My Last Word...

We as people, have a habit of leaving everything for the very last possible minute. Especially the more unpleasant of things. Topping this list is everything that is related to death. If there is anything that is certain in all the uncertainty of the future, it is death. Yet in our wishful thinking for a long life, we keep matters related to Death pending; like writing a Will. I think like our lives are our responsibility, so should our deaths be.

So I thought of making a sort of a Will for myself right away.

There isn't much in terms of money or monetary wealth that I possess. But one of my most prized possession is my body. I don't want people to decide what is to be done with it after I'm gone. I want to take the decision myself. So here goes:

Every part of my body, from my heart and brain to the very last strand of my hair is to be used in any charitable way that is possible. Any part of me that can be used to save a life or make a life better or serve the purpose of bettering human existence, should be taken and duly used for the same.

That includes my skin. I know a lot of people think it is gruesome that the skin be taken off the body especially when there are funeral rituals to be done. I'll make it a little easier.

There is to be no funeral. No one will pay any sort of a priest to conduct any ceremony over my remains. Even if the last of my bone can be used for donation or for research, it is to be given away. That is the only way I will be at peace.

If however, my body is mutilated in any manner or is beyond any such use, I want it to be burried without ceremony in some forest or some place without any sort of a marker or tomb stone or anything indicating that my remains exist there. Leave me at peace; to be one with the soil from whence I emerged.

If you wish to remember me, I request you to close your eyes and think of any moment when I brought a smile on your face and joy to your heart. Hold on to that moment; I live in it and through that, I will be with you forever. If I ever meant anything to you, don't cry over what remains of me but try to spread the smile that I gave you.

(I know all of this sounds preachy and philosophical but I stick by every word very seriously. Euphemisms apart, if anyone reading this finds out that my Will is not being carried out as per my wish, I give you the right to intervene on my behalf, blood and relation being of no consequence.)

With this, I conclude.

PS: Photo Credit to hans j. knospe. It is a lovely image I got off of Google Images.

Generation Gap

Generation Gap- A term that has become so cliche that it is almost redundant now. It used to imply the difference of opinion between the members of two different generations. Parents and kids to be precise. Now it has grown between siblings and cousins more than three years apart! I guess it is another appendage of the rapid world we live in.
But it makes me think of how it all began. What the wisdom of the elders refused to understand, the flexibility of the young ones was willing to give a shot. What the elders considered the ‘right’ thing, the young ones discarded as redundant. It spanned from things like clothes, beliefs, politics to jobs, and what is acceptable morally. Generally, each generation refused to shift their stand or try to understand the point of view of the other.
Where the parents labeled the youth as immoral, irresponsible, brash, and arrogant, the young thought that the seniors were too laid back, didn’t know how to get things done efficiently and were hung up on things of no consequences.
I think both were right in their own way.
There were places where the young needed to slow down and even pump up on the morals. But they sure were right in venturing into waters never trodden in the past, about being fearless and courageous enough to challenge the status quo. I think the challenging often grated on the nerves of the elders but if they’d take a moment and reflect, they’d have known places where change was required.
Similarly the elders were wrong in a lot of ways and in more cases than one if only they’d have set their egos aside and objectively looked at the situation, they’d have seen that there was indeed a flaw in the status quo.
That was as far as the story was so far.
But taking a look at the generation after me makes my heart quake. So many of them have fallen prey to the niceties of technology and have become so passive. My generation was rash but at least there was some active force in us. There was kinetic energy that was up to something. I don’t see it in the kids today. They are stuck to technology and treating it more like a necessary life support system rather than an extension to enable work. It is a worrisome scenario. It scares me helpless to wonder what young people will be 50 years from now. But then again, I wonder what different am I doing? Isn’t it something every generation has done? Will what looks like doom to me actually turn out to be our salvation once the gauze of time is wrapped around it? who knows... only time can tell...

Do you have an episode to share? Some writing you'd like me to put up? Send it in to me at 'miilee@rushhourpages.in' and I'll post it here under your name.

Dates....

I got an SMS the other day; “20-10-2010 is such a unique date! I’m surprised there have been no forwards about this yet. Please forward!”

It got me thinking; isn’t every date unique? Isn’t every moment of every hour of every day unique? If I miss ten thirty on the morning of the 20^th of October, 2010 it is never coming back for me. Never.

Then why do we jerk to the reality of the uniqueness of days only when they make a pretty numerological pattern? Why do we need to send SMS’s of such nature at all? NOTHING in life is NOT unique. Every moment, every breath, every heart beat, every blink of the eye and every tick of that wrist watch is a 100% unique.

So instead of celebrating those ‘unique’ dates that form an eye catching symmetry on our work planners or our notebook margins, let’s concentrate on celebrating each moment that we live. So that way, at the fag end of life, when the Books of Accounts get evaluated for us, there will be much more to them than just a few silly dates and forwarded SMS’s.

Do you have an episode to share? Some writing you'd like me to put up? Send it in to me at 'miilee@rushhourpages.in' and I'll post it here under your name.

Where does it all end?

I guess almost every young person goes through those ups and downs in life; like the one I'm going through right now. Those really low moments when nothing seems to go right; no one seems to care. No friend, no foe no family; no one. There probably comes a time when one feels that if one dies on one's way to work or back, no one would notice till the dead body doesn't start giving off a stench. It is a painful feeling, full of loneliness and a deep sense of foreboding. I feel as unloved and unwanted as a discarded piece of broken furniture in a rubbish heap.

What does one have to do to get people to value oneself? You work hard for people whom you care for, spend hours trying to ensure that what you do today secures their tomorrow. And then those very people hurt you in more ways than one. They abuse you, call you names and label you as irresponsible. What is one to do? What remains to be seen? What is the point of doing anything anyway?

Is it such a big surprise then that so many young people prefer to live by themselves or even not live at all..??

I wonder.....

Do you have an episode to share? Some writing you'd like me to put up? Send it in to me at 'miilee@rushhourpages.in' and I'll post it here under your name.

The Last Toy

A year ago, I’d picked up a toy on a railway station; one of those cheap plastic mobiles you hang on a baby’s crib, one with ghungroos that rattle when you key the thing up and it spins. That sort of a toy is my earliest memory of a toy. The one that I picked was very similar to the one that I had as a baby. I liked it; the movement of colors still mesmerises me.

When I got it, everyone teased me; called me a baby and I gleefully played with it. I hung it on the door frame of my inner room and would twirl it from time to time. Then some while ago, I unconsciously stopped doing it. The toy collected dust. I cleaned it occasionally. Then a few weeks ago, I figured out that the mechanism had stopped working; rust, probably. So I just let it hang in all it’s colors.

Today, I realized that it was filthily covered in dust and there was no reason for it to hang there. So I took it off and asked mom to throw it; I couldn’t have done it myself and she’d been dying to do it. When she did take it away, however, I felt a tear sting my eye. I don’t know what happened but I felt like sitting right there on the ground and throwing a tantrum to get a new one or get that one repaired; anything to stop it from joining the junk pile. But I realised as I relinquished my hold on that toy that I may have a child in me forever, but I had to let go of this last toy.

I just had to grow up….. and that felt sad…..

Do you have an episode to share? Some writing you'd like me to put up? Send it in to me at 'miilee@rushhourpages.in' and I'll post it here under your name.

Rush Hour Recipe #1

Ok anyone who keeps office hours, knows what a mad whirlwind rush a morning can be. I’ve been trying my hand at cooking so that I can qualify to the position of a responsible young woman (Plus since I plan to move out into a place of my own, long before the whole ‘marriage’ scenario can happen, it is always advisable to know how to make a filling for yourself.) And I’ve managed a fair few quickie, tasty recipes (Gosh, am I sounding like Tarla Dalal?)

So for the benefit of all those young women and even men, who find themselves in need of a quick plate filler, here’s an awesome preparation I learnt from my mother. It tastes delightfully awesome if made well.

Ingredients:

a. 3 Tomatoes (medium sized, diced into small pieces of about 1cm³)

b. 3/4^th tspn Asifortedia (Hing)

c. ½ tspn mustard seeds

d. 3 Green Chillies, cut vertically into two pieces each.

e. Curry leaves

f. 1/4^th tspn coriander seeds

g. Lump of Jaggery (around the size of a little ping pong ball)

h. 2 tblspn Crushed, roasted Peanuts

i. 2 tblspn Oil

j. Salt to taste

1. In a saucepan, heat the oil. Once hot, add the Asefortedia, Mustard seeds, chillies, curry leaves and coriander seeds. Allow it a few seconds and then add the diced tomato.

2. Stir for a minute, then add the salt and jaggery. Stir and cover to cook.

3. After allowing it to cook for five minutes, take it off the heat, mix in the crushed peanuts.

4. Serve (or eat!) with rotis.

Seemingly simple and simply delicious! The best part is, this stuff tastes great even if not hot so it’s ideal for packed lunches. I’ve just made it and I’m dying to share it at work tomorrow! Try it out and do let me know how it tastes! And don't forget to clean up after yourself!

Got your own runs hour story or a recipe? Mail it to me at ‘miilee@rushhourpages.in’ and I’ll share it here. (If it’s a recipe, then I’ll try it first and then share it with my pics with due credit to you…;) )

Here's my attempt (it's still hot!)

My Breakup

Before you get ideas into your head let me clarify; I’m not smearing the details of my personal life on the blogosphere. I’m talking of a love affair a little beyond the realm of our usual romantic stories.
For a long time, I’ve had this love affair; anyone that knows me knows of this affair of mine. Right from the time I entered Mumbai three years ago, I’ve been in love with the local trains. It was a classic love at first sight. And this romance of mine has lasted a beautiful three years with the local trains never failing to be enigmatic, mysterious, hard to get yet accommodating, all encompassing, low mantainance, heavy duty etc etc. but of late, I haven’t had the time to travel in a train. Since office is close to home, the transit is via road.
So the only time I see a train is when I cross the railway crossing every morning and evening. This doesn’t seem to be sitting well for a long term relationship. Also the fact that I spend much more time with buses and rickshaws too must be irritating. So I guess this is it. This is the time we say good bye.
But it hurts, you know. I do love the trains but it is my misfortune that I can’t give the relationship any more time. I guess somewhere down the line, we may meet again; give this another shot. But for the mean-while, we’re breaking up.
It is not a pleasant decision, I know. It is difficult to see the trains huff past me at the crossing everyday, looking indifferently and resolutely ahead like they don’t care about me. It is tough, believe me. But it is the wisest choice for both of us....


Got your own Rush Hour story? Share it with me at 'miilee@rushhourpages.in' and I'll put it up here!