Tag Archives: #IndiBlogger

The silver lining in the dark clouds of misery

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Indu auntie and her family left the bustling city life in Bengaluru  to recede into a quiet life caring for her ageing parents in their grand ancestral home that had sheltered more than one generation below its sloping roofs that overlooked the Kalpathy river flowing gently under the canopy of the Kerala skies.

Her husband, a renowned professor, spent his time tending to the lush vegetable patch when he was not at college or the outhouse — that doubled as his office with rooms that treasured an abundance of literature handpicked by the professor himself — coaching students who aspired to earn a doctoral degree.

The ancestral home, an architectural marvel built in sync with the local weather and topography, had stood tall through many monsoons when rains pelted the slates on the sloping rooftop for days on end and kept the inmates cool during the long rigorous days of summer.

Aunt Indu’s words laced with pride whenever she spoke about the great flood of 1990s, when the Periyar river breached its banks in 1924, when her home and hearth had provided the homeless with food and shelter until the waters receded.

Decked in traditional artefacts, antiques and heavy furniture, every piece was steeped in history with a story that tickled pleasant childhood memories.

Unexpected showers in the otherwise dry Palakkad district this summer were a welcome relief. On the day the shutters of the Malampuzha dam were opened amid heavy downpour, the Kalpathy river swelled. Indu auntie’s day transformed into one that will be etched in her memory forever as furious undercurrents dragged with them her daughter while it ravaged her home stripping it off every piece of memory that the years had treasured.

A rescue team that comprised a group of young men from the locality fought the raging waters to drag her daughter back to terra firma while an authorised rescue force carried her bedridden father and ailing mother to safe quarters.

Her words laced with the horror of that day spilled over a crackling phone line while she and her family spent their days in a relative’s home, waiting for the waters to recede while we ourselves spent despondent nights peeking out of the window to keep a check on the water levels as the downpour showed no sign of abating.

When the waters receded, they went back to a skeleton of a house whose walls are now etched with stories of raging currents that had snatched away or left behind a soggy mess in its wake.

Her husband spends his days restoring the vegetable patch and empty shelves that once housed a treasure trove of literature.

Yet, she explains cheerfully: “It took a natural disaster to bring out the best in humanity for help was always at hand. I can replace all that I have lost, but will be forever grateful that I still have my daughter beside me.”

Nature is the best teacher for even in her fury she leaves behind a message for humanity, who has tested her patience in the name of progress, that if we do not reform our ways then we will have to submit ourselves to her wrath and teach the generations to come that all that they proudly call their own is but a mirage that is fleeting and impermanent.

There is still time, perhaps, for us to amend and watch nature sing her melodious tunes of healing.

The above is an excerpt from a publication in the Gulf News. Click here for the full article. 

Good morning! Hope you all are having a wonderful Sunday. Will be at all your spaces soon to catch up on all that I have missed.

 

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The Music will go on

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The tunes took birth enrapturing listeners into a trance,

A melody so divine that elevated the spirit into a dance,

A hum so gentle in the gust of musical wind became,

A stupendous composition by an artist on his bow and four strings on a frame.

 

His soulful tunes made way into the musical world ashine,

To a growing audience enthralled by music so pure and divine,

A treat to the soul, the broken hearts and those locked in romance,

His tunes touched millions as this musical prodigy steadily gathered fans.

 

The music had reached its crescendo stirring the mortal world and heavens alike,

A journey that transcended in orchestral exuberance on a magical flight,

Suddenly the tunes faltered, the strings gone out of tune and the bow snapped,

Until all that was left was a deathly silence after this beautiful young soul was snatched.

 

The journey has come to a screeching halt,

The empty stage screaming silence echoing loud in the hearts of fans distraught,

The violin rests as magical fingers that caressed the strings up into heaven has gone,

But the blissful music that this musical legend left for us will always go on.

 

Good morning friends, this is a tribute to my favorite violinist, the late Balabaskar, who was snatched away from the mortal world in a freak accident. It was indeed a sad day for music. RIP Balabaskar. 

You can listen to one of his best performance here 

 

 

When I think that I can think no more

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"We interrupt this program because we've completely run out of ideas."

I have been basking in the eerie glow of my laptop screen, my mind as blank as the glowing screen before me.

Like the taps at Cape Town, my creative tap that occasionally drips a trickle of quirky tales has – to my dismay – dried up.

I am oddly reminded of Father’s bike that used to refuse to kick start on a cold winter morning.

I panic at a fleeting thought of ‘Day Zero’ – when my creative tap would dry out for good.

I wonder if I must choose to alternate cooking on odd days and engage the even ones in keeping up the connect between the creative tap and the well that churns mundane imperfections into bizarre tales.

I give up the idea at the thought of the husband and son enjoying greasy takeaways.

I wonder if Little Princess, who, I realize, has been frighteningly occupied, could shake up the dormant creative well.

She is seen creating ‘beauty’ in her room, that, for some strange reason appears as ‘mess’ to my eyes.

I wonder if this is what the ‘generation gap’ is all about.

Could it be old age setting in?

Just before launching into a careful scrutiny of my face for lines or worse – wrinkles, we clean up the creative mess and try something safer – coloring rabbits blue and the skies pink.

Luckily, lines and crow’s feet that are official markers to aging are yet to make an appearance and realization has dawned that creativity has little to do with age.

I am back behind the blank screen, my creative connection still undone.

I am beginning to empathize with the plumber who has failed to show up even after multiple calls to mend a dripping tap. Today, I love dripping taps.

While I am off on a quest for creative inspiration, let me know what you think of this one.

Dear Friends, Wishing you all a happy Sunday.  My heartiest wishes to  all those who are celebrating their New Year.

Wish Wisely

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'We wish you well.'

In a hamlet, the three old men sat, under the canopy of the infinite sky,

Gazing at the hues of the fading light, each lost in thought of the years that had rolled by.

Twilight gave way to a dazzling night, decked in her inky best of mysterious black,

resplendent in all her nightly finery, her velvety robes shimmering with twinkling stars.

A shooting star zoomed across the inky sky – make a wish, make a wish, make a wish!

 

The first man wished – I wish, I wish, I wish,

I wish to be reborn in this village into a place where I would have not to give or share

all that is mine, but to get and get and get some more!

The second man wished – I wish, I wish, I wish,

I wish to be reborn in this village into a place where I can give and give

and have enough to spare!

The third man wished – I wish, I wish, I wish,

I wish to be reborn and lead an indolent life

where I can sit idle watching the world go by,

Yet, have those people who toil hard and go about their business

part with me a fraction of  their day’s reward!

 

The first man’s wish did become, for he was reborn as the village beggar’s son,

All his life his begging bowl stayed his best companion to get and get some more,

For anticipation and expectation in a beggar harbored none.

The second man’s wish did become for he was reborn as the rich villager’s son,

To give you must have and have enough to spare,

For he was blessed with enough and more and a generous heart that never got him to despair.

As for the third man, his wish did also become,

For he grew up and landed a job at the pay counter of the newly built pay toilet,

He sat idle all day long as the many people walked in, finished their business

and never forgot to tip him from their hard day’s earning!

 

Be careful what you wish for!

Good Morning

 

Wish Wisely has been featured on January 5, 2017, on Imperfectly Perfect. WISHING you all a happy Sunday!

Picture Perfect

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There are two kinds of people in this world. The first are those who can strike the perfect pose and get the perfect picture every time– the best of them are gracing the silver screen while the rest are on Instagram.

Then there are the second kind – people like me – who, let’s just say, are photogenically challenged.

Simply put, I am a photographer’s nightmare!

The photographer atop the Titlis who boasted of her years of experience in the field as her assistant helped me with the Swiss costume, struggled with her patience than with her camera as every picture either turned out with my eyes half closed or fully closed – as if I were in a trance or smiling asleep.

The result of her efforts (and the husband’s patience) now adorns the wall beside our dining table and has often become an interesting distraction for our  guests especially when the my culinary experiments have gone a bit wrong.

A friend, who is an Insta-star, explains that the secret of a perfect picture is to crane your neck enough to give an illusion that the subcutaneous fat that is jingling around it has momentarily ceased to exist and the source of light is towards you. Hands on hip, shoulders angled, one leg forward extended forward, tummy sucked in and smile. (or pout)

This must be a work in progress for up until now most of my pictures have had me either squinting at the source of light with an elaborate display of dentition or have eyes popping out from sucking my tummy in.

Or just maybe I am yet to find a good photographer – one with more patience than skill.

Why are Women Terrified of Cockroaches?

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Science calls it katsaridaphobia.

The husband calls it a silly overreaction.

I can only say that this six-legged creature single-handedly sums up my personal insect hell.

With the school term coming to a close, families chose this time of the year to move back to their home country or make another apartment their home.

This move has shook up a few other families from another kingdom that must have been  thriving and breeding undisturbed in the dark crevices of drain pipes or have been forced to relocate too after the depreciating chemical barriers have been re-erected by the real-estate staff, who are seen prepping the house for its new tenant.

One roach decided to take an evening stroll and managed to invade the carefully-guarded, pest-free, chemically-barricaded fortress that I call home.

That night I sleepily walked into the bedroom and caught sight of this unwelcome guest scampering  about the white floor on its spiky appendages.

In an instant, I was wide awake, sleep gone, eyes popping out of sockets, breath caught midway between the lungs and the nostrils, adrenal medulla overworking – pumping in adrenaline for fight or flight reaction.

The mind trying to shut out the image that is crawling and wrecking my system.

When I had mustered up enough courage, I rushed to find to the husband.

On hindsight, I marvel the reaction and the multitasking power of a shocked human mind and body.

Only that my mind had been rendered that shock by a creepy crawly as big as my pinkie.

The husband was amused. He found the creature and sent it off to insect heaven.

The only relief has been that the children were locked in dreamland and hence did not witness their mother outperform them in a state of utter frenzy.

The following morning on, my paranoid eyes have been searching for unwelcome family members and a search party of the deceased invader as the hands have been cleaning better and disinfecting effectively.

But try as I might, I cannot understand why women who have crossed frontiers, shattered glass ceilings can be reduced to a shaking, shrieking, chaotic lot when it comes to cockroaches?

 

Good morning Friends, Wishing those on the other side of the world, a happy weekend while wishing my friends on this side of the world, a great beginning to a new week.

Sneezing Away a Beautiful Winter Weekend

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"Hey, you have got great empathy!"

The awesome months of winter are welcome with an endless stream of outdoor activities — along with coughs, sniffles and examinations.

I am grateful that we are spared the ‘examination’ bit as my children are yet to enter that phase of schooling, but there is no sure way of escaping the sneezes that develop into a cold and then a fever that makes a burning entry in the dead of a cold winter night when I have to toggle between checking temps, administering medications and comforting a delirious child while fighting off the urge to allow my drooping eyelids succumb to sweet slumber.

It is a joy to see the scorching days of summer give way to cool winter mornings.

Every year, the husband and I resolve to take advantage of the weather and include a walk into our routine, but I have long since made peace with the fact that sticking to resolutions is not in my stars. Nor is a slim, trim and hour-glass shaped figure.

Spooling the tape back a few weeks this winter, I wished to make weekends special by spending as much time as I could outdoors. Once I had zeroed in on one of the many events that would hold the interest of my children and us, I meticulously planned out the weekend.

My enthusiasm failed to ebb even after the husband appeared to only show interest in the culinary options available in the area or when I heard Little Princess sneeze.

By Thursday evening, Little Princess had bright red patches on her face, a sore throat and a rasping cough. We spent the early hours of our meticulously planned fun weekend nursing a sick child who quivered with soaring temperatures.

The rest of the weekend and the next four weekends were spent with paediatricians and general practitioners as we took turns borrowing the nasty cold from one another. I whiled away waiting time at the hospital catching up on the details and pictures of marathons, food fests and other events through the eyes of reporters and photographers of the newspaper and social media.

On the plus side, the frequency of our visits encouraged the friendly staff at the hospital to welcome us with more-than-just pleasant smiles. I also learnt that a doctor’s job was no easy task with getting to meet and greet sick children and exasperated sleep-deprived parents.

With a few weeks left before the mercury rises and our household making a return to some form of normality, we are hoping to go to any place other than a hospital. The husband is hoping to catch a movie, but there is no extensive planning involved for I am not looking forward to catching one of my children sneezing away our weekend plans — yet again

 

Hello Fellow Bloggers, hope you are all doing well. This is an extract from a piece published in the Gulf News. Please click here for the entire article.

Wishing you all a great Sunday.

Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall

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I look in the mirror

And what do I see

A strange looking person

That surely cannot be me.

 

For, I am much younger

And not nearly so fat

As that strange face in the mirror

That I am looking at.

 

Oh, where are those mirrors

That I used to know

Like the ones which were made

Some thirty years ago.

 

Now all things have changed

And I’m sure you’ll agree

Mirrors are not made as good

As they once used to be.

 

So never be concerned,

About those wrinkles and flab that your eyes see

For one thing I’ve learned

That is now very clear to me,

 

Should your complextion

Be less than perfection,

It is really the mirror

That surely needs the correction!

 

 

 

 

Good morning! I hope all of you are relaxing and enjoying this happy Sunday. Sharing a poem that I came across and found very interesting and amusing. Enjoy!