Those were the days

There was a time very long ago when a lady walked up to me and told me that my face was so peaceful that she was fascinated.She went on to tell me that faces reflect all the things that happen to us in life and she thought that the troubles and trials of this world had not got to me as yet.Looking back I remember that was the age of innocence for me.I took everything at face value,I didn't worry about a lot of things and I had my friends who also just went along with the flow.It was my first job after college and I was paid peanuts by the standards of that time and this but it didn't bother me for money wasn't such a big deal.I had learned to live on very little so didn't have too many needs.
Today many years later I look back on my life and wonder when it all changed.Did age and responsibility catch up?.Did my face change with the years.I have that constant worried look about me,I am surprised when someone from my past tells me that I was the most stress free person alive,I listen in amazement when people tell me I used to laugh a lot.Where did that me go I wonder.
First there was the job,the parents were still young,the father was still working so I had a good time,then he retired,slowly I watched the parent grow old,their anxieties became mine,the roles reversed.Suddenly I had the responsibility of looking after them alone.No support systems,no one to talk to about the problems.Then the years passed and things don't get better,they just get worse.In between I got married,fifteen years later I think that perhaps that's what kept me going.A happy relationship is a huge plus point.Suddenly I had someone to share my problems with,someone who understood.But happiness is something we need to find everyday,life is not easy its gets to you,and strength comes from dealing with it,looking at the positives and learning to take what comes,letting go.I pray hard,which is very silly,what does praying hard mean?.You need to pray and leave it to god,trust that the god who looks after you knows how much you can take and let go.Easier said than done....so I pray and I worry and i think god must despair about me.Why cant she let go he may wonder but i wonder the same.Today I am also growing old,suddenly there are aches and pains,the people I know are becoming grandparents .I know far too many people on the wrong side of 80 and most of them need care.Its not nice to know what old age can bring.Its a constant reminder of the troubles that the old face and yet in this country we have no infrastructure for the old.Doctors no longer make house calls so the infirm will have to languish in their misery.Not the most positive environment to grow old in.Today I sleep well a few days in a week and even that is a bonus and this for a person who could sleep for ever.Don't get me wrong I am not the only one with problems.almost all my friends have their own issues so where did those carefree days go?....i cant recall but i must make an effort.I must keep the dream alive,the dream of beautiful places,beautiful things and a life well lived...this is my prayer today to see things not as they are but what i can take away from every lesson life throws at me...will i get there?That's any body's guess

That snail mail

When i was a kid I spent hours writing to my friends during holidays,I also kept a diary which recorded such mundane things as how many times I had gone to the loo.Obviously for as a kid it probably meant a lot.As we got older my friends and I were allowed to visit each others houses to play and our mothers always churned out some good food (nothing shop bought )and we ended up being tired and dirty by the time it was leaving time.As teenagers we didn't spend too much time on the telephone (most of us didn't have one of those in the house) but we did manage to maintain friendships that have stood the test of time.Friendships not fuelled by constant status updates or text messages.Friendships that spanned a lifetime and with huge gaps between but which have stayed for ever fresh.Its small wonder then that I have friends from school,college,work,bus stop friends etc.People that I share common bonds with and who serve different purposes in my life.
Then came technology and boy did it change my life.First the written letter went out of the window,then the phone became so much a part of our lives that not having one on ones person made one uncomfortable.I remember telling people I didn't have a cellphone and it was met with blatant disbelief.How could one live without one.Well I resisted for ages but when the parents were in hospital I decided that I had to make use of technology but let me admit I never took to it as duck to water.So today my phone and I are kind of divorced or we just choose to stay away from each other as far as possible.My phone is always charged but I make it a point to check it once or twice a day.Now lets face it there is nothing earth shattering that can happen  can it.I know for instance that my friend texts me at 3pm to check on swimming plans.Another friend will call on Saturday's to check if I am up to attending church on Sunday and that's about it.So why am I so amused that a old friend of mine in London is going nuts trying to get me to see her messages.
Now London and my town are on different parts of the world and obviously there is a time difference so while she wakes up I am well into my afternoon nap so not surprisingly I miss her messages.She has been ranting about how i refuse to use technology,why do I have a phone if I don't check it is her constant refrain but the point is that I really don't care about it.I am sure if we wanted to skype we would find a way with or without the phone.
The other day I wrote to my 82 year old friend in another part of the world.Its not point talking to her and her hearing is nothing to write home about so there I was cramming the pages with news.Its been years since I wrote a letter and sent it by snail mail but a few weeks later I got a letter by post.Oh the joy of opening a letter ,to see someones handwriting to realise that someone sat down and penned it and put in energy and time because so much has to be said and said in that letter.There is no sending an attachment a little later.I read it and enjoyed it and read it out to the rest of the family.Obviously I was not the only happy one,my friend was just as pleased.I had brought alive her life in many ways.I had described the town she lived in many years ago,the changes that have happened in the twenty odd years that she has been away,the little things that our families did together and for her,living in a retirement home,that letter meant a great deal.For me it was a throwback to the days when letters had to be written to each person individually.No marking copies or mass mail.It was a wonderful time and even if my friends have forgotten,remember if you get a letter from it it may bring back some of the joy of the old life.

Sewing day

There are those days when everything seems bright and sunny and just as suddenly it can all go for a toss and spiral downwards at rapid pace.Today was one such.For days now I have told myself that early to bed and early to rise must become my motto in life.Then comes a thriller that I simply cant put down and before I know it its one am and the early to bed business is well and truly buried.At 5am sharp I am awake (don't ask me how) and after a quick check of the outside I decide that five more minutes of rest in bed cant do much harm....ha you have guessed it.Before I know it is 8am and the sun is well and truly up in the sky.So much for good intentions.
Don't think for a moment that I give up that easily,I have planned my day.A trip to pondycherry and a stay at a little home stay has inspired me to do some needle work.They had beautiful cotton sarees used as curtains and the stitching was simple,a single hem on either side that's all it took.Now my mother being the squirrel she is,has loads of new sarees under lock and key.She keeps them because she doesn't care for them and cant possibly throw them away so this morning inspired as I was,I had her hand over a nice off white cotton saree to make into a curtain.My sewing kit and machine were retrieved from their retirement and installed.The husband was told in no uncertain terms that the room he lounges in was out of bounds for the day as I had some serious work to do.So much for preparation.The saree was measured and cut.The iron box was used and the saree pressed so as to make stitching easier and I was all set to start.
The trouble with not using machines is that one tends to forget things.I have long been fighting a loosing battle with needlework of any kind and also with the sewing machine.My only hope is YouTube which I run to for any sewing machine related disaster.Now before I get into that story it must be understood that needlework has always been the domain of (most often than not) woman with a delicate bent of mind,nuns,English country wives,woman who can work for long hours with patience and passion whose hands will fly over cloth with needle and thread and who at the end of the day can show you wonderful delicate craftsmanship.That being the background its seriously ambitious for someone like me who cant even use a touchscreen phone without stomping all over the keyboard ,to even think of doing anything related to sewing but that hasn't stoped me.
First off I decided that I needed white thread and the bobbin had to be threaded.I used to do this rather easily but as mentioned earlier the sewing machine had been forgotten for a few months and try as I might the bobbin refused to get threaded.I tried my trusted friend YouTube but even that didn't do the trick.In desperation I checked my took kit and there was a bobbin of white thread.Now that that problem was sorted for the moment,I went ahead and started stitching....or at least I started.....only to be stoped in mid thread.....would you believe it the needle broke.Yes it actually broke....now if this isn't proof that the gods of needlework have no intention of letting me into their temple then what is.Currently I am surrounded by proof of my valiant efforts at making a curtain but all I have to show for it is this blog confession of a sewing day gone badly wrong.And so here I am back to what I do best....writing my stories,reading my books and leaving something to some people.

Weddings,relatives and gardens

January saw us going for yet another wedding.The husband and I seem to get invited to weddings of extended families.I am not sure why we get invited but we do go if time and circumstances permit.This time around the wedding was in Kerala in a town called trichur.We decided to go for the wedding until the invitation came along and then changed our minds.Here was an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.We decided to ditch the wedding and attend the reception instead.This was a few days later in the capital Trivandrum.The husband,good planner that he is,decided that a holiday was in order.Calls to some well connected relatives saw us getting a room in a hotel in Kovalam...a sea side resort near trivandrum much sort out by foreigners in India.Jan is a season where its next to impossible to get rooms but connections make all the difference in India so before we knew it there it was ...confirmation of a room with a view.

We set off to kerala and as luck would have it it was hot and humid.On our drive out of the airport the cab driver told us what a dangerous place this was for woman until he realised I speak the language,then all conversation stoped.Finally we arrived at our destination and had a good home cooked meal,and planned out next day.

If one visits a city where relatives live yards of each other,chances are that before we know it they know we are in town.We decided to visit the ones we like.Much family politics would erupt from our choices but we couldn't care less so the next day saw us visiting relatives.The beauty of kerala is that its a lush green and fertile land.Despite being a capital city trivandrum is more like a village with quaint houses,some apartments but most of all,gardens.With the average malayalee gardening is a passion and most of them will vie with each other to make their gardens look good.As with all visits to cousins,my first port of call is their garden.The first one had a garden full of the most luscious fruit,jack fruit,nutmegs,limes,and what have you.While the husband made polite conversation I checked out every plant and tree.Its not just home gardens,even the roads are small and narrow and on either side there are banana plants all in full bloom,various varieties of fruits and flowers,one can easily forget that this is a city.Its that beautiful though I cant say the same about the people.The bus drivers of trivandrum like elsewhere in India are a law to themselves.They take great pleasure in almost running down a lady driver and god forbid its someone like me who gives a damn about the kerala alpha male.Utter confusion.I decided that a bid of madras brashness was in order so like our much hated auto driver I took to the streets in full flow.Racing down the small back lanes and hurling choice abuses at the young men who dare to cross my path ensured I got home safe and sound,sometimes one just discovers survival skill when thrown at the deep end.it was another matter altogether that none of the relatives wanted to be with me in the car if I was driving.By the end of the day I had been introduced to the joys of orchid growing and its pains,the wonders of a kitchen garden and all manner of plant and soil fertilizers.Feeling like a novice I soaked in all that i could with ambitious plans of growing them back in hot and sunny madras....that much learnt and that much wiser we (the husband who had been following ,me around like a lamb) settled in to sleep away our first day in kerala

Vellore

A month is a long time in cyberspace so its not surprising that I found it difficult to get started,lots of things change ,more features are added on and the long and short of it is that I am confused....but that aside here are some memories of a holiday or two.

The season at our home starts in October and ends sometime in end January or February.That's to say that the house will be full of sisters and their families or cousins or visiting extended family.Its a few months of overeating,overcooking and  of general excess after which one is a few kilos heavier and have undone all the good that one achieved in the months before.But its also a time when the husband and i get to run away on holiday and leave the house in the capable hands of sisters and mother.For a few days we don't have to worry about running the house,all we need to do is find a nice getaway.

This year in December our first getaway albeit a day,was to vellore a small town near madras famous for its one big achievement,a christian medical college.Some 25 years ago I spent two blissful months in this town as a student and can easily say that those were the best days of my life.Since then our connections to vellore has increased.We went for a wedding this time after a gap of some eight years.The husband and i drove all the way,and we left early.The roads have improved and the driving was stress less,and as to vellore,it has transformed from a one horse town to a little bustling city.

The wedding for me was a time to check out of old friends were around but strangely i couldn't recognise my old institute nor did I come across any of the old friends until well after lunch.I was washing my hands and looking a bit disappointed when a man came over to wash his hands.Something about his face rang a bell and before I could stoped myself ,I had called out a name.His startled look was quickly replaced by a whoop of recognition and much to the consternation of the husband,there I was being hugged by this man who had been a good friend years and years ago.The sheer joy to seeing someone from so long ago is hard to explain.It brings back memories of sing songs,movies,late night chats,home cooked food and a host of others.His sisters house was our haunt every weekend.Like all students we were hungry always and after church on Sunday she gathered some hungry souls and fed us well.She was also there and was so happy to see me.It makes me want to go back for a longer stay ,loaf around our usual hangouts and take that one way ticket on the town bus and see the sights.What a happy way it was ending 2012 in a town that has me going all nostalgic.

Battle of the .....

That thin girl is how i was described for the better part of my live.Then somewhere in my 30s I started putting on weight.It gains at such slow pace that one doesn't notice it until its too late.I am a great one for comfort so my clothes were more towards comfort than style and that meant loose and comfy.No wonder i didn't notice.Well by the time i did ,it was time for drastic action.Now at best of times i am a lazy laid back person so getting into routine especially if the goal is something as uninspiring as loosing weight,well it just doesn't work for me.I started with walking but when one has to rush to office and ensure that breakfast is done,lunch packed etc etc,its no surprise that that fell by the wayside.Then it was yoga.For a while that fact that a fat body could actually accomplish such convoluted postures,had its own attraction but that also fell by the wayside.I was beginning to understand the true meaning of "the battle of the bulge".While i experimented and tried and failed at various things,the weight itself was doing rather well.It was getting the upper hand.Obviously the body and mind were two different things and the thing that was to keep them together was missing all along.By the time I was ready to give up work life and try and get some balance to my life,the scales were shifting at an alarming pace and balance seemed to have been the victim.Four years on,I have been fairly consistent .It started with yoga (yes i went back to it thanks to a patient teacher and a kind friend with similar issues).That took up three days of my week and the results were encouraging.While the whole world was finding peace and happiness,weight loss and a lot of other things besides,that's to yoga,I was just happy that i could make it to class three days a week.Huge achievement.Then I learnt swimming and discovered the joys of floating in trashing through water.I had found a new love.It left me feeling refreshed in the otherwise oppressive heat of my city and it didn't leave me tired.Along the way i also made a few friends.Then November rolls around and the visitors come along and all good intentions go for a toss.Add to it that my exercise companion had developed wheels on her feet and is forever on some travel agenda or the other so those days I cant get to do much.Clever woman that we are we have discovered a new way to keep our walks interesting.In the last two months we have discovered our entire neighbourhood,its many streets,we know who are the good gardeners,the lazy ones,the ones with no taste and the ones with too much money.We are having a blast.Now at the rate at which we have been exercising one would imagine we have lost enough weight to model for a fitness place.(most people with our routine would have qualified).Ever heard of exceptions to the rule?....well looks like we are those.After years of varied exercise and experiments we are still at the same weight we started off at.The only balance we have achieved is that our weight has been arrested (please not we didn't loose any just stoped the juggernaut from making any headway).So we continue in our quest and have gained enough experience to write a regular health column but the actual results leave a lot to be desired,but we tarry on and don't give up.Now if that's not discipline then what is?

The young and the old

Visits to hospitals and clinics are not my favourite chore but it has to be done when one has old parents staying with one.Every time I go to a hospital I marvel at the fact that most of the patients are in their thirties and forties with a few fifties and sixties thrown in but very few people in their eighties and ninenties.I am not sure if its because our population is so much younger than the rest of the world.I am not sure of our old people are not cared for as much but what ever the reason my mother seems to be part of a minority group.Hospitals today are also very high tech and full of machines and technology,doctors area also young ones who are too busy to spend more than five minutes with the patient.The people who operate the machines are even younger.All this is fine until they have to deal with someone old who finds it difficult to deal with machines.Some one who may be hard of hearing,someone who may not understand instructions too well or someone too slow to keep pace.Yesterday we went to get my mothers eyes checked.She had to go through various tests on various machines all more high tech that the next.All precision machines which would cry foul and error the moment any one of their instructions are not followed to the T.A young boy of around twenty got on with the tests but his patience was soon tried as my mother simple could not or was too slow to follow his instructions.I had to repeat each instruction gently to her so as not to get her too anxious,by which time the machine had cried "error".The boy now was telling me that the test would not be accurate as she wasn 't quick enough.I told him that he needed to realise that the test would not be a hundred percent accurate when old people are involved and that a certain amount of error much be factored in on parameters such as age and infirmity.He didnt seem convinced though he did conseed that he may not live to be her age.The same case with the doctor.I was told that there was far too much damage to her optic nerve and there was nothing they could do about it.Of course she didnt think it was a big deal after all the patient was in her 80s (this wasnt said in so may words but the body language was clear).I have met with such situations so many times now that I wonder why we fail to see that age has nothing to do with living.One can be in thei 80s or 90s and still want to stay healthy and happy albeit a bit slow.Isnt it time for our medical profession to learn to have the patience and kindness and the empathy to deal with the older generation.Why is it that in the quest for better machines and better medican we forget that a good bedside manner is a far more important asset than all the help machines and such can give us.A good doctor is one who can make a diagonosis even when none of the technology is at his or her disposal.A good doctor is one who can spend time and listen to a patient and find out a lot more than  what a questionnaire can throw up and finally a good doctor is one who can deal with all age groups and still manage to get to the heart of the problem.I wonder if that will ever happen

Hospital visits

Visits to hospitals and clinics are not my favourite chore but it has to be done when one has old parents staying with one.Every time I go to a hospital I marvel at the fact that most of the patients are in their thirties and forties with a few fifties and sixties thrown in but very few people in their eighties and ninenties.I am not sure if its because our population is so much younger than the rest of the world.I am not sure of our old people are not cared for as much but what ever the reason my mother seems to be part of a minority group.Hospitals today are also very high tech and full of machines and technology,doctors area also young ones who are too busy to spend more than five minutes with the patient.The people who operate the machines are even younger.All this is fine until they have to deal with someone old who finds it difficult to deal with machines.Some one who may be hard of hearing,someone who may not understand instructions too well or someone too slow to keep pace.Yesterday we went to get my mothers eyes checked.She had to go through various tests on various machines all more high tech that the next.All precision machines which would cry foul and error the moment any one of their instructions are not followed to the T.A young boy of around twenty got on with the tests but his patience was soon tried as my mother simple could not or was too slow to follow his instructions.I had to repeat each instruction gently to her so as not to get her too anxious,by which time the machine had cried "error".The boy now was telling me that the test would not be accurate as she wasn 't quick enough.I told him that he needed to realise that the test would not be a hundred percent accurate when old people are involved and that a certain amount of error much be factored in on parameters such as age and infirmity.He didnt seem convinced though he did conseed that he may not live to be her age.The same case with the doctor.I was told that there was far too much damage to her optic nerve and there was nothing they could do about it.Of course she didnt think it was a big deal after all the patient was in her 80s (this wasnt said in so may words but the body language was clear).I have met with such situations so many times now that I wonder why we fail to see that age has nothing to do with living.One can be in the 80s or 90s and still want to stay healthy and happy albeit a bit slow.Isnt it time for our medical profession to learn to have the patience and kindness and the empathy to deal with the older generation.Why is it that in the quest for better machines and better medican we forget that a good bedside manner is a far more important asset than all the help machines and such can give us.A good doctor is one who can make a diagnosis even when none of the technology is at his or her disposal.A good doctor is one who can spend time and listen to a patient and find out a lot more than  what a questionnaire can throw up and finally a good doctor is one who can deal with all age groups and still manage to get to the heart of the problem.I wonder if that will ever happen

The little things in life

Its been four years and more since I retired from corporate life in India and chose to be a home bird.The reasons were two fold.First of all I was getting more and more tired of corporate work culture in India with its overemphasis on youth,stress and no work life balance.Secondly my mother came to live with us and she needed someone to be around to help her readjust to life as a single woman living with her daughter.
In these many years I have managed to work around the constraints of having an old person (my mother is in her 80s) living with me,the adjustments between mother and the husband,the many guests who now frequent our home,the many hospital visits etc.
Three months ago my maid left and since then I have decided to go the western way and do all the housework myself,considering that I do have time to do it and not living in too big a house the task is not impossible.I also realised that maids are soon going to be a thing of the past and it may be wise to get used to being maid less as soon as possible.
Suddenly it struck me that I wasn't doing anything that I enjoyed (though what I enjoy is also a big question to which I am still searching for answers).My life was all of a sudden a long line of chores,cooking cleaning etc etc.In my opinion nothing constructive.My home is clean and neat but I don't seem too happy with it.So there I was cribbing about my plight,the fact that I cant take a holiday when I want (I am dependant on sisters of mine to stay with my mother) the fact that I cant party in the evenings etc.I fretted about all of my misfortunes until this afternoon when I saw my mother in the kitchen.There she was preparing our lunch after which we had a cup of tea (our daily morning routine) and then after we had all had lunch she started to clean the kitchen.When I told her that she had done enough for the day her answer was that she was doing it anyway as I had to clean the rest of the house and she was just pitching in.It takesher a lot longer than it would take me but she does it anyway.I watched her and realised that she has been at it from her 20s.Bringing up three children in times when husbands were of no help,through financial rough times,through stresses and all the health issues that she has had and there she was not questioning it even once.She belongs to a generation that simply got down and got on with it.Half her age and I was already cribbing about all the things i had to do and all the fun i couldn't have and it took  an 80 year old to let me see that life is not about what one doesn't have but the simple things that one does have.To have my mother here with me to gossip to chat to argue,to cook together and have our daily teas and cribbing sessions.These are all the things I will miss when she is not around.Holidays I can always take,parties will always be around the time spent with my mother is precious.We don't say these things to each other we don't need to i think.Its kind of understood that when we need each other we will always be there despite the small cribs the small bouts of depression and the low days,there is much to count ones blessing about and this is what I learnt today and it makes me humble.

Passwords

Growing up as I did on a staple of Enid Blyton books its not surprising that my friends and I are familiar with the word "password".We replicated the secret society like the secret seven of our childhood stories and met in an unused shed at the bottom of our school playground.We changed the password depending on who we wanted to keep in or out.Some girls told their friends about the club but as we didn't always like all the girls we needed to change the password.Of course it was uncomplicated things ,usually the name of our favourite food or teacher and if one of us was feeling superior or intellectual then it got a bit more complicated.School days led us on to college and somewhere along the way we discovered new authors,new books and new pass times and the password and all the accompanying trappings were soon forgotten.

Then technology came into our lives and with it the password made a come back.I thought it would be a flashback on childhood and created my first password with some favourite word and thought this would give me right of passage.How sadly mistaken I was.It started by rejecting my user name (obviously there were too many people with my name or short forms of it).I had to try various combinations of my name and surname or choose something with no relevance to me as a person.Considering that at the best of times I have bad memory this had me confused but I did manage to get a user name that I may have no problem remembering.Thinking that the battle had been won I moved on to the password.Now having grown up with passwords I thought this would be child's play but again I was up against electronic fraud,surveillance,cookies  (which is not the biscuit that I thought it was,it had something to do with data) and whatever,this was critical.Not only did I need a password that I could remember but it also had to have numbers and letters mixed up,I needed to have different passwords for different things,so between the bank,the insurance,investments,booking tickets etc etc.it was proving to be a minefield that I was not equipped to handle.Thankfully they do have an option that lets you click on "forgot password" but the downside being that they would send an email to my email id and I would have to check it to get my new password.Didn't anyone think that I may have forgotten my email password also.This didn't end there.Banks expect you to change passwords at regular intervals.Security they say so there I am having to remember loads of numbers and word combinations that have me so confused that I wonder where it will all end.For instance here I was wanting to update a post on this blog but for the life of me I couldn't remember the password,so I was excluded from participating in something that I though was my own creation and had to seek assistance from some unknown human or alien (for all I know there is a machine somewhere that's programmed to deal with people like me).to get into this blog.Now if that  isn't pathetic what is.I though myself rather clever by writing down all my passwords in a little book very much like a telephone book but all hell broke loose when I mentioned this to some of my more tech savvy friends.According to them I was leaving myself open to being robbed,stalked or worse so the book had to be destroyed.With increasing age I shudder to think what will happen to me when I find myself penniless thanks to forgetting my bank password or being stranded in some airport or train station because there was no human being around to help me and all the machines needed passwords.I think I will simply retire to some far off place with no access to technology where I can live off produce from the wild and hitch hike if I need to travel.So much for all the excitement of passwords when I was a child.Did we ever think that with all the ease that technology offers,it would also complicate our lives so much?

Little acts of kindness

He came to thank us for all our help.He is around 75 and an active man.Every morning saw him out of the house running errands.His wife took a daily walk to the vegetable store and walked back.In the evenings they walked together to the part for their walk together.Our neighbours,they were very involved with each other and didn't bother any of us.The kept to themselves and talked to us if we met on the road on in the building,but by and large we could easily forget they were there.Until a year ago when the wife fell sick and stoped her walks and her shopping.We got regular updates from the daughter in law and none of them were good.The only son had to go abroad on work and the old folk found themselves alone with no support system,not that they worried about it.Life continued as usual.One night while we watched TV at home,we heard a pounding on our door and our neighbour was there besides himself with worry.His wife he said had collapsed while having dinner.We rushed across to find her lying on the floor her dinner half finished on the table.It was not a nice sight.I tried locating a pulse but couldn't fine one.The emergency services were called even though the neighbours,the husband and i were convinced it was all over.We eventually had to break the news to her husband who was besides himself with grief.We sat there making phone calls to relatives and the son abroad breaking tragic news on the phone to complete strangers while he cried like a child.I haven't seen too many people so involved with each other.He kept asking why she hadn't said goodbye.I watched and waited while the husband and neighbours made arrangements.My role was to comfort,make phone calls and handhold.I wondered was it better to have loved and lost than to not love at all.How does one feel to be left behind by someone whose company you enjoyed.Some relatives arrived and promised to take over looking after him till the son arrived.We made some arrangements for the funeral,paid for somethings and generally took over the initial arrangements.I made flasks of strong tea to help them through the night.The Hindu custom dictates that no food is made at home until the funeral is over so for the next three days tea went from our house.A cup of tea in the time of crisis is what keeps the world moving.Finally it was all over,the relatives had left,the house had been packed and emptied and the old man was on his own,to fend for himself for the rest of his days.He hasn't come to terms with it as yet though we keep telling him that time is a great healer (even though we have no clue how one can deal with a loss of a partner that you cared for ).He drops in or calls and always goes over the event of the day.He says again and again how he couldn't have got through those days without our help.I never stoped to think that we were making a big difference but it obviously made a difference.It is important for him  to talk to us as we were the ones on the spot there.We share an experience however tragic and that will always bind us together,strangers for most part of the six years that they lived in the flat but friends for some small acts of kindness.I can only hope that we can all do little thing for others that will make a difference even though we may never know how much it mattered

mango season woes

Its April and the heat is just getting stronger,the gooseberry tree is heavy with fruit as are the mangoes.We have neither of these trees in our building but our neighbours do and since the trees are close to our compound walls,the fruits hang temptingly within reach.My mother has a great fascination for plucking tree ripe fruits and will spend all her time looking at the fruit and trying to pluck them.Being all of 4 ft nothing this is a daunting task but she wont give up.In desperation I will then have to reach out and pluck what ever i can.Only then will she rest .The mango tree is in line with our bedroom windows and our car park just below.Everyday from three in the afternoon to around five while the whole neighbourhood sleeps,school children from all the neighbouring schools will trow large stones to get at the mangoes.This means that with great regularity large stones will shatter out window panes,crash into our bedroom (god forbid any of us is sleeping near the window) and there is the every present danger that our car window will smash or one of us will end with head injury.Unfortunately no one cares and there is no solution.We shout ,threaten and run down the stairs but the boys are nimble and fast and get away real fast.I did suggest we adopt a stray dog and let him keep guard but what happens if the dog is stoned (cant live with that).We did think of buying an air gun in the fond hope that it might scare the boys but that seems like a stupid suggestion (neither of us is a great shot ).Should we ask for police protection (oh dear that is a joke if the city police are to be depended on to help).So in the absence of any solution we pray that the mangoes will fall or the neighbour will pluck them.Its at times like this when I fantasise that I live in places like America.I would have by now sued my neighbour for his tree wreaking havoc with my home and life.I would have got a license to get a gun and use it in self defence or I could have sent all the boys to a juvenile home but alas I live in India where these are all part of the mad summer season,its part of childhood to trow stones at mangoes,and not bother if a few window panes break after all these kids are poor,and come from homes where mere survival is a big fight so do I have a right to be cribbing about a few expenses coming my way....I am not at all sure but this if the dilemma that we face every summer and much as I love mangoes,I hate the mango season

car rides and the husband

It seems that every car ride today to do the simplest of jobs like grocery shopping or going to the bank,ends with the husband and me arguing all along the way on things we have no control over.The husbands pet topic is traffic indiscipline (this is a generic problem if you live in India and not likely to improve in the next hundred years),followed by the way he thinks the city traffic police should do their jobs,followed by so called building violations.He will point to any number of building which have encroached on to the roads  and will wax eloquent on how the government ought to withdraw building permission or demolish the building itself.I sit silently with an occasional hmm or an appropriate noise.Our next big problem is that he always drives (I am more than happy to be a passenger especially when the heat is unbearable) and will take routes that I think are too long when shorter ones are available,and not one to keep my mouth shut I will suggest routes and ways to get to our destination which almost always is the exact opposite route that he chooses,so I am told to keep my suggestions to myself which after much grumbling I do.By now we are almost half way across our journey and my temper is frayed and the heat is getting to me.Our visits to fruit markets are pretty harrowing.I insist on picking and choosing and hate to be hurried but the husband is always in a rush (invariably there is no parking available).Of course when it comes to food shopping I cant make up my mind despite writing lists.I will see a shop and remember that I need something there but by the time I shout for him to stop we have overshot the place so then we have yet another argument....by the time we have reached home,he is on an all time high having had his say on everything that ails this city and I am in such bad mood that I wonder why i took the trouble to go along.Despite all of this we continue to shop together,drive together and argue all the time.Why don't we just do are own thing you may well ask....well the strange part is that we love each others company and imagine how dull a car ride would be if we were always agreeing on things and if we never has our fight.

Ageing parents

Parents....most of our lives they have cared for us without too much acknowledgment from kids,yet they go on at it during all the highs and lows of life.We have our battles at every stage in life and its only when one reaches a certain age and parents start to grow old that we realise how much they mean to us,what a big part they play in our lives never mind how old we are.My mother as long as I can remember has always been cooking up great meals.She is the kind who cant keep still for too long and is always doing something or the other related to food.Or she watches loads of tv and then we have great battles on those subjects,never agreeing on anything.When she has a bit of time she will read the newspaper cover to cover (very much the way my dad did in his old age).My mother is 80 and that's pretty old but for the life of me I cant come to terms with her being old,for me she has to be busy,I cant deal with it when she is ill or a bit under the weather,then my whole day is spoilt.I know something is wrong when she is not out and about the house.Today I actually took a good look at her face (most days we are busy arguing with each other or just chatting that I have never noticed small details).I saw the fine lines,the papery skin ,the grey hair,the fading eyes and my heart turns cold.Maybe its my inability to deal with my own mortality,or the inability that one day she too must pass.Mothers for some reason are more a part of our lives that fathers (at least to some of my generation).She knows all my friends and the little details of their lives,she know all my sorrows and my pain,she knows my moods and she just knows me better than most.So why is it that for me its so important that she makes the tea at 5pm.Its my indicator that all is well with her.I need to see her at 9.30am making the first cup of tea ...Tea isn't the big deal here but I just need to see her there.Am I asking too much of an 80 year old.Am I just not willing to face the reality that people do get old and frail.I am being morbid and silly at times but my mother being ill or out of sorts is the most stressful thing in life at the moment.We have lived with each other for all my life and a good part of hers.The house is mine but most of the stuff in it is hers,that's how much our lives are woven into each others.Most people I know with old parents go through this crisis,we look out for each other despite getting on each others nerves at times.We all jump at those midnight phone calls,we sleep light if there are old parents at home and some lucky ones like me have them under ones roof but what of my friends who live in far away countries and have only the phone to keep in touch,what do they do when conversations become impossible when parents loose their hearing?,what happens when they are too far to be there when they are most needed and what about the parents themselves?.How terrible to be all alone when one is old especially the ones with families children,grandchildren etc but no one to talk to.That is real loneliness and like it or not we will all have to face it one day.How we cope is really what matters in the end.

Garden psychology

In the heat of good old madras with temperatures reaching 40degrees c,I try very hard to have some green space in my home.A small balcony therefore is brimming with plants in greens and purple along with a basil and thyme (brought in from cold and lovely ooty).My terrace has ladies finger and bitter gourd along with cactus and all manner of other plants.The cactus is the result of a great ambition to have a cactus garden but having no clue how to grow them I dilly dallied on the decision to grow them.Then along came a niece with some cactus plants given to her by some avid gardener and here she was a girl with zero interest in gardening,so they found their way into my home and not having a clue like I mentioned,they were bunched together in one pot.Some more cactus came along on trips to ooty but they died protesting the heat of madras,some came from Bangalore and had a lot more spirit as they thrived and got along so well with some others that they soon bangalored the rest.All of the plants have their own personalities and some of them are great sulks,they can sulk if I forget to water them for a day (I can understand when its really hot but why sulk in winter?).In sheer exasperation with this constant sulking I ignored them a few days and some bug got hold of them and eat up all their leaves.Feeling a bit guilty I continued to water despite not being too optimistic about the two but wonder of wonders after a few months (I think this was a new way of protest) the leaves were back and they were looking rather good.The good news is that this new avatar doesn't sulk.I am still trying to figure out the psychology of these plants.The aloe vera on the other hand will bloom and grow even if they outgrow their pot,they have their own attitude.My basil and thyme make me rather proud.The heat has just begun and perhaps I talk too soon but they have grit their teeth and are pulling along very well and braving the heat.On the whole all my plants have learnt to adapt to daily watering even when some of them in normal circumstances don't need to be watered daily.The seem to have realised that to co exist with others very different from themselves,they need to make a few compromises,so bravely they adapt and live and give me great pleasure and teach me small lessons in life that only a thriving garden in how ever small a space can teach you.

Cook,eat,live

This family loves food and most of us in it love to cook but our ways are so different one would never imagine we are sisters.My mom is the best cook of the lot,she has a mine of information about food,tricks to salvage all those kitchen disasters and loads of healthy dishes that even taste fantastic.Now in her 80s she has forgotten most of them and its my job to jog her memory.Some of the ingredients she wants have gone away with the old lifestyle of being close to nature,so we have to learn to do without them and stick to supermarket stuff or grow our own food (very difficult in hot climates and no garden space)My middle sister is what one would call a perfect cook.She hates cooking but lives in a world that requires a woman to be a good host and therefore serve good food and with formal settings.She entertains much more than me but you can be sure to get starter,main course and desert at her home.She can follow a recipe book to the tea and will churn out good food but god forbid you share kitchen space with her.You cant carry on a conversation as she hates to be distracted,she will measure every bit of what goes into the dish and is terrified of loosing count so we cant ask any questions.Best left to herself you can be sure of good food though you may wonder why it took so long

My eldest sister is a great cook if one is to go by what all her hangers on and friends claim.She can stir up a three or four course meal in minutes and with what ever is available in the house but she is a suspect cook in some ways.Sometimes I wonder if she gets away with it because she live in a world that's full of foreigners,she being the few Indians around.She usually cooks for large groups of 30 to 40 people and will have many dishes on the table,but when I think of chips and junk food listed as dishes I shudder to think what her guest have let themselves in for.My mother refuses to have anything to do with her cooking as she is convinced that her eldest daughter has learnt a mish mash of things with no logical sequence or just no sense.Two days ago when she told me that she was using low quality rice to make a meal and then told me later that it tasted like a lovely risotto,I decided that I will cook for myself when I visit her.But she does have plenty of good food up her sleeve but make sure you get invited when its just her and her husband and the need to play to the gallery is not there.She love a performance and has taken Shakespeare to heart so to her all the worlds a stage including her kitchen.

Me,I learnt cooking late in life only because I married someone who had no clue about cooking and I had no intention of starving to death.It was s skill born out of necessity.The only things i knew when I started were the dishes that BBC good food put on air and being of the English kind it didn't go down well with the husband.In a effort to save our marriage from culinary disaster I learnt to cook by calling my mother everyday and having recipes dictated on the phone.If that failed I called my mother in law for her kind of recipes (polar opposites of what I was used to ).Having to learn vegetarian cooking was also a big deal.Having been a meat and fish person,who ate non vegetarian food for all meals it was somewhat a shock to discover that there are people who don't eat meat ( I knew then of course but never had to live with one).Lentils my pet hate soon started becoming a staple on out table,while i settled for curd.Today some fourteen years later we actually eat all kind of vegetables and I cook them .Recently when I was told that my chicken curry sucks,I discovered to my utter horror that I may be on the way to becoming a total vegetarian cook.Well i hope not but I must admit that there are times when I do dish up a all vegetarian meal and can surprise myself on how good it tasted.But the final verdict is that for all our experiments and our differences as cooks,my mother still wins hands down when it comes to taste.

Battle of the bulge

Its been four years now since I started on a fitness regime.What was the reason?...well suddenly i was beginning to look like dawn french minus the pretty face,and also because I had to do something to keep healthy.Having been thin as in really thin for the better part of my life it just didn't seem right to seem so fat so with all good intentions I hit the gym for three years,started yoga and continued for two years and learnt to swim and have been doing three of the above regularly.I also read most of the articles on diet and health and the papers are full of them so one cant really ignore it.Today for instance there was this article which had a headline that really caught my eye.It was about how to loose a flabby tum and wobbly thighs.Considering that this is a battle that i don't seem to be winning ,I decided to read the fine print.Stupid me to think that solutions come in newspapers.Well needless to say that after reading it with all the good advice about Mediterranean diets and exercise,I was deeply disappointed.Now the conclusion is that either I am and exception to every diet and exercise rule,or my body has a total mind of its own and I need to accept that I have no control over that mind.How else does one explain why I( who do a full 60 to 90 minutes of exercise everyday and don't eat junk food and don't drink power drinks and don't eat out etc etc) am still struggling with the same problems that are supposed to be zapped with all the good advice that I follow.It obviously means that I should ignore all of these diet and exercise advice and do exactly what i want to do and not worry about the weight.Like someone said its all about staying fit,but how would i know I am fit until I drop dead.Pretty obvious that this is a subject that most people worry about hence the reams of newsprint and tv time spent on this topic....discouraging it is but I shall keep trying.

Bobbin battles

At the best of times needlepoint and me are poles apart.I went to an all girl school that had needlepoint as a subject.The headmistress has this mistaken notion that we would all end up industrious young woman who would make our own clothes and sew out own curtains.Her confidence wasnt misplaced.Many of the girls ended up doing just that and are very good at it,but some like me fell by the way side.In the last year of school when an exam paper asked that we make aprons,my desperation to get out of school and enter university no no bounds.For the first and the last time ,I cheated at this exam.Having spent the better part of my life outside the classroom punished for bad craftsmanship,I was doomed to failure.The long and short of it was that my friend bailed me out.So why am I not surprised that for a month now I have been struggling to master that great art of bobbin threading.Now lets face it this is after all a sewing machine with standard features and understanding how a bobbin works cant be rocket science....or perhaps it is when the person is me.I have watched every video on you tube,read as many pages on the science of the bobbin but to no avail.I have developed a permanent lop sided look that has my head at a strange angle,and i am pretty sure I have become cross eyed also but the bobbin only threads after five tries and when I have said a prayer or two.Nothing less than divine intervention gets it going.Not the type to give up easily I continue my battle with the bobbin and have already amassed a few in my utilities box thanks mainly to the fact that its not expensive.So today wonder of wonders the bobbin behaved itself and i managed to get some sewing done but the main needle has started playing up.As a firm believer in one god I have a nasty feeling that he is likely to ignore my requests if they get far too many so before the good lord gives up on me ....may i master the bobbin and the machine.

The politics of personalities

Cricket is not a religion to me,despite living in a country that is cricket obsessed.I am not a fan of any of the players either simply because I don't relate to the game.So don't be surprised if this blog is about cricket.Its simply that the news is full of our star player who is out of form and who should or shouldn't be in the team.Of course the issue I am concerned with is not to do with cricket but with the politics of it all.In our country we respect individuals even if the job requires a team.Sports,politics,corporate life whatever....are all littered with stories of individuals who made it big,people who's personalities dominate their respective fields.People who have contributed largely to the path they have chosen.However we as a nation worship the demi gods,we create them (for good reason) and then they become larger than life so we cant kill our own creation,so we have cricketers who hang on long after their sell by date,ageing actors who don wigs and dance around woman young enough to be their grand children,corporate honchos who run companies like their personal fiefdom and so on and so forth.Of course behind close doors we will crib about them but do we have the guts to confront them,do we dare to topple them off the pedestal we set up for them.Of course not.So why blame some one who hangs on long after his out of form states makes us a lesser team.Can we dare to tell our star player that perhaps its time to sit on the sidelines.And if some brave soul does do so,will we as a nation let him live.....of course not this in India....land of god men,devotees and demi gods.We will continue to be so but dream of becoming professionals....it will remain a dream until we can separate personalities from the job on hand

Parenting in the time of change

Time was when my parents told me stories of the good old days of their childhood,the lamented the fact that values had come down and the world had changed etc etc.I always wondered how it would feel to be in their position.Well somewhere at the half way mark I understand how they did feel.In my days (to use their phrase) things were different.We actually had a lot of freedom to take decisions,we learnt to cope with life and all its problems,we learnt to make friends and enemies and accept that the world is not always filled with people we like.We also learnt to ignore what we didn't like and to appreciate what we did.My parents did not have any coaching to be parents but they muddled along and did a fairly decent job of it.Of course I have my share of complaints but on the whole I cant complain.

It looks like its my lot to observe parents on a day to day basis and I come away horrified at them and their children.My daily walk takes me through a park on my way to the swimming pool.The park has a skating rink and its full of children in the age group of six to twelve.The come fitted out with the best clothes,head gear,knee pads etc and their adoring parents sit on the sidelines keeping watch over them.Of course most of the parents are in their twenties and thirties and its mostly mothers.Fathers have better things to do like earning a living and looks like parenting is the sole responsibility of the mothers (this in India after all).The other day a kid wanted to pee ,so what does this educated and reasonably well off mother do (I am guessing they are well of by the clothes and gear )She gets the child to pee right there on the lawn (used by a number of people on their daily walks).I wonder why she cant walk five hundred yards or so to the toilets which are clean and open for exactly this purpose.The child is being taught early that the whole world is his toilet.Move on to the swimming pool.Its my cross to bear that every time I go for a swim the pool is full of children in the same age group mentioned above,along with the same adoring mothers and in some cases fathers.All the parents crowd around the pool some shouting instructions (they will never enter the pool with their kids and teach them),some yelling at them to improve (the parents are all under pressure to make their off spring the very best at any cost) and some will watch adoringly while children jump into the water regardless of who is swimming or if anyone is in danger of having a child land on their backs.In desperation we tried explaining to a parent the dangers of such behaviour (we though that this would help but we obviously should have known better) but she shrugged her shoulder and continued to encourage her kids to jump(so what if someone is killed to maimed? after all she did pay to use the pool and to hell with the rest).Some of them get aggressive if any instructions are given ,some get defensive and some just ignore all things.All they are interested in are their kids.(very commendable that they can spend so much time with them).I wonder what these little horrors will grow up to.Why am i not surprised that kids today will commit suicide at the slightest hint of pressure,will kill their teachers if reprimanded,will rape their fellow students in a false sense of power and generally grow up to be the worst kind of society we will inherit.

Parenting may no longer be the so called easy job it was for our parents (though I suspect it was difficult for them too),the world changes and with more affluence,parents are always under pressure,but what a lot of them seem to be forgetting is that a bad child is really a reflection on bad parents.Why is it that while parents have so much time to send their kids to every coaching class and make them excel in every sport or activity that money can buy,why do they forget that time spent in communicating and teaching by example are a far far better investment in the future.I shudder every time I look at those brats and their parents as I pass along like and I can only thank God that I knew my limitations and didn't inflict society with a child.Thank god I had the sense to not become a parent.

I must admit that in the course of my life I have met some excellent parents who put their money where their mouth is and bring up very well behaved children who excel in things that they have an aptitude for and enjoy many different facets of life and to those parents and children I can only say,may your breed increase.

Dealing with his Mother

Well over a year now I have been giving advice on and off to friends on how to handle mothers in law.Now one might wonder whats so unique about this particular relationship but if the universal truth be known there are very few good relationships between mothers in law and daughters in law,more so if one is in an Indian family.Reasons are many and the degrees of hostility or friendliness as the case may be can vary depending a lot on the family itself.

In our culture,boys are important,so much so that a son kind of makes a woman feel complete (this seems to be changing very slowly over the years).Mothers tend to hold on to their sons,take care of their every whim and most men are tied to their mothers apron strings.Strangely its not so much the sons problem as his wife's when a marriage takes place.Most girls brought up in our society (there are a lot of exceptions to the rule and i know of some very good relationships also) believe that its their role to "adjust".This is considered a good reflection on their own parents parenting skills as also on the character of the girls themselves.Keeping with this belief its not strange to see girls integrate well into families (very positive thing i must admit) and go the whole nine yards to make herself well loved by one and all.The trouble really is with expectations.If the girl expects her mother in law to love her or accept her a hundred percent then one is asking for trouble.I don't quiet know the psychology of it but suspect it has something to do with letting go.Most mothers don't want to let go of their sons and believe its their birthright to control every aspect of his life well after a wife comes along.The wife in question then believes that the onus is on the husband to make for smooth passage where his mother and wife are concerned.I believe this is the first mistake.Like i tell my friends,its foolhardy to interfere in a mother son relationship.Mothers in law are best dealt with on a one on one basis with out the son being part of the equation.Lets face it the man in the middle will never win,he either ends up hurting the mother or the wife or both.Now coming to the wife,once again my rule of thumb is that one must not expect the mother in law to either love you are accept you a hundred percent.Accept this fact of life and one is bound to end up with a happy relationship.If the wife chooses to live with her in laws then she must accept that it will be their rules at all times,if she decides to live independently with the husband then the rules of the house are her rules and these must be stated or implied clearly.To feel bitter at the slightest perceived insult is to bring trouble on ones self.As my mother very wisely put it to me one day( after she made a scathing attack on the condition of my kitchen and house in general) we daughters in law tend to take our mothers in law too seriously,we will take the most nasty comments from our mothers and shrug it off as a bad day but god forbid the mother in law says the same thing (even if there is truth in it).We will get on the high horse,rave to our husbands about what we think of his mother and in the end end up feeling betrayed because he didn't take our side....Honestly is it all worth it.Not really.I do believe that the best relationships are when you accept that however perfect you may be ,you will never be the daughter of the house,nor will you mother in law be as comfortable with you as she will be with her own daughters.Remember you will always be the woman who took her son away so learn to share him without compromising your position as his wife.Remember that if you respect yourself others will respect you and last but not least,every relationship is about two people who give and take and as a woman you don't have to be a doormat to win the game.Stand up for yourself and remember in life you may have to loose some battles to win the war.

Pondycherry-weekend getaway

Its been months since the holiday in Turkey and one wonders why I haven't written a thing thus far.Has everything paled in comparison to turkey or is it just apathy on my part?.A bit of both I should think.So what have I been doing with myself?....A few months after turkey we took a weekend off to Pondycherry.I have been there many times on work,but very few times have I explored the place and never with the husband.Its always been a get away with a girlfriend where we gossip,drink good wine,eat good food,lounge on the beach and shop.This time around I did take the husband on a conducted tour....I am no expert on the place but considering I know far more than the husband on this topic,I play guide.We book ourselves into the guesthouse Dumas.A quaint Franco-Indian place run by a local woman with french roots.They speak in rapid fire french,Tamil and stilted English but its a lovely place with five rooms with high ceilings,high beds that one has to climb onto (reminds me of the princess and the pea though there is only one mattress on this bed).The bathrooms are old fashioned in stone and tiles and light seeps through old fashioned windows.Outside the garden is full of plants and a little place for a smoke and a good chat does it all for this place.There are even a few books for people like me.Situated just behind the promenade,its close enough to the sea and to eating places near by.We cross the road to the Alliance Francaise to have green tea on the lawns and listed to the waves pounding the rocks behind us.The ebb and flow of the waves is soothing for an evening spent in the lazy atmosphere of Pondycherry.For dinner we hop to the neighbours house (its really a cafe) and settle down to some local food,good chicken in cream sauce and a good glass of wine and of course some calamari.As darkness falls we end our day walking along the shore and enjoying the peace and quiet of a quaint french town in the south of India.

The next day sees us off to lunch at a small place run by Max.I think he may be french but has lived here long enough to be India,though he does grumble like a french man and has charm to match.Unfortunately the town sleeps from 1 to around 4 in the afternoon so one cant do much except lie down on a cool bed and read or sleep.Dinner is at yet another lovely garden cafe .We do explore Auroville the international town in the heart of pondycherry.Its not easy to find too many Indians here despite it being India....The french have created a grand place complete with shopping centre and meditation dome where one is expected to maintain absolute silence and get in touch with ones inner self.The husband refused to meditate so we skip that part of it but end up with what is called a healthy plate for lunch,salads rice,chicken ,soup and fruit...looks lovely and tastes simple and healthy....after a few beers we are ready to head back home (a beautiful drive along the shore ) and back to our routines.....its not some exotic location but sometimes its nice to get away and spend time with each other outside of the home....

Pamakkula-19/3/2011

They call it the cotton mountain,a place for hot springs and thermal waters.The waterways flowing down from the mountains left large deposits of calcium in its wake hence the ground is covered in white deposits which from afar can be mistaken for show but on closer examination is a kind of hardened stone which is mushy in some places where the waters have flown recently.

We climb the hills which look deserted and suddenly we are hit by this vast expanse of white.Today the waters are regulated and most of the place we walk by are dry though we can hear the gurgling of water somewhere.As we continue our walk we come to where the waters have formed large pools,they look like a long line of swimming pools and we are told that its safe to swim though none of us is prepared.Stepping into the waters and one is surprised at how warm it is.Very relaxing and as I move from one pool to the other it gets deeper and deeper.How unfortunate that i am not in swimming mode.The lack of changing rooms is also a factor but the waters are a powder blue more so because the base of the pool is white.It is an awe inspiring sight to see some much natural formations,and to see what water can do to the landscape.After an hour or so we drive back to kusadasi past little villages with their quaint bottles resting on the roofs to indicate unmarried girls living there.We stop to drop off some of our fellow travellers and by now we are all exchanging notes on our lives,culture etc.Its strange how some 5 to 6 hours spent in the company of strangers can have one saying and disclosing so much of oneself.

Ephesus-18/3/2011

An ancient city once thriving but later buried this sight has since been excavated and today it is a mass of ruins some painstakingly restored.It gives one an insight to how people lived in those days.Ancient air conditioning systems which allowed water to flow through building keeping them cool in summer,large libraries that spoke of learning and culture,schools for the children,the Agora or shopping centre for the woman of the day all covered in marble.A large theater which is restored was a place for plays and other events to be held and can seat such a large number and all in the open.This is also a place of one of the ancient churches mentioned in the book of revelation.Not being so clued on to the bible I miss some of its significance,except to say that St Paul is said to have been here as have John the evangelist who also brought Mary the mother of Jesus to live here.There is a monument to him in this town as also the house of the virgin Mary which is today a chapel.Its a perfect place to relive the past.Its also very lush and as we drive there there is an abundance of vegetables and fruits being grown despite it being late winter.The place is right in the middle of the valley and the ruins stand testimony to a by gone era.There is also a brothel that flourished in the day which was placed opposite the library and was connected to it via an underground passage.

Istanbul-Ismir-Kusadesi

Its my birthday today and for the first time in years I am far away from home,phone calls,text messages and far removed from any computer.Not that I mind the attention but once in a while its best to remove oneself from the everyday environment and contemplate on life that was lived until now to whats to come in the future.I sit outside our hotel and watch Istanbul come to life.People rushing around to office,tourists getting ready for the days tours.I watch the skill of the drivers who manage to drive large vehicles through narrow streets and yet on bump into anyone or damage things.

At 10am our guide picks us up for the 25km drive to the airport.Its once again a road that hugs the sea of Marmara and the morning view is filled with rush hour ferry's,ships at sea and seabirds circling above in search of fish.The sky is blue with a promise of a beautiful day.All to soon we are at the airport and its time to say goodbye to Genghis.He is a nice chap and bids us goodbye with much warmth.

Inside with two hours to kill I wander around to the shops,some shops with perfumes and sunglasses and a jewellery store.Once again emeralds and turquoise twinkle up at me.Once again I am drawn to the beautiful designs and settings.Once again the price is as usual way beyond my reach.The mood drops,the husband tries in vain to interest me in some sunglasses but I am in no mood to look at prices.I decided to watch the world go by and wait for the flight to be announced.Our domestic flight takes us to Ismir one of the three largest cities in Turkey.After soaking in the ariel view of Istanbul we settle for air line food which surprisingly is pretty good.An hour later we are met at the airport by a local and taken on a one hour drive to the resort town of Kusadesi.The drive is uneventful to start with.Miles and miles of olive fields but all the olives have been harvested.I have never been up close and personal with an olive tree and ask if I can get a closer view.The driver stops and helps me into one of the fields and allows me to break an olive branch.Well symbolic or not peace returns and as the drive progresses,the Aegean sea comes into view.From the top of the road the land falls into the sea.No big waves crash here,there is a gently lapping of water against the shore.Its deceptive but deep and dangerous.We stop for a photo and I sit for a few minutes.There is something soothing about the sea.Its depth,the colour and the sheer beauty of the surrounding .There is not a soul in sight.Blue sky,deep waters ,olive trees and a gently breeze.I could sit for hours but we move on.Arrive at the town with is quaint and typical resort town,Most of the homes are occupied in summer so the place is rather deserted.We check in and decide to explore.I am in no mood for adventures but we go nevertheless and find our selves in the town,stop for a tea,wander the coast and watch people fishing in little pockets.Its a nice life.Taxi drive takes us back and as its a birthday we decide to celebrate with local Raki....not a bad ending to a day spent most of the time in transit.

Shopping-Istanbul

This is one activity i am terrible at.I love most things and cant afford most things so its an exercise in futility really but we go to the ministry of culture of some such to be given a demo on carpets,Turkish carpets.They are very good,by the time two cups of apple tea have been drunk I am in love with carpets and want one.The husband decided to humor me until he realises that at even the lowest possible rate we cant afford a carpet the size of a mat even.So we walk out disappointed,me unhappy at being so poor as to not afford a carpet and the husband happy to have escaped with his money intact.We walk over to the grand bazaar with 20 minutes in hand and not in happy moods,so while i want to get lost in the many enticing alleys he wants to make sure we don't get lost.....in the end we end up with a Turkish tea set which i who never bargain (did so because I was so mad at being poor) got at a 50% discount (see what positive things can happen when one is angry) and got mistaken for being American (got me most insulted but i changed my mind later having met some very nice Americans on the way) and i swear I will be back in black heels and not tennis shoes (never mind how impractical it will be).By the time we get to lunch I am back to being happy,all that food gets me going.I eat everything on my plate,the rest of them play with their food,I suspect the south Africans don't like it,the Canadian single mom is watching her figure,her son cant stand it and as for the rest of them they are just indifferent.Well I need my food and tuck in happily.My troubles are not over though.Our next stop is Topkapi palace.As we enter we meet a fortune seller who at 5 lira will get his rooster and three rabbits to tell you what life has to offer.I think I shall settle for the parrots in India on a similar mission so we skip it and climb a steep walkway to a vast garden.As usual the trees are all planted symmetrically.The husband has narrated a story of some Hollywood movie where a diamond is stolen from this very place and he is most excited to get there.This place houses the diamond that some poor farmer( not knowing its worth) gave away in exchange for three spoons and hence called the spoon diamond.Now I am not very taken in by a diamond (have never figured what is so enticing about this stone) but had to change my mind rather fast.Here was a large stone that twinkled and shone and sent out sparks.It was simply too beautiful not to be moved.The rest of the jewellery was also on similar lines.Simple designs but set so well that the beauty of the stone was there in all its splendor.This is how jewellery should be made.We see the great sword of the palace and then move on the the library.Now her is a room to die for.Overlooking the waters,the walls are lined with books and the floor with long cushions that one can lounge on and read.Plenty of natural light.I promise myself a miniature library of this kind one day.We move to a private mosque where there are hairs from the beard of the prophet Mohammad (at the best of times my eyesight fails me,this couldn't even be seen under a microscope ) and a mould of his footprint.We finish our tour and head back home.I feel a bit sad at not being able to indulge my love of the Turkish carpet or the exquisite jewellery but tell myself that I should be happy that the opportunity to see places is mine.We end the day eating baklava and drinking tea and chatting with the owner of the small sweet shop who was educated in London and we exchange notes over tea.Out for dinner and I am off in high heels only to find that all of Istanbul has conspired against me and is in flats.It time for a stiff drink and much to the displeasure of the husband(he is worried that i will get drunk on strange drinks) I ask for a raki (strong aniseed drink the local favourite) and down it happily,the mood is back.In India this is the drink of the truly desperate but what the hell,today was a desperate day of no shopping so after dinner we bid goodbye to Istanbul a city that both of us have fallen in love with.Its modern and ancient at the same time,stylish and conservative and its lovely people make it a great destination.I don't have the heart to leave but leave we must.

Istanbul 16.3.20121

Living in the new city means that we need to drive past the queen mothers mosque ,past the galatta bridge with in many avid anglers on either side,fishing in the waters of the Golden horn and then into the old city.We are told that each of the mosques can be distinguished by the number of minarets.A single one means that it is a local mosque,the blue mosque is an imperial mosque and that's where we are headed today.It large to begin with from the outside with typical Islamic architecture and beautifully laid out gardens (always symmetrical,this being a grand obsession).Inside we are made to take off our shoes and show into the main prayer hall.The entire floor is covered with a patterned red carpet which actually has designated places for people to stand in.Takes in many people and yes you have guessed it keep the symmetry,not one soul will be out of place standing the way they are supposed to.The ceiling is high and its cold inside.A hush descends on the groups as the atmosphere here is peaceful.The walls are lined with blue tiles and the designs on the walls and the central dome are all of flora and intricately worked.Long ropes hold up millions of lights and natural sunlight streams in thought the many windows all around.The pulpit from where the Friday sermon is preached is a long marble staircase that leads up to a pulpit covered in lattice work.From here the imam of the day can deliver his message.There are places all around the sides for the woman to pray.They tell us that at 12 noon the many mosques around Istanbul will call for prayer and its music to ones ears.My first time in a mosque and i am glad its here .One is almost tempted to go down on ones knees and offer prayers such is the calmness and serenity of the place.Behind the mosque is an ancient Hippodrome but nothing much is left of it.Here also is the entrance to the underground canal system that one sees in the movies but we skip that due to lack of time.Right across the mosque on the other side is the Hagia sophia.This one time christian church,was converted into a mosque and is now a museum.Strangely it looks like a mosque with its minarets and its many domes.Inside blue tiles like the mosque and an almost identical pulpit.Here there are pictures of the 12 apostles and of Mary and Jesus but the 12 apostles could very well be the prophet Mohammed's companions.The guide tells us that while it was a church the pulpit faced east to Jerusalem and when it became a mosque it was shifted south east to face mecca.large urns face the entrance where people could wash themselves before prayers.The husband is recalling the James bond movie and is busy pointing out where their meeting places were.Such different experiences for the same place.

Istanbul 15/3/2011

The summer palace of the ottomans is pretty modest.Twenty four rooms doesn't seem like a lot.The insides are understated and elegant.The carpets are beautifully done in strong colours but not garish,the chandeliers are beautiful and are coloured to match each room.Blue,green and ruby red they send out sparks as the afternoon sun brushes them as the curtains sway.The play of colours is a sight to behold.Each of them made with crystal from Bulgaria and some from china.The carpets are laid out on rush mats all made in turkey and some from India and china (came as gifts).There are paintings in each of the rooms and the sultan being a strong naval man he has a naval room with pictures of naval ships,another room that has furniture whose frames represent naval knots.Besides being a naval man he was also a wrestler and an artist hence the emphasis on symmetry (all door and windows are place opposite each other as is the furniture the lights etc,nothing is out of place or at odds).Legend has it that the sultan eat a kid lamb a day that was the kind of strength the man had.We move over to the ladies side of the palace starting with the rooms of the queen mother.The room is at the entrance of the ladies quarters and gave her a fine view of the happenings there.Having 4 legitimate wives,7 favourite woman and some 200 concubines he needed to know what was going on and his mother was probably the eyes and ears of the palace.The way to become powerful was to produce a son for the sultan and there was much competition amongst the woman.All the rooms in the ladies quarters open onto wide marble balconies that face the Bosporus and the breeze that comes in through the windows could well take away the heat of summer.The high ceiling made sure that there was enough natural cooling so no modern day air conditioning was required.Many girls were given to the sultan at ages as young as eight and nine and there was a school in the ladies section to teach these children the fine points of life from painting,music,cooking,etiquette and maths.This went on till they were old enough to join the harem.The wide lawns and trees around the palace makes for long evening walks and the back gate opens on the the Bosporus and has a long walkway which leads back to the palace.A lazy walk along the waters is enough to sooth the most troubled soul.

Istanbul-15/3/2011

Its 6.30am and the air is crisp and cold,while the husband sleeps I decide to open a window and take in the early morning sights.The baker arrives to deliver bread.In all shapes and sizes it looks so tempting.The baker himself is a good advertisment for his produce.Large and heavy he looks like Al karim Bey (of James Bond fame)

Breakfast is a meal fit for kings.Three tables loaded with food,olives of different sizes and colours (green and black) cheese-with differnt spices added,meats chicken and beef,lovely brown eggs,breads in varieties that I can recognise at all along with plain toast,tahini (seseme seed paste) and plenty of jam (varieties).Oranges that are so sweet and cucumbers and tomatoes.It all reeks of healthy food and we tuck in all ready to face the day.

Our first stop is the Egyptian spice bazzar.It reminds me of Moor Market of the old Madras or of the Lal bazaar in Ahmendabad.Nothing very exciting here if one is from India.Having been one of the countries on the original spice route the spices here are most of what one gets back home,except for the sumac (i dont care too much for its taste ).The loofas are interesting as they are sponges from the sea of marmara and are uses in Turkish baths.We decide to wander behind the market and here we encounter the rest of the place.Early morning catch of the day has fishes of varied sizes and shapes not one variety do I recognise,lots of tripe,pigs trotters and cheese.There are cats all over turkey and well fed ones at that,.Every fish shop has a regular cat and not a single dog in sight.The shops selling pots and pans and household items are a plenty but we dont stop.This is a local market.The garden section is what gets me.Tulips,lavender,orange plants,cactus and plenty more,soil and manure for sale.I cant get away,I need it all.It take the sensible husband to drag me away from there for a much needed tea.Then I fall in love with a little black kitten who is ready to play and is jumping all over me.Most adorable but once again the hassled husband has the sense to pull me away before I make some harebrained offer to adopt the kitten.Its warm and sunny as we make out way to the ferry station to take a tour down the Bosporus and see the strait that separates Asia minor and Europe.We are told that the European side is the place for commerce and industry and the Asian side for residence.Every morning hundreds of thousands of people make their way across to Europe.We get on the boat and start to sail down the choppy blue waters.Within minutes the cold winds start blowing and despite the sun,its suddenly cool.Very soon most of the tourists have found warmer parts of the boat.I decide to brave it out in the open.After all this is the kind of weather I have longed for.Two suspension bridges connect the two continents by land and its so high its scary.Large home with private swimming pools dot the Bosporus on the Asian side and when we hear the price we all but faint.Obviously a lot of rich people live here.Beautiful wooden house are also there but preserved by the government.Lunch is in the old city and we are greeted with a salad of beetroots,carrots,corn and green vegetables.We eat heartily unlike the rest of our group who don't touch the stuff.Then the soup arrives and its lentil soup (in Indian terms plain dhal with a bit of salt and spice).The husband is in seventh heaven as he sees his beloved dhal arrive.I,a die hard dhal hater decide that I have no choice and as starving is not an option I drink up and realise that its not bad at all.The main course arrives with rice and some boiled chicken which looks so unappetising that I am tempted to try the vegetarian option which come with grilled eggplant and zucchini as looks so much better,but I decide to spice it all up and get the waiter to get me some Turkish salsa and before I know it the chicken has been transformed.The rest of the table also adapt to the new taste and soon the meal is over.Our next stop is the highest point in Istanbul and can be reached by the suspension bridge that was constructed with the help of french,German and Turkish engineers.It hangs from the sky held together by large ropes of steel and at that height it doesn't even sway.Its truly amazing.The place offers some good photo opportunities and great views of the city but nothing else besides.We then move on the the summer palace of the sultans.

Istanbul-14/3/2011

We enter the airport and find that Turkey is almost as stylish as Europe.Everone is dressed in long black coats,knee length boots with high heels and designer sunglasses.Coats are in such variety that I cant imagine so much style could be possible.I am a bit put off by the way I look but consider this,I am a tourist and its highly unlikely that I will very merge into the rest of them.As we step out we are met by our guide called Genghis,young Turk,handsome and with a charming manner he has us eating out of his hands in no time.Our driver is called tokut (pronounced too good) and they teach us our first Turkish phrase.How to say thank you,he tells us we need to say "tea,shukre and a dream" all in rapid speed and we have learnt to say thank you.The husband practises for the rest of the trip to the hotel while I soak in the sights.Genghis is by now is flirting mode and decides to use me for that purpose,he claims he is the original Turkish delight and is suitably impressed when I giggle.I am not complaining .Its the first time I have seen this many handsome men all at one shot so looks like this is going to be a soothing trip for the eyes.

Our hotel is bang in the centre of the commercial district in the European side and Taksim square is a close call.We wander around find a place close by to drink our tea in,then check out the food.having been told that the kebab is the best I make my way to the most crowded place and order a doner kebab put together in pita bread and loads of fresh veggies.Wow,now that was something good,not having enough I head out to the next place,order some great looking salad,aubergines with mince meat soaking in olive oil which is a killer dish.Not spicy as I know spice but delicately flavoured and smooth,served with pilaf its a great meal to start the holiday with.The husband for once cant complain about the food as its loaded with vegetables all of which he recognises and as a side dish there are pickled green chillies,no cause for complaint.A good refreshing nap later we are ready to check out the evenings in Istanbul.Perfect weather to dress us and that sees me wrapped up in good black clothes and high heels and I almost feel a part of the landscape.Never mind a bit of protests from the feet,no pain no gain is what I say.Dinner us yet another adventure,we walk down the street full of people rushing around looking busy,thankfully this is not a typical touristy place so one can see the locals as they are and check out what they do in the evenings.It looks like the favourite pass time is to drink tea,smoke hookahs and play back gammon.The only drink that seem to be consumed are the local Raki (a drink flavoured with aniseed and a faint smell of some other spice) and beer.Salad,buttermilk,chicken and mushroom topped with cheese and plenty of olive oil to drip the bread in and lots of rice,this is almost feeling like home.Its been a long day and we sink into comfortable beds and soft pillows and call it a day.Our first day in Istanbul has been great

14/3/2011-Midair

On board Turkish airlines,at 5.30 am and as India awakes yours truly is being forced into sleep by efficient air hostesses who down the window blinds,switch off the light and try to make us sleep.The husband as usual doesn't need much encouragement and is off like lights.I am on high alert as usual.Discover that the airline has a great selection of music from the 60s and 70s so spend time listening to music,taking loo breaks and drinking tea (discover early that the Turks are as addicted to tea as I am and that says a lot).

Morning dawns as we near Istanbul and as I look out the mountains come into view,deep blue and half covered in snow.For someone who has never seen snow this takes my breath away.It looks like blueberry ice cream served with whipped cream,one is tempted to scoop it up.as we loose height the sea comes into view,magnificent blue flecked with white and all around there are boats and ships.Smooth touchdown in Istanbul.My face falls as I see the sun shining outside but I quickly recover my spirits,the temperature outside is 10 degrees as as we disembark I feel the whiff of cool air and I pinch myself not quiet sure if I have made the journey across the continents

Mumbai-13/3/2011

6pm on a flight to Bombay,our snacks on the airplane are best forgotten,heavy potato cakes and cottage cheese that has seen better day,not a recipe for a good stomach on a long haul trip but hungry that I am I do eat it.Unfortunately the lady behind us was sick,threw up over the next passenger and the smell of sick was so overpowering I had to keep the contents of my stomach still by a sheer act of will.The aircraft is smothered with freshener and doesn't help.Well we make it to Bombay safe(this is after I nearly missed the flight being too engrossed in a pair of sunglasses by Gucci at the airport shop).Long taxi trip with an unhappy taxi driver sees is land up in a friends house on a short break in transit.

3.15am-Bombay-Having suffered a running stomach for more than four hours and chatting late into the night,its nearing my normal bed time of 1.30 am but there is no rest for the wicked.Leave for the airport half asleep and tottering on high heels (call it stupidity or plain vanity,I hate the thought of arriving anywhere in Europe in any thing other than a nice paid of black high heels) and go through the formalities,which are not as painful as expected except for the heat that is getting to me.The husband insists its cold but I beg to differ.Find a lone chair in the lounge and watch Europeans and Turks done many layers of clothes,whats with me? I am the only one in one layer and feeling hot...By now I am exhausted ,the stomach is empty that's to the runs,I am hungry and miserable and promise myself that I shall ask forgiveness for such unhappy thought in the first mosque or church I come across.In the meanwhile I long for the comfort of my bed.

Holidays

This is the only time I miss the laptop,when I am travelling in a strange place and want to note down everything and all the experiences,so i do it the old fashioned way,carry a note book and pen and write a diary of events every evening.Its a bother really but considering how shallow my memories are this is the best way...I went to Turkey for ten days and has a great time,it was my first experience of winter (it was almost at its end) and for me the cold was exhilarating and so beautiful.I met people from so many countries,learnt so much from the interactions and found that like minded people live all over the world.We found commonalities in thinking,in values and in our experiences despite the countries being so far apart culturally.To me that's what defines travel,its the enriching experience of seeing places and people and though conducted tour cant give one the essence of every country it does make for some unique experiences all the same.

This is why my greatest ambition is to travel and wander the world as much as I can.I have been so inspired by some people,amused by others that all of them must form a part of one of the posts that are to come.....written up in this blog after coming home