The city is my anonymity; where I walk around aimlessly, turn a corner and come right back to where I began and still reach my destination.
The city lets me be; alone when I want to, blurring me out to become a face in the crowd.
The city works me; tapping into my energy and consuming my vigour.
The city liberates me; her rivers washing their winds of change as the seasons go by.
The city puts me to sleep; holding me close in her arms and patting my head until I drift away to bliss.
The city inspires me; her rush, pace and spirit I imbibe in me each day.
The city ignites me; to manifest my passion, let go of my inhibition and run like there's no tomorrow.
The city loves me; unconditionally and endlessly, for who I was, what I am and who I'll become someday.
The city is Mumbai. The city is New York. The city is me!
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
The Click and the Cluck of it all ....
Jeff, my roommate in LA, was the first one that pointed it out. “What is that funny sound you make Shwetyy?”. Each time he offered me his canned tuna, I retorted with a “Cluck”. “Cluck” is a non-verbose refusal. A ‘no’ said in sound. Touch the tip of your tongue to the palate, just under the upper teeth and then release a sound sideways - that what sounds, is “Cluck”! For years, Desi’s like me, have used “Cluck’s” to express our rejection; sometimes unknowingly so. It comes so naturally to us. It’s as if saying ‘No’ would exercise too many oral muscles, that we spare our tongues the stress and simply resort to ‘Cluck”. It does the job as effectively and for once you didn’t really say ‘No’ to anything. It probably started off when you were busy doing something and Mom came to ask you to clean your cupboard. Or run an errand. Or ask you what you’d like to eat for dinner. That is when you ‘clucked’ her away. Yes, the same sound as when a farmer shoos away a dog or tightens the rein on his horse, wanting to move on. Sad is'nt it then, that's how much for granted we take our parents sometimes? But that's a blog post for some other time.
Sometimes I’ve “clucked” people and at others got “clucked off” by them. It may sound disrespectful but it’s as much a part of the Indian vocabulary as is ‘Haan’ or ‘Nahi’. You won’t be able to “cluck” for long, without having a tongue ache. Try it. Guess that is so you don’t end up saying ‘No’ to everything.
‘Cluck” is just one of the many sounds we used while growing up. There was a ‘Tok’, that the guys in the building used, every time they beckoned each other, from their respective homes. ‘Tok’ occurs when you flutter your tongue up and down, to produce a loud hollow sound. And then of course there was the “pucchuk” – a sound made when one puckered their lips together, sort of like a goldfish, as if to kiss, but instead just letting out a sound instead. Despite its vagueness and lack of reference, a person somehow always knew, when they were being “pucchuked”.
Most of the times the “clucck’s” “tok’s and “pucchuk’s” were used to deceive the parents, who were clueless that it was their kid being called out to play, during homework hour. Ah! The pleasure of deceptive innocence. Completely excusable and allowed.
I don’t hear “Tok’s” and “Pucchuk’s” anymore. Maybe because I don’t live in a context where they are used anymore. But I do give people the occasional “cluck” at times, inadvertently, out of habit. Most don’t get it. Some others probably think I have a weird oral sound-making disease. But once in a while, I come across the rare soul, who gets it and smiles. And that is when I hear the “Click” in return!
Sometimes I’ve “clucked” people and at others got “clucked off” by them. It may sound disrespectful but it’s as much a part of the Indian vocabulary as is ‘Haan’ or ‘Nahi’. You won’t be able to “cluck” for long, without having a tongue ache. Try it. Guess that is so you don’t end up saying ‘No’ to everything.
‘Cluck” is just one of the many sounds we used while growing up. There was a ‘Tok’, that the guys in the building used, every time they beckoned each other, from their respective homes. ‘Tok’ occurs when you flutter your tongue up and down, to produce a loud hollow sound. And then of course there was the “pucchuk” – a sound made when one puckered their lips together, sort of like a goldfish, as if to kiss, but instead just letting out a sound instead. Despite its vagueness and lack of reference, a person somehow always knew, when they were being “pucchuked”.
Most of the times the “clucck’s” “tok’s and “pucchuk’s” were used to deceive the parents, who were clueless that it was their kid being called out to play, during homework hour. Ah! The pleasure of deceptive innocence. Completely excusable and allowed.
I don’t hear “Tok’s” and “Pucchuk’s” anymore. Maybe because I don’t live in a context where they are used anymore. But I do give people the occasional “cluck” at times, inadvertently, out of habit. Most don’t get it. Some others probably think I have a weird oral sound-making disease. But once in a while, I come across the rare soul, who gets it and smiles. And that is when I hear the “Click” in return!
Friday, July 30, 2010
Mowgli Mania
He came into our lives, with the ring of a phone bell. On January 1st, 2010.
"Shwets. Roy and I have something to tell you"
I knew our year was made.
He and I have been talking ever since. Much like his Mom and him. In our minds and heads, in prose and in poetry, in presents and even in our dreams sometimes. I tell him stories of our childhood, I sing him songs we sang together. I draw with him, what his Mom and I drew as kids.
Today is merely the day he has physically entered our big, wide world. But in my little one, he was metaphysically, always there.
Here are my first lines ever, written for him as an invite for his shower, about a month ago.
Mowgli Mania
Did you hear the birds chirp? Or the lazy blue bear burp?
The squirrels hustled, when the flock of mynahs whistled.
The chimps guffawed, as the jungles applaud,
Up above sailed a cloud, with a screeching stork aloud -
"From the music of Raga and the passion of Roy,
Drum Roll for the jungle's littlest bundle of joy!
The Lion Kings roar, he will be born free,
Full of mirth & magic, madness & merry,
Come dance with them all, to welcome this hour,
Of Raga's & Roy's and little Mowgli's shower!"
On his shower, when I raised a glass to my first family in this country, I sang uninhibitedly - "Jungle jungle pata chala hai, chaddi pehen ke phool khila hai." That was on a bright and sunny, Southern Californian day - June 26th, 2010.
Today on a bright and sunny, Manhattan day - July 30th, 2010, I welcome you, to raise a glass with me, to Raga & Roy and all us new 'Chitti's' and 'Maasi's' and 'Mama's' and 'Paatis' and 'Tathas' and 'Nana's' and 'Nani's'.........but most of all to whom I consider my very own, first-born little baby boy - Mowgli Roy!*
* Mowgli is how all of us refer to him. He should have another name, in a day or two, when his parents are done figuring it out :)
"Shwets. Roy and I have something to tell you"
I knew our year was made.
He and I have been talking ever since. Much like his Mom and him. In our minds and heads, in prose and in poetry, in presents and even in our dreams sometimes. I tell him stories of our childhood, I sing him songs we sang together. I draw with him, what his Mom and I drew as kids.
Today is merely the day he has physically entered our big, wide world. But in my little one, he was metaphysically, always there.
Here are my first lines ever, written for him as an invite for his shower, about a month ago.
Mowgli Mania
Did you hear the birds chirp? Or the lazy blue bear burp?
The squirrels hustled, when the flock of mynahs whistled.
The chimps guffawed, as the jungles applaud,
Up above sailed a cloud, with a screeching stork aloud -
"From the music of Raga and the passion of Roy,
Drum Roll for the jungle's littlest bundle of joy!
The Lion Kings roar, he will be born free,
Full of mirth & magic, madness & merry,
Come dance with them all, to welcome this hour,
Of Raga's & Roy's and little Mowgli's shower!"
On his shower, when I raised a glass to my first family in this country, I sang uninhibitedly - "Jungle jungle pata chala hai, chaddi pehen ke phool khila hai." That was on a bright and sunny, Southern Californian day - June 26th, 2010.
Today on a bright and sunny, Manhattan day - July 30th, 2010, I welcome you, to raise a glass with me, to Raga & Roy and all us new 'Chitti's' and 'Maasi's' and 'Mama's' and 'Paatis' and 'Tathas' and 'Nana's' and 'Nani's'.........but most of all to whom I consider my very own, first-born little baby boy - Mowgli Roy!*
* Mowgli is how all of us refer to him. He should have another name, in a day or two, when his parents are done figuring it out :)
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
3533
Wine on the Escape, Old Italian couple in their
yard,Pastas in the kitchen, While Neruda was our
bard.Friends, Family, Guests galore, Roomies - good and
bad,A simple life - less was more; little pleasures and
memories were had.It is tough to let you go, erase what was and wipe
the slate,But in the present lies the future, 'Wines
on other Escapes' I have to create! *
* My two-cent tribute, to my first apartment in the city.
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