A Better Morning, A Proverb And A Mare's Snort!

Well, it's usually a good morning everyday for me, so I thought I should qualify that by a degree and add 'better' instead to the morning. Chilean mornings are different. The house is quiet, in fact the whole world around our block and a couple of blocks away too, are blissfully silent. Not even a squawk from the gulls...probably because there are no gulls anyway!


What a difference from the mornings in India. The world there woke up before daybreak. At least the moms or women in general did, I presume, as I didn't see many men hitting the kitchen to rustle up breakfast for the kids at that hour. I mean no offence, nor barb intended for the husbands. It's just how it usually is in India. And with the waking came the sound of a grand welcome, ushering in the new day...the kitchen band struck a few discordant sounds; clangs, bangs, whirs and whistles!


But here in my little room, where I'm all by myself, it is certainly a quiet morning. I am as quiet as a mouse. The only sound that you can hear is me shuffling about, the wooden floor squeaking under my weight, the click of the bathroom door shutting, running water and the occasional thud/clang of me or a pan falling! Otherwise as I said I'm as quiet as a mouse...Is my tongue actually in my cheek? In truth the former did not happen...I never fell with a thud...I never even fell. I hope I'm not speaking too soon! But in my haste to get my hot cup of ginger tea...well accidents do happen. You can't hold me for that, can you? I don't expect an answer, it's plain rhetoric!!


I got a verse from Proverbs this morning, for meditation. I was listening to the lesson: A Teachable Spirit. The verse says: "Rebuke is more effective for a wise man than a hundred blows on a fool." ~Proverbs 17:10~ (NKJV) Think about it. I had a lot on my plate as I mulled over the verse and attempted to plumb the depths of its meaning and the application in life. Do I have a teachable spirit? Do I walk in humility? In all honesty I'm not there yet, but I'm on the way, which tells me I'm not a lost case. For today that gives me hope and as I said, it's a better day...but my tea got cold!


I went down to buy some vegetables yesterday. I walked down to the store, not very far from our place. I was half-way there when I saw a group of women coming down the opposite side. One, in particular, caught my attention as she stared at me and tried to conceal a snicker. I'm not very observant but since I was getting a snicker, I gave her a look-over too and passed by. Nothing about her drew any thought; good, bad, funny or ugly, in my mind. Then we passed each other and I heard a loud snort of laughter...you know the kind that goes haw-haw snort...haw-haw snort! And my mind went, "What a mare!" She reminded me of Sandra Bullock in one of her movies where she plays this character who snorted when she actually was laughing. I smiled and that lead to a silent tummy shaking laugh. I'm glad she gave me a funny moment rather than a nasty one. A spoonful of humour makes the medicine go down, if I may misquote a line from Julie Andrew's song in The Sound Of Music.


The sun has put his hat on, hip-hip-hip-hooray, the sun has put his hat on and is coming out today! On that kiddish note I sign out!

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Where's The Zing?



 

 

An article, some questions, a discussion; all centering around one aspect in life: Zing! Everyone in the room had their say. Some were honest some were not about the status of their lives. Granted, they had the right to share or not to disclose. However all admitted it was often a case of found-lost-found-lost, with only some enlightened ones springing with sustained zing. Some of us have it and have sustained it, while some never got around to a toe-hold and others just let it fizzle out and die. So much has been written about it, so much spoken about it. So many well thumbed self-help books stand in the book shelves worn out and wearier than the hands that turned its pages. Where is the zing?

 

I speak from my own experience when I say that to have the zing and sustain it in life, one must first learn to 'be happy'; appreciate life and be grateful in the valley and on the mountain top. It's something that grows from the inside to the outside. Having said that zing can be acquired through organization and practical applications. These are some of the things I've followed, though at times I admit I did fall through, but that's how I learned that to have that inner joy, peace and zest for life some 'must haves' and 'musn't haves' have to be there or discarded as the case may be.

 

Quality Sleep:  Lack of sleep, a good night's sleep, is the No:1 enemy of zest and zing in life. Don't short change yourselves with short naps at odd hours, to make up for a good night's rest. It never really does. This practice is a short term benefit but a long term disaster. I learned it the hard way! With circumstances the way they were, getting the ideal eight hours of night sleep was difficult, or so I thought. But the hard way knocks some sense into you if you're looking for improvement and are willing to change for what's beneficial in the long run. I found going to sleep before the clock struck twelve (the magic hour) gave me a restful, rejuvenating sleep even if it was for only five and a half or six hours! I'm not recommending less hours of sleep only sharing what I found helpful in difficult situations.

 

Keep the Kid Alive: Observe little children. Have you noticed the zing in their lives? They wake up raring to go, full of energy and thoroughly excited about the day! Be a child as often as you can...play. Take up some games and if you aren't the sporty kind, there are indoor games. Play to enjoy not to compete. Do something simple or even silly perhaps. Anything that makes you laugh, share some joy. Let your hair down and just be you. Laugh at slapstick jokes, crack some corny ones if you may. Romp with the kids, go on picnics, have pillow fights even with your spouse!! Go ice-cream hopping to as many ice-cream places as you can. Just be a kid.

 

 

Set Goals: Dream your dreams; even the wildest ones, then separate the goals from the fantasies. If you haven't set some SMART goals, do so. If you have your goals drawn out, check them out to see how many are still relevant. How many can be replaced with goals that are more meaningful and achievable. Draw up a path with small steps to reach them. Keep it practical, and let your ideal be the North Star in your journey. Sometimes we confuse our dreams with our goals.

 

De-clutter: This is so, so important. Like our homes our lives get cluttered too, with unnecessary and unimportant things we store, refusing to throw it out even though we know we should. So clean out the drawers, cupboards, basement, attic in the house and in the mind, from time to time. Trust me, it will contribute to a lot more organisation and storing space for better things. Most importantly clear out the people who pose as friends or well wishers but add negativity to your life. They are unwanted baggage and drain you of energy and positive life force, thus weakening you in your will and resolve.

 

 Prioritise: You have to get your priorities right. Each of us has multiple roles in life; at home, at work and socially too. We have to work out a balance between our responsibilities and duties on all fronts. Prioritising sets things in the proper order. Quality time in the right proportions between home and work helps a great deal to tide over the unexpected situations when one encroaches on the other.

 

Mind set & Focus: Maintaining a positive attitude means being in control of your emotions and feelings. This is important for focus. Getting carried away by emotions shifts focus. A positive mind set keeps you in the right frame of mind to make better decisions; be more responsive; less aggressive; better able to handle conflicts and focus on the task in the now.

 

 

Humour: Humour they say is the best medicine. A panacea for all ills. Well, it does not literally cure all ills in society or in our bodies, but it does keep us in a lighter frame of mind, it acts as a valve to release all our pent-up pain and miseries, and emotions that do not contribute to our well-being. When we laugh we take our focus off the offense; off bitterness and resentment and so it contributes to a healthier mind and body. Joyce Meyer says, "Where the mind goes, the man follows." This is applicable to habits good or bad. So if one habitually moans, groans and harbours grouses the person is bound to go down the wrong path. I have found that being able to find something funny in a situation, even when the chips are down, eases things a lot. It applies even to the workplace. I found something humorous almost everyday at my place of work. So how did it help? I enjoyed what I was doing, I didn't endure it...and that goes for the times when the boss was a meanie and a grouch. You know what, humour keeps you young!

 

 

Trust In God: Hard for many, I suppose. But a wise thing to do. Your worst day with God is better than your best day without Him! That's my experience. At the most hopeless of times He gives you hope; when you are weak, He gives you strength; when you feel alone, He is your friend. People will fail you but He never fails; your family and friends might be fickle but He is loyal and true; He responds to all your needs and wants...sometimes the answer is 'NO' because He has other plans for you. If you don't get in the way you get what's best for you.  

 

If you have lost the true ZING in your life, reclaim it now. It could be easier said than done, but it's not an unconquerable mountain either!

 

Life is God's gift to you. It comes with an expiry date. Enjoy it while it lasts. Have a surprising, challenging, fulfilling day!

 

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A prophecy & Butternut Squash Soup!

I discovered two things in the past few days: The truth of a prophecy, that's such a biblical word, but then I guess it fits in this case, and the deliciousness of a butternut squash soup (a species of the 'Kaddu' family) I like kaddu as a vegetable, Indian style. I also liked the kaddu halwa my mother used to make. A laborious task which she used to undertake after I'd begged her almost on my knees! But when my daughter-in-law said she was going to make a butternut squash soup for dinner, I baulked. I  could imagine a kaddu mashed up in a soup, what I just couldn't imagine was me drinking it. She assured me it was yummmmmm...and she did stretch the yumminess though I thought it was simply to psych me into drooling. Only the night would tell.


But to come back to the 'prophecy.' Once upon a time, as stories go, or rather went when I was a kid, my mother-in-law told me about a lady who would visit the family home in Barmer, quite often out of the blue. She was a very religious woman, old but healthy and mobile, and she was gifted with the ability to predict things. These things she foretold were referred to as prophecies because she was strongly anchored in the faith. On one such unexpected visits, she told my MIL that she would die when one member of her family would go into the Lord's service.


Both mama and I contemplated the meaning of this. Not because it was hard to understand the prophecy, but simply because we couldn't find more than one promising candidate who qualified as a servant for the Lord's work. This person happened to be a teenager then, but quite keen on listening to my MIL's religious talks and definitely a regular church goer. In short totally religious unlike all the other youngsters around his age. But as time went by our hope in him diminished. I told my mom-in-law that the old lady must have been a wee bit off the mark this time. She refused to accept that. I shut up. Just my mouth, not the thoughts!


Then came the day when one of the grand-daughters, her daughter's child, decided to marry a boy who was all set to become a priest. Ah! The prophetic words resurfaced in our conversations with renewed strength. Mama told me, rather triumphantly, that the old girl was not off the mark. We were off the mark. We didn't think of the girls. Now, one was going into the Lord's service and the time for the prophecy to come true was drawing near.


It made me uncomfortable to discuss the demise of my mother-in-law, in the near future (she tended to make it nearer) with her in such an objective manner. So I tried to drill holes in her theory. For quite obvious reasons it was clear her enthusiasm to prove the old lady was right, had blinded her to the fact that her grandchild was not going into the Lord's service, she was only going to marry one who was going to serve in the church.


But Queen Victoria, as I and my hubby would refer to his mother in private, could not be influenced or side-tracked so easily.


"It's the same thing," she said with a finality that discouraged all arguments. Again I zipped my lip and only my lip!


My mother-in-law passed away some years later. The said grandchild's husband had changed direction. The priest moved out of pastoring a flock and became the head of a bible college instead, while she continued in her teaching job. My MIL had gone, but the prophecy and its veracity remained a point of thought. It didn't fit in, to my mind at least. The pieces just didn't fall into place so the picture wasn't complete. At least not in the way she had thought it was.


Many years later, I learned that the only other grand-daughter, her son's child, had become a pastor, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. I will have to tell the story further to complete the picture.


This young grandchild, 'R,' was a simple girl, with no college education. She stayed at home and did all the domestic chores. She was lively, witty and childish. So to hear she was heading a church in a big city, came as a huge surprise. Anyway, this news soon got buried with so many other things piling up and it no longer held my attention. But not for long. For some unknown reason my thoughts meandered to the prophecy again, to my MIL and to all our many conversations we had had over the years. And I had a eureka moment! Stay with me a wee bit longer, even now I have to catch my breath by the revelation!


On the last night, before she died, Mama was talking to R. It was getting late so R told her to rest; go to sleep. Mama told her to put her hand in hers. She held R's hand and closed her eyes. After some time R too went off to sleep with her hand in her grandmother's hand. When R awoke, mama had passed away; and also passed on the prophecy to the most unlikely person in her family.


I had been off the mark, she had believed. Now I understand. It was a prophecy...it holds that aura...it holds that strength and firmness...it holds that belief!


Phew! Talk about soup for the soul!


And here comes the kaddu soup. I peeked into the pan as M stirred the creamy, lovely, sunshine yellow broth around. I have to admit it was inviting! Not a reaction I had expected. Soon I was impatient to taste it. She took her time cooking it just right, pouring it into the cups, dropping in the croutons...and I took the first spoonful. Yummmmmmm....I went. Had I actually been psyched?!!!! here's a picture:

I am a new butternut squash soup nut! For my Indian friends: it's another kind of kaddu in a soup:)


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Comedy Of Errors and A Red Towel

It was Sao Paulo. Fifteen hours straight flight from Dubai. I was tired. My knees were swollen. I could walk like a duck...no not walk, more of a waddle! And after a while I needed to visit the washroom. So I waddled my way in the direction that was given to me. Before long there in front of me I saw the door with a wheelchair borne person painted on it. That's it, and I quickened my pace.

When I was a few steps away a tall strapping fellow, strode ahead and got in. This just wasn't done. He didn't need a 'physically challenged' people's washroom.

"Excuse me," I said loud and clear for everyone to hear me fifty paces away. "I need to use this facility right now." And I pointed to my lumbar support and then to my osteoathritic knees. Not that he would have seen them inside my trousers.

The poor guy was startled, which pleased me a great deal. How dare he rush past me.

"Oh, well! If you have to go here it's alright," he said and stepped out.

I got in and as I was about to shut the door, I felt something was wrong. I opened the door wider and looked for the signage. And there it was. The facilities here were for 'hombres.'

I couldn't control my laughter. I called to the fellow and told him I got the wrong place and I was sorry to push him out that way.

"Yeah, your place is the other side. Over there."

I kept giggling all the way to the 'other side' and along with me a row of people sitting on the chairs across the corridor, and who had witnessed my bossiness, had their share of laughs too!




And then we were in Vina; at home and comfy. I decided to cook. Tahiri it was. That's a rice made with potatoes, tomatoes and various spices. A sort of pulao.

I love to cook rice and generally everything in kadhais. The kadhai is my favourite vessel. So everything was done and it was time to cover the rice and allow it to cook. I couldn't find a cover of adequate size. I looked high and low, though not low enough, as I can't stoop too low, and that's an awful pun!

However I found a vessel which was shaped like a bowl which tapered into an elongated bottom. It fitted perfectly over the rice and I thought it was rather cute and it would give a lot of space for dum, or steam. Eight minutes later I had to check on the rice, and using two pan holders I lifted the toupee, it looked like some sort of Arabic hat.

It slipped. I tried to get a firmer hold on it and grabbed the rim. Ow...ow...ow. The steam gushed out onto my fingers. Two fingers were burnt with hot steam and I was in agony. I rushed to the sink closest to me. There are two. I turned it on and ow...ow...ow! Hot water poured out onto my already steaming fingers. I had forgotten to check the lever. It was turned to hot.

Well, with some ointment and many aching minutes later I was able to settle down and slap my head, while I enjoyed a plateful of hot tahiri with an onion-tomato raita.




And then the weirdest thing happened. Goons entered the house. I was with K and two of her friends who were visiting. My room in Vina doesn't have an ensuite bathroom, so I generally have to wrap a towel around myself and walk to the bathroom, owing to problems mentioned earlier, I can't chnage clothes below the belt without being seated.

As I was saying, I was in the house with three young women, and I was busy cooking mutton biryani, and chicken curry, mince koftas and the works. There were three things simmering on the fire, and I dashed to have a bath. I had just wrapped my red towel around my waist, when I heard screaming. I came out to find a scruffy brute of a man tying up K, hands and feet. She was screaming; I was screaming and the goon went beserk. Before he lost his cool and did something vicious I shut up and told K to stop, so we could think properly and find our way out somehow. This seemed to calm him down.

I was wondering where the other two girls were, but didn't venture to find out. If they were hiding or had managed to get out, it was good for them and perhaps for us. I turned to the food on the hub. My mind was working furiously. I was scared. But there had to be some way out of this situation. What was the man after and why on earth had he barged into our house.

He was talking on the phone and from what I could decipher he was calling some other guys. I froze. And stayed frozen. The man was standing next to me.

I looked at him and he was looking at my red towel, which barely covered my knees, I clutched it at the waist. On the spur of the moment I took off the lids on two of the dishes. His attention shifted as I wanted it to. He became interested in the food and wanted to know what I was cooking that had such a delicious aroma.

I didn't waste a moment and took him down the Indian culinary lane. His senses were taken by the aromas and description of what was cooking. That's when a thought struck me; The way to a man's heart must be through his stomach, but the way to befuddle his mind is through his nose! His mind and eyes were no longer interested in the red towel, or K who was tied up and lying helpless on the ground.

On a hunch I asked if his friends were coming and to my dismay he said yes. How many I asked and he confirmed two. Oh then I would need a helping hand I told him and asked for K to be untied. He acquiesced without a murmur. I was getting bolder by the second. I got K to stand with me and pretend to help. She was trembling like a leaf in a storm. The goon stared at the red towel again as he walked away and I whispered to K to see where the other two were without raising the goon's suspicion.

The food was cooked. The goons were seated and served. While they ate like animals, K and the other two girls went to the back balcony and shouted for help. But strangely, everyone on the street vanished into their homes. The men heard the screaming and wanted to check what was happening. I assured them it was the neighbours squabbling as usual.

K returned and told me that we could escape if these men were kept at the table and stuffed with food. So while I kept them supplied with food and cajoled them to have more, K and the two girls slipped out the back door. On the pretense of calling K, I walked out too and bolted...the door before I tottered on my shaky legs, clutching on to my red towel for dear life!

It wasn't long before they were hounding us. We came to a crossroad and there on the opposite side were K's parents in their car, at a red light. We waved, we yelled, we pointed to the goons in the distance. They remained frozen.

"We have to do something aunty," K announced. I agreed.

We must have done something brilliant because I woke up in my bed with a raging fever. It was viral. The red towel was where I had hung it to dry in the morning.

I smiled wanly as I turned on my side; who knew that a red towel would go viral!

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Glossary:

Kadhai: It's an Indian wok. It is deeper that a Chinese wok and doesn't flare out too much at the top.
 

And when it rains...

I was woken up twice last night by Nature's son et lumiere show! It was grand indeed. Flashes of lightning, deafening claps of thunder and a steady hail of hailstones beating a tattoo on the roofs of cars parked in the open parking lot. But unlike interrupted sleep on other nights, that keeps me awake and frantically trying to go back to sleep any which way...even counting sheep that turn into goats and puppies, and never allow me to go to sleep because I'm concentrating so hard on the blooming numbers, I was KO'ed as soon as I snuggled back in bed. Rainy nights, winter or summer, are the best sleeping pills for me. I'm sure there are many of you out there who know what I'm talking about.

I'm not a big winter lover. Actually I'm not even a small winter lover. I become an onion with layer upon layer of clothes that stifle me and restrict my movements. No I'm definitely not a winter person. But a rainy, winter day is an exception to the rule. I don't feel so cold, I enjoy myself in the kitchen, at my lappy and my mind unfreezes along with my limbs and their digits.

My kitchen is a place to sing, dance and pour out love. And when it's raining there's so much more happening as I stir, toss, pour, boil, fry and give myself up to what makes me happiest... I'm still talking about food! There's something so romantic about rain...Oye, I'm talking about normal not cyclonic storms and hurricanes!

 

 

Talking about storms, I remember once long time back, my brother and I were returning from school when we ran smack into a hail storm. The hailstones were quite big, and though we managed to find shelter it wasn't before we got some stinging smacks from those frozen balls. And back then, I enjoyed it and found it great fun. I enthralled my classmates at school the next day with a narration full of exaggeration and humour.

 

 

But through all this I am not unaware of all the homeless people who live on the pavements and the rain only adds to their woes. I feel sorry for them. And the news of patients of cancer and their families making makeshift dwellings on the pavement outside AIIMS, one in particular for the past three years, moves me to tears. But every cloud has a silver lining. A drive by a leading news channel, has got them into proper shelter, provided funds to them and many others in a similar situation via donations.

 

I am thankful that humanity lives on and like stars in a black sky makes its presence felt across the darkness. As we save for a rainy day, we should donate for a rainy day too. There are many genuine agencies who could take our small/big offerings and bring some hope and comfort to people. They go where we can't and do what we couldn't, through our combined effort.

 

The day progresses as my mind races to other things. I'll just leave the outpourings for another rainy day!

 

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A time to introspect, laugh and love...it's another New Year!

Unlike previous years, this year did not see me with regrets or longings for what could have been but wasn't; where I could have gone but didn't; what I should have done or could have done but gave up a step too soon. I surprised myself a bit, honestly, by the new perspective and calmness I had as the year softly and silently slipped into my grateful, content and not-so-perfect life. I was in a place of imperfection with peace, acceptance, happiness and faith; and this made things good.

No one but God is perfect and in our journey towards that perfect love and light, we learn to appreciate more, to find peace in tumultous times, to develop better attitudes toward ourselves, and the people we come in contact with. We begin to accept whatever comes our way...the good and the bad... with forbearance and hope. It all sounds like a dreamer's Utopian musings, doesn't it? I assure you it isn't. This is a seeker's account of her experiences. There is pain, there is disappointment; tears; loneliness; anger; frustration; regrets and all the lows that are a part of life. But once you begin to look through the eyes of steadfast faith, hope and trust that "this too shall pass" the cross is lighter. I believe that God is watching out for me and mine. And as we make progress toward our goal, slipping, sliding, falling, He walks along lifting, carrying, prodding us along. I cast my cares on Him and He takes the burden off. So though my cross is heavy sometimes, the burden is light. My heart is lighter. My mind is less prone to worry and I can be grateful and enjoy my life even when the chips are down.

That's how I walk into 2013!

The new year is a harbinger of new beginnings. Beginnings at new places; new faces; of changed weather patterns with Christmas in Summer and a Winter birthday in the month of May! New language, changed food flavours and new inclusions in my diet. Building a new social circle at this stage, learning conversion of a new currency against the rupee (though I know it's not advisable to compare rates of another currency with the rupee, it's depressing!) but old habits die hard, and that's the truth in this respect at least!!

But I raise a toast to new beginnings, to life and its vagaries. Cheers!

The last five months have been a great time of meeting friends and family, some of whom were long lost relatives, 'long time no see' friends and family members. Weddings and festivals are those celebrations that bring people together to renew relations and catch up with the years in between. So it has been a nice time of laughter and fun as we chatted, gossipped (a bit, harmlessly) caught up with each other, compared notes, gorged on good food, drank to everyone's health, shared our joys and divided our sorrows with sharing and caring.

There was good news and bad from all around the world. And one horrifying incident of brutality meted out to a young girl by a group of animals who walked around in men's clothing, rocked my world. It occurred in the capital and the girl died a couple of days before the new year. The act was horrendous and shook the populace out of its indifference and complacency.  The New Year celebrations were not as noisy or raucous in our part of the city but quiet and subdued keeping in mind Nirbhaya, the young girl whose dreams and aspirations were snuffed out because some men decided she shouldn't live.

It remained at the back of my mind even as I sang and smiled, as I stood by the comforting warmth of a barbecue's embers. It was with me as I hugged my family and wished them well. It sits heavy on my heart because a society that doesn't respect its women and children and whose law enforcement agencies cannot protect them, is doomed.

Good cheer and celebrations have followed me into the New Year. There is another wedding in the family in a month from now. Indian weddings are long drawn out affairs with many ceremonies that stretch out over 4-5 days! So it involves among other things dressing up! Clothes, jewellery and all that bling are some of the highlights of an Indian shaadi. And in the midst of all this I shall be packing, giving away or discarding bit by bit, of what is left of the evidence of my life in India. I shall leave here with fond memories, some captured for posterity in photographs and many more cocooned in the recesses of my heart. I shall go with a fresh canvas to paint a bigger picture, a more complete one with my children and grandchild/grandchildren. A new chapter of joy.


I send out good wishes to all my blog members and hope you have a good year.


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It's just that way, sometimes...

Light showers early in the morning, lent a bigger chill to the day. The nip in the breeze was replaced by a bite. Ordinarily I should have pulled the ends of my mouth down and ducked under the covers. But not that this time; I went for a walk...a thoroughly invigorating walk in the crisp air and loved it. Sometimes...I shock myself and feel good about it!

Sometimes in the pre-winter/winter days, no book or cosy corner; neither tea nor coffee with aaloo parathas or hot samosas work to pump up my sagging spirit. Like a reptile I 'chill' and I mean literally freeze and get cold in my flesh, in my bones and long to hibernate beneath the fluffy, warm, soft covers of a comforter without feeling guilty of indolence, and sometimes I do...hibernate. Sometimes it's good to take a break and rest my aching self...

Sometimes, curling my hands around a hot bowl of soup comforts my soul more than the satiation of physical hunger does. Don't ask me why. I've never bothered to find out why. It is more than enough to feel warm deep inside.....sometimes...many times that's the way it is.

Sometimes I have those 'thank god' moments in the most unlikely situations! Why, just the other day a Dior bottle, may I add coveted Dior, fell out of my hands and landed on the glass top of the console. Although the glass was a thick gauge, it shattered and fortunately I escaped with a small but deep cut which bled a lot, but it wasn't serious! And no, that's not the gratitude moment...though normally one would think it should be so.
Mine was, "Thank God, the Dior didn't break...thank you God."

As silly as it may sound, sometimes, that's how things are!

And then sometimes there are those real life moments that make a Santa-Banta joke come alive! There was this gentleman, 'P', at a wedding, I attended recently. While everyone was attired in their formal wedding best, our friend was walking around in his shirtsleeves and a half sleeved one at that! So a member of the family took it upon himself to enquire about the out-of-place informal dress.

 

"For your kind information, I have a sherwani," retorted 'P', loftily, obviously offended by the question.

"I don't see it," said the relative.
"Didn't I say I have a sherwani? I've brought it along too."
"Okay. Phir kyun nahin pehna?"
"Ganda nahin ho jata? If I wore it these kids would have dirtied it. So you see, I have a sherwani for the wedding," 'P' answered triumphantly.

Hehehehehehahahahaaa! Sometimes we come across jokers who bring silly jokes to life!

At this time of the year preceding Christmas, I'm so full of the Christmas spirit of love, peace and joy. Everything looks so different...there's a newness in the sameness! But sometimes, like at this time, the only lifted spirit I have is in a bottle of Old Monk, as I pour it into the Christmas cake batter!
Sometimes, I suppose it's alright for my Christmas spirit to sag between the pins of hope and cheer, longing and believing, that hold it up in a tenacious grip.

It's normal to miss my kids especially at Christmas...it's just that way sometimes...many times...all the time.

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Glossary:

Sherwani.................................In India, the sherwani is generally worn for formal occasions in winter by those of North Indian descent, especially those from Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh and Hyderabadi-Muslims. The sherwani is generally associated with Muslims while the achkan was historically favored by Hindu nobles. The two garments have significant similarities, though sherwanis typically are more flaired at the hips. The achkan was also modified into the Nehru Jacket which is popular in India.

 

The Hyderabadi Sherwani was the dress of choice of the Nizam of Hyderabad and Hyderabadi nobles. The Hyderabadi sherwani is longer than normal sherwani reaching below the knees. Sherwani originated in South Asia and was the court dress of nobles of the royals of India, before being more generally adopted in the late eighteenth century. It appeared during the period of British India in 18th century, as a fusion of the Shalwar Kameez with the British frock coat.
(Courtesy Wikipedia)

Okay. Phir kyun nahin pehna?.........Okay. So why haven't you worn it?

Ganda nahin ho jata?.......................Wouldn't it have got dirty?

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It's 4.00 am...and I'm rambling!

I'm not the proverbial 'early bird' and this morning is just one freak early rising! Actually I have been up for a while with all sorts of thoughts running through my noodle box...so rather than toss and turn, I got up made myself a steaming cup of Horlicks and here I am.

It's amazing how numerous thoughts tumble out of nowhere at the break of day! Isn't one supposed to be groggy at this hour? Well, I'm not.

I have been going through old albums which I dug out of a storage box. Actually it is a box-bed. You know one of those ubiquitous things one can find in many homes in India. The beds are designed to have storage space beneath and though they may not be quite the thing by high standards, they definitely are a practical solution in homes where storage space is limited, which it is in my house. But I have diverged. I was talking about old albums!

 

Isn't it interesting the way conversations, be they vocal or a dialogue within the mind, tend to ramble off at a tangent, connecting with the end bit of added information, and totally unconnected with the subject of discussion? I remember taping a drawing room conversation among a gathering of family members and friends, of course everyone knew about it. However after a while of stilted dialogue they forgot about the tape and carried on with usual gusto. I just wanted to see how a general conversation flowed. Try it, it is not only interesting but very informative not to mention amusing as well!

 

Talking about conversations I am reminded that I rarely have any, of any respectable duration, these days. They are usually quick phone calls (I am not a good initiater of phone talk) or the even quicker "Hi-I'm good-how are you-let's meet up sometime-bye," kind of church exchanges. More often they take the form of short texted messages or the newer whatsapp chat, which  are sorry apologies for conversation; especially for one who can talk one to the dozen given the chance and a pair of ears!

 

You know I read somewhere that although people stop growing, ie. gaining height after a specific time, the ears and nose continue to grow. Are they kidding? Can it be called the Pinocchio Syndrome; after all we do go through life with lies...perhaps not big ones but small or big, black or white, they are lies and the nose grows...now where's the convenient smiley emoticon to show I am being sarcastic!

 

The emoticons are quite nice that way. Many fail to get the humour or light hearted banter with the written word and a round yellow face with a smile sure brings it home. Er... well not always. At times my eyes fail me and at times my ignorance shines through, and I hit a button that does not really say what I want to convey. But ever so often it is just the person's attitude that gets in the way...especially if they aren't so into me!

 

I guess we can't win them all. Should that matter? Nah.... I'm smiling you know, not because I can't "win them all" but because I started writing this to talk about my old albums and the memories they evoked...the happiness and the sadness and the loneliness, but I did everthing but that! So before I take off on another path I'll sign off and catch me some forty winks before it's time for bed tea!

 

If you've been with me this far, you can't say you weren't warned....it's 4.00 am and I'm rambling!

 

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The Jodhpur Diary: Vignettes

August 24, Friday: Drama Queen

On the 22nd I made an appointment with an ophthalmologist. I have been having some problems...some minor and some sort of major....with my eyes. I decided to wait till I came to Jodhpur as I happen to know the 'eye' doctor in question.

 

We were advised to be there early or we'd be overtaken by an influx of patients and would have to wait for anything from three to four hours. We were parked, and at the gate of the hospital early along with a couple of early tricklers like ourselves.

 

I was happily walking ahead when 'M' called out to me. That's when I noticed her standing next to a shoe rack, a big one like they have outside mandirs (temples) What! we've got to take off our footwear outside by the gate? I couldn't believe it. If there's one thing I dislike almost to the point of hating it is mud, dirt, anything even the tiniest grain of sand, stuck to my feet. It is a major irritant. Typically of me I began to babble....and muttered my way to the entrance. How do they expect us to walk barefoot all over the place, I can't do it, I don't like it, this is so, so.....'M' was ahead of me and as she pushed open the door, she heaved a loud sigh of relief.

 

"Thank god they have carpeted the place!" she exclaimed, "It wasn't there the last time I was here."

 

I followed her in and did indeed calm down considerably. But did I mention the sky was overcast with dark, ominous clouds that threatened to pour down visciously on my pretty red chappals that were lying out in the open in a horrible metal shoe rack? No, I didn't tell you that before. Well, now I had something else to stress about....my footwear getting drenched. I like that red pair; what will I wear if it gets wet? I'll have to walk back out the gate and into slush all the way to the car. Yuck!! I responded mechanically to the receptionist's instructions, paid whatever she asked, not actually registering anything. 

 

I hardly paid any attention to anything else until I was told: " Sit down. Put your chin here, and press your forehead against this metal band, Aunty."

 

"Aunty...???!!!!" All of a sudden I became very aware of the people around me, of the wobbly, round, steel stool on which I was trying hard not to wobble and of the fact that I had become the technician's aunt! I mean I know the way society functions in our parts, I'm 'auntyji' to cab drivers, my domestic help, the younger women who reside as my neighbours and anyone who thinks I'm worthy of their 'respect'...but not in places like hospitals, malls, restaurants etc, etc. Ridiculous....if my emotions and thoughts could be viewed as a film, I'd take the Oscar for Drama Queen! I was totally into all the hullabaloo I was making about nothing really. Come to think of it, I was beginning to enjoy the cultural differences I was encountering along the way. It's amazing how even city to city in India can give you a culture shock if you're not accustomed to the culture of the region. I had been away too long in a different environment and it took me a while to see the other point of view. 

 

I was on a roller coaster ride that day....and I had leeway for full-on drama. However, by the time I heard the final diagnosis I had spent myself and was tired. The doctor informed me I was headed towards Glaucoma and there would be a medical intervention...call it operation if you will. 

 

That did it. I had had enough drama for one day....

I took out my camera and we headed into the main city to just drive around, shoot and enjoy the ride in a light drizzle that started after I had retrieved my precious red chappals and was safely in the car....It didn't matter that there was a 'bandh' in the city that day. To my mind it was a minor event after my experiences!!

 

 

 

The Mall: Mac Donald's

 

I was happy to hear the city boasted of a Mac dee's (colloquial term for Mac Donald's) and we headed there. It's tourist season and there were a lot of foreign tourists coming in to have a bite. The place faces the walk way into the mall, and has a glass front. So people on either side could look in or out as the case may be.

 

No sooner had some 'goras' (Whites) settled in at the tables against the glass front, a horde of young boys collected outside and pressed their faces, noses and all, against the glass and began staring at the food much to the distress of two women. A man sitting all by himself was not the least bit bothered by this and I thought he must have been warned or was made of stronger stuff. But the two pretty young things were horrified. They found it hard to even lift a burger off the plate...biting into one under those staring eyes seemed almost impossible. We ourselves found it quite offending, but what can one do? The guards chased them away but they would sneak in again...short of tying them up there was nothing that could stop them. One more very new and different experience for me!!  

 

I decided to help the women out and told them to take our table which was further inside and would distance them from the unwanted audience. They were so grateful, because no other table was vacant. We laughed as we made the change and they were able to laugh it off too.

 

It happens, perhaps not only in India...I'm sure of that!


31st August, Friday: Nincompoop photographer

It rained with a vengeance today. I tried to capture the sheets of water pouring down onto an already drowning garden.....but realized you can only do that much and no more with a tiny camera and total ignorance of photography!! So the snaps came out with the rain resembling scratches on the surface, and I stuffed them into a folder thoroughly disgusted with my lack of expertise!

A drive and two hot paneer pakoras later, I was feeling on top of the world and a few wasted pics didn't make a dent on my restored good humour. There'll be other rainy days and hopefully a better camera and a more knowledgeable me.....till then I'm content.

 

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The Jodhpur Diary: Sunny Suraj

16th August, Thursday

"Suraj abhi tak nahin aayi,"(the sun hasn't come as yet) said 'M.'

"Isn't 'suraj' masculine gender and shouldn't it be 'suraj nahin nikla aaj'?(the sun hasn't risen today) I said showing off my very limited knowledge of Hindi.

My friend 'M' laughed and told me that she was referring to her domestic help named Suraj, hence the feminine gender in the verb 'aayi.' 

Suraj is a Hindi word and it means sun. We have a Suraj bringing in her sunny disposition everyday into the house. She's talkative, ever ready to help and she has an opinion about everything and doesn't keep it to herself. But she's not arrogant or obnoxious in her candour. It's just the way the local working class people are in this city. They are simple and uncomplicated. They have no compunctions in expressing whatever they feel and social etiquette as we know it does not exist for them.

So I met Suraj for the first time the day I arrived. She gave me the once-over. Staring isn't taboo for her and neither is eavesdropping, if she's within hearing distance. There was no conversation between us and that was normal for me, as my domestic help doesn't make small talk with my guests and that is the norm in our parts. However that wasn't the reason for Suraj's silence. Two days later, she decided to break the ice!

It was Janamashtami. This is a major Hindu festival which celebrates the birth of Lord Krishna. Usually the womenfolk observe a fast and eat one meal which doesn't have onions, garlic and common table salt. They use rock salt in food during fasts.

I was comfortably ensconced on a sofa in the sitting room, lost in a book and oblivious to the preparations going on for the day. A voice broke into my cocoon of silence.

"Vrat rakha kya?" (Are you fasting?) I looked up to see a pretty Rajput face smiling at me. Suraj had decided to speak!

"Nahin" (No) was my brief reply. She mulled over this a moment.

"Vrat rakhte nahin kya?" (You don't fast at all?) I heard the surprise in her voice.

"Nahin," another brief reply. She thought over this a bit longer.

"Teej ka vrat toh karte hoge" (you must be fasting on Teej) Teej is another major festival in Rajasthan.

Another short negative reply bombed her this time. She shut up. She walked away leaving me amused by her expressions and mannerisms. If I thought that was the end of discussions on the topic of fasting, I had another thought coming.

Later that evening while my friend's daughter and I were salivating over some hot snacks and going yummmm, our friend Suraj walked up to me and said, "Bhooke nahin reh sakte ho, par mandir toh jao," (If you can't stay hungry, at least you can go to the temple) and she walked away leaving us in splits. She must think I'm the biggest atheist in town. What a tiny world she lives in! However, I was not offended by her bluntness, she was genuinely flummoxed by my apparent disregard for God.

Today I was alone at home,the others were out seeing to various jobs. So it was just Suraj and I. She had observed many things since my arrival and was aware that I have a problem with stairs and generally avoid them when I can. But today she wanted me to have a look at the wooden floor in one of the bedrooms upstairs. Due to the wet weather it had swollen up in parts and she found it odd. I refused to budge. She wouldn't take a no. She held my hand and coaxed me to climb two flights of stairs as slowly as was comfortable for me! After she showed me what she wanted to show, and said all that she had to say about wooden flooring, she guided me down slowly, gently and full of concern for my condition. I knew that she would soon have something to say about my knees and my back and my general health. What I didn't know was how soon! I had barely seated myself on a chair and she started.

"Aastha jante ho?"(Do you know about Aastha?)

"Haan, TV par dekha hai" (Yes, I've seen it on TV) I thought she was referring to one of the channels on TV.

"TV par bhi aa gaya!!" (It's on TV too) she sounded amazed. Then she added, "Aap wahan gaye kya?" (Have you been there?)

"Kahan?"(where?) was my monosyllabic reply

"Aastha. Ghar ke peeche hi hai."(Aastha. It's right behind the house)

I knew we were talking about two different things. But I kept quiet and didn't respond. She carried on, undeterred by my reluctance to continue the conversation.

"Ek jagah hai. Buddhe log rahte hain" (It's a place where old men and women stay)

"Achcha, par mere ko kyun bata rahe ho" (okay but why are you telling me this?)

"Achchi jagah hai. Kaam waale rakhein hain safai ke liye, khaana banane, kapde dhone, press karne. Doctor bhi aate hain. Bahut achchi jagah hai. Guard bhi hain...subah, shaam"

(It's a nice place. They have workers to keep the place clean, cook food, do the laundry and ironing. Doctors visit regularly. It's a very nice place. They even have guards at the gate...morning and evening)

I maintained my silence.

"Ek baar dekh kar aao. Badhiya jagah hai buddhon ke liye. Bachhe nahin rakhte hain toh yeh log yahan aate hain. Kabhi apna koi nahin hota toh yeh jagah sahi hai."

(Go and see it once at least. It's a great place for oldies. When children don't look after their old parents they come here. If one has no relatives it's the right place to come to)

Finally I got it. Her concern for me was touching though ill-placed. I assured her I had no interest in visiting Aastha and I'd take her word that it was an ideal place for oldies....but I didn't qualify as one right now, and by God's grace I had children who looked after me! This seemed to make her happy and she smiled a broad smile and went into the kitchen. I was off the hook and relaxed, but not for long. She popped her head out the door and asked, "Ramdevda mela dekha kya? Main aapko le jaoongi" (Have you been to the Ramdev fair. I'll take you there)

"NAHIN, nahin jaana hai" (NO, no I don't want to go) I said rather firmly emphasizing the 'no' as much as I could. She gave up without a fight.

So even though the skies remain overcast, we have our Suraj everyday...sunny, warm and caring in her own way!

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The Jodhpur Diary: A desert waiting for the rain

August 14, Tuesday

It's raining.

It's been raining since yesterday afternoon, continuously in varying degrees of intensity, from heavy downpour to mild showers to drizzles to needle sprays. There are few things as beautiful as a desert monsoon. It's magical....it's sheer revival, a return to vitality for a thirsting soil, and its flora and fauna. It's been great that my arrival coincided with the onset of the wet season. The garden my friend 'M' has so lovingly and painstakingly grown is a sight to behold. The flowers are blooming with brighter shades of red, pink, blue, purple....and the leaves are a greener shade of green....if you know what I mean!!

Imagine morning and evening walks in a fine, light needle spray shower, and getting thoroughly drenched in a heavy downpour just for the heck of it.....and there's Norah Jones singing:

Like a flower

Waiting to bloom
Like a light bulb
In a dark room
I'm just sittin' here
Waiting for you
To come on home
And turn me on

Like the desert
Waiting for the rain
Like a school kid
Waiting for the Spring
I'm just sittin' here
Waiting for you
To come on home
And turn me on

Holidays turn my world upside down. My days start later than I'd like them to and end later than what's good for me....but I'm not complaining...it's heavenly to forget routines and schedules once in a while. Especially when a late, late night can give you a scare and goose bumps!

It was one of those nights when I Skype with my son in Canada at around midnight our time. Alyssa gets back from playschool then and I get my quota of baby-watching and chatting. So here I was after one such session and it was around 1.30 am, and sleep was elusive. I decided to catch up with some pending work on the net. As I tapped away at the keys, I was distracted by a sound that didn't fit into the usual night sounds I had experienced in my new environs. Then came a waft of cologne. Who on earth would bathe or shave or whatever and use cologne at this hour, I wondered and decided the thought was as ridiculous as the imagined activity itself. But then it happened again and again.
Bandicoot rats in the cupboard I screamed silently...I had lost my voice as soon as the thought occurred!

I sat petrified in front of the lappy, my fingers frozen above the keys. The petrifying insanity lasted a few seconds and I was back to rationality. There were bandicoot rats around the place but none inside the house, I reasoned. What if one slipped in and was in a cupboard and jumping over cologne and perfume bottles and releasing the fragrance, said the other part of my mind that I sometimes listen to, especially at moments like these. One would think I wanted to heighten the prospect of fear and enjoy the goose bumps that had started to bump up my spine and arms. "That's the stupidest thing you've thought in some time," I said and continued with my work. But once you lend a ear to neglected thought processes they don't let go so quickly.

"It's a burglar at the door."

Oh yeah, he doused himself with perfume to commit a burglary. Pathetic!

"It's someone in the house who felt like having a bath...it's possible."

Haan, but highly improbable.

"I know, it's an apparition. Remember what happened in Mohali?"

Now, my saner mind was listening. That wasn't good. I looked toward the room to my left, and my own room to the right. Nothing felt wrong. I relaxed.

Rubbish. Your imagination is running wild.

"Oh yeah, then why aren't you looking at the staircase behind you?"

That did it. I just didn't want to look at the staircase behind me. Then it happened again...a kind of whoosh and slight crackle, and the fragrance. I realised it was closer and to my left. Was someone outside the side door?

I turned just as the whooshing sound occurred and it hit me! There on the wall above the wrought iron screen was the room freshner dispenser....I laughed my way to bed and deep slumber and the whooshing fragrant ghost kept vigil.

My holiday is so holidayish and lovely!!

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Westward Bound: The Jodhpur Diary

Wednesday, 8th Aug

It was 6.oo a.m and I had managed to catch a few hours of sleep. I am always jumpy and nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof, the night before I have to travel somewhere....it could be anywhere, even a three hour train journey!

I looked out of the window and groaned. The skies were overcast: dark, ominous clouds hung heavy with their burden. No, no not now. Not when I have to leave....a downpour was the last thing I wanted to happen.

The airport is a forty-five minute drive from my home, if I don't get stuck in long car queues at traffic lights and the toll gates. I had a 10.15 am flight to catch. As a person with special requirements (read assistance) I couldn't check-in online and that meant I had to allow for check-in time too. I had asked my nephew, V, to accompany me so I would not have any problems with my 'special' assistance! Later I would be more than glad that he came along.

I was ready, baggage weighed, locked and ready at the door. I made a last minute check on the to-do list stuck on my notice board....yes, everything done and now where was the cab?

Right on cue, my phone rang; the cab had arrived. The baggage went down, I went down and everything went into the car. Now it was time to ring V. No answer....one more call.....two more calls later, I discovered he'd fallen asleep. Who wouldn't after a long night's work followed by a long drive back home!! I was grateful he had agreed to come with me. A short wait and he was in the cab and we were airport bound. I checked the time.....we were good with about fifteen minutes to spare above the forty-five minute time frame for check-in. I relaxed.

Just as I was beginning to enjoy the drive I heard a sound and saw the driver's left foot frantically stepping on a limp clutch....a school bus was honking on our tail. My heart sank. The clutch cable had snapped. We rolled to a halt and I whispered....a stage whisper mind you....."I'm going to miss my flight."

"No, no, we'll make some arrangements," said V very confidently.


That's one of the reasons I wanted him to come along. He's resourceful! I settled down with a deceptively calm exterior and waited, while the cabbie called for another vehicle. V was making some calls of his own.....a vehicle would come eventually, but would it be in time? But V was still sure I'd be on that plane and I believed him. I am sure I would have had a coronary something, if he hadn't been there!

Another cab arrived just when nephew dear decided to use his arrangements. Transfer of baggage, and we were airport bound. I looked up and saw the driver looking at me in the mirror.

"Don't worry ma'am," he said, "I won't let the flight go without you."

Tall claim, but I knew what he meant! A quick look at my watch and I knew we'd cut it very fine, but I'd get on that flight. A consolation short-lived. I was on a diurectic, and it kicked in just then....I had to go and I had to go right now....major emergency! We were approaching a traffic light and there were a whole lot of vehicles already there and more coming behind us. The driver made a snap decision and took a left turn into a slip road. I knew what he was doing. He knew English and had obviously understood my condition and urgent requirement. A right turn brought us to Ramada and the necessary facilities.

My nephew and I walked in and while he engaged the receptionists with queries, I located the washroom. Time was running out! Still we walked out laughing with our own discoveries. The nephew was thrilled with the brunch/breakfast tariffs and I was happy with the maintenance of the washrooms. Silly things to rejoice about at that time it would seem! We looked for the cab, it wasn't where we left it. A quick search and phone call and we were on our way again. There was very little time left now. We had lost the fifteen minutes of extra time. I was seriously on my knees again. Please Jesus we don't need a rush at the toll plaza, no traffic snarls and I would like to be on that flight. It was all answered.

We got to a lane with few cars at the Toll, and traffic was light. I made it to the check-in counter just as it was closing. If I wasn't one of the special requirements person (read wheelchair required) the lady behind the counter wouldn't have been so accommodating and pleasant.


Now began my long wait for a delayed flight. A half hour delay was quickly followed by huge relief on boarding. The tiny craft was packed and I felt like a sardine. We must have been air-borne for a quarter of an hour before we hit bad weather. It's horrible to be seated in the tail section when there's turbulence...worse when you're in a small plane, which I was in, and it's added drama when the buffeting brings on loud creaking sounds....


The Captain announced our arrival at Jodhpur and before I could even complete my long sigh of relief, he announced that landing would be delayed due to some Air Force exercise or something (my hearing was impaired by then)...so we circled the Jodhpur sky which was heavy with dark clouds and quite windy. But eventually we did land and I was able to complete my long sigh of relief!

I had made it and I sent my Big Friend a 'thank you' note and Amen!



PS: It rained heavily AFTER we took off from Delhi. It rained continuously AFTER I reached my destination in Jodhpur. What more can one ask for.....except hot pakoras, gulgullas and ginger tea!!

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Such Is Life....one day at a time!

I pick myself up and will my fingers to the keyboard. The white, blank page or more accurately box opens up on the screen. I'm supposed to be adding a new post; at least that's what my mind tells me...."Am I?" I wonder. So what was it I had to write about, talk about....I try to get my thoughts together, as my fingers slowly start moving willingly and more quickly over the letters on the keyboard. It has been a long, long time since I wrote anything here. But I have been thinking many things, pondering, wondering, googling for facts, explanations....how strange that my mind was frantically active in its quest even while my body refused to keep pace. Did I just say "pace"? Forget pace, I just allowed myself to blend into the stuff around the place....a piece of furniture, a wall flower, a curio, a stuffed bear...lying around doing nothing. I cooked, I ate. I ate, I slept. I walked, I sat, I answered the phone, I laughed when I had to, I spoke when I was spoken to; I could well be a robot...hmmm quite a good one, if it weren't for my mind that continued with life on a different plane. I guess that's what maintains equilibrium. Ennui can get you real bad if you don't get the best of it fast.

There's so much I would like to write about, and the only way I can do that is to sit down and write. I just allowed myself to succumb to the bane of erratic and long power cuts which also meant no internet. I suppose it is okay to get bogged down once in a while, provided one can pick oneself up and out of the doldrums too, without any serious implications or repercussions of depression!

On the brighter side I have been working on my cooking blog www.chef-on-the-run.blogspot.in which is all about quick, simple and easy everyday cooking. And then a bit of FB where I maintain a page D Stepladder 2 Hope, with illustrated quotes and such. 

I'm looking to many changes in my life, and as I'm not a person who likes changes too much, I guess the waiting and not knowing pulls me down at times. Actually there is a big contradiction in my mind towards change. I get bored of mundane routine in anything and look for changes which I welcome and adapt to quickly and happily. And on the other hand I don't want certain things to change within that old framework!! I resist it, I fight it before I finally settle into and accept it. Is that a bad thing....I don't think so but it certainly makes things complicated!

Anyway for today, there's no inertia and I'm brimming with energy and getting into seriously tackling the writing plans and tasks I have set  for myself. I know there will be dips again when I won't have one thought I can translate into words; a writer's block or mental block, whatever. That's how it goes and c'est la vie!

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God give me an Ark, puhlese...

With both my elder sisters in boarding school, and just my brother and I at home, I took the full brunt of Mummy’s disciplining. My brother was a meek soul; quiet and docile, who wouldn’t question anything mom or dad said. On the other hand, I was a fire- brand. I’d have to ask ten thousand questions before I’d do anything, and if my questions were not answered to my satisfaction I’d argue my case endlessly. If my mother got exasperated, I don’t blame her. I must have been a handful for her. She blamed daddy, poor man, for my argumentative nature and endless questioning. I would go into a fit of giggling as she’d grumble how my tongue was growing faster than I was. This only added fuel to the fire.


Ours was a legalistic, religious home. My biggest rebellion against religious restrictions arose from the ban on singing anything other than hymns and choruses and I wanted to belt out ‘Travelling light...,’ ‘Lipstick on your collar’...,’ ‘One and a-two, I love you..,’ So I retaliated by refusing to pray out loud. I would say that I wanted to pray in my mind. Daddy was fine with it, trusting that I would pray but mum knew it was a ruse. Anyway, my enthusiastic participation in singing at evening family prayer mollified her. I remember once she caught me in one of those rare, pliable moods and cajoled me to pray loudly. I did. It went like this....


“Jesus bless mummy, bless Daddy, bless Faith sister, bless Ruth sister, bless Jasper brother......” and I proceeded to name each of our uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents, friends and call blessings on them. She tried to interrupt me, but I was so caught up with remembering names I refused to listen. Finally, when I had done with the names I had to end the prayer but I was loath to do so. I was having such a good time. So I decided to “bless the people who were in, and bless the people who were out, and bless the people who were in and out.” By the time I reached ‘Amen’ my mother's expression was unreadable. She never coaxed me to pray aloud again.


We were in Cochin (Kochi) those days. This city is in Kerala and situated on the coast of the Arabian Sea. It never rains in Kerala, it pours cats and dogs. The thunder-storms and lightning scared the daylights out of me. My brother would sleep like a log through the worst storm but I’d cower in my bed or then roll into his. When Daddy wasn’t home I’d run to Mummy and climb into bed with her, clinging so tightly to her that she’d have to loosen my arms. One terribly stormy day, it was very bad. I lifted my head and peeked through the window. I couldn’t see a thing for the sheets of rain water pouring down. I lay down again, my little heart was skipping a tad too fast. I shook up my brother.


“What is it?” he asked sleepily.

“It’s very bad outside. I haven’t seen so much of rain ever. What is going to happen? Will there be a flood?”

“Could be,” he mumbled and dropped off.


I had to know if there would be a flood. I jumped out of bed and stood at the window. The garden was water-logged and I couldn’t see the low shrubs. We’re going to drown, I thought. I panicked because I did not know how to swim. At such times for some unearthly reason, the mind recalls the most impossible things. Mine called up the story of the flood from Sunday school. ‘Everyone had died except Noah and his family,’ it prompted me. Think girl. I thought. Right there by the window, I folded my hands and said my first sincere prayer, out loud.

“Dear Jesus, you promised not to destroy the world with floods. I learned that in Sunday school. I know I have been stubborn and I make Mummy angry, but I am a good girl. So please give me an Ark like Noah had. I promise I will listen to Mummy. I will pray. I will not sing the songs I shouldn’t be singing. I will not even use those bad words I use sometimes. Please give me an Ark. Thank you.”

I was so exhausted by the end of it that I slept... as peacefully as a baby.

My prayer was answered, God gave me my Ark..... Faith! This was a turning point in my spiritual life. My Ark of faith has brought me through many a storm and kept us safe and afloat! Prayer is such a wonderful way to connect with the Creator.

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Letters In The Wind

I’m in my balcony every morning, early, when the birds and chipmunks are at their talkative best; the Koel has begun her riyaaz and cool breezes make you forget you’re in the middle of a North Indian summer. It’s a great place to pray, to meditate, because nature’s morning raga brings so much of serenity despite the cheeps and chirps and twitters.


My mind was at peace as I gazed over the tree-tops into a beautiful clear sky, when swirling and twirling a feather came into view...and then another and another. They were in different sizes but all looked the same; like quills writing letters in the wind!

I leaned over the wall and looked up. I couldn’t see from where they came, but guessed the wind had flicked them out of some pigeon’s little nook. They were caught in a current, erect like quills, turning on their own axis, moving on invisible paper as if an unseen hand was writing in the wind, and I wanted those letters to be mine!

Though they spun wildly, they remained vertical and floated slowly to the ground, buffeted gently by the breeze they swayed to the whims of the wind and bobbed up and down. They were happy quills, busy quills!

I thought of my camera, then decided against it. I would have missed that beautiful sight and eventually not caught anything on film or video. It was one of those brief moments of exquisite, sweet, pain that tugs at your heartstrings with a yearning for something inexplicable, yet perfectly understood by the soul.

The sharp intake of breath at the first sight, the joy, the smile that involuntarily played on my lips, the words that came as a whisper: What do you write with such joyous strain? No camera could have captured that moment the way my mind did.

The little joys of life are so great.


Glossary:
Riyaaz..........to practice. Usually used when refferring to the training or exercise of classical singers, dancers.

Koel.............It is a bird which sings beautifully

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I'm adding things....

I'm taking too many breaks from this blog, too many. Is it good? I don't know perhaps it isn't good (for the blog) but the time not spent here has definitely been put to good use. I have started a new blog called chef-on-the-run and I would like you to visit it http://www.chef-on-the-run.blogspot.in/ It is new and hardly a week old. But I like working on it and hope you will step in to read and motivate me.

I have a birthday coming up this month! Am I looking forward to it? Well, the answer is I have mixed feelings this year. After celebrating two birthdays alone, I'm pretty sure it isn't much fun without my children and grand daughter, and I would rather not make any attempt to have any parties. I am extremely alone at them, even while I'm flitting around talking one to the dozen and grinning from ear to ear!

This year I will celebrate quietly. I will celebrate:

- my journey thus far...it's been anything but boring; it's been a joy

- me...I am Joy

- my family...they give me joy (even over the distance)

- my alone-ness...the solitude has strengthened me and built me up spiritually and that's a big source of joy

- my work...for the joy it gives

There's so much I can be happy about and so much to celebrate! So bring out the cake, a good book, a good movie and, some good music.....I want to bathe in it.


I am planning on giving this blog a new look, you know spruce it up, make it look crisper. Can I do that? No, not now, I can't. I'm technically lame so as soon as I get a friendly crutch you'll see some changes for the better. Till then... I'll continue adding things: Blogs, years, pounds....!?

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Before I Kick The Bucket ?!

"Dream small that your dreams may come true.  Dream large that you may always have a dream." (Robert Brault )

I have a list of things I'd like to do in my lifetime, and it grows longer each year! The more years I add, the more dreams I have. It doesn't matter that ground realities make most of them highly improbable and near impossible. Before I added any more this year, I decided to pick out the top ten....actually it's only the first nine that I really want to happen....the tenth is a fun thing that makes me laugh, but if it does happen wow!  So here goes.....

This one has topped the list ever since I wrote it....a house of my own!

To compile a cookbook with family recipes that have come down the years, for posterity.

Publish some of my work....small would also do.

Finally make a friend; a 3.00 am one; one who has no personal agenda attached to the friendship except being a friend in the truest sense of the word, who will be there whenever needed come hail or sunshine!!

Spend some time luxuriating at Ananda spa in the Himalayas

Take the Orient Express through Europe...bliss!

Fly business/first class round trip.....to wherever I want to go!

                                Stomp grapes in France or Italy.

Start a small business of my own!

                                                                             



This last one is self explanatory....:))











Note: I do not own any of the pictures.

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