EXCLUSIVE FOR MEN

ALL YOU WANTED TO KNOW AS TO WHAT HAPPENS INSIDE A LADIES’ COMPARTMENT IN A SUBURBAN TRAIN IN CHENNAI

The first thing passengers do after getting into the compartment is looking for a seat.  Though the ladies’ compartments are not as crowded as the general compartments and the first class compartments, during peak hours, finding a seat is little difficult.  Still women have the knack of requesting the other passengers who are already seated to move and accommodate them too.

Most of them, after getting a seat, start eating.  Both in the mornings and in the evenings.   In the mornings, the educated, yet traditional South Indians carry Idlis, Dosa, Upma and Pongal in their boxes. The Cosmopolitan kind, carry sandwiches and the working class carry rice and sambar.  In the evenings, it is always snacks viz., sundal, popcorn, peanuts, biscuits, fruits etc.

While some sleep, some start talking on their phones.  The married ones talk to their mothers/sisters, complaining about the husband/in-laws and the yet to be married talk to their fiancées/boy-friends.  What they discuss is never heard, except for occasional giggles. There are many, who comb their hair in the train, particularly on Fridays, when most of them wash their hair.  In addition to the smell of various foods, perfumes and flowers the women wear in their hair, on Fridays; one can experience smell of various shampoos, shikakai/soap nuts and the stink from the silk saris the women wear, that are rarely washed.

When the compartments are relatively free, the passengers remove their sandals, either lift their legs and place it on the opposite seat or sit cross-legged (in the sukhasana posture).  While the construction workers and vendors prefer to squat on the floor, the recent migrants from other parts of India, with a slim body, clad in western clothes prefer to either stand or sit away from all the locals.

There are people who form groups and talk non-stop in high decibels.  Not even once, had I overheard them discuss gadgets, current affairs, economy or politics. It is always gossip, in-laws, office politics, gold, clothes and cinema. There are also groups of Hindu women, who chant slokas or sing bhajans in chorus.  Some Christian women play gospel songs on their mobiles. There are of course who read newspapers /magazines or play games on their mobiles.  And there are also people like me, who don’t do any of the above and just look for a comfortable seat and wait to get down at the destination.

While the vendors are busy selling flowers, vegetables, fruits, snacks, artificial jewellery, bags, pens, kerchiefs, hairclips and other accessories, the beggars are busy seeking alms.

To be frank, nothing interesting happens.

Sorry for disappointing.

PAIN IS INEVITABLE, SUFFERING IS OPTIONAL

Recently, a friend of mine had expressed her sadness about a member of her extended family gifting a mediocre saree, while gifting all other members, expensive silk sarees.  She was not sad about the gift, it wasn’t about the cost, but the intent, that has hurt her the most.  When she shared this information with our friends’ group, everyone tried to pacify her; either by sharing their own similar experiences or by advising her to ignore and move on. I too advised her not to get upset about the episode and quoted; “Pain is Inevitable, suffering is optional”.  My friend suggested I write about this in my blog and here it is.

All of us go through some form of insults from people around us all the time.  While we are able to come to terms with failure and disappointments easily, we find handling insults from the fellow human beings tough. We silently suffer from bitterness and eventually get into a vicious cycle of “hurt-hate-hurt”.  Whenever we advise, people feel, “it is easier said than done”.

Many years ago, when I was in my early 30’s, a colleague of mine was engaged.  I was very friendly with her and I knew all her difficulties and anxieties.  Her marriage date was fixed and she was running from pillar to post organizing money for the wedding.  I wanted to gift her something significant, so that her burden was eased to a certain extent.  Some more colleagues also thought so and we all pooled money and asked her what she wanted for her wedding.  The money we collected was good enough to take care of some major expense of her wedding and she opted to buy three or four silk sarees with that.  A senior person in the team handed over the cash to me and advised me to accompany her to a saree showroom and get sarees of her choice.  When I was getting ready to leave, she told me that she had to check with her elders about the auspicious day and time for buying wedding sarees.  I then felt that handing over the cash to her would be a better idea than going with her to the shop.  But the senior who took this initiative was against the idea.  He felt that she would look at this more as a fund-raising than a gift and also, he was not sure that money would be spent by her family only for this purpose and since I was the only lady in that team, I was entrusted with this assignment.

On the auspicious day, as planned, I and my friend went to a shop for buying the sarees.  Enroute, my friend told me that her sisters too would come.  When we reached the shop, there were some of her other relatives in addition to her sisters.  I knew her sisters already and they received me very warmly.  I was introduced to the other relatives and a lady (her aunt) scanned me from head to toe and asked me point blank, “are you married?”  When I replied, she whispered to my friend with a frown on her face “ivala yellam endi alshindu vandhey?” meaning – “why have you brought her here?” which I could hear, much to everyone’s embarrassment. My friend with a good presence of mind told her that, the shopkeeper was known to me and that I was getting the sarees at a discounted price.  We in fact chose that shop knowing well that there was a discount campaign going on .  Though my friend promptly apologized, I was shocked, hurt and angry. I generally don’t express my anger or sadness to the people around and maintain composure.

To give privacy to my friend’s family, I sat on a stool offered by the shopkeeper, away from them and gazed at the stocks in the shop.  It wasn’t a big shop and I could still see them and hear their conversations clearly.  I didn’t want to look indifferent and so every now and then, I also looked at them.  I could hear the Aunt cribbing about lack of good collection of sarees and saw her giving me sharp looks every now and then.  I was very angry.  Angry with that Aunt who was so rude.  Angry with the gentleman in my office who insisted that I go and buy the sarees.  Angry with my friend for not informing me that so many of her relatives would assemble and also for not letting them know that her colleagues were spending for that.  Though I felt like crying, I didn’t shed even a tear.  I knew all the problems my friend was going through and I didn’t want to create more trouble to her.  Also I knew that nobody there would empathize with me.  Instead, their preconceived notion that spinsters are sad persons and that they spread negativity would be justified.  I didn’t want that.  However much I tried, I could not concentrate on anything else.  Every second, that Aunt’s voice was ringing in my ears and her angry face flashing before my eyes.  I was unable to cope with my sadness and anger.  I thought of some of the possibilities to vent out my feelings.

Sharing with my family members:

My parents and my siblings would be more sad and depressed to learn this.  They would reprimand me for excessive spending. Also, they would end up hurting either my friend or her family members, when they come home to invite for the wedding.

Sharing with my colleagues:

The gentleman who sent me to buy the sarees would shout at my friend to express support to me and in my absence, say something sarcastic or ridiculous about me, to pacify her.

Another lady would be sad that such a support wasn’t provided during her wedding.

Some persons would feel insulted that they were not consulted and included in this plan.

Some would accuse that because the bride was a Brahmin, the gang of Brahmins were extending extra support to her.  (Coincidentally, many in that team were Brahmins)

Some might go and tell my friend, things I have not said about her.

Some might fight a proxy war, using this opportunity.

Some of those who have made this extra contribution would not have wanted to, but due to peer pressure would have and they would use this as an opportunity to never contribute in future.

The management was very strict and would have objected to this secret activity.

Everyone would have had an agenda and nobody would have been able to reduce my pain.

I wasn’t in touch with any of my childhood friends then and I didn’t have any outlet.

I remembered something I read earlier.  Just the way, material things remain with the giver, when we refuse to take, hurt and insults too remain with him/her when we do not accept it.  I kept telling this to me and it didn’t work.  I wondered why she wanted to know if I am married or not and what difference will my answer make to her! I just then remembered a scene from the Tamil film “Kudumbam Oru Kadhambam” in which, Visu when asked if he had eaten, gives a reply in all permutations-combinations viz., “what if I have not eaten, what if I have eaten? What if I have eaten and say I have not, what if I have not eaten and say I have eaten, what if I have not eaten and also say I have not eaten” etc., leaving the other person confused and irritated.  I imagined a similar reply to the Aunt’s question and within seconds, I was grinning inside.  I was back to my normal mood.  The Aunt was all the more irritated to see me cheerful and I liked it and I decided, that’s how I am going to be.

Why do people hurt others?  I started to analyze.  The reasons can be broadly classified into:

JEALOUSY :  When people are unable to handle their jealousness, insulting or hurting others becomes their defence mechanism to cope with their problem.

PREJUDICIES:  All human beings are prejudiced.  It is very difficult to find one who is not.  Common prejudices are gender, religion, region, social and financial strata, language, complexion etc.  Also, we have to live with the fact that not everyone would like us.  As Richard Carlson mentions in his book, Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff, “even in a landslide victory in which a candidate secures 55 percent of the vote, he or she is left with 45 percent of the population that wishes someone else were the winner.”

POSSESSIVENESS:  Some people have the desire to control or dominate and would want the whole attention.  When their desire is not fulfilled or experience resistance, they cause hurt.

INNOCENCE OR STUPIDITY:  There are many people, who are not at all thoughtful and do not realize that their words or actions cause hurt to others.

REACTION/RESPONSE TO AN EARLIER ACTION:  Most of the times, hurt is caused as a revenge for an earlier action of ours or our family member or an associate.  It would have been unintentional, but might have caused pain and the present hurt is to settle scores.

The analysis is certainly essential, as in the first few categories, ignoring the hurt itself would be helpful, but in the last case, some corrective action from our side is required to break the vicious circle.

When I now analyse why that Aunt behaved so badly that day, I feel, she too would have helped my friend financially, but would not have got the respect she expected.  She might have expected my friend to consult her before deciding on the shop.  She might have felt that I am in a way responsible for my friend’s empowerment or was jealous about the importance my friend’s family was giving me.  Whatever be the reason, I opted not to suffer.

People generally say, to have peace of mind, one has to forget and forgive.  I cannot forget things easily.  I have a photographic memory and I don’t believe in forgiving also.  Everything gets recorded.  But, over these years, I have developed immunity to bad behavior and personal attacks and people around me know well that I cannot be intimidated.  Whenever someone insults me and I have little control over their action, I keep telling myself “pain in inevitable, suffering is optional.  Don’t suffer” and liberate myself from suffering.  Nobody can liberate us, as long as we don’t liberate ourselves.

My friend Murali says, “only hunger and illness are the real pains and except them, everything else is imaginary. “  I am yet become so dispassionate!

PHOTO FEATURE

We had such shops in every locality of Chennai.  Shops that sell puffed rice, flattened rice, ground nuts, fried chick peas, fried peas, palm candy and all traditional goodies. There are a very few now.  This is one such shop.

Seen behind the shopkeeper is the mud oven in which groundnuts are fried.

Fried nuts and rice are stocked in baskets painted in red and usually stacked in the front of the shops openly.  But in this shop, they are kept inside.

Mr.X

I think I was in my 12th Std.  Usually, I and my sister went to school together and on days she could not join me, my Dad dropped me at the bus terminus.

On that day, I was walking alone to the terminus, with my chin down, as my mother constantly advised me to, every time I stepped out of the house.

“Do you have school today?” I heard a male voice from behind.  As I turned to look as to who was questioning, I saw a man in his late twenties, walking towards me from behind.  I had never seen him before.  I knew my brothers’ friends and he certainly was not one of them.  I was very skeptical to speak to a stranger and just nodded in affirmation.  He walked along with me and tried to start a conversation.  He kept asking me questions, but nothing got registered.  I was too scared to reply as well as to ask him as to why he was bombarding me with questions.  I maintained silence and through the corner of my eyes saw him looking at me intently.  I was frightened and was also worried that either my family members or our neighbours would spot me walking with/talking to a stranger.  I increased my pace, crossed to the opposite side of the road and entered the terminus.  I don’t know if he followed me or he continued to walk on the other side of the road or stopped somewhere.  I was tensed.  Tensed - even after reaching school that day. Tensed till I finished my schooling; particularly on days I went to school alone. I was tensed that he would reappear.


But I never saw him again.

                                     ***

I finished schooling; joined college and also started learning shorthand.

When my batch started taking notes (“speed” in our institute parlance), a lady who was not part of our batch attended the “notes” sessions briefly. She was senior to us and was already employed, but was attending the classes to improve her speed, because she was intending to appear for some Government exam.  She looked familiar, but I had never met her before.  I had an intuition that she could be the sister of the guy who tried speaking to me when I was in school, as she resembled him. I never verified it. She was very reserved and didn’t interact with anyone in the class.   One day I overheard a classmate informing another that, a year before, the lady’s brother had fallen off a cliff at a picnic spot he went with his colleagues and died instantly, and that was the reason for the lady’s seriousness.

                                     ***

Why am I suddenly remembering this long forgotten episode?

I saw the lady I presumed to be his sister, recently.

The mind records every image that is seen, every incident that is encountered and every assumption made and resurfaces decades after it is believed to have been forgotten!

JANMA RAHASYAM

Four and half decades ago, on a rainy night, my mother, a full term pregnant, had to wade through hip-deep water for more than two kilometers to the only nursing home functioning in Vadapalani.  (There are half a dozen corporate hospitals in the locality now, but those days, things were very different).  Later I learnt that the lady who ran the nursing home was not a qualified physician, but a quack, who delivered/terminated pregnancies of unwed mothers.  When my mother got admitted into the hospital, the doctor was not present.  Since my parents were legally wedded and my mother had no intention of terminating the pregnancy, the doctor probably felt that her presence was not required.  There was just one nurse present at the nursing home, when I was born.  Since my mother was completely drenched in rain, I was born sneezing and my mother was very scared that I would die sneezing.  But I survived.

I was born exactly the same year, (the Hindu lunar calendar has a cycle of 60 years) same month and date of my maternal grandmother and if I were born a few minutes later, the star too would have been the same.  My parents decided to name me after my grandmother.  Since two of my cousins were named Charumati and Charulata before me, my parents named me Charusree. (Surprisingly, everyone in my house has a namesake in the extended family)  My sister has many namesakes and she was very annoyed that I was given a rare name and she a common one and at one point of time, we even planned to exchange our names.

Though my mother and some of her relatives believed that I am a reincarnation of my maternal grandmother, my mother is so naïve that she never tried to hide her disappointment about my resemblance to my paternal grandmother.  Many times she has told me that, when I was born, I looked exactly like my paternal grandmother in her deathbed.  She of course says that my generosity, broadmindedness and inclusiveness are all her mother’s traits.

I am told I started speaking very early.  In fact, I started singing even before I started speaking.  When I was about ten months old, my mother was shocked to hear me sing a lullaby (uyyala, jampala to be specific).

Even as a child, I did not relish sweets and this was discovered by a neighbor, in whose house I spent considerable time.  I did not like being spoon-fed and demanded that food was served in a plate and I was allowed to eat it myself.  My people say I used to take a long time to finish eating and I picked and ate like a monkey.

My mother says I argued a lot even as a kid and when I was about two or three years old, my mother served me an ‘instant dosa’, which I refused to eat, stating that I had not seen her grind batter for dosa and my mother says “puvvu puttagAnE parimaListundi” – meaning a flower emanates fragrance soon after it blossoms, referring to my shrewdness.

VISUALLY CHALLENGED

As the train in which I was travelling to office this morning crossed Fort Station, a visually challenged lady came very close to me and said “can you help me to the bus stand near the subway? I want to board a bus from there.”  As she said this, the train was moving over the subway and I said “Madam, you should have got down at the Fort station.  However, I will take you to the nearest bus stop.”

“Are you new to the route?” she asked.

I didn’t understand why she asked me so and I said, “the next station is Beach and we will detrain and enquire and I will ensure that you board the bus.”

I was very surprised to see the lady turn to the side of the platform, as the train neared the station.  I helped her get down and asked her again, “do you want to board the bus at the High Court bus stand?”

She said “oh that is on the other side.  I want to go to Stanley Hospital.  Take me to this side” pointing to the main gate.  Only then I realized that there was another gate to the station and helped her out.

(I take the ‘Tambaram-Beach’ train to work every day and ‘Beach’ station is the terminus.  There are two entrances to the station, one main gate and another at the rear side.  I usually board the last compartment, take the stairs and get out of the rear gate, as it is closer to my office.)

As we got out of the station, I stopped looking for someone to guide me to the bus stop near the subway.  The lady, freeing her hand, which I was holding till then, said “turn to the right and take me to the subway over there.  I can go the bus stop myself.”  I was stunned.  There was in fact a pedestrian subway very close to the entrance and I have never noticed it. 

To me a subway is a road passing under a train track and since there was one a mile away, I was planning to take the lady there.

She is not the one who is visually challenged.  I am the one.

CHANGE RESISTANCE

Recently an acquaintance of mine posted her photo on a social networking site.  Clad in trendy western outfits with matching accessories, conditioned and straightened hair, made up face and manicured nails, she looked more a model/actress than a student. What I found more surprising was her father proudly sharing her picture. There is nothing wrong in a student looking good or posing for a photo or posting a photo or her father sharing the photo.  What was surprising to me was, I have known the father as a different person.  He was a very orthodox, conservative and highly opinionated person. He imposed a lot of restrictions on his sisters and wife and they were never allowed to wear salwars and nighties even at home.  I have not met him in the recent past and I wonder how his daughter has managed to be so trendy and how much his attitude has changed.   

Thinking about this, I am reminded of what Ammamma garu said some three decades ago.  Ammamma garu was my neighbour’s mother. She lived in a distant town and once in a while visited her daughter in Madras.  Every time she visited them, she also visited our house and spent some time with us.  Water from our well was very hard and not suitable for drinking and cooking. We did not have corporation water connection and so my parents fetched water from a friend’s house, which was a few houses away from ours.  It was a difficult exercise.  Seeing the plight, Ammamma garu suggested we appoint a maid to fetch water for us.  Money certainly was a problem for us, but more than that, my mother’s conservative upbringing did not allow her to accept the suggestion.   Though Ammamma garu also belonged to our community, her family was little modern and cosmopolitan than ours.  My mother was very proud of her orthodoxy and said she would struggle as long as she can.  Ammamma garu said “change is inevitable.  Everyone has to change.  Some change a little early and some change a little later.”   Not just our family, those who were more orthodox also, now buy bottled water for consumption.

How true! Nothing is constant. We are still evolving. Change is inevitable.  Everyone has to change.  Some change a little early and some change a little later. There is no need for anyone to be proud about themselves or be judgemental about anyone else. 

I am so impressed and convinced with Ammamma garu’s statement, I have been quoting to my friends whenever there is a discussion on change resistance. Recently, my friend told me that she quoted this to her mother-in-law. The statement has now become mine.