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.

What do you do when ..

Being a full time mom for the first time has proved a few points to myself.

1. I can be incredibly patient

2. I can be incredibly impatient

3. I still think too much about things!

Patience is a virtue that comes with childbirth - I seriously believe it.

And much to my surprise, it comes quite easily out of you, as opposed to the lil one - that doesn't come so easily out of you ;-) Thinking of which - impatience indeed is harboured to its max during the same time - verging dangerously on the brink of intolerance.

So basically this deadly combo of patience and impatience comes with your bundle of joy!

So what do you when ..

1. ..you are done with baby duties and lil one is napping - you have one whole hour to yourself.

unload and load dishwasher, unload and load washer,tidy kitchen, take shower, cook your meal, switch on the TV to enjoy the meal .. WHEN .. lil one's had enough of sleep and its PLAYTIME - or if you can't play then its HOWL TIME!

time to practice your patience or impatience? :-)

2...you are done with baby duties, lil one napping AND you are done with your chores as well. You can watch TV , surf net , read book or nap. You surf and surf for what? '...how to start weaning the baby..give fruit purees, baby rice etc etc..' And you are filled with ideas of nice first recipes to feed your baby and you can't wait to do it!

time to practice your patience or impatience? :-)

3...you are done with baby duties, (super mom you think :) ) - baby is wide awake, happy, with clean nappy, full tummy, pleasant mood - all that moms ask for! You read books together, you play with building blocks (messy living room again) , you play peek-a-boo (Mommy is tired), you go out for a stroll (mommy more tired - and living room still in mess! But who cares, baby is happy and so is mom!). Perfect 'mommy-baby' day! Dinner cooked.Lil one fed, bathed and tucked in bed. Perfect 'mommy-daddy' evening (anticipated). Daddy dear comes home, looks at the house and shoots - 'What did you do all day!!??'

Time to practice your patience or impatience? :-)

All you mommies out there - what do you do when these things happen ?

Creative Writing

When I was in 7th grade ( in the great JPP), I had attended a workshop for creative writing in one summer vacation.
In one of the sessions, there were 3 bowls labelled 'location' , 'characters', 'situation'.
Each had chits in it - for example, the bowl labelled 'location' had chits with - 'old building', 'jungle','factory', 'palace', 'desert' etc
The 'Characters' bowl had 'thief and police', 'teacher', 'friends', 'magician', 'aliens', 'horse and hippo' etc
The 'situation ' bowl had 'adventure', 'envy', 'celebration', 'revenge', 'murder' etc
We were supposed to pick a chit from each bowl, and then write a short story taking place at that location with those characters in that situation.
Say I picked 'factory', 'magician', 'revenge' - then I should write a story about a magician as my central character, which takes place in a factory and has revenge as its theme and so on.
I actually drew out pretty lame chits - 'friends', 'adventure' and 'old building'. It was a straight-forward draw - friends out on an adventure which happens in an old building.
A few days in the workshop, I already had an upper hand in the creative area - amongst a bunch of 7th graders, I was doing quite well. We were evaluated regularly by the instructors, and I was being 'noticed' for my creative flare. (*wink*)
So - these chits of mine weren't 'challenging' enough for me. So I did a 'Roald Dahl' spin on my story. It got rated the best in that workshop. Below is that story I wrote a long long time ago.
(The main language being used in the workshop was marathi - and the story I wrote was in marathi)

Amit and Sujay were great friends. They were always together. They had grown up together - and though they went to different schools, they spent most of their free time together.
Their parents adored them both and treated them like brothers. They were in-seperable.
As boys of their age are, they were very active and adventurous kids. In summer vacations they went to different camps or new places with their parents. But their favourite place was the small town where Amit's grandpa stayed.
It had all the attractions these kids would enjoy. A small hill to go trekking, a river to go swimming and fishing, Amit's uncle's farm where they could ride the tractor and eat sugarcane. And, of all the things, the town had an old building - crumbling and deserted , even haunted some people said - where no one stayed. Both of them itched to go and explore it, but were always restrained from going there.
But not this summer - they had decided that they will sneak up to that building and get a good look.
They waited for a good opportunity everyday.
One fine day - when the weather was all cloudy and dull - even the elders dozed off after lunch - Sujay and Amit sneaked out. They carried their back-packs with a torch, a rope and water. They also packed some sandwiches for the road and set out.
The building was not very far from the hill by the farm. It was a good walk and the boys were glad that it was cloudy - sun would have made the climb harder.
The afternoon seemed darker that usual due to the gathering clouds when they reached the building. There was a slow rumble in the clouds.
There was a door frame, but no door to it. They went into a huge hall with solid wooden beams and mud plastered walls. Cobwebs hung everywhere and pegions cooed from their nests in the ceiling. The place smelled musty.
The boys were thrilled. Amit went on and on about the things there.. "Sujay - these wooden beams must be a 100 years old - even these side pillars - come here - feel them ! "
" Suji - the windows must have been huge - we both can pass through them without bending"
" Hey - feel the walls - its as if we can knock them out in a punch ! "
He held Sujay by the hand and led him from wall to wall and urged him to touch and feel and knock everything.
Sujay was silent. He was excited, but also anxious. His ears picked the slightest sounds outside and within. He had noticed that the rumbling clouds had started to pour now. He could feel the dampness in the walls - his nostrils flared at the wiff of rotting wood. The floor beneath their feet was old and worn out - it felt as if it would cave in.
The rains were now getting worse - thunderstorms, howling winds and even occasional lightening. Something was wrong thought Sujay.
Amit still was dragging him by the hand here and there. Sujay gripped Amit's hand and said -"Amit, something feels wrong. Lets get out. The rains are making the smell worse and the touch feels damper every time - I feel something is wrong - come lets go out - NOW! "
Amit could feel the urgency and anxiety in Sujay's voice. But he wanted to check the rooms, and go up the stairs. "Sujay - I know you don't find this as exciting as I do - but we'll explore together - please lets spend some more time here " he said.
But Sujay won't listen. He now was forcefully dragging Amit towards the open door - he could trace his way back.
Amit knew there was no staying back now - he took the lead and came out with Sujay - all the time thinking to give Sujay a good piece of his mind once they were out.
They came out into the pouring rain and headed towards a tree near by.
Within moments there was a loud crash as two wooden beams just above where they had stood came down crushing the walls on the side - had they still been there, they would have been buried alive!
Amit looked at the heap in shock and his mind filled with guilt -" I should never have brought Sujay here - I should have listened to him sooner when he said we should come out - I should have been the one protecting him and looking after his safety ". His eyes filled with tears as he squeezed Sujay's hand with gratitude.
Sujay lightly tapped Amit's arm. The rain had stopped and sun peeped from behind the clouds. The two friends set out for home, hand in hand - as Sujay tapped his white cane on their way back.

PARP!

When people pass wind, or fart (as the common word goes) - I doubt if anyone ever goes 'awwww.. you parped!' - the reaction more or less is '...how disgusting .."

( I guess a few enthu people like you who are reading this post might just think the same '..how disgusting .. she is writing after a long time ..and that too about parps! ' )

Well - a lot of water has ran under the bridge - and things have changed. I have a very adorable addition to my family now - and that makes me look at things in new perspective.

As I type this, my little one lies in the cot - sometimes chuckling, sometimes sighing in content and sometimes - well doing 'pur pur' in the sleep - and my heart goes - 'awwwww you parped - chooo chweeet ! '

Observe And Learn

I came across this interesting weekly feature in a marathi daily - Loksatta.

Its basically about how parents have deliberately put in an effort to spend quality time with their child or how they have ensured that they participate more actively into enriching the 'growing up' phase of their child.

Every week there is an article about such efforts.

One article featured how a father encouraged his son to participate in the re-decoration of the house - generally kids are exlcuded from this process which is considered an 'adults-only' decision. One wall in the living area was exclusively kept for the kid to decorate - but on his hesitation to do so, the father joined him in painting a scene from some tribal art onto the wall - much to the pride of his son.

Another one featured a celebrity couple always on the move due to frquent tours of their play. How they divide time to ensure atleast one of them get to spend quality time with their daughter.

The article that caught my attention though was one where a child-psychologist explains how a child finds regular jobs by tradesmen very fascinating than all the glitz and glory of TV shows and cartoons.

Simple everyday tasks like watching the laundrywalah do the ironing, the mill walah load and unload his mill to grind flour, panwalah folding up a meetha-paan and so on!

Memories of childhood flooded back - how my Dad always ensured that we got our fair share of these treats.

He would not stop at buying a bicycle for us - when there was a puncture - he would ask - "Do you know how this is fixed?" " Have you seen the repair man do it? "
If not, he would accompany me to the cycle-shop (owned by a person he called anna), park our 2 wheeler there, and we both would sit there and watch one of the assistants in the shop fix the tyre tube.
Dad would ask some basic questions - to see if am getting the process, and would give simple answers if I couldn't..- 'why use a pail of water ? ' ( so the tube when immersed, sends out bubbles at the punctured hole)
'why sandpaper the affected area?' (so the glue works better) ..and so on!
I would feel very proud and knowledgble at the end of the process - I now KNEW how a puncture was fixed!

If an electrician or carpenter was called over at our place to fix something - and Dad was around - he would encourage us to watch what the skilled person was doing - he would point to the tools being used and ask if we knew what they were and how they were used.
I remember some really novel items like 'rawal plug' - a small maleable plug that was pushed into the hole in a wall before the actual nail or screw - so that it fits in snug and tight.

Same applied when we got our chappals or school-bags mended from a cobbler ( we could argue with the cobbler how instead of using glue, putting a ribet (rivet) is better for the chappals' longevity! ;-) )

We could identify choona from kaat (or kattha) as the paanwalah made paans - and could request favors like more gulkand and less supari in our paans! ( Whenever there was a big family lunch at our place, it was the duty of we cousins to take the order of post-lunch paans for everyone and get it from the paan walah on the corner)
Making veedas at home was also later added to our list - make veedas , lock them with cloves, and string them together using thread and needle. Parents taught us a few basic folds for these veedas - like peti-veeda (flat one) and govind-veeda ( a pyramid like fold, which if managed well - would be promoted to be kept in poojas) . Ok - I digress..

Thankfully, our childhood provided us with ample opportunities to watch these tradesmen at work - many of these trades are forgotten arts now.
There were door-to-door tradesmen coming once a month - like 'Kalhai - walah' who would coat the insides of brass vessels with tin/aluminium (not sure ..) or 'dhar-walah' who would sharpen knieves, 'vili', scissors etc on his special cycle mounted wheel.
There was this one guy who would fix iron/ tin bases to old metal buckets which were leaking. I always wondered where he got those tin-cutting scissors of his!

And how can we forget the vendors - ice-gola walahs, kulfi-walahs ( they rub the kulfi moulds or the ice glasses in hand to melt it a bit, so it comes out clean in one shot! ), chanya-manya (!!) bora walahs, mogra walahs ( their measurements used to be like chatak, aat-paav etc which Dad and Ajji used to explain were quite appropriate for these kinda goods).

Then there were the bhadbhunje ( people with big furnaces or bhattis) - we would take dried corn to make cornflakes, or jowar / sali to make puffed lahya. (popcorn)
They would use huge iron woks with heated sand on coal fires - and use it to puff the grains into popcorns - it was fun to watch !

There used to be regular trips to girniwalahs (flour mill) - one for routine stuff like atta, besan and jowar - bajra flours, and special one for yearly stock of red chilly powder, turmeric, shikekai.
Both these mills were very different in scale and size, and comparing those machines and techniques was fascinating! It was like being into a previledged world!

We as kids have watched mattresses and pillows being made, customised shoe racks and cabinets being hand-made from wood, dining table frames being welded, petrol pumped out and fed into another scooter, names inscribed on vessels, new notebooks being bound from old, unused pages of last-year notebooks, breads and biscuits being baked in bakeries, pots being shaped and baked by a potter - even silk sarees being rafooed ( very fine art of mending a small tear in expensive fabrics)
I even remember watching how colored glass toys were made - some place in Bhor I guess where my friend S's dad took us to - and later gifted us all with a set of small glass animals!

So many times I remember my Dad telling us - '....just stand and watch - observe how they do it - it may appear easy - but it requires a certain amount of skill to do it - thats the beauty - they make it seem very simple! '

Today, we have programmes on TV like 'How Stuff's made', 'How do they do it' - which is an informative treat to watch. But better than that, as a child - this more human experience is far more enriching - not just in terms of information but also in terms of the emotinal quotient it offers.
Simple task of observing and watching skilled people at work has enriched our childhood with experiences that would last for a life time - and at the same time filled our minds with everyday knowledge and a wisdom to respect those people who know how to do their job - and do it well - however small it may be.

We will always be grateful to our parents who taught us to admire , acknowledge and respect these tasks and the people behind them!

Early Morning ..

Having settled into the routine of marriage, job and the chores - waking up early ( really early ) has become a rare and less savoured art ..

All you working ppl - you know how it is - get up, get ready -leave. Weekends - get up really late .. and all that.

But there are a occasional few mornings in each week when the 20 winks are over soon and you are fresh as daisy and cannot wait to get out of bed.

There are such lovely and deeply satisfying little things that one can do in those early moments - it just makes your day shine till the end.

For me one of the cherished early morning activities are early morning walks - when the rest of the world is in slumber - but the trees, birds - even the wind and the sky are all already on the wake up duty ..

Roads are lined with trees with sunrays filtering through their leaves .. shrubs look freshly bathed with tiny droplets of dew still not 'toweled' .. flowers still on the branches - not plucked by the green thumbs yet , enjoying and exibhiting their beauty to whoever is fortunate enough to witness it. Even the dry leaves, and showers of wild flowers strewn on the street - everything looks fresh and untouched.

Birds - invisible birds in the trees - with all sorts of exotic calls and tunes - chirp and chatter - the sound is the sweetest wake up call on can ever have . One can easily pass a long while just noting the different sounds. Flocks which suddenly leave trees with a flutter - leaving behind a gentle shower of dried leaves slowly gliding down to ground.

The sky is a gentle canvas of shifting colors - its not a riot of colors as during the sunset - but a more subtle display of creamy and snug colors - a lovely mixture of peach and pink and a tinge of violet melting away into the bright morning sun.

Then there are those honorable few on their regular morning walks as well - who are already drunk on the morning freshness and still have the warmth and cheer to nod or wave a "Good Morning" to you.

Among all these luxury awakenings are those who are up on duty - sweepers, cleaners, milkmen, paperwalas, dairy owners, bakery owners, chai-stall owners, some street hawkers picking their goods fresh from the early market and on their way to a busy day. They are regular faces we have seen on other days - but seeing them early morning awakens a new respect for them and their trade. A feeling dawns on you that our smooth running world is thanks to these and many others ..

A leisurely morning walk gives you a new perspective of the things around, fills your heart with cheer and enthusiasm , gives you a few meditative moments and freshens your mind, body and soul for the day that lies ahead - so much of wealth to be gained - if only we can crawl out of the blanket a little early :)

But walks is not always a luxury we can afford. ( In London it indeed is a very very rare treat for us - unless layers of clothes and umbrellas is your idea of liesurely walk :) . Bless India for one more of its numerous selfless offerings to her people.)

On such days an early morning is several other small joys - Steaming cuppa with your favourite music playing. Quick trip to the garden to pluck a few flowers , clean up a few leaves, water your 'darling' plant. Take an early shower to light a diya and agarbatti in front of the pooja .and spend a few long moments in prayer.Managing to 'cook' a breakfast for both of us . Replying to an e-mail long planned. These are small things which are 'nice to do' but always on the back burner because they don't fit the prime-time slot :)

I've seen my ajji rise early every single day of her life - and go about her duties with single-minded dedication. She never missed her morning duties and never needed anyone to fill in for her! Because of her our mornings were always smooth - in our old house - the courtyard sprinkled with water, cleaned and with fresh rangoli,fresh flowers for pooja, fresh milk bolied and ready for tea, teacups, teapots rinsed and ready to make and serve tea, newpaper in the house, hot water heating on stove for bath - hundreds of things which one would assume are always there ! My parents too have followed suit and even added their morning exercise routines to it - but regretably enough none of us siblings have picked this good habit :)

Whatever is ones reason to come out of the bed early enough - there are these own precious moments which for once makes your mind to dwell on the famous saying " Ealry to bed and early to rise - makes one healthy, wealthy and wise! "

Venice

As Lonely Planet says it ..

"Venice is Neptune's portico risen from the deep...but for how long?"
"Venezia, La Serenissima, Queen of the Adriatic, city of canals and palaces...or tawdry sewer alive with crowds and charlatans? Venice's nature is dual: water and land, long history and doubtful future, airy delicacy and dim melancholy. If this precious place does sink, the world will be the poorer."



Smitten .. yes! thats exactly what we were from the moment we landed at Treviso airport.

Bright sunny day, roads lined with greenish whitish olive trees, and button cute cafes .. radio in the public transport blaring " Radeo Venezia ..." .. Venice grew on us almost instantly. And we were yet to see the whole of it ..



Friends had warned us against NOT being lost in the winding streets near San Marco ..

" ... don't bother .. just lose yourself in the alleys there .. you will get the best gelato at a corner where you will finally give up !!! ... " was the common advise.



And did we follow it to the tee? Oh yes we did!



We were staying away from the main Venice city,on the lagoon island of Murano. Our hotel was a tiny little one tucked inside a residential lane with a lovely rooftop garden where we could have a quite dinner on a tiring day ( with a spicy arabiatta spaghetti and red vino ) while we heard the town clock toll and see the pigeons flutter into sunset ..

It was picture perfect! Cobbled streets, brick lanes, piazzas with stone benches and a ubiquitous stone fountain .. it was just like walking into a dream that too - back in time.
English was sparse there - to watch C trying to communicate with the locals - I fell in love with him all over again! :)
Cute cafes, cuter Italian owners in it :) and the homely little trattorias with tables lined against the tiny canals .. what else can one ask on a romatic trip ?

Food was heavenly in the most obscure corners of Venice, or the tiny lagoon islands we went to - Murano, Burano, Farro, Torcello - right from the antipasti to the dolce :)
And ofcourse generous amounts of vino with our meals and the classic cocktail Negroni of aperitif Campari -;)
A cool evening lighted near the Rialto Bridge - cozy little candle-lit table tucked near the canal with a view of Rialto - music found in gentle chugging of water and sensuous sounding Italian - and a glass of Negroni with the color of sunset dissolved in it - a perfect start to a perfect dinner - Pure Bliss - Contentment - Heaven!!

A fact we didn't know before was the Italian coffee - oh how we enjoyed drinking coffee there - for as small a sum as 1 euro - you get heavenly coffee in Italy almost everywhere!
After I had learnt my lesson with the tiny glass cup filled with acrid black coffee when we ordered Caffe (black strong coffee with a crema foam on top) - I preferred having an occassional Latte Macchiato ( steamed milk 'stained' with espresso) while C indulged in the Irish Coffee ( I'll call it whisky 'stained' with black coffee :D )

We soaked in the sun, mixed in the jostling crowds at San Marco, enjoyed the lonely walks in the lanes of colorful Burano and the lovely bricked walkways along the blue canals in Torcello, hopped onto traghetti and sat back and relaxed on a Gondola, payed visits to Museos and whiled sometime at cafes and bars - till we totally and fatally fell in love with Venice.

Venice was an experience for us - most romantic and most cherished.

With A Child A Mother is Born

(Saw this caption in one of the Johnsons' Baby ads, and it inspired this poem ..)
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'Positive' in clear and blue it says..
Take a deep breath and the mind sways..

With a smile,nod and a wink..
You say to him, 'Its what we think!"

Smiles,pauses and cheeks change hue..
So when is the 'bundle of joy', due?

Tests, checks and routine scans,
Excited moms, dads and grans..

Do this, don't do that,take care..
Stress,weights,fatigue - don't you dare!


Eat good, think good and rest well,
Its for the baby , not you, they tell..

Slowly there is this small little bump,
Feeling it, the heart does a jump!


The day of the first ultrasound,
A tiny form , both watch spellbound..

A life within, a flickering heartbeat,
A wonder, a miracle or nature's feat?

The baby within occupies your mind,
feeling it inside, you relax and unwind.

Tiny feet,tiny hands, baby sounds,baby smells
Upon all this and more, your mind now dwells.

The time comes close to end all longings,
And thus the labor of love begins.

Through the pain,whats the drive all along?
To meet you my little one, is all I long.

With all your might, one last try,
Exhausted but relieved, you hear it cry..

My Angel, my life now you will adorn,
And With the Child, a Mother is born.

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

(Motherhood is a rebirth - so true!)

A Piece of Swiss

Coming from a service oriented marathi family, I would have only dreamt of going to the Swiss country some day.
And thanks to I.T. - my dream came true pretty early, and not once, but twice! (and if the devine forces permit, might come true a couple of more times)

I don't really remember dreaming of going Swiss.Though the wishful thinking of " I want to see the world on my own once .." was always there.

Been there, seen stuff, I can say its really a dream come true!
Many must have dreamt of being in a land so pure and lush and exhilarating that one feels surreal.
Abundance of nature - talk about it!

I had dreamt of sparkling blue waters, snow covered mountains, lush green landscapes, multi-hued blossoms,thick pine forests,wooden cottages, acres and acres of greenery, cruises which offer panoramic views everywhere,as you lie down on deck drenched in sun!
I had these flashes for years - after watching a movie, or a Discovery channel special, or after flicking through a travel magzine.
I had marveled at lands so beautiful, waters so clear, skies so spotless.
And when I saw them for real, I still marveled at them.

What makes a trip unforgettable?
Its the experience, its the company, the memories.
This trip to Swiss scored a perfect tenner on all these.
Experience - amazing - the food, the stay, the travel, the sights, the scenic beauty - everything was just spot on!
Company - who else but the companion for life? Can it get any better? :)
Memories - When you shut your eyes and think back of the time you had, you know its something you will recall to make yourself happy and cheerful.Unblemished, unspoilt feeling of bliss, contentment and peace - isn't this a rareity these days?Swiss memories of this trip is my very own "Raindrops on Roses .." song! :)

Is Swiss the most beautiful place on earth - may be not.
There are other places beautiful in their own right.
There are places which are beautiful for some people for their own private reasons.
Beauty is not always grand, not always pure, not always to do with mother nature.Its relative. As wise people have said, it lies in the eyes of the beholder. Its depends on the frame of mind.

I had already seen Swiss, but this trip revealed something more peaceful and deeper.
Was it my state of mind that made Swiss look so good, or was it Swiss that made me feel so good?
Can be anything ..
Is Swiss a a piece of heaven? For me - yes it will be - now onwards.

Memories Are Made Of These ...

This song by Dean Martin rings in my mind quite often.
Its a very very tender ( and ohhh sooo mushy) song and to hear it with a few strums of guitar makes you wish for a moon-lit dinner with your special some-one. :)
Its a nice song with simple lyrics, and words of wisdom.
A quick search on the net revealed that this number is quite a favourite in weddings, esp when the father walks his bride-to-be daughter to the altar - soo apt n sweet! ( Am sure, I'd be one of the guests with a lump in my throat and eyes brimming with tears at one of such weddings)

But this song also brings some very special memories and in an entirely different context.

One of the memories attached to this song is from my childhood.
We were in 5th class. My very close friend - V's father had a very nice collection of english records. She had a record player at home, and handling those big black discs was a thing of great novelty. It was my first taste of 'phoren' songs,(which I later learnt was country and pop music) which I could actually hum along!
I even remember her being particularly fond of a Jim Reeves record, because its cover had a colored potrait of him, in his chequered suit - lop-sided smile,auburn hair and green eyes et-al ! :)
( the song 'Adios Amigos' was the one we liked for what we thought were 'exotic' words! )
We loved playing these records, not because we had an ear for the songs but more because it made us feel like pompous grown-ups, who chitchatted with english music playing in the background :))

Those were the days when minds were very keen, fresh and open to absorb all new things, learn more about everything and anything, with a constant urge to explore and discover on our own. We hadn't seen the world much, and each new experience brought a great deal of excitement.

Its from those formative years when your friends, your school, your teachers infulenced your mind the most and shaped it to be the thinking person you are today.

I remember one of my friend S's words at our 10th std farewell function. We were coming out of the 'school' and moving to 'college'. We were going out into different worlds pursuing our individual dreams and aspirations.
S had said that when we are kids - our parents influence us the most. As we start our formal education, our school becomes an institution which affects and influences our mind the most - as we spend maximum time here. While thanking the teachers she had said that while transiting from children to adults - theirs' was the influence which would stay with us forever. And she said that we all are grateful to them, and of course to our friends, because they have imparted to us something that would guide us through the rest of our lives.

This song is linked to the transition. Though its a romantic song ( and this aspect we appreciated much later ;) ) , this song for me is the one which evokes my school memories, the friends, the teachers and the discoveries of everyday wisdom.

Linked with this song, my memories are made of these.

Cleanliness is next to Godliness

The place we stay is a small town.
The lane we stay has neat rows of converted Victorian houses, and a few B & Bs.
There is one huge parking space at one end of the row.

This lane runs parallel to the busy main road, which has a bank, a drugstore, 2 pound shops, 2 bakeries, a vegetable shop, Somerfields, Mac-D's, PizzaHut, 1 Lebanese and one 1 Chinese restaurant, a salsa dance class (yeah!) , 2 pubs, a few real estate offices,an ATM , a superstore - you get the picture? A real busy street, with all options for people of variety of age groups!

And here comes the link.
There is an old man. A hefty, 6 ft, 70 lb old man. With a green jacket - the ones that social volunteers wear here, with large specks, flannel pants, black boots, rubber gloves and a woollen cap. He carries a bottle of water, a few polythene covers and a stick - the ones with a clamp at one end, with which he can pick stuff off the road.
He is a rag picker. He does the work for himself. He takes it as a mission to keep the streets clean.

Morning, when we are rushing out of the house, in a hurry to reach the office, we see him in his gear, picking stuff off the road - cans, bottles, papers, leaves, covers - what ever can be picked up off the road to keep then clean.
If there is other stuff- like dog do, spilt liquids, dried food stuff - he squirts some water there, and wipes it off the road with some paper. He does the same work every day, without a word, without bothering about people around. He dosen't speak a word. He is totally absorbed in his work. He does it with such dedication !!!

During weekdays, we see him in the morning, without fail. Be it cold, be it snow, be it rain - he is there. He works on the weekends too! In fact - we see him on the roads more often during weekends - after all its more work on weekends!

In Maharashtra we had a great saint " Sant Gadgebaba " - who dedicated his life promoting cleanliness - he was a living example of the motto - Cleanliness is next to Godliness.
When ever I see the old man on the streets, carrying out his missionary work, I think of him as an english GadgeBaba.

Home Coming..

Sticking to the name of the blog - "its never too late" - to restart blogging! :)
With the Hindu new year , I am resuming my periodic blogging.

Am back from a long (and I wish I could say relaxing) vacation to India.
Its the second time that I went back to India from a foreign land.
But this time, the coordinates were changed.
Now I have two homes to return to. And two sets of relatives to courtesy-visit ;-) (Sigh!)
( People on relatively short and really long-awaited trips to homeland can easily relate to these "courtesy visits" ! )

When you are returning home, you are looking forward to spend quality time with your dear ones, and try to make up for the long long time that you'ev been away from them.

After getting over the jet lag, the long hours of travel fatigue, unpacking gifts, reshuffling the this-part-still-belongs-to-me wardrobe - you realise that almost 2-3 days of your precious vacation are over!
Then there are these really important things like bank visits, paper work, applications and blah blah which you wish weren't there. There go another day or two!

And then come those visits!
" Auntie Meena wants to meet you both, you never got to meet after your wedding..",
"Uncle Vijay would love if you can join them for dinner, you both weren't there for his son's thread ceremony...",
"Did you meet little Purva? She is already 4 months old - do go and say hie once! " ,
"Dadaji's brother constructed this new house rt? well, they have kept a family get-together cum house warming - you both should make a visit! "
"Cousin Shriya will sulk if you don't meet her inspite of being in town! - you missed her wedding!"
" Sujata auntie's mother passed away, you should go and meet her once.."

And there are many more celebrations, ceremonies, new arrivals, unfortunate departures you have missed over the year.
All these are your people - relatives, friends, loved ones. They have missed you in the times of their joy and sorrow, and want you to spend a few moments with them.

After all, this is what you have solely missed while being in a foreign land. Your people.

Then why, why do these visits seem like an obligation? Why are we reluctant to spare time for these?
Because these visits are not the same - had you not been outside. The time is short, you'ev lost touch, you take time to warm up to these people, you have this limited time in which you want to bring yourself as back to normal as possible. And you feel the time slipping away ..

What happened to the plans of having long, liesurely conversations with mom?
To the plans of spending at least one evening munching pizza while guzzling on some fizz and watching crappy movies with your siblings, long into the night, cracking jokes and having fun like the good old days?
What happened to the plan of going on a drive with dad , chatting about career moves and future plans, interspersed with crib sessions?
Of the plans to have a lazy sunday family lunch and the gup-shup that followed into the sleepy noon-nap?
Of plans of having one evening free to catch up with your gal-pals?

And then - you think, you think of the changed coordinates, the new relations, the time you'ev been away for - and all this makes sense.
You go through these visits and once you are back in the foreign land, you look back and feel glad you did! :)
And you do catch up with those plans - you help mom with cooking, and blabber along all the while - what if a few rotis are a shade too dark! ;-)
You take dad along for all those mundane bank trips, and catch up during the mandatory hour long "lunch breaks" in the bank ;-)
You tug along your kid bro and sis for shopping, and then spend the evening sampling pani-puris and chats, till your parents drive down to pick you up for the next visit ! :)))

And just when you think you have juggled it all - its time to go! With a heavy heart and lingering memories, you pack your bags and head towards the airport. Your cellphone keeps on buzzing till the last minute you board the plane.

Once inside, you switch off - switch off from the world around, and make a hurried trip down the memory lane, to ensure all that happened in this whirlwind home-coming is tucked away snugly in corners of your mind, to savour it later ... till the next trip back home.