Gene Pool

I took my grandmother out. I thought she looked tried of life’s banality and needed a break (or maybe it was me), but together we went. We had stepped out of a book launch – a translation in Bengali of La Douleur. My French was rusty and I can’t even understand Bengali to save my life, so I sat there, with a fake smile counting the minutes ticking by and was the first one to flee (I didn’t even try out the flavoured tea they were offering) with gran ma in my tow. She is much more sociable than I am. It was her friend who translated that book. Mrinal Sen was there, he also knows her. I was quite thrilled for that one second to be among old people who were sparkling like precious antiques.

We wandered around aimlessly for a while, taking in the sultry, humid weather mingled with dust, honking horns and neon restaurant boards of Park Street. I asked her what she wanted to eat. She said she was game for anything, it took her to a Spanish bar and pub (atleast that’s what it said), it was first time for me too. It turned out to be a pleasant surprise- futuristic décor, eye tonic staff and good music. I think gran ma was much more thrilled than I was. Maybe she remembered her Canada days… to my surprise she asked for the drink menu and ordered a beer. I ordered a frozen watermelon margarita- something I had never heard before- and found myself staring at a huge fountain of crushed ice topped with margarita mixture and watermelon juice. By the time I could finish even half of it; my gran ma was on her second mug.

I was feeling woozy in head but relaxed and nice, I commented,” This is new you. I never thought we would have such a nice time. Now I also know which side of the gene pool I inherit. My dad’s family never even touched alcohol. They were pure vegetarian Brahmins…”

“I know darling. But I am happy you go after our side. We are more interesting,” she replied and winked.

It is strange how naïve we are as children. We have this perfect world around us and as we grow older, we start spotting cracks, blemishes and let’s say how imperfect our world really is. The final straw comes when we ourselves realize we are not perfect and become more tolerant of ourselves and maybe others. Learning how to see and not really see at times.

When I was a kid, my gran ma was someone I had most fun with. She still is a hugely entertaining person. A free spirit…but apart from just humour, jest and vitality, now, after 20 years, I also see the sadness of leaving her alcoholic husband after 20 years of marriage, of losing her sister to malaria- the deadly of all kolkata diseases, of going through the harrowing time of breaking the news to her second daughter that she was adopted… still as she herself says,” I don’t care what happened in the past, I am here to live my present, my future.”

My maasi had the perfect marriage in my eyes, I remember, 15 years back, they were posted in Dehradun, Mausaji is in the defense services. I was 13 years old and had gone to spend the summers. They had this huge old house with lots of servants. I got whatever I asked for breakfast and used to see from the window the couple sitting in the verandah sipping tea and gazing each other adoringly (yuck! Should have known then… it does sound sickly sweet). Ten years down the line … I knew enough to realize that my Maasi was having an extra marital affair and my Mausaji was too artificial in life to do anything about it (I think, he too was having an affair… pretty convenient say?). Talking of extra marital affairs… I am the not the one to pass judgements anyways.
“Why are you giving such a funny expression?”

That jolted me back to present and I asked her, “Do you think I have taken the dark side of the family too?”

“Well dear, everyone has a dark side, some people accept it and live with it and some try to hide it. It is a double edged sword, but everyone has to deal with it”

“How come ma turned out to be so different?”

“She had genes from your Nana’s side I guess; they were always prim and proper. He was too except for his alcoholism,” she replied winking at me.

I smiled at her spunk. Thankfully somethings still remain the same.

I Do or Do I?

Wanted: Male, age no bar, but prefer someone who still has hair left on the head, good looking but not vain, no attitude and definitely no chauvinistic tendencies, believes in equalities but chivalrous too, well read and fun loving, not short, well read and a good cook.

Well… this was the list I came up with when my mother asked me what kind of a husband I would want. I agree I am not Aishwarya Rai… quite the opposite infact, but since I was given a choice to say what I wanted in a prospective groom, I made the best possible use of the opportunity.

My mother frowned deeply and expressed her disapproval deeply at the lack of inquiry of whether the groom should be “well settled”, “fair and handsome”, “decent” and most important a “Hindu”. I guess she knew exactly what I was trying to do… discouraging her from broaching the topic of marriage.

When you are an Indian woman and you turn 24, everything around you changes. It starts with your mum meeting your aunties over a casual cup of tea and they innocently enquire “Aap ki beti Mumbai mein hain na? Aur achchi naukri bhi karti hain. Hamaari nazar mein ek ladka hain….”

Next thing you know your mum and dad decide to take out your janam patri (horoscope) from somewhere down below the old trunk and start pondering over it that the daughter has attained the right age … err… “jawan ho gayi hain” and it’s the right time to start searching for a prospective groom.

I screamed in horror when these thoughts were conveyed in a sugar coated voice from my mom and an authoritarian voice from my dad (atleast he was trying his best to sound strict, he knows by now that I have followed his gene pool and hence, will do exactly what I please). But that set me thinking… if they are so adamant on it why not meet a couple of guys and find out? It can’t be that bad and it will keep my folks satisfied.

I met four men in the span of one month and the experiences can themselves be one long story. One of the men seemed more comfortable talking to me on the net than face to face… something related to being used to software professional (!). The other thought why I was telling him that I like reading Saki, when it is a Japanese wine. The third was as boring as it gets (and I guess it was mutual). Infront of the fourth one, well… I farted…

To sum it up if adventures of seeking a groom are what I have experienced, I will gladly stick to living in sin anyday.

Roving Eye

What does 'roving eye' exactly mean?? Is it just innocent looking around or something more than that? Do females have a more frequent 'roving' eye than men do? How has this phenomena evolved and what affects it has on society?

Traditionally, roving eyes (add evil too) have been found in all famous villains of the Hindi movies right from the Black & White era. It added to the evil aura if there was an eye patch and the other open eye would beam maliciously at every female form that passed by. Women were the upright models of morality and rightfully the hero would emerge, saving the damsels in distress from the sinful stare of the villain.

Over the years, roving eye has become a common and a more diluted activity. You find it in the classrooms, colleges and ahem… in some workplaces. And surprisingly, I find an equal number of females demonstrating, along with males, this art of mutual appreciation. The ways have changed too! Shops, streets and stealing glances at public places have given way to malls, cinemas and ofcourse the internet!

But does it always have to be linked with vice? Apparently not, exceptions are there, but for most of them it is a completely innocent and temporary activity. But what makes us do it in the first place? The answer may lie in our genetic build-up and our surroundings. According to a study, it was found that all species, irrespective of the gender follow the rule of superior selection. While we humans have civilized ourselves a long way but some basic characteristics still remain. We are always checking out and comparing the better deal. We may be unknowingly following the same rule by just checking out the variety and many times the competition, to arrive at a conclusion.

Although in the end we may differ in our views and outlook, but one thing I am sure you all will agree on is When you go in search of honey, you must expect to be stung by Bees.