when the time comes I am sure I will have the opportunity to pick up a high chair.

Traumatic Tuesday

As I left office this evening never had I imagined that I was about to embark on a traumatic journey home. As I got off the cab at Elphistone station, someone just shouted that there was a bomb blast at Mahim. As I reached the platform, I saw hoards of people rushing out of the station, as I tried to find out what was happening, there was an announcement on the system, that all trains until Bhayandar were dismissed. Having been so used to listening to all this incidents on a daily basis now, I never really bothered to much, but when I learnt that the last blast happened at Bandra station, I just prayed that Ma, was not affected by it, I frantically tried calling her. Ma had just called me, a couple of minutes earlier and told me she was at Bandra, so in all possibility she was going to be at the station and boarding the same first class compartment in which the blasts occurred

As I waited to get a cab towards Bandra, I just managed to get through Ma`s phone and she told me she was alright and heading home in the rickshaw. If it was not for God’s blessings and everybody’s good wishes, I don’t know what state she would have been. Later when I reached home, I learnt that she had seen the blast in front of her eyes outside the station. The dead bodies being wrapped and rushed outside, bleeding passengers being rushed into ambulances, the scare in the peoples eyes, the howling of the workers to make way for the patients.

After walking a little bit where I saw some injured bodies being taken in an ambulance, myself and two other women managed to get a cab. Later I learnt that the cabbie was not aware of the blasts so he took the ride. The journey back home from Elphistone took me exactly four & half-hours and was truly traumatic.
Ambulances and Police vehicle alarm sounds, roads jammed with traffic, sea of people walking on both sides of roads, over crowded buses, rickshaws, taxis, stranded people waiting for some kind of transport to get home, and to add to it the sudden heavy downpour in some areas that even made visibility impossible. As I tried calling and informing colleagues, relatives and friends at work amidst the jammed network, loads of Sms and phone calls from across the country and the world started pouring in, just to find out if we were all ok. This was probably the only comforting factor; it felt nice to know that there were so many people in this world who cared to find out, whether you were dead or alive

As I dropped the other two women at their destination near Parle station, I was more than willing to give a lift to anyone on my route home, but just as I reached Vile Parle Station, some kind of gunda volunteers, maybe some party workers along with the policemen were just forcing people into cabs or cars to get them home. There act was not bad, but I am not sure if forcing or using harsh language with the cabbies and rickshawalas to get stranded passengers on route home was a right way of doing this social service

So now, I had seven people sitting in cab. Traffic post Andheri was crazy. However, the Bombay spirit was truly visible, volunteers coming and passing bottles of water, people climbing on the hood of Volvo buses & outstation buses to get home, people getting into trucks and hanging out of BEST buses. However, all this while what really bothered me was the state of families of those hundreds of people who would have died in these serial blasts. How would their families find them? Who knows out of those who have died, some would have been the sole bread earners for the family. Some would have just started their families, what will happen to those families?

A Death is such a painful thing, especially when its least expected.

Football fling

I have never been a sports enthusiast, except watching a little bit of cricket. So when the FIFA World cup 2006 started, I looked at it with ridicule and thought it was crazy for people to stay awake and watch a game in which not even our country was playing. I had never really watched football, did not even know the rules of the game and did not even want to know. However, it all changed, my football fling could be no different than the typical Bollywood movie plot of girl meets boy, hates him, then suddenly something happens and both fall in love.

My affair with football actually began exactly one month ago. It was a relaxed Sunday evening, I was recovering from a bad flu and being tired of sitting at home just wanted to get out. Having convinced a townie friend of mine to come to suburbs, we chatted over chai and muffins at my favorite cafe- BBC. She started telling me about football and how she had been following it, although I had no real interest in the game, I wanted to know a little bit about it, coz I was running some contest on the football theme and information about the game, would just help me create some effective communication. Suddenly I was a little interested in the game, and as another football enthusiast friend joined us, it was decided to go and watch the match at some place. As the match began, it was a little embarrassing for my friends as they explained to me the rules of game using the salt and pepper bottles on the table. As that’s where it all began.

As some one who likes to learn about new things, I thought this would be something interesting to follow, although I did not watch all the matches, I continued to keep watching them on and off and sometimes it was boring, but sometimes it was fun. As we came closer to the end, the semifinals, I started looking forward to the matches and developed a sort of liking for it

Right now as I watch the finals between Italy and France, I do hope Italy wins and feel happy to have learned about a new game.I think I am going to continue my fling with football by following it with the English League coming up in August.