Winter

On my walk yesterday I noticed that the pavements had been cleared of all the fallen autumn leaves, as frost can make it a very slippery slope otherwise. The trees are almost bare, save those few oak leaves hanging on defiantly. Ironically, these were the first to begin to shed their leaves, and perhaps now regret having started the onset of winter! It was a very cold day – I felt the chill piercing my face like sharp, icy needles . The bare silhouettes of the trees against a grey sky had a beauty of their own, if a rather solemn and sombre one. The silence that the once chirping birds have left behind hangs heavily in the air. There was a strong feeling of something enormous waiting just round the corner....

All this makes me reflect on the autumn just gone by, was it only a few days ago? Of the many facets of the weather, autumn strikes me as a vibrant and bright mother, aging gracefully. She knows there's trouble ahead for her offspring, and tries to ward it off for as long as she possibly can (she reminds me of my own mother - who has aged gracefully, and who always makes many delicacies for me to enjoy before I depart at the end of my annual visits). The leaves turn into bright and beautiful colours - and even a drive along the motorway is suddenly a glorious experience. As the land here is undulating, I always hold my breath on an upward climb, as the downward slope is sure to burst with colour - the golden, yellow, rust and bright red trees that border the motorways. Young saplings of many varieties of trees can be spotted all along the sides of the road, encased in metallic cylinders for support. These saplings will soon be transplanted onto the sides of other roads and motorways, thus ensuring not only the continuity of the flora but also many more dazzling displays to be enjoyed by generations to come. Autumn holds back the winter with as much strength as she can muster, holding on to the leaves that the mighty hand of winter tries to shake off . Alas, she ultimately gives in-  for  winter gets a helping hand from the gusty winds....but Autumn is not easily forgotten, and her loving attempts have left behind a warm glow in my heart, making me smile in remembrance, with gratitude and love.

TV programmes

I started my blog page as a kind of journal, to record things about the UK that I'll miss most once we return to India for good. While I've indeed meandered from that path often, I decided that this blog will be on anoher aspect I will miss terribly about this place - the TV programmes!

I've just finished watching one fabulous drama on TV and am onto another one now, and thought that asscripts go these are dramas that will probably not be attempted in India for a while now. Sad, as I remember some of the Hindi tv serials of the late '80s. 'Fauji', which gave Shah Rukh Khan his first major role and thus a big break; 'ados-pados' - that wonderful comedy with Ashok Kumar in the lead (I maybe wrong about the cast here!) , and who could forget the wonderful 'Malgudi Days', based on R K Lakshman's book? But now-a-days the serials appear to be more melo drama than essence or solid scripts, more focus on make-up than expressions...I know what you will say, that I hardly watch any of these, but the glimpses I catch on my annual visits to India is what I'm going by.

Anyway - here's why I will miss the television programmes of the UK:

Factual documentaries:

Sir David Attenborough is famous all over the world for his coverage of the anumal and plant kingdom. His latest - the BBC production of the 'Frozen Planet' (covering Alaska, Antartica, Iceland, the North Pole - to name but a few regions covered) has somehow surpassed all his previous ones. Technological advances ofcourse are the main reason - watching the snow crystals in high definition makes you gasp, but the coverage of the penguins, Walruses, Sharks, Seals....absolutely breath taking, not only because the intelligence of these animals is amazing, but also for the trouble, effort that the production team go through to enable us view this stunning production. And there are so many such wonderful factual documentaries, riveting in its content, sometimes controversila, sometimes provoking, but almost always amazing...

Life style based entertainment:

One of the tv programmes that has been a great help in encouraging and cultivating my gardening skills and interest in the 'Gardeners' World', produced by the BBC. Each half hour episode has 3 or 4 presenters, each covering a totally different aspect of gardening : while one would show you how to propogate a Daahlia, another will take you on a visit to some stunning garden....yet another will show you step-by-step how to erect a garden fence! And so on and so forth. This programme has been around for decades now, still going strong. And its not the only one of its genre, but the one I never fail to watch.

Cookery shows are a-plenty, in fact one is beginning to get tired of these now! But having said that, the creativity of 'Master Chef' - a contest for the ultimate show winning chef - is quite a challenge worth watching. The participants move on to  tougher tasks, sometimes cooking a whole 3 course meal for the army barracks and at other times having to prepare a school lunch, which involves one main dish and a dessert, but in time and cooked well and served hot - to more than 100 students, in a given period of time!

Panel/Quiz shows

The whole family watches the University Challenge - which originated as a radio show in 1953, but moved on to the television in 1959, and except for a short break in between has been going strong ever since! The concept is simple, various Universities participate in the quiz, 2 Universities go head to head in each show, with 4 participants in each team, and is finally whittled down to the 2 contesting teams from who the winner emerges. Nail biting drama at its best!

Sports quiz - a programme that has been televised since its conception in 1968! Wow...I was just 7 years old then...! But once again, 2 teams with the captains remaining the same, but are joined by 2 different sports personalities each, and the questions range from their own chosen field to anything that comes under the sporting umbrella! And they're so funny too, one of the most entertaining programmes that we watch as a family.

News round-up quiz - Famously referred to as 'HIGNFY', 'Have I got news for you'

has been broadcast since 1990, currently the BBC's longest-ever running television panel show. The team captains have remained the same over the years, the compere changing with each episode, and they round up the most important news stories, and take the Mickey out of everyone, from the Prime Minister to the Queen, from Simon Cowell to Russel Crowe...and it is not only uproariosly funny but also very informative, and as a family I guess this is the one we would all vote for!

There are plenty of such 'panel shows' aired, Never mind the buzzcocks is a music-based quiz show, but once again funny, 'Would I lie to you' has same captains but different celebrities joining them and each one reads out and justifies something written on a card and given to them, the something not revealed to them until the moment they read it out, and yet they have to build up a story on the spot to make their explanation convincing, and the opposite team has to guess if this is a 'truth' or a 'lie'. Never before has such decisions been so funny!

The Dramas:

These have to be my all time favourites, and what I will personally miss the most. The fabulous dramas, be it the genre of murder mysteries or thrillers or just pure fiction. I'm not referring to the soaps that have gone on for decades, I don't have the patience to watch these. I'm talking of dramas - either one offs or series - where the script and acting is so fabulous that it grips you from start to finish, and you never want it to end...I began this blog as I was affected/moved by 2 dramas that I watched recently, one in fact is yet to conclude. The first one follows the lives of a few of the jurors in a murder re-trial, while following the trial unravel side by side. A very unusual story line, some a tad controversial too (one of the juror is a teacher who has just ended an affair with a 17yr old student). The 2nd drama is aptly titled 'The Slap'. It all begins with a slap - which occurs at the 40th birthday party of a man. His close friends and immediate family attend, he is of Greek origin, married to a black woman. His mother is a stero-typical Greek, father tries to keep the family together. One of the frinds' son behaves like a brat, annoying everyone, and finally the cousin of the man whose birthday it is gives this boy a slap. A huge hullaballo erupts, each one taking a different angle, while the mother of said child reports the incident to the police - thus forcing all those who attended to take sides, and deal with family pressure while doing so. Each episode follows the story of one main character, and there are so many controversial ideas involved (the Greek mother curses the 'black' daughter-in-law in her language, while hugging her...there's a lot of racism, a bit of violence...also the mother of said child is still breast-feeding him, despite him being almost 3 yrs old..and so on. And there's no hysteria or melo drama while tackling (or just acting) the various ideas. Simply fabulous.

The Foreign dramas/series

Another aspect of all this telecast is that besides the various programmes produced here in Britain, quite a few are 'imported' from other countries. These are mostly from the US, needless to say. The fabulous series of 'The Wire', which had the viewer hooked to the extent that when the whole series concluded one was left bereft, mourning the death of a wonderful programme. Then there is the stylish multi-award winning 'Mad Men', murder mystery solvers like 'Castle', 'The Mentalist' to name but two...cop drama 'Chicago Code' is a recent entry, as is 'Rizzoli & Issles'. But the best recent forein import has to be the Dutch 'The Killing', currently running its second series. The whol programme is telecast in the original - ie dialogues are in Dutch - with English sub-titles. Despite this small annoying factor, this drama has affected me so much in terms of its production and impact that I plan to pen a blog just on 'The Killing'!

So, here's a toast to the wonderful television programmes telecast in this country - I'm sure going to miss you all....

The onset of autumn....

Purple berries

                                                                          
As I go for a walk, I breathe in the fresh air of another beautiful, sunny day...all of a sudden the whole of UK has been presented with a surprise - a few sunny days, almost as if mother nature has realised she had missed us on her summer rounds and is trying to assuage her guilt by granting us these few days. Some of the flowering plants that were beginning to go into slumber have woken up, and are scrambling to make the most of this gift by putting out some of their last offerings...cheerful petunias poking their heads up again, the ladylike Fushias rising up elegantly. The brightly coloured cheeky Begonias grin with unabashed smugness, as if to say to their fellow plants, '..told you not to be in such a hurry...' . However, the sharp nip in the air and the changing colours around announce the quiet arrival of autumn. I love autumn, but her onset in itself is quite something. Creepers changing colours...some walls and fences are now smothered in a mass of red/rust/orange/maroon heart shaped leaves. Some creepers and climbers are covered in berries - orange, red, white, yellow...there are some new purple berries this year, I make a mental note to google this species, for the berries are really rich and vibrant in their colour. Some bushes are defiantly pushing autumn away - brave little rose buds, some that may never quite bloom...the petunias, pansies, fuschias, begonias , lobelias in hanging baskets riotously tumbling over each other, vying for the last of the attention for this year, both from the humans and the sun. The leaves of the mighty oak always seem to be the first to cave in, and almost as if giving up the battle too soon have begun to dry and fall. Some others age more gracefully - the Sumac now has its striking burgundy spikes of flowers competing with not just its stalks of beautiful green leaves, but also the dazzling orange and red ones of those that have changed their hue.  Just how many beautiful colours can there be on one tree simultaneously?

The spirituality of nature hasn't been more evident than now - the has been, is and will be living side by side - in quiet, gentle, soothing harmony.

Meet this young man - my son!

I know this will make you cringe and wince if & when you read it - for someone who has a sentimental streak, you can't stand reading 'corny, mushy' write ups! However, whilst booking our tickets to India, I thought of how long it has been since you visited, and that its likely to be much longer too. My folks don't know the new you - oh I tell them about how laid back you are etc, but they don't know this young man that you've turned out to be. So, I'm introducing him to my near and dear ones!

You've turned out to be quite a surprise - oh, I didn't worry about the integrity and deceny aspects, after all you come from good stock on both sides! But there is a gentleness, a streak of kindness, bordering on tenderness - that surprises me. You're quite understanding too - have always had that knack of figuring people even from quite a young age. But most surprising of all has been your willingness to be house trained!  We did have many 'Mr Bean' moments with eggs (oh, and I'm the clumsy one?!), and how can I forget that wonderful raita you made - a big piece of cucumber cut into 4 large lumps, floating in a pool of unbeaten yoghurt...the memory gives me nightmares even today! But then, I have so many other memories too - how you woke up at 8am when clothes had to be hung out (and not once did I hear you grumble about that - infact, you would brush your teeth, and emerge with a great big smile, ready to give your crabby mum a good morning hug!), these were hung out in a specific manner, following all codes laid out in the unwritten book of 'Iyer's rules'! And take them off in the evening , folding them haphazardly (all except appa's - which were left in a neat pile on his bed!). How you learnt to chop vegetables - even onions - so finely, all pieces a similar size (I know, I'm silly that way!). How you would iron my clothes (and some of yours), and fold them crisply, leaving them on my bed with some silly note attached. How you would sweep the kitchen floor (the manner depended very much on whether or not you were supervised!), washed vessels, dripping water all over the sink and even some of the floor (please don't ever attempt any crime, you will have evidence left all over the world pointing to you!)...laying the table & clearing up for and after dinner was your chore, shall we say one that was accomplished in an interesting manner?! Or how you peeled potatoes, humming annoyingly, 'peeling...peelin...peel...', that tune haunts me whenever I look at an alu today! Oh, and watering my pots/plants for me, though you didn't see much of a point in it! Helping unload the groceries (shhh, shall not mention where you put the bottle of fresh milk!!). Oh, we got into several arguments, some quite heated. But you always apologised if it was your fault, and accepted the apology I grunted out quite graciously. You've, in short , become quite a man, my son.

Ladies and gentlemen - I give you this lovely young man, my son....

Khoob saare Alu parathas!

There are many types of potatoes you get here - Charlotte, New potatoes, whitepotatoes, Desiree (Red skinned) potatoes, baking potatoes, Maris Piper, Anya...just to name a few! While I've tried Anya, Desiree...used the MP ones for cutlets, I mainly use New potatoes for the Indian subjis, as the couple of others I've tried don't taste too good in desi recipes. I've casually skimmed through articles on varieties of potatoes, disdainfully disregarding the description of 'waxy Charlottes...' as some silly nonsense spouted by the author...well, here's my experience of the said 'waxy' Charlotte...


The Man decided to buy MORE potatoes (I can't wait for him to grow out of the current phase he is going through - buying anything that's on 'offer'!), and so, whilst glaring at the 3 kgs of potatoes I now had, I decided to use the Charlotte ones he bought to make Alu parathas, as I thought that adding ginger, fresh dhania and some spices ought to lift the taste even the dullest tasting pots. So, I pressure cooked them, and while Adit peeled & mashed them later, went for a lovely walk.  On my return, added the ginger etc etc to the mashed potatoes, then noticed that the mixture did seem rather...er...how do I put this...waxy! Realising that I wouldn't be able to use this mixture as a filler to roll out the 'stuffed' parathas as planned...and rejecting the little voice in my head that suggested deep frying them with some chopped onions, besan etc...(as I'd had my fill of deep frying that morning - vadams, appalams of 2 types etc), I decided to add atta to the mash, thus giving it some body - and me the opportunity to roll it out....and now the fun began.
For the more atta I added, the more seasoning it needed...and the greedy Charlotte just sucked it all in, and beamed with wicked waxiness at me, challenging and urging me to add more atta...and some more...then some more.... an hour or so later - and with about 15 more cooked alu parathas than was originally planned for! - I learnt a valuable lesson about Charlotte - SHE IS ONE WAXY LADY!


Not all stories have happy endings, darlins'...some just have bahut saare alu parathas instead!


P.S - you would think that I've learnt a harsh lesson in life, and have given up on making alu parathas....but guess what's in the pipeline tomorrow?!?!

Winged Migration

http://www.sonyclassics.com/wingedmigration/home.html

Tennis!

Disclaimer! This blog is being written by someone who chanced upon the world of tennis after the era of Borg/McEnroe/ Connors etc, and therefore does not mention these greats in its text!


While watching a match being played at the Cincinnati masters yesterday, I got into a rather heated argument with Aditya about Djokovic , Nadal and Federer...and when an uneasy calm settled down in the living room, I pondered on how and when this obsession with tennis began...The culprit of course is Raja - he introduced me to murder mysteries (or rather, to the great Ed McBain), old english songs and...tennis.

I'd never been interested in sports of any kind (except perhaps a bit of gymnastics and ice skating, not that these were telecast regularly by doordarshan!). It was 1989 when I first sat down to watch a tennis match - Wimbledon was being telecast (those days only the finals were telecast). Raja, not wanting to be disturbed while watching, explained the rules to me quickly between service breaks. I watched these 2 players knock the ball around - Stefan Edberg had this cute habit of sticking his tongue out while serving, Becker made this big noise when it was his turn...and as I watched the drama unfold, I was surely and truly sucked in. Torn between my growing affection for the sweet, cute Edberg and awe for the melodramatic Becker, I cheered them on, not wanting this exciting match to ever complete! Sadly of course there was only one winner - and the game of tennis added a new fan to its fast growing list!

One of the biggest benefits of moving to Dubai in '92 was being able to watch more tennis! For all the grand slams were covered and telecast by star plus. I plotted and planned family meals and ways of keeping a young, active Aditya occupied when these matches were on! Much to Raja's amusement, soon I developed strong favourites and dislikes and egged my 'boys' and 'girls' to win over those I didn't much care for. I mean, what did people see in Pete Sampras, for God's sake? The man had a massive serve, but nothing much else (in my very knowledgeable opinion). I still remember that epic match he played against Peter Korda.

Anyway, I've been thinking of the questions the pundits of the tennis world often ask - 'who is the greatest of them all?'. Personally I think that's a rather daft question - for who knows how Borg would fare against Federer or vice versa? But on the other hand, one could list out the many favourites, and that's what I plan on doing.

The women 

These days I tend not to watch the women's tennis, as there aren't so many good ones around (although this year's Wimbledon had a couple of interesting new names playing well - Kvitova and Lisicki for example). But thimngs were very different in the bygone years - who could ever forget the countless matches that Navaratilova played and won? Or the great Monica Seles - who knows what records she would have broken had she not be stopped cruelly after being stabbed by a fan of Graf's? The 'always the bridesmaid...' Novotona - how frustrating it was to watch this extremely talented played lose - time and time again - for the lack of self belief? The elegant and dignified Clisters, the foxy but gifted Henin-Hardenne, the ever smiling Mary Pierce, the inconsistent Mauresemo...but alas, then the Williams sisters came to dominate the womens tennis for many years. While their background stories were amazing and so were some of their shots, the ease with which they put opponents out brought the issue facing women's tennis to light - there weren't too many good players left! So until and unless this changes, I will not be tuning into their matches....

Men!

Well, one must say that in this species has conitnued to hold me enthralled - in the world of tennis, that is!

The have beens - Boom boom Becker, sweet-natured Edberg, the calm and contained Courier, the ever popular Kuerten...and then ofcourse Pat Rafter and Andre agassi! I have never been able to understand why Rafter retired so soon, so early when his career was just beginning to peak. He was fabulous to watch - and so was his game! I remember my firm loyalty to Agassi being tested when he played that epic match against Rafter, boy was that one of the most exciting matches played ever! But my all time favourite ofcourse was Andre Agassi. While he won accolades for his great talent at a young age, I watched him play only when he came into the tennis again for a second shot at greatness. For in 1993 he had slipped in rankings - all the way down to 141 on the list. But the he got his act together, trained hard (he was a demon for physical fitness during these years - he would run up a hill/mountain, and he often overtook his trainer while doing so), and under Brad Gilbert's tutelage worked his way to the top - he was number 1 by 1995! This is something that has always amazed me about him - that he didn't just slip away, but clawed his way back. A baseline player, famous for his great 'return of serve' skills, one knew when Agassi had got his teeth stuck into an opponent....a certain gleam lit his eyes, and soon the master puppeteer had his opponent run from one corner to the other, and  the spectators held their breath, waiting for the killing shot! Sampras - Agassi's nemesis - played some of his best matches against the great A. Even now during rain breaks sports' channels telecast that great Rafter Vs Agassi or Sampras Vs Agassi matches. His trade mark hug to his fans at the end of each of his matches added to his charisma, and helped his ever growing popularity. Since retirement he has set up his  the Andre Agassi College Preparatory Academy, a tuition-free charter school for at-risk children living in the area.

The could/might have beens :
One of the reasons I hold Agassi in such high esteem is the fact that he pulled his act together, to put his skill to good use, and through sheer determination reached the number 1 slot he much deserved. Alas, many other players have allowed their skill to die in waste. Berdych (albeit mostly due to injuries), Haas (temper, temper!), Malisse...but of them all, Safin and Nalbandian have to rank the highest in this list of 'might have beens'. Both scintillating players, with a wonderful repertoire of shots, they were the only 2 to have defeated Federer in his heydays. Marat even got to number one very briefly. But the money, fame, the party life & girls that came along with all this distracted this immensely talented player - and alas, the world of tennis didn't get to see the best of him. As for David Nalbandian...well, what can one say? What a waste of all that God given talent. Who could forget that wonderful match when he defeated Federer in the year end masters' finals? And yet, his career rankings, titles are hardly worth mentioning. Was it a lack of discipline? A lack of committment? A lack of focus? Who knows, but once again, the spectators have been cheated of another tennis great.

And now,my favourites!

Better than the best?? Novak Djokovic's current run - 0f 55 match wins and just 2 losses - is certainly an impressive one. I remember the first year he burst onto the 'men's tennis' scene, having made his mark in the juniors. His charismatic personality did not in any way diminish his shot making skills...he was quite riveting to watch, one of those 'clever' players, who varied his game once he figured how to get to his opponent. and this is I guess what differentiates the 'great' from the 'best', the fact that they can vary their game, and can think for themselves and alter their style/shots depending on who they're playing against. However, he lacked in stamina, and quite often ran out of breath, and it was obvious to all that he would not survive a 5 set match, let alone win it. But boy did he make everyone sit up and take notice. Coming from a small town in Serbia, growing up when the country was torn by internal feuds, apparently he practiced tennis in an unused swimming pool! Sheer determination to make something of himself urged him to improve his game, and he has reached the number 1 title at such a young age. A nasal surgery, couple of bad years and change in diet seems to have worked wonders for him - for he appears to be the one who felled the almost invincible giant named Nadal. Besides possessing a wonderful array of shots, he is quite gracious in defeat, and is one of those rare players (Roddick, Tsonga - some of the othes) who has the decency and dignity to applaud a good shot from his opponent during a match. He is the only player to have won 5 masters titles in the same calendar year. Hats off, Djoko - and may your winning streak continue. 

And now, the very best!

With a mind boggling array of records under his belt (66 titles, #1 for 285 consecutive weeks (!), only player to have finished Top 2 in year-end for eight consecutive years, to have reached 23 grand slam semi-finals ...oh, the list is endless!), the 'Federer Express' - as he was affectionately referred to by the press when at his peak! - firmly remains my all time favourite. While he did win his Juniors Wimbledon title as early as 1998, he was prone to temper tantrums at a younger age (in the tennis world, mid 20s is old!)...however, he learnt to control this and focus on his game. And boy what a game he plays! He clearly raised the bar in tennis terms, taking the game by its throat and giving forehand winners a new meaning. While he appears slight in build (no obvious flexing of brawns), he is obviously one of the fittest players in the game. Think about it - when did one last hear of Federer pulling out of a match due to injury? Or undergo hip/shoulder/knee surgeries? When did you last see the trainer on court attending to him? You see what I mean?? He moves around the court swiftly and stealthily, so much so one doesn't appreciate his speed of movement. A brilliant serve (and no, not in terms of 'speed' but more in terms of its devastating effect/impact), mind blowing down the line forehands, breath taking drop shots, ability to handle all courts (while he hasn't had many successes on clay,he has reached the French open finals 5 times in the last 8 years, a record bested only by Borg and Nadal in this aspect) equally well....he forced the younger players to 'up' their game, and for many years had the halo of awe blinding his opponents. Sauve, elegant, smooth and stylish, he makes his shots seem effortless, one rarely sees him break into a sweat, or jump up, thumping his chest when he hits a fabulous shot. Not for him the antics of others, who attempt to rouse the crowd or irk the opponent by his body language. Not for him the time wasting tactics of Nadal before a serve! And I think this is what makes him so special - he just glides in, around and out....keeping the spectator glued to the game as one blink of an eyelid and a dazzling shot will be missed. Yes, Nadal has been his nemesis, and for a player who has been the only one to end Djokovic endless winning streak this year, Roger appears not to have figured out a way to beat Nadal. And alas the 'pundits' harp on this, forgetting how even at the age of 30 he is still in the top 5 (currently ranked #3), and appears to reach semi finals of most tournamennts with ease...and if he doesn't make it to the US open finals this year, it will be the 1st time since 2003 that Roger hasn't made it to 3 of the 4 grand slam finals in the same calendar year, and that in itself is no mean feat. Who knows what records he would have achieved had he not been blighted by glandular fever? Salutations, Mr Federer - and thank you for the many, many years of wonderful tennis matches and wins...

Summer - my least favourite season!

Now, that is indeed a strange title for a blog from someone who resides in the UK! But let me tell you a bit about the positive features of 'summer' here before I explain my feeling towards it...

Well, when it comes to flowers and plants and trees (I know some of you get bored with this - but remember, this is a journal for me!), I really can't complain. Now is the season for dazzling dahlias and funky fuschias...and a variety of Hydrangeas that always make me stop and stare. The Petunias and Lobelia appear to compete with each other and smother the plants with flowers...vivid purples and stripe pinks, pale creams to elegant mauves. The fruit trees are laden with their bounty - plums and apples mostly. I see quite a few vines spreading lushly, and it's a sight for sore eyes : green bunches heavy with fruit hanging onto the creeper for dear life. Vegetables of course are getting ready to be cut, I saw my neighbour take some runner beans into his home yesterday...the pigeons are getting fatter, and the magpies carry on as normal, looking as sharp and quick as ever. The best part of course are the fruits one can buy in plenty, from juicy peaches, plump strawberries to the variety of melons...and all the planting one can get done, and the tempting plant stands in even the super markets.

So what's not to like about? I'll tell you. First this place isn't equipped for summer - so while we cope with our table and floor fans, and keep windows open, there's no escaping the humidity of those hot days. Then the effect of all this on the grass/lawns...they look more like hay than the green lush grass one is used to. I know - I sound like a spoilt brat, whining about the effects of the heat of summer! And perhaps I've been - but whatever the reason, I'm not too keen on summer, although thankful for its benefits!

Rama, my brave friend

I wrote this for Rama's son Aakash and daughter Varshini - soon after she passed away. I wanted them to know what their mother was as a friend. Every now and then I feel a sharp pain when I remember her, and miss her terribly. Somehow her deathj has made not only made mortality  a very real aspect of life - like a brightly coloured image on an otherwise black and white canvas - but has also underlined the importance of making the most of one's life.

"Where do I begin? How does one try to tell 2 youngsters about the friend/person the mother they've just lost was to me? It's 28 days since Rama 'passed away' - I prefer that phrase to the D word, somehow it makes it feel less irrevocable, less final, less harsh.
The most prevalent emotion in me when I think of Rama is the unfairness of it all. She was young, always endeavoured to keep mind & body fit & healthy. She worked hard... she was a soft & gentle person...but one with a steely determination giving a firm shape to all these subtle strands...while I went for the emphatic NO, hers was a gentle - almost timid! - but nevertheless very firm 'no'. The message was one & the same...and so she strived to succeed, always doing whatever she did to the best of her ability. Ensuring her success didn't make her arrogant, never flaunting the wealth or status she had acquired.

One had to know her to get her humour, and she didn't 'get to know' just anybody. And this makes me feel quite privileged...while we had lost touch after she left HSBC, somehow news of her working for Covansys trickled in after almost a decade. And so I contacted her, a little diffident while doing so. And to my pleasant surprise, I heard my friend Rama on the other end of the line! Just the same friendly, gentle warmth that in one easy sweep brushed aside the past decade we had lost in between our chats.

The Rama who picked me up was different in just one visible aspect - she had a teenage daughter by her side! But besides that (and shorter hair), she hadn't changed a bit physically or otherwise since I had last seen her in 1990! There was a gentle chide about my weight gain, done with just my well being in mind. And of we went  - with her deftly driving her 4 * 4 . We (me & my son) had lunch with her, then she & Varshini took us shopping - for Aditya's leather jacket....then she drove us all back home, dropped in to say hello to my family...

The next visit - a year or so later - had a shock in store for me, for cancer had invaded her body, she was so frail that I warily hugged her. We sat chatting for nearly 3 hours or so, and I now desperately try to remember our conversation...only snatches of it come back to me...but one thing I remember for sure is that there were no complaints or resentments, no 'why me?'s. No mention of pain - something she continued to maintain right until her very end. I wonder from time to time why I didn't brush aside her constant reply of , 'I'm ok...its only the people around me who're suffering' and demand to know what she was actually going through. And smile when I realise that one could only get her to say what she wanted said! For each time I called to reassure, comfort and encourage Rama, I was the one who felt all that when I put the phone down! While I strived to have a 'normal' chat with her, the times I did not she would gently shift the focus from her illness to me and the goings on in my life!

And now she is gone. Forever. I'm yet to come to terms with the unfairness of it all. The days speed by, as if in a rush to reach her and offer her the time that was so cruelly stolen from her. Daytimes are easy, for the coward I'm I greedily latch onto the day to day normalities of life. But night time brings back the last image I've of her, and the faces of her children. Varshini crying out, 'amma...amma' in a familiarly soft voice.....and Aakash looking bereft. But then I remember the calm & peace on Rama's face - perhaps some relief too? For no matter how the living may struggle to cope without her, Rama was herself free from the torture that the disease and its so called cure had imposed on her. And one has to take consolation from that fact.

Goodbye and God bless, Rama. I hope I'll be able to stay in touch with Aakash & Varshini, and also with Nalina and Vasu. I hope you knew that you meant a lot to me and Bhanu. I also hope you know that even while leaving us, you've enriched us - for your passing away has strengthened the bond of friendship between me and Bhanu. We will however always miss our gentle, sweet, unassuming friend  - Rama.

Vasanthi

Word Warp!

I'm not one to play computer games, just don't have the patience, and normally shrug it off  with a sarcastic 'just how do adults play computer games?!' query! But in order to familiarise myself with our Ipad, I allowed Gitu (the one who leads people astray!) to teach me a few games. So I attempt to herd sheep (nope, no comments welcome!), colour blocks and...attempt Word Warp. The latter I'm afraid to say has become a slight addiction with/for me. 

Each game gives you 6 random letters, a time span within which to make as many small words from this jumble as possible...the number of possible words are listed as blanks. At the start  I would - like an innocent kid kicking a ball around aimlessly - quickly type out as many 3, 4, 5 and 6 letter words as I could think of, and the race was only against time. I took great satisfaction from all the words I could figure, even the humble 3 lettered ones. The score would add up...and at some point you lost a round and had to start from sratch, trying to break your previous record. I could understand in a way why this game suited me - I've always felt I wasn't competitive, and once sanctimoniously told a friend, 'I compete only with myself - as long as I've done my very best...blah...blah...b****y blah'! So, here I was competing with myself, doing the best I can etc.

And then one day fate struck as I let out a loud wail - as if my world had come to an untimely end. It hadn't - but my round of Ward Warp had! Aditya was around, and came rushing to see what had happened to his 'mushki' (in a strange, freaky way in my family the child has pet names for the parents!). When he realised what had upset me so, he explained - as you would to some dim witted child (phew...thank God this blog has privacy settings, that was such an un-pc thing to say), 'amma, don't you know that if you get the final 6 letter word(s), you will not get kicked out, even if you don't get most of the others?'. Aha...now I knew the trick...I knew how to hang in there...and now the problem began! 

For I began scrambling to get the 6 letter word(s) first, ignoring the teeny weeny humble 3 & 4 letter words that have been such a large part of my life so far. 'Shhh...', I would brush them aside carelessly, 'wait your turn...you aren't important'. Many a round was completed with just the 6 letter word adorning a rather empty page...one which had a lot of blanks left - well, rather blank! And the more 6 letter words I got, the higher the score I reached. And every now and then I would querulously demand of The Man and the child , 'quick....what is a 6 letter word with 'dirtpo'??'  Once when The man asked, 'doesn't asking people for help defeat the whole point of the game?', I replied, 'I've reached a score of 125000 - what, you want me to lose now? At this stage?'. Was he completely clueless??

'Not competitive, are you?' the son smirked. Is that what it is? Is that what the competitive streak does to you - makes you bend rules slightly, just so you could hang on to the high score you've achieved? Is that what makes billionaires work for more profits...sometimes even by hook or crook? Does it make you push aside all the humble but useful folks around you, as if they were nonentities, just so you can hang onto the big names in the game? Or is it just me - unable to deal with being competitve, a streak that  has entered my life for the first time - at the ripe old age of 50?! Maybe I'm floundering as this is the first time I've had to deal with it. Or perhaps I was spared this streak during my younger life by some higher force, one which knew I would lose track of rules and regulations and policies....not to start with maybe, but definitely once I'd reached a slightly better status in life! Perhaps I would have climbed the rungs of the career ladder, pushing aside humble friends along the way...hmmm...interesting thought. But in the meantime, a 6 letter word with 'jredau', anyone?

The mind and heart

The mind and heart

What the mind knows
the heart does not accept -
It forever longs to see my father
who was so special and dear to me.

What the mind knows
the heart does not comprehend -
Where did he go, how can this be?
That I'll never be able to see no more
My father so dear to me.

So today - a month later
I suddenly decided to see,
What it would be like to
let my my mind have a word with my heart
which so abandoned feels.

"And what would you like to know
Oh heart, whose grief appears to be
so inconsolable, and so bereft
to a mind as practical as me?"

"Where has my father gone,
when will I again see
the twinkle in his eye
that always lit up for me?

When will I hear again his voice beckoning to me
'Kutti...' he would say, his voice
booming, happy and free.

When will I hear him say 'hul-lo'
in that special drawl that was his,
when will I hear him ask for his 'master' -
that special name he had for my son?

When will I get another letter
written so neatly to me
always in reply to the one
sent on the date he referred to be!

When will I see his pleasure
at the beauty of a flower..a bird...a tree
when will I hear of his escapades
to a town - so far away from me?"

"My child, you've answered yourself
if you search all your words to me
For in your questions lie the answer
about your father, so special to me.

For you will see his eyes light up
along with that twinkle and smile
Whenever to your mind you bring
all those memories and wonderful times.

You will then hear his voice again
Call you 'kutti...'
You will see again his lovely hand
whenever his diary or letter you read.

You just need to close your eyes
and imagine calling him for free
irrespective of the time difference
to the place where he now seems to be.

You will hear his 'hul-lo' again
said in that special way that was his,
asking about 'baba' and your back
and about Raja whome he thought was the best.

And whenever you see a flower
a bird...a butterfly...atree
these things will always bring to your mind
a man as special as he.

A man who died as he lived
with unfailing spirit and glee
who always lived for the moment
and cared for those around him too.

A man who taught without saying
how confident and fearless to be
a man who corrected without raising
ever a finger to you.

A man who always brought a smile
to the faces of his children five
who left no cash, no will, no house
just a lot of blessings for free.

A man who was as special to me as to you,
 so dear heart please be free
as free as a bird, as your father
who was special to both you and me"

Seasons in the sun - Spring

Went for a walk after a few days....mother nature has been busy lending a helping hand to the plants, trees appear to have greedily sapped in the sunlight...the soil...and ofcourse the result is breath taking! My head turns left to  right ...taking in all the new growth, flowers and shrubs vying for attention. I feel like an avid tennis fan trying to grasp each stroke of the rivals as they play ! It's just as well the pavements in this place are smooth and clean, for that helps when people like me walk without looking at the ground! As I go downhill (literally, not figuratively!) - the slope makes me feel like I'm walking into the horizon!  I look up at the clear, bright blue sky, with fluffy white clouds casually wandering over it.  And I think to myself - is there anything as exciting and invigorating as a bright, clear day in spring?? And yes - this is something else that I'll miss about this place...the different seasons with its varying beauty. From the scorching summers (if & when we do have them!) and the fresh spring, to the glorious autumn and even bleak winters. So, this is to remind myself of spring in my later days!


Spring heralds the beginning of a new season, it not only brings the much needed break from harsh and bleak winters, but also allows nature - who has been waiting patiently or otherwise in the wings - the chance to play the lead role. For the trees and shrubs and flowers all begin to come back to life. Like life after death. There's such a clean, crisp smell in the air...and brigh sunny days like today can take your breath away. For the clear blue of the sky is almost spell binding, the white fluffy clouds seem to float around aimlessly, as if to break the rhythym of the blue. There's colour everywhere - from the glorious purple haze of the Ceonothus to the huge dinner - plate sized blooms of the clematis. It's just glorious - makes you want to sing to the tune of nature. I don't know if this is my favourite season - for despite the fact it heralds the impending chill of winter, autumn has a charm of its own. But I must confess spring does lighten the heart and makes the spirit dance, wants you to get up and go....fills you with the promise of new beginnings, dazzles you with its beauty and colour ...makes you feel young, pumps fresh blood into your weary limbs...need I go on?? You get the gist by now...so, here's three cheers to SPRING...hip, hip...

To the young lad in the tea stall

                                             

The year - 1981...place - Chromepet, a small corner of Chennai. I had completed my B.A in Economics and had begun working as a primary school teacher at a private school in Chetpet. To compensate for the pitifully low and insufficient pay, I had taken on home tuitions, both before and after school. I would leave home by 6.30am, after a cup of coffee, carrying the lunch mum would have packed. I would then pick up 2 idlis at the canteen at railway station - this would be greedily downed during the "interval" at school!

So - the daily custom was to pick up said idlis from the stall. This was manned by a young lad (perhaps my age..??). Usually I would make it just in time to order, pay & collect my parcel and hop onto the train that would pull in almost simultaneously. The lad knew what my order was (I have always been a creature of habits!), and would begin packing even as I approached his stall. But some days I would be slightly late, and the train would be entering the station just as I was reaching the spot where the ladies' compartment would stop.  And this young lad would chuck the parcel to me, and I would pay him the next day! Now, bearing in mind this was in the '80s...he probably paid for the cost of my breakfast from his pocket...to ensure I didn't go without mine! We hardly spoke - I know I would smile, thank him...but I didn't know his name...(I think of him as a 'Murugan' for some reason..), and I didn't stop by to inform him I wouldn't need the parcels anymore when I started working for a bank about 18 months later....

However, I often remember this young lad and thank him for his thoughtfulness...saying a quick prayer for his well being. Did he wonder what had happened to me? Did he know his kindness was appreciated? Did the others he served so thoughtfully know his name? Has he been commended or rewarded for his 'good customer service' and 'going beyond expectations' work attitude?  Did he ever wonder what happened to the thin, saree clad woman who bought a parcel of 2 idlis, day in and day out? Did he -  like me - manage to move on to something better? 

I will never know the answers to these questions, but would like to think he has come up in life.

So, dear Murugan, I thank you for your thoughtfulness:

I'm sure this arose from kindness

Both of which were priceless

During my moments of darkness.

Now, albeit rather late

I thank you for sparing me

Your time...your effort..and perhaps a thought??
And surely a much needed dime!

I hope life has treated you well

with the gentleness you deserve
Thank you, my friend.

The beauty of this place!

I love spring....the best time of the year here, in the United Kingdom. I've lived here since 1998, we arrived on New Year's day, from a very hot country to one at its coldest ! While the winter had its own beauty, the first ever spring is one I will remember for a long time to come...

For while most of the bare branches and stalks began sprouting  green leaves, with the merest hint of blossoms tucked in here and there, some trees put forth their blooms first! Like a dramatic opera, choosing to begin with a soparano's belting number,  the magnificent Magnolia - picture above - was different. Trees were smothered in large, beautiful, shamelessly blousy blossoms in pale pink tinged with purple, or milky white, or just in deep purple reminiscent of some dark secret hitherto held by winter......the sight  taking my breath away, pushing aside the lingering chill in the air...had there been a more breath taking sight than one of these trees in bloom?? Oh yes...proclaimed the  Japanese cherry trees...struggling to cope with its branches laden heavy with gorgeous bunches of pink flowers...giving the Magnolia a run for its money! I realise I will miss all this beauty when I go back home for good...so promise myself a journal to record my memories...

While gazing at some showy scarlet Tulips, I wonder at man's greed - these elegant flowers have 109 varieties, but that not being enough, man decided to create cultivars...mixing & matching colours and textures and shapes...who first thought, "109? That isn't quite enough...I want more...some more..."?? 

And this greed continued...he decided he would belittle the pride of majestic trees  out in the open, and  created the Bonsais...("..growth is restricted by the pot environment..." says Wikipedia....). Man crossed different varieties of all flowers, resulting in flowers showier than its mother...

But mother Nature has strides on, enabling her children cope with the harsh winters...and scorching summers...