Reaction

 A Painting and a Story # 24

She looked at the comments on the new cane juice advertisement in horror. The disaster unfolded the minute the video clip went live. People found all sorts of things wrong with it. Regressive, anti-women, farmer-unfriendly the list was endless. Meenu (short for Meenakshi) is in shock. The project is partly her responsibility. She knows the lines are beautiful, the images are dreamy and the message is clear. She really thinks she has created something wonderful. 

Suddenly her world has collapsed. Husband has made a plate for her but she cannot eat. Oh yes! She has the quotes on her wall. Success comes only to those who try. If you don't make mistakes you are not trying new things. Accept responsibility and move one. Meenu knows it all! She has even said the same thing to others. But all this advice is not working. She is feeling miserable and that is the truth. She doesn't have tears flowing down her cheeks. She has a sunken feeling in her gut that does not go away. She is thinking of the loss, to the client, to the company and to her confidence. Her restless mind is all over the place! She paces up and down the hall. Her breathing pattern changes. She finds herself sweating. Her throat is dry. She feels her pulse. Is she going to faint?

With a determined step she goes to wooden shelf in the corner behind the dining table. Magan looks at her helpless! He has tried to reason with her and received a sharp retort! He knows when he needs to keep away! She pulls out knickknacks lined on the shelf and dumps them on the table. 

A couple of paperbacks joins the pile on the table. A brass elephant clangs harmlessly to the floor. Meenu pulls out a CD in a plastic case and gently wipes off the dust on it. Scrawled into the paper inside is birthday wishes from Hoo Ffu Kaka. Gradually the gentle strings of a veena blends into the soulful melody of violin. It is coming from their music system in the hall. The music seeps into her. She becomes still. The music flows over her, around her and into her. The racing mind empties itself. The problem has not gone away. It still needs to be addressed. But what is important is the SHE is not the problem! She walks quickly to the table and picks up her plate. Magan knows she will be fine. 

When the sun sets, when we are ready to go to bed, there are two things we can do. We fret at what went wrong (we recall disasters in vivid detail!!). Or we consciously decide to do whatever it takes to quieten the mind! Any route to achieve that is okay, as long as the route does not take us through chemicals!

My painting for today is Sunset on the Beach in oil pastels. I think I used over 15 shades to create this! With oil pastels there is no dust on my table but my fingertips hurt with rubbing them and blending them into the canvas! I sometimes use my finger joints too! 

Sunset on the Beach in Oil Pastels

Learning to Learn

  A Painting and a Story # 23

The second Friday of the month is special to her company. At exactly 4 pm most of the 27 of them assemble in the conference room. It is a short 15 minute session where an employee shares a video or a presentation. It is Harish's unique way of allowing colleagues to share their outside life and hobbies and interests.

Today Meenu (short for Meenakshi) reluctantly drags her feet to the conference room. Every attempt to satisfy the specifications of the client has fallen flat. Really! She has done this a zillion times and suddenly this particular client seems to object to everything she suggests. She is at her wits end. Her team is only adding to her woes. And she really has no time for this FRIDAY BONDING! Her head is throbbing.

The room is darkened. The projector throws a sharp white light on to the white wall. And the video of what appears to be yet another tiring Safari begins. But wait the camera zooms into a tree, a nest, a weaver bird nest. A well blended presentation of several short clips shows the male weaver-bird building a nest. He takes blades of green grass and knits them together to make the nest. It takes about 200 blades of grass to make half a nest. The lady flies around inspecting the incomplete nest. And with a toss of her small head she rejects it. The guy doesn't give up. He starts all over again. Again a quick inspection and a shake! Reject! The male bird flies around his nest. And begins again. Every time he modifies the location, or the way it attaches to the branch, or the selection of the branch. There is silence in the conference room as the bird builds for the third time. It takes about 300 blades of grass! And then he flaps his wings and calls the lady for inspection. This time she approves! And joyfully the young male completes the 'house'. She sometimes gives finishing touches to the interiors with some soft mud! The video ends with the lady getting into the tunnel shape of the nest and inspection done she hops to the edge of the nest and calls out her approval. The room erupts into joyous claps! And the session is over. 

Meenu walks out with a smile. At her desk she thinks, doing the same thing in the same way over and over again does not lead to perfection. That only results in mindless habitual thinking. Even the weaver bird evaluates every situation with a fresh look and here she was, basking in the glory of earlier success and blaming the client for being unrealistic. 

She takes a fresh note pad and begins to look at client requirement with fresh eyes. The solution she knows, lies in some important detail that they have all misunderstood. 

My painting for this week is an abstract in soft pastels. 

Co-existence - Soft pastels

The Guest Speaker

 A Painting and a Story # 22

Meenu (short for Meenakshi) is on a seat in the front row. She is waiting for the function to begin. To her right is the Chairman for Samarth Yojana an enterprise that helps and recognises business start-ups. The gentleman on stage is introducing Meenu to the audience. 

Meenu is a motivational speaker and is much sought after. Laced with humour and practical insight her talks inspire. Today she is going to speak about the WHY that gets people to do what they are doing. and the impact of being aware of that WHY. A faint red colours her cheeks as she listens to the person introducing her. She is still embarrassed by the big nice words they use for her. A little girl approaches her with a bunch of yellow gerberas even as she reaches the single sofa placed on stage. Holding out her hands the little girl demands a hug! Meenu bends low to oblige and the yellow flowers brush against her cheek.

In a flash Meenu is with her grandpa. She is not happy at all. Seema, Sumit, Bagan, Vasudha are all chosen for singing. Even Bonda and Tuppu have roles to play. Only she has been relegated to backstage. Shampa Miss has called her aside and said that she is to introduce the items coming up on stage. She has a name for it. 'You are Emcee', Shampa Miss tells her.

Meenu is upset. 'I don't want to speak'... she tells her thatha. That's when her grandpa takes her into a corner of their garden. In that neglected patch are growing some wild flowers. 'Look at them' he says. 'Tell me what you see'. Meenu looks at them and says, 'They are flowers, they are yellow, they are not very pretty!' Grandpa says 'look closer! See how the plant grows a long stem and pushes out each flower. Every flower gets to come right up and be seen. Your teacher has seen a talent. She is trying to push you out there. Be the emcee. Maybe you will like it? Go collect the flowers. Let us take them in'. Meenu bends over the flowers and snaps them out even as they scratch her cheeks! 

Her thatha makes a bunch of those wild yellow flowers and places them in a glass jar. And they look gorgeous! That wild yellow flower - that indignant emcee - has now grown into a gorgeous speaker! Meenu smiles as she fixes the cordless mike and the session begins.

No matter how good or how bad you think you are, you have a talent? Display it. It has been bestowed on you, you are privileged. Spread that joy.

My painting for this week is my first attempt with Soft Pastels. They are so powdery! I have colour all over my work space!

Soft pastels - Wild flowers

Being Human

 A Painting and a Story # 21

Today I will tell you a real life experience I had a few weeks ago. It was a wonderful misty morning. A typical Bangalore morning... just right for a breakfast of Butter Dosai with chatni. So yes, I got all the ingredients ready, grated coconut, roasted chana-dal, green chillies, fresh corriander... well the works. And I see that my small mixie jar... the chatni jar... the blades are broken. I have no idea how this happened! Anyway ... I need to buy the replacement. I look for it in Amazon, but this model of my mixie is ancient... no... let us say... it is not available. (that is more diplomatic). 

Well Google helps! I locate the nearest Customer Care. A gentleman answers the call. I ask him if he has the part and he immediately says 'YES'. I tell him I can't come to the shop can he send it with someone. 

He says 'Book Dunzo. I will send it'. 

'How do I pay you? I have no PayTM Googlepay etc'. I ask in apprehension.

'No problem. When you get the product message me and I will share the bank details. You can do bank transaction'. That is his trusting reply. I thank him profusely and book a DUNZO. (for the un-initiated) this is a local courier service, they send a person to pick up and deliver stuff from place A to place B within a city.

I book a Dunzo and I watch him on my mobile phone - a blue dot - moving steadily to the shop. I don't need to do that. But it's irresistible. Aah! He has reached the shop. What is taking him so long? He is still at the shop.

Tingaling ting tingaling I almost drop my phone in surprise. It rings and buzzes. 

A lady asks, 'What product do you want. Have you paid'? 

'I have spoken to the gentleman I explain'

"Madam" she clarifies, "Sir is in hospital'. I am petrified. The gentleman has been helping me out from a Hospital. I am moved. But now how do I pay. The lady says she is unable to hand it over to me without money.

The Dunzo Man comes to my rescue. "How much is it", he asks. He has the required big note. Such a proactive person. He offers to pay and pick it up for me.

And true to his word within minutes he is at my doorstep with the mixie part. I am so moved by this empathy, this abundance of heart to help. Thank You Gentleman from DUNZO. May such helping hands and warm hearts fill the world again. 

My painting for this week is the gentle message of love and good wishes that comes from Buddhist Prayer Flags.

Buddhist Prayer Flags - Oil Painting.

A Pretty Neat Place

  A Painting and a Story # 20

With her silver anklet jingling, and her pigtails flying Meenu (short for Meenakshi) runs to the strong bark of the tall tree with red flowers. She does not know the name of these large red flowers but this tree is her friend. Hoo Ffoo kaka walks leisurely with her parents. 'Go to the tree and come back' they tell her. She loves doing that. These old people and their constant chatter. What do they have so much to talk about? Meenu makes four trips to the red-flower-tree by the time they catch up with her. There is a cluster of three benches here and they always sit and relax. Meenu sits too. 

Squirrels chase each other up the tree. Mommy birds and Daddy birds return to their nests and begin a heated evening discussion. A row of red ants climb and weave in and out of the roots, going somewhere with single minded attention. 'Meenu', her mother calls her, 'red ants bite. Don't go near them'. Meenu tries to balance herself on the root of the strong tree. 'Ouch'! Ants bite. She blinks a few times and holds back her tears. 'What happened Meenu. Come here' Meenu ignores her. She knows if she gets on her lap she will cry! 

Adult Meenu is back in Pune after a really long time. An office conference has brought her here. She is alone and the evening is a long one. She orders a cab from the hotel and hires it for the evening. The driver is a friendly young man. He is happy to drive her to her old school, to her house and is intrigued when she asks him to park the cab on a road side. 'You have a friend house here?' the driver asks her. Meenu shakes her head, not willing to answer. She walks up the roadside. She can feel in her mind the rough trunk of the tree with red flowers. She walks up and down the street. She is sure she is on the correct place. Where is the tree? She can see the cluster of benches, the road is wider and paved, the place is neater, but where is the tree? She sits on the bench and looks around puzzled. The squirrels, the birds, the ants, where are they? The tree, Oh! that ant bite. Meenu sits on the bench. Now she cries. 

The driver sees her red eyes. 'What happened didi. Why are you crying he asks gently'. What can she tell him. She cries for the lost red flower tree. Would he understand? How can you explain that you cry for a tree you had forgotten for 15 years? The grief is deep. But this she cannot explain. He would perhaps shrug his shoulders and laugh and say, "for this you are crying!!!" 

My painting for this week is an acrylic - The Pink Tree - 

The one that got away!

With a sense of Abandon

 A Painting and a Story # 19

Meenu (short for Meenakshi) gets off the auto-rickshaw. She swings the college backpack on to her shoulder and walks into her Grandpa's house with a light step. She loves visiting them. Her Ajji's cooking, her Thatha's conversations revive and rejuvenate. This is her haven. She can do no wrong here! 

Appetising aroma of steaming idlis wafts in from the kitchen window. Meenu realises that her tummy is rumbling and hurries in through the open door. She waits at the table with her Thatha. He tells her stories from Ramayana or Mahabharata or sometimes he tells her things from the newspaper. Thatha has hardly begun his story.... and his words are drowned in loud screeches.  The bulbuls, the mynah, the parakeets .... what a noise they make! They chatter, they call, they sing. They have made their home in the trees and bushes around Grandpa's house. 'Thatha I can't hear you! What a noise they are making' Meenu complains. 

Thatha shakes his head, 'It's noise to you. They sing because they feel like it. You must learn their sense of abandon. They sing like nobody is listening.' he says....  ('That's not true' she thinks... 'they sing to call their loved one'!)

Come let me show you something he says taking her in. Scattered on his bed, is an open steel trunk, and a medley of assorted wooden artefacts. An intricately carved photo frame, an unstable toy chair, an uneven fretwork snowflake... and more unfinished work! 'You made them?' Meenu is amused.

They sing like nobody is listening.

Meenu looks at her Grandpa. His words ring in her ears. On her way home in the evening she stops at the local craft store. She loads her bag with drawing books and paints and brushes.

She is going to paint like nobody is looking. Yes that's where she will begin! 

When you paint like nobody is looking! watercolour - Flowers

The Boy on the Mound

 A Painting and a Story # 18

King Vikramaditya is a legendary king of ancient India ruling in the region of Ujjain. He is known to have been generous, wise and successful. Today I will tell you a story that I read many years ago in a school text book. It is a Hindi story called Vikramaditya's Seat. The story begins many many years after the reign of Vikramaditya. 

Six shepherd boys take their sheep and cattle to a hilly place for grazing. During the spare time they play games and explore the place. One day one of the boys climbs up a raised mound and sits on it. The Boy on the Mound and says with flourish, "I am the wise man. Bring your problems to me and I will solve them." The other boys are amused and approach him with some fake and some real problems. The Boy on the Mound tugs at his imaginary moustache and listens deeply to their questions! He then delivers judgement. His friends are astonished at the very wise pronouncements of the Boy on the Mound. Soon the news spreads. Families from the village and elders from other villages begin to seek him out him on the mound. Every time the boy sits on the mound he delivers wise solutions. But when he gets off the mound the boy remains a playful shepherd boy with no claim to greatness. When the local king hears of this he has the mound dug up. Lo and behold! Under the mound is the Seat of Vikramaditya. It is an exquisite stone throne with carved angels on either side of the seat. .... The king takes the throne back to his palace hoping to sit and deliver wise judgements from it. He tries to sit on it. But the angels on either side decide that the king is not as pure of heart and mind as the young boy. The angels fly away taking the throne with them. To this day we do not know where the angels took the throne!

As a young girl this story fascinated me at many levels. Today I bring you this story as a possibility of an entirely different kind. Most women (and men!) play 3 or 4 distinct roles. The way a woman thinks and speaks at office is entirely different from the way she thinks and speaks to family, to neighbour, to a club member etc. You hear her speaking on phone and even by just her tone you can guess who she is speaking to! Over the years one of these roles takes on a more dominant space in her mind.

Sometimes we get so wedded to our behaviour it sticks to us and becomes our personality. What we put on at will gradually becomes second skin. And the persona that we have assumed guides our behaviour! I can vouch for that. Because complete strangers, who have just seen me walking into the room, have asked me... "Ma'am, are you a teacher?!!!"

When I think that I am this or that... say... environmentalist, or devotee, or nationalist, or ardent fan... etc I am thinking and behaving from that space. My language changes, my behaviour is modified and I become that. that is my second skin. And I never get out of that mode. 

Can we.. like that boy, get on a 'mound' and change our personality? Maybe tomorrow when I get out of bed...  I decide that I am stylish-chilled out... or spiritual-focused... or fighting fit marathon runner... and lo and behold... tada... I eventually become so? 

Do you want to change your persona? I invite you to get into the folds of this soft cuddly quilt. Think of what persona you want to wake up with. (persona not person!) And lo and behold! There you are... with your brand new personality. Just warn your near and dear ones!!

Cotton Quilt - Watercolour

Acceptance

 A Painting and a Story # 17

She clicks open her laptop and notes down the clarifications that Samarth dictates from a client's email.  Two clarifications. That's it! This being her first independent project Meenu (short for Meenakshi) is meticulous. She chooses her words in the response to the client carefully, checks for clarity, language appropriateness, ... She makes an internal call to Samarth. 'Only two clarifications alvaa?' She asks with a familiarity borne from years of association. 'Yes Meenamma' he replies and makes her smile.  Samarth's wife and her husband are high-school buddies. They are practically family! They often spend weekends together. It was Samarth who suggested that she apply here. 

Meenu clicks SEND.

Just before she can leave for lunch the CEO asks her to come to his room. Strange! Wonder why! .... He reprimands her gently, 'They had asked for 5 clarifications, you have only answered 2 queries. Ensure that your communications to our clients are complete. Send them an apology and the updated clarifications'. His voice is forgiving. But Meenu feels inefficient and irresponsible. Her eyes fill with tears and they threaten to  trickle down her cheeks. She looks down and hurries to her seat. Why had Samarth said there were only two? Meenu is left fuming and confused. Should she have told the CEO that Samarth has given her only so much information? Wouldn't that be childish? and perhaps jeopardise Samarth's career? The CEO wants solutions not excuses.  She waits for Samarth to return after lunch and tells him what the CEO told her. "Is it?" he asks nonchalantly. 'Let me check.' he clicks open his laptop.'Yes. They need 5 clarifications. Send them the update. Chill. It's ok' he says dismissively. 

Meenu cannot understand him. 'Is he deliberately trying to sabotage my career? That's crazy. Did he really forget? Is he careless? Does he want me to quit?' Hot tears flood in again. Her fear of losing a trusted friend is greater than her fear for her career prospects in the company. 

Her phone beeps. It's a message from her husband. he's working from home today. He has sent an image. An old photo from an album, of Kookie her pup! The picture brings on smiles and memories....of childhood...

Hoo Ffoo kaka spends his annual vacation with them. And those are days of fun. Days of ... road trips, water-parks, long drives and hotel lunches! He has just arrived. He promptly clears his suitcases, arranges his clothes in shelves, books on the table and footwear  neatly on the lower shelf of their shoe rack. After a quick breakfast they are off to a temple visit and lunch. Kookie gets a huggie and kissie and be a good boy! Kookie wags his tail. And they leave. They return hours later to catch Kookie sitting amongst 3 different shoes... all kaka's.... nibbling into one of them with undivided attention. 'You are a bad boy Kookie. You have been very mean' says a thoroughly annoyed Kaka. Meenu is heartbroken. 'Kookie loves you HooFfoo kaka. He is not mean. He is chewing a shoe. That is his nature.' Meenu rushes to Kookie's support.

Meenu returns to current reality, throws Kookie a kiss and shuts her phone. 'I guess this is Samarth's nature? Maybe he is not being mean? This is just him! I should be more careful in office, and not take things for granted? Meenu determines to not let this incident make her bitter. But she also knows that in future she will manage office work more professionally.

My painting for this week is a dancer. She dances with gleeful abandon, basking in the love and acceptance of her audience, yet in acute awareness of the limits of the stage and the beat of the tabla. When I believe that responsibility rests with me, and me alone, then I experience a sense of empowerment. I am not a victim anymore. I become acutely aware of my stage and the beat that is playing at this moment. I choose how I respond to that. And that's freedom and empowerment. 

My painting for this week - The Kathak Dancer - oil

Sundry thoughts on a Sunday

 A Painting and a Story # 16

The slides are in correct order. The video is playing well. The text on screen is visible. All fine. Final check........ and ..... publish! Meenu (short for Meenakshi) leans back into her chair. Her new self-driven project is a commitment. Meenu makes exquisite little objects with paper, clay, sticks and what-not! She uploads an instructional craft-video every weekend. 'Video sails into the world!' She sends her husband a text message with a string of happy emojis. 

She gives herself a stretch and hastens to the washed clothes spilling out of the cane chair. She sorts out the laundry, irons office wear, folds and sends them all into shelves. Meanwhile the pressure cooker is whistling for her.... demanding immediate attention. Cooking for the week is done. The dishes are in the sink... but oh then.. he does the dishes. Meenu loads a fistful of salted peanuts into a corelle cup. She sighs into the swing in the balcony and takes a sip of ginger tea. One day runs into the other. It's morning, it's night, it's morning, it's night... What's the point of all this. She wonders. Week days are one long blur. Weekends are no better. What with housework and hobby... weekends are a blur too! Meenu shakes her head as if to shake off her thoughts. She takes a nice long sip of tea.

A flurry of activity begins on the road below her house. The banana vendor hastily pulls a plastic sheet over the cart. An elderly couple with bags scoot off on their scooter. Two young girls stop and look up. It's started to drizzle. Inviting puddles are beginning to form in the pot holes on the road...!!

The gentle aroma of mid morning rain fills the air. Oh! The fragrance of wed mud. 'Petrichor - What a prosaic name for such blissful aroma... saundhi khushboo ... now that's romantic', thinks Meenu. The aroma takes her to vacations in her grandpa's house. She sees herself as that girl in pigtails.

It is 4 pm. With a bag of handy garden tools grandpa plants seedlings, clips old leaves, and prunes shrubs. Every evening he is with his plants. Meenu asks him why he peers into these small plants everyday. Nothing ever happens! But her Thatha points out to her a new leaf here and a budding node there! Meenu is busy with the watering can. She sprays water all over the place and breathes deeply.  Heady aroma wafts from the wet soil. Vacation week is over. Months later she is back in grandpa's house for her next vacation. The plants are tall.. almost up to her shoulders! She is surprised. Whoa. How did that happen!

Her Thatha had said, That's how life is. We do the same things again and again everyday. And suddenly it all adds up to something big! Meenu has taken the last sip of tea. She hums a tune and wanders into the house. Back to doing the little everyday things. 'Thatha it had better add up to something someday!' She says with a smile.

"I know you are tired but come this is the way" RUMI

My painting for this week - The tree of life.

Tree of Life

A Gift like No Other

 A Painting and a Story # 15

Meenu (short for Meenakshi) peers hopefully into her "Gift Collection Cupboard" to see if she can find something for her friend. She is going to a baby shower later this weekend. And she needs a gift. She wants to see Sindhu's face light up when she opens her gift. Her eyes become big, her dark pupils shine and her cheeks burst with joy. Meenu wants to see that. Meenu rummages through multiple options. Sequinned bags, a bunch of plastic flowers, a hand-carved wooden box, beads on a string, terracotta Ganesha.... "so many oh so beautiful things" that Meenu has picked up at various exhibitions on a whim. You know, how you go to these places with a 'Spending Will' and you end up buying things. Pretty things... But!!!

She hurries into the gift shop down the street. The helpful salesman hovers around offering suggestions and thrusting colourful knickknacks under her nose. Meenu is sympathetic. The guy is doing his job... enthusiastically... be calm. she tells herself. Naa... Nothing here will bring that spark. Meenu is desperate. Should she buy a dress? a stole? An earing? Calm down Meenu! She does some self talk. Imagine Sindhu's eyes lighting up. Imagine her face radiant with joy.... she tells herself.

Meenu does that. She closes her eyes and imagines a face lit up with joy. She is startled. She is now little Meenu! She sees her mother's face. It is radiant with satisfaction. It's like she has won the heaven itself! ..... Little Meenu is curious. What has Amma brought from her neighbour's house that is making her so ecstatic? Meenu peers into the plastic basket that Amma has left on the dining table. It has a few beetal leaves, 2 areca nuts, a fruit and a bag of boiled gram. Meenu digs into the boiled gram (irresistible snack) but she can't understand. What is so special about this? Why is her Amma so happy! 

Adult Meenu recalls the answer her mother had given her. 'The fresh beetal leaves, delicate jasmine flowers, jingle of glass bangles, ... to her all this signify a confirmation of a rich and fruitful life. "What more can one ask for... than a blessing of hope and life?" She had asked and walked away humming a happy tune. Meenu knows what she should do. She picks up a stole... just like that. 

And then it's the day of the baby shower!

Meenu arrives early. Sindhu has a nice baby bump. Dressed in a green saree she receives her at the door. Meenu watches Sindhu's face light up as she hands over to her a big bunch of richly fragrant rajnigandha - (tuberoses) - her best-loved flowers. And yes, Sindhu's eyes become big, her dark pupils shine and her cheeks burst with joy! ....The stole?... ya that too! 

A baby's smile, your puppy's eyes, swaying green grass, a mother's lap, a lover's hug, a hot cup of tea, a spouse watching a film with you because you want to watch it, a job well done ... these bring joy that stay with us in our mind. Yes, the big car, the exquisite silk dress, the award, bring moments of happiness. But what we essentially remember is the emotion attached to sharing the experience with others. We want to feel valued. A cup of tea can say 'I VALUE YOU' as efficiently as a diamond necklace? If you can't make that cup of tea... then you need to buy that diamond!

My painting for this week is an offer of life and hope. 

Tamboolam - Water colour.

The Wedding

 A Painting and a Story # 14

Shama lowers herself into a chair, fills it, and digs into her bag of potato chips. Meenu (short for Meenakshi) is winding up for the day and logging off her system. "I am not joining the team for lunch on Sunday, 'have a wedding to attend" she says. Shama exclaims, 'I'm skipping it too. My cousin Namita is getting married.'

'Namita? I am also going to Namita's wedding!'

'What? No way!'

'Ya. We grew up in the same apartment complex in Pune'

'Don't tell me!!.... I visited them in Pune. Don't recall chatting with you! Anyway there was this bakery down the road. And we used to love eating there'.

'Bakery? I don't recall a bakery. But there was a juice centre. That I know'.

'Just like you Meenu! To not know a bakery! You were dieting then too???'

'I'm not dieting. Just high metabolism. I can not imagine Namita marrying a photographer. She seemed the academic type!'

'Photographer? No yar. Prashant is a software engineer. Photography is just his hobby.'

'Not Prashant. Pradeep. Namita is marrying Pradeep. You got your cousin's husband name wrong!'

'Don't be silly. I've spoken to Prashant. He's in Chicago and I've even shared my trip experiences with him.'

'Wait. Chicago? Pradeep lives here in Bangalore'. 

This crazy conversation sends them into peels of laughter. They are speaking of 2 entirely different Namitas. It is a good thing they got that sorted before they got into a cab on Sunday to go to their event together! 

Instantly Meenu is transported to a conversation with Hoo-Ffu kaka a long time ago! .... He is describing with great vigour his days in Srinagar. Meenu imagines him walking into snow clad mountains, feeling the chill in the air, and having hot kawa..... Only to realise that he is describing his bachelor days in a locality called Srinagar in Bangalore!

How often we make assumptions. We imagine a slight where there is none. We interpret a comment in the wrong way. We agonise over what we have said, wondering if the other person was hurt. Sometimes we think we are being totally clear, because we understand it well, but it may not be so for the listener! It happens quite often for us teachers. We think our explanation is crystal clear. We have been doing this for the ... say 4th year... now. And suddenly a student comes up with an interpretation or doubt we never thought could occur!

Communications are mostly incomplete. What YOU SAY may be entirely different from what I HEAR. It all depends on perspective. We have to be aware of the fact that perspectives vary. And this awareness makes relationships easier. So long as we are aware of the intention, words should not matter. ....... 

Words are a pretext. It is the inner bond that draws one person to the other, not words - RUMI

My painting for this week... a pencil sketch, Ant and Leaf. Now look at this! Is it a very small leaf or a very large ant!!? What's your perception?

Pencil sketch- Ant and Leaf

Nisargadhama

 A Painting and a Story # 13

The pen-drive feels heavy in her wallet. Meenu (short for Meenakshi) strides towards the boardroom with the appearance of a confidence she does not have. She has to make the presentation today. The client is known for being sarcastic and dismissive. Her colleague Sharat smiles encouragement and whispers, 'Go for it!' 

Her mind! In a jiffy it transports her to another place, another day! Twenty years ago...

The river Kaveri curves around a small mass of land near Kushalnagar making it almost an island. This gorgeous place is called Nisargadhama... Heaven on earth! Meenu (short for Meenakshi) steps on to the bridge connecting the mainland to Nisargadhama. The bridge sways a little when they walk on it. She holds the railings of the bridge and enjoys the sway! She quickly catches up with her family. 

She can't believe it... she is actually stepping on to an island. She recalls a picture in her School Text Book. An island is a mass of land surrounded on all sides by water! How is this land standing here? If too many people come here will the island sink? If everyone jumps up and down at the same time... will it tilt? She is secretly worried. But she keeps quiet.

Meenu watches her Thatha near the spotted deer, offering them some grass and nibbles. 'Go for it' says her Thatha. She holds the nibbles in the palm of her out stretched hand. A spotted deer walks to her daintily. He leans into the nibbles and licks them up . His tongue feels wet and rough on her fingers. She withdraws with a squeal. She tries again. and again. What fun that was! Her Thatha takes her for a quiet walk into the bamboo grove. Sshh! He says. 'Be quiet and listen'. And she listens to the rustling, the creaking and the whispering of the bamboo groves. Much later the entire family wades into the river. At places River Kaveri gurgles over boulders and rocks. Uncles, aunts cousins wade in and sit on the boulders, splashing each other and having a whale of a time.

Meenu gingerly steps into the water. It is cold! The rock is smooth. Her father holds out a helping hand. Come he says encouragingly. Meenu looks at Thatha... 'Go for it' he says. And Meenu does! 

Adult Meenu steps into the boardroom and recalls with a smile, the fuss she had made hours later to get out of the water!! The presentation is over. The client requests for a follow up meeting for further clarifications. Her colleagues clap in appreciation. 'Awesome Meenakshi... treat treat' They demand playfully.

We are overcome by fear at many instances in life and break in protesting sweat. Stepping into a rocking boat, signing up for a trek, facing a room full of audience, leaving a comment, asking for a raise, owning up a mistake... we put off the dreaded act for moments, days, weeks! Suddenly one day we do it. And what a feeling of power and relief that brings. ONE of the greatest discoveries man makes, one of his greatest surprises, is to find he can do what he was afraid he couldn't do. - Henry Ford.

My painting for this week is a door. A door that is waiting to be pushed open. What is beyond?

Acrylic - The door

Acrylic - Door

Kailasagiri

A Painting and a Story # 12

Meenu (short for Meenakshi) waits patiently in her Maruti 800, her 'a brand-new-used-car'! Kitta her brother has gifted it to her in celebration of his new status as Employed-MBA. She is waiting for a friend who has planned a day-long getaway. Saroja joins her quickly. They are driving to Kailasagiri. It is the first day of a short winter vacation. Meenu is a teacher. She has grabbed the first job she could find after her post graduation.  Two others will join them at the ornate Archway at the entrance to the park, Kailasagiri. The famed Archway is the pride of Visakapatnam. 

But Meenu secretly dislikes it! The earthy archway stretches across the large road and has human sculptures in various postures all over it. Intermingling with human forms is flora in the form of vines and leaves. It's unique. Just like Kitta, Meenu smiles fondly! The gift of the car was splendid, generous, but ... a little overboard, don't you think! Added to that he has installed a mini fire-extinguisher in the car. Seriously! What was her brother thinking! 

Anyway the girly outing turns out to be a super success. They giggle and click pictures like teenagers in the ropeway that takes them all the way up to Kailasagiri. They walk around in the pleasant green park, visit the dominating white statues of Shiva and Parvati and avoid the toy train ride! The food stop is fulfilling. They share plates of mirchi bajji, muri masala (puffed rice) bread pakoda and scoops of ice cream! All in all a day well spent. Promising to catch up again, they decide to return home.

Meenu notices two guys on a bike at the Simhachalam junction. She drops Saroja off at her apartment and moves on stealing a glance at the rear mirror. The two guys on a bike have been behind her car for quite some time now. She accelerates ahead but doesn't get far as there is much traffic on the road. She takes a quick right hoping they miss the turn. But to her dismay they are right behind her now. Just then an autorikshaw loaded with fish comes to a spluttering halt right in front. Meenu apples brake and the bike cautiously moves up to her window. Not willing to slide the window up in obvious display of fear, she looks at them sternly. The young man in front pulls off his helmet and says, 'Madam this fire-extinguisher in the car... good madam!' Meenu doesn't know what he's saying. The young man continues... "My company madam. I work in Sun company" the man says GROWING TEN FEET TALL with pride. Relief floods in. Meenu is herself again! She smiles at him and nods her approval. 'Madam, have you used it' he asks the bewildered Meenu. 'No' she says and shakily moves on now that the road is clear. (Some things you buy as safety nets, medical insurance, fire-extinguishers, raincoats...! You don't really look forward to using them!) 

Pride in the company that employs us, pride in the work that we do, what wonders it does to our life and to the way we live it. Good healthy pride ensures integrity. Our souls sing. And we are in what modern thinkers call The FLOW. 

 This weekend is Ganesh Chaturthi. May we enjoy and be safe in the grace of Gowri and Ganesha. 

My painting for this week is an Acrylic painting Natya Ganapati. This one is now in my cousin's factory.

Acrylic - Ganesha

 

Somanathapura

 A Painting and a Story # 11

Meenu (short for Meenakshi) settles into the single seat in the minivan. Meenu is employed with a publishing company. She is unhappy. She is a creative person and she assumed this company would give her an opportunity to write and publish what she wanted. But no! She is even told what type of articles are 'Must and Should' in every magazine. Really! What kind of creativity is that? Her colleagues! They discuss nail-colour more than literature. duh! 

The minivan veers to the side and parks. They have reached! Annual office outing! Somnathapura, a temple town close to Mysore is their destination. Meenu enters through the small gate. She sees herself as a 10 year old walking on the mud path with her grandpa. Was that 15 years ago? It seems like yesterday! She rushes past the chattering bunch to the star shaped Hoysala Temple. It's an architectural beauty in black stone and she is carried away by the sheer magnitude of the human effort that's gone into the creation of this temple. The outer walls are adorned with awe inspiring stone carvings. Hundreds of them!

A guide is hired. He explains the intricate carvings... 'The bottom line is elephants row. Over that you see horses, then we have flowers lotus, leaf, and then the 7 inch panels of the avatars of Vishnu and stills from familiar tales in the Ramayana ... they carve'. The guide helpfully points each out with a wooden stick. 'How did they carve these stones so fine?' her colleagues wonder aloud. 'Madam this stone is soft when coming out from the earth. Then they carve. Air --wind---rain---It become hard' the guide waves his hand to explain.

Meenu is lost in another conversation.... 15 years ago! ............

'Thatha one man made all this?' Meenu asks in wonder. 'No! The main architect was Ruvari Malithamma. He had many juniors working under him. He decided that the temple would be star shaped. It will have rows of elephants and horses...!' Meenu recalls saying quickly'That's not fair. If an artist wants to make something else...?' To this her grandpa had said 'A set of rules is needed everywhere. Creativity thrives within rules. If you wish to play the game, you need to follow the rules'. 

The adult Meenu kneels down and gently touches the stone panel of elephants. There is not one elephant like the other. Some are playful, some are in war, some are breaking down trees, some are playing in water. Creativity within a set of rules! Meenu slowly joins the group. 'Want me to take a pic?' her friend offers.

If you wish to PLAY THE GAME you need to FOLLOW THE RULES. We enter into relationships, careers, social commitments... even WhatsApp groups... with great enthusiasm ! What we get out of this 'GAME' that we have entered will surely depend on how sincerely we follow the rules of the game and be true to our participation in it? If we stay on the side we will never be 'caught' but we are also missing the thrill. So are we diving in or are we avoiding it?

My painting for this week is a Madhubani peacock a technique that I explored during the lockdown.

One Sunday Morning

A Painting and a Story # 10

It is a warm Sunday morning. The breakfast plates have been cleared. Murali is nursing a tall cup of ginger laced tea by the large window. White sunbeams filter through the thin curtain. The newspaper lies on his lap and his eyes are looking into the distance. Myriad adult thoughts cascade through his mind. Some bring regret some bring plans and some bring plain memories.

Meenu (short for Meenakshi) rushes to him.... tugging at his arm impatiently. 'Come Hoo-Ffoo Kaka come! It will go away. You have to come now', She jerks at his arm. The tea spills on to the floor and makes a mess. Murali is annoyed. He gives Meenu a see-what-you-did look, and determinedly holds back the harsh words that rise up his throat. He shakes off the drops of tea on his wrist and walks towards the kitchen to pick up a mop.

Meenu will not be brushed away. 'Hoo-Ffoo Kaka come it will go away' she says as she drags him to the main door. 'Where are you taking me. I don't even have my slippers on', he says

'Look at my friend'. She says pointing to a squirrel munching on a coconut piece. 'He is holding the piece in his paws and eating it daintily! He is so cute. He is my friend Tupu'. Meenu continues chattily. Murali humours her and tiptoes into the front yard to watch Tupu. His feet are unaccustomed to the sharp gravel in the mud. Meenu doesn't seem to mind! Without warning a quick rain drenches them. Murali hurries towards the dry interiors of the house.

Meenu grabs at his shirt and says, 'It's only rain Hoo-Ffoo Kaka. Look at the sky... RAINBOWS!'

Murali stops to see the gorgeous double rainbow forming in the sky. Will his simple cell-phone camera capture this splendour? Murali takes a dozen pictures, some pictures of the rainbow to share and some pictures of himself and Meenu to treasure.

It's amazing how a flower, a stream or even the picture of a flower or stream can restore faith in ourselves and in the world around us. Those of you, who have plants even in pots will resonate with me when I say that a deep sense of bonding or ownership develops between us and our plants. And when that single yellow hibiscus blooms! What joy! We claim it as 'My Hibiscus'. The bounty of nature can only be experienced not explained.

For this week's painting I display a few of my Mother Smt Nagaveni Rangaswamy's water colours. She liked to paint flowers and liked to gift them to her favourite guests. She passed away at the age of 81 and painted almost till her last days. 

Water Colour - Flowers bring Hope

The Search

A Painting and a Story # 9

Our neighbour in Calcutta was an ophthalmologist. I was about 9 years old and complained to my father that my eyes were hurting. He told me to run across to my neighbour's house for a check-up. It was as simple as that!  I didn't even know the doctor! But I went, and got a prescription too.

I can't imagine that combination of trust and independence now! 

Anyway so I've been wearing that thing on my nose for better vision for a very long time now. The strange thing is that over time I can read with and without by spectacles. So I am often guilty of leaving it here and there! Looking for my spectacles is a frequent ritual!

This happens one day at a corporate set up where I am working. My work is with e-learning. My eyes frequently move from printed page to computer screen. This day, I am hunting for my spectacles under the pile of books and papers, behind the monitor, inside my purse. But No. Can't find them anywhere. 

I'm thirsty. I pick up my water bottle to take a cooling sip and ask no one in particular ... 'Seen my glasses?'

Shubha looks up from her pile of books and points vaguely at the water-cooler area. 'Glasses'... she says helpfully pointing at the neat row of plastic mugs and cups!

No yaar! Specs, I need my specs. 

Monica, who assigns projects retorts sharply 'I emailed the specs on the HB project yesterday at 4 pm. No change'. You see she is talking about project specification... !! How many animations, list of topics etc.

'Gosh you guys! Chashma... ba-ba... I need chashma!' I say exasperated.

'Chashma is in the lunch room. He is having mid morning snack' offers Samuel from somewhere! Veeran is called Chashma because of some forgotten internal joke. He's our big boss for God's sake. I wouldn't call him that so loudly! Samuel is new. He thinks that's his name!

'Gosh Sam! You know that thing I wear here'... I say signalling to the bridge of my nose.

Samuel's eyes brightens up. 'Oh BiNDiiii' he says, with an accent. You are wearing one. You need one more?

Oof forget it...

When I am really troubled I pull off my scrunchy and do my hair again. So I did that. And down they tumbled. My glasses, specs, kanadka, whatever you want to call them was stuck into my hair. I must have pushed it back while pondering over and editing a storyboard! I shake out my hair and look up to see them all trying hard not to laugh. I smile and they dissolve into the humour!!!

Much is said about how we are surrounded by persons during good times only to be abandoned during bad times. True friendship shows up in adversity. So they say. However true that may be...

I think it takes a real friend to pull your leg and enjoy a good joke with you. It takes a good heart to celebrate your success with you. In this world where jealousy and greed come so easily, if you have found a friend who jumps for joy when you shine, who is happy when you succeed, who pushes you to try, and hears you out when you vent, then you are truly blessed. I have found such friends. I do wish that you dear reader may find friends who rejoice with you. Many friendships wait across the river of mutual trust. 

My painting for this week is the Manhattan skyline seen from this side of the Hudson river where I spent a few months with my daughter and family.

Acrylic, Manhattan Skyline.

Acrylic, Manhattan Skyline

 

Galti se Mistake

A Painting and a Story #8

Viju Khote has a famous dialogue in Andaz Apna Apna... Galti se mistake ho gaya (Raabert actually says mistek!) 'By mistake I made a mistake'!!! But maybe some mistakes are not so bad after all? Let me explain. 

It is about 8 in the evening. I realise that the exhaust fan in my bathroom is broken. Last month the fan made loud noises and the blades fell off! Can you believe it. The blades fell off ... thankfully the fan has a casing and the blades collected in there. So now you know that I didn't realise it suddenly... I have known for a month, but that day I am on a mission to SET IT RIGHT. So I hurriedly pick up my phone, find my favourite online shopping portal and type search for EXAST FAN. (You see I have a hangover from the PUNCHER shop, ALTIRASHUN Tailor and TESTY VAJ sandwich corner) A ton of options appear. I notice the error and quickly delete and type again EXHAUST with the H and U in place. Only two options appear. What? Only two exhaust fans to choose from, and that too from the same company! Gosh. really??! Curious I type the wrong spelling Exast and hit Search. Lo! A ton of options all selling exhaust fans! Not that I chose any! Covid time. No one visits anyway!

My mistake was not so much of a mistake right?

Ok. One more! Rewind to 10 years ago. My niece Hima Somebody (not her name ofcourse!) is travelling overseas for the first time. I want to check on her. I type a cozy Kanglish (Kannada- English) letter to her and send it... whoosh. 2 days later I get an email from Hima. Not my niece. This young lady, also a Hima Somebody, has recently moved to Canada, is missing her family and speaks Kannada!! My letter reaches her because of a wrongly placed dot in the email ID! She is overwhelmed by my letter. She responds. And my warm friendship with the Canada Hima continues to this day! 

My mistake was not so much of a mistake right?

Did you know? The Post-it notes were a result of a big goof up. The scientist wanted to invent the strongest glue and ended up with one that peeled off easily! Hilarious!

Harpik the toilet cleaner, microwave oven, and the inkjet printer and many more.. all came to be, because of some mistakes! I learn that the The first Practical Implantable Pacemaker - also was a result of picking up a part of the wrong size while trying to make a resistor! Many advertisements glorify this unique quality of Mistakes.My favourites are - Tedha hai par mera hai! and Daag acche hain!

The Japanese have Kintsugi. An ancient art of joining together broken pieces of exquisite pottery using lacquer dusted with gold. The cracks are consciously highlighted, thereby making the object even more beautiful. 

This is the Corona Time. Let's change the rules. Instead of bemoaning mistakes - ours and those of persons around us - let us embrace them and use them to understand processes better. Understand ourselves better!

My painting for this week is called Bottles. Oops! What's the hibiscus doing there!

This one time

A Painting and a Story #7

With deft fingers he peels apples, bananas and sapotas and dices them. A large glass bowl, a plastic tray to hold the discards, a knife and a cutting board are in their convenient places on the dining table. A captain with the merchant navy Murali is home for his vacation. 'Can I watch you Hoo-Ffoo Kaka?' Meenu (short for Meenakshi) asks. Hoo-Ffoo Kaka! That's a name she has given him because he smokes cigarette! He is actually her mom's young uncle. Her mom walks in her pallu tucked in firmly at her waist. 'Here is the vanilla custard and a cup of raisins. Add that to the fruits too' she says and places them gently on the table. Murali pushes the raisins away. He mumbles, 'I am not adding these! Who mixes dry raisins with custard, anyway?' 

An earth shattering scream COMINNNNNG?? emanates from the courtyard on the ground floor. Meenu runs to join her friends. Within minutes she is back. She settles into the far corner of a long three-seater sofa, hugging her soft toy Tigga. It is obvious she is angry. Hoo-Ffoo Kaka continues to chop up the fruits. Meenu cannot resist. She joins him at the table. 'They don't know how to play hopscotch! Imagine they put a foot on the square with the chip. So silly. I can't play like that. That's not the WAY' Meenu complains. Soon all fruits are in the bowl, the custard is poured in and stirred. The table is cleared of all the stuff, it's as if no mess had been there at all! As a finishing touch Murali adds the raisins and gives the mix a stir. 'You said NO to raisins.' Meenu scoffs. 'I still think raisins is not a good idea. But this one time I will try it!' replies her Hoo-Ffoo Kaka. Meenu gets off the chair. 'This one time I will play the game their way. I may like it?!' Meenu says as she steps down the stairs.

Should we wear masks,  should online teaching be encouraged ...

Should we allow our daughter to colour her hair purple, should we invest in a start-up, 

The issues that we argue about are plenty and more! 

It is disheartening to wait for decision and action until all stakeholders are convinced of the new plan. Convincing everyone is often a futile attempt. Sometimes action is so delayed that it modifies impact and efficiency. 

Jeff Bezos of Amazon (@The Amazon Way) says wisely Disagree and Commit. When the intentions of the persons involved are not in question but there is disagreement on Process or Product, it would be a good idea to state clearly that you DISAGREE but put in your HONEST EFFORT to make it a success.

My painting for this week is blue Himalayan poppies against a backdrop of the snow capped peaks. Acrylic. Blue Himalayan Poppies...made specially for my niece.

Blue Himalayan Poppies - Acrylic

Juicy Mango bites

A Painting and a Story #6

The Summer Sun is up early! And Meenu (short for Meenakshi) rises with the Sun! She is visiting her grandparents ALONE for a week and wants to make the most of this elusive event. Today her Thatha - her Grandpa - is taking her to his farm-house on the outskirts of Bangalore. With Idli-chatni in her tummy and some snacks in a bag she is ready. Jagga drives the jeep, Thatha and Meenu settle into their places behind him. Thatha shows her important buildings and temples of the city as they pass by. Meenu is thinking of the chakli in the bag!

Look! Says thatha can you see a puddle on the road? Meenu nods. Yes she can. No big deal. 'Thatha I've seen puddles. It is water'. She clarifies. 'Keep looking at it. I will make it disappear!' says thatha. 

Meenu intrigued, watches with wide open eyes. As they approach the puddle... true to his word... the puddle disappears! The tar road is dry! They try that again with the next one. Lo and Behold! That disappears too. Her thatha does magic! Meenu is thrilled. 

Thatha says, that's a MIRAGE. The sun shine makes it seem as if there is water. It's not really there! Meenu watches more puddles on hot tar road, that are not really there, are not true! Mirage, Meenu repeats the word and makes it her own.

They reach the farmhouse. Rows of marigold dance in the breeze, their rich fragrance fills the air. A mango tree stands close by, its branches heavy with fruits. She watches Jagga pluck a few ripe ones. Meenu learns to bite into a ripe mango and drink up the pulp. Jagga turns philosophical. 'The mango tree is so generous! He does not eat a single fruit, gives it all to us!' He says with reverence. 

'That is a mirage' - says Meenu. Thatha gives a loud guffaw. 'What?' he asks fondly. 'My teacher says, trees want water air and sunlight. Mango tree is getting what it wants. We are getting what we want. Both are happy'. Jagga has no answer to this pragmatic wisdom! Thatha tries to tell her that she can't use the word like that... then gives up with a humph!

Is happiness reserved for some event in the future. A promotion, a praise, a present? To experience joy with every breath. Now that would be living! 

My painting for this week is an Indian-ink creation of Krishna playing the flute. I made this for my Uncle. 

Indian Ink - Krishna playing the flute

The Extra Mile

A painting and a Story #5
Meenu, short for Meenakshi is going to turn 4. Her big day, her birthday is in 10 days. Her adoring mom asks her, "What present do you want for your birthday?" 'Amma', she says firmly, 'I want a cake'. With a warm smile, that says My Cutie, the mom says, "Yes, you will get a birthday cake. But what present do you want? What gift?"
The little one explains patiently, 'Amma, I need a cake present'. You want a cake as present? The mom asks, bewildered. Amma's got it! 'A cake present' Meenu says nodding vigorously. She skips away.
It was the simplest thing to do. Ignore that! Order a cake. Surprise Meenu with a cute soft toy. Everybody's happy. As if she is going to remember!
Birthday arrives.
The 3 tiny guests are waiting in the hall. Meenu comes down the stairs dressed in a flowy blue dress with a tiara holding her hair. Is she going to ask for the cake present? I fret. And of course she does!
And whoa! On the table, is a cake. It is in the shape of a gift-wrapped box! A pink wrapper with polka dots and an elaborate white bow and tag! All made of fondant and icing! Meenu is super thrilled. And so am I.
There is lots to be said in favour of walking that extra mile. It brings immense sense of completion and satisfaction. The act in itself is rewarding. If appreciation comes... well that's a small bonus.
Here is a bunch of fresh flowers for all those times when we go the extra mile, in kindness, in forgiveness, in gratitude... or in the work we anyway do. A flower for us... for every time we walk that extra mile.

The painting for this week is Cut flowers in a vase, Acrylic.

Cut flowers in a vase - acrylic

Strangeness!

A Painting and A Story #4
Trees!

They stand tall with their slender and stout trunks beaming at the winter sun in deep browns and faint tan. Their stiff branches splay into the world. Some large some small, the leaves shimmer in shades of green. The trees wait for Spring. With the April showers, they will adorn themselves in blossoms of yellow, pink and purple!

But what is this strangeness? This tree has a crooked grey trunk its knotty branches are grabbing into the air. A few large leathery leaves hang on to the mostly bare branches. Not waiting for Spring, somewhere in the middle of January the red-orange splendour of the Palash flowers burst upon us. Not for them the delicate stem or the bed of green leaves. The massive orange flowers pop up straight from the branches. It's as if the tree is aglow. The tree of flame! Flame of the forest! They give this tree many names. The world going about their busy tasks stops to behold the red-orange Palash Tree with awe and moves on with a smile. 

'Are you strangeness? like me? Tad different? 

Do they tell you... That's not the way. 

Do they say ... Why can't you be like others?

You go ahead and do what your inside tells you. 

Do it with responsibility and integrity. 

And then ... watch ... you will glow!'  Says the Palash.

The splendid Palash flowers, my painting in Acrylic that I made as a housewarming gift for a dear cousin. 

35 Rose Buds

A Painting and a Story #3
I can sit on the sandy sea-shore and watch the waves make and break endlessly, without a thought in my head. The sea has this effect on me. As a kid I spent the years 1965 to 69 in Madras (now Chennai). We stayed driving distance from the beach and my father (I call him Anna) took us to the beach every Wednesday. Now I wonder, why mid-week? To avoid the weekend crowd? To give my Mother a mid-week break? Or he had no meetings that day?
Anyway this hour at the beach was a time when we shared stories, played ball with my father, ran with a noisy kite, ate ice-cream and came back refreshed. On one such evening my Amma shared this narrative.

It is early 1953. Anna has come with a retinue of relatives to 'see' my mother. Elaborate preparations are made to receive the important guests. Sajjige (sooji halwa) and bonda (bajji and pakoda) is ready. Coffee is waiting to be made and served. Everybody is talking to everybody!
No one notices that my 4 year old cousin, my father's nephew, is missing from the hall. He soon makes a grand entry and my then 18 year old Amma gasps in hidden dismay! The 4 year old's plate has neither sajjige nor bonda (perhaps discarded hastily behind the rose bush?). The boy walks to my Amma and offers her 35 rose buds that he has diligently plucked off the lovingly nurtured pink rose bush in the front-yard! Amma is desperately trying to hide her tears! Her precious roses! Apologies are made, kids will be kids.... they all say. I turn to Anna and say, 'that must have made her so sad'. Anna replies in his cryptic way, 'You are only as sad as you allow yourself to be'. I dismiss that with a shrug of a 10 year old. 

It was years later that I came across these Sanskrit lines  'Aathmaiva aathmano bandhu, aathmaiva ripurathmanaha...'     This means: We are our own friend, and we are our own enemy!

That's the worst kind of enemy as there we have no defence against this one! In Paradise Lost, poet John Milton says ... The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.

We are now in 'Selfie'culture. We rarely have the inclination to look beyond our noses! We see an action, and instantly build up stories in our mind and react like an erupting volcano! Bitter experiences linger on longer than we deserve to hold them. Thankfully Amma saw the adorable intention behind the rose buds! Like Anna said -You are as sad as you allow yourself to be. 

Here is an Oil Painting - The Beach - for all those evenings at the Madras sea-shore.

The Beach - Oil Painting

A Week on a Sheet!

A Painting and a Story #2

Have you heard of Inner Wheel? It is an international women's organisation with the unique ideal of Friendship and Service. Women thrive on friendships. We laugh, we share, we gossip and as a consequence we feel elated and empowered. A happy woman is by nature generous and empathetic.
I have been a member of the Inner wheel club since 1987 and have built strong friendships.

The current lockdown created a strange situation where our service projects continued with vigour but we missed the candour. Uma Arya a keen participant in our Whatsapp group suggested that we each create (and share) short videos that showcase our skills/ hobbies. What began as a trickle went on to be a torrent of talent by the end of the week. A 30 something chanted the Bhagvad Gita and a 70 something crooned a hot Hindi number! A grandmom gave her grandson a funky haircut and there was a poem eulogising the rapidly dwindling salt-and-pepper (hair)! Collections of key-chains, spoons, and bells were dusted and displayed. Needle-work of college days, decorated pottery, rangoli art, gave affirmation to a scintillating part that lay buried under the busy-ness of adult life. Mundane green plants, blooming flowers and a thundershower became mesmerising videos. Diffident members were gently nudged to be a part of this exciting week.

We became teenagers. FOMO - fear of missing out - happened. We rushed to check for messages every 10 minutes! Some of us got scolded by our kids too!

I had to capture this fervour. And so some doodling happened! Here it is. My 'painting' for this week. I have used Staedtler Triplus Fineliner pens bought hastily from Amazon, on thick art-paper. The gear-wheel in the doodle represents the club that brings us together and within the wheel - What does each doodle represent?  Feel free to guess! 

This sheet, and printouts of this sheet are now safely preserved in the "Happy-Place" in various homes. 

A HAPPY PLACE .... You know?  That corner where you keep  in easy access little things that launch sweet memories and transport you to bliss - a scribbled note? a toy car? paper napkin from a hotel! a broken seashell! You have a Happy-Place ....... right? 

A Talent-week Doodle

A Moonlit Night

A painting and a story #1

COVID times! In Bengaluru the lockdown is partially lifted. My maid is back! It's OK to order food from Swiggy again. Auto travel is quite safe you know! Aah the simple pleasures of life. What joy they bring.

Another era! It is 2018. I'm visiting my daughter in Hoboken. She has enrolled me in an art class...  This is going to be my first attempt at oil painting. Sheri my sweet art instructor tells me to look for a picture that inspires me. I begin to browse. I am looking at image after image. I am lost in the images  that appear on screen. 

Wow I gasp. A click from a mountain top... an eagle swoops gracefully. A click from a sandy shore catches a high tide. A click from a meadow of flowers catches the breeze that bends them in one direction! The camera captures for ever a moment in time. It sees the moment. That's where life is. right? In the various NOWs....   So caught up are we in the pains of the past or in the hopes and fears of the future, that the present slips away un-noticed! But life happens in the present! 

I finally select a picture and launch myself into the wonderful journey of Oil Painting. I also meet in the studio the most amazing and inspiring Vasundhara. Like me she is a visiting Mom and we explore Hoboken and New York together. We sit by the Hudson and watch the Manhattan skyline, we hop into the light-rail with no destination in mind, we wander into shops (price tags don't deter us, we are not here to shop!), we share a burger (American servings are so huge!!!). Those moments with her have no burden of the past, nor do we really seek a future. We  revel in the fact that we have found a like minded friend in this home away from home.

This is the first STORY with a PAINTING. I hope to post one every week.

This quiet moonlit road is in the middle of a journey. It holds within it the paths travelled and the promise of the future. But this moment is beautiful too. Do you agree?  Incidentally today is purnima, full moon day!

My first OIL Painting. I am super thrilled and happy to share. Thank you Sheri from ARTMURAL