Just saying...

Sight is a faculty; seeing an art.

2011-10-01T12:53:00.000-07:00

http://gee-ja.fotopages.com/?&page=6

Nature springs surprises in myriad ways and mostly these delight the heart and refresh the mind. My last rendezvous with the twin concretes had left me feeling lonely and banished the erstwhile complacency i had.

And maybe it will sound incredible and like i'm making it up... spinning a drama out of nothing. But this is no such story. This is the truth and nothing but the whole truth. About personal experiences and just like always i'd love to share this too.

Sometimes certain things looks beautiful instantaneously. Other times things start looking appealing on repetitive sightings. i have had this feeling when at first sight a particular thing or person i am detached and least bit inclined but then regular encounters instills attachments to such an extent that i chide myself at missing all that beauty before and not having admired or appreciated in the first instance. How easy it is to overlook the endearing aspects and search instead for projections of your own falsified wants.

Let me simplify this thought by asking a question. Has it ever happened to you when on first sight you have rejected a particular color? But later found the same color attractive when you saw it again and again ?

"Look around, pause and linger and then you will find beauty in everything you see" i remember the words i had read somewhere. Even the most repulsive to you will definitely have something which you might be lacking in and it could be anything physical...eyes, hands, hair or even some attribute that deserves credit and much applause. Patience, humility, or a particular skill that one can never imagine of having... so it could be anything. i don't know if this happens with others but generally we accept and reject on impulse. Mostly becoming judgmental even before knowing anything or anyone properly.

i am trying to improve upon that and i sincerely feel that nature is providing me with enough support by bestowing all the valuable lessons in it's humbly effective way.

Apart from the other two cases of instant attraction and attraction on repetition, rarely there could be instances when behind the most ordinary you find something extraordinary. Rather this experience tells me that everything is special and nothing actually is ordinary. Maybe things are common but everything is special just like i am. As a species i am as common as a crow but also very special and there is none like me.

Thus the four days i spent in that part of the city in that particular township which had beautiful houses and well manicured lawns and posh exteriors i never missed a single day to take time out of my itinerary and indulge in solitary walks. Even if it meant getting up early at the crack of dawn when the body is stubborn to lift itself from the comfortable bed and fight the deep restful slumber.

And it was on one such dawn when nature whispered the most amazing discourse which i'm so eagerly yapping about.

i passed the twin concretes and looked at them again. i was still in my night pajamas and was just too conscious to feel anything but the morning freshness as i glanced alternating my sights to the twin houses, other houses, the trees, the blossoms and the trendily dressed morning walkers who wiz passed me .

Something caught my attention, a wisp of green, magenta fluttering out from one of the parallel walls of the concrete twins. The arrow in the picture should be able to guide as to precisely from where what fluttered in the morning breeze and caught the attention of my wandering eye.

The nameless of the twins had a man sitting at what i presume should be the entrance to the living room of the house. i went a little closer to the gate and sought his permission to come inside the house so that i could have a better look at what had caught my attention. The man would have nodded but since his face was in the dark all i could make out was his pleasant voice which said, '' Haan jee jaroor aa jayeye aur acchi tarah dekh lijiye." ( Hindi language that oozed respect for a stranger and said, "Yes please do come inside, and feel comfortable as you see to your heart's content.")

What i saw was something i had never seen before. For sometime i stood stunned, speechless in admiration and awe. Nature had not only surprised me pleasantly but also aroused a certain amount of pride which is associated with discovery. i felt like a naturalist who has stumbled upon something unique. i was bombarded with a flood of emotions and thoughts and this time i felt my eyes watering with joy unlimited.

Stuck on the white concrete was the prettiest grass that i had ever seen. Grass! that's what i called it then.

NO, ordinary grass this but a pretty flowering one.

i was lost in oblivion, as i soaked in the beauty and was happy dwelling in this wonderland where something as common as grass, hidden from common sight looked towards the walls of the nameless house extending a wondrous wreath/ bouquet of happiness and friendship. i am sure that along with the silent happy wall the occupants of that house would be receiving pleasure and warmth too whether wittingly or unwittingly.

Jolted rudely out of my reverie, i sensed the vibrating mobile ringing in my clutched palm and for yet another time i wished i was mobile less. i peered into the screen to see my husband calling me. i attended his call and pleaded him to come and share the joy with me.

i was desperete to share the hidden beauty with apparently grass like foliage and white veined with purple/magenta-pink flower having erect five lobed center which in itself looked like a minute flower in the middle of another.

During the day as i went on with my affairs of sightseeing the beauty lingered in my minds eye and i also remembered what William Wordsworth had once said upon sighting a host of Daffodils.

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
and twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
in such a jocund company:
I gazed - and gazed - but little thought
what wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

The discourse also rang inside me. Maybe some times you don't have to wander over hills, valleys or lakes for nature to delight you. Beauty that invigorates and rejoices is around us if only we care. Also you don't need numbers in plenty to give you bliss in solitude. For even when you are not in vacant or in pensive mood some visions do give you pleasure nevertheless. Because a thing of beauty is joy forever. Even a single is enough to give you delight every time you have flashes of that. Definitely it could be something that is not discernible at first but nature has bestowed its bounty among all and sundry and therefore everything and everyone is special and unique." To look at a thing is very different from seeing it." (Oscar Wilde)

i guess i understand somewhat now what it means when it is said, '' Sight is a faculty; seeing an art. "http://www.todayinsci.com/M/Marsh_George/MarshGeorge-Quotations.htm

My Botanica listing A-Z of 10,000 species gave me no clue about this grass maybe because it enlists 10,000 and not all. But an intensive search for approximately five days although not full days but intermittently typing colors, foliage, type on the internet did provide me with sufficient identification.

Rosy Milkweed Vine

Later i spoke to my one and only naturalist friend and sent him the picture through mail and he confirmed that the grass i had sighted was not actually a grass but a vine/ creeper known as Rosy Milkweed Vine. He also congratulated me for my sighting because he said that he has not seen it ever and was seeing it for the first time in my picture. Needless to say then i was on cloud nine...and remained so for the rest of the few days.

For the rest of the days through my lows and highs the vision lingered with me as a "jocund company" not only to bring me cheer and pride but more to remind me what they call in photography jargon as using the OUTDOOR EYE. " You already have certain moments when you use your Outdoor Eyes...you just have to learn how to use your Outdoor Eyes all the time." Although this was voiced as an important diktat for On-The-Go ie OTG photography http://www.outdooreyes.com/photo7a.php3 yet the essence of this can be applied to the way we see things generally.
Mostly we agree and are okay with all our tunnel visions. It is not surprising then we miss out on the most amazing opportunities,"To see a world in a grain of sand / And a heaven in a wild flower, / Hold infinity in the palm of your hand / And eternity in an hour." (William Blake)

Linear Lance like leaves

Botanical name: Oxystelma esculentum Family: Asclepiadaceae (Milkweed family)

10-15 cm flowers

In order to bring all together i must say that i am deeply in reverence to that energy out there, that magnetism, that force which made me find beauty where i least expected it to be...in the gaps.
Some worship the energy and call it God. Even i do but i must say there are times i start having doubts.
Then something in nature brings me around and i see the essence of God in nature. The simplest things have the most profound beauty.

i want to make some necessary changes in myself and i have realized that in order to bring these changes i have to learn to accept people as they are. If and when i find gaps i have to remind myself that it is in the gaps that sometimes beauty is found.
"Compassion is a better vehicle for change than judgment."
i wish this today not only for me but for all who like me want this perception to remain constant rather than it being a transient one like always.

i am also glad that i took a decision long time back when i decided to slow down, forgive myself , count the blessings and enjoy each moment of my new found profession.

Okay time for me to stop the Ml ( moral lecture) and remember that it is Saturday and the color for Saturday is Purple or Black. Since i have already delivered purple maybe i'll go for Black this time.

Black Calla Lilies

http://onlineflowersguide.com/black-flowers/black-calla-lily.html

"Black calla lilies are head-turning flowers. Mysterious and elegant, they are a real fantasy. Although not true black in color, the maroon and deep purple shades are very similar to the pure black. Black calla lilies are rarer than the traditional white calla lilies and maybe this is why they are so searched for by gardeners and so appreciated by flower lovers."

My sincere thanks to Karthik of http://www.wildwanderer.com/journal/ and http://www.flowersofindia.in/catalog/vine.html . Had it not been for my friend and this internet site i would still be calling the Rosy Milkweed vine/ creeper that also has another variety with plain white flowers as, "just a flowering grass".

Image courtesy:http://www.flowersofindia.in/catalog/vine.html

http://gee-ja.fotopages.com/?&page=6

Thank You All But Could You Also Help Me In This?

2011-09-18T08:02:00.000-07:00

i asked the driver to raise the voice of the radio because i had caught the voice and was wanting to listen to it like it resounded with a home theater effect inside the all closed car. It was raining heavily outside and the hissing, grating sound of the wiper was acting the spoiler. i listened first rapt and continued listening to it in my head even when the voice ended and another melodious voice belted out another popular Urdu poetry by the same person whose voice i was hearing. The other melodious singer faded into the background.
This is what i heard.

Although i wish i had a better video to share. One that had the actual person reciting. His voice flooding me with a barrage of emotions first. Then my attempting to stroke those goose pimples which appear suddenly even when it is warm and sultry.
In any case it is not because of any chill that i feel rather with what all i feel for this person whom i always address as Gulzar Saheb just like so many others do. Somehow just Gulzar sounds not only rude but also very disrespectful.
i wish i had a word or words to describe that voice. About the gentleman himself i have many.

There are times when i also wish for a long but genuine list of followers from whom there could be a mutual exchange of ideas, thoughts, questions asked first and then answered honestly.
It was not the general idea when i started blogging. In fact i least understood what followers are supposed to do or be.
Then someone came to my blog and becomes my FIRST follower.
Afterwards there is one whose questions are answered by all including me sometimes with a lot of enthusiasm and sincerity.

That first follower has a special place in my mind, heart because he ( i know that it's a he thanks to his identity) encouraged a nonentity like me when he is too good in his writing. i have enjoyed his wit, his humor, his intellectual thoughts on issues and also his passing random thoughts. Sometimes when i have words i convey my thoughts through comments, other times i appreciate but mostly read his blogs when and if he posts a new one. His last post leaves me in the lurch because it shows an interesting teaser of a picture and the title of the post but the moment i click on the post i get this instead of the post," Sry the blog you are looking for does not exist...". There are a list of options and although i've tried the options i am not able to see this particular which is his latest. Maybe i'll go to his last post and leave him a message.

It was when he presented me a badge which germinated another urge.
Although the badge had certain rules i found it extremely difficult to follow the rules not only because i hadn't read many blogs but also because i was not too comfortable at being discriminatory or biased in my opinion. Furthermore i hadn't read many and was myself a follower of just a few of which some were my own friends whom i knew.
i was happy with just being an impartial audience. Actually i still am so far as blogs are concerned.
So the urge was to know how he looks like in person. i actually checked him out on Facebook and found an image that matched this Scientist working on his researches abroad. i could be wrong but some intuition tells me that the black and white thoughtful profile (actually a profile shot) of a bespectacled person is him.
That urge withered as soon as it had germinated as i wondered how many are checking me out.

Then there is this blogger whose posts i eagerly await and a couple of his posts i have even shared on Facebook. He makes me laugh and on those two instances i felt like sharing the laughter.
His being an atheist does not put me off the least bit because i am not only entertained but enlightened with his logical reasonings. i understand his silence on my posts which have a religious bend. But enjoy his infrequent comments on others in which sometimes he mocks and other times, appreciates. His best ones are when he advises without getting the real essence of what i'm trying to say.
It generally happens with my posts which are often like the movie 'Inception' and i don't blame him. i look forward to his words with added fervor because then i like improving upon myself knowing very well that there's someone out there who is trying to be helpful with his, " Hello Shivani... I am listening..."

Now i'm wondering if this post too may turn out to be the one having layers within layers. Although frankly speaking there are only two layers to this which have been summed up in the title of the post.

There also are a few poets whom i follow because these poets leave me astounded. Their poetry easy to feel, understand and relate to. i have a clearer vision of some beautifully genuine people who reaffirm my faith in being good naturally no matter how or what the world sees you to be.
i lack the skill for composing anything lyrical and that probably could be one of the reasons i have deep respect and admiration for poets whose words have often substantiated like other forms of writing that, ''Pen is mightier than the sword.''
i must confess though that there have been some where i am not able to go deep enough and on such occasions i am glad i feel free to ask for the latent/ suggestive meaning.

There is one particular blogger who entered my life because of his delightful posts on Nature. Flowering trees, Birds, Insects and through his blogs i became more sensitive towards the creatures great and small, beautiful and repulsive, meek and intimidating. It was easy to approach this blogger personally as he had provided an email address with his post. Then started this silsila (schemeof things, order) also known as sought out friendship. First a, 'Thank You' because his post helped me know the name of a beautiful flowering avenue tree, then some chats on the computer, later exchanging of phone numbers and phone calls and now we are friends. We haven't met as yet but i am sure i will meet this Naturalist who provides me with cool companionship, reciprocates my good wishes, answers most of my queries and corrects my wrong identification without any fuss or clamor for credits.
For him my words are not my own but a borrowed one again and it sounds every bit like the good wishes for my known and much- desired- by- me- friends.
Sure i'm under some influence and this influence prompts me towards words that have the same flavor...if not the exact.
"Dur Rhkar Bhi Hamse Vasta Rakhna,
Mulakaat Na Sahi Pr Bato Ka Silsila Rakhna.
Chu Lo Asma Ko Tum, Ye Meri Tammanah,
Pr Hm Tk Vapasi Ka Rasta Rakna."

i am happy today because i have just met another like him and his posts on nature and it's creations reverberate mine. In fact all of the few posts that i have visited makes me dump everything and go through his posts one by one. A well deserved 200- plus- followers- blogger whose posts elicit more than 50 comments.
It may sound false but i don't care how it sounds but i feel honored and humbled when he dropped at my post and exchanged notes. i hope this is the start of another satisfying and enriching SILSILA. Can't help having such expectations. His posts are like that.
Plus he is not like the usual one liner or two words commentor and i really like that sharing of thoughts in a manner which says," I am with you, heard what you just said and this is what i feel..."
And in addition to my gratitude i have the same good wish but i hope the essence of my good wishes are not lost in translation.
Though Distances Let Us Maintain That Relationship
No Meeting But Let's Talk To Each Other
Wish You Touch The Skies, This Is My Deep Desire
But Keep Intact That Path/Road That Leads You Back To Me.

Recently just a few days back i met another sensitive blogger on whom i have pinned my hopes on being a frequent visitor. She too feels honest and sensitive and i look forward to her honest reflections. And through her i have hopes on another.

My Blogdost...i prefer to call him that always. Just like my FIRST he too holds a special place in my heart and mind. We've been loyal to each other since the time i started. His absence makes me miss him to the degree/intensity with which i miss Chennai. And this is what i did.
Scared and bullied with my negative thoughts i approached his son who is also a keen and committed Technical blogger, just to find out if he was okay health wise and otherwise.
i then got a prompt reply which gave me so much relief. God Bless the young aspiring Engineer and may he find success in all his endeavors.
The words of a kind and good son were very soon followed by uplifting- my- spirits- hello from my Blogdost himself through which he apprised me of his hectic schedule, intense backpack travelling and some loose ends that kept him busy so far as his health was concerned.
i wish him good stead and am eager for those words that will arrive with a bang for he sure will want to share so much.
i know the reason for this joy that i feel.
He heard my ''Dur Rhkar Bhi...."

i feel happy but i am still bullied by thoughts for this one too who gave me my second badge. As anyone can see i own two most precious to me badges. Not that i hanker for badges but it feels nice when someone calls you a ' Beautiful' or a 'Versatile' blogger. Once again i have not been honest with the badge because of my own failings to single out some and leave the rest. i am not being goody goody here but i find all the bloggers i follow as beautiful and versatile.
i long to see this fellow blogger whose last post informed me and others of his packing and moving from the foreign land and returning to his roots, India and enjoying every morsel of the food of his land that he missed all those years when he was abroad. He sounded as happy as the kid who is desperate for that last bell to ring in school. The one which announces dismissal and the boisterous, fun ride/ walk back home.
i wish and hope he is not regretting his decision. i already know of some who are.
Silently i hope and pray that he is doing good. Mostly i look for that pleasant surprise which announces his arrival and much awaited by me ( probably others too) comeback.

Similarly i wish good health to another whom i can't see after her last post through which i gather that she's coping with a bad bout of lower back problem. Her post was enlightening always and i hope she is able to peel the onion again. Soon...

Yet another blogger whom i met at a bloggers meet in Chennai graced me with her presence just the very next day when i did a post on the bloggers meet.
It is because of her blogs that i seem to be getting that longing. Not always but sometimes when i have questions or when i want to know more.
Unlike me she is very popular. A busy lady who blogs frequently.
Her blogs are short, interesting, complimented and supplemented wonderfully by the images, poetry, paintings, posters of sayings, she uses. Creative in her thoughts and portrayal, her blogs end with a question eliciting answers and i see that she get's her due quite handsomely.
It is by habitually reading her blog that i am getting this longing too now.
It really would feel great to know from others about what you would want to know than just be groping in the dark.

But before i go to my question i have to linger, sense and absorb the affection and be grateful to my friends and my kith and kin who despite their hectic schedule find the inclination and the time to go through my posts.
They should know better that had it not been for them i would not have taken this journey of self discovery.
They knew before anybody that i should stop tossing, turning, writhing and withering in my own restlessness and made time for myself.

Now to the question, i am having right now.
It is about people...their looks...their voices.

i know what they mean or what it means to be Elegant, Dignified or even Sexy but am clueless about these. Debonair, Suave, Svelte. i know there would be more of such genres but at the moment if i could distinguish between these it would suffice.

About voices i am still worse and use words quite often without really understanding the distinctions.
Rich, throaty and husky i understand and use them correctly in my explanations but Velvety, Mellifluous, Honeyed, Silvery, Smooth, Golden...and there are many others.
It's rather strange that i have no qualms nor queries about these- Shaky; Rough; Hoarse; Husky; Piercing; Rumbling; Quavering; Deep; Growling; Gravelly; Thunderous...
Thus anything or everything of the male voice that sounds good to me is DEEP or just Beautiful.

Some voice that has appealed and allured me greatly to the extent of being bewitched. Why is it that i find lacking in my comprehension to express in words that which should correctly also convey my feelings.
It could be that like other things i am not richly endowed with skills in demonstrative adjectives.
Or it could be that demonstrative adjectives that distinguish might differ from person to person.
Maybe for the time being i can console myself with some sensible reasoning.
Just like it's for the connoisseurs to make out the distinct quality of wines, perfumes, tea, sounds...and the rest. i am no such. Therefore i should just keep loving the voice and rest in peace.

But the fact of the matter is, i can not. i am looking for words.

i am cajoled by my own explanations that it's okay if i can't distinguish between debonair, suave and svelte and maybe call all as a general ' Beautiful' if i find them attractive enough but i can't seem to quell that restlessness every time i address the voice to be beautiful. Somehow that particular word does not satisfy me. To me it sounds not only hopelessly cliched but also like an understatement.

And i wish i could get some inputs to describe this voice that brings goose pimples of a wanting kind every time i hear it. The goose pimples could be because of the extremely thought provoking and touching poetry but the voice that you want to run back to always, listening catching every pause even, what about that voice?
-Is it velvety or is it smooth?
- Is it throaty or deep?
-Is it..???. Oh dear me! i don't have even have enough words for posing the questions even.
How do i describe that voice which is much more than just deep, rich, throaty, velvety or smooth?
Or am i using the wrong words here?

http://www.scena.org/lsm/sm4-1/sm4-1VoiceDoc_en.htm

i wish my fellow bloggers could oblige me with theirs as to how would they would describe this voice too which recites the poetry of Gulzar Saheb.
And i'm telling myself this lest my requests are not heard.
Some feelings might not have the exact words...
i remind myself not to feel disappointed if i don't get anything.

In a way i feel relieved too that i have limited followers.
i am content with what i have said...and asked...
Or this post too would have stretched like always...
And i am at peace that i made no such attempts to make it any less.
However i sincerely hope i have not missed out anyone in acknowledging and asking.
It was not intentional.

How can i forget that it's a Sunday. Just a few minutes back the earth shook for quite a while. We ran downstairs and as i stood seeing the animated faces of people asking me about the shaking i sensed some dread mixed with that anxiety of unfinished jobs. Jobs not as jobs per se but something that would give me satisfaction and make me feel just a little more easy. So of the many unfinished jobs this also was one and i cursed myself for not thanking my fellow bloggers, friends, relatives on the completion of my hundredth post. Lot many do that. Thanking their fellow bloggers on the completion of their century. i cajoled myself once again. " Never mind it's there...that gratefulness... and if everything turns okay then i shall go back to my computer and do it..right NOW."
Thus this...along with my prayers for those who perhaps would not be as fortunate as me. The shakes which stopped after sometime informed me and the others that the epicenter was somewhere...
Soon on TV we shall all know...
Call it a co-incidence but Red apart from other things also stands for AWAKENING.
Color for Sunday-Red

Red Amaryllis

http://yaymicro.com/stock-image/red-amaryllis/357688

Har Ek Friend Zaroori Hota Hai Kya?

2011-09-13T13:46:00.000-07:00

--------Continued from where i left in my last post...rather too long but i had to say and divulge everything...my own failings included.

My son had said and asked, " Ma i have realized you've turned into a recluse...are you okay with that? i mean when i was small you were such an extrovert and a people lover...are you doing good Ma... ?"
To him i had said boldly at first, " Sure Sonna...you know i have a lot of interests to keep me occupied and i actually enjoy this...having all the time to satisfy my fancies and desires without much distractions..."

Then unable to hold myself any longer i had confessed. He heard my sobs too and i hate myself for that.
He suggested some good music and movies and told me something that sounded like genuine words of appreciation that any child has for his mom. Those words warmed me up and made me feel normal once again.Then we bid our cheerio byes and he hung up.
i was alone but not lonely, not this moment at least.

However i felt like our tete e tete was hasty and incomplete. i have not responded fully well to his enquiries.
There was a strong urge to explain so that he could understand better when and how i met with what seems to be my tipping point.

* i wish i could explain to him how through the years this reverse transition gradually happened. From being gregarious to being an introvert.
* i wish i could tell him that i can't single out one because there were many that i wanted to run away from... pretenses, superficiality, shallowness, politics, dishonesty, jealousy, insensitivity, narrow mindedness, then always being misinterpreted for my honesty... scared and bored the hell out of me. Some of these also extinguished my natural vibrancy and spontaneity those two most beautiful attributes that initially saw me center stage. Maybe i was too late to reach that juncture when i could shrug off everything, be me and say, " I DON'T CARE " .
Or else, i was too meek/weak to stand up for myself. Whatever...
* i wish i could tell him that i was tired of impressing and getting impressed even for something that could have been a simple dinner or get together. These felt more like competitive exams whether i was the one invited to or the one in which i was playing the host. i was sick and tired of all those attempts of not only keeping up with the joneses but also those efforts that could make me stand out in the crowd. Whether it was of dressing up differently or digging out an exotic dish to impress the janta (public).
* i wish i could tell him that the membership to the coterie i had always wanted to be a part of was rejected and ignored in spite of my sincerity.

The company of those i desired neither had the inclination nor the time to be interested in me although i must be thankful to them for accepting my dinner/lunch invite each time and every-time. How i longed for their companionship only i know. In fact these lunches/dinners painstakingly organised were cunning excuses on my part just to indulge into their company and know more of them and about them.
One of this very desirable who stayed very close and whom i tried to help to the best of my ability when she was undergoing a rough phase, never ever invited me home what to talk of reciprocating. News from others, what facebook depicts as 'Mutual Friends' would reach me that she did entertain her friends. It hurt bad to realize that i was not the chosen one. Her ignoring me and dropping from the list felt as if she's trying to say, " You don't belong to my successful group ...can't have you any closer...stay put where you are..."
It's funny though how eager i am to talk to her and be with her still, like always.

Whosoever said that friends are the only relations you have full liberty to choose was not thinking very logically i would say.
Here i am...having a number of friends but land up feeling used sometime and forsaken most of the time.
The ones i choose don't accommodate me while those who accommodate me are the ones i'd rather stay as far as possible from.
Tragedy! indeed!

To an outsider it would seem that i am rich with a wide variety of friends but this variety leaves me baffled mostly.
Although i see a bit of myself in every one yet i feel i can't single out even one from that lot, one who reciprocates my efforts and goodwill with the same enthusiasm and honesty. Many a times they even start getting on my nerves.
For instance this old pal from school who stays abroad and who is in her mid forties just like me chooses to dress up and behave hopelessly like a wannabe Western teenager, gets on my nerves. i do not begrudge her dressing or her wanting to be like a youngster, actually i enjoy all that but what puts me off is this.
She analyses every sentence i utter, brags incessantly about her fancy house, frequent barbeque parties that she throws, shows me the kind of dresses that she wears while passing through Marks and Spencers, is on a never ending spree to meet everyone more to declare her flamboyant lifestyle than anything else, later gossips negatively about all the disappointments suffered in the meet because they didn't match up to her, advises me in a manner that mocks, to incorporate in my life all those i avoid (because i can't handle)," Shivani don't be judgmental, meet up with X,Y,Z...." ; this friend thwarts all my attempts of a great comeback and forces me to turn away in disdain.
Unfortunately i am cursed with more that can be slotted into this genre easily and effortlessly.

Also over the years i realized that some friends remember me only when they have to ask for some favors. Not all but some of them.
Still there are others who have materialized thanks to facebook, come home, size me, my family and my belongings up and disappear with the same vaporous quality that saw them sitting in my living room one fine day. There are absolutely no messages nor any calls. No keeping in touch after that.
i feel discarded first like i didn't match up to their expectations later start questioning myself.
"Was it something i said or did? Was i not appealing enough? Is it because i am not pursuing a career? Is it my status then...is it...?"
These friends leave me in the lurch by first seeking me out and then abandoning me.

A few days earlier i left my phone numbers with some whom i felt would reciprocate but excepting one none has bothered. i feel thankful and happy about that one.

Some insult me to the point of ignoring me completely in their conversations on the social networking site.
Another failed attempt i should say about my seeking them out.
i self pat some consolation and tell myself that i should not take these sites seriously and move on.
Move on with added gusto with my own interests.

My reading, my embroidery, my music and movies, my plants, my walks, my window shopping alone, book browsing alone, going to theaters alone then suffices and better still keeps me content if not permanently but temporarily.
Although it would feel great to have not many but few or even one with whom i could share these interests. One who is genuine and doesn't seem like an acquaintance who meandered into my life randomly.

Someone who could take these walks with me, browse through books which sees us joyfully comparing notes, shares my music and movies also suggests me some more from her own selections, chides me when i am mean or even mocks me when i am goody goody, stops by on my blogs and if nothing else is there then sits by me quietly and watches the sunsets, parrots, pigeons...and provides me with that warm and silent companionship. Someone real who enjoys my company while i look forward to hers. Some one who need not be impressed in order to want me. Loves my ordinariness as much as i love hers.

i shun the re-unions because sometimes some friends start seeking favors from my husband the moment they come to know of my husband's designation. Sometimes the favors are easy to deal with and oblige but many a times my husband feels embarrassed and uncomfortable when his efforts fail to give the desired results. It feels awkward and annoying for me too.

Nowadays i have learnt to state the facts honestly. i entertain these requests, try not to feel annoyed or worked up and tell them that i cannot guarantee surety. i tell them that my husband will try.
Earlier it was the other way round. i traumatized my husband with my sulking. i sincerely regret doing so today. Like i said, i woke up to the futility of the exercise called appeasement rather late. But i am glad i did.

Also these re-unions are a big sham i feel with all the fake wow wow's about career, children's success, physical fitness, beauty, accouterments etc. i have sensed the inherent detachment, jealousy, negative vibes despite the best efforts made to impress and appreciate. i have heard the backbiting too that goes on after these re-unions and it disgusts me to be a part of such meaningless hypocrisy.
Therefore i stay away and prefer personal meeting up that is more one to one.
Here too i can't say that all those one to one refreshed me and saw me happy and fulfilled.

There is another important aspect that can't be ignored rather it is too blatant too be ignored.
All those who have willingly decided to be happy with their homemaker status are mercilessly ignored by the so called career oriented women friends.
i don't feel proud of myself when on an introductory," What do you do?" instead of a '' How have you been?", i run to my defensive explaining how i got bored and tired of my teaching and decided to enjoy a non-hurried, relaxed life by staying at home.
i am not exaggerating on this but my own best friend from school ignored me for many years at a stretch, she still does and i get this vibe from her every time i try to establish contact that conveys subtly though," I'm not too keen for you now...". She never calls. Of late she too has joined the bandwagon where virtual pleasantries are exchanged and status messages are left, the aftermath comments of which is perhaps a great ego booster to her just like the rest of the gang.
Once again i'm rattled by questions.
"Has she forgotten that i was better in grades than her when she and me were best friends? " Does my homemaker status make me less intellectual in any way? It's ridiculous but can it be so...can it be so...?

Sure, people change but i'm just not too comfortable with this change. It hurts to discover that my down to earth, unassuming school buddies are now snooty snobs, decrying the at home friends as behenji's (rustic/ not hep) or not up to the mark and not reciprocating.
Strange but true, it is from this pretentious crowd that i hear that my silence and keeping away has been misconstrued. Some view me as depressed, others, the kinder ones discuss among themselves that i am dealing with my empty nest syndrome and seeking solace in spirituality.
As for me it never ceases to amaze me, the ability of my friends to justify themselves for what they say or do and never feel guilty.
But mostly i am cursing myself for having huge expectations.

It's rather sad that these uncomfortable and painful experiences changed me too.
Prompted, pushed... and i don't realize when all that scuffling and shuffling cracked something, the faults of which deepened through the years. i began to drift apart a few years ago, gradually and slowly at first, indulging into my own interests and eventually i find myself in this new predicament where the word RECLUSE fits me to the T.
My son is not wrong on this.
Nobody is if they use this word for me.
What's more, i don't seem to mind it either.

i wish and hope they are able to hear and decipher my silence. And in any case, i also have reached that comfortable zone from which i look confidently and say, " Keep assuming whatever you want to, it's no big deal..."

To my son definitely one day when he has the time i shall tell him my story. Not that i want him to take back his word but for the simple reason that my story should be able to give him some insights and some valuable lessons.

i was blissful for a long time in my solitude but the concrete twins http://shivanidiwani64.blogspot.com/2011/09/some-pages-from-diary-of-nobody.html brought it all out...spilling my beans...drawing skeletons from the cupboard... bringing me down on my knees.

Maybe it is all my fault. i am just too uptight.
i definitely need to relax these rules for the tenants that suit my taste and can occupy that corner that still has a cold TO LET. The cold getting warmed by longing .
i'll try.

i am trying but things have been rather tacky and the plate that warms up turns cold again in waiting.
Not that i've given up.
But that tug of inhibition that holds me back, other times a regular fear returns and chokes the ignition off.
Then those limited attempts of my trying fails to bring that reciprocity that germinates as a sincere longing every time i try.

How to get rid of that fear? That fear that i might be digging my own grave by inviting the wrong kind of people to create ripples of disturbance and annoyance in my life.
How to get rid of my own inhibitions?
Fear-They who won't reciprocate, might ask awkward for my husband and me favors, would disturb me with nonsensical long calls that bore me to death, may want to always drop in and be entertained at my cost, would establish stern fixed boundaries that leaves me in the lurch, would seek me out only for the privileges that begets me and last but not the least would not even squeeze a wee bit of time to read my blogs and supply me with that happiness that one feels when a friend comes visiting home at your behest.
So what if my blogs are not that appealing but aren't friends supposed to provide you with their honest inputs? When i have nothing against any, not even that which says, " You bored me sleepy...silly!!..."
Inhibitions- i am good and that status should not be the only thing that defines me and proves my worth.

i'm responsible for my loneliness and should accept reality. The reality being that a treasure called TRUE FRIEND is hard to find.
If i let go off my inhibitions who knows someone might enter my cold domain and warm me up. One who is a nobody like me and together we would become invisible to the rest of the world and stay happily ever after.
Secure, sure and content with our anonymity.

Before i quit i must stress that i am well aware of what we call a mutually interdependent society and appreciate virtues such as HELP and would want to keep those virtues alive in me but i'm dead against this opportunistic behavior from those of whom i would want to nurture warm thoughts about, whom i would want to love deeply, whom i cannot do without, whom i am always eager to look forward to.
And since i'm not the one who belongs to that upwardly mobile corporate world i actually don't need networks whom i would party with, as friends.

Till i find that someone or till that someone seeks me out i will deal with my loneliness and would remain satisfied with my virtual world that has one best aspect about friendship. It is one easy friendship with NO STRINGS ATTACHED.

In narrating my experiences about friends i forget the analogy i made earlier in my last post between the rock and me, also i forget about being an island that mourns for company.
And in this re-living the past and then forgetting i have figured out the truth.

This bitter truth expressed aptly in the form of poetry by Nida Fazli http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nida_Fazli. The composition is famous and perhaps has been sung by others too. However, the one i choose is by the popular Ghazal singer Jagjit Singh and our ' Nightingale' Lata Mangeshkar. The essence of which is ' Feeling lonely in the Crowd'. The entire composition reverberates with mine and instills more solace in me to know that i am not alone at last. There are others too dealing in their own idiosyncratic ways with their loneliness.

Har taraf har jagah beshumaar aadmi
Phir bhi tanhaiyon ka shikar aadmi
In every direction, everyplace, there are several people
Even then , man is a victim of loneliness.

Subah se shaam tak bojh dhota hua
Apni hi laash ka khud mazaar aadmi
From dawn to dusk, he bears the burden
The man is a grave of his own corpse

Har taraf bhaagte, daudte raaste
Har taraf aadmi ka shikaar aadmi
In every direction the paths are running
Everywhere, man is a victim ( hunted by) of another man

Roz jeeta hua, roz marta hua
Har naye din naya intezaar aadmi
Everyday he lives, and everyday he dies
Everyday is a new waiting for man

Zindagi ka mukaddar, safar dar safar
Aakhri saans tak bekaraar aadmi
The fate of life is, journey after journey
Till the last breath, man is always without peace.

It could be that my school friend who stays abroad is lonely too and so are the others prowling around on the social networking sites trying to create an impression, bragging about their achievements and those of their kith and kin, posting pictures of get-togethers exhibiting their bum chum ness, and last but not the least leaving status messages that once again shrieks, " Give me some attention!" ...perhaps all of them are lonely too.
Truth prevails and not everything pertains to just sharing and keeping in touch.
There is a lot out there that meets the eye and out of this lot something that stands out huge but terrified, petrified, is loneliness itself.
As if it's losing it's severity each single day with each single display and is becoming more and more common.

No! No! i am not sad rather i am accepting that there's life the way it is and the life, the way it should be. Unfortunately, we have to live with life the way it is.
You could spend minutes, hours, days, weeks , or even months over-analyzing a situation trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've been.
OR
You can leave the pieces on the floor and MOVE ON...

Haaaaaah!( Sigh of relief)
i think i've said all and now it's time to move on but not without the color for the day which inspires me to look forward to another and move on...flow with the tides and times...and move on...
Color for Wednesday- Green

Bells of Ireland
http://myseedgarden.blogspot.com/2010/01/bells-of-ireland.html

*My sincere thanks to Vrinda and Uncle Som of http://www.bollywoodlyrics.com/community/viewtopic.php?f=3&t=1532

in helping me find the lyrics of Har Taraf Har Jagah and the English translation too.

NB: The title of the post is a question in Hindi which translated in English should be- Is Each and Every Single Friend Important? The Idea borrowed from the tagline/punchline of Airtel commercial on television which asserts and assumes that every friend is important.

'Har Ek Friend Zaroori Hota Hai'

Every Single Friend is Important

(i like the commercial for it's images of cool friendships but it is rather difficult for me to endorse in full honesty the tagline thus the ? if all friends are really important in your life.

Some Pages from the Diary of a Nobody

2011-09-13T05:14:00.000-07:00

Two mirror image houses...perhaps the owners are related i thought. There was some curiosity to know why the other house had no name. Kept wondering if one of them was built as an added extension but it couldn't be for they had between them a wall and separate gates. The wall and the gate hinting, this is mine and that is yours.

The two houses in that posh colony, plain and without any of those frills and fusses of it's neighbors stood close if not together just like my two brothers.
i brushed aside the thoughts about my brothers. It would've disturbed my equilibrium.
i started searching for beauty in simplicity instead. Maybe prompted by the name of one of them concrete twins.
'Sunder House' meaning beautiful, pretty...
Don't know about the occupants but i tried to listen what one concrete was saying to the other.
i thought i heard Emily Dickinson.

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
http://www.beyondbooks.com/mediafiles/programs/lit71/nobodypoetry.mp3

Suddenly that pain hit me.

i thought i was happy in my bliss of solitude but i was not.

i realized i was not only alone but also very lonely.

Deep inside embedded within me was a board , a cold plate that said TO-LET.

i look at the twins and tears streamed incessantly, uncontrollably as i let it flow.

Isn't there any one out there who is a nobody like me...

Objects can be mirror images but people?

We have twins for people too but they too are not mirror images either, not entirely.

Maybe i wouldn't want to have another me for then there would not be any specialty in being that nobody. Would there?
But i yearn, long and seek another who understands and accepts me and is comfortable with the the way i am.
Where do i look for another anonymous in this world where i see not people but infinite and newer efforts to impress.
Talking, doing, getting together... with all the frills, fusses and embellishments...everything that makes the other say, WOW! GREAT! WELL DONE...

How presumptuous of me to banish the thoughts of my brothers thinking i would be okay just listening to Emily Dickinson.
http://www.beyondbooks.com/mediafiles/programs/lit71/nobodypoetry.mp3

Here i was as unstable like a top in it's final phase of gyration, trying to twirl a wee bit more, holding on to the inertia, finally making sloppy and irregular ellipsis just before it topples over to lie dead still on the ground.

Tears with all it's saltiness on my tongue continue it's journey making raindrop like wet patches randomly on my shirt. Then dissipating into the weave of the cotton shirt, the wetness reminding me that there is no one not a single great less who could embrace another wow less in all her anonymity.
That another one who could resonate with my own, find stability in simplicity and help me through my own development in this system called life is simply not there.
This one out of the entire species has evaporated, dissipated into the world wide web.
The ache however has not evaporated instead is holding me steadfast. Only stubborn enough to choke and make me gasp for some breath than to willingly accept that the simple codes of simple friendships are extinct and our lives are getting frittered away in details.
One of the simple codes being is to expect. It's impossible not to have expectations from friendship.
The most important being accepted and understood.
Not that expect huge favors which normally friends these days seek out but genuine and small gestures.
Reciprocity can be another.

i'm tired and sort of fed up of just giving news that's entertaining to others, that too at my cost.
And i'm scared of drowning into a virtual world where i seek solace from virtual friends.
Expectations remaining unfulfilled i seem to be forging new bonds in the virtual world.
i don't know if i am on the right track or losing myself but my virtual world provides me with some solace if not all.

i am a rock too as this song says. Erosion, chipping, weathering feels more normal.
But rocks are not supposed to feel pain.
i am an island too but then why am i mourning like someone has died?

i thought i don't need real friends anymore but i was mistaken.
i feel utterly lonely. i don't have anybody with whom i can truly be honest with.
i am fed up of conforming.
i am exhausted in my efforts to be kind always.
i am sick of the hypocrisy.
Oh God i don't have anybody who can see the real me and still be my true friend,
i thought i can manage being on my own but NO! i do need someone who is not fake and with whom i need not be fake too.
But most of all i need a NOBODY who has the inclination and the time for a nobody like me.
SOMEBODYS have better things in their agenda.
Even that concrete has another to give it company and i am after all a human.
i thought i was safe in my domain and no one can use me, insult me or hurt me anymore.
i drifted... away...further...
But now i need...
-i need to have normal honest conversations.
-i need to share my joys and sorrows.
-i need to hear joys and sorrows of someone.
- i need someone i am comfortable and free with.
-i need someone to be comfortable and free with me
-i need some one who can accept me with all my foils and foibles
-i need to accept someone who is not perfect too.
-i need...i need...
Where do i look...Oh God i have no one.

Finally when enough tears are shed and the heart feels lighter, stability returns like the hopeful rays of a new dawn.

Look no further...the ray scribbles on that plate that has a TO-LET.

Accept and move on... the dawn signals.

i give one more look at the concrete twins, dropped the camera that tried to capture the twins whispering Emily Dickinson into the bag, pulled out a fresh citrus smelling wet wipe and did the needful to my sticky salty face, looked for a dustbin to throw the wet wipe. Spotted none only the neat well kept exteriors of those stylish houses.

Then holding the partially dry wet wipe in my hands like a miniature flag that fluttered as if proclaiming freedom, i walked home absorbing the citrus whiff that continued to emanate from that white flag.
i didn't realize when all of Emily Dickinson, Paul Simon Art Garfunkel stopped and i started to mull over what my son had asked me over the phone last week...TO BE CONTD
Sure, but not without something to cheer up.

Colour For Tuesday-Pink

Pink Hibiscus

http://www.allabouthappylife.com/wallpapers/hibiscus/hibiscus-flower-desktop.html

Image Courtesy:http://www.clipartguide.com/_pages/0511-1002-1704-3845.html

Precious...This One's for You

2011-09-12T12:15:00.000-07:00

As i looked out from the window it was the hedge tree that got me interested to go and have a closer look at the attractive foliage first. i have seen these along roadsides in Delhi too but here in this city of Indore i found quite a many used mainly as a hedge tree close to the boundary wall. Some have even been pruned in the horticultural art of topiary to look like bright green umbrellas peeping out of the boundary walls. They are quite a sight even from the outside and a delight for everyone passing by.

i wonder what these trees are called. These brilliant greens that look partly like yew and partly like cypress from a distance. Then enquired within myself if i would have that patience enough to search out the nameless from the internet or out of that voluminous big book that i own. The one that lists the A-Z of about 10,000 species if not all.

Took a few more closer shots from the mobile camera to show it to my Forest Officer and maybe suggest him to replace that vacant area in his lawn by these. And who knows i might not have to go through all the pages of my big fat but priceless book. The one that i call fondly as my PRECIOUS.

It's sad when the Forest Officer had to remove both his laden with fruit, PRECIOUS coconut trees. The wonderful fronds of which formed an attractive entrance to his garden and lawn.

PRECIOUS not only refreshed him from all his tiredness but provided us all with some cool freshness even on those hot summer months when everything else turned limp, brown and dry. It was sheer delight to see the lush, glistening frondy branches sway in the breeze with all it's energy and vibrancy that challenged even the dreadful LOO (Hot and extremely dry winds of North India during summers). During the last summer storm the branches hindered with the electric transmission lines and reeked havoc. Not only did a dangerous fire break out with a bang that sounded like a blast which psyched everyone in the colony but was also responsible for a major breakdown with no electricity for two days.

The aftermath of all this coupled with the hue and cry of neighbors saw Precious being cut down.While my sister narrated the incident i was remembering that poem On Killing A Tree by Gieve Patel. But of course this is an imagery poem where the image of a tree is used by the poet which is highly suggestive and applies to killing human relations too, mainly.

These trees could be a good substitute if not the perfect one, so i thought and walked back.

But the road on both sides was flanked by more and i could not control myself. Maybe i could send in some more pictures and tempt him with more ideas that perhaps would add some color and drama to his vacant spots.Who knows in getting engaged in planting and growing these he might not miss his PRECIOUS that much. But then i can't vouch for that. However there's no harm in trying.

Alamanda

Ahhh the pretty , very pretty Alamanda. i'm sure his Jharkhand is full of the yellow one. That which is also known as the Golden Trumpet vine. Maybe he can plant a couple of these...

Or how about this variety of wild Plumeria which does not have the regular dark obovate leaves rather adorns leaves that look as if they are just back from a visit to the salon where they have been given such a fine cut that they stand out. The shape of the leaf resembles a fiddle perhaps for it to be called fiddle leaf Plumeria. Another standing out characteristic is that it has only one or two slender trunks unlike the regular sweet smelling Plumeria with thick succulent branches. i loved the way it stood, dignified without any support despite it's slender body. No slouch...nor any droop... just smartly erect.

Fiddle leaf Plumeria

Plumeria pudica

Now this one is surely going to sweep him off his feet. Has he seen red Mussaenda cultured and trained to be a creeper like this? The stunning blood red sepals of which makes it look like a cheerleader, hailing glory on the porch of the beautiful house it adorns. All you can do is just stand there and say, WOW!!

i'm sure the first picture would give him that enormous kick to his ego when he would want to correct me on my folly by pointing out in his typical connoisseurs' style and as a matter of fact tone that i might have not identified the vine correctly.

So how about giving him a closer peek.

Mussaenda erythrophylla

Ashanti Blood/ Red flagbush/ Tropical Dogwood

Maybe i could get a kick this time when i show him how beautifully three have been combined. The purple of the Bush Morning Glory, the red of the Mussaenda, and the orange of the Flaming Trumpet. For my perusal only revealed the surprise in purple and orange among the reds and i am dying to share the surprise with him. He should be able to make out the small purple buds and the dark green smaller leaves of the purple trumpet flower creeper. It's rather disappointing that i could not capture any of the orange clusters clearly either but i know i saw some tiny clusters.

i could be wrong about the name of the purple trumpet flowers because there exist many which look the same and are vines too. The Railway creeper being one too but this was definitely not the Railway Creeper because the dark green leaves were not cracked and seven lobed but heart shaped.

Are you a sight for sore eyes?

Or a traffic stopper?

Some Flaming Trumpet

A stunning combination of vines that had shades of green, purple ,orange and dominating all, the blood red

Then i have to definitely ask him if he knew this which many here are using near their entrances. Very refreshing color of the double- pinnate leaves. Attractive and pleasantly eye catching! more for it's interesting foliage and it's color. Appearing as if the edges glowed with their own light of green mixed with yellow.

Wonder if they flower too...

Although my heart pulsates with excitement i am not too sure this excitement can kindle the same into the heart of someone who had to go through that painful and hard task of killing his PRECIOUS. That which lived and responded to his care and nurturing by giving him a bountiful which was shared among one and all in that colony. i can understand what he must be going through right now apart from the other tensions of a busy life. i can only hope that my attempt to cheer him up and motivate him to make yet another fresh start should be able to do just that. Nothing more...nothing less.

Knowing him just too well for his intensity and passion that angers him every time anything is addressed as an invasive weed , chances are that he already has...

But if wishes could be fulfilled i'd rather that, " ...And from close to the ground

Will rise curled green twigs

Miniature boughs,

Which if unchecked will expand again

To former size.

...."

And for times when wishes are not fulfilled then this should not only remind but also suffice...

"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and

you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which

has been your delight."

--- Kahlil Gibran

What was Her Name?

2011-09-09T15:38:00.000-07:00

i was walking through an empty road that flanked duplex houses on both sides of a posh colony admiring the beautiful homes with their creative gardens and prim lawns. Was also wondering about the rich people living behind those squeaky clean French windows. The drapes of which moved gently to the rhythm of the central air conditioning, perhaps.
Right from their impressive custom made wrought-iron gate to the name plate to the architectural design of the duplex and the landscaping, each house looked unique in it's blend of modern cum ethnic. i walked along, full of admiration on the one hand and trying to make a mental note of all the new fusion on the other hand and thought, " Maybe i should take a picture of the best looking house. Later when i plan to have one of my own the picture could come in handy as a visual that would remind me to incorporate some of the creative, Eco-friendly and functional aspects.
i could also improvise and accommodate some of these combinations of hedges, ornamental grasses, vines, succulents and garden flowers... on whatever size the plot is..."
Building castles in the air never felt so good.

Can i take a picture?
Will someone object?
Let's see if i can take permission...perhaps compliment them for their good taste in designing their dream home.

Alas! singling out one which could be the best of the ten or so was not an easy task for my discerning eye.

Then something...some sound...some movement behind me jolted me out of my reverie.
i paused and realized all of a sudden that i was not alone on that empty, quiet road. Someone, something was following me and i don't know since WHEN.
i would've panicked but not this time. There were figures behind those designer gates hovering around the shiny luxury automobiles. So help was at hand. Besides the faint sound was not intimidating or frightening at all. It sounded more like a timid scuttle and i think i heard something that did not growl or hiss but gurgled in between some whimpering, like an infant.

Naturally, i was not surprised, not really to see my stalkers. The eldest of the threesome holding her younger brother refused to return my smile. But the kid sister hid shyly behind her elder sister clutching on to her shirt with one hand while the other touched her shoulder and smiled back at me. The gurgling/whimpering perhaps had come from the toddler who seemed rather annoyed to see a stranger woman in spectacles instead of his mother. i tried striking a conversation by asking them if they were wondering who i was and what i was wanting to do with that device in my hand. The elder did not respond but the younger nodded a shy affirmative.

i was eager to wipe that look that seemed part angry, part questioning and largely sad . i tried another attempt to make her feel comfortable. So started explaining my intention, that of taking a picture of one beautiful house with a garden but was finding it very difficult to decide. The girl stood listening without uttering a word. i was not even sure if she understood me clearly. The younger kid sister showing more joi de vivre than her sibling, popping out her face a wee bit more and thus i could discern the resemblance among the siblings. The kid sister was all full of shy smiles. But the girl whom i was hell bent on placating stood with the same expression. Her thin body just shaking in inertia to the jerks of her baby brother's kicking legs.

i could see no flicker in her eyes nor any movement in her facial muscle that could convey what she was feeling. Was she pleased or displeased with my gesture? i had no clue. For she donned the same part angry, part questioning and largely sad look.

My final attempt sounded something like this-'' Okay shall i take a photo of yours and show you how you look in a photo?"

My final elicited yet another nod but not a twitch for a smile. The kid sister continued to compensate for her.

This was how the picture was shot and i feel at a loss that there was no way i could capture the moment when a natural and the most beautiful smile transformed her countenance in a manner like she's just jolted out of some strange spell and is all bright and pink of spirits. Another Snow-white !!

i heaved inwardly hearing my own sigh of relief. She warmed up to life by kissing her own picture with her smiling eyes.

Alas! that smile happened only when she was peering into the camera and viewing her image along with her siblings. She kept smiling and looking at her serious picture and it felt awkward and harsh pulling the camera and my hand that held the camera away from her smiling face.

That idea to take the picture of the most beautiful house then fizzled out and for sometime we just walked together. There were no conversations just companionship. i don't know what she was thinking but i knew what was going on inside me.

i was conjuring the shape of the emaciated woman, the mother, who perhaps was performing chores behind those custom made doors. i was also thinking about this girl who could be anything between five to eight and was already a surrogate mother of two when she should be playing hopscotch with her friends.

Then i was imagining her in some other life where she is sitting in a pink frilled frock of silk, satin ribbons and soft lace. Sitting nice and snug on the lap of her mother/father and listening enraptured to the story of Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs being read out to her from a big colorful cut out book which shows her the various characters in motion

When i took her picture it was never my intention to make her the subject for my blog. Mainly because i feel responsible for her plight. i feel responsible for her anger, her questioning and her sadness.

i have not been able to forget her and would not exaggerate or lie to say that she's always on my mind. But she creeps into my thoughts suddenly when i seem to be having a peaceful and a jolly good time.

There is a strange feeling then of guilt mixed with remorse and i keep asking myself, "What if it was me instead of her? How could i go on like this living my life and not do anything about it...?"

It feels rather cruel to keep counting my blessings. i would rather that she and every SHE who becomes a mother to her siblings from infancy-any age should be me.

Was it her passive, reticent self then that prevented me, of all the people, from asking for her name.

Me who has a thing for knowing names to the extent of peering into the badges of people in the service sector and address them by their names if i have to ask them anything.

Me who hunts and researches to know the names of the trees, the plants, the birds and insects...and efforts even more to remember them. Why did i fail/ not bother to ask her name?

And i hope that she who was sharing the burden of running the family along with her mother is not called NAKUSA.

http://epaper.timesofindia.com/Repository/ml.asp?Ref=VE9JQS8yMDExLzA5LzA0I0FyMDE2MDE=&Mode=Gif&Locale=english-skin-custom

i hope that when food is distributed at home she gets her fair share of whatever there is .

i hope if and when she plays truant to her chores, she is not flogged mercilessly.

i hope the brother whom she balanced on her bony waist remembers her service and sacrifice when he grows up.

i hope that boy of a brother is not pampered enough since he is a male to become a rascal who survives on his sister's earnings.

i hope she is not a victim of abuse and molestation.

i hope and hope...

i hope she is not expendable...

And i hope she has been named well. Something that does not make her wonder why she was allowed to be born if she was UNWANTED.

Before i can quit i have to shake off the sadness that surrounds me and as usual a poetry would be ideal. This one is by a highly respected living Urdu poet, a lady who is often invited to India to recite her enigmatic but powerful compositions. Zehra Nigah http://www.hindu.com/lr/2004/11/07/stories/2004110700230300.htm.

i have read from the newspapers that some of her compositions have been translated in English by Rakshanda Jalil.

http://www.thefridaytimes.com/beta2/tft/article.php?issue=20110909&page=20

i don't know any except this one which is most recited and often quoted called 'Samjhauta'.

Samjhauta means compromise.

It goes like this...

Mulayam garam samjhaute ki chadar

Yeh chadar mein ne barson mein buni hai

Kahin bhi sach ke gul boote nahin hai

Kissi bhi jhooth ka taanka nahin hai

Issi se mein bhi tan dhak loongi apna

Issi se tum bhi aasooda rahoge

Na kush hoge, na pashmanda hoge.

Translated in English it should be like this...

"Warm and soft, this blanket

Of compromise has taken me years to weave

Not a single flower of truth embellishes it

Not a single false stitch betrays it

It will do to cover my body though

And it will bring comfort too,

If not joy, nor sadness to you."

http://www.outlookindia.com/article.aspx?220507

http://satyameva-jayate.org/2011/04/01/girl-child-sex-ratio/

http://www.outlookindia.com/article.aspx?220507

Image courtesy: http://www.fotosearch.com/CSP441/k4410127/

About Book Manners and Used Books

2011-09-07T14:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday i got my first delivery from this online library that i have subscribed to, last week.

It's funny that more than me it is my husband who is humming away in glory and happiness when books and him are miles apart.
Actually the online library was his find too when we were at the Book Fair last Sunday.
While i was engrossed browsing over books he was checking out this stall 1F of Hall 12A@ Delhi Book Fair 2011.

http://www.indiareads.com/

Two hours later we came home apparently with a tiny paper bag that held some stationary like self sticking Post its and a couple of very reasonably priced simple Indian cooking recipe books in Hindi for my new cook who thank heavens, has shown the interest and inclination to read and learn too apart from live demonstration from me.
As for me i carried a receipt voucher in my purse (courtesy my husband) that promised endless number of books to be delivered right at my doorstep as per my request and my reading speed.
My husband was content with the browsing and although seemed book less was the richest among the three of us.
For he beamed with the satisfaction of a hungry man who has just had his belly full with the choicest of meals.
i was as usual feeling incomplete.
My mind was still stuck on copies that i wanted to possess and was eager to go back again.

i logged on to indiareads.com, prioritized my selection logged off and carried on with my own copy of Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence. Later forgot all about my online library and it's membership.

But yesterday i was impressed. True to what the bright and studious looking girl named Gunjan at the stall had mentioned, i got my first lot of two books in 2 days flat. That is, i had logged on Sunday, submitted my request on priority basis and here it was, a neat yellow parcel, hand delivered to me on Tuesday.
i carefully opened the parcel not to damage it beyond usage to find fresh neat copies of my two books, another fresh empty yellow folder and a neatly folded note inside.
-the fresh yellow folder to be used when i requested a pick up.
-the note that not only welcomed me with kind words to the online library membership but also gave instructions to handle the book carefully.

i would love to quote the instructions because a lot many of us lack book manners and a quick checklist should do no harm.

* Read with clean hands-oil, grease or haldi marks on pages are very annoying.

* Support the covers when propping books open, they can tear.

* Want to save your page? Don't dog ear the books or lay them flat on a surface. Do not mark, fold,crease or use sticky notes or paper clips; Try some bookmarks instead.

* Read books using your hands or lap to hold or support them.

* Keep drinks, food and tobacco away from all reading materials. No one likes to receive books that are stained or smelly.

* Do not mark, underline or doodle on the book.

* Avoid carrying several books at a time and dropping them; carrying single books helps books' spines tight and their pages without crinkles.

* Shelve and store your books away from pets and small children. They may not know realize the importance of books yet, but we are sure you do.

i still had a few more pages to finish of my Sons and Lovers but was tempted to pick up the newly arrived thriller as Paul's failure to commit to his girls was getting on my nerves.
i reach out for one of my own book marks that i have collected from Landmark , propped the cushions to my comfort and read all that the covers had to say about the book. Felt instantly that it is the kind that should see me and the book as inseparables but then kept my excitement low. i have known through these brief years of my reading that i cannot predict a book by just it's covers and all those words of acclaim.
For i have in my possession some of the Booker Prized books. Attempted but left half way or even before that.

Getting started, i turned the cover and was warmed by the sensible gesture of the INDIAreads team to provide me with their own book mark.
i checked the other book too and just there it was...another correctly sized book mark. So they not only send you neat books but also encourage you to be book mannered.
i was impressed even more and was now feeling thankful, genuinely, towards my husband.

True to what the covers had proclaimed i was hooked to the thriller. Sure was finding it "Gripping, chilling but also moving."
And then it was on page 19 that i stopped.

Kept the book aside and started imagining the hands that held the book before me.
Was it a him or a her?
Must be keen on learning words and their meanings to have marked with ball pen the uncommon words.
nonplussed
Yeah it's a good word, must use it too...would help to make my own sentences impressive.
i continued to read and pause on all the pages that had blue circles and underlines.

Then the thoughts turned tangent and i stopped reading.

So when i return the books will they think that i have done this to their fresh and neat book ?
Must make a list of pages on which the act has been committed and inform the team.
Much to my chagrin when i was actually finding those circles helpful i was troubled with the thought that the act should not be pinned on to me.
i stopped reading and quickly flipped through the pages to see if there were more.
Maybe just as i had abandoned my D.H. Lawrence i guess the reader who had doodled and circled 8 times had abandoned the book too. Strangely after page 110 there was no underlining or circling excepting on page 199 and 201 which was dog eared. The pages were clean. i sensed a sudden but dull ebb in my excitement about the book. Does it start with a bang and get monotonous and boring later?
Perhaps it doesn't and maybe the reader just couldn't finish the book due to other pressing engagements.
Happens to most readers so i need not be so pessimistic.

Maybe the reader who doodled and marked had not dog eared. The dog earing was by another reader who did not doodle or mark.

Wait a minute...the crime was committed in the story of the book then why am i on a psycho analyzing spree???

There were two conflicting emotions here even when i was just reading a book. And a neat reader that i am who covers her books with transparent film as soon as she brings a new book home and always uses a book mark was not a bit annoyed with those circles and underlines as i have mentioned earlier.

Not that i am defending the mark maker or justifying bad book manners.

The reason could be that i grew up on my reading through my Papa's. He is a voracious reader and his books are a delight to me because he not only underlines but does referencing in his neat tiny handwriting along the sides. But of course all this on his own copies. i have found his copies extremely enjoyable and thoroughly rewarding.
Or perhaps i am that kind of a reader who doesn't mind doodled books provided the doodles are like my Papa's.
His books are read with utmost sentimentality in the manner of a daughter who wants to follow her father and grab as much as she can from her Guru.
It is shameful and heaven knows how i could let words slip from my leathery tongue when he was recovering from his illness.
i told him, " Papa in your will please remember to leave some of your books to me..."
For the collector that i am, his books would be like one of those rare and priceless signed and doodled by authors' book.

i am just like that.
... a reader who possesses good reading manners...yet unable to perceive and condemn the fellow invisible readers as bad mannered.

A freshly smelling of print ink new copy delights me but i am also comfortable with dog-eared, pencil/pen marked, colorfully highlighted, musty odored, second hand old copies too.
There is a warm sense of wonder coupled with enigma in a used book. For a while it is a pleasure to imagine the hands that drew those circles over the words or highlighted a phrase. The warmth emanating from the fact that many of us do make use of words and phrases that are not originally ours but have caught our fancy while reading a book.
For instance in this particular book i liked the thought," ...all the gestures we think are our own belong to other people too."
But of course i do not underline or highlight. In order to keep it in my memory i have this habit of scribbling words and phrases that catch my fancy in a note pad.

Then the used book is always springing some surprise. You never know what might jump out of the printed page and look you straight in the eyes. Sometimes you turn away in disdain wondering if the reader was evil and at other times you smile at the humor he or she possessed.

Actually i am unable to reason it out myself. Whether i am a reader less and collector more or vice versa.
Obviously when i am myself not so sure how can i expect my husband to perceive that apart from reading i also like to collect books.
Moreover when i choose my readable s i take care to get a copy which has fonts suitable for my eyesight which i'm afraid no longer holds me in good stead.
Even my father's copy of my favorite Ayan Rand was strenuous.
Thus although i am assured of my endless supply i could not be as sure of the kind of copy i would be comfortable with.
Maybe that's why i was unable to thank my husband enough in the first instance when he paid for the subscription and handed me the membership card.
But now i realize he only meant well. The temporary apartment is small and lacking in space to hold more books so for the time being i feel happy that he made that effort to satisfy my fifty percent need.
The next fifty person will also come by at the appointed time when space is not a problem i guess.
i have this desire to have a study one day with a whole wall covered with books, a soft and comfy couch by the window and a working table in the center of the room with a couple of chairs. And if all that is not possible then just a wall covered with books will suffice.

i should go back to my thriller now to find out how the clever and principled psychologist Kit Quinn is coping with her honesty and sincerity which has already antagonized her colleague. Let me find out if she is able to stand for her convictions or the system that wants credits for fake case solving buckles her down.Or better still if she is heading towards the wrong direction totally in her assessment that the pervert is not the killer.
Let me find all this out and also get tested on my own vocabulary by that faceless reader who has circled and underlined good words till page number 110.

The song featuring Jose Gonzalez caught my fancy only when i saw the movie 'The Blind Side'. Awesome music with some great cello and good lyrics and since my post was about books would love to share this here on my page. Trust anybody who loves good music with great lyrics to never get tired of listening to it. The lovely soft and soothing voice...the cello...the humming synchronizing with the cello... ideal setting when you decide to chuck everything and curl up with your book instead.
No! No! the song is not about books but rather performed by the American duo Paul de Jong and Nick Zammuto. Popularly known as THE BOOKS. The Books have received critical acclaim for combining obscure sounds with great acoustics.

This song by Nick Drake is called 'The Cello Song" and this version by The Books features Jose Gonzalez.
http://www.thebooksmusic.com/welcome_mat.htm
http://www.allmusic.com/artist/nick-drake-p1963
http://www.jose-gonzalez.com/

Lyrics: The Cello Song

Strange face, with your eyes
So pale and sincere.
Underneath you know well
You have nothing to fear.
For the dreams that came to you when you're young
Told of a life
Where spring has sprung.

You would seem so frail
In the cold of the night
When the armies of emotion
Go out on to fight.
But while the earth sinks to its grave
You sail to the sky
On the crest of a wave.

So forget this cruel world
Where I belong
I'll just sit and wait
Singing my song.
And if one day you should see me in the crowd
Lend a hand and lift me
To your place in the cloud.

Image courtesy:
http://www.clipartof.com/portfolio/bnpdesignstudio/illustration/woman-storing-old-books-1052799.html
http://depositphotos.com/3699706/stock-photo-Books-collection.html

Blue Forever Now

2011-09-05T14:39:00.000-07:00

http://www.kaaliart.com/tag/mother-teresa/

Wonder why the lovely blue color is associated with sadness. It's Monday today and the color of the day is blue.
It could be ironic when i find the color so tranquil and serene i can't say the same for my mood. As a matter of fact i am in my blues this Monday... otherwise i am cheerful.
i sit nervously fiddling with my Nokia E5 deciding if i should vent it out with my dear one who has inflicted the blue on me but on second thoughts dismissed the reactive and retaliating- with- some- acrimony- urge.
Words can come out strong and harsh right now for the bitterness inside has already made me small...counting all the sacrifices, all the help and support extended to the blue giver. Weighing like a vegetable vendor the commodities against the price rendered.
Meaness and smallness getting the better of me then i guess it should be best to observe silence and divert my anguish and pain towards something else. Something that makes me forget the happenings and engrosses me in yet another series of thoughts that should save me from being the Shylock that i am hell bent on being right now.

i try...maybe i should talk to a friend but then once again i remember this thing from my own experiences about sharing pain which is beautifully rendered by Abdul Rahim Khan-I-Khana in his couplet " RAHIMAN NIJ MAN KI VYATHA MAN HI RAKHIYO GOI...SUNI EETHILAIHEN LOG SAB BAANTI NA LAIHEN KOI"
The couplet provides pearls of wisdom.
It being that one should keep his/her problems to oneself for none would be able to solve your problems rather they at best would only mock you feeling entertained at your cost and would be least interested in sharing or solving your problems.

Besides i don't want to convey a negative image of my dear one to anyone not even to my husband. Chances are that my narration might elicit a negative remark about my dear one and i cannot tolerate that. The relationship is such that although i do feel sore i would not have anyone not even my best friend speaking against someone i love so deeply and dearly.
i also know that it is this eternal truth about all relationships. You cannot be in harmony forever. There's every bit a chance of the emergence of some strife, some discordant note... sometime... someday... over something.
Sure, i have full faith on time and tide to sort it out. Like they say, " Every storm finally settles down."

So what do i do...just as if dictated by inertia i play in a detached manner with the keys of my mobile phone.
Some colors hit my eyes and beg for attention.
Some brilliant yellow, green, pale white...

Eunonymous fortunei...brillaint with shades of green,yellow and white

That hedge that i found so cheerful as i waited for my niece to come flying down the stairs of her hostel last week was simply brilliant in it's many shades of green, citron and pale white. This picture is a borrowed one though, as mine was not showing the variegated foliage distinctly.
i asked the gardener who was busy trimming the off shoots if he could tell me the name of this particular hedge and he said something that sounded like, " AN ARMY..."
Probably what he meant was, Eunonymous and i have to excuse him for the pronunciation which always gets distorted even by me.

Anyways, respite...that cools anxiety and invokes peace, what is the color for that?
Well today i found out that it is blue too.

i know the shots are hazy and not very clear but it's enough for the time being for me atleast.

Pretty Invasion

i remember how the blue flower grabbed my attention as i was hurrying out of the campus. Some thing sounded nearby something harsh, nasty and evil like snip...snip...snip...snip.

i panicked and hurriedly took more shots...forgetting all i had accumulated of my Nokia E5 camera. The manual showed excellent shots if certain guidelines are adhered too. Time was short and before the snipping approached any closer i just kept hitting the click button in a row.

Hello!! Patas Vidai ...you look wonderful...

i peered closer to look for the seed pods if there were any. For wasn't this too a flower from my childhood?

Some untidy and crude but fun to be boy i played with had showed me how the seed pods exploded scattering tiny seeds when he spat on it. Later i forgot the face of the boy who played hide and seek with me and spat at pods but remembered the flower and it's triggered by water explosive seed pod. For this and others were to be my live teaching aids in school when i attempted to make seed dispersal by elements in nature interesting. Way back when i embarked on my maiden venture into formally teaching school kids. i can recall the joyous but surprised exclamations of the kids when i demonstrated the mild but fun to watch explosive popping by asking them to spray water on it. Some kid...was it Aditya or Pon Swami...can't remember clearly who exactly but one of the two most talkative but nevertheless adorable boys in class had yelled proudly, " Maam! ...Maam! we call it Patas vidai (Tamil for Firecracker seeds)...That day i learnt something too from my children. The local vernacular for Minnie root/ Desert Petunia/ Florida Bluebells/Mexican Blue bells/ Mexican petunia/Texas Petunia/ Ruellia and last but not the least my own favorite Waterkanon. Wonder if these bacchas of mine who must be adults by now remember it as vividly as i can recollect that particular lesson in EVS.
And that was a Monday too. i remember it because of my blue dress that i wore to school that day and mainly because it was one of those rare teaching days when i came back home feeling i did well. All those efforts of collecting the various seeds on two consecutive hot sultry Chennai summer days felt rewarding that particular Monday.

Petunia, Mexican Bluebell or Ruellia...

How can something so pretty be deemed as invasive?
Then that silent communication...or rather the mental monologues...

a) Maybe you love stealing someone else's show.
b) Would i be seeing you just for some moments now?
c) Are you scared of the clipping secateurs?
You don't look mortified...i mean look at you...far from dread i can only see the surety...maybe you are...

Blue! the colour suits you...cool blue...

Yeah, my beautiful one ! let them all be biting dust now...all those who say," appearing out of the blue". Here you are...so many blues appearing out of the various shades of green..off-white...yellow... .

Blue as Hyacinths or as the core of a match flame?

That nasty and crisp snip...snip has ceased. i look around and spot the gardener clearing the sides of the lawn of the remains of his snip pings and then moving away to the other side when it hit me just out of the blue.

All that surety...which appeared less arrogant but more SELF assured.

All that

Blue as the hyacinths-

Blue as the core of a lighted match-
Blue as the char boondon walaa Ujala-

Blue as the throat of Shiva depicted in pictures-

Blue of the glimpses of the sea beyond-
All that blue wouldn't be there if that snipping or yanking off had happened before.

Whoa, all that confidence came out of the trust then. A trust forged between you and him when you were just a little one emerging and ducking as if playing hide an seek with your mate Eunonymous.

Okay i get it. Some of my own personal doubts are dispelled and the anger has gone with the monsoon wind.

i do feel blue but thanks to you my flower from childhood for communicating faithfulness and loyalty, i feel confident now and more dignified than ever.
In your ambiance i finally feel that calm and tranquility that heals, soothes and provides the good natural sense to forget and forgive.

Maybe she did not mean to wrong me. Rather, like always it was one of her wise attempts to protect me from self affliction and everything that accompanies it.
Maybe it's just my ego that was blind to ascertain all these in the first instance.
Do i ask her to explain the logic behind her decision?
Definitely not. It seems baseless and pointless when the blue one has just revealed the truth to me.

It's late now...She would be deep into her early morn slumber. i'll call her later and we would start from where we left. As usual...kids...books read...movies and music...and all the latest escapades of our Man Fridays on both ends. Then as we shall proceed deeper into our conversation i am sure i would get a reasonable explanation from her. While i would happily spill out my beans too. It has always been like that between the two of us. We cannot hide stuff from each other neither can we stay silent sulking. It is just not us. This particular instance of silence on both ends can spell disaster for both of us and everybody around us. If nothing else then both of us will be sick and down in the dumps with indigestion. The hapless victims especially our respective husbands pleading more mercy than normalcy.

Maybe i'll also repeat the same prayer to her too...this one that i normally keep for myself. Hope she can understand the logic and my intention for conveying this prayer to her. It is really hard to convey real feelings especially when someone is undergoing some trauma and only i know that at this one instance i am only seeking peace and happiness for her.

And yes i have to remember to ask her how best to instill and inculcate proper personal hygiene to my Man Friday at home whose body odor gives me migraines and makes me sick more due to the 24/7 suppressed irritation than the real migraine itself.

With peace has returned the fond memories of monsoons. Sitting together listening to Eurythmics-Here comes the rain again, Tracy Chapman-Fast car, Alison Moyet- Is this love, Cyndi Lauper- Girls jus wanna have fun...
In between cups of chai and all that secure feeling of togetherness...that strong bond of loyalty and trust we would lip sync the songs...and perhaps would remain like that forever enjoying each other's company provided food, cleaning and studies were taken care of.
Not much has changed since then...we could still be marooned in a food abundant island happy and content singing all those songs together, in our gay abandon. Sure in between have our disagreements too.
i know that even she wishes the same.
So then Sweetie this one is specially for you...whenever you feel like a garam chai kee pyalee and some good music.

Sure have to put he lyrics right here so that we could lip sync again...
Song: Blue Island
Band:BEE GEES

Songwriters: GIBB, BARRY / GIBB, MAURICE ERNEST / GIBB, ROBIN HUGH

Living in a world that dies within

You are they who try and touch the wind

You could be a blessed one

That makes me love you.

Doin' what you've never done before

Takin' every wave that hits the shore

You could be a silver star

That shines on my blue island.

Gonna be in blue island

See you on a blue island

Take you to a blue island

Blue island

You can see the rain

You can feel the pain

That no part of me is goin' through

Everybody say

We can find a way

Do you know the place you're going to?

You're going to a blue island.

That is what the lonely heart must know

This is what it takes to make it grow

You can be a child alone

But you may save the world.

Maybe it's the words that mean goodbye

There but for the grace of God go I

I can see an open door

Leads to my blue island.

It's gonna be in blue island

See you on a blue island

Take you to a blue island.

Blue island

Blue island.

And this ballad for me.

-: Some Hindi Phrases/terms used:-
Bhacchas- Children

Char boondon walaa Ujala- Four drops only if it is Ujaala.The famous advertisement punchline/tagline for that particular brand of fabric whitener called Ujaala .
Ujaala- Whiteness

Garam Chai kee pyaalee- A hot cup of tea.
-:************************:-

Image Courtesy: http://www4.ncsu.edu/~asnapier/trips/2010_06_19-22-watson-reunion/index.html
http://www.123rf.com/photo_7057124_close-up-of-the-hedge-plants.html

Johnny and his Benjos

2011-09-02T02:09:00.000-07:00

i couldn't help laughing when Rathore told me something unique about the people of Indore. He said that an average Indori would rather die happily eating than live healthy but sad... for no matter what health problems related to eating they might have they would not shy away from bingeing as Indore has lots to offer and any loyal Indori just can't help it. Even when a large percentage of the general junta (public) have cholesterol problems. He then cited the testimonial of his younger brother who is a successful surgeon at Indore. According to junior/younger Rathore the maximum number of cases that he treats are mainly the result of irresponsible and indulgent food habits.The moment the patient is told that he has to abstain from his favorites he/she shakes a dishonest but affirmative nod but the very next moment when they are out of his clinic they are back to square one, indulging in their sins of gluttony.
Is gluttony a sin then??? i asked him and this time it was his turn to laugh out loud nodding an affirmative and gesticulating with his hands that conveyed in a typical Indori style Not A BIT OF IT. A typical Malwa Hindi summed it all up, '' Bhabhi jee marna toh hai na...toh kha pee kar marte hai na..." ( Sister-in-law we have to die eventually...so let's eat and drink and then die...)

After the laughter ebbed i correlated this about Indoris to my own self and realised that if it's the love for food then i am also every bit an Indori. i'd rather eat and stay happy and fat than to be Ms Figurina bagging compliments from one and all but miserable from within. And, like the average Indori i too believe life is for living and enjoying rather than denying. Sure i too like them live to eat and not the other way around.

Naturally Rathore had to take me to this posh area called Palasia in Indore where there is the famous Chappan Dukan ( 56 eateries). For a person like me it was extremely difficult to choose but since the time was not only limited as i had to catch a train in about 2 hrs time but also just right to have a light snack, i selected Johnny Hot Dog.

i wanted to taste all but for starters ordered an Egg Benjo and so we were handed the plates...

As is visible one can see the onion roundels but would never know the light dusting of masala (spices) that made these special.

And thus the plate that was offered to me had these and the hot and freshly made Egg Benjo which we decided to share as we were gluttons eager to try more of what Chappan Dukan had to offer.

Rathore suggested that i open the top part and add the onion rings, some tomato sauce and the piquant green mint chutney. Can't express enough in words how simply scrumptious it was.Glad that i did as was advised.

That one man who promises good food with dexterity, cleanliness and a smile i suppose is the famous Johnny. i wish i had more time to know more from him than just his culinary skills. Of course i was told that his is also Vinod Dua's favorite at Chappan Dukan. Vinod Dua...the famous news man we grew up listening the news report from. Wonder which news channel he handles now for as far as i can remember i saw him on DD ( Delhi Doordarshan) in those years when TV was about Bharat Ek Khoj and Chitrahaar and...

i suppose i could do more conversations with Johnny in my next visit but for the time being it suffices to have him here in my camera.

But apart from knowing more of Johnny i have to remember why he has there that board which says," Kripya maal lete samay hee payment davein naa pehle naa baad". Translated it means, " Please make the payment while you order, neither before nor after." And there were two such boards which said precisely the same. Why that before and after???

i am just curious to know if he also has to deal with truant customers apart from those hungry for more customers impatiently breathing down their orders on his neck... And if customers hassle him then it is shameful that they should do so to a man who not only prepares his own melt in the mouth buns and has priced his food very modestly but is one creative soul who names some of his preparations as Benjo.

My rendezvous with Johnny is still incomplete and i am really looking forward to my next one which is going to be soon enough. Also i have to find out why i could not spot many fat people in Indore despite the fact that they indulge in all the gastronomical delights that their place has to offer. Probably they are also into heavy workouts at the gym...or anything else that helps them burn more than they eat.

And this soon enough would be what i would prefer to call my very first FOOD PILGRIMAGE...to this gourmet's pride called Indore.

My visit to Chappan Dukan and the very famous night bazzar called Sarafa should definitely provide me with salvation of the gastronomical kind.

Till my next post which also would be about what i had after my Egg Benjo...stay happy and eat well...

Bon Appetit

Bhagwaan and His Corn

2011-08-18T08:37:00.000-07:00

"Ram's Horns"Adinkra symbol for humility, strength, wisdom and learning

Bounty of Nature
www.onesourcelearn.com
by Margaret Jang

The bounty of nature does inspire
nourishment for your heart's desires.
Breathtaking harmony co-exists,
in a loving, peaceful state of bliss.

If you watch carefully, you will see,
that nature offers all your needs.
Abundance for body, mind and soul,
is shared, as you begin to unfold.

To be one with nature is truly healing,
through which you discover innermost feelings.
You will soon feel soothing calm evolve,
with problems diminished, all will be solved.

And if you stand to look across the sea,
you will find endless possibilities.
These are just waiting to meet your gaze,
with clarity, you'll see through the haze.

The bounty of nature will always share,
it's wonderful gifts beyond compare.
Once you realize how lucky you are,
appreciation will take you afar.

When we set out for Sri Omkaareshwar Mammaleshwar http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omkareshwar i had noticed the colorful plastic makeshift tents of the vendors on both sides of the road selling roasted corn on the cob. i found the sights of these colorful tents some fluorescent green, some yellow, and the artistic arrangement of corn by some vendors in the monsoon drizzle very beckoning. But not the corn per se. The fact of the matter being that back home in Bihar i have really never relished the taste of the roasted corn even when dabbed with a generous amount of a paste of lime juice, salt and crushed green chillies. For although the paste layer tasted piquant enough i found the taste of the corn really bland. Moreover the kernels felt rather chewy and hard even when it was roasted black.

But the very next day i regretted my decision for overlooking and underestimating the corn being roasted in those bright colorful tents. On way to Sri Mahaakaleshwer http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mahakaleshwar_Jyotirlinga
and passing through the Sanwer Bypass our dear friend and guide for the day Rathore was shocked to learn that we have not yet tasted this specialty.
"Arre Bhabhi jee the roasted corn on Sanwer Bypass is very famous. Tourists generally throng this place during this monsoon season to grab a bite of this specially roasted American corn..." he exclaimed animatedly.
Thanks to his persistence/insistence we pulled over and got down for some corn tasting.

And boy! am i glad to have had the earthy smoky hot corn which tasted juicy, mildly sweet and very tender. The cool feathery drizzle and the hot roasted corn...what an experience!!
i can't believe i gobbled a whole big corn and cared less to rub it with lime juice for i simply loved the taste of this corn sans any flavoring just as it was. Simply delicious!

Indigenous Coal Oven

A close perusal revealed very well how the fresh tender corn got it's special flavor and aroma.These were roasted over coal/ charcoal fire. No wonder then the ones that we roast over the gas flame always seem to lack something and the corn enthusiasts want to rub all kinds of seasonings over it sometimes even over indulging in butter.

Bhagwaan

The young teenager boy who was helping his elder brother in peeling off the husk looked quite dazed at me being quite hyper. So i started talking to him and asked him if the corn on the cob that he and his Bhaiya were roasting and selling was bought from somewhere or whether it came from his own fields. His answer gladdened me for the corn that was offered to us was from his own field and not some imported stuff.
Call it a coincidence or just something for when i asked him what his name was, his perplexed countenance made way for an amused smile and he said, " Mera naam Bhagwaan hai."

Bhagwaan's Corn

Bhagwaan's Bhaiya

i asked him if i could take some pictures of his khet ka corn. He nodded in the affirmative and i hastily took some cyber shots while the vehicle honked for me to embark and set off on our road trip once again to get a glimpse of our Bhagwaan who is also known as Swayambhu in Ujjain.

Couldn't help but remember Sant Kabir later throughout the ride to our destination. What was that he said about searching for the divine?
Saheb teri sahibi, sab ghat rahi samai;
Jyon mehendi ke pat mein, lali laki na jai.
Meaning: O'Almighty! Your power dwells in every heart
It is just like the red color that although invisible resides within the henna leaves.
and
Kasturi kundali basai, mrig dhoondhe ban mahi;
Aise ghat ghat Ram hai, duniya dekhat nahi.
Meaning: The musk deer searches in vain for the fragrance of the musk everywhere in the forest when actually that musk lies in his navel and yet he is unawares.
In the same way God dwells in the heart of every living being and yet we look for him everywhere and are unable to find Him.

Bhaiya...will i see him again?

And yes as our Scorpio sped off and as i gazed at the elder brother and his tent disappear from sight i kept gaining still more. Some helpful insights. i realized that the roasted corn apart from delighting my stubborn taste bud also eased me of my anxiety. The anxiety, the nervousness that lurked inside me as i set out from Indore. Being a holiday and also the last day of Saawan/Shravan Pooja http://www.rudraksha-ratna.com/shravan-month.html all i was worried about was the sea of humanity pilgrims thronging the Temple premises and whether i would be fortunate enough in my attempt to have a glimpse of Swayambhu. For i also believe that until He grants His blessings we can only at best plan. Maybe by offering me that corn Bhagwaan dispelled those nagging and irritating thoughts which was proving to be a major dampener on my otherwise cheery self.

Also that just like they say that never judge a book by it's cover so can it be applied to all the bounties of nature. Sure taste like choice is a personal thing but never ever will i dismiss, ignore and underestimate these bounties again. Experience and Taste is the slogan for me now. Ironical isn't it when for many like me this day today it is Anti Corruption.

Thus the ride to my destination was even more delightful as i gazed to my hearts content the 'Bounty of Nature', fresh green fields of corn, soyabean, cotton, marigold, vegetables, vast stretches of the prized timber Teak with large leaves ....in the monsoon with lingering taste of Bhagwaan and his corn on my palate, ease in my heart and self enriching thoughts of Kabir refreshing my mind.

This version sung by Bhupendar although beautifully rendered is incomplete therefore i seize this opportunity to
copy and paste the complete great words of Sant Kabir with translation. My sincere thanks to
http://santmatunderstanding.blogspot.com/2009/04/moko-kahan-dhoonde-why-do-you-search-me.html

MOKO KAHAN DHOONDE; WHY DO YOU SEEK ME (ALMIGHTY) HERE AND THERE

मोको कहाँ ढूंढे रे बन्दे, मैं तो तेरे पास मेंMoko kahan dhoonde re bande, mien to tere paas mien
Where do you search for me oh humble seeker, I am within you or very close to you.

ना तीरथ में ना मूरत में, ना एकांत निवास में

Naa teerath mien naa moorat mien, naa ekant niwas mien.

I am not to be found in pilgrimage nor in the idols and statues nor in the solitude.

ना मन्दिर में ना मस्जिद में, ना काबे कैलास मेंNaa mandir mien naa maszid mien, naa kaabe kailas mienI am neither to be found in a temple nor in a mosque, neither inKaaba (the sacred place of Muslims) nor in Kailas (a sacred place of Hindus). Here 'Kabir' says that the Lord is not present in the place of worships or sacred places of different religions. Great Saint KabirDas was the founder of Sant Mat and propounded the doctrine that the prevailing religions are all products of 'Maya', designed to keep the soul in bondage and real salvation is only possible through SantMat.
मैं तो तेरे पास में बन्दे, मैं तो तेरे पास में
Mien to tere paas mien bunde, mien to tere paas mienI am somewhere close to you oh humble seeker, I am somewhere very close to you; I am not to be found in the different practices you are following in the name of religion and rituals.

ना मैं जप मैं ना मैं तप में, ना मैं बरत उपास में
Na mien jup mien na mien tup mien, Na mien barat upas mienI am not to be found in muttering of prayers nor in religious austerity, nor I am to be found in different type of fastings.

ना में क्रिया करम में रहता, नहिं जोग सन्यास मेंNaa mien kriya karam mien rehta, nahi jog sanyas mienI am not to be found in different rituals, neither in denouncing world for contemplation.
नहिं पिंड में नहिं अंड में, ना ब्रहमांड आकाश मेंNahi pind mien nahi und mien, naa brahamand akash mien.I am neither to be found in Pind or Und, nor in the region of Brahamand. Pind, Und and Brahmand are the regions of lower existence of which our world is a part. Sant Mat founded by Great Saint Kabir Das propounded the doctrine that the creation can be divided into three grand divisions, the topmost being the region of pure spirituality or the region of ALMIGHTY; there can be no real salvation until the soul reaches the regions of pure spirituality. Here it is also indicated that all religions emanated from the region within the brahmanda.
ना मैं प्रकटी भंवर गुफा में, सब स्वांसों की स्वांस में
Na mien prakati bhanwar gufa mien, sub sanson ki saans mienNeither I appeared in the region of Bhanwar gufa, I am present in the breath of all breath. Bhanwar Gufa is a region much higher thanBrahmand, from where Lord Krishna's advent took place (that is why Lord Krishna explained in Gita that HE had come from a region much higher than Brahma); here it is also indicated that Lord Krishna belonged to Bhanwar Gufa, which is much higher than the region ofBrahmanda but still lower than the region of pure spirituality. Kabirsays, that ALMIGHTY is the life of all life (breath of all breath); indicating that ALMIGHTY is the life source of all religions emanating from the regions of Brahmanda or Bhanwar Gufa.

खोजी होए तुंरत मिल जाऊ, इक पल की तलाश में
Khoji hoye turant mil jaun, ik pal ki talash mienHe who is a real seeker will get me in a moment's search, I can not be attained through different religions and rituals; a true seeker, seeking in the right direction will get me in a moment. The cycle of births and deaths endless, here 'Kabir' hints that looking to the vast and endless cycle of rebirths, one can get the ALMIGHTY in a much smaller time by following the correct path.

कहत कबीर सुनो भई साधो, मैं तो हूँ विश्वास में
Kehat Kabir suno bhai sadho, mien to hoon vishwas mien

Thus says Kabir, listen to me, I am only to be found through faith. 'Faith' that tells you that there is an ALMIGHTY and HE is the only might behind everything, when you have this faith you accept everything as having been done by him, without any happiness or sorrow; thus through freedom from happiness or sorrow, you become free from bondage of 'karma'.

Please visitwww.ashramunderstanding.blogspot.com
Arrey- oh/ hey
Bhabhi ji- respected sister-in-law
Bhaiya-elder brother
Mera- My
Naam-Name
Bhagwaan- God
Hai- is
Khet- farm/ field
Ka-of
Swayambhu-self created
Sant-saint
Image courtesy: http://www.adinkra.org/htmls/adinkra/dwen.htm

Return of the Native

2011-08-17T06:41:00.000-07:00

It is only befitting that i talk about him first. Mainly because some of my next series of blogs will be centered around what i have only gained from him.

i need to acknowledge then that it truly is a very satisfying and rewarding experience when you visit a new place where you are chaperoned around with a friend who not only belongs to that place but is also a true son of the soil. For you are blessed not only with all the needful requirements duly attended to right from the time you disembark the train till you board the train again to be back home but also with the finer details about the new place which only a magnanimous and very patriotic local host can impart and share.

Yes we had been to Indore recently motivated by the fervent invitation of a friend who has managed to sneak into our hearts unawares in such a manner that it is difficult to ascertain what he and his family mean to us. Sometimes he is a dear friend, a bum chum with whom we are only just too relaxed to set aside the facade of sophistication and be our original self. Other times he is a family with whom we share our deepest traumas and secrets without any fear or doubts. It is rather very difficult to say which role he performs with greater finesse and panache. Whether he is better as a family more on whom we can bank on blindly or best as a dear, full of fun and life, FRIEND.

On being apprised by my husband over the phone of my intention which was a rather religious one instead of the regular sightseeing holiday, this friend/family apart from planning our weekend itinerary applied all his sincere efforts in giving us the very best of all the worlds in those two limited days. That too when he was playing host to some 50 family members who were stationed at his place on his behest to enjoy a full- family- at- one- place- Raksha Bandhan.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raksha_Bandhan

Unlike us who in the name of motherland offer only lip service and in fact know very little of our own native place, he is an ardent devotee of the place he was born and raised. Today he feels more blessed than happy on being fortunate enough to finally manage a posting after 20 years of serving miles and miles away from home. Although even when he was miles away he made sure not only for his family and him making visits to his native town as often as he could manage but also that we were not bereft either of getting some real taste of Malwa. For thanks to his electric enthusiasm and leadership we could enjoy all our festivals with the same gaiety and hurdang ( boisterous fun) as we would have in his native place Bagli which is a small town in the district of Dewas Madhya Pradesh, India .http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dewas_District

Even otherwise we were often invited home to savor and get acquainted with both his adorable family members whom he would regularly invite for a Southern Sojourn and the local delicacies like Dal Bafla, Dal Bati Churma, Besan ki chikki, Sev tamatar ki sabji , Besan ki sabji plus many other exotic local dishes the names of which i can't seem to recollect right now.

Amidst good cohesive gathering and delicious food he would then regale us not only with jokes, stories and tales of his land but also about unknown facts which would provide us with some lesson in anthropology. How else then would we even know the name of this festival called Bhagoriya and the songs sung in regional dialect during that festival?http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bhagoria_Festival

With him and his family it was always laughter and fun of such magnitude that the daily stress of life seemed dormant and diminished. Whether it concerned the dull and severe competitive educational regime of school going kids or was related to the awful and sometimes traumatic Hari Sadu- boss- ridden- career- in- doldrums at the office. All of us would be seen laughing our worries away. His explanations, observations, mimicry, some unbelievable original anecdotes made us roll with laughter so much so that our stomachs cried out for mercy and tears would start to trickle from the corner of the eyes.

Almost the entire department can never have enough of his extempore transliterated farewell speech which he was requested to give suddenly in his first posting as a very young officer at Chennai. Fortunately for us and unfortunately for him he was the senior most officer in that particular department. Still inexperienced in such matters that required one to wax eloquent about someone and ill-equipped not only with Tamil and some fluency in English but also with enough familiarity to even remember the name of the retiring gentleman this extempore has become a convention now in all our farewell speeches. After the regimental formalities are over and if Rathore is present he is requested unanimously for a re-wind and when he is not around someone else does the honors A la Rathore style as laughter dispels the somberness and sadness much associated with farewell parties especially when the outgoing gentleman is not exactly the one who belongs to the Hari Sadu genre.

All our kids who grew up having him around still cherish the poignant memories of the complete full package fun times spent with their favorite Rathore Uncle. My son still uses Rathore's typical" Hoy! Hooye!" happy exclamations of joy whenever he joins in any fun or revelry especially when India or any of his favorite team wins a match. He finds the Hoy! Hooye! and the rhythm with which it was pronounced by Rathore Uncle as the best form of expressing his own extreme joy still. He emulates his Rathore Uncle in this and i hope he emulates other attributes as well.

My son is 22 now and although he has his own fun times so typical of youngsters today yet Rathore Uncle and those moments of jolly togetherness will forever remain etched in his heart and mind.That memorable visit to the Vandalur Zoo or to the nearby Kanchipuram Temples, the long drive to Mahabalipuram on a full moon night or a movie show with the whole zing bang crowd when all went berserk, a casual family visit or the combined family get togethers in which we shared each others bits and bites and last but not the least the mother of all such fun packed events, the festivals when nothing not even the dhol , tabla and manjira was overlooked and none of us would be free enough from food, drinks, dance, music and buffoonery to miss home and family. Judging from the way my son's eyes light up and sparkle with joy at the mere mention of Rathore and the ease with which he goes down memory lane recollecting all his vivid memories i somehow get this feeling that not only the Hoy Hooye but every single event shall be passed on with gleeful delight to my grandchildren.

So far as we are concerned we are not any different either, rather quite eccentric in our behavior. For sometimes even when there's nothing to be boisterous about, we nurture and chant Rathore's rhythmic expression with religious fervor.

The rituals, the attire, the local delicacies, the regional songs, the fun fare all planned and executed in a jiffy which apparently seemed effortless made us wonder often about the quality of our social life sans him and equaling him none the less in their hospitality and warmth his affectionate family. Sure his absence in Chennai must have created a deep and painful void but knowing his nature fully well i am sure he must be staying in touch with one and all, emitting and enthusing the same exuberance when he was around. His invite and his devotion to our friendship is a testimony to the fact. i have before me his handsome princely face right in front of my mind's eye and as i blog i feel this extreme humbleness trickling down on me from him.

On recently being felicitated in his home town Bagli he felt quite embarrassed when the town took him quite by surprise. Deeply humbled by their gesture in honoring him with a citation that speaks volumes in favor of their very own Commisioner he felt unduly appreciated. He told us how he felt and his own words were " If I had known they would be doing this I would have skipped going home this time for I feel guilty of Palaayan (migrating)...what have I done for my native place...nothing..."

i saw the silent film of accumulating but unshed tears justifying his angst. But before his self confessed guilt i had also chanced upon a file while i was going through his album which had pictures of him cutting the ribbons inaugrating this and that. This file was thick and replete with newspaper clippings giving details about his committed and dedicated service to all the new projects under his purview. Perhaps it must be his doll like wife, collecting his achievements with pride while her husband seems to be getting humbler with each addition.

Both of us were too overwhelmed to say anything but the words that escaped my tongue sounded something like , " Oh! Rathore you shouldn't feel like that. Your native place feels proud to have their son returning to the homeland equipped with such a prestigious and powerful designation...it is a matter of extreme pride for a small town..."

Now sitting here i think i should have said, " Not at all...you never left Bagli ever and you never will for where ever you go Bagli will go with you dear Rathore. We thank our stars that through you and your family we know this wonderful and lovable place called Bagli where outsiders are treated like family following the Hindu philosophy of Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam (The whole world is one single family) and associated with the same spirit the most endearing and glorious tradition of Atithi Devo Bhava ( The guest is God)."

Humility is a strange thing~
the minute you think
you've got it,
you've lost it ~
E.D.Hulse

Would love to share this clip from you tube of the Bhagoria festival before i quit although i wish i could have also possessed a recording which had Rathore's voice crooning in the local dialect...
However even reminiscing is enough...making me smile as i try and remember how he sang while we laughed with joy at his stunning performance which sounded funny but was one of his many entertaining spectacle.

Ayam nijah paroveti ganana laghu-chetsam

Udara charitam Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam

"This is my own and that a stranger"- is the calculation for the narrow minded

For the magnanimous hearts however, the entire earth is but a family

- :Glossary of terms used:-
Hari Sadu Boss- The acronym taken from a TV commercial and generally applies to tyrannical bosses.
Bosses who are not only angry, self centered and abusive but also very miserly with appreciation.
H- Hitler, A-arrogant, R-rascal, I- idiot, S-shameless...

Dal Bafla, Dal Bati Churma- a popular delicacy of Rajasthan, Gujarat and Madhya Pradesh

Dal in the bowl and bafla

Yellow Dal in the first small bowl, Bati and churma in the big bowl

Sev Tamatar ki Sabji- a curry made with a dry snack called sev

http://www.aayisrecipes.com/2006/07/21/sev-aur-tamatar-ki-sabzi/

Besan ki chikki- a sweet made from chickpeas flour

http://www.givemesomespice.com/2010/06/mohanthal-gujarati-sweet.html

Besan ki Sabji- a curry made from chickpeas flour

http://www.khanakhazana.com/recipes/view.aspx?id=762

Dhol- a large typically two headed drum used in India especially in folk songs.

Tabla- a pair of small drums used in Indian classical music.

Manjira- a pair of small hand cymbals

Image Courtesy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dal_Baati

  http://www.rajasthantour4u.com/food_cuisine/dalbatichurma.html
http://www.auroville.org/journals%26media/books%26cds/songs_for_children.htm
  http://bharatendu.wordpress.com/2008/08/29/the-hoax-called-vasudhaiva-kutumbakam-1-hitopadesha/
  http://templeofrhythm.com/indian/dhol/dhol-goatskin-heads
  http://chandrakantha.com/articles/indian_music/tabla.html
  http://chandrakantha.com/articles/indian_music/manjira.html

Superb in Taste this Caramel !

2011-08-10T23:05:00.000-07:00

It is not easy to hum this song but i am humming it the entire day. And when i am not humming then it is going inside my head the opening lines...Mreyte Ya Mreyte...and the rest follows as... hmm hmmm...
My Mirror, Oh My Mirror
Tell me who I am
You are me, and I am you, no matter how big you grow
to be and no matter how much you change
in my eyes you are still six, oh my mirror
I'm going to tell you my story
Tell me I am the fairest of them all
And the most sensual/ feminine of them all
Look and tell me what it is you see, oh my mirror
I'm going to tell you my story
Tell me why
My hair is not blonde
My hips are not small
And my lips are not full, oh my mirror
I will tell you my story
Tell me how
i can make it smaller
Or how to be beautiful in make -up
With my party dress, oh my mirror
Tell me who I am
You are me, and i am you, no matter how big you grow
to be and no matter how much you change
In my eyes you are still six, oh my mirror
Tell me who I am
Tell me who I am
Oh my mirror, oh my mirror, oh my mirror

The song has a sad overtone but don't know how or why it feels soothing. Maybe it's because " the sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thoughts".

i hum along going through each of the beautiful characters of the movie of which Mreyte Ya Myeyte is the soundtrack of. And i wonder what was so special about the movie that i am spell bound and sort of mesmerized.

Even now as i blog i see
Layale- hopelessly in love with a married man ready to drop everything at the honk of his car. i can understand her yearning to know the wife of her lover, doubting her own self and always wondering what exactly took away her lover to his wife every time . i can feel her obsession for that woman.
As a third party witnessing all this it is acceptable as i speak to her, '' Dump that sod! and silly girl why aren't you paying any heed to that handsome gentleman who even though issues a parking ticket excuses you each time because for him you are his "sunshine"?
Nisrine- Although eager and happy about her marriage is in constant fear of being discovered by her husband of her past indiscretions.
And i tell her, '' What rubbish can't you cook up a story about having met with an accident...while you were cycling...'' ?
Jamale- i am still intrigued by this wannabe actress who stages a fake menstrual cycle to remind herself that she is still young. This never say die woman who even suggests best for Nisrine.That the pigeon blood simulates human blood best and that just a few stitches and Nisrine would be as good as new.
'' Baby...it's okay, you are beautiful still and when you can set things right for others how hard is it for you to accept the natural process of ageing?" i seem to be telling Jamale.
Rima- Always the only one in pants feels attracted to her lady client Siham and is besotted with her smile.
To dear Rima-Run!! Please! leave that country if you can and start your life elsewhere where you might not be incarcerated for your sexuality .
Rosie- i cry with this seamstress as she wipes her make-up sacrificing a promising relationship prioritizing her duty towards her elder sister who has lost her mind. i feel an intense respect for this woman who shelves her own desire bearing the pain but still nurturing intense affection towards her elder sister.
i cry and cry and want to hug Rosie. The only sound that escapes my heart is, Oh Rosie! Oh my dear Rosie !!
Lily- Naughty Lily always seen collecting bits of paper from the road and stealing the parking tickets and when situation arose even creating a row with the cop if she had to. Her lost in time and still stuck to the sweet memories of her lost love makes me fall in love with dementia. Provoked by her tantrums i am even more convinced that old age is nothing but childhood revisited.
i feel like chiding Lily as i would a child whose being stubborn in her tantrums- "Why do you do this? If you continue to behave badly Rosie will be forced to lock you up. Now be good and don't run around alone."

What was so special about the story which reverberates with affairs of everyday people dealing with their everyday problems?
Was it the intelligent handling of a non-intriguing, non-showy story about relationships?
Or perhaps the way the director has progressed giving an insight into the symbolism involved which makes it feel like you are not watching a film rather witnessing an artist paint a unique story using his masterstrokes.
And this painting where burnt sugar is used for symbolism is not at all like a crossword puzzle that one may find difficult to crack.You don't need the artist to explain his motive about the abstract form used.
Did it appeal to me so much only because it was a womans' story revolving around five beautiful characters Layale, Nisrine, Rima, Jamale and Rose? Although there was one more who enthralled me none the less. No it couldn't be because i waited also for the handsome police officer Youssef to emerge and provide me with the glimpse of the very conventional and traditional romance so rare these days.
Maybe it was the music too...sweet, melodious and haunting. Not only the title track but also the sad overtures that played in the background as issues were dealt with whether it was the Neat Wooing of a lady by a man, Terrifying Binding Traditions, Sexuality that is not only Repressed but also Forbidden, The raging battle faced by us all sometime or the other namely Duty Vs Desire, The Pain that one is happily willing to undergo for the sake of beauty or last but not the very least the constant Endeavor of the woman in most of us to be in a constant state of Self Denial playing harmless tricks to convince ourselves that we are as good as 18.
Sure it was all this and even more. It was the poetry/painting that described/portrayed-
-the sweet and sour flavor which is LIFE
-the sticky relationships which do annoy us at times but we'd rather go through with it than escaping it.
-the pain which also brings forth happiness and fulfilment.
-the sisterhood that exits even in a salon where you don't feel one bit inhibited to express yourself honestly.
and last but not the least the universality of human emotions.

Thus the song goes inside my head as i struggle with the pronunciations in Arabic and wanting to try caramel for myself. i mean first making it with water, sugar and lemon juice and then tasting it, still hot.
Maybe even try epilation and see if it really hurts that bad.
Something else has happened too.
As of now Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt are out and it's going to be the so Omar Shariffly, hopelessly handsome Adel Karam.

Adel Karam

Reeling under the spell of the movie Caramel i am not annoyed for having missed it earlier but rather glad that i

have seen one of the best movies at a time when there seems to be dry spell of a delightful ensemble drama everywhere...even in Hollywood!

To all who care i would suggest- please watch it in company only if you are certain that your choice will be truly appreciated and enjoyed. If not watch it alone and believe me you will not miss having any company. For this "...a colorful and sensual microcosm of Beirut where several generations come into contact, talk and confide in each other..." is not everyone's cup of tea.

It certainly wasn't my husband's as he slept peacefully throughout the entire movie and woke up only when the soundtrack played in the end and asked me with a smile, '' Finnisse?...chalo put on the news now."

i did not feel annoyed at him at all like i would have normally mainly for two reasons.

a) i was saved of his constant interruptions and restlessness and

b) The revelation that the song did have something to wake this somnolent husband of mine.

http://lyricstranslate.com

The Song- Sound track of Lebanese Film Caramel

Arabic

Mreyte, Ya Mreyte

Mreyte ya mreyte ra7 e7kilek e7kayte

2oulili ana min

Inti ana, w ana inti, mahma kberti w etghayarti

B3youni inti setteh ya mreyti

Ra7 e7kilek e7kayti

2oulili ino ana a7la wa7de fihon

An3am wa7de fihon

Shoufi 2ouli eli tshoufi 2ouli ya mreyti

Ra7 e7kilek e7kayti

2oulili ana leh

Sha3ri manno ash2ar

Khasre manno asghar

W tme manno akbar, ya mreyti

Ra7 e7kilek e7kayti

2oulili ana keef

Badda asgharra

Aw yt7alw el 7amra

Ma3 fos6an el sahra, ya mreyti

2oulili ana min

Inti ana, w ana inti, mahma kberti w etghayarti

B3youni inti setteh ya mreyti

2oulili ana min

Ya mreyti, ya mreyti, ya mreyti

Image Courtesy:
http://lyricstranslate.com/en/Mreyte-Ya-Mreyte-My-Mirror-oh-My-Mirror.html
http://www.sinemalar.com/film/48267/Caramel/
http://www.adel-karam.com/img16.html
http://www.facebook.com/people/Adel-Karam/100000643054638
http://celebritywonder.ugo.com/movie/2008_Caramel.html

Resilience

2011-08-08T18:17:00.000-07:00

picture by photographer Robert Brown

Life Begins Everyday

Do not say everything would be so senseless.

See the lonely rose bud in the garden as it blossoms in the winter.

Inspite of all the frost, the cold, For it- life begins every day.

It develops slowly like the bud, opens carefully the delicate petals,

Ventures, and then shines strongly.

Remember, even in the time of devastation,

Life begins everyday.

He was observing me keenly. My Man Friday at home and his name is Babloo.

My ritual in the mornings must have puzzled him at first but since he's also a son of the soil, a farmer first, it was not very difficult for him to crack the code. Like a bird that goes round and round in it's cage he found me restless as i would peer downstairs oft an on and bombard him with many questions. Quite recently the number one question- if he knew the local name of the shrubs that have become my favorites from the seventh floor.

He would just nod his head in the negative and i would after telling him the English common names plead him to catch hold of the elusive gardener and fish out the local name.

Just the other day he did something that i don't approve of generally but his gesture sort of touched me. i had sent him on an errand to get me some guavas and when he came back he held out his hand and shyly presented me with a branch of the shrub, the Hindi name of which he was unable to elicit from the gardener.

i have this thing for plucking anything live from the plant or a tree be it flowers or even leaves. It makes me feel that it was brutally murdered or dismembered and was denied it's right to live a full cycle of it's lifetime. Don't know why but i decided not to give him any flora or fauna preservation lecture this time and dismissed the teacher in me for later. i held the branch gently lest i should injure the very delicate, hairy but feathery blossom.Then placed it prim and proper in a bottle filled with water. The branch looked prettier still in that small but lush green bottle and we both admired the arrangement profusely.

Then next day something wonderful happened. My husband and i were out for almost the entire time during the day and when we got back in the evening Babloo first served us water and set the water on the stove for tea but remembered to inform me to go and have a look at the branch in the bottle. i obliged and the rest is quite a story if not history.

i know a cyber shot camera is not the kind of equipment for perfect pictures but i am no photographer either. Nevertheless i shall try to tell the entire story with the help of the pictures.

Even in the bottle, sustaining itself just on water the leaves had closed just like they would have when the branch was still a part of the shrub but the bud stood erect. No drooping of the stalks visible at all.

The next day i had to undergo some medical examinations that required me to be on fasting so we set out early. When we returned in the afternoon at around 12, i was just too hungry. Since it was a Saturday and Babloo knew the routine well, he had prepared delicious Kitchdree and two bharthas one of Aubergine and the other of Potato. Back home these bharthas are better known as Chokhas. We relished the Saturday lunch all complete with achaar, papad, dahi and ghee (just for the day) added into the Kitchdree as per our choice plus the super Bengali sweet for dessert. After lunch got over we headed towards the bedroom to take a nap. But Babloo seemed a bit restless and anxious and continued to wait upon me like he had something to say. He signaled me with his index finger, jerking his head in a particular direction to notice the branch.

i had not even given it a casual look since i had returned home from the Pathological lab, as hunger and tiredness had sort of turned me into a cow grabbing at this and that for munching. This overlooking on my part had perhaps made him anxious. i smiled hoping something nice and new. i turned to gaze at the index finger and head jerked signaled spot. i couldn't believe what i saw.

Suddenly i felt a wave of irritation run into me as i felt cross with myself. How pathetically hungry and tired could i be to have ignored such a pretty and awesome sight.

The bigger of the bud had begun it's flowering process. Now the stalk that held it was also bending into a curve. i was overjoyed and absolutely felt no need to take a nap at all. While my husband withdrew to the bedroom for a quick snooze i waited for Babloo to finish his lunch and we talked about the plant. The farmer in him had observations to share. According to him if that branch was still a part of the shrub the bud might have flowered fully. The fact of the matter being that here in this pretty bottle all it could feed upon was just water and the other important nutrients were denied to it for it to mature fully. i nodded in affirmation and debated inwardly if this was the right time to let him know about my true feelings regarding forced plucking and uprooting. But once again some feeling stopped me.

i thus preferred to listen to his childhood tales about another of the same family which he said is called Laajwanti. i knew instantly what he was referring to. The Touch Me Nots what else?

Later while Babloo went away for his nap i nurtured affectionate thoughts for him and felt glad to have him as my companion in this common interest. Also i wondered if the bud would blossom to it's full maturity in that bottle. i'll have to wait and watch. In any case i am awed by it's resilience. Trying it's best to survive against all odds and be at it's best even when denied of life sustaining resources.

Right now i feel like indulging in a flashback. Although this was just two days back.

Both of us eyeing the burst of reds in the bushy canopy of what appeared to be a Khejri/Shami shrub earlier.

That is before it showed it's true color which happens now in this season.

After handing me the branch with that fully blossomed Powder Puff/Fairy Duster and a couple or so of the big buds and one teeny weeny globule,

Babloo then leaves it to me to decide where to put it. i hurriedly ransacked the kitchen cupboard for an empty bottle. Got the perfect size, filled it to the top with plain water and propped the beauty in the bottle. It stood elegant without much effort.

The initial decision was to place the beauty on the dining table where we had just finished a sumptuous meal all complete with fresh Rosogullas for dessert.

Later looked around for an appropriate place where the beauty truly stands out without much obstructions or any cluttered diversions.

On my table above the book?... Nah ! Neyt! Nahiinn!!

At the center of the bed headboard? looks okay but...

This corner looks perfect! So this is it...nowhere but here.

It's pathetic that my skills with the camera couldn't capture my motive here.The shadow of the tiny fronds coupled with the luminous green of the bottle that fell on the blank corner walls. Must do something about my CTD syndrome (camera tackling deficiency).

It was impossible for me to sit now so down i flew hopping and jumping stairs as i had no patience to wait for the already engaged by someone lift. Cared two hoots for my leukocrepe bandaged arthritic hand as i was painless from this moment on.

Guess what i could be doing downstairs in the mid afternoon on a weekend when everyone seemed to be submerged in an aftermath of slumberous lethargy after a good weekend holiday meal?

Actually this time i was rather too pleased with the people less pathways and lawns.

Sure enough i was trying to capture as much as i could for soon the blossoming season would be over. i was wanting to see the same sight of a bud bursting into feathery but minute globular curly bumps like a red berry on the shrub.

i saw none of that on the shrub but just the tiny convoluted buds, some larger like the size of marbles and some smaller fluorescent green buds and plenty and plenty of red powder puffs/fairy dusters on all the shrubs that lined the periphery of the society lawn. Of course the plenty is more visible from my seventh floor as they strike one as rubies that are scattered randomly in a sea of lacy but profusely netted green.

It feels so great to notice the change happening live even if it not a continuous one like the ones we see in the National Geographic Channel. Maybe while we are sleeping before the break of dawn the buds on the shrubs open out like freshly undergone metamorphosis Powder Puffs/Fairy Dusters. Nevertheless it was spectacular for me to notice a multiple globule in fluorescent green in the morning turn into a multiple globule of Ruby red in the afternoon.

" When did that happen"? i had asked Babloo in all my excitement after he had signaled to me the change. His assumption was sometime between 10-11 forenoon although he could not be sure. He was busy in the kitchen preparing Kitchdree. Or it could have happened even before, at the break of dawn and we had failed to notice it because of our preoccupations in the early hours of the morning. However he accepted that he too was tardy and noticed it only when he was laying the dining table mats.

So, what if we missed out on that miracle moment, i am pleased enough to see a natural occurrence even when the conditions were amateurishly but unwittingly controlled.

The slow motion not only ignites my curiosity but also imparts me with wisdom.

It is in nature for life to go on and on and even in subsistence it is simply, breathtaking!!

-:Glossary of terms used:-

Khitchdree- a preparation of rice and lentils that looks like yellow porridge only thing is that unlike sweet porridge this one has salt. Considered to be a comfort food easy to digest. In Bihar my native place this preparation is generally made on Saturdays. It is customary to observe simplicity on Saturday and dedicate it to lord Shani ( Saturn- The Lord of Saturday) and thus prepare this comfort meal which is easy both on time taken for cooking and also on the bowel.

Bharatha/Chokha- a preperation of roasted mashed vegetables like aubergine, potato, mixed vegetables and even tomatoes. The roasted vegetables are mashed and seasoned with salt, onions, garlic, ginger, green chillies, coriander leaves and a dash of pure mustard oil. There are two preparations in this.One has all the seasonings raw but finely chopped while the other has chopped seasonings fried and then mixed with the roasted vegetables.Then together they are fried again with a dash of some basic spices like cumin powder, coriander powder, dry mango powder and chilli powder.

While the rest of the country calls it Bhurtha or Bharatha, the region of Bihar has a unique name for it -Chokha.

Achaar-pickles made from raw mangoes, lime or even mixed vegetables. However the one that goes best with Kitchdree is the mango pickle but then of course some could prefer lime pickle too.

Papad-Either deep fried or roasted crackers made of lentils, potatoes, sago etc.

Dahi- plain home made yoghurt.

Ghee- (heated and used to spread on Kitchdree) clarified butter.

As the saying goes- " Kitchdree ke hain paanch yaar Ghee, Bhartha, Dahi, Papad, Achaar". Translated this means that Kitchdree has five friends, Clarified butter, mash, yoghurt, crackers and pickles.

Rosogulla-the very famous spongy and delightful sweet originally from Bengal.

Nah, Neyt, Nahiinn- all mean the same- a big NO!!

i'll sign off just now as i hear the crows...maybe the dawn is soon to be...should go and catch up with the marble sized ruby globule and see if it has blossomed feathery. i shall not feel sad if it has not for i shall cherish only the best moments that i had with my baby Powder Puff and for a change i would like to call it a Cherub Duster.

Image courtesy:http://plants.swtexture.com/2010/06/calliandra-haematocephala-red-powder.html

http://outdoors.webshots.com/photo/1246735290029319295IXNpWg

The link that shows the varieties and gives more information.

http://www.flowersofindia.in/catalog/slides/Powder%20Puff.html

Thumps Up to Number 7 and Sisterhood

2011-08-08T11:13:00.000-07:00

Credits: Roberto Quesada for Photography

i remember my friend telling me this. About her most embarrassing day in office. She was wearing her Indian outfit the wrong side out and realized it only when her day got over at the office. Her not so relaxed ride back home still replete with unfinished agendas was ruined when just by chance she noticed the hanging threads. Her thoughts naturally ran in this order.

1) Did they notice it in the office??

2) Oh **** they would have have sniggered behind my back.

3) They must be enjoying a hearty laugh discussing their sloppy woman boss at home.

4) Someone should have been kind and pointed out my mistake to me.

5) How the **** did i do this?

6) Now will the driver also notice it? Maybe he already knows and will peer even closely...??

7) Maybe nobody noticed it at all. Relax!!

i thought then that maybe being the only woman in the office could be quite something. And this could be yet another occupational hazard. For if she had a female colleague in the same office and if they would have met over mundane discussions or even casual gup shup ( chit chat) the lady colleague would have noticed and my friend would be saved from the upsetting chain of thoughts that proved to be quite a spoiler .

For she couldn't pick up the groceries back home. Now her mission was to make do with whatever is available in the house and change her dress, FIRST.

Over the phone the very next day when she narrated her heart wrenching story about her life going all bonkers with work, home and very little rest she had my full sympathy.

Although i too had some sequence of thoughts.

i decided not to give her any gyaan ( advice) and just listen to her and empathise.

My smaller sequence centered around just two questions as to what was more upsetting and i tried to answer them inwardly but of course i was biased.

1) Has life become so choc o block that we fail to notice how or what we are wearing?

2) The fact that people would have noticed and joked about it?

i decided to feel strong about the first even when i know that we do get swayed, always, by ''What will people think!"

But i felt more alarmed with the corollary to the sequence as to how some of us have very little free time for ourselves to dress up in our sane sense or worse still even get hold of our own child in the super market.

There's this ad in TV perhaps of a mattress where the lady at the supermarket drags the wrong girl ignoring both the poor in strength and faint in sound struggle cries only to realize her mistake later when she hears the hiccuped cries of her own child seeking out her one and only ma.

The shot shows the horrified- at- her- own folly ma releasing the wrong baby girl abruptly and hurriedly going over to her own crying baby and picking her up first. The invisible male voice teasingly blurts out " Dekha theek sey naa sauney ka nateeja!"( Saw the result of not sleeping well!)

Something similar happened with me today and it is not strange that instead of being embarrassed i felt rather cute about my own self.

i can't seem to think otherwise because i am not hurried for time. Not anymore. Nor did i not sleep well.

And to top it all i was just downstairs. Home was just a few minutes of lift ride away and would take me less than five minutes to get all straightened up.

Stranger Lady serious in her looks as if she's about to divulge an incredible secret but with a smile on her lips : Suniye...aap ne dress ulta pehna hua hai.( listen...you are wearing the dress wrong side out.)

Maybe the smile was all about the famous Mirinda tagline jor ka jhatka dheerey sey lagey.( Big shock feels less shocking).

Or maybe she is a serious lady and was affectionately smiling at my cute little mistake.

Me: (smiling back at her but still preoccupied with my job juxtapositioning myself between a parked car and the shrub): Haan shaayad!... koi baat nahin ... abhi ghar jaakar badal loongi...( Yes maybe...doesn't matter...will go home now and change...)

The stranger lady walked off with a smile still on her lips and i continued with my occupation not the least bothered about the hanging lapel below the nape of the neck that was proclaiming my size to the whole world.

Maybe the person who tapped my back as i was busy clicking pictures with my cyber shot was a lady.

Or had a hunk of a guy approached me and with his suave manner uttered something similar God alone knows what my reaction would be.

One thing definitely would have happened then. i sure would be embarrassed. Not at all about wearing the wrong side out but definitely about my stylishly screaming L.

But the fact of the matter is that men fail to notice such small, easy to be overlooked apparent details. So far as details are concerned it's the very important statistics of the latent that interests them more. Isn't it?

Moreover i think some man might approach you about the pen, the kerchief or even a bunch of keys asking you if it could belong to you. But so far as approaching you to tell you that you wore your T Shirt wrong side up, nah i don't think so.

Thus the other day i decided to stick with her no. 7 thought. i calmed my friend telling her that she's lucky she was the only woman there as the men would have failed to see the wrong side of her dead brown profusely printed shalwaar kameez http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shalwar_kameez.

She sounded okay then in her cheerio bye before she hung up with the words " Talk to you laters then, let me finish off my office work...".

i felt good about this sisterhood then and i feel good about the same sisterhood today.

Only thing i am disgusted as too why i failed to thank the stranger lady.

Ek Thank You toh banta thaa ! ( She sure did deserve a thank you)
Challo Koi Naeee jee ( popular local lingo for just chill...take it easy...not to worry...)

Sure i remember her face well and if i happen to see her again i will.
This just reminds me of yet another one i happened to see in a poster. The words appealed to me and it goes like this:
Best Side of Life

life is double-sided;

There's a wrong side and a right side;

A sad side and a happy side.

There's a good side and a bad side;

A black side and a bright side.

So if things seem dark to you,

Just change your thoughts about.

Life will look quite different if you turn it best side out.

Image Courtesy: http://pravstalk.com/pravs-world-best-side-of-life/

Suit Yourself !

2011-08-05T07:16:00.000-07:00

The first day when i saw the news about the neighbor country ambassador i just admired her neat white suit and the way the dupatta (a long scarf) was draped over her head. i found her looking pretty, trendy, smart, intelligent and a sophisticated traditional.
Then the paparazzi took over and projected her much to her chagrin as a fashion icon. An exclusive feature in the Sunday Times then opened my eyes to more. It was Sunday and for a change i concentrated on this piece of news for i was fed with news of scams, corruption , train accidents, dismal and sad performance of our cricketers, more rapes and still more murders. Moreover there was some anger and wanting to snap at everyone kind of frustration building up.
As could be expected in such moments diversion was not hard at all. My chosen features were on pages 15-20 on all the days albeit the distraction and indulge into what's hot is supposed to be on page 3.
And so i gulped down the details and managed to laugh at all the boisterous tweets.
i wouldn't have bothered but the repetitive features got the better of me and i had this strong urge of going through the ambassador's pictures once again.

Okay Roberto Cavalli Shades...South Sea Pearls and ...a Birkin??
So while the ambassador grew "incandescent" at being dubbed as WMD (weapon of mass distraction) i was on a mission and silently thanked the paparazzi for bombarding ancients like me with NEWS.

Only thing i hope the paparazzi could have assured me that when i said Birkin...something that rhymed with gherkin i was sounding okay. For it took me quite some time to get Louis Vuitton right.
Thanks to Russel Peters and no thanks to paparazzi for that.http://youtu.be/7pYOZduNhtY

My mission yielded some results and it goes like this.
The Birkin bag is a hand crafted purse made by the French high fashion house Hermès.
Pronounced hair-maizz .
Just like the Kelly bag was named after princess Grace Kelly of Monaco the Birkin bag was specially made for actress and singer Jane Mallory Birkin OBE .

Jane Mallory Birkin

And apart from the so many celebrities who own this very expensive bag the one who has been spotted to have the largest collection nearing around a hundred or so ( approximately 2 million dollars worth) is none other than the fashionable and oh! so slim "Bag Lady" Victoria Beckham.

Sure i checked out some of her spotted- by- paparazzi Birkin bags at http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1184169/Bag-lady-Victoria-Beckhams-100-strong-Birkin-bag-collection-thats-worth-1-5m.html

No! it does not amaze me to know " that meticulous craftsmanship and scarcity" create such exclusive bags. For our own country is replete with many such crafts. My wonderment was with the paparazzi which has both the penchant and the connoisseurs' temperament for high fashion and if not for their repetitive screaming that sounded like a slogan i would still be an ignorant fool battling with THE pronunciation of Louis Vuitton.

Definitely now i shall get acquainted with some if not all of both Jane Birkin's movies and music. i don't care about the controversies but what has appealed to me is her dedication towards humanitarian causes and her association with Amnesty International.
It was touching to know that her namesake bag that traveled with her from Haiti to Burma for all the humanitarian causes, she recently auctioned for Red Cross Japan Relief on ebay.

Photo: EMI

However what made me head over heels for this new to me personality/celebrity/Icon of the Sixties/Dame is her self-effacing honesty which she exudes whether it is in her words as she explains the reasons for why she did what she did or her constant endeavor now to contribute to a just cause.

"http://www.vogue.com/vogue-daily/article/jane-birkins-birkin-buy-it-now/

On personalization: “There’s no fun in a bag if it’s not kicked around, so that it looks as if the cat’s been sitting on it—and it usually has. The cat may even be in it! I always put on stickers and beads and worry beads. You can get them from Greece, Israel, Palestine—from anywhere in the world. I always hang things on my bags because I don’t like them looking like everyone else’s.”
On restraint: “I never have more than one bag at a time. I think one is already quite enough. Also, I hate changing bags, so I never have the thing of having ten bags. Any bag that’s with me will take the same course as I will. It will take the same airplanes and will be squashed in the same way and will be used as a cushion in the airports.”

On the Birkin she’s carrying now: “It’s black, but it’s not dirty enough, and it hasn’t gotten any stickers on it. It’s rather more bumpy than the other one was, but the surface will soon get scratched about.”

On what she carries in her Birkin: “I’ve got my agenda, my BlackBerry, photos of all the children [daughters Kate Barry, Charlotte Gainsbourg,and Lou Doillon], and my makeup, which is all upside down. It’s the nice mess that I always like.”

On the popularity of the Birkin—both real and fake: “It’s very nice that everyone’s got one or wants one. I keep saying to Hermès to make it out of plastic or, even more fun, make it out of cardboard. Then it wouldn’t be so heavy. But if people want to go for the real thing, fine. If they go for copies, that’s fine too. I really don’t think it matters.”
On handing them down: “My daughter Lou does not have one. Personally, I think it would be a horrible thing to have a Birkin bag from your mother."

My mission was quite something for not only did it dissipate the bitterness and the anger i felt about the undue and vulgar emphasis on wealth when larger issues of survival was at stake but i also realized that my feelings were so common.
Yeah the grapes are sour kind of thing. i mean if i was a celebrity who could afford such luxuries would i abstain from it?
It's so common to sit in your place and if you are in a non-agitated state, be cynical about everything that is out of your reach and silently curse the media for making news out of anything. Even laugh at all the crude jokes spilling out after the media has flashed something.
But come to think of this when we can appreciate German mastery over tools/automobiles/machines, the Swiss watches and chocolates, the Savile Row suits, the Rolls Royce and the likes what stupid reasoning stops us from appreciating a bag and the fashion house that created it.
i thank the media for educating me on this too but more than that i feel happy today to get introduced to one interestingly complex celebrity who not only shocked the world with her strange amalgam of insecurity and arrogance but is now on her way to conquering the hearts of the so many who need help.

What i have been trying to harp on is that there's always 'The New' in News that anyone can use. Maybe the next time i see Lady Gaga then instead of getting all fired up on her costume i'd rather concentrate on her voice or even try and figure out the meanings of her songs. The song "Paparazzi" for instance which has my teenager clueless, i feel is about the the artist/celebrity and the paparazzi both wooing each other. "...celebrities need a higher level of exposure than the rest of us so it is a two-way street. The celebrities manipulate."

BTW the dainty hand adjusting the dupatta did feature a very worth a dekho (must have a look) watch. Did i miss out on that...i hope not.

Added today :7th Aug 2011 from Sunday Times TOI

NEIGHBOURHOOD WATCH

The handbag is the foreign minister

HARRIS BIN MUNAWAR

Hina Rabbani Khar is not Pakistan’s new foreign minister, a source close to the policymakers said in a remarkable revelation this week. “It is not Khar but her Hermes Birkin bag that was appointed to office last month,” he told this scribe. “The idea was to promote a soft image of Pakistan.”
    He cited the coverage of the bag in the Indian and Pakistani media and the analyses of its role in impacting ties between the two countries, as evidence of his claim.
    The appointment is likely to have serious economic impact and indicates Pakistan’s changing foreign policy especially towards America and its war on terror. “The price of the bag is close to the annual US aid to Pakistan,” a foreign policy expert said, “and the move signals to the US that Pakistan might not need financial help any longer.”
    “We needed someone to carry it around,” the official said, “and there was no politician better than Hina Rabbani Khar to take care of Pakistan’s precious economic resource.”
    Critics denied the report, saying it was a rumour spread by the establishment in the form of a leak. “The establishment has become fond of making political jokes,” an expert said. It is pertinent to mention here that most of these political jokes later became federal ministers.
    Analysts do agree that the Birkin bag fits the profile of a traditional male foreign minister quite well — It belongs to a family that has been influential for centuries, it is oversized, has a big mouth but doesn’t know how to speak, it takes months to get hold of it, and it does not have the ability to make foreign policy.
    Based on these qualities, some foreign policy experts do not see the new appointment as a radical change. “It’s not like Shah Mahmood Qureshi came with a shoulder strap.” The report sparked a debate on Twitter about the gender of the bag and its implications.
    Before the new revelation, results in public polls in the print media led Urdu columnists to demand an apology from Hina Rabbani Khar for being rich. They said she was cut off from the public and therefore did not qualify to be the foreign minister. One suggested she drive a rickshaw for several years first, to connect with the common people and learn the art of negotiation with stubborn opponents.
    Religious parties had similarly demanded an apology from Hina for being a woman. At the time of the filing of this report, she had not officially denied the allegation.
    Her supporters in English newspapers and the blogosphere however denied that she was pretty, dismissing reports of her good looks as baseless propaganda. Some have urged the minister to grow a moustache to dispel the impression among common people that she is beautiful.
    Meanwhile, feminists have strongly protested calling Hina Rabbani Khar a woman, saying the W word is derogatory. “It is a different thing if we call each other women,” one civil society representative told this scribe while twisting her moustache. “For us, it is diminutive but inclusive.”
    After the revelation that it was the Birkin bag and not Hina whose qualifications needed to be analysed, a number of political analysts expressed satisfaction with the government’s new move. “Pakistan has come a long long way in the last few months,” an expert said. “Having a designer bag as a foreign minister is significantly better than having no foreign minister at all.”
The writer is a media and culture critic from Pakistan. He can be reached at harris @nyu .edu

Image courtesy:
http://fs1.freecodesource.com/album-covers/B003V1ARSK--jane-birkin-di-doo-dah-album-cover.html
http://www.howmuchdotheyweigh.com/jane-birkin-weight/
http://www.choosehandbag.com/2009/06/the-classic-hermes-kelly-bag/.

Solace

2011-08-02T06:07:00.000-07:00

It's been some months now that i have moved and yet the anguish of leaving the last station remains unabated.
What causes an ache every morn as i sit in my balcony is the view of concrete as the sight of lush green canopy having myriad hues of green that i was so accustomed to for the last so many years eludes me. In fact the color of the concrete peeping through the rich foliage would be quite a sight. Sigh!!

But as the adage goes count your blessings i chide my aching heart and try to focus on the sky, the pigeons, the trapeze routine of the parrots who call out every morn for applause perched on the cables running haphazardly between the adjoining blocks and wonder if these creatures are trying to get amused by me too. Some day perhaps they would feel secure enough and might as well sit on my toe instead. Sometimes the cries of the parrots make me look around for peacocks but of course i know parrots are excellent mimics.
i realize the futility of weeping a dirge over the some covered up and some open balcony all replete with air conditioners of all kinds, desert coolers and the not- currently- wanted but perhaps to- be- used later sundry items stacked desolately and NO PEOPLE.
Nobody seems to be wanting the balcony anymore for their morning newspaper with a cuppa what to talk of the twilight.
Maybe the open balcony with all it's simple pleasures is a luxury to be enjoyed by people like me who is abundant on her unhurried time and somewhat dwindled in her requirements so far as livable space and finances are concerned.

"You want to see people and greenery... why don't you walk to the park... it will do you good both health wise and otherwise !" is the nonchalant response that i get from my companion of a husband. Blessing myself at being a good homemaker i size up my companion sitting next to me in a grey tracksuit, comfortable but trendy walking shoes and no sweat. The nainon ke baan (shooting sharp arrows kind of look) sure is both loveless and harmless for a change rather this shot is quite an ego booster for the one on whom it is directed.
He flips the newspaper neatly with his long limbs and is too occupied in sipping both the tea and the daily news to bother about THE LOOK and the SILENCE.
Silence! works best when you know that your honesty would only elicit yet another animated lecture which would at best see you sulking due to a neat overdose.
i look at the red concrete ahead and watch with renewed vigor of someone attempting a touch down, the antics of the pigeons instead after the parrots have flown to another destination for yet another show, perhaps.
My six footer has no idea that the park instead of brightening my spirits dampens me and fills me with remorse. Suddenly all you can see is ardent Baba Ramdev fans practising the so many asanas or the freaks in good shoes and slim bodies bouncing away to yet another level of fitness glory. And as if this was not enough a whole big neat area would be usurped by the fanatic followers of the laughter club. It makes me sick with guilt and i return heavy with fake resolutions.
However i wonder if my protector and provider caught my drift.
Sigh !!

Once again i wish i could don that attitude that makes my husband happy and fulfilled to walk even if it was for ten minutes minus the weight loss agenda. None of the endless remarks and feverish efforts from all who are working at their paunches, girders, love handles... seem to affect him. He is content with all that is his. The paunch, the ten minute regime and the sight of the people less concrete.

WHY aren't people not strolling anymore? i know the answer but that helps but little to alleviate the longing which is much more than just greenery and people.
Can there be any solace in knowing that i am not the only woman alive having such longings and dreaming of a Ek bangla baney nyaraa ( A unique dream cottage of your own) .

i sit in the same balcony with the panorama of sounds of a woken up world and a book. i was barely into the second page when in a reverie of sorts i see myself walking.
No ordinary walk this. i seem to be trailing the author as he introduces me to Saxifrages, Auriculas and Sweet Williams...Privet hedges...
And as i take this so much desired nature walk i don't seem to mind the absence of people rather am actually too pleased to loiter around in this, "Substantial and very decent" miners' dwelling with little front gardens.
i am seeing the like- a -child's -drawing- of- flower auriculas, saxifrages erupting into luxuriant blooms through the rocks, the various hues of sunny pinks in sweet williams, neat front windows, little porches, privet hedges and oh my God! DORMER WINDOWS!!..
Saxifrage

photo of purple Saxifrage by aussie_cameraman

sax·i·frage

A low-growing plant of poor soils, bearing small white, yellow, or red flowers and forming rosettes of succulent leaves or hummocks of mossy leaves. Many are grown as alpines in rock gardens. More »

http://www.blueplanetbiomes.org/tufted_saxifrage.htm

Auriculas

http://www.thompson-morgan.com/auriculas-article

Auricula



Otherwise	bear's-ear and mountain cowslip because of their large leaves that resemble what the text says... a bear's ear and i think maybe a cow's lip.

Sweet Williams

Sweet William
Did not know that the Dianthus with a sweet and spicy clove like fragrance is also known as Sweet William. i distinctly remember the faint fragrance that reminded me sometimes of Carnation and other times of Cantharidine hair oil.
Privet Hedge

Privet Hedge
Used extensively both for privacy and for green but live art forms called topiary i am not surprised when beauty in nature is dubbed as an invasive weed by some. So what if the pollen of this and others are known to cause asthma and eczema my effort will be to identify it by it's name when i come across a hedge with branched clusters of white fragrant flowers with " four curled back petals and two high stamens...". Other times i will look out for clusters of black bunch of "mildly poisonous to humans " small berries.
Dormer Window

Dormer Window
" A window or windows that project outward from a roof. Dormers provide light and ventilation to attic spaces".

As of now i shall continue to take this walk along with Gertrude a.k.a Mrs Morel. This would keep me if not content like my husband but at rest for the time being as i discover more, both of the blessings that i am fortunate enough of having and of those that i yearn to have.

Uff! the yearn list looks endless...a cottage with dormer windows...in the hills...deers, antelopes, birds, bees, flowers, trees...

How on God's earth did i come to the conclusion that i was dwindled in my requirements...?

i guess then a walk to the park later is not a bad idea after all. Maybe this time i'll focus on the hedge instead which i remember has small white curled up fragrant flowers. i'll be happy to know if it is a Privet Hedge and even if it is not i would definitely want to know what it is...for it could be the tropical but Indian answer to the European semi- evergreen shrub called locally as Kamini. Endearing it is to know that Kamini unlike Privet is evergreen. Also neither is it mildly poisonous nor found to aggravate any psychosomatic disease rather just like the so many Indian shrubs it has medicinal properties too.

i look forward then to this rendezvous with Kamini and indulge into the mild fragrance of the five or six not four curled up outwards white petals.

And i just have to hum the song that Sister Florence had taught us when something was not any different from what it is now. Even then dreams were endless...

Image Courtesy: :http://www.pwrc.usgs.gov/resshow/perry/churchhill%20images/churchill%20plants/pages/Tufted%20Saxifrage%20(Saxifraga%20caespitosa)_JPG.htm

http://gstuff.co.nz/shop/garden/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=288&zenid=ca843452ce03d3dd76fc24f9495639b5

http://www.virtualflowers.com.au/annuals_sweet-william.asp

http://classes.hortla.wsu.edu/hort231/List03/Ligustrum.html

http://www.co.lancaster.pa.us/lancastercity/cwp/view.asp?a=869&q=551666

http://www.thisoldhouse.com/toh/photos/0,,20470842_20919723,00.html

http://www.glowimages.com/search/Dormer%C2%A0Window.html

http://www.superstock.com/stock-photography/dormer+window

http://www.indianetzone.com/49/kamini.htm

Beyond Rocks and Doodles

2011-07-29T00:49:00.000-07:00

http://www.drseussart.com/motions/eBlast/prayerforachild.html

She is always on my mind 24/7. This teenager who sometimes becomes my mentor, philosopher and guide. Other times appears as an infant who refuses to come out of the closet where she is hiding because she hates milk.

Maybe what's bothering me most is her insecure tantrums which proclaim " Nobody likes me, nobody understands me, i am going to the garden to eat worms".

i looked around the chaotic room so typical of a shared hostel room and was offering to help clean up the mess when my eyes got stuck on something which was kept neatly near the books stacked untidily.
i picked it up, caressed the cold smoothness and marveled at nature but more than that i wondered how and where she could manage to find those. Her school is neither in the hills nor by a stream where one could collect them.
Also a warm affectionate smile spread upon me and washed me of the frustration as i noticed how she has neatly without a drop of smudge doodled on the surface of her collections.
In between all that warmth i was still a bit perplexed as to how when she could be so finicky about being neat in her doodling could bear to lodge in a room that looked like a burglar ransacked room.

The object took me a few years back when she was still in primary school. The hot summer siesta afternoons when all of us were busy snoozing she would be out in scorching heat wandering the periphery of the garden picking up this and that. Not even her mother clinging to whom she would be listening to a story a few minutes back could suspect nor realize her creeping out of the bed.
A twig, a dry leaf, feather...
We would only chance upon these after they were neatly put up on her study table. Not in it's original form but along with her creativity.

i can see-
The twigs resembling miniature driftwood converted into pencil holders.
The leaves stuck artistically with some words painted neatly on it, on her small bulletin board.
The feathers peeping like bookmarks at first but later painted and decorated in her small handmade paper vase.

So assuming her new find to be yet another art from waste i just patted her affectionately and complimented her on her cute paper weights.
But more than that i asked her how she found those in the hostel campus which was all covered up with concrete and green.
What she told me was not surprising at all.
i was seeing that frail, petite very beautiful girl aged 6 maybe 7 or 8 lurking in the hostel campus on her hunting spree.
She is now a beautiful teenager who excavates the moment she chances upon one peeping from the ground.

Rocks! and her kitty includes quite a few. She could have more if space permitted but i was amazed at her collection. There were sizes that made me call them a paperweight but some were smaller.
All wonderfully weathered to perfect ovals, ellipses and circles.
And she calls them GRATITUDE ROCKS.

Any moment when she feels good she decorates these rocks with words that spill out from her heart.
i then wished i had seen more than what just my eyes had seen.

i did not ask her but she picked up two of her collection and said, " Mausi you can have these."
(Mausi in Hindi means maternal aunt)

i still have some time before i have to go and bring her home for the weekend and i look at her gifts juxtaposed with the vision of that little girl and can't help the tears that begin to cloud my vision.

A silent prayer escapes my heart...

Image source:

http://www.americanartarchives.com/seuss.htm

http://www.thekmiecs.com/shopping/a-prayer-for-a-child/

http://www.123rf.com/photo_4954990_tibetan-colorful-prayer-stones-with-letters-nepal.html http://www.art.com/products/p15011812-sa-i3432955/keren-su-prayer-words-carved-on-rocks-nima-pile-baqing-east-tibet-china.htm

Words: When even a few provoke and a thousand sound profane

2011-07-26T06:18:00.000-07:00

i am never concise and that i feel i can neither condemn nor extol. Brevity is not everyone's soul of wit. Probably that's one reason why i have this anxiety when i go on a expressing- my- thoughts spree.
This anxiety triggered by not having brevity so far as words are concerned cause me no harm other than invading my thoughts and nagging me to create a suitable title for my narrative when/if i have to say something. i wonder how many bloggers undergo the same dilemma of arriving at a suitable title that just about sums up all they have to say appropriately and beautifully.

But so far as others are concerned my words generate a chaos of emotions if taken in it's totality. Some misconstrue my words, others fail to see my point, still there are those who run to their defensive, a very few like my husband feel thrilled to contradict me just for arguments sake not even realizing that it could be embarrassing in company, definitely a lot many find me exhaustive and last but not the least my words even manage to inflict pain. It is the last effect that my words have that troubles me the most for only i know that when i said what i had to say it was never my intention to incite or aggravate.

Comforting words is an art and not my forte i guess. For my attempt to be honest with my feelings and be original was close to disaster. Maybe i'd rather sound cliched and stick to the time-tested one-liners. Or for a change prefer to remain silent and just listen.

Of course when one is angry or frustrated hurling out words that hurt is quite common and even considered normal so far as venting out is concerned. i won't deny that i have not been a silent and saintly sage on such occasions either but i am beginning to respect the power of words today when in an attempt to comfort my loved one in distress i have defaulted.
i also realize that each experience brings us a step closer to knowing more not only of your own self but also of others. So this is what i know today and i shall try to be brief but to the point here.
a) Avoid indulging in analysis even if provoked by the one who is in pain, for you will be adding tonnes to the already existing agony.
b) Offer only the assistance asked for if you are capable enough to oblige but do not attempt at suggestions that sound like Unsolicited Advice.
c) Never ever make comparisons, it hurts real bad like a wound dealt without anesthesia.
d) It's best to be silent and hear patiently and if you do need to use words try and be brief in attempting at words of comfort. Stretching it too far stings instead of soothing.
It is a pity that even when we have had the same experience how and why instead of refining ourselves we succumb maybe due to our own insensitivity in doing precisely what should not be done.

Just a week back when i was battling a tough situation figuring out how to set things right, i got this from a friend which not only left me baffled but also hurt me to the extent of cursing the day when i decided to get in touch with my long lost friends. i am still reeling under the after-effects of her insensitivity which in a way felt like a pinprick to my already deflated desire to even meet her . She said something like, " Shivani you need to unwind. i know of this wonderful place ***** where we could meet...".
i couldn't hear more as i had another important call to attend to and felt relieved that didn't have to listen to the description of THE PLACE. The timely call saved me not only from exhausting anguished explanations but also prevented bitter words from escaping my very slippery tongue as i was finding it difficult to gulp that offer which sounded more like can't be digested sermon rather than as a genuine gesture to comfort and thus our conversation ended on a peaceful note.
For i have changed. Gone with the wind is that power to coat bitter pills with sweet beating round the bush somethings. An exercise that i indulged into when i was much younger just because i wanted to please everybody. Also because i feared alienation. Those days it felt safe to conform to the said words, agreeing meekly outside when someone was shrieking inside, " That's not how i feel ".

Her suggestion seems fine apparently if one has no inkling as to how she coped with her own traumas.
i don't need to conjure up her reaction if such an advice had flowed calmly from me when her debilitating illness just a few days back required a strict regime of alternate sessions of chemotherapy and radiotherapy. Her own method of coping came as a surprise to me from a friend who started lashing out requests that sounded more like commands to be strictly followed. Although she tried her level best to be polite.
She specifically asked me not to sent any fun forwards to her because it exhausts her to go through mails that clog her inbox. If at all i felt the need to send her words then it better be original. i wondered then if it was her illness that made her so uptight about my forwards or was it her own sense of not being considered unique enough at that juncture when she was battling it out and was clubbed together with other friends who also received the same along with her. i was wonder struck and also felt her commands to be strange because she offered me no convincing explanation.
i do not understand her move because i feel otherwise. Just because some beautiful, humorous, motivating, comforting mails are forwards does not necessarily mean they were not original. i believe before it was turned into a chain of forwards it sure was a creative original once. My intention was purely to share some beautiful, soothing, informative and even humorous messages that could have helped her forget the pain she was suffering even if it was for a few moments.
Also i feel that if you can afford the time forwards are a quick and easy way of saying hello and everybody does not possess that skill that requires an ORIGINAL.
Anyways i understood her angst, apologized and stopped sending her the forwards.

i was hurt because this suggestion should come from her of all the people.
She who by God's grace, medical advancements, blessings from elders and good wishes of all is out of her illness now. i sure do feel happy that she's out of danger and doing well health wise and otherwise but what gets me out of my wits end is that she should even suggest this when i'm into the thick of things finding it difficult juggling time and somehow managing my own responsibilities and commitments.
i wonder if she would have been sweet enough to oblige me in a way that apparently seemed like a service to an agonized soul when in the middle of battling something that had shaken her completely had also suffered another major loss when her mother who had come to stay with her and provide her with assistance and comfort also succumbed unexpectedly to an illness?
How could she not consider my plight when i am trying to play hopscotch with some sad turn of events in my life too?
Her words sounded like life was not tough on me rather i was making it rougher by not coping well enough.

Today she's seeing friends which i came to know through snaps posted on a social networking site and is enjoying her stress free life but she still insists on NO FORWARDS and there is a bigger NO to facebook and the sort. Not that i endorse facebook and all that goes on out there but it still irks me that this unwinding suggestion should be coming out of someone who has strict fixed set of rules today which in a way screams THIS IS HOW FAR YOU CAN GO NOT MORE THAN THAT.
She who claims that for her family comes first and friends the honored chosen ones belonging to her coterie are for later when she finds the time and the inclination.

Don't know if i am being good naturally or contrary to my belief of being assertive and strong today was i still being a chicken at expressing how it felt when she slapped those rules on me.
The funny thing is that although i am hurt i feel okay and would prefer to stay in touch and call her a friend still.
Maybe i realize that she has had her changes too and is not the same girl i used to oblige and also hang around with when we were at college doing graduation in the same discipline.There were no borders drawn then.
i guess as we grow old we do become very finicky about our requirements.
Also i know it is very common to forget the do unto others as you would have others do unto you.
i mean i just did that so do i have the right to condemn?
Definitely since it was my turn to receive hurt this wanting not to severe any further ties is also provoked by yet another routine of indulging in you can't change the world / stop expecting do your own...
Amazing really! how easy it is to switch from being a prey to being a predator in order to console the self.

i feel somewhat irritated and pained when instead of understanding that for some time i can't allocate my time to friends, meet up and re-unions and the sort, am being discussed and sometimes advised the same. i got the drift through another common friend who has the same meeting friends things to say in her mail.
i am clueless about the sort of pleasure friends are getting who in the midst of their leisure vacationing, get together pictures are mocking me in their conversations doubting my intentions on the social networking site.
i confess that my care two hoots does not work when understanding is denied from those whom you are so sure would let you be.
For the rest i feel more wanted than ever also sometimes amused at their digs directed towards the one who has been a quiet prowler listening to conversations on social networking sites rather than being an active participant.
Sure it's endearing to note how suddenly one is in demand.

Considering that friends are important for very many reasons, comfort from troubled situations being one of them, how many would leave an ailing child of her own at the mercy of the ailment and agree to catch a get- together in this " meeting midway in the city...very nice joint in **** ******...not very far...".

i might have slipped out of line but just like other weird things happening these days like having a grand divorce party and parting as friends or viewing reality shows that make somebody's agony an entertainment subject this could be the latest in LISTEN TO YOUR OWN NEEDS thing perhaps.
i however am neither convinced nor comfortable with the emerging trend. And i care two hoots if i am crowned with various titles that mock me.
i know of one when just the other day another friend of mine thought that i was being JUDGEMENTAL in avoiding a friend who time and again has only proven herself to be a gold-digger and never ever as a friend.
My take on avoiding some is that i'd rather stay away from friends who are way above both my own sensibility and my budget. Knowingly plunging oneself into situations one can't handle is sheer stupidity.

Okay i strayed again and again but coming to the point where i was...
i experienced hurt from a friend just a week back and yet i failed to learn or else i would not be regretting my words today.
Why is it that we have this tendency to carry the wrong torch forward? A torch that singes and burns rather than making it an effective tool to illuminate the dark despair ?

My rant today was not directed only towards insensitivity and choosing the right words but more on WHEN to say what you have to say. i hope and wish that my bombarding thoughts have put it all across if not in a consistent manner but everything i had to say. Words, insensitivity, our own failings et al.
Also remembering my own as i have elucidated earlier about my own failings so far as words and experiences are concerned.

i cannot quit without expressing my gratitude to all...friends and family who understood my " leave me laddie! leave me to my own soup" and have obliged me with the time and space to figure out my own way out of this

impasse and thus find my own equilibrium.

Since i have talked about words and am figuring out the title for my blog i can't help remember this beautiful song called Words. It was my favorite when i was in higher secondary doing my Plus Two and it still is only that i don't hum this song now neither do i feel that strong urge to sing it aloud in the bathroom. i prefer to go about the song silently inside me.

This song may talk about the inability to express love through words of a particular person but it can have other connotations too, my own predicament included which saw me clumsy and guilty on four counts.
First in choosing the wrong time, then asserting my compassion, also failing to comfort and last but not the least, creating a ruckus of emotions when i yelled out my own lack of understanding of the fact that some things are easier said than done.

Freedom

2011-07-22T07:18:00.000-07:00

OLD AGE IS A GIFT

The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old.
I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my
reaction, she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that
it was an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know.

Old Age, I've decided, is a gift.
I am now, probably for the first time in my life,
the person I have always wanted to be.
Oh, not my body ... the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the
sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person
that lives in my mirror (who looks like my mother!), but I don't
agonize over those things for long.
I would never trade my amazing friends,
my wonderful life, my loving family for
less gray hair or a flatter belly.

As I've aged, I've become kinder to myself,
and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend.
I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making
my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need,
but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a
treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.
I have seen too many dear friends leave
this world too soon; before they understood the
great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the
computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon?
I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60 &70's,
and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love ... I will.I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body,
and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to,
despite the pitying glances from the jet set.
They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful.
But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten.
And I eventually remember the important things.
Sure, over the years my heart has been broken.
How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one,
or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet
gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us
strength and understanding and compassion.
A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and
will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have
my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs
be forever etched into deep grooves on my face.

So many have never laughed, and so many have
died before their hair could turn silver.As you get older, it is easier to be positive.
You care less about what other people think.

I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned
the right to be wrong. So, to answer your question,
I like being old — it has set me free.

I like the person I have become.
I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here,
I will not waste time lamenting what could have been,
or worrying about what will be.

And I shall eat dessert every single day
(if I feel like it).

(Contributed by Gabrielle who lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico)

Something wonderful is happening to me and i can't help but blog about it. It is this feeling where i find myself lingering just a bit longer in order to absorb.
For someone who is often classified as impulsive this is something major. i am as a matter of fact feeling something like," So finally i have arrived !"

Sometimes i owe it to my own nature of starting personal projects to make life interesting even when things seem to be going haywire. Something to look forward to, even when there are very serious matters hanging over your head robbing you of your time and energy. The self imposed projects have helped me find my equilibrium for not only do they provide refuge from agony and distress but also get me energized with more optimism. My projects that range from the most mundane to something very creative and original are like welcome tea breaks in my day to day life. That sure could be one reason i can't remember the last time i got bored.
Other times i feel that i should give due credits for this transformation in me to the people and the happenings around the world . Why else would i bother to take time out and know what ATONEMENT really means when the local tabloid screamed something like, *******'s day of atonement.

i remember seeing the movie 'Atonement' a couple of years back and thought i understood it all. But what i actually understood was just the story although it didn't even occur to me then that i really didn't understand the meaning of the title of the movie well enough. i was happy with the drama which i had just viewed and liked it in it's entirety as a good story, acted and played well by the characters.
This is just one example i have cited about how i am on a knowing spree at my own pace and without any pressures.

But most of all i feel it is this wonderful age of being in the middle forties when you begin to see clearly what it is that really gives you joy. This age when you cease to follow blindly and start looking into what satisfies you. Actions have a definite purpose now directed towards your own enrichment. And i guess one is more adept at doing this now than ever because now you are in no hurry, rather you are calm but eager to assimilate.

This freedom of living on my own terms at my own time schedule, doing what i want to do is actually very rewarding when with each simple step i am gaining a lot more.

Needless to say then that i am living each day now with that secret thrill of what new i shall be stumbling upon next and how exciting it would be to search and know more. It's akin to that feeling you get when gazing at the starry night you sight a shooting star and you are just thrilled to have sighted it.
It could be new words like i have mentioned or anything else. Point is, there is no anxiousness just the sheer joy of the realization that i do have an inclination now.
Just the other day it was a word but today i'm delving into the realms of art. Tomorrow it could be something else. And the best thing is that i don't feel any regret that i had missed out on these earlier rather i feel glad that today i have the inclination and the time.

i can't remember which of my friends had forwarded me the beautiful words and the touching picture that accompanied it but i foraged my 1091 emails to get to this particular forward. It took me a lot of patience but for me it was easy this time. i retrieved the mail and tried calling my friend who sent me wisdom but was unable to get her on the telephone. Silently i thanked her for it is only now that i want to linger on this forward and my friend.