And it comes to leaving again!...

The time runs out fastest precisely when we want it to slow down and let us be where we are. And its six long months that am talking about. I had come to Pratapgarh when little P was barely ten days old, it was the last week of January (last spell of cold) and A was yet to come to terms with the challenges associated with this new official assignment. In the middle of December, precisely a month before P was born, when A had been posted out of Lucknow and given less than 12 hours to take over in Pratapgarh in difficult circumstances, we had bitterly resented the sudden shift of events. Not only it meant me being left alone with N when it was beginning to get difficult for me, I had also looked forward to spend my maternity leave in the comfort of my own house, living in a city. But while not everything turns out as we want it to be, with the benefit of hindsight, the beautiful memories of the past six months will continue to be cherished for an entire lifetime.

Once I moved here, it was difficult to come to terms with the new reality of living in a countryside house when one had spent three comfortable years living in an ultra-modern, self-designed, super-convenient apartment space. My initial days were spent trying to restore some normalcy to our daily routines (and having a less than one month old baby certainly doesn't help!). While I relentlessly tried to revive the flow of wind and light around this beautiful colonial house, I also found myself increasingly drawn to the boundless treasures it seemed to contain.

A large part of my time (before the summer sun became too harsh to bear) was spent sitting in the 'courtyard with magical light' as I call it and watch the play of light and seasons on the Siris tree that grew beside it. Even before I had brought newborn P over, A had restored a number of doors and windows around the house. My greatest joy on my first morning in the house was waking up to a garden view (after a very long time). Often afterwards, in the early hours of the morning, I would find a golden ray of sunlight filtering in through the gap in the curtains  in my room as if kissing the cot-mobile while P slept like a little prince underneath.

I could not be more thankful to God for making it one of the happiest times of mine and A's life as we watched little N chasing butterflies, filling the rooms with her multiple pursuits and we entertained family and friends alongside. It was here that I could finally live my dream of building a studio where I could paint/craft for hours without any distraction and stream endless music while being at it. While we introduced Masha to our multiple birdie guests (and he taught their names to wide-eyed N), or the multiple impromptu snack parties we hosted and clicked pics for the keepsakes, both me and A were beginning to fall in love with the place that has given so much to us. 

While I sit here writing this and there's less than 24 hours remaining before I take up my old duties in Lucknow, move back to work and start school for N, I completely realize none of it would have been possible without the fabulous people who took care of us- the women who took care of my kids during the day so that I could make up for my sleep deficit, the housekeepers who kept everything in order and the officers who hosted us, worked hard with A and stood by us. Upon return from a recent visit to a fabulous plantation resort in Chikmaglur, we realized there was no point traveling 2000 kms for the same. At least not when one himself lives on a huge estate, in a century old heritage bungalow while still being able to enjoy delicious home-cooked meals. If waking up to the call of the birds and sleeping by the sound of cicadas sums it up, then it is precisely that.

Yet there is more to my 'leaving' this time. And its not just the house, the people and the place. Its also the security and well being of living together as a family that I leave behind (till no certain future date!). Living as a single parent to tiny ones in a city, while continuing to attend official responsibilities is going to be a huge challenge. And there's also the guilt of depriving A and kids of the joy of each other's presence. Multiple sources of advice (and may be even a part of me) suggest I extend leave and continue to live on a little longer. But what solution would it be. In a profession that we have chosen, this will always be the case. While I do not write this by way of justification, but another six months or a year wouldn't make much of a difference. The kids will continue to need both me and A the same for a very long time to come and also better learn soon what it takes to be the children of a 'working mom' (you could say an ambitious and obstinate one at that).

And just before I go and take one final look at the things (before I start packing them up), I look up at the twenty feet high ceiling and think of the innumerable people like me and A who would have lived in this house, children like P and N who grew up in its environs and the countless stories exchanged under this roof. And yet the house doesn't complain about the good and the bad,it doesn't moan about the change of the times and continues to be. How I wish things worked for us the same way!

Time, You Old Gypsy Man

Will you not stay, 

Put up your caravan 

Just for one day? 

All things I'll give you 

Will you be my guest, 

Bells for your jennet 

Of silver the best, 

Goldsmiths shall beat you 

A great golden ring, 

Peacocks shall bow to you, 

Little boys sing. 

Oh, and sweet girls will 

Festoon you with may, 

Time, you old gypsy, 

Why hasten away? 

Last week in Babylon, 

Last night in Rome, 

Morning, and in the crush 

Under Paul's dome; 

Under Pauls' dial 

You tighten your rein - 

Only a moment, 

And off once again; 

Off to some city 

Now blind in the womb, 

Off to another 

Ere that's in the tomb. 

Time, you old gypsy man, 

Will you not stay, 

Put up your caravan 

Just for one day? 

~Ralph Hodgson

A snail-mail project and a million questions!

“I've always felt there is something sacred in a piece of paper that travels the earth from hand to hand, head to head, heart to heart.” 

― Robert Michael Pyle, 

Sky Time in Gray's River: Living for Keeps in a Forgotten Place

My past few posts have been dedicated to my zillion pastimes during six months long maternity leave and the importance of doing nothing once in a while. The initial days were all  about getting used to two kids in the house and their innumerable demands on mom's energy and time. After a while, however, life begins to follow a pattern and one is somewhat able to reflect on small acts of kindness and gestures of affection shown by family and friends which make life truly worth living. Given mine and A's mechanical home-office-home routine and our tendency to remain caught up in inanities of everyday life, often people/things that deserve heartfelt gratitude and need to be acknowledged go unreciprocated and after considerable time has elapsed, one is rather ashamed of expressing the same (with such delay) anymore.

Over the past few years, as me and A lived in separate cities (for a long time even separate states), life had become a constant effort to spend time together and many important things slipped past unnoticed and unacknowledged- whether it was our best friends' getting married and then having their first kids, or shifting out of places without saying thanks to the people who constantly supported us. Therefore, this time when we had the opportunity and the time, we decided to let all the fabulous people in our life know how much they mean to us. While my original intention was to make a handcrafted card for each recipient, it took no time to figure out that (given my zillion other preoccupations and being 'full-time' Mom to two tiny kids) the thank-you-card-idea would once again become an item on our wishlist only. Therefore, I decided to get two of my watercolors printed in the form of thank you cards (Thank God,for once the internet printing company delivered to a place like Pratapgarh) and shoot them immediately to our 'magic circle' of friends.However, getting everyone's postal address seemed to be a task in itself and I SMSed/Facebooked/Whatsapped everyone to send us their address please.


The most interesting part of the story is the variety of questions and responses that followed my request for postal address:

• Majority of people enquired if we intend to visit them soon and much as I feel delighted with the idea, I had to politely convey my answer in a negative.
• The other set was hopeful that am planning an event (to celebrate something) and perhaps intend to send an invite. For one, while postal invites are still the norm in our part of the country, Me and A did not even send our wedding cards to begin with and rely completely on paperless invitations till date!
• Yet another interesting set had two subsets of its own. This comprised two people we are extremely open with and who wanted the full story before they would fish out their address. While one of them felt that only somebody as crazy as me could come up with this (and gladly complied), the other plainly refused to accept any Thank-Yous from me whatsoever.
• Then there was yet another (largely international) set who cited 'operational difficulties' in receiving anything by post (like nobody at home to receive, shifting homes in the interim etc). Considering the difficulties at their end, I could never bring it upon myself to incur international postage charges without being sure if the post will ever even reach them.
• Lastly, there were dear friends who chose to never respond to my request.

While it shouldn't be a surprise that (prima facie) the idea of receiving anything by post is rather difficult to digest,I was equally charmed by the responses to my request for people's home address (and hence this blog post!). However, for all the trouble that it is, as a dear friend warmly conveyed 'it struck the deepest chords of the Heart'. It was heartening to note that the post still works (and much faster now!) and most people were touched by the simple surprise. There are also a dozen cards still left to be sent for a multiplicity of reasons and I hope they too serve their intended purpose. Much as I have created a story out of the entire exercise, there is no judgement involved in doing so. Some of the dearest people in our lives couldn't be sent any card and as one of them remarked, they perhaps do not even need any. Yet, to each one of them, we owe tons of our happiness and gratitude.While the card could barely contain a few words, to most, I wish I could write tons and tell them how life would not have been the same without them.

“Generally, people who are good at writing letters have no need to write letters. They've got plenty of life to lead inside their own context.” 

― Haruki Murakami, 

A Wild Sheep Chase

A page from the everyday life of an about to be 33 year old!

“I’m the kind of person who likes to be by himself. To put a finer point on it, I’m the type of person who doesn’t find it painful to be alone. I find spending an hour or two every day running alone, not speaking to anyone, as well as four or five hours alone at my desk, to be neither difficult nor boring. I’ve had this tendency ever since I was young, when, given a choice, I much preferred reading books on my own or concentrating on listening to music over being with someone else. I could always think of things to do by myself.” 

― Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

As March Madness makes way for 'May Mellowness', and friends and family grant a lifelong extension to my license to be mad, for the first time since school I find something to look forward to each day and for the first time 'everyday' seems more interesting than some 'special' days. While there a million thoughts running through my mind and at least half a dozen blog posts (which require dedicated writing time) traipse half-baked through my imagination, I earnestly wish I could freeze a slice of my time and relish it at a later stage in life. While time travel remains a distinct improbability at the moment, I could always mark this great time of my life with chosen reference points which will be my memory aids in days to come. If I were to present a cross-section of my daily activities, this is what it would look like:

• Enjoying- Summers in Pratapgarh (I know its 43 degrees outside!) and long evening walks 
• Listening to- MTV India Unplugged (all seasons)
• Loving- my disconnect (not yet freedom) from cellphone/Whatsapp/Facebook..
• Learning- to drive around and observe the beauty/architecture of country homes
• Feasting (my eyes) on- Gulmohars in full bloom and Mahua leaves which appear red in sunlight
• Relishing- home-cooked 'Litti-Chokha' (typical meal of this part of the country) 
• Playing- Two Dots (my meditation)
• (Night time) Reading- David Levithan (all books), Murakami (What I Talk About When I Talk About Running)
• Organizing-Craft Supplies/ Digital files/ Photographs
• Clicking- Parakeets and Hornbills and Hoopoes flitting about in the fields in the evening
• Dreading- Return to office in July and managing two kids by myself
• Hosting- People over lunch/tea and serving meals they do not expect in Pratapgarh (We never host dinners because its kids' sleeping time)
• Sending- love and wishes in the form of self designed cards to dear friends all over
• Hoping- to complete my Tapestry of Dreams before younger one turns one
• Reflecting upon- being emotional and instinctive (and its fall outs) (As Murakami says, "Emotional hurt is the price a person has to pay in order to be independent.")
• Smiling- over the little things my kids do and amazed at God's kindness.
• Thanking- Everyone and Everything that has made all of the above possible

March Madness- of a different kind!!

Life is beautiful. Being a mom to a three year doll has been a delight. Been blessed with a baby boy this January and life never seemed so incredible before. While it does take a lot to manage two kids, being home on a six month long paid maternity leave is also an opportunity that presents itself only twice in a working woman's career in my part of the world. And to add to these wonderful circumstances, living in a place away from the trappings of city life and close to nature, is an experience of sorts.

For someone who has spent nine long years in government service, March in India only means a month of meeting financial targets and reconciling funds and expenditures. Needless to mention, in my recent memory, March has always been an immensely stressful time of the year when office work takes precedence over everything else and life in general is put on hold. As our colleagues and friends in most professions too follow the rigors of financial year closing, there have hardly ever been any memories built around this time of the year.

While most of the above is till true, this particular March for me has been a rather memorable and personally satisfying one. It is perhaps for the first time in life that I have been able to immerse myself into any number of hobbies without any constraint of time and space. The entire experience of endless reading-poetry-painting-bird watching-photography-cooking-listening to music and so on has been a thoroughly refreshing one and renewed hopes and energies alike.

While I wish I could write every aspect of this phase of my life and read and reread it later in life whenever the going seems to be tough, certain things are too beautiful to be left un-shared. Being somebody who can not sleep without reading, I do not know if I never paid attention to the beauty of certain words before or if these three books (whose passages I reproduce below) were exceptionally well written, but certain books definitely take the reader to an entirely different level altogether.

“The more you love someone, he came to think, the harder it is to tell them. It surprised him that strangers didn't stop each other on the street to say I love you.” 
― Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated

“Because we see only what we already know. We project our own capacities—for good as well as evil—onto the other person. Then we acknowledge as love primarily those things that correspond to our own image thereof. We wish to be loved as we ourselves would love. Any other way makes us uncomfortable. We respond with doubt and suspicion. We misinterpret the signs. We do not understand the language. We accuse. We assert that the other person does not love us. But perhaps he merely loves us in some idiosyncratic way that we fail to recognize.” 
― Jan-Philipp Sendker, The Art Of Hearing Heartbeats

“Even now, all possible feelings do not yet exist, there are still those that lie beyond our capacity and our imagination. From time to time, when a piece of music no one has ever written or a painting no one has ever painted, or something else impossible to predict, fathom or yet describe takes place, a new feeling enters the world. And then, for the millionth time in the history of feeling, the heart surges and absorbs the impact.” 
                          ― Nicole Krauss, The History of Love

While I was caught up in the web of these exquisite words, even more words flowed in. As I started reading about World Poetry Day,(which happens to be on 21 March,) while I revisited some of my favourite poems, I discovered the poetry of Kashmiri poet Agha Shahid Ali and in the order of precedence of my all time favourites, he currently tops the list.

1. Tonight by Agha Shahid Ali
2. I Will Meet You Yet Again by Amrita Pritam
3. Unending Love by Rabindranath Tagore
4. Jo Beet Gayi Woh Baat Gayi by Harivanshrai Bachchan
5. Bullah Ki Jaana by Bulleh Shah

Talking of books and poems, can songs and images be left behind. While I love to fill the rooms of our (current) colonial era house with varied music and sunlight, the house too presents small joys to elate our hearts in the form of chirping of birds, dappled sunshine, long shadows in the afternoon, the sound of wind in the trees, and so much more. The house and the place provide ample opportunities for experiments in art and photography and the results are often deeply gratifying. These multiple pursuits interspersed with the visits of loved ones and rounds of endless banter have only added to the charms. 

While one does miss the comfort and convenience of own house and the freedom and choices of city life and also while sometimes the professional hazards become too much to bear, our stay in Pratapgarh and the pursuits have shrunk these longings and troubles to a mere trifle. Once we leave this place, we may or may not get to see this place ever again. The house (more than a century old) itself may not be around in a few years time but the air around this place will always contain a few molecules of our precious memories of one of the happiest times of our lives. I do not know what future holds for us but this place will definitely be etched in our minds for all times to come. If this is not happiness, then nothing else can be...

Sunset over the Ganges at Kalakankar

                        

Of friendship and a dear friend..

As a student in JNU, our economics class and our hostel community were more like an open family and I thought one could nurture close association with a number of people. Partially true, but in prime in particular and in life in general, one's vision is often myopic and one fails to appreciate how time takes it toll on us. Today life has taken the members of the same 'open family' to all parts of the world and at times one even realizes our paths may perhaps never cross again. It does not feel good to know that because the warmth we shared still remains, but one suddenly realizes how much was left unsaid and how much more there still is to be shared. Yet the pulls and pressures of our professional and personal lives often leave us with little time and energy to reach out for people beyond our immediate milieu and its only sometimes one decides to go an extra mile to see someone we knew all along. Even if that genuine warmth and affection remains, the possibility remains that we could have drifted so far apart in temporal and spatial terms that it might be difficult to relate to each other's lives.

This sad realization did dawn on me but only much later when a 24x7 job, marriage, home (read household) and now a five month old keep my hands more than full. Much as I would have loved to live in the old times forever, its always been a task for me to explain myself endlessly and with the kind of uncertainty one lives with in our profession, much of our social interactions could be left to luck and chance. If there's somebody whom we still warm up to, could speak uninhibited to and we know will always be there, I think that special somebody has indeed passed the litmus test of friendship and more importantly time!

Am dedicating this post to such friends A N for being two of the most wonderful people I have ever met. Its surprising how some people we never knew for the better part of our lives come to win our trust so much that at times one instinctively reaches out for them even before one's own siblings. And with this kind of faith, the intervening time, distance and circumstances cease to matter. In other words,  that there could be a thousand miles separating us or that we grew up in two entirely different social milieu has never  been of any significance. One doesn't always necessarily need words to communicate and silence is not met with innumerable questions either. Can not thank them often and enough for making us feel welcome and comfortable into their lives and for being part of one's 'charmed circle' of people who make life truly meaningful.

I wish and pray that life offers you the very best of everything there could be, forever and always. Much as I wish I could give you all that you aspire for, could not think of giving you anything better than the 'Tree of Life' itself. Hope life will treat you gently in its course and we will build many more memories and dreams together. But most importantly, just as I was about to commit the folly of saying we-stay-the-same-forever, I would rather say, life has given us a wonderful opportunity of knowing each other and even if times are hard for us and hope is even more scant, all that matters today and always will, is that we will try to appreciate each other's circumstances, will not be hasty in our judgement and remember each other in our thoughts and prayers. May the Force be with you, Always!!!

There is an eternal love between the water drop and the leaf. When you look at them, you can see that they both shine out of happiness.

“There is an eternal love between the water drop and the leaf. When you look at them, you can see that they both shine out of happiness.” 

― Mehmet Murat Ildan

These words echo in my mind each time I look at flowers. Then be it water lilies floating in village ponds or a small vessel kept at the doorstep of Indian households. There's something magical about the hues that nature has imbued the foliage with. I for one find it difficult to take my eyes off any floral arrangement, not just for their intrinsic beauty but also I because it seems to me as if God has imparted life to some delicate brushstrokes.

Till date I treasure the Chinar leaves I had collected from Nishat Bagh in Srinagar back in the year 2007 and if some dear friends happen to read this post, they will be instantly able to recall the handmade greeting cards I had sent them upon my return which carried those leaves. Despite the poor quality of the pic I had taken, I have never been able to forget the golden hued leaves floating in water and small blades of grass heralding a new life.

Chinar leaves in Srinagar

Often the people we visit in elitist echelons talk glibly about the imported orchids do they had at a family wedding and how somebody made his beloved feel special with the choicest flowers imported from some unknown corner of the world. I often lose thread of such conversations and my mind immediately wanders off to the wild flowers which grow abundantly everywhere in rains. Nature did not assign value to its creations, its only we as members of an increasingly materialistic society do..

I think flowers have a precious lesson to teach us. Even with an ephemeral lifespan if a flower could radiate so much beauty, happiness, color and life! why do we as humans waste our lives lamenting, pretending and frowning. During the tea breaks we had between the classes in our Academy in Mussoorie, whenever I found it difficult being part of any mundane conversation, I remember looking at a vessel full of water and white and orange flowers kept outside Dhruvshila. I could spend an entire life looking at those reflections in water and wondering what was so magical about those floating flowers. 

Mango blossoms in Chitrakoot

I remember most people who would visit us in Banda or Chitrakoot would try to sympathize for being posted in Bundelkhand (far from the civilisation!).  Today when I look back at the memories of the house we lived in, all I can think of is the mango blossoms and the birds and bees who came to collect nectar therefrom.. Or the rustic earthen pot at our entrance which our gardener would decorate with various hued roses and sunflowers and periwinkles..The image of that myriad hued oasis beckoning a weary-eyed traveler like us upon our arrival at the house each day is forever imprinted in my heart.

As a child I thought my fascination for flowers, trees, birds and leaves is merely a phase I will eventually grow out of. However, with the progression of time and age, I only seem to be more drawn to these forms and often feel I have less and less time at hand but so much to see!! Now when I see a beautiful flower, I go back and do a search to find its name and the stories and myths associated with it. 

Bird of Paradise

Lobster Claws

While Google image search is truly a great help, an amazing India specific website I recently discovered has made me even more observant towards the bountiful gifts of Nature around us. As one delves deeper into the subject, it throws up interesting names like Lobster Claws, Bird of Paradise, Flame of the Forest! 

Living close to an island of lush greenery in the middle of a bustling city, I was overjoyed to see the ethereal  Safed Kachnar for the first time. I remember the Palash tree growing outside Cauvery Hostel in JNU and the Laburnums and Bougainvillea which would carpet the campus. The  much-in-demand roses of Kannauj, filled our lives with fragrance and delight during our winters in the 'city of Itr' and my separate post on them would perhaps follow soon.  I can not help but feel distracted in an open air party and often lose track of time and place altogether. There's so much to learn and admire and feel these little joys enriching my life. I look forward to the day life will afford me an opportunity to live in Delhi again for I will not be at peace unless I have seen the famous tree lined avenues of New Delhi at leisure and felt the change seasons bring. It is these random moments of life which define joy for me and I live each day hoping to be pleasantly surprised by discovering a new 'thing of beauty' ..

Anthuriums in Coorg

"You are wrong if you think Joy emanates only or principally from human relationships. God has placed it all around us. It is in everything and anything we might experience. We just have to have the courage to turn against our habitual lifestyle and engage in unconventional living.

My point is that you do not need me or anyone else around to bring this new kind of light in your life. It is simply waiting out there for you to grasp it, and all you have to do is reach for it. The only person you are fighting is yourself and your stubbornness to engage in new circumstances." 

― Jon Krakauer, (Into the Wild)

Bundelkhand Summers, Endless Sun. Etsy Inspiration and Embroidery Fun!!

While the title of my post has pretty much conveyed everything I have to say, summers in Bundelkhand meant a season of indoor confinement (That is when you don't have work to attend and official visits). I joined in Banda in July 2011. By that time the first monsoon showers had already provided the much needed respite from heat in this arid country and everything seemed fresh and verdant. The confluence of River Ken and River Yamuna at Chilla was a sight to behold and the rivers were brimming to the top. It was a new place for me. For the first time, I was living at such a distance from Delhi. The event calenders, both official and social, were abuzz with activity and there was little time to do anything else.

Sunset as seen from the drive way

However, come March 2012 and the first signs of summers were beginning to tell. Tired and exhausted from the elections in the state, one had little energy and appetite to explore places for the sake of it and meet people endlessly. The change of guard in Lucknow seemed change was inevitable for us too and one lived by counting days and watching the golden sun set over the horizon each day. The saving grace of the day would only be the birds which came to roost in the lawns every evening (hope to do a post on them soon!) and the magical star-lit nights which made you forget the oppressive heat and endless paperwork each day brought.

The fact that the much awaited 'change' came only in August is enough to convey the good deal of time one had in hand after work and being the self proclaimed 'crafts addict' that I am, I turned to Etsy for inspiration. However, it is also imperative to clarify at this point that being a good 150-200 kms away from any city of repute meant that the choice of crafts was severely restricted to materials which could be easily procured from the local market but would also yield good results and above all immense satisfaction. Add to this equation, my constant desire to make something however small for my home and one has no choice but to do something of the table/bed linen or wall art variety.  

Add to that also the fact that in a place like Banda, there are little avenues for getting a good frame done. Bearing all these considerations in mind, I did a Google search on wall art-watercolors,photography,collages,embroidery,tapestry and pretty much everything that could be hung on a nail.The most wonderful find turned out to be small embroidered diskettes which could fit any occasion and any need. More intensive Etsy search revealed to me the wonderful world of 'HOOP ART' with its endless possibilities and bewitching colors.

Somehow all the people I have known all my life and all that I had read and heard about till the 'Eureka moment', nobody and nothing ever carried any mention of the word 'hoop art'. And once the discovery had been made, it was contagious (at least in the family!)Thus began my adventures as a hoop ARTIST (I can proudly call myself that!) and my first and rather simple hoop. 

The flowers are done in simple stitch with french bullion knots at the end and stem stitch for the stalks. I must also give the credit to my mother-in-law (Mamma) for all her encouragement and more importantly for her EASY EMBROIDERY book (which turned out to be a repository of beginner level stitches) which dates back to her post wedding Nigeria days. It was only much later, thanks to uninterrupted broadband connectivity, that I discovered endless tutorials on internet for various kinds of stitches

The first hoop was widely appreciated. Combined with a whole lot of encouragement, it was all I could ask for and a huge stimulus for the bigger and more colorful hoop that followed. It was again inspired by something similar I saw on Etsy and is done completely in double stranded chain stitch.

Needless to mention,  in Mamma's words, she could not take her eyes off the hoop and it adorns a huge column in her drawing room wall singularly. My love for concentric circles introduced me to the magical realm of 'WHIMSICAL ART' and am eagerly waiting for an opportunity to try my hand at the same. As for now, am linking this post to Artistic Inspiration for their Challenge 56.

The fact that am writing this post in the July of 2013 speaks volumes about my cherished and well preserved memories  of embroidery as a pursuit. My love for embroidery though dates back to my Agra days. There was something in the air in the city of Taj!! Will hopefully capture a pic or two of my first real embroidery when I visit my parents and would also request my lovely erstwhile neighbor and lifelong dear friend,P, to share her interpretation of the same work too!!

Till then, Happy Embroidery! And yes, in the words of  Aldo Leopold (A Sand County Almanac: With Other Essays on Conservation from Round River)

"A hobby is a defiance of the contemporary. It is an assertion of those permanent values which the momentary eddies of social evolution have contravened or overlooked. If this is true, then we may also say that every hobbyist is inherently a radical, and that his tribe is inherently a minority." 

Hubby's first dedication