Day 10 - Madhushaalaa to Memories Part 2

Last evening was spent with very special people. The disarming Suruchi, the creative Sangeeta, my beautiful beautiful student Rhea, the fun Jyoti, and Mihir....
Micky, my 'Indian Express' husband mentions Mihir as someone with great depth. Before I go ahead I must explain Indian Express.
Indian Express... When I was growing up, the newspaper, The Times of India was considered to be the mouthpiece of Congress and the Hindustan Times that of the BJP. Indian Express was considered anti-establishmentarian....
... which so describes Micky! Micky needs to debate, question everything and nothing except hard facts are considered. He starts with a questioning attitude and needs to be convinced with hard facts.
I, in contrast go first with my instinct and need hard facts only when I either need to debate on a serious platform or write a book (which has not yet happened but is on my bucket-list)!
Back to Mihir... Micky and I respect Mihir. His calm, gentle mannerisms with the phenomenal depth of knowledge and inspiring creativity are a perfect balance for Sangeeta who invests herself in her passion. God has certainly given an unfair portion of his goodness to these guys! We love them.
So Madhushaala was discussed again and I couldn't help coming back home and going through some verses, which brought me back to the chain of memories from my childhood, once again...

Dad's love for reading was phenomenal. Our house was small but full of books. Books on theatre, poetry, literature, science fiction, classics, languages, westerns, food and wine, etc spilled over from every nook and corner. Dad had learnt German, Arabic, Russian and French along with Hindi, English and Kumaoni and books from all around the world found place in our house....

...which wasn't as convenient because we were a family of about ten people on an average living in that house! The books spilled over from the rooms to the boot of our Ambassador car.

Dad loved his car as did I. We used to drive in the wide roads of Delhi, park the car in Janpath, get a book from the bookstore and a mughlai paratha from a restaurant in Connaught Place and spend happy times reading in the warm car in winters. He was a smoker and would bribe me with phantom cigarettes or Amul cheese cubes to not tell mum. We were secretive and I loved it! His love for reading readily got on to me. Our favourite activity used to be 'dictation'! In Grade 2 he brought me the original version of Gulliver's Travels. Each day we would go through a little and we would have a 'spelling test'. It was wonderful to sit in his lap and mark the test. A cuddle, a kiss and the happy look when it was all correct .......... contentment.

Once mum and bua threw a big tantrum. Fair enough...books were all around, on the tables in piles, on dining stools, on the bed, in the car (creeping inside the car from the boot now!), in corners and everywhere the sight went! They warned dad to clear off his books else.... Dad agreed and sent them off grocery shopping. By the time they returned, everything was clean. No books were to be seen anywhere except on the bookshelves. Suspicious minds looked everywhere but the books were nowhere to be found. Disbelief ruled but couldn't do much! The extra books had magically disappeared!
A few weeks later mum and bua decided to tighten the weave for Dad's charpoy as it seemed to sag. They rolled up the mattresses and lo and behold... in every weave and weft of the 'nivaar' was a book, stuck carefully! Who could possibly argue, counter, win such immense love for reading?

The last movie dad and I watched was "Mr Natwarlal". Dad knew that I loved Amitabh Bachchan. Dad's cataract had reached a stage where he could hardly see anything but he was content holding my hand and going to the Plaza cinema hall. He enjoyed listening to the movies with me. I had become an expert in guiding the auto drivers back home.

Dad couldn't read anymore, but he loved being read to. Our spelling tests and reading everyday meant that I could now read to him. He loved maths and solved sums in the air for my cousin who was in high school. I loved my dad.

He went for a cataract surgery soon after, but never came back. His diabetes and the Doctors' medical negligence cost us more than we could ever afford.

I was in grade 4. Someone, in the crowd of white, told me never to make mum unhappy and I took it as my life mantra.

Life was a huge roller coaster then on. Mum and I had years of struggle but I learnt much in the journey, lessons that I liked and those that I needed.

I miss dad but I know that he would have been very proud of what I am today. He would've loved Neetima and would have had many discussions with Micky. The possibilities that will not be but what would have been had he been alive make me smile. And I am sure he is smiling too....

Dad and I

Day 9- From Madhushaalaa to memories Part 1

The day started well with Mihir's SMS confirming that the "Madhushaala' was to open at 8:30!
Micky and I love meeting Mihir, Rhea and Sangeeta. Micky spent his time busy making a card for Sangeeta and I switched on Madhushaala.

Memories went back to my childhood, I could hear conversations critiquing Madhushaalaa at home. Dad, mum and his other writer, poet, theatre friends discussed the poem, compared Bachchan ji's writing style to Sumitranandan Pant's poetry, to the younger poets.... memories....

I was born in a rich family environment - rich not in money or physical resources - but rich in creativity, leadership, art and passion and perhaps eccentricity!
My paternal grandfather was the first MP from Almora of free India. Our house in Almora had the privilege of hosting Gandhi ji, Nehru, Firoze and Indira Gandhi, Shaukat and Liyakat Ali, Miraben, Kamla Ben, Batukeshwar Dutt,  and many other freedom fighters.
My grandfather Devi Dutt Pant, called Debiya affectionately, was the surprise element- the rebel and the rogue of the family! I remember tales of him told by my grandmother, aunts, my dad and my uncles.
It is said that Debiya in his childhood, once climbed a tree and tore a book page by page and scattered the pages away. Tearing a book was serious enough crime to be summoned by his father. When asked why he did that, Debiya said that he had no further use for the book as he had transferred everything to his head. His father was curious and asked his son to tell him about the book. It is said that Debiya narrated page after page after page.... he had it all memorised!
Debiya, borne into the high class Brahmin family, played Hudka, the Pahari percussion instrument, so well that the town festival for Nanda Devi used to open with his playing the Hudka. He found the idea of castes and religion segregation intolerable and often broke all the Brahmin rules possible. He ate with anyone and everyone, hugged and danced with people from all castes, creed and religion and refused to follow the norms of a Brahmin family!
Soon the young, handsome, witty and charming youngster joined law and became a practising lawyer. Those were the times of the Indian Freedom Struggle. Gandhi ji came to Almora and Debiya not only committed himself but also his younger brother Sumitranandan Pant, who by that time had ventured into writing poetry.
The story goes that Gandhi ji asked for commitment from the youngsters and granddad raised his hand and looked at his younger brother, who seemed a tad reluctant; so granddad raised his own hand and his brother's hand as well. Sumitranandan ji was too gentle and relented to the passion of my feisty granddad. Sumitranandan ji vowed not to get married then, because Gandhi ji had asked for full commitment to the struggle.
My granddad was married to my grandmother Ghanti (prior to this commitment). My grandmum was born and brought up in a traditional family. I can't imagine the paradigm shift/concessions she would have had to make for her husband. She raised four of her children stoically as she balanced my grandfather's communist idealism and his passion for the freedom struggle. The idealism extended and manifested itself in all areas of the household. My father was named Lenin and my uncle Gorkey! She must've got her way with her daughters who were named Hema and Soma, else I might've had a Natalya or a Anastasia for my aunt!
My aunt narrated the heart ache (even at the age of sixty), when her 'Gataparcha' doll was flung into flames when the Swadesi andolan started. Everything not made in India was to be burnt and much was sacrificed by the family.
 Grandad entered mainstream politics. He was put in jail many a times and my grandmother was left on her own to raise her children. Her brother came to her support. Granddad was later sent for Kaalaa Paani and there his health deteriorated. The jailors mixed sand in the flour and pebbles in the daal. Food and water was limited. Once an English jailor kicked him mercilessly for revolting against the food and conditions. The other inmates were horrified. One cursed the jailor,  "Today, you have hit a Brahmin; your leg will rot." A few days later the diabetic jailor suffered from gangrene and his leg had to be amputated! Fate? Coincidence? Or the curse? God knows...but my grandfather was never kicked in Kaalaa Pani again, however he had become very weak.
India became free. Grandad was nominated the 1st MP from free Almora. The family was uprooted from Almora to come to Delhi to move into the MP Bungalow.
Fate had else in store. Just when the family was in the temporary accommodation in Delhi, grandfather met with an accident. The weakness of the Kaalaa Paani had not left him and he succumbed to his injuries. The family was still in the temporary accommodation. My grandmother chose to not move to the Government house as she didn't want to taint grandfather's sacrifice by taking Government support and advantage in lieu. So the family shifted from a big, beautiful, pahari house into a small two bedroom house in a primarily refugee-populated area. Our neighbours were Sardars or Punjabis from erstwhile Indian region which had then become Pakistan.

Happiness is......... reliving memories with pride and fondness.

Day 8- Giggles, fun and friends

The awesome Friday feeling....

Started the IB WSL application and fidgeted my way through the nonsensical requirements. Mindfulness...my foot! How can one be mindful when one is expected to do absolutely mindless paperwork!?! One of those days I want to rule the world and put it all back in order!

See my boss back at work and ask him how he is placed in the evening. I owe him a dinner after putting him through the mess of finding a printer, signing and scanning my application- all during his holiday. Nasty me! Anyway, he is free for dinner. So I ask Rach and G. 

I get a message from Pritika if I want to join her for a pork chop and bacon dinner! Yum! But I have my invite sent. I ask her to come over and she sends me a message full of despair....she has also invited other friends. Ah well.. Hakuna Matata!

I start my tedious job of sending the documentation over. The files are huge and wetransfer takes forever! In the meantime, I flirt around with emojis and words on whatsapp. :)

Naughtiness always makes one feel alive! A necessary ingredient to keep the spark alive and life feel all sparkly! Being cheeky helps as much, esp when you know that the friend on the other end will continue to humour you. 

Home is a haven of beautiful cooking smells and a cup of ginger tea. I taste the food, refine, cook more, dance and wonder about the way forward. Disorientation beckons but I firmly ignore the call! Que serra serra!

Soon the home is filled with happy conversations. Rach-Gautam-Rob- Pritika (she has made it after packing off her guests with an early dinner!) - Micky and I start on a sober note....... and a wine bottle and some cans of beer later, the conversation turns to a mindless fit of giggles, jokes, banter, nonsensical fight-lets (not full fledged, hence the fightlets!) and volumes of laughter. No one is spared! All of us feel happy.

Not certain if Saturday eve will be as full of giggles.. but very sure that it'll be equally full of happiness. Thank God for friends! Love 'em!

Day 7 - Oliver and Sangeeta

Day 7 has been an amazing day!
This morning a young teacher came in for a work related chat ... for an hour! We talked about work, her career, her problems, her happy and scary moments. She left with a plan, happy. Young teachers particularly inspire me with their sunny glasses, open-mindedness and willingness to work hard. This teacher has shown an amazing growth in the last two years. She has started to write poems and one of her first ones was on her mentor- me! Ok, honestly speaking it was very flattering and felt good. That someone would write in Hindi was even better.
I was happy seeing this teacher's growth and took pride in her budding ideas. She came to see me again this afternoon and said - "Oh! I forgot to tell you! My poem has been published by the CBSE in their Grade 5 textbook. My mummy particularly wanted you to see it, since I couldn't write in Hindi before I met you."

Wow! That was a huge, mega compliment. It was like Neetima getting published! I am getting a huge settled happy feeling inside me.

I have been thinking of my old students ever since. particularly since I have heard the news of Sangeeta and Oliver's movie ready for release. That has given me immense satisfaction. I couldn't be happier...

But it brings me back the memory of the terrible day. It still runs vividly in front of my eyes.

I was late to school and had taken a cab. Micky was away on a trip to Japan. I got off the cab and Katelyn, our Office Manager called out- "Ms Atima, one of your students is on the phone asking for you. He says he will be late to school."

Oliver, my bright eyed Year 2 Swallow, was always a bit of a drama. He was an astute little child and I had become particularly fond of him. His mum, Nina, was a tall, beautiful Japanese lady who had some stern ideas about what I should be doing in the classroom. She and I needed to stay in touch regularly to ensure that Ollie did not play one of us up against the other! She loved Oliver and he loved her. Everything for Oliver, revolved around his family. His dad was his hero and his little sister was the most adorable baby in the world. Nina had written two full pages on Oliver in my standard "Tell me about your child" form.

I went to the phone. Oliver said that his mum was fast asleep and his sister was crying. The door was locked and he would get late. I could sense the edge of panic in his voice. I immediately thought of my class mum - Sangeeta- who lived in the same condominium. Holding Oliver's phone in one hand, I called Sangeeta from my hand phone if she could go and see what was happening. I asked Oliver to get up on a chair and unlock his door and I got the receptionist to keep the Ambulance phone number ready.  Oliver and I kept talking. His dad was in Korea, he said.

Sangeeta called back on my handphone. She said that she couldn't feel Nina's pulse and breath and that she was cold.
We called the ambulance. I ran out and grabbed a cab that had dropped off two teachers. I asked them to take care of my class. Ellen and I reached Oliver's house.  Nina was dead. Heartfailure.
Oliver's aunt called from the USA. Oliver talked to her. I took the phone out and talked to her. She thought Oliver was playing a prank when he said that I was his teacher. It was unbelievable, inconceivable. It took me a long time to convince her that I was indeed Oliver's teacher and this is what had happened.
Sangeeta took care of the home and Amy, Oliver's little sister. I took Oliver back to school. Before we left, I asked Oliver- "Do you want to say goodbye to mum?" He refused. Much as I wanted him to see her once, I didn't want his last memory of her lying unresponsive on her bed.
The school bus brought him and me back to school at 9:00. I took him to the assembly and sat him down with the children. I sat with the class but broke down when the teachers asked me if all was ok. One of the teachers took me aside and I couldn't stop. But I had to be strong, at least till his dad returned back from Korea.
Teachers told me later that I was hyper protective about my children that week. I wouldn't let them be alone, I watched over them all the time, I didn't trust any other teacher to teach them, I didn't let anyone scold them and I wouldn't let anyone go near Oliver in particular lest they ask him an insensitive question.
The Principal asked me to deal with it whichever way I wanted. I couldn't have asked for more. I wrote to the families and to the school community.
Oliver's grandfather reached that evening and his father reached late night. He sms'd late night and I spoke to him.
I still cannot conceive what it must've been like for the family.
For me, Oliver and the rest of my Swallows became the world. I had to take the children away from the dread, the scare and the reality of Nina's death but I didn't want to lie to them. We did everything we could- together.
In the process, Sangeeta became a very close friend.

I wanted Oliver to heal. So I decided to present Ollie's story in the assembly. We loved weaving our Units of Inquiry as we took the story through Ollie's restaurant  that was swiped away in a Hurricane! Oliver of course, was the main character in the play.

It was the first in EtonHouse history that a teacher was allowed to move up with her class and most of her students. I needed to do that for myself, as much as for him, perhaps.
Oliver and I spent two years together in Year 2 and Year 3. His last day in Year 3 was full of tantrums and tears. He cried, he hid, he threw a huge tantrum about his friends not giving him a fair share of chips. It ached me equally. Those were till date, the strongest Apron strings I have ever cut off.

I continued to watch him over, on his journey at school. We are in regular touch now although he has graduated.

Sangeeta ventured into theatre and moved on to make the movie - A Gran Plan, with Oliver. I have just read that it is finally getting released in April this year. It has already won awards in film festivals and been critically acclaimed.

I am a firm believer in God and in karmic connections. Last year, when Oliver won the trophy for this film in the US, (he couldn't go there to receive it) Sangeeta brought it back and wondered if we could award it to him in the assembly. I couldn't be happier. Not only because Ollie was getting it, in front of the community that was his own, but because my Principal was absent and I was able to present it to him with all the celebrations possible! I couldn't have relied on anyone else to present it to him with an equal sense of pride which was mine that morning.

I am a very happy teacher and a very happy friend today. May these two beautiful people get everything beautiful they desire. Their happiness makes me happy.

Day 6 - Khushwant Singh - Memories Part 2

So I just realised that my Happiness mapping on facebook is not going exactly the same as in my blog. It gets me thinking momentarily... Am I not being honest? Or am I not ready to let everyone in on my deeper levels of happiness?
Happy to settle for the latter for now... but I know this is going to play on my mind.

So what made me happy today? Many things...
I saw a wall on my way to school, full of rich, bright, yellow flowers. It lifted me up!
As I went on my rounds, a four year old gave me a big hug with the amazing smile only a four years old can light up with. He said that he loved me and I know that he does. This little one gives a hug to everyone and makes us all feel very very special. The best part...that he says and means it from the bottom of his heart, his little big heart! Love always makes one feel special.
Managed to check off some work from my to-do list! It wasn't my job but I did it to help someone. It certainly felt good.
Found a happy colleague doing SMART targets... ugh! I asked her "How can you smile doing SMART targets?" and she said that she had learnt it from me! So I spread happiness? Yeah! Double happy!

I did have a mindless day though. It's amazing how quickly we get used to something or someone and how a want becomes a need. Six continuous days of conference have not been normal, the body got used to unnecessary caffeine and the mind got used to continuous dialogue. The realisation was disorientating! Some meditation was definitely in order to get back some sense of balance. This, followed with a cuppa with Anthony Bourdain on TV made it a happy evening!

So coming back to my memories of the legend - Khushwant Singh...
I had become braver with my increasing number of visits but the awe continued.

Khushwant Singh had many, many books in his room. My greed must have been obvious! One day he asked, "Kya parhegi?" And I replied "Delhi"....

He looked at me thoughtfully. "Kitne baras ki ho gayee hai?"

"Bees".

"Abhi nahi doonga. Jab tu pachchees ho jayegi to main khud tujhe parhaoonga. Abhi tu jaisi hai, vaisi theek hai."

I was disappointed. I felt all grown up! He saw the disappointment on my face and said "Tujhe maloom hai jab meri maan ne meri pahli kitab parhi to kyaa hua?" And he told me  a lovely story.

So bebe and darji lived a regular life and were content in the fact that their son was celebrated as a great writer. Bebe did not know English and had never read his writing. Finally The Train to Pakistan was translated and she got a copy. 

Some days later Khushwant Singh went to meet his parents. 

"Daar ji paudhon me Paani de rahe they. Maine kaha "Pairi Pauna daar ji, ki haal?" Koi jawab nahin. Daarji, Bebe Kitthe?" Ve phir bhi kuch nahin boley. Bas gardan hila ke unhoney andar ki ore ishaara kar diya. Bebe charpayee par thee. Bebe chalti-firti rahti thi, to unko bistar par chaddar daal ke sotey dekh mujhe chinta hui. Maine pair chhoo kar kaha - Pairi Pauna Bebe; sab theek to hai? 

Bebe ne thori si chchaddar munh se hata kar dekha aur boleen "Besharam" aur phir munh dhaanp ke so gayee. Unhoney barey samay tak mujhse baat nahin ki. Unko meri kitaab se badi sharmindagi huee."

"Delhi main aisee kayee batein hain jinke liye abhi tere anubhav kachchey hain. Main khud tujhe parhaoonga. Samjhee?"

What could I say? I decided to listen to him and mentally pushed back the reading for my 25th birthday. 

I last met Khushwant Singh when mum and I went to give him my wedding card. "Hain? Iski shaadi kara rahi ho, Uma?" he asked mum. "Bahut choti hai. Kyaa naam hai larke ka? Micky? Biloo-Micky? Chalo theek hai."

I finally read Delhi when I was 28. But it was unfortunately not a copy given by him. I had lost touch with Khushwant Singh after marriage. My life had taken a massive turn. 

I regret not having had the courage to revive the relationship. The awe took over as did the circumstances. 

Khushwant Singh was very unlike his image of an alcoholic and a womaniser. He was a thinker, an author 'with malice towards one and all' and above all a beautiful person who indulged a young girl, gave her a glimpse of what life could hold and yet cared enough to protect the innocence of her mind. 

The news of his death came with a wave of regret of the lost possible moments and experiences. I am glad though that I still hold the beautiful memories of the few times that I spent with this legend and I am grateful for this.

Rest well...wherever you are... Your self-written epitaph is not forgotten...

 "I would like to be remembered as someone who made people smile. A few years ago, I wrote my own epitaph: 'Here lies one who spared neither man nor God; Waste not your tears on him, he was a sod; Writing nasty things he regarded as great fun; Thank the Lord he is dead, this son of a gun." - Firstpost

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Day 5 - Khushwant Singh

So its Day 5. Again, I do have much to celebrate, much to be happy about...
For one, I managed to clear my desk majorly of paperwork! Simple pleasures of life!

My as-clean-as-can-be desk

And then, I received a photo of Neetima's culinary delight this evening...

Neetima made this! Yeah!

It made me happy! For one, I was proud of her culinary skills. Two, that she had cooked a perfectly balanced meal, with vegetables, carbs and protein! Fried rice with capsicum, chicken and bacon! Amazing! Good girl. My girl. Happy girl.

I had a happy day overall but I had been through a bit of a roller coaster of emotions today. So to get my sense of balance back I go back to some happy memories...to when I was 16 years old...

Mum and I worked on a cover story for Manorama magazine. It was the December edition and we needed the views of a few famous personalities. She wasn't keeping good health and I needed to be with her. Plus it helped me earn some extra money, something that was a perennial priority after dad had passed away.

Mum decided to take me to meet Khushwant Singh and we took an auto to meet him at his house in Sujan Singh park. Autos itself was an uncommon transport as mum and I were avid DTC travellers! But we could not afford to look shabby in front of him, hence the auto. I already felt special!

Khushwant Singh
Retrieved 25th March 2014 from
http://www.iloveindia.com/indian-heroes/khushwant-singh.html

A rude sign at his  door clearly stated "Don't ring the doorbell unless you have been invited." 

I was amused, scared and in total awe... Who would actually have the guts to write it? Well ensconced in my Indian roots, I was not sure if that sign was pure rude or creative eccentric! I asked mum nervously - "We do have an appointment, right?" She nodded and we finally pushed the doorbell.

A servant let us in after brief questioning. Obviously we were expected. He left some water. Soon the door opened and I first met Khushwant Singh. The rest of the memories are blurred now as the awe completely took over. I just recall a conversation happening between mum and him. I just listened, awed. The he turned to me and said "Poocho, kya poochna hai." I readied my pen and paper and regurgitated my memorised questions for the interview. He looked at me and laughed. Then said "Naam kya hai tera?" 

"Atima"

"Hain? Atima kya hota hai? Koi seedha sada naam rakhna thaa."

Mum interjected "Yeh iske dadaji Sumitranandan Pant ka diya hai. Ghar main ise Billi/Biloo bhi kahte hain."

"Haan, ye naam theek hai. To aaj se main tujhe Biloo bulaoonga. Samjhi?"

Whatever! He could have called me anything and I would've still been thrilled! Biloo suited fine.

So I picked up my pen again. He said "Likh, mujhe kya pasand hai. Mujhe machli ke kebab pasand hain. Mujhe haath main Jaam pasand hai. Main zayaada nahin khaata par mujhe achcha khaana pasand hai. Baaki tu apni marzi se likh lena."

Err.... oooook! This info wouldn't even cover half a page, so I opened my mouth to ask another question. 

"Bus, baaki apni maa se pooch lena. Achcha tu ye bata, ki mai tere liye kyaa kar sakta hoon."

I was tongue-tied. happily tongue-tied. "Kuch nahin".

"Kuch nahin? Achcha chal mai London jaa raha hoon. Mai vahan se kuch leke aaoonga."

How exciting was that??? Who would ever think that Khushwant Singh would have said that to me?

We came home and I was still flying high when mum brought me back to the ground... "Chal, maloom hai wah kitne bare aadmi hain? Unhone kah diya unka badappan. Apna dimag hosh mai rakho."
When does this ever happen at the tender age of 16?

Yet, my surprise knew no bounds, when a month later he invited us back to his house... and presented me a T-shirt, a pale yellow T-shirt, with the name Biloo sewn on it with black felt letters! He did remember to bring it from London!

That was my first introduction to the legend.

I became a fan, and read his works whenever I could get my hands on it.
Thereafter I took his interview two more times. I didn't need mum to accompany me the next time.

The awe never left. Khushwant Singh's ability to articulate his thoughts, his brutal honesty of expression, his very clear ideas on life- all stimulated, excited, inspired and confused me. He showed me a glimpse of the west in his conversations. I wasn't ready, yet he continued to drip-feed me without being condescending, about how much we needed to open up our minds to the good in the other cultures. Not that I met him very often but every meeting that I had, left an indelible impression.

More 'khush' memories tomorrow...

Day 4- My Pig of Happiness

Day 4 starts with a happy happening! I get a parking easily outside the school! Ah! Tender mercies....first world happy moments!

The day starts with a resolution of completing a chore long pending. 

A year ago I started a newsletter for the International IBPYP schools of Singapore. It was a resounding success... but every success comes with a price... of maintaining success! 

I am now on to the next issue of the Red Dot. I have not had the time to edit the articles but today I make it a point to work on it non-stop. Five hours later the work is done and I am pleased with my creative output. I think it needs more creativity to edit an article (without hurting sentiments or affecting the perspective of the writer) than to write it! 

Thought of the day - Creative completion of tasks make me happy!

Red Dot done, I pack up to go and meet my favourite friend.... my Pig of Happiness! :) 

Oh! Did you say you don't know what the Pig of Happiness is? Check it out!

The Pig of Happiness movie

So she and I sit through her coffee and my green tea with lime discussing life, pigs and happiness. And all seems well with the world. She gets equally excited about my Happiness project and adds her own ideas to it. 

Thought 2 of the day - Positive people and friends make me happy.

I end the day on a giggly note.......walking straight into a plant bed outside one of the restaurants...because I am busy whatsapping! Oops! I can hear Neetima admonishing me.... "Mum, this is what you tell me not to!" Feeling young, naughty and giggly inside- and very very alive!

The final icing on the cake.... talking to Neetima and seeing her very first stethoscope! Neetima is absolutely, as my friend calls it... my most sincere achievement.

 Happy happy! 

Idea!

So it's still Day 3 of my Happiness project.
I am tired after a happy dancercise and a simple breakfast meal of eggs and pancake. Dance and food- both make me happy. Dance gives me a high - I feel all lit up inside!
As I revel in the rush of adrenaline after my dance, I get an idea! A super idea for my school. I think of the Year 3 Unit of Inquiry on conflicts and I think how weird is our unit. We come from the basic premise that conflicts are definitely going to be a part of our world and we need to teach children how to resolve them! Why do we not teach them from a positive platform to start with? I feel like rushing back to school and changing my Programme of Inquiry rightaway! And I get excited.
Then I think of the teachers who would run the inquiry and my enthusiasm wavers...will they buy in? Over a mountain of paperwork, admin stuff, behaviour management, parent management/helicopter parents and teaching.. will they have the right disposition to lead the inquiry?
And then I get another idea. What if I lead the process next term by buying 100 notebooks and getting any staff that buys in to map 100 day of happiness for themselves? Every day they will need to record one thing that makes them happy. There should be a caveat- that they can record only happy things. And then I start thinking of what we could do with it.
Perhaps we could have a simple mapping process as well. Data collection! Yes! That is what we should do. We could even map the morale of the school. But how do we do that? Perhaps I should map the number of times I have teachers in my office with a complaint/cry/problem on a daily basis and I could track it over a period of time.
My next thought- why should we not invite parents as well.
And children of Year 5 and Year 6.
A simple project with big possibilities!
I think of someone who can share my happiness over the idea, someone who will not laugh or be skeptical and I think of my friend. I message her immediately if we could meet tomorrow. She is super happy at the idea but we have decided to keep it a surprise till we meet! She is my Pig of Happiness! :)
I am super excited! Super happy! Many possibilities to spread happiness. Fingers crossed.

Sometimes you need to invite Happiness!

Day 3...
It's a Sunday morning. My mind says that I should be the proverbial beached whale....doing nothing. (My love for food and the uber-sized nightdress certainly help the 'whale' feeling!) I have nothing to do today, except stuff that I LIKE to do.... Sunday morning snooze is definitely called for.....
... Except that Micky wants to be dropped off at Marina Barrage. He has signed up for some Amazing Race kinda team building stuff with his colleagues. I pretend to be fast asleep...hoping he will take a cab! Wicked! Then I decide to at least give him a coffee. (perhaps I would feel less guilty!)
He takes the hint, gets up and gets dressed to go to the race. He needs to reach an hour earlier as one of his teamies has dropped out and Micky has to reach earlier to inform the race guys. Of course!
Micky is one of the nicest, selfless people I have met. This was one reason I fell in love with him! But the love takes a bit of a toss when the 'wife' starts to wonder if all the world's problems are ours! Someone steps out of a race and Micky (with me in tow!) has to sacrifice an hour of his Sunday to sort it out! (There are five others in that team btw.) Starting to get a bit cross...
...but I just can't. How and why do you get cross with a person who is being nice to someone? He is a rare breed and his 'niceness' seeps into me. Ah well, I can always drop him and come back for a snooze.
Micky is delighted (and a tad surprised).
We drive off to Marina Barrage....... in silence!
Micky and I often wonder how and why we got together! He loves running, I love sleeping! He eats to live and I looooove my food! He listens to the BBC! And I must start the day driving with happy music. I guess had we matched horoscopes, we wouldn't have got married. In deference, he quickly puts the BBC on mute the minute we get into our car. :) And well, I am in a compromising mood, sort off, so I don't put my music either.
The grumps change into a thankfulness as I see sunlit east coast trees, clean and green after the much awaited rains. It is good to be alive! Thought  1 of the day ........ Thankfulness leads to happiness!
I suddenly catch my reflection in the car mirror. Gosh! I have the serious look and I remember my friend who calls it a Mrs Joshi look! Right, I should smile. It is a forced smile to start with, more to do with complimenting my sartorial emotions, than my happy emotions! But it works! Forced smile leads to a spontaneous smile soon.
Thought 2 of the day ........Sometimes you need to invite happiness... and then hold on to it!
I drop Micky, wave goodbye and I start my spotify. Bliss.
As I drive down the traffic-free, green, beautiful Marina Barrage road with Bakhuda... a different set of emotions takes over.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jpq9tm0gnTM&feature=kp
I do not come home straight and drive off further down the East Coast. Love the smoothness and the power of the Audi. Think of the last few days and the new vistas of possibilities.
Freedom, Love, Happiness, Power, Thankfulness........... a roller coaster of emotions.
In love and loving it!

Day 2- The warm fuzzy feeling

So it is day 2! Am I still happy?
Hmmm.... It's a Saturday. This is my second Saturday to be spent in a conference. I do need to wake up at 6:00. I open up my facebook and see the celebratory messages from my colleagues... It's Holidays...yeah...but only for them! I don't get them. Perhaps I should be grumpy.
But hang on, I am being sponsored for an expensive conference by my school - that is a celebration!
I am getting my morning cuppa on my bedside - that is a celebration!
The weather's nice and cool and my top from 5 years ago fits me - a celebration!
Develyn's made a stunning tomato- chilly omelette and I have a gluten-free toast to go with it - a big celebration!
I get a cab in minutes of calling; my boss and I cab it together and have a peppy, in fact a happy chat in the cab; I meet people who recognise me in the conference (which at one point in my life was a daunting experience!) and seek my opinion....the coffees are designer coffees and I remember my colleague Laura who loves good coffee, I already have loads to celebrate!
The presentation starts and what more...it is meaningful. I am engrossed.....and then I hear from a friend.
It's a beautiful feeling, a warm, happy feeling. My friend remembers that I have a conference and I need company! We banter, we argue, we let go and we start again! It is easy to share ideas and thoughts. We discuss malpractices in India, poetry, quotes, words, emotions. It makes me happy.
In the recent years, I have been lucky enough to know many beautiful people. Some who I work with and others who have entered my life at different points in other contexts. This friend entered my life through his child who was my student, a lovely, good student. I think of her and smile. She still makes me happy, as do all my other students- the cheeky ones, the quiet ones, the troubled ones, the no-words-minced ones! They all bring a smile and make me happy.
The coffee breaks at the conference are long and I google Bob Marley! I find the perfect quote! It explains me. The prospect that it will be understood.......... makes me even happier!

My best friend sends me a whatsapp. She revels in  my texting during a conference. It gives her a happy feeling inside. Well, the next speaker's talking all about quantum physics and meta physics. I can afford to text and make her happy, so I do. The thought that she would be smiling makes me happy.
The physicist in front of me discusses quantum theory! Seriously? How does this work in an Educators' conference? We all start getting a glazed look and identifying humour in physics becomes more and more difficult as the hour drags on. Where is Micky? This is his ballgame. I sms him and take pictures of the slideshow for him...remembering the first time I saw his book called "Physics for entertainment!" I remember a friend and I giggling about it at home in NOIDA and teasing Micky relentlessly....till date! It makes me smile.
I make a quick exit after the physicist and it is the first time I exit a conference without it being officially "closed"! Naughty! But Friday evening beckons and I reach home. My favourite movie Delhi 6 is playing on the tv and a cup of ginger tea and the song Arziyaan, make it a perfect weekend!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=kp&gl=SG&hl=en-GB&v=xug3oU072KA
The Bob Marley quote is the highlight of my Day 2 of happiness but I have so much more...so I decide to write a blog, a happiness blog and pen down all that makes me happy. There is loads to celebrate!
This is my second post. I think I am doing well.
Wishing happiness to all my friends.. esp the ones who get me through tough conferences! :)
Love you guys! Much. You make my life a constant celebration.

Happiness...

Recently a friend posted a facebook update on having celebrated the World Happiness day at school. And I wondered why anyone needed to celebrate a Happiness day! Do people not see happiness everyday? I know I have grumpy days but I choose to think that I am generally a happy chappy!

So when I saw the 100Happydays challenge I decided to sign up on it. Just the fact that we needed to collect the data of our happiness for 100 days seemed fascinating. It seems simple enough, right? 

But perhaps not.... Just the fact that it is set up as a challenge implies that it might be a tad difficult. But challenges fascinate me and I signed up. 

Like much other stuff I put this up on Facebook and in a few hours I had other friends sign up for it. I twittered and found the challenge on Twitter, so decided to tweet it myself. I went to LinkedIn and found colleagues who have signed up for it. Fascinating!

I thought about what makes me happy... and instantly the screen of my mind filled up with Neetima. I looked at the ipad screen and the time was 11:11 - Neetima's favourite time! Her voice resounded - "It's eleeeeven eleeeven...make a wish, make a wish!"

Neetima always takes a screen shot whenever she happens to see the time 11:11 on any smart screen. I did the same, and it was the start of my 100 happy days project.