The Swimming Saga

 

If I had thought that learning to drive a car was a hopeless case of requiring an insane amount of coordination of arms, legs, eyes and the brain, nothing prepared me for the crazy skill set that swimming would require. At least, in a car, you are on solid ground and if nothing, you can hope that the car stalls and you stop moving or worst case, you jump out of a moving car. However, I can’t help but wonder why anyone would create three pedals when humans are blessed with two legs. Anyway, that is a discussion for another day.

By the time I finally made up my mind to learn swimming, my daughter had already learnt all the strokes and was swimming in the pool comfortably and my husband was well into his classes and I had to hear him regale about how he could hold his breath underwater for nearly a minute in a mushroom float.

Wanting to not feel terribly behind, I insisted that I will join classes at another place closer home to save on time and I was enamoured by their claim that one would learn swimming in twenty classes. Well, I really did believe it.

The classes turned out to be more challenging for my instructor. On the second day, he asked me if I had ever had any traumatic incident in a water body, seeing how my body tensed when I had to put my head underwater. I expressed shock at his question and reassured him that there was no such thing. I did want to add that since I do not remember things from my previous lives, my answer could be incorrect but I decided to not traumatize him. I would put my head down and tell myself, ‘I’m a water baby, I can do this!’, simply because I am a Water sign. I have never required so much self-motivational talk for anything else in my life.

On the 4^th or 5^th day, when he decided that I had to go to the deeper side of the pool, 5 feet instead of 4 feet, I was terrified to let go of the bar. My mind then was a pool of guilt with memories of how I had shouted at my daughter when she had cried to go to the deep end. I told my instructor that I am going back home and apologising to my daughter for what I put her through a year ago. And I did just that. Multiple times, over 3 days. After 10 or 12 classes, while I was still struggling to tread water while keeping my head above water, he said that he had run out of ways to get me rid of my fear. Eventually, it was only in the 16^th class that I did it comfortably and he heaved a sigh of relief and I was so delighted that I started laughing and almost went down.

After this, I enrolled for classes at the other place as the ‘20-class swimming champion’ claim had not worked for me. The first few classes were great but when it was time for me to start learning the arm movements, I forgot to kick my legs and nearly rammed into an unsuspecting classmate who was nowhere in the lane I was supposed to swim in.

When I finally got my arms moving and remembered to kick my legs too, they asked me to now start breathing every 4 arm movements. I mean, it really was just too much. And even when I tried, there were several problems; arms aren’t pulled back enough, elbow isn’t high enough, palms are entering the water first instead of fingers, legs are going down and shoulder isn’t stretched enough to allow for proper breathing. I mean, this was worse than driving. There, at least the body could be tense and you could hold the steering wheel tight and nobody would bother. Here, you have to remember and do all these several things right and also keep the body relaxed and light. Quite an oxymoron if you ask me.

On some days, when I felt that I was making some progress, the instructor would throw a curveball saying that we would learn backstroke now. Oh! The nightmare! I could float and glide in this position but could never get back up. I would lean back instead of forward and end up with water up my nose and guilt-tripping my instructor. I would protest that I need to learn only freestyle swimming and even that needn’t be perfect, just enough to get from one end of the pool to the other. I would tell them that I didn’t need to become Micheal Phelps. Oh! The coaching centre is called Michael Phelps Swimming and they have a huge poster of him swimming the butterfly stroke.

The proof that I finally managed it after several classes, was the fact that I was being introduced to the supposedly easy looking breaststroke. This was probably the most humiliating of all. I held the kickboard and kept kicking my legs and yet stayed in the same spot while others were waiting in line for their turn. After a while, I gave up and swam in freestyle to make way!

And then came the butterfly stroke. The only way to get the rhythm was alternately telling myself, ‘I’m a dolphin…, I’m a butterfly…’ and I worked hard at it. Worked hard but kept the body relaxed!

And now, the times I do get it right, I say, ‘Sir, I’m swimming like Michael Phelps today!’ much to their shock and amusement.

During those first 20 classes, there were many friends who heard my sob story and then one of them said, ‘Don’t fret, this will make for a good blog soon’. I cried some more and said that that could only happen when I get to the other side of this.

It has taken 100 hours of tears, protests and some swimming for this to write itself.

 

Bollywood diaries - Seene Mein Cinema!

Bollywood. Sigh...!!!

Everyone who knows me well knows how much I love Bollywood. My conversations are peppered with movie dialogues and references to scenes and characters. Only those with a similar love can catch on. The simplest most inconsequential dialogue when used in daily interactions add so much zing simply because, suddenly you are transported to the magic of that movie.

Yes, 'Magic' it is, indeed. For if not, it would never have stayed with people for years.
When 'Jab Harry Met Sejal' didn't work, SRK said that the magic did not come through to the audience. That too, a movie from the director who gave one of the most magical movies of all time - Jab We Met. Every scene and dialogue of that movie is beautiful. A lot of that credit goes to Kareena too. She brought it alive! I am guilty of watching that movie every weekend for almost a year. :-D

Another movie thats crazy but awesome is Chameli Ki Shaadi. I first watched it with my grandfather on Doordarshan on a Sunday evening. I was 7 or 8.  I did not even understand the title, he had to explain it to me. But as we grew up, my sister and I enjoyed watching it. Our favourite dialogue in that is, 'Mere paas bahut paise hain' by Chameli when they all go to the restaurant for the second time and Charandas is unprepared and has no money. It frustrated my mother no end that we watched this every time it played on television. We used to joke that we would gift her this DVD.

A couple of weeks ago, Bombay to Goa was on and I wanted my daughter to watch it. Have to show them classics! I eagerly waited for each character's dialogues and some of those precious moments in that movie and made sure she got the essence of it all. Pakodaaaa and the Snake incident with Kashibai are real gems! A few days later, my daughter referred to Kashibai's mannerisms while we were talking about something else. It took me a while to understand what she was saying but once I understood.... Oh! The joy I experienced!

And to top this cinematic experience, the next movie that started playing was

Padosan. Aaaaaaaa!!!! 

Neeche Se, Bhola! Neeche Se!!

......

Pair upar! Awaaz Neeche!!

........

Hee Haw Hee Haw!!!

(and here, everyone looking around for the source of this new sound is hilarious and absolute genius!!)

Its an absolute favourite with us cousins!!

Recently, while watching an old Hindi song at my in-laws place, I gave some titbit about that song or movie. (That's a habit I've picked up from my mom and aunt). My FIL looked at me and said,  "We all watched these movies when they were re-released in theaters. How is it that you have seen these movies?". I had to sheepishly admit that when we got Cable TV, I started watching a lot of movies, especially old ones since my mother was very happy to catch up on classics and get her dose of entertainment.

This family trait or addiction is a gift from both parents. My sister, cousins and I grew up listening to stories from my mom and aunt about how they used to save and scrimp to manage tickets for a much anticipated movie. The love for Dev Anand was sowed into my heart by my dad's family. I watched QSQT when I was four or five. Then came MPK. Then a whole lot of Dev Anand movies. That's how it happened - Seene Mein Cinema, Seene Mein Cinema! 

Now, I'm in Mumbai. I've gone so crazy that I should'nt miss spotting any celebrities and I'm always craning my neck to look into these luxury cars we pass with tinted glass (Hmmrph!!) or trying to peek into the compounds of celebrity homes, that my neck hurts by the time we are back home. :-(

But the fun lies in this anticipation. 

As I now roam the streets here and try to map it out in my brain, this song is always playing on my mind

Tumse jo dekhte hi pyar hua,

Zindagi mein pehli baar hua... 

Tum itne din thi kahan, 

Mein dhoondhta hi raha... Kahan? 

Kabhi Linking Road, Kabhi Warden Road, 

Kabhi Cadell Road, Kabhi Peddar Road...

Cafe Coffee Day

This is a piece I wrote many years ago and only a handful of friends have seen it. It feels only right to post this today, to put my love for CCD out there. 
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After a long time, I was at a Café Coffee Day today. I was looking to treat myself to one of their snacks to satiate my hunger.

 It was then that their cold coffee tempted me. I had given up on these about three years ago. (Due to severe acidity problems!)

I sat down to eat my sandwich which felt warm and comforting. When I was almost done, the tall cold glass of salvation arrived; the Tropical Iceberg! Yes, I had thrown caution to the winds given in. 

Picture this scene in the movie ‘Ratatouille’ where the food critic has one bite of this dish and his mind whooshes back several years to when he is in his mom’s kitchen eating her dish.

I HAD SUCH A MOMEMT.

One sip of the ‘Tropical Iceberg’ and I almost cried out loud. A million memories came flooding through!

Back right to the first time I tasted it. Almost 17 years ago.

Soumya is going to hate me for remembering this, but we had gone to college to collect our hall tickets for our Board exams. It was a very hot summer afternoon and we couldnt find a ride home. Fed up, she said we should try out the cold coffee at this new place Cafe Coffee Day. I said that I could never drink a 'cold' coffee. Coffee is such an important drink to us South Indians that putting ice in it seemed like sacrilege. She convinced me by adding that we could also cool off in the Air Conditioned café. 

Anyway, we decided to share one and she said that this was the best drink on the menu.  

Oh! My first sip and I fell in love with it. The coffee, the chocolate, the ice….! Loved everything about it!

There are of course, so many other memories of this particular coffee. 

It was THE drink at so many birthday treats during my Engineering days. Anytime we wanted to hang out with friends on a cool summer evening during the semester break, it was always with a ‘Tropical Iceberg’!

My brother Subhash and I enjoyed one sitting outside Forum Mall when we had gone to watch ‘Sarkar’. We felt so grown up having gone off to watch a movie by ourselves, getting coffee and all. Little did we know that some years later, we would both work at Bosch, right across the street!

It’s a coffee that’s also chocolate, cold yet comforting. I can’t wait to have my next one and add on to the memories!

P.S: When we took our daughter to Cafe Coffee Day when she was just about 6 months old, she lunged for my cold coffee. That's my daughter, alright!

Maa

This one is about my mother. I have wanted to write about her since my wedding, simply because, that's when I realised that our lives were following similar paths, literally too. Here's how.

By virtue of marriage, I moved from Basavanagudi to Malleswaram in Bangalore, just like my mother had. 

As I walked the streets, soaking in the old world charm, I wondered what she felt as a new bride. I went to the same Hopcoms for vegetables, to the same Coffee Works for my filter coffee powder, to the same Ganesha temple tucked away at the dead end of a road, smelling the same scents from the ancient trees, trying to gather it all in. It was as if I was retracing her steps. And, it felt good. 

Like my mother, I too moved cities because of my husband's job and now understand how hard it must have been. There were no luxuries like Movers and Packers, or company-paid hotel stay for weeks together until you set up your house. But she never complained, was always cheerful and made our home a happy place. Yet, here I was, complaining about lizards entering the house and kitchens without enough cupboards and stuff like that! Mom held everything together even in places where snakes were a common sight during the rains.

She was a great friend to many a people and enjoyed conversations with people of all ages. She loved having people over for lunches, dinners and breakfast even! I once had my friends over for a Masala Dosa breakfast. It was a sudden decision since yoga class got cancelled and I wanted to make good use of the morning; one friend was unwell and she was so happy to have been invited unexpectedly and fed that she twice said, 'I bless you for this’. I then knew why it gave my mom so much joy always. I called her and told her that I was able to do a bit of what she always does for others and how happy I felt. She just smiled. So many lessons to recognise from what we have grown up seeing everyday.

In Durjoy Dutta’s “Our Impossible Love”, the protagonist Aisha's mother tells her constantly to find herself as a woman, to find her strength and most importantly, to not just be like her. And Aisha tries, with all her might. Only to understand that her mother is strong, resilient and loving beyond words and she then knows what she  wants to be. She wants to be her mother. 

My mother too said similar things to me, aspire to do more, be more, do not let your life slip away while you are busy doing the mundane. Now, 4 months after losing her, I get what she taught without ever saying it. Be kind, gentle, loving, generous and forgiving. It continues to illuminate the lives of your loved ones long after you are gone.

I want to be her.