Posted in life, travel

AILA…..Some happy memories

A search for some old photographs led me to some of my old Web albums, which in turn led me to some other pics that revived some old happy memories that were lost in some corner of my mind.

Somewhere in the year 2010 to 2011 I happened to be working for an Oceanagrahic institute. Although my job didn’t have much to do with my specialized subject, I didn’t mind doing it because it was something new, interesting at times and moreover I enjoyed the company of people at the Institute.

The best part of that year are the memories of our adventures back home from the Institute. We were a bunch of 3 females which later grew up to maybe 5 or 6, thanks to the success rate of the group.

Well after a whole days work,  we ladies had to travel back home which was almost a 1 hr distance. Now imagine your self tired and then squeezed up like a sardine in a bus packed with mackerels…(oops I meant men😁😁). Sometimes it felt like a concentration camp, where you were forced to breathe in different smells of perspiration coming from varied sources. The worst would be in the rains……even if you entered the bus dry, there was no guarantee you would be dry when you exited. In our side of the world the Monsoons can be so intense at times, that it practically rains inside the bus.

So that was it ……We ladies had enough reasons not to be commuting on the otherwise considered safe public transport. We rather risked our lives with a few strangers than going through the ordeal of the public transport. So we began Hitching hiking. And mind you in a couple of months we were experts at the trade πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚.

We formed are self into an association named….All India Lift Association (AILA) and Namz was the appointed the president. The other 3 regular members being Doms, Deeps and Jolta. We had our own set of rules and responsibilities were distributed amongst us.

Our location was a mango tree, a couple of metres ahead of the bus stop. We ladies would align ourselves in a line, stretch our hands out and start our business. Many factors were considered before hitching. Our requirements were based on the group strength. If we were just 3 of us….Then small cars like alto, Maruti 800 would do, a bigger group would require something like an i20, Innova etc.

Then came safety….Now we ladies though desperate to get home, we wouldn’t always compromise with safety. Firstly we would prefer a lady driver ( which very rarely happened). Infact many lady drivers would just pass us by with an stare as though saying…”look at these girls risking their lives for a free ride…. And then they cry that they were attacked ??”. 

Next we checked the registration of the car, we only went for local cars. It’s a myth though that locals are safer than outsiders. Nevertheless we stuck to rule except for a few occasions where we did stop some outsiders.

The moment the car stopped, one of us would have to make the deal with the driver. “Where are you headed to? Can you please take us along?” If it was a cab then it was the bargaining job…..”How much?? Too much ??” Etc etc. Now during the conversation we had to quickly scan the vehicle, the driver and decide whether it was safe. If the majority of the group found the situation unsafe…..then the deal was dropped. How?? Simple……😁

Us:…..Where are you headed??

Driver:… Margao…..( Scan result >> unsafe,to scary, drop the deal)

Us: …Oh sorry we’re headed to Vasco.😁😁😁

We would just change our location. 

If everything looked safe we agreed on the deal, but the next dilemma was, who would sit next to the driver??? Now if it happened to be a handsome guy, then all of us would shy away πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚ ( making the dude feel even more great). If it was a not so handsome type or an uncle type then we were not so reluctant.

Initially we were a little hesitant about what we were doing. The crime rate against women was not a new issue afterall. But with time we grew bolder and damn shameless 😁. 

Finally are endeavors took us through various experiences. We travelled through many cars which ranged from the humble Maruti 800 to the posh BMW 😎. ….. Believe me it’s true.

We experienced various personalities. Some would not utter a word through the entire journey…..and in order to maintain the silence, we group members would be talking in whispers. Then you had the other extreme that would enjoy chattering throughout the entire journey. I hated when we were interviewed to details….Where are ull from?…. Where are you’ll working? ….. Qualification?…… Surname?…… Salary?……Uhh 😡😡. Those are the only times I used to regret taking the lift.

There were times when we used to get certain vibes which made us feel unsafe along the trip. In such situations we had another plan. One of us would pretend to call up her brother on the pretext of asking him to wait for her and in turn she would kind of update him about our exact location, description of the car, registration number if known etc. This natak was done hope that any vested interest in the mind of the driver would be dampened.😎😎

Today I know how to drive and although not many people have asked me for a lift. …..I have on many occasions given people a lift (90β„… only ladies). And I do understand the risk involved in both taking a lift and offering one. But at times you can’t help it.

I miss those days, those trips, I miss my buddies ….The AILA ladies. Every time I pass that mango tree on the highway, I  still notice some girls (and boys too) hitching and at once it brings back memories of the past. 

I wish our juniors good luck….Just remember be safe. 😁

AILA was also a classic example of how women can face great challenges, if they work together.

Here is an old post written by our AILA president, many years back which I came across yesterday. It’s a very funny one. A must read if you’ve read through my crap πŸ˜πŸ˜‚.
Until then long live the memories of our sweet AILA .

http://namratagreat.blogspot.in/2013/11/once-upon-time-in-bambolim.html?m=1

Posted in life

The sermon on the mount

Todays Gospel reading, one of favorite ones from the bible………The sermon on the mount…..

A short preaching….That sums up so much in 8 parts called the Beatitudes.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, the mournful, the meek, the hungry for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers and the persecuted………for theirs is the kingdom of heaven where the Lord himself will comfort them as his children.

In short if we are struggling in life for doing what is good and right then surely some day we will rejoice for our struggles. 

Blessed are those who see their struggles in life as a way back to God.

Be blessed.

Posted in life

Blogging blues.

Introduced to the world of blogging about a year back, I have been on a writing spree ever since I quit socialising on Facebook and WhatsApp. 

The WordPress stats indicate that within a span of 2 months I ended up writing about 50 posts. Man!!!!!! Now thats a big deal for a poor linguistic skilled person like me. I was amused by my own achivement. And to add to that some of my blogger friends went a step further and Christened me as the ‘writer’ in the making.

Me a writer ????? 😁😁😁😁 I thought to myself……If going to church doesn’t make one holy…..then surely writing a few blogs doesn’t make me a writer. OK cool! I managed to convince myself that I am not a writer ……..but that wouldn’t stop me from blogging.

Blogging is my latest hobby. I have even mentioned it on my latest BioData.😁😁. Some of the interviewers were amused by my new hobby, while a few felt it was equal to social networking.

 But all good things come with their own set of problems and controversies. Since blogging is my full time hobby right now, I dedicate enough time for it. I wake up in the morning and I am on the phone …..typing out my next post, breakfast is getting cold at the other end. You would never find me idle at home…….I am always on the phone, typing out my posts. After dinner I am back to the comforts of my room, to do what I like the best…..to blog.

Now my mother was noticing this sudden change in behavior. Her otherwise passive daughter was suddenly seen getting too active on the phone. My mother isn’t aware of my sabbaticals from Facebook and WhatsApp so probably she cooked up her own theories in her mind. 

Just yesterday she was annoyed to see me busy on the phone again, so she tried to distract me with an incentive of a hot cup of tea. But she didn’t realize that here is a amateur focused blogger who wouldn’t leave a post incomplete for a cup of tea. 

“What are you doing all day on the phone?” She asked. 

“I am writing….I mean I am typing something ….a post”…..I replied.

“Writing? Typing????” 😡 ( Does she think she is a writer??? My mother must have surely thought in her mind)

Later in the evening my mother got upset on me for not taking any interest in normal house hold chores. (‘Lady you always knew I don’t like to doing them😁’). Finally she lost her cool and I was at the receiving end. She lambasted me for wasting my time on the phone either listening to music or typing some nonsense. That was it ……I remained silent and just one thought ran through my mind…… It’s a quote from the Bible

Well replace the prophet with the writer.

I thought to myself ….Here is a  writer (me πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚)  who is not appreciated in her own house. How bad could life beπŸ˜‰. Is this is what they describe as nipping the talent in the bud????

Poor me if only I could make my mother understand.

I am not a writer but……Accepted!, but what harm would expressing some of my thoughts in the form of posts do ??

Especially if I enjoy it.

So shameless as I am, I woke up today morning, with the next post already in my mind and now here I am almost at the end of the post😁. 

Have a Happy Sunday.

Posted in social issue

No beginning …..No end

The pic above is of a drain flooded with rainwater and waste. The area is very close to where I live and It is a clear depiction of the state of affairs in my land. 

Over the years there has been a rampant misuse of public funds by politicians, bureaucrats and others in the name of development.

Sadly speaking it seems like my land was better developed went it was a colony of a foreign land. In the colonial days , a network of small drains cut through the length and breadth of a place. These small drains were later linked up to a bigger drain called a ‘nullah’. The nullahs were then let out into open fields or rivers where the rain water would finally find its way back home.

Over the last few years many concrete drains have been built in most of the villages of my land. The network being so extensive that I guess if we joined all the drains, it would be enough to cover the distance from the earth to the moon πŸ˜‚. Moreover I am still wondering whether the drains were meant to drain rain water or garbage ?

Unfortunately none of the drains lead to the nullahs. The poor drains don’t have a beginning nor an end. Their existence just abrupt …….Similar to their disappearance….Abrupt. Many drains have got buried under the sands of time …….but mind you, only in a couple of months and not some centuries or eons like anybody would expect. 

Hopefully someday after many centuries these buried drains would be unearthed and discovered by the generations to come, similar to how the Indus valley Civilization was discovered. The discovery would probably throw some light on how developed and sophisticated our civilization was πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚. Ironically Mohenjo-Daro and Harapa the twin townships of the Indus valley are well known for their  extensive and elaborate drainage systems.

Why is our state of affairs so pathetic???

Do we lack skilled brains or skilled labour?????

Is it a lack of honesty or a lack of commitment ????

Where is the accountibility ??? 

Where is the sense of belongingness???

Where are we heading to???

Like the drains is our existence also abrupt?……or do we have a beginning and an end.

Posted in blogging, leisure

Tum Bardez, Hanv Xaxtti

Amchi xaxtti, Tumcho Bardez,

Amchem ‘good morning’ , tumchem ‘dev boro dis dium’.

Amchem ‘kexx ahham?’ ,Tumchem ‘kohhem asa?’

Amchem ‘kazarchem doxx’, tumcho ‘kazaracho bholl’

Amcho ‘modgonvcho market’ , tumcho ‘mapxeancho bazar’

Amchem Colva , Tumchem Calangute

Amcho ‘Bannalecho naal’ famad, Tumchem ‘Moiddechim kenni’

Dhogg bhavnna ami , punn mai ekuch amchi,

Goichem daiz rakhun urrun, hench maggnem amchi,

Itllem mhonnun sompoita

Tum Bardez ……….Hanv Xaxxti.
Epilogue. 😎
Well this is a short poem typed in Konkani, trying to compare on a lighter note the diversity between 2 regions or 2 talukas in the small state of Goa. One being Salcette (Xaxxti ) and the other Bardez . Altough these 2 regions are separated by a mere distance of 40 km , they show a vast diversity in culture, food and even in the way the mother tongue is spoken. Blame it on the invasions of the Portuguese or the 2 rivers of Mandovi and Zuari that separate the 2 regions…….Whatever may be the cause of the differences, it is this very diversity that enriches the culture of my small state of Goa.

Posted in leisure, life

Comfort zones

Maslow’s theory >>> basic needs of man>>> food, clothing, shelter

Jolta’s theory >>> basic needs of man>>>food, clothing, shelter and…….. COMFORT.

Of course!!! Why not?? I need to be comfortable with the food I eat….You can’t expect me to eat grubs for food….Just because they are a rich source of protein 😱 forget grubs I don’t even like some types of vegetables that otherwise are a delicacy. 

On the same lines …..I wouldn’t be comfortable wearing a saree or a tight fitting top nor would I be comfortable living in a house with noisy surroundings or infested with mosquitoes. 

So comfort for me has always been a top priority . …….even when it came to a job. Before starting my hunt for a job, I demarcated the boundaries of what I called my ‘comfort zone’. And a strict rule was made not to cross the ‘comfort zone’.  Over the years many jobs opportunities were left out or ignored if they didn’t fall within my comfort zone.

So the boundaries were maintained and the zones were protected against all odds……..and finally a time came when. I realised that there was nothing left in the comfort zone 😱………It became devoid of any opportunities.

Sometimes life teaches you lessons the hard way. I had to break the rule and breach the boundaries……..I had to finally move out of my Comfort Zone. 

For the last 4 years I’ve been working at a place that is a 20 minutes drive from my place. Imagine me driving 90 minutes to answer an interview…….Now thats what I call moving out of the comfort zone.

I don’t know what would be the consequences of breaching the boundaries of my zone. But sometimes we are forced to take the hard step. I just hope I can make it through. In God I’ll trust. 

Goa although a small tiny- state, she still manages to preserve her diversity. No wonder a Xaxtikar like me was feeling lost out of her comfort zone, in a foreign territory like Bardez.

Comfort zones.  ……Do they really provide comfort or do they restrict our growth ????? 

Posted in life, Random thoughts

Jezu Borea Gonvllea

Mogall bhava- boinnino, wordpressacher ho mhozo poilo Konkani post. Somzota tumkam avodtollo 😁.

Devacho sor ami zaitia toren kortat…..Dekik, ek bapui, ek xikxok, ek ixxt ani adi. Mhaka hantuntlo avoddta toh sor zaun asa eke Gonvlleacho. Ek gonvlli zo aple mendriank apurbaen pallta. Heach nodren mhozo ho avodtto git. Tumi igorjent aikolla, astolloch.

Jezu Borea Gonvllea

Jezu Borea Gonvllea, Jezu svadik bolea,

Sorgim than tu denvloi, sodunk mhaka ailloi

Polle hanv ti xelli, tuka chukon gelli

Tujem thΓ’i vorr mhaka, pois vochunk sodd nhaka

Jezu svadik moga, sanddlo hanven tuka

Iemkodda vatt dhorli, pisai vhodd adarli,

Pattim mhaka apoi, ghaiant mhaka lipoi,

Nhannoun Povitr Rogtant, dovvor  sodanch kallzant!

English translate

I love to look at God as a shepherd tending unto his sheep. I being one from the herd. There is this hymn in my mother tongue konkani which I love to listen. I am just attempting to translate 2 paras of this hymn. Go ahead and listen 😁

Jesus the good Shepherd

Jesus the good Shepherd, Jesus the sweetest sacrifice

You descended from heaven, to liberate me

Here I am the lamp, who missed your path

Find me and never let me go

I have lost you , oh Jesus thy sweetest love

I walked on the path to hell, what a great madness I did

I have lost my way, call out to me

Hide me in your precious wounds

Bathe me in thy Holy Blood, keep me forever in thy heart.

Jezu Borea Govlea – Rosarians

Someday when I return to the Earth, I would want these words on my grave……….Jolta and her Lord…..A sheep and her Shepherd. πŸ˜‡