spur.

there is a change in the air. 

a nip in the mornings and fog clouding the tall trees. 

the leaves are falling. 

the birdcalls in the early morning sound different.

even in the little tropical haven in Kerala, i now live in, there is an unmistakable change in the air. 

enough to shake me out of hibernation.

its has been a long monsoons this time. 

one that drenched Onam, Kerala's harvest festival,

which is meant to be bright and sun-shiny

 and cheered with flowers.

the rains have continued with almost no break

into the thunderstorms characteristic of the Malayali month of thulaam.

my camera sank in the depths of the damp, 

as did one of my most prized lenses.

they are both resting in the sick shelf of my room,

along with my Macbook - my window to the world.

but, the bursts of sunshine 

has inspired us enough to put our sparkle on. 

and, shimmer in the sunlight.

literally.

the rains continue,

sometimes not stopping for hours.

despite the cloudy gloom

and the sodden grounds,

the feeling that better things are yet to come 

manages to reign strong.

Christmas is not far away.

things will look up.

ps

i do love leaves!

deja vu

All was back to routine. She sighed and sipped her morning cup of tea. It had been a flurry of activity and nerves the last three days. Her uncle and aunt were visiting along with their son and daughter-in-law and their two kids.
Se had fond memories of long stays in their home as a kid. And it was the first time they were coming over after her marriage. This felt special and she had wanted to make the occasion special.
After the phone call, she was excited to make it all happen. After all, there were just three days to lunch. And she was surprised to get cold feet because “what to cook?” kept flashing in her mind.
Sticking to what she knew best had been a really good idea, but she had not wanted to make her standard menu of biriyani. The guests were coming from Hyderabad and who could top a hyderabadi biriyani?
She smiled now as she remembered how she had wished and prayed fervently for some creative outburst or a flash of divine intervention to make that ho-hum flavour change to wow and yum!
The next day had been spent cleaning, clearing and sprucing up the house. When looking in the drawer for a table runner, she had come across two rose scented candles that she had completely forgotten about and now were placed on the coffee table.
She had smelt them more than once in the kitchen these last two days. They had brought back memories of holidays in her grandmother’s house in Kerala and the garden with bougainvilleas and ferns and roses and how every meal had a distinct flavour that still made her mouth water.
She had decided then that she would keep the menu simple, homely and easy so that it was also a pleasure to make. Her grandmother had looked happy as she had gone about her daily chores and that happiness reflected everywhere in the house.
She had bought the fish and the meat and everything else that would be needed. On the way to buy ice cream for the kids, in case they did not like fruits, she stopped at the florists and bargained for some pink carnations to match the runner.
That was how flower vase on top of the refrigerator had been put to some use for once. And in keeping with the homely theme, the simple fare was served with all lending a hand and bantering and bits of gossip and lots of laughter.
The hours had flown away and it had been time for them to leave. “I’m so glad you didn’t make biriyani,” her aunt had said, starting another fit of giggles.
All was back to routine now. As she stretched and finished her cup of tea, she was glad she had stuck to her instincts and made the lunch part of good memories for all.


The above excerpt was written more than three years ago, when I was probably obsessed about writing in the third person. But, I found the general feelings and thoughts echoed, as I got ready for friends who came to dinner Saturday night. But, to my credit, I was a lot faster this time!



As usual, it was simple, traditional and homely fare with lots of yellow roses and strong scents of green tea and lemon wafting from a corner in every room... was a little conscious of the 'doggie smell' that we don't even realise is there. I am thankful for the time spent together, the laughter and teasing and God! do I need to meet old friends more.



Have a lovely Sunday :)

the weekend we were rained in

...not literally, because we actually dressed up and went out to a delicious dinner Saturday night. But otherwise, we stayed put in the house and watched movies on TV. I saw 'Nights in Rodanthe' and the movie especially stands out because it is set in a beautiful blue cottage by the sea and I ate five chocolate chip cupcakes while watching it. This was straight after lunch!

I'll just leave be the disturbing trivia and try to succinctly describe 'the weekend we were rained in.' The forecast and the skies were bleak, bleak, bleak. Bleak has a colour - the dreariest of grey.



But, beyond the colourless skies lay the most beautiful sight, that of the clouds lifting from the hills some distance away. I did sit there mesmerised at the wonders and subtlety of nature, not also because I was really, really full and could barely move!



I drank in the viivd greens and delighted in the dance of the rain drops. Very zen-like and uplifting...



...till I focused on the droplets on the lights hanging since Christmas last. blah!



Did I tell you we have a new pet - a German Shepherd pup that is called 'Blackie' by the daughter and 'Doggie' by the son.



Hope you all have a lovely week ahead and I better think of working off the calories I gained just sitting and eating.



But, aren't the greens just so divine and refreshing!!

do you know

...what she did last summer? The darling accompanied her mother on walks and discovered with awe the 'touch-me-nots,' chameleons and dragonflies, and lots of flowers!


She enjoyed her afternoon jelly sessions as much as she loved helping her grandmother pickle some mangoes in brine. I have to add, this girl loves her pani puri, raw mangoes and imli... does that make me a bad momma?


excuse the poor quality of picture, please :)


Some one insisted on picking flowers everyday so that she could float them in her (grandmother) ammamma's large crystal bowl and other steel utensils. She loved this!


I am sure she hoped her brother who tagged along everywhere would do more than lend moral support :D


Sigh! so much time to to indulge in games by herself!


Some days, we went on an embellishing binge, first sticking sequins on the bird cage...


... and, then on the terracotta chimes...


...and, a play dough bead necklace for me!


And, this is how we left things on the morning we left. I wish I had remembered to click the fridge door, the "painting wall of fame," that was just overflowing with painted papers and crafts.

shabna aur suhana

Shabna was the first girl I met in the dormitory in law college. She sat there, eyes red and watery. She was already homesick. Me, in an hour, I thought, sneaking looks at her while mom and I unpacked and made my bed.

Shabna and I shared the same room in the first year. She had asthma and that year because of the climate change and adjusting to college/hostel life pressure, she had more attacks than all the years in law college.

I remember, after studying with my friends and classmates (she was in the other batch), I would come to my room to find her gasping, notes in hand, absolutely sure, she'll fail her test the next day. There were other days, regular college days, when there was always so much time (sigh!), when I would sit up with her, chatting, trying to take her (and my) mind off the painful gasps of air she took.

In second year, I moved to room 10 with my gang of friends and that was to be my residence the next four years. Shabna moved to room 9, next door, with her friend and classmate, Shimla (I know :)). Her shelf space was now covered with large bottles of dark coloured, strong smelling ayurvedic (yes, very much a mallu) medicines and concoctions.

Yet, when sufferring at night or day, she would, sometimes, call me over... I don't know, maybe it was easy for her with me. I have cleaned her vomit, washed her clothes and though we were never together, there were nights that I was thankful she was sleeping across the wall.

She shared stuff with me that she told nobody. When she fell in love, truly, madly, deeply, three years later, I knew of it at least nine months before my roomies or her roomies even got whiff of it. Yes, I am very good at not telling people things!!

She has a daughter and son and is living blissfully in Kerala. But, she's been on my thoughts a lot this last week, especially the nights.

Two days ago, a renowned chest/allergy specialist told us that our daughter has bronchial hypercativity, mainly (his words), because the doctors don't like to use the words asthma with regard to children.

She has been prescribed those inhaler sprays in blue, green and pink - her words. She might grow out of it, but then again, she might not - the doctor's words.

This last week, my little daughter has been coughing (not yet wheezing, thankfully) the entire night and day. I carry her and pace around from bedroom to living room and back. Shabna used to tell me that her earliest memories are of her dad carrying her on his shoulders throughout the night.

By the way, the little wise daughter turned five yesterday. We had a teeny party (if you can call it that) where she jumped and played and laughed a lot and ... did not cough even once. A small but precious miracle!!

Kasauli, Himachal Pradesh

Just back from Kerala where the rains had made eveything an emerald green. Took me back to holiday in Kasauli where I found lots of green and not just the leaves.
Sunrise School, which was seen if we leaned out of the balcony in our room, had selective shades of green.


The pine tree and the little bit of green on the church.

Even the people there seemed to prefer wearing the colour.

See, I was not exaggerating.

Striped door and a delightful menu.

Pretty buds, too.

A shut shop in the middle of a bustling street. The locks and the notices add to the drama and lead your imagination.

Seeing green from another window in our hotel.

Some more of the church.

Looking up at a natural kind of green.

The green fence and signs of spring.

Go green :)

all things wilted

the circle of life :)

there really is a thing as so much sun :I

by my kitchen window, stirred by a soft wind :)

wilted mangosteen, at my in-laws'

weeds dried and standing in the summer sun

a cake, a child and a story

There was a birthday in the house. My husband turned a year older and my daughter delighted in the anticipation of a cake and candles and celebration.

Both the husband and I were tired of the annual black forest cake ritual. As if on cue, my friend posted a picture of an apple cake on flickr and I rose to the challenge.

Challenging, because, I am just discovering the joys of smelling aromas wafting through the house. The recipe was everything but challenging, and healthy, too.

Four-year-old hands kept getting in my way and I am proud of the way I answered her queries while desperately trying to measure ingredients and follow instructions, though I did lose it twice, thrice, maybe.

"Hmmm," she said aloud, voicing my exact thought at the moment. We were staring at the cake that smelt deliciously of warm apple and cinnamon, but it didn't look very nice. Thinking just like a momma (we were made for crisis management), I set about mixing white sugar powder and the leftover cinnamon powder.

As she shook my steel seive and the white powder fell on the warm cake, the joy in her eye was what I lived for. It was her labour of love and oh, was she mighty pleased with herself!

She recited the entire recipe to her father as they cut the cake together. She gave due credit to me for teaching her, wow!

My touch, lol! I lighted a row of scented candles that I had been hoarding for special times when we might be able to linger on long after the meal was over. Today was special!