My man cave

 

So, all my life I have been surrounded by women.

Now wait – that may give you the wrong impression- I am no Don Juan- please let me explain.

As a young boy it was my mother –who had many lady friends who often visited - then there was my aunt and her friends – then two female cousins who lived with us - and yes there were a few neighbourhood girls thrown in for good measure. There were boys in the colony too but that is a different story for another time.

Then I got married – one wife (obviously) and two daughters – good young women now and nothing wrong with that. The next thing I knew was, that a kitten had been brought into the household. I was not sure how to differentiate between a male and a female kitten, so I did the next best thing – I asked. You got it right – It is a female and I am crazy about her.

Lastly, I am in the teaching profession – have been so all my life. Now as you know, teachers and even Principals these days are mostly female. Hence even at work, its mostly women. Now don’t get me wrong once again – am not complaining as such, but it has just been and still is women, women, WOMEN!

However, to come to the point – I finally, I got up this morning and said it loud and clear to myself – I WANT A MAN CAVE and I WANT IT NOW!

We have a three bedroom flat and as there is one spare bedroom – this was a brilliant idea & why not? I need a sanctuary to think, to write, to read and in general to have some ME time! I have also read that it improves emotional health.

So here was the plan, made at around 5 am when I do all my planning!

I would first need to get rid of the junk in the room – the double bed, the bedside lamps, the dressing table, the boxes packed with stuff that was bought and never used, the packing cases with old clothes to be given away. The next was to decide what needed to go into “my man cave’’.

Now before executing any plan – however simple – it is always a wise proposition to pass it by the ladies in the house – all married men know this.

So, I did that as they woke – I think I got the timing slightly wrong.

So here is what my wife and younger daughter had to say.

Wife

1.       Why do you suddenly need a man cave?

2.        We cannot waste a room.

3.       Take the washing machine room (You can’t swing a cat in there)

4.       You are too old for a man cave.

5.       Stop it.

6.       OK go make one – better for us. It is good.  

Daughter

1.       Please have it – you have your own TV there and we can watch our programmes in peace.

2.       More peace for us too.

I was ecstatic!

So, this was the well thought out plan.

I will have my own room – MY MAN CAVE. I will have my TV, (have seen one that has caught my fancy), my Lazy boy recliner, my working table with my laptop, printer, scanner etc, my guitars and my bar and a small fridge.  I plan to add in some exercise equipment too. I suggested buying a dart board some weeks ago but that was shot down as being too dangerous (not sure for who). I will have a shelf with some books and a cupboard with my clothes and a couple of bean bags.

 As you see- all simple pleasures.

Someone once joked and suggested I purchase an expensive toolbox. However, I have said this before, and I am saying it again for the record  – I am NOT a handy man. So, putting nails into the wall, mending fuses, servicing the air conditioner or the gas cooker, screwing in nuts and bolts, repairing electronic equipment, repairing broken furniture etc is not up my street – in fact, it is nowhere on my horizon. I recently disconnected the TV for a stupid experiment and then tried to connect it back – I could not & we had nothing to see for two days till I got someone to fix it.

So, there will be no toolbox, no box with nuts, nails, screws, washers and bolts, no power drill, no working bench - nothing of that sort.   Everything was moving well- My list was ready – I had bathed & dressed, had a healthy breakfast, done the grocery shopping, brought all the items the family needed, and was ready to go & purchase my new television.

Then my elder daughter and her husband walked in. This was unexpected as it was rather early. The first thing my wife told them was about my plan for the man cave. Women can’t keep anything in, and they must blurt it out at the first instance. In my wife’s family they have perfected the art of sharing news with each other !

My daughter listened and there was no expression on her face. Then here is what my daughter said, and I will quote verbatim.

“That’s such a nice idea daddy, but once I have my baby we will be staying here over night quite often, at least during the first six months , so the room will not be empty .

I smiled as all good dads do and said, “are you having a girl”?

“Wait and see’’, was her answer.

Grandad to be will just have to wait.

My man cave will have to wait too. 

My man cave

 

So, all my life I have been surrounded by women.

Now wait – that may give you the wrong impression- I am no Don Juan- please let me explain.

As a young boy it was my mother –who had many lady friends who often visited - then there was my aunt and her friends – then two female cousins who lived with us - and yes there were a few neighbourhood girls thrown in for good measure. There were boys in the colony too but that is a different story for another time.

Then I got married – one wife (obviously) and two daughters – good young women now and nothing wrong with that. The next thing I knew was, that a kitten had been brought into the household. I was not sure how to differentiate between a male and a female kitten, so I did the next best thing – I asked. You got it right – It is a female and I am crazy about her.

Lastly, I am in the teaching profession – have been so all my life. Now as you know, teachers and even Principals these days are mostly female. Hence even at work, its mostly women. Now don’t get me wrong once again – am not complaining as such, but it has just been and still is women, women, WOMEN!

However, to come to the point – I finally, I got up this morning and said it loud and clear to myself – I WANT A MAN CAVE and I WANT IT NOW!

We have a three bedroom flat and as there is one spare bedroom – this was a brilliant idea & why not? I need a sanctuary to think, to write, to read and in general to have some ME time! I have also read that it improves emotional health.

So here was the plan, made at around 5 am when I do all my planning!

I would first need to get rid of the junk in the room – the double bed, the bedside lamps, the dressing table, the boxes packed with stuff that was bought and never used, the packing cases with old clothes to be given away. The next was to decide what needed to go into “my man cave’’.

Now before executing any plan – however simple – it is always a wise proposition to pass it by the ladies in the house – all married men know this.

So, I did that as they woke – I think I got the timing slightly wrong.

So here is what my wife and younger daughter had to say.

Wife

1.       Why do you suddenly need a man cave?

2.        We cannot waste a room.

3.       Take the washing machine room (You can’t swing a cat in there)

4.       You are too old for a man cave.

5.       Stop it.

6.       OK go make one – better for us. It is good.  

Daughter

1.       Please have it – you have your own TV there and we can watch our programmes in peace.

2.       More peace for us too.

I was ecstatic!

So, this was the well thought out plan.

I will have my own room – MY MAN CAVE. I will have my TV, (have seen one that has caught my fancy), my Lazy boy recliner, my working table with my laptop, printer, scanner etc, my guitars and my bar and a small fridge.  I plan to add in some exercise equipment too. I suggested buying a dart board some weeks ago but that was shot down as being too dangerous (not sure for who). I will have a shelf with some books and a cupboard with my clothes and a couple of bean bags.

 As you see- all simple pleasures.

Someone once joked and suggested I purchase an expensive toolbox. However, I have said this before, and I am saying it again for the record  – I am NOT a handy man. So, putting nails into the wall, mending fuses, servicing the air conditioner or the gas cooker, screwing in nuts and bolts, repairing electronic equipment, repairing broken furniture etc is not up my street – in fact, it is nowhere on my horizon. I recently disconnected the TV for a stupid experiment and then tried to connect it back – I could not & we had nothing to see for two days till I got someone to fix it.

So, there will be no toolbox, no box with nuts, nails, screws, washers and bolts, no power drill, no working bench - nothing of that sort.   Everything was moving well- My list was ready – I had bathed & dressed, had a healthy breakfast, done the grocery shopping, brought all the items the family needed, and was ready to go & purchase my new television.

Then my elder daughter and her husband walked in. This was unexpected as it was rather early. The first thing my wife told them was about my plan for the man cave. Women can’t keep anything in, and they must blurt it out at the first instance. In my wife’s family they have perfected the art of sharing news with each other !

My daughter listened and there was no expression on her face. Then here is what my daughter said, and I will quote verbatim.

“That’s such a nice idea daddy, but once I have my baby we will be staying here over night quite often, at least during the first six months , so the room will not be empty .

I smiled as all good dads do and said, “are you having a girl”?

“Wait and see’’, was her answer.

Grandad to be will just have to wait.

My man cave will have to wait too. 

Of Teachers , Monitors and The Bishops School, Pune

 

When I was a school boy , which seems like about a hundred odd ago now, there was one person who I always looked forward to knowing about, before all others, at the start of the school year – that person was the class teacher!

The subject teachers always came second, and they too had a pecking order.

 Looking back, for me it was always in the same order – English, Math, Science, Hindi – History, Geography, Art, PE etc all followed. For me Hindi was a bug bear- I was usually, not very fond of the Hindi teacher, and I presume, the feeling was mutual.

Looking back, I can surprisingly remember most of my class teachers, starting from Grade one. Over the years, if I knew the class teacher or had interacted with her / him before, it gave me a sense of comfort and security. I loved it when the class teacher had taught me a subject the year before. In that way it was a known entity. I do remember some of the subject teachers, but only because I was either very good, or very week in their subject- or else they had been a terror and someone who I had been mortally scared of.

If one heard that the class teacher was someone who had not taught them before, then enquires were made to find out “details”. Were they strict was usually the first question. Were they extra particular about haircuts, turn out, punctuality came next? For all teachers, irrespective of the subject they taught, there was always the “are they strict or lenient in marking test and exam scripts/ can you cheat”!

Somehow, many of my class teachers either taught English or Math – I was very good in one and rather weak in the other, so it was either a good year or a not so good one for me!

On the first day of school, one usually had a chance to meet most of the teachers. The known entities were greeted warmly and there was a sort of “hail fellow well met” atmosphere from the start. They would talk to the ones they were close to. They would look at the known troublemakers and use phrases like “not you again” or, OMG we meet again”. Often you would hear a teacher say, “how the hell did you manage to pass”. Then of course, there were their favourites, who would be greeted with “Good to see you – how is your mother / father”. Or “at least I have the same monitor”.

It was always fun when the known lenient ones entered the classroom on the first day- there was clapping, hooting &  cheering while they tried their best to bring some sort of order to the chaos – one could almost hear a combined sigh of relief from the entire class, as we looked forward to a year of fun, at least in one period.

The strict teachers usually started with a lecture which went something like this: -

“You may have heard of me – I don’t fool around. I can be very good or very bad so do not try to play games with me as you will regret it. No noise in my class if not you will be out. Make sure my homework is completed and I do not want any excuses. If you do not study, you are sure to fail”.

Now, if they were old teachers in the school, this lecture was usually skipped as their reputation had preceded them. This was usually said by the newer lot or someone who had been told by other staff that this was a so called “wild class”.

Of course, there were the known “excellent teachers” and most boys hoped they would teach them – they were greeted warmly and with a lot of respect – parents too knew who these people were, and often requested the Principal to put their ward in that teachers’ class.

Next came the business of Monitors!

Being made  a monitor in the Primary and middle school was something of an achievement and a Monitor was a coveted post. There was the class Monitor – Usually a tall, big made, tough guy who other boys feared, and who could keep the class in control when the teacher was not present. There was usually an assistant monitor too – equally big built – both were often friends.

I was short, thin and you could have referred to me as puny, so I was never made the class monitor. On a few occasions, I was made the Cupboard monitor, the Attendance Register monitor, or the Staffroom monitor.

The cupboard monitor kept the keys of the small class cupboard. In it were the various registers and above all, exercise books in which boys did the Subject tests. One was always warned never to lose or misplace the keys.  The Attendance Register monitor handled the Attendance for the class, while the staff room monitor went to and from the staff room carrying books for the teacher. I forgot to mention the blackboard monitor- usually a tall boy who could reach the top of the blackboard which he had to clean after every period. He also kept the chalk and duster in his desk. If he chanced to leave his desk open, sticks of chalk were stolen within minutes, and a chalk fight ensued as soon as the teacher had left the class. Some brave lads popped pieces of chalk at each other during a lesson – a few tried their aim at the teacher and God forbid they got caught. A few enterprising teachers had Fan and Light monitors and Display board monitors too but they were not very coveted posts. I remember a boy was once punished for the whole day outside the class – He was the Fan and light monitor and he had not switched the fans and lights off after school the previous day.

When I joined Bishops in 1981, nothing much seemed to have changed from when I was in school.

 Boys still waited to see who the class teacher was and who the various subjects’ teachers were. The lenient teachers were still welcomed with howling, cheering, and clapping and being a monitor was still much coveted. The strict teachers were given time to settle down and they hardly smiled – at least not during the first few weeks. Their lessons also began on day one.  A brave boy or two would try and crack a wise joke or ask a stupid question but the retort would be crisp &  everyone soon knew how far they could go.

I started as a Class teacher in 5A and surprise of surprises I still remember my two monitors – Mangnani and Vivek Sood. They were intelligent chaps and assisted me with various tasks.

I would like to add – being a monitor of any sort was usually a first lesson in Leadership, and innumerable boys have told me how it helped them build confidence, become reliable, focussed and task oriented.

Many monitors held similar posts in various classes throughout their school years  and usually ended up as School Prefects and Captains – I never did.

I distinctly remember a master telling me that I lacked Leadership qualities!  He was right at that time!   

Were you ever a monitor or a Prefect? Would love to hear your story.

Of Teachers , Monitors and The Bishops School, Pune

 

When I was a school boy , which seems like about a hundred odd ago now, there was one person who I always looked forward to knowing about, before all others, at the start of the school year – that person was the class teacher!

The subject teachers always came second, and they too had a pecking order.

 Looking back, for me it was always in the same order – English, Math, Science, Hindi – History, Geography, Art, PE etc all followed. For me Hindi was a bug bear- I was usually, not very fond of the Hindi teacher, and I presume, the feeling was mutual.

Looking back, I can surprisingly remember most of my class teachers, starting from Grade one. Over the years, if I knew the class teacher or had interacted with her / him before, it gave me a sense of comfort and security. I loved it when the class teacher had taught me a subject the year before. In that way it was a known entity. I do remember some of the subject teachers, but only because I was either very good, or very week in their subject- or else they had been a terror and someone who I had been mortally scared of.

If one heard that the class teacher was someone who had not taught them before, then enquires were made to find out “details”. Were they strict was usually the first question. Were they extra particular about haircuts, turn out, punctuality came next? For all teachers, irrespective of the subject they taught, there was always the “are they strict or lenient in marking test and exam scripts/ can you cheat”!

Somehow, many of my class teachers either taught English or Math – I was very good in one and rather weak in the other, so it was either a good year or a not so good one for me!

On the first day of school, one usually had a chance to meet most of the teachers. The known entities were greeted warmly and there was a sort of “hail fellow well met” atmosphere from the start. They would talk to the ones they were close to. They would look at the known troublemakers and use phrases like “not you again” or, OMG we meet again”. Often you would hear a teacher say, “how the hell did you manage to pass”. Then of course, there were their favourites, who would be greeted with “Good to see you – how is your mother / father”. Or “at least I have the same monitor”.

It was always fun when the known lenient ones entered the classroom on the first day- there was clapping, hooting &  cheering while they tried their best to bring some sort of order to the chaos – one could almost hear a combined sigh of relief from the entire class, as we looked forward to a year of fun, at least in one period.

The strict teachers usually started with a lecture which went something like this: -

“You may have heard of me – I don’t fool around. I can be very good or very bad so do not try to play games with me as you will regret it. No noise in my class if not you will be out. Make sure my homework is completed and I do not want any excuses. If you do not study, you are sure to fail”.

Now, if they were old teachers in the school, this lecture was usually skipped as their reputation had preceded them. This was usually said by the newer lot or someone who had been told by other staff that this was a so called “wild class”.

Of course, there were the known “excellent teachers” and most boys hoped they would teach them – they were greeted warmly and with a lot of respect – parents too knew who these people were, and often requested the Principal to put their ward in that teachers’ class.

Next came the business of Monitors!

Being made  a monitor in the Primary and middle school was something of an achievement and a Monitor was a coveted post. There was the class Monitor – Usually a tall, big made, tough guy who other boys feared, and who could keep the class in control when the teacher was not present. There was usually an assistant monitor too – equally big built – both were often friends.

I was short, thin and you could have referred to me as puny, so I was never made the class monitor. On a few occasions, I was made the Cupboard monitor, the Attendance Register monitor, or the Staffroom monitor.

The cupboard monitor kept the keys of the small class cupboard. In it were the various registers and above all, exercise books in which boys did the Subject tests. One was always warned never to lose or misplace the keys.  The Attendance Register monitor handled the Attendance for the class, while the staff room monitor went to and from the staff room carrying books for the teacher. I forgot to mention the blackboard monitor- usually a tall boy who could reach the top of the blackboard which he had to clean after every period. He also kept the chalk and duster in his desk. If he chanced to leave his desk open, sticks of chalk were stolen within minutes, and a chalk fight ensued as soon as the teacher had left the class. Some brave lads popped pieces of chalk at each other during a lesson – a few tried their aim at the teacher and God forbid they got caught. A few enterprising teachers had Fan and Light monitors and Display board monitors too but they were not very coveted posts. I remember a boy was once punished for the whole day outside the class – He was the Fan and light monitor and he had not switched the fans and lights off after school the previous day.

When I joined Bishops in 1981, nothing much seemed to have changed from when I was in school.

 Boys still waited to see who the class teacher was and who the various subjects’ teachers were. The lenient teachers were still welcomed with howling, cheering, and clapping and being a monitor was still much coveted. The strict teachers were given time to settle down and they hardly smiled – at least not during the first few weeks. Their lessons also began on day one.  A brave boy or two would try and crack a wise joke or ask a stupid question but the retort would be crisp &  everyone soon knew how far they could go.

I started as a Class teacher in 5A and surprise of surprises I still remember my two monitors – Mangnani and Vivek Sood. They were intelligent chaps and assisted me with various tasks.

I would like to add – being a monitor of any sort was usually a first lesson in Leadership, and innumerable boys have told me how it helped them build confidence, become reliable, focussed and task oriented.

Many monitors held similar posts in various classes throughout their school years  and usually ended up as School Prefects and Captains – I never did.

I distinctly remember a master telling me that I lacked Leadership qualities!  He was right at that time!   

Were you ever a monitor or a Prefect? Would love to hear your story.

There are all sorts of drivers out there

 Another story - another day

Driving back from an exhausting meeting a few weeks ago, three things happened in a span of an hour that set me thinking. There are some careless and irresponsible drivers out there, and then there are some bizarre clowns.

The first was ‘actually’ a first for me, and something I had never seen before. A man in a rather weather-beaten Honda Civic, was first tailgating and then flashing an ambulance!

Now I am not sure whether the ambulance had an occupant or not, but that is beside the point. The audacity of the act itself, took me by surprise. Not only is tailgating a punishable offence but flashing an ambulance should soon be added to the list if it is not already there. It is just not on & I consider it the height of impudence.

The second was a rather humongous vehicle, a tanker of some sorts, with about 16 wheels, which was carrying some hazardous liquid - all 36,000 litres of it. It had the word ‘DANGER’ printed in large red letters on both sides. I would like to believe I am quite a prudent & cautious driver, but the guy of the vehicle in question, was either a novice or else, like me at times - had a poor sense of direction! (I now use Google maps)

Whenever I see such vehicles, my senses go on high alert and I have, in the past, imagined the worst, when passing them.

However, that’s another story, so let me set the scene for you here.

We were both driving parallel to each other at a steady 80 kmph on a lovely wide road. He was on my right. Suddenly, he veered towards me, as he saw an exit to my left and obviously wanted to use the approaching flyover. Indicators on, he bulldozed his way across my path, almost sideswiping me in the bargain. I cursed under my breath and let it pass. Fifteen seconds later, he was back in front of me as he had changed his mind and about a hundred meters down the road, he finally exited to the right. If that was not dangerous driving what is.

Then came the mother of all drivers, literally and figuratively speaking.

I had probably slowed down a bit, when suddenly, out of nowhere, I spotted a lady in a small white car – probably a ‘Tida’- flashing me furiously from behind. To get my attention she even sounded her horn a few times. I was in the fast lane and the road we were on was quite empty as it was afternoon, so I pulled to my right to let her pass by. However, as she came up on my left side she slowed down, lowered her window glass, and gestured me to do so. I followed instructions, all the time wondering what the matter was. She then waved & simultaneously shouted out a question- “which way to Global village”?

If I had my way, if it were possible, and if I knew how, I would have got out and punctured her tires – yes, all four of them. Couldn’t she follow road signs?

My gentlemanly instincts soon got the better of me & I immediately remembered how I had got horribly lost when going to the global village last year and a couple of times before as well, so I smiled and asked her to follow me. She did so for about three km and I then signalled to her to branch off to the right, as I carried on.

On hindsight now , I have learnt just one way to get to the Global village and we were nowhere near that road so I probably sent her off in the wrong direction .

There are all sorts of drivers out there

 Another story - another day

Driving back from an exhausting meeting a few weeks ago, three things happened in a span of an hour that set me thinking. There are some careless and irresponsible drivers out there, and then there are some bizarre clowns.

The first was ‘actually’ a first for me, and something I had never seen before. A man in a rather weather-beaten Honda Civic, was first tailgating and then flashing an ambulance!

Now I am not sure whether the ambulance had an occupant or not, but that is beside the point. The audacity of the act itself, took me by surprise. Not only is tailgating a punishable offence but flashing an ambulance should soon be added to the list if it is not already there. It is just not on & I consider it the height of impudence.

The second was a rather humongous vehicle, a tanker of some sorts, with about 16 wheels, which was carrying some hazardous liquid - all 36,000 litres of it. It had the word ‘DANGER’ printed in large red letters on both sides. I would like to believe I am quite a prudent & cautious driver, but the guy of the vehicle in question, was either a novice or else, like me at times - had a poor sense of direction! (I now use Google maps)

Whenever I see such vehicles, my senses go on high alert and I have, in the past, imagined the worst, when passing them.

However, that’s another story, so let me set the scene for you here.

We were both driving parallel to each other at a steady 80 kmph on a lovely wide road. He was on my right. Suddenly, he veered towards me, as he saw an exit to my left and obviously wanted to use the approaching flyover. Indicators on, he bulldozed his way across my path, almost sideswiping me in the bargain. I cursed under my breath and let it pass. Fifteen seconds later, he was back in front of me as he had changed his mind and about a hundred meters down the road, he finally exited to the right. If that was not dangerous driving what is.

Then came the mother of all drivers, literally and figuratively speaking.

I had probably slowed down a bit, when suddenly, out of nowhere, I spotted a lady in a small white car – probably a ‘Tida’- flashing me furiously from behind. To get my attention she even sounded her horn a few times. I was in the fast lane and the road we were on was quite empty as it was afternoon, so I pulled to my right to let her pass by. However, as she came up on my left side she slowed down, lowered her window glass, and gestured me to do so. I followed instructions, all the time wondering what the matter was. She then waved & simultaneously shouted out a question- “which way to Global village”?

If I had my way, if it were possible, and if I knew how, I would have got out and punctured her tires – yes, all four of them. Couldn’t she follow road signs?

My gentlemanly instincts soon got the better of me & I immediately remembered how I had got horribly lost when going to the global village last year and a couple of times before as well, so I smiled and asked her to follow me. She did so for about three km and I then signalled to her to branch off to the right, as I carried on.

On hindsight now , I have learnt just one way to get to the Global village and we were nowhere near that road so I probably sent her off in the wrong direction .

United in sympathies

 UNITED IN SYMPATHIES

 Decades from now the world will remember this unrelenting pandemic 

Moreover, wonder how we made it through . The year the Grim Reaper decided to make a stop over 

 Wielding a sharpened scythe and harvesting at will

 Family gatherings will suddenly turn nostalgic ‘Covid’, will be discussed, and 2020 revisited – painfully 

Those poor wretched brave souls whose toil was in vain 

 Many of who would have passed on

 A single candle will be lit 

and fervent prayers recited 

 The melodious chants of well-loved hymns 

will echo in the wind 

 On a cold, dark, wintery night 

 There will be stories and tears 

and families will reminisce 

On the good old days which were suddenly turned upside down

 Lockdowns, masks, social distancing and contact tracing

 Symptomatic, Asymptomatic, containment and herd immunity 

Incubation, screening, super spreader& ventilator .

May just be words by then – mere words

 But what of now 

 These, are words we shudder to repeat 

 As they force us to conjure images 

Of harrowing disease, agonizing suffering Unbearable pain and excruciating death 

 Of loved ones, of friends, colleagues and others Who continue to depart this world

 And fade into oblivion with grim regularity. 

 We reach out- console their grieving families And extend a helping hand 

 Then life goes on as before 

 Yes – we question our own mortality 

 While pondering on matters, 

better left unsaid 

 Today, we are united by sympathies 

 Therefore, what still divides us?