Tuesday, August 17, 2010

This is Happiness !


We blew his 45th birthday candles – his age is only an assumption. He claims he is 36 for the last 5 years... i have celebrated 20 of his birthday’s with him personally. 16th August every year in my household is celebrated with Cake, Wafers, Pav Bhaji and Thumbs-up. All of which are his favourites.

He speaks broken Gujarati up until today and he refuses to speak to us in Hindi. He calls my sister Dhwani – Jhonny. He says my little brother Rishi is his Child and not my parents. He sat through my chicken pox with me. He smokes a packet of Biddi every 2 days. He loves Amitabh Bacchan. His favourite colour is Black. He hates wearing closed shoes. He loves Cricket with a passion. Each day even though he doesn’t read the English Newspaper, he will look at the pictures of the Times of India. Our family put him into an Auto-Rickshaw driving school, so that he could earn more money – because this man is very smart. But he refused to part with my family.

When I was little – he taught me how to ride a bicycle. He ran behind me for hours on end until I finally knew how to balance. He drew the X and the Y axis of my graph tables all through my school days, so that the only thing left would be the plotting. Even before curling irons came into the hair-care scene, he knew the right temperature to set on the house iron for my hair.. so that they wouldn’t get burnt.

His name is Tinu. He is a Nepali by origin. He was our house-help for as long as I can remember. We tie him Rakhi each year on Raksha Bandhan – we call her our brother. We like to believe that he has been with our family for the last 20 years. He left to take care of his ailing brother a few years ago. But our doors are always open to him – when his own life gets monotonous he comes back to a place he calls HOME. Come Aug 16th – his birthday, we all are present to wish him the best. It is the birthday of one of us.

Not to boast of my family and our values – but ask yourself this. When is your maid’s birthday ? How long has she been in service ? What’s her favourite colour ? What does she do in her pass-time ? Apart from her daughter and a beating husband that she complains of every time your mother asks, “Kaal Kyun nahi aayi” , what do you really know of her ? What is her favourite food ?

Many of us have Ramu Shamu working for us for years. Some even have generation after generation working with you. What is that one special thing you do for them that makes them love you ? What is that one thing that makes them want to be with you forever ? What is that one thing that they hold onto when their lives get tough ? Do you really know anything about them ??

In this day and age you know what food your dog likes – he doesn’t even talk ! You know because you choose to listen to his voice. Have you ever tried hearing the voice of those silent people around you ? Reach out ! And start by marking your house-help’s birthday in your planner TODAY !

Friday, August 13, 2010

Poolga Art

So I am an ardent Blackberry supporter ! I love the fact that the phone moves so fast. Everything is co-ordinated and organised. But its when you come across this website that I felt like immediately switching over to i-Phone.
This website is all about art and design on hand-held devices and discovering talented illustrators and designers. They focus on illustration and graphic design, but occasionally touch photography, typography and the fine arts.
I literally had to pluch myself away from this website.. Check some of my fav one's.









Saturday, August 7, 2010

Dear Mr Subroto Roy... Sub : CWG


Dear Mr Subroto Roy,
Greetings ! This morning I woke up to the most pleasant full page advertorial I have seen. Without mincing any words, this publicly written letter has hit bulls eye with the people of India. This issue has been on my mind for many days now. But a letter from me to the EDITOR of Mumbai mirror was obviously lost in the mail. While you must have paid to get it published pulling your corporate strings. None the less, the point has been noted by our fellow country men. And for that i want to thank you.
What is the first rule of the civilized world ? If you are divided, then people will rule you. This international portrayal of India – publicly tarnishing Indian democracy, the government, the Indian companies on contract, red tapeism, bad infrastructure, Indian hierarchy, the board of the Common wealth games and their kith and kiln. Where is it going to get us ?

In some ways I think India is standing on the border – literally 2 months away from the deadline. What is it going to take to not only save the face of India but be victorious with as many soldiers un-wounded as possible ? This is the real question that needs to be addressed. But instead this constant humiliation of the Indian Way of doing things is creating such negative publicity.

I would like to bring to your notice, that South Africa who recently hosted the world cup games is the most dangerous country of this world. I personally know of 3 families who have lost their bread-earners in this unsafe country. And yet – right before the game, all one could constantly hear in chorus from this united country is their PLEA to attract people to their country. Where is this spirit in India. why haven’t we learnt anything from our past ? Why are we not united to save our country ? Why hasn’t the government put in additional forces to help save face ? Why is it that we only hear of pressure to resign or withdraw funds ?

As a little child I remember fighting with my siblings when the guests come with only 1 bar of chocolate. My mother would intervene and take that bar of chocolate away to avoid conflict. She would say you can fight after the guests are gone. Where is that mother figure in CWG committee and the rest of India debacle. Why is the media playing the STEP-SISTER ? Why can’t we first focus on helping meet deadlines and then talk about internal issues. If it has gone this wrong economically and politically, a little more damage will make no difference. But if we continue this way – damning the CWG then it will make a big difference.

So while the whole world is in AWE of our great country with our India shinning stories, the other half of us criticize those working towards achieving this honour to host the common wealth games bestowed upon us. Do not get me wrong, I am not in favour of the scamsters. But I agree with you when you say that this issue can be discussed internally post the games. This will save our faces when India is ready and bidding for bigger games like the Olympics or FIFA.. So that the international media can focus on What we are going to ACHIEVE, rather than what we are FAILING MISERABLY AT.

I hope this letter is digested well by fellow INDIANS. I am proud of your move !

Your Fellow Indian,

Disha Doshi

Thursday, August 5, 2010

The Cherry Eyed Sherpa



“We have finally got a boy !” my mother squeaked into the phone. I would have been sad to find out that I will be now sharing my inheritance with 3 other people than the 2 already on the list. But I was happy – this boy was going to put an end to the riots in my house. A house-boy who will run around the house helping my mother in the kitchen, washing utensils, dusting the ever increasing memorabilia’s from our different trips etc. This one boy has to power to put my mother out of domestic misery. He was going to be our new house help.

A friend of a friend of a friend had suggested this little boy of 15 from Nepal who was going to come in. Of course the only reference was that this little boy’s Mama works in this friend’s house. And this boy is 4 days old in Mumbai. The common friend was going to drop him of at our house. So we prepped his bedding, his pillow and a few basics ready so that he instantly feels welcome and likes our home and agrees to serve us till the end of time. At 4, I go down to fetch him. At first I can only see the Aunty driving the car with an empty back-seat. I was surprised she had come alone. Then when the car stopped a little boy no taller than 4 feet something jumped out of the car. “aunty, I thought you said he was 15. This boy looks like he is 10” I screamed at her. I was surprised and dumb founded at this little thing waiting with one plastic bag in his hand. “He says he is 16, his mama claims he is 15 ! What do I do ?” She left him in my care and drove away.

While waiting for the lift I suddenly realised he had just 1 plastic bag. Upon enquiring I found out that there is nothing but a pair of clothes inside. And that is it. This shabby looking Nepali boy had nothing but 2 pairs of clothes and rubber slippers. He looked weak – but he put on a tough exterior. “Mein Shab Kuch Kar Leta Hoon” he said in his cute nepali accent – and that’s the only thing he knew how to say in correct Hindi. When the lift came, this little being got scared. Hesitated a moment and then ran inside. It was probably one of his first times he has ridden a lift.

Once in the house I gave him tea, glucose biscuits and some hot snacks. While he ate I asked my neighbour to send her little child’s olds clothes. Then I sent him inside the shower but this little Sherpa looked at me. He did not know how to run the shower. So I showed him his way through all the knobs. Since he didn’t have anything, I took out New Toothbrush, paste, a bar of soap, some powder, a comb, a towel – the basics. He lacked THE BASICS !

While He showered and got dressed my mother made quick calls back of forth enquiring with my father what to do. My father put his foot down – “This boy will not stay in my house ! He is too small. It is not only a criminal offense, but a social one !” He screamt down the line for my mother to return him back through the link. It was when we were telephoning and devising a plan this little boy emerges out all clean and freshened up and announced to us that he had not only showered but also finished clearing all the vessels in the kitchen. It was spic and span.

This little cherry coloured eyed boy of Nepal was the eldest of the 6 siblings. His father has 2 wives. He lives in a small town called Dotti far away from Kathmandu. It’s a shame that we knew only one town of this country and asked him directions from there. We enquired about his family and how he had come to India, managed passed the borders etc? It is a real surprise how we get rejected VISA’s and they just waltz into our majestic country. Of course by waltzing in I meant that he had taken a BUS which travelled for days before he boarded a train from Mathura. From where he came to Mumbai. How on earth did a BUS go un-noticed on Borders? He said he had a BAJJI which is basically a piece of paper from which we could read nothing which allowed him in.

It was probably a lie he was asked to tell by his mama. He had probably travelled on a BUS to the border, then crossed it on foot as he was trying to brush away the topic of how he got here. But he is all but 10 years old. And their innocence is often reflected on their faces. But this boy is brave. I remember being away from my parents when I was 21 for just 7 months and I had cried my heart out at the airport. And here there was this 10 year old bravely telling us stations and routes.
Finally night came. And my mother asked him to sleep alone. My brother who is 18 still runs into my parents room when he had bad dreams. Where is this child going to run ? What will he do when he is scared to death ? Why is he in Mumbai, when actually he should be cattle grazing his family herd in the mountains of Nepal ? He had never slept under a fan – and thus asked me to turn it off. The A/c throughout the day had given him a cold. I gave him child cough medicine which soundly put him to sleep.

This morning when I woke up at 6 30, this little boy was up. He had bathed already and was folding his blanket and bedding neatly onto the pile. I was surprised that he was even up. We fed him breakfast and then returned him back – fully knowing that if not us, some other heartless person will hire him to put of their misery – THIS IS MUMBAI.

We had a heated argument with our father. We wanted to keep him – because at least we know with us this little one will be safe. We had planned that we would not make him do any work. We would just let him live till he turned of a certain age. Send him to street school just outside our house. But my father was adamant. “We cannot keep anyone illegal” he said. He was right. But we were right too.

This little boy had no idea why we had provided him with everything only to reject him and let him go. We all cried. Some silently and others literally. We felt helpless as he drove away.. My little Sherpa is going to be a street boy some day... Mumbai is his new home. He probably will never see his family or Nepal again. And all I can do about this is blog about it... and cry my heart out !
What do you think I should have done ?

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