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! "