The Two Warring Neighbours

Are you under an illusion that India and Pakistan are the best examples of neighbours who are sworn enemies right from their inception? Are you naïve enough to believe that Israel and Palestine are the living examples of how effectively neighbours screw up? Does China and Tibet come to you mind in any quiz contest when a question is posed about warring neighbours? If you answer these questions in the affirmative, then, I must admit, with great sympathy, my dear friend that you have indeed missed the golden opportunity of staying in a neighbourhood in which a “Bengali” and a “Jain” live next door to each other ;-) Nothing is more lethal, more gruesome and more entertaining than the verbal duel between a Jain and a Bengali!  The best part about the fight between a Jain and a Bengali is that it will never be violent, in the literal sense for the simple reason that the best weapon for a Bengali would be his eloquent speech intermixed with complicated words, proverbs and one-liners that a Jain would fail to understand to begin with!  On the other hand, non-violence is genetically embedded in a Jain! Ahimsha is the biggest dharma for a Jain! Why will a Jain cross the lakshman rekha of his dharma for a non-veg loving, bone chewing Bengali who cooks smelly fish in mustard oil with the sole intention of offending his saintly Jain neighbour?J So be assured, you can very well sit with popcorn in one hand and coke in another, sit back and enjoy the warring faction without harbouring the fear of getting caught in a cross-fire!

Being a half bong myself, I can go into the innermost recess of a Bengali mind to figure out his strategies and plan of action in this kind of battle! As I have the privilege of having many Jain friends and me being a strict vegetarian, I can very well understand the predicament of a devout Jain! I had the privilege of staying in such neighbourhood wherein a Bong and a Jain family were next door neighbours! I now realize how helpless United Nations might be feeling when it tries to intervene between two warring countries and realizes that it can do nothing about it L

This is how it all begin!  A bong family of 4, the Banerjees were staying on the 3^rd floor of my building for more than a decade!  The Banerjees were a typical middle class, literature and fish loving, highly educated Bengalis.  I always fail to understand that if a Bong is given a choice between a fish and a book, what will he be choosing?  Tough choice indeed! Mrs. Banerjee was proud of her IIM educated son, of her politically conscious husband who bore a serious and grim expression on his face 24X7, of her classic collections, of her daughter’s sonorous voice which woke the neighbours up at 5:00am when she practiced Rabindro sangeet and last but not the least of her culinary skills! Mrs. Banerjee firmly believed that no woman in the building could beat her in preparing macher jhol (fish curry), a Bengali fish preparation cooked in mustard oil! All was well in the Bong household until 5^th March, 2002! It was on this fateful day that the Jains moved into the flat situated adjacent to the Banerjees! Little did Mrs. Banajree know that destiny was going to put her through the toughest test of her life time! The test of defending her Bong pride! The test of justifying her love for fish! It was an emotionally challenging phase for the Banerjees as their in-built belief of Bong superiority in everything was challenged and shaken to the core by the Jains!

Now let me give a brief overview about the Jains!  The Jains were also a family of 4 (numerically equally in strength to the Banerjees).  They were Dingambar Jains who refrained from eating even onion and potato! Mr. Jain was a businessman who exceled in his money making skills whereas Mrs. Jain was a housewife who followed her religious duties fanatically! The two kids, one son and a daughter were still in the schooling phase and were totally into merry making mode to the extent their strict Jain mother permitted! 

The first thing that occurred to Mrs. Banerjee when the Jains moved in was the quick calculation of how the Banerjee’s score brownie points over the Jain’s in every aspect.  Mrs. Banerjee was gloating in self-satisfaction and thought of the Jains as harmless neighbours.  Like any Bengali, Mrs. Banerjee was, as usual, keen to show her literally collection to Mrs. Jain.  Therefore, on the very first day when the Jains moved in, Mrs. Banerjee invited for the evening tea.  Mrs. Banerjee even invited me and my mum. Being a Bong, I love reading and I love checking out what is the latest addition to her collection!  Little was I aware that I was going to witness one of the best arguments that I have ever witnessed until date! It was hilarious and entertaining, to say the least!  Mrs. Jain and Mrs. Banerjee were seated opposite each other whereas me and my mum were seated in between on the sofa.

When Mrs. Banerjee offered Mrs. Jain tea and homemade samosa, Mrs. Jain refused after raising an eyebrow and squeezing her nose. I missed a beat! This was blasphemy! What a wrong start! Refusing food that a Bong offers is the biggest way of insulting a Bong! I knew that the temper in the room would shoot up dramatically.  I instantly took my cup of tea and samosa and begin relishing, both the samosa as well the argument that followed ;-) This is the way it went:

Mrs. Banerjee said, with a stiff small smile, “Ahh Mrs. Jain, I see you have little liking for the samosas, though I fail to understand why! They are homemade very famous in the entire building. You can ask Mrs. Chakravarty. She can vouch for it”.  My food loving mother whose mouth was already stuffed with samosa simple looked at Mrs. Jain and nodded. On seeing my mother nodding in affirmation, Mrs. Banerjee gave the kindest look to my mom and even looked at me affectionately.   Mrs. Banerjee than continued “You could have tried it! It wouldn’t have done you any harm! In any case you look weak and famished! You Jains hardly eat! A Bong neighbourhood is god sent for you! You will relish my delicacies!”  Mrs. Banerjee said this and smiled in self-satisfaction.  Poor Mrs. Banerjee did not know what was coming.  Only I knew that Mrs. Banerjee had fired first round of bullet and the return fire would come anytime! Mrs. Jain immediately blurted, without even thinking the extent of damage her return fire would inflict on the delicate Bong ego!  Mrs. Jain said “God sent? You think Bengalis are God sent?  My daughter fainted today morning! She fainted because she could not tolerate the smell of fish being fried in mustard oil!  I had to burn incense and fragrant candles to reduce the extent of stink. Pardon me but your house reeks of the smell of mustard oil! No offence but I cannot eat anything at your house as you cook non-veg! You indulge in jeev-hatya on a daily basis! It’s a mortal sin for us Jains! We hold very strong values and are very soft hearted!”

I could see Mrs. Banerjee turning red faced! Mrs. Banerjee immediately retorted with her nostrils flaring: “Soft hearted? Strong values? Are you implying that we Bengalis are not soft hearted? Are you indicating that we do not have strong values? Come and see my library and you will see my classic collection and realize the extent of values we uphold!  Have you read Karl Marx? Have you read Oscar Wilde? Do you understand Geetanjali by Rabindra nath Tagore? Do you even read your own name? And you talk about values? You go to temple every day and you think that makes you bhaluable? No ways! Is your mind a cultivated by being subjected to the finer nuances of the literally world? Just because we eat non-veg we become non-human?

I was like…wow! Mrs. Jain just returned fire and Mrs. Banerjee launched a rocket! Eet ka jawab patthar se! But Mrs. Jain was not the one who was going to take things silently. She retorted back saying,

“Look, Mrs. Banerjee…no offense, but we practice what we preach!  We are pure! I did not understand half the things you said. And who was Karl Marx? Was he some Bengali Rishimuni? Who was Oscar Wilde? Did he allow Bengalis to eat non-veg? Who was Goethe? Did he permit Bengalis to use mustard oil? If your Maharajsaheb like Karl Marx and Goethe and Oscar Wilde are allowing you to eat non-veg, then I am sorry but our Maharaj Saheb are now allowing us to eat non-veg! They value life!

I blasted laughing on hearing Karl Marx was a rishi muni!  But it seems Mrs. Banerjee was under some kind of hypnotic Trans! She wanted to get even with Mrs. Jain and continued wither her verbal attack! This is what Mrs. Banjerjee said,

“Goodness Gracious Lord!  This lady does not know Karl Marx!  You say you value life? You do not read anything and you want me to accept that you value life? You do not value intelligence and you say you value life? What is a mark of a cultivated and cultured mind? Knowledge!!! Has any Jain every won noble prize? Did a Jain participate in freedom struggle? What do you know about the current affairs? And you say you value life! Pardon me but you have wasted your life by not reading a single book until date! I think you should eat fish so that your little Jain brain starts functioning!

Mrs. Jain, immediately interrupted and said…”What?? Eat fish? Commit Jeev Hatya? Are you out of your mind Mrs. Banerjee?  I have already lost face by taking a house next to a Bengali! And you want me to lose my dharma by eating fish? Just because it helps me increase my knowledge? Lose dharma and gain knowledge!  You are a sinner Mrs. Banerjee! All your books will not help you save your dharma!

This was the final straw! Mrs. Banerjee lost it! Nothing is more dangerous than a spurned Bengali woman!  How dare Mrs. Jain do this? In any event, in the esteemed opinion of Mrs. Banerjee, Mrs. Jain was a woman of limited intelligence!  In the middle of this verbal duel, I and my mom were busy relishing the samosas! It did not matter to us who won!   Mrs. Banerjee asked Mrs. Jain to leave her house immediately and told her while she was on the door “You lost your face by taking house next to me? You are so dumb…why did you take house next to me in the first place? Didn’t you realize that Banerjees are Bengalis? Why am I wasting my time by arguing with a woman who has got a peanut sized brain and who doesn’t even know who is Karl Marx!!?”

Mrs. Jain got red faced and while leaving the house blurted “I was just trying to show you the right path…the path of ahimsa and respect for life! I don’t know what is written in your fat books! I only know that you are on the wrong track and I will ensure that I teach you dharma as long as I stay here.  Lastly, please close all your windows while you cook your smelly fish”

Before Mrs. Banjeree could say anything further, Mrs. Jain shut the door.  My mother’s mouth was till stuffed with the Samosa and couldn’t say anything to calm Mrs. Banerjee down ;-)

This argument was just the beginning and one of the battles of the two warring neighbours!  There were numerous such battles! Mrs. Jain finally sold off her flat after a decade as she reached the breaking point and Mrs. Banerjee continued reading Karl Marx and entertaining her remaining neighbours with her mustard oil delicacies ;-) I am not sure whether Mrs.  Jain could ever teach Mrs. Banjerjee any of the Dharma, for Mrs. Banjerjee is still equally proud of her Macher Jhol (Fish curry) ;-)

A Sweet Encounter!

It is said that God or nature or destiny communicates with you through sings or symbols.  The sign may be in the form of a completely unplanned encounter. You might be in the middle of a seemingly stressful situation not knowing what to do or say next. You might be in the middle of mayhem and confusion. You might almost feel like a rudderless ship not knowing which direction to take in the unending expanse of life.  Just when you are about to start feeling hopeless, you might come across a person or witness an event or find yourself in a circumstances that might add an altogether fresh perspective to your life. These people or event or circumstances might be unusually ordinary in nature.  However, if you have a keen sense of awareness, you might just realise that the people or circumstances or event were not as ordinary as they appeared to be. On the contrary, you encounter them precisely at the right moment when you are supposed to take the right lead and learn the right lesson!

This realization dawned on me when while I was travelling from London to Manchester to catch a flight for India.  It was my first trip to UK.  This trip to UK was disillusioning at many levels.  While I must admit that I do have many wonderful memories of this short visit, yet, at a certain level I realized that a lot of my assumptions about life in a western country were unfounded. I was fundamentally disillusioned by the people in the sense that I found them highly individualistic.  I found that the elders were often left to fend for themselves, that there was a very strong sense of disconnect between people of different generations.  The younger generation often ignored their elderly counterparts as soon as they entered into their teens. A lot of new parents often looked at their young kids as liabilities!  On the surface, everything was very beautiful with material comforts at its glorious best! However, scratch the surface and the ugly face of self-centeredness projected itself in its full glory! On the last day of my trip, while I was returning, I was almost feeling suffocated with the self-centeredness.  I once harboured a dream of settling down in abroad. Before boarding the train for Manchester, I almost concluded that my dream was formed on unfounded presumptions about life being a replica of heaven being a combination of material comforts and emotional security. I almost thanked providence for allowing my life to run an alternate course. While these thoughts were running at the back of my mind, I was simultaneously trying to locate my seat. I was kind of disappointed that I did not get the window seat as I was really keen not to miss the beautiful London country sight. 

Just when I was about to settle down on my seat, I heard a woman who boarded the train after me, calling me randomly and informing that I could take any seat I liked as the train was half empty.  I turned around to check out who this stranger was who was forthcoming with this good piece of information and who was sounding so cheerful and lively early in the morning when the rest of the passengers were in a typical UK “live me alone” mode.  One look at her and I figured out she was an Asian, though I was not sure of her origin, UK, in any event, being a collage of different races of the world.  This lady once again flashed a broad smile at me and not only asked me to take a window seat, but also a seat that had a sliding table and charging facility.  She appeared to be in a fully enthusiastic and chirpy mode and seated herself bang opposite myself! Frankly, to start with, as I wasn’t expecting anybody to talk to me, I was kind of confused when she started conversing with me! This is something that very rarely happens in a country like UK! She had a very sweet and disarming smile! She had a lot to talk about! She had a lot to teach me! May be she was god sent for the simple reason that she was one of the most selfless person that I encountered in my trip and I must admit that she actually added a lot of fresh perspective to my views about life in a western country. 

To give you a brief snap short of this lady, she was a Filipino who was settled in UK for more than a decade.  Her name was Teresa Fernandes and she worked as a chef in one of the restaurants in London.

Before starting the conversation, she offered me her breakfast. This was even before knowing who I was or where I was heading to! When I politely refused, she insisted once again! When I refused again she frankly asked me whether I was scared of eating anything offered by a stranger ;-).  I had to convince her that was not the case.  One thing that really impressed me about Teresa was the fact that she considered herself as a very lucky and a blessed woman! Now, on the surface of it, one would consider that she had all the reasons in the world to think that way! But scratch the surface and you might find a different realty all together! The reason why Teresa considered herself blessed was because she believed on counting on her blessings rather than cribbing about the many ugly faces that life showed her at various stages of her life!

When Teresa was 7 year old, back in Philippines her father left her mother to marry another woman.  Teresa’s mother had a very big family to support as they were more than 7 to 8 siblings! Teresa’s mother did not have the time and energy to sit back and cry as she had the responsibility to raise her family single-handedly! She worked hard! Very hard indeed! She worked on the family farm and little Teresa helped her mother in the farms. Teresa informed me that life in the farm was very difficult and laborious, to say the least! However, she enjoyed farming and helping her mother! In order to improve her family’s lot, Teresa decided to emigrate at the young of 14! She emigrated thousands of miles away from her family and worked in an embassy in Greece! Post working in Greece, she moved to France for a while and then finally to UK.  Life certainly was not a bed of roses for her as she not only had to establish herself in UK but also had the responsibility to take care of her entire family in Philippines as she was the sole bread winner now. She had an ailing mother to take care off; she was responsible for ensuring that her young siblings get quality education. She had to get her brothers married and settled off financially, get her house in Philippines repaired and restored, buy new farms for her brothers and what not! 

She did all this single handily! And yet here she was, sitting opposite me, smiling and cheerful, without any complain! She could have complained about a lot of things! She could have had grudges against her father who left her in a lurch and never loved her! She could have complained about not having been given the chance to complete her education! She could have complained about all those men in her love life who failed her and broke her heart and left her to fend for herself! She could have complained about having to single handily bear the financial responsibilities of such a large family! She could have complained about not having the chance to get married and settled down! Yet here she was! A strong and cheerful woman! Who was constantly considering herself as blessed for having a wonderful mother who loved her unconditionally! For having given the chance to improve her lot and the lot of her family by getting a stable job in London! For having given the chance to help her siblings and see them progress in life! For have given the strength to bear the loss of her two siblings! For having two nephews, who treated her like their mothers, and called her “mummy”.    

I asked her if she had any regrets in life! She paused for a moment and said “Nopes”.  She then said that the only regret that she had was that she couldn’t become a mother. But her two nephews certainly were like her very own children and she turned to them whenever she missed having a child of her own!

Now this, in my view, is truly beautiful woman! She is beautiful from within! This blog is a tribute to you Terri! I just want you to know how wonderful you are as a person! Frankly, you are a blessing to your family and everyone you meet for you teach us the virtue of selflessness!

This sweet encounter was one of the best things that happened to me in my trip to UK. It taught me that it is not the country that makes you individualistic and self-centred! You can be thousands of miles away from your family, in the middle of highly individualistic crowd, and yet you may retain your selflessness! It is up to you! You have the choice to make!  The choice to consider yourself as blessed by counting on the blessings of your life or the choice to think of yourself as cursed by providence by always focusing on what is wrong with your life!

Hope you make the choice that Terri made!  J

THE TOUGH CHOICE

I more often than not presumed that the different phases of my life would evolve and flow peacefully like a silent river, the one without any whirlpool, the one without any strong currents.  At sub-conscious level, I failed to understand the reason for this presumption.  At the conscious level though, the reasons were quiet obvious. Being born in a typical middle class Indian family in Mumbai, where parental support forms the bedrock of one’s very existence, I never made a conscious effort to analyze the nature of my relationship with my parents, especially my mother.  As any other kid born with my background, my life was scripted and I played the part.  I never imagined that the script would have twists and turns; that the script would have drama, the script would force me to make choices, the script would have moments entwined with a deep sense of joy and sorrow at the same time, a deep sense of gratitude and loss in the same breath. I never imagined that my mother would end up being the protagonist of the script of my life.  This story is only a weak attempt at verbalizing the deep sense of gratitude that I have for my mother. For I know that I cannot avoid the twists and turns and the highs and lows of the script, but I can, without doubt, avoid the doubts of the script going awry, thanks to the very presence of my mother.

It was the time of my wedding.  The time which was supposed to be joyous, time of merrymaking, of fun, of laughter, of getting exhausted in making preparations and at the same time relishing the very fact of getting exhausted. Knowing my temperament, when I did decide to get married, my mother was more relieved rather than being happy. The sense of relief was short lived, in a good sense as every waking moment of her life for a year preceding my marriage was spent in thinking, planning and preparing for my wedding. Every morning the breakfast time was spent in discussing the guest list, of who all will be invited, who all will not be invited and the reason why she/he will not have the honour of being invited in the wedding of the year J  As the D day was nearing, every free day was spent inundating every square inch of free space of my house with shopping bags! In the midst of the preparation, little did I anticipate that we as a family in general and my mother in particular were going to face the biggest test of our life. The clothes were stitched, the hall was booked, the cards were sent out and we were about to start practicing for the pre-wedding songs and dances.  The countdown had begun. All that we were anticipating for the next twenty days was fun, music, food, dance, laughter, tears of joy and celebration.

However, this was not meant to be! Life and relationship is what happens to you when you are busy planning for something else! Just twenty days before my wedding, my maternal uncle, being the eldest brother of my mother and whom she was very close to fell sick.  With the initial diagnosis we all thought that it was jaundice and that my uncle would quickly recover. However, when the condition of my uncle did not improve, it sort of ringed an alarm bell. My uncle was subjected to a number of tests.  None of us in general and my mother in particular had the strength of knowing the outcome of these tests.  He was diagnosed with gastro intestinal cancer of stage 4D; a stage from which there is no reversal, no return. It was hard, for the lack of a better word, for us to digest that something of this nature was happening. It couldn’t have happened! How could the script take such a tragic twist? In the middle of the wedding drums, we were not prepared to listen to the death knell! I was broken and shattered from within. As per Hindu customs, as the cards were sent out, it was not feasible to postpone the wedding.  I was worried about my mother.  To give you a sense of the depth of her sentiments, she cries when she sees an emotional movie, she cries on hearing anybody’s pains.  My mother had to pray.  But she was clueless about what she was praying for.  My uncle’s death was inevitable. It was a foregone conclusion.  The only thing that was not foregone was the timing of his last moments.  When would it happen? Will it happen a week before my wedding? Will it happen on the wedding day? Will he die immediately after my wedding? Can we do anything to change our immediate destiny? Can we do anything to control it? If not, what should we do? In light of this, my mother was faced with a tough choice? Should she be praying for her brother’s peaceful and pain free death so as to reduce his pain? Alternately, should she be praying for the longevity of his life by a couple of days just to ensure that her daughter’s wedding passes off without any event? If she prays for the latter, will she not be a cause of her brother’s unbearable pain? If she prays for the former, will she not be a cause for the most important event of her daughter’s life going down the drain? In the midst of all this, she was just progressing mechanically.  Little did she know that she did not even have the choice to pray either ways!  The only choice that she had and which she did exercise was the choice to be happy, the choice to pretend that everything was normal, the choice to indicate that she was in control of her own self and consequently the situation.  Just one day before my wedding, we had an engagement ceremony.  

I was getting ready in the parlor when I received call from my cousin.  I missed my beat.  The only sentence that my cousin told me was that I will have to be strong. There was no need for him to say anything else for I knew what happened. Silent tears started trickling down my face.  I did not have the guts to face my mother! I felt selfish! I felt guilty of the fact that I was celebrating. I felt guilty of my very existence for my mother could not mourn because of me.  When I met my mother after getting ready, to my very surprise, she was smiling.  I assumed that she might not be aware of my uncle’s death.  I assumed that knowing her, my family members might have refrained from telling her. I therefore did not tell my mother that I am aware of everything for I wanted her to enjoy my engagement ceremony.  My mother was in complete control of the situation.  She was taking stock of everything! She was welcoming the guests with a smile on her face, she was supervising the ceremonies, and she was dancing with us at regular intervals.  In the midst of all this, I did notice that she use to disappear at regular intervals. However, being the bride, I failed to realize the reason for her disappearance. Almost at the end when the function was about to get over, I overheard my mother telling she would leave for the funeral.  I was shocked about the fact that she was aware about the tragedy.  If she was aware about it, why did she not tell me? Why did she choose to remain silent? On the contrary, why did she proactively participate in the engagement function? The biggest question that started haunting my mind was that how did she has the strength to face this?

I was taken back home by my father.  I couldn’t sleep as I was waiting for my mother to return.  The only questioned that I asked her was that “You were aware about it?”  She did not say anything and simply hugged me.  Thereafter, she only replied, “I cannot reverse what happened; it was not in my control. It was not the choice that I was given.  The only choice that I gave myself was the choice to ensure that the biggest day in your life is not overshadowed by my sense of loss and pain. For the only balm for me which lessened my pain and gave me the strength to face the situation was your smile” I was at a loss of words on hearing this. Once again I was assured of the fact that that I cannot avoid the twists and turns and the highs and lows of the script of my life, but I can, without doubt, avoid the doubts of the script going awry, thanks to the very presence of my mother. 

I LOVE YOU MOM!