I carry your heart with me ..

I came across this poem first time, in the movie In Her Shoes , where the maid of honour reads it for the bride, who is her sister. There was lots going in there which moved me to tears - the setting (a wedding for god's sake!), the main actors (sisters! duh!) and in general the context - et all.

I remembered the poem with great fondness, and tucked it somewhere in the folds of memory , almost forgotten.

And then I came across it again, this time when a friend announced the arrival of her little one!

La di dah! The floodgates opened again!

This time, I thought , I should share it (source www.poetryfoundation.org), lest it slips away in the memory lane again..

I carry your heart with me ( I carry it in my heart)

E. E. Cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)

i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)

i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Apple was just a fruit , until..

The great Steve Jobs passed away today.

Take a bow Mr. Jobs, you changed how the world looks at machines!

A few of his quotes ( as they have appeared on BBC's website)

Commencement Speech at Stanford University, 2005

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything - all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice.

Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.

Interview with Business Week, 1998

That's been one of my mantras - focus and simplicity. Simple can be harder than complex: you have to work hard to get your thinking clean to make it simple. But it's worth it in the end because once you get there, you can move mountains.

AllThingsD Conference, 2010

There's nothing that makes my day more than getting an e-mail from some random person in the universe who just bought an iPad over in the UK and tells me the story about how it's the coolest product they've ever brought home in their lives. That's what keeps me going. It's what kept me five years ago, it's what kept me going 10 years ago when the doors were almost closed. And it's what will keep me going five years from now whatever happens.

Chronicles of Banse Wada - The layout

The structure and layout of Banse wada was quite complex.

Not just the people living here, but the inanimate objects were integral to Banse wada. The Chronicles of Banse wada are incomplete without introducing you to these wondrous characters - they are not just innocent bystanders witnessing the story unfold, they are the ones who at times created one!

We had one common entrance to the property leading straight into the courtyard, which partially served the purpose of parking spaces for two-wheelers.

The mud courtyard had a beautiful parijat tree almost in the center. It has played a very significant part in making Banse wada a cherished memory.

Bottom left corner of the courtyard was the utility area fondly called the haud, and maids ( another post! ) employed by respective families used to wash clothes and utensils here.

It had two open sections, one was a stone paved area, generally reserved for washing utensils. Other one was tiled, and had two large square stone blocks, used to wash clothes. This area enjoyed the presence of a 'corporation tap' (one of the 10 in the whole property), which ensured running water at full pressure in mornings and evenings (generally the ablution peak-times) and moderately low pressure in the afternoons (off peak :) ). An open narrow gutter ran along the length of this area and carried water to the drain. It also had an enclosed bathroom solely used by Nimkar family, with tin roof and tin door. The structure was precariously held together with some rudimentary brickwork.

The whole haud area was commendably clean given the volume of activity that took place there everyday.

Nimkars' residence was a modest one room, along the outer wall of Banse wada . It was home for the elderly Nimkar couple, and their 3 children - one daughter, and two married sons , plus it also served as a laundry - Mr. Nimkar and his elder son washed and ironed clothes for a living.

The right bottom corner was the green-space of Banse wada. It was maintained and guarded by the Nimkars.It had a neatly tended array of shrubs and flowering plants , and one huge jamun tree. . This was a mature tree yielding bumper fruits every summer (staining the clothes left out to dry, and causing general mayhem and disharmony between Nimkar and other families now and then.)

Mithu kaka's one room was next to this and was the humblest with one wooden rack, one cot and a stove.

On the right side of this room were the washing lines - one end tied to the parijaat tree, and the other, if I can recall, to nails struck in Mithu kaka's outer wall. Mostly our family's clothes were left to dry here, and sometimes shared by Phadnis family. The Parathe and Kanekar families always kept to the backyard.

On the other side of the parijaat tree, was the parking area. It held three two-wheelers belonging to the two Banse families. Three families owned bicycles, and they were parked in a single row along the narrow passage leading to the common w/c. When I came to own a vehicle, it was parked in front of Mithu kaka's house.

As one walked past the vehicles, they reached the front yard of Kanekars'. Kanekars' house had two rooms. Front room and kitchen. The kitchen opened into the backyard. Phadnis also had a similar layout.

We shared a common wall between our house and Parathe kaku's house. Both our houses were single rooms.

Phadnis and our houses sort of had a narrow slice of private front yard, separated from the washing lines by three rusty barrels, where we tried to grow small plants now and then.

The narrow passage running past Kanekars' house was the common entrance to the common w/c in the back yard. Opposite to the w/c were two bathrooms used by Kanekar, Parathe and Phadnis faimiles. This back yard had a tiled flooring, unlike the mud front yard.

Next to the haud was the staircase leading upstairs to the first floor , where there were two houses in a row for both Banse families, and another staircase running in between. These stairs led to the second floor. Second floor had five rooms, three on one side of the staircase and two on the other. All these rooms served as bedrooms. Parathe and our family rented a room each here as well.

Thus was the total assembly of the monument that played a centre stage to many a bitter sweet events in our lives.

Chronicles of Banse Wada

Since birth, and then through a significant part of my childhood and adolescence I have lived with my family in Banse wada. A name that evokes a mixed avalanche of emotions amongst all those who shared space in this historical monument!

So exquisite and interesting is the tale of community living in Banse wada, that I am going to start blogging about it, episode by episode. This is the first post amongst many to come.

Let me start with what a wada is.

[This property form demands a special post in itself - I will stick to the brief and basic description.]

A wada basically is a huge ancestral property which in old times housed a single large family .

It typically has a large courtyard (front and back) , a central patio, an annex , pantry, kitchen, living rooms, dining rooms, pooja rooms, storage rooms and quite a few bedrooms on 2-3 storeys.

It can also have an outdoor 'utility' area -reserved for washing clothes and utensils.

As it was in olden times, having toilets inside the house was not very sanitary - or as the beliefs go - auspicious, so there would be a set of toilets in some discreet back courtyard location.

As times progressed, maintaining these properties by a single (and mostly nuclear) family became difficult, and sections of this property were rented out.

The landlords graciously made small amends in each room (or set of rooms) to allow the tenants to set up their home. Any more changes than these, were solely made at the landlord's discretion , or by mutual consent between the landlord and the tenant - as the case may be. Typically these arrangements were on a case by case basis.

The tenants mostly had to share toilets, bathrooms, utility and courtyards. Kitchens and indoor utilities generally didn't have running water.

So to speak, only bedrooms and to some extent kitchens provided privacy.

Tenant families lived symbiotically and cordially almost like a functional joint family.

With Banse wada, this was the case amongst most (definitely not all) families.

Banse wada was home for six tenants (five tenants with families, and one bachelor grandpa)

and two main families of the Banse's themselves. I say main families, because there were two Banse brothers from the first generation , one of which was the actual landlord and their sons later tried to setup families in the limited space of their existing house. ( How? well - it calls for a separate post!)

Banse wada was a strange amalgamation of personalities. It was like a rainbow of disarrayed colours, each colour with its own shade of dark and light - none matched the other, yet together they formed this endearing spectrum - which touched the lives of all who stayed here.

..to be contd.

Kindle

For my last birthday, C got me an Amazon Kindle.

Couldn't have asked for a better gift!

The thing is C knows I love reading, but is not sure what book to pick up. So he just picked Kindle :)

Since this wonderful thing came into my possession, I have downloaded about 100 books in 3 months.

Read about 20 of those. (I did download over 30 classics, which I have read earlier)

To do justice to these proportions, I am going to list noteworthy books I read, and some small review for it.

A Child Al Confino : Autobiography of a Jewish boy (Eric Lamet) : Eric Lamet was only seven years old when the Nazis invaded Vienna, and five days after Hitler marched in, the family fled for their lives. His father fled to Poland, and he and his mother to Italy. The book is the account of his scared and lonely days as a Jew in Italy, seen from the eyes of a young child, recording the effects of war on a small , lazy Italian town.

The best for me was the relation between Eric and his mother. She is a very strong and resilient lady, and toils hard to give Enrico a normal childhood as much as possible.

The tenderness with which the author recounts friends and foes alike, makes its a surprisingly warm read.

Life From Scratch (Melissa Ford) : Divorced, lonely and out-of-job, Rachel turns to cooking from scratch to build up the flavours of her empty life. She blogs her journey, and discovers love, joy and good cooking on the way. Very simply written, quite clichéd at places, lovely food descriptions , easy flowing book.

Ending very predictable, stretched to make a happy finish!

William Walker's First Year Of Marriage (Matt Rudd): Quite a funny read, again typical clichés everywhere, wife's best friend, not-so-friendly in-laws, ill-advising buddies et-all, still had its laugh out loud moments in it.

Apothecary's Daughter (Julie Klassen): I was quite intrigued by the 'apothecary' bit of this one, and it did good amount of justice to it. A daughter taking up her father's profession and helping him through rough times in an era where daughters of the house weren't really expected to enter house trades. I liked the period feel of the book and painted a nice picture of bygone times. Cleanly written and fluid.

Incidents in the life of a Slave Girl (Harriet Ann Jacobs): Account of a slave girl in her own words spanning decades. Thankfully, Linda, though a slave, didn't go through the atrocities generally associated with slavery. In the eighteen hundreds , she still has to face the degradations and deprivations a slave had to face. Her struggle to bring a brighter, safer future for her children is noteworthy.

Notes From A Small Island (Bill Bryson): First book I actually bought , on Kindle. (all previous ones were free when I downloaded them). Being in the UK, had to read the insider's take on the British quirkiness and all the things British that he loves and hates. Amazingly written, some parts were so funny, I was laughing out loud on the train, drawing stares from other passengers. Well researched, keen observations, and obviously a very apparent love for this island - can see it all in this book. Some of the things in this books are the national traits of England, and you definitely can see it in your day-to-day encounters with all things English. Loved it!

Before I go to sleep. (S J Watson) : Book is about Christine, who suffers from short term memory loss, and can't form long term memories. Whatever happens in her day, is wiped out from her memory once she sleeps. She keeps a journal, which tells her that the person she lives with is her husband, and that she is taking treatment from a doctor, without the knowledge of her husband. One of them is lying to her. Who? Can she find out? and how?

Very gripping book - read it in one sitting (like old times - into the wee hours of night!)

One Day (David Nicholls) : There was a time when I started noticing this book in everybody's hand while travelling on the train. Had to find out what it was about. First book in pdf format that I read on kindle. But suddenly found myself missing the 'flip-the-pages-and-smell-the-book' experience and borrowed it from the library to read it. Emma and Dexter are classmates, who go their own way after finishing university, but keep meeting on one day every year for twenty two years - sharing their lives and finding their place in the world all along.

A nostalgia inducing book. Its a love story, but very differently written from the ones I've read before. Liked it!

----------------

I have read a few more books since this post, will keep updating reviews.

Five Minutes Everyday - Ex. 3

I read certain sections of my regional newspaper regularly.

I must confess, that more than the news part, I like the other sections better.

Sections with articles, short stories, poems, people voicing their opinions, personal experiences, travelogues, recipes, guest columns by artists, celebrities, authors etc.

These are really interesting sometimes, even humorous, thought provoking.

One such section has these

http://www.esakal.com/esakal/20110327/5470334940453845176.htm

http://www.esakal.com/esakal/20110227/4828802106652704133.htm

http://www.esakal.com/esakal/20110313/4887032978112808032.htm

I enjoy listening to music. I love to read through the song in my mind, and delve into the profound meaning of the song. The songs these days lack that weight and depth - they are quite frivolous.

But oldie-goldies are very rich in the 'depth' department.

In my teen years, I was swept off by the magic of poetry.

I enjoyed reading poetry and its interpretation. Many of my language classes in school had these exercises in ample, and we were blessed with teachers who encouraged free thought and individual expression. It was never textbook education for them. I think those years nurtured and imbibed the love of language in me.

Some poems have stayed in fragments of images and emotions in my mind, I am posting them below.

Every time I think of this poem, I imagine lot of colours, lot of sunlight, and laughter.

I Remember, I Remember

-By Thomas Hood

I remember, I remember,

The roses, red and white,

The violets, and the lily cups,

Those flowers made of light!

The lilacs where the robin built,

And where my brother set

The laburnum on his birth-day,--

The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember

Where I was used to swing,

And thought the air must rush as fresh

To swallows on the wing;

My spirit flew in feathers then,

That is so heavy now,

And summer pools could hardly cool

The fever on my brow!

I remember, I remember

The fir trees dark and high;

I used to think their slender tops

Were close against the sky:

It was a childish ignorance,

But now 'tis little joy

To know I'm farther off from Heav'n

Than when I was a boy.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Death Bed

-By Thomas Hood

This is one is the anti-image of the previous one. Earlier one is about childhood, carefree days and bright and light. This one is all gloom , sorrow, old age and the dread and chill of death.

What pictures can a few words create!

The Death Bed.

We watch'd her breathing through the night,

Her breathing soft and low,

As in her breast the wave of life

Kept heaving to and fro.

So silently we seem'd to speak,

So slowly moved about,

As we had lent her half our powers

To eke her living out.

Our very hopes belied our fears,

Our fears our hopes belied--

We thought her dying when she slept,

And sleeping when she died.

For when the morn came dim and sad,

And chill with early showers,

Her quiet eyelids closed--she had

Another morn than ours.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Wish

- By Samuel Rogers

Reading this poem is like looking at a watercolour picture of a idyllic day in countryside. Hills, flowers, brook and water mill, thatched roof cottage, lady in blue apron tending a small patch of land in front of her 'ivied porch' - and yes the village church as well.

I see myself retiring to a place like this with C. *wink*

A Wish.

Mine be a cot beside the hill;

A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear;

A willowy brook, that turns a mill,

With many a fall shall linger near.

The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch,

Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;

Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch,

And share my meal, a welcome guest.

Around my ivied porch shall spring

Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew;

And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing

In russet-gown and apron blue.

The village-church, among the trees,

Where first our marriage-vows were given,

With merry peals shall swell the breeze,

And point with taper spire to heaven.

--------------------------------------------------------

The Miller's Daughter

-by Lord Tennyson

And this one is the far cuter and sweeter version of Bryan Adams' 'I wanna be'

Every time I listen to that song, this poem flicks through my mind - same desires, but what a huge difference in expressions! I wonder if Bryan Adams read this poem and thought bringing it out as his song - in a saucier version.

The Miller's Daughter.

It is the miller's daughter,

And she is grown so dear, so dear,

That I would be the jewel

That trembles in her ear:

For hid in ringlets day and night,

I'd touch her neck so warm and white.

And I would be the girdle

About her dainty dainty waist,

And her heart would beat against me,

In sorrow and in rest:

And I should know if it beat right,

I'd clasp it round so close and tight.

And I would be the necklace,

And all day long to fall and rise

Upon her balmy bosom,

With her laughter or her sighs,

And I would lie so light, so light,

I scarce should be unclasp'd at night.

--------------------------------------------------------

Readers, what are your favourite poems?

Five Minutes Everyday - Ex. 2

10 Things that make me weep

* Adverts with happy babies.

* Wedding songs.

* Candid apologies.

* Hurt mixed anger.

* Loneliness.

* Conversations that fail to communicate true feelings.

* Self-pity.

* Remembering my grandma , and things I want to do or say again, if only I got another chance.

* Talking to my baby bump.

* Cheesy emotional scenes from dud movies.

Readers, what things make you weep?

-------------------------------------------------

Today's Exercise: Make lists.

Five Minutes Everyday - Ex. 1

Coffees make my morning, but teas make my day - my mid day.

As the mid afternoon progresses, eyes wander to the bottom right corner of the computer screen for time. 10 more minutes.

The promise of a break looms heavy in the air.

Ears are pricked for the familiar 'tea calls' from work mates. As chairs swivel, and stale cups from the morning's brew are lifted, its about time. But hold on. Nope - no bolting from the seat to the pantry. Good things come to those who wait. And so one waits, till someone on their way to the pantry tap at the desk - 'coming for tea?'

Ahh - now is the time. Screens are locked with a flourish, and you head to the pantry.

The warm mist of a boiling kettle, the acrid whiff of coffee...

At the bottom of the cup, place a tea bag, and 2 sugars. And then fill three quarters of the cup with boiling water. You watch as reddish brown tea releases from beneath the tea bag like squid ink.

Time to give a quick stir, and then a dash of milk.

The strict, transparent red liquid transforms into its soft , dense self, as the cloud of milk rises from the bottom.

You lift the cup and smell it. Gently bring it to your lips, and tentatively take the first sip.

Not scalding hot, neither insipid warm.

Not strongly bitter, neither lamely sweet.

Just perfect!

----------------------

Today's exercise: describe a ritual.

Five Minutes Everyday

Its been a long long hiatus from blog world (from writing blogs that is, I still very actively read blogs!) .. and I have resolved to break the spell by starting to write again.

Something, or anything in fact - but more regularly. As the blog says - its Never too Late!

I have always loved to write - I love words, I love how we can play with them- or how they play with us!

Its a wonderful channel to direct your energies, your emotions to - no boundaries , no limits.

No thoughts are forbidden, no ideas are impossible, no rants are ignored- everything that comes to mind is welcome.

Its therapy!

Having ranted that - I sometimes don't know what to write.

As has been the case so far.

Am lazy sometimes, and other times its no reason at all.

In a book I read some time back - the author had said about writing her blog - 'you have to need it.'

I miss that gasping need to write - the feeling where you have to write NOW!

I want to write, but what?

When I read a good book or a good blog, I find myself wishing - 'I want to be writing like this..'

I dream of writing a book myself, of becoming a writer - but you see, I am already hurdled by the writer's block!

Some things come easily to you, some you have to work on - you have to indicate it to Coelho's universe so that it can conspire in helping you to achieve it.

And for this love of writing , I have decided to take up an exercise.

Five minutes everyday.

This, has invoked that need to write in me. Stoked the fire.

As I was reading this book , on my train to work , I just wanted to start writing - then and there. It was a desperation to that crazy brink where you just have to do it!

I dreaded reading any further - lest I ruin the joy of discovering yet another inspiration to write, only to helplessly see that urge fade away by the time I can actually put my thoughts to paper.

This, I have promised myself, will give me a blog post everyday.