A splendid Sunday.. and the long awaited walk to the river!

Wheat fields!

Today was an ordinary Sunday like any other but sometimes the crisp blue skies and the yellow sunshine make all the difference. Even before I could properly open my eyes, I could see the golden beams of sunshine knocking on my vintage glass doors. In a place like this where winters are literally bone chilling and there's no sun for days on end, a sunny radiant morning has the power to lift spirits instantly. After bath and breakfast, I decided to just stroll around.

Perhaps the opportunity beckoned. I digressed from the my regular walking route and into the vegetable patch and wheat fields. With a little help from Prisma and phone camera, I too could immortalize my memory of this day with my own series on wheat fields. And being reminded of  VanGogh's wheatfields' series, I realize why artists are often drawn to the beauty of what might appear to others as the ordinary and the mundane. It was also an education of sorts to witness how broccoli and lettuce grow.

When I had broached the possibility of walking from our house to the river bank (the proximity of the river was known to me thanks to Google Maps) to our staff few days back, I was not just discouraged on account of the fear of wild animals and snakes, I was also told how impossible it was to cross the the boundary wall of the campus.Yet the spirit of adventure (attributable to heavy dosage of Ruskin Bond stories) refused to die and as a first step, I thought it would be interesting to survey the wall itself and check if it offers any recess for me to disappear quietly. While the wall appears low and easily surmountable from a distance, upon reaching near, I discovered that it was toughened concrete and there was also a trench running alongside which was overgrown with low bushes and thorny shrubs. Yet the view of the house from the wall was a joy in itself and I continued walking parallel to the wall (not to mention my socks and shoes which were soaked in mud by now from walking on damp farm soil of the fabled wheat fields). 

My doubts over the idea of an impenetrable fortification were shortly confirmed when I discovered a section of the wall that had possibly been vandalized for either ease of access or some other petty theft like mangoes etc. However, that little egress was also my portal to the magical realm beyond my boundary walls. With an escort in tow (who was even more game), and Google Maps for general sense of direction, I embarked upon my little expedition.

The 'pucca nala' behind the campus walls and the mango orchard in the distance

It became clear that if I managed to cross the adjoining sugarcane fields and the mango orchard behind my house, the river would be less than 200 m away. However, there was a brickwork trench that separated me and the orchard. Common sense dictates that this 'pucca nala' must be some sort of emergency channel when the river  is in flood. At the moment, it was dry as dust, and I used the trench as my path for roughly 100 m till I found an easy entry into the orchard. Crossing the orchard was easy and Google Maps showed if I walk North-West, I would reach my destination. Reaching a thicket of foliage, I managed my first sneak preview of my neighbourhood river. The river was reduced to a clear stream and was flowing in a narrow channel at least ten feet below my vantage point. I saw a beautiful pair of Saras birds (which made me long for someone's presence) playing on the river bank but flew away quickly hearing the rustle of my feet on dry leaves. 

First glimpse of the river

As the river quietly flowed, I wondered how in the midst of a bustling city, these few moments on the river bank are full of serenity and pristine beauty. I was reminded of a few lines by the poet Keki N Daruwalla who wrote; 

"if you decide to pull away

from the dust of your lives,

the best thing would be

to get hold of oars

and row down a river."

I decided to make this trip to 'river' again, possibly with a DSLR camera next time and definitely before the wall is repaired. It was my own little meditation and my own piece of solitude in an otherwise whirlwind existence.mAnd also the joy feels incomplete, if you constantly think of bringing that special someone to share the beauty of your find and marvel at its existence.

On my way back (through the vegetable patch), I decided to feast on a Pilibhit version of Caesar salad (with lettuce-broccoli-raw paneer- tomato tossed in olive oil) for lunch.  A good siesta and evening tea followed by a beautiful orange-lavender sunset are perfect nourishment for a starved soul.  I sincerely hope all Sundays gave a sense of fulfillment like this one did.

An orange lavender sunset

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