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.