Monsoon memory

Overcast sky, humid air, clean and shiny green leaves, wet ground - all the associated images of a monsoon July day in India!

With variations in shades of colour, intensity of the rain and the humidity pressing you down all over India (almost) you can feel, smell and see and experience this wonderful magical monsoon. South East coast has a separate tryst with the twin of this monsoon later. Still, July feels like this in Chennai too.

This time, my mind slides back to the days in the 1980s - I sometimes could hear the steady downpour across the slopes of Himalayas, falling over the trees on to the slushy mountain roads; a sudden gust of wind bringing the invigorating aroma of medicinal herbs and the mouth-watering smell of apples slowly ripening. Why! I could even visualise the darkness spreading during the day! And the sense of joy and excitement to be sharing this with my loving and indulgent husband!

I manage to watch the working of the mind, the myriad thoughts whirring past like fast moving slides, from outside like an observer.

It moves back to those early 1970s when I used to travel by city bus to go to college.

I am always in love with the rains and the mornings after a good spell of rain is so romantic! So I relived those moments in the bus when the bus turns around the elephant statue to climb on to the bridge across Vaigai river. Sometimes, after heavy rains water would be flowing over the lower bridge and the river would be flowing with a roar with eddies and whirls. The day to day concerns would fade away when I look at that sight.

I still remember the dreams of that young woman, the restless energy to change the world and the constant urge to break free of chains.

Continuing "This day that age" journey, I stumbled on 14th July, 1985. (If the other things are all associated with good times and emotional stability, this one definitely brought the greatest loss of my life)

It was the midst of monsoon July, (14th July, to be precise)from morning, heavy rains battered the roads of Delhi. I normally cannot cry openly in front of others. My screaming, weeping and banging - all would happen inside me and I would look blank outside. But that moment after the 21 gun salute, when the body of my husband was lifted on to the carriage with the tricolour over him, I broke down and tears streamed down like the outside downpour.

I do not know why after all these years, the scene clamoured for my attention and time. I wanted to honour the memory and played it out in my mind with that deep sense of loss of my wonderful friend and companion. I consoled that young woman, hugged her and came back here.

Musafir/wanderer/Yatri/traveller

Travel, wander, explore, move, journey, trip - how many ways I can refer to my move from point A to point B! During this long 100 days of lock down, didn't travel bug bite me, nag me? The occasional restlessness, perhaps is the distant call ?
There are armchair travels, daydreaming or like now, I can bring alive those moments by reading through my blog posts. So I did about my trips from Thiruvannamalai to Chennai and back!
Whatever be the name,  I like all the activities leading finally to the actual travel - plan the grocery, vegetables, milk and other supplies in such a way to finish them all just before travel, completing other tasks, packing and to be ready on time early in the morning!
I had been doing this road trip between these two places four to five times roughly every month for about a year and a little more - seems to be a long time ago but only till seven months back. Hm... now I definitely miss the travel!
Ah...! This is my mind moving all over -north, south, east or west touching upon one thought and jumping to the next.  Come and enjoy the ride with me!
The early morning air is always refreshing. Every creature wakes up slowly to the gentle and warm touch of the Sun, welcomes the new morning with pure joy. I look out of the window with the speeding wind against my face - all things initially were like a haze or one dark lump but slowly becoming distinct like the firm strokes of the artist's brush.
The small villages still manage to retain their quaint charm - heap of hay, smell of cattle, occasional smell of the wet farming lands and places - Pennathur, Melpappampadi, Chenji, Pakkam.... we go past these beautiful little places waking up to another new morning.
Looking at those remains of the ramparts of the great fort of Chenji is a great experience in itself. The silent spectators of kingdoms gone, how would they have been during some glorious past!
What utter lack of imagination and inability to appreciate the history - that would have driven the government to break these walls (with much difficulty, I heard) and build road connecting Chenji to to places further north and northeast like Chennai! (There are so many such half formed thoughts - some related and some others disconnected - filling my mind which would help me later in my classes)
In and through all these flashes of ideas, I feel I am part of everything around me, like the fort walls, the tall Palmyra trees, the chirpy birds, the milk man, the ladies cleaning their front yard and the distant azure mountains. I am in complete harmony there and a rare feeling of affinity shatters all barriers and in that moment of merging with all, I feel blessed and elated.
  

Magic of music.

Overcast sky, violin on the radio and morning cooking

Every morning, I thank the AIR for the one hour classical music programme for making it easy to stand in front of the stove - stirring, frying and mixing some dish or the other. Today, it was a foot tapping and hip swaying Kalyani filling the kitchen in waves after waves - from the strings of MS Gopalakrishnan and Narmada's violin. Cooking is infused with my joy (Doesn't food become tastier and healthier?) 
This is incidental, however AIR's great service in promoting our music and art forms has, for years, quenched my thirst for music and broadened my knowledge.
As a teenager, it was AIR's broadcasts of the concerts during the music season that had thrilled me. (I was not a Chennaivasi, then) I grew up feasting on Hindustani and Carnatic music of legends of yesteryear. I wanted to reproduce the Brigas, bhava or the permutation and combination of swaras that flowed and poured from their creative minds, fingers and voices.
It normally used to be the parents pushing their children to learn classical music in a typical upper class surrounding in Tamil Nadu but in my case, I begged, cajoled and convinced my patti (grand-mom) to allow me to learn. It is not that they did not appreciate classical music at home. In fact, my patti could explain the meaning of many kritis of Saint Thyagaraja or Ramadasa. Every one at home had good musical ear and my grand uncle could sing with brigas like Bhimsen Joshi. His voice sounded like that of P.B. Srinivas.

Some great musicians and patrons of my city then decided to provide easy access to ordinary people (other than the privileged upper echelon of the community) for learning classical music.
I considered it as an answer to my deep yearning and started my music learning. A very strict music teacher ensured that our base was strong and sound. The importance of Shruti and Laya (it can be understood as pitch and rhythm ) was dinned into us every moment with the saying -" Shruti matha Laya pitha".  Yes, singing in harmony with shruti keeping the beats (rhythm) is the basic requisite and they are like our mother and father. I realised then, being able to sing makes me happy. At home, my patti, thatha and uncle were all fond of listening to me singing and the daily 'Riyaz' (practice) was a time I really enjoyed. 

After a gap of five years, I scouted around and got a middle aged woman who was equally passionate about music and started my lessons from her. My music teacher had taught me how to listen to 3 hour concerts and appreciate the subtle nuances of each raga. That was a wonderful period, when after the class we would share our impressions about previous day's radio relays. I lapped up every note, every phrase that came through, in the majestic voice of Voleti Venkateshwarlu or the mellifluous voice of Nedanuri garu or the soft distinct notes of Kalyanaraman. What a magical time it was when I was completely under the spell of music!

But all good things come to an end, don't they? After about 2 years of this magic - family rules, social customs and my expected role dictated that I had to get married and become 'a responsible woman'!! I felt it was a gamble - how the two strangers would be compatible? Are we taught about mutual respect and open communication? With multitude of questions I entered into this new phase.  My marriage to an army officer took me far away from this music physically, yes. But it continued to  nurture me and enriched the new relationship as well. I realised I was blessed to have a partner who respected my space and took pride in my talents and achievements.  
My husband appreciated good music of any type; he recognised my passion for classical music, gifted me with audio cassettes of my favourite ones and he loved to listen to them with me! He wanted me to pursue music lessons and hone my writing skills.  With him, for the first time I listened to jazz and other western form of music and learnt to appreciate good music from any corner of the world. 

Now, I am back to the place - that is the 'happening place for Indian classical music. I attend concerts, through my stumbling and fumbling with technology, manage to listen to webcast programmes and have been part of a carnatic music group which share special music concerts through online radio. This group has members who are experts in theory and the practical aspects of music and when they share their views, I gain more insight into the intricacies and technicalities of carnatic music. Music has been a great point of bonding with some wonderful people. Like this morning, within a moment, the surrounding changes to endless blue sky with the azure mountains beyond bordered by tall coconut trees and other big trees and the scent of jasmine wafting in the gentle breeze.
It just let my imagination flow unrestrained and I soar up, up and up feeling that oneness with all things around me. 

And, the competition continues...

A little meditation, going inward and creating a design in front of the house - it has become a great stress buster and good way of starting the day, particularly now.

Added to that is the revival of one childhood habit of competing with my neighbour and a very close friend of six decades.

She had been there for me to guide my steps when I float in my day dreams (literally and figuratively too!). Marriage and the choices of profession had taken us to different places; but our hearts found ways to bond and stay close.

In the twilight years, we have both come to the same city, yet stay quite a few kilometres away from each other.

We are not given to using mobile and other social media often to communicate with each other; nor can we be demonstrative of our friendship and love. so what! Certain things from the childhood come back with renewed vigour - this was our competition during the month of Markazhi to fill the entrance with beautiful 'kolam' designs and to see who completed it first.

She is sharing her free hand designs with me because I enjoy looking at them and also want to incorporate those designs in my kolams (hope, no patent/copyright issue??!).

I occasionally add a dash of colours to bring a different perspective.

The kolam design that I created today is here.(The one above)

These flowers were in and out of my thoughts and vision since last two days. They wanted me to feel them, smell them and acknowledge them in my heart.

Morning the watch man stood and looked down at it for few minutes and showered me with such appreciation that it seemed like the flowers swayed gently in the breeze and smiled at me.

I wanted to share it with my friend and said " The competition continues."(Why did I say so?)

She has subtly pointed that out. Ha ha! Feel like those 12-14 year old girl with the whole world within her reach. the kolam down below is the one , my friend has sent!.

A deep impact - Lives Reset: Stories of Hope, Heart, Healing and (Un)distancing

I was privy to the birth and creation of these stories, the rushing ahead to meet the deadlines and editing, choosing a title, designing the book cover and bringing the book out. It was the most exhilarating experience as though you are included to witness the birth of a new life.

Infused with such pure hope, I got my e book and read, reread all the stories.

Words coming from deep inside us, words spoken with utmost honesty and words so sincere in their warmth and love have the power to transform us and bring a new perspective and make a shift in our focus.

That’s exactly each one of the stories in ‘Lives reset’, does to me. Doctor, entrepreneurs, film makers, story tellers, vocalist, legal counsel, NLP life coach, writers, home makers and consultants - this assorted group of men and women are ready to lay bare their concerns, doubts and fears lurking in the deep recess of their minds. The stories are set in your city, or a place known to you or it takes you to Afghanistan and UK.

But, there are no preaching undertones here. On the contrary, each one of the pieces is so creative, some of them laced with that subtle sense of humour like the story of Dukhi Atma where Dukhi wonders about her husband’s nods - “He was a skilled nodder, her husband, nodding to everything she asked but seldom lifting a finger.”

Dukhi, pulled me into her house, into her thoughts with those visual narratives. I could even smell the same aroma of coriander, chilly and onion along with her; I shared her concerns and doubts. She has a subtle sense of humour wondering about her husband - “wanted to ask him what the nod meant. He was a skilled nodder...”. May be, you start drawing parallels?

So it is not only Dukhi, but I also appreciate, “Life was more than a tiny nerve-wracking virus ...” 

Parul, in every cell of her body is a caring doctor; so her analogy presents the profession to us so evocatively! She plans “”; “my immunity fought back heating up the battleground of my body, raising its temperature to 105 degrees Fahrenheit...”

If ‘A Doctor, delivered’ makes you wonder what the doctor delivered, get hold of the book to understand the passion for the profession, the plan and preparation before a delivery of a child of a committed doctor. The icing on the cake is the flow of words and the medical related analogy to explain things - For Parul, it is not being one step ahead but, “one heartbeat ahead” The labour room description leading to the birth of the baby and her first gusty cry made me feel like the edgy nervous husband waiting outside!

And the titles...! Your expectation builds up, you wonder about the associations implied there or your imagination gallops away into some mystical or magical land!

‘Compound wall’ got me thinking, does it tell about the right height for social distancing or “Are we thinking about reaching out despite the wall?” I don’t know why Robert Frost’s Mending Wall’ flashed through my memory. When you reach the end of the story, doesn’t your brain burst with innumerable possibilities of new beginning? “On the side of the road, the garbage bag that Ajay had once thrown away now sprouted a healthy shrub with beautiful roseberry flowers.”

 ‘Upsurge’ speaks of a different kind of rise/growth that would show the human beings to be more nurturing of their environment than hindering. “And thus, women reclaimed their place as the stronger gender.” So the story goes on! My God! Is there anything more exciting than this! Grab the book, read the story to find out

Are you one of those persons for whom eating is a task or kitchen evokes nightmares or cooking seems the most mundane task in the world? Let’s shake that a bit! Read ‘Oregano and Rasam’

“The aromas of spices gave her a calling- as if they were waiting for her to grace them up. (The experiments of such a person will certainly dish out delicacies!)

“She brought a lavish bunch of bright red coloured tomatoes, fistful of juicy tamarind, green chilies, and raw garlic. She poured a long quantity of water into a vessel and started boiling it...” “The house breathed a new wave of aroma that day.” I could visualise the golden frothy top layer and smell that aroma... I could feel the tangy, spicy taste bursting forth on my taste buds. So, folks, are you ready to venture out and find a ‘new you’?

You want to feel the cleansing and cooling effect of the first thunderstorm during the scorching summer, look up ‘Blessing in disguise’. The glory of the powerful Kalbaisakhi with the new hope just soaked me in joy!

‘Sunflowers in the moonlight’ may appear improbable occurrence but the budding romance (I feel so!) between two human beings (you can’t find two different individuals like them) is so full of hope.

All the stories are all like the summer rains which brings relief to all creatures - some are like the dark clouds pouring ice cool droplets to be enjoyed with a cup of tea; yet others are like the Kalbaisakhis creating a sense of awe, but still brings a sense of peace in the end (like The Inner narrative);  some are like a welcome shower which brings the small birds, squirrels and children out to soak in the cool shower (the verses - ‘Whistling whales and wise men’, ‘I will rise again’ and ‘Just respect’ evokes such a feeling). Have you ever been on the rainy slope of  Sahyadri or Himalayas during monsoon and felt the merging of the earth, sky, mountains trees and all into one whole? Still some creations here elevated me to that level too! These words uplift me anytime, all the time!

 “And then, there was only Light. 

Light, inside me, and all around me.”

 “Rumi’s words echo, again and again...“I am not a drop in the ocean. I am the entire ocean in a drop.”

The 'cousin force'

Today, 15th May, is International Day of families, I was informed by Whatsapp  message. Isn't that a convenient coincidence that I was thinking of the cousins battalion I am blessed with! 

The quiet morning hours I am alone starting the day's routines reminiscing about some past kitchen scenes, the conversations associated with certain smells and vegetables; that's when I was thinking of those 'cousins' who are there for me in times of need!.

A smell, an image or even the distant bird calls and morning noises from neighbourhood apartments open the door to that distant point of time. I remember this cousin who without hesitation and with lot of love, had welcomed me at her place in another city; the other cousin who was ready to take care of our thatha (who loved to gallivant around), a stubborn centenarian when I had to go out urgently; or this cousin, who showers me with affection, good food and share her precious time talking with me for hours when I visit my home town.

Yes, this morning, my thoughts soothed me and led me to realise how blessed I am. I had been brought up by my grandparents (my mother's parents). Thus I appear to gain along list of relatives from my mother's side,  father's side and the four grand parent's side. By the way, each one of you may gain such network but it may not be an operational one what with families moving away and losing contacts. Growing in a city in deep south (not a metro) six decades ago kept all of these lines of network alive for me what with frequent visit of people and the strong bond with the ancestral village. By the way, I was blessed to have a grand mother who had a sharp mind,with an insatiable curiosity and who could weave a story around every event and person! All elders at home would go to her (like google up!) to know any thing about any member of the extended family. With hardly a pause, She would bring you an update on them!

(If you have any idea of the Indian familial ties, the web of relations and if you can place who is who and what is the name of the relationship to you, your brain can store all those dates and chronology and dynastic details in history! ) She was simply the One!

But, this is not about her and she deserves a book dedicated to her.  So, I was not some vaguely remembered distant cousin in this huge network of cousins - maternal/paternal, once removed/twice removed or any which way you describe it - but one who is remembered and included in the social events.

Yes, there is women-cousins bonding  but I include here all of them -cousins. I have a horde of 'cousin-brothers' as we call in India. I can be part of their discussions of all things under the Sun! They had been there for me in all those moments when I needed the silent support. And I get teased also by the 'boys'!

There is an interesting inner circle here of all of us cousins who form the teaching fraternity of the city! And group of us there who love music and that brings us in tune with each other. Latha and I share one cosy  camaraderie and she steps in for timely help without any fuss. How can I forget her help with finalising my assessments and calculating the averages (for my B.ED)! She will share the information about the music she enjoyed,immediately. This inclusion - I am there in their thoughts - gives a wonderful sense of belonging.
I am not sure of earlier generations, but in my generation which see lot of changes (and coping with them too) I see a broadening perspective, less of gossip and appreciation for genuine relationship.
That's why I said, I felt blessed with this 'Reserve of cousins'.

I dedicate this to all my cousins who are there when I stand alone, who never raise their eyes critically at me who include me in their thoughts and who readily extend a helping hand at the right time - be it Seetha from Madurai, Jayanthi or Geetha, Sashis from Delhi, Geetha and Vijayas from Hyderabad and all others not mentioned here!
The list is very long and so , all of you, my cousins, show the characteristic understanding and call me when you can; include me in your thoughts as you normally do. More strength to cousin force!

Magical mountains -2

A peep into the wonderland - the seven sisters of Northeast




















I experienced that wonderful bonding  that is typical of women as they went in and out of the fellow travellers' (and new friends) rooms checking on their well being or helping about hot water or simply to share something! My friend, after a day's rest was ready to face the next day (We had to leave the place to get down to the plains, anyhow.)
However, some of the most striking places are either near Cherrapunji like Mawsynram or at least 80 to 90 km from Shillong to the cleanest village -  Mawlynnong (which would take the whole day inching along the winding mountain roads.

So we decided to visit Don Bosco Museum. (Shillong abounds in museums; the main theme in this museum would be the tribal culture and anthropology).


We can learn a couple of things from these people as how to cherish our culture and aesthetically display our artefacts in our museum here.    
Are you a history buff or dreaming to make a name in social and cultural anthropology? Do you consider yourself an enthusiastic student of sociology or simply love art in any form? DB Museum is the place for you! Here I should admit my mistake of having a preconceived notion (absolutely baseless!). 

With least expectation, i entered the place. 
Am I in for a wonderful surprise ,My god! From the person who received us at the entrance and gave an introduction to the museum and instructions as how we should go about the visit (yes, you are right!), the persons in charge of each floor - they impressed me with their dedication and sincerity to their cultural identity and job.
There are seven floors - each connected to the other by seven steps; each gallery or section is for one theme or idea like the evolution of early man in this region, the linguistic charts and locating the northeastern languages within Tibeto-Burman/Indo-Aaryan or Austro-Asiatic languages or an entire section showing the livelihood of the different tribes and the natural resources of the region. So we have interesting viewing in galleries like 'housing patterns gallery, 'Our neighbours gallery' or galleries exclusively for weapons, costumes and ornaments and hunting and gathering. 


You never feel the strain of climbing up; then you move out to the terrace (Sky-walk)to view the entire Shillong city with the important land marks. We need to move around in a circular path and the view is breath taking (literally also for me as heights make me feel as though the ground beneath my feet is slipping away due to my vertigo.) Still, the occasional icy rain drops and the nose-tickling cold was invigorating. 

Every section has touch screen computer which we can open and select what we want to know about. The galleries were a visual treat and the related information has been aesthetically placed for us to read and appreciate. different kinds of cultural artefacts, paintings, photos, life-like models of their houses and still others showcase the rich indigenous culture. All the items showcased are supported adequately with information displayed alongside. The teacher in me was excited about the different possibilities of using the museum to create effortless learning. 
I came to know later that it is part of the mission of DBCIC (Don Bosco Centre for Indigenous Cultures) - emphasising the concept of museum in education. 

 The short film - (a musical?) titled 'Mist and magic was really magical and it resonated with me. 
And then the icing was a quick shopping experience in their souvenir centre which acted like a potent shot of local toddy - hit us straight! 
Tea, pickles, key chains, magnets, shawls, bamboo crafted items and so the list goes on. Going around, touching and feeling the goods even if you don't buy can also take you on a trip. 
All through our travel and visits, there was that wonderful rain that accompanied us like a helpful local friend! 

We visited the Orchidarium (a recent addition, I believe); the cold was a bit too much, so we heard; so, many of the plants are struggling to bloom. (Of the 1250 species of orchids found in India, Meghalaya is credited to be home for about 300 species.)
We went by the Ward's Lake, looking at the walking trails around it. In a similar way, we went to the Golf Course just to soak in the cool hilly climate and look to our heart;s content the vast open space, undulating hills and slopes covered with that lush green carpet! For the golf lovers there! the golf course here is an eighteen hole course and one of the oldest; it is considered the best in the world.
We went northwards from Shillong and reached a view point to view Umiam Lake. We could see boats on the lakefront. We heard that there are lot of activities like boating, kayaking and others. Far away, we could see a castle like building on the other side - may be a high end resort. But, what is stopping us from imagining and dreaming about our time there! Many of us shared it aloud and it was a lovely dream! Then once again, we squeezed into our mini van and started our long drive back to Guwahati. 
We followed the same pattern, driving through the day, catching a quick lunch (not all the time! I wrote it because it sounded efficient and business like!!) and reaching our destination by late evening just in time for dinner. 
As we were entering the city, cutting through busy streets, there was a hum of excitement in the van. All of us looking outside at the vegetable and fruit vendors went nuts! The spread of pumpkins, potato, greens, cabbage and so many fruits almost pulled us out onto the road!
It is to the lap of Ma Kamakhya once again and some more of Guwahati for the next two days.