When you pick up the clothes, that you have just changed, and carry them with every intention of putting them into the laundry bag, but instead you walk to the kitchen and throw them in the dustbin...you’ve got a problem baby!
When you can’t remember if you had your morning dose of vitamins & meds, an hour or two after breakfast...honey you’ve got a problem!
When you sit to play Solitaire and Hearts for a little while to pass the evening and suddenly realize your arm hurts, your eyes are blurred and it’s 1.30 am or sometimes even 2.30 am....it is a problem!
When you find telltale signs of social withdrawal......you talk to yourself and the walls listen....sweetie go to the doctor!
When you find it hard to remember which regiment your brother is in.....you worry and ask yourself....am I losing it?
When you find yourself groping for simple words because all of a sudden your mind goes blank....and the inner panic makes it worse....yell, it is trouble!
When you stop while talking because you realize you just said something that wasn’t what you meant like “wheels” instead of wind and many such disassociations...it’s not a comforting feeling and you want to talk to someone about it. Someone who will understand, be patient and above all is knowledgeable.
So you go to the only medical person you know and trust....your orthopaedic surgeon. You tell him what’s happening and barely whisper, “Is it Alzheimer’s?”
You aren’t prepared for the loud burst of laughter. You did not crack a joke...or did you, your brow crinkles as you try to go over what you said just in case....
“I’m serious doc,” you say a bit louder.
“Ma’am, you are still young for that, besides not many Indians are afflicted with the disease. Don’t worry no one dies of Alzheimer’s, the people who look after them die,” he ends with another burst of mirth.
Then he notices the look in your eyes. It is telling him you don’t find it funny. It is saying that the statistics for Indians with Alzheimer’s is questionable. Your eyes want to know at what age the first signs of the ailment are detectable. Yes, you want to know if you are a possible host for Mr Alzheimer.
“You are stressed. It’s nothing else, take a break, go for a holiday; meet more people” he says gently.
“You mean I’m not losing it?” you ask hopefully.
“No, not at all,” he says in his rich baritone, “you’re not losing it, it’s just that you are not using it.”
He had a point.
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Friday, April 29, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Backing the backbone
When I first heard the word osteoporosis, I was sitting with my doctor and staring at my BMD and MRI scan reports. The films clipped onto a board on the wall lit up a picture which wasn’t too bright. My reluctant affair with a raging disease had begun and it was to be more than a bony affair. I knew how important my skeletal structure was, but now I learnt how bones could lose mass, and how just having a skeleton wasn’t going to keep you up; You had to feed it and care for it in the right way. Hollow structures didn’t hold up anything.
All of a sudden little gestures and movements that I had taken for granted became restricted. Those that weren’t had to be executed with utmost care. Nonetheless, I managed to rupture discs, or in the least cause a tear, which would put me in bed with excruciating pain in both my body and my mind. The ordinary task of walking became a feat; the rest and peace one hoped for through sleep was missing; pain had become a way of life for me and I learned to bear it with mental strength rather than stuff myself with pain-killers. My conversation was dotted with L1, L2,L3,L4,L5 and C2, C3, C4, C5 and bulging discs and my life was reduced to redundancy within the four walls of my home. It was harder for the mind to accept this than for the body to deal with it. As I said earlier, it was more than a bony affair, it became a lesson in fortification: of the spirit, of determination, of the will to overcome. What was hardest of all was the way people looked at me. I saw a whole gamut of emotions written on people’s faces from pity, dismissal, underestimation and impatience to the general disgust few people have for those with some form of disability. That is when I got the biggest lesson of my life. A strong spiritual backbone keeps us erect while we are bent in half physically. So it needs to be developed too.
Our spiritual backbone needs our attention . Just as we need to fortify our bones with the right nutrition and exercise, we have to feed on spiritual food too and constantly exercise our faith. Faith and prayer constitute the spiritual backbone.
There are many who are actually bent in half spiritually even as they stand erect physically.
I think many of us exercise and strengthen our wishbones more than our backbones. When I was a child I loved getting the chicken 'wishbone', which I would break with one of my siblings hoping I would get the wish! Well since then I too have had my share of wishing on a bone. Zoom to the present and I'm hanging on a wing and a prayer. I am glad that I had the gumption to refurbish and restore my faith thus building up a back-up for my weakening bony structure. All my battles whether related to health or any aspect of life, have been won through my mind and spirit; my spiritual backbone. Whether I lay in bed nursing a ruptured disc or hobbled along painfully, I always stood tall inside.
As Joyce loves to say, “We need backbones not wishbones.”
It's been over three years since that day in the doctor's room. There have been ups and downs but I'm glad to report that I am responding well to treatment and can walk and do quite a few things I wasn't able to do earlier. I understand I will never be able to do many things and that my condition is not totally curable. Medical interventions will aid me and reverse conditions a bit, but eventually the aging process will determine the final outcome. Each day is unpredictable. It could be great for days and then one small movement can go awry. Thank God for another backbone!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All of a sudden little gestures and movements that I had taken for granted became restricted. Those that weren’t had to be executed with utmost care. Nonetheless, I managed to rupture discs, or in the least cause a tear, which would put me in bed with excruciating pain in both my body and my mind. The ordinary task of walking became a feat; the rest and peace one hoped for through sleep was missing; pain had become a way of life for me and I learned to bear it with mental strength rather than stuff myself with pain-killers. My conversation was dotted with L1, L2,L3,L4,L5 and C2, C3, C4, C5 and bulging discs and my life was reduced to redundancy within the four walls of my home. It was harder for the mind to accept this than for the body to deal with it. As I said earlier, it was more than a bony affair, it became a lesson in fortification: of the spirit, of determination, of the will to overcome. What was hardest of all was the way people looked at me. I saw a whole gamut of emotions written on people’s faces from pity, dismissal, underestimation and impatience to the general disgust few people have for those with some form of disability. That is when I got the biggest lesson of my life. A strong spiritual backbone keeps us erect while we are bent in half physically. So it needs to be developed too.
Our spiritual backbone needs our attention . Just as we need to fortify our bones with the right nutrition and exercise, we have to feed on spiritual food too and constantly exercise our faith. Faith and prayer constitute the spiritual backbone.
There are many who are actually bent in half spiritually even as they stand erect physically.
I think many of us exercise and strengthen our wishbones more than our backbones. When I was a child I loved getting the chicken 'wishbone', which I would break with one of my siblings hoping I would get the wish! Well since then I too have had my share of wishing on a bone. Zoom to the present and I'm hanging on a wing and a prayer. I am glad that I had the gumption to refurbish and restore my faith thus building up a back-up for my weakening bony structure. All my battles whether related to health or any aspect of life, have been won through my mind and spirit; my spiritual backbone. Whether I lay in bed nursing a ruptured disc or hobbled along painfully, I always stood tall inside.
As Joyce loves to say, “We need backbones not wishbones.”
It's been over three years since that day in the doctor's room. There have been ups and downs but I'm glad to report that I am responding well to treatment and can walk and do quite a few things I wasn't able to do earlier. I understand I will never be able to do many things and that my condition is not totally curable. Medical interventions will aid me and reverse conditions a bit, but eventually the aging process will determine the final outcome. Each day is unpredictable. It could be great for days and then one small movement can go awry. Thank God for another backbone!
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Sunday, March 27, 2011
From Tragedy Queen to Comedy Queen
An unexpected break on Saturday...I needed it badly...Needed the rest. Friday was an eventful day........I went from (nearly)tragedy queen to comedy queen! Well, an exaggeration really but stretching it makes it funny and also brings home the possibilities of reality!
To start at the beginning, here I was intent on making my lunch before I left for work....Rajma, chawal, aaloo-mattar sabzi (red kidney beans curry, rice and potato-green peas vegetable). The maid tells me "Aunty peeche hato," (she's mopping the kitchen floor) I step back with alacrity, to get done with the interruption fast, and I tumble over the bucket she has conveniently placed right behind me!! I lost balance and as I toppled backwards I grabbed frantically for something to break the fall. My mind totally taking in the seriousness of my backbone getting injured with a fall on my back...not to mention knees and wrists.... Thank God for the two sturdy wooden stands I've got against the wall. If it weren't for these I'd be on my back on the floor. Being solid and heavy they held my weight, broke my fall by giving me something to hold on to. And it was fortunate the girl was there, to hold me and get me back on my feet. I couldn't regain balance in the position I was, bent backwards grasping onto the stands with my arms outspread and behind, and my feet in an awkward position. But all's well that ends well. No damage done but it aggravated the already irking discs. It was a very tiring day at work and I did play around with the idea of taking an off the next day. Thankfully it became an official off for me.
All this drama delayed me and I was in a hurry to get into a cab that had come for me. I got in and only then noticed that the car and the driver were unknown and unfamiliar.I have been using the same taxi service for some years now and know most of their cabbies. Without thinking I asked the driver if he had come for flat number 101. He gave me an affirmative. I wasn't convinced and blundered on by asking him if Satish had sent him, another affirmative. By then my hand was on the door and I discovered that it wouldn't open even though it hadn't been locked. I brought it to his notice and he nonchalantly assured me that the door could only be opened from outside and he would open it for me when we reached our destination. Not a very happy situation. It had all the masala of a daily third-rate soap. I asked him to get out and check my door. He did and then conveyed to me that he didn't know about the fault earlier and he'd get it repaired later in the day. That's when he sensed what my issue was and reminded me that he was the new driver who had accompanied the known one a couple of days back, to learn the routes. Well that diffused the tension and I became a comedy queen! There's never a dull moment, is there! Just when you think life's too mundane it startles you with absolutely thankful and hilarious times.
I will have to explain briefly about my concern about the unfamiliar cab and driver. The city where I live has been recording many incidents of rape and murder committed by unscrupulous cabbies. As such women living alone as well as senior citizens alone or as a couple become soft targets. One needs to exercise caution. An earlier incident at the New delhi Railway Station has put me on my guard, but that's another story. Having said all this I must add it isn't as scary as it might sound but these incidents are no longer rare, so it's better to be safe than sorry...cautious but not paranoid!
Glossary
Aunty peeche hato......Aunty step back..(Depending on one's age the maids here address one as Aunty, Didi (sister))
Masala.....spice
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To start at the beginning, here I was intent on making my lunch before I left for work....Rajma, chawal, aaloo-mattar sabzi (red kidney beans curry, rice and potato-green peas vegetable). The maid tells me "Aunty peeche hato," (she's mopping the kitchen floor) I step back with alacrity, to get done with the interruption fast, and I tumble over the bucket she has conveniently placed right behind me!! I lost balance and as I toppled backwards I grabbed frantically for something to break the fall. My mind totally taking in the seriousness of my backbone getting injured with a fall on my back...not to mention knees and wrists.... Thank God for the two sturdy wooden stands I've got against the wall. If it weren't for these I'd be on my back on the floor. Being solid and heavy they held my weight, broke my fall by giving me something to hold on to. And it was fortunate the girl was there, to hold me and get me back on my feet. I couldn't regain balance in the position I was, bent backwards grasping onto the stands with my arms outspread and behind, and my feet in an awkward position. But all's well that ends well. No damage done but it aggravated the already irking discs. It was a very tiring day at work and I did play around with the idea of taking an off the next day. Thankfully it became an official off for me.
All this drama delayed me and I was in a hurry to get into a cab that had come for me. I got in and only then noticed that the car and the driver were unknown and unfamiliar.I have been using the same taxi service for some years now and know most of their cabbies. Without thinking I asked the driver if he had come for flat number 101. He gave me an affirmative. I wasn't convinced and blundered on by asking him if Satish had sent him, another affirmative. By then my hand was on the door and I discovered that it wouldn't open even though it hadn't been locked. I brought it to his notice and he nonchalantly assured me that the door could only be opened from outside and he would open it for me when we reached our destination. Not a very happy situation. It had all the masala of a daily third-rate soap. I asked him to get out and check my door. He did and then conveyed to me that he didn't know about the fault earlier and he'd get it repaired later in the day. That's when he sensed what my issue was and reminded me that he was the new driver who had accompanied the known one a couple of days back, to learn the routes. Well that diffused the tension and I became a comedy queen! There's never a dull moment, is there! Just when you think life's too mundane it startles you with absolutely thankful and hilarious times.
I will have to explain briefly about my concern about the unfamiliar cab and driver. The city where I live has been recording many incidents of rape and murder committed by unscrupulous cabbies. As such women living alone as well as senior citizens alone or as a couple become soft targets. One needs to exercise caution. An earlier incident at the New delhi Railway Station has put me on my guard, but that's another story. Having said all this I must add it isn't as scary as it might sound but these incidents are no longer rare, so it's better to be safe than sorry...cautious but not paranoid!
Glossary
Aunty peeche hato......Aunty step back..(Depending on one's age the maids here address one as Aunty, Didi (sister))
Masala.....spice
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Sunday, March 20, 2011
Cruising On The Global Superhighway
I've been away for quite some time and I missed the few people I interact with even though we only have intermittent communication. The fact that that we don't really know each other doesn't seem to matter. Over the distances we peek into each window or door that is kept ajar to welcome us...and voice our thoughts through our comments, left in a box. I don't know your voices, I don't know how you smile but I feel it in the words you leave for me to read.
Sometimes I try to put a voice to a face in the DP. I draw pictures in my mind as I read your accounts of your days! I could be way off the mark, but that's the magic of internet friendships. Unknown yet known. We're all real people on this global superhighway.
I've joined an educational organization, which is connected with Cambridge's ESOL exams in India. It's a temporary job so I am free to decide if I want to go to work on a particular day or not. However I find that I am eager to go daily. It gives me relief from the home alone situation that I have not got used to yet. And the income is always welcome! But it does leave me exhausted by the time I get back in the evening. So I haven't been a regular visitor here.
Yesterday I worked half the day, so found ample time to rest my weary bones and make it possible to drive around my 'blogway' today. I wonder if any one of you even noticed that I was gone? I like to think that you did...:))
Well, That's it for now...till the next, Ciao.
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Sometimes I try to put a voice to a face in the DP. I draw pictures in my mind as I read your accounts of your days! I could be way off the mark, but that's the magic of internet friendships. Unknown yet known. We're all real people on this global superhighway.
I've joined an educational organization, which is connected with Cambridge's ESOL exams in India. It's a temporary job so I am free to decide if I want to go to work on a particular day or not. However I find that I am eager to go daily. It gives me relief from the home alone situation that I have not got used to yet. And the income is always welcome! But it does leave me exhausted by the time I get back in the evening. So I haven't been a regular visitor here.
Yesterday I worked half the day, so found ample time to rest my weary bones and make it possible to drive around my 'blogway' today. I wonder if any one of you even noticed that I was gone? I like to think that you did...:))
Well, That's it for now...till the next, Ciao.
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Monday, January 31, 2011
PERCEPTIONS
“We don’t see people the way they are, we see them the way we are.” Great quote I said to myself. “Applies,” I added absent-mindedly, wondering if the vanishing distinction between obese and fat and ‘pleasantly plump,’ as I had started calling myself lately, was related to it in some way. I mean when I weighed fifteen kilos lighter I saw people as obese, fat and even tubs of lard (forgive me!) but definitely not ‘pleasantly plump.’ As I said it was just a half thought which hardly registered at the time. I filed it away under ‘Later’ and forgot about it.
But I suppose when you label something ‘Later’ it’s bound to come up sooner or later! One day a lady who knows me quite well, commented on my life with a sweeping statement that had more pessimism and defeat as a basis, than truth. She said, “Jis ki barbadi likhi hai, woh lakh koshish kare toh bhi kuch nahin hota. Sab kuch ujjadta rehta hai.” (If it is your fate to be destroyed, no matter how hard you try nothing will come of it. All your efforts will be in vain) In other words, what she was saying was that I was doomed to be a failure! That hit hard and I must have been gaping at her stupidly while I gathered my wits, because taking my blank stare for incomprehension, she began to elaborate. I twisted and turned as she wrung out my life underlining all my losses; my roller-coaster life, unsuccessful efforts, blah...blah...blah. What about the successes, the small victories...I wondered. Were they real or not? I figured out they weren’t to her. So I resigned myself to listen.
I listened to her theory in awe. According to her reckoning, I would not find success in anything and it would be a waste of time, effort and money (which I did not have much of anyway!) to try to fight fate. I was wondering which path to take; get into a useless discussion with her to defend myself or let her walk away happy that she had imparted some knowledge and sound advice to me. I opted for the latter, it was the easier way out. Besides, she had a right to her opinion. After all, she was viewing it the way she was. Ah! The quote was back.
I am sure she went away feeling very nice and fuzzy-wuzzy inside after passing that (dubiously) prophetic statement and commiserating with me. I felt relieved that in some way, that conversation had made her feel good and I got out of an unwanted discussion. She had a right to her opinion, especially, when she refused to see the brighter side I presented.
I realised at this point how we saw people not as they were but as we were. This lady is highly superstitious and uses superstition to justify any kind of failure or loss. She likes to be a martyr and is happy only when she imagines herself suffering. A chance “how are you?” will elicit a long list of ailments and problems she has to bear. Often I would tell her in jest, “Look at the doughnut, not at the hole.” So it would have been impossible for her to see the positives, she was too used to seeing the negatives. It was one of those contradictions where her happiness stemmed from her misery and I suppose the miseries in another’s life.
I was feeling quite light and enlightened by the co-relation I had discovered through our conversation and wondered if I would meet someone else with an equally strong perception and who would be equally eloquent about it. As it occurred I did. And unfortunately or fortunately I was once again the subject.
Another close acquaintance called me. I cannot recollect how or why the conversation took a turn to me being the subject, but she began praising me and telling me how much she admired my grit and perseverance. I was a bit embarrassed, and laughed it away in an effort to make small of my struggles. This did not throw her off the topic, on the contrary, it stoked her fervour further. So once again, I had to hear the same list of the known challenges I had faced and how I had done so well despite it all. What a change in perspective! Once again I realised the best way to end the discussion was to agree. I am sure she felt better that day having praised me and for having passed on some positive energy my side. I must admit I felt good about it.
I found I had agreed with two women who had entirely opposed views about me!
In retrospect, I am glad I had both those conversations. The attitudes and perceptions of both the women were a direct reflection of who they were. Both had the same information and knowledge of my circumstances but one saw me as a failure; a victim preordained by fate and the other as a fighter; a survivor, a victor.
Perceptions!
.................................................................................
But I suppose when you label something ‘Later’ it’s bound to come up sooner or later! One day a lady who knows me quite well, commented on my life with a sweeping statement that had more pessimism and defeat as a basis, than truth. She said, “Jis ki barbadi likhi hai, woh lakh koshish kare toh bhi kuch nahin hota. Sab kuch ujjadta rehta hai.” (If it is your fate to be destroyed, no matter how hard you try nothing will come of it. All your efforts will be in vain) In other words, what she was saying was that I was doomed to be a failure! That hit hard and I must have been gaping at her stupidly while I gathered my wits, because taking my blank stare for incomprehension, she began to elaborate. I twisted and turned as she wrung out my life underlining all my losses; my roller-coaster life, unsuccessful efforts, blah...blah...blah. What about the successes, the small victories...I wondered. Were they real or not? I figured out they weren’t to her. So I resigned myself to listen.
I listened to her theory in awe. According to her reckoning, I would not find success in anything and it would be a waste of time, effort and money (which I did not have much of anyway!) to try to fight fate. I was wondering which path to take; get into a useless discussion with her to defend myself or let her walk away happy that she had imparted some knowledge and sound advice to me. I opted for the latter, it was the easier way out. Besides, she had a right to her opinion. After all, she was viewing it the way she was. Ah! The quote was back.
I am sure she went away feeling very nice and fuzzy-wuzzy inside after passing that (dubiously) prophetic statement and commiserating with me. I felt relieved that in some way, that conversation had made her feel good and I got out of an unwanted discussion. She had a right to her opinion, especially, when she refused to see the brighter side I presented.
I realised at this point how we saw people not as they were but as we were. This lady is highly superstitious and uses superstition to justify any kind of failure or loss. She likes to be a martyr and is happy only when she imagines herself suffering. A chance “how are you?” will elicit a long list of ailments and problems she has to bear. Often I would tell her in jest, “Look at the doughnut, not at the hole.” So it would have been impossible for her to see the positives, she was too used to seeing the negatives. It was one of those contradictions where her happiness stemmed from her misery and I suppose the miseries in another’s life.
I was feeling quite light and enlightened by the co-relation I had discovered through our conversation and wondered if I would meet someone else with an equally strong perception and who would be equally eloquent about it. As it occurred I did. And unfortunately or fortunately I was once again the subject.
Another close acquaintance called me. I cannot recollect how or why the conversation took a turn to me being the subject, but she began praising me and telling me how much she admired my grit and perseverance. I was a bit embarrassed, and laughed it away in an effort to make small of my struggles. This did not throw her off the topic, on the contrary, it stoked her fervour further. So once again, I had to hear the same list of the known challenges I had faced and how I had done so well despite it all. What a change in perspective! Once again I realised the best way to end the discussion was to agree. I am sure she felt better that day having praised me and for having passed on some positive energy my side. I must admit I felt good about it.
I found I had agreed with two women who had entirely opposed views about me!
In retrospect, I am glad I had both those conversations. The attitudes and perceptions of both the women were a direct reflection of who they were. Both had the same information and knowledge of my circumstances but one saw me as a failure; a victim preordained by fate and the other as a fighter; a survivor, a victor.
Perceptions!
.................................................................................
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Our Indian Christmas
I've finally finished taking down all the decorations and the Christmas tree! I took my time and worked at my own pace, unlike the frenzy almost a month back. I was desperately trying to pack forty-eight hours into my day. There were so many things that had to be done in preparation for Christmas. Cakes to be baked, gifts to be bought, traditional sweets and savouries to be prepared, decorations to be put up, furniture to be upholstered, carpet to be replaced, party to be planned...it was endless. Oh yes ! The salon, how could that be left out. The last thing I needed on Christmas was bad hair, dull skin and rough hands.
How I love Christmas. The whole world seems so beautiful and happy in its preparation to celebrate the birth of Jesus. Personally, I feel more charitable; more forgiving; able to overlook the meanness of people and truly meet it with joy and love. Whether you are a believer or not, nevertheless the spirit of Christmas embraces you with love and a feeling of caring and sharing.
The malls are decorated. Santa caps sell like hot cakes. People like to strut about with these red caps. The church is open throughout the day for people of other faiths, who come in a continuous stream to pray, despite the cold, even at midnight on Christmas Eve.
All of us 'busy' folk who don't find time to go to church throughout the year, can be seen in the front pews on Christmas in our Sunday Best.
" Seasonal Christians," whisper the hoity-toity regulars, and then don their church faces.
I smile and bow my head to thank God for making it possible for me to be in His House to share in the joy of His birth.
" I'm a seasonal churchgoer but a regular Christian," I whisper to my neighbour, who raises her eyebrows as we all rise to sing.
I've never been able to outgrow the excitement and pleasure of buying and receiving Christmas gifts. The hunt for the right gifts, the mental arithmetic as you try to adjust everything into your budget, the minor disappointments, the major delight in giving and receiving " just what I wanted " gifts.
An overflow of this feeling is also present in my culinary pursuits. The most arduous task is making salt meat. The entire process takes about ten-twelve days. And the beetroot wine takes longer. However this is a simpler preparation which only needs time to ferment. The successes and disasters in the kitchen, as the goodies get in and out of the oven and the fry pan, fill the home with laughter and much consoling too.
Decorating the house and tree is a family affair. As each one pitches in. At times it does run into mild differences of opinion, which are quickly resolved....That's the spirit of Christmas. The flower rangoli is designed and diyas placed at the entrance as well as a wreath on the door! Tea lights are put on the balcony wall. Candles of various shapes and sizes are a part of the decor. The ubiquitous star is hung from the ceiling in the balcony.
Finally when all the baubles, tinsel, lights, tree, bells and bows are in place and the cakes, sweets and savouries are done --- It's Christmas Eve and the refrain of 'Silent Night, Holy Night...' wafts through the house as we light all the candles and switch off the lights. The star hanging in the balcony is lit and it swings in the breeze casting dancing shadows on the walls. The wind-chimes pick soft notes. The carol is the only other sound as it plays softly...." All is calm, all is bright, Round yon Virgin mother and child.......Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace..."
A transformation takes place; Such peace descends on each one; A peace that passes all understanding.
.................................................................................
NOTE: Rangoli: An artistic design made on the floor with flower petals or dry coloured powder.
Diyas : Small earthen lamps.
How I love Christmas. The whole world seems so beautiful and happy in its preparation to celebrate the birth of Jesus. Personally, I feel more charitable; more forgiving; able to overlook the meanness of people and truly meet it with joy and love. Whether you are a believer or not, nevertheless the spirit of Christmas embraces you with love and a feeling of caring and sharing.
The malls are decorated. Santa caps sell like hot cakes. People like to strut about with these red caps. The church is open throughout the day for people of other faiths, who come in a continuous stream to pray, despite the cold, even at midnight on Christmas Eve.
All of us 'busy' folk who don't find time to go to church throughout the year, can be seen in the front pews on Christmas in our Sunday Best.
" Seasonal Christians," whisper the hoity-toity regulars, and then don their church faces.
I smile and bow my head to thank God for making it possible for me to be in His House to share in the joy of His birth.
" I'm a seasonal churchgoer but a regular Christian," I whisper to my neighbour, who raises her eyebrows as we all rise to sing.
I've never been able to outgrow the excitement and pleasure of buying and receiving Christmas gifts. The hunt for the right gifts, the mental arithmetic as you try to adjust everything into your budget, the minor disappointments, the major delight in giving and receiving " just what I wanted " gifts.
An overflow of this feeling is also present in my culinary pursuits. The most arduous task is making salt meat. The entire process takes about ten-twelve days. And the beetroot wine takes longer. However this is a simpler preparation which only needs time to ferment. The successes and disasters in the kitchen, as the goodies get in and out of the oven and the fry pan, fill the home with laughter and much consoling too.
Decorating the house and tree is a family affair. As each one pitches in. At times it does run into mild differences of opinion, which are quickly resolved....That's the spirit of Christmas. The flower rangoli is designed and diyas placed at the entrance as well as a wreath on the door! Tea lights are put on the balcony wall. Candles of various shapes and sizes are a part of the decor. The ubiquitous star is hung from the ceiling in the balcony.
Finally when all the baubles, tinsel, lights, tree, bells and bows are in place and the cakes, sweets and savouries are done --- It's Christmas Eve and the refrain of 'Silent Night, Holy Night...' wafts through the house as we light all the candles and switch off the lights. The star hanging in the balcony is lit and it swings in the breeze casting dancing shadows on the walls. The wind-chimes pick soft notes. The carol is the only other sound as it plays softly...." All is calm, all is bright, Round yon Virgin mother and child.......Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace..."
A transformation takes place; Such peace descends on each one; A peace that passes all understanding.
.................................................................................
NOTE: Rangoli: An artistic design made on the floor with flower petals or dry coloured powder.
Diyas : Small earthen lamps.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Ring Out The Old, Ring In The New
Shivering, yes I was shivering inside of me. Partly from the cold which resulted from an unusually freezing winter for our part of the country, but it wasn't only the cold the wall clock told me as it merrily ticked in the New Year. I couldn’t understand it. I was experiencing a mixed bag of feelings as I hugged a few friends who had especially driven up to wish me, knowing that I would be all alone. My heart was like a huge jumble sale, there was every kind of feeling bunched up there...I just dug in a pulled out whatever I needed; a warm glow, a radiant face mask, just the right gestures or an appropriate answer...anything! So while I was aware of gratitude for a year of God’s grace, thoughtful friends, relatively good health, blessings showered on our family, I couldn’t be free of the lurking “something” that I couldn’t identify. Whichever way I tried to explain it, I wasn’t really putting my finger on a satisfactory explanation. Finally, I gave up and decided to just be.
At my keypad the next morning, I typed out: “What I want right now is a long itinerary of fabulous places to travel to – confirmed tickets (executive class) reservations complete at each destination in comfortable resorts/ hotels/ home-stays...whatever spells beauty, leisure, fun, goodness, fabulous! Money enough and more to not worry about how and where; a travel companion with loads of humour, travel experience, confidence, thoughtfulness, patience, gumption and no fiscal problems; a person of honour and excellent character...in short a fairy tale being!!!!”
Travel seemed to hit a key. Restlessness, I needed to move. I don’t seem to belong to any one place – I belong to all places. I think that’s the only way I can fit into this world and its peoples. Was there a gypsy ancestor? If there was, I haven’t heard of it! But if facts be faced I’ve been a gypsy since I was born in a hospital by the sea-side; numerous moves due to dad’s postings, hubby’s job transfers, single parent on the move with job and residence shifts, trying to make a go of it, and every effort to settle down going in vain. I am a gypsy and by no conscious design. That’s all in a light vein!
Seriously, it takes on the garb of transformation in a different, more interesting way in these lines by Elizabeth Gilbert in the novel Eat, Pray, Love:
“I find the Augusteum so reassuring, that this structure has had such an erratic career, yet always adjusted to the particular wildness of the times. To me the Augusteum is like a person who’s led a totally crazy life – who maybe started out as a housewife, then unexpectedly became a widow, then took up fan dancing to make money, ended up somehow as the first female dentist in outer space, and then tried her hand at national politics – yet who has managed to hold an intact sense of herself throughout every upheaval.”
I have not been chaotic. However chaotic circumstances and situations have brought about “changes that nobody, least of all I, had anticipated.” Time has been the gypsy moving through my life. And I still wouldn’t like to say: “Time you old gypsy man will you not stay? Put up your caravan just for one day...?”
It definitely is going to be a very fruitful, satisfying year!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At my keypad the next morning, I typed out: “What I want right now is a long itinerary of fabulous places to travel to – confirmed tickets (executive class) reservations complete at each destination in comfortable resorts/ hotels/ home-stays...whatever spells beauty, leisure, fun, goodness, fabulous! Money enough and more to not worry about how and where; a travel companion with loads of humour, travel experience, confidence, thoughtfulness, patience, gumption and no fiscal problems; a person of honour and excellent character...in short a fairy tale being!!!!”
Travel seemed to hit a key. Restlessness, I needed to move. I don’t seem to belong to any one place – I belong to all places. I think that’s the only way I can fit into this world and its peoples. Was there a gypsy ancestor? If there was, I haven’t heard of it! But if facts be faced I’ve been a gypsy since I was born in a hospital by the sea-side; numerous moves due to dad’s postings, hubby’s job transfers, single parent on the move with job and residence shifts, trying to make a go of it, and every effort to settle down going in vain. I am a gypsy and by no conscious design. That’s all in a light vein!
Seriously, it takes on the garb of transformation in a different, more interesting way in these lines by Elizabeth Gilbert in the novel Eat, Pray, Love:
“I find the Augusteum so reassuring, that this structure has had such an erratic career, yet always adjusted to the particular wildness of the times. To me the Augusteum is like a person who’s led a totally crazy life – who maybe started out as a housewife, then unexpectedly became a widow, then took up fan dancing to make money, ended up somehow as the first female dentist in outer space, and then tried her hand at national politics – yet who has managed to hold an intact sense of herself throughout every upheaval.”
I have not been chaotic. However chaotic circumstances and situations have brought about “changes that nobody, least of all I, had anticipated.” Time has been the gypsy moving through my life. And I still wouldn’t like to say: “Time you old gypsy man will you not stay? Put up your caravan just for one day...?”
It definitely is going to be a very fruitful, satisfying year!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday, December 13, 2010
Cooking By The Stars
What's your sign? This is how the article starts.....Oh I must explain that I discovered a few old cooking magazines among my cook-books. This one is a 1998 edition of Canadian Living's Food.
I found the idea of cooking astrologically very interesting. No, and that's an emphatic negative, I do not subscribe to the stars to dictate my days, decisions or relationships. But this is so much fun, when you remove the 'belief' from it. They say, and I quote...
"You'll discover some intriguing insights into who likes to eat what, and even some surprises about your own idiosyncracies. Many people's culinary personalities are a perfect reflection of their Sun signs. If yours or your guest's isn't quite typical, it's likely because there's a stonger planetary influence somewhere in your charts. But in that case ( or if astrology isn't your cup of tea), just match up the personality traits with someone else you know - then dazzle them with their favourite dinner!"
"Would pasta please a Pisces?
Will a Virgo like your new wine glasses?
Can a Taurus and an Aries find happiness at the same table?
Is it safe to take a Scorpio to a restaurant?
Will you let a Gemini in your kitchen?"
See I told you it would be fun just to toy around with the subject! However the article doesn't go on to enlighten the reader about how and where to get the required know-how about reading the stars for culinary excellence and delights....well it's all in the stars and who has reached them! But they have been kind enough to show the way by giving each sign one selected dish according to their reading. I am listing the signs and the dishes and do let me know if your selected dish works for you. I will list the ingredients that go into each one and if you need the recipe will oblige accordingly..:)
Enjoy the read, and if the dishes do not fit your personality or taste I'm sure imagination of the dishes would titillate the palate.
Aquarius - Blueberry Honey Soda Bread
All purpose flour, wheat flour,baking powder, salt, baking soda, butter blue berries, eggs, butter milk, liquid honey
Pisces - Fishy Vichyssoise
Butter, chopped leeks (white parts only), chopped onion chicken stock, diced peeled potatoes, fish fillet (white fleshed), salt and pepper
Aries - Show-off Shrimp
Jumbo shrimp in shells, chilli powder, paprika, cumin, salt and cayenne pepper, vegetable oil, dipping sauces
Taurus - Garlic Roast LambLeg of lamb, cloves garlic slivered, olive oil, herbes de Provence,salt and pepper, dry red wine, beef stock, Vegetables: potatoes, onions and /or rutabaga peeled, olive oil, cloves garlic minced, herbs de Provence, salt and pepper
Gemini - Fast Pasta With Two Sauces
Green Pasta with White Clam sauce: butter, cloves garlic minced, minced onion, whipping cream, chopped fresh parsley, dry white wine, can(5oz) baby clams(undrained), pepper, hot cooked fettuccine, freshly grated Parmesan cheese.
White Pasta With Green Pesto Sauce: Butter, cloves garlic minced, pine nuts, finely chopped fresh basil, freshly grated Parmesan cheese, salt and pepper, hot cooked white fettuccine.
Cancer - Floating Islands On Lemon Cream
Egg white, cream of tartar, granulated sugar Lemon Cream: egg yolks, granulated sugar, corn starch, light cream, lemon juice and shreds of lemon rind
Leo - Tropical Fruit Flambe
butter, granulated sugar, golden rum, allspice, cognac, mango sorbet or ice cream Fruit: thickly sliced peeled mango, papaya, pineapple, orange or banana (or combination)
Virgo - Perfection Salad Plate
fresh tiny vegetables: snow peas, mini carrots, baby beets, green beans, skinny asparagus, baby white turnips, sliced celery, baby leeks(white parts) green onions and mushrooms(oriental or tiny button), leaf lettuce or fresh water cress (optional)
Hot Vinaigrette: white wine vinegar, lemon juice, salt, pepper, olive oil (preferably extra virgin) chopped fresh Italian parsley, chopped fresh tarragon( or any other herbs to taste)
Libra - Sabayon With Fresh Fruit
egg yolks, granulated sugar, dry marsala, champagne or orange juice, berries, grapes or sliced fruit
Scorpio - Swordfish Seviche With Peppers
swordfish fillets, lime juice, lemon juice, each small sweet green, yellow and red pepper, small hot pepper sliced, small red onion sliced, cloves garlic minced, chopped fresh coriander or parsley, packed brown sugar, olive oil, salt and pepper
Sagittarius - Souffle-ed Dessert Omlette
eggs separated, granulated sugar, fruit liquer, unsalted butter, sweetened berries or sliced fruit
Capricorn - Apple Almond Streusel Tarte
all purpose flour, granulated sugar, cold butter, egg yolk, cold water, FILLING: soft butter, granulated sugar, eggs, brandy or rum, ground almonds, all purpose flour, apples ( preferably Golden Delicious) STREUSEL: all purpose flour, brown sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg, cold butter, sliced almonds
I am a Taurus, and for me the choice of garlic roast lamb works...I like garlic flavour.
I found the idea of cooking astrologically very interesting. No, and that's an emphatic negative, I do not subscribe to the stars to dictate my days, decisions or relationships. But this is so much fun, when you remove the 'belief' from it. They say, and I quote...
"You'll discover some intriguing insights into who likes to eat what, and even some surprises about your own idiosyncracies. Many people's culinary personalities are a perfect reflection of their Sun signs. If yours or your guest's isn't quite typical, it's likely because there's a stonger planetary influence somewhere in your charts. But in that case ( or if astrology isn't your cup of tea), just match up the personality traits with someone else you know - then dazzle them with their favourite dinner!"
"Would pasta please a Pisces?
Will a Virgo like your new wine glasses?
Can a Taurus and an Aries find happiness at the same table?
Is it safe to take a Scorpio to a restaurant?
Will you let a Gemini in your kitchen?"
See I told you it would be fun just to toy around with the subject! However the article doesn't go on to enlighten the reader about how and where to get the required know-how about reading the stars for culinary excellence and delights....well it's all in the stars and who has reached them! But they have been kind enough to show the way by giving each sign one selected dish according to their reading. I am listing the signs and the dishes and do let me know if your selected dish works for you. I will list the ingredients that go into each one and if you need the recipe will oblige accordingly..:)
Enjoy the read, and if the dishes do not fit your personality or taste I'm sure imagination of the dishes would titillate the palate.
Aquarius - Blueberry Honey Soda Bread
All purpose flour, wheat flour,baking powder, salt, baking soda, butter blue berries, eggs, butter milk, liquid honey
Pisces - Fishy Vichyssoise
Butter, chopped leeks (white parts only), chopped onion chicken stock, diced peeled potatoes, fish fillet (white fleshed), salt and pepper
Aries - Show-off Shrimp
Jumbo shrimp in shells, chilli powder, paprika, cumin, salt and cayenne pepper, vegetable oil, dipping sauces
Taurus - Garlic Roast LambLeg of lamb, cloves garlic slivered, olive oil, herbes de Provence,salt and pepper, dry red wine, beef stock, Vegetables: potatoes, onions and /or rutabaga peeled, olive oil, cloves garlic minced, herbs de Provence, salt and pepper
Gemini - Fast Pasta With Two Sauces
Green Pasta with White Clam sauce: butter, cloves garlic minced, minced onion, whipping cream, chopped fresh parsley, dry white wine, can(5oz) baby clams(undrained), pepper, hot cooked fettuccine, freshly grated Parmesan cheese.
White Pasta With Green Pesto Sauce: Butter, cloves garlic minced, pine nuts, finely chopped fresh basil, freshly grated Parmesan cheese, salt and pepper, hot cooked white fettuccine.
Cancer - Floating Islands On Lemon Cream
Egg white, cream of tartar, granulated sugar Lemon Cream: egg yolks, granulated sugar, corn starch, light cream, lemon juice and shreds of lemon rind
Leo - Tropical Fruit Flambe
butter, granulated sugar, golden rum, allspice, cognac, mango sorbet or ice cream Fruit: thickly sliced peeled mango, papaya, pineapple, orange or banana (or combination)
Virgo - Perfection Salad Plate
fresh tiny vegetables: snow peas, mini carrots, baby beets, green beans, skinny asparagus, baby white turnips, sliced celery, baby leeks(white parts) green onions and mushrooms(oriental or tiny button), leaf lettuce or fresh water cress (optional)
Hot Vinaigrette: white wine vinegar, lemon juice, salt, pepper, olive oil (preferably extra virgin) chopped fresh Italian parsley, chopped fresh tarragon( or any other herbs to taste)
Libra - Sabayon With Fresh Fruit
egg yolks, granulated sugar, dry marsala, champagne or orange juice, berries, grapes or sliced fruit
Scorpio - Swordfish Seviche With Peppers
swordfish fillets, lime juice, lemon juice, each small sweet green, yellow and red pepper, small hot pepper sliced, small red onion sliced, cloves garlic minced, chopped fresh coriander or parsley, packed brown sugar, olive oil, salt and pepper
Sagittarius - Souffle-ed Dessert Omlette
eggs separated, granulated sugar, fruit liquer, unsalted butter, sweetened berries or sliced fruit
Capricorn - Apple Almond Streusel Tarte
all purpose flour, granulated sugar, cold butter, egg yolk, cold water, FILLING: soft butter, granulated sugar, eggs, brandy or rum, ground almonds, all purpose flour, apples ( preferably Golden Delicious) STREUSEL: all purpose flour, brown sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg, cold butter, sliced almonds
I am a Taurus, and for me the choice of garlic roast lamb works...I like garlic flavour.
Monday, November 22, 2010
I look back to accelerate forward
Some time back I wrote a story where one of my characters was travelling through life with his eyes fixed on the rear-view mirror. I had referred to it as a character flaw because the man looked back to dwell on the negative aspects and developed a cynical approach to life. However, there is another perspective on this. Looking back is not a flaw, if one reviews the past with a positive attitude, with the intention of making changes in the present where changes are required, altering attitudes where alteration is needed and learning from past experiences.
I’ve been driving with an eye on the rear-view mirror for a couple of days. My hindsight goes a long way back, not to my experiences but to History, to the Exodus out of Egypt! I dwell specifically on the length of the journey; a journey that should have taken only eleven days. So why did it take forty years? Something there connects to me and my experiences in Chile. The lesson is constructive and enlightening. I suppose any lesson that can get you out of the desert faster and happier in less than the forty years you take going around the same mountain has got to be a great one.
So how did an eleven day journey stretch to forty years? I will attempt to summarise the main points in a layperson’s terms. According to the account, as recorded in the Bible, the Israelites were an ungrateful, complaining lot. The moment a bit of problems or trouble arose, they’d begin the blame game and in-fighting and grumbling would ensue. They would not listen to the leaders nor comply with the rules. This resulted in a breakdown of system, order and law.
During the tedious journey it was apparent things would be hard. They were travelling through the wilderness and the climate would have been harsh and there would have been lack of basic necessities. And definitely, even depletion of resources. In all this they were so focussed on the problems that they became blind to the presence of God, who was constantly guiding them, providing for them and protecting them. For example at one point, they were without food and near starvation, at this time “manna” was provided from heaven. Initially they were happy with something to fill their bellies and sustain them. Then when the pangs of hunger were fulfilled and strength regained, they began to complain that Manna was a poor substitute for the food they were used to eating in Egypt. They even began to lament their short-sightedness in following Moses. They preferred to be slaves in Egypt than to bear the hardships of an eleven day journey.
Their attitude brought up delays in their movement and progress not only slowed down but it also came to a standstill at times. Thus what they couldn’t bear for eleven days they bore for forty years!! There are many examples of similar attitudes along the arduous journey. Without going into the philosophy and scriptural implications let me come back to the point that is related to the lessons I learned, along the way.
Going to Chile was a literal uprooting for me, from the place that had been my home for my entire life. It spelt the closing of a chapter in my life and the state of uncertainty in terms of the future. It also took me out of my comfort zone; Comfort of not only familiarity but also of creature comforts and the small luxuries I was used to. In a way it was a takeoff on the exodus from Egypt. It was my ‘lone departure’ to the unknown future. My sojourn would take me on a long route touching South Africa, Brazil and finally to Chile.
Not a frequent ‘lone’ traveller and with mobility problems, to say I was nervous would be an understatement. I took the flight with complete assistance, wheelchair et al, and honestly looking back today I will have to admit it was almost hassle-free and I got through all formalities aided by airline attendants. Yet when I had long waits for flights, sitting in a wheelchair cramped, tired and feeling a certain amount of discomfort and pain, I’d begin to moan and groan a bit to myself. Fortunately I had the “complain and remain” and “go around the mountain” quotes getting me back to a more appreciative attitude. I could hardly walk by the time I landed in Sao Paulo, but I was thankful that I could sit up and also shuffle down the aisle to my seat. What’s more, I actually thanked God that I could go to the toilet without assistance. Just the thought of it continues to keep me grateful.
Barely seven days in Vina Del Mar, Chile and the big earthquake rocked my world. The stress and fear and constant moving from one temporary accommodation to another took its toll. Not being an angel, I did at times regret the hasty decision to travel there. But hindsight and lessons imbibed from it helped me to keep looking at the silver-lining that has constantly girded the dark clouds filling me with hope and gratefulness. Such an attitude provided the ability to look for blessings in disguise, and a sojourn that should have spelled a disastrous pattern has turned out to be a lesson in itself.
If I had continued to grumble, moan and groan and pick at fate, God, man and blame all for my predicament, I wouldn’t have met the amazing people I got to meet, I wouldn’t have made lovely friends there either. The innate goodness of humans would not have manifested itself, and I would have remained ignorant of the goodwill, humaneness and the indomitable spirit of people that continued to survive, even during calamitous situations. The beauty of this picturesque city would have been lost on me and I would have marked it as “hell.” Time would have moved painfully slow. But now I have indelible memories of kindness, thoughtfulness, warmth and friendship to carry along with me. The most important point is that it has underlined my belief in God and his presence in and around me at all times.
Have you ever rocked yourself in a rocking-chair? Where does all that rocking take you? Nowhere! Focussing too much on the problems and difficulties of life is akin to sitting in a rocking chair. You stay stuck in one place no matter how hard you rock and go nowhere. Looking back should not be a “rocking-chair” moment. Hindsight should be used to find areas of change or improvement; a gleaning time for lessons. Such an attitude will see you walking ahead a wiser and more cheerful person. Why prolong misery by sticking with it?
My stay over there has given me deeper insights into my soul. I have discovered the various hues of my spirit that mark milestones in my growth as a person, and the three months I stayed there passed as a few days. Much can be accomplished with appreciation, gratitude and determination. One needs to keep moving onward and looking for those “Kodak” moments and “ha-ha” situations.
With due apologies and no offence meant to religious sentiments, I’m sure Biblical history would have recorded another story if the Israelites had known this.
I’ve been driving with an eye on the rear-view mirror for a couple of days. My hindsight goes a long way back, not to my experiences but to History, to the Exodus out of Egypt! I dwell specifically on the length of the journey; a journey that should have taken only eleven days. So why did it take forty years? Something there connects to me and my experiences in Chile. The lesson is constructive and enlightening. I suppose any lesson that can get you out of the desert faster and happier in less than the forty years you take going around the same mountain has got to be a great one.
So how did an eleven day journey stretch to forty years? I will attempt to summarise the main points in a layperson’s terms. According to the account, as recorded in the Bible, the Israelites were an ungrateful, complaining lot. The moment a bit of problems or trouble arose, they’d begin the blame game and in-fighting and grumbling would ensue. They would not listen to the leaders nor comply with the rules. This resulted in a breakdown of system, order and law.
During the tedious journey it was apparent things would be hard. They were travelling through the wilderness and the climate would have been harsh and there would have been lack of basic necessities. And definitely, even depletion of resources. In all this they were so focussed on the problems that they became blind to the presence of God, who was constantly guiding them, providing for them and protecting them. For example at one point, they were without food and near starvation, at this time “manna” was provided from heaven. Initially they were happy with something to fill their bellies and sustain them. Then when the pangs of hunger were fulfilled and strength regained, they began to complain that Manna was a poor substitute for the food they were used to eating in Egypt. They even began to lament their short-sightedness in following Moses. They preferred to be slaves in Egypt than to bear the hardships of an eleven day journey.
Their attitude brought up delays in their movement and progress not only slowed down but it also came to a standstill at times. Thus what they couldn’t bear for eleven days they bore for forty years!! There are many examples of similar attitudes along the arduous journey. Without going into the philosophy and scriptural implications let me come back to the point that is related to the lessons I learned, along the way.
Going to Chile was a literal uprooting for me, from the place that had been my home for my entire life. It spelt the closing of a chapter in my life and the state of uncertainty in terms of the future. It also took me out of my comfort zone; Comfort of not only familiarity but also of creature comforts and the small luxuries I was used to. In a way it was a takeoff on the exodus from Egypt. It was my ‘lone departure’ to the unknown future. My sojourn would take me on a long route touching South Africa, Brazil and finally to Chile.
Not a frequent ‘lone’ traveller and with mobility problems, to say I was nervous would be an understatement. I took the flight with complete assistance, wheelchair et al, and honestly looking back today I will have to admit it was almost hassle-free and I got through all formalities aided by airline attendants. Yet when I had long waits for flights, sitting in a wheelchair cramped, tired and feeling a certain amount of discomfort and pain, I’d begin to moan and groan a bit to myself. Fortunately I had the “complain and remain” and “go around the mountain” quotes getting me back to a more appreciative attitude. I could hardly walk by the time I landed in Sao Paulo, but I was thankful that I could sit up and also shuffle down the aisle to my seat. What’s more, I actually thanked God that I could go to the toilet without assistance. Just the thought of it continues to keep me grateful.
Barely seven days in Vina Del Mar, Chile and the big earthquake rocked my world. The stress and fear and constant moving from one temporary accommodation to another took its toll. Not being an angel, I did at times regret the hasty decision to travel there. But hindsight and lessons imbibed from it helped me to keep looking at the silver-lining that has constantly girded the dark clouds filling me with hope and gratefulness. Such an attitude provided the ability to look for blessings in disguise, and a sojourn that should have spelled a disastrous pattern has turned out to be a lesson in itself.
If I had continued to grumble, moan and groan and pick at fate, God, man and blame all for my predicament, I wouldn’t have met the amazing people I got to meet, I wouldn’t have made lovely friends there either. The innate goodness of humans would not have manifested itself, and I would have remained ignorant of the goodwill, humaneness and the indomitable spirit of people that continued to survive, even during calamitous situations. The beauty of this picturesque city would have been lost on me and I would have marked it as “hell.” Time would have moved painfully slow. But now I have indelible memories of kindness, thoughtfulness, warmth and friendship to carry along with me. The most important point is that it has underlined my belief in God and his presence in and around me at all times.
Have you ever rocked yourself in a rocking-chair? Where does all that rocking take you? Nowhere! Focussing too much on the problems and difficulties of life is akin to sitting in a rocking chair. You stay stuck in one place no matter how hard you rock and go nowhere. Looking back should not be a “rocking-chair” moment. Hindsight should be used to find areas of change or improvement; a gleaning time for lessons. Such an attitude will see you walking ahead a wiser and more cheerful person. Why prolong misery by sticking with it?
My stay over there has given me deeper insights into my soul. I have discovered the various hues of my spirit that mark milestones in my growth as a person, and the three months I stayed there passed as a few days. Much can be accomplished with appreciation, gratitude and determination. One needs to keep moving onward and looking for those “Kodak” moments and “ha-ha” situations.
With due apologies and no offence meant to religious sentiments, I’m sure Biblical history would have recorded another story if the Israelites had known this.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Whispered Psalms and Tendrils of Hope
I’m alone once again. And once again I lose count of the days, the hours and the minutes…
They don’t matter any more.
Time is interminable.
My futile efforts to fill the void, send me foraying into a plethora of memories.
Rummaging through school days, college years
Adolescent joys and tears
They flash across the mental screen, I will them to stay….
Just a while, so I am not alone.
Vainly I try to hold a wave upon the sand, sadly I relinquish the moonbeam in my hand.
And it begins to rain.
The rhythm of the falling rain beats a haunting tattoo
That recalls vivid memories of other rainy days.
Evoking the sweetness followed by pain
That slowly gives way to a numbness.
I don’t want to feel
Happiness, sorrow, misery or pain.
I don’t want to remember….
Good days or bad days , grey days or wet days
I block out the past and stare out of the window.
Something stirs within.
I fight against myself…a losing battle this
For the dark skies and falling rain call out to me and I cannot resist.
I must yield. I can’t be immune to it.
The memories flood back like the overflowing drains……
Gurgling, rushing, uninterrupted
Washing away the dirt, dust and debris.
Leaving in its wake quiet , calm, peacefulness.
And I lay my head down exhausted.
Too tired from the roller-coaster ride of emotions……
The upswings and downswings.
Somewhere clouds clash streaking the skies, breaking the silence with its thunder.
The flood-gates open to the release…
And I drown in a deluge of tears.
Years of conditioning in convention and orthodoxy
Make me look for purpose and divine reason to every twist and turn in life.
The purpose is found, the reason justified
By theological philosophies I pretend to understand.
I try to be stoical in the face of it,
Wondering what else is expected of me.
The outer walls I build around me
Of hard cold reasoning and hollow sounding platitudes, harden and thicken while
Hidden inside the crumbling begins.
Broken and battered I cower inside the fortress
Suspicious and scared of every shadow,
Of which there are many
Some real , rest imagined.
And life goes on drawing hope from whispered Psalms…
Hope like a frail tendril clings to straws.
And I lift up my eyes and thank God
For things could have been worse, but for His grace.
............................................................................................
They don’t matter any more.
Time is interminable.
My futile efforts to fill the void, send me foraying into a plethora of memories.
Rummaging through school days, college years
Adolescent joys and tears
They flash across the mental screen, I will them to stay….
Just a while, so I am not alone.
Vainly I try to hold a wave upon the sand, sadly I relinquish the moonbeam in my hand.
And it begins to rain.
The rhythm of the falling rain beats a haunting tattoo
That recalls vivid memories of other rainy days.
Evoking the sweetness followed by pain
That slowly gives way to a numbness.
I don’t want to feel
Happiness, sorrow, misery or pain.
I don’t want to remember….
Good days or bad days , grey days or wet days
I block out the past and stare out of the window.
Something stirs within.
I fight against myself…a losing battle this
For the dark skies and falling rain call out to me and I cannot resist.
I must yield. I can’t be immune to it.
The memories flood back like the overflowing drains……
Gurgling, rushing, uninterrupted
Washing away the dirt, dust and debris.
Leaving in its wake quiet , calm, peacefulness.
And I lay my head down exhausted.
Too tired from the roller-coaster ride of emotions……
The upswings and downswings.
Somewhere clouds clash streaking the skies, breaking the silence with its thunder.
The flood-gates open to the release…
And I drown in a deluge of tears.
Years of conditioning in convention and orthodoxy
Make me look for purpose and divine reason to every twist and turn in life.
The purpose is found, the reason justified
By theological philosophies I pretend to understand.
I try to be stoical in the face of it,
Wondering what else is expected of me.
The outer walls I build around me
Of hard cold reasoning and hollow sounding platitudes, harden and thicken while
Hidden inside the crumbling begins.
Broken and battered I cower inside the fortress
Suspicious and scared of every shadow,
Of which there are many
Some real , rest imagined.
And life goes on drawing hope from whispered Psalms…
Hope like a frail tendril clings to straws.
And I lift up my eyes and thank God
For things could have been worse, but for His grace.
............................................................................................
Thursday, September 9, 2010
A letter.....
My Dear Beta,
How are you? Thought I'd do the old fashioned thing and write a letter....oh we call it mail these days...:) I think this quote says it better....“What a lot we lost when we stopped writing letters. You can't reread a phone call.” But then I am a sentimental fool and being from a past generation only compounds it...LOL
I've had quite a restless night and am feeling a bit drowsy this morning. Even my cup of nice, strong ginger tea couldn't raise me up. Guess a cold shower will fare better! I suppose too much of time on one's hands is not good for the mind.......I thought about that too, about the connection, and figured it out.....the hands dig up old memories and skeletons long buried...idle hands..:) Whacky eh..??
Hopefully, things will settle down and I will finally be on even keel. Too much has transpired too soon...back-to-back and it is telling on me...age I suppose is finally overtaking my mental capacity and strength....the fight seems to be dying down. Still the morning brings hope, it's the evenings and night that dash all hopes while I battle loneliness. It's a sunny day today, clear sky so I guess we get some respite from rain.
I enjoyed a rickshaw ride in a drizzle the other day. It was early morning and I had to draw cash for the maid's pay. Threatened by heavier showers I scurried to the ATM....but remembered too late that muddy puddles and speeding cars were also on the way !!!!!!! Pachaaak...pachaaak.........:(
Oh that's a rhyme....unintended poetry LOL
That's it for now. I've had my tea and shall read the paper.
Love...Mama
.............................................................................
Glossary
Beta........son
rickshaw........a three-wheeled cycle carrier. It has a cushioned seat behind the rickshaw driver which can comfortably seat two people. It is canopied and offers some protection from light showers.
pachaak.......a Hindi word to convey the sound of splashing water...
How are you? Thought I'd do the old fashioned thing and write a letter....oh we call it mail these days...:) I think this quote says it better....“What a lot we lost when we stopped writing letters. You can't reread a phone call.” But then I am a sentimental fool and being from a past generation only compounds it...LOL
I've had quite a restless night and am feeling a bit drowsy this morning. Even my cup of nice, strong ginger tea couldn't raise me up. Guess a cold shower will fare better! I suppose too much of time on one's hands is not good for the mind.......I thought about that too, about the connection, and figured it out.....the hands dig up old memories and skeletons long buried...idle hands..:) Whacky eh..??
Hopefully, things will settle down and I will finally be on even keel. Too much has transpired too soon...back-to-back and it is telling on me...age I suppose is finally overtaking my mental capacity and strength....the fight seems to be dying down. Still the morning brings hope, it's the evenings and night that dash all hopes while I battle loneliness. It's a sunny day today, clear sky so I guess we get some respite from rain.
I enjoyed a rickshaw ride in a drizzle the other day. It was early morning and I had to draw cash for the maid's pay. Threatened by heavier showers I scurried to the ATM....but remembered too late that muddy puddles and speeding cars were also on the way !!!!!!! Pachaaak...pachaaak.........:(
Oh that's a rhyme....unintended poetry LOL
That's it for now. I've had my tea and shall read the paper.
Love...Mama
.............................................................................
Glossary
Beta........son
rickshaw........a three-wheeled cycle carrier. It has a cushioned seat behind the rickshaw driver which can comfortably seat two people. It is canopied and offers some protection from light showers.
pachaak.......a Hindi word to convey the sound of splashing water...
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Life's a ring of funnies....
I was swept by a deluge of things to do...things not done yet....things I should have done earlier....things I shouldn't have done earlier...perhaps not at all....!
Setting up home all again and that too alone, can take the micky out of you. Here in India it involves co-ordinating with the Movers & Packers, internet service providers, phone connection, cable (TV) connection, police verification, running to the Residential Society Management offices of both places, the current one I'm living in and the new one I'll be shifting into, to get NOCs to move my luggage out of the old and into the new. Then I need to ask for permission to use the lift to cart the big stuff down fifteen floors and of course pay a fee for that!! There's nothing wrong in all this except that none of these people value time or efficiency. And that's when the tsunami strikes in waves over waves of irritation, stress and eventually anger.
Very carefully I orchestrated the entire process of getting required permissions, documents, intimating service providers, making payments only to find that the Movers & Packers who were to come at 8.00am haven't reached till 1.00pm...which is why I'm at my laptop! The service providers have been "doing their job" for the past two days in bits and drabs, and the phoneline, internet, TV cable are yet not installed. The electrician is too involved with selling his old mobike and buying a new one so can't see to replacing damaged fixtures.
I'm on the phone every ten minutes yelling at one or the other of these guys, and at times I get my connections all mixed up and find myself asking the plumber why the truck hasn't reached...or the Packers why the aqua-guard hasn't been installed...Finally I decided it would take more than sticks and stones to break their bones, resigned myself to a cup of ginger tea and pouring out my woes on my blog.
Why didn't I do that before I think...and go back to my list of.. Things I should have done...things I have to do.....Life's a ring of funnies!!
.................................................................................
Setting up home all again and that too alone, can take the micky out of you. Here in India it involves co-ordinating with the Movers & Packers, internet service providers, phone connection, cable (TV) connection, police verification, running to the Residential Society Management offices of both places, the current one I'm living in and the new one I'll be shifting into, to get NOCs to move my luggage out of the old and into the new. Then I need to ask for permission to use the lift to cart the big stuff down fifteen floors and of course pay a fee for that!! There's nothing wrong in all this except that none of these people value time or efficiency. And that's when the tsunami strikes in waves over waves of irritation, stress and eventually anger.
Very carefully I orchestrated the entire process of getting required permissions, documents, intimating service providers, making payments only to find that the Movers & Packers who were to come at 8.00am haven't reached till 1.00pm...which is why I'm at my laptop! The service providers have been "doing their job" for the past two days in bits and drabs, and the phoneline, internet, TV cable are yet not installed. The electrician is too involved with selling his old mobike and buying a new one so can't see to replacing damaged fixtures.
I'm on the phone every ten minutes yelling at one or the other of these guys, and at times I get my connections all mixed up and find myself asking the plumber why the truck hasn't reached...or the Packers why the aqua-guard hasn't been installed...Finally I decided it would take more than sticks and stones to break their bones, resigned myself to a cup of ginger tea and pouring out my woes on my blog.
Why didn't I do that before I think...and go back to my list of.. Things I should have done...things I have to do.....Life's a ring of funnies!!
.................................................................................
Friday, July 30, 2010
Khaandaan Ka Paandaan...cont
Wedding Games
An Indian wedding is marked by its fanfare, colour, blaring music, brass band...a blend of the traditional and modern. That's how most Indian weddings are. And then when the rituals and rites are through you'd think its over, but there's another think coming up...there are wedding games to be played! Well, when I say 'games' I mean games.
I learned about these games when my elder son got married. A few of my friends from Rajasthan got the newly wed couple to play a few 'power games.' What was especially amusing about the activity was that the maximum wins decided who would wear the pants around the house! So it was obvious the bride would try her best to beat the groom.
I gathered that this was introduced to alleviate the anxiety the bride might be feeling. In India arranged marriages are usually the norm, so a girl doesn't really know the boy very well, much less the family. Besides an Indian girl doesn't just marry a boy, she marries the whole family too! It would certainly be tough for her to walk into a household of strangers who are now her family. But to come back to the games....
The first one was - searching for a ring in a thali (a big, deep, steel plate) of milky water. A ring is immersed with a lot of almond shells and rose petals. The couple have to search for it using just one hand.
The second one was - untying knots with one hand. A thick thread (dori) is tied around each one's wrist. Then the ends are knotted several times. The knots have to be untied using one hand. The winner is decided on who unties all and how quickly.
The third one was - find the cotton. Little balls of cotton are hidden on the person of the bride and groom. Hiding places could be their clothes, hair, behind the ears etc. The couple take turns locating these.
Since we don't have these games in our Christian wedding ceremonies, it was fun for us. Can't say about the couple, it was well into the wee hours of the morning and they had had a long day. Our wedding receptions are usually dinners that go on and on and on....weddings don't happen everyday, and thank God for that.
..............................................................................
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Khaandaan Ka Paandaan....cont
"Looking for your face'......."Recognizing your face"......"Welcome."
That's my laptop's way of greeting me every time I switch it on. Makes me feel great. It's almost like a baby looking around for a face it knows, recognizing it and welcoming it with a smile of relief. Ever seen a baby do that...I remember how I used to feel when my babies did that, my heart used to melt.
And it makes me think. Don't we also look for a face; A special face in the crowd? At the railway station, airport, in a strange place, at weddings and parties, we look for a face in the crowd; and when we recognize one the welcome erupts in a million ways.
Waking, sleeping, dreaming...yes especially while in that sub-conscious to unconscious state, I look for faces. Faces from the past, faces from the present...faces that reassure me; that tell me "all is well." It doesn't matter from how far this assurance comes, from beyond the blue or from over the miles and seas and oceans, they comfort me. They are faces I seek, recognize and welcome into my world.
On the flip side there are a few times when my laptop, finds it hard to make a recognition. It asks me to face the camera. In other words I'm not in the ideal position. This makes me shift and turn, move forward and backward, in an effort to position myself just right. It applies to life too! We find a familiar face but fail to recognize it because the person has shifted or changed positions; grown, evolved. It becomes difficult for us to accept and welcome. At times like these I think the laptop provides the answer again!
Like your face is the stamp of recognition you carry all your life, in legal documents too, there are some values that define who you are at the core. If these change you become unrecognizable to some. It is the point where one can look within and decide if the changes and evolution are in the right direction. The laptop is like a parent or very special person in your life, no matter how much you might change, it still welcomes you if the most identifiable part of you remains the same.
The next obstacle my laptop faces in making a recognition is 'insufficient light.'
Someone is in darkeness here. It's either the laptop or it's me. So I begin to move into areas of light. When this doesn't work I realize it's not me but the laptop that's in insufficient light. So I reposition my little friend and voila...like a long-lost lover, friend, relative, baby...it finally recognizes and welcomes me.
So every time I'm 'welcomed' I realize I'm a face that has been sought and recognized in some capacity, in the other's life.
For now I'm glad my Della Baby, that's my laptop, has welcomed me!
................................................................................
That's my laptop's way of greeting me every time I switch it on. Makes me feel great. It's almost like a baby looking around for a face it knows, recognizing it and welcoming it with a smile of relief. Ever seen a baby do that...I remember how I used to feel when my babies did that, my heart used to melt.
And it makes me think. Don't we also look for a face; A special face in the crowd? At the railway station, airport, in a strange place, at weddings and parties, we look for a face in the crowd; and when we recognize one the welcome erupts in a million ways.
Waking, sleeping, dreaming...yes especially while in that sub-conscious to unconscious state, I look for faces. Faces from the past, faces from the present...faces that reassure me; that tell me "all is well." It doesn't matter from how far this assurance comes, from beyond the blue or from over the miles and seas and oceans, they comfort me. They are faces I seek, recognize and welcome into my world.
On the flip side there are a few times when my laptop, finds it hard to make a recognition. It asks me to face the camera. In other words I'm not in the ideal position. This makes me shift and turn, move forward and backward, in an effort to position myself just right. It applies to life too! We find a familiar face but fail to recognize it because the person has shifted or changed positions; grown, evolved. It becomes difficult for us to accept and welcome. At times like these I think the laptop provides the answer again!
Like your face is the stamp of recognition you carry all your life, in legal documents too, there are some values that define who you are at the core. If these change you become unrecognizable to some. It is the point where one can look within and decide if the changes and evolution are in the right direction. The laptop is like a parent or very special person in your life, no matter how much you might change, it still welcomes you if the most identifiable part of you remains the same.
The next obstacle my laptop faces in making a recognition is 'insufficient light.'
Someone is in darkeness here. It's either the laptop or it's me. So I begin to move into areas of light. When this doesn't work I realize it's not me but the laptop that's in insufficient light. So I reposition my little friend and voila...like a long-lost lover, friend, relative, baby...it finally recognizes and welcomes me.
So every time I'm 'welcomed' I realize I'm a face that has been sought and recognized in some capacity, in the other's life.
For now I'm glad my Della Baby, that's my laptop, has welcomed me!
................................................................................
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Mine Are Bigger.......
There was a time, so many years ago { it's so many years that starting with, "Once upon a time," would be appropriate} when having the best and being the best was extremely important to me. It didn’t matter who had what, I never compared myself to anyone. I believed I had the best of everything, and so it was. This expressed itself in many hilarious announcements of greatness...or more correctly, perceived and misplaced exaggeration. This phase lasted till I was ten. With the oncoming years, it took the form of quiet confidence and acceptance that I had a bundle of good, better, best and not so good, not better nor best. Life was so much better when I was six! I suppose age and related maturity, that at most times follows, played a major role, which is good but I miss the humor it used to produce. I mean I appreciate it now, in hindsight!
One day, when as usual, I couldn’t find something that actually sat right below my nose, my brother commented that I had potatoes instead of eyes. This would have gone down quietly if it hadn’t been for a conversation with Daddy about the Irish people and the spuds that formed a staple diet in their country. He also told me that the spuds they had were bigger than the potatoes we were used to. So how could I have simple potatoes for eyes? {I thought, indignantly}
Drawing myself up to the maximum my tiny stature would permit, I declared loud and clear:
“I don’t have potatoes I have spuds!”
This grand announcement sent everyone into a fit of laughter. It needs no saying that I thought they were dimwits and it would be useless to make them see, that I had bigger potatoes for eyes than they imagined.
There were quite a few similar instances, but I will skip that for now. Many, many years later my younger son out-did me with a whopper. He was a little genius at three, who couldn’t understand why he had to study Hindi when he was planning to marry an American who wouldn’t understand a word of the language. What made this rationale interesting was that he could barely speak English beyond a few words. As he moved up from pre-nursery and grade 1, 2, 3, he had many more questions about other subjects which he felt he was wasting time on. He loved sports, story-telling, drawing, sketching and such things, what I’m getting at is, grades meant nothing at all to him. As long as he passed each exam, percentages and rank were immaterial.
Alarmed by his nonchalance, my husband spoke to him about the importance of academics and why in our system rank and percentage played an important role in the examination results. He listened with rapt attention quite unusual for him. His report card lay open on the table, his rank 25/48.
He looked at his father seriously, another unusual thing and said seriously (very unusual indeed),
“Papa, I promise I will do better next time. I promise I will come 30th next time.”
You could tell where he got that from! Well, we laughed our guts out and this was the last serious conversation father and son had. However, in his defence, I must add that a couple of years later, when his papa promised him a bike if he came in the top ten ranks, he earned himself a swanky new bicycle by ranking in the top five.
Yeah, kids say the darnedest things. I’m glad I had my time of quipping!
..............................................................................................................................................................
One day, when as usual, I couldn’t find something that actually sat right below my nose, my brother commented that I had potatoes instead of eyes. This would have gone down quietly if it hadn’t been for a conversation with Daddy about the Irish people and the spuds that formed a staple diet in their country. He also told me that the spuds they had were bigger than the potatoes we were used to. So how could I have simple potatoes for eyes? {I thought, indignantly}
Drawing myself up to the maximum my tiny stature would permit, I declared loud and clear:
“I don’t have potatoes I have spuds!”
This grand announcement sent everyone into a fit of laughter. It needs no saying that I thought they were dimwits and it would be useless to make them see, that I had bigger potatoes for eyes than they imagined.
There were quite a few similar instances, but I will skip that for now. Many, many years later my younger son out-did me with a whopper. He was a little genius at three, who couldn’t understand why he had to study Hindi when he was planning to marry an American who wouldn’t understand a word of the language. What made this rationale interesting was that he could barely speak English beyond a few words. As he moved up from pre-nursery and grade 1, 2, 3, he had many more questions about other subjects which he felt he was wasting time on. He loved sports, story-telling, drawing, sketching and such things, what I’m getting at is, grades meant nothing at all to him. As long as he passed each exam, percentages and rank were immaterial.
Alarmed by his nonchalance, my husband spoke to him about the importance of academics and why in our system rank and percentage played an important role in the examination results. He listened with rapt attention quite unusual for him. His report card lay open on the table, his rank 25/48.
He looked at his father seriously, another unusual thing and said seriously (very unusual indeed),
“Papa, I promise I will do better next time. I promise I will come 30th next time.”
You could tell where he got that from! Well, we laughed our guts out and this was the last serious conversation father and son had. However, in his defence, I must add that a couple of years later, when his papa promised him a bike if he came in the top ten ranks, he earned himself a swanky new bicycle by ranking in the top five.
Yeah, kids say the darnedest things. I’m glad I had my time of quipping!
..............................................................................................................................................................
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Notes of a santoor....
It's Sunday...one of those days I really have nothing much to do on the home front or the professional one, and that's not something I always want. It's better to have something on my list...so I find things to do.
This morning lost myself in the early hours of the day in lilting Pahari music, played on the santoor. Here on the fifteenth level, the breeze is cool and fresh in the mornings...closed my eyes and allowed myself to float.
Back to earth, I am looking forward to a chocolate and dessert session with a chef of a five star hotel. I was lucky to get an invitation!! It's going to be a long drive but it's worth it.
My new commitment has kept me from blogging for a while. I realise it wasn't the lack of time but the choice to devote whatever time I had to dwelling on that one thing to the exclusion of everything else.
I'll be back.
...................................................................................
Glossary:
Pahari music (raga, dhun).......classical music and folk that originated from the Northern hills...from Nepal, J&K, Himachal, Uttaranchal etc.
Santoor.....The santoor is an Indian stringed musical instrument. It is related to the Indian shata-tantri veena of earlier times and has strong resemblances with the Persian santur. It is a trapezoid-shaped hammered dulcimer often made of walnut, with seventy strings. The special-shaped mallets (mezrab) are lightweight and are held between the index and middle fingers. A typical santoor has two sets of bridges, providing a range of three octaves.
The santoor as used in Kashmiri classical music is played with a pair of curved mallets made of walnut wood and the resultant melodies are similar to the music of the harp, harpsichord, or piano. The sound chamber is also made of walnut wood and the bridges are made of local wood and painted dark like ebony. The strings are made of steel.(Wikipedia)
This morning lost myself in the early hours of the day in lilting Pahari music, played on the santoor. Here on the fifteenth level, the breeze is cool and fresh in the mornings...closed my eyes and allowed myself to float.
Back to earth, I am looking forward to a chocolate and dessert session with a chef of a five star hotel. I was lucky to get an invitation!! It's going to be a long drive but it's worth it.
My new commitment has kept me from blogging for a while. I realise it wasn't the lack of time but the choice to devote whatever time I had to dwelling on that one thing to the exclusion of everything else.
I'll be back.
...................................................................................
Glossary:
Pahari music (raga, dhun).......classical music and folk that originated from the Northern hills...from Nepal, J&K, Himachal, Uttaranchal etc.
Santoor.....The santoor is an Indian stringed musical instrument. It is related to the Indian shata-tantri veena of earlier times and has strong resemblances with the Persian santur. It is a trapezoid-shaped hammered dulcimer often made of walnut, with seventy strings. The special-shaped mallets (mezrab) are lightweight and are held between the index and middle fingers. A typical santoor has two sets of bridges, providing a range of three octaves.
The santoor as used in Kashmiri classical music is played with a pair of curved mallets made of walnut wood and the resultant melodies are similar to the music of the harp, harpsichord, or piano. The sound chamber is also made of walnut wood and the bridges are made of local wood and painted dark like ebony. The strings are made of steel.(Wikipedia)
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Kora kagaz......
It's been some time since I've been down memory lane. That's a walk I miss. By the time I have done with the business worries, strategies, mails and "no mails" situation and decide to write, it's futile and "kora kagaz, kora hi reh jata hai."...my spirit is willing but my flesh is weak, and I succumb to bed and slumber...or soccer!
It's a fledgling flight...never been in the business area before...just a bit more and I'll be able to take some breaks on auto-pilot.
.............................................................................
Glossary:
kora kagaz kora hi reh jata hai.......the blank page remains blank.
...............................................................................
It's a fledgling flight...never been in the business area before...just a bit more and I'll be able to take some breaks on auto-pilot.
.............................................................................
Glossary:
kora kagaz kora hi reh jata hai.......the blank page remains blank.
...............................................................................
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Simian Encounters
My recent trip to one of the hill stations in the Kumaon Hills where the ubiquitous langoors and Rhesus monkeys can be spotted swinging on trees and jumping on rooftops, brought home some memories of other Simian encounters in another time: past and not so distant past.
When I was a young collegiate, we lived in a city situated in the foothills of the Shivalik Range and would drive uphill to towns further up very often. One of these places was Shimla. The town was infested with monkeys, some of which were just naughty while others were downright pests. The first time I actually observed simian cunning, was in the market where a fruit vendor had a rehri full of bananas. He was having a tough time keeping the thieves at bay. Every time he dealt with a customer, a bunch would be flicked off the cart. He would yell and gesticulate threateningly and smack his forehead but it just didn’t matter to the long-tailed Rhesus who would happily munch through the bunch and wait for the next distraction at the cart. While we were having our laughs at the expense of the agitated vendor, a young boy probably the vendor’s son, arrived. His appearance was an obvious relief for the man. He gave him a stick and put him on guard duty. Many of us, who had nothing better to do than watch the show, decided to move off. The fun had ended or so we thought. Fortunately, we were among a few who took their time moving along, and that’s how we got to witness this scene.
The boy successfully staved off all the monkey attempts to steal bananas. Every few minutes a monkey would approach the cart and by then there were more than one, coming in from different directions. The poor fellow had to run left and right shouting and twirling his stick. We cheered him on and this helped him to go at it with more gusto. Suddenly my friend whispered something and pointed under the cart. Underneath the cart, perched on the metal support was a smaller monkey who would stretch his arm and pull a couple of bananas from a bunch near the edge. It would eat them while staying hidden beneath the cart. It was not visible unless one bent down low and peered under the cart. With the bigger ones keeping the boy distracted and customers keeping the father busy the little one was making hay while the sun shone! However, we inadvertently gave the little thief away, and he was shooed off.
The next day we went up to Jhaku. It’s a point higher up and is frequented because of a famous Hanuman Mandir that sits on the top. Here the monkeys dominate the place, not only by numbers but also by the reverence they enjoy. In India monkeys are revered, as they symbolise the Hindu god Hanuman. This is why in places of worship as in Jhaku, they are kings of all they survey. It was amazing to see how they applied themselves to profit from the faith of the believers. This was a long time ago, in 1974, and things might have changed now. I haven’t been there in years. Anyway, to come back to the narration, we set out for Jhaku. It had rained and the pathway, which was quite narrow at places, was slippery. Certain patches had little pebbles and gravel and those of us who had worn leather-soled shoes had a tough time staying on their feet. Being a group of teenage girls, there was a lot of screaming and laughing as we slipped and slid. Finally, we managed to get to the top without much damage beyond scraped knees and palms.
Unfortunately the mandir had too many devotees at that time, so we had to wait. The place to sit it out was on a plain ground below the temple. Since I did not intend going into the temple to do puja, I wasn’t geared to jump up and run as soon as the crowd on top dispersed. Thus I found myself alone in a few seconds as the others were already running up. I got up and picked my bag, blissfully unaware of the big primate, keeping guard at the entrance to the sit-out. I heard a strange animal sound and looked up to see bared yellow teeth, and eyes warning me to stay where I was. I screamed, which agitated him more. The scream had alerted the other people around, who took in the situation and immediately responded; I was bombarded with advice; Do’s and don’ts and ill-timed humour.
“Sit down. Don’t move.”
“Stop screaming, you’ll scare him.”
“Don’t look him in the eye. Look away or down,”
“Don’t worry, he won’t harm you.”
“Hey, you got a monkey admirer.”
“Don’t monkey around...hahaha.”
“You picked the alpha male...”
It must have been a few minutes but to me it was eternity, before an old man who lived in the area rescued me from this siege. I laughed nervously as everyone broke into loud clapping and cheering.
The girls filed into the temple to offer their prayers to the deity. One of them left her purse, unattended, on the low wall that surrounded the compound. A very foolish thing to do in monkey territory. ..finders keepers, losers weepers it was, as a female monkey proceeded to investigate the contents. What didn’t catch her interest was tossed all over the place; and there was a lot that did not interest her...especially money. Then she came across a compact. For some reason it intrigued her enough for her to throw the purse aside and give her whole attention to the compact. While she turned it around and figured a way to prise it open, I hurriedly retrieved whatever I could, including the purse. All of a sudden, I heard a shriek. She had managed to flip open the compact and saw herself in the mirror. It was hilarious. She would glance into the mirror, look away, then shriek and jump up and down. Finally she tossed the offending compact away...I wonder if she disapproved of her image or the perceived competition.
The girls paid their obeisance to the deity and came out with prasad in their hands. We had to hurry back as it looked like rain and we did not want to get caught in a downpour. The way in and out of the Mandir was very narrow at one point, at that time. It had a wall or something, I can’t recall that, on one side and the other side went down in a slope, so people had to single file through that way. As usual, I lagged behind with a couple of girls who were intent on eating the delicious prasad. As we made our way back, we discovered we had to pay “tax” before we could pass through to the other side via the narrow passage.
One monkey out of the lot that surrounded this little pathway, was sitting right in the middle of the passageway. It would hold out its open hand ( or fore leg or whatever one calls it) and each person would put a bit of prasad into it, only then would it move aside and let the person go. All my friends paid up and passed through except for me and another girl. She was ahead of me so she was handed the remnants of prasad from the other girls. This left me with none to offer. I thought I could slip through but I sure had another think coming. Our big hairy friend would not budge. It sat staring at me and so did all the others that were squatting on the wall and all around. The moment I took a step, it would stick out its open hand. It was absolutely unbelievable! The only thing in their favour was that they were not aggressive or hostile. Finally I conceded when I realised there was no way I was going to get past that blockade. I went back and begged people to part with a bit of Prasad, which I paid as “tax” and got through.
Many years later, I worked in a residential school in the hills and there were instances of ‘monkey pranks’ all the time. But the worst was when they would attack in a group. This usually happened when they wanted food or when they were angry because someone had pelted them with stones. There was a particular gang of ‘food thieves,’ that used to hang out on the ‘dinner’ route, where an ambush would deliver a meal. A few of us did not go to the dining hall for dinner, so the maid would carry our packed dinners back to our cottages. Although she took care to avoid this notorious gang yet she got waylaid, twice or thrice. The dinners were snatched from her and she even got a few scratches in the bargain.
Monkeys are interesting creatures to watch but they can be a menace too. I suppose it is all about us folks taking up their space and habitat. We have forced ourselves upon them, encroached on their land and imposed “civilisation” on them. Well, if they ‘ape’ us must we complain?
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Glossary
Mandir..........temple, place of worship
Prasad..........Anything, usually edible, that is first offered to a deity in his name and then distributed to others.
Rehri (pro.. reh-di)............a hand-pushed cart with four wheels
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When I was a young collegiate, we lived in a city situated in the foothills of the Shivalik Range and would drive uphill to towns further up very often. One of these places was Shimla. The town was infested with monkeys, some of which were just naughty while others were downright pests. The first time I actually observed simian cunning, was in the market where a fruit vendor had a rehri full of bananas. He was having a tough time keeping the thieves at bay. Every time he dealt with a customer, a bunch would be flicked off the cart. He would yell and gesticulate threateningly and smack his forehead but it just didn’t matter to the long-tailed Rhesus who would happily munch through the bunch and wait for the next distraction at the cart. While we were having our laughs at the expense of the agitated vendor, a young boy probably the vendor’s son, arrived. His appearance was an obvious relief for the man. He gave him a stick and put him on guard duty. Many of us, who had nothing better to do than watch the show, decided to move off. The fun had ended or so we thought. Fortunately, we were among a few who took their time moving along, and that’s how we got to witness this scene.
The boy successfully staved off all the monkey attempts to steal bananas. Every few minutes a monkey would approach the cart and by then there were more than one, coming in from different directions. The poor fellow had to run left and right shouting and twirling his stick. We cheered him on and this helped him to go at it with more gusto. Suddenly my friend whispered something and pointed under the cart. Underneath the cart, perched on the metal support was a smaller monkey who would stretch his arm and pull a couple of bananas from a bunch near the edge. It would eat them while staying hidden beneath the cart. It was not visible unless one bent down low and peered under the cart. With the bigger ones keeping the boy distracted and customers keeping the father busy the little one was making hay while the sun shone! However, we inadvertently gave the little thief away, and he was shooed off.
The next day we went up to Jhaku. It’s a point higher up and is frequented because of a famous Hanuman Mandir that sits on the top. Here the monkeys dominate the place, not only by numbers but also by the reverence they enjoy. In India monkeys are revered, as they symbolise the Hindu god Hanuman. This is why in places of worship as in Jhaku, they are kings of all they survey. It was amazing to see how they applied themselves to profit from the faith of the believers. This was a long time ago, in 1974, and things might have changed now. I haven’t been there in years. Anyway, to come back to the narration, we set out for Jhaku. It had rained and the pathway, which was quite narrow at places, was slippery. Certain patches had little pebbles and gravel and those of us who had worn leather-soled shoes had a tough time staying on their feet. Being a group of teenage girls, there was a lot of screaming and laughing as we slipped and slid. Finally, we managed to get to the top without much damage beyond scraped knees and palms.
Unfortunately the mandir had too many devotees at that time, so we had to wait. The place to sit it out was on a plain ground below the temple. Since I did not intend going into the temple to do puja, I wasn’t geared to jump up and run as soon as the crowd on top dispersed. Thus I found myself alone in a few seconds as the others were already running up. I got up and picked my bag, blissfully unaware of the big primate, keeping guard at the entrance to the sit-out. I heard a strange animal sound and looked up to see bared yellow teeth, and eyes warning me to stay where I was. I screamed, which agitated him more. The scream had alerted the other people around, who took in the situation and immediately responded; I was bombarded with advice; Do’s and don’ts and ill-timed humour.
“Sit down. Don’t move.”
“Stop screaming, you’ll scare him.”
“Don’t look him in the eye. Look away or down,”
“Don’t worry, he won’t harm you.”
“Hey, you got a monkey admirer.”
“Don’t monkey around...hahaha.”
“You picked the alpha male...”
It must have been a few minutes but to me it was eternity, before an old man who lived in the area rescued me from this siege. I laughed nervously as everyone broke into loud clapping and cheering.
The girls filed into the temple to offer their prayers to the deity. One of them left her purse, unattended, on the low wall that surrounded the compound. A very foolish thing to do in monkey territory. ..finders keepers, losers weepers it was, as a female monkey proceeded to investigate the contents. What didn’t catch her interest was tossed all over the place; and there was a lot that did not interest her...especially money. Then she came across a compact. For some reason it intrigued her enough for her to throw the purse aside and give her whole attention to the compact. While she turned it around and figured a way to prise it open, I hurriedly retrieved whatever I could, including the purse. All of a sudden, I heard a shriek. She had managed to flip open the compact and saw herself in the mirror. It was hilarious. She would glance into the mirror, look away, then shriek and jump up and down. Finally she tossed the offending compact away...I wonder if she disapproved of her image or the perceived competition.
The girls paid their obeisance to the deity and came out with prasad in their hands. We had to hurry back as it looked like rain and we did not want to get caught in a downpour. The way in and out of the Mandir was very narrow at one point, at that time. It had a wall or something, I can’t recall that, on one side and the other side went down in a slope, so people had to single file through that way. As usual, I lagged behind with a couple of girls who were intent on eating the delicious prasad. As we made our way back, we discovered we had to pay “tax” before we could pass through to the other side via the narrow passage.
One monkey out of the lot that surrounded this little pathway, was sitting right in the middle of the passageway. It would hold out its open hand ( or fore leg or whatever one calls it) and each person would put a bit of prasad into it, only then would it move aside and let the person go. All my friends paid up and passed through except for me and another girl. She was ahead of me so she was handed the remnants of prasad from the other girls. This left me with none to offer. I thought I could slip through but I sure had another think coming. Our big hairy friend would not budge. It sat staring at me and so did all the others that were squatting on the wall and all around. The moment I took a step, it would stick out its open hand. It was absolutely unbelievable! The only thing in their favour was that they were not aggressive or hostile. Finally I conceded when I realised there was no way I was going to get past that blockade. I went back and begged people to part with a bit of Prasad, which I paid as “tax” and got through.
Many years later, I worked in a residential school in the hills and there were instances of ‘monkey pranks’ all the time. But the worst was when they would attack in a group. This usually happened when they wanted food or when they were angry because someone had pelted them with stones. There was a particular gang of ‘food thieves,’ that used to hang out on the ‘dinner’ route, where an ambush would deliver a meal. A few of us did not go to the dining hall for dinner, so the maid would carry our packed dinners back to our cottages. Although she took care to avoid this notorious gang yet she got waylaid, twice or thrice. The dinners were snatched from her and she even got a few scratches in the bargain.
Monkeys are interesting creatures to watch but they can be a menace too. I suppose it is all about us folks taking up their space and habitat. We have forced ourselves upon them, encroached on their land and imposed “civilisation” on them. Well, if they ‘ape’ us must we complain?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Glossary
Mandir..........temple, place of worship
Prasad..........Anything, usually edible, that is first offered to a deity in his name and then distributed to others.
Rehri (pro.. reh-di)............a hand-pushed cart with four wheels
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
I'll be away for a while..
I've been rather caught up with setting up my new Firm and have not been able to write as much as I'd love to. All my writing skills and energy are being put to use in doing writeups for flyers and website (which is under construction)and getting the presentation just right, making modules and finding the right ice-breakers, activities etc.
I will be out on my first business trip tomorrow...going uphill to visit some residential schools. Just wish me luck and those of you who pray...please pray that it goes well..:)
Will not be here on this page till Monday. See you then.
I will be out on my first business trip tomorrow...going uphill to visit some residential schools. Just wish me luck and those of you who pray...please pray that it goes well..:)
Will not be here on this page till Monday. See you then.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Khaandaan Ka Paandaan..cont
Superstitions, Myths and Black Magic
India is a land of many superstitions. Today we do not hear much about them, as education and science have played their part in a large way. Having said that I must mention that all don’t come under this education of the mind. India lives in the villages and in these villages superstitions thrive.
Grandma was a storehouse of strange stories, superstitions and myths. She was a strange mixture of cynicism and credulity. She was a firm believer in God, nevertheless she had a couple of beliefs that had nothing to do with him. At times, I wasn’t so sure if I wanted to believe her or not. However what I saw convinced me she was right about developing strong conviction, but not about the superstition per se. What I saw was not superstition...it was extreme calm in the face of danger. This courage was born of unshakable faith. When one believes implicitly in anything, it transfers immense strength to the inner self. This is what I saw and learnt. But her stories and actions based on her belief in certain superstitions were indeed very interesting, and for that moment I allowed myself to go with it. It gave me the thrill that scary movies give...goose bumps and white-in-the-face breath stopping moments.
One of her firmest beliefs was that, a snake got hypnotised or as she put it “blinded,” if the firstborn child of a family came in front of it. Since she was the firstborn child in her family, she believed that snakes couldn’t move if they encountered her. Since we lived in the country and had big fruit gardens and vegetable gardens, our home was host to many snakes; permanent residents as well as visitors. Many of these unfortunate ones met their end at her hand. Now killing a snake isn’t such a great feat, but killing a snake that stayed rooted to the spot while she picked a lathi or stood quietly watching the snake while a stick was brought to her, now that’s something I have never seen or heard of before. The snakes were swift and agile when any other member of the family tried to nail them. They usually made their escape. To explain it further, I’ll recount an incident that truly left me flummoxed .
Grandma’s kitchen retained its rural identity to the core. It was fairly spacious, with an inbuilt “Chula” occupying the right corner in the north. A chimney, over the chula, released the fumes and smoke of this typical earthen cooking place. Coal and wood were used to light it. This corner chula, stayed burning 24X7. There would always be a kettle of tea on the embers. This was also the constant feeder for their hookah fire.
The chula was on ground level. So cooking was done seated on “pidhis.” These are very low stools made of wood with woven jute ropes forming the seat. There were four or five of these around the place. In the left corner there was a table, and a comfortable armchair. The other two corners in the south were occupied by big grain-bins and a hand pump.Grandma would sit between the chula and the table, with a kerosene stove in front of her on the floor. She would cook the main meal on this stove.
One day, I was sitting in the armchair and happily chatting away, while I ate a hot, crisp “cheeni paratha” straight off the griddle. Suddenly Grandma put her finger to her lips, signalling for me to keep quiet. I looked at her quizzically, but refrained from any verbal query. She stretched her arm out and picked up the “phukni” which was lying near the chula. Then she gestured that I should lift my feet off the ground. By now I knew it had something to do with a snake, but where was the creepy crawly? Grandma got up and bending down lifted her pidhi and kept it to one side. There coiled up and petrified lay a Cobra. I gaped and the next second I felt a scream coming up. Thankfully it got frozen into silence. Grandma lifted the iron phukni and smashed it down on the snake. She hit it some more to make sure it was dead then called Grandpa to take it out and burn it. Burn it? Why? I wondered. There is another myth attached to that.
I asked her how she knew the snake was there and when had it slipped in. She admitted that she did not know when it had come in but had sensed that there was one under her! She felt sorry that she had to kill a Cobra. She had another belief connected to that. She repeated her firstborn theory again and frankly speaking, I couldn’t but believe her then. But till date, I often wonder at the power of conviction for that is what it was all about, it had nothing to do with her being a firstborn. There were many similar instances when we saw her take her time dealing with poisonous snakes that lay quietly like lambs for the slaughter. However, none of these were burned.
This was another weird belief in the villages then, that Cobras carried a picture of their slayer in their eyes, like a negative and not like a positive print. So, if it wasn’t burned, its mate would see the image and then seek revenge on the killer. In the bargain it would attack many humans, till it found the actual murderer. This was why any Cobra that was killed had to be burned! Even as a child I found this pretty unbelievable. I wonder how people could digest this absurd story so whole-heartedly. We even had quite a few Bollywood films, at my time, based on this myth.
Grandma also believed that people used black magic to get even with their enemies or to get something they wanted really badly. I loved to hear her stories, they were spooky and I used to get chills down my spine. However what actually spooked me was an incident that convinced me that people did resort to some practices that could only be termed as “black magic” because they had evil intent. Whether these practices gave the desired result is anyone’s guess.
We had a teacher living down the road. She had married rather late in life and desperately wanted to have a baby. I am talking about the year 1965. India was a very young nation and very under-developed. We had no advanced medical facilities and generally women who wanted to have babies and could not conceive visited sadhus and medicine men, who would perform rituals to help them, while others would go to ‘tantriks.’ These are people who perform black magic.
One evening Grandma told us kids and my mother not to allow the teacher to carry my baby brother the next day. We found this odd as the teacher never did show any particular interest in my brother. She was only on ‘hello’, ‘hi’ terms with us. Besides, grandma was cautioning us about the next day, which was even more unusual. I asked her what made her expect the teacher and why we shouldn’t allow the teacher to carry my brother, but she told me that sometimes it was best not to ask too many questions.
Early the next morning, I was ‘walking’ my baby brother in Grandma’s garden when the teacher leaned over the low boundary wall of Grandma’s house and asked me to carry my brother to her. The sight of her put me on guard. This was bizarre. Grandma was right as usual, she did appear and she did show an interest in the baby. I refused to give her the baby. Then she asked me to bring him closer so she could play with him. I saw no harm in that, as she wasn’t going to carry him. No sooner had I reached the wall than she leant over and grabbed him from me. I yelled at her and called out to Grandma, who came running, and took in the scene at a glance. She literally grabbed my brother from the teacher, and for the first time I heard her talk to someone in such a harsh manner. The teacher almost ran back the way she had come. She seemed terrified by my grandparent’s vehemence. Actually right then I was a bit terrified of her too, she looked awesome; like an avenging angel…eyes blazing,and wrathful face wreathed by her crown of snow-white hair.
I was next in the line of fire. I explained that I had not let the teacher carry the baby; he was snatched from my arms. This was when she sat me down and told me that, that day was particularly auspicious and used for magical rites. I don’t remember what day it was. She explained that the teacher had displayed all the signs of black magic rituals. It had something to do with her hair being freshly washed, wet, left open and uncombed. There were a few other things that she mentioned, but I can’t recall them. Any way she called my mother and told her to keep a check on the little fellow. To monitor any change in him. By then we were all highly perturbed and worried. We did not believe in these things but Grandma was so serious about it and that affected us. Within the hour my brother developed high fever. He was taken to the doctor but I don’t think that was of any help because the fever wouldn’t subside. Soon he was throwing up. Grandma came up with all her home remedies and prayers. She prayed and prayed. Finally, the fever went down and he was well. I can recall without exaggeration, that my fat little brother became a twig in those four days.
Coincidence?... Black Magic?... I still don’t know what it was. But Grandma had predicted that the teacher would come, and had warned us about it. My perfectly, hale-and-hearty brother developed a strange fever suddenly, after being carried by the woman...again something Grandma had feared would happen. No, I don’t know what to make of it even after so many years. You can draw whatever conclusions you want.
..................................................................................
Glossary
Chula.....it means oven. Coal, wood are used to light it. It is made of clay (soil)
Phukni.... a bamboo or metal blowing-tube (for a fire).
Cheeni Paratha.....cheeni means sugar. Paratha is an unleavened Indian flat-bread. It is made of layered whole wheat (atta) dough. And fried on a Tava (griddle) There are many kinds of parathas. Cheeni [paratha means sugar stuffed in the paratha.
............................................................................
India is a land of many superstitions. Today we do not hear much about them, as education and science have played their part in a large way. Having said that I must mention that all don’t come under this education of the mind. India lives in the villages and in these villages superstitions thrive.
Grandma was a storehouse of strange stories, superstitions and myths. She was a strange mixture of cynicism and credulity. She was a firm believer in God, nevertheless she had a couple of beliefs that had nothing to do with him. At times, I wasn’t so sure if I wanted to believe her or not. However what I saw convinced me she was right about developing strong conviction, but not about the superstition per se. What I saw was not superstition...it was extreme calm in the face of danger. This courage was born of unshakable faith. When one believes implicitly in anything, it transfers immense strength to the inner self. This is what I saw and learnt. But her stories and actions based on her belief in certain superstitions were indeed very interesting, and for that moment I allowed myself to go with it. It gave me the thrill that scary movies give...goose bumps and white-in-the-face breath stopping moments.
One of her firmest beliefs was that, a snake got hypnotised or as she put it “blinded,” if the firstborn child of a family came in front of it. Since she was the firstborn child in her family, she believed that snakes couldn’t move if they encountered her. Since we lived in the country and had big fruit gardens and vegetable gardens, our home was host to many snakes; permanent residents as well as visitors. Many of these unfortunate ones met their end at her hand. Now killing a snake isn’t such a great feat, but killing a snake that stayed rooted to the spot while she picked a lathi or stood quietly watching the snake while a stick was brought to her, now that’s something I have never seen or heard of before. The snakes were swift and agile when any other member of the family tried to nail them. They usually made their escape. To explain it further, I’ll recount an incident that truly left me flummoxed .
Grandma’s kitchen retained its rural identity to the core. It was fairly spacious, with an inbuilt “Chula” occupying the right corner in the north. A chimney, over the chula, released the fumes and smoke of this typical earthen cooking place. Coal and wood were used to light it. This corner chula, stayed burning 24X7. There would always be a kettle of tea on the embers. This was also the constant feeder for their hookah fire.
The chula was on ground level. So cooking was done seated on “pidhis.” These are very low stools made of wood with woven jute ropes forming the seat. There were four or five of these around the place. In the left corner there was a table, and a comfortable armchair. The other two corners in the south were occupied by big grain-bins and a hand pump.Grandma would sit between the chula and the table, with a kerosene stove in front of her on the floor. She would cook the main meal on this stove.
One day, I was sitting in the armchair and happily chatting away, while I ate a hot, crisp “cheeni paratha” straight off the griddle. Suddenly Grandma put her finger to her lips, signalling for me to keep quiet. I looked at her quizzically, but refrained from any verbal query. She stretched her arm out and picked up the “phukni” which was lying near the chula. Then she gestured that I should lift my feet off the ground. By now I knew it had something to do with a snake, but where was the creepy crawly? Grandma got up and bending down lifted her pidhi and kept it to one side. There coiled up and petrified lay a Cobra. I gaped and the next second I felt a scream coming up. Thankfully it got frozen into silence. Grandma lifted the iron phukni and smashed it down on the snake. She hit it some more to make sure it was dead then called Grandpa to take it out and burn it. Burn it? Why? I wondered. There is another myth attached to that.
I asked her how she knew the snake was there and when had it slipped in. She admitted that she did not know when it had come in but had sensed that there was one under her! She felt sorry that she had to kill a Cobra. She had another belief connected to that. She repeated her firstborn theory again and frankly speaking, I couldn’t but believe her then. But till date, I often wonder at the power of conviction for that is what it was all about, it had nothing to do with her being a firstborn. There were many similar instances when we saw her take her time dealing with poisonous snakes that lay quietly like lambs for the slaughter. However, none of these were burned.
This was another weird belief in the villages then, that Cobras carried a picture of their slayer in their eyes, like a negative and not like a positive print. So, if it wasn’t burned, its mate would see the image and then seek revenge on the killer. In the bargain it would attack many humans, till it found the actual murderer. This was why any Cobra that was killed had to be burned! Even as a child I found this pretty unbelievable. I wonder how people could digest this absurd story so whole-heartedly. We even had quite a few Bollywood films, at my time, based on this myth.
Grandma also believed that people used black magic to get even with their enemies or to get something they wanted really badly. I loved to hear her stories, they were spooky and I used to get chills down my spine. However what actually spooked me was an incident that convinced me that people did resort to some practices that could only be termed as “black magic” because they had evil intent. Whether these practices gave the desired result is anyone’s guess.
We had a teacher living down the road. She had married rather late in life and desperately wanted to have a baby. I am talking about the year 1965. India was a very young nation and very under-developed. We had no advanced medical facilities and generally women who wanted to have babies and could not conceive visited sadhus and medicine men, who would perform rituals to help them, while others would go to ‘tantriks.’ These are people who perform black magic.
One evening Grandma told us kids and my mother not to allow the teacher to carry my baby brother the next day. We found this odd as the teacher never did show any particular interest in my brother. She was only on ‘hello’, ‘hi’ terms with us. Besides, grandma was cautioning us about the next day, which was even more unusual. I asked her what made her expect the teacher and why we shouldn’t allow the teacher to carry my brother, but she told me that sometimes it was best not to ask too many questions.
Early the next morning, I was ‘walking’ my baby brother in Grandma’s garden when the teacher leaned over the low boundary wall of Grandma’s house and asked me to carry my brother to her. The sight of her put me on guard. This was bizarre. Grandma was right as usual, she did appear and she did show an interest in the baby. I refused to give her the baby. Then she asked me to bring him closer so she could play with him. I saw no harm in that, as she wasn’t going to carry him. No sooner had I reached the wall than she leant over and grabbed him from me. I yelled at her and called out to Grandma, who came running, and took in the scene at a glance. She literally grabbed my brother from the teacher, and for the first time I heard her talk to someone in such a harsh manner. The teacher almost ran back the way she had come. She seemed terrified by my grandparent’s vehemence. Actually right then I was a bit terrified of her too, she looked awesome; like an avenging angel…eyes blazing,and wrathful face wreathed by her crown of snow-white hair.
I was next in the line of fire. I explained that I had not let the teacher carry the baby; he was snatched from my arms. This was when she sat me down and told me that, that day was particularly auspicious and used for magical rites. I don’t remember what day it was. She explained that the teacher had displayed all the signs of black magic rituals. It had something to do with her hair being freshly washed, wet, left open and uncombed. There were a few other things that she mentioned, but I can’t recall them. Any way she called my mother and told her to keep a check on the little fellow. To monitor any change in him. By then we were all highly perturbed and worried. We did not believe in these things but Grandma was so serious about it and that affected us. Within the hour my brother developed high fever. He was taken to the doctor but I don’t think that was of any help because the fever wouldn’t subside. Soon he was throwing up. Grandma came up with all her home remedies and prayers. She prayed and prayed. Finally, the fever went down and he was well. I can recall without exaggeration, that my fat little brother became a twig in those four days.
Coincidence?... Black Magic?... I still don’t know what it was. But Grandma had predicted that the teacher would come, and had warned us about it. My perfectly, hale-and-hearty brother developed a strange fever suddenly, after being carried by the woman...again something Grandma had feared would happen. No, I don’t know what to make of it even after so many years. You can draw whatever conclusions you want.
..................................................................................
Glossary
Chula.....it means oven. Coal, wood are used to light it. It is made of clay (soil)
Phukni.... a bamboo or metal blowing-tube (for a fire).
Cheeni Paratha.....cheeni means sugar. Paratha is an unleavened Indian flat-bread. It is made of layered whole wheat (atta) dough. And fried on a Tava (griddle) There are many kinds of parathas. Cheeni [paratha means sugar stuffed in the paratha.
............................................................................
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