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.

Coming Home

I am back home after my brief travels. And as usual I seem to have never gone away at all.

Was there a break? Did I not know all that was happening at home? The time the kids spent at play, in friends' houses, the disappointment over the delay due to the puncture on the way, the excitement over what mom's getting for them, the hours dh spent commuting on Bangalore roads - so had I missed anything?

But I did too- the way ds clambers on me monkey-like to perch on my head and KISS my hair till everybody around gets utterly disgusted. The way in which the kids and I horse around jumping shouting tickling giggling laughing kicking till we need to be pulled apart. And just before this gets too much like maternal paradise, this- the way dd can always bring me back to ground level by asking me to act my age! :p

And before I get down to getting down right complacent- there are things like the invasion of flying cockroaches in my vermicompost pit(!), the fact that the tomatoes are looking promising, but we shall be away for a couple of weeks from Sunday. The much awaited date on the calendar- Seventh May, when we begin our holiday to Australia. Arrangements need to be made for boarding things up, packing clothes, games, books and all the junk which never gets taken out of the suitcases but HAS to be packed in the interest of familial peace and bonhomie!

And the Chennai connection. On the first sector of my flight (via Chennai!) I met one of dh's friends- a person as literate and erudite as sensitive and kind. He gave me detailed accounts inter-alia, of the chicklit scene in post modern Indian English writing, being off-shore parents to what were a few years ago- their 'kid' sons, an exposition on Ramu G, a favourite author of mine - (I do adore this biography that Anita Nair has written of him). Somewhere in the midst of all this delightful talk, I brought up my rant about the lack of decent bookshops in Bangalore. And believe me, by the time I came back home, I had a parcel couriered to me via dh- with all of Kolatkar.

Fun to be back home! :)

Sylvia-n

Like Scott, I am busy too. Travelling in the 'fair' city of Hanover in Germany.

Meanwhile this morning I have Sylvia buzzing in my head - Insomniac, The Surgeon at 2 A.M., You're and of course Lady Lazarus. Go seek!

Delight

Delight decreed the Mamasaysom theme.

And delighted I am to share my delight (even if the theme now be more careworn!) ...

I have not much experience (or need) of sampling the wide array of mind altering substances that Nature - and the chemical factories have to offer. Not alcohol, no opiates, no uppers, no mixed-balls, no psychostimulants, no psychedelics, no cokes, no amphs. If I do swing wildly from the whizzing, dizzying highs to suicidal lows it is entirely my own hormonal factory at work. The hormones fuel me, brake me down, and have on the whole, kept me going. They respond to all manner of stimuli, - visual, aural, tactile and yes, extra-sensory. Much of the stimulation is auto-generated and intrinsic to the processes in the factory itself- bye-products and catalysts and all. But occasionally the over-stimulated self does rise from its dopey self-obsessed languor and take delight in and from external agents.

With that exposition on delight, let me share my most delightful moment of all.

I was in the throes of the worst torture I'd had to endure. I was hanging between life and death and no, my life did not flash by me in that moment. I was too busy trying to somehow live. I was fighting damn hard, but knew it was a tough fight. How depleted I was- unable to muster any of my reserves. Shouting, screaming, shrieking in the most undignified manner imaginable. Yes, I was aware of what a pathetic figure I presented as I lay there, ineffectually doing battle. Till someone suggested that I not try so hard. Not try so hard?- Then I'd surely die, I thought. But the tired thighs grasped that message even if the mind said No. And suddenly out it came- messy and all. The most delightful, unique fragrance hit me and ALL my hormones kicked right in. I laughed, I cried, I shouted, I whimpered, I whooped. The tiny perfectly formed purple heel indicated I was finally a mother!

Easter-ly

Well what does one know? Serendipity is me!- Given that I don?t be sitting watching TV suddenly out pops a box which informs me that I could have the pleasure of sharing Easter (eggs and all) with that chocolate-y dream boat hero of mine- John Abraham! Hmm, it was good. So how many of you caught him on CNN IBN last night? (the link is not up yet on the site- hope they do put it up for all you who'd drool too!) The poor man made such a pretty picture with his handsome visage and so much at a disadvantage too after his recent accident. And such an intelligent charmer- I could go on and on about him but shall stop here in deference to the sensibilities of the JA non lovers (can there be any such?)

I had a small errand to run at night. It had me running through the rain drenched cool streets - as usual I had no patience to slow down and was hurtling through when an uncertain but strangely familiar aroma wafted across. Wonder what breeze brought that on- was it an easterly? A 'purvaiya'?

What is it about the rain which releases these locked up scents and floods us with distant memories? There I was in a typically old-world Bangalore street and yet the trigger seemed to suggest I was in the tree lined avenues of dilli. The street- scape in the mind-scape was of large Neem trees spilling their sharp bitter fruits and the brilliant moon light streaming at nights on the dusty land through thorny acacia bushes.

Its been four months since I went to Dilli. While I do manage to talk to a couple of people- family or friends or both, its not the same as being there. I get daily weather reports and am updated hourly as it were on local gossip, new places opening, new things to be done there but I am losing the power to join the dots and complete the picture it all without the visual (and other sensory) inputs. The weather there would not be the same now as it was in January. The laburnums and jacarandas would have performed their grand show and retreated only to bloom after another year. Gulmohurs would still be surving. The mango trees (the few trees there) would be still bearing flowers while here there are young tart unripe mangoes to be had. And most of all, this is the season in Delhi of the small sweet-sour berry called phalsa. I doubt if anyone of my folk there who see it don't remember my fondness for that fruit. And, a dear friend rang up and pleaded with me inviting me to his wedding this week-end. If not for the reception, come for the sangeet, he said- alas, dilli door ast!