Wednesday, August 18, 2010


The last book I read was heavy. It was “the Last Mughal” by William Darlymple and the first book of its kind (a little text bookish and historic and purebred non-fiction) I read. I loved the description of character, opulence, routine life of India in the times of the Revolt of 1857.


And, I absolutely fell in love with this author, who so deliciously and ingeniously brought forward the nuances of each character, so much so, they actually talked and twitched and narrowed their eyes in my mind’s eye. There also is this chapter, where he brings forth the differences in the daily routines of the British Raj and life in the Mughal palace. The fluid way the chapter connected the two is sheer poetry in prose!


But, the book was one long chapter in my life and took me three seasons to see it through the end. No giggles or snickers when I show you the size of the teeny-weeny books I picked up last week. That two of them are collections of short stories is not coincidental at all.


With me now fighting for the much touted and overrated ‘me-time,’ I make it a point to read at least 10-15 pages daily. And, with short stories, you don’t need to book mark, or flip back to remember who’s who and, the best part, a sigh of contentment for at least one thing well done that day.

The title (I do exclaim these days!!) was what made me grab Roald Dahl’s book, while the picture on the cover of ‘the Last Mughal’ captivated me. And, in the case of the soft-spoken Ruskin Bond (I heard him on the TV), I knew I would love his descriptions of the people and sights of rural India. After all, he described and engaged me with his description of foliage and bees and mountains in ‘the Book of Nature.’
Then, these also arrived from Amazon. This is the Bible for now :)


Friday, August 13, 2010

too much too soon

Here I am, rejuvenated enough to see the little ones settling back in school, almost, effortlessly and hopeful of reading all the books I wanted to read, click though beautiful blogs at leisure, settling on my window seat and penning down my thoughts while I listen to the rain…
… when I am rudely awakened by a shrill squawk! There stand my husband and daughter with an African Grey parrot.


This is Kukku, the daughter shrieks and my open mouth and look of utter dismay (to say the least) prompts a sheepish grin from the husband. Kukku has the emotional intelligence of a two year old, he says… and, I am thanking the good Lord that Abi has finally turned three, I humph… the intelligence of a five year old… as if the smartass retorts of our daughter were not enough, I sigh… and a vocabulary of 2000 in another year… as if I don’t talk enough, I whined!


The birdie adapts to us before we do to her. We are more curious and wary that we might hurt her, but she is quite resilient, enjoys and demands attention and quite fun… till the day, the husband decided that kukku needs a friend and stood at the door with a three month old German Shepherd and 12kg of puppy food!


It was nothing but another rude surprise (because I don’t like the word shock) until the pup dodged the kids and friends of the kids, took one sniff of my chipped nail paint and flopped down at my feet there and then. Something between love and joy (or was it both?) surged in my heart, but it was too much too soon and I gave my husband “the look.”


The first two weeks, blackie, named ingenuously by the daughter, followed me everywhere – from chair to bed to sofa and back. But, now it is at home with the four of us, together or separate. Things are so much better since it has been toilet-trained. And, now that it is teething, I actually have the floor clear of clutter, which consisted of things quite needed in our daily life.

we are family

This is us now. Suhana actually has blackie in the family picture she drew of us spending the day at the seaside. I asked her why she forgot kukku, miss smarty replied, it was because kukku would fly away in the open sky. No contradicting that!

Somewhere in between blackie came and I post this, I was overwhelmed, tired and cranky. That was when I decided, reluctantly, to end this blog, because I was hardly coming on-line, feeling uncreative and did not see any time for me in the next two years to do all that I had wanted to.
It was precisely, on Little E’s three-month birthday Shalini, and soon as I had posted on flickr, I was going to say my good byes to you (for you believed in me enough) and Shilpa (how I love her name and the little notes we share from time to time) and Sindhu (who must still be finding me as confused as I was when I sat next to her in journalism school and who, out of all of you, has actually seen me in person and all that I know of computers and laughter, she taught me ☺) and Asha (who is solace and inspiration and always gets my jokes) and Arundhati and Arya and Indrani and Susan, your comments do me proud.
Short story shorter, the Net connection was lost and I was unable to blog that day. The transmission problems still continue as does my blog.


But, thank you so much, each one of you!!