The Year That It Was - 2015

I have poor memory therefore I tend to forget the good and the bad times easily. What is past is forgotten, each day I try my best that my present moment is good. Sometimes it is good to do a little churning of the brain, especially at the end of the year, to understand the trials and triumphs that I have experienced during the year. Therefore I am very happy that Blogadda has created this opportunity for me to talk about it. , 

“I’m sharing my #TalesOf2015 with BlogAdda.”

My memory was refreshed when I visited #2015BestNine to see the most liked Instagram messages.

I started my year  2015 with the pain in my ankle that appeared in December 2014 and was due to a fall on the slippery and broken roads of Mumbai. Suffered the pain for first three months of the year, went for operation in April and the pain continued post operation till the end of the year.

I have written many poems on pain during this year, especially when it was severe and I could not bear its dominance over me.

Pain came..
like an unwanted guest
stayed for few days then
away it went
I didnt care
I had better things to do
didnt get time to pamper it
nor was there enough room
to accomodate it in my mind
I went on with my life
as if it were not there
it pinched my ribs
hammered my bones
left rashes all over my skin
like rowdy child
it created much uproar
starved of attention
it finally left
I am hoping
Pain never comes back...

Also cross-posted on my poetry blog at ‘Random Thoughts’

However, it did not succeed in stopping me from enjoyments.

I made a trip to Pondicherry in month of January 2015 to attend the yoga camp. With one hand on a walking stick and other hand on friend’s arm for support, I attended many Yoga events and also visited places of interest. I could have cancelled the trip, but I was eager to meet a friend after thirty years, that was the incentive for my courage to bear the pain. Friend did not disappoint because she was by my side making my stay comfortable. Had I not taken this trip, I would have been home bound nursing my pain.

cross-posted at my blog

March 2015 was memorable month when I took 40 Special Children and staff from Swami Brahmamnad Pratishthan for three-days-Camp to Poona at my family owned old-age-home, The children had the best holiday ever touring around the city of Pune. It turned out to be a religious trip because they went to many spiritual places. Lodging and boarding was free and they came back with gifts and lots of good memories.

Cross posted on my Blog

In April 2015, My good friend from Indiana came to visit Mumbai, my friends and I planned a trip to Mahableshwar. Although my movements were restricted due to my ankle pain, we did share good times together. The weather was good, air fresh, lots of greenery and seasonal fruits made the trip enjoyable.

June 2015, I decided to go for ankle surgery hoping that I would be free from pain

July 2015, post operation, my cousin from Lagos invited me to go to USA with her. This was mainly a family bonding trip. My cousin was undergoing knee surgery in Chicago and she needed some rest. We came to her rescue by taking over her responsibilities of looking after the management of her home. My family is spread over different parts of America. During my four months stay, I visited cousins, travelling by road or air to Chicago, Indiana, Atlanta, Dallas, McAllen, Houston and New York.It was a great trip, trying out various cuisine and seeing points of interest.

So, most of 2015 was spend travelling around with family and friends. I have realised that people are most happy in their own home town. Living in Mumbai offers me the comfort of having helper at home, ready take-away meals on my lazy days and loads of friends and social events to keep me entertained. I felt my family living abroad lead a very boring life, with just few selected friends, most of their time is spent cleaning the house, cooking the meals and watching TV all day, Most of the social events were either spiritual meetings or celebrating an Indian festival. A place I found it impossible to live. I felt there was too much work to do. But they seemed happy living in America and complained about India being too crowded and polluted.

Another good news I must share is that two of my students from our Special School at Belapur, CBD, represented India at special Olympics at Los Angeles and came back with one Gold and one Silver in aquatic sports, making us proud. This gave our school a brownie point and we have made plans to go ahead with our plans of starting a residential centre for Mentally Challenged.

Cross posted on my blog

During this year, we were also able to get funds for buying a plot of land at rural area of Raigad district at Uran and building a school for Mentally Challenged. Hopefully, the building will be completed by next year and we will have one more centre in Uran in addition to the school building we have at Belapur. 

We also hope we will be able to find a philanthropist who will help us buy another plot of land at Kharghar to fulfil our dream of constructing a residential-cum-sheltered workshop for special adults..

Looking back, 2015 has been a very blessed year. The pain in the ankle continued throughout the year,(sometimes more, sometimes less) but it was not allowed to dampen my spirit of enjoying every moment.

Grateful to my Lord for blessing me with caring family and friends who helped me ignore my pain. I take this opportunity to thank the universe for blessing me. Time has arrived to say goodbye to 2015. Looking forward to 2016 ready to accept whatever is there in my destiny - no expectations, no disappointments,

Que sera sera!

No new year resolutions for me, I live each day and will try to enjoy the moment as it comes. I am aware, all days cannot be rosy and beautiful, there will be dark days too-of misunderstanding and disappointments....somedays writing will come to a halt..somedays I might pull my hair to let the words fall....there will be days when everything go wrong and some people will be unkind....

But everything is temporary....

I plan to pay more attention to good things in life and there are many.I take this opportunity to wish you all a very happy New Year and happy times ahead....

In Transit at Frankfurt

When making long distance travel, the biggest hurdle is when there is overnight stay between the flights. Staying with a family is unnecessarily inconveniencing them and even though they are family, it is not my style to trouble them for pick-up from airport just for one night. Checking into the expensive hotels is the added expenditure, which is quite a waste if you do not enjoy the privilege of touring the place and the third option of spending the long night at the airport is draining off your energy with sleepless nights. Waiting in transit is no fun at all. I have tried all three and have not been happy with any of those options.

But, only once I remember, some few years ago, during my transit at Frankfurt, from Tenerife to Mumbai, it was a pleasant stay. There are thousands of hotels in Frankfurt and some at very reasonable rates, but when I am travelling alone, I am always scared to go to an unknown place in a strange city and that is why when my travel agent suggested that I stay with a family for a night with just € 60, I grabbed this opportunity.

I paid € 60 to my travel agent in Tenerife and I was told that the man in charge would come to pick me up from the airport. I arrived at Frankfurt airport at 5pm, not knowing whom to expect. One gentleman in late 60’s approached me and introduced himself as Mr. Advani. Most of my luggage was offloaded directly to Mumbai from Tenerife, so I had only a small hand-carry which he helped me carry to his car.

He drove me through the city, pointing out to important monuments on the street on route to his house. After an hour’s drive we reached his house where his wife gave me a warm welcome. They had a small apartment 3BHK and there were three more men in the room who were there to spend a night. Mrs. Advani offered me a cup of tea and asked me if I wanted to go for a drive with her to the supermarket. I went along, not wanting to sit with strangers in the room. On the way to the supermarket, I learnt that they had grown up children who had moved out and they were bored till they found this hospitality business of accommodating the transit passengers. Everyday, they had visitors from different parts of the world whom her hubby had to pick and drop them back to the airport and the woman cooked the meals for their guests. She also had a garment store in town which was not doing so well.

By the time, we returned from the supermarket, we were friends. I went to the kitchen with her and together we cooked meals. (not that she asked my help, but I cannot sit idle if somebody is busy) Unfortunately, she had no helper at home, so besides helping her with cooking, I also helped her wash dishes and set the table. She was quick and efficient and within one hour, the dinning table was set with proper meals of Dhal, Rice, one vegetable, salad and snacks. The men were deep in conversation, sharing jokes and anecdotes, and when we entered the room, they included us into their conversation. They had Indian channels on TV but nobody was watching that.

The time passed quickly for us and also for that old couple who would have been lonely otherwise, but they were happy to hear our rant and it made them feel alive having found an audience to share their stories. They didn’t miss their family or their children who had moved out to the sunnier sides, they were happy that they were doing something worthwhile for themselves; they were offering a safe haven to the lone travelers. It was only for one night for us, but for them tomorrow would be another day with different set of transit passengers.

Since I was the only women in the group, she offered me a private room, which I could lock from inside while the other men shared the next room. Early next morning, after a hot cup of tea, Mr. Advani dropped me back to the airport just one hour before my departure time.

It was the most memorable and safe one-night stay in transit at Frankfurt.

Bus Ride in Mumbai City

India is shining. Or rather, I should say that the things are improving a lot, specially my regular four hours journey (back and forth) to my school which I take every alternate Wednesdays.

The bus ride has become a pleasure for me since the introduction of AC bus no 105 from Bandra to CBD.

No more do I have to sit on the hard seat, reserved specially for the ladies, by the window, because I am afraid to sit on any other seat where I might have a male stranger dozing on my shoulder. No more do I have to worry about over-crowded bus where I would feel guilty when I saw more than thirty standees, all jostling for a seat. No more am I exposed to dirt and pollution, and the bad stench during my bus ride that passes through the route of Dharavi and Chembur.

Many a times, I was subjected to the stench and shit that I would see on the road if I wished to peep out of window. I would see the open toilets on the road, the main doors broken, exposing the people in the act. Reading was impossible because there were too many jerks, and I would have difficulty in focusing my attention on vibrating words. I used to prefer to plug the music to my ears and slept most of the journey, not that I could sleep, but shutting my eyes to the realities of the world, I could snooze off to my own imaginary world.

The only time I was awakened from my slumber was when the tempers ruled the bus and people got aggressive over a slight dispute. That was the time, when I too would be curious to differentiate the victim and the culprit during the commotion. I would then secretly take sides, team up and wish for my team to win an argument. Sometimes the argument would get worse and there would be exchange of blows and slaps and the bus would be abandoned in the middle of the road and we would wait till the cops arrive. Sometimes the cops would take too much time to arrive and all the strangers in the bus would become friends and together they would suggest an alternate punishment and pass the verdict.

Yes, travelling by bus exposed me to the difficulties and problems of a common people. It was the closest I could get to them.

Now, I have graduated to AC 105. The seats are comfortable and the bus fare is three-fold. Most of the seats in the bus are empty. There is music playing at the dash board, which is either radio or CD of old Bollywood songs. There is an electric-socket for people who wish to connect their laptop. Most of the people are busy on their mobile, chit-chatting. Recently, they have introduced in-vehicle retailing service managed by the ticket-conductor and soft drinks are up for sale.

During the smooth bus ride, I look out of window, no more, because now, I see the life-styles of a common man only in my books.