Birthday Party With Special Children

This year, I celebrated my birthday at school with 14 mentally challenged students who share my birthday month of June.

All the children who were celebrating sat on a plastic chair in one row facing eighty more children who sat on the mat opposite them. Children had prepared a small poem/talk/word of appreciation/song, each according to his ability to express their happiness. There was cake cutting session, dance, music, snacks and laughter.

I sat on the far left side of the row and watched them enjoy. Not everybody smiled. Some had blank looks, deeply lost into their own world. Some had to be helped to walk and take their birthday gift. Some looked curiously at the gift for few minutes, then tossed them on floor and some just refused to take their gifts.

My eyes rested on Jesal who suffers from ‘Dandy Walkers Syndrome’. He celebrated his eleventh birthday. He sat curled, sunk in the chair; his head drooped due to poor muscular support. The handkerchief pinned to his shirt collar was wet, soaked in drool. When his turn came to be greeted by his friend, an assistant lifted his chin to make him look up, helped him receive the gift and shake his friend’s hand.

Birthday is the day when they are made to feel like a royalty. It is difficult to understand what thoughts are running in their mind. Are they feeling sorry for themselves? Are they feeling unloved? Or do they have no feelings at all?

Later in the evening I made a home visit to Jesal’s house.

Jesal has a very caring and doting family. His parents, grandparents and his twin sister are his universe. His twin sister sometimes wishes on a star to make her brother as normal and intelligent as she is. She wonders how different her life would be, had she to share a room with him? She would have loved to play with his toys and sometimes have a pillow fight with him.

Jesal lay curled up on a small bed in fetus position, playing with his fingers. There was no acknowledgement of my presence or my greeting. I sat down closer to him on a chair. I tried making conversation with him, but there was no response. While chatting with his mom, I stretched my hand and placed my finger on his palm. His finger curled tightly around my finger and the contact was made. I held his hand, took it up in the air and down again, repeating it several times. I returned my attention back to the conversation with his family. Jesal continued to play with my hands, gripping my fingers, rubbing my palm and lifting my hand.

Although he made no conversation, nor made any eye contact with me, I think I saw his teeny-Minnie smile from the corner of his mouth when I said goodbye.

Clubbing in the City

Don’t know if there is age for everything and if you do something unusual it might seem odd to the public,so much so that they might raise objection, might even go into their judgement mode awarding you with an odd dunce cap because the rule is that discos and loud music is for youngsters, temples or walking by the sea-shore is for oldies and for middle-age there is coffee shop, gossip and theatre.

But all my life I have followed no pattern whatsoever and have done whatever the opportunities have provided me at that time and I have never felt like a bull in the crockery shop in any of these instance and of course, not worn the dunce cap either because of my ability to fit into every group and change my colors matching the company.

Therefore last late evening when my nephew asked if I would like to go with his group of cousins and friends for a drink to a club, I found nothing odd about that.

As we entered the Trilogy Club at SeaPrincess after dinner, it was alive with loud music, so loud that I almost turned 180 degree to return back, but the décor inside the club distracted me and I wanted to experience the ambience.

There were too many bouncers dressed in black inside the club, who guided every body with their laser-torch, they were highly alert, stood at their specific post with their eyes surfing the crowd and later I discovered their usefulness when the crowd got rowdy and somewhere, somebody was playing with a gun and he had to be quietly escorted out of the club. The matter was resolved so silently that those busy with dancing didn't notice the fuss.

There were a group of people at the bar enjoying their drink, and there was a separate area for smoking. We walked upstairs to the dance floor. Everybody who entered the dance floor walked in with their shaky butt. I took a high bar stool and perched myself on it to watch the people dance. The music was loud and instrumental but not the type that I am used to hearing. The type of music that I used to like was those of BoneyM and TinaTurner and more recently MariahCarrie but this 'Baysurri' music was beyond my understanding. The instrumental music was screeching from the juke box, slow at first and then to higher crescendo mixed with the rhythm of drums. The thousand bulbs twinkled with the music in orderly manner creating the chain of dancing lights.

My nephew got me Margarita that had an icing of salt-dust at the rim of the cup. I normally don’t drink but one sip of Margarita was quite refreshing. I watched people dance, some of them lost to the music, swirling their body, shaking from top to bottom, as if struck with an electrical shock, others imitated the MichealJackson/Mithun/SalmanKhan dance steps while some just shook one part of the body, just their arms like trafficPoliceman, or the pose of dancing Cobra, but most of them were in Nirvana under the influence of music, stuck to their own group of friends occupying only a small area of the crowded dance floor. I sat there feeling the vibration of the loud music on my finger tips as my hands clutched around my handbag and some time later, I was tapping my feet too. Most of the young girls were dressed in halters and short skirts while boys in loose jeans that kept slipping from their waist, at every pause in the music there were hugging session, boys-girls, girls-girls, boys-boys.....and a sip from their drink.

I was still sipping Margarita, when my nephew brought another drink, Jaeger bomb, in a tiny glass. I was hoping I don’t get too tipsy or else people might have to carry me home but the drinks were so very delicious that I had to use a strong will power to stop myself from drinking too much.

The rule in Mumbai says that all parties must end by 1:30am and thus, much to my relief it was time to go home.

You are Invited For a Tea Ceremony

If you come and spend a day with me, we will chat a lot, you can talk, I will listen, if you like a game of scrabble, we could do that too and in-between our usual activities we will have tea ceremony.

What say you, will that do?

Well, you may ask me what is this tea ceremony and how do I know about this? So let me begin to tell you that I just attended a talk by noted tea connoisseur ‘Radhika Batra’ who educated me on how to soothe my senses by refreshing and aromatic tea ceremony.

Did I tell you that I am regular at Nature Basket and I seem to be shopping for all my groceries from this store that includes sauces n cheese n those exotic stuff. So, this month my shopping coincided with this talk-show on tea ceremony and I walked into the wine section of this store, where normally all that food talk takes place.

The table was laden with fancy teacups and tea-kettles, different types of tea jars and bottles of spices like rosemary leaves, thyme and cloves, lime and cinnamons.

Now normally when people visit me, I just give them a Indian cutting chai, a black variety cooked on the gas with milk and sugar and the conversation is never about tea, I mean what can we discuss about ordinary tea making? We have been having our cup of tea from childhood with no extra fuss except to crib sometimes about the quantity of milk or sugar..

Every country has its own traditions and customs in serving tea  Like for example:

The samovar, a symbol of tradition, is used to brew tea in Russia. At the base of the samovar, a charcoal fire burns, and a metal pipe runs up inside the container to heat the water. Tea leaves are infused in a concentrated form in a small teapot that rests on top of the samovar. Water dispensed from the copper vessel is mixed with the strong tea to create a hearty drink that is often served with sugar cubes that are held in the mouth while drinking. In Iran and Turkey, the Russian samovar is used for special occasions and holidays.

But this time I have decided to make some fuss over you if you visit me. I will have a tea ceremony with you and that means we will have the ritual of tea five times a day, yes! You heard me right, it’s a tea ceremony remember?

Early morning we can have ‘Longjing Chinese Green’ tea. All we need is hot water and patience. Just one teaspoon of green tea with hot water, and we keep it for brewing for five minutes and it’s done. This tea I always order in the Chinese restaurant after meals; it washes down the grease form the food. But when you visit me, we shall have this green tea to start the day.

Now you may ask me what is this Longjing tea? This is one of the purest and most popular green tea mainly from the mountain lakes of Hangzhou in China. These pan fried leaves give out a pale yellow liqueur and as you sip it, you get a slightly sweet cherry blossom aroma.

At noon we shall have mid-morning blue, a Darjeeling Black tea. We shall brew one spoon of black tea with lemon and cloves. If you like thyme or rosemary flavors, we could do that too. Black tea is best brewed in a kettle instead of on stove. Since these are plantation fresh, the same leaves can be brewed twice. I could even flavor this black tea with tulsi and ginger or cardamom and cinnamon.

After lunch around 2 pm, we could have mid-eastern infusion, a ‘Barush Flower’ tea.. This will not contain any real tea leaves but it will be made from the potpourri of flowers and herbs. I love this tea because of the sweet aroma of different flowers. Hhmmmn..deep breath..Nirvana! This middle-eastern flower blend is bedecked with colorful flecks of dried flower petals of Rose, Chyrusanthanam, Marigold, jasmine.

During evening we could have oolong Shanghai style, the champagne of tea. We could swirl this with cinnamon sticks or Vanilla pods to get that fragrant whiff. You will love the toasty sweetness.

And late evening we could have the fruity lovers’ tea, which is simply from mixture of fresh and dried fruits.

Imagine the VIP treatment you will get if you visit me on the days when I am in that mood of hosting a tea ceremony…you can enjoy the tea all day but just let me win each game of scrabble, one after the other, without getting annoyed each time you lose….hehehehe….want to come?

So this 'World Cup' is ours to keep for next four years.

Throughout the day we sat, nail-biting, although there was lots of food in the house, a special meal to suit everybody’s taste but still, nails are tastier in the times of stress.

This was the Day of Judgment, there was question on everybody’d mind - "Who will win the world cup?"

Actually speaking, I don’t understand this game of Cricket and find it a sheer waste of my time, seems so silly to follow every ball around the screen (I mean field). I am always awed by people who get super-excited as they follow the balls’ movements zigzagging its way in different directions after being whacked by a hard wooden bat, the batsmen running up and down between two ends of the stumps, hundreds of spectators announcing the same score, and all this while I am thinking, "What game is this, that keeps the people’s passion so alive that they scream and hoot as though their life depends on that score". Duh!

“I have better things to do” I mumble, tuk-tuking my head at this madness, until the day arrives when the cricket fever is so high that the temperature in my environment rises beyond my ignorance value. I realize that this is neither one of those 1000 odd ODI matches that are playing on TV 365 days a year, nor those IPL matches that people keep betting on.

I am distracted and slightly interested.

This is the most important ‘The World Cup’ match (I am told) and I learn about it only after I see the excitement in everybody’s faces when they talk about that war-like-match between India/Pakistan. Whenever Indians talk about Pakistan, their antenna always shoots upwards into the nether zones, there is some kind of love-hate relationship between these enstranged neighbors which is never going to be resolved. Everybody was talking about this match, so I googled a bit but the real tutorials came from some kids in my building who updated me about it during my evening walks, they educated me on its importance for India, and then there was also TV, Twitter, social media, all breathed cricket who spoke nothing but cricket and my interest had sowed its seed.

I learnt about the passion of cricket in India, when I saw the crowd outside every electronic store. Walking down the streets of Bandra, saw hundreds of people crowded around a store. "What can the matter be?" I wondered as I approached to investigate. I discovered that all were glued to the TV in the store watching a cricket match. "Oh dear!!! What a craze!!!"

On the day of ‘The World cup match’ my friends came over. (This was one more excuse to spend the Saturdays with my friends) We chatted, we played cards and watched the match munching on snacks and drinks. My cousins were in contact with me on Blackberry and their conversation/ comments added zing to our party. At regular intervals they forwarded the messages which I would share with my friends at home. This was an added advantage as a stress buster (not for me, but for my friends).

The current Cricket World Cup situation  between India versus Sri Lanka is this.... India (Ram) married World Cup (Sita) in 1983 and in 1996 SriLanka (Raavan) took away Sita (WoldCup). Now after 14 years of Vanvaas, they meet again and you know the results..! One of the forwards posted on my BB

But the stress was there throughout the game, my friend who is a cricket fan didn’t want to see the match till it was ‘safe to watch’, she wanted the game to end before the 50-overs, saying - "playing till the last ball is very stressful". She cursed the players who got out and cheered the ones who scored well. “Hit four! Hit four!” she kept scolding the cricketers, showing her fist to the TV whenever there was no score. When the wickets fell, she covered her face with regrets.

After eight hours of viewing this match, finally there was ‘The Six-er’ a brownie point that spelled ‘Victory’. There was hugging sessions in my room, with my friends laughing loudly, congratulating each other. We watched, we celebrated with billions of images with equal euphoria and merriment.

We decided that it would be fun to go to Carter road for the celebration, we dressed up to go to a coffee shop by the sea-shore and was surprised to see that there was a midnight party in every lane, with sweetest traffic jam and the processions of dancers and singers, all waving India flag, screaming and hooting till their throat crackled. There were small children, old people, young and middle-age, all came out of their homes to be on the streets, to greet each other, to see and to be seen.

Everybody had Indian flag to wave showing their National pride in their victory

All the people were seen sitting on the bonnet, n the roof and on their car windows with their body protuding out from the window (there were some serious accidents too I learnt abour it later)

Some people were quite creative, painted their faces and body to show their happiness.Those people expert in body-painting had world cup painted on their backs, they drove through lanes of Bandra on a scooty, congratulating each other.

This was one big street party and this was day they didn't complain of being stuck in a traffic jam

Yes I was glad that my interest had been aroused and I understood what this excitement was all about. I celebrated the victory with the cup of vanilla crush........ Jai Ho!!

Passing the parcel

Although my birthday was last month, but it never ends till all my friends have wished me, so today, another set of friends (just eight) came over for lunch to enjoy the belated party.


Now eight is a big number for a private party and I don’t like to leave anybody out of conversation so I decided to have some games to get everybody involved. After the delicious lunch of Veg Briyani, Samosas, bhajiyas and Raita followed by chocolate ice-cream, we started the normal game of bingo for warm up and almost everybody received a small gift for their participation as the play progressed from jaldifive to 3 lines to full house.

Next we started to play the interesting game of passing the parcel. When we were kids, game of passing the parcel was all time favorite where we had punishments which would be quite entertaining with something like ’sing a song’ or imitate so-n-so, or some other childish punishment which sometimes would be quite an embarrassment. But today these kinds of punishments were not on my mind. I wanted to do something innovative.

So I made list of six topics for discussion as punishments where in I put the question and the person was asked to express her views. Following questions were asked:

Q1: As we all know that Imran is a gay icon- how will our community behave if they start exposing gays. Do you think that older generation will be able to accept this fact? What kind of conversation will the people be having during discussion of latest trend of our youth?

Q2 Do you feel suicidal sometimes? What things irritate you the most and you get this kind of feeling that the world is not worth living in?

Q3 Do you think media is responsible today? If you were a reporter what would be your first priority of reportage?

Q4 You know your friends are not paying attention to their health. You want to help them but you also know that she/he is not likely to follow your advice. What strong words would you use to bring home the message?

Q5Do you believe in idol worship and blind faith? If someday, you became a spiritual guide, what kind of preaching would you do to explain the existence of Supreme Being?

Q6 How responsible is our Indian Cinema? If you were given chance to make a film, what kind of movie will you make? What important message would you give in your films and whom would you cast in the film?

There was heavy discussion on every topic and there were difference of opinions too. The fun part of this game was that one person spoke while the rest listened carefully and gave their feedback and there was some healthy conversation. Normally, the shy ones never get chance to speak and they are left out from conversation. This way, everybody was participating.

The discussions went on till tea-time after which we all headed to Baidas Hall, Vile Parle, to hear the Vedanta lecture on ‘Happiness’ by Jaya Row.

My Birthday Celebration

Till the age of twelve, I did not know the date of my birth….every day was the same and nobody cared. Being the fifth girl in the family, I was most unwelcomed arrival into this world. So the celebration was naturally out of question.

At school, I would receive sweets and chocolates from my friends and sometimes was even invited for birthday parties but mine was never ever celebrated. I envied all the rich girls and hoped to be born in a better home in my next birth. I always wished that some one would celebrate my birthday, make me feel important, shower me with gifts and get me those frilly new dresses. But being fatherless, things were different.

 Luckily for me, I was blessed with most beautiful and caring mother but she also had her own problems and was under too much stress. Living in a joint family without a spouse is difficult, life is hard. Therefore I never dared ask her for a celebration of my birthday nor did I ever ask her the date of my birth.

 It was at the age of thirteen that I finally learnt the date. That was when I had changed school and I was able to peep into my school leaving certificate. It said 27th June and I waited, glancing at the calendar everyday, waiting for the day to arrive. And at the age of fourteen, I finally celebrated my birthday for the first time in my life.

Being inexperienced, I took all my friends for a movie and then treated them with Samosas and drink and the culture of celebrating birthdays began.

 But, this kind of celebration always embarrasses me, I no more enjoy the attention and the fuss associated wih it and normally like to spend it quietly. But, friends who care, drop in uninvited to wish me and I treat my friends for a lunch or an outing and have a good time.

 But this year, things were different. It coincided with a marriage celebrations of my cousin’s son in Jaipur. Now, Jaipur is the place I was born in but I have never ever celebrated my birthday there. It sounds good! My sister decided to gift me a return air ticket, and that was a perfect. So, this year, the birthday celebration was different.

I wore a new dress, travelled to Jaipur, took a tourist bus from airport to ‘Le Meridian Hotel’ a fifty minutes drive (during which I was able to get some great shots of the city), was received with traditional music, a flower garland and a warm welcome, and I was given a suite, the biggest room in the hotel that I shared with her mom (she always says that I am her favorite cousin whenever she introduces me to her friends, so naturally, I deserve the best..), attended the Hi-Tea event, where we were introduced to other guests, and then late evening, there was a welcome party in the hotel with delicious cuisine and entertainment.

There were many dances organised, including belly dancers who put in their best performance…. Although all the guests were attending this wedding celebration, I pretended that it was my party…..

hahahaha!! What more can one ask???

Read meet over a cup of ‘Kappi’

Mumbai is an interesting city. People in Mumbai are always busy. Besides sweating at their work places, you can see them running on the roads, changing trains/buses, shopping in those shiny malls or eating leisurely on the streets or in the fancy restaurants. Non-residents of Mumbai would think that Mumbaites might be relaxing during week-ends. But no! Mumbaites cannot relax! Over week-ends too, they are busy with extra-curriculum activities such as kitty parties, picnics to out-station resorts, or movies. Then there are read-meets too, where the upcoming writers meet (once a month) to brush their writing skills. A theme is chosen each month, and all writers are expected to work on their script around that topic. They meet during these read meets, taking their masterpieces with them and allow it chop under the critical eyes of other writers. It helps them to polish their scripts and by sharing their writing tips with other writers, they get the gist of the real writing world. I, too, love attending these read-meets; month after month, we meet at different venues, sometimes in private homes, some times in open terraces and sometimes even under the trees in public places! And this month’s read meet was a special event, organized in an elite club which had strict dress code that would not tolerate any shabby appearance. During the read meets, it is important to look presentable for that eight-minute-fame while we are reading (to distract the writers from our bad writings to our physical charms) but this time, it was obligatory and if we dressed shabbily we would not get passed through those royal gates “Not just neat....shirts (even T-shirts) must be with collar; no shorts, no sandals; shoes and socks obligatory. Torn jeans are not appreciated..” informed one of the read-meet member “.My son came for a family dinner and was turned away because of his scruffy appearance and peek-a-boo toes, we had to rush him home, tie the long hair in a pony tail and give him my friend’s polo shirt and pant, also shoes....of course all too large, but in the view of the management, better he looked like Charlie Chaplin than a hobo”. Such was the venue chosen in Mumbai for June read meet. So this time the writers had not only to concentrate on writing on the theme ‘Water’ (this month’s theme), they would also had to focus on shopping for clothes for that special event. My friend Vinod, who normally comes to the read-meet in khadi clothes with a khadi bag slung diagonally across his chest (and black band sandals with toes touching the ground), came to my house, early morning on the day of read meet. “Why have you come here to my house so early in the morning?” I said “Do you have a black tie?” He said “Why do you want a black tie? You never wear one, all you wear is this khadi, long kurtas and khadi pyjama with this long, hanging string” I said “I know, I know, but you don’t understand, I want to attend read meet today and I have been looking since last fifteen day for a black tie to go formal for this day.” he said “You mean to say that you have not found any tie in any shop?” I said “No, no, it’s not that, actually I have wanted to buy a khadi tie but none of the stores are selling them.” he said “You can't possibly wear a khadi tie over these clothes! They won't allow you an entry. Why don’t you dress up like an English man and wear a full suit with shoes and socks and look neat and tidy?” I said “You know, na, I don’t have any suits and to buy such an expensive suit for just a day is a bit too much for me.” he said “Okay, let me go through my brother’s wardrobe. Maybe I could lend you some of his finest clothes.” I said “You girls are so lucky; you know they are allowing women to come dressed as they please. There is no restriction on dress code for girls.” he said “Yes, yes, I know, now take these clothes and try them on; maybe you can fit into these.” I said He went into changing room and came back after few minutes, dressed in my brother’s clothes, in two sizes smaller than his. “You know I cannot breathe” he gasped At 5pm, Vinod and I sat in an Udipi restaurant, sipping Kappi and reading to each other the notes on ‘water’ (the theme of the day) He was happy with just one feedback.

Those memorable days in 2008

28th March was the day circled on my calendar. It was the day to celebrate my cousin’s birthday. What was exciting was that it would be celebrated in a strange land, a place that I had never visited before, exciting also because all of my family from different parts of the world, had also circled this date on their calendar. I belong to a close knit family, but all are scattered around the world and we meet whenever there is an occasion to celebrate, a wedding or a holiday, but this time it was special-‘A 50th birthday in Dubai!’ Who would want to miss it? The preparation started one month in advance. Email found their way to all the inboxes, we exchanged notes on planning the trip, the venue, the staying accommodation, the visas, the shopping….there was so much homework to do and the excitement was building each day. Accommodation was no problem, Nikki and Dina, who live in Dubai, happily agreed to share their house and were willing to accommodate everybody into their house. The birthday girl- Gitu- (from Lagos) first to arrive in the city with her sister Rajni(from Chicago) and her daughter Neha and went for shopping for air-mattresses, blankets, towels, and all the sundry items that would be required for our comfort and then they settled to receive with warmth the family that began arriving. One by one, family arrived, each received with hi-five, hug and laughter. Chandru and Baby (from Hongkong); Suresh (from Texas); Laju (from Lome); Reza (from Bahrain); Raju, Rani and Devkadidi (from Pune) and yours truly (from Mumbai). Sanju and Kareena (who stayed just few block away in Dubai, were of great help) and Asgar (the banker who would foot the bill) arrived just few hours before the actual event. And the fun began. The birthday party was held at the newly opened ‘Zen” a Chinese and Thai restaurant (a family restaurant in Dubai run by our Dubai host-Nikki). One thing good about celebrating in the family restaurant is the freedom to enjoy the food and the song. We went crazy clicking pictures, messing with the birthday cake and over-eating randomly from every table, and sometimes from the kitchen. The party went on till late at night and then continued for next ten days. A mini van (15 seated) was hired for traveling within the city as we did malls and restaurants hopping. Then there were Dessert Safari and Abra rides and long drives through the city. Morning were the best, when we would laze around, munching breakfast and sharing vague stories, jokes or ragging the weak ones. Late nights were for watching a film. Sixteen family members were merrily squeezed into 3BKH apartment and nobody was complaining. Those were the memorable events that refuses to fade away and they brighten my day, each time, when I browse through those pictures. I have captured each moment and framed it into my memory album, forever.