Sukhee - kachay, bachay and a whiff of fresh air (just a whiff!)...

 

As I watched ‘Sukhee,’ certain scenes and dialogues from the movie seemed to mirror episodes from my own life. I believe many middle-aged women have experienced a similar resonance with the film at some point. This is the movie's strength, providing a female-centric slice of life amidst the inundation of films like Pathan, Jawan, and Tiger of the opposite gender. It was a reminder of why I remain a Bollywood enthusiast. While the industry often churns out less-than-appetizing content, it occasionally offers delightful experiences that keep drawing you back, hopeful for more satisfying cinematic treats. The era when a stellar cast guaranteed a great movie seems long gone. These days, the prominence of a star often correlates with enduring mediocre content because the storyline and logic take a backseat to the superstardom of the hero. All other characters in the movie are reduced to caricatures. You have my commiserations if you find yourself unfortunate enough to be caught in the headlights of a superstar's film like a deer (like I did with Pathan!). 

The stark contrast in the treatment of male and female actors in the Hindi film industry becomes evident when comparing the career trajectories of Shilpa Shetty, the heroine in Sukhee, and Shah Rukh Khan, the hero of our times! Their journeys began almost simultaneously in Baazigar, where SRK's character unexpectedly kills Shilpa as a form of vengeance for his family's death. The song "Kitabein bahut tho padhi hongi tumne, magar koi chehra bhi tumne pada hain" became a massive hit as Shilpa, with her statuesque height and lovely looks, made a sensational debut in 1993. For SRK, this film marked the commencement of his ascent to superstardom. While SRK continued to deliver one success after another, Shilpa's career trajectory did not experience the same rise. Her claim to fame came through winning Big Brother, a UK-based reality TV show in 2007, which did more for her than any Bollywood movie. Subsequently, she married a super-rich British-Indian businessman named Raj Kundra.

While SRK continues to dance alongside women significantly younger than him in movies with budgets reaching hundreds of crores, Shilpa finds herself confined to roles more suited to her age or serving as a host on TV shows. It's worth noting that SRK is nearly a decade older than Shilpa, yet the characters he portrays seem immune to the aging process, freezing at around 35. Despite Shilpa's undeniably stunning and gorgeous appearance, she is notably absent from the film scene, while SRK remains one of the most sought-after actors. While SRK deserves respect for his enduring popularity, the undeniable truth is that male privilege in Bollywood persists regardless of age, beauty, or talent. Both young and old actresses aspire to work with him, considering it an honor to be chosen for a role in his movies. Presently, it's not just one leading lady but 3-4, spanning various ages starting from around 18, needed to fulfill the role of a heroine in SRK's films. I observed a similar dynamic with the previous superstar, Mr. Amitabh Bachchan. Despite societal changes, the people of Bollywood and the entire country remain entangled in the web of misogyny.

Now that I have gotten that rant out of the picture, let me focus on the thrill of watching a good movie with a decent storyline that tugs at your heartstrings. The movie commences with a glimpse into the high school days of our heroine, showcasing her as an athlete, a horse rider, and an all-rounder who has no hesitation in getting into brawls with men twice her size. This refreshing introduction contrasts with movies (and TV dramas) that, more often than not, present heroines as unrealistically flawless Ms. Goody-two-shoes. The scene transitions nostalgically into Shilpa's current life, where she finds herself doing everything she and her friends vowed not to do—washing undergarments, tending to children, and getting married - from an amazing past to a dreary now.

After posting the video on Social Media, Sukhee retrieves laundry, including her husband's underwear, while her daughter awaits breakfast. "No Bachay, kachay, and Shaadi," (no kids, underwear, or marriage) her friends and she had promised to each other earlier in their lives. The wistful smile on Shilpa's face conveys the helplessness experienced by domesticated women almost daily as they shift from being princesses in their parents' homes and queens in their college life to the roles of rinse and repeat homemakers. I felt the same emotion that Sukhee does - a sense of resignation at life's path, crushing one dream after another in the guise of household responsibilities, marriage, and children. Yet, Shilpa carries on with a smile, caring for an ailing grandfather-in-law who is also her comrade in arms and seems to be the only one who appreciates all she does. The thing I like about Shilpa's character is that she tries to make the most of the life she chooses but knows very well that this is not the life she envisioned a woman like her living. She won't admit it to anyone, at least to herself, and tries to portray a happy life. But she knows what is missing but can't do anything about it. So she does what she does best - looking after kachay, bachay and husband! I won't delve into the storyline but will instead express my admiration for why this movie stands out from the rest and what could have been done differently to have made an even more forceful statement than it does.

A close friend of mine once jokingly quipped that SRK was the cause of all her marital troubles because he had painted an overly idealistic picture of love and marriage through his movies. While I don't attribute all my challenges to SRK's romantic portrayals, I agree that romantic Bollywood movies undeniably set a risky precedent for young girls. It portrays charming and seemingly perfect lover boys who would go to any lengths to set things right for their damsel in distress. SRK stands out by going above and beyond, even to the extent of assisting the family members of his beloved for her wedding to earn their trust.

Romantic love is depicted as the ultimate destination for young men and women. Despite my present understanding, I admit that during my teenage years, I was swayed and led to believe that true happiness rested in the arms of a man who adored and worshipped me. It took years to dismantle that image of a flawless lover—such a person simply does not exist. It was disconcerting that Bollywood seemed to guide viewers and couples to the altar but left us wondering what happens afterward.

Sukhee accomplishes precisely that—it unveils the reality of life beyond the fairy tale romance and elopement process. It shows you what happens after you cross the altar and start living together as husband and wife. I am genuinely pleased that the challenges a woman faces after marrying her knight in shining armor, particularly after defying societal norms, have been portrayed authentically. The film realistically captures how Shilpa must make numerous sacrifices to maintain the facade of a perfect life with a loving husband, especially for herself, given her choices. As the promise she held as a teenager gradually fades away, replaced by the reality of supporting the man she fell in love with instead of pursuing her dreams of owning a stud farm, you can't help but feel pity for the woman she becomes. From taming horses, she coyly allows herself to be tamed in the name of love. 

I hope young girls take this movie seriously—that life is more than just spending the rest of your days with the man you love; it encompasses so much more. I've heard countless dialogues in films where the woman fervently prays, "Please God! Just give him to me, and I don't want anything else. I will die without him!" It all seems idyllic until you realize the rest of your life is extensive. The man you love and want to spend the rest of your life with is not just that but a package deal that includes his weaknesses, family, education, career, friends, and other aspects. Regardless of the depth of love, marriage can take its toll on even the most enchanting love stories. The best approach to marriage, as articulated by Kahlil Gibran, is to - 

      Love one another, but make not a bond of love:

     Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

     Fill each other’s cups, but drink not from one cup.

     Give one another your bread, but eat not from the same loaf.

     Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,

     Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

 

     Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.

     For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

     And stand together yet not too near together:

     For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

     And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.

What resonates with me in this observation is the importance of maintaining individuality and not being overtly dependent on a spouse. It's crucial to forge one's own path and support each other's growth from a distance. For an Indian woman, breaking free from the ingrained belief that her life revolves around her husband, home, and hearth can be challenging. Yet, it is essential to foster change. Whether through writing, cinema, TV, or discussions, we must dispel the romanticized ideals of marriage, acknowledging its significance without sacrificing our identity. Young girls should be shown a real picture of what they getting into and that being swept off your feet might sometimes make you fall down with a thud!

Sukhee attempts to achieve this, but only to a limited extent. It stumbles significantly in the second half, leaving me perplexed why another male character needs to be introduced into the woman's life as she navigates the world without her husband. The narrative progressed well until her attractive old friend, who harbored a lifelong crush on her, was thrown into the mix. I fail to understand why filmmakers need to establish Sukhee's desirability by introducing another man who shows interest in her. Can't she recognize her attractiveness through her personality alone? Why does she need validation from another man on how desirable she is even after years of marriage and kids? Why do they insist on conveying that, since this remarkable man is pursuing her, she remains a sought-after prize? I hope, for once, Indian cinema portrays that a woman doesn't require a male presence to determine her worth. To date, I haven't come across a movie or show that does this. Almost invariably, an eligible bachelor is waiting in the wings to validate the greatness of our leading lady. Give me a break! I don't need any man to demonstrate a woman's worth—her intrinsic value shines on its own. I don't need any man to affirm that!

I also am not on board with the ending. I had hoped for a different outcome—that she would forge ahead without looking back. However, everything must neatly fall into place in the climax, right? The man must repent, make new promises, and again, our middle-aged heroine reverts to the same teenager she was decades ago. Therefore, in the end, Shilpa is portrayed as a superwoman, much like her male counterparts, who can single-handedly defeat an entire army while recovering from a certain death. It takes superpowers on a woman's part to swiftly change a man's point of view and prompt him to apologize to the entire world while admitting his mistake. This simply doesn't occur in the real world, and even if it does, it does to a small extent, it takes years. The rapid transformation of her husband is not very convincing, and the conclusion would have been more dramatic and progressive if Shilpa had chosen not to return. Her driving the motorcycle into a sunrise would have been a powerful and inspiring sight rather than her ride to Anandkot from Delhi! 

Bollywood still seems to be fumbling in the darkness to make movies that address women's issues effectively and in a manner that is not regressive but it's heartening to see at least an effort is being made, and for that, I am grateful to the creators of Sukhee. Thank you, kind sirs and ladies – after a long time, I could enjoy a Hindi film with a smile on my lips and an ache in my heart!

What is your favorite season?

This seems to be a standard question for everyone. The change of seasons took a special meaning for me, once I moved to North Central United States. In India there seemed to be like 2 seasons - the rains and the summer. Yes, there might have been a brief 2 weeks of winter, but mostly I never noticed much the change in seasons, except perhaps the rainy season which would be a welcome relief when it began but would soon morph into something of a nuisance when it got out of hand. 

But moving to the United States changed all that for me. Especially when I started to live in Chicago, I was subjected to the most intense change of seasons. There was a song from a movie, I cannot quite remember the title of that went something like - "Pathjhad, saawan, basant, bahaar, ek baras me mausam chaar, mausam chaar" (There are 4 seasons in a year - Fall, Rains, Spring, Summer - though basant and bahaar mean spring, I am sure that is what the poet meant). I got to experience this full throttle here but instead of the "paanchwa mausam pyaar ka, intezaar ka" (fifth season is of love and waiting), the fifth and the most dominant season here happens to be winter which is just starting out here and is expected to last for the next 6 months at the least before we spring into bahaar!

So having experienced these seasons for more than 2 decades now, I was thinking to myself which season do I like the most? Which season would I most associate myself and look forward to? I pondered as I started out of the window because sometimes in Chicago it feels like you are subjected to all the seasons in a matter of days. Starts of being warm and sunny like summer, then goes on to become a little chilly like Spring, followed by even more cold with leaves blowing around like Fall and then of course the layer of snow on the ground and before you know it, the rain starts like today. As you can see, I was not exaggerating. In fact there is a joke that goes around here that says in Chicago you could experience all the seasons in a day. While I do agree with that to an extent (at least 50% of the seasons in a day), I will let that pass.

In a nutshell, I meant that I have experienced almost all fo these seasons in the past few days.  The view from. my window is quite something. There is a brook in front surrounded by trees, some ever greens (that give the feeling of spring) and other bare ones (from the fall). The best part is that I can see the sunset from this window. The sunset also changes according to the seasons.

During the summer season (4 days ago), I was greeted in the morning by a bright sun that streamed sunlight into my cozy home warming everything it fell on and especially my heart. The sun reflected off the waves in the placid lake whose tiny waves shimmered and danced like silver beads. The ebb and flow of the water, bringing together the sun's rays like glass and then shattering it into a million little pieces of light. The play of sun in the water, I watched all day long as the trees basked in the glorious morning followed by a warm afternoon and finally the time I wait holding my breath for- the sunset. The sky took on different colors of a painters palette, as everything condensed into a stillness of space and time that enveloped my being. The calm and peace I feel when I watch the sun and its surrounding which encompasses the while sky, change colors as it goes from a brightly shining star to a ball of fire is simply mesmerizing. The orange hues around it make the blue sky appear purple, red, orange, yellow and all the shades in between. All I can do is stare out of the window and thank Allah SWT for blessing me with such a perfect moment as I watch the sun descend into the waters and disappear with the last ray, another day of life just having passed without me being hungry, homeless or uneducated. Everything and more to be grateful for! Surely, summer is my most favorite season?

Through the night, I felt the winds picking up speed a little and the temperature coming down. I could feel the spring in the air as I get up next morning to be greeted by the same bright sun tempered down by the coolness in the wind. "Jaise Sardi ki dhoop" (Like Winter's Sun) sang Anil Kapoor, 25 years ago to Manisha Koirala! One could be deceived into thinking that it is yet another summer day only to go out into the balcony and realize that is a day for a sweater! The evergreens reflect the sun in the green of their leaves which seems to be now glistening with a bright hue. Just like the early days of Spring when the trees are bursting forth with sprouts. I could almost feel the tree in front ready to do just that as I watch the nodes with their last bit of green remaining. Spring promises to be an awesome season and just this slight peek is giving me the hope for the future. That one day I will see this Tree Blossom, that one day I might not be able to have that clear a view of the sunset because it would be blocked by the leaves on the trees. But for now I enjoy the sunset as I get a clear view between the bare branches of the tree. The temperature getting distinctly colder as it wins over the day and the sun sets deciding to fight the battle another day as it finds the earth going farther and farther away from it. The onset of winter seems ominous! Spring seems like the obvious favorite, right?

The wind picks up speed during the night and I could feel it whooshing away, trying to make its way into my home with continuous run-ins at the glass doors and windows. The skies are a little grey in the morning with the winds carrying them around fast and everything is blowing outside. The trees are swaying, like a vigorous dance to shake away all the remnants of a past life. The birds are trying to hold on to dear life as they pick the last berries from the trees. The water seems to be going with the flow of the wind as the waves get bigger and faster. The majestic sun tries to make an appearance but is kept in check by the darkening clouds. He does manage to peek here and there and I catch glimpses of bright sunlight streaming, making everything in my home also golden. I can't wait for the sunset and it does come once again glorious in its colors and breathtaking in its appearance. Even the wind pauses its march to take a breath as I take in the marvelous scene before me. There are more colors than my eye can distinguish. Every hue of every color possible. Surely, such perfection can be achieved by Mother Nature only. I watch as a perfect fall day ends and everything around me stands bare with the last vestiges of pride taken away - but there is a humility in that arrogance. Like they are resigned to fate and accept it graciously. That they will wait out the season patiently to come back stronger and with more power just like the wind does once it realizes that the day is complete! Or is it Fall?

The temperature drops significantly that night and the next day I am greeted with a dusting of snow on the ground, trees, the grass and the cars. A fine layer of white powder it looks like that makes everything look unadulterated and pure. The skies are bright as the sun starts its ascend. I could feel the snow starting to disperse with the rays of sunlight. They hold on for a while though. The tree branches are layered with the snow like a white outline on the dark branches. Its a slight to behold, like someone took a pencil and sketched in white over them. A bird has walked on the snow on the balcony and its dainty foot steps gladden my soul. I see the geese flying low as they wail a little because they have not been able to migrate and they know that their life is going to be tough in the months to follow. But they are brave souls who don't seem to mind that much and are intent on enjoying what remains of the warmth as they swim clearing the dusting of white snow on the waves. How easily they navigate the coldness of the water, the chill of the air - their home is the outside and they don't mind. They are together as a family encouraging each other and staying together as they navigate the vicissitudes of life ahead. It would be a joy to watch them as they overcome the challenge together, staying in the warmth of my home looking out of the window! By the time the sunset approaches, all the snow has been wiped off the face of the earth. All that remains is that slight chill in the air and of course the spectacular colors in the sky. I see everyone around resigning to fate and trying to get cozy and warm. Could it be winter?

Next morning, I get up to grey skies. There is no chance for the sun to even give a slight peak. The only evidence one gets of its presence is the light and a few bright spots on where it could be positioned behind the clouds. As the day passes, even that evidence is lost and if it were not for the clock, one would think the sunset was right around the corner. The rain comes down from time and time and then stops for a while. It has a mind of its own. The pitter patter of the rain drops gives me a sense of peace. I love the sound of water and the sound or rain is especially pleasing. Small droplets form on the window panes and makes zig zag lines as they find their way to the earth. The trees are dripping wet and seem to be trying their best to get rid of the water on their branches. Life sustaining water becomes too much to handle - just like everything else in life. Even too much of a good thing can lead to disaster. I find the falling of the raindrops on the lake comforting,  like the closing of a circle. Water coming back to where it originated from. Joining a waterbody and becoming a part of it. Loosing its individuality but not its character. Adding itself to a vastness that encompasses the whole universe. One day for us to be the same, being returned to our place in the cosmos. Becoming one with the world around us. There is no sunset to watch today, the skies just keep getting darker and darker. There is a brief display of very subdued colors before everything merges into one color - the trees, the skies, the lake and everything in between. From a burst of different colors to all coming together as if they are all connected together - the living and the non-living, adding me to the mix. Surely, its the rainy season that beats all?

I feel like every season is my favorite season. The good, the bad and the ugly. Just the fact that I am alive, and well to experience them from the porch of my home makes every season a favorite season and every day the best day of my life till that point in time  because I am alive to capture the beauty of it. I am the season. I become one with each changing season. I change, my perception changes. I continue to be awed by Allah's creations - the subtle changes, the mighty difference - but still everything falling into an easy pattern - a rhythm, a frequency that I try hard to vibrate with. I cannot get myself to choose one over the other. Everything is just so perfect, Alhumdulillah.

A letter to my son (at least a decade into the future)

A letter to my son when he starts to think of getting married.

Y,

You are a young man now, a very handsome, accomplished and happy young man I am sure. You must be at a point in your life where you would now love  to share that happiness and success with someone special in your life. Someone who not only shares these positive things with you but someone who lends you a helping hand in the not-so-good moments that life throws at you. Someone who helps you grow even more as an individual and someone who enables you to see the world in a way that you never knew even existed – from her point of view. Believe me the world you live in and take for granted as a man is a completely different beast to tackle when you are from the other gender. I am sure it feels great to be valued, praised and encouraged for your unique capabilities, to be welcomed with smiles, slaps on the back and “You go boy!” shouts wherever you go.  This might make you not so well versed with the ordeal of being judged for what you wear (and what you don’t wear), what you say (and what you don’t say), what tone of voice you use (the pitch, the bass, the tenor etc.), what words you use to convey your message (what words you don’t), how much you smile (how much you scowl, how much you smirk, how much you don’t smile), how you smile…the list is endless. I have tried to make you see the world from your sister’s point of view, but I realize that you cannot really takes peeks from time to time and understand what she is going through. As a younger brother, I can understand that you weren’t quite on the same plane as her to be able to decipher and digest the issues that she was facing as she tackled school, college, family, career and life. But that is going to change.

Soon, you will be sharing your life with a woman that you love. She will be part of your life like no other, not even me. I want to make sure that you give the most important woman in your life the significance she deserves. Yes, my darling son, she should be the most important woman in your life – not your mom, not your sister nor your best friend, not even your future daughter. The woman you are going to marry, the woman who is going to share every little aspect of your life, the woman who is going through the ordeal of giving birth to your children, the woman who is going to walk beside you hand in hand, should be the woman you value the most. She should get your utmost respect, attention and above all your love. Go ahead and fall gloriously in love with her. Love like you have never loved before. Love her like she’s a part of you. Love her like she deserves to be loved – completely and with abandon. Spoil her with your attention, with your adherence to her likes and dislikes – ignore the world that might label you with their misogynistic titles – a henpecked husband being the top of the list. You have my permission to show them the finger I have asked you not to show to anyone. This is the kind of situation that you need to preserve it for. I know I have raised a strong young man who does not get fazed by the meaninglessness of the bad wide world.

I want to see you falling hopelessly in love with your woman. I want you to do everything for her ignoring the customs, follies and the we-mean-you-well friends and family members. I want you to break the mold of - “I am the man, my family, my boss, my dog should get more preference than you, your family, your boss and your dog” mentality that is so prevalent among men in general and South Asian Men in particular. My dear son, if you ever make your marriage a battle of egos, it will never work. Learn to let go, even though it is hard to let go, learn to let go. Learn to adapt, to change, to think beyond one’s family, one’s friends. It’s quite OK if she gives more preference to her family. Her parents have brought her up, she has lived surrounded by her family all her life, how and why should you expect her to suddenly treat yours better? That is quite unfair. Let her love her mom, dad and siblings in peace. Let her continue her old associations and relationships as she wants to. Never ever make her choose or make her choices for her. Even if she were to choose you, she will never really be happy about her choice; it will plague her, she will never quite get over what you did to her. Don’t let your ego be so fragile that it needs constant validation by needing her to prefer you over anyone else. I hope I have brought you up to behave like an adult man instead of a spoilt brat.

Love is a beautiful emotion in itself, it is what makes the world go around. If it weren’t for love, I don’t think the human race would have survived and come this far. But love can get ugly too. If love for your own self supersedes your love for other human beings, then that is when things start to go wrong. Learn to love her like your own. Encourage her to achieve her dreams, revel in it when she does. Don’t hold her back in anything. I have taught you to take care of yourself, so when the need arises, I hope you rise to the occasion to not just take care of yourself, but to take care of her too.  Also, don’t make her decisions for her. She is as, if not more accomplished than you are. She is capable enough to handle herself, her life problems and issues. If she asks you for advice, then by all means tell her what you think is right, but don’t meddle unnecessarily in her affairs. Give her space to grow. Let her make her own mistakes and learn from them. Stand by her no matter what. Don’t be the one who says I told you so but the one who says I am here for you. Not just one who says, but one who does because after all my love, actions speak louder than mere words ever can. 

I want to see your eyes light up whenever she walks in a room. Spoil her with your presence, your affection and your love. Never ever feel like you are trying too hard to please her, there is nothing like that. For what all she does for you without you even realizing it, everything that you do for her is always going to fall short of what she does for you. Love her with abandon and watch as the happiness you give her come back to you tenfold. 

Life is too short and youth even more so. So, enjoy it while it lasts, and you cannot enjoy it with anyone else like you can with your life partner. Make sure you lay the foundation of your old age by cementing your relationship with your spouse with love, trust, care and most of all the topmost preference. Your parents can take care of themselves; your siblings have their own families; your friends have other friends – so don’t put your wife on hold for them. Don’t ignore the one who’s going to be with you all through your youth right into your old age. Sow the seed of love and nourish it with your time, energy and effort and watch it grow like Jack’s beanstalk. You will reap more than you can ever imagine. Don’t be caught up in who’s doing what and how much.  It is your seed, in your backyard and the backyard belongs to the both of you equally and remember even if you do more or less – remember when this sapling grows into a tree it will encompass both of you in its shade equally. Water it without overwhelming it, prune it, fertilize it, make sure it is getting enough sunlight, protect it, nurture it and watch it bloom and produce the biggest, brightest, freshest flowers that fill your life with color, fragrance, and beauty. 

My dearest son, I am a grown woman. I have a career, I have hobbies, I enjoy being by myself. Please don’t use me a pawn in your marriage to do what you want to do. I have seen this happen so much with men conveniently using their mothers as the reason not to spend time with their wives, use their mothers to not work hard, use their mother as an excuse for doing what they want to do. Well, I hope you know that I am smarter than that. I will never allow you to do anything close to this, I know that I don’t have to because I would like to think that I have instilled a little bit of common sense in you. If you are man enough to want to do something, do it on your own responsibility – do not drag your mom, your dad, you siblings or any of your friends into it. I am not sure about what others might or might not do, but let me tell you my dearest one, I for one will not allow you hide behind my pallu to get away with things you don’t want to do. 

When I was in 3rd grade, my class did a dance for our school’s annual day. It was a patriotic song from Dilip Kumar’s classic Ganga Jamuna – “Insaaf ki dagar pe bachchon dikaho chalke”. I still remember the choreography to which we danced. There is one line in that song that goes something like – “Apne ho ya paraaye, sab ke liye ho nyaay”. Even at that young age this line impressed me, and I have tried to live by that all my life. Be fair in your dealings with everyone. Doesn’t matter if a stranger is right and your child is wrong – you always side with the right thing and the right person.  The thing with human beings and especially with moms is that somehow, they can never quite decipher that the child they have brought up can do anything wrong even though they are privy to all the weaknesses of their child. Somehow the other person, be it be a friend that the child has had an argument with, a teacher who did not give the child good grades or a spouse who does not get along with them. – somehow conveniently, the other person is always wrong, and your child is the victim. I humbly request you to shake that syndrome away. Doesn’t matter if you don’t even know the person that was wronged and no matter how close the person is to you who is doing wrong. You always side with the right thing and if you don’t really know the state of affairs, then you don’t take sides. You can’t just be on one person’s side because you know him/her. Be fair my child in your dealings even if it involves the woman who has given birth to you. I am a human being too. I make mistakes too. I will not always be right. Just because I am your mom and cooked the most delicious dishes for you does not mean you put me on a pedestal and behave unfairly with your wife. I don’t want to be up there, I wanted to be treated like an ordinary human being – that’s who I am. I have my strengths and my weaknesses, just like your wife. You can’t hold her weakness against my strength and you can’t ignore my short comings in my favor. Be fair my love, no matter who it is, be fair. If I were to teach you one thing in life that’s what I would tell you over and over again – be fair, be very fair.

I think my letter to you has gotten too lengthy. I hope you are not rolling your eyes thinking my mom is so noble and selfless to be doing this. Well my son, simply put, I am not. I am being as selfish as any other person who wants to lead a happy life. There is a saying that goes something like - "a mother is as happy as her least happy child". I think a truer fact has never been stated. There is a slight caveat there though, I just don’t want my children to be happy – I want them to be good human beings. I genuinely believe that you can’t really be happy unless you have a good heart. You will find that one achieves a much higher level of joy when one is content and peaceful than when one is just happy. I want you to be content and peaceful in life so that I can be too. As selfish as that. As you can ascertain, I am just looking out for my happiness! Go ahead my dear, lead a life sans regrets, try to make a heaven in your home, don’t let the devils of ego, jealousy and boredom take root there. They have a tendency to take over the entire heaven that you have so painstakingly built. I wish you the best in life with a reminder that you are responsible for giving your best before you can expect the best and the best of us are those who continue to give their best even when not getting it back in kind.

Best, Your Mom!

PS: And if you think that I am asking you to do too much, let me tell you that I am asking nothing that your wife is not doing for you. You might not have noticed it but it is conditioned in her psyche (and yours) to be doing all this without even asking!

 

The misfortune of traveling by Air India

I traveled with Air India from Chicago to Hyderabad by Flight # AI 126 departing June 22nd 2017 from Chicago and arriving in Hyderabad the night of June 23rd. The experience I have while travelling could only be termed as horrendous. I have been travelling for the past 20 years to and from Chicago to Hyderabad and must have made at least 10 trips by myself and with my family that consists of 3 kids. I have traveled right from the time they were infants to teenagers now. I have traveled with Royal Jordanian, KLM, Ethihad, Emirates and Air India in the past. Nothing comes close to the kind of experience I had while traveling with Air India this time around. Traveling with them even beat out the time I had flied with Royal Jordanian which had to do an emergency landing in Abu Dhabi.

I was traveling with my 2 sons aged 11 and 9. They were extremely happy to be flying and I was hoping that I could keep them engaged on the 14.5 hours trip from Chicago to Delhi with games, books, playing cards, sketching and TV of course. But Air India seemed to have quite other plans for us. As soon as we boarded and were on our way, I noticed that the airplane we were flying in seemed very old. There was transparent tape everywhere. I did not pay much attention to it.

We were seated in rows 20H, 20J and 20K. Once we were in the air however, I realized that the TVs were not working for all 3 of us. I tried everything but nothing on the remote was working. We did not have any service except the monitor being on. We could not even switch the monitor off. No control on the remote was working. This meant we could not call the attendant and we could not even switch on the light. The people in front of us seemed to have the same issue. I did not say anything then.

When the air hostess came to serve us food, I told her about the situation. She said that she would check with the staff and said that the monitors had been working when they had made a technical inspection of the plane before leaving Chicago and feigned surprise. I waited for a couple of hours but there was no feedback. Somehow I tried to catch her attention and asked her what was going on. She said they had tried but there was nothing that could be done. I told her that I had 2 kids traveling with me and it would be extremely difficult to continue the journey with no TV. She said she understood and told me she would try again.

That was the last time I heard anything about it. After that the air hostess started behaving very rude and tried to avoid talking to me. Suffice it to say that she did not provide any kind of service except handing us our food trays. Even the tea, coffee she poured reluctantly. I did not complain and decided to let karma take its course.

The next few hours were pretty agonizing. Not even did the TV and other controls did not work but we were unable to switch off the monitors. This meant that when the lights went off we have a 12 inch monitor staring directly at us with full brightness. My children could not sleep and nor could I. I had to cover the monitor with the blanket that was provided to decrease the intensity of the light coming from the monitor. If we had to look for anything or read we would have to open the window to let the light from outside come in. Yes, it was literally the dark ages all over again and we were paying a hefty amount of money for this torture.

Not once did anyone come and apologize to us. Not even offer an alternate solution. There were 8-10 rows with the same problem and none were offered any sort of solution. I could not wait for the trip to end and somehow managed to keep my kids engaged with games on my phone. Even had to hear some complaints from other customers that my son was leaning against their backseat. I was very proud of my kids that they did not create any disturbance and quietly played around and kept themselves engaged and behaved very well.

I heaved a sigh of relief when we reached Delhi and hoped that it would be the end of my troubles. I did not realize that Air India was just getting warmed up in tormenting us. The air hostess handed me 1 immigration form and I thought that the policy was similar to one for US wherein one form is given to the whole family traveling together.

At Delhi, we got delayed for an hour because of maintenance issues they announced. I didn't mind that because I have traveled for long and know that these things happen. But one thing I hoped for was that the issue with the remote control system would be fixed and our TV and other services would be functioning as they should. Boy! Was I in for a rude disappointment.

When we went into the same aircraft again, I realized that the cleaning crew had not even replenished the supplies. The airsickness bags we had used to store trash (since no one came to collect trash) were gone and nothing was put in its place. Once again I did not pay much attention to it. But once we sat down in our seats again we realized that nothing had changed. The monitors still glared at us with the image of the Taj Mahal with a model posing in front. I am getting shivers just thinking about that image because I had stared at it for so long. I resigned myself to the fact that nothing had changed and just hoped to get the 2 hour leg of journey over with.

The passenger seated in front of me was trying the controls and complained to the attendant who told him the same thing I had been told. They should be working, I don't know why they are not. Let me go and check. The attendant left and of course did not return. The complaining passenger got hold of the air hostess who said that she would check in the back and switch it on. I smiled to myself at the blatant lies that were being passed out but decided that I would not make any trouble and kept quiet.

A few minutes later one of the passengers decided to open the baggage cabin bin over our seats. After getting her work done, she tried closing the bin but she was unable to do so. She tried to summon someone but seeing no one she walked away, leaving her bulging backpack hanging out. I hoped she had gone to get someone to close the bin for her. Minutes passed and all my attention was towards the bin. The air hostess walked by and I told her of the problem. She said she would get someone to close it and walked off. Another 15-20 minutes passed. The airplane hit turbulence and the backpack started to move out dangerously.

That's when I decided I needed to do something about it. I got up and talked to the gentleman in front of me and pointed him to the danger above. I asked the lady who had walked away after opening the bin door as to how she could sit quietly without doing anything about it. She answered that she had summoned the staff for help and they had assured her that they would close it. The gentleman summoned one of the cabin attendants by shouting out and he walked towards us. When we tried to explain to him the situation the attendant got angry. He was more concerned about the gentleman calling out for him rather than helping us out. When I told him that there was no other way for us to call an attendant since the controls were not working, he refused to accept any responsibility. He advised me to file an online complaint and there was nothing he could do about it.

I calmly told him I was not complaining about the electronic controls not working but complaining only about the bin that had become a safety issue for my kid and that I could not keep quiet anymore. The attendant started shouting at the top of his voice that they could not possibly come and close the bins and that we should be doing that ourselves. I said that the lady tried and could not do it. He said that was not their issue. He started shouting at the passenger in front saying he should not have called out for him. He banged the bin door close angrily as another person from the staff walked over to the passenger trying to calm the situation down.

I am completely flabbergasted with this approach. Leave alone an apology, we were dealt with like we were doing a mistake by talking out. Once again, not one person came to apologize or offer an explanation. I was just waiting for the flight to reach its destination. It did, but the nightmare did not stop.

In the immigration line, the office told me that I needed 3 forms, not 1. I had to get out of the line to take the forms and by the time I came back there was a huge line. Please imagine the state of my mind and body at that time. I had 2 very tired kids and here I was handed 1 form by the air hostess who knew completely well that I had 2 children traveling with me and chose to just hand me 1 form. Plain evil, I would say. After requesting a lady passenger to let me join at the front of the queue, I managed to get the immigration done. The lady was reluctant but looking at my state agreed. I owe her a thanks!

An unpleasant, unpleasant experience flying to my home country with its native air lines. I hope and pray that I never get to travel by Air India again. The worst air craft, no maintenance to speak of, horrendous service and extremely rude behavior.  Please stay out!

Count your riches by your friends...

Life is characterized by many phases. Phases in which some things gain importance, some lose their’s and some change their significance. As one’s priority in life changes, so do a lot of things that go with it. 

As a kid, I think the priority in my life was to play outside and have as many friends as possible to have fun with. Importance was given to the quantity of friends rather than the quality. The more the merrier kind of thing. As I grew older, I realized (were made to realize rather) that more than anything else your studies should have your complete attention. So making friends took a backseat as I tackled the maze to end up at the front of the class. Yes, friends still mattered but life was not dictated by the number of friends you had, but rather by the number of marks you got in your Math test!

After the frenzy of studying that lasted more than a decade I finally found myself in an Engineering College. It was intimidating to say the least because I was uprooted from one part of the state to another (which by the way have been turned into two separate states now). I was returning to my native city, but it had been such a long time and I was considered a non-local even in my birth place. As I walked into the huge gates of the college and looked up to see the winding road going up towards the place I was going to spend the next 4 years of my life I vowed to make friends. There was not one friend I could claim at that point of time and more than anything else, I looked forward to making new friends and boy, did I make friends!

It was difficult in the beginning, but I have to say my class was blessed with the coolest and nicest girls in the world. Everyone was so friendly and so willing to help, I realized my fears based on some very mean depiction of college girls in Bollywood movies were totally unfounded. I was blessed, truly blessed to have been part of this wonderful group of girls. We did so many things together. We laughed, stayed together and mostly had a grand time. However, as our graduation day from the college drew nearer, our priorities changed once again. Gone were the carefree days where we could play antakshiri till the wee hours of the night. Gone were the days where we could just sit, talk and giggle without even planning for the next day. Instead we were faced with planning our futures. Not fun at all.

The last day of college was a mixed bag. On one hand I could proclaim to be an Engineer, on the other hand I knew that it would be virtually impossible for our group of friends to retain the same closeness. Sure enough within a few months all of us were scattered over different parts the world. Communication was not as easy as it is today and soon we lost contact except for a few of us who stayed in touch because we were in the same foreign country pursuing a higher education. Even that was limited though – a phone call here, an email there, but that was about it. Since all of us were really busy, we did not even miss each other that much. At least not all the time.

Then of course came careers, marriages and children – a time to do so much for everyone but so little for yourself. There was just no time for anything else in life except work, work and more work. Kids needed to be taken care of, careers need to planned, husband’s needed to be attended to, in-law’s needed to be humored and houses needs to be furnished. The only kind of friends I could make were the one’s I made online. It was like friends’ in the physical realm were almost impossible to maintain. But as the children got older and life seemed to be very slowly but surely allowing time to breathe, I thought back to my old friends – one in particular, especially because I had lost touch with her.

She was titled the baby of our group because of her flawlessness. Her innocence was childlike, her simplicity matched my own. Her wit was legendary and she gave the jester of our group a run for his money. I was always in awe of her ‘haazir jawaabi’ and enjoyed every bit of it. When she was around somehow the sun seemed to shine a little bit brighter -  at least for me. 

I realized that I missed her presence in my life and sought her out. The first time I tried she was in Dubai – too far from where I lived and soon our contact fizzled. The second time I got hold of her she was in Toronto, much, much closer to where I lived. As soon as I found out that she lived close, I pestered my husband to take me there. We visited her and as soon as she opened the door, I could feel tears in my eyes. I had no clue I had missed her so much. The 2 decades of time did not seem to exist (except in the form of our teenage kids!) and we were back to being how we were. She had stayed the same – the quick wit, the funny stories, the simplicity and the grace – they were all there.

From that time onwards I have stayed in constant touch with her. I realize that I laugh a little bit more and harder when I am with her. I feel a lightness in me in her presence. It’s like the warmth of her soul touches mine and adds to it. I just have one regret, I wish I had reconnected earlier. Earlier enough to have met her mother – a woman I have admired all my life. I wish she could have seen that her only daughter had a bevy of girl friends who loved her daughter with all their heart. Aunty, if you could somehow read this please know that your daughter is loved and prized by all of us. Alhumdulillah!

The last vacation we took, I feel like brought us even closer. I was content playing her sidekick, carrying her jokes forward. It is not like we share all fun and games. We talk serious too, but even serious talk is laced with so much humor that it makes even tough situations lighter. That is what I love the most about her and me when we are together. The fact that everything can be laughed at when I am with her, even the most serious of problems. 

Zareen Fatima – I want you to know that you are loved and cherished. I love everything about you – from the Michael Kors Purses, the Nike t-shirts(!) to the scarves around your neck, to the style you exude, to the person you are – gorgeous, inside and out! I want you to know that you are the one person who could make me laugh from the bottom of my heart not once or twice but every minute that we are together! I want to thank you for being my friend. I feel sometimes you are my twin (don’t know if that is a good thing or bad) – you think like me, you don’t take yourself too  seriously and you can splurge on things  ;-) I feel honored that you are in my life – you make it richer, you make it lovelier, you make it more alive, you make it joyous and most of all you fill it with laughter. May Allah always keep you happy so that you can spread that happiness to those around you, especially me, as you already do. :-)

Count your riches by your friends...

Life is characterized by many phases. Phases in which some things gain importance, some lose their’s and some change their significance. As one’s priority in life changes, so do a lot of things that go with it. 

As a kid, I think the priority in my life was to play outside and have as many friends as possible to have fun with. Importance was given to the quantity of friends rather than the quality. The more the merrier kind of thing. As I grew older, I realized (were made to realize rather) that more than anything else your studies should have your complete attention. So making friends took a backseat as I tackled the maze to end up at the front of the class. Yes, friends still mattered but life was not dictated by the number of friends you had, but rather by the number of marks you got in your Math test!

After the frenzy of studying that lasted more than a decade I finally found myself in an Engineering College. It was intimidating to say the least because I was uprooted from one part of the state to another (which by the way have been turned into two separate states now). I was returning to my native city, but it had been such a long time and I was considered a non-local even in my birth place. As I walked into the huge gates of the college and looked up to see the winding road going up towards the place I was going to spend the next 4 years of my life I vowed to make friends. There was not one friend I could claim at that point of time and more than anything else, I looked forward to making new friends and boy, did I make friends!

It was difficult in the beginning, but I have to say my class was blessed with the coolest and nicest girls in the world. Everyone was so friendly and so willing to help, I realized my fears based on some very mean depiction of college girls in Bollywood movies were totally unfounded. I was blessed, truly blessed to have been part of this wonderful group of girls. We did so many things together. We laughed, stayed together and mostly had a grand time. However, as our graduation day from the college drew nearer, our priorities changed once again. Gone were the carefree days where we could play antakshiri till the wee hours of the night. Gone were the days where we could just sit, talk and giggle without even planning for the next day. Instead we were faced with planning our futures. Not fun at all.

The last day of college was a mixed bag. On one hand I could proclaim to be an Engineer, on the other hand I knew that it would be virtually impossible for our group of friends to retain the same closeness. Sure enough within a few months all of us were scattered over different parts the world. Communication was not as easy as it is today and soon we lost contact except for a few of us who stayed in touch because we were in the same foreign country pursuing a higher education. Even that was limited though – a phone call here, an email there, but that was about it. Since all of us were really busy, we did not even miss each other that much. At least not all the time.

Then of course came careers, marriages and children – a time to do so much for everyone but so little for yourself. There was just no time for anything else in life except work, work and more work. Kids needed to be taken care of, careers need to planned, husband’s needed to be attended to, in-law’s needed to be humored and houses needs to be furnished. The only kind of friends I could make were the one’s I made online. It was like friends’ in the physical realm were almost impossible to maintain. But as the children got older and life seemed to be very slowly but surely allowing time to breathe, I thought back to my old friends – one in particular, especially because I had lost touch with her.

She was titled the baby of our group because of her flawlessness. Her innocence was childlike, her simplicity matched my own. Her wit was legendary and she gave the jester of our group a run for his money. I was always in awe of her ‘haazir jawaabi’ and enjoyed every bit of it. When she was around somehow the sun seemed to shine a little bit brighter -  at least for me. 

I realized that I missed her presence in my life and sought her out. The first time I tried she was in Dubai – too far from where I lived and soon our contact fizzled. The second time I got hold of her she was in Toronto, much, much closer to where I lived. As soon as I found out that she lived close, I pestered my husband to take me there. We visited her and as soon as she opened the door, I could feel tears in my eyes. I had no clue I had missed her so much. The 2 decades of time did not seem to exist (except in the form of our teenage kids!) and we were back to being how we were. She had stayed the same – the quick wit, the funny stories, the simplicity and the grace – they were all there.

From that time onwards I have stayed in constant touch with her. I realize that I laugh a little bit more and harder when I am with her. I feel a lightness in me in her presence. It’s like the warmth of her soul touches mine and adds to it. I just have one regret, I wish I had reconnected earlier. Earlier enough to have met her mother – a woman I have admired all my life. I wish she could have seen that her only daughter had a bevy of girl friends who loved her daughter with all their heart. Aunty, if you could somehow read this please know that your daughter is loved and prized by all of us. Alhumdulillah!

The last vacation we took, I feel like brought us even closer. I was content playing her sidekick, carrying her jokes forward. It is not like we share all fun and games. We talk serious too, but even serious talk is laced with so much humor that it makes even tough situations lighter. That is what I love the most about her and me when we are together. The fact that everything can be laughed at when I am with her, even the most serious of problems. 

Zareen Fatima – I want you to know that you are loved and cherished. I love everything about you – from the Michael Kors Purses, the Nike t-shirts(!) to the scarves around your neck, to the style you exude, to the person you are – gorgeous, inside and out! I want you to know that you are the one person who could make me laugh from the bottom of my heart not once or twice but every minute that we are together! I want to thank you for being my friend. I feel sometimes you are my twin (don’t know if that is a good thing or bad) – you think like me, you don’t take yourself too  seriously and you can splurge on things  ;-) I feel honored that you are in my life – you make it richer, you make it lovelier, you make it more alive, you make it joyous and most of all you fill it with laughter. May Allah always keep you happy so that you can spread that happiness to those around you, especially me, as you already do. :-)

Joy Luck Club - A Review

I am always looking for books that are unputdownable. Books that want me to keep flipping the pages, drink the words in and savor them slowly. Books that I can’t wait to get to the end, but those that I don’t want to end. When I was a kid, Enid Blyton made sure I had a stream of such books at my disposal with the Famous Five Series. A little older and I was reading Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys. After that, Agatha Christie and PG Wodehouse made sure I had this saga of wanting nothing more than getting back to my book going. 

I realized that murder mysteries were the books I was most interested in and especially Hercule Poirot made sure that once I started reading the latest case he was on, I couldn’t stop until he caught the perpetrator of the crime. It was great fun while it lasted. Soon I got over my mystery fixation and started branching out into more mature reading.

I found a lot of books that I just devoured, but soon life started to kick in and my reading was limited to a book here and there. Now was the time I needed books that belonged to the unputdownable category for me to put life on the back burner and turn the pages. Well, I found some but for the past few months, I haven’t been able to find anything that would remotely match that category.

While doing some spring cleaning our house, I chanced to see Amy Tan’s “The Joy Luck Club”. I did not remember buying it. I took it in my hands. It was a very old paperback and I opened it to see my nephew’s name written on the first page. This intrigued me since the book itself seems to explore mother-daughter relationships. The big bold letters “Nine Months on the New York Times bestseller List” helped too and I was soon putting it away as a book to read rather than a book to be donated.

As many of my intelligent readers must have figured out by now, this book fit into that category - like a 100% fit. Right from the beginning till the very end, Amy Tan had me captivated and awestruck by her writing style. Being a daughter and a woman, I could relate completely to the book. I have read a fair bit of China-based literature in the past year including the much acclaimed “The Good Earth” by Pearl S. Buck. While that was a good read too, it was too long and sometimes the one track story got so intense, that one longed for a break, a diversion from the main characters. ‘The Joy Luck Club’ is that and so much more.

I will go a quick synopsis of the story for the reader’s benefit. The story is about Chinese Mothers who have immigrated to the United States. All of them have daughters who are Americanized and feel a little embarrassed about their heritage. There are a few stories running in parallel that I had trouble keeping track of because I have a condition of not quite associating names with stories. This made it hard for me to follow the story as a whole, but I didn’t mind. I was just savoring the writing style. Incredible would be the word. I can’t imagine how someone can write so well. That’s what writing is - pure magic.

Amy Tan writes about so many simple situations that might seem normal to the society, but how they can systematically erode the person that is going through them to a point that even their own mother cannot recognize them! The book celebrates strong mothers and how their presence (and even absence) impacts the lives of their daughters. Good or bad impact, the reader is left to decide. The author just presents the stories with no judgment whatever on who is right and who is wrong.

The lingering theme running through all 4-5 stories that make up the book, is the presence of quiet older women who have gone through a lot when they were young and how they fought their circumstances, went against them and managed to give their daughter’s a better life only to seem the young women struggling in their lives. Struggling not because of the circumstances surrounding them, but rather with the choices they made. The contrast between the lives of illiterate women who had nothing but their spirit guiding them and the spoilt kids that grow up into unsure women even though they have everything going for them forms the crux of the stories. Each life, each relationship finding something similar in each other.

The one thing you might find is that Amy Tan does make one feel that the American way of life is not as honorable and right as the Chinese. But I guess considering she is writing about a crusty old woman, we could forgive her that transgression!

Read it and you will find yourselves drawing parallels with your own life.

I am reproducing some of the best lines from the book that have touched me in some way or the other.

After a while, I didn’t think it was terrible life, no, not really. After a while, I hurt so much I didn’t feel any difference. What was happier than seeing everybody gobble down the shiny mushroom and bamboo shoots I had helped prepare that day? What was more satisfying than having Huang Taitai nod and pat my head when I had finished combing her hair one hundred stroked? How much happier could I be after seeing Tyan-yu eat a whole bowl of noodles without once complaining about its taste or my looks? It’s like those ladies you see in American TV these days, the ones who are so happy they have washed out a stain so the clothes look better than new.

Can you see how the Huangs almost washed their thinking into my skin? I came to think of Tyan-yu as a God, someone whose opinions were worth much more than my own life. I came to think of Huang Taitai as my real mother, someone I wanted to please, someone I should follow and obey without question.

I asked myself, What is true about a person? Would I change in the same way the river changes color but still be the same person? And then I saw the curtains blowing wildly, and outside rain was falling harder, causing everyone to scurry and shout. I smiled. And then I realized it was the first time I could see the power of the wind. I couldn’t see the wind itself, but I could see it carried the water that filled the rivers and shaped the countryside. It caused men to yelp and dance.

I wiped my eyes and looked in the mirror. I was surprised at what I saw. I had on a beautiful read dress, but what I saw was even more valuable. I was strong. I was pure. I had genuine thoughts inside that no one could see., that no one would ever take away from me. I was like the wind.

For unlike my mother, I did not believe I could be anything I wanted to be. I could only be me.

And for all those years, we never talked about the disaster at the recital or my terrible accusations afterward at the piano bench. All that remained unchecked, like a betrayal that was now unspeakable. So I never found a way to ask her why she had hoped for something so large that failure was inevitable.

And even worse, I never asked her what frightened me the most: Why had she given up hope?

For after our struggle at the piano, she never mentioned my playing again. The lessons stopped. The lid to the piano was closed, shutting out the dust, my misery, and her dreams.

I wasn’t so afraid of my mother was I was afraid for Rich. I already knew what she would do, how she would attach him, how she would criticize him. She would be quiet at first. Then she would say a word about something small, something she had noticed, and then another word, and another, each one flung out like a piece of sand, one from this direction, another from behind, more and more, until his looks, his character, his soul would have eroded away. And even if recognized her strategy, her sneak attack, I was afraid that some unseen speck of truth would fly into my eye, blur what I was seeing and transform him from the divine man I thought he was was into someone quite mundane, mortally wounded with tiresome habits and irritating imperfections.

“A girl is like a young tree,” she said. “You must stand tall and listen to your mother standing next to you. That is the only way to grow strong and straight. But if you bend to listen to other people, you will grow crooked and weak. You will fall to the ground with the first strong wind. And then you will be like a weed, growing wild in any direction, running along the ground until someone pills you out and throws you away.”

Here’s to strong mothers and to their poor hapless daughters who take forever to realize that their moms were right and knew better all along!