I am amazed at people who say 'Money isn't important to me. I just need enough for my necessities.' Well, it's another thing that "Necessities" mean different things to different people. For some necessity refers to the actual basics like roti, kapda aur makaan (food, cloth & shelter; for some it means the basic plus a weekly dinner outing or an annual holiday or covering the expense of education. For some necessity means a luxurious home with people at your service, a car porch that boasts of the world's most luxurious drives. For some others, like my help-at-home, money is very very important. Every penny adds to the monthly rent they have to pay (Rs 1500 which, for many of us, may seem a measly sum). Then there are the others, like some auto drivers here, who work until then can earn that extra for a bottle of their fav Rum. Once the pocket's done that, then they refuse to make even One extra penny.
Money is important...I Believe. I am not certain it's important enough to kill each other for it, or take your own family to court over it, or strain relationships over it. But for a common man, who toils to make every single penny, maybe money is as important as life itself. How else do you explain the main suicides in the name of financial crisis! For some one who is robbed of his lifetime's savings, maybe money is worth killing for. Children (often girls) are denied the value of education because of money, rather the lack of it.
Here I am, blessed with not just the necessities but the comforts of life, and still cribbing about not enough moolah. Here I am, looking up in the distance at things I don't have and forgetting to take a look back at the many things I have. Here I am, envying people who have bigger, better, more luxurious lifestyle and not sparing a moment to sympathise with those for whom every day is a fight for survival...struggle to feed the family and give them a roof. Here I am, instead of being thankful for all that I have...I am constantly cribbing on what I don't.
Being ambitious doesn't mean just adding to your bank balance...I need to learn this lesson. Yes, money is important. Money can definitely buy smiles. When I buy my son a toy, the smile on his face is worth every penny I spend, or even more. Enjoy the little joys money gifts and not run after the bigger problems it may cause.
January 20, 2010
January 17, 2010
Sunday, the official lazy day
Sunday is the official 'Lazy Day'. So it has been for years, and so it will be for years. Yes, everyone looks forward to the weekend, but it's really Sunday that we all await for. My choice of entering the media field gave me only one real reason to regret it...that here (in the big, mad and sometimes bad world of media) there is no SUNDAY. If you're lucky you get a weekly off which, in most companies, strictly cannot be a Sunday.
Now I've been away from the rush, buzz and fun of media organisations for the past couple of years. So technically every day is a Sunday for me. But still I cherish THE Sunday and sooo look forward to it. Of course, it's not as lazy as before, thanks to my little son who's up with the Sun even on this lazy day which ideally should start with breakfast in bed.
I hate making plans for Sunday. It's a lazy day and that's how it should be. Don't fuss over it and make a 100 plans for the day...numerous pending house visits, piled up laundry, the many-times-postponed home cleaning, shopping trips etc. It takes away all the fun of the Sunday as you're left shuttling from one stop to another, doing more than normal work, feeling twice as exhausted as other days and in the end of it all, flopping on to bed exhausted and weak and cribbing 'There goes another Sunday...Sigh!".
Well, this is exactly how my Sundays have been playing out most often these times. Today is no exception. After every task, I am asked: 'So when do we have to go there, and when can we go visit that cousin, and after that how will we find time for the super market visit, etc..etc..'. Hurry Up, Don't waste time, We're getting late....these phrases don't go well with Sundays. It's the day when we're supposed to go easy, waste time in bed and be relaxed and laid back.
Even as I write this, my husband is mentally making notes and plans for 'rest of the Sunday' or whatever remains of it. It's my son's afternoon nap that's keeping us home. The minute he's up, we dash out for more visits and more boring errands. And promptly have a fight over dinner plans, then get home and wonder how come Sunday's over. What did we do today. Well, we were racing to see how much we could stuff into our poor lil Sunday who visits us once a week.
Now I've been away from the rush, buzz and fun of media organisations for the past couple of years. So technically every day is a Sunday for me. But still I cherish THE Sunday and sooo look forward to it. Of course, it's not as lazy as before, thanks to my little son who's up with the Sun even on this lazy day which ideally should start with breakfast in bed.
I hate making plans for Sunday. It's a lazy day and that's how it should be. Don't fuss over it and make a 100 plans for the day...numerous pending house visits, piled up laundry, the many-times-postponed home cleaning, shopping trips etc. It takes away all the fun of the Sunday as you're left shuttling from one stop to another, doing more than normal work, feeling twice as exhausted as other days and in the end of it all, flopping on to bed exhausted and weak and cribbing 'There goes another Sunday...Sigh!".
Well, this is exactly how my Sundays have been playing out most often these times. Today is no exception. After every task, I am asked: 'So when do we have to go there, and when can we go visit that cousin, and after that how will we find time for the super market visit, etc..etc..'. Hurry Up, Don't waste time, We're getting late....these phrases don't go well with Sundays. It's the day when we're supposed to go easy, waste time in bed and be relaxed and laid back.
Even as I write this, my husband is mentally making notes and plans for 'rest of the Sunday' or whatever remains of it. It's my son's afternoon nap that's keeping us home. The minute he's up, we dash out for more visits and more boring errands. And promptly have a fight over dinner plans, then get home and wonder how come Sunday's over. What did we do today. Well, we were racing to see how much we could stuff into our poor lil Sunday who visits us once a week.
January 16, 2010
Emotional Athyachaar...
That's exactly what I'm inflicting on myself. Stare at me for a second longer, talk to me in 1 percent higher-than-normal decibel, or give me a anything-less-than-a-smiling look and my eyes just break its water bags and down they come while go sniff! sniff! trying to hold them back. Soon I have reached this state of hopeless sob...where am struggling to dry my eyes but it only gushes out stronger and stronger. Anything from not going for a movie, to cancelling dinner with friends to my son's tantrums to my husband declaring he's busy at work to my mom's constant corrections of my way of doing things to even my maid's reactions to certain things....any of this or even more trivial things could push me into a romance with tears for hours.
Me crying now doesn't evoke any sentiments of sympathy from any dear and near ones. I always tell people nobody or nothing is worth your tears. But here I am, letting my eyes do a downpour of salty, sticky water that stains my cheeks and if not cleared then could flow right down to my neck and into my dress. It's often referred to as tear drops but mine aren't drops...it's a whole flood. Caused not by nature's fury, but my mind's emotional handicap.
If crying was a way of weight loss, I'd be size zero by now, or worse.
Me crying now doesn't evoke any sentiments of sympathy from any dear and near ones. I always tell people nobody or nothing is worth your tears. But here I am, letting my eyes do a downpour of salty, sticky water that stains my cheeks and if not cleared then could flow right down to my neck and into my dress. It's often referred to as tear drops but mine aren't drops...it's a whole flood. Caused not by nature's fury, but my mind's emotional handicap.
If crying was a way of weight loss, I'd be size zero by now, or worse.
January 13, 2010
Life without beeps & buzzes
Every time I see my mobile phone my hands automatically stretch out for it and I just have to check it for any new messages of calls I may have missed. Most often there's none 'coz this check happens in under 5-minute frequencies. So it's highly unlikely that any beeps or buzzes miss my ears. Of course there are those many many calls which I chose to turn deaf to and conveniently ignore.
This morning, like is the routine, I spotted my phone hiding under a pile of magazines and newspapers (probably seeking refuge from my constant caressing). Promptly I reached out for it, though I was already running late and was rushing to finish a quick shower. And lo! I slide it open and nothing happens, no lights, no display. Am already frantic and my face flushed off of all its colour. I press every key possible, try the switch on button, slide it open/close several times (rather harshly) and then finally scream out...."My phone...my phone...it's dead". My husband comes, looking calm (and secretly happy too) and checks the gadget. Says it's probably low on battery and we plug the charger on. No luck. I try calling on to my phone...the call's going through (the Hello tunes is playing on) but there is no buzzing or vibrating or any symptom of life on my Sony Ericsson.
I declare: "I need a new phone. Come, let's go buy a new one." Well, you'll have to wait till at least 10 'coz the shops need to open, says my husband with a wicked smile. At least so it seemed to me. It looked like everything and everyone was conspiring against me and my poor lifeless phone. He was back to his morning routine and here I was, continuously bragging about life without a phone and how I want a new one right away. I almost felt like I had lost a limb.
I couldn't bear to see my phone lie motionless, colorless and silent. I went in for a sip of water, then got back only to see my mobile flashing a mischievous smile at me. Profile: At Work flashed on the screen, the lights were back and the beeps too. Yayyyyy my phone's alive, I screamed. My husband gave me a rather annoying look and quizzed: "how did it work now?". Who knows, who cares....the point is it's alive and buzzing. But I did still add a liner at the end saying "Well, I could still do with a new phone!" which met with no response.
Until then I have my Sony Ericsson...to walk and talk.
This morning, like is the routine, I spotted my phone hiding under a pile of magazines and newspapers (probably seeking refuge from my constant caressing). Promptly I reached out for it, though I was already running late and was rushing to finish a quick shower. And lo! I slide it open and nothing happens, no lights, no display. Am already frantic and my face flushed off of all its colour. I press every key possible, try the switch on button, slide it open/close several times (rather harshly) and then finally scream out...."My phone...my phone...it's dead". My husband comes, looking calm (and secretly happy too) and checks the gadget. Says it's probably low on battery and we plug the charger on. No luck. I try calling on to my phone...the call's going through (the Hello tunes is playing on) but there is no buzzing or vibrating or any symptom of life on my Sony Ericsson. I declare: "I need a new phone. Come, let's go buy a new one." Well, you'll have to wait till at least 10 'coz the shops need to open, says my husband with a wicked smile. At least so it seemed to me. It looked like everything and everyone was conspiring against me and my poor lifeless phone. He was back to his morning routine and here I was, continuously bragging about life without a phone and how I want a new one right away. I almost felt like I had lost a limb.
I couldn't bear to see my phone lie motionless, colorless and silent. I went in for a sip of water, then got back only to see my mobile flashing a mischievous smile at me. Profile: At Work flashed on the screen, the lights were back and the beeps too. Yayyyyy my phone's alive, I screamed. My husband gave me a rather annoying look and quizzed: "how did it work now?". Who knows, who cares....the point is it's alive and buzzing. But I did still add a liner at the end saying "Well, I could still do with a new phone!" which met with no response.
Until then I have my Sony Ericsson...to walk and talk.
January 12, 2010
Ms Peeping Tom
I scorn at anyone who seems uncomfortably inquisitive about my life or about anybody else's circle of life. Look at me now. Thanks to twitter, here I am constantly peeping into the every day details of celebrities. I could argue that it's not a 'peeping Tom' act 'coz they have put it up for all to see. But why would I care to do a search of Shah Rukh Khan, the follow him, then run through his list of friends and choose more celebrities from there...Abhishek, Preity Zinta and even Genelia D'Souza. Why would I care? Why should I care? The voyeur in me is peeping up, and rising up more and more.
Now I know that Abhishek is in Udaipur, Preity is off to Delhi tonight, Genelia has her hands full with promotions of DPC (I had to go back may tweet pages on her profile to figure out what DPC meant. For the still ignorant ones, it's her upcoming film Dance pe Chance)....and that Shah Rukh Khan is terrible tired, even his hair is exhausted. Just how does all this information make life more exciting or meaningful for me? And all this while I have 3 other windows open for my pile of pending works.
Is this voyeurism or harmless curiosity? I remember, while at my former company, I had to edit a package on Voyeurism (The Peeping Toms), and some psychologist or psychiatrist (never can differentiate the two) said there is a voyeur in all of us. Guess mine was in hibernation and is up and active now.
Now let me get back to the tweets and see if Abhishek is done with his shooting and if Preity manages to wrap her work and catch the flight on time.
Now I know that Abhishek is in Udaipur, Preity is off to Delhi tonight, Genelia has her hands full with promotions of DPC (I had to go back may tweet pages on her profile to figure out what DPC meant. For the still ignorant ones, it's her upcoming film Dance pe Chance)....and that Shah Rukh Khan is terrible tired, even his hair is exhausted. Just how does all this information make life more exciting or meaningful for me? And all this while I have 3 other windows open for my pile of pending works.
Is this voyeurism or harmless curiosity? I remember, while at my former company, I had to edit a package on Voyeurism (The Peeping Toms), and some psychologist or psychiatrist (never can differentiate the two) said there is a voyeur in all of us. Guess mine was in hibernation and is up and active now.
Now let me get back to the tweets and see if Abhishek is done with his shooting and if Preity manages to wrap her work and catch the flight on time.
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