This and that....mundane matters...

                    I am forced to come out of my blogging hiatus for two extraordinary reasons – the first one being the wonderful privilege to read the samples of my nine year nephew Dhruv’s daily diary (DD) – it was indeed a treat to the eyes, for the content and style of his daily adventures not to mention the impeccable spellings and grammar. Yes , my digital diary (DD too!) had to come out of hibernation for this very sake! The other reason is the least expected, literally a bolt from the blue when my elder son put this question across “ why are you not blogging these days?” I was taken aback at this from somebody who had scant regard for articles , least of all for my blah blah! This question intrigued me until it was put to rest by the younger one after much cajoling, coercing and blackmailing into spilling the beans ...his teachers at school were hounding him for essays for the school magazine and he had this brilliant brain wave to cut, copy and paste from my blog...just as I was rejoicing on the fact that my blog was finally being put to use, came the rejoinder...”you know amma, nobody would know that this is lifted from the internet as there are no readers for your posts”..my spirits fell ..the truth is a bitter pill , no doubt..

                      I gave the Bangalore edition of the blogger meet a go by , on two valid counts– firstly, I had not contributed at all to the new posts category in recent times and felt guilty to be part of  a gathering which boasted of writers setting new records in blogs. Also, wanted sweet revenge on Indiblogger and the jury of the contests for denying me the pleasure of an award or at least a consolation . This elusive reward haunted me more , when I found my concept plagiarised by a fellow blogger who smartly converted it into a poem and adding insult to injury was that she won a prize too while I took solace in free gift hampers! I know this second reason of mine in not attending the meet ,hardly bothered anyone and nobody missed me, but it did give a sense of satisfaction to my alter ego!

            Moving on from the disastrous blogger world which was akin to Carlson showing his supremacy over our Anand and AB(c)D V..and team trouncing the men in blue, some nice things did happen , courtesy the darling devils..the elder one “earned” a coveted Math Olympiad trophy in an interschool event and was richer by ₹9500/- My dad graciously announced that a crisp ₹500 would be added to the sum to make it a round figure – what a fine liberal gesture from a seasoned Chartered Accountant! The next nice thing that left me open mouthed was the sight of my six footer second son straddling across to breast the tape at his school sports relay race. He galloped like a gazelle as I wondered whether one of the species had escaped from the Bannerghata National Park! My eyes were lustrous with joy and surprise  and I felt like Usain Bolt’s mom!!
                     I reframed  ABCD again  to read as ABCR for anybody can run and then again to ABCP for anybody can become Pradhan manthri ,after all the sole criterion was the magical age of 43 and I too became the most eligible to occupy the gaddi! I too like millions of foolish Delhiites fell hook , line and sinker for the AAP mania with its ‘sweeping’ reforms to cleanse the country but was utterly ‘bitterly’ disappointed with its idiosyncrasies and lust for power – the moment the sane people join the political bandwagon, they are turned into members of the glass menagerie – it is a circus out there , albeit not with jokers but with ‘joke pals’

                 Continuing with jokes, I also had the good fortune of reading an array of articles in different newspapers and couple ( sorry two again, only pure coincidence)of them were simply outstanding - C K Meena ji’s take on neighbours , but Meena ji , I beg to diasagree with you – one doesn’t need hands to count the good and friendly neighbours , fingers would suffice, on the contrary  I would rather put the fingers to good use , that of manoeuvring my smart phone! The other read was the American sojourns by Ms.Saraswati Narayan – I could see a mirror image of the tales of my mother in law’s American odyssey to baby sit !

          While a small percentage of the days gone by were spent on work, the major chunk of time was spent in endless queues in numerous agencies especially the LPG providers, for submitting the Aadhar card( for the un ordained , it is the Unique Identity Card adding to the myriad identity cards like passport ,as for me it has only so far been a card for identity, the ration card, the voter’s card to name  a few among them!) The already dwindling bank balances would see further reduction in the form of ever inflatory maintenance and gas bills as payments are linked to bank accounts. A portion of time was also spent in the addictive scrabble game on the web where I bonded well with a grey-haired English woman . We shared a lot on the chat facility and felt miserably sucked to read of her long partnership with her husband falling apart – Hrithik definitely has company and that club is no longer exclusive...

              Folks, it is that time of the year where forgotten resolutions reappear in brand new avatars , mine among scores of them is to keep my DD active and be a challenger to my nephew’s DD – well it is worth the effort!
    Happy Yuletide and season’s greetings....  

(This is an entry for the “Ambi pur” contest, please read about it at:   http://www.facebook.com/AmbiPurIndia)

                            The Nostril Nostalgia

“Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and the years you have lived”- how true are these words of Helen Keller...

                  The wanderlust took me far and wide, understanding the alien lands with its distinct smells but the infatuating odour of my motherland lured me back and here I embark on the nostalgia of the nostrils....

                      I stepped out of the air conditioned coach swathed in “ambi”ent “ambrosia of the “pur”e air, now out in the open, nature’s earthy fragrance took over , the smell of the dancing rain and the feel of the wind revived the glorious past and brought back vivid pictures .

“Smell has an impact on memory and cognitive functioning. It brings back pictures as sharp as real photographs of scenes that had left the conscious mind”-Thalassa cruso

         I walked down the pathway, leading to my home , lined with roses and lilies drenched with dew drops, the air magical and the butterflies in symphony with myriad colours of nature sucking nectar to my infinite delight.

“As you walk down the fairway of life, you must smell the roses, for you only get to play one round”- Ben Hogan

Amma, hugged me and the crisp starchy scent of her sari tingled my olfactory senses , she, as always had arranged the lovely flowers in the brass ‘urali’- truly sublime..Yes, appa very much with his newspaper on the old cane chair , my nose caught a dash of cologne mixed with the fresh paper print and cane.

“Nothing revives the past so completely as a smell that was once associated with it.”-Vladimir Nabokov

          But, stronger was the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee emanating from the kitchen and the longing heart ached for the morning cuppa to invigorate my soul.

“To me the smell of fresh made coffee is one of the greatest inventions”- Hugh Jackman

         To pamper and repair my curly tresses, amma put some coconut oil to heat and added some rice with camphor and pepper to it , applying it on the hair was simply divine- one is on a high, so intoxicating..the water of periyar and the sandal soap cleansed  and soothed my nerves.

           I savoured the lip smacking breakfast of idli, vada dunked in sambhar and chutney washed down with pristine filter coffee- the olfactory sense prevails first and succeeds in making the eyes appreciate, messaging the brain “common try it out , it is tempting” and then tickling the taste buds!

“Senses are quicker to react than reason and the nose remembers more than the eyes!”

     The bookshelves in the home library beckoned me with open arms , the rustic wooden smell with the bewitching old book charm – classic to say the least.

“A book has got smell. A new book smells great. An old book smells even better. It smells like ancient Egypt.”- Ray Bradbury

Mesmerized in the world of pharaohs and pyramids, I rose like a phoenix to venture into the serene garden where the ripe jackfruit was ready to be plucked, the luscious mangoes , reminiscent of the bygone era . After a hectic spade and hose work, I smelled like the Earth itself.

“In the spring , at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.”- Margaret Atwood.

          It was time for some shopping and appa loaded his wallet with wads of the Indian rupee to splurge on his daughter’s whims and fancies as I stood transfixed taking in the redolence of the material paper money!

“Money does not smell of the mire whence it came , it has the glorious scent of what will be”- Catulle Mendes.

Meanwhile , the motley crowd of the spiritual and the religious had gathered for the “Narayaneeyam” session with amma as the spiritual head. The puja room blissfully decorated in strings of colourful flowers and the air quickly changing to that of whimsical incense sticks, camphor and ‘sambrani’. The sweet aroma of concoction of ‘pal payasam’ offered as ‘neivedyam’ to the lord was reason enough for the creator of the universe to step into our humble abode to taste our own manna!

    The lunch spread on the green plantain leaf was a connoisseur’s delight- each item distinct on the palette, unique in sight and smell!

     Afternoon siesta was a welcome one for two wholesome reasons- one being the fully loaded tummy and the other, the alluring perfumed freshly laundered bed linen- snuggled cosily in the cool comforts with the mystical rain in the background.
      The magnificent aroma of hot tea with banana fritters aroused me from my deep slumber and I did justice to the maxim ‘live to eat’. As the Sun set , the lavender air wick hypnotized and kept me spellbound! All the perfumes around my house have sweetened these wonderful thoughts of my dear and near! Every home has its identity by its characteristic unmistakable smell that is indeed balmy to the tired soul!

“A good fragrance is really a powerful cocktail of memories and emotion.”- Jeffrey Stepakoff

  Notes:
Urali- the round flat vessel made of brass

Idli,vada, sambar and chutney- south Indian dishes

Narayaneeyam- verses for Lord Vishnu

Neivedyam- Prasad or offering to God

Pal payasam- kheer made of milk and rice

                                     Manic Monday

I am rudely awakened from my sleep , the alarm singing “wake up , wake up, for its  a brand new day...”wishing vehemently that I could shut it and go back to deep slumber but no..not today...it was Monday and we are back to the grind after a well earned day’s sabbatical! To start is difficult but to restart is Herculean...and that was precisely the mode I was in at this moment...
         A bigger task awaited me , the ordeal of waking up two teenage boys ,who had spent three fourths of the previous night chatting, fighting, gaming , listening to music, though not necessarily in this order...Repeated ventures into their bedroom with vocal chords exercise starting from the mild tone “hey boys please get up , its time” to the high octaves finally yields results and they are up and about caring little to make the bed ,suddenly realizing that a mountain of unfinished tasks lay before them – activities, assignments, presentations  which had kissed the weekend goodbye and the Monday deadline stared at their faces!

         I enter the washroom with utmost trepidation, fervently praying to Almighty for the water to flow through the pipes , yes the requests to God  may sound trivial but not in my predicament. God is merciful , the security staff had not forgotten to switch on the motor, I know Iam  at the mercy of his memory!

          Soon , at my own Adda juggling milk satchets on one hand , bread loaves on the other, wish I had half a dozen more which would work in tandem to complete the morning chores, I hand the respective beverages to the boys with a reminder set every couple of minutes to drink it. Suddenly, there is a shrill call from the boy’s domain- “Amma, where on Earth is the scrap book?” Thanking the stars that it not a sledge hammer strike between the two and only a verbal assault, I answer in a tone to boot his “It is in the wooden almirah” . There is a pregnant silence  for the next 60 seconds and the shrill voice gets back , this time accompanied with swear words. Before it exceeded the limit, I rush to their territory and frantically search for the multi hued craft paper and “presto” like a magician pull them out from under a rubble of near nonsense! A sense of David defeating Goliath inundates me and the over wrought situation is brought under control. In a jiffy , Iam back where I more fully belonged- the clock strikes six and it is time to wake up the master , who by now is already out of the bed, thanks to the decibel duel that had preceeded.  Even , my loving neighbours are not spared and are jolted out of their sleep.

    Now, it is the turn of the elder, he cannot find his Math note book #2 , as he vociferously argues that he had labelled #2 the book is there right in front of our eyes albeit without the marking. I gave him a solid glare which said it all ,as there was no time for foul mouthing!

        Meanwhile the chappatis on the tava turned a wee bit more brown  and the lunch boxes were in total disarray but somehow the dextrous hands managed to pack the four boxes of the crew who were heading in different directions-  yes, different strokes for different people ....

         “Oh no!”  I uttered to myself – the uniforms for the brigade were not ironed .... I cursed myself for watching the Sunday evening movie , thereby postponing the inevitable ironing chore to the morrow, now my conscience hurt but of little use, as the kids have their bath, the uniforms are pressed  with the speed that would do a F1 driver proud. One of the blazer buttons is missing “never mind” I tell myself, nobody is going to notice. The shoes are sparkling clean due to the wizard of Oz and thankfully no white shoes on Monday!

    The spouse’s tie and socks are missing and ever so famous dialogue comes out popping “ how many times have I told you to put them where it belonged”but the oft repeated verses have little impact on the ears as my mind is on another plane... the question paper proof is not ready for the next day’s test, I quickly scribble the questions on a sheet to hand them over to the office staff , who I was sure would make a mess of it , thanks to my unbeatable calligraphy! To hell with the printer’s devil, I could always get the corrections done.
       And then comes the final straw that breaks the camel’s back... the younger one has to read the morning news in the assembly- the newspaper vendor is nowhere in sight and he searches his smart phone for the latest updates but the internet lets him down , couple of unfathomable swear words in the offing and is he finally done? God only knows!
      The all too familiar honk of the school bus and the two are off much to the maker’s relief , me and my better half start the ignition of the cold engine of the car, even it feels the blues of the Monday morning, finally we are off munching our sandwiches , I have forgotten to add salt in the coriander chutney in the sandwich, we yell , though for different reasons, one for the saltless diet and the other at the chaos on the roads....

   The famous Bangles song “It’s a manic Monday, Wish it was Sunday”...comes to life on the FM radio and I close my eyes for a fleeting moment and hope against hope that it is indeed Sunday!!!