Bitter Sweet Memories

Yesterday night, unusually, I was reminscing about few bitter memories surrounding my dad and maternal uncle that have stayed with me. And they refuse to leave me and go. They not only haunt me time-to-time but torment me mercilessly.


I have just 1 maternal uncle. But he has always liked my sister more than me. He has been very vocal about his choice when he used to tell to his friends and relatives “S is my favorite niece”. This could possibly be because of the fact that I have always been rebellious in my nature – especially when restricted. But then, everyone wants to be loved. I felt (feel ?) so sad to accept that he loved my sister more than I.

In particular, I remember the following incidents:

I studied in all girls school. During 9th standard, school had organized a day long trip to Belur and Halebidu. My entire class was going and even I wanted to go. When I sought permission, my uncle refused to let me go. I truly don’t understand why. When I started rebelling, he asked me to talk to my dad. And even my dad refused to let me go. What was worst – they were not giving me any logical reason for denying me permission. Again, I had to create a hungama to get permission and finally did manage to go on this trip. But at what cost?

I wanted to learn to ride a 2-wheeler. My dad never had anytime nor patience to teach his girls himself. My uncle offered to teach us. One early morning, he took both of us – my sister and I – to the near by ground. I had purchased a new Hero Puch. He said he will teach my sister first. Although, I was disappointed, I accepted to waited for my turn.

And that is what I did for the next 1.5 hours. They did not turn up at all. Tired of waiting and my feet aching all over, I walked back home in a huff. Upon reaching home, he made fun of this situation and promised (not so seriously) to teach me another day. That “another” day NEVER came. But I wanted to learn 2-wheeler. I started pestering my dad to teach me. My dad, if not anything, is an expert in delegating work.

Over the week end, a middle-aged uncle, one of my dad’s reportees came home. He said dad had entrusted him the task of teaching me to ride a 2-wheeler. Although, I was extremely disappointed with my dad, the thought of learning to ride brought cheer.

I took this uncle to the ground along with my new Hero Puch. He asked me to be seated in the driver seat and he sat pillion for ease of teaching. First half hour, he taught me how to balance the vehicle, nuances of riding etc. But very soon, I noticed that his hands started roving at all wrong places of my body. While I was riding the vehicle, he was carassing me all over…

I was so scared that I let go of the bike. We both fell off the bike. I told “Uncle” I wanted to go home. By the time we reached home, my dad had arrived. He asked how did it go. This “Uncle” said it was going on fine but I had asked to go home and he did not understand why.

My dad was furious. He scolded me for missing out on a good opportunity and said he will never engage anybody else to teach me. In many ways, I was happy that he never engaged anybody else to teach me. With whatever little knowledge I had picked up, I went on to learn this myself.

But then, the saddest part, to me, is the fact that my dad did not bother to think or understand the reason beneath my denial to learn from this uncle. Even after I voluntarily told him about this incident, his words left me shocked “I don’t think this uncle is that kind of a person. You are very much mistaken”. — this was the first incident that told me that my father did not trust me.

During college days, one of my classmates, R’s sister was getting married. And we all knew her quite well as we used to visit his place often. The reception was being held in Hotel Ajantha and several of our classmates wanted to go. As was my upbringing, I asked my dad for his permission. And you cannot imagine what his response was – “I will not allow you to go. I know that with the pretext of attending this classmates sister’s reception, you will loaf around cubbon park that falls on the way. You will spoil the name of my family” — second incident that told me he NEVER trusted me.

And, I stopped asking permission from him. From this day, I went on to do all the things I wanted to do ever.

I don’t regret the way I turned out to be. For, I am a much better person and a compassionate human being now. I have grown up and learnt a lot from these incidents. I learnt that if I were brave and did the right things, I did not have to be scared nor tell lies. People tell lies because they are scared, out of sheer fear factor.
I also started taking my own decisions, which made me very responsible. So, in many ways, I have to thank these incidents for the way I have turned out to be
But then, somewhere, it still hurts. I still feel so bitter about these incidents. I have neither been able to forget nor forgive.

Hyderabad Blues - Part 1

Swaram must be wondering how am I qualified to talk about her adopted city :P

But yes, I have lived there 2 years of my life - time sufficient enough to build memories. I am going to share some of them here...

Whenever I hear Hyderabad, top things that come into my mind are Kamat hotel opposite to Birla Mandir, Khairatabad, Lakdi Ka Pul, Mother Teresa High School and St. Mary's School. My experiences map into only these places.

Let me start by telling you all that I was just 9 years old when my parents were transferred to Hyderabad. We were put in Mother Teresa High School. I do not really have many memories of my classmates or teachers from here. However 2 incidents are very raw in my head:

1. One of my classmates was Marium. She had very curly long hair. That particular day, she had not combed her hair well and it was all streaming over her face. I asked her casually - "why have you not combed your hair?" and in response (broken english), she responded "I had head bath today only ya". I was quick to catch that and called rest of the gang and announced "hey you know what... Marium had head bath today only after all these years...".

At that point, it was fun. I never realized the amount of hurt I would have caused to her by making fun of her english. Marium, in case you get to see this post, I am terribly sorry. It was certainly not my intention to hurt you ... I just wanted to bring out the pun in your statement.

2. Sankranthi is one big and colorful festival in Hyderabad. What makes it so is the kite flying tradition that is associated with this festival. Since we were staying on the 2nd floor of a house, my sister and I were enthusiastic to fly a kite - a first in our life. so, off we went to buy a kite from lakdi ka pul market, which was walking distance from our house.

On the way back, a bunch of small (rowdy) boys snatched the kite from my hand. I was dumb stuck on how to react. Although I considered myself very bold (misconception, later I realized), I failed to react boldly at that instance. I saw a familiar face bicycling near by. It turned out to be Shabbir, my classmate. He asked me what happened and I told him about the incident. Immediately, off he went on his bicycle, fought with the guys and got my kite back. I was so happy and Shabbir was the knight in the shining armor for me. Shabbir, thank you very much for getting our kite back. I hope you will read this.

Sadly, end of that year, my father decided to change our school to St. Mary's and I never kept in touch with my Mother Teresa Gang. However, these 2 memories are very fresh in my mind as if they happened yesterday :D

To Mr X with Love :P

When I drive to & from office, I am like a horse - concentrating ONLY on the goal of reaching
office/home in record time. I seldom crane my neck to observe people or things unless it is toooo obvious. Leave alone hunting for handsome hunks...

Yesterday on my way to the office, I saw this motorist coming in the opposite direction. And something on his face caught my attention. That was the first time in the last 12 years my gaze had actually stopped on some guy's face for more than a fleeting second. This guy fitted my description of "handsome" - now-a-days this word is very personalized.

I drove through after that "more than fleeting glimpse" of that motorist. But there was a grin on my face as my memories took me back in time. Suddenly I remembered this particular guy on whom I had major crush during school days.

I was in 10th standard, and there was this college going dude who used to take the bus from the same stop early morning 6.30 a.m. And I used to feel terrible about not being able to draw his attention on me. He used to be very well dressed and smart. While I was really fat, wearing white school uniform and well oiled plaited hair :(He used to board the same bus and would get off at the same bus stop as me. This gave me 30 mins time to line marofy him.

Those days, I used to own an orange colored kashmiri jacket. And to me, it was the most fashionable item to wear. So, in order to draw this hunk's attention, I started wearing that jacket. I would even put my hands into its pocket to appear stylish....

Not that this tactic helped... he never gave me even a second glance.... i had told about him to 2 of my close friends at school and we had nicknamed him Amir Khan. He had the same hair style as Amir Khan in QSQT.

This continued through the year with NO results. And there I used to wait week after week seeing him from a distance and observing his style and stance. How casually he used to wait there with one leg folded against the wall behind him....

Well, this is where the story ends !!!

I am actually unable to understand why seeing this motorist actually brougth forth memories of this guy... but it definitely was a very niiiiiice feeling to revisit the bus stop and catch faint, fading glimpses of this unknown person.