Fresh Beginning

Finally after about a good three months i have managed to get back to being on my own and doing what apart from other things also delivers me from boredom/ loneliness and gives me happiness . Blogging!

 When the goings get tough for me i  insist on doing something creative to get over the sad feelings that boggle the mind and soul. Many almost all these days advocate about the soul cleansing effects of Yoga and Meditation. i have not an iota of doubt about that but personally what gets me up and going is doing something novel. Something which should satisfy my own aesthetic sense and be purposeful too. So when friends or family share their problems with me i always have one and one suggestion only-" Try and do something! get creative on something that only you can do. Don't bother about the outcome because it is not an exam you must take and pass with flying colors but something that makes you happy sans the anxiety " Period
i remember telling this to an acquaintance just recently when we were comparing notes about our own state of affairs," You like baking go ahead and try something new...maybe a time tested recipe but see if you can do something of your own in that...". She was not trusting me on my solution to her own problem and looked quite uncertain when we parted but i was certain about the cent percent result of my suggestion. That is if she subscribed to it. Don't really know how far she went with hers but i practice what i preach.

Being creative according to me is a panacea for all maladies brewing in the heart. There are situations over which we have no control and the best and most effective timely cure is some ACTION.
Thus in these past few months i did manage some action of my own which apart from educating me helped me banish away my own blues plus make something out of that which was pretty much useless.
The Education- Creativity need not be totally original. The idea being to create something novel out of that which already exists. Take for example this conch shell which was a beautiful night lamp created a lamp erstwhile by me and which during this recent transportation/ shifting got damaged in a way that it could not be functional as a night lamp for anyone anymore. Well simplicity is the essence here and not much labor but the end result was something which is not simply found these days. The pleasure of DOING and deriving PURE JOY.

i did many such and now the entire looks presentable and comfortable. Walking around the approx 2000 sq ft no longer feels morbid and desolate. Apart from making the space vibrant i am once again feeling colorful too. Enough to try my effort in jolting the colony out of its egoistic reverie. This morning today and now i have decided to walk across this posh/ diplomatic and silent neighborhood and surprise the vadday vadday log ( Punjabi for people in high posts)  with a big hello and some introduction. And i am not really going to be much bothered about the type of response. Warm or lukewarm at least i will get to see some face and have an image in my mind of the ladies who stay behind those closed gates. This particular gate entices. This one which has a beautiful canopy of Madhumalati (Hindi for Quisqualis indica) shrub and the shrub not only forms a beautiful canopy over the gate but envelops the entire surrounding with its divine fragrance.

  

We have finally got our official residing quarters and upon my first visit i almost cried out not so much with disappointment but with the lack of respect for the property over which each year crores and crores of the taxpayers money is spent. Apart from the anger at the disappearance of all that money, the poor maintenance and the lack of aesthetics and functionality almost made me weep buckets and crib enough to fill the bare rooms with long sighs of despair. As usual i started with the routine. Feeling heavy and burdened with all that effort one has to take when one realizes that after all these years you are back to square one. My calls to the Inspector of Works fell on deaf years and after waiting for as much as my sane sense could afford i decided to cheer myself with some effort of my own that could make drab look novel. So here is what i did to that niche in the wall of the staircase landing which in a way looked as lonely and morbid as the colony itself.

   

Waking up on time and having promised that i should get over that starting problem and go for my health walk...
And here i was sitting in my now made presentable patio with the day breaking ahead over my head resplendent in its glory . i ought to have admired and relished the eastern sky and absorbed all that positive energy of the Brahma Vela (Divine hours) instead i find myself looking towards words forming on my colorless screen as i typed away in anxious anticipation. Anxious about sharing that which also makes me happy if not forever but enough to banish hopelessness and disgust for the way things are and look forward to fresh beginnings...
Just before i quit for the time being i would like to add one more from my own experience...
Creativity whichever way it is also makes you confident about that over which you may have doubts earlier. How about that!

Truce

Today when issues are discussed and reasons dug out from the forgotten pages of history which is replete with sad experiences and traumas of the women and therefore solutions worked upon i think some things will remain unresolved forever. The best example can be this penchant for the color of the skin which looks white and fair.
Stupidity arises when we are forced upon to change ourselves in a way defying our basic constitutions over which we have no control.
i turned to check what was the latest by friends and family on FB and what do i see...
Looking and reading too good to be true. This appealing with it's rich purple fruit a promotion ad about Acai Berry. There are various ads bordering the edges but what piqued my anxiety/curiosity was that it was on top of the page and that it was liked by a school friend. A friend who is successful in her career and is wow wowed on Facebook but is vehemently criticized in reality outside the FB for becoming hopelessly out of shape . Words and explanations about its miracle on Aishwarya Rai, Lara Dutt...post pregnancy all i read diligently after i had clicked to the hyperlinked area see more.

The first words that silently escaped into the universe like an invisible prayer was, Thank Heavens a couple at least happened...who are not promoting this or anything which even remotely borders to weight reduction.
Two is no number in the teeming millions but thank God they are there now and if i could i would plant with delight the thank you hugs and kisses on the two...Vidya Balan and although had to go with weight reduction but nevertheless not anorexic but full enough to be a typical Indian beauty, Sonakshi Sinha.

Now i don't know how they have reacted to all when they were addressed to as fat but if i start penning down right from the time i can remember of all associated with the same of mine i think my blog would start looking like a novel. A novel very few would even care to glance and maybe i'd have to pay to get it published because i'm not as prolific and as assertive on issues as a novelist should be.

But thanks to the way the beauty of the Indian female body is projected across through these two beautiful women i feel free of the remorse as to why i have a low BMI. More from that feeling that made me pity my healthy self all my life. i had accepted the premise sadly no matter how rebellious towards it i was.
Illogical/irrational though it may sound that unwittingly people are cruel to those who are healthy. For i have been a victim of prejudices right from the day when i was an infant to being a small kid and my elder brother had nicknamed me MOTAKS ( Mota in Hindi meaning fat).

Free also of the pain from a knee injury that saw me almost bedridden for about a month and a half. Can't express enough the exasperation of being a temporary paraplegic with THE husband and THE irritable in his temperament most of the times octogenarian Dad breathing down my neck 24/7 with all the do's and don'ts. As if being imprisoned in a restricted area is not enough, as if the pain and discomfort in doing simple things is not enough. No no! i don't decry their care and concern rather for a healthy all her life who craved attention and pampering this could have been it. Alas!

A lesson learnt though while i was recuperating. Healthy all their life are still treated with the same prejudices accident or no accident. Taken for granted most of the time to take care of all and sundry like a female wrestler. Here too the culprit could be the healthy glow that never abandoned the face no matter how stressed/ tired/ in pain she was.
Or perhaps you are at a disadvantage when your threshold for enduring pain and staying put is slightly higher than the rest in your family.
And you are not yelling your pain out and bearing it with much stoicism.
Even when you've had a complex flap tear in the Posterior Horn of The Meniscus and you are experiencing excruciating pain in the affected area and your entire leg feels out of control.

There has to be some emaciated generally look to present a ' Poor You' else when Forever Healthy do get sick or have an accident a lot many accusations are hurled upon along with endless unwarranted advises.
None! mind you! none would be willing to take some responsibility in running the house like it should be when the female wrestler has had an accident. Instead-
All that will rain incessantly is accusations of how callous you could be, followed by assumed from Heaven knows where reasons of why or how the injury happened to be, falsified analysis, endless discussions about your body type... . Uff! it's so unbearable but you are made to undergo all that because you are not thin.
Yes also finally painful limping from one doctor to the other till  the renowned specialist reiterates that surgery is the only way.

You might feel like shrieking out in rebellion when a lie is propagated on your behalf. That you fell off from a stool. When the fact of the matter was that you tried getting on a stool without support and you heard something snapping followed by intense pain.
You will get sick and tired of hearing, " Reduce your weight" and " Physiotherapy exercises at least for 30 minutes four times a day." This when the person on whom these are dropped like missiles can't even move her snapped something- inside- the- knee leg.
One is then grateful to the various hospitals that Motaks was going to for they seemed so much kinder to her than her own folks who took her there. For at once a kind paramedic would be ready to wheel her around the moment he/she saw the poor healthy lady struggling with her limp and in intense pain.

What perhaps could make your loved one so cruel is something that could be attributed to you being overweight according to the standards set by the slim and thin is perfect body world. But this beating round the bush when a simple decision could have relieved you from pain and discomfort is UNFORGIVING. Specially from those from whom you need some understanding/ sympathy for your pain and discomfort. These your own who won't know the difference or rather will not want to know the difference between a sprain and tear, between ligament and muscles what to talk of between ligament and meniscus. All they ever know to be serious is a fracture and fracture is something that bones have and that is not only painful but apparent and requires proper treatment and care.
No amount of showing them the light can or will work because neither will have the concern nor the patience for the ' Indulgent... Sloppy...' you to understand the anatomy and reason well enough that the doctor is not asking for surgery unnecessarily.

Rather sometimes you will get to hear comments like this, " The doctors are asking for surgery because they make more money out of it...these days it's the general procedure..." or
You might be yelling in pain when you have to turn over and instead you will be advised, " Why don't you try to do some simple exercise like this...physiotherapy is the only way..."
This and many other on similar lines hurt and the pain is worse than that you would be having on your knee.

Secretly then you start wishing that instead of the meniscus tearing why didn't the femur or the tibia break into two pieces instead to give you an elephant's leg. It would be very evident as your pain then can be seen/felt by one and all . Why did the snapping happen to be an invisible one, one that isn't evident to the naked eye. Although sometimes  in your anger and seething from within with all that hurt happening in your healthy soul you might also wish something like this, " Wait till something snaps somewhere in you too...and then when you are in pain i shall happily give it all back to you..."

Other times there will be comments from quarters quite elderly and you least expect that from the one you trusted would have more empathy/sympathy and respect for you. Comments so embarrassing and you feel like limppearing (limp and disappear) into the closet. Embarrassing you to kill yourself words like this, " You ought to have been more careful...your girth is wide...aren't you aware that your lower half is quite heavy..."

i've heard this phrase Fat-Phobic World but what beats me is why or how people start being contemptuous of their own race. i wonder if this is the case in Japan, China and elsewhere in the world were all bodies are different and definitely not Anglo-Saxon.
There is a recent craze that has gripped most of the young ladies in our country where they all want to look like the bulimic, anorexic models that walk the ramp in Paris. The recent fad being to have thighs with gap. Which actually means having legs that look uniform all over.

My own pictures from halcyon days to now tell me that i have the typical Indian Woman body. But it's taken two beautiful and successful ladies in modern times to convince me how beautiful, elegant, graceful that is.
i hope this prejudice, criticism, contempt for the Indian figure stops once for all and that we start respecting our own form. The so called perfected bodies that look painfully thin rather than it looking healthy has more to it than meets the eye. Some like Anushka Sharma and blessings to her goodness when in one of her interviews she honestly says that although she works out regularly to keep her stamina up she has a naturally high BMI there are others who become leaders in dismissing/ disregarding the Indian body and for reasons that may be important to them opt for what is known as Size Zero. Never knew that zero had so much value standing on its own.
Are they least bit aware of what they are encouraging. That they are in a way responsible for perpetuating the stupidity and the already existing cruelty. More on to the minds and psyche of the young generations who perhaps will soon dismiss and disregard the most original and pure aspect in a woman's life called Motherhood.

Healthy Forever like us are falsely accused of indulgence, disease, depressed, disregard for personal dignity...and demonised for our size and sometimes even insulted and often discriminated upon.

i still feel like crying when i picture this from childhood, " No! No! don't give her ghee ( clarified butter) in her rice...or how i was handed out plain toasts instead of a buttered one or 4-5 cashews while my brother/sister got a bowl full just because i was not thin like them.
BTW my younger sister and my brother who can gorge endlessly on cheese, butter and ghee sport a Anushka Sharma body, still. And denied myself of all the good things all my life i am still the one whom the healthy-phobic world calls FAT.
i might be having my first meal of the day and someone sitting on the table will promptly offer illogical/ stupid advise. Like this one from my sickly thin cousin, " Munni tumko rice nahin khana chahiyae!'' ( Munni you should not be eating rice)
i feel like hurling his own plate so overflowing with everything at his face. Then curse my own body before i eat but stick to eating rice instead of substituting it with chapatis more with vengeance at what i was forbidden to eat even though the joy of having a family meal together had flown out of the window of the dining room for me.

i had hastily scribbled this in my diary one day. Some statistic to slap on the face of those who mocked me. One of the e-paper version of The Guardian of a study led by senior scientist Katherine Flegal of the Centres for Disease Control and Prevention in the US. That people in the overweight category of 25-30 BMI demonstrate a lower death rate than their peers who are of normal weight. i presume by normal to be thin or what they call slim nowadays.
So i am telling myself and the rest who might be facing the same predicament as me to dispel all doubts and to finally forge a truce with themselves.

Also this could be relevant for Sonakshi Sinha and all the rest like me who are forced/ tempted by Acai Berry and all the rest including the various trips to body sculpting saloons to think twice before taking simple or drastic steps to change what you are blessed with. The same study also demonstrated that stable weight causes far less stress to the heart than going up and down the scales in weight.

So lets feel happy with what we are. It's not whether you want to live long or die young. But try and respect yourself by maintaining a healthy glow rather than getting a figure that looks thin but all charm gone out like a sucked out of it's juices Chus lee a term coined rhyming with Bruce lee meaning looking like a fruit skin devoid of it's juices and rich pulp. Something like how Sri Devi's face looks in the movie English Vinglish. Trust me on this compare her baby doll full look with her worked out to thin body and you will know what i mean.

To all those who keep prodding you to eat this and do that feel confident and free to dismiss them like a fly that buzzed by.
And if perchance you get this notion of being a blot on the landscape of sleek and slim open the computer and type Images Vidya Balan in Cannes on the Google search box or else
Simply say this to yourself- Curve is interesting and Flat oh! so boring...shrug your shoulders and just move on. Move on with pride and confidence saying to yourself, " Hey i'm curvaceous, interesting and oh! so voluptuous!"
Who knows this could be the prayer thrown to the universe and having something like size zero body might become history too...

                                                        http://phoebedawson.blogspot.in/

It's a Gal Thing

i often imagine my man to be a unicorn of a special kind.
A unicorn with automatic blinders on. The kind which pops in and later pops out of his face as and when it suits/ pleases him.
When mundane chores require vision he is the unicorn with his blinders on. Never knowing the whereabouts of his own personal effects. Can't even spot his flip flops which is very much there where it should be.
But when it comes to browsing/window shopping in a mall gone are the blinders rather he seems to get his third eye miraculously opened up what to talk of the x rated vision of the existing two.
It doesn't disturb me till he is attentive but there are times when i feel like i just said something to the six foot wall which cannot/ will not elicit response then i do what i'm best at...sulk first and when provoked in the ride back home shout and sometimes even cry out to my hearts content in the privacy of the car. A few apologies coupled with a few angry reproaches from my side and we are back to pretending to be chummy friends forever again. But to be honest...the pain of not being sexy/attractive enough to keep holding his attention remains, lurking in the crevices/ folds of the brain asking for changes in your whole physical being. The change that will require nothing less than a miracle.
Well that is one major uff factor which makes me hate my body even more. As if whatever reasons there were before was not enough.

For years now i have wondered how or why hubby dear can't get a single proper thing i asked for when he shops alone is because he never pays attention to all our grocery/ provision shopping together. He lurks around the vicinity happily shopping for something imaginary. i'm grateful that he pays the bill but c'mon what kind of a man irritates you to hell when you've asked him to get the regular paancphoren...asking you dumb questions as to what kind he is supposed to get when returning from the Supermarket where he has gone to get his particular brand of aftershave-alone. i tear my hair in despair wailing as if declaring to the universe my helpless plea- 29 years of home shopping together and he doesn't know what five spice a hardcore Bihari uses for the regular aloo ka bhujiya his the only one favorite he cannot do without.
Maybe it's a guy thing but then why i never mess up on the things my man needs or uses when i shop alone and i am able to deliver without fail or any faults each and every time is perhaps the gal thing. From the toiletries to the side of the bed he feels comfortable in to the way he likes his parathas done...
The unicorn complains that i'm never satisfied with what he brings and my answer is a standard one always, " That's not what i had asked for..."

And that's what my blog is about...the guy vs the gal thing. And what brought it all up was this wee bit of an article about men in the Sunday edition of the special feature of Times Life (TOI).

The wee bit article i would love to quote, ' Why he has a roving eye...' . Well that's the sub title of that which reads under ' Men Decoded '.
So then this is it i say to myself which partly explains this guy thing of having a third eye aka the roving eye. The COOLIDGE EFFECT., i.e. their urge to reproduce with multiple partners!..."
"According to the findings of a study by researchers at the University of Stirling and the University of Glasgow in the UK, men can't help staring at other women because their wandering eye is the result of evolution...''
The Coolidge Effect dispelled the erstwhile composure/ temperament i had maintained all this while.
That they are perhaps just too curious about the bird in the bush than being attentive to or perhaps appreciating the bird in hand. That perhaps this too was a typical guy thing and i can't do anything about it. Temporarily maybe sulk and later shout/cry OR else chuckle with delight to know what Bernice did. As if Bernice did what she did was purely on my/our behalf.

But the fact that there is a logical reasoning to this guy thing has it satisfied me and made me okay with it i must admit my answer leans towards the negative and i feel pained rather infuriated too. Actually it has annoyed me well enough to exclaim with exasperation," Evolution! my foot! two hoots to that crap...***%%*#####..."
Bernice needs to understand it too that her solution is not a permanent one. And that she needs to work on a better solution. For me, for all of us.
The Coolidge Effect better have another Warmidge Effect counteracting it to explain and make us woman accept the truth with a kinder heart and not blame our men for philandering even when it is an imagined and quite harmless one. i was attracted to this wee bit of article carelessly tucked into the border of page 3 of Times Life because i thought the article might give me some enlightenment which can make me come to terms with this guy thing just like how i have with the others. Wonder about the how and why's, throw hopeless gestures of despair and still move on. But unless i get a valid explanation and it better be more digestible than this i will continue to treat this Coolidge thing as yet another of those which one day says potato is not good for you and the very next day supposed to be so full of nutrients and everything.
Till then i shall continue to be just the gal i am...

Viva ! Artocarpus lakoocha

i have travelled quite a lot...although virtually though to find what i had been looking for so long. That tete e tete i had with Sanjoo yesterday formed an integral part of my travel and long after he had gone i searched the internet seeking out the fruits and the trees he had talked about. i guess knowing the vernacular name has its disadvantages. Thus finally before i signed off i typed , ' lesser known fruits ' on my Google search box. Once again i started on another journey which took me to the US, UK , Malaysia and Indonesia. Found a couple of what i had been looking for. The text book aka the scientific names of kafal and one other. Won't say i was bang on to all the six fruits he had talked about instead i had enough for the hungry to know more of two if not six. Nobaad nobaad at all. It sufficed for the time being for i was enriched with not only the nutritional value but also the brilliant sights of the plant/ tree/ shrubs. Satisfied and before hitting the sack i sensed the same intuition...of being able to find my own burhar sooner than i have expected. Probably because i knew exactly now which path to take.

This morning saw me with that hurrah moment. My Burhar was always there where it should have been all the time. The culprit was the vernacular name...and sadly there were no posts with that name. Bihar the place of my birth and growth has four major local dialects. The Bhojpuri being the most well-known. But then there is Magahi, Angika and the sweetest of them all Mythili. i hail from the Bhagalpur district and that part of Bhagalpur which speaks Angika. One peculiarity of Angika being using R instead of L in their dialect. Thus peela meaning color yellow is Peera, kela meaning banana is Kera, jhola meaning bag is Jhora and similarly katahal meaning jackfruit is Katahar so on and so forth.
Thus the reason my travelling round the various sites was not giving the desired result. All along i had been searching for burhar pronounced bur + her = burhar when as a matter of fact it was Burhal . The enlightenment and thus this reasoning dawned upon me only after i had typed, ' lesser known fruits of India '. There it was...the picture of  the tree, it's broad leaved foliage and many delightfully clear images of the forgotten fruit. Bumpy and folded from outside and visually so appealing from the inside which is the edible part. Not only that but other information about the taste, the nutritional value and why it is getting rarer. i wish i could copy paste the picture here on my page but ever since i did my post on Shami tree and a gentleman was just too annoyed when i had used his picture with the source i think it would be best if i provide the link where Burhal/ Barhal can be seen and read about.
However i shall not let go the opportunity of using the free resource. So my Barhal looks like this.

now i am waiting for Sanjoo to be back from his holidays. Then i will ask him if he knows the tree and the taste of Burhal . Will remember to ask the name in his own Kumaoni language.
i  wonder if Mr Prasoon Joshi and many like him who still cherish memories of their childhood fruits...if they know the taste of this tangy fruit. the fibers of which look similar in texture to jackfruit but so brilliant in color what to talk of the juicy, sweet and sour feel to the palate. Something which is pleasant in smell and tastes somewhat like a kiwi...

As for me i feel fortunate that my Burhar exists and is thriving not only in India but has traveled too. From India to the other countries. Specially South Asia and that it is commonly known as Monkey Jack/ Emerald Jack also sounding so cute- Lakoocha.

Also grateful and deeply indebted to all the good souls who have launched posts on my Burhar/Burhal complete with shots and lots of information that i was bereft of all these days. My sincere thanks to Professor Deepa Dwivedi of http://www.cropsforthefuture.org/ and her article ' Barhal, a little-known fruit from northern India'. Had it not been for her article and thus the knowledge that i obtained of my Burhar i would not have had such an enriching journey. Through her post i learnt the scientific name Artocarpus lakoocha and the ride from then on was such a smooth one. Of the kind that not only excited me but also refreshed the bored to silence and sulking me.
Need to thank blogger Catherine Reddy for her ' All About Lakoocha' at theindianvegan.blogspot.in whose blog nourished by feeding the dil maange more me. ( heart wants)

Finally but most importantly Mr Spencer Woodard in his weblog called 'anthropogen' does much more than giving facts alone. His blog inspires. The amazing work done by him in his weblog is an ideal  for bloggers like me who blog not only for sharing the knowledge/ experience they would've gained but also for the sake of preservation and contribution. i wish one day i am rich enough to contribute with the same commitment and passion as he has done and is still doing in all possible ways. i take this opportunity in quoting his words, " I am interested in the history of human relationships with plants and how the ever-changing state of these relationships has affected the ways in which our species interacts with and influences larger ecological systems in our midst."
My journey which started first with Sanjoo and later with Professor Deepa Dwivedi traversing many on Artocarpus lakoocha and Catherine Reddy came a full circle with Mr Spencer Woodard at http://anthropogen.com/2008/05/05/unidentified-fruit-orange-bumpy/

Right now reliving the memories of that journey is delighting me the same way as when one enjoys photos of the journey taken after hitting base. Another great feeling is like i have accomplished something. If not for humanity sakes but for myself and my heart sings with joy to know that what i thought had gone extinct is very much alive and kicking.

Before i quit i want to share the environment anthem of the 70's from Joni Mitchell once again. Not before quoting her words, " I wrote 'Big Yellow Taxi' on my first trip to Hawaii. I took a taxi to the hotel and when I woke up the next morning, I threw back the curtains and saw these beautiful green mountains in the distance. Then, I looked down and there was a parking lot as far as the eye could see, and it broke my heart... this blight on paradise. That's when I sat down and wrote the song. "



                                                         - : Image Courtesy :-
                                       From Wikimedia Commons, the free media repository

Kafal and where art thou Burhar

Sometimes it amazes me to realize that my country is so rich in variety. Rich with many many of that of which i don't have the faintest idea about. Other times there is this half hearted desire to just pack a few necessary belongings and start on a journey from Kashmir to Kanyakumari. To know and get an idea of all things existing and more about those which might not exist. Sure one gets interested in holding on to some if not all of that which will be lost forever. Rituals, culture, art, birds, trees, plants and last but not the least the lesser known bounties of nature savored through the palate and the sight.

Then one fine day as you dedicate your time to read an article about the person you admire tremendously as a writer the urge becomes like a longing and you get serious about doing something.
The article an interview of the most admired poet/composer/jingle ad man in which he goes down memory lane to talk about how he matured as a poet then composer and now a very inspiring story teller. All of his narration kept me attentive to what he had to say about his journey but what stopped me in my tracts was this word Kafal. Just for anyone who would care to know i am talking about none other than Mr Prasoon Joshi.
Reminiscing he says," I lived amidst nature and always ate this wild fruit called Kafal. The fruit was getting extinct and there was no reason for anyone to save it. But those are the ways of nature, when it tells you, through murmurs, if you want to listen. Today, it is shouting out loud. But when the kafal was disappearing, no one heard it. I could hear it every time i went back. I had memories of my parents plucking Kafals for me. ..."

Now i have memories of this weird rather some may call it ugly looking but delightful to eat fruit of my childhood. In appearance somewhat like cheekoo ( Sapodilla) although not uniformly round but rather having bumps and folds with exactly the same texture and color of the skin of Cheekoo. A fruit called in colloquial as Burhar in my own homestate Bihar. The tree huge with broad leaves and the fruit delicious with it's sweet and sour taste. Juicy fibres, orangish golden with a stony seed inside. i have searched the Internet in vain and still searching...for the tree...for some pictures of the fruit. Someone told me about the tree still existing somewhere but as for the fruit none of the markets including small town village markets have it anymore. Any place i visit which still has forests and is renowned for it's wide variety i keep asking the locals about this fruit but my questions at best give me countenances which are trying to figure out the structure of that mysterious fruit the hyper lady is talking about. Some the very elderly have confirmed about my memory and it pleases me to see an affirmative nod but they too feel helpless in guiding me to the where . Thus i am led to presume that just like Kafal, Burhar has gone or going extinct too.

This time though Mr Prasoon Joshi's Kafal made me turn towards my own boy Friday Sanjay Singh Negi instead of Mr Google. Young sweet chap who is attentive and quite amused by this Madam of his who is always quizzing him on not only for the local names of flora but also about the lesser known fruits of the hills and tales of his childhood spent in his homeland. He belongs to Uttarakhand too. i simply love the glow on his face and that smile that seems innocently angelic like a child when he talks about some of those. Thus Hisaalu, Kirmodi, Kilmoda, Mehal, Ghigharu...and something of the fruit of which they played with called Baanjh.

Meet Mr Sanjay Singh Negi although when i call for him it's always Sanjoo instead of Sanjay. i asked him to choose one pic of his from his mobile and send it to me and this is what he sent. Although the neon heart is predominant and the pic has none of those expressions that i'm talking about it suffices for the time being to have him here as i ask about Kafal and the rest.

Sanjoo

Sanjoo speaks about Kafal fondly too and i am indeed indebted for he guided me to not only where to find it for the time being but also the correct local pronunciation too which is kaa + phal = kaaphal
So i happily present Kaaphal thanks to Sanjoo and  http://uttarakhand-devbhoomi.blogspot.in

Me : Sanjoo this looks amazing tell me how it tastes...

Sanjoo: Madam it has a sweet and sour taste. The tree is a big tree and the fruit has to be eaten quickly or it starts sweating and becomes mushy. Just for an hour that's how much you can keep it. There is another one quite like it and it is called Hisaalu/ Hinsaar. Hisaalu is a creeper which looks like a rambling rose bush with thorns and serrated leaves but that from a distance. The fruit looks similar to Kaaphal but is golden yellow in color and aromatic too. Also even quicker to sweat and be mushy than Kaaphal...

Me : Does it taste like Phalsa ( Mulberry) it looks similar to that...

Sanjoo chuckles and shakes his head in the negative but he is not over yet. With a glint that conveys some sense of pride about his beautiful land and it's amazing bounties he tells me all he can remember of the fruits no longer to be seen but perhaps still existing in the forests at higher altitudes.

He sure has lots to enlighten me with as he carries on. i listen to him with rapt attention planning a journey too in my mind promising myself that i shall seek these that he is talking about out...at least till i can. Who knows that while tasting and knowing how to play with some fruits like Sanjoo i might have a reconnoiter with my own Burhar.

My attempt at doing something may be a selfish one...that to see, know and savor but in my own way this should be my first step. After all how will i take care to nurture that of which i have never known before. 

Thank you Prasoon Joshi jee (jee a respectable term in Hindi ) for introducing me to Kafal and sharing with me this love of all that is local. Also for opening the can of warmth which seems to melt that ice of formality and protocol and makes Sanjoo accept me as something more than just being the wife of  a senior officer only to be yes madam no madammed with. 

 Somehow i get this feeling that i'm going to find my very own Burhar soon.

An Eternal Relationship

What does one do when when the following happens :
*When you've been restricted in your movement for quite a long stretch and then given a green signal to roam free again-
* When the weather is hot and humid and none of the theater is showing movies worth your free time-
* When the only friend you can count on for company is indisposed-
* When you know you are not the mall trotting for nothing personality-
* When you are tired of reading and for a change wanted to do something else instead-
* When your enthusiasm for creativity is snuffed out due to lack of support and the cause attributed to circumstances which is beyond your control-
* Finally when in order to smile and laugh about @ Comedy Central you get glimpses of Masterchef on TV leaving you more and more in the lurch and despite the doctors warning you feel like going on a binge spree more in rebellion than anything else which perhaps might bring you closer to a Bypass.

You do JUST THAT.

1) So thus first i counted my blessings for being able to walk on my supposedly healthy two feet again.
2) Then before i could instruct my guide, my pal, my very patient and attentive Mr Khan who incidentally also drives me around i counted the amount i carried in my purse. Then without much ado i confidently said, " Geoffrey's please! " and happily sat in anticipation of my destination as he rolled on.

My association and loyalty to Geoffrey's goes way back to when i was in Chennai. The bar is good, the food suits me and moreover the ambiance and all that jazz does not drill a hole in the pocket of my purse. Mainly because i do it only once in a while and i love not only the cuisine but also the chestnut wood interiors. They play good music too with the volume kept just sufficient to let you chat in peace in case you are in company. Can't miss to mention the great time i had in Chennai at Geoffrey's when i was fortunate enough to hear and see Gary Lawyer perform live and sing some of my own requests.

Now it's predictable though what i order for exploring newer dishes is my forte.  i love food that not only is new for me but colorful too. A plate that looks akin to what they show on Masterchef. Some meat, some veggies, something of potatoes even if it is mashed all brought to you with some style in a stylish plate. Here too i am a medium explorer...my self abhorrence to some meats is typical of a non vegetarian who for reasons unknown/ unexplained/ illogical to her would not even lick the sauce of certain meats.
As for drinks i like to play it safe when i am alone.  i am daring when i have company and people who are connoisseurs suggest but when on my own i always ask for something i have tried before. Easily red wine. Makes a European meal look complete.

So as i sat soaking in the cozy atmosphere and admiring the decor once again while i had ordered my starter which was a dry Sesame Chicken and a common cocktail Cosmopolitan i sensed some joy inside me. Food/ drinks sure is a panacea for all evils perpetrated by circumstances or even otherwise.
On impulse and feeling a bit restless wishing someone was there to give me company i thought of taking a pic of that bartender who was making my cocktail and instead my vision got restricted to what i saw just in front. A few masquerade masks and the faking stained glass roof window above the bar shelf. Loved the cheery glow of the window, adding a pale sparkle to the wine glasses on the hanging rack.

Geoffrey's doesn't make you wait for your food for long. Rather they are very prompt and before i could review the picture that i took from my cellphone i had big crescent and a small moon of heaven before me.

i ought to have taken a proper picture first instead impatiently dropped my cellphone inside my handbag and dug into the heaven armed with the cutlery provided. Then suddenly conscious realizing that i might be presenting a pathetic picture of a ravenous glutton i paused and for want of anything better because i was dining alone i dug into my handbag again and brought out the cellphone again. Then some shots in random order were taken which gave me a presentable break from hogging the heaven all in one go.

Sesame Chicken

Chicken steak with potato wedges and veggies
Sesame chicken on my plate

Although i was able to enjoy every bit of the chicken steak that i had ordered i felt thrilled coming back home with a doggy pack of some 7-8 juicy from inside and crisp from outside Sesame chicken. Evening for the doggy me was taken care of.

For anyone who would want a peek into the chestnut interiors and know more i am privileged to pass on the link http://www.geoffreys.in/

A disclaimer though. i am not a food critic just a foodie who loves to eat. And when circumstances permit i go all the way of dining alone.

"There is no sincerer love than the love of food." George Bernard Shaw

Wonder how many people out there are like me...

                                                   
                                                       
                                                       

Recollection and Some Imagination

i hope this picture of mine is able to capture the weather in my part of Delhi. Needless to say then how one feels with that respite from the uncomfortable heat that sees one running indoors and wanting to stay put next to the AC. i just wish i was fit enough to go outdoors and roam around but since i can't i'll try to roam around amongst favored climes and desired pastures in my imagination.

Pure Imagination 

by Roald Dahl

Come with me and you'll be

In a world of pure imagination

Take a look and you'll see

Into your imagination

We'll begin with a spin

Trav'ling in a world of my creation

What we'll see will defy

Explanation

(Refrain)

If you want to view paradise

Simply look around and view it

Anything you want to, do it

Want to change the world, there's nothing to it

There is no life I know

To compare with pure imagination

Living there, you'll be free

If you truly wish to be

(Refrain)

There is no life I know

To compare with pure imagination

Living there, you'll be free

If you truly wish to be.

i have missed blogging. It took me two months and i feel like blogging again. Probably it's the weather...romantic as many would call it.
Romance aah! the mysterious something i would love to indulge into but the fact of the matter being i am drawing a blank there right now.
i just feel like sitting in this terrace of mine, enjoying the weather and type away to glory without giving much thought but typing nevertheless on this silent keyboard of mine.
Maybe it's my sincere attempt to come back on the scenario and had it been yesterday my post would look ravaged. Endless list of frustrations, cribbing and negativity but not today. i am definite it's the weather in my part of New Delhi with some coolness that has descended like a strange mist bringing down the temperatures of everything, including the tortured to hopelessness soul. There is no muddy, smelling like fish wetness just the refreshing coolness. So without much ado i shall share some pictures of mine. One or perhaps two at a time. Some which are my collections of these past few days and which have been lying stay put in my pen drive. Probably i am also inspired by invisible to me but remaining stay put blog dosts who are brilliant in their skills.
Mostly what i wanted to share have remained even on my mind's eye with names given to them in my imagination. And i have nothing better to say.
Yeah a few days earlier i felt like writing something that would change the world but then i chickened out of it. Thought it better to change myself first...

However unlike my fellow bloggers there is no art here in my reproduction but just some recollections that would help me see them again with some fondness as i had felt when my eyes had first chanced upon them.
So far as nature is concerned it is just so photogenic even for those who are still comfortable with a cyber shot. Because in nature things are as they are...pure and simply beautiful and one does not have to be an artist par excellence to capture them.
Sure if you don't know them and want to keep them alive as names there's nothing that a little imagination can't accomplish.

 Vincent van Gogh

Sometimes i think ignorance not only is bliss but it also allows you freedom. This instance while i have no clue about this amazing flora and recollecting the vision i feel free to have my own nomenclature. And each and every time i look at it i am reminded of the sunflowers painted by the great painter hence the name...
That should be all but will be back with more imaginations and recollections and definitely less of words...

A Lesson in Contradiction

It may sound cliched but i have to say it again- education comes from all sides and this time i got my education through two. One my own son and the other his friend. Can't differentiate the most important from the least of the two that i received so i'd better talk about it.

But first the conversations and the scenario... 

The son had just returned from office and after dumping his corporate bag on the dining table surveyed with some satisfaction writ over his countenance, his living room of the shared apartment. It looked made up and thus hugged his mother for the effort taken to transform the room which before he had left for office the same morning looked ravaged by hurricane. Then-

Son- Baby! it's seems u've slogged the entire day...it was pointless explaining the bus and the route... and sure instead of being there in the Botanical park u were here working like a beast...what did u eat...haan! tell me...oh let me guess...have u eaten or not...

Baby - oh beta stop fussing over me...and get freshened up quick...we'll eat together. i have made something with all colors of bell peppers into it just as u would like...hurry! go take a shower and i'll lay the table.

Sonna expectant and excited about ma ke haath ka khana  hurries to his room but returns and hugs his Baby again exclaiming in delight- Gosh! i don't feel like touching anything. The closet looks so tidy...Baby this time do remember to teach me how to fold shirts and how to arrange all of my clothes this way...

Baby - Accha! accha! get ready fast na...the food will get cold...

Sonna hurries off to materialise in his lounge wear a few minutes later looking as relaxed as an infant bathed. Wet hair, uncombed, in boxer shorts and sleeveless vest in the kitchen to offer help. One look at the once overflowing but now empty laundry basket which were two and his face morphs into a grimace.

Sonna (hurls all in one go)- Ma...where is Varun's laundry...what don't tell me u washed those too...ma u should not have done that...it's an invasion of privacy...don't u know that...he isn't even here...u should've asked first.

Baby now Ma who was arranging salad on to a plate felt a wave of panic rush through. " Hey Bhagwaan! why didn't i think of that...invasion of privacy...invasion of privacy..."

Within seconds Baby aka Ma taking out portions of the colorful food on two plates was ready with food and her cheery recipe on damage control.

Thus stoic in her composure and brushing aside the consternation feeling a sense of pride for her 22 year old son having the wisdom that she the 49 year old didn't have had said, " Chalo! sit down let's eat. Don't worry Varun will not get me wrong on this and i shall call him and apologize...chalo... taste and see... "

The food was eaten sans arguments and some guffaws. Sonna and Baby watching the favorite sitcom Frasier on the TV. (Connected via the hard disk. An honest attempt to show all the seasons that Ma aka Baby would've missed and must watch with him)

Few days later when Ma was back to base in her own country busy fixing her own house which looked like it needed some scrubbing here and there as she had been absent from this scene for about two weeks, a parcel arrives. Scribbling her signature on the courier's form hastily she finds it hard to prevent her eyes from getting moist. For good twenty minutes or so she caresses the parcel...runs her fingers over the letters which to her had more than just her postal address. Muttering within her breath...Sonna has sent me a gift...Chanda...Raja...Cheenoo...Guddu.. My Son...oh why did u have to do this...Sonna i miss u so much...wish u were here instead...oh beta...

The moist eyes had started to run. She didn't feel the need to open the parcel. Maybe later after her bath...after her pooja. Not now.

Thus afterwords the parcel was opened very carefully. Everything about the parcel was worth preserving...the outer covering, the bubble wrap. the gift wrap...everything and also the GIFT. But the note card that was inside the gift turned out to be the most PRECIOUS. It said,

"Dear Shivani Aunty,

Thank you for turning our house into a home. With lots of love, Varun."

Precious

She thought after her bath and pooja she would get over with the barrage of emotions flooding her and that she should be in a saner state instead what she looked like now was a perfect picture of a cry baby. Tears running here, running there and oh shucks some from even her nose. She remembered about her own call that she was supposed to make but didn't make. She remembered that she had defaulted on that apology. But that was not what had ripped open the floodgates of the tear dam. She was crying out of sheer joy. Joy when she saw the contents of the parcel. Immense joy for having emerged a winner at least this one time.

She sobbed and said to herself, " i knew it! i knew it!...  

Varun did read my intentions...oh Varun...Bless You Sonna...

Sitting on her bed and waiting to tide over the emotions and get sober she kept hugging the gift...her favorite color...wondering how Varun could have known about the color and her penchant for handbags, she waited till she was normal enough to have a cheery conversation.

Then she typed a message on her mobile and read twice before the dispatch feeling frustrated at how words did not quite match all that she needed to convey. Consoling herself that maybe she can do better when she speaks to him, she sent the message to Varun. Then a call to her own son. Ignoring the fact that he might be busy in his office and that it may not be a good time to have hello, hi, wassup conversation she anxiously heard the phone ring on the other side. She had to tell Sonna, share the joy and ask him so much.

He had answered promptly and had relieved her of all. "Ma! Varun had asked me about your favorite color, and he knows you have a thing for shoes and bags. Ma you can call him in the evening...moreover he will call you and talk to you himself...he has been meaning too... he had just called me to say that he's received ur message..."

After she had exhausted herself out over her admiration on the gift, she hung the gift on the bed where she lay her mobile next to the pillow and the note in her hand. And before she dozed off she had read the note over and over again. 

"We call an intention good which is right in itself, but the action is good, not because it contains within it some good, but because it issues from a good intention." 

"The closing of a door can bring blessed privacy and comfort - the opening, terror. Conversely, the closing of a door can be a sad and final thing - the opening a wonderfully joyous moment."

Last Sunday there was a very interesting article in the magazine section of The Hindu ( newspaper) written by Swati Daftuar. And since the education i had was first on invasion of privacy and later on good intentions i can understand why the article flashed in my mind's eye.The fact of the matter being that i'm not too comfortable with ' closed doors and averted eyes'. Maybe i had my growing up among nosy neighbors and home where i never felt the need for any privacy. But times have changed and even when i feel like gatecrashing all i do sometimes is call up before but most of the times just give up and wait for a chance meeting. This new world which seemed to expand earlier while i was growing up has shrunk for me too. Just like the writer of this weekend column called Armchair With A View. The article title being ' The strangers next door'. http://www.thehindu.com/features/magazine/the-strangers-next-door/article4605589.ece

-:Image Courtesy:-

http://www.verybestquotes.com/when-our-actions-are-based-on-good-intentions-no-regret-quotes/

Rendezvous with the Spirit

This is not trick photography. It looks exactly like that. i picked up what looked like a banana peel.

So right now i am garrulous about yet another discovery for which i should thank my olfactory senses. Walking down the road this early morn i was hit by a mild but delightful fragrance. As if someone wearing some exotic but mild perfume had just passed me by. i had to pause and turn around to see...
Then seeing nobody around i reconstructed tales in my imagination. Tales i had heard in my childhood about Spirits. i was told that if some good fragrance or aroma erupts just suddenly as if from nowhere then it means that some good Spirit was honoring one with it's company and that when that happens i ought to remain silent instead of exclaiming about the smell and in silence thank the Spirits for doing so because their companionship is nothing but blessing and protection in disguise.

Feeling good about the lore i continued with my easy morning stroll sans traffic and people. And then as the fresh, soothing and light morning breeze hit me i felt the shower of the same fragrance yet again. This time overwhelming me with a steady lingering floral perfume. i had just stopped then. And i am glad that i did that. For it gave me an opportunity to see and meet the good Spirit in person and have the most enjoyable tete-e-tete.

The spirit i had the brilliant opportunity to meet - Kanak Champa.

 It is a large deciduous tree with broad dark green foliage. Pleasantly surprised first at the reconnoiter and a bit irritated at my own preoccupation as to how i could have not noticed earlier i looked below on the road to see if there were any blossoms, intact for me to bring home. i was lucky for i found one partially if not wholly intact. There were plenty of others which looked like carelessly thrown banana peels. i picked some of those too.

Now they are sitting pretty on the granite slab i use daily to roll my chapatis with. The flower in the ubiquitous plastic cup with some water in it. My attempt to see them looking just so when i introduce the flower and the story of the Spirit to the rest of the family.

There's still some time left for me to surprise them with tea with banana peel. For it's a few minutes more to seeing them walking groggily to the living room. let's see if they are surprised if i show them this and ask them to tell me what it is.

As for me i shall bide my easy time with more of the Spirit. With the help of this book also a field guide. Trees Of Delhi by Pradip Krishen. And whatever i can imbibe from this field guide i would like to put it here if not for anything but for my sake. As it is an integral part of my rendezvous with the Spirit and more.

 That it is also known as the Dinner Plate tree because the leaves are used to make plates one can eat from.

The bark as well as the leaves find use among the rural folks to treat not only small pox but also wounds and itching. 

The long khaki flower buds that open like a banana peel into 5 slender segments reveal the pure white 5 petaled flower which are deliciously perfumed. No wonder then that it is a favorite food of the bats. For us Homo sapiens the flowers not only make our roads perfumed specially during the nights but are also believed to cure ulcers, tumors, leprosy and diseases of the blood. The timber which is durable and moderately hard and strong is used not only for making toys but also for high- class joinery, panelling, flooring and furniture.

i pick up the flower and look at it again. i hear myself talking..."So Kanak Champa how do i introduce u to my family...should i call u Muchkund or Kanair...Dinner Plate or Maple -leaved Bayur...or just Bayur or Katha Champa...

...Pterospermum acerifolium might just blow the fuse of interest out. i think Kanak Champa sounds very literary. Kanak meaning gold and Champa meaning a joy perfumed flower...

So very nice to have met u... 

                                         ... up close and so very personal... today! "

The Call

i came across this beautiful poster when i had typed free nature posters on my google search box. Then received some more education when i came across the words. First this-

Then more about the snail and maths in nature- 

"A snail builds its shell at a rate proportional to its size (see Nature's Numbers), resulting in exponential growth. An understanding of the exponential function is so important in today's world ..." i read the words in one of the blogs as i was surfing the blogosphere. Made a note of the blog by Mr Nathan Shields called 10minutemath.blogspot.in because it sounded more meaningful and very similar to what i have to share today. 

i think something different something nice is happening to me. Maybe it had been happening although at snails pace and am reaping/realizing the benefits now. The results in my own composure and demeanor. Ever since my last holiday...especially after the call.

Finally i am noticing and appreciating acts of kindness that i had earlier not paid any attention to or rather had taken for granted assuming it to be my birthright.

i might be seeming to be so predictable and reading my blog must be as boring as watching paint dry. To go on and on and about the same. One painting only on my mind's canvas but can't help it even this time. The change in me for which the enzyme is a painting happening on it's own in nature which for want of it's real name i prefer to give my own nomenclature. Unknown Mauve .    

 And i don't own the skill to say it any better than this-

I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it.... People think pleasing God is all God care about.  But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back.  ~Alice Walker, The Color Purple, 1982

A couple of days back when my husband had just returned from office and both of us were enjoying tea with some hot and sour mundane gossips and some cookies of silence, my husband gets a call on his mobile. These days he's mostly on his phone. So assuming that it must be from his colleague and thus now there was nothing much to be had than hear his part of the shop talk which would be like any going- over- my- head calculus equation to me i scooted slyly and sat in the balcony with my compu. i had better things to do. i had to search the Unknown Mauve out.

It had caught my full attention the moment i had seen it. Mainly because of it's color. My favorite mauve/ lavender. The search on the internet seemed endless and more than feeling tired i was only getting overwhelmed and just too engrossed. To any outsider i would've appeared as someone who is deeply involved in some crucial humanitarian project or perhaps like someone taking a career oriented online exam.

Yeah sure a project/ exam alright. Maybe for my individual satisfaction if not for humanity/career. i had thus skimmed more than thirty and some ten hues of the kind and none of them remotely matched the Unknown Mauve.

Enter dear husband handing out his mobile to me, " It's Mr Mehta and he has the name..." 

It was rude on my part not only to snatch the mobile phone but having not a bit of patience either to hear him complete his sentence. Although i was in no state to realize my uncouth behavior at the time.

 Maybe twenty eight years in a row and knowing me inside out i was just too sure that hubby darling would not mind me being uncouth. Although even after knowing and experiencing for some years now he is yet to be immune to my talking loudly.

He still has to remind me at least once everyday, " Talk slowly and softly naa...kaan toh idhar hee hai..." ( I am all ears talk softly)

Me- Hello Mr Mehta how r u ?

Mr Mehta- Hello! mam i am fine and i have called about that flower. That blue one...you had asked me about the name...well what i  have found out is that it is called azzerotum.

Me- Oh thank you so much...just a sec... (gesturing towards my husband for something to scribble on)...so what did you say...?

Mr Mehta- Azzerotum! azzerotum! maam...azzerotum!

Me- Can u spell it out for me please...

Mr Mehta- Maam you write it any way because i really don't know the spelling...a-z-z-e-r-o-t-u-m, perhaps...

Me- thank u thank u! i think that will do... it will help...i was able to find out about the other one...remember!...chlorodendrom!...

Mr Mehta- yes! yes maam...oh you got it...good good... maam and i hope azzerotum is also correct.  Okay maam hope u come again and you have my number. Do give me another opportunity to be of service to you. Namaste maam!

After ranting all about my pleasant research on his chlorodendrom and after echoing his intentions of engaging him again on my next trip to Corbett i hung up.

The need to search seemed to have vaporized and i heaved a sigh of relief. Having full faith in his words i had shut down the compu and returned to my husband and the rest of the evening rituals.

Both of us in unison for a change comparing happy notes about people. Feeling fortunate...

That night i did not feel the need for TV or any book to lull me off to a good night's sleep. For before i slept i looked towards my life partner looking pure in his slumber just like a child. My heart filled with gratitude and love which i had thought had got blanketed with doubts. i know i should've thanked him first for being kind to me each time and every time i am hyper. i should've apologized for taking him for granted... And although my thoughts kept reverting back to Mr Nandan Mehta the goodness that i was sincerely appreciating felt interconnected.  

"Every kind act, no matter how small, is like a pebble tossed into the pond of human caring...

the rings reach out far beyond the point of impact; the action of our kind deed acts more kindly toward the people around them, those people act more kindly toward the people around them, and so it goes, on and on."

Now i pause to acknowledge and appreciate the stranger who held the elevator door for me, i seem to be returning calls which just few days back i avoided to take, i seem to be listening more with the sincere intent of learning, i am trying to be as open minded as i can be although this still needs to be worked upon...the list may go on so briefly i would like to put it this way i have begun to pay attention.

It's taken me a long time and i am still recovering, recuperating from the epidemic of individualistic culture where relying on the self, wanting greater autonomy and personal success felt more important than anything else. Feeling isolated when i was reeling under the other storm i realize that i feel much better today because i am trying to be less obsessed with the circumstances and making the best of the NOW.

Just the very next day after a good night's sleep i was going out on some usual housework errand. This time i paused at the society entrance gate and gave it the time to appreciate. A well meaning smile to the security guard who had opened the gate promptly without a moment's delay to see the approaching vehicle. Through my open window the words that rolled out effortlessly were, "Thank you , you have been so kind."
He had nodded with a simple well meaning smile too. The simple smile which perhaps had lots to convey than just thank you. The ripples of which lasted the entire day and might go on for days to come.
"The spiral in a snail's shell is the same mathematically as the spiral in the Milky Way galaxy, and it's also the same mathematically as the spirals in our DNA. It's the same ratio that you'll find in very basic music that transcends cultures all over the world." Joseph Gordon-Levitt

So much for today...will be back with of course Azzerotum...what else!

                                                        - : Image Courtesy :-
: http://www.emoticonswallpapers.com/wallpaper-nature-wallpaper-071-4503-30.html

                                                             :http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ageratum_houstonianum_(alverson).jpg

:http://www.lushquotes.com/quote/joseph-gordon-levitt_NDQ3MDc1.html