Shopper's Agony

She told me to meet her at Bandra, Hill road, the big shopping area of Mumbai. One month from now is her marriage and she has not yet purchased her wedding gown. We go to this boutique at Hill road. The sales girl switches on the shop lights and AC as we enter the store. In the times like these, salesgirls are instructed by their boss to sit in heat and dark unless the client enters the store. She is quite pleased with our entry, happy that she will have somebody to chat and enjoy few moments of light and cool air.

There are bright-colored-stone-sequined- clothes on the rack for display. There are brocade saris, salvar-suits, ghagra- cholis. I assure her that this store has reasonable rates and that other well-known designers with branded labels have crazy rates. She believes me and follows me as I sift through the clothes on the rack, one by one.

There are two dresses that she likes a lot. One is the Gagra choli and other is chooridar set. I ask her to try it onto know the fitting. She wants to know the price, its forty-two grand in INR. She is hesitant. She finds the futility of spending too much money for one-day wear. She prefers to save the cash for a rainy day instead. Maybe for a trip abroad? I tell her that she will be somebody special on that day and its one-day affair of her lifetime and she must look her best. She relents and picks up both the sets and enters the trial room.

She has well shaped body with just the right curves. Both the dresses suit her and do justice, the color and the style, both are perfect. But she finds the price is too expensive. I inform the salesgirl that we are undecided and would like to visit some more stores before we can narrow our search. The salesgirl understands our plight. She quotes her last price lowered by three more grand to guarantee our return. We exit.

We visit few more stores, still confused.

Facebook's colorful drama

Friday morning, while brushing teeth, I checked the mail on my facebook, and the chain mail from three of my friends, with a subject line ‘Cause’, caught my attention, it read:


‘We're playing a little game where every woman on Facebook will type the colour of the bra she is wearing today, (on your status) just the actual colour, nothing else. Forward this to women ONLY and let's see if the men can work out what our game is. Its also to raise the awareness of breast cancer’.

The mail was from my three dear friends and I couldn't ignore it (neva). I was hesitant at first, not wanting to disclose something in an open forum such as FB, but pretending to be on a beach made thing easier and my FB status flashed ‘Sky blue’ while warbling 'Girls just wanna have funn'....

Not sure whether it spread the breast cancer awareness, but it was very, very entertaining. Some of the colors flashed on my friend’s status were hard to believe. Dark purple? Deep red? Hawaian green? Electric blue? Leopard skin, nude? (were they all at the beach???) Teasers!! Interesting though!!. I started making a list of the colors to look for on my next shopping trip.

What was entertaining was the curiosity of men who were perplexed. Reading the updated message on color by one woman would not have bothered them but reading the same message on all the women made them uncomfortable. They squirmed and wriggled, longing to know the secret behind the colors. While they tried to decode the colors, women were having a field day, amused by their innocent comments. The status message such as “What a colorful day”,’ What’s with a women in black, white, yellow’ We cross-posted on our friend’s status teasing each other, with 'smiley', 'grin', 'ha-ha' as comments which made them curious even more, till some spy peeped into his spouse’s inbox to know the secret.

We knew that somebody has finally cracked the code when we read, “All plans to keep Facebook safe for the whole family are going bust” followed by ” Police in Iran are cracking down on Facebook activism today. Once their true colours are revealed, the guilty will not be let off the hook.” hmmn!

As the day progressed, more and more men discovered the secret and they played along, posting wittier messages and counter messages that only few understood, till some clumsy spoiler spilled the beans.

FB got flooded with drool…..

Men went back to the messages to get the drift. They fantasized, Googled for bra-images to match the colors, tweeted, how do they get excited by just the color of a garment?? come on, it's just a garment of support for 'do bichare, bina sahare...'

Then started the series of messages that spelled their fantasies, and I lost interest when jokes went too far and the messages started to get uglier and embarrassing…….ekdum nonsenshence.....

Ye kya ho raha hai??????

Babaji’s Visit to Mumbai in January 2010

Babaji – The Master, Gurinder Singh Dhillon - was in Mumbai this week. The satsang is held very far from the city, at Bhayander, and of million people attending the discourse, 75% of the people come to the venue in their own private transport. The place is well organized, with sufficient space to park the cars; there are separate lanes for cars, for buses and for trucks.

In the past, I have always gone by private transport, (in comfort, arriving just one hour before the satsang and occupying the most comfortable seat) but this year, I want to experience the common person’s way. I opted to travel by public transport and it was very inconvenient. Traveling by train in Mumbai is like being packed in a sausage can. There is not enough room for two feet; you get pushed back and forth at every station as the stream of crowd rushes in and out of the train. From Mira station to the bus stop, there was a long, slow walk of 15 minutes, people who had no patience to wait for the bus, walked for next 30 minutes through swamps and fields on a muddy road to reach the venue.

Having said that, after all that adventure at reaching the venue, listening to Babaji was a treat. Babaji spoke for just fifteen minutes in English and I was enthralled. He conveyed the message that mystics come with a purpose and it is very important for us to understand the difference between knowledge and comprehension. Knowledge is all around us and we can get it by every means. We can read a book, watch TV, and read newspaper and we get that knowledge. But what use is that knowledge to us if we cannot comprehend and put it to use? Just getting initiated is getting knowledge but we have to experience it, without experiencing it we cannot define it. If somebody is eating sugar and he tells you that sugar is sweet, how will you know what is sweet if you have never tasted it. To know the real taste, you have to taste it and experience it.

On this theme of knowledge and comprehension, I am reminded by one extract of Bhagwant Gita where it is mentioned - “Arjuna asks Krsna to reveal His splendour. Krsna gives him divine eyes with which he sees the universal Form. Arjuna is awestruck by this magnificent display. He bows down with folded hands and describes this spectacular vision.

Krsna then displays His raw power, all-devouring and fearful. Overcome with fear Arjuna asks Krsna to go back to His gentle form. Krsna shows His four-armed form, His gentle and gorgeous nature.

Krsna underscores the rare privilege earned by Arjuna. Even the gods long to see this form which cannot be seen by mere spiritual practices. But one who acts for Me, is devoted to Me and regards Me as supreme obtains Me.”

It is very important to reflect on the things that we learn, give it a thought and try to understand the true meaning of the concept, just attending endless satsangs on Sant Mat without our attention focused on the theme, will lead us to our own imaginary world.

Day accomplished, the browny point was the reward of darshan we received after the satsang when Babaji drove in his little golf car, passing through the lanes of seated devotees.

The sea of devotees headed towards canteen after satsang, which was very well organized by sevadhars, who served tasty batata-peas bhaji with bread and tea. I saw many people buy loads of bananas and biscuits to take home.

Returning back home was another nightmare, equally inconvenient. I promised myself that I would never take such trip again. I have a choice.

But what about the common person who has no choice

Uncrowned Glory

If I count the hair on my scalp, it will be exactly 25 feathers. This has been a topic of discussion with most of my friends and relatives. When they should be asking me about my well being, all they notice is my naked scalp. I wish I could hide it. I envy Muslim ladies who are able to cover their scalp with burqas…yeah it helps to save from embarrassment, also those 1950’s women, who wore beautiful hats to cover their scalps, ,but for me, there is no relief…I cannot wear burqa nor wear any hats (this might attract more traffic of stares on me) I have tried perms, adding curls to disguise my tresses but they have lost their luster over time and are even more straw’ey than ever before.


My recent visit to a hair salon brings me some hope. I like the oil massage and so very glad that such services are available now. (when my niece was a kid, she would regularly massage my hair, oiling it liberally and playing with my hair. I would enjoy her tiny finger in my hair) but, now that she is grown up, she would rather concentrate on her own hair. I have been regularly trying different salon to seek the best masseur. I think I have found it at last.

I went to this hair salon, on recommendation of my friend, who is concerned about my vanishing tresses. She fixed the appointment for me; therefore I am no stranger to them. The best of the clan volunteers to massage my scalp. Gently squeezing the cotton soaked in oil over my scalp, she covers my head with dripping oil. Massage is actually pressing of points, gently with her fingers, followed by gentle hammering with closed palms. I drifted off to sleep enjoying the pampering, awaken only when she moves away.

“Maam, I see you have very scanty hair” says the superintendent of the salon. (as if I don’t know)

“So, what do you suggest?” I say, hoping against hope that there is some remedy.

“We have solution if you are ready to take up the treatment” she says

“Really? And what that be?”

“First, you must come regularly, at least twice a week” (she is looking for steady clients, I am sure)

“I have come for hair massage, just need to oil my hair, get a good massage and leave it overnight. I shall wash it next day.”

“Oh no, no, you should never leave your hair oily and walk on the street. There is too much dust on the road that will harm your roots. Have you seen foreigners with oily hair?”

(As if foreigners oil their hair. I am not sure. Plan to enquire this quest on my next trip abroad.)

“We will give you hair pack of ‘curd with secret ingredients” (I have heard of face-pack, now what is this hair-pack? Who is this introducing new gimmick every time?)

“Okay and then?”

“Then massage and steaming, long procedure, maam, but sure-shot treatment, believe me; you will find the difference within one month”

Since my crowning glory has limited life, I decide to play along. Aar ya paar….

I confirm the treatments, lay back and relax…..

For another hour, there is massage, hair-pack, steaming, hair-wash and blow-dry.

Three hours of my precious time is lost in a salon which promises me a matted crown, but I am feeling good......

Hope it works. I have fixed the appointment for follow-up next week…..

Postcard from Ganpatipule

Just 375 kms away from Mumbai, and it’s a different world, in complete contrast from high-rise, polluted Mumbai, we enter a small village, serene, sedate, unspoiled, the magic land of virgin beaches, with 400 year old land mark- the Swayambhu Ganapati temple.

Being a holiday season, it was flooded with thousands of devotees and tourists. Moi and my group of eight friends added to this burden of population for three full days.......

Night time is the best time to travel by road, since there is less traffic and the ride is smooth, with the curvy roads giving pleasant swings at regular intervals. We started our journey at 10pm after our heavy meal and dozed off to sleep as soon as the bus revved its engine, only to open our eyes at twilight to watch the beautiful sun rise...... the scenery was beautiful, at some places we could touch the clouds as they floated through our windows....blinding our lens.... We drove through the narrow mud-roads, the earth dark red ....glistening in sunshine... and the roofed houses with clean courtyards that added quaint touch to the panorama. We passed the bridge to arrive at our destination of calm village of Ganpatipule....Yes we had arrived......after ten hours of journey by road...in time for hot breakfast and a cup of coffee........

After breakfast we headed towards the 'Swayambhu Ganapati temple' (Swayambhu means 'self-made', this is a temple of the self-originated idol, Ganapati). A long queue winding from the entrance through narrow bamboo barriers, snaked through the curves, three-folds and it took us more than sixty minutes to reach the idol. The temple here is very beautiful and recently it was renovated. Every year in the months of February and November the sunrays fall directly on the Ganpati idol....( I was told)..... one of persons in our group wanted to take a "Pradakshina" around the hill where the temple is located, she explained that 'Pradakshina' is a form of showing obeisance wherein the devotee walks in a circle around the idol of the lord or around the temple, the house of the lord, The pradakshina or the walk of 1 km is interestingly Ganapati Shaped. ..But I was already too tired walking through those paths within bamboos railings in queue,(of one hour) when we reached the temple, we were allowed only 30 seconds of the glimpse of the idol...."Chalo, Chalo, line bahut hai" said the pundit as he ushers us towards the exit....I wanted to look closely at the self-originated, idol of Ganapati, that is made of copper. .but look at him...shooing us away....not fair...

The rest of the evening we spend at the beach, watching the people in colorful (zakaas) clothes clearly surprising the foreigners, who are used to seeing people dressed in bikini and bare skin in their home town.....

Next day, we rented a private transport to tour around. We started our journey (after a heavy breakfast) at 9am to explore the other areas of the village..... I was attracted by the fountain that welcomed us at our first stop at Malgund village...Malgund village is the birthplace of the famous Marathi Poet Keshavsoot. (Have you heard about him??) He was born here in 1866. He is termed as a poet who heralded the dawn of modern Marathi poetry. The "Marathi Sahitya Parishad" (Marathi Literature Society) has constructed a beautiful monument called "Keshavsoot Smarak" in the memory of the great son-of-the soil. There was even an amphitheatre behind the house...He must have performed his poems in front of large crowd (I am sure) There is also a museum where you can find information on most of the modern day poets of Marathi language. The Memorial is a real treat for people who are interested in Marathi literature. Lucky poet, he had such a big house......I am thinking, thinking, thinking .. if I could invest some time on my poems.....maybe...??? On the second thought, it is understable with all these inspirations of plants, birds and trees...(I am sure if I had a house like that, I would be a famous poet too)..Who wouldn't be???

And traveling by roads is an experience by itself. The vast "Konkan" stretch abounds with scenic greenery..... Our next stop was 'Prachin kokan' an open air museum on a hill, showing our old culture, basically old customs of Konkan areas. The museum is spread over an area of 3 acres on a hillside. The museum was constructed by a 27 year old resident of Ganpatipule, (Vaibhav Sardesai). all the statues had great expressions, the path was quite hilly and steep and I needed support to climb those big, huge stone steps...Planners of this museum are quite insensitive...they didn't think of placing some railings on this hilly path...come on, everybody was uncomfortable walking through this hilly path.. having a railing makes life so much easier...I tell you...duh!!

There was a guide with us, who kept rambling (in Marathi) about the history of the statues ( giving me a headache). On the highest peak of this hilly museum, there was a store selling art stuff and my group (always crazy for shopping) give a good business to the store...which later they deposited with me in the sumo, since I was enjoying the privileged, bigger seat in the front, next to driver.... But truly, this open air museum was one of its kind....quite enjoyable......except for railings. .huff! huff!!

We continued our drive through Bhatye beach...that had silver white sand against deep blue waters.... Bhatya is a small village sited at a distance of 1 kms from Ratnagiri. The village is known for flat and straight 1.5 km long beach. The scene along the coastal region was amazing and I could not control clicking shots,( click, click, clicking the boats and the canals on the route..).till we finally reached 'Patit Pawan Mandir' at Pawas.. "Patit Pawan Mandir" is of importance here. It was the first temple built for the non-Brahmins by revolutionary leader, Swatantryaveer Savarkar. ..

Our next stop was the house where the freedom fighter Lokmanya Bal Gangadhar Tilak was born, and is now declared and maintained as a national monument He was born on 26th July 1856 in this house. It was Lokmanya Tilak who gave the slogan that "Self rule is my birth right and I will achieve it. Lokmanya Tilak stayed in the house till 1866. Although the rooms in the house were quite tiny, but, at the back of the house, there was a big open space, large enough for long walks or jogging...

So close to nature, such scenic rides....such clean streams....(unlike our Mithi river) and so much greenery and open space....there were no slums?? huh?? Why must we have all the slums only in Mumbai??? Why is the population of Maharastra not evenly spread out....??? Jobs can be created here too, tourist industry perhaps?? Hello? Is somebody listening???

Our next destination was the 'Thebaw Palace' Thebaw Palace was constructed in 1910 – 1911 when the king and Queen of Myanmar were dethroned and were exiled. They stayed here in the palace from 1911 till their death in 1916. The palace was built under the King’s supervision. The five years of their stay at the palace have been immortalized on the walls of their tombs. There were lots of carved artifacts What I liked was the design and architecture of this palace and the view behind the windows....built in such a way that sun rays filters through palace evenly... those steep wooden stairs leading to the courtyard....everything was so beautiful.... A constant debate is going between the government and private authorities to convert the palace into a regional museum and a heritage hotel.

Next we passed through the busy market place to stop for lunch.....It was 3pm and tummy was complaining.....and the smell of fresh fish was in the air.... after lunch we headed towards The Balla Fort, that is located on a hill by the sea shore.

The fort is constructed in the shape of half Circle like horseshoe. The fort is built on an area of 120 acres and is surrounded by sea from three sides. There is a light house constructed on the western end of the fort. ..We climb up the fort and visited the temple again, once more...The main part of the fort has a Devi Bhagwati temple. There is also a small tank and a deep well in the fort premises. During the Navratri’s a ten day festival is organized at the fort. ....

Next we reached the aquarium.. and 'The Seafood Processing Centre' at Mirya. ...tiredness was seeping in..... we talked with the fishes, although they had no proper etiquettes to stop and talk to us.... they happily swam behind their glass prison, the sea horses in the aquarium had company and were prohably preparing for some concert.... and my friend wanted a closer look....wanted a new friend....to meditate on.. And why not? she told me that you can meditate almost on everything ...just keep your mind blank and shut out the past and the future., just focus on present....I tried, but my mind is too wild and undisciplined...never pauses for a moment....arrgh!!

On our way back, we stopped at top of the hill before descending to Bhandarpule, to watch the sun set.

The next day was reserved for relaxing at the beach, having a note of thanks, getting to know each other, sharing views over the cup of coconut water....and playing some creative games The sun over our hotel 'Sukh Sagar Palace' (where we were staying) reminded us to pack our bags and return back to the rat race of our beloved Mumbai

..... ..till the next long week-end arrives.....and we will head towards a newer destination...once more....