A Wartime Family Tale

Dr Anjali Mehta






Republic Day preparations bring to mind the great valour of all our soldiers. What is not remembered are the smaller but equally heroic struggles of their families left to fend for themselves while the men are at war. A superb book I read “The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society” highlights the trials and tribulations of war–impacted civilians in a very elegant manner. It also brings a generous dash of humour to the rather morbid subject of war. I was reminded of my mother’s delightful wartime routines during the battle of 1971 as my father fought at the frontline. Sample this:





As in all wars, accidental civilian casualties were a common occurrence. So, a safety drill had been put in place for the families stationed in towns along border areas. Whenever any siren sounded, people were to quickly run out of the house and get into pre-dug trenches in the gardens. The sirens signified that enemy aeroplanes would soon fly overhead and could wreak havoc.





The instruction, seemed easy enough to follow, but not so in my mother’s case. In fact, it often proved to be a fierce battle (amongst the backdrop of the larger one). The motley group of which she was in charge consisted of : her five year old daughter, a six month old son, her pet pug named Moti, my paternal granny and a female neighbour who lived alone.





The moment a siren sounded, my mother would first gesticulate dramatically to granny (who was hard of hearing) to get into the trench with me, and then hand us the baby. Next she would go back for her beloved Moti who would invariably be cowering under the bed. My mother would get down on all fours near the wide bed and make attempts to swoop on Moti from different positions much like a snooker player seeking the right angle to pot a ball. This ‘ball’ however, not being inert, retreated to the farthest corner and so proved difficult to ‘pot’. All through this game, Moti, anticipating his inevitable capture, would keep up a furious barking. As if on cue, the baby would also start wailing loudly from outside. The siren, the dog and the baby formed a loud, discordant and deafening battle orchestra. By the time the portly Moti was hauled out by my mother, it was difficult to determine whether victor or vanquished was more physically exhausted. My granny, being hard of hearing, smiled serenely through all this cacophony!





Now the second part of the saga would begin. The neighbour would refuse to get into the trench with Moti citing reasons of discomfort at having to share a small intimate space with a hairy beast with bad breath. Having barely recovered from the physical labours of hauling the portly and wriggling Moti, my mother had now to engage in mental war games. Her tactics included oscillating rapidly between cajoling and threats. She hoped a judicious balance of the two would get the lady into the trench. The neighbour, however, would take her time weighing the risk- to-benefit ratio before reluctantly and cautiously sliding into the corner farthest from Moti. My mother would sigh in relief that her life had not been cut short by a non-dog-loving neighbour’s indecision.



After finally shepherding the entire group safely into the designated pit my tired mother would wonder if this is what ‘field exercises’ and ‘war games’ meant.



It is not difficult to guess which “warrior” was the keenest that the war should end real soon!

Indo-US Ties: Perspectives from a Mofussil Town

 (middle, The Statesman)

Dr Anjali Mehta






President Obama’s current visit has sparked off considerable discussions on Indo-US ties. Many years ago, I was stationed at a small Indian town, where I witnessed a small scale attempt by the locals to strengthen Indo-US ties, which inadvertently went awry. The local club members had organized an exchange programme with a sister club in America. The invited delegation consisted of two knowledgeable (and coincidentally, beautiful) lady American psychologists. The locals were enthralled by them and wanted to give them a special send-off at the concluding dinner.





The club members specially procured some bottles of expensive red wine as a treat for their guests. This decision had some path-breaking social implications. Consumption of alcohol by women was socially taboo in this town, so none of the local women drank (if we discount the sorority’s secret imbibing in glasses camouflaged with opaque napkins to disguise contents).





At the farewell dinner, the two ladies arrived, looking glamorous in short dresses. A small group of club members walked up to the Americans, welcomed them, and enquired what beverage they would like to drink. The hosts were dismayed when the foreign guests said ‘water’. They then produced the trump card, announcing with a flourish, that they had very tempting fare which would surely make the ladies reconsider their choice. Their mispronunciation of the wine’s name (‘chateaux’ sounding like ‘chat ox’) took away some of the sheen from the offer. This got restored by the wine’s vintage. To the men’s astonishment, however, this new input did not bring about the desired result.





The hosts, overcome by a compelling sense of duty, used every form of verbal persuasion to prevent the ladies from making what they perceived to be a serious error of judgment. The foreigners, however, stood by their original choice. “Why are our ‘no’s’ not being taken at face value?” they wondered, greatly baffled. “Are we missing something here?”. Their life in America had not equipped them to deal with a situation where even multiple refusals did not have any effect whatsoever.





The two sides having reached an impasse, one of the club members resorted to a bit of emotional blackmail, indelicately hinting to the ladies that that he had gone to great trouble to procure the wine.





In light of this disclosure, one of the foreigners (who was suffering from a runny tummy) felt obliged to explain their refusal more fully. “I have a bad stomach” said she.



“Of course not!” suggested the leader of the delegation with a leery twinkle in his eye, “your stomach is very good and shapely.”





The American gasped in shock; no one had flirted so outrageously with her in a formal setting. She flung an angry stare at him.





With complete disregard for the nuances of the situation, another bold member of the delegation declared firmly, “I am getting the wine for you anyway.”





The now furious psychologist threatened the man “Bring it and I will pour it in your pocket!”



The male delegation had no idea what to make of this statement, though they realized from the tone that things were not looking bright. Some members of the delegation privately compared her to the goddess Kali during a phase of wrath. Some others, who had more common sense and a well honed survival instinct, prevailed upon the others to leave the foreigners alone.





For the rest of the evening, the American ladies kept largely to themselves. The ‘vanquished’ delegation decided to drown their sorrows in fine wine (with soda and ice added for good measure!) and for them the evening passed in a pleasant vintage-wine induced haze.





The lovely foreigners left for their country the next day having tasted Indian hospitality, if not the wine!

An unusual friendship….

  (Middle, The Statesman)

Dr Anjali Mehta




Friendships happen in different ways - a chance meeting with a kind stranger, work colleagues discovering they have even more in common than just their targets or boss, parents whose children attend the same school and so many others….

I reflected on some unusual starts to my friendships :



In our student days, we would sometimes be made to stand in the corridor outside the classroom as a punishment for various little misdeeds . While serving one such sentence, I noticed a skinny, timid looking boy also standing outside another section in the corridor nearby. Feeling rather maternal and wondering how on earth he fell foul of authority, I went across to cheer him up . A half hour later, I was in a mild state of shock - it turned out he was a corridor “regular” and even my mischief paled in comparison to the range, audacity and repertoire of misdeeds recounted by him. Awestruck, I vowed never to judge a book by its cover. Our friendship grew over the next few months as we happened to get punished often together and he became a sort of “naughtiness consultant “ to me in school.



In medical college , we had just begun to form a loose knit study group of girls who used to sit and study together in the hostel balcony at night. To try and enhance our beauty along with our brains, we would apply colorful mud and vegetable face packs. One night, an intruder jumped over the compound wall and we heard his footsteps in the dark below. We all crept to the edge and peeped down. We found ourselves staring into a man’s face. On catching sight of our bizarre facial colouration, his own face drained of all colour …he simply fled in shock (we never saw him again !) The incident led to a lively discussion on topics such as beauty masks, intruders (anything other than medicine) and the ice was beautifully broken amongst us all.



The most unusual for me however, has been a friendship forged from the labour room! Eva (name changed) and I were admitted to the same hospital on the same night for onset of labour pains. Her pains quickened before me and her loud groans attracted the attention of my family members. Feeling fairly underutilized as far as I was concerned, they went to her bed to soothe her . My pains, on the other hand, froze my tongue with shock and no sound emerged. Time passed. Eva continued to cheerfully yell the place down while I remained dazedly silent willing to expend my energy only on bare necessities like breathing. My family was largely focused on comforting Eva, believing her to be in greater pain (though any good medical book and life’s experiences will tell you labour is painful without exception and shouting is an inaccurate barometer, being personality based and not pain based). Meanwhile, her family watched me with increasing awe. They thought I was the epitome of dignified, silent suffering and came over to congratulate my parents on harboring such a seemingly stoic being in the family.

I think in our lucid moments , Eva and I felt cross with each other. I felt she had garnered all the sympathy and she felt I had garnered all the admiration. We delivered within minutes of each other.



Over the next few weeks we met at common vaccination dates. We saw a relatively more glamorous version of each other (a human shape rather than balloon shape) and were exposed to facets of personality other than reaction to pain . It was in these visits that the friendship blossomed….



I have learnt that in any of life’s little twists and turns..there just may be a new friend round the corner…

Early morning dilemma : to swim or to walk ?

By Anjali Mehta




We are fortunate in having a huge, lovely park in our colony and on the days on which I can’t swim in the nearby pool, I walk around there.

I tried to reflect on which of these two activities I enjoyed more….



Swimming, apart from being an excellent all round exercise, also has the great psychological advantage that one is actually lying down (in a manner of speaking) while exercising. Also, minor personal embarrassments, such as a rather ample paunch can be concealed under the water while one goes about the task of getting them into shape!



The vibrant park environment has beautiful surroundings, friendly birds (who occasionally gift droppings from above), small animals, and also a human spectrum spanning all ages. Apart from walking, many older people are still able to contort their aging bodies into impressively difficult postures on the grass – truly a yogic triumph of mind over (resistant) matter! Sometimes I find an older lady dressed in a sari for her morning walk. In the vast sea of casual sportswear, it is quaint and strangely comforting as it somehow projects a seamless continuity between the generations. The tee-shirts of teenagers have funny sayings over the front. Sometimes I am able to just glimpse half a line and have to wait for a couple of rounds to get the full message in surreptitiously gleaned bits (given the poor social graces involved in staring at peoples stomachs). I specially enjoyed “I was an atheist till I realised I was God!”

The laughter therapy group often catches you off-guard making you jump out of your skin by suddenly erupting into loud laughter. It’s delightful to watch the effect of this on little kids nearby – they roll helplessly on the ground in mirth all the while pointing at the laughter group. The group’s objective of spreading happiness is clearly achieved!

Sometimes while walking, you feel many people are craning their necks this way and that to glimpse you better – it feels like a good antidote to your midlife crisis, till, on closer inspection, you realize that neck exercises are being performed.. Occasionally, a group of people walking by tell an interesting story loudly and one just has to resist the temptation to match one’s pace with them just to find out how the story ended !



In contrast, the swimming pool micro cosmos is more homogenous with a Marx-like socialist feel to it, consisting of a large and fairly uniform group of partially submerged bodies in a big water body. Identities also get concomitantly submerged as individual recognition clues like hair, eyes and body shape are obscured with cap, goggles and water..

This is the place to enjoy a spirit of collective belonging with fellow humans much like a school of fish swimming synchronously together. The interaction with nature can be stark – (all of) you and the sky directly above - a powerful experience.





What seems to emerge is choosing between a bracing environment with pleasant diversions vis a vis the enveloping, secure feeling of surrounding cool waters… best to wake up each day and decide what the need of that particular hour is…

Vignettes of fatherhood – as seen through a mother’s eyes

 (middle, The Tribune)




I read an interesting article by a friend on types of fathers. It made me think about fatherhood generally and specifically about us as parents. I remember when we were growing up, the sentence “I will tell your father” held a great significance and threat value – fathers were relatively more shadowy and so quite feared. Now, since fathers are in constant proximity to the children, almost as much as mothers, any mystery element is gone and the kids have them figured out completely. The children are fairly confident that fathers can be wound around their little fingers with perhaps greater ease than even the mother.




My husband finds fatherhood a very enjoyable and positive experience. There are however moments when I have found him feeling severely challenged….

.

He had once gone to a birthday party to pick up the kids who were there with their new nanny. The hostess told him to wait just a little till the khoi bag was over (a bag filled with sweets and small presents is broken at a height and children scramble to pick these). When the sweets were scattered, he found to his dismay that the nanny was also going enthusiastically after the prizes. He realized that being a new girl from the village she did not know that the game was only for the children. Embarrassed, he wanted to somehow tell our nanny to refrain but thought that calling out to her may draw further attention to him (the absolutely last thing he wanted ). So he did the next best thing- retreated as far away as possible so as not to be identified in any way with her or this occurrence. He has never been able to forget the pure horror of the moment when the nanny, spotting him far away, yelled out to him and advanced right up to him, triumphantly holding out her treasure trove of prizes. He wished the ground would open up before him! He has since been very adamant about not going for birthday parties as much as he can possibly help it.



We had taken the kids for a swim and it was time for them to come out of the pool. My son was being particularly recalcitrant about coming out of the water so my husband decided to be a little firm and told him that he had no option but to step out of the pool. His efforts were rewarded by a loud wailing on the part of my son and out of the blue the unfair verdict “you are the worst papa”! Everyone in the pool looked at my husband to see who had earned this title. He became beetroot red …..



We had taken the kids for a Dhrupad (it’s fairly serious, slow, timeless classical music) recital and they were reasonably lukewarm about this style of music. They were both fighting for the chair near me before the show and it was decided that it would be half and half time each. An hour later, my son decided that it was now his turn to sit next to me and asked my daughter to exchange places. She refused. Whereupon his face became set into the expression which comes on just before he is about to begin wailing loudly. I can never forget the look of pure terror on my husband’s face as he urgently took my arm and whispered “I think he’s about to cry!’. He had visions of our son’s loudly familiar wail drowning out the concert completely and thought that they both may well make it to the next day newspapers entertainment section, for the wrong reasons. I somehow managed to save the situation. Kapil never recovered fully - he is always very uneasy when taking the kids anywhere though they sit very nicely through most performances now and keeps searching the children’s faces for status checks during the programme.



My husband has reached the universal conclusion “there is never a dull moment….

Transcript of conversations with the police after the robbery at the clinic last year.

Dr Anjali Mehta






The police officer, Mr RS, who has courteously come to the clinic himself, is invited to sit in my (AM) chamber. The landlord’s son (LS) is also present.



Mr RS : So tell me madam, how can I help you ?



AM : Well you’ve been assigned to investigate this case I hear. If you could get us the formal FIR registered which you assured these people you would once I returned… and generally solve this case, and help recover the stuff/ catch the culprits etc.



RS : Why do you want an FIR registered ? Its just a piece of paper. Whats more important is the case. What exactly would you like me to do about the case ?



AM : (feeling he should be the one outlining what he wants to do but ready to offer ideas anyway) : For starters, why don’t you question the neighbours ? There was a big break in, a part of the wall was torn down, heavy objects were removed…. surely someone must have heard some noise ?



RS : Madam, there is not much point in questioning neighbours. They can be very rude to the police. Last time we questioned the neighbours of a gentleman who had been robbed, the neighbours were very uncooperative and asked us whether they were his security guards or what ? Why should they keep tabs on the going ons and coming ons at his house? What is the point madam of getting mixed up with someones neighbours ? !



AM: Surely you can be firm and ask them to respect the uniform and answer your questions properly ?



RS :Nobody listens nowadays, all act rude.



AM; but you should not let rudeness deter you from your duty. I also pray that I run into polite people everyday but one always gets a mixed bag ! How are you going to get information if you don’t ask ?



Anyway, I have a list of suspects. I think we need to question the people who came to install the air conditioner at the back as they were privy to the layout.



RS : Okay madam, you ring them and summon them here, Ill talk to them in front of you.



AM : Mr RS, I don’t think the clinic is an appropriate place to question suspects.. suggest you call them to the police station at your leisure or question them on their own premises !



LS : Mr RS, surely you don’t want the lady doctor to be mixed up with your questioning ? She is right. You cant suddenly call people to a clinic to question them !



AM : (trying a new tack) I believe the finger-print squad which came here the first day lifted a print or two… why don’t you compare them with your criminal records.. might help ?



RS; Ha ! You are talking about criminals commiting crimes…. madam.. are you aware of the profile of people commiting crimes nowadays ? (Long story sbout a national level player commiting a crime etc). Its ordinary folk who are indulging in crimes nowadays….where and who do we look for ?



AM : But the average person does not have the guts to break walls, or the tools and sophistication to cut grills and unhinge locked doors… Surely it smacks of experience in this field…..but anyhow….if you feel its futile, don’t compare the prints is all I can say !



RS : I didn’t say that….



AM ( not clear what he meant so changes topic) : Another suggestion I can make is that I will give you the manufacturing numbers of the computer, AC etc and you could float it in the gray market. If anyone sells the stuff locally, there is a chance the shopkeeper may alert you and they may be caught…



RS: Fair enough madam… why don’t you provide me with the addresses,and phone numbers of the shops in this area that deal in second hand goods and I will circulate these to them.



LS (incredulous): do you seriously expect madam here to know that ? And isn’t it your job to have an inkling of this stuff ? Why on earth should madam be doing your homework for you ?



AM : Mr RS, it seems my suggestions are not helpful to you. Forget about them. Tell me, when there is a robbery, what is the standard protocol you follow ? Just apply that.



RS: (total silence)



AM: Tell me, what is the normal procedure ?



RS : (total silence)



AM : RS ji, say something…



RS : Well madam, solving any crime is pretty futile for the police. (He launches into stories about how the police supposedly solved some cases but were accused of incompetence , how things backfire, poor police, dogs life etc . AM keeps listening and offers him some water, tea thinking all the while that it is becoming rather like a counselling session with AM as therapist and RS crying on her shoulder.



He also tries to suggest that robberies happen all the time.. he cant see what the fuss is about in the first place… )





AM : (weary, 45 mts later). I heard all you said for the past hour and a half. I appreciate your concerns. Don’t solve the crime. I don’t want anything back if it’s such an effort. Just send someone to my clinic a couple of times in uniform so that people notice police are around . So that it acts as a deterrent. People should not get the feeling that robbing is easy and one can just help oneself to another’s stuff with impunity.Yes, robberies happen often. But, one can regulate who goes in and out of one’s home (friends/relatives etc). However, how can one regulate who enters a clinic and with what secret intent ? A doctor cannot refuse to entertain someone’s medical issues because they look sinister or something. All are welcome equally. It’s a public place so doctor’s are always vulnerable… Its your duty to at least patrol the place once in a while….



RS: Madam the beat is large.. have you kept a security guard ?



LS: Nobody in this entire area has one..so we felt it was unnecessary and would draw attention instead…



RS : Well if you haven’t even kept a guard then what security measures have you taken ?



LS : There are walls, grills etc. Surely heavy iron grills are deemed deterrents….



RS : If there’s no guard, its quite obvious why you were robbed !



LS ( Not clear if this meant that people who don’t have guards deserve to be robbed ) but…but…



AM : (feeling a bit cross). Mr RS, we have talked at length for over an hour. I have a concern. I have not heard a single statement from your side reassuring me that you intend to help me in any way. Is that to be my take home message from this conversation ? Show some concern for what has happened….



RS : Madam , I will help you.



AM: (Not convinced ). Ok, lets see how the case progresses… When should I touch base with you next ?



RS : Anytime madam….







The next few weeks were fairly harrowing with several strange conversations (documented elsewhere) with various police officers. They played loads of ping pong with us and it took us close to 4 weeks ( with help from journalists and RWAs) to just get the FIR registered. People said they must have wanted a bribe. I reasoned that if the thieves took money and also the police then what was the difference between them ? I did not have the inclination or means to fund two sets of heists !



We bought new stuff to replace the old . The AC people thought I was strange because I absolutely refused to allow them to put the compressor outside. They went on and on reasoning about the hot air then finally agreed to put it in the washing room after the staff whispered in their ear that I had been recently robbed so was in a vulnerable frame of mind. They then did their job quietly and would come and throw kind glances in my direction!



The only security we have currently is getting items insured . We are also looking for a security guard. The people who’ve offered their services thus far are feeble looking and we feel concerned for their safety.The search is on..The neighbours feel an armed guard is better but one feels worried about trigger happy folk…



The neighbours are talking about a suspicious character they saw around but who will question/apprehend this person ? Anyway life goes on…..

Does the early bird really catch the worm ?

   (middle, Tribune)


We have been hearing since childhood about the early bird catching the worm. It conjures up images of gaining a great deal of advantage by entering a situation early, having a pick of things.

Recently, I reflected on the times I had been the early bird..

Early one morning, I was the first customer buying medicines and I was in a bit of a hurry as my sick son was waiting in the car. After trying to expedite the process by actively scanning the medicine shelves to help the shop assistants find the requisite syrups, we soon came to the stage of payment. There an unexpected delay occurred. As I was the first customer, the cashier was apparently not ready. Totally ignoring my proffered hand holding the money, he first bent and touched the account ledgers with his forehead. He then systematically kissed the cash till and some other books and papers nearby and then said a prayer. I was half fascinated and half impatient and was wondering how many more things this courtesy would be extended to. I started musing about those who kiss objects - winners like Federer, Martina et al certainly kissed their trophies – and wondered whether this man too was a champ among chemists. I also thought of my OPD and surgical instruments and how (in comparison) they were a neglected lot, never having had the benefit of my lips planted upon them…I kept musing (and he kept kissing).. Suddenly, I was startled out of my reverie by the rupee notes being pulled from my hand. I was glad to be able to finally pay and leave. I realized that though I did not get a discount or other tangible early bird benefits I was privy to an interesting opening ceremony.

I thought about other times I had been early..

The one time I had dragged myself terribly early to a medical conference and been a lucky recipient of an “early bird prize’. Though I had a shiny new suitcase to accessorize my travels, I remember sleeping through most of the later part of the conference. Clearly, my aging body had not fully been able to tackle the challenge of jumping out of bed so much earlier than normal.

Or the time when being a stickler for being on time at airports we arrived so early (at my insistence) that even the check-in counters were not open. I can’t either define or forget the strange look that my husband (who had tumbled out of bed at 4 am) kept giving me in a sustained fashion till the counters finally opened. At least the early (lady) bird got some pure undivided attention from the better half even though she was not keen to interpret the accompanying sentiment!

Or the times when one has actually gone to a Delhi reception at the exact time specified only to find that one is earlier than the host/hostess and are mistaken for the bride’s (underdressed) parents (no guest could possibly be that early !). At such times one can give useful tips on the final touches to the décor as the event managers have only you for an opinion ! Or you reach a dinner on time, patting yourself on your back for your punctuality only to find your dinner host opening the front doorbell with his tie yet untied around his neck . At that time you are not able to fathom whether he is cross at being caught in a half dressed fashion or delighted at seeing his first party guest…

I decided eventually that all that the early bird picks up are some intangible lessons and it should not really hope for any tangible worms!