Blue Green

More blue-

I do not suffer from SAD -ness or any other 'polar' debility. It is periodic, these streaks of blue- long and deep. Like Begum sang, one waited- hum toh samajhe the ki barsaat mein barsegi sharaab, aayi barsaat toh barsaat ne dil tod diya.

To enhance this pervasive dripping soppy sadness, I have disarmed myself with suitably sentimental and slushy poetry of the Tragedy Queen, Meena Kumari!

Sitting and listening to her poetry in her own words, I was misty eyed and found myself quite by chance as it were, sitting on the wet green grass in my lawn. The soft music by Khayyam isunobtrusive but seems to make a contribution of its own - the wail of the sarangi, the sound of jaltarang, sitar and all the other softly played instruments, the husky, alcohol-soaked croon of Meena Kumari, the overpowering smell of the fresh grass, the weepy lyrics, the soft red mud staining my old faded corduroys, my kids buzzing around like some giant benign butterlies- me feeling very blue-green.

Some snatches of the sterling sentiment seived out of the sentimental soup:
(My apologies to those who understand or can't suffer sentimental, even though beautiful, tripe!)

Tukray tukray din beeta
Dhajii dhajii sham mili

**
Poochhate ho to suno
Kaise basar hoti
Raat hairat ki
Sadqe ki sehar hoti hai
Saans bharne ko to jeena nahi kahte ya-rab
Dil hii dukhta hai na ab aasteen tar hotii hai.
jaise jaagii huii aa.Nkho.n me.n chubhe.n kaa.Nch ke Khvaab.
raat is tarah diivaano.n kii basar hotii hai.
Gham hi dushman hai mera
gham hi ko dil doodhata hai
Ek lamhe ki judaai bhi agar hoti hai

**

Zarre zarre pe ja.De ho.nge ku.Nvaare sajde.
Ek ek but ko Khudaa usane banaayaa hogaa.
Pyaas jalate huye kaa.NTo.n kii bujhaayii hogii.
Risate paanii ko haathelii pe sajaayaa hogaa.

**

And this litlle nugget (for Kamaal Amrohi- at the time of their divorce)!

Talaak to de rahe ho
Nazare kahar ke saath
Jawani bhi mere lauta do Mehar ke saath

BTW, This stuff is going to keep me company on my trip out of town!

Sphere of influence

This is the first time that we afre following the Football world cup as a full family. Dd had been initiated during the previous world Cup itself but this is the first time ds has been able to follow the proceedings. It helps that he plays street football with all the neighbourhood kids and that he is able to read a lot of what is being written on football (what does it say about the newspaper coverage if a seven year old can read much of the and sports reportage? and is influenced by it!!)

Ds had received a pictoral chart of the flags of different nations and a T shirt and cap with the German colours and such like merchandise from my fortuitous trip to Germany earlier this year. Moreover, he actually travelled to and loved his stay at Australia. He was easily able to list out all the 32 participating nations (Trinidad and Tobago, Saudi Arabia and Togo included) and take a considered view on how they would fare. Given that this was his first such tournament and that he was predicating his predictions on the media coverage and hype that the teams received. As the final match approaches, for ds, it seems the World Cup is already over!

Nearly each time he backed a team it was worsted. All the teams are losing he wailed. Australia, England, Argentina, Brazil, Germany, Portugal- all are out of the match, WHO will win the World Cup now? he worried. And now he draws some comfort from the fact that Germany has won by resoundingly overpowering Portugal!


The little neo-convert hated each team which triumphed over his favourites so now he just hopes and prays that Italy can somehow 'injure' Zidane and thrash much disliked France 3:0.

But the rest of the family? We are all fervently rooting for France. Dh is so disgusted by all the female drool that the Italians are garnering, and dd and I, well- lets just say, we prefer Zidane! So come what may there would be Monday morning blues at home.

Heres to les bleus and the Azzurri!

And, I am travelling first thing Monday morning - to remote agency areas of Andhra Pradesh- it promises to be a retreat of sorts outside of all these spheres of influence.

Take care.

Mucho macho God

In the ancient world where there was a clear distinction between right and wrong, good and bad, pious and devilish and there were periodic duels (like tugs-of-war really) between the inhabitants of Devaloka (the realm of the Gods) and Asuras of Asuraloka (the realm of the Non-Godly). The Gods and their spousal goddesses were powerful, pious and pure while 'hell' or naraka was associated with the underworld, where power-seeking Asuras lived with their fat, dark, fertile women and often fought over them. Between the two lay the world of men. Yes, men- who spun these fantastic tales of Devas and Asuras. Of powerful beautiful charming blue-skinned or lighter-toned Gods with matching attractive, powerful and charming consorts. Of large ugly demons and their female-folk who were menacing.

While the feminity of goddesses was the acceptable benign 'norm', that of the female asuras was deviant- to be feared, curbed and over-powered by all the Gods and Men. In the major battle between the Devas and the Asuras over the churning of the nectar of immortality from the poison in the ocean of milk, the Devas realised soon enough that it was the end which justified the means. They appealed to the triumvirate of Brahma (the creator), Vishnu (the preserver) and Shiva (the destroyer of evil) to intercede on their behalf. Being sensible sort of beings, they resorted to all manner of ruses to ensure that they would be loading all dice in their favour, even the most basic ruse of alluring the Asuras to be bewitched so that they would forego their claim of the nectar. Vishnu assumed the form of the most bewitching seductress Mohini as His part of fixing the match in favour of the devas. However, an unforeseen effect of Vishnu assuming the female form of Mohini was that 'She' caught the eye of the macho male Shiva. The product of this 'same-sex' union was Ayyappa.

There are many stories of Ayyappa but let us not dwell on that here. It is His avatar as the ascetic at Sabarimala which brings most of His devout followers. It is in this form that Ayyappa is said to so pure, so pious, so male, so powerful that the temple invokes and stretches the first and most primal taboo to its limit. While Hinduism, like all ancient cultures, fears females most for their fertility. As the ultimate symbol of this fertility, a menstruating woman, is bound by a strict code of what she can do and how. While a menstruating woman is considered impure and is forbidden from entering any sacred space without a ritual cleansing bath, in Sabarimala, no fertile female is ever to be allowed in the temple. Technically, only non-females (that is girls before menarche or women post-menopause) may ever perform the hard and arduous trek up the hill at Sabarimala.

The ascetic lord demands absolute devotion and allows no scope for error or lapse. It is to directly reign in the priests and to regulate the affairs of the temple that the Lord Himself would appear in the form of the divine oracle like Ashtamangala Devaprasana to be revealed through a chosen priest. So it was to be conducted this year in the highest tradition of the temple. It is against this backdrop that the current controversy of a woman, a famous actress at that, has to be seen. While there are claims that the entire temple now needs to be ritually cleansed after a woman has entered the sanctum sanctorum, there are counter claims that deny that any of this could have actually ever happened.

Is this for real, one is tempted to ask. But this has even become a political matter between the neighbouring States of Kerala (where the temple is and whose official member is part of the temple trust) and Karnataka, where Jaimala belongs to as well as one for some marginal women's groups to raise as a platform for them to promote themsleves and their cause.

In short - a lot of to do!

***

Karaikkal Ammaiyar was a devotee of Siva who lived between the 5th and 6th centuries. Hers is an amazing story. When the young Ammaiyar (then known as Punitavati) was stopped by her youth and good looks from dedicating her life to her love for Siva, she prayed to her lord to divest her of that burden, so she could get bliss in watching His eternal dance. Thus, a young and attractive woman transformed herself into an emaciated prune of a hag - as is celebrated in those austere sculptures of her. She took upon herself the title of 'ghoul of Karaikal' who exchanged her youth and beauty for the calm and inner bliss of her spirituality. Tamil literature, especially in the Sangam era, had quite a tradition of women writers.
Then there is Andal who was so overcome by her love for her Lord, that at the ripe age of fifteen, she 'married' Vishnu in His form of Rangantha at Srirangam. The paeans she sang him, the Tiruppavaii and the Nacciyar Thirumozhi are still sung widely in Tamil households and communally on the streets during the period between mid-December to mid-January. As popular perhaps as the simple and profound verses of a formerly distraught and uncared for daughter-in-law, Laleshwari in distant northern Kashmir, which are said to reverberate in that ravaged valley even to this day. Mirabai, the Rajput princess, entered into a similar nup- agreement with her Krishna eventhough she was formally married to a prince. Different spatio-temporal frameworks, but though they were set apart in time and in geographical location, they all shared a common socio-cultural ethos.

All these women attained icon-hood and are widely revered as the ultimate lovers and devotees of their preferred Gods - Siva, Ranganatha or Krishna. Yet none of this came easy to any of these women. Their lives were full of a never-ending series of trials, privations, tests and tribulations. They were forced to make tough choices in their own lives. They were not always feted or accepted wherever they went. But they charted their course and did not stray from it. They did not let their feminity or the gender role deter them from their path. If Karraikal Ammaiyar traded her youthful good looks for the freedom to love her Siva, Andal chose to go meet her God as part of her nuptial tie when she ran to him and embraced his idol in such adoration that she was said to have been absorbed into the very idol. Mira, according to legend, carried her image of her Krishna wherever she went till she too finally found salvation in merging herself in an idol of her Lord.

So what was the price they paid? Was it the breaking of those rigid patriarchal societal conventions? Why is it that I feel it is more than that- significant though that was? Why is it that I believe that what they sacrificed was far more intrinsic, greater than any mere trapping of feminity? That it was their very essence of feminity- their fertitlity which they had laid at stake in an bizarre (reminiscent of the un-Godly faustian arrangements) pact with their God.

Why is it that each religion has to make a statement on female fertility? Why is it that even in the 'most powerful' country in the world, men can become leaders or not on the basis of the stand they take on fertility? That the choice of a woman to exercise her fertility or not is a matter to be debated and discussed at every forum and each person HAS to take a stand on the subject.

Can one be a woman and be religious in these male religions?

A wail of the time

The past few days have found me slipping precariously deep in my depths. (And I am so out of depth there)

As a child I used to be accused of behaving like a 'sponge' soaking in all things around me. Maybe thats why, when pressed, I tend to release huge amounts of fluid. Every single thing said/ not said, done/ not done, thought/not thought, imagined/ not imagined seems to provoke me to tears. The tears, they flow suddenly, long or not. Am being such a sensitive so and so that every body around me seems to be wary. Meanwhile, I try to keep out the way of my kids as the sight of a bawling mum isn't the wholesome experience that should enrich their childhood.

Among the random and disconnected events which are contributing to my malaise are the fact that the 2006 FIFA World Cup is to be an all European tournament - bereft of any Latino presence, the situation in Vidarbha, the PM's visit, the WTO talks and India's position therein, the lot of Indian farmers and a lot more!

Till I turn to my last resort (ALA), need wail aid and more tissues.

Eve Bead

Since childhood I confess to have always been fascinated by gaudy stuff - stones of different hues which would catch light at different angles and reflect them in the most dramatic fashion. My sister would start me off on my exploration- demanding that I bring back some specific pieces of trash. I would wander around in the neighbourhood, keeping an eye out for any interesting twig, leaf, flower, chip of mica, buttons, odd shaped pieces of broken glass, a thread of unusually coloured wool, a brightly printed vivid cloth - anything at all which we could recycle! My offerings would be gone through perfuntorily, most would be discarded summarily and yet some pieces (with possibilities!) would be treasured.

We would tax our imagination (hers more than mine) to come up with innovative uses for the junk. Most often it would be fashioned, by means of wires and threads and vines and twines, into sorry but very unique looking jewellery.

Then growing up happened and one got a lot more self-conscious about trawling around looking for and picking up road-side junk. There was also the phase of absolutely no jewellery- junk or otherwise.

College was this first all-female institution I found myself in. And it did bring out the best in creative stuff. There were matching jingle-jangle bangles and all other trappings that came with it. Not that I was ever the most jingly-jangly Jane around but I did stretch mine own limits of being jazzed up. It was by its very nature self-limiting and I found myself reverting to non-matching stuff as soon as I stepped out of the college gates.

Now after all these years, I discover that I am truly fond of glass, wooden, stone, shell and any which coloured beads. Wish I had hoarded those shiny pieces of shell, wood and stone which I had picked up from fishing village off Dwarka or the loads of shiny smooth beads I got from tiny weekly shandies in Garhwal or pebbles and rough stones from Jhansi or other places tucked away in heart of central India. I could do with all those now as I regularly change my accessories even if I remain to my solitaire friends.

Inspired by this.

Resistance- rather futile

Met deepfried recently at bitch's post-doc blog.

But given that her recent discussions and debates may attract the attention of the office firewall (Beware all you who bloghop at work!), and bring in the sysad and other sad characters at work to peer eagerly down over your shoulders, all the while tut-tutting about how they always knew what a pervert you are, I am giving a direct link to the zogg here.

Hope you find yourself closer to discovering the sublime metaphysical truth!

Symmetry?

In the course of a year long courtship, dh wooed me with all the typical things- flowers, chocolates and such stuff that typify a budding relationship which is to blossom into matrimony. But also, all manner of books- from the practical and prosaic GRE study material to this. It was my first exposure to Desmond Morris. Something I read recently had me click a few links and get to this digit index theory about gender typing and got me thinking about the larger issue of visual aesthetics.

There is, in the begining of all this, the sacred geometry which is incorporated into all religions, folk or tribal or classic. While some people have even developed templates for human facial beauty, especially in respect of the female of the species, others merely worship symmetry, everywhere it is visible and reproducable. The very thread of life is alleged to conform to the beautiful symmetry of proportions. One could follow these links and enjoy the richness of the history of this concept of divine symmetry or just go with your own assessment of what appeals.

The learned researchers who try and determine the subtle differences between natural asymmetry and abnormal asymmetry do seem to be closer to the point that perfect symmetry may not always be so perfectly beautiful!

Boxed in again!

And just when I thought I was a lab, I get labelled as a Boxer!

You Are a Boxer Puppy

Energetic, playful and good with kids. You've also got a wild spirit that can't be trained or tamed.

What Breed of Puppy Are You?

Flutter-by baby

There is something about butterflies which seem to make them appear as magical, charmed and fascinating creatures. Is it merely their beauty or something about how a caterpillar is transformed dramatically into a butterfly? Becky says it so well about her little butterfly that there is little else I can add but give a link to her post.

Hope I can provide the right kind of cocoon to my butterflies before they flutter by.

Bloody business

The puppies are gone- and have left quite a void around here.

Among the memories they leave me with is that of other days and ages with the bloody nose theme, which was recalled while tending to the bloodied nose of one of the puppies after it was knocked down. Mammalian noses certainly contain an amazing network of blood vessles with each carrying dizzying amounts of blood!

...

As a kid I used to have the occasional nose bleeds when the then semi-arid Delhi temperatures would routinely soar over 45 degrees Celsius and the hot dust-laden westerly winds would blow in from the Thar desert. The heat without would induce the build-up of heat within too which would eventually burst out of teh body through the nasal blood vessels or manifest as boils on the body. A damp kerchief with a hint of eau-de-cologne would help cooling down as one lay the head down on some masive soft pillows (to prevent the drip within). But these were, for all the attendant fuss, very benign and manageable as the bleeding would stop soon.

Bloodier were the bleeds caused by injury. The first time I was exposed to this was when I was forced into a fisticuff with a frisky kid half my size in the back of the school bus. It was a pesky brat who insisted that he was big enough to scrap with an older (goody-goody) girl. Just to be done with the business briskly and in a no-nonsense fashion, I thought I'd give him a biff on the nose to get rid of the pest. I connected and the kid crumpled. Thankfully, I hadn't put much into the punch and soon the clod had a clot. He, and through him others, learnt from this bloody mess not to mess with me and I developed a sudden respect for the nose. I thought I might try this trick next if I was up (down?) against someone my size. (Hmm, I have never had to employ that trick, wonder why!)

...

I confess to having a pathological urge to gag- I gag at nearly most things. If I am like this now, I was far worse earlier when nearly most things could trigger my gagging! One such was the travel in the hills in those horrible metal contraptions which used to rush up the inclines and hurtle down the slopes fuelled by the alloyed mix surfeit of adrenaline, bravado and suspect and spurious diesel. While going downhill was definately worse, even the up-hill journeys on an empty stomach early in the morning was a torture. Yet my weekend marriage made it quite mandatory for me to travel in those run-down night buses atleast 2 or 3 times a month, first from Delhi to Mussoorie and then from Delhi to Shimla. So whenever I had the luxury of doing the Kalka-Shimla leg of the journey by train I would gladly sacrifice the extra three hours, over the road trip for the comfort and thrill of rail travel on that picturesque and evergreen stretch. Keeping my peculiar consideration in mind, I implored dh to come up by train when he came for me for the last time to Shimla to help me wind up my scattered and priceless effects at the end of my two year stint there.

I went to the picture-postcard-pretty railway station well in time to flag in the train which came chugging in after about 5 hours of journey on tunnel filled track. I scanned each compartment of the toy train. There was no sign of dh. Yet I knew he was to come and ran back to Yarrows to wait for word from him. It was an age of no cellular phones or GMS technology. The RAX exchanges were storming the Indian countryside but they were scattered few and far between. It was only at 2.30 in the afternoon that I received a message (third or fourth hand) that there had been a call from Dharampur district hospital about a nasty road accident on the Kalka-Shimla road and that dh was one among the injured. No more details were available. I was despatched immediately by car to wind my way down to Dharampur. I was, I realise now, worried sick, which added to my general travel sickness which the downhill journey always evoked. By the time I reached the hospital (or an apology thereof) at Dharampur, the shadows were lenghtening and a chill was fast coming up upon me. I scanned the vast bare hall and room after room of the hospital. There were quite a few casualities and there were many beds with people lying on them with a white sheet covering their faces. Not the most reassuring of scenes!

After spending about 30 minutes in this depressingly morbid environment something within me snapped. I knew dh couldn't be lying there among those faceless bodies. Imagine then how I felt when I stepped out and saw him sitting on a filthy chair in a pool of blood outside the the hospital premises, calmly sipping tea. I was so delighted to see him there that I nearly disregarded the fount of blood gushing out of the middle his face, where his nose was. When I hugged him violently, I think I probably ended up having more of his gurgling blood on me than he did. It took a long time to fix that bloody business!

Another age, indeed.

Puppy heaven

It starts as usual with fertility issues yet again...

Our street bitch has laid her latest litter a couple of weeks ago. Amazing how she manages to have so many litters at such regular frequency. Had me do some research on canine gestation. Should she be neutered? Or should nature be allowed to express life through her regardless of whether or not the poor mother can take it? This latest one is a full litter of six and given that it was not laid in our yard, I thought we could remain involved.

Blackie, as she is fondly called, put the puppies in the street gutter after being turned out of the house where she laid them, by the construction workers who were not so enamoured of the cutesy pups and their night long wails. But with the rain washing down on us and streaming into the gutters, she was forced to put them back on slightly drier grounds. Of course all the kids on the street would converge around the pups and try and encourage Blackie to care for and suckle them. She, so weary and depleted from so many litters, had little to offer to them and would usually try and abandon them so that Nature could do her bit and ensure and enforce rules such as the survival of the fittest etc. Her visits to them were getting shorter and more infrequent with the other street dogs begining to take a more active interest in the pups.

Over this weekend, one afternoon there was a major commotion. A pasing car had run over the pups! All the dogs of the street gave a vigorous chase to the offending vehicle and the chorus was joined in by the kids too! An examination revealed that not much damage had taken place. All the pups had had their first major fright and one little white one had a nasty bloody nose- but thats it. No fatalities, no broken bones. All I did was to hold the poor thing and pass on as much warmth and comfort to the terrified heaving wet bundle as possible. Eventually the bleeding stopped. The pups lay as close to each other as they could to derive some reassurance that the world wasn't such a bad place. Blackie, was not around! By the time things subsided, dh and the kids were keen to bring the pup into our yard. I didn't want to separate the poor terrified dear from its siblings. And so we got home six puppies!

The place is a smelly mess! There are tiny puddles and little heaps all over the place. We daren't park any car in the driveway for the fear of getting them underway. We can't step out of the house without tiny creatures getting underfoot. As many as 4 pairs of soft-sharp paws can be seen playing footsie with us each time we step out. The tickling of our toes by moist noses and wetter tongues has us in squeals. My nighty and sarees are special treats for the tiny teeth, it seems. So many frisky kids are constantly in and out of the gate that suddenly our house is the favourite haunt of the street.

But then this is unsustainable- all six cannot be here, I protested, weakly. Sure enough, the biggest pup in the litter, which was different from all its siblings (maybe a different sire?), was the first to go. Its been adopted by a family a few houses away- so glad to say, it'll remain on this street. Then the next to go was the runt of the lot- who made up for lack of size by having enormous wanderlust. Where it has gone, we know not. Hope it comes back soon! And so we are now left with four of those babies. A friend suggested ARF over the Blue Cross, where we had left similar litters in the past. But, hey, I am so busy- can't ever seem to find the time to make a call and go and leave the puppies there!!! :))

Disciplines

Professor Bose says Geography prevails over Sociology! He invokes anthropology and ecology and indicates that the data be taken up for women's studies! According to a cursory analysis of the 2001 Census data, there are places in India where women prevail - in terms of sheer numbers over men as Heads of Households. Apart from the usual suspects of hilly areas and districts with high percentage of males moving out in search of jobs, and lonely hill women being the HH, the surprising topper of the list is the Lakshadweep islands. On the islands he says, that regardless of the largely Muslim population, the ratio is skewed in favour of women, as the land cannot provide enough viable jobs for the males and so he feels geography prevails over sociology (primarily religion) in ensuring that women prevail as HH of Lakshdweep.

Learned prof. that he is, he should know what he speaks of.

Note:

1. Just a follow-up from an earlier demographic post where sociology and biology seemed to have caught up with and eventually triumph over societal mores (IF that be possible!)

2. Don't know why I'm posting this here, but then I am!

Love (sic)

Again I talk of that many splendoured thing. So whats with love? There are those who claim it makes the world go round. And others who define it their way- classic or corny or whatever!

This unfogged post started me seriously worrying how healthy this love stuff is. Do read this tale of love sickness - but beware, it isn't for the romantic at heart. Rather gruesome stuff! Do you sniff any love in the air? (DO follow the links, love!)

Saying it

This one is dedicated to dh notwithstanding his unease at being mentioned in my blog.

Teri says Say what and talks of trashing her box without the recycle option. And Ellen was the one who showed me how dependent and attached I was to my box- to the extent of being paranoid about it. But hey, boxed in or sparring about my box, dh matters.

Go figure!

Aus-some II

Cairns will always be a very special place for me- I do know how I've been going ad nauseum about the Ballooning and Snorkelling are but few of the attractions of that delightful little place. No wonder that as many as 4 flights from Japan land there everyday and that there are so many Japanese tourists that all tour guides have a Japanese interpreter buddy.

I was so sorely disappointed at not being able to do ballooning at Sydney (Hunter Valley actually) that I earned myself the tag of 'gubbaare waali'. So my ballooning trip was fixed up even before I reached Cairns. It started very early at 4 am- needless to say, I didn't sleep a wink the night before! After a long and winding trip into the hills surrounding Cairns, reached Mareeba through some lush bush and coffee country in a country not known for its coffee. I was way too excited to be asking any questions yet the pilot thoughtfully answered them all. Being in a hot air balloon with all those Japanese tourists was a bit strange. They went about excitedly, yet politely, clicking pictures of each other when there was so much to see and experience all around. Hey, whats with pictures, does one look any different up in the air?

And after that perfect ride and a yum hearty breakfast, I joined the rest of the family at the pier for the trip to the Great Barrier Reef! I still pinch myself and find that I horripulate when I remember that day I went up in the sky in a balloon and peered deep into clear corally waters immediately after one another! A double shot of adrenaline in a dose I hadn't ever had. We went through some rough waters till we reached Green Island with dh, dd and ds feeling awfully green but past that post, the seas smoothed, they went up to the upper deck and all were fine by the time we reached the Norman reef . And that's where we snorkelled and thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it. The fish were so colourful and exotic that it seemed were we in a fantasy underwater park. Apart from their colours, the fish were also tremendously friendly swimming with us between us. And no, we weren't in any theme park- it WAS the Great Barrier Reef!!!

The next day at Cairns was very wet! But the little place charmed us anyway to go across and explore- its Dome, the Crocodile, Rainforest and Mangrove Cruise through the backwaters, it was all exciting. Even if the sight of all those crocs lolling around or feeding voraciously at the pink chickens was quite offensive, but it was quite exciting! With plenty of binocs on board and a friendly crew who pointed out the birds, as well as let the kids have a hand at the wheel, it was fun for all.

Gold Coast was the touristy theme-park place and we were lucky to be at a beautiful property on the Surfers Paradise esplanade. It was right above Hard Rock Cafe and apart from the great location (bang above a subterranean Woolworths for all those lil groceries and round the corner from Hungry Jacks- which kept us in French Fries and Veggie Burgers). It afforded a wonderful view of the vast beautiful beach. But what was truly amazing is that in the midst of that concrete jungle, there was always birdsong heard above all other sounds.

The trips to the theme parks were all they are made out to be and more. What was particularly endearing was the lack of the hype which characterizes such (or actually more famous) parks in the US. The parks were much kinder and the people running them seemed more friendly (if that is possible) than those in the US.

Australia was the perfect holiday the family had -maybe something to do with the perfect place it was, maybe due to the friendly people, or was it our friends who made it so, or could there have been something in that contract dd had drawn up for us???

We did leave some things behind - for instance that much loved blue Taylormade cap of dh which I misplaced, obviously we left bits of ourselves there too. Hope to go back there some day and reclaim those parts.

And hey, I haven't still done my parasailing yet, have I?

Aus-some I

(A week since we are home and I haven't updated the blog! Been caught up in our life with a bang, with dh being awfully busy and now travelling to Delhi and kids just being the way they are. But no more ex-cue zs- here goes...)


Ah the awesome Australian holiday- it was too perfect to be true! But then thats what dreams are made of- family, some friends, the most awe- inspiring natural environs, some friendly natives and ummm, thats it!

It started off with dd taking charge and drawing up a contract to be signed by the whole family- the behaviour code for each family member- Dad was supposed to stay cool and away from his work, me was not to embarass the family by my laughing or giggling, dd herself promised she'd be Ms Congeniality and ds was not to kiss anyone's (especially Mom's/dd's/ other girls') hair with those 'sicky sounds'! Well we all signed as said but ...

We visited Sydney, Cairns and the Gold Coast town of Surfers Paradise and it was truly a Rainforest and Reef holiday!

Sydney was especially fun as we were guided in our dear friends who took time off from work to shepherd us through the sights in and around Sydney. That way there was plenty of time to travel at leisure at our highly relaxed and kid-friendly pace, soak in the sights AND catch up on all those years' news as we were meeting after about 16 years! And yes, I must admit, I spent a lot of time peering at various sinks just to test out all my learning of the Coriolis force, as this was my first time in the Southern hemisphere!

Bondi beach was really to die for- The beach front was inviting and as the weather was rather nippy, the beach was practically empty too. No sunning bodies to step around. The only nuisance were the loud pesky gulls. The waters were cold and there was a sharp breeze but thankfully, the sun shone through in that typically Australian majestic way. Bathing in the water was out of the question, especially as we were at the begining of our holiday and were slated to go on to other, warmer beaches. We took a long walk to the rockiest part of the beach and had fun exploring all the tiny and intersting marine life in the rocks. How I wish we could have done the longer walks too! We did also meet some divers who had emerged from after 70 minutes under water!

We were truly sejuiced and Bondi was the best possible start to our beach holiday. We rounded the day off with a trip to the local Koala park where we saw Cassowaries, Kangaroos, Wallaroos, Wallabies, koala bears, Lorikeets, Parakeets, Cockatoos, a solitary splendid Dingo, penguins, and of course, the Kookobara himself! Momentarily (?) forgetting my promise not to laugh like a hyena gone terribly wrong, I cackled hideously that I was finally in the presence of the Kooko bird! 'Laugh Kookobara laugh Kookobara' brought back too many memories- from the music teacher at nursery school- Mrs. Carvahlo, to other points in life when one wasn't happy at all and yet schooled oneself to laugh and appear gay. After seeing all these fantastic creatures, little wonder that ds asked whether we would be going to Dinosaur Park the next day!!!

The trip to Hunter Valley vineyars was long and filled with lots of fun. Went to Tyrell's and had a fun picnic lunch as we were a very hungry bunch and all the food was just too little! Believe it or not, we actually came upon an imposing baobab tree on the estate- making me go all mushy about the Little Prince and dear friend Rafiki. After fortifying ourselves thus and admiring all there was to see and sip, we all trooped after dh who found a convenient and extremely family friendly golf course. Dd was the caddy and ds was the 'ball picker' while Hari and I followed. As a concession to us, dh restricted his 'game' to four holes. A great game - golf!

The Blue Mountains, on the next day, they were really out of this world- the Scenic way with its Skyway and Railway was truly impressive, and the walkway was really the top joy. The sweet water of the Marrangaroo spring had us rushing back for numerous sips. The miners' relics were so well grown over by the rainforest, that it seemed part of the forest ecology and not a mere secondary forest. The old gum trees were verily hoary and awe-inspiring. The all pervasive bush was reined in by the older influences of the myth of the Three Sisters who loomed large and provided the most impressive backdrop for the primal forest. We all ran down to the bottom of the first of the three sisters and huffed and puffed our way up! While Rachna and dd were exploring other views and look-out points and dh and ds were at Echo-point, I just shut down all my senses to imbibe the atmosphere and dream the Muggadah dreaming.

And that brought us to the end of our Sydney stay. It was delightful in a zillion ways that I haven't written about here- largely due to the warmth and love we got from Rachna, Hari, Tara, Ela, Tapas and briefly- Jeevan and Ushmi too! We also met with some other friends and friends of friends- yes, very friendly! Ds did not, quite expectedly, keep his promise of eating things other than potato, and every evening I was making the daily spud for his comfort. And yes, we also had the reassurance of the AMUL- the Taste of India, wherever we went, courtesy the well-stocked local Indian store!

At Home

Its been wonderful to be coming home to Australia.

Home, even though it is the first time we are visiting the place. Home because of the tremendous warmth and love we have received here. Sydney has been most hospitable and warm- giving us one sunny warm day after another, even as winter creeps up on this continent.

Warm and lovely because of meeting all the beautiful friends here- Hari, Rachna, Ela and Tapas and their kids. Each one of us singly and severally are being delighted in their company. Meeting and bonding after so many years, there is much to catch up on- much to discover and learn anew. And yet, old friends! A friend who has been reading my blog and was waiting with her daughter to discuss John Abraham with me(!). Hmm, maybe I may yet get to see Dhoom before I leave Australia.

The kids are having a blast reading old books and new, trying out new things, making new friends, learning the piano(!) We seem to be discovering ourselves anew. Bonding with the kids in the warmth and the love-filled ambience provided by our friends.

Done all the usual touristy must-dos of Sydney but in the company of these friends, it wasn't the typical touristy things- it was each of those places with all the associations and warm memories that the places evoke for them.

Home is where friends are!

Shocking behaviour

I am always capable of shocking my self and the others around me- but yesterday was a bit too much!

All day, I went around getting a not so mild buzz from all that I touched. After a point, my fingers were tingling so painfully that not all the rubbing helped. And my kids were pleading with me, 'mama, please don't touch'. Not only was I getting shocks from all manner of textile, mettalic and other surfaces, but was also giving huge shocks each time I touched the kids. Maybe 'twas the static from the long flight to Australia, but thank God, I am able to use all my fingers today.

Heres hoping that I get less shocking!

Tweedle to

When I met these two, I was much more rash and brash than I am today.

Yes, we did bond immediately and that bond did carry us through for all these years. Anyone I want or need to, I can reach out to these friends and talk on the phone wherever in the world they may be, as if they be sitting right next to me and as if we have still been meeting everyday. As with most relationships, we did become quite a habit for each other and the growing gaps in time before we met or spoke with each other, was irrelevant because we were assured of being there for each other, weren't we? Which is when we started taking each other for granted. I was totally unaware of anything going wrong. Perceptive dd asked me one day why my friend Uncle J had stopped coming by. 'O, he must be busy sweetheart', I said and forgot about it. Yes, I should have made a call, reached out, but didn't. A month later, another friend casually asked me when I'd spoken to J last. Hmm, been a while, I said. That day I did ring up though. And was totally blown away by what I heard. It seems that I had, in a totally insensitive fashion, hurt my friend with some idiotic words! And without any malafides too!

'Hey, whats the matter, you don't expect me to say the right things all the time do you? And what are friends for, if we had to watch all we say to them?' I did the silly thing of trying to trivialise the hurt I'd caused. Which did its bit to drive the wedge deeper.

Well slowly it was out- friends tried to intervene- much amateur counselling was done. I was given the mandatory advice on how to learn to be sensitive to the feelings of others. Have learnt some protocol, but is it easy for me to learn these lessons?

I tweedle on.

Big shots

Ellen had me thinking- as she usually does! :-)

This matter may not perhaps be so relevant to this Mater, given that my 'babies' are 11 and 7. But am very disturbed by this stuff and do need to vent - not merely to 'ventilate' views but at a more essential level to right the blood gas levels (as we ventilator-baby parents often joke!).

In India we have had much initial distrust of vaccinations, spearheaded by various prominent leaders such as C. Rajagopalachari, the vaccination policy has travelled far before reaching where it is. His concern was largely directed at the BCG vaccine for TB, given that its efficacy was not proven at the time of its large-scale adoption in the national vaccination policy. It is among the first vaccinations given to all babies who have access to any medical care in India. It is accepted that BCG prevents only childhood forms of TB like disseminated and miliary TB, but has no role in preventing TB in adults especially cavitary forms. But this is even more disturbing. As is the link between TB vaccine studies and research and the PL480. And this link is an article detailing the continuing lack of self sufficiency in the production of the vaccines, including OPV.

Given that dd received all her shots (both those included in the Universal Immunisation Programme and many others which were even more expensively priced) , and that ds received nearly most of the UIP ones, the unease is perhaps, a bit late in the day, but, nevertheless, persists.