Reap what you sow...

I am not talking about the post title as a moral, but it's literal meaning. The gardening bug got to me this spring and I planted a few seeds in the yard. I even made a raised bed with the help of a little muscle from the spouse. After a visit to one of my friends who has a green thumb and is an avid gardener, I was very inspired. I decided to start small. A quick trip to Home Depot brought home a untreated Cedar plank, cut to size, and some galvanized nails. Soon, my raised bed was ready, a little one, but I was very proud of it. Filled it up with some great soil and I was ready to go.
Herbs were first on the list and I planted a few seeds in a planter before transferring them into the bed. Three kinds of basil, (Thai basil for the first time-it's great in salads and Thai dishes), Oregano, Thyme, Chives, Mint, Rosemary, Garlic Chives were all on the list.

I got cherry tomato plants, no taller than 3 inches tall, from Whole Foods and put them straight into the bed. They started to grow... oh so fast! In no time, they were almost 4 feet high. I had to scramble to get supports for them, because in no time, there were laden with flowers and fruit.

There were so many little green tomatoes on the tree at one time! I was wondering when they would ripen. Patience!

Two zucchini plants were in the ground but I guess I didn't read up before getting them. To this date, they only get male flowers, and I have yet to see a fruit. I must follow up and see where I went wrong.

Meanwhile, my backyardigan friends were having fun in the yard, playing among themselves and getting a snack from me every now and then.

Bell peppers and Serrano peppers were also bought as little plants and they went into the raised bed too. Bell peppers have been slow, but I did get quite a few Serranos. The initial fruit were very bland but now they are finally getting some zing to them. 

The Thai Basil was happy, some pretty purple blooms soon appeared and the leaves garnished a whole lot of salads and curries.

Everything comes to he who waits... the tomatoes in abundance. For about two-three weeks, we got  approximately 30-35 cherry tomatoes to snack on everyday. Then it slowed down some, now there are a lot of flowers again. I actually graded them according to color.

Among flowers, from what I had earlier from last year, the Calla lilies bloomed, so did the Mogra (Asian jasmine), Pink Jasmine, roses and Gerber daisies. It was a small garden. I have a long way to go to get to the stage my friend is at, she hardly visits the store to shop for vegetables and herbs, she has them all in her backyard. It is a good start though, some hits, and some misses. You live and learn!

Thinking about my life...

The year began on a hectic note, we went out of town for our New Year get together with friends and got back on January the first, happy, thankful to have such wonderful friends, and very tired and ready to get a decent nights sleep. Soon after was our long awaited trip to India, which was going to happen for me after a long gap of 6 years.

The three week trip was moving quickly, I got to meet so many cherished friends and I was meeting part of my family after six years. Nostalgia hung heavy as we traveled down roads that were once familiar, now not used as much after monstrous highways took away the brunt of the traffic. Bittersweet moments were scattered all over.
One such meeting with my college room mate and very good friend went late into the night. She went down memory lane and stirred up so many little details I had forgotten. Among them was how we would rush to get to our favorite buses home after college. Along with buses run by the state government, private bus operators had some good buses running on almost all routes, and they had a nice schedule they would stick to. Some of these were 'express' buses that would travel non stop between two cities and were great for commuting students. We would hand over Rs.1 (half ticket for students) and take a window seat. The buses would play tapes of popular Hindi film soundtracks and the journey would end after a refreshing hour of cool breeze on the face, listening to some nice music, buried in one's thoughts.
My 16 year old niece often asks if we are going on a long drive, because she likes to sit at the back in the car, listen to her ipod and 'think about her life'. I always found that last line funny, until I realized that we used to do the exact same thing, except we used to board a public transport bus, sometimes wait for our favorite one because they'd play our favorite music and then get lost in our thoughts. Cars back then did not have radios or tape players, so our car drives used to be rather silent. I've realized that the accompaniment of music is quite a necessity if you want to get lost in thought.
Now I wonder what those thoughts were about, about how life would shape up? Or simply how and when I was going to finish my next assignment that was due, or was it just something that had occurred between friends? It's funny how every age has its own trials and tribulations, along with moments of contentment. There is a line in a song about childhood - छोटी छोटी ख़ुशी छोटे छोटे वोह  ग़म … small joys and small sorrows.
It felt like I had only blinked and a couple of decades had just passed by. Where did all that time go, and when did it happen... way too fast!

Spring in the step

When winter is on its way out, and spring is just around the corner, my mindset is that of an animal just getting out of hibernation. Plans flood my head, lots of projects say they want to get into action, and excitement is in the air. Daylight hours increase and that adds to the euphoria.

In the past, only a few of these well meaning, robust projects have seen the light of day. I hope to do better this year. If I maintain a log of how things have fared, maybe I will be more productive. Usually, the terrible Texas summers make me dive back indoors into the cool shade behind the drapes. However, there are plenty of indoor plans that I can work on at that time. Maybe I need an army of friends who will gently nudge me in the right direction when needed. Who am I kidding? Who has an army of friends? Well, maybe I should ask 2-3 of them and assign them with the task.

I know, I am rambling. That's precisely what happens when a person wants to achieve a whole lot and doesn't know where to begin.

Meanwhile, my camera suffered some setbacks during the latter part of the past year. Maybe I took it out in the rain. It does not focus as well as it used to. That can be very frustrating after you've gotten used to its impeccable performance in the past 4 years. So I am on the lookout for good recommendations. I feel I am ready to move to an intermediate level camera from my present entry level model.

I started writing this 2 weeks ago and didn't get a chance to return until today. A decent garden is now shaping up in my yard. I happened to visit a friend who has a very healthy garden with so much produce, she doesn't need to go to the store to get much. It was neat to see her get even mustard seeds from her mustard plants, so she harvests the greens and the seeds she collected lasted her for the year she said. That was so impressive and also inspiring. She has a compost pit too, so she rarely wastes anything organic. I decided to follow suit with all the vegetable and fruit waste. I have started small but intend doing more once I figure out how I will fare in our HOT summers.

Tough decisions

March is here, and I am facing a time in my life that I've heard others talk about. My autistic son maybe on the brink of leaving high school for good. The tough part is that I have to make that decision. The question is if I'm making the right one. I don't want to be the one forcing him to move on. He isn't having a good time there, it isn't meaningful anymore, not rewarding either. He may want to continue for the sake of company of peers. The pros and cons need to be considered and it's one of those moments when you want to pick the stones from the bag from 'The Alchemist'. Asking the appropriate question still will be my responsibility.

What follows will be even more challenging. I'm going to need to have a plan in place where I can keep him occupied and give him a feeling that his life still has a purpose. I will really need to step up to achieve that after years of the school taking care of those needs.

Signing off 2014

I wanted to put down a few thoughts before the end of the year and I'm glad I got a chance to do just that. At the eleventh hour, I have managed to snatch some time and write. The month has been a roller coaster with some great experiences and some not so much. Much like the line थोड़े ग़म हैं थोड़ी खुशियाँ.... from the song ये जीवन है ..... I love how soft Kishore's voice sounds in that song.

Taking stock of the year that's drawing to a close, I realized that I did manage to find time to get a few things on my resolutions list addressed.

I read a few classics books, and really enjoyed doing so. I loved the language used in these books and visiting life in another state, country, or culture makes this journey such an enjoyable one.

I watched most of the classics of the celebrated filmmaker Satyajit Ray. I'm so glad I did and with time in hand to savor each one I watched. Introspection after such movies is inevitable and I ended up doing just that. They add such an unique dimension in the kaleidoscope called life.

Some latent hobbies got a chance to peep out for a bit too, whether it was jewelry making, gardening or arts and crafts.

Music, which is a staple in my life, had a good year too. I got to explore a whole new realm of music. Bengali music is as rich as it's cultural heritage. I have only just begun my journey but am proud to say that I have found it to be very rewarding.
Classical music, as always, has given me much joy. To be in a trance listening to some amazing renditions is always a pleasure.

On to the new year... 

Awakening

Why is it so easy to laugh at someone, over something that the person has no control over? Even when the world is trying to teach acceptance and understanding, there are scores of people who find humor in another person's incapacity at a certain skill set. I am unable to fathom the thought process behind such an action.

Recently, at a gathering of friends, one very well educated lady thought she was relating a funny incident about her daughter, who apparently had spent a good deal of time working with a group of young adults with special needs... bless her heart! One young man from that group proposed to her one day, and she told her mother about it, probably just relating what had happened during the day. I know the girl, she is a very sensitive and caring young woman. The mother chose to turn the incident into a joke loudly proclaiming that her daughter's hand was sought for by a 'mentally retarded person'. This statement was followed by a hearty laugh. I was in the room and so were a lot of other friends who were extremely uncomfortable at this tactless attempt at humor. That's when she suddenly realized and looked at me directly and apologized at least thrice for the faux pas. I was in shock that I actually witnessed such an incident, and tried to stay as stoic as possible. I had seen a couple of faces that had initially found it funny but realized the political incorrectness of it all. It was not a moment that will turn into pleasant memory in future.

A friend once shared an article he wrote for a news magazine. He had narrated an incident in a subway, where young adults finally made a girl in their group sit in a chair reserved for disabled people. All the while, they poked fun at their girl friend and insinuated that she was disabled. They continued to pile their briefcases and bags on the poor girls lap for safe keeping because she had a seat and they were still standing. My friend standing nearby was stepping out at the next station. He made it a point to tell the group that ridiculing the disabled under the garb of humor was not alright!

I wonder when people will stop finding amusement in putting other people down. There is enough hilarity in everyday life without having to resort to awkward humor of this kind. Will people awaken to that!

Nonpareil

Earlier in the year, I decided to catch up on some classic films made by master film maker Satyajit Ray. The resolve continues. It is wise to give some space between his movies so they sink in and you get time to think about them.

As more and more of the world seems to get materialistic, easily swayed by the flashy, glitzy urban lifestyle, watching these movies takes you to a ground level that is as earthy and real as it can get. It is life from a different viewpoint in every film. An eternal search for something elusive stays on with you long after the movie credits roll up. The sad truth is that years after the movies were made, the situation hasn't changed much for so many people. Yet there is hope.

I recently watched Teen Kanya, an anthology film, based on three stories by Rabindranath Tagore. It is the first part that I wish to talk about today. Postmaster, an approximately 45 minute film, set in a rural setting, is a moving story of a young orphan Ratan who forms a tender bond with the new postmaster. He is a city bred young man who uses his spare time to teach Ratan who cleans and cooks for him, to read and write. He also encourages her to sing and reads her poetry that leads her to love him like a brother. She cares for him when he falls sick but in the end, which you can watch here, things end abruptly. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vtm__gZqbnY

How Ray managed to get such a young girl to emote like she has in the film is beyond me. His fine touch as he shows her emotions is unparalleled. Nothing over the top, yet the look in her eyes, lonely tears shed by the water well while doing her chores, and the few things she says in the film stay with you long enough to make you feel restless. I felt hopelessly inadequate for a long time after watching the film.

The mind tries to find refuge somewhere, and in this case, it helped me connect two seemingly unrelated truths. The first is that there are so many such Ratans that need a family. The second - there are young souls with hearts of gold who are stepping up.

A friend had once shared something about his sister. Apparently, she always wanted to adopt a child. She kept her word. She got married and after having a child of their own, the young couple adopted a baby girl. They did their bit. It was so heartening to listen to that story.  I stumbled upon a picture of mom with the kids and it was wonderful to see the little girl so secure, so comfortable.

The mind sought peace by connecting two dots, very different yet related in a cosmic sort of way for me.

The story of a bookmark

While I was in grade school, my family decided to visit my uncle and aunt at Bangalore during mid term break. We had a great vacation, and then came the time to visit Cauvery Emporium, one of the highlights of my mom's itinerary. She had her list of things she wanted to buy, and I was looking forward to simply admiring all the stuff they had at their store on M.G. Road.  When my aunt said she planned on buying  me a gift, I was really excited. She chose this leather bookmark with an inverse chevron end finished with a silvery gold Nataraj embossed on one side and rawhide on the back. I will  be lying if I say I was not disappointed when she settled on her choice. I had been keen on the more useless things that would look pretty for a while but would soon be forgotten. However, I soon realized that gifts do not get any more personal than this. I wrote my name on the back and started using it right away. It would sit on my desk when I was done reading a book until a new one came along. I soon began to develop a bond with it.

We went through a whole lot of books together, through school and college, through my stint as a research fellow, and after I got married. Reading took a back seat when a demanding baby came into my life, but the bookmark remained my friend.

When we decided to move countries, all of my house needed to be packed into four suitcases. I figured the tiny bookmark would easily slip in my handbag and go wherever I went and so it ended up joining a whole lot of tiny things that fell in the same category. How much one accumulates that falls in one special category or the other!

So the little leather strip traveled across oceans and landed here in my home. We went through a myriad of emotions together, books that were dramatic, some that were sad, others that made me laugh, and some that stayed with me long after the last page was turned.

I used to take this little page marker for granted until one day I got an email from the library that the book I had asked for was ready to be picked up. I got the book home and opened the desk drawer as usual to get the bookmark out and start reading. It wasn't there! I looked again, and then rummaged through the entire drawer, but no! It wasn't there! Breathe, I told myself, it's probably on the desk. I looked all over, high and low, to no avail. It had simply disappeared. Two days later, I pulled out another bookmark that had been lying around for years  and decided to start the book. I remember it was Khaled Hosseini's And The Mountains Echoed. Every time I picked up the book, the new bookmark looked up at me and I would feel something amiss. I finished the book, didn't like it as much as his earlier ones and returned it to the library. I also decided to ask the librarian if they had found any bookmark that fit my description. I was a little hesitant as I asked thinking what person in the right mind would return a book with a bookmark in it. Turned out there are plenty who do just that! The helpful gentleman at the library went inside and came out with a handful of leather bookmarks and asked me to check if mine was one of them. It wasn't! He said he would still keep an eye out for it and wished me luck.

I came back home, trying to think what I had done with my book prior to the last one. That's when I had the aha! moment. My brain suddenly threw out a little detail at me which I had completely forgotten. I had been at work when I had finished the book, and I had carefully taken out the bookmark,  and put it in the bag I take to work. On the way back home, I had dropped the book back at the library. I ran to the cabinet and opened the bag. There it was, lying at the bottom of the files, wondering what took me so long to get to it!

Things are fine again in the reading world! 
        

Warming trends

The weather has finally warmed up and jackets have been put away. Spring brings a new fervor in life. I love trying my hand at creating something new that I hadn't done before. This time it was my favorite paisley pattern that took shape using previously collected pistachio shells.

Spring also sends me into the garden equipped with a lot of enthusiasm. This year, I stumbled upon Calla Lily bulbs that I decided to try planting. Keeping my fingers crossed, I tended to them hoping to get a few good blooms. They did not disappoint. I have six planters that are blooming with the exotic lilies this spring.

As the trees got their foliage back, and it was lush green everywhere, birds began to appear. I've been fascinated by my avian friends for quite a few years and have tried to capture them using whatever camera I have had at my disposal. As better cameras flooded the market, it is getting easier for everyone to try their hand at bird photography. This isn't necessarily birding. Birding requires a lot more than just a good camera and luck at capturing a good picture. The time spent in observing these industrious creatures is the most rewarding. Unfortunately, I am not able to devote as much to this hobby as I would like to. However, the next few posts are going to include some pictures I've taken that are my favorites.
Here is one of an American Robin that I noticed in my yard for the first time.

More birds and other stories coming up next. Until then..... adios!

Early memories of music

Living in a sparsely populated, really quiet town far away from immediate family meant that every vacation and short holiday was spent in Mumbai initially, and Pune later, visiting family. My maternal uncle- Mama was old enough to be my grandfather, and just like his father, had very strong leanings towards music. My mother's family was into music in a big way. They read a lot. Discussions about music, art, literature, history and spirituality were always on the forefront.
This was in stark contrast to my father's family who read all the time, anything they could find, and then had heated exchanges over world politics, history, current affairs and industry. No music there at all! No films and theater either. They came from a very affluent family who thought music was to be listened to in the background and nothing more. Impeccable tastes were developed because they always bought the best, but they didn't believe it was important enough to talk about, and nobody could really sing.

So my earliest memories of lullabies, apart from my mother singing them, are of those sung by Mama. After dinner, as he had done with all his nieces and nephews, who were a lot older than I was, he would carry me around the huge balcony of the bungalow at Walkeshwar, in the Raj Bhavan compounds, with the cool sea breeze blowing, and sing what I thought at the time were lullabies. I think this was his way of unwinding after a long day at the hospital/office. He was at first the Dean of Grant Medical College and then the Director of Medical Health services for the state of Maharashtra. The reason for writing that is to convey what his profession was, he was a doctor- the best I have ever known.
I remember falling asleep to 'Don Ghadicha Daav, Yaala Jeevan Aise Naav' (Life is nothing but a two minute game). What a beautiful song that is! However, I never really thought about it's meaning at the time. I was at an age where I could be carried around, so I guess I'm forgiven. When I would hum it later, it was always the way Mama sang it, in his exquisite, unblemished style. I had no idea the song was from the film Ramshastri, and two very young children have sung the original. Much later, when television arrived in homes, I got to see the songs and to my surprise, this one was sung in a simple but melodious way. How he embellished it! A little taan here, a little harkat there, never the same every day. Many years later, when I was talking to his grandson, and mentioned the song, we realized we were both in the long chain of children in the family who had been blessed with sleeping to that 'lullaby'!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later, our routine visits during vacations would pass reading books and playing in the garden. My grandfather once decided he would teach us some classical music. He taught my sister a small composition in Raag Bhoop and I got to learn 'Ha Takmak Paahi Surya Rajanimukh'. I found the first line funny but loved learning to sing the song. Back at school, my sister decided to sing her new song at a music competition and bagged the first prize for her class. I decided I would not follow suit and be laughed at by my friends for the word Takmak, because no one understood the language and I did not want to be embarrassed. It just goes to show how foolish one is and sometimes priorities are so wrong at that age. I insisted I wanted to learn a new song, not knowing I was sidetracking a beautiful Yaman Kalyan from Sangeet Manapamaan, written by K.P. Khadilkar, composed by Govindrao Tembe and sung by Bal Gandharva. My mother finally relented and taught me 'Tejonidhi Loh Gol', which I was happy about because I knew it from the vinyl record of Katyar Kaljat Ghusli we used to play often. I was about 9-10 years old then. That juvenile rendition got me a prize, so the episode ended well. However, till date, I feel bad for not learning more from my grandfather, who passed away the next year at the age of 87. That is one regret I will always have, I wish I could undo that time, spend a little less time in the garden and more by his side, picking up some valuable lessons in music.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was no formal music teacher in the town we lived so my mother did her best to teach us little nuances. She would often site examples of well written songs, emphasizing on lines that were important, and on little harkats the singer would decorate the song with. My informal education continued. My father who I thought was next to none other than God himself,  saw the whole exercise as futile would often tease my mother about poetry, especially ghazals- men first put their women in burqas, then either rejoice and write poetry when they see her fingernail or toe, or write sad poetry when they don't see her at all. I found that argument very valid and decided it was useless to try and understand that kind of poetry. Discussing films and music was also considered a waste of time. Listen to all the music you want on the side, was what I took away from the situation. I loved doing that, all kinds of music. In fact my father bought very good music from all over the world for us to appreciate.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At this point now, when I see people earnestly discussing music, I enjoy listening to them, reading the articles they write and taking away something from it. However, I have realized that I am better at appreciating music rather than discussing it.