Some more stories?

Mary Mary, quite contrary : My grandmother would light up a Bidi ( Indian version of cigarette albeit cheaper) like any badass would do in a Western. She could give cowboys, bandits, soldiers, anyone who smoked badass-ly, a run for their money. My grandparents on both sides smoked but my parents don't and that is a testimony to my parents' sanity and insanity of my grandparents. But among all of them , I found my Naani (maternal grandmother) the most fascinating whenever she smoked. May be because she was the most carefree of all. Women in villages are banned from doing almost anything that men do. Except my naani who broke every rule in the village. Well most of them. She cursed, she never cooked, she covered her face only up to her forehead, walked around the village fearlessly and smoked with abandon. Let this not paint a picture of a masculine women, please no. She was as feminine as feminines come. She would paint her nails bright red and apply kohl in her eyes and say all 'matter-of-factly'  that eyes should never be naked. Sassy I tell you. But she smoked dexterously. I could never ask her if smoking is injurious to health because I was too busy observing the flick of the matchstick on the matchbox, the bidi hanging loose between her lips and then the bidi being lit. It never took her two matchsticks. One was enough. Simultaneously, she would be preparing a Paan (a betel leaf preparation which is mildly stimulating and colors your tongue, look it up) and handing it out to her audience. She had great many stories and anecdotes to share and people would assemble around her to hear them and enjoy some paan. Even though kids should not partake in 'paan chewing' activity she would still ask me if I wanted one. And I would say 'give me a small one but dont tell mom/dad'. Her smoking habit never influenced me in anyway to smoke but it did subconsciously make me look up to women who did not care for the archaic, ridiculous rules and did as they pleased. The free spirits.

Rain, rain go away: The first time I became aware of class system or of the divide between the haves and the haves not was in 4th grade. It was pouring hard that day and the last bell rang which signified the school being done for the day. All of us kids were waiting for our parents to take us home. Well I was waiting for my father to pick me up on that day only because I was told by the teacher to wait. Otherwise I usually walked home on my own ever since I was in upper kg. My parents never thought of sexual predators lurking in the bushes as any danger to their little daughter. So I waited. And then I noticed a few cars coming and picking up kids one by one. My dad did not own a car at that time or any fuel driven vehicle. He owned a cycle which is you know mechanical in nature. And then I realized that even if my dad did come, I would get wet on a cycle. I saw all my friends being whisked away in cars that were nice and dry and so I told my teacher that I can walk, my house is not that far. Now I own an Accord at 25 and every time I drive it , I look back at my 8 year old self and wink at her. Owning a car is a symbol of independence and that is how I have always looked at it. Never a status symbol or a symbol of luxury or other myriad things that advertisements tell you. Its a 'thing' that keeps an 8 year old dry. Similarly, I never owned many toys. Either my parents did not have enough money to buy toys or they considered toys frivolous and I suspect both. I had one random doll that sometimes became a barbie in my stories told to others or became ten barbies in other stories. That doll inspired me to learn how to draw, with a pen, all over her face. I repented and recognized my mistake the very next second when I could not erase the make believe 'earrings' and 'nose-ring' and 'necklace', I drew on her ! With a pen! The doll was subsequently subjected to more such tortures like baths which ruined its hair, or twisting of legs and arms to see how far they can be twisted. Whenever I saw a beautiful collection of barbie dolls owned by any friend, I would pledge to buy a set for myself as soon as I 'grew up'. I have grown up now and fortunately do not feel the desire to own barbies anymore.

Smells like teenspirit:
Naani also 'taught' me about 'being self aware'. Now this conversation happened in my native dialect so I can only translate it so much. Please note how my naani spoke to me like I am an adult when I was ten. I have always found it respectful when elders speak to kids like adults as opposed to speaking to them like they are underdeveloped little dumb people.

Naani: Have you seen Soni, she has grown up.

Me: Oh is she 11?

Naani: No she is ten just like you. She is very 'self aware'.

Me: Ahaan?

Naani: When she walks, she looks down at herself and smiles.

Me: Do we all have to walk and smile at ourselves?

Naani: She has breasts so she does that.

Me: What is breasts?

Naani: It is something that we all have and need.

Me: Do my parents have?

Naani: One of them does.

Girls and boys from 6th to 12th grade were taken to a social science exhibition in an another city when I was in 6th grade. Our teachers herded the girls together and strictly told that girls from 9th to 12th grade would not take younger girls with them if and when they tried to sneak out and speak to the boys from other schools. Other such instructions given to us were:

Older girls have to wear bras at all times.

Shower everyday even if there is no water

Bring pads for something called a 'period'

Not to jump and dance and sing

Bring food to the teachers if there are any buffets

Report if any girl is found missing, dead or seen with guys.

Johny Johny yes papa: Sometimes I have found myself oddly lying or being stingy when there is no need for it. 

I have more than once said the milk is okay when the milk has gone bad.

I try to use only one kitchen tissue to wipe a surface clean when more than 5 are required just to challenge myself. The only thing I like to conserve is paper towels/tissues may be because they come from trees and I like to save trees. I do my own bit for the environment. 

This is not new. In 1st grade, I told my teacher that my father is very poor and I would like to hence use only 1 notebook for all the courses.

My fair lady: My mother is strong like crazy strong. She is not scared of darkness, ghosts, spiders, frogs, scorpions. I wish I had inherited this quality instead of her height from her. She also used to goof around a lot when we were younger which kinda gives me my silliness. She would hug us (brother and I)  until we could not breathe anymore. Or wake us up at 6am saying it is 8am for school that started at 8 am. She would tickle us when we would be very seriously trying to study. She would play April fool pranks on us. She is scared of snakes. 

I make lists: I make lists, a lot of lists. My lists act as my Pensieve (for all the HP fans in the house, give it up for the HP reference!)  I think a lot, over and over about the same thing so when it becomes unbearable to do it anymore, I barf everything up in the form of lists. The latest list:

Things to keep in my big bag

Things to keep in my small bag

Things to keep in my hand bag

Things to keep in the pockets of all the bags

I once made a list of 'things to pack' and one of the subgroups was 'things to do' which contained an item 'should pack'.