Khatte Mithe Pal Jeevan ke, nostalgia, experiences, family, humour

  बचपन में हमारी दीवाली और गर्मियों की छुट्टियाँ जबलपुर में बब्बा के घर पर गुजरती थीं. वहां चाचाजी और बुआजी के बच्चों के साथ मौज मस्ती में कैसे टाइम बीतता था, पता ही नहीं चलता था. छुट्टियों का हम बेसब्री से इंतजार करते थे, पर   गर्मियों की छुट्टी का एक बहुत बड़ा आकर्षण होता था, आइस   क्रीम! उस जमाने में हम कुल्फी, ऑरेंज बार, अलाना-फलाना बार के बारे में नहीं जानते थे, हम तो बस लकड़ी की डंडी में लिपटी हुई अद्भुत स्वाद वाली रंग बिरंगी बर्फ   दीवाने थे, जिसे आइस   क्रीम कहा जाता था.    आइस क्रीम वाले की घंटी की आवाज़ सुनते ही हम सब बच्चे गिरते पड़ते चप्पल पहन कर बाहर भागते. घर से थोड़ी दूर अगले चौराहे पर   आइस क्रीम वाले को पकड़ना जो होता था.     अगले चौराहे पर इसलिए, क्योंकि हमारे बब्बाजी (यानि दादाजी)   को आइस क्रीम से सख्त नफरत थी.     अगर वे कभी किसी बच्चे को आइस क्रीम   खाते देख लेते तो उसी समय फिंकवा देते: फेंको इसे, नाले के पानी से बनती है ये! आइस क्रीम फेंके जाने के गम में कभी बब्बा से ये पूछने का ख़याल भी नहीं आया कि आपको कैसे पता कि नाले के पानी का टेस्ट कैसा होता है? वैसे आ भी जाता

I was in an extremely bad mood. As I entered home after a bad day in the office, I found the kids fighting; and acting as an arbitrator in their fight was the last thing I wanted to do at that moment. While I was fuming at my kids, the housemaid came with intimation for two days leave which acted as a catalyst to my anger. Since the maids enjoy certain privileges, and can not be scolded, I started finding faults with my children and husband to give vent to my anger.  When I returned to my room I was considering myself as the most dejected soul and the most stressed person on earth. To show everyone that I was not in a mood to talk, I picked up the magazine section of a newspaper, in which an article about happiness caught my attention. It said that one should try to derive pleasures from little things in life. So how can one get little pleasures in day to day life? I started to recall the instances that give me pleasure. Here is the compilation of few such moments, which have given m

A man, having been chased by an insurance agent for months together, slapped him so hard that the agent fell on ground. The man got worried and rushed to help him get up. The agent got up, dusted off his cloths and came smiling to the man, saying,” mazaak chhodiye sahib! Ab to insurance karwa leejiye ! (No more kidding sir! It’s time you got your insurance done!)” I had read the above joke during my school days, but was able to understand it in its true sense only when I started with my job. Elders say if you work hard, you would get success, money, fame etc.; what they don’t tell you is that there is one more thing which comes free with a decent job, the ever-chasing insurance agents! After marriage, boasting about my financial knowledge which I had acquired through financial columns in newspapers cost me a lot, as it made my husband believe that I would be the right person to face the insurance agents (or maybe he pretended so, to get rid of this ever chasing species) B

In life, many times we realize that a task looking arduous is not actually that difficult, when started.  On the contrary, some tasks looking plain sailing prove to be strenuous, when started. All the wives would agree with me that the efforts put in by them in numerous small household chores, which keep them busy throughout the day, are underrated by their husbands. I realized it when my maid took one month sabbatical from work to visit her village. Though after so many years of marriage, I have become quite used to the preaching of my husband on everything I do, the situation seems to be intolerable when you are already trying to make up for some mishap like broken crockery or spilt milk and somebody starts lecturing  on how you should have been more careful. Yes, my husband helped me in household chores(by putting water in filter, cutting salad, setting the table etc.), but with the newly granted access in the kitchen, he also assumed  the noble charge of my self-appointed tutor

On that cold and windy morning when even the Sun had decided not to show up, I was feeling like not leaving my quilt easily. But the unpleasant ring on my mobile forced me to open my eyes. The call was from an international number, but the caller said in a Punjabi accent ,” mubaraq ho ji! Main aap ki telephone company se bol  raha  hoon !Aapki pandrah lakh assi hazar ki lottery lagi hai hamari company ki taraf se! (Congratulations! I am calling from your telephone company! You have won a lottery from our telephone company amounting to Rs. Fifteen lakhs eighty thousands!)  On earlier such occasions, I used to disconnect the telephone, but this time I thought to have some entertainment in the otherwise boring morning,” Meri lottery! Badi khushi ki  baat hai! Main abhi aap ke office ja kar paise le  aati hoon ! ”(Wow! I won a lottery! I am so excited! I will just go to your company’s office and collect the money!) Now, either the man on the other end was too innocent or was too confid

“How was the pizza, beta?” I asked my daughter, to which she threw a counter question, licking her finger,” as delicious as ever mamma! Can it ever happen that you cook something and it is not great?”    Her statement brought a grin on my face, as I was driven down in my memory lane to remember what I call “ My cooking disasters ”. The most memorable incidence dates back to the time when I had joined Engineering College and as my father was posted at other city, I used to stay at my uncle’s home accompanied by my brother, who was two years senior to me in the same college. Though I used to help my  chachiji    in cooking and other household chores, like any other studious girl, I was not very expert at cooking which was proved when my  chachiji   went to her parental village nearby and could not return on the same day.    As eating in restaurants was not common those days and home delivery was not even heard of, this left the responsibility of cooking dinner for the family on mys

“Mom! It’s your marriage anniversary! “My daughter was bubbling with enthusiasm. “How should we celebrate it? I want to make it your most memorable anniversary!” She said. I smiled as I told her,” I appreciate your spirit, beta! But I don’t think you can break your own record by making it more memorable.” She looked puzzled as I started telling her how as a 4 month old; she had made our second marriage anniversary memorable. As I said, it was our 2 nd marriage anniversary. We (my husband and I) had decided to celebrate it privately with the new member of our family, who was the centre of our attention for the past four months. After taking a stroll at The Mall Road, Shimla, we chose a decent, budget restaurant on Mall Road to have dinner (That was the most we could afford before fifth pay commission pay hike). We entered the restaurant proudly carrying the cutest child on earth (as new parents we didn’t know that all the parents find their child the cutest).  My daughte

I was waiting eagerly with my son. The waiting hours seemed to be too long, but finally we had a sigh of relief. Our wait was over! My husband and daughter were proudly coming to us with their prized possessions in hands. Don’t get me wrong! They had not completed any marathon and returning with prizes! Actually they had been standing in the queue to buy the books for my daughter. The school had authorized only one shop to sell the books and there were many parents like us who had waited up to last day to buy the books and now paying the price by standing in the so called queues consisting of unruly crowds pushing each other in order to reach the counter. Standing in queue is a pain, but when your turn comes, you feel like a winner. As I recall my memories regarding queues, each of them leaves a smile on my face. ·         During my school and college days, buying movie tickets was a great achievement as multiplex culture had not come and online booking was not even imagined of.

There was total chaos in the room. The kids were speaking on top of their voices trying to overpower each other. The scene was similar to that of parliament house as everybody was shouting and no one listening. The cause of action was my newly bought smart phone which had driven the kids into frenzy. My daughter was excited about the latest chat application in the phone and wanted to test it, while my son wanted to check the panorama   feature of the camera. My neighbour’s four year old son was also not far behind and was keen to check the Spiderman game on the phone.   I was trying to control the situation but feeling as helpless    as the speaker of the Parliament house. In fact when the salesman in the mobile phone shop asked me the kind of phone I wanted, I just told him that I wanted a phone which (apart from voice of course) supports 3 G data and has a decent music player and camera. Hearing this, the salesperson smiled at my innocence and told me that these are the basic

The unpleasant sound of breaking of glass forced me to come out of my room. I thundered at my daughter, “what have you broken?” presuming she had broken something. “It’s not me Mamma! Didi has broken a glass.” replied my daughter bravely, referring to the housemaid, who was now cleaning the broken pieces of glass. My expressions changed completely, as I addressed my maid in a sugar-coated voice,” Never mind. Glasses are destined to be broken. I hope you aren’t hurt?” She nodded in negative as I concluded the matter, “Now clean it up quickly. And be careful not to injure yourself!” I returned to my room fully aware that I am being followed by my daughter, infuriated at my partial behavior. She did not wait to express her anguish, “Mamma! How you changed your tone seeing it was Didi? You love your maid more than your children.”. “ History repeats ”, I said to myself as I smiled at her innocence, remembering that there was a time when I too used to label the same allegation on my mothe

My sister was telling me how her neighbor was in fits of blues, as her daughter’s name did not figure in the draw of lots for admission in nursery class, held by the most prestigious school of the city.   She told me that the mother was literally in tears cursing her hard luck and was now on a wild-goose chase for some powerful approach to secure a seat for her daughter.   But as my sister told her, these days it is almost impossible to secure admission in a good school through any approach, and it is purely your good luck that can get your child’s name selected through lottery.   My sister said, “Now it is very difficult to get a child admitted, earlier times were better, when the child was judged through an admission test.” This reminded me of my experiences during the admission of my children.   Were those times better? I began to recall. For the admission of my daughter, around 11 years ago, we had applied for two of the best schools of Shimla, the city we were pos