On simpler times

This past Friday, as C and I sat down to eat at our second restaurant for the evening, we started to talk about simpler times when we were children and small things used to be special. We were spoiling ourselves by grabbing dinner at different places - falafel for me and dosas for him - and I couldn't help remembering how, when I was growing up, eating out was a luxury, reserved for special occasions like birthdays or anniversaries or if your cousins were visiting for the Summer. You dressed up. And told your friends about it. It wasn't just getting dinner, you know?

There are many such things that I can think of. Like the only one hour in the week when you could watch cartoons on TV was Sundays, from 11 am to noon. My brother and I would wake up early, and wait with bated breath for the cartoons to begin. And we weren't the only ones. All of our friends would come over to our place and we would gather around the TV, riveted as He-man battled Skeletor, and Donald and Mickey did their tricks. On all other days, we would laugh and play in the park after school because there really wasn't much else to do. No internet. No cartoon network. You could only dream of a world where you could lie on a couch and watch cartoons all day.

Movies and songs were another luxury. Friday nights were reserved for Chitrahar on Doordarshan (Bollywood songs). My mom and aunt would rush us through dinner and clean up at what can only be described as lightning speed so that all of us could sit down and watch the only programme on TV that was entertainment for the whole family. In winters, I would bundle up in my mother's green shawl and snuggle next to her or my grandmother, as we collectively immersed ourselves in Bollywood numbers. My brother would invariably fall asleep and my dad would carry him to his bed. It is strange how some of the most lucid memories of my time with my family come from such seemingly banal occasions. But what seems ordinary now, used to be special then.

Thing is, it's amazing how far the world has come in terms of making what-used-to-be-luxuries, so easily available. Doubtlessly, my generation has seen the biggest leap. But I cannot help but wonder, if without moderation, things have a way of slowly losing their charm. Do we now have more things that we enjoy less? I don't know..

P.S.:I'm really sleepy, so please excuse any typos.

On boring ponytails

When I was a child, I was impatient to grow up, like many others, because that would give me the freedom to do certain things. For many of my friends, it represented freedom from school and adults who are constantly telling them what to do. My ideas on the subject were neither profound nor grandiose. I only had a modest desire - the freedom to wear my hair loose.

Throughout my childhood, my mom (and school teachers) always insisted that my hair be either neatly braided or tied into ponytails. School wanted kids to focus less on "fashion" and more on education, while mothers wisely avoided tangled hair. My mother and I would argue every day as she tried to get my hair into a ponytail for school, while I fretted and acted like a total diva, because, well, ponytails weren't good enough for me. I would watch Bollywood heroines toss around their luscious locks on TV and yearn for the day when I could break the shackles of boring ponytails and walk around with the wind in my hair. Of course, the thought never once occurred to me that my hair itself could be a far cry from Bollywood glamor.

Just yesterday, as I shook my hair out from a ponytail before going to bed, I realized that I haven't worn my hair loose in a long time. My hair texture and unimaginative hair dressers have both made it somewhat hard for me to let my hair loose often and still look presentable. But more importantly, I cannot be bothered to spend an extra 20 minutes styling my hair every morning before barely making it in time to work. Now if only I could have my mom lovingly comb my hair everyday and make it into a neat ponytail...