My Childhood Home

Childhood homes are a special place. Mine I think is almost magical. It's where I grew up and I wish someday I could grow old. It's not a big house, but it has a big heart. It has embraced various family members, old and new. And continues to do so. Over the years the noise levels around have gone up, long ago we had to bid adieu to the sea view and the building now appears in a state of disarray. However once you step inside, you enter a different world. A world where my childhood is still awaits me. A world where time stands still. A world where I always breathe easier. This is home. 

It's the home of summer, where sea breezes visit
It's the calmness of palm trees, where hammocks swing
It's bears the joy of untold tales
And the smiles of secrets shared
It's where bonds of friendships grow tighter
And where family ties get stronger 

It belongs to my childhood nostalgia
Which is re-visited every year
It's where my children rediscover me
And build memories of their own

It's mine and mine alone, now I can't say
It lives in the hearts of all those whom it's touched
It now belongs to Sanil, to Myrah, to Kabir
But in my heart it feels like it speaks to me alone 

It's a sanctuary where I am reborn
It's my home where a part of me still lives

Baarish

Thandi hawa ke jhokno ke saath

Ek halki si chaah hai woh laati hai haath

Ek alag sa hara rang bichate huye

Apni baahon mein rimzhim tarane leheratein huye

Sunheri yaadon ki muskaan sajate huye

Baadolon ko apne sang ghoomatein huye

Laati hai apne saath

Un khushiyon ki saugat

Un armanon ki baraat

Un muskarahaton ki yaad

Jab tum they jawaan

Aur hum they haseen

Jab nazron mein they sapne

Aur dil mein yakeen

Jab haathon mein they haath

Aur door door tak ka tha saath

Jab bheeg jaane mein tha mazaa

Aur botol ke bahar hota tha nasha

Jab asmaan mein udhne ki thi khawish

Aur dil mein thi zara si khalish

Jab paas rehkar bhi lagti thi doori

Aur door rehna tha ek majboori

Ab bhi yeh baarish hai utni hi khaas

Aur dil ko hota hai yeh ehsaas

Shayad yeh baarish choo legi tumhein

Kuch jis tarah chooha tha usne humein

Yaad karoge humein tum baarish ki bahane

Aur humari yaadon ko rakhoge apne sirhane

Haath badake boodon ko pakadoge

Aakhen moondein palakon par rakhoge

Woh hi baarish hai, woh hi zameen

Pur ab hum hain kahin, aur tum ho kahin

Business knows no religion

I went to Chor Bazaar today. Or as my Spanish colleague referred to it- 'Antique market'. He was shocked to know I had never been there. Trying to explain to him that I am a 'Juhu girl' who hates traveling beyond Bandra would not mean much to him.

 I had to travel to Worli on work many moons ago when I was young and thin- well at least young. And like a princess my dad used to drop me and my friend Sonul's dad used to pick us up. Or the other way round. And I used to whinge about the travel time- much like Sanil does now. 

Between Prithivis, Silver Beach, Juhu Church, Qualities and the bhel puri wala near my building, I had everything I could possibly want. Why bother with the needless travel? However I thought now that I was 'this side of town' I should not pass up the chance of visiting the legendary Chor Bazaar. I always wanted to, but the hike from Juhu made it a daunting task.

Well I have digressed...this post is about religion, or rather how religion agnostic business is.

 I was explaining to my Spanish colleague about the Indian God Structure. I started with  the God trinity- Shiva the destroyer, Brahma the creator and Vishnu the....err I stumbled. For the life of me could not remember. So I skipped that and moved over to Ganpati (0r Gantapi as Sanil used to say)- the elephant God-  remover of obstacles. Hanuman then monkey god. Krishna of Hare Rama Hare Krishna fame. And ....well that's pretty much where I got to.

While I was explaining this we were in a small store, that magically became a lengthy maze of artifacts '500 years old'. The owner was a Muslim like most shop owners in Chor Bazaar are. He explained that Vishnu was the Protector. He then went on to show my colleague beautiful Madonna statutes. And stone carvings of various saints. He knew all their names. "This is Saint Roch because you can see the dog next to him". I was clueless. 10 years of Convent education and I had no idea what he was talking about. He explained how he bought them from Goa where a church could not be maintained, so they were selling off the carvings. He gave the whole history of Portuguese influence in Goa. 

While my colleague was admiring the. Rs 20,000 stone carvings, I asked the owner about Krishna statues and he asked me back if I wanted one with Radha or Krishna alone? Did I want a 'bal ladoo Gopal'? Errr what? I had no idea Krishna was called that. Then he went on to show me the variety of Krishna murtis available whilst chatting to my colleague about various Mother Mary statues. He spoke about Buddha statues and Sai Baba with equal ease.

His kids kept coming to the back of the showroom looking for their dad. It stuck me how his only religion at that time  was his work and his business. To make the sale and earn the money, to give his children a better life. He was knowledgable about all  Gods. You might say, that's his business and he has to do this make a living. Whatever be the reason, during his business hours he had no religion. 

His religion lives in his heart, in his home, in his place of worship. Where it would stay, if outside influences don't bring it in every time there is an election or a terrorist attack. He probably does not care for any of it, but he is made to choose. Organized religion inculcates fear, which usually triumphs. 

We all work with people from different religions. My Creative Director was a staunch Christian, copy writer an atheist, art director was a Muslim and I a Hindu. No one ever asked anyone about their religion. We worked as a team... probably for a Jewish client. We put our passion into our work. Our religion was our work. We did not are about anything else. The aim was to do great work, and yes earn our accolades at the end of the project, and salaries at the end of the month.

Why then do people let religion be a barrier in other aspects of our their lives? Live and let live has always been my philosophy. Just like at work, let's keep religion out of everything else. It would make lives more peaceful for everyone around. And we all could really do with some peace.

Spiritually yours

Seema

Written from roof top lounge at ITC Grand Central, Mumbai. 

Mumbai Musings

Only in Mumbai 

- You have to pay $34 for one mojito to watch a gorgeous sunset from a roof top bar- which would cost you nothing if you simply sat by Marine Drive.

- Sari salesgirls promote their product by blatantly acknowledging its a 'ditto Masaba original copy'. Err an original copy? 

- You can try 20 pieces of shoes and leave without buying a single pair after one hour, and the smile from the salesman face won't fade. He may curse you under his breath after you leave, but 'service with a smile' is all prevalent

- A rickshaw driver will waive the change with a 'Agli baar milenge phir de dena'. (Give it when we meet next). With over 300,000 rickshaws in Mumbai probability of that happening is negligible, but the sentiment is heart warming

- An awesome breakfast can be had for less than $3

- Car drivers are gracious and kind, and luxury car owners are rude and obnoxious

- Elitist attitudes gain respect and entry pretty much everywhere. Wearing designer sunglasses adds to the credibility 

- Girls in hot pants and cleavage showing singlets shop for lehenegas 

- Mobile penetration is higher than high school registration

-  Sari blouses are sexier and more revealing than evening gowns

- Eunuchs say you are 'Sonakshi Sinha' and pray you get your Salman*

-  Kids ardently dream of being Sachin Tendulkar more than being Messi

- Sunday lunches with family as revered a ritual as Friday nights out with friends

- Beach welcomes everyone, but the hotel beach front properties won't let you in unless you don't look the part. Again designer sunnies and a attitude always gains entry

- The mind dwells on stress, while the heart beats in hope 

Mumbai is a city of contradictions, an existence of paradoxes. It oozes energy and frowns at failure. Yet it accepts everyone- rich-poor, big-small, smart-dumb, black-white. You make of it whatever you are capable of.

* when it happened to me yesterday I asked him/her to pray for Aamir not Salman. When they complied I gave them Rs. 100 each, thinking its only 50 cents. Yeah, my mental math skills are atrocious. It's nearly $5, but then that's the price of my daily coffee cup. 

City Crush

City Crush

I am a city girl. I love going on holidays to small towns, beach resorts, mountains, but I need to live in a big city. I cannot imagine myself living in a small town. And it's strange because it's not that I love the fast life or night clubs or crowded streets for that matter. 

But still, I have to live in a big city. I love the feel, the vibe, the energy and the amazing variety of people one can meet. Life is never dull in a big city, there is always something at every turn which surprises you, shocks you even. I love these little surprises and the adventures they bring with them.

My favourite city is and will always be Bombay, or Mumbai as Sanil insist I call it ("because you are Indian and not British, you should use the Indian name"- as he explained sternly to me). I have written a few posts on Bombay- both in poem and prose- so I won't  dwell on that here. 

I remember a conversation with a friend many years ago where he explained how left a city he loved, for his girlfriend. I told him I could understand that it was a tough decision - choosing between a city and a girl, both of which you love. And then I added "The only difference is that girlfriend may leave, but the city will always be there!". He simply nodded in complete agreement. 

There are some cities I knew since I was little that I would LOVE. I had only read fiction novels based in these cities, but I just KNEW. One of those cities is New York. I read 'I'll take Manhattan' by Judith Krantz when I was 15. And I fell in love with Manhattan. I did not visit it until I was in my mid-20s. And it was like I was meant to be there. I could see myself living in Manhattan and loving it.

Then there are some cities which surprise you. I never wanted to visit Hong Kong. As I felt it would be like Bombay only with Chinese people. So why bother, when I have lived and loved the original. I know! Pre-conceived biased notions are not a good thing. But unfortunately, I have a few of them. 

However HK disarmed me. I forgot all about what I thought about it, and allowed it to introduce me to itself. Since my first visit I have been back a few times on both work and pleasure, and city grows more and more on me each time. I have not been to able to go over and say hello in the last few years, and need to change that soon. 

I believe that every city has a soul. A soul that makes it what it is. Cities breathe like you and I. They have suffered, they have cried and they have mourned. They have laughed, they have sung and they have celebrated. And it's because of all this, they have a history and they have memories. 

Another city I knew I would fall in love with is Paris. I know it's a cliche, who does not love Paris? But the connection I knew I would feel, am feeling it every minute of everyday that I am here. It's simply magical!

Am sure Paris remembers its plight during the two World Wars. Like New York who still fears that the Great Depression may pay a visit with every recession. Or Bombay which has given as 'dowry' in 1661 by the King of Portugal to King Charles II of England when he married the Portuguese princess, Catherine of Braganza only to find itself now as nothing short of a Bollywood diva.  

Every building, nook and cranny  in every city has a story to tell. Stories of people who lived there, of cafes that were once the talk of the town, of movie theatres that have seen silent black and white films. 

Paris has romance in its soul. That's why even today it's called the city of love. Ambition finds itself as an integral part of New York's soul. And Bombay is like the beautiful but ageing prostitute with a heart of gold. 

When we each visit or stay in any city, we leave behind a part of our souls. Our histories and memories and those of the city become intertwined. Thats why I adore old cities. Can you imagine the number of people who have passed through these cities over the hundreds of years? The cities touched each one of their lives in different ways and the people made the history of the cities a little richer.

A city is capable of love. A city accepts you as you are. A city embraces your eccentricities and makes it it's own. That's how all big cities have a bohemian area which thrives on it's residents individualities. 

There is nothing better than walking through a city that's steeped in history. There is no better way to discover its secrets and enjoys its pleasures. I urge you all the walk the trails that many before you have walked, but trust me, what you will take out of it will be unique and special to you alone.

For now, I am continuing my Paris walks, drinking in every sight (along with an occasional glass of Chablis), savouring every experience (and not just the macaroons), and thoroughly enjoying every step along this walk.

It's great I have packed my pink Hush Puppies shoes.

Written on 30 July 

At Shakespeare and Company in Paris and the Paris Plages

Life is a beach...

...and all the people merely swimmers

Some swim against the tide, some go with the flow and others merely wet their toes in the ocean.

I simply love the beach. Everything about it- the sand, the sea, the waves, the sun, the deck chairs, the breeze...

The first time

I first realized how much I loved beaches when I was onboard the Rajdhani Express from Bombay to Delhi. I think I was about 9 or 10 years old. I told my dad that in Delhi I wanted to go to the 'Juhu beach'. One of uncles laughed and replied, "Delhi does not have beaches!". I felt miserable, not as much for me, but for the people of Delhi who could not spend lazy Sunday mornings on a beach, or go for an evening walk on the sea shore.

I was a pretty good student and geography was one of my favorite subjects. So I did know that all areas are not coastal, and there are many cities and towns in the interiors which are not by the sea. So even though my mind knew, my heart just felt so grateful that I lived in Bombay and from my bedroom I could see the sun set into the Arabian sea every evening.

Bombay's best kept secret...Silver Beach

Silver beach also known as Godrej beach is a 7 min walk from my house in Bombay. It's one end of 'Juhu beach' which till date is not as commercialized. And in the 80's when I was growing up, it was even more secluded and almost pristine.

It was where you could learn to ride a horse (no kidding. The 'Janbaaz' scene where Dimple is riding a horse and looking stunning is shot there). Families came for picnics, kids swam in the ocean, serious joggers went about the daily exercise routine and old uncles played crickets. It was where couples held hands and gazed into each others eyes as the sun set in the background. Bombay does have the most beautiful sunsets. As the sun goes down, the sky turns a burnt-orngey-pink and it's one of the most amazing sights. Even today when I am visiting Bombay, at least one visit to Silver Beach is a must. It's become a ritual for Sanil too-who loves beaches almost as much as I do. And I love him even more for it.


Happy childhood memories

When I was a child one of my fondest memories are of dad taking my cousins and me swimming in the sea. Swimming in the ocean is something else! The thrill of being swept away by the waves is just so much fun! Of course now I only sit by the sand and remember those childhood days as I would not even dream of entering the polluted waters of Juhu beach- such a shame!

When I was slightly older, around 13 or 14, a bunch of us girls from my building started going for morning walks to Silver Beach during the summer holidays. My friend Anubha used to visit from Jaipur every summer and a few of us used to wake up early in the morning and head out to the beach for a walk. It was never for exercising- we checked out cute guys, we gossiped about people from the building and chatted about everything under the sun. Happy happy times!!

I spent the first 5 years of my life Las Pal Mas in Canary Islands, Spain, where I was born. Have been a beach bum since I was a baby!

Bombay to Goa

One of most memorable beach holidays was in Goa in 1992. I went there with my parents, brothers and my aunt. It the first time parents were happy to leave us alone and we went cycling, exploring eating places, swimming in the pool.

The next time I visited Goa I was much older. It was a trip with my MBA classmates. This was after all of us had got jobs and were waiting to graduate. Fab times with lots of drama and laughter.

I have not visited Goa since that trip in 1997, and keep hearing it has changed a lot. Have promised Sanil to take him there soon.

Beach havens in Southeast Asia

One of the best things of living in Singapore is there are fantastic beach resorts so close by. From Phuket to Langkawi and Bali to Boracay- I have taken at least one beach holiday every year. And it never gets old.


I started writing this post on a small sheet of paper when I was in Boracay (Philippines) in July last year. I went there with a colleague of mine after our workshop in Manila. It was a silver sandy beach, one of the best ones I have been to in Asia. Not touristy like Phuket or Bali- a lot more pristine and quiet. The boutique hotel had the most excellent service with 'beach butlers' at your every beck and call- no exaggeration. My beach butler negotiated with the boatman for the sail boat ride, re-scheduled my spa appointment as it clashed with the sailing, delivered one-for-one mojitos on the sail boat for my friend and me...I did not resort to getting him to clean my sunglasses or remove sand from my slippers like the hotel brochure said I could.



Sanil and I had beautiful holidays in Phuket and Bali where we would spend the whole day in the pool and by the beach. Sanil can play in the sand for hours since he was little. Perfect time for mama to read a book and simply chill.

I end this post also in Phuket where I spent a day on a luxury yacht. I LOVE boats!! Second only to hats, which I also love. And if I can spend an afternoon on a yacht with my hat and a glass of wine, while enjoying the sea breeze...there could be nothing better!

Beach Wish List...

Mauritius, Maldives and Mexico...I see a hammock, a book, sunset and myself- thin enough to wear a 2 piece bikini ;) power of positive visualization...it will happen!

P.s. spent my morning on the stunning beach in Nice! It is such a different experience from Asia. This was a pebble beach...takes getting used to. V different feel from sandy beaches. The water is much cooler, but as always there is nothing more exhilarating than a swim in the ocean. And with relics of bodies here, I don't actually feel half as bad! In Asia I feel like covering myself in a kaftan to hide the...well politely put...curves, but really put its flab. Here you can feel more Katrina Kaif, and less Vidya Balam :)

Mera Shehar

A poem written in Aug 1998...13 years ago about my beloved city Bombay

Woh elco ki pani puri, woh chowpatty ki chaat,
Woh Naturals ki ice cream, Wah usme thi kuch baat.

Woh tewari ki mithai, woh raste ka dosa,
Woh shivsagar ki pav bhaji aur Guru Kripa ka samosa.

Woh local train ka ‘suffer’, woh juhu beach ki hawa,
Woh chowpatty ke tange aur Joggers Park ka sama.

Woh December ki zara si sardi, woh baarishon ke mahine,
Woh garmi ki chuttiyan, jab chute te they paseene.

Woh holi ki masti, woh navratri ka garba,
Woh divali ke patakhe aur ganpati ka shor o sharaba.

Woh peak hours ki traffic, woh BEST ki rush,
Woh tadapti garmi mien, Snowmans ka ek kala khatta slush.

Woh Juhu beach ka mohol, woh samunder ki leheren,
Woh doobte suraj ka nazara, Wah uske kya kehene.

Woh Sterling ka pop corn aur Cotton World mein shopping,
Woh Fashion Street ka nazara aur Nariman Point ki buildings.

Woh cinema ke queue, woh black ki tickets,
Woh Shivaji Park ka maidan, jahan bachche practice karte hain cricket.

Itni cheezen kehene ke baad, aur kitni karoon mein badaee,
Yeh shehar hain mera apna, jiska naam hai MUMBAI !!!!!!!!

To Singapore

In the last few days I found myself in different conversations where different friends were criticizing Singapore (the usual Indian expat pain points- boring, small, constricted, boring again, ‘nothing to do’, hot, humid, boring once again) and I found my mouth opening to say something when I quickly snapped it shut and bit by tongue for added measure.

OMG!!! I was actually going to defend Singapore!!! When did that happen?? How did it happen?? And for heaven’s sake why?? The only city I ever defend is Bombay- say anything bad about Bombay and do it at the risk of brutal physical harm. So why on earth was I now going stand up for Singapore?!!

I have lived in Singapore for more than a decade now. (And no, it’s still not home. The only city that will ever have the home title will be amchi Mumbai). Every time when there is a Singapore bashing session I effortlessly chime in with the same sound bites- boring, small, blah, blah.

I did not defend Singapore on any of those occasions in the last few days, but I felt a twinge of guilt later. Because to be completely honest this city (country? Island-state?) has given me much more than I have ever given it. Phew! I didn’t think I would ever admit that to myself- let alone publicly.

Singapore has been far kinder to me, than I have ever been to it.

It accepted me from day one when I pushed back.

It welcomed me with open arms, when I only dreamt of running away.

It smiled. I frowned.

It laughed for me (and not at me). And I cried.

It tendered to my wounds. I did not let them heal.

It cared. I simply couldn’t give a shit.

So today I would like to say my thanks to Singapore. Thanks most for all for your patience. For the calm. For the peace. For the courage.

Thanks for giving me the chance to meet people who I would have never met had I been in Bombay. Thanks for making some of these people my closest (and most wonderful) friends.

Thanks for making it so easy for me to have all the things I love so close to me. (For the uninformed, my rule of a good to city to live in is simple- idli-dosa and Hindi movies have to available within a 10 minute cab distance and should not cost a small fortune).

So thank you Singapore! And I will try and be a better friend to you. (I still cannot cause bodily harm to people who criticize you. There would just be way too many of them!) But I will try to show them what you are all about.

Having said that, people define cities by their own experiences in it. So Singapore, I can’t change people’s experiences about you. I can only say that my experiences have been nothing short of delightful. And I can hope you will give others who come here such lovely experiences too. And the people who leave, beautiful memories to remember you by.

If Bombay is the city that loves, Singapore is a city that accepts. And at this time, I need unconditional acceptance more than anything else. So thank you Singapore!

And here are my favorite places in Singapore:

• Favorite place (by far)- Tanjong Rhu Bay

• South Indian food- Murugans (idli, butter dosa and filter coffee are to die for)

• North Indian ‘Moghlai’ food- Shahi Maharani, Raffles City

• Mall- Takashimaya, Raffles City, Vivo City

• Coffee place- Spinellis, Heeren

• Brunch- P.S. Café Dempsey

• Drinks- Tapas Tree, Clarke Quay

• Desserts- P.S. Café again

• Bread- Cedele

Shit! These are all eating places. There really are limited things to do in Singapore! Or its just me, as the foodie that I am, my fav places in Bombay would be eating/drinking ones too. Moving on….

• Outdoor place- East Coast Park (where there is NO MacDonalds or KFC)

• Just for walks- Tanjong Rhu Bay (again) and Orchard Road (for retail therapy)

• Saving the best for the last: My balcony

So here’s signing off and wishing my very best to Singapore (I hope the IRs work out for you. Pls consider removing the S$100 casino entry fee for PRs)

1 April 2010

(Not an April Fools Day Joke)

The recently turned Desi Boy

The only times I think Sanil is unlike me are:


1) When he does things slowly (and not chop-chop-chop like his mama)
2) Refused to try bhel puri (why?????)
3) And has not taken to Hindi movies (how?????)- though his penchant for drama is heavily borrowed from the Hindi cine world

I am a die-hard Hindi movie buff as anyone who knows me knows. One of my old friends used to call me “filmy” and my niece has been trained by my sister to call me “Bolly maasi”. So when Sanil did not naturally gravitate towards Hindi movies I was a tad bit disappointed.

Well then naturally I was very surprised when he told me yesterday that he liked the song “Zoobie Doobie, Zoobie Doobie…..hoon paagal stupid main”. Errr its paagal stupid mann”. But Sanil refused to believe me until he heard the lyrics on my iPod. (Sanil is ALWAYS right until proven wrong by someone who is not his mother).

He actually wanted to perform a solo dance number on Rock On!! at his mamaa’s Sangeet. Rehearsed it even! He refused at the last minute much to my intense relief as he has inherited the legendary Punwani-men 2 left feet, even though he refuses to acknowledge it).

He even pointed to some random hoarding and recognized Hritik Roshan and admitted to kinda liking the Desi Girl song. WOKAY!

Guess Sanil just needed the Bombay ki hawa to convert him. May be if we stay longer, he will give bhel puri a try too :)

Sanil on Bombay and beyond

On a rare occasion I made my way to “town” (South Bombay from for the non-Mumaikars). I am a Juhu gal, and would gladly never leave Juhu, or venture max to Bandra on one side (shopping) and 7 Bungalows to the other (Chandrus mithaiwala). But on that day I had to go to Mahalaxmi to attend my cousin brother’s sangeet ceremony.


My dad opted for the Bandra-Worli Sea Link route (gorgeous bridge! My second time on it, and loved it even more). My parents proudly introduced the bridge to Sanil. “It goes over the water” (yeah mom, all bridges do). It’s so big and tall (once again, most bridges are like that). “Its one of its kind in Bombay” (Ok that I have to give it to the Sea Link). Sanil was suitably impressed.

We crossed the bridge the reached the other side of Bombay and Sanil quips “When we were on the bridge it was like we were in Singapore. Once we crossed the bridge….its India again."

I LOVE Sanil’s perspectives on things. They have their own unique flavor and a distinct touch that simply cannot be replicated.

He wants to only travel by rickshaws. Gets rather disappointed if Nana offers to chauffeur him anywhere. “Nana is also coming? Oh no! Now we can’t go by rickshaw, we will have to go by car!”

His narrative on rickshaws: “It’s like an open car. I can look out and see everything and feel the breeze in my hair”. WOW! I have never heard such a poetic description of even a convertible.

And not to mention his ad recall in India! OMG! “Buy the bubblegum, and we shall get free tattoo”. “Lux cleans 8 times better” (Seriously!). And “Horlicks makes you smarter”. Really!!

On that note, I don’t like the fact that kids channel in India sell media space. In Singapore, very few brands are allowed to advertise on channels like Cartoon Network. In India, kids are bombarded with ads from breakfast cereals to “gel” pens and innumerable types and varieties of confectioneries. Only in India a toffee and pen command a TVC. Wish I could work with budgets like that when I plan my campaigns and did not hear client say: “We can’t afford TV spots, do a DM instead”. Me: “Sure, do you have a clean database”. Client “Database? What’s that?” Ok I so-digress (but some of my readers will share my pain about this)

Will end it on a Sanil exclusive quote on India and food- “Chapatis are the most importantest Indian food. So mama you can’t make chapatis, that means you don’t know how to cook” (Spoken like true MCP Indian man!). Sigh……

A story a minute…..

Since the day I arrived in India I had blogposts in my head (OK that sounds a tad bit crazy) but that’s what India does to me. At any given time there are minimum of 5 things vying for your attention.


Mom: “You want Chila for breakfast?” (No! I only eat cereals YUCK! for breakfast to keep my weight in check). Dad “What time do you need the driver?” MTV- Trailer of ‘Pa’ (Vidya and Abhi are looking fabulous together!). Bombay Times- Some Kareena-Kurban-backless controversy, generated by the Sena of course. And the phone ringing with my best friend asking about the plans for the evening (which in Bombay context means 8 pm). And yes, all this at the exact same time!

So naturally there is so much fodder for writing. Potential topics: “How it is impossible to maintain a diet when holidaying in India”. “The 10,000th controversy raised by Sena which involves women and clothes (or the lack thereof)”. “IST: Morning = 12 noon, Afternoon = 5 pm, Evening = 8 pm, Night = 11 pm; Late night = 2 am). There you go….

In India there is inspiration everywhere. In Singapore we lead very one-dimensional lives. You generally do one thing at a time- or maximum of 2 if you are Ms. Multitasking like me. In India, it’s a whole different ball game (actually in India it’s not a ball game at all, its cricket, and that too in the new 20-20 format).

Sounds (what non-Indians would refer to as “noise”) are also unique here. Door bells (every 10 minutes- no exaggeration). Phone rings (mobile and landline- really, how popular are my parents?! And why has no one in India discovered that you can have a “silent” ring tone. Yes! It’s actually an option! Your phone does not have to sing ‘Chiggy Wiggy’ in Kylie Minogue’s voice)”. Car honks (there should be a day a month where drivers should not be allowed to blare their card horns- it would be a Guinness record for self-restraint). Mom talking to the kaam waali bai, bargaining with the bhaji wala at the door step and giving her recipe for paneer makhni to her niece (yes at the same time). And finally, the TV at a volume level that NEEDS to be that high so it can be heard above the rest of the din. (or that’s what my dad tells my mom).

But life still happens amongst all this chaos. Things miraculously get done in this madness and people carry on with their everyday lives with remarkable ease. There is so much happening that every minute there is a new story unfolding. As I said there is inspiration 24x7 in India.

I think that’s the reason there is never dearth of movie scripts- India is the world's largest producer of films, producing close to a 1000 films annually.vs. Hollywood which release approximately 650). That’s why there is a thriving advertising industry here where TVCs are still a form of entertainment. India is also the 3rd largest country publishing English books after USA and UK.

There are stories everywhere you look. I am only trying to capture a handful of them in my short time here.

An Indian First!

Bal Thackeray recently made a statement about Sachin Tendulkar "You became run out in the pitch of Marathi minds" as Sachin had said that he was "an India first and a Marathi after".

Cut to many years ago at a Diwali party in Singapore (my very early years in the country), a British man was talking to a group of Indians about the festival and its significance. He also mentioned that Diwali was probably the biggest Indian festival. It was a rhetoric question- not a question at all- but it got a varied range of responses. “Actually it’s a Hindu festival, we Parsis don’t celebrate it”. “In East India where I come from, Durga Puja is much bigger”. SERIOUSLY!!!

Foreigners have difficulty grasping the concept of India and we choose to complicate it further by referring to ourselves as Gujuratis, Sindhis, Parsis, Christians, Bengalis…Who outside India gives a flying F%^$!

And frankly why should people in India care too? Your motherland rules and everything else come after. We are Indians FIRST! Why is that so difficult to comprehend?!

Secondly your origins should be attributed to your city- the city you grew up in, where you studied, which gave you your childhood school memories (and best friends for life), your “first time” teen years and perhaps even your career and life partner. It does not matter which religion you are, which caste you belong to, the city you grew you up in makes up a big part of who you are. You could be a Kashmiri who has been bought up in Gujarat or a Gujrati who has lived all his life in Chennai.

Then in the scheme of things enters your religion- practicing or not practicing- your religion is a key aspect of your values and beliefs system. I may go to the temple or gurudwara once a month and on special occasions (Diwali, birthdays), but that does not make me an less religious than a Muslim who prays 5 times a day and a Christian who goes for Sunday mass every week.

And FINALLY, LAST, ALL THE WAY DOWN, RIGHT AT THE BOTTOM (you get the drift) is your caste- Maloo, Bengali, Tulu, Sindhi, Punju, etc etc etc. It’s the least important part of who you are and should be.

We keep falling in the trap laid by the British Raj that was conceived to rule over us- “Divide and Rule”. It kept them in power for very many years.

Let’s break from those shackles. Isn’t it time enough?

So I am an Indian first, a Bombayite (or Mumbaikar with due respect to Balasaheb) next, a Hindu after and Sindhi last. What about you?

British Raj Indians

…are the ones who believe that the British Raj was probably one of the best things to happen to India. They have a white fixation, prefer fish and chips to “kanda bajiyas” and speak with a put-on American accent which they get after one visit to the passport office.

They find Bombay dirty, Chennai hot, Bangalore noisy and Delhi polluted- does not matter that they lived there all their lives and have been living outside India for last few years only.

They snub their noses at local trains, look down on rickshaws and always have at least 3 “horror stories” about traffic jams on Indian roads.

They celebrate Singapore’s NDP and the 4th of July with gusto that makes you wonder about their origins. Their Indian-ness seeps out only when celebrating festivals which made a resurgence post Karan Johar movies and Ekta Kapoor serials like karvachaut and navratri.

They discuss Indian politics (in a know-it-all tone) - but never vote.
Watch every Hindi movie (on pirated DVD that too) - but insist of speaking in English only when in India.
Dance to desi tunes at night clubs (really bad dance moves too)- but want to make their daughters learn ballet over kathak.
Ok don’t get me wrong- Bombay is dirty, Delhi is polluted, ballet for little girls is lovely and I have plenty traffic jam stories too. But is that all what India and Indians are about? Do we define ourselves with Bollywood (HATE that term) movies and corrupt politicians?

I don’t want to get all sentimental via clichés but a country that gave Gandhi, Mother Teresa and Narayan Murthy to the world, has a lot more to be proud of.

We are today because of what our nation made us. None of us could have done it on our own. And if we belonged to any other country, we would not be the kind of people we are. Never forget that. Just the way we owe our upbringing to our mothers, we also owe the same to our Motherland.

So this Independence Day, remember your humble beginnings first and be proud of where you and India has reached today. Refrain from criticizing and find at least one good to say about India. And yes, wherever in the world you are, make your way to the Flag Hoisting Ceremony at the local consulate. It’s only once a year- find the time.

Bombay- My city: Now and Then

A poem written by Seema on 10 Dec 2008
(post terrorist attacks on her city Bombay)

Mera Shehar Mujhe Lauta Do…
Nahin saha jata hai yeh ab,
Nahin dekha jata hai yeh sab,
Mera shehar mera nahin raha,
Mere aasoon us ke liye bahein.

Woh ek din tha, jab waqt thama,
Jab saansein rooki,
Jab ek hakeeqat bani,
Jo ek sadmein se thi sangeen.

Jab sapnay tootein,
Jab jaane looti,
Jab dehshat faili,
Jab zakham khule.

Jab aakhen hui num,
Jab dil mein they gum,
Jab jaan thi baaki,
Pur uski ahmiyat thi kum.

Aasoon ruk ne sakein,
Soch ho gayi baawli,
Uthe sau sawaal,
Pur jawaab they khali.

Ab kya? Ab kya? Ab kya?
Is ke aage hoga kya?

Hum phir badenge?
Hum phir sahenge?
Hum phir hasenge?
Aur yeh kahenge…
“Jaane do, rehne do?
“Bhool jaao, aage bado?”

Yeh ab nahin hai mumkin,
Is baar bahut tadap hai shaamil,
Ab shensheelta ki nahin hai baari,
Ab uthani hai awaaz hamari.

“NAHIN badenge”,
“NAHIN sahenge”,
“NAHIN hasenge”,
Aur yeh kahenge…

“Jaago! Kuch karo!”
“Sar utha ke jeeyo,
Yaan is hi tarah marte raho”.

Mera shehar mujhe lauta do,
Mera vishwaas mujhe dila do,
Tootne na do mere hoslein,
Buland karo phir se mere sapnay.

Mera shehar mujhe lauta do…
Mera shehar mujhe lauta do….

______________________________________________________________

A poem written by Seema on her city Bombay 10 years ago
(Aug 1998)

Mera shehar

Woh elco ki pani puri, woh chowpatty ki chaat,
Woh Naturals ki ice cream, Wah usme thi kuch baat.

Woh tewari ki mithai, woh raste ka dosa,
Woh shivsagar ki pav bhaji aur Guru Kripa ka samosa.

Woh local train ka ‘suffer’, woh juhu beach ki hawa,
Woh chowpatty ke tange aur joggers park ka sama.

Woh december ki zara si sardi, woh baarishon ke mahine,
Woh garmi ki chuttiyan, jab chute te they paseene.

Woh holi ki masti, woh navratri ka garba,
Woh divali ke patakhe aur ganpati ka shor o sharaba.

Woh peak hours ki traffic, woh BEST ki rush,
Woh tadapti garmi mien, Snowmans ka ek kala khatta slush.

Woh Juhu beach ka mohol, woh samunder ki leheren,
Woh doobte suraj ka nazara, Wah uske kya kehene.

Woh Sterling ka pop corn aur Cotton World mein shopping,
Woh Fashion Street ka nazara aur Nariman Point ki buildings.

Woh cinema ke queue, woh black ki tickets,
Woh Shivaji Park ka maidan, jahan bachche practice karte hain cricket.

Itni cheezen kehene ke baad, aur kitni karoon mein badaee,
Yeh shehar hain mera apna, jiska naam hai MUMBAI !!!!!!!!