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

Slipping through my fingers..

It seems only yesterday that little N was four months old and I wrote her a poem. Now, with her fourth birthday barely a week away, I sometimes wonder if she was ever that small, and if yes, then when did she really grow up. For all the things she says, all the ways in which she shows her love for me, A and her pet brother, S; I find it hard to believe that I was actually capable of bringing something so beautiful to this world. While words can never truly capture the churn of emotions inside a mother's heart, even now as I pull her close, I already dread the day she will grow wings and fly out of my nest. And when I saw this ABBA song in a movie early today, it was as if someone had channeled my feelings into words..

"Slipping Through My Fingers"

Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning 

Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile 

I watch her go with a surge of that well known sadness 

And I have to sit down for a while 

The feeling that I'm losing her forever 

And without really entering her world 

I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter 

That funny little girl 

Slipping through my fingers all the time 

I try to capture every minute 

The feeling in it 

Slipping through my fingers all the time 

Do I really see what's in her mind 

Each time I think I'm close to knowing 

She keeps on growing 

Slipping through my fingers all the time 

Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table 

Barely awake I let precious time go by 

Then when she's gone, there's that odd melancholy feeling 

And a sense of guilt I can't deny 

What happened to the wonderful adventures 

The places I had planned for us to go 

Well, some of that we did, but most we didn't 

And why, I just don't know 

Slipping through my fingers all the time 

I try to capture every minute 

The feeling in it 

Slipping through my fingers all the time 

Do I really see what's in her mind 

Each time I think I'm close to knowing 

She keeps on growing 

Slipping through my fingers all the time 

Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture 

And save it from the funny tricks of time 

Slipping through my fingers all the time 

Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning 

Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile

Its hard to say goodbye to my doll everyday. Irrespective of how good or bad my day might have been, her little stories make it all worthwhile. And for the rest of my life, I will remember this.

Party(ing) Politics!!

Just as we have active smokers (those who smoke themselves) and passive smokers (those who happen to inhale the smoke emitted by smokers) and both seem to be affected equally; the same could be said about the party lot in this part of the country. On one hand there are people who throw and attend a party and on the other there are those who partake vicariously (and without much choice) through the effects generated by former's activities. To elucidate, as I write this blog post, my mind continuously drifts towards the sounds emanating from the party-scene in the lawn below my house. Much as I try to concentrate on any job, I can not help but notice the loud music playing in the background since morning, the  hum-drum of vehicles bringing in provisions and the constant clatter of crockery.

Surprisingly, the experience of passive partying has been similar across the years and cities that I have lived in. The predictability of the event managers is even funnier. Without actually knowing the occasion one can guess the same through the music playing in the background. Certain songs for certain occasions have remained unchanged since even our parents' time. And it must have been some major lapse on the part of Bollywood(-inspired) music industry that the newer symphonies have been largely unsuccessful at displacing the older and the popular ones. Needless to mention, an occasional burst of western music is considered to be reflective of somewhat higher status (that you can actually appreciate music in English!) And Yes, Vengaboys' Brazil remains an eternal dance favorite since the days I was writing my class 10 exams to this day as I celebrate three decades of my existence. 

Before one actually moves on from music, I have never been able to understand why the music for a party scheduled in the evening is put on in the afternoon itself.. Even if it were to keep the workers in good mood (which they are rarely in and I hope to do something about it by opening a butler finishing school after retirement), am sure even they must be bored with the same music blaring at different locations day after day. Alas, we have people with ailments in this society who can't stand loud music, students who have to prepare for their year-round exams and little babies who fuss endlessly finding music to be just another excuse.

I do not even find myself qualified and capable of being able to write about the dressing-up part. For one, being a lady who is in a profession which calls for utmost 'simplicity' when it comes to meeting people, on umpteen occasions it has been presumed that for me (and the likes of me) it must be impossible to possess any 'real' fashion sense. At a few important theme parties it was even thought by the esteemed lady wives that the lady officers could be given a skip for perhaps the reason cited above.

When it comes to food, the guests are completely at the mercy of their hosts (and their VIP guests) in India.What will be served and when and how it will be served has nothing whatsoever to do with the socially acceptable norms. Understandably, it is not everyday that the guest gets to throw a lavish party at the leading venue of the city and attended by the glitterati at their chosen hour. So what if one of the posh-set decides to carry on drink till the wee hours, the dinner can wait and the lesser guests can benefit from the extended happy hours!!

I do not consider it appropriate to spoil the party season by raising 'politically incorrect' questions ranging from how the garbage generated at such venues ought to be disposed or why millions are spent on outrageously extravagant decorations. Even as I begun to ponder about these, I know well enough that any expression of such politically incorrect views will be straightaway attributed to my JNU-ness (if there is a thing such as this).

And yes, it needs no prizes for guessing that there ain't any invite received from the guests hosting the soiree in the lawns below!

The Tapestry of Dreams-I

The onset of this year also marked the beginning of our lifelong journey as parents. No joy in the world could compare with the joy of holding one's baby in one's arms for the first time. Every parent in the world aspires to give the very best to his kid, often more than what he/she got as a child. Its a pure joy to watch her grow before our own eyes and perhaps even before we would realize, she will grow wings and will be ready and set to embark on a journey of her own. Much as we would always strive to provide her everything we can and perhaps even more, right from the day her angelic smile illuminated our lives, I wished we could give her something to remind her of how much more her parents love her with each passing day and what an absolute delight she has been to us. While it is our duty as a parent to bring her up in the best manner possible, something I strongly wish she comes to possess is the power of imagination and the perseverance to translate her dreams into reality.

After much thought, bickering and planning, we zeroed in on a grand hand-embroidered tapestry project and decided to label it as 'The Tapestry of Dreams'. For days on end, me and hubby kept sketching and visualizing objects to incorporate into our tapestry and scanned every source of inspiration (books, internet, signboards  etc) for hours on end. In a random Ikea catalog, I saw an interesting doodled fabric and hours of image search led me to Tidny by the amazingly gifted designer duo of Sissi Edholm and Lisa Ullenius. I have incorporated several of their doodles into the tapestry and hope to embroider it as beautifully as we can.After hours of deliberation (and endless baby related jobs), we started upon our project bit by bit. The progress has been slower than we expected but, without hubby's contribution it could have very well been a zilch!

In this first post in a series on 'The Tapestry of Dreams', I restrict myself to the top most panel which depicts the sky/space/ weather and elements there of.The coexistence of sun, moon and stars, as also the aeroplane and the UFO speaks of our attempt to combine the real and the imaginary. Isn't that what dreams are made of? Am also linking it up with Artistic Inspirations challenge. 

Our collective fascination for the colours of the rainbow is manifest in the double chain stitched rainbow rising over the horizon and an aeroplane flying across the sky leaving contrails. Reminds me of my recent flight when I witnessed the same while landing in Lucknow.

While they say, every cloud has a silver lining, nobody must have seen the same but ours definitely has one to boast of. Needless to mention, this silver lining proved to be the most difficult one to accomplish! The clouds outline has been done in running stitch with rain in single chain stitch. The filling of the cloud has been done in multi-colored button holes.

As is often the case in my life too, while it pours in Lucknow, Delhi boasts of a sun in its full summer splendor! Our vibrant sun however,shines beautifully over the city in our tapestry and is nothing like the scorching sun of Delhi one grew up under. The sun rays have been done in superficial herring-bone stitch and the disc has been done in button hole stitch.

The thunder of Lucknow lightning strikes can be seen in the purple blazes in the left corner but need not be feared in the presence of a benevolent planet and twinkling stars.

Lastly, the UFO in the right hand corner does not drop unfriendly aliens but stands for everything mysterious that our current level of scientific progress can not explain. Like its eager antennae extending outwards, for the rest of our lives, we too will be eager and anxious to receive any form of communication from the Small One. 

Hopefully when she will look at it sometimes in a ponderous mood, she will remember and understand a lot of things said and unsaid. As they say, 

 "It is the unspoken ethic of all magicians to not reveal the secrets." (David Copperfield ) 

School poems one still remembers!

Sleep was hard to come by last night and the words from two old poems I learnt at school continued to resonate in my mind. My first instinct was to switch on the wi-fi and do an instant search, but knowing my super smart five month old who is sharp to sense my absence, I decided to wait until morning. And as soon as hubby left for office and the Small One permitted me, I saw these poems and a rush of memories came flooding back.


The first one's titled the Ice-Cream Man and I remember the words of the first and the third paragraph very distinctly even after a good 19 years. Moreover, I also remember the 'chart' I had made for display with a little ice-cream cart on it and the innumerable times our class-teacher made us recite this poem from the said chart. Thanks to the technology and in particular the web, for preserving our memories in some distant unknown corner for us to rediscover them one day! Only today did I also realize that in Class 6 when I read this poem we never cared about who the 'Author' is, rather it was the ABC chapter of our Madhuban English Reader which was going to be part of the exam as per the semester syllabus. Today, while I was researching on the net, I was delighted to learn that the poem today forms Chapter 6 of the Odisha state english reader for class 7 and hopefully once again, in remote parts of the country, it will stimulate the imagination of many children just like two decades back it did mine.

That apart, it was that era when ice cream parlors (Aka Nirula's) had not yet arrived and for our daily (?) dose we actually depended on the ice-cream carts which passed down our streets and offered a staple of few flavors only. However, the ice-cream men  and the cart  we saw were in stark contrast to the one in the poem and I remember fantasizing about the possibility of having various flavors of ice-cream and drinks (dint even know about the existence of soda-fizz drinks then or perhaps we were not permitted). Given that as a child I was notorious for my endless demands, the fact that ice-cream was the focus of a school textbook must have provided a legitimate excuse for my expectations!

The Ice-Cream Man

Rachael Field

When summer's in the city,

And brick's a blaze of heat,

The Ice-Cream Man with his little cart

Goes trundling down the street.

Beneath his round umbrella,

Oh, what a joyful sight,

To see him fill the cones with mounds

Of cooling brown or white:

Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry,

Or chilly things to drink

From bottles full of frosty-fizz

Green, orange, white or pink.

His cart might be a flower bed

Of roses or sweet peas,

The way the children cluster round

As thick as honey bees.

The memories of another poem whose first two lines have always helped me remember Sicily belongs to Italy (and thus Corsica to France!) are rather hazy and it did not even form part of the standard text. I remember having seen it in some workbook for some grammatical exercise and it was only yesterday that even the meaning became clear to me. While am yet to figure out the author, the use of specific geographical names to convey a story is something I had never seen before and was greatly humored and impressed at the same time.

Long legged Italy, 
Kicked poor Sicily, 
Right into the Middle, 
Of the Mediterranean Sea, 
Austria was Hungary, 
Took a bit of Turkey, 
Dipped it in Greece, 
Fried it in Japan, 
And ate it off in China.


The first four lines are self explanatory. The long leg refers to the Calabria region which protrudes a bit more than the other leg (Apulia) and seems to kick the island of Sicily (red) which lies in the Mediterranean Sea. Sicily being poor in terms of economic development vis-a-vis the rest of the country. Austria was hungry ( the line actually refers to the Austro-Hungarian Empire which operated from 1867 to 1918). It adds a bit of turkey (as in ham, bacon etc) to Sicily and uses grease (Greece) as a dip. Then it fries it in Japan ( the non stick enamel which coats the pan) and eats it off China (as in bone-china cup, plate etc).

Never thought that looking back at something which sounded so simple will be a source of infinite joy much later in life and will even teach me a thing or two!

"How quick and rushing life can sometimes seem, when at the same time it's so slow and sweet and everlasting." 

― Graham Swift, Tomorrow

Will you

Will you ever be
five months old again..

Will your coos and squeals fill the house with mirth
forever and always, again and again

Will I always be able to protect you from hurt 
and shield you from any worry in the world

Will your tiny eyes always sparkle with joy
finding me somewhere around

Will your little hands always grasp my fingers
at the slightest of my moves

Will you still reach out for me even in your dreams
every day of my life

Will you come back to sleep snugly in my arms
and cling to me at the end of each day

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)

Blessing Indeed!

Was blessed with a baby girl on 16th February this year. Can not compare the experience with anything else in the world. The joy of holding your child for the first time in your arms. For the practical and stoic person that I considered myself to be, could not sleep a wink all night when she was laid close to me for the first time by the nurse. The reality is still hard for me to accept sometimes that the little doll who frolics all day has come from inside me. GOD must have worked hard to craft such a tiny being with functional limbs and organs. 

Hubby says if we humans did not have this innate fascination for diminutive objects and in this case, the Small One, the perpetuation of human race would have been difficult. Reasons alongside that unlike in the case of other animals whose young ones start walking within hours of birth, human babies are completely helpless and dependent for a long time after their birth and unless provided for by others, could not have survived, since times immemorial. The cuteness bestowed upon them by their diminutive form is what attracts and impels us to love them and bring them up as we do!(Rude Science) 

As for me, am thankful to GOD (or the Supreme Power there is) for the miracle that I consider it to be and the marvelous feat of science and engineering that it is! 

Had been scared by the experiences of countless parents before us who nearly made us believe that life comes to an end and there is no time for sleep, food, drink, TV, guests when the young one arrives. Partially true but not as scary as it was made out to be. Despite all the luxuries and freedoms that we enjoyed, life had begun to stagnate for the two of us. How many trips to mall, how many vacations abroad, how much shopping or how much of food and wine could we possibly indulge in. It was beginning to get boring and we yearned for a new and completely different experience.Needless to mention, that the relatives and family too had been enquiring for the "good news" for quite some time now.

The Small one sleeps soundly through the night. Night time feeds too have gradually reduced from three-four to one. TV and food have never been a problem so far. Never missed a single episode of Packed to the Rafters except for the period of hospitalization and one week recuperation thereafter! The fact that am blogging bears testimony to the fact and is also partially inspired  by Julie's blog 'Vintage Mum' in the series.

Now the baby is four months old and the leave period comes to an end this month. Can not bring it upon myself to leave her yet. Against all the wise advice I have been given, have decided to extend my leave by another three months. Since she has come into our lives, don't know how the days have passed. Its about her all day and all the time. To the point of reiteration, the career minded and ambitious person that I considered myself to be, no high profile assignment or fat pay check could compare to the joy of enjoying her childhood and see her grow  each day.