Grand old lady shivers but survives

No, I am not referring to me, but to the Taj Hotel .For nearly a decade, Taj was my second home!  We lived in Dhanraj Mahal which is a stone’s throw away from the hotel.  I was fascinated by the grand monument and would walk through its long corridor, peeping into the fabulous wares displayed in the shop windows.  The glittering chandeliers in the lobby and the twinkling mirrors in the ceiling, seemed to be winking their welcome to all those who walked through the glass doors, greeted by smartly dressed and polite doormen.  Svelte and efficient looking women with name tags on their neatly pinned pallu, moved around gracefully greeting guests and showing them to their well appointed rooms.

I was thrilled to be part of all this glitz and glamour, when I became the PRO for Vaitalik, a cultural organization that had special performances of classical dance in the Tanjore room for foreign guests.  I remember Juhi Chawla stopping by to chat with me as she waited for her mother Mona Chawla who was a senior executive in the Taj.  As a journalist, had the opportunity of listening to Mr JRD Tata, addressing the Rotary club of Bombay in the Ball room, on changing value systems.  Will never forget the brief ‘mulakat with Madam Teji Bachan and Jaya Bachan at the coffee shop.  Just the day before, I had interviewed Jayaji on AIR Bombay and she was graceful enough to remember me and introduce me to her Mother in law, so elegant with her short grey hair.  That is when I decided to keep my hair short and grey when I become sixty!

The best was yet to come when Camelia Punjabi, then Vice President of Taj, offered me a part time assignment as writer.  This meant going through a three week induction programme in the hotel, spending time in every department to understand the ‘product’.  It was an awesome experience because I saw what lies behind the glamorous exterior.  The hard work and attention to details that goes into the finished product.  That is when I understood why a cup of coffee costs so much!  We pay for the ambience, the back end mehanat of so many people including the waste paper buyer who makes his living out of the trash bins emptied from rooms!

Age cannot wither nor custom stale her infinite variety was said about Cleopatra but it holds good for the grand old lady beside the gateway of India.  The bullet marks, broken furniture or shattered glass panes will not mar the grandeur of this beautiful monument.  As she stands majestically beside the waterfront, she bears testimony to the fact that time will heal and she can wait.

Grand old lady shivers but survives

No, I am not referring to me, but to the Taj Hotel .For nearly a decade, Taj was my second home!  We lived in Dhanraj Mahal which is a stone’s throw away from the hotel.  I was fascinated by the grand monument and would walk through its long corridor, peeping into the fabulous wares displayed in the shop windows.  The glittering chandeliers in the lobby and the twinkling mirrors in the ceiling, seemed to be winking their welcome to all those who walked through the glass doors, greeted by smartly dressed and polite doormen.  Svelte and efficient looking women with name tags on their neatly pinned pallu, moved around gracefully greeting guests and showing them to their well appointed rooms.

I was thrilled to be part of all this glitz and glamour, when I became the PRO for Vaitalik, a cultural organization that had special performances of classical dance in the Tanjore room for foreign guests.  I remember Juhi Chawla stopping by to chat with me as she waited for her mother Mona Chawla who was a senior executive in the Taj.  As a journalist, had the opportunity of listening to Mr JRD Tata, addressing the Rotary club of Bombay in the Ball room, on changing value systems.  Will never forget the brief ‘mulakat with Madam Teji Bachan and Jaya Bachan at the coffee shop.  Just the day before, I had interviewed Jayaji on AIR Bombay and she was graceful enough to remember me and introduce me to her Mother in law, so elegant with her short grey hair.  That is when I decided to keep my hair short and grey when I become sixty!

The best was yet to come when Camelia Punjabi, then Vice President of Taj, offered me a part time assignment as writer.  This meant going through a three week induction programme in the hotel, spending time in every department to understand the ‘product’.  It was an awesome experience because I saw what lies behind the glamorous exterior.  The hard work and attention to details that goes into the finished product.  That is when I understood why a cup of coffee costs so much!  We pay for the ambience, the back end mehanat of so many people including the waste paper buyer who makes his living out of the trash bins emptied from rooms!

Age cannot wither nor custom stale her infinite variety was said about Cleopatra but it holds good for the grand old lady beside the gateway of India.  The bullet marks, broken furniture or shattered glass panes will not mar the grandeur of this beautiful monument.  As she stands majestically beside the waterfront, she bears testimony to the fact that time will heal and she can wait.

Grand old lady shivers but survives

No, I am not referring to me, but to the Taj Hotel .For nearly a decade, Taj was my second home!  We lived in Dhanraj Mahal which is a stone’s throw away from the hotel.  I was fascinated by the grand monument and would walk through its long corridor, peeping into the fabulous wares displayed in the shop windows.  The glittering chandeliers in the lobby and the twinkling mirrors in the ceiling, seemed to be winking their welcome to all those who walked through the glass doors, greeted by smartly dressed and polite doormen.  Svelte and efficient looking women with name tags on their neatly pinned pallu, moved around gracefully greeting guests and showing them to their well appointed rooms.

I was thrilled to be part of all this glitz and glamour, when I became the PRO for Vaitalik, a cultural organization that had special performances of classical dance in the Tanjore room for foreign guests.  I remember Juhi Chawla stopping by to chat with me as she waited for her mother Mona Chawla who was a senior executive in the Taj.  As a journalist, had the opportunity of listening to Mr JRD Tata, addressing the Rotary club of Bombay in the Ball room, on changing value systems.  Will never forget the brief ‘mulakat with Madam Teji Bachan and Jaya Bachan at the coffee shop.  Just the day before, I had interviewed Jayaji on AIR Bombay and she was graceful enough to remember me and introduce me to her Mother in law, so elegant with her short grey hair.  That is when I decided to keep my hair short and grey when I become sixty!

The best was yet to come when Camelia Punjabi, then Vice President of Taj, offered me a part time assignment as writer.  This meant going through a three week induction programme in the hotel, spending time in every department to understand the ‘product’.  It was an awesome experience because I saw what lies behind the glamorous exterior.  The hard work and attention to details that goes into the finished product.  That is when I understood why a cup of coffee costs so much!  We pay for the ambience, the back end mehanat of so many people including the waste paper buyer who makes his living out of the trash bins emptied from rooms!

Age cannot wither nor custom stale her infinite variety was said about Cleopatra but it holds good for the grand old lady beside the gateway of India.  The bullet marks, broken furniture or shattered glass panes will not mar the grandeur of this beautiful monument.  As she stands majestically beside the waterfront, she bears testimony to the fact that time will heal and she can wait.

Grand old lady shivers but survives

No, I am not referring to me, but to the Taj Hotel .For nearly a decade, Taj was my second home!  We lived in Dhanraj Mahal which is a stone’s throw away from the hotel.  I was fascinated by the grand monument and would walk through its long corridor, peeping into the fabulous wares displayed in the shop windows.  The glittering chandeliers in the lobby and the twinkling mirrors in the ceiling, seemed to be winking their welcome to all those who walked through the glass doors, greeted by smartly dressed and polite doormen.  Svelte and efficient looking women with name tags on their neatly pinned pallu, moved around gracefully greeting guests and showing them to their well appointed rooms.

I was thrilled to be part of all this glitz and glamour, when I became the PRO for Vaitalik, a cultural organization that had special performances of classical dance in the Tanjore room for foreign guests.  I remember Juhi Chawla stopping by to chat with me as she waited for her mother Mona Chawla who was a senior executive in the Taj.  As a journalist, had the opportunity of listening to Mr JRD Tata, addressing the Rotary club of Bombay in the Ball room, on changing value systems.  Will never forget the brief ‘mulakat with Madam Teji Bachan and Jaya Bachan at the coffee shop.  Just the day before, I had interviewed Jayaji on AIR Bombay and she was graceful enough to remember me and introduce me to her Mother in law, so elegant with her short grey hair.  That is when I decided to keep my hair short and grey when I become sixty!

The best was yet to come when Camelia Punjabi, then Vice President of Taj, offered me a part time assignment as writer.  This meant going through a three week induction programme in the hotel, spending time in every department to understand the ‘product’.  It was an awesome experience because I saw what lies behind the glamorous exterior.  The hard work and attention to details that goes into the finished product.  That is when I understood why a cup of coffee costs so much!  We pay for the ambience, the back end mehanat of so many people including the waste paper buyer who makes his living out of the trash bins emptied from rooms!

Age cannot wither nor custom stale her infinite variety was said about Cleopatra but it holds good for the grand old lady beside the gateway of India.  The bullet marks, broken furniture or shattered glass panes will not mar the grandeur of this beautiful monument.  As she stands majestically beside the waterfront, she bears testimony to the fact that time will heal and she can wait.

A Child is a Child

It was teatime in the office and the peon went around distributing ‘peda’ to everyone.  He had just become the father of a girl.  The accountant picked up one and said loudly, “Look at this man – he gets only a daughter and distributes peda!” Everyone joined in the laughter this evoked.

Undaunted, the peon said, “Lakshmi has come to my house, and I will celebrate.” Should he have justified his action by relating a girl to the goddess of wealth?  It’s a shame that we talk of hi-tech and progress and yet underplay the birth of a daughter.

.  Even educated parents are concerned about having a son.  A relative of mine was so keen on having a son that after her second daughter was born; she took a vow to visit 100 temples to plead for a son!

Another friend had four daughters.  Each time, she hoped it would be a son and at last the fifth one was.  Unfortunately, she didn’t live to enjoy him as she died of cancer that followed the birth of the child.

To grand parents, a son’s son is more special than a daughter’s.  The daughter is supposed to be a member of another family after marriage; hence, her child is an outsider!  A boy is called a ‘Vamshodharak’ (one who continues the dynasty) A girl is ‘given away’ in “kanya daan’.

Some disappointed parents who do not have a son; keep declaring, “thank God we have daughters – they are more sympathetic and care for the family.  Sons are sons only till they get a wife.”  This is rather an unfair accusation as sons are equally affectionate and helpful and are alienated only when the mother starts the strong-arm techniques with his wife – and naturally, he has to take sides!

An uncle of mine has the habit of blessing everyone with a “May God give you a dozen daughters” – because he believes that daughters are better companions to a father than a son.  I remember the time when I was experiencing the pangs of labour when my first child was born.  The doctor asked me “What do you want?  A boy or a girl?”  Gasping and panting I said, “Please doc, a boy.  I don’t want another woman to suffer this way”.  My 80-year – old grandma who was around said, “Don’t say that child, a boy or girl is not what matters.  What you should ask for is a healthy child who will live well and bring glory to him or herself by good deeds and thoughts”.

How true!  A child is child for all that and let’s revel in the boon of creation rather than look a gift horse in the mouth.