Or at least in my grandmother’s hands. This is not just because every dish she prepared made my taste buds go ‘this is nirvana!’ or even the simplest tea she brewed was so much better than any I ever had so far. It was because her hands worked magic on my hair. Every afternoon when I came home from school, I would get over with my ablutions, and before mother could place my bowl of rice in front of me, I was off to see grandma in her room, where she sat caressing her tresses with oil. My grandma had luscious, beautiful, wondrous, jet-black hair. She loved to tell me her story of her Rapunzel-like long hair and how when granddad’s parents came to see her, the first thing that amazed them about her was her hair. They asked not one question after that. And just like that, their marriage was settled.
“What if my hair is oily or say, dry and flaky? Isn’t there supposed to be different types of oil for different types of hair?” I would ask when I entered adolescence and saw my peers doing all kinds of things to their hair and feeling just a little bit left out.
“Coconut oil is the best.” She would say with a finality that no one could contest. Parachute was her constant. And consequently, our staple.
“What is it? Will you tell us?” everyone was asking.
On came all the snaps that we had taken at different times in our life – right from when we were tiny tots to weddings, birthdays, celebrations, occasions all the way to our current year. There were also photos from times much before we were born.
Everyone gasped in surprise.
“How did you arrange these pictures? They look ancient! And so beautiful.” Mom lauded my efforts, making me blush.
But this time, I was determined to celebrate Grandparents’ day. Because I am sure that’s what grandma would have wanted. Because she would have liked to see us together and happy. Because it was simply the time to #LoveJatao.
Hope you cherish these moments with your grandparents forever!
“I am blogging about Pathshala Funwala by Nihar Shanti Amla Oil in association with BlogAdda”
|Source : https://www.easyjet.com/en/holidays/germany/|
My granny is a typical Indian grandmother. Refusing to go for anything apart from what she has been used to since the beginning of time.
It was all I could do not to burst into laughter. Only granny could place a meal in Sagar Ratna over a Europe trip.
For a long time, she busied herself with putting things here and there. Cleaning the spotless vase. Wiping the photo frame and staring at the family photograph. Tilting the clock. Smoothing the cushions. In short, doing anything she possibly could in order to avoid answering me. There was no need for any such work but granny has a habit of fussing about things. It was not that difficult for her to come. But the real reason she didn’t want to go was –
I knew this was the actual reason. She just hated the idea of being in a ‘foreign’ setting. She was a woman who was born in the pre-independence era. Although by the time she grew up the tensions had ceased, she was still not very comfortable with the idea of settling in a different country.
But then I had to give it a try.
|Source : http://www.businessinsider.in/32-things-everyone-should-do-in-Germany/articleshow/49757870.cms|
“I am not asking you to live there. We will come back next month. It is only a matter of a month. You will see me convocated and we will tour a few places in Europe. Germany. France. Eiffel Tower, remember? And Italy too.The Leaning Tower of Pisa! It really leans to a side, you know! And there are beautiful cathedrals and so much more that you would love to see. It will be a nice break. “
Granny’s eyes were shining. She was feeling proud already. But the doubts lingered inside her.
There went my master stroke. I had carefully chosen the date so she wouldn’t have any cause to protest. Only a stubborn unchangeable stance could help me win this battle of negotiation with grandma.
|Source : http://www.hickerphoto.com/photos/germany-pictures.htm|
“It’s locked. The lights and gas are off. The maids have been informed. The milkman and the newspaper guy have also been instructed. The neighbors have been told. It’s done, granny. Time to leave.”
Saying so, I ushered her into the cab.
But then I had my ambitions. And I know granny wanted the same for me.
But no such feelings that day. I was feeling happier than ever. I couldn’t wait to take her to my university, and sightseeing across Marienplatz and Deutsche museum and maybe Lake Starnbeg where we could do some boating…
There went granny and her complaints!
We had barely gone through the security check when granny had come into her element.
Oh well, it was just the beginning. I was expecting this.
“…and mannerisms like some robots or dolls. No genuine feeling-“
I almost choked with laughter when I saw the surprised expression on granny’s face. Despite herself, she smiled at the air hostess. Being an Indian, you can’t not smile or return the greeting when someone says ‘namaste’ to you. It’s kind of hard-wired into your being.
We stowed our handbags in the luggage area and sat. I made granny take the window seat.
“You will see Lotus Temple from above.” I pointed towards the window. That cheered her up considerably.
Next time when she came, I was ready. Our tables were down and I had convinced granny that if she didn’t like the food, we could send it away and get something else instead.
“What else will they have? Apart from bread and cheese and wine?” she said aloud, rolling her eyes.
“Here,” the woman came again and handed us our meals.
She promptly handed out the drinks, gave us a winning smile and went on ahead.
Before I had finished my thoughts, a delicious scent wafted up. To my utter surprise and delight, I saw granny uncover chapatti, rice with palak paneer and raajma. A tiny curd sat in the corner as well.
The best part was post this incident, granny was all praise. By the time we land, I was sure she will give her best smile to the flight attendants. Because, and I was so happy for it, she was really enjoying the entire experience.
The flight had been a good start to our Europe trip. It was then that I decided to write something for Lufthansa Airlines. After all, the airlines managed to cheer my granny up! What could be a bigger achievement?
As my eyes closed of their own accord, I started dreaming of all the places I would be showing to granny- all the beautiful mountains, lakes, palaces, museums, castles and cathedrals in Europe. Aah…that was a pleasing prospect. Germany, wir kommen!
Action : Get up.
Decide whether to rush to class sans breakfast or get late after having some breakfast. Because let’s face it, you are never going to have the best of both worlds. At least not I. Not in this life.
Although it was a Herculean decision to part with sleep, a little tweaking, a little extra prep at night (setting my bag, clothes and doing all those things I used to dutifully do while in school), a little will power (which is strangely difficult to summon at such times) allowed me to somehow create a semblance of jentacular balance.
I discovered a little workaround. And it’s on the very lines of the above paragraph.
Eat at the mess. Even if the gravy seems full of water. Even if the chappati looks shapeless. Even if pizzas equate to heaven.
Have the mess food. Choose health more often. Reduce a lot of eating out. I know it’s easier said than done. I haven’t been able to manage it either. I am not proud to admit that. But trying does count, right?
Skip rope, not your meals.
The Happiness Quotient. How much is yours?
If I can find these teeny tiny ways, you, my genius friend, can surely come up with better ideas and ways of being active, healthy and happy.
|Yes, that’s me.|
- Coffee. Tea. Yes, some of those well tried-and-tested stuff before classes. They work like a charm.
- Eat. Yes, eat. Keep some biscuits and snacks handy and stuff them into your mouth the moment you feel your control slipping.
- Drink. Water. Like every five minutes.
- Talk. Chat. Keep blabbering. It’s rare to find people falling asleep while in the midst of a conversation.
- I saw a fellow friend wet her handkerchief with water and dab her eyes with it. Have never tried it but seems like a good idea.
- One way to find out if you are drunk, sorry, sleepy is to write. Work your pen on paper. If you find yourself inventing vocabulary, making strange connections or anthills and going past well-defined lines, you know your zombie mode is on.
- Use your five sense organs as far and as much as possible. Touch, smell, taste, see and hear. Any of the faculties stops responding, you know it’s the sleep drug at work.
- Sit on a blunt nail. It might scratch your ass off but you are less likely to sleep your way to oblivion.
- Pinch, punch, hit. Do whatever to distract yourself. Remember the sleep mistress is sly and easily inviting. She is sexier than you and has the upper hand. But you got to keep yourself from succumbing to her evil clutches, right? So be the Sati Savitri of Indian mythology and bring your Satyawaan back.
- Take a pen and stick the pointy end into your palm. Just take care not to create a hitting rhythm that might lull you off to further sleep.