Oh God Bless us, God forgive us!

Thursday  - 11:00 am - The man of the house is off for work and has left behind a wide world outside the window of our hotel room for me. As I feel tempted to head my way back to the room and permanently fix my eyes on the beautiful view of the bustling city of Toronto, I try and finish off my daily work outs with utmost zest and zeal. It's challenging enough to maintain your fitness and keep a strict watch on the weighing scale when you are not at home and can't help but gorge on the best of gourmet Hors D'oeuvres that the hotel has to offer you. Hence, for an overtly self-conscious me, squeezing in even for thirty minutes is better than nothing. 

12:00 pm - The cerulean horizon, a glass of freshly squashed Orange juice with my Ipad flipped open gives rise to multiple subjects for contemplation. The skyscrapers stand lofty and unyielding in its identity, yet they look so cut off and isolated from the earth. Each of the towers bear a story of their own. Our temporary home dazzles in the name of Sheraton and every structure in and around is of some historical momentousness or fulcrum of the business district of downtown. I have been hearing and reading a great deal about The Old City Hall for some time - one of the most haunted buildings in Canada. I have always found myself in an uncanny and strange fascination for digging deep in such mysterious and paranormal tales from the past of various places. Even in my home state, I have very recently done some research on the most cursed avenue of New Jersey - Clinton Road. The creepy accounts from the mouths of the onlookers based on the disturbing factual details that they have to share continue to spur a sense of yearning for the old, unearthly and unfathomable in me.

As I plan my journey through the transcripts of the eerie happenings at the center of Old City Hall, I can hardly wait to visit the Toronto Public library and start my new supernatural analysis that is going to be one of a kind. Standing by the window, I try hard to probe my eyes through a multitude of superstructures and settle for this 1890s building that serves now as the city's municipal court and also one of its courtrooms (33) is claimed to be haunted by the spirits of the last men condemned to hang in Canada. 

 

12:30 pm - As I start scrolling down my mailbox and start composing a couple of unavoidable replies, I hear the Old City Hall clock tick-tock in a phantom language. Soon the church bell rings and it's time for the afternoon mass. 

I am forced to leave my workstation once again and ponder upon the juxtaposing treaties of life. Moment of truth and acceptance as it may be defined, there must be several parents praying for the long life of their little ones during the mass, contrarily I can visualize some parents also counting the numbered days of their children admitted in the sick kid's hospital located next to us. The idea of such foundations and Hospices continue to muddle my tranquility and ability to decipher the paradoxical nature of survival and death. 

13:00 pm - The man is back to hotel for lunch and we a grab a bite of some garlic breads. I stoically glance at the butter case kept next to the two bowls of French-Onion-Mushroom soup. Now, let's accept it - Asking the husband - 'Main thoda butter le lun? I guess I burned out enough calories for today' and his spontaneous and patented reply - 'Kyon, maine tumhe mana kiya hai kya?'  - will all be an unnecessary baloney for the busy hubby's hurried break. 

As a matter of fact, we all have been banging our heads against a brick wall while trying to cope up with the sense of guilt that too much oleo can cause us too much trouble in the fitting room. We haven't been victorious in breaking free from the age-old myth of how a woman should ideally look before and after marriage, how many pounds she might at the maximum gain so as to successfully eliminate the risk of being assumed as expectant!  Picking herself up from that seesawing affair of either remaining a proud possessor of figura de ánfora, or slipping into the shoes of a slightly chubby and over sized Dev-il-may-care newly wedded wife has been tormenting for many women for decades. They have somewhere been made to forget how to be comfortable in their own skin. The moment you pretty satisfactorily reconcile yourself with this post marriage 'passing phase' of few extra inches, you get to realize it's high time you write an open mental note stating - 'Dear world, a lot of things like your failed attempts to investigate why I'm putting on weight are none of your business. I am not pregnant, I'm just happy in my conjugal life.' 

14:00 pm - One of the top stories of US Daily appears in front of me and it reads - 'Pregnant Kim Kardashian Covers Baby Bump in Rock and Roll Outfit for Sisters' Day Out: See the Photos!'

The fourth (Thurs) day of the hostage situation couldn't have been more jinxed with Kimmy darling taking over as Jesus Christ spreading her glory everywhere to be worshiped by not only a certain generation of younger men and women abut also the entire press. Sometimes she is seen breaking the internet with too much oil and grease which becomes a news as big as an enlarged buttock, and often her bare and dare see-through becomes a grist for the gossip mill over those all exploding out of a White corset poster girl image with flowing hair extensions and unusually plumped up bee-stung lips. I am paranoid to leaf through the Cosmopolitan off late. I signed up for Scoop Whoop a year back to enjoy realistic first hand narratives from all age groups but that bliss too has been snatched away from me. Every other heading seems to be superimposed and who has filled in the role of drawing us closer to pay homage at the altar of the notion of perfect womanhood is someone very fake pulling the wool over our eyes with some silicone implants, or some Botox and fillers  and casting some spell of a melanin surgery.

Is this what we all are struggling to engage ourselves in every morning when we face the mirror? A real-life vanity fair where we keep chasing the ever-evasive routine perception of a picture perfect woman? Or are we happy with a dash of pink lip gloss, a stroke of kohl, and getting a hair cut that suits us the best? Doesn't that sound more like respecting ourselves in true sense and redefining beauty and that sex appeal in our own terms? The other day I came across a very meaningful video which in a way exceeded my expectations from the virtual world and I didn't hesitate passing it on to every girl I know and love. It talks about the issues of pressurizing one's own self to live up to the prototypical essence of the iconic plastic beauty of women and throws a volley of questions on if we are showing our girls the right path. In connection with learning the rudimentary aspects of grooming and personality development, I remember our trainees undergoing intensive programs of self-familiarization, confidence-building and effective communication. It makes me sad when I see the younger lot nowadays aligning more towards positing an artificial persona and starting their day with layers of make-up from a very delicate age yet incapable of presenting themselves as they should be leaving a strong and positive impact on others. Looking smart and behaving sexy isn't just about how revealing clothes one must choose or how far or away one is from a size-zero frame. One requires to surpass the boundaries of impressing people sitting behind the computers and stand up for reasons that will make them special for who they are. We get swayed by what we like to see and our susceptibility as viewers lies in the irony - we are nothing but puppets in the hands of some amazing makers and producers of optical illusion, which necessitates huge money and publicity galore in the showbizz every hour.

15:00 pm - Updating status on Twitter and Face book with horrendous spellings and a shocking rainbow printed display is claimed to convey high regards for equality these days. We all know by now that 'love wins'. At the same time we aren't still legally, socially and moreover, mentally prepared to give nation-wide approval to  same-sex marriages. We are continuously yelling the LGBT message of personal choice aloud and applauding the United States for making it legitimate. But have we ever asked ourselves - how unbiased or egalitarian do we behave with each other and project our society as liberal and fair in its judgments in our day to day life? This concern of equal rights quite congenitally pushes me into a reflecting mode.

In last twenty four hours, all I could see NDTV and CNN covering is our Indian veteran actress turned MP Hema Malini's wounded images. I could in fact, never get the fundamentals of such a powerful media in our country. Every time something good or bad happens, the prime focus is always on the elite class of the society, rather, on the rich and famous. Our Bajrangi Bhaijaan Salman Khan's case of hit-and-run and then the judiciary letting him go scot-free with a bail is the biggest insight into such unfortunate state of a Swachh Bharat. Far from 'Swachh', as it seems to me, no politician, or spiritual leader can bring in that extensive cleansing of the system until we start changing our mentality and outlook towards things happening around us. My understanding is below the level of how things work in a highly gimmicky fashion and yet we keep hoping for the so called 'achhe din' to arrive like a Knight in his armors and rescue us from such distressed and devastated social as well political milieu. Ever since Dharam pa ji's better half's Mercedes has rammed into another vehicle in Dausa state of Rajasthan, the nature of the brouhaha has been worrying me. Apart from the actress, there were other people involved in the grievous incident too. How much we know of them? What happened to them? There was a two year old girl child who passed away due to the mishap and her parents and brothers are still trying to recover the trauma of the accident. It's either at the cost of someone's life (which of course, doesn't seem to have any value in India except for that life turns into a legendary phenomena) or your freedom and personal space is sacrificed to an extent that you are made to feel way above the normal human rank. Besides making it a 'big' news, isn't the media way too enthusiastic to butt in the privacy of the big fishes? Be it even the highest man on the totem pole, doesn't all of us deserve our share of privacy at least at certain points in time? Who would really enjoy being captured on the camera repetitively and featured in the front-line report for that one moment of loss and crisis when she bleeds out of injuries from a collision of two moving vehicles? As much as the fact that the little departed soul 'Chinni' wasn't rushed to the hospital immediately after the tragedy occurred, owing to the entire attention directed towards catering to the medical emergencies of our honorable MP breaks my heart, I feel equally sorry for all the dignitaries when they are deliberately besmirched in the eyes of the aam admi. When we read of such predilections taking over and dis-valuing the innocent and the helpless, another destiny's child is subjected to first-class star treatment. Can there be any distinction in the color of both of their blood? Or perhaps in the shock and pain that both the families of the victims might be going through now? It's very easy to take up an extreme stand for the heck of criticism and portray someone as a high-muck-a-muck, but nobody gives it a thought that change begins from each of us. How many times do we reach out to others for help? People at times remember a face just as a source of a warm and healing hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. But how many of us are ready to take that first step?

As my favorite Maya Angelou rightly stated - we all have been through some kind of seclusion, some sort of wreckage still exists within all of us. Certain external agonies often cause us long-term and irreparable damages. Some pass as mare weather super storms and some linger on to haunt us as spiritual super storms for the rest of our lives. The difference in social status, cast, color, creed and sexual orientation is nothing but a hindrance on our road to evolution into a better individual, and a more civilized community. Every humanist has shown us the gateway to enlightenment. Each of us is more alike than we are unlike. We can understand how it feels to be alienated and not be considered as equivalent, only if we wish to. The choice remains in our hands.  

An Open Letter To My First Ever Visitor Outside The Operating Theatre - My dad.

My dearest daddy,

With Father's Day approaching in an hour or two, I would like to take few moments from you to acknowledge my never-ending gratitude for all that you have done and continue to do for me.

You have been the first in my life to love me to bits and also teach me what self-giving is all about.

Anybody can become a biological father at twenty four, but being a dad isn't a cakewalk. A dad creates immense impact on his daughter's life and his actions leave a split image of himself on her mind for the decades to come. At times it has been hard for me too, to overcome that so 'close to-perfect' impression of yours that I had been looking out for to reflect in other men all these years. I know, no dad is perfect, yet you have played and justified your mantle in a manner that has considerably swept me off my feet. 

I can't remember a phase in my life when you haven't been there - as my best friend as well as my greatest protector. It goes without saying, withstanding my favorite cheesy Bollywood movies from the late eighties and early nineties must have been excruciatingly painful, and that you would rather prefer watching the cricket match then. You took it all to your stride possibly because I had to learn the most powerful life lesson from this episode - When you love someone unconditionally, you start accepting everything about that person, solely owing to the fact that the love overpowers your personal likes and dislikes. 

From guiding me how to stand on my own feet and ride a bicycle side by side of you, as you rode your bike through the dense tea plantations, I know, it did hurt you every time I fell off my seat and the heap of coals in front of the factory often chafed my little palm. A father, once, undertakes the oath of safeguarding his daughter through thick and thin, he also has to muster the art of loosening his grip on his little girl's pace. He trains her in self-defense and self-assertion. That is exactly what you did, yet never missed a chance to keep a constant watch on my footsteps. As my fondness for the Cinderella tale kept growing, you also familiarized me with 'The Old Man and the Sea'. While I thoroughly enjoyed remaining a Barbie girl in the Barbie world, you prepared me for the inevitability of those upcoming challenges of life through your narration of many such anecdotes. You ensured that I just do not end up cocooned within my house of cards and worse than vulnerable in any circumstance that could be volatile and a sheer test my strength. 

When I started my schooling, I wanted you there all the time next to me. When mum got me refreshments during recess, I looked forward to a surprise visit from you. Those were the days you were located in a faraway land yet you never compromised on your role of my personal tutor. Be it literature, mathematics or the theories on dissecting the peas in the study of Life Science, I guess I can state that you have been ceaselessly coaching me for the class internals and the bigger examinations to be taken later in life. 

Whether it was a school play, sporting event, annual functions marking my progress in facing the audience and performing arts in form of classical dance or reciting a self-composed literary piece, to be precise, any defining moment in my life, you’ve always been the first amongst my biggest fans, simultaneously, my biggest critic. Every single time I come to a halt, I hope I make you proud with my chin up.

 There have been times when I just wanted to take the leap and prove you wrong since you chose to be deeply skeptical. I remember on asking your opinion on guys, knowing deep down I won’t be able to commit without your approval, you'll at first, put a bug in my ear about all the probabilities, and then allow me to set my foot in wherever I wanted to be and whatever I wanted to do. 

I might have failed to decipher your ardent penchant for following those post-dinner socio-political debates, but those were the times I needed to call you the maximum number of times to discuss and resolve issues at work. Not that you cared less about fashion, it certainly might not have been a soft spot for you to listen to my fetish for different nail arts and then receive an image of the same every now and then via Blackberry messenger. 

My eyes bugged out when you suggested that I wear less make-up. But sooner I realized why you did so - I knew it was because you wanted the world to see my inner beauty. At times it was awkward when you demanded me to invite my date over for a cup of coffee with you just before I stepped out with him, but now I understand you simply wanted to make sure I was in good hands.

As much as I want to thank you, I also want to apologize for any grey hairs I have caused you in the past. Now that you have got me settled and secure in care of a dutiful and doting man half your age, but possessing attributes similar to those of yours, I hope to render a dad like mine to the little heart when I become a mom. At the same time I can't deny there’s still a long future ahead of me screwing up and running to you for help. Thanks to the Apple device that connects me to you in a long distance counseling session. Also, please do not be annoyed when I ask your views a couple of years down the line on my dealings in a Parents'-Teacher's meeting in case of a highly mischievous two-legged mini devil. When it comes down to it, you know how much your approval and guidelines mean to me. Love you to the moon and back! Thank you for being my daddy.

Yours sincerely,

daddy's little princess. 

 

School Of Hard Knocks

There's this pepper spray, and there's this detrimental self-confidence that gives you the super power to stand up for what you think is correct. The icing on the cake is when you know you have the most important person in your life always by your side and he's ready to hold your hand come what may. Last evening was no exception for the extremely benevolent and supportive man of the house and his unshakable trust in me. Likewise, it was an usual but the first ever post-tying-the-knot scenario for his no-nonsense and docility defiant wife, considering the number of times she, in her past, had to initially juggle between - 'to raise my voice' or 'just let go' and finally settle with yielding to what has been more challenging but satisfying too; notwithstanding a certain amount of concomitant perturbation that it irrefutably brought along. Arrghh...All 'buy one get one free' offers aren't as enticing as you expect it to be!

The social hierarchy that we are ensnared in, is a radical jeopardy in itself and the structure is as complex as a cobweb wherein a constant struggle of superiority, supremacy and dominion plays the pivotal role in dividing one from another. Some  assume that we can get away with an unruly approach, go on an audacious binge, unnerve the rest of the world with their track record of vandalism; and we also meet some, who are inherently or circumstantially meant to adhere to the falsified notion of - the higher degree of atrocity you show, the more you win! The other class of people are those who majorly reflect upon the positivity that they spread amongst their fellow humans and the sanctity that keeps their feet firm on the ground and helps them stay contented with themselves. The wisdom and polish that has been inculcated in them for years now is what frees them from all shackles or possible baggage. Irrespective of where you come from, what you do and how different you are from them - more often than not they go out of their way to be generous with you and treat you with due respect. On contrary, a disposition of the former kind understands just one language - that of the lawman and his paddy wagon once things simply go haywire!!

So yes. Sometimes you need to learn to cut the cord as your doting momy reminds you every time you step out - not to get into a brawl for the sake of your own safety and dignity. And that's probably what I out dared time and again of course making her suffer the heap of concerns of having the only daughter surviving in a far away land, in a state that tops in the list of crime rates against women. However, those were the bygone days. So yippee! 

Well, to proceed with the narration - It's 23:00 hours, and we park the car. Half drenched, we  make way to our frequently visited joint fairly salivating at the idea of ordering something that will be a sheer boost for us to hit the gym even harder. Oh wait! What we receive is few nasty gesticulations at our entry into the restaurant, an untoward eye contact with the ganged hooligans blocking a corner table and what follows is my utmost resistance and ignorance (as long as I could hold on to it). To be brutally truthful, however provoking it may be, inviting a storm in a glass of water refuses to agree with me when I'm hungry and when the appetite can surely be saved for a gastronomical indulgence later. At the same time keeping my eyes peeled for any further filth directed at our table also remains my prerogative. Ironically, ours are the only two tables occupied and the prevalent quietude gives way to all the audible muck that befouls the ambience and the mood for some lip smacking pancakes dipped in pecan and strawberry syrup. 

23:20 hrs - The husband at his humblest best offers a couple of other options for desserts which means leaving the spot in the middle of the show and ahhh how could I miss that? As the ruckus continues and what immediately pops is the man suggesting that he would leave a feedback with the waiter, and also go up to speak to them in case I want him to, which for obvious reasons leaves me into a rather restless state as the conventional twist into the episode doesn't seem to hold much thrill for me. By then I'm sure he knows the wifey is unstoppable and nothing on earth can pacify her now other than an apology from the bunch of shadyasses.

23:30 hrs - As I do what my conscience guides me to do, I walk up to their table only to shower them with the sweetest of pleasantries. Guilt conscious as they might have been, and certainly taken aback by my sudden arrival disrupting the blab, they start dropping hints at each other hopelessly failing to take it easy in my presence. Here's a grab of what my piece of mind might have sounded like - 'Hey beautiful ladies! How are ya guys doing today? Hmmm...As I can see that you have been waiting for your meals and had to somehow kill the time meanwhile, you chose to have fun at the serious cost of disturbing other guests. Now that you are about to dig into the yummy food I wouldn't take much of your time yet I request you to mend your ways in future and be a little more discreet about all the crap talk you take pleasure in and the offensive behavior that you must be excelled in. If you know what I mean.....

Some repugnant reflexes accompanied by an outright denial and a gradual display of violent body language and verbal abuse is all that I have in store which I am absolutely prepared for. As bad as it can get to have my partner in crime involved in it, he's not one of those to submit to anything unjust and unacceptable. He dutifully plays his role of giving a few choicest expletives back and pulls me out of the diner and gets me inside the car.

23:50 hrs - Voila! That doesn't end here. There is always an option to dial in 911 when the next step to dealing with such vindictive, ungovernable brutes (dressed as civilized) doesn't spin through your mind, moreover, when you have been deprived of those dollop servings of hot butter and whipped cream on your pancakes on a heavily rainy evening. So here waits Mr. Vasu Mallik's Maroon Honda CRV at the parking lot and here comes a lady officer in her cruiser to do the needful.

Moral of the story - Like sometimes we have to abandon our dearest MSG-enriched 'two minutes Maggi-Noodle' and detach ourselves from all the nostalgia that this small yellow pack of refined flour has intertwined in itself for ages, we at times also need to leave our favorite haunts to steer clear off anything that affects our mental tranquility. It goes without mentioning - like every little pot has a fitting lid, you ought to be the one to look for that lid for yourself. With the passage of time and evolution, we, the sophisticated Homo-Sapiens are more transformed now and endowed with much more beyond a fully functional brain and two sets of limbs. We aren't merely born and raised to stand the strain but also to remain strong enough and stick up for our self proclamation. We have had others doing it for us for long but we can't afford to be counted upon as susceptible protégés forever. The pathway is going  be a school of hard knocks for sure, but it's worth all the labor. And each time life tries knocking you down, all you do is - Keep calm and be assertive. And every time you emerge as a champion, you again keep calm and enjoy the pancakes.

A Slice Of Blessing Everywhere

Wednesday -

8 a.m - It's miserably early in the morning for someone like me who has never been able to unscramble the so called joys of being a 'Morning Person'. The official commitments impel the man of the house to somehow grab a Croissant and head for a series of meetings that's going to keep me temporarily nonexistent for him. He may not even  be able to make it for lunch and the only red carrot hanging for me remains the enticing thought of hijacking the consort's credit cards until I can have enough of all the stores of the Eaton Center which again, do not hesitate from the (un)lawful audacity of closing down leaving the shopaholic other half in the middle of a possible trial and error with another piece of alluring outfit on me. :D  

9 a.m - Breakfast is done and we both take the elevator for our respective destinations; the husband chooses the lobby to exit the hotel and makes his way for a crazy day, and I head the twenty third floor. Midway down our foray,  something happens which is completely unanticipated. Now we have a third member inside the conveyor, who, to my understanding, is another long stay guest like us but unfortunately does not seem to be in a very peaceful frame of mind. I do not know if it is owing to too much of Sour Cream in the salad or the Celery has been way too crispy, rather, fibrous for dinner last evening. Goes without saying, I have noticed him fussing over the choice of menu at the breakfast buffet a number of times earlier, with none other than the Falstaffian server, for whom, more often than not, the load of the salvers appearing piping hot from the kitchen to replenish everything that is laid out on the table for us becomes a bit extra challenging. No wonders, cuteness comes in all shapes and sizes as he has to huff and puff at the same time clarify all the gastronomical doubts that our fussy friend has got to submit almost every day. We find the guest fuming and fretting over some complex issue over a telephonic discussion that doesn't at all look like getting resolved. The poor soul on the other side may have been his subordinate and likely to have no option but to accept and put up with a few choice words at his superior's command. As our fellow traveler continues to bawl at the top of his voice with a grumpy tone and coarse accent of an African -American decent, we get to have our last few minutes of interaction before parting  ways for the time being. As an usual sight of the early hours, whenever I have my eyes on the male members of the house and their genetically enviable Aquiline features, the face always comes with a little spot of visible wound and traces of coagulated blood. I have had my grandfather, father showing up in a similar manner after a clean shave for years and now my husband is no exception. Yes, the after shave makes it up to some extents, but the prominence of the redness on his chin can't escape my notice now. As I spontaneously tend to raise my hand, as if, I had some kind of soothing lotion to make it look and feel better, I realize he's getting late and the hurt is drying up meanwhile. In a span of next few seconds, we are to reach the lobby and I give the husband a glare that perhaps speaks volumes on how he should be more careful while shaving and my forehead touches right on his chin, which he very inherently, as a matter of habit, turns into a gentle peck pulling me towards him a little closer to wish a good day ahead. All the noise and the grumbling comes to a pause, and our fussy friend steals a glimpse of the personal moment we are sharing and to our surprise he declares in a starkly opposite note which is polite, soft and quite unlike what we know of him. 'Whoaa...That is what I call deep love! You guys just made my day.'!!  As the husband waves his hand and steps out of the elevator, a tender reminder crosses my mind - A little more patience, a pinch of compassion can make every deal in our day to day life easier. We are humans, we work in a highly mechanical environment where we are bound to falter and let each other down in our expectations. Expectations from our teachers, from our families, friends, thereon from our employers. We are many a times remunerated, applauded and recognized for what we are actually not. We are rewarded for pretending to be someone else and reprimanded for being true to ourselves at times. The offender of our fussy friend was most probably taken to task for his imperfections and the trouble is all about the inability to accept. The moment we start accepting that today is a deviation and we all are a permutation and combination of what we 'can' and what we 'can not', there will be barely any hard feelings left. :)

11 a.m - I receive an unexpected call from my husband when he is supposed to be presenting his off shore team on some serious matters relating to the client. All of a sudden I find myself in an urgency to get back to the room from the gym and start looking for my passport while he is still on hold inquiring if all the valuables are still in place inside my purse. What purse? Goodness gracious! I have the whole white Michael Kors kitty missing and a consecutive realization of the same leaves me with some precursory symptoms of dementia. I get to believe yet want to disbelieve : the previous evening was the very last time I had my hands on the beautiful hand bag which also contained my wallet few Canadian dollars, my credit cards and my PASSPORT! Yes my PASSPORT! As I am just about to slant down into a hysterical surge, the man of the house starts accelerating his level of calmness and patience while telling me - 'I got a call from the manager of the restaurant where we had dined  last evening. He said the stewardess found a white Michael Kors evening bag from one of the tables for two by the window. Could you please leave everything else that you are doing and go and collect it?' By the time he paused, I had collapsed into a desensitization hence unable to come into terms with the shock this news just brought in. I was bewildered to find him still not going mad at me, instead comforting me so that I could help myself from getting further flustered and not curse my forgetfulness. As tears start rolling down my cheeks imagining the terrible consequences of losing my id and passport, my superbly confident and optimistic husband advises me to rush quickly and procure the essentials from the venue and literally not bother or make a fuss over the probable loss of cash and credit cards. My passport is all that he wants to ensure as safe and to be returned intact to me. For a second, I felt extremely sorry for him, and I know him to be as short-tempered and forthright as me. Then why this noble act of forgiveness and letting me go without getting upbraided for the grave charges of losing the only document that allows me to step beyond the Canadian frontier and accompany him back home? :(

12 noon - Soon it starts drizzling outside, and the uncertainty drenches my residual hope thoroughly. What if I don't get it back? What if the person concerned denies any responsibility to have held my belonging in his custody for so long? What evidence will I have to claim that I'm the owner of the bag? I'm sure they haven't installed a CCTV to record the entry and exit of each and every guest in a private fine diner. And I of course do not wish to disturb the man in the middle of his work to solve my ordeal. My dad's words begin to chase me. They had significance galore which make more sense now. I remember him once telling me - 'One day you will be so consumed with yourself, that you'll miss out on many important things going around.' I could figure out a clear cut connection between  his then statement (which definitively wasn't a delight to my ears) and my current predicament that has crippled me mentally. The fact remains same that however vocal we appear, however independent we stand in our status, choices and decisions, we have been brought up in a mighty  protective and delicate fashion, which somewhere has empowered us with an unconscious and brutal bravery to shove the culpability of most of the things in relation to our lives on someone else's shoulder. It's not that he doesn't like it or treats it as a liability, but isn't such blind credence in a special someone to take away the lead always a bit scary? Earlier it's our doting parents, later it is an extra ordinary man with many hats who's in charge of setting things right. But the dilemma for me keeps growing manifold as the twenty first century woman in me with numerous super powers to run errands, domestic as well as official can't accept the other gender as more proficient  multitaskers. The basic idea is that we all are humans and it means we are (supposed o be) multi-talented. :D

12:15 p.m. - I put all my postulations to rest for the time being and arrive at the sight of my lost and found  possession. With a warm welcome the hostess introduces me to the manager. Over a round of casual quip and a freshly brewed Cappuccino, the fifty-something gentleman restores back everything that I had misplaced with utmost generosity and hospitality. I know a lot of people may not like me being blatant and pointing it out, but truthfully, could I have expected this gesture in a country where I am raised? The answer is perhaps a big NO. *Sigh*

12:30 p.m.  - On my way back to the hotel, I turn on the front camera of my Iphone for a quick selfie of a rather gleeful Ushasi grinning away in glory followed by an instant message to Mr. Vasu Mallik with a loud exclamation - 'Yippie'! What also doesn't escape from storming up my memory bank is a chain of several experiences of mine during my India days. One of them had unquestionably left me in a lurch and a very bitter taste in the mouth. A Sunday evening it was, and I was busy grabbing some random stuffs from a departmental store. My fellow Indian from another (anonymity intended ) state craftily managed to flick my cell phone away without a trace at the check out counter standing right next to me in the queue. Only after paying and picking up my packet, I realized that the device didn't beep at the notification while the money was duly debited. Having left with no option I had to return to the same shop whose owner satisfactorily showed me the CCTV clip of the mastermind eying and successfully pilfering my phone and leaving the store. This was in my very own Dwarka, New Delhi, 2011. And yes, I did file an FIR too, as my mobile contained personal texts, my bank details and pictures in the gallery as well as the whole set of contact numbers of my folks. I even went to the extent of lodging a complaint and following it up for next couple of months with the higher officials of Delhi Police, but my hopes that some serious action will be taken against the mugger gradually dried up in smoke. Pardon me for generalizing, but I haven't had such luxury (encounter ending on a positive note) before. Sorry Mango people in a Banana Republic! You missed out on getting blogged by me. Start believing in a slice of blessing every day and spread some love. ;)