reaching out.

Was it Tony? Johnny? I don’t remember his name. He was the first wedding proposal. You know! You see photo. He sees photo. Families talk. When almost everything is finalized or to both the family’s liking, you actually get to meet in the neatest room in your home, with almost entire families of both sides right outside the half shut door.

So, Tony or Johnny had his photo sent to my excited family by eager parents. And, we were supposed to start a conversation across continents through e-mail. Except, I could not find a start. I am good to barge in, interrupt, debate… but, start with an introduction. Now, there I fail.

So, I asked my mother to let me hear his voice. Just once. Ask him to call. Anyways, things didn’t go further. I was naïve enough to hold onto something as tangible as it is intangible… the sound of someone’s voice, the vibes of a meeting, the feel of a hand.

With all the wisdom I’ve gained in the ten or so years, I have realized that I was a fool. I have made three best friends. And, we are so close. They have been lucky to get to meet each other. I have not seen them except in pictures. But, when we are in our element and in the mood to chat, you should see how words strung as chatter posing as mail fly across states and countries!

Last week, I got hold of the phone numbers of two of them. Talked to them. Now, I have voices to the words I read. A lilt to the laugher icons, intonations here and there. Reaching out is all it takes to make a bond. Holding on to it is all it takes to make it last.

it is time

for the annual rain post. usually, by this time my spirit is damp and sunken. every inch of my being is moronish. not this time, not this year. there has been as many bright interludes with the sun shining bright as the bursts of paltry rain.

the monsoons came without showers of blessings for the farmers. there has not been enough rain. i worry about the framers, their produce. but, then i remember the warehouses with rotting grain. i think how it will be with more power outages in the warmer months. it strikes me of the times i rushed to answer the doorbell without turning off the lights and fan and stood there talking with my neighbour for almost an hour. oh the rising prices of everything! oh the times i bought stuff mighty unnecessarily just because it was on sale!

wilful waste brings woeful want, i read in college somewhere. enough is a feast. the words have stayed in my mind longer than i expected them to. time to practice them more than i do now. to do my little bit. maybe the kids will imbibe it somewhere along the way.

and, i almost forgot the pictures from my little balcony this afternoon!

the love knot

a love story. 

two little girls.

 sisters and friends.

 the younger wanted to *paint rainbows in different shapes and put it together like a quilt.* 

the momma had already bought the gift.

 so, we improvised 

and wrapped the presents for the 11 year old birthday girl in hand-painted paper

 that the little one also crushed to add texture!

a crossing over of sorts.

   till a few months ago, i was this girl refusing to grow up. everyone else had to take responsibility for my abundance of or lack of things, my sadness and happiness, my shortcomings all the while i preened under the spotlight at the little successes. 

    then, life threw me bitter gourds. literally. and, i was taking care of more than i ever had. talking and hustling, smiling and managing, meeting deadlines and keeping my sanity. things i have seen grandmothers and mothers doing!

    my fate, or, is it the universe, or the much cliched 'life,' is taking me in another direction. one i did not ever want to take. so, i am going to say it very fast. *deep breath* to be creative and content within the confines of my home. there. i said it.

     its funny how the graph of my life is going backward in my head. not downward, not really. but, backward. i feel i am returning to my roots. no, deeper. into the depths of my being. a way to start again. but, this time with the right attitude and a graceful frame of mind.

     no. things have not completely changed. but, i am realizing that if i want to, i can channelise my thoughts and plans, despite limited resources into serious action. and, all i can think is what have i been doing my entire life!

       my priorities are open before my eyes. no. am not letting go of my dreams, just tweaked them so they are not always out of reach. because, that is not the way i want to live, hankering over things lost. and, it would be a total waste of me. 

       like the quote, 'it takes courage to grow up and become who you really are. - E E Cummings

PS

had been missing. as you can see above, it was a realization of 'route re-calculation,' as that lady with the nice accent in our GPS says.

somedays,

i am my own eeyore. 

you know, sighing. moping. drooping. 

sighing again.

raining on my own parade,

like the rains i heard were not enough!

can't bear to hear myself.

so, i took it upon myself

to inhale in the pleasant

and comforting aroma of some tea.

add to that, the uplifting tang 

of some lemongrass i bought 

on my Friday jaunt

to the roadside farmer's market.

this is called gauti chai masala,
or, literally, village chai masala,
said the lady selling them,
crushing a bit with her fingers
and bringing it to her nose,
nodding at me to do the same.
she told me to make tea as follows...

.. and, as i inhale deeply, 

my fingers let the warmth

from the hot cup seep into my weary muscles.

 my mind is on mute,

my legs are numb.

let me sit here in lemony -gingery solace,

bracing myself for a new week

that starts tomorrow.

PS

tea. after a long time.

light profound, light sublime

    

Thursdays

are the day of leftovers. find what's edible in the fridge, use it up, wipe and clean if necessary. though, the last phrase is absolutely not compulsory. also, a good time to make inventories about what to buy, and, pointers at what not to buy. *tries to wipe away memories of the rotting things*

but, i will not be able to shake away the sinking of my heart at the debates, the outrage and the footage of a seventeen year old being molested, groped, humiliated by a mob! the sneering. the helplessness. the horror of it all. makes me think of all the times i have walked on the streets at night, for pediatric crocin, glitter, sharpener, eggs, anything i needed urgently early next morning and had forgotten to buy. 

could it be that i was not harassed, or molested or raped simply because i was not. it could have happened, but it did not. could that be the explanation for my safety, because there is no guarantee, not from the police, not from the people passing by, faceless, nameless, heartless. and, why should they or anyone else risk being another Keenan and reuben. of course, you remember the brave hearts, don't you?

the media has moved on. how much will i hold on to! so, after a quickie clean up and list making i am set for my weekly dose of the streets nearby and the deliciously hot and inviting breakfast after a robust haggling session and walk. tensions ebb away. the food goes into my stomach, the taste makes me giddy and there i sit for a good hour, maybe more.

last Thursday, if found two lemons in a huge plastic bag in a corner of the fridge and a recipe with just two lemons and six eggs, which was all i had. it was a sign and i take them seriously. it was the first time, i was going about a cake as elaborate as this. i was very mindful. and, it was so worth the effort, time and the decision to make it :)

PS

the recipe