Hai Mera India.

Now that washing, cleaning and cooking and not to forget making list of channels (approximately 175 of them) that we are paying for and cannot watch on our new dish TV is done, I am sitting at our work station and thinking about Mera Bharat! Yes! Mahaan too!



Am I feeling patriotic? Not really. But I do love my country and my home! (I should make that clear before people slam me with being a firang now that I happen to be in a firangiland!)



Anyhow, the reason I was thinking of my country is because of this man called Jason! Poor Jason is not even an Indian, he doesn't even know me yet, and yet the man reminds me of home where getting things done is as easy as snapping ones fingers.



Well! Our dear friend Jason happens to be a handyman who is supposed to come and make me new shelves, closet and hangers so that clothes, crystals and crockery can breathe and not die of suffocation. But as life here would have it, probably getting an appointment with David Cameron is easier than having Jason over to get the work done.

When I first arrived in Sheffield I hoped that settling in depended on me and of course my family here, who have been more than great! I have received nothing but love and more love. And that is one of the main reasons why I just fit in so beautifully. Thank you Ma and Papa! Really mean that from the bottom of my heart.

Incidentally apart from family I forgot about perfect strangers, people who were supposed to make my settling in a bit more comfy and organised. I expected this bunch of strangers to appear quickly, take instructions from me, get the work going and last but not the least finish their work in my house and disappear with equal speed. Alas! Life had other plans. And I missed my trip to the beach or I am perfectly confident that I would have landed myself in possession of a magic lamp which I would rub to my heart's content and have my wishes done!!!

Now this is where I am forced to think of Delhi and Patna. Two cities where I have lived most my life, I never once felt the need of a walk on the beach or a magic lamp! Dilli Mein Yamuna hai, also know as Jamuna Par which by the way is capable of killing you because of its stench even before you have paared (crossed) it. And Bechari Ganga Ji is not the like her old illustrious self nowadays. Dried up and still with dirty corners feels confused if it still holds the same importance in her devotee’s hearts. This digression was necessary to explain why the idea of a sea side never hit my head!



Anyhow, coming back to the issue at hand, if it were Delhi, Sanjeet, my man Friday would have used all the tactics to bring a man and get the work done. He would have cajoled, crooned and caught hold of the plumber, electrician, or the carpenter in this case and seen to it that the work was done.

Now the scenario changes a bit more to my liking when I think of Patna. To get work done at home, there was no need to cajole, croon or plead! The carpenter or the 'badhai mistry' would be summoned by Pa's gunman. The man would come running at the speed of light, finish the job in hours, bend in complete obedience and tremble till he got a nod of satisfaction from me. Oh! And in case I did not like something he would work all evening to get it right! I know! Sounds atrociously feudal on my behalf, but don't worry my part of hell is under construction by god's own angelic carpenters! I hope they get it right the first time. But coming back to the mortal, trembling carpenters of Patna for now, they are made to give you super service at super fast rate. And I loved it. Made me feel like the lord of some manor! Not that I don’t feel like the Queen of Rockingham Lane already. But my paradise awaits the presence of superior beings, for example, The Handyman!



 The truth of the matter is that the tables have turned and surprisingly I feel more like human and that too a very ordinary one! Thus I shiver to call Jason a mere mortal! His availability is as rare as the gods themselves. Apparently when Yash first called him, that was about three weeks ago, he was told that we will have to wait for a couple of weeks since he was occupied with some contracts. I have been waiting and the ‘couple of weeks’ are soon turning into a month and yet there is no sign of his divine presence! Wait! When and if we do hear from him, we have to make sure he gets to work immediately, minus phrases like, 'perhaps this would look nice' or 'what do you think will look better?' because his per day wages are good enough to make a sane man delirious!

I am not even thinking of the electrician and other help for the moment. Justin is a handful and has my undivided attention for now and most times till he does what he is supposed to do.



I am a religious woman apart from many other things. And just like I pray for family and friends and their wellbeing everyday, I pray for Justin, a man who will one day fix my house. Till the time god shows up in the face of Justin I am honing my other godly virtues, that being faith and patience!



P.S.( Thank you Sanjeet, Tiwar Jee and Mishra Jee for keeping the Jasons out of my life till now.)



Divya J Thakur.

23.06.2011

From a daughter to her Father!

A new chapter has begun and I am not yet turning pages ahead. I am still going back to the old passage, trying to look for new meanings. I have wondered enough about the future. About what is right and what is not. And now I am merely a spectator watching over the rights and wrongs. Life teaches you to love and then it also teaches you to leave. Both are done with equal competence. We call it adjustment. And we don’t prepare for it like any other test of our life. We are just thrown into the pit and we have to learn to survive.

For most of my life I have been running to seek substitutes. My love has found one man, and since the time I knew that man and his love, I have been busy finding a substitute for him. Not because his love wasn’t enough. On the contrary his love is sufficient for this and many other lifetimes to come. But because, the fear of losing him hangs around my neck like an albatross and hence I look for something that might fill the void that he would leave behind.

I am an ordinary girl who thinks that superheroes are not real. But dads are. And my dad is my hero. Not knowing when that consciousness dawned upon me, but I knew he is special. Thousands of miles away I can hear the laughter in his voice; I can see the twinkle in his eyes and feel the warmth of his hands. We are growing old. We have shared a lifetime together and yet there seem so much more to be shared. I am not scared of the distance. I am petrified of time. It ticks away slowly. And I cannot make it still. It’s a futile war and I hate being on the losing side.  

My father means the world to me. And I am not the first daughter to say so! Although I secretly wish, I was the first one to love him the way I do. My lessons in life have come to me by watching him. He is not a preacher but a man of actions. His optimism would put gods to shame and his anger kids to bed! (I can vouch for that!)

I remember writing an essay on my father for the school magazine. It was an instant hit. My teachers and friends went moist in their eyes. Everyone appreciated the sentiment and the writing. My father said, ‘Write shorter sentences, it will help you make fewer mistakes.’ And then he smiled. The smile I knew well. He was happy and sad. That was the first time; I was leaving home for college.

One thing led to another. I finished college and got myself a job. Jumped through various profiles and then one day decided in the favour of a sabbatical. I was once again living as his daughter, writing C/O MK Jha on my forms. It was a happy reunion with my long forgotten past.

The two years spent with him before I tied the knot made us closer than ever. Our arguments were unstoppable but our love like always had no stopping. To this date he remains a man of mystery to me. We still have the longest discussions on phone and not when we are present in front of each other. Poetry and literature is his weakness and his legacy to me. That’s one thing that exclusively comes to me. I am proud and grateful for this gift.

Now that father’s day approaches some might say I am getting sentimental and mushy. But the truth of the matter is that pa is in my heart 24*7. We are physically distant but in love we are together, in verse and poetry we meet, in between the lines we fight and in rhymes we make up. I have a father who grows young with every written word. How on earth is a substitute possible for him? He is my muse for now and for ever. And when I sit down to write it is his faith that shines the most.

I am my Father’s daughter for now and forever.

Happy Father’s day pa!

Love miloo.