Summer of 79′ and more…

biz260For those who follow the (un)necessary details might have noticed that I haven’t exactly been an active blogger last couple of weeks- blame it on the holidays! After the return of the daughter from college and beginning of son’s summer holidays my schedule seems busier than that of the school year. Anyone else feel the brunt of the holidays? The endless hours in the kitchen, the never ending mountains of laundry, the packed schedule of chauffeuring the kids, the warm summer hikes, long beautiful drives, endless conversations over food and wine…Sigh! Reminds me of the summer of 79′ and more when we were kids and had holidays without mobile phone, i pad, laptop and often, even a land line.

For starters summer holidays during our school days were not as long as they are now. Neither did our parents need to drive us anywhere regularly and most of  us did not indulge in summer internships, classes, courses, camps or jobs with  scheduled routine for the long weeks. I have beautiful memories of summers spent visiting both sets of grandparents living in different cities of India, paternal in the ancient holy city of Benares by the river Ganges and maternal in New Delhi, the capital of the country, both cities as different from each other as chalk from cheese. Benares entailed early morning walks to the river with an uncle/aunt who drew the short straw of escorting half a dozen giggling cousins between the ages of 8 years to 18 years, take a dip in the then crowded, kind of dirty water, splash around because swimming was prohibited by the hapless aunt/uncle who couldn’t possibly keep an eye on all at the same time. On our way back we were treated to hot milk, sweets and samosas and man, did we have fun! Delhi days were spent sans any cousins, just my sister and me with plenty to read, herbs to grow, visiting museums and monuments that the city was famous for. We saw the same museums and monuments every year and loved them without reservations returning home at the end of summer rejuvenated, refreshed, ready to begin the next academic year with renewed enthusiasm. Between these two cities and catching up with grand parents, our parents would treat us to a week or so of tourism in a place we had not visited thereby covering most the country by the time we were ready to fly the nest. Traveling is one of the best educations and what one sees stays embedded in the mind far stronger than what one reads. The memories of those days still  manages to bring on a smile, light up my eyes or make me erupt into giggles.

However, the summer that our children experience these days is completely different from the ones that we were raised in. I do wonder if they would similarly cherish the memories of the holidays even with whatever tourism we do manage to throw in. Gone are the idyllic days where days melted into evenings in a heartbeat, when trees were climbed upon and fences jumped over, when we played and read through the summer, when the word ‘bored’ was unknown in our vocabulary. The daughter had scheduled an internship through the summer even before she left college so that she wouldn’t be bored or idle during the long break. She even pored over job application for the few weeks that she wouldn’t intern. The son has a schedule of jobs mowing lawns, baby sitting, watering gardens, learning sculpture, spending time in the library and swimming with friends. She is 18 going on forty and he is 14 going on ten! Her maturity balances his childlike innocence so we the parents have the best of both the worlds with instances that make us roll our eyes in exasperation while others that make us laugh out aloud. They do not believe in spending days doing nothing and I thank God for that because I can’t fathom what I could suggest that would be attractive and interesting enough to this generation. Why can’t holidays be staggered so neither parents or kids are in a quandary as to how they would spend the days gainfully and not be bored? Families now are spread around the world and meeting cousins, extended families over summer is a distant dream. Each one is either an intern or an employee or a summer student or starting a start up or into research!

'What kind of internet-start-up camp are you going to this summer?'

The student today has forgotten how to relax and it is a worldwide phenomenon. Internships are becoming harder to come by and if one misses the golden opportunity one gets busy studying or joins a camp. Summer camps are sprouting all over with each promising something extra over the other, each advertising their speciality on reading, writing, robotics, chemistry, physics, geometry, sailing, climbing, hiking and I was nonplussed to read about a camp that taught how to run camps! You do learn something new everyday.

How is the summer treating you? Busier than usual or you are able to take a step back and relax?  Heres to a lovely summer to those in the Northern hemisphere and  not too cold a winter to those in the Southern…

Picture courtesy: http://www.cartoonstock.com & Randy Glasbergen.

Highway to hell…

 

'I bet there was a story behind this.'

It was my 18th birthday. Many aeons ago of course! And my father gifted me something that was on top of my wish list. I am not aware if things have changed now in India but when I was a teenager, one could appear for a behind the wheel driving test after the age of 18 and I was gifted enrollment in one of the few ‘Driving Schools’ owned and managed by a dad and his two sons in our small city. It entailed the ‘uncle’ driving to our home at a specific time five days a week for a month to pick me up and teach me about clutch, brake, acceleration amidst rules and regulations. We drove only manual transmissions those days. Some days the ‘big brother’ would come and if the younger one came he was addressed by his name by all the learner drivers. He was still in his twenties you see. In India anyone who is or looks over the age of 30 unfortunately for him/her is addressed as aunty/uncle and anyone under is either the big brother/big sister. Names were used only for the pals/buddies.

Day one would entail driving a big bulky ungainly heap that was popular in the 1970s and 1980s though by the fourth and last week we would have proudly graduated to a very sleek new age sedan, basically covering four different types of vehicles over four weeks. On the day of my driving test at the RTO (Regional Transport Office) my boy friend came along with his friends to wish me luck as I went for a drive with my instructor and the person testing me. I knew I had a scope of failing if told  to stop on an incline managing the clutch and brake but luckily for me we didn’t drive to the hills. After a few question answer sessions came the trick question- ‘mam, can you change car tires?’ Huh! Seriously? No one, including the instructor had prepared me for that and with my heart dropping to my stomach I shook my head murmuring no. The instructor was asked, ‘you people don’t teach them tire changing ?’ This was the dude instructor, not the uncle or the big brother and he tried to make a joke while I interrupted saying, ‘I can’t change the tire but I sure can get it changed by the boyfriend.’ Surprises do not cease because I passed. Apparently my driving was perfect though I should watch the speed and marry the boyfriend. I took all the advices…and yes he changed a few tires too.

I might have mentioned in one of the previous blogs that when we plan, hope, anticipate, we should always look up to see if Gods are laughing. So you bet, they were in splits, laughing at what was coming next because you see we moved to a country where I couldn’t continue to drive on my International Driving Permit or Indian License after a certain time. So Vic Roads (RTO in India, DMV in the United States) in Melbourne Victoria, Australia, required that yours truly do a behind the wheel driving test to get an Aussie Driving License, after an online test and a hazard perception test and a ‘No Objection Certificate’ from my Indian Driving License Authority. Seriously! I was most indignant and while I did the needful I gently protested at the unfairness of it all. My friends with license from anywhere in the world USA, UK, Germany, the Netherlands, Japan and even tiny countries like Lesotho got an Aussie license across the table by presenting the license issued by their country and poor me, after years of competent driving on Indian roads of the 1990s amidst cars, trucks, buses, motorbikes, bicycles, rickshaws, cows, pedestrians, road side vendors and sometimes even people just standing and chatting was the one who needed to appear for a test. Highly amused at my disgruntled musings the Vic Road employee testing me laughed, ‘lady, where you come from even a blind person would get a license.’ Our reputation preceded us or so it seemed. So I zipped my mouth, did the test and needless to say, passed.

Had I taken a peek into heaven I would have seen the Gods ROFL because next we moved to America and  California didn’t recognize my Aussie or Indian license so off I went to do the written test followed by the behind the wheel test. No other song and dance about the hazard perception or No Objection Certificate. I wasn’t alone in my predicament as the husband too did the whole nine yards but his test became the American scene as seen in  movies and sometimes read in newspapers. Just as he was driving into the DMV premises his car got shot at. Yes, seriously and truly, unbelievable right? I, waiting by the curb heard a big bang and looked around to find the source wondering why, firstly the husband had stopped the car so suddenly with both the occupants looking shell shocked and secondly why were people ducking behind bins, trees or flat on the road? I was fresh off the boat you see and unfamiliar with sounds of gunshots in real life. So the DMV employees summoned the Highway Patrol and cops while I called the car service station to arrange for it to be picked up for replacing the shattered windscreen and get a loaner vehicle in the interim. After thorough investigation it was deduced that the shot was fired from ‘just a simple’ pellet gun and was probably a stray or meant to harm the new shiny car in the unsafe neighborhood. And I thought to myself, welcome to America mate!

Man to lady with hair straight out: 'Not easy being a driver's ed teacher, is it?'Why this sudden talk of driving and tests? Well, the daughter has to start her lessons soon and she thought she would  become familiar with the rules by clearing her doubts as we drove. Such were the queries- what are you doing now? I am pressing the accelerator. And now? Still pressing the accelerator. Hmmm okay, and now? Still the same. Then I heard her exclaiming what! You can’t just press the accelerator and leave it? What if there is an itch in  your toe, what if there is something stuck under your foot, what if you get a cramp, what if…..And I thought God help her driving instructor. Have you sat with your teens while they practiced and honed their driving skills? And er do you have any hair remaining?

Picture courtesy: http://www.cartoonstock.com & http://www.jantoo.com