Food no more!

My mother-in-law often quips that it was from eating all the leftovers my husband left on his plate as a kid, that she amassed all her flab! Whether the latter is true or not, the former is something I completely believe! Because, when I was growing up; it was my dad who was the” left-overs-person”. So was my mama (uncle), who was the favorite of my grandma to pitch all the left over in the pans after everyone had finished their meal. And I should probably mention that he is the thinnest person I know to date! Bottom line was food was never wasted!

I was a stickler for tomato as a child. I would pick every cooked and mashed tomato bit from my dishes and painted it along the sides of my plate before divulging into my meal. I don’t remember treating any other meal that way. I would gobble it all down pretty well. But I was terrible at understanding quantities. If I overate I vomited. If I didn’t eat enough, I’d go crazy with hunger. Over years my parents instilled the importance of choosing the right portions and not wasting, especially my dad. He initially backed me up by willing to take the extra portions if I felt full. But by the time I was a teenager and a voraciously hungry one, I don’t remember ever wasting food. If anything my mother had a hard time keeping up with my hunger pangs!

I am but glad my better half and I are on the same page on this and our upbringing in this regard has been identical. It has been ages since we ordered a “thaali” in Indian restaurants, simply because, we no longer feel young enough to dive and wipe all the bowls clean and it hurts to see so much food wasted which cannot be wrapped and taken home. We almost always end up ordering dishes we can wrap and take left-overs of, if we can’t finish it in one meal. Once we were served the blandest fried rice at a Japanese restaurant. My husband simply asked for the meal to be packed. And came home and tossed it in some oil, chilies and his favorite siracha sauce and gobbled it down. We both would have hated to see that bowl of rice dumped in the trash!

Of course we have had our slips too. I have tossed away veggies I have forgotten we ever bought and they sat long enough to catch a layer of fungus in the fridge. Or a week of stomach bug as a family and the grocery for that week sits idle. But over years we have been making genuine and relentless efforts in this regard. We have been planning our meals before doing grocery. We have a buffer day when we eat out, so that we can use it for leftovers if need be! We try to keep the meals as fresh as possible by cooking every night. On a Saturday morning, if I find the vegetable rack in the fridge empty, the fruit basket is empty and probably one dish cooked last night is in the refrigerator shelf, I consider it a victorious week.

Last year around this time was when we sort of hit a road block with our beliefs. Our toddler had started day care and they served him lunch. Going by the rules, at home too, he’d toss his bowl of food upside down when he feels he has finished his meal or ask for the trash. It pained me and to a great extent even angered me to see this behavior. But, we stepped back and looked at it from his perspective and eventually hatched a plan. Over months we made him understand that he had to get the difference between the two places he was going to be in a day. We had to make our peace with him wasting his leftovers at his place of care and not wasting his food whenever he was with his parents. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best we could achieve given his age and our circumstances.

But over time, we have started to see hope. His meal sheet comes back with a (A), which means he ate everything and sometimes asks for more servings. He indicates beforehand that he doesn’t want a certain dish and asks it to be taken off from his plate before he eats his meal. If he doesn’t finish his fruits we send from home, he asks for it to be kept in fridge and eats it on his way home in the car. And whenever he is around with us at home and outside, he tells us when he is full and gives us the rest of his meal. Hopefully over years, we can teach him portion understanding too. We are still a long way from it. And I don’t know how many unknowns and challenges loom around it.

On one end, how many times have we not noticed an entire table of half eaten pizza slices, piles of fresh fruits and a nibbled on pieces of cake lying bereft on a birthday party table, left to be cleaned up and tossed away. And on the other end, was a friend who faced enough prejudice for taking a tough decision to help her child understand the importance of finishing what was served on her child’s plate.

Every other day we read articles about how in a few years, human race will not have this abundance of food or articles that are titled “if grocery stores closed one fine day”. I am failing to understand the import when I notice the amount of wastage all around us. Probably it is a ticking bomb like the climate change. And we are not going to do anything about it until it hits us. For now, practicing ourselves and teaching a child to not waste and finish what is served on his/her plate is probably is the best we can do as a human race.

And since when did “Don’t waste your food!” or “please eat what is served” become akin to child abuse? Ugh!


Ear piercing and parenting

When I was growing up, it wasn’t uncommon in our families to dress up little baby or toddler boys in pretty clothes of a girl for a photo shoot or whim. It was partaken in complete jest, mostly an activity kids loved like a game. Of course! the pictures would be used later to embarrass the little boy in family functions, when he grows up. But it wasn’t surrounded with judgements and stereotypes. At least they hadn’t stemmed yet.

As if upholding it like a tradition, there is a picture of my husband in a violet pattu-pavadai when he was a baby, which I am sure by now, he has hidden away, where no one can find it. And so does my son, taken when he was 8 or 9 months. There is also a picture of me, probably at three years dressed in a checked shirt and pants, mushroom hair cut and hands full of bangles. The bangles are probably the only thing that say I am a girl. I look like a dressed up child in that picture. And so does my son in his with
a bow and skirt. And so does my husband in his picture. Take the gender out of the picture and see it. You will see what I am trying to say!

It seems to me, that as we grew, we as a generation bridged many gaps of economic and social statuses between men and women, but have managed to strengthen other stereotypes making them tougher to erase.We have separated them into color-codes, trucks vs dolls, books vs games; and don’t even let me get started on the “boys will be boys” and “boys don’t cry” or “don’t cry like a girl” statements.

The first year of my son’s life, we had strewn the house with toys-for-boys as gifts and purchases. There were cars and balls, trains, macho-boy-stuffed-toys of simba, mickeymouse, winnie-the-pooh. There were other neutral things like musical toys, which again were carefully color-coded in blue. If there was pink seen anywhere (like my old stuffed doll) it would be stowed deep in a pile, like it would tarnish my son’s gender in some way. Well! i am exaggerating. But you get the picture.

We were, or at least my son’s dad was preparing for a toddler, like many of our nephews we have known are car lovers (who can name the brand of every car they see by 2 years), to kick and throw ball and break everything in the house, to use the kitchen-choppu-set for anything but fake-cooking. I list it to state, our son meets none of the above expectations.

It is amazing how we forget that every child comes with a personality, that isn’t defined by standards we set as a society. The child isn’t born knowing that its color should be blue or pink. Those are but things we learn and probably unlearn as an individual as we grow. What I as a parents, am figuring, is what are the necessary things I must let him learn or figure. “Don’t wear pink” isn’t on my list. “Don’t drink and drive” and “Don’t carry a chewing gum to Singapore” are definitely on the list!

So that’s how our son reminded us of that fact. He is an animal lover. He is also a book lover. He simply doesn’t care for vehicles. At least not yet.

So still hoping for a “boy-behavior”, his dad got him a book of a truck and farm animals. My son would stop reading the book when the truck came into the picture. He would only want to read the first few pages and last few, where the animals are making their “moo, baa baa” sounds. That is what interests him and he wants to stick with it (for the time being).

It was heart warming and encouraging for me as a parent. And eventually for his dad too. We realised he loves to do what he wants to do. No tricks or force!

So someone asked me in absolute horror, watching my son, hug and kiss a little blue-eyed doll he seems to fancy now. Are you ready for this — ‘the doll wears a pink dress’ and he calls it hush-a-baby. She asked me “Aren’t you encouraging him to be gay?”. I burst out laughing. By then my son was changing the doll’s diaper and putting it to sleep. And you can well imagine how that conversation must have ended.

So today morning my little boy, who watches me brush my hair and wear my earrings in the morning, asked me yet again he wants to wear earrings too. I didn’t say “no boys don’t”, because I don’t believe that. I told him he very well can. Just that his ears are not pierced.. yet. He probably didn’t get my explanation. So I promised him (may be it was more a promise to myself) that when he was bigger to understand and communicate better and still wanted to wear earrings, I would get his ears pierced for him.

It wasn’t easy for me to say that. Not because I think boys shouldnt wear earrings. But for the challenge I will face as a parent to help my child handle the taunts and jeering that may follow. May be in a few years he might not even remember and will adopt rules of “the-normal”. But I want to always be that parent who will tell him to define his own normal if he wants to and encourage him to adopt that. I am probably a romanticist or rebel like that (depends on how you look at it).

I am not only a mother to a boy, but a mother to a child who loves dolls, animals, books, laughing and dancing. That is all there is to it!

To the sea, I belong

A good nine years ago, on a summer going to fall Sunday, I had hiked a fair 5 or 6 miles with my grad school roommate and two of her friends to a beach. It was probably the west meadow beach which had lots of pebbles and sand, I don’t recall the name exactly. What I do remember is that it felt like I was breathing for the first time since I had left my home country. It felt relieving to know that the sea wasn’t so far away. I felt rescued. I felt humbled. I felt I finally belonged.

If I am ever asked to make a choice between places to live, I am sure I would always choose a place with a faster proximity to the ocean; for the crashing waves, frothing waters, salty air and even the roaring thunder storms or monsoons. I would take that any day to a land-locked wonder!

Along the north east coast of the Atlantic Ocean, where I now live, cities may be built around ports and water bodies; but to find a shore where the waves kiss the sands, one has to drive at least a couple of hours to beach towns. It was a tough trivia to figure. Fairly so; since in the Indian subcontinent the coastal cities spill all over the seas beside them. And land-reclaimed-from-sea wasn’t uncommon either ( Bombay and the Cochin port are places I know of )

Along the Indian Ocean, beaches are a city’s landmark; an easily accessible place for her people’s congregation. You didn’t need the paraphernalia of booking a resort and expensive gear of sunscreens, towels, chairs and umbrellas to enjoy them. Get to the beach around sun down. Walk her shores with your shoes in hand, people watch, enjoy the balmy breeze after a sweltering day, buy a beach-side snack and have a long conversation watching the sunset. Tell a New-Engalnder you can do this almost every day of the year and they won’t believe you!

But the sea is the sea is the sea! If a 2 hour drive is what it takes to find that paradise in these parts, we may as well! The weekend past was one such journey to a little beach town in Maine, to collect sunshine before fall arrives and bid goodbye to the gorgeous summer that has been! We were accompanied by four other families gaggling with babies, toddlers and babies-to-arrive for a much sought adventure!

If the unexpectedly well-furnished and snug wooden cottages had us floored, the amenities of heated pool and hot tub were awesome-er. And of course to mention the easy walkway to the beach. It was probably the most relaxed vacation we have had as a group after kids. Even though much of the late night conversations were interleaved with baby monitors buzzing to gently remind us that we are now parents-first-and-everything-else-after, we had mastered the art of resuming conversations with breaks.

And in the short 48 hour window, while the kids were asleep we managed to pack a morning-chai-party, a post-beach-sandwich-party, a chaat-party, a chicken-grill-party and even an Italian-rum-cake-party to celebrate the gentle ascend of a wonderful friend and dad of two, into the mid thirties! Of course! We had our share of fun with the kids too in the pool and play. It was A’s first ever beach trip and he loved it rotten. I would call the water icy, but it felt wonderful against the sun. Just to have my feet smeared in sand and hair bursting into curls with humidity was pure bliss.

Sadly it is true that all things must come to an end. And so did our little getaway. We ended the journey at the teeming pier of the small town, feasting on their popular pizzas and treating ourselves and the kids to ice creams.

We reached home by evening to a power outage from recent thunderstorms. TheToddler wondered if the vacation was continuing when we had comfort food of curd rice by candlelight. It was a blessing in disguise, since we retired to bed early as a family reading by torch light and watching the moonlight stream thru the windows. To the distant rumbling of our neighbour’s generator, his father’s tired snores and buzz of summer insects my son drifted to sleep.

I lay awake a little while. I smelt a whiff of sea-salt, watched a wave crash on the sand and brush my feet. I heard myself laugh in glee holding appa’s hand. I saw a golden sun descent into the sea’s unbeknownst depths. When I opened my eyes, it was Monday morning. The magic was far far away and I will hold on to the dreams for now!

The “almost” city

There are two categories among the most loved cities of the world. One charms and mesmerizes you whether you stay there for few hours, days or years, like Rome or NYC. And the second kind grows on you over time; this kind of city has to be experienced and not visited, like singara chennai!

Montreal has the charms to fit in the first kind, but lacked a certain spark; The more we explored  her, I would say she was magical in parts and equally underwhelming sometimes. It was a city, I loved in pieces and probably she fits better in the second category! I may never find out, since I didn’t live long enough to know!

The Surprises

  • We expected as much English as French to be spoken and on signs; but it was all in all a Frenchman’s haven. Charmingly so. Even something gibberish like “barracks, bees and blocks in the sea” sounds beautiful in french! isn’t it?
  • The European style Piazas with fountains are fittingly beautifully done. There are many in the city, but many are eerily deserted. I realised how much the people of a city add to its charms. Whether it is teeming tourists or residents, a city needs her people!
  • The homeless and begging on the streets were aplenty. Something we never expected at all.
  • The city is known for its night life, which we didn’t explore. But going by that, I expected us to stand out like a sore thumb, equipped with baby gear. Pleasantly surprised to find more strollers all over the happening cobbled streets than anywhere else. So every place was extremely stroller friendly. And oh! breastfeeding in public wasn’t making anybody uncomfortable. USA take cues. (Brownie points to Montreal! )
  • Most eateries, cafes and shops in the not so prime streets weren’t open long hours on weekend and were closed on Monday being a holiday. It had the mild siesta culture feel to that aspect!
  • We decided to disconnect and turned off our mobile phones for the day. We did the trip old school with maps, print outs, notes and asking people for directions. We were surprised, that we managed to stick to it. It also helped that I was mostly just taking in scenes and not scrambling to take pictures and share them, as it happened!
    It would have been better if we had stuck to not giving into the urge to connect to wifi when back in hotel. But hey! next time.

The touristy stuff

Biodome, Botanical Gardens, montreal tower
Stroller friendly – Very
Parking vs public transport – Lot of walking between and within these places, although they are in the same neighborhood. Parking for the day is 12$ and the sticker holds good for parking-lots of all the three places. Best option with kids!
Cafeteria – Around these places, the food joints are less and terrible. I am glad we carried food for the little one and us!
Other tips – Gets crowded by noon. Better to start day early. You can buy tickets for all the places at the Botanical garden instead of biodome, shorter lines.

We started with biodome around 9 am and we finished all three places at a relaxed pace by late noon, also letting the toddler take his nap in the stroller while we pushed it in the botanical gardens.
Brownie points – If your child is fascinated by animals like mine, biodome is worth the visit.

The not so touristy stuff

St. Josephs Oratory
Stroller friendly – Not very, because of the many stairs to get to this huge domed church. We just took the many escalators and stairs,kept stroller in car.
Parking vs public transport – Parking after 5 pm for free. We covered this on friday evening since we had time to kill.
Brownie points – Great views and lots of open space for kids to run around in the terrace like areas.

Mount Royal hilltop
Stroller friendly -Very. Park area with trails.
It is nearly as huge as central park with parking facilities.
We parked and walked uphill to the mount top for a great view of the city after sun down.

The understated

There are many churches other than Notre-Dame that are gorgeous and in full service all over the city. And they dont charge you for an entrance. Some of the other notable ones we explored were —
St Patricks Basilica ( 2 min walk from our hotel )
Mary, Queen of the world basilica and the Dorchester square across the street.
Church  of virgin mary at the end of popular St. Paul’s street, was my favorite with chandliers and boat shaped hanging lights.
Many churches along walk on the Rue Ste Catherine

Marche Jean-Talon in little italy
Stroller friendly – Fairly. Must be willing to maneuver through crowds.
Parking – underground parking at a very decent rate of about 0.50$ for every 30 minutes.
Bownie points – Street food, musicians, fresh food market.
What-we-loved – my husband and son snacked on the rotisserie chicken and they loved the smoked lamb sausage sticks to go. You can take his word for a meat tasting good! I on the other hand, loved the olive bar which was really cheap and ate so many!

I could have spent an entire day at the jean talon market if I could. It was my best stop in this town. (Hagglers, a fusion of Italian and french tongues, fresh veggies and fruits. Musicians, slow-life cappuccino joints )

The un-stated

Many squares and open spaces to people watch along the city’s promenades.
The square opposite our hotel had a modern fountain with a fire on water trick, which was pretty awesome. We wouldn’t have even known, if we didn’t stay nearby.

The bibliotheque (library) in the latin quartier. I expected a sprawling gothic architecture. Was amused to find a modern glass building instead. We just took a short stroll. Definitely deserves more exploration.

The yeah-um-whatever

  • The Latin quartier, the village and mount royal street were all great to walk and take in the views. They r definitely areas to explore as a resident. As a tourist, there are only a handful of places you can actually afford to loll away time at, for they all come across as similar experiences after a while.
  • Ste-Catherine and other localities hyped for foray of shops and the underground city are well a little meh. We aren’t ardent shoppers; probably because of that I wasn’t truly amazed by the new brands and malls.


Many coffee chains other than Starbucks. Van Houtte and pressed cafe were the ones i tried. I hated both. Extremely strong for my palate!

Finally found my match at a gelato store, where cappuccino was served in a bowl. it was heavenly. So was the little cup i took big swigs of at the Jean-talon market place.

The Food

  • We didn’t visit Schwartz’s which is popular for smoked meat. My husband almost tried smoked meat sandwich at places near the Notre-dame square, but after looking at a few he wasn’t convinced enough.
  • We stayed a few blocks from china town. On travels we always make one Chinese take-out to satiate the rice-craving. The china town food was actually great. The noodle shop and Beijing were the popular restaurants. The china town itself is actually a nice area to explore.
  • Pizza, quiches and Mediterranean places in Jean-talon market place.
  • Crepe places on st. Pauls. Laborious work to cut and eat the stuffed crepes.
  • Gelato places are awesome. They even have small few-bites size serving cones convenient for on the go.

Traveling tips with toddler

  •  Live within the city. All rooms come with microwave and fridge!
  • Wear your best walking shoes and explore the city on foot or bike.
  • Strollers are welcome and easy to maneuver all over the city, even on cobbled streets sidewalk. (City mini GT was a true companion)
  • Old port area along water front has fairs and performers. good place for kids to run and explore.
  • We didn’t find the need to take public transport at all. We covered everything on foot. I wish I had a fitbit to note how much we walked per day! Our calf muscles are sore, so I am sure we hiked quiet a bit!
  • Map of the city and the prime streets is a good gear to have. We visited the information center near dorchester square, that gave us more ideas to explore.
  • Fast food joints / kids friendly menus don’t pop up very often. If your child isn’t a taster and doesn’t eat adult food yet, I highly recommend carrying food. Our toddler was happy eating the food I had packed for him and he nibbled and snacked on whatever we bought along the way.

Overall, it was truly a different experience, visiting a city in whole new country in this case and just to realise that across the border things can be so very different!












Mother’s dilema

My timelines and feeds recently went on a sharing frenzy of the PepsiCo CEO’s interview, where she states the overstated candidly “Why women can’t have it all?”

If you haven’t already read it, reading further may not make much sense.

Read it here.

I am not outraging here. I might have, on multiple points, IF I had read her interview before becoming a mother; The internet and my timelines have raised questions on why a male CEO has it all,or why no one really has it all or even a more personal prodding of “fair-marriage” questions and concerns that stem from the interview.

I won’t go into any of that just yet. Her responses, to me, a mother who is also juggling a fulltime job, have resonated two points.

First — “Biological clock and career clock are in total complete conflict with each other”

Let me pause. Let me let you read that again with an open mind. If it has irked your inner feminist, who believes no one must tell you when is the right time to have kids or if you must even have one, read again. If you believe a woman’s career goals must not be defined or discriminated by her biological clock, read it again. Read it again, till you have vent your outrage for what the sentence doesn’t stand for.

A woman’s fertility clock and physical-grit for sustaining pregnancy and labor may not understand or wait for a suitable time until her career has taken off satisfactorily. “IF” bearing a child is also on her mind, she may at some point in her life, have to juggle the two together, losing and gaining on both ends, until it evens out.

It is not gender bashing, but until men can also bear a child, birth a child and breastfeed a baby; the onus of choosing and acting on the right time, in one’s life for all of the above, falls on the woman in the relationship. Try denying that as you might!

Which brings me to the second point –“you have to cope, because you die with guilt”

In my son’s first year of his life, I went thru “I want to quit my job and stay home to take care of him” thought every alternate day. His grandparents were taking care of him and not a stranger at day care. Yet, the overwhelming guilt swallowed me day and night.

Again, it is tough to deny that in the initial months or year of a child’s life, the child needs its mother the most. So the bigger brunt of the post-partum child care does fall on the mother more than the father, immediately after birth.

So what happens, after that initial phase of mother-needing and transcending into a fair distribution of child care responsibility between partners?? Here is where I notice a gender stereotype that has been created in our minds by societal functioning for ages.

Fathers probably feel the guilt too, but, society has dictated for years that a man never stays home. He is the eternal bread-winner. So for most of our men, even the idea or thought of quitting and staying home with the children doesn’t figure. Not because they won’t do it if necessary, but because, there has never been a need to!

But mothers on the other hand, are constantly judging ourselves and letting the guilt wash us over. It primarily stems from the fact that women have for eons, stayed home to take care of the family, for many of us, our mothers did the same. So that creates a feeling in the back of our minds that, it is a viable and accepted choice, if I ever have to make it. And for many of us, like me, who couldn’t decide between the two ends, here is where Nooyi, makes her point – We have to cope.

I don’t know when and how i coped with mine, but I know I couldn’t have done it without the support of my husband.

Whenever we feel guilty for making a difficult decision for our son; be it letting him stay in day care for 8 hours a day or letting him sleep in his own room, we remind ourselves that “we are a family; all the members must co-exist. We are building a life together and not a life that revolves only around a few members”

We are still figuring the parenting thing. And a few mantras like this have helped us cope.

And as for the “Do we have it all?” question, I say define your ALL and be willing to change it as you go. And probably there you may find the peace to go with it!

Guest Post — Lessons in management

I have often mentioned about appa’s stint in the rural village in maharastra, in my posts. He narrates a story from that time and a few others! Do read.


(Recently Published in the house-magazine of the Bank, my father had worked for over 30 years)

I am going to narrate a couple of stories elucidating certain useful management principles which I learnt without the help of Peter Drucker and /or other management Gurus. One of the stories has been told to me by my grandmother in whose presence I used to spend the best of summer holidays during the childhood. A real life incident is also given alongside.

The first story goes like this…….there was a nampoothiri priest who was very regular in going to the village temple for performing the rituals there. He died due to old age. And his young son was set to assume the mantle. Before the son took charge as the temple priest, his mother started giving him her views about how he should perform the rituals and behave with the devotees and other officials. On the first day when he finished his forenoon rituals and started his return walk home, the lady of the house in the neighbourhood told him “the food ready. Please honour us with your company for lunch today”. The young priest refused the offer politely even though he was hungry.

He came back and narrated the incident to his mother. Mother immediately replied “you should never lose the food in the neighbourhood” for which he nodded in agreement. The young priest used to get the offer from the neighbourhood on a regular basis and he excused himself in one pretext or the other. The mother also kept reminding her son about her piece of advice not to lose the offer for food in the neighbourhood. The young priest sometimes wondered why his mother was reminding him about this more often.

After a few weeks, one day the young priest was on his return journey from the temple. The lady in the next door invited him and even complained about his refusing to oblige not even once. Reluctantly he accepted the offer and ate his lunch there. It was a bit late when returned home. His mother was as usual waiting for his arrival. By looking at his mother’s face writ with anxiety, he quipped “you used to tell every day that I shouldn’t lose the offer for food ………..I didn’t lose it ………I ate it today”.

The mother was very disappointed. She was upset because her son did not get the real meaning of her advice. She explained to him that she never wanted her son to lose the offer for food from the neighbour. The offer would cease once it is accepted. She always wanted her son to stand head and shoulders above the rest.

My grandmother had not studied in any high school, leave alone college or management institute. But the principle she wanted to drive home was relevant from any style of prudent management. In the present day management jargon we may say it as “there is no such thing as free lunch”.

The very idea of taking anything free was not acceptable to me when I started my career in the Bank. Asking for a favour from a customer was the last thing I would do during the initial days of my career. As an young and ambitious Bank officer with ideals of serving the poor and down trodden accepted as the “karma” to followed, I too started working in rural branch in the coastal Maharashtra during the seventies. It was a branch in the thick of the bazaar area full of hustle bustle during the day time and fairly calm in the night barring the regular call to prayers delivered through the loud speakers fitted to the minars of the next door mosque.  I was staying in the manager’s residence provided just above the branch. I used to get back home late in the night only after finishing the daily chorus sitting in the branch just below the residence. My wife was not very happy about my spending most of the time in the bank. Sunday used to be kept for a leisurely routine. It was a day for late rising, forenoon swim in the nearby beach, a late lunch and a short slumber thereafter. Generally it used to end with a drive to the nearby temple in the evening.

It was a Sunday morning. I was shaken out of bed with loud sound of the calling bell which rang continuously for about thirty seconds. It was only about six in the morning. The room was still dark. I had to switch on the light to find my way through the stairs to open the door. I was half asleep. I wanted to know who put an end to the most comfortable early morning sleep in the month of December. As I opened the door, there was a man in his forties with folded hands and an earthen vessel with its neck tied with not so clean piece of cloth placed in front of me. He was a farmer who availed a loan for a buffalo the other day. He had come to give me the news that the buffalo had calved. He had brought a vessel filled with “Kharvas”* for me. With folded hands he thanked me profusely and requested me to accept the sweet specially brought for me. Even though I could understand almost all that he talked in the local language, I could not reply to him for two reasons. I was really furious for having lost the sleep. Secondly he had brought me something in return to what I considered as my duty. With a frown face and fairly loud voice I sent him back slamming the door on his face. I returned to bed. But I could hardly sleep. Half an hour later, the bell rang. This time it was the same person along with my colleague agricultural assistant Gaikwad. Mr.Gaikwad tried to convince me to accept the sweet which I again refused. After a series of exchange of words, I stood my ground and ultimately told that I would pay the market price and take it for distribution among all the staff in the branch. The farmer fell on my feet and requested again seeking my forgiveness. I could see tears rolling down his cheeks. He was very much upset over my offer to buy the sweet. He repeated that it is out love that he had prepared it with the first milk after the delivery and I should not refuse it. My wife who was watching the whole episode called me inside and requested me to relent. At last, I accepted the vessel with both hands. A piece was cut and given to him and Gaikwad. I too ate a piece of it. The farmer returned after thanking me and my wife with folded hands. To cut the story short, throughout the tenure of my posting in the branch, my wife purchased milk from that farmer. Even after leaving the village branch, we used to exchange letters for a long time. Needless to add that it all ended as a relationship beyond banking.

The story had also taught me many a lessons. Just as “all that glitters is not gold”, all that is given is not bribe. Similarly love and reverence cannot be priced or bought. Respect can be commanded and not demanded. In almost every posting, I could learn new lessons and today I can proudly claim to be a better human being, thanks to our Bank.


*Kharvas — A typical Maharashtrian sweet made out of the thick first milk after calving, jaggery, grated nutmeg, cardamom etc..