Pea Pod - A taste of everyday life

As I was going through some of the photos on my online album, I saw a tree trunk that I had photographed some years back - with concentric circles on its bark. I have labelled the photograph accordingly - "Windmills of the Mind". Well, I got this sudden urge to listen to this theme from The Thomas Crown Affair. I went on to Youtube and heard both, the theme and the song. And it took me back to the times when we would listen to the famous Hollywood movie themes on an LP player with my father enthusiastically talking about all these films. A time with all my siblings, together sharing laughter and joy...A time that will not come back. I can only rewind it in the Windmills of my Mind.

I am in tears. I can't help but cry. My child has started formal school now. They look so young and innocent in their new uniforms. Seeing them with these school bags, lunch boxes and water bottles, my heart can't help but weep. Their childhood is going. Indian schooling puts too many responsibilities on tiny shoulders. Today was the second day of school and the last day that the parents could leave them till the classroom. As I made him sit on a chair, he waited for a familiar face to sit next to him with his eyes wide and searching. The class's naughty boy came and sat next to him and he went quiet. Suddenly, the naughty boy got up from there and went elsewhere. Just then, my little one's best pal came and sat next to him. and he smiled and looked up at me and waved me goodbye. With moist eyes, I left.

Nothing is free in this world. I've never taken anyone for a ride. I've never cheated anyone of a single paisa. I never wanted anything for free. There is nothing free in this world. Everything is paid for, even the freebies in a store or a supermarket.

I've taken a sabbatical from Social Networking. Even if it means temporarily. I like this old world blog. Need to get back to it instead of posting on FB and having an unknown world peeping into my life.

Does anybody even read my blog? Does anybody even have the time to just read? Does anybody like what I write? I write. I write what I want to write. I write because it makes me feel lighter. I write because I've been writing my thoughts since I was a child. I write not because I want someone to read what I write. I write because it makes me happy. I make sense sometime and sometime I don't. Whatever it may be...2004 this blog began. It will celebrate its 10th birthday this January 2014.

I was at an Ahmedabad beauty parlour two days ago. It's run by a middle aged lady in her home which is very close to where I live. There were two other ladies before me who were waiting for their turn. The lady finished with them and called me. On completing my services, I was on my way out only to discover that my Dr. Scholl's that I had removed outside her house had dissapeared. I could only see the Rs.2500 tag in front of my eyes as I went back inside the house and asked the lady if she knew the ladies who had come before me. I was relieved to know that one of them lived in another wing of the building I stayed in. The other one was an old lady and the beautician only knew the name of the building she lived in. I thought I should tackle them one at a time. Like a true detective, I reached my building wearing the footwear of "one of the two" and asked around for this lady. I located her flat and was thoroughly disappointed on finding out that she hadn't run...

On my way back from buying some groceries down the quiet lane, from a distance, I saw an old woman in a nav-vaari saree trying to pluck the bright yellow flowers from a tree. She held her walking stick above her head and was pulling the branch lower with it as she couldn't reach the flowers. "Aaji, thaamba. Mi tumaala madad karte," I said to her. She looked surprised to listen to someone speak in Marathi in Ahmedabad and gave me a sweet, wrinkled smile. "Donaj paayje mala,"she said. I asked for her walking stick and lowered a branch for her. She plucked some flowers and as I returned the stick to her, she put her shaking hand on my head and muttered some blessings with moist eyes. My day was made.

Back in the 80's, my father had received a video cassette of " Adi Shankaraachaarya", a  Sanskrit film by G.V.Iyer.  We, as children must have watched this film more than twice. With excellent direction, photography and music, this movie is etched in my memory. The most poignant scene being when a young Shankaraachaarya returns from the gurukul to do the final rites of his dead mother. He laughs continuously to everybody's amazement. It's this incident that made him compose -  Bhaj Govindam,  Bhaj Govindam Bhaj Govindam, Bhaj Moodh Matey Punarapi Jananam, Punarapi Maranam Punarapi Janani Jathre Shayanam Chant Krishna's name, Chant Krishna's name Chant Krishna's name, you dim wit Born again, dead again, Sleeping in the womb, yet again When my father passed away, I kept humming this in my mind and it felt so comforting to know that my father would be born as another life - again. Another aspect of the film that I can't forget is the v...

To my teacher of web design and architecture - Prateek Deo Gupta, congratulations on becoming a father to a pack of twin boys. Glad you moved "two" steps forward! :-) God bless you and yours'.

There are many people I meet who proclaim to have a voracious appetite for books. Maybe, they just fill their hunger for acquiring new books to fill up their showcases in the living room.  I say this because when these people write down their thoughts, their written English is just terrible - in language and grammar.  If you want to advertise to the world about your reading habits, please start digesting what you read so that the next time you put forth your thought in writing, you can prove it to them that you don't only read, but read really well.

My son sits on the pot with his slate. He usually scribbles and draws when he's at the big job and takes quite some time to call me to wash him up. Yesterday was a bit different. He called me almost immediately and said, "Potty finished, Mummy!" I told him that it can't be done so fast and he needs to sit for some more time. To this he replied."God gave me only one potty in my bummy today!"

Yippee!! Just one more week and the holidays begin at school! My son "wants vacation now"!

I saw my father's film after so many years and weeped my heart out. On my husband's return from work, I told him about how we would go for his film shoots every vacation. Incidentally, my husband was studying in the same town where my father shot most of his films and where we spent most of our holidays as kids. He said something so sweet to me. "Why didn't you meet me then?" Well, that's the irony of fate.

For people who don't know, Maya means Worldly Attachments. I saw my old home - in a state that I would never have liked to see it in. It's been 17 years since we moved out from there. It was difficult to forget the past. But then, it's just Maya. My sister left the city with her family after spending one whole month with us. All the kids were weeping. It was time to seperate now. Fold up the beautiful carpet of Maya. Put it aside. It's time to stare at Reality. Goodbye, Michelle, it's hard to die when all the birds are singing in the sky, Now that the spring is in the air With the flowers everywhere I wish that we could both be there We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun But the stars we could reach were just starfishs on the beach.

When you hear a barking dog bark, you hear a barking dog bark. I just heard one today.

Goa! There were more women there than men. Even as we made an entry into the airport. Saw a woman all ready to set sail in the sea with a pair of knee length bermuda shorts - printed with floral pattern. We reached the hotel and saw another woman with shorts that reached her thighs. And then another with shorts that reached above her thighs and then another with shorts covering only the bare essentials. Reminded me of the Cadbury 5Star advertisement that's running on television recently. Pitaji's shorts are becoming "ek bilaank" shorter and shorter and shorter...

It's been a week of stress and more stress. Actually it was building up for quite sometime. Finally it's all over. Thank God. When your child has to go under the knife, however minor the cut, your heart breaks into pieces. When they took him inside the operation theater, I wanted to run inside with him. And when they got him out, the first word he said was "Mummy" They called us immediately as he was uncontrollable. As soon as he saw me he just hugged me so tight. I had to cry. He went off to sleep soon...in my lap. His papa then told me one thing, "Don't shout at him for a few days. Just think of this moment when you feel like."

Vacation has begun. 2 more weeks. Hubby, baby and me. Out of the cement jungle :-) Yippee!

Funniest and Strangest. My good friend in college called me that. A few more at my workplace called me that. Lately I have lost the first title. I'm only Strange :-) The question is WHAT IS STRANGE??

I miss your loving hand on my head. Everytime I made a mistake, your hand on my head made me want to get up again, fearlessly, and face the world. I miss you, Papa. Come in my dreams.