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

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

A handful of seeds

Today, I like to share a story that my daughter's boss told her. The story applies just as nicely to a family as it does to an office place and work colleagues.
well....I embellish the story in my own way !!
God hands over a handful of seeds to 3 different farmers and tells them to plant the seeds and allow them to flourish and multiply.
God visits them after 6 months.
Farmer 1 looks at God anxiously. I have been really good to the seeds you gave me God. I made a special place for them in my watermelon farm. I give them exactly the same care as I give my watermelons. But look at the plants now. Small leaves, thin stalks, pale colour....You tricked me. These seeds are no good.
Farmer 2 has nothing much to say. I tossed them into the soil. The plants must be growing well. Hey God, Isn't that what they are supposed to do? he challenges.
Farmer 3 is happy the flowers are coming out well. God, he says I am a little concerned about the pumpkins. But am really proud of my peas, and petunias.

Farmer1 wonders why his 'watermelon' plants are under achieving. Farmer2 sometimes wonders why some flourish but some wither and dry. Farmer3 has a garden with vines, creepers, delicate flowers and hardy vegetable plants.

We get a handful of seeds... also called family, friends, fellow workers and fraternity.
It's to our benefit if we remember ... They are not all watermelon.

swaying in the breeze

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The Chicken or the egg?

A thought pops into your head ... a seemingly harmless guy ... you look at him while you are enjoying the cool breeze and sipping some tea ...and bang ... before you know it ... an emotion engulfs and overpowers you.

Meenakshi is on the single sofa making shoulder shaking sobs into a wide hand towel. She ignores her favourite soap. Did A propose to K at the swimming pool? She does not know. Today her mind is consumed by her husband's lack-of-love for her. Two days back she knew for sure. Today she is convinced ... he does not care for her. When Sumit shared that stupid joke about two drunks all her friends exchanged looks with their husbands. And where was Cheenu looking? at his camera! See today .. during breakfast ... He a-a-a-always looks up with a smile and says that I feed him too much...and today ...sob-sob... he just ate up the 3 dosas without a murmur and shot off to office...I told you ...sob sob

What do you think came first? the emotion or the thought? the horrifying behaviour of the hubby or the lingering sad thoughts?  the tears or the interpretation?  the chicken or the egg?

Here is what I think
Thought - leads to emotion - which leads to action - which leads to thought - to emotion - to action.
So it all begins with THINKING??

For there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
says Hamlet.


All emotions anger, fear, helplessness, joy, jealousy, pride ... just all emotions rise from thoughts.
And all actions smile, sweat, walk, talk, gift wrapping, knee slapping...just all actions rise from emotions.

We just need to turn on positive thoughts, good thoughts and we turn on happiness.

and tell me ... who doesn't want to be happy?

Now who will tell Meenakshi?

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What next

Varun is five. He is a sharp and happy kid. He came home with his parents. After a noisy oh so cute. Is this your son? How big he has grown. Come Come. Please sit down. Madan, I think we are meeting for the first time na? Please sit down. etc. etc.
Anita took out a large notepad and some crayons from her bag. Here Varun, colour this dear. She said.
Varun is busy with colours while we catch up on 3 years.
Varun is back. Mama, colouring over. What shall I do now?
Anita fishes out a jigzaw from her bag. Varun's eyes light up. Mickey! he says. and goes about solving the puzzle with single minded concentration.
A tray loaded with special eats settles on the centre table. Varun polishes off two homemade cookies and looks at Anita. Now what? He asks.
Anita fetches two small cars from her bag. (Wow for Anita!! )
Varun takes them and zooms around the hall.
But for how long? Soon he tires and comes back. ... What next?
I kind of lose my patience. Anita has been so thoughtful. Has brought so much entertainment. Time for Varun to reciprocate. Right?
So I tell him a tide firmly - Varun, toys all done. Just play by yourself OK?
Varun looks at Anita. Mama can I do that? Can I just play?
Anita is surprised. Yes Varun. Play.
Varun is happy to explore our stairway, he peers at our picture panel, he goes into our small garden space.
Anita is worried. Is he OK? Is he bored?

Sometimes it is good to be bored. It makes us more creative.
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The subject line 

Jamuna sends a document

Jamuna returned to her seat fuming. Harsha lifted an eyebrow at her. Paro strolled to her desk and whispered, ‘loo break?’ They were offering solid support. It was their way of telling her, chill, it’s OK, aisa hota hai. She knew it. But she was not ready to share details with them. How could she tell them? She felt a fool.


Arre yaar
If that big boss in Singapore doesn't like the font style he can do control A and change it na?
What’s the big deal?
But no
Their own Hari Sadu was unwilling to see the logic of it.


‘Jamuna’, he had said leaning back into his revolving chair, ‘you are casual ... careless. And on top totally irresponsibal. You send document like this? Font is wrang, size is big. Your document looks like ...  are you shouting at him. How you send like this? 
But sir, what about the content? The analysis?
Did you see page 4? I have made tables for …
'Look Jamuna, you are almost 2 years old. See … when you joined? 2010? And you still send document…. Like this? I am sorry to say, you do not deserve to be this position at all.'
Her eyes glistened with tears. She whispered a sorry sir and fled blindly.

Choosing the right font

Is it fair? You tell me.
I always meet deadlines
I get the best graphics from the creative team and the animations are mind blowing.
But none of this is commented upon.
A mail I sent, detailing some of the best suggestions, gets flak not because the ideas are stupid
But because of a stupid font that I used!

We believe that a person who does one thing well, should do everything well.
The lady serves awesome lunch and we frown at her crumpled cushions.
A graceful dancer is expected to give a great speech too.
A good doctor is expected to be well mannered.
We take the essentials for granted - the good food, the sublime dancing and the perfect diagnosis.  
And we harp on the un-necessary details. How come?
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Why is someone who is good at one thing, expected to be good at everything?
Are we putting them on pedestal? Or are we plain jealous?
Tell me please?