Echoes of the In-Between

CHECK PLEASE !!

There are certain situations in life which make you angry. Really angry. And yet you feel like laughing at these. Maybe that's hysterical. When you are so frustrated about not being able to get across . You feel like you are pushing a wall.

How often does it happen that when you are out at a dinner or lunch , the bill is handed over to the MAN at the table. Even if he is half your age ? How often do the waiters or servers refuse to even make eye contact with a woman when it's about payment ? Why is it assumed that the man pays always?

I mean, go ahead , do it by all means if you want to and if I am comfortable with it. But, if I want to , let me ?

Men have somehow been brought up to believe that care and attention culminates in footing the bill whenever they go out with a woman , be it a partner, a wife, a friend or even a sibling or daughter.
It is rather cute but stifling too at times. We now live in a world where women earn as much and sometimes more than men. Even if less, if she says she wants to pay, just let her. It is not about your ego guys and it does not demote you in any way. It is about her feeling good and sharing it . It is about feeling empowered in a nice and subtle way. It is her way of proving her own equality in a gender biased world. It is not necessary by any means and does not aim to prove anything to anyone. It is just a feel good factor.

Things are changing . I do see the younger generation happy to let their girls pay or at least share equally. I see them happy to receive gifts and even flowers , not only give them. And I see the girls not backing out in any situation.

This is the gender equality we need. The confidence to give and to accept . Protectiveness is lovely , as long as it does not smother. And condescension is certainly not acceptable.

So guys , next time after a good meal , sit back , burp (which you anyway do 😜) and let the serving staff ask who would like to pay ..... No need to squirm. If she wants , let her. Proudly. Happily.

It has been a year . Of putting my thoughts down on these pages. Unfiltered, unabashed, heartfelt and raw.

The love and support I have received is quite overwhelming. 32 small thoughts I think , maybe a few less or more. Many many more which I want to pen down.

This year I will try to touch 100. Only then can I think of compiling them all into another dream project . For I am an eternal dreamer.

Every time life pulls me back to the business of living , I focus very hard, get quite squint-eyed, and then meander off into the labyrinths of my overactive mind very soon. It is there , in my rambling thoughts and silly sentiments that I find peace and solace. It is in putting these thoughts down, that my soul finds release. And it is in the support and comments in these pages that I find my encouragement.

Last year was a milestone with my first book . Many of you have read it. For those who have not , I hope you do. The link is below and would love to get your honest reviews on Amazon if you do.

https://www.amazon.in/dp/B0CSDPX99X?ref=myi_title_dp

So I shall continue to rave and rant and trouble you all with absolutely no remorse here.

Thanks again for just being there ❤️

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=783142430500091&set=pb.100064130221426.-2207520000&type=3

100 copies gone . And hopefully many more to go ....
Thanks for all the love and support ❤️💖🙏

Heartstrings and Missteps By Devipriya Mukherjee

Ever reached a point where you look back on life with a smile,
a tear and a steaming cup of tea?

Dive into the journey of life through twelve stories, where love's tender threads cradle fragile hearts, friendship navigates disappointments and betrayals, and haunting regret dances with the liberating laughter of hope that still keeps us going......

Order Now
Amazon: http://surl.li/ppnvt
Flipkart: http://surl.li/ppnwd

OUR RED BENARASEES

We were on a friends' trip . Beautiful locations , amazing weather and the company of childhood pals ..... life couldn't be better. But it also opened up floodgates to times forgotten or people lost in hazy memories...

And somewhere, someone commented about suddenly thinking about a teenage crush , a first love , a romance which bloomed briefly amidst school books but never really happened beyond a few shy glances and trembling smiles. A note passed on and a sudden unexplained parting .

Bitterly painful then, but sweet reminiscences now......we all perhaps have them. Some of us own up to these, some don't. Buried deep in the recesses of our hearts , musty and dim, somehow , somewhere they suddenly rear up without warning. Triggered by a sight of rolling hills, or by a familiar scent of some favourite flower. Or maybe the songs of Qayamat se Qayamat tak. Or a young Aamir Khan. Maybe a train trip, swaying to its rhythm . Or an old forgotten tea joint where perhaps some eyes had met for the first time. Or the first splash of rain on earth.

The reasons could be any but the result is always a bittersweet feeling , maybe a misty film over the eyes or a lump in the throat . What if ?

That does not mean we care any less about the paths our lives have finally taken. That does not imply that we are pining for lost love . That does not say that we are unfair or unfaithful to our life companions . That just says that the vagaries of the human heart and mind are indeed boundless. We can and do compartmentalise our hearts and although most of it is taken up by the present , whether it's family or friends or partner, some tiny part is like a locked safe within it, where the most precious memories are hoarded. And first crushes somehow belong there.

My friend Ruby Lalla explained it beautifully in the words of her grandfather . "The love and care you will feel for your life partner will be like an AATPOURE SAREE, it is used at all times to live life and will be your companion in all walks of life . But first love / infatuation...that is like the LAL BENARASI SAREE. You treasure it after the one time wear, cherish it in safekeeping and take it out only occassionally to stroke, feel and relive it's glory. After which it goes back into the safe corner."

How beautifully poignant, how perfect . The wisdom of old people . And we would think that our grandparents probably married young and never knew about such things ? Well, they did and did it better than anyone now. Love, longing, and the human heart , are eternal and will always be ..... ❤️

Review post :

Exactly what I was hoping to achieve ...simple, lucid and relatable for all.

And the message that life goes on . It's wonderful when people call me up to say what they liked. And that they want more. Fingers crossed 🤞

Available at
https://www.amazon.in/dp/B0CSDPX99X?ref=myi_title_dp

THE HAND THAT ROCKS THE CRADLE ....

The other day I had the opportunity to watch a lovely presentation on the life of the poet Sahir Ludhianvi. Mesmerising, thought provoking , absolutely sublime experience.

Funnily, when I surfaced from the euphoria the next day , the one person I wanted to share it with immediately, was my 87 year old mother. The same one who cannot for the life of her remember her breakfast . The same one who hallucinates in broad daylight about events which exist only in imagination. The same one who repeats whatever her mind fixes on , for months on end. So, I get very irritated, impatient and upset with her. But here I was , wanting to share the Sahir experience only with her.

And then I knew the reason . In my growing up years , my schooling may have been at the prestigious Birla girls schools of Kolkata and the elite Presidency College . But my education in the matters of the world , at least the matters which shape character, tastes and culture....these I only owe to my mother .

My father used to taunt her with a phrase which she hated. "Magazine poraa bidye" ..... Education via magazines . She was a voracious reader in those days . Femina, Eves Weekly, Illustrated weekly, Readers digest and even Filmfare and Stardust were regulars at our home. She was with the times. And even beyond her times.

In those days, dinner was always a family affair at the table. TV dinners were unheard of. And conversations were varied. Most of my learnings were there. She would light up while discussing the British royalty .... something passed on diligently to me too. It is she who introduced me to the lives and loves of Princess Anne, Grace Kelly and King Edward who abdicated his throne for a commoner .

I learnt about Marie Antoinette and the French revolution from her bantered casually at the table and about Rasputin while watching her make "luchi, aloo bhaja" over the gas.

She loves Hollywood as much as Bollywood. I was told about Roman Holiday and Breakfast at Tiffany's. Audrey Hepburn and Ava Gardner's beauty was compared and a teenage girl started dreaming of Gregory Peck and Marlon Brando.

Liz Taylor and Richard Burton became as familiar as the escapades of Dilip Kumar and Madhubala . Mughal e Azam was dissected over lazy afternoons with Mckenna's gold.

She introduced me to Amrita Pritam and Ruskin Bond , and later as I grew older, quite gleefully and unapologetically to the scandals of the world.

But literature and art apart , gossip to the side , she also familiarised the epics and their layers, the great Wall of China, the world wars and the Jewish camps and even the Russian revolution. She was the one who gifted me Maxim Gorky and Leo Tolstoy. All with no grandeur , just a passing on of the baton in life.

She is perhaps the reason why I am what I am ... with an abiding interest in all that life offers and a thirst for knowledge and information that is never ending at times.

Even now , I want to find out more about Adele and Taylor Swift , read up world affairs and explore new cinema and theatre. Even now , I would love to travel to Jordan and Jerusalem , to Mount Kailash and perhaps the Colosseum some day (Caesar again) .

It is said "the hand that rocks the cradle , rules the world" . Does it ? Is a mother really the greatest influence ? I do not think so . Fathers are idols too. We have different role models later. Life often veers to heroes we emulate or examples we strive to be like.

But , the ultimate guiding light? The one within us? The one which truly has laid the foundations of character ? That perhaps still is the mother . The womb we come from. The first hands which hold us . The first voice which speaks to us , sings to us , puts us to sleep, feeds us.

Our basic education, our values, our souls are built in those moments and sometimes even beyond, as with me .

This then is my debt and gratitude to the lady who today is only a shadow of the past with her short term memory definitely slipping. But not these precious ones in her soul. As she immediately replied to me ...."when will they have a play on the life of Raj Kapoor ? That would be colourful too ?" And oh yes! She can still quote Jibonanondo Das verbatim , but forget that I visited her 15 days ago.

That is life . Que sera sera .🙏

It has been a long time since I posted on this page . Too much happening, too little time. But the drought ends finally. And here's what I have been pondering about .....

THAT THING CALLED MEMORY ...

As I battle my daily conversations with my 87 year old mother to fast slipping into old age cushioned memory loss, I marvel at this thing called memory . So frustrating , so unreliable , so unpredictable.

They say we learn the most in our first 5 years on earth . I say we learn more and more as the years go by. But we retain those 5 years much more. The later years start blurring. Adolescence and young adulthood recede into selective memories. We tend to remember some clearly, some remain hazy and distant and some just disappear from the horizon. But do they? Perhaps we just push the hurtful ones to distant corners , perhaps we want them to fade. Perhaps that is the way of the human mind to cope .

Because if we remember everything , how does one move on in life? How do we forgive ? That's why the saying "forget and forgive?"

In the middle years , the 40's, it's all bout angst . About proving to the world that we are the best . And so we remember every slight, every taunt and try our best to even up. We remember who did what to whom and how it was paid back. We remember our EMIs and our SIPs. But we forget our cousins, we forget old friends . We forget the good times we had or the favours we took.

As we approach the twilight years , life comes a full circle. We do forget the house keys , the directions to places , the electricity bill payment dates. But we tend to suddenly catch a whiff of a perfume and remember a lost love fondly. We see a favourite dish and suddenly ache for a parent gone far away. A smell of fresh mangoes triggers memories of summer jaunts with cousins. And the strong fragrance of incense sticks bring forth an avalanche of memories of Durga Puja at the local pandal and the shy furtive romances of yore.

That is the thing about memory . Science about the brain talks of shrinking cells , but does not explain why we remember some things and forget others. Science about the mind perhaps talks about blocking the unpleasant ones and keeping the nice ones .

But what explains why my mother cannot remember that I visited her last month and yet remembers her school friend , her dance teacher and her first crush ? Am I not then a pleasant memory for her ? And why do I forget the house keys every 4th week , forget to turn off the geyser and the gas (my daughter has taken over the checking of these on a daily basis now) , yet remember the time I studied physics for a maths exam ? And the hilarious anecdotes of school days when Dushyant (me) couldn't find the hand of Shakuntala ( a very bashful and coy classmate) to put an imaginary ring on , during a dance drama ?

That then is perhaps the truth about memory ...it is highly selective in the pranks it plays on the human mind. It is sometimes a saviour and a protector of our heart blotting out pain over years and hoarding the precious ones . And sometimes it is relentless and cruel , dredging up things best forgotten , albeit a little blunted and rounded at the edges , present, but less jagged , drawing less blood.

Let's just remember what we can and appreciate what remains , while we can ....memories are unreliable 😊

SEPARATION ANXIETY 😩

I was talking to a friend about buying clothes. About how the sight of the pile I have accumulated over years now gives me the jitters. Literally. The shelves are groaning and the clothes hangers bend. I can't find half the stuff I want because they are way behind or below . And so I keep going back and forth between the last 8 sets or the last ones which came from the dhobi.

And then one day , feeling incredibly guilty , I decided to plonk myself on a bright Sunday, in front of the errant wardrobe. Of course it is the wardrobe...I am quite innocent. The shelves keep whispering "Come dearie , fill us up. We are rather lightweight today, we need to be added on"

The drawers and hangers beckon slyly. What then can a poor soul do ? Except give in to the "black friday sales" and the always on "year end sales"?
Or check out the exhibitions going on forever ? Or respond to the various online popups? I mean , we do have a social responsibility to keep the economy running !! To contribute to the GDP! India has to shine at all costs . And pretty pretences have to be kept up. We must wear new dresses and sarees even when we discuss sustainability and pollution caused by the fashion industry.

Never mind. Feeling very responsible and proactive , I decided to at least give away some of the really old ones. If not for anything, then to make space . So I pulled out a decidedly moth eaten pair of jeans which don't fit , stared at it and kept it back . After all I have lost 500 gms ..... Who knows ??

Then came a few tops. With cutout shoulders and some weird animal prints . Was fashionable about 15 years back. Horrifying now. But , but, but whispered my 💜. What if it comes back in fashion? I was folding them back till I saw the look on my daughter's face. OMG ....I quickly put them in the give away bag .

The churidar sets were a different story altogether. The faded kurtas with blotches and splotches could still be worn at home , right ? And that ugly looking black and red combo may just lend itself to be shortened to a kurti ? The blue silk one was too pretty to be thrown away, it has a burnt hole in one sleeve due to an ironing mishap . But maybe the tailor could just cut away the sleeves and make it a sleeveless beauty ? Feeling quite beautiful, I kept it back in the pile.

I had heard of separation anxiety but nowadays I feel it. Everytime I try to throw clothes away, they become even more precious 🥺

Don't forget the dupattas. Years and years of loving hoarding. The kurta sets long forgotten in the misty memories of time. Somehow I let those go, but how can I spare the dupattas ? They remain with me . As an ode to the churidar sets that used to be ..... My brain whispers , you can mix and match these . Or make new sets . But never let go. All you have to do is spend another 2500 to use a faded old pretty dupatta . But that is sustainability my dear.

And then the grand finale . The sarees . Piles and piles and piles. To be lovingly touched, caressed, gazed at. Feel the fabric. Vow to wear one tomorrow. Swear by the memories too. But some decidedly ugly ones, the ones I will never wear must also remain. Maybe one day I will . Maybe not. But if I pull one out of the pile to spare, I feel immensely guilty. Won't the saree feel bad to leave it's friends? Suppose ABC asks me about the saree (after 8 years)? The material is bad but the colour is good. Any reason to keep it back .

I can feel the spirit of GOLLUM taking over . Eyes sparkling , I whisper....PRECIOUS ....MY PRECIOUS . And shut the doors . On my groaning wardrobe and all the magnanimous thoughts in my heart. Till next time.

A different take. A different story.
A different choice .

Amazon: https://www.amazon.in/dp/B0CSDPX99X?ref=myi_title_dp
Flipkart: https://www.flipkart.com/product/p/itme?pid=9798892221375

DM for direct orders ......

THAT THING CALLED FRIENDSHIP

Yesterday a friend suddenly came up with the idea of hosting a party to celebrate a small achievement of mine . She wanted to introduce my book to her friends . I was completely taken aback . Not the promoting kind, I instantly shot it down . But it left a wonderful feeling. A feeling of being loved and appreciated.

Today again, I met another long time friend at a long cherished place over a quick catch up for ten minutes. Which somehow extended to three hours. And we just sat together in a warm comfort zone of shared thoughts and soul connecting conversations. Of a few tears and some sad smiles. Of time wasted and hopeful dreams.

What then is friendship ? What really is empowerment? Is it in having good times ? Or in empty promises and air kissing ? In girls trips ? Or salon visits ?

With age , I have realised it is in the quiet moments . The silent supports. Long nighttime conversations. Scoldings maybe. The times when we try our best to encourage each other's ventures.

Ventures which may not be that great in content or quality or marketing. But are extremely great when you think about the effort it takes to pull yourself out of comfort zones . To put forth your passions and thoughts and beliefs out there in the unknown with prayers and hopes.

Because , we as a generation were perhaps taught to take a back seat. To play the role of a nurturer. To give precedence to all over ourselves. To guilt shaming. To be the perfect partner, the best parent , the best daughter.

It takes an effort to finally look for those wings we had folded up. It takes courage to slowly unfold them and try to fly. We may fall flat , but we try. And this is where we discover the real friends. The ones which encourage , who clap along. Who push your boundaries and hold you through the toil and sweat and tears. The ones who think of parties for you. The ones who talk to book clubs for you. The ones who offer to talk to publishers. They really have nothing to gain or lose. But you do. And they know that

It may not bring you tons of money or fame or glory. But what it does give you is a warm feeling of being loved, valued and cherished as a friend . And a renewed belief in friendship which had some day got shattered and diluted by few stray incidents.

Maybe I am emotional again. Maybe my faith is misplaced . Maybe me heart is a little wary of trusting . But I still chose to believe in that one relation which is not predecided by destiny but chosen by us in life. Friends.

The pictures are being shared and the copies are coming in. The response is so overwhelming 💓.

Feeling nervous now. Waiting for the feedback . It's examination time again 😁

DM for orders. Alternately it is available at the links below

Amazon: https://www.amazon.in/dp/B0CSDPX99X?ref=myi_title_dp
Flipkart: https://www.flipkart.com/product/p/itme?pid=9798892221375

Some days back I had clicked on a post about the ice bisons of Yellowstone National park. It spoke about the bisons, those great beasts which roam that area. Their patience and resilience. The way they put their head down in the tremendous storms which rage there, but always turn their face to it. Never away ....
And emerge victorious . Scarred, maybe scathed too , but stronger and wiser.

It made me go down memory lane. Long long back . They used to come home to give vaccinations in those days . The "tika" guys with all their paraphernalia. And leave marks on our skin. Permanent ones which we were quite proud to flaunt ...our desi tattoos .

And our mothers told us to look the other way . Or shut our eyes tight, when the needle pierced the skin or pricked it. I wonder why they did that ? It was a tiny prick, hardly painful . Yet we were taught to look away.

But my father was different. A doctor himself , he told me " look at the needle . See it entering your skin. You will never be afraid again" . Being the eternally obedient daughter and more so an eccentric from birth who loved doing things "out of the box " I promptly stared wide-eyed at the needle breaking flesh , quite fascinated with the blackish red liquid gushing out and the subsequent dabbing by the cotton wad . The technicians desperately told "baby" to look the other way, Maa was highly upset at her "strange" girl , but the girl was enamoured with it , later probably paving the way for an abiding love for biology. And a life lesson.

Forever after that, I have always faced the storms of life. Like the legendary ice bisons . The article says that heading into the storm, shortens its length. And the bison knows it. I did not . But I learnt . That facing the storms in life causes pain but also lessens it. And there is light at the other end . But to get there, we have to brave the winds and the sleet and the rain.

It started with staring at the needle . It continues with looking at everything life throws at me, even if hesitant sometimes. It was there when I bid my final goodbye to my father as I resolutely looked at him being consumed into eternity. It is there when they can't find my deep seated veins during blood tests and when I argued with the tattoo artist about why tattooing was not painful although all say so. And it hopefully ends with the realisation that there is always a reason to emerge with triumph , which is sweeter when you have faced it all head on.

As the passage says "All we have is now my friend ....it is better to be in a storm , than to never have been alive to see one"

Looking away was never an option.....

And it is live ..... The copies have started arriving . Fingers crossed

Amazon: https://www.amazon.in/dp/B0CSDPX99X?ref=myi_title_dp

Flipkart: https://www.flipkart.com/product/p/itme?pid=9798892221375

Heartstrings and Missteps - The choices we make and the chances we take In the journey that is life Ever reached a point where you look back on life with a smile, a tear and a steaming cup of tea? Of the time your eyes met someone’s at the college canteen? Of when you chose friendship over the first fluttering's of love? Of the time when friendship left you more hurt than love ever could? Of th....

Dreams do come true when you work towards them.

All the midnight oil, all the headaches, all the dawns breaking and all the mistakes. The panics , the worries, the questions and the fear....and the faith of a few believers 🙏

The final product is here . Hoping and praying for the best😊

TIME TO BE

As I rushed to the doctor, I thought I would walk it. To soak in the sunshine . Some much needed vitamin D maybe . But I was late. Had to settle the wardrobe , mandatory work on weekends. And make a phone call to a bereaved family member. Plus I had to be back by 11 to go to the locker , buy some gifts and read up on STEM for an upcoming training .

So, the rickshaw was needed. The 10 minute wait at the doctor was punctuated by calls to pest control to fix an appointment. And as I stepped out , my to-do list opened up to the number of groceries and medicines which had to be stocked up.

The pretty cafes winked at me for a cuppa , but ...........

'What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.'

And I scolded myself to turn towards the medicine shop instead . And all the while my heart scolded me . "Follow me" it said . "Come and sit on the benches at Bandstand . Get tanned, get crow lines , squint at the sun , sit under the shade . LET GO. The world won't stop rotating. Or revolving. But you will get happiness. And your vitamin D too."

I crashed into another lady rushing somewhere else too. We both said a hurried "sorry" and went our opposite ways . No time to even be offended.

"No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance"

No time for us . Time enough for everything else. For the business of living and surviving . From one thing to the other. One appointment to another. One obligation to another.

What if both me and the lady had paused a bit? Maybe smiled at each other and exchanged a few words ? What was asking us to rush in equal speed and purpose but in opposite directions ? Just a few curious moments ?

How many times have we wanted to pause and smile at a gap toothed child and maybe make some funny faces and laugh delightedly.
How many times have I wanted to splash in a puddle or weave those weird walks , stepping only on certain paved stones till one feels dizzy?
How many times has a solitary old man on a bench reminded me of my father and I wished to engage in a conversation, suddenly missing him badly?

But the business of living has pulled me away. The next errand, the next meal, the next goal. We are all on the rollercoaster ride. Like the treadmill , we are on a moving belt. We want to get off , but we want to push harder . Just a few more calories to burn....a few more steps to take. And get off only when exhausted . It gives an adrenaline high I guess. But does it give happiness ? Maybe yes to some. And maybe no to others . I belong to the others.

Medicines firmly in bag, I made the grand decision. Vitamin D it would be . By the sea. In the somewhat winter sun of Mumbai. Sunglasses in place , rather late in life , I plonked myself on a shady bench and decided to let STEM go for a toss. And the locker remain locked . Pest control would have to wait .

I would let go...... And the world would still be there tomorrow. With its rollercoaster .