Letter to the Unknown Reader - Series 2 - Reminiscence and Goa

 Hello Dearest Reader,

This year travel had been a constant companion. Work ones, vacay ones, one with my son, short ones, long ones, the quick ones and this one, to Goa. Each one had bought in its own flavour and enriched my soul. Today’s story is about my beloved Goa. A place which I visit almost every year and teach myself the art of doing nothing.

Being a Bangali, “Lyad” ( happily doing nothing) is a trait which comes naturally to me. I’m born and brought up in a city which enjoys spending time over hot cups of bharer  (khullar/earthen cups) cha talking of things which spans countries . Starting from global tensions to national politics, from cricket to para football, from ilish mach to Lucknowi Biriyani, from Darjeeling to Goa with remotely no intention to get stuck on any topic. We hover above them with equal interest in everything and attachment to nothing and we can go on incessantly. So Goa is a place which is close to my heart. It reminds me of home, of early evenings and a snail pace comfort of lulling through the day.

My husband and I usually spend a few days in Goa around the time of our anniversary and enjoy sea. We both live a frenetic pace of life in the maximum city called Mumbai and our Bangali heart craves for the lull which Goa provides. This husband of mine, who I knew since he was all of 19, is now in his mid forty's . Both of us skimming the middle age with grace & elan. We have come a long way. He abhors the word “middle age” and I on the other hand rarely mince my words and tend not to elude about a fact. So forgive my romancing about the 40s and more.

 As I sat under the full moon night and looked at the inky sea with frothy crown on its waves, I wondered how our marriage has evolved from starry exuberance of teens, to the struggles of adjusting to new family. From his finding his foot as a man and I realising that, I am no more under the care of my father. I had to rely on my own wits to fend myself and fend for what was mine. It had not been all that easy. Marriages evolve. After 19 years of being in this institution, that has been my only realisation. And it teaches you lessons your soul needs to learn. 

The swaying palms and cool sea breeze took me back to years I have left behind. I always thought that I married to love. The first few years were quick enough to teach me that I had actually married to responsibilities. And it weighed heavily on us. We married young. Both me and my man struggled to grow up. Found ourselves under a deluge of expectations.  Combating the stress of fending for a family was taking its toll. I don’t think we were ready then. We got into the deep side of the sea, too soon and too fast. As a result, our first casualty was to lose the first blush of romance quickly. 

There’s a saying in Bengali “ Songhsgar er shar boro kothin” meaning that the the core intent of being in Samsara is very tough. Both of us learnt it hard and fast. We realised that ours is a relationship which is going to change and will take both of us on a ride. As newlyweds we both tried to change the other and also change ourselves for the other. Trying our damnest hard to hold on to the gossamer thread of love and passion. It was a futile struggle. A marriage is rarely about two persons. There are a hundred others who weave in and out of the lives of a couple. The family dynamics on both of our sides were getting played out in all its glory. I was slowly getting alienated from the family I called home for twenty five years of my life. And my man started realising that getting a girl into his home is exponentially different from dating her outside. When a woman becomes a part of a man’s home things change. And on this balmy evening at the sea side shack, both of us sat together with memories of days lived. Both looking at the same events but differently.

The 2nd day of our stay was beautiful. The morning dawned blushing coyly between the leaves of the Peepal tree that overlooked our balcony. As we sipped our morning cup of tea we discussed how our respective stresses had impacted both of us intensely. As a young banker his work stresses impacted me. I was still studying for my Chartered Accountancy exams and my apprehension around my career ate into his peace. On top of it we were peers, and we both were subtly competitive. Our joy for the other’s success was always laced with the perennial question “What about me?”. Love came at different points in my life in its full glory. With its passion and hopelessness, its dreams and its impossibilities.  It shattered me to pieces in literal sense and converted me into something which I was not. But so glad it came. I could only become this version of myself because I traversed that path. And as I evolved, our marriage evolved too.

Goa evokes memories. The place grants us the luxury of doing nothing and hence reminiscing becomes the activity of choice. We became parents before we found a toehold into our marriage .My peers who probably are with young kids or kids in early years of school now, will not be able to fathom the struggle of being parents in your twenties. Both of us were not sure that we were ready to let go of our inner child but we already had one in our arms. What a ride it had been! As parents we took baby steps with our son but enjoyed it to bits. I can’t think of a better father to my son than the one he has. He was calm and solid as a rock where I was frothing like the sea when it came to parenting. I was reliving my childhood with our baby and my man shielded us both. Our marriage turned another chapter. We stopped focusing on each other and concentrated on raising our son.

 In the meanwhile we changed cities. Moved from Kolkata to Mumbai. We grew up. Your thirties bring in a different kind of frenzy. We were young parents, with maturing career. On top of it stresses of school life re-entered our horizon with our growing child. Our world went topsy turvy. Suddenly you didn’t know if your year-end appraisal was more important than the parent-teacher meeting after the final term of school. Criticism from your manager hurt you less than that of the class teacher highlighting where your child can improve. It was a different world all together. 

By then we stopped trying to change ourselves and the other. We were coming in terms to the fact that we were two very different people and it’s futile to even try and be a mirror reflection of each other.  And whatever we thought was love in our twenties had solidified into hardened responsibilities, common goals, uncomfortable but somewhat of a routine. We slowly died as a man & wife and were reborn as parents. Also our equation with our respective parents metamorphosed into acceptance and respect. They slowly started to rely on our judgments or at least came to terms with what we decided for our lives. Trusted enough to let go of their opinions of our choices and decisions.

Spiritually I evolved when I was in the thresholds of my forty’s. A kiss with death grounded me. I saw kindness and compassion in its finest. My man literally fought death and brought me back. There was a grace in his gentle strength. A kindness and a sense of nurturing which helped me get back to life with a vigour which few would believe. My son embraced maturity like a pro. And I slowly walked the path of the living again. And life brought me to another turn. I understood that love in its quintessential sense cannot survive within a structure of marriage. Love is like the wild unfurling of the peacock’s plume when the rain clouds kisses the sky. There can be nothing which is wild, untamed or senseless in the sanity of marriage. Being in love, knowing love and redefining marriage was the essence of these years.

This will be my 19th year of being married  and 26 years of knowing my man. I realise that it’s some karma that we are destined to walk this path together. Common goals, a rock solid friendship a gentle kindness and limitless compassion which holds us together. Probably our marriage too. I have learned, love necessarily do-not live in bedrooms, nor need to survive in a marriage. It can thrive in heartbeats. You can choose to retreat, choose to not meet, choose to let go, if it makes someone happy. Some energies dance together from a distance. The souls are tied together by the laws of the universe. It doesn’t need a marriage. It’s complete in its existence. 

Marriage is tougher when you have the courage to lay it out in the open, recognise it for what it is and be grateful for that journey.As both of us bathed in the sea under the November sky laughing like kids or naturally held hands while climbing a flight of stairs, we realised we can be ourselves in presence of the other. The silence between us was not awkward anymore. Like the gentle waves touching the shores it was calming. We have evolved into habits for each other. Nothing special, nothing pretentious, just natural extension of our existence.Today marked the passing of another year of walking together around the sun. Our marriage turned another page. We discovered ourselves as individuals and we both were quite content with what we found. A friendship, genuine companionship, compassion and a bunch of relationships we both nurtured with honesty. Also I learned that being honest about the relationship we share, the nature of it and the boundaries helps. Pretence has no place in our lives as we mature.

The beach resort with sprawling golf course skimming the shores, was beautifully green. We sat on the beach shack and lazed. Watching the waves  touching the sands with gentle caress. It seems strange to think our 17 years old son may meet his girl any time soon….or at least he’s entering that stage where his life can turn a new page. We are growing old. With the greys, the wrinkles and scars, this body standing testament of ravages of life and time. The heart with all its cracks now looks like a masterpiece. And the soul is slowly getting to know itself. Content in loving and letting things be.

Always yours,

Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknown Reader - Series 2 - AI : Artificial & Invasion

 Hello dearest Reader,

This story crept in suddenly few weeks back. It’s a short one but insightful and funny hence couldn’t help myself but share with you. I had to visit the tech town of India for a work trip. The purpose was to gain insights on AI and understand how we can use it in our work space. Some Karma of mine must have been damn good, I always get to stay in mind bogglingly fancy places, way beyond my dreams and never in the radar of my aspirations, because of work. So I land up in this palace of a hotel to spend a day or two to do my meetings and collect intel.

In the process, I came across top minds of the fields where awe inspiring tools and computing ideas were being discussed. I was astounded to hear that AI is being used to map human sentiments. Whereby the tool assesses a candidate’s reaction to stressful questions and screens if the person is capable of handling customer service desks. There were also ideas about how human-machine interaction is a data mine, that can be used to understand processes and improve them. The slicing & dicing of data by just observing how your fingers dance across your key boards almost seemed magical.

But the fun started when questions were thrown at the audience to discover what in their wildest imaginations can they think any  AI can solve for. The first one was that came out way was a very serious one. Specially for parents who are navigating their journey with their teenagers. One gentleman said, that he hopes that AI can help understand what Gen Z is thinking and how they are going to react to next stimuli. The hall erupted with laughter. I believe the audience could relate to the pangs of handling different moods that gets thrown at us from that hallowed generation.

The next one even more rib tickling, a lady questioned can AI do anything to prompt fake news or pictures in WhatsApp? Apparently our aged parents have started living life by WhatsApp University guidelines. The sandwiched generation, the one between the Gen Z and that of their parents are at wits end to manage the two layers. One layer doesn’t believe anything and the other believes everything. 

This was followed by if AI can predict the next India Cricket Team selection or the Stock Market. For the first, data can be beguiling. As the correlation is often hard to find between the information & Selector’s decision . For the second, even with overwhelming load of data, you can never predict the market with exact certainty.

With all the magic that AI can do, it was fun to see that life can still throw a few googlies at technology. However one statement did occupy my brain space. A very senior industry veteran stated, that AI to him is Artificial Invasion. Earlier days, when invasion would happen, it would be in the physical world, where there was bloodshed and death, displacement and subjugation. With AI, the invasion is happening silently and at a break neck speed. He probably wanted to highlight that we should adapt to the changes quickly. But what kept bothering me was - in this silent invasion are we counting the casualties? What is the long term cost to humanity? No invasion can happen without displacement & disruption. We as a species, are we thinking through.

I’m a champion of technology and its power. However as we race against time to build efficiency, do cost optimisation, mine data, trace activities, judge human sensibilities and assess human capabilities with technology, we need to be careful that we are not creating a Frankenstein that would terrorise in future. With that thought dear reader, I will leave you looking at your phone screen as you read this. But when you switch off, think this…who’s the master and who the slave.

Always yours,

Pocket full of life

Letter to the Unknown Reader - Series 2 - The Bridge

 Hello dearest Reader,

Hope the fall this year is treating you well. The year slowly inching towards its end as the autumn leaves cover the earth in golden hues do evoke nostalgia and reminds us of the months that’s passed by. This letter dear Reader is very much for you as I love the connection we have managed to build over time, but I hope some day my son reads this letter too. He probably will look back fondly on what we had build together since he breathed his first.

My tryst with the mountains of Sikkim is a yearly phenomenon. I go there to find myself and spend time sitting quietly away from the bustling city life . Syncing with my roots and calming my soul. This time too, I planned my trip but my 17 year old boy decided to accompany me. Bengali moms are always tagged to be overtly possessive and very protective of their sons. At times interfering, commanding attention and emotionally blackmailing to get their boys to do exactly what they want. The saying goes that they land up mostly doing everything under the sun for their sons and stranding them in boyhood for the rest of their lives. Basically the Bengali boys are by far the quintessential Mamma’s boys of in India’s socio cultural history.  They struggle very hard to own up to their independent adulthood as they grow up. Though I admit there are a few aberrations. I on the other hand always fell short of doing honours to my role of “ Bangali Ma” for that matter fell short of being a Ma as tradition would demand.

The story goes like this, that my baby boy was born way before his mother was born. And as late blooming mother I had learning disabilities. I never understood why my baby boy was behaving like a baby. And if at all I did…then it was the raucous child in me who treated him like an equal and played along with equal gusto. Never letting him win a pillow fight or a bout of “kusti “ (wrestling) to his frustration and anger. He was always a friend and a peer and to his unvoiced irritation he treated me as his competition and a comrade.

I was always on a rush to make him self reliant and teach him to do things independently. I had my reasons. In my head I was racing against time and had to do everything possible to ensure that he can fend himself and learn not to need a mom and as soon as possible. In the quest of achieving my goal, I went full throttle downloading life lessons and ensuring that I alienated him enough that he can survive without me as he traversed his babyhood.

But this letter is not about the separate paths we could have walked but about the bridge I started to build post my medical crisis. This is the story of how we can manifest what we want.

The roads we choose for ourselves are the ones where we should plant beautiful flowers. And since 2021, I decided that I have to re-define my relationship with my boy. I couldn’t turn back time and reverse what we both had as memories, but we can try and reshape our journey ahead. I knew that mollycoddling is something which I can never get myself to do. But I wanted to have a common ground where we both were comfortable with each other. I taught myself to listen to him. As my boy navigated his teens, I became the ears who would listen to his stories, his anxieties, his ambitions and fears. His loneliness his social awkwardness, his stress for his boards, came tumbling out. And as he walked his life story, I taught myself to be non-judgmental,  but not nonchalant, taught myself to allow him space, but guide him with gentle firmness. I made him realise that he is precious to me but he is strong enough to sail his own ship with winds on its sail. As he went through adolescence, I traversed the teenage years of motherhood.

Our journey was shrouded with misty uncertainty but both the boy & his mother walked slow but steady. And oh boy how much I learned from this growing intelligence! That by far was the most beautiful part of our journey. He thought he was learning from me and openly asked about questions on managing stress and disappointments, of living life with joie de vivre even when chips are down. I shared what my life had taught me. But I was simultaneously soaking in his thoughts on stoicism, his philosophies of life, his creative energy and his calm. I was learning to have a smile even when going was tough and pushing through when spirits were down. His quiet strength amazed me. I was also awestruck to realise how well read he was. His stories entertained me over our morning chai. He provided me with night time stories that evoked deep thoughts about our planet and human progression. I realised that we are both soaking from each other….he - my life experiences and I - the his dreams of a future. This journey to the mountains cemented the bridge I started building and so mighty glad I am about it.

I know his journey will take him to far away lands, to dreams bigger than I can imagine, to adventures more extraordinary than the Arabian Nights, but I’m at peace as I know he will always find his bridge to get back to his Mamma when he needs a hot cup of coffee and a good chat. At times you come across souls who teaches you life lessons and then becomes a part of your journey. My boy probably is one of those souls.

 In Hindu philosophy it says, that a soul chooses the womb where it wants to take form before stepping into the world. And I’m so blessed that he chose me. I remotely don’t believe any other soul had the capacity to turn a quirk of nature like me, to something which resembles motherhood and then make me fall in love with the role. Albeit I’m slow but I did get a hang of things, my way. I had a very patient 17 year old teacher. 

As we walked the folds of the mountains through the lush greenery, we both savoured a newfound spiritual kinship. We touched the hem of calm as we trekked to the hill top monastery, we enjoyed the chirping of the cicadas as we listened to the sky, we indulged in organic farm food from my friend’s farm stay and lulled ourselves in hot stone bath ‘Menchu’.  When two people can enjoy each other’s company in silence, that probably is the best of all relationships. We both could cross the bridge and reach that place. 

So my dearest reader, if you have children then ensure you have the bridge which both of you can use to reach each other. And if not , then still have your bridge to reach the next generation of youths. The journey will be enriching, I can promise you that. Have an open and compassionate heart, inquisitive mind and patience. A whole new world will open its gates to you. I will leave you here dearest Reader, till we meet again with another story. Go wrap up the autumn cosiness with your loved ones as I reminisce the visit to mountains and the Himalayan bridge which connects.

Always yours 

Pocket full of life