Connected Lives

Some of the cards children have made for the carnival Sometime last year, five women were chatting over a cup of coffee. In the course of their conversation, the five (part of a moms' group because their children attend the same school), realised they shared similar beliefs--that they all believed passionately in making a difference to the lives of those less privileged. And that, to do this, they had to "become the change, they want to see". Now, this is a group of highly qualified and motivated professionals--there's a Chartered Accountant, an MBA, an interior designer, a corporate professional, and…

Missing: 95-year-old Shankar Prasad Mishra. My friend Preeti Mishra's 95-year-old grandfather,  whom she lovingly calls Nanu, is missing. He went missing from Babusapalya in Kalyanagar on August 25. Nanu or Shankar Prasad Mishra, is much more than a grandparent for Preeti. He is a fellow foodie, and her companion-in-fun. He is also her rock, her safe place. Preeti is an ardent Bangalorean, blogger and writer. I can only imagine what she and her family are going through right now. No, actually I can empathise, because it has happened to me too--when my father went missing three years ago. The worst…

I grew up in a house by National Highway 17 in Kozhikode (Kerala) city. My days and nights were filled with sound--a maddening cacophony of cars, trucks, buses and auto rickshaws, people cursing, cussing, swerving. Noise, noise everywhere. Every day. Every hour. Except in our backyard, where there was (and still is) an old mango tree. This tree casts a benevolent shade over our red-tiled house. When I was a little girl, my father fixed a swing for me on one of its overhanging branches. The swing was just a little plank of wood with both ends strung up through…

There's a road very close to my home, which thousands of commuters use every day. As roads go by, it is nothing special--not extra wide or four-laned or nicely tarred, even. It's just a linking road, a few hundred metres in length. A redeveloped slum dominates one end of it; at the other are some indistinguishable homes, a few small businesses and the local Bescom office. Pedestrians invariably have a tough time navigating this road, especially the part that goes past the slum. For there is always traffic whizzing past, children playing about, running helter skelter unmindful of the vehicles…

The sign says it all: An bungalow in the Cantonment area The quaint names, the tree-lined streets, the quiet roads and most important, the bungalows make the Cantonment area, a sure-shot target for real estate 'developers'. My husband and I moved here ten years ago because of this old world charm--we loved the serene areas in and around Cooke Town, the streets adjoining Mosque Road, the hidden gems around Richards Park. But now standalone homes, of every size, from stately bungalows to matchbox-shaped houses, are morphing into apartment buildings. And the end result is a sandwiched existence. Take Davis Road…

Velu is a taxi driver my husband and I know well. He has two sons and a daughter. The good thing is he owns his taxi, he saved up to buy the car. But it means his life is tough--going on long distance assignments at a moment's notice, getting by with little sleep (or sleeping in his vehicle), missing regular meals, being plagued by backache, so on and so forth. But Velu doesn't mind the hard work. As the sole breadwinner, he is used to it. Besides, he wants his children to have a good education. Rani, a mother of…

A woman was walking. Her age doesn't matter. She was walking on the road next to her home. It was evening and she had been out for an errand. The lane was quiet and there were not many people about. But the woman did not feel alarmed--after all, this was 'her' neighbourhood, the place she had lived in for nearly a decade. And besides, she was not venturing out too far, she was going to a row of shops five to ten minute's walk from her own home. Suddenly, in the darkness, she spotted something strange at the apartment building…

Are you a hands-on parent? Are you spending the holidays taking your child to summer camp activities--craft, art, sport, swimming, skating, etc.? Or are you the type who prefers spending time with him or her, creating make believe stories, doing finger painting sessions, building lego cities, together? And, do you ever wonder, how much 'parenting' is enough? And if you are doing too much 'parenting'? Well, I do. All the time. I worry that if my five-year-old spends all his free time with me (especially during these holidays), he and I will no longer enjoy each others' company. I believe…

(First of all, apologies for posting this so late. Last week, my husband, little boy and I fell ill and we are all still in recovery mode) A couple of months ago, a former national level cricketer's father went missing in Mysore's Devaraja Market. The local police sprang into action and the gentleman was found in a couple of hours. In that time, though he had wandered some 5 km from the spot he was last seen (the market). News reports quoted the police as saying the elderly gentleman suffered from “age-related forgetfulness”. Now, I don't know if the cricketer's…

When I call to wish my father on his birthday, I usually say: “Happy birthday, Acha” (acha or achan means 'father' in Malayalam). And always, my father replies: “Thank you, same to you”. My father is nearly 84. He was once a lawyer. Now, birthdays don't matter to him. Nor do anniversaries, festivals, or any occasion, really. Today, he is a shell of the person he once was, physically and mentally. My father, you see, has dementia. Dementia ('de' meaning “without” and 'mentia' meaning “mind”) is actually a misleading term. It does not mean the sufferer is insane or demented.…