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

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

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

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

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

Can I be small again?

I notice there are two word documents in my folder for BP School Assignments. One called Tuli and the other called Tuli(1).
Aah! I say to myself. This is a copy. I select it and click on the delete button.
Zuuup. The file is gone.
Hey! I cry. kind of groping into the air above the keyboard. That is not fair. You are supposed to ask me 'are you sure you want to delete 1 file?'
I am to click on 'yes'
AND then it is to go zuuup. Not before that.....!
Oooph I grumble. This new laptop and its settings!!!

And then I google for a solution. I want to put back the 'Are you sure you want to delete 1 file?' button.

Then they tell me. 'You click on delete. Surely you mean delete? Why would I doubt your intentions'....asks windows. Windows is treating me like an adult.
So I decide to grow up.
Ok. fine. accepted. I click on delete...and you go zuuup.

We are not ready to grow up until someone tells us that we got to. We remain kids
we sulk
we crave praise
we put off planning
we pretend we are busy
we search for excuses
and we complain

Until
There comes a time when you just grow up.....Or do you?

Power of Passion

Hampi is the capital of the Vijayanagar empire. It is located in the Bellary district of Karnataka. The original name of Hampe as it is pronounced in Kannada has been anglicized to HAMPI and that is how the world knows this dynamic city of ruins.

No harm in trying. Come let us push this stone wheel!!

The stone carvings, some mighty monoliths and many fascinating musical pillars abound in this World Heritage Site.

Musical pillars made in stone

The carvings date from 1343 to 1565, a period of more than 200 years. The empire was founded by Harihar1 called Hakka and continued by Bukka the other illustrious emperor of the Sangama Dynasty.
 Just look at the driving power of passion. One man's passion has so inspired his people that stone carvings and beautiful architecture has become the identity of this township.

Impressive entrance to fort

Vijayanagara empire was ruled and adorned by four different dynasties. And now almost 540 years later people travel miles across the world to visit the place.... braving the rough terrain, the hot weather and the lack of eating places.

hot dry weather, rough stony terrain, large flat places

Passion has that force. Last week I was at a teacher training camp in Jammu. A teacher, let's call her Shaalu, was in role play. Shaalu was demonstrating a method of teaching by example. Shaalu is a PT teacher. She decides to teach us the correct posture for softball. When she begins we are least interested. Softball??? Paallease  we said. (yawn)
But as she begins to demonstrate the moves, her passion for the game gets us so involved that we sit up and listen. And even ask questions. Passion is a driving force.

Passion inspires. I may not become dramatically interested in your field of passion. But I will be motivated to put in more towards my own Sphere of Interest. For teachers, team builders, and moms, passion comes as a very powerful tool.

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

High Fives for Today

An year ends and another begins

Chennai Bengaluru highway

A high five for the new year

A high five ... for work.
More things to crib about, more gossip, more fancy targets? Leading to more self-worth and more income. Aaah bliss

A high five ... for friends and family 
They know you for what you are and love you for it. They know it all, and if at a family gathering they decide to make you the bakra of the day...you've had it. Still, aaah bliss.

A high five ... for beauty and serenity at home
That faded diwan cover, that much used sofa, that steel tumbler that has lost its sheen? It's so good to be home. Aaah bliss.

A high five ... for abundance of water, of greenery, of travel and time with nature 
You may need to travel really far to get to Nature minus man's plastic discards. The setting sun, the singing mosquitoes, the wind on your neck, the dripping nose, the soft sand beneath your feet and in your pockets and eyebrows. Aaah bliss.

A high five ... for noise and silence. 
We need them both. Sometimes we crave for one while we have the other. All this anger, this craving, this sudden receiving, this random disappointment. Aaah bliss.

All the troubles that we call pleasure and the pleasures that we call troubles. May they come to us in bagfuls.

                                                  

                                                Wish You All a HAPPY NEW YEAR

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The First Things

What is the first thing you do when you come out of the confines of a bath?

My Father always emerged from his bath wrapped in a fresh white dhoti. He would fling a white muslin shalya around his shoulders and walk with single minded attention to the prayer room and place a dot of red between his eyebrows. Ten minutes later tinkle of the small brass bell and aroma of burning camphor filled the air. We trooped into the room and waited for our turn to take the aarti. And we felt blessed.

Yes. The prayer room. The lighting of lamps. The aarti with a camphor flame. The shlokas. These are rituals.

God, Universe, Supreme... give any name ... is pleased with devotion. I don't think He really cares if you forgot to place bits of areca-nut on aligned betel-leaves.... or pinched the skin of the mousambi on offering just so...

It's the thought that matters.

But what's with this mind of ours? Like the flutter of pigeons on a roof top that suddenly scatter at the burst of a firecracker, a hundred thoughts are eager to take the mind to a thousand destinations ..... phatak-dhum.

Seth Godin tells me if you think you should do it. You will.

Does Cola make me happy because the ad says it does??

You are more prepared to laugh at jokes when you go to a stand-up comedy show. You are more prepared for idle chatter when you attend a party. You are more inclined to serious conversation after an intellectual movie. 

So when Anna was performing the daily ritual .... maybe on some days his mind was on the board meeting he would attend? or on a Deal that he was about to close? But the prayer room by virtue of daily ritual had acquired a certain 'This is what you should do here' aura.

Hence when we went to the prayer corner we felt blessed. And gathered our thoughts, stilled our minds, if only for minutes, (or seconds) and emerged rejuvenated and recharged.

So maybe there is something in rituals? A ritual that is not imposed. A ritual that is admired and internalized? A ritual that is followed everyday until it becomes second nature?

Allot a zone at home to write, to cook, to worship

and the spot acquires the ability to guide thoughts!

When you are 'not in the mood' the zone will help you with its acquired aura!

I suddenly write here in defense of rituals!!!
And I always thought ... I hate rituals!

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I know now. I like my rituals. I just hate it when others make me try to follow theirs!

Do only cowards give up?

My friend is heartbroken. She has tried very hard to maintain a good relationship with her cousin. They grew up together and even went to the same hostel. But if anything, her cousin gets ruder and abusive.

The near and dear,
                 good friends and peer!
The doodwala, the dhobi,
                     the maid and cabby!
Now-and-then adorable,
                         are mostly queer!
Keeping affairs in sync is
               more chore than hobby!

Relationships are like plants. They do not grow in a day. They need nurturing. Don't give up on relationships. Work your way towards making them wholesome.
That is what we know. That is what we believe. Yet we do give up on relationships don't we?
When you do not get along with a doodwala or a dhobi, no problem. Wait till you find a better one. And go for a change. What if its a neighbour or a boss/colleague? Not easy to change house or job! What if its a family member... say an uncle or cousin? There is more at stake here. Lots of other relationships are involved too.

So you work at the connection. You try to make it better. You talk things out. You extend your conciliatory hand. You say sorry when you do not have to. You make the call though you have been ignored. You buy little presents to make them feel better. You praise. You give positive strokes. You try reason. You say nice things. You walk the mile.

Still things do not change. And that one sour relationship blocks the view.

The shuttle that our mys bound Shatabdi had to wait for

Then what? Would I be a coward if I gave up on that link? Would I be counted as a deserter? Will the world smirk?

My physiotherapist tells me, "That cartilage in your knee is weak. Nothing can be done about it. Invest time and energy in the other muscles in your knee. They will become stronger. They will compensate for that weak cartilage".

So it is with relationships? A particular relationship is weak? Too bad. But why allow that failing to sour all waking moments. We can give it some space. We can back off and accept the truth, however harsh. And enjoy the other wonderful people in our lives.
It is not always the cowards who give up. Would you agree?

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Actually I bought this because...

Why are we so apologetic about being able to afford things? Here in Bangalore I suddenly notice that we are uncomfortable with our affordability!

• yenu andrey... my old car was giving me too much problem. So I bought a new one. I did not want to change the old car. But what to do...
• That cell phone was good only. My husband got me this one as a surprise gift. I told him why???
• We always go by train. This time we decided it is OK, we will go by flight. Also time saving you know...

Cut to most parts of Delhi Punjab and etc. The conversation changes rapidly

• What did you buy for Diwali? Guess what! I got my first beamer. They didn't even consult me for the colour yar. (sshh that's because it's used-car)
• I have iphone . How do you manage with this? (she has only borrowed it for the party)
• I wonder how people go by train. It's so dirty!!! (after their first flight)

Perhaps it has a lot to do with how we want others to perceive us? We take to our mantras like we take to air.
Be it
Simple Living High Thinking.
or
Live it up. Make it Large.

We can't do without it!
it's us!
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Enjoy a fabulous Deepavali. Lots of light or lots of boom?

Danielle Steel - Thank you

And suddenly he was gone.
The fact is not reversible.
The truth only hits gradually.
At first I thought I would have a heart attack too. The pain was so intense.
And then I thought I was only shell, the best part of me is missing.
Then I thought I have work to be done, Some god's will yet to be fulfilled.
Then I spent a lot of time hunting for myself, for I have God's will to fulfill.
From an emotionless zombie, I am moving towards emotion again.

Friends, family, my children hold my hand and urge me forward. With a push, a joke, a sermon, and a task. They bring me back to earth.

Yet the one person who has held my hand, with no clue that I am even alive, is Danielle Steel. Her characters resonate with grit and feeling. They are real people with real problems. They are not perfect. They are not mushy and soft. They are not so strong that one is left gaping.
When the head is too muddled to absorb complicated intrigue, caustic bitterness or diabolic scheming
Just try Danielle Steel
She is a balm on a wounded soul.

Danielle Steel - Thank you

You help me deal with my husband's passing.

In the blink of an eye

Yesterday at half past six in the evening we decided to watch LunchBox in the theatre. Bookmyshow ensured that we had reservations for the 7.55 pm show at Rex.

And then it was a flurry of activity
Take Max down for a quick pee
Can I come in this only? Jeans is OK change the shirt ...
Feed Max no... give him pedigree
Did you leave him some water?
Who has the house keys?
Close the room doors... I don't want him sleeping on my bed
Should we leave the TV on... Max will feel better
(notice that it's mostly about our boxer pup Max!!)

We finally started the car at 7.20
We took the Domlur flyover curved into an immediate left, cruised down to MG road and braved through the heavy traffic on Brigade road to reach Rex theater in 15 minutes! We had time for a pastry at adjacent Nilgiris. Good old Nilgiris! So nicely they have built the flyover. Just so convenient, we gushed!

When the area was all grime and dust and narrow muddy deviations we were happily away... driving down the wide freeways of Delhi. I am sure there must be many who think, at last the flyover is ready, and sigh relief.

Hey! When did this happen? We say, a little perturbed, or a little angry! Or as it happened elated at the convenience.
It is as if it all happens in the blink of an eye. Suddenly it's different. Suddenly things are not the same.

kids grow up
relationships change
technology moves ahead
new business methods arrive
competition thrives

But that's not true
Na-a-
Nothing happens suddenly. We just did not pay attention. Or we chose to ignore because other more important things consumed our attention.

And when suddenly something nudges us awake, we look around like Rip Van Winkle and say  "Surely, I have not slept here all night."

Yet
When he did wake up, Rip Van Winkle, gleefully exclaimed, I have slept for 20 years! It takes courage to say that too.

A flight to catch

Amma has been with us for four months. Yesterday night she took the Singapore Airlines flight to my brother's house at US. Strange, but these four months I have taken her presence at home for granted. Today I suddenly realize that I will miss this

Non-spicy food served in steel plate
Heated discussions in Kannada TV serials
Ten minute sweaty walks in the corridor
Piles of Kannada and English books by the pillow
Squeaks of the wayward walker that she needs to keep pulling into track
Four ParleGs to Max during afternoon coffee
A daily concerned query - have you given Max his lunch?
Weekly craving for fresh-fruit-cake and motichur laddoo
Culinary updates with Star Saviruchi
Stories from the Mahabharata, life in US, air-travel, lunches...
And random reminiscences of life lived

Today she travels to US to a country she has made her home.
Today the packers will be here to transport our stuff to Bangalore.
A new life begins again for us all.

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