The Austrian Alps

Its been two hours since we left home,driving through country roads till we reach theautobhan  and then its a long stretch of the most beautiful road with picturesque views on either side and not a pothole in sight.Not once does a pedestrian cross unexpectedly no do animals amble along the roads as they do here at home.

As we cross the boarder from Germany to Austria we are told that the beauty will be breathtaking.Unfortunately we are delayed and by the time we reach the rain is beating a steady rhythm on the roof of the car and the light fades and all we can see are looming shadows which look menacing in the dark.We arrive finally at a little village at the foot of the alps and are shown to our apartment which is a well appointed two room home for the next three days.We try opening the windows but the icy blast of an alpine wind makes us close it in a hurry.We snuggle up in soft feather pillows and equally soft duvets and drift off to sleep and the silence ensures we have a deep and dreamless sleep.
We wake next morning to a view that will forever stay in my memory as the most beautiful way to wake up.As I stretch lazily in bed the mountains beckon blue and inviting.Outside the window is the most pretty cottage I have seen,all wood,lace curtains twitch and the windows burst with flowerbed in a profusion of colour.I jump out to take it in and as i stand on the balcony the view outside is different.The grass is emerald green,the houses a deep dark wood interspersed with flowers and the village is surrounded by high alps.Some blue with pine trees,some with a touch of snow in the higher peaks.The air is so fresh my lungs (used as they are to polluted air) gasp at the purity of it all.I breath deep and get a mixture of fresh earth drenched in rain and mixed with hay and pine.

This is a little bit of Paradise I think until I am told that the day involves a climb into the high mountains.Used as I am to walking on concrete in a city with hardly any green,I am daunted at the very thought but looking around the cottage there are a multitude of reminders that god alone can help me get there.I pray a silent prayer and quote the psalm and literally lift up my eyes to the hills from where i hope to get help.

We set off at a steady pace and the walking isn't all that bad.We decide to talk a small walk up some nursery slopes (by Austrian standards) and walk all the way past the village.As we leave,we see less and less of people and the country side become more stark.The silence engulfs us and its a silence broken not by words but by the tinkling of cow bells and music from some distant churches.The hill seem to be alive with the sound of music but created by bells,the whistling of the wind in the trees and by the silence of the mountains.
We reach the lake and its emerald green perfection is broken only by a duck or two but otherwise its still.We stop to throw pebbles to create ripples and continue to walk.The path narrows and become steeper and my muscles grown with every step.Determined to do this I slow my pace,breath deep and find myself a pine stick to help me up.Its a slow amble but the stillness is what is the beauty as we walk in silence with our breaths breathing little rings as the air get colder and colder.We finally reach our waterfall and stop to wonder at natures beauty and drink from clear mountain springs.The water is clear and cold and refreshing so we wait awhile to enjoy it.The walk back is even better.Leaving the regular path we decide to take the forest path that meander through tall pine forests with gurgling brooks and gushing waterfalls.A lone bird sings in the trees and content cows munch the grass in such beautiful surrounding that I wonder how the milk must taste in these parts.We stop right there to drink fresh milk in an alpine cottage and fest at the creaminess of the milk.Its wholesome goodness is manna to the system.I gulp in a large glass and set off once again.

A lunch break at a lakeside place gives us yet another sense of the majesty of nature.In a space of some ten minutes while we wait for lunch,the alps put up a performance that no theater can beat.The rain falls like a torrent and the clouds turn dark and gloomy and threatening.Suddenly it stops and the light is back the sun shine albeit a pale sun but its back,then just as we bask in the warm sunshine,the clouds decent and once again we are shrouded in cold cloud.We reach out to feel the vapours and just as suddenly it all changes and we are faced with a clear bright day,the sun is shining with even more warmth,and the mountains and visible once again.We marvel at the performance and understand why the mountains are dotted with beautiful churches all singing praised to god and nature.We marvel at the simplicity of the people who live with nature and its many moods.People to whom all this is a way of life ,who graze their cows and sheep in the high alps and bring them down in the harsh winters.They breath clean air,untouched by multitudes of tourists,make their own cheese,butter and eat meat from animals reared on fresh grass and greens.

I offer a silent prayer of thanks to have been this close to such beauty.To see the world from the eyes of local people to be so far removed from the sweat and grime of my everyday life is truly a blessing.A memory to be cherished and enjoyed.

Airports

I spent three weeks in and around Europe and when I came back to India the differences hit me.Its a world away from each other but in its own ways both places have somethings to offer one being that one is home and the other is a holiday destination but lets celebrate the differences

At the Indian airports I am required to tag my bags with baggage tags,then my check in baggage will have to be sent through a scanner,i will be frisked by a very bored often times sleepy security staff and sent on my way to immigration.Here most often than not there is a disgruntled person who thinks i have no business to be jetting off on holiday and so he or she will pour over my passport and stamp it at random.I will them sit in a very dull and drab airport which claims to have duty free but if retail businesses are run the way our duty free is then god help the seller and they buyer

In the one hour that i am there there are at least three announcements that flights have been delayed thanks to technical fault or late arrival of another flight.

As we enter the aircraft,the air hostesses that greet us are all in their 35 to 50 years .They are well groomed and efficient but not very pretty.....flash back to Indian carriers....most in their 20 or 30,most very pretty or well made up with ready smile and polite manner.Would i trust them in an emergency? Not sure as they don't inspire confidence in me (though they may in the male traveller).

Crying children who's parents cant get them to wear seat belts are no problem to the German air hostess,they will start by telling the parents to make sure their child is seated and should that fail they will get the job done.In many cases the child is either so terrified of the big built woman or they just need some discipline....but they sit quiet.

If a passenger has had too much to drink they will tell him or her in no uncertain terms that they will not be served again.I don't see that happening in our country.
Get off at a German airport and there are hardly any staff.Just enough to guide you if you happen to be getting a connecting flight.All the others will follow arrows and signboards that will get one to the correct place.
We get to immigration and are passports are stamped by a very bored but scary looking German and we are on our way.

The duty free is like a fancy mall,every luxury item is there in well proportioned shops,well lit displays and efficient staff.All promotions (and there are plenty) are clear and interesting.We are offered a shot of Remy martin as there is a promo on (what fun).The eating places are plenty and we have choices so a two or four hour transit passes off with ease.No bored moments.

The toilets and this is my biggest concern....In Indian airports the toilets are just about OK or real dirty.There will be many a cleaning person but for some reason it just cant stay clean.....reach Frankfurt and decide to use the loo.....quantum leap in cleanliness.Not a single cleaning person in sight but the toilets are clean they smell good one can have a shower,separate rooms for nursing mothers,room for kids to have diaper changes and room for handicapped.Toilets in large numbers and every one of them without exception are clean and smell good...

So at the end of the holiday we are back at the German airport.We have checked in online,the boarding pass is scanned.For those with smart phones they scan their phone on a machine.The we drop our baggage (no tags no security check).We wander until its time to board and have to pass security.No frisking....we just walk through a scanner and god forbid it beeps then from nowhere there will be enough people to surround you but otherwise walk through.All bags,belts,jackets are neatly sent out in trays so no need to wipe the dirt off the conveyor belt (no dirt in their airports but most certainly in ours).Then we are ready to board.It takes about less half an hour at the most and with the minimum of staff and the most efficient machines.

As we wait i hear an announcement of flight every minute or so,the boards are full of flight departing to places far and wide.I wait in vain for a flight to be delayed or cancelled (it probably happens only in storms,snow or ice or some such act of god).and once again I wonder what makes us so different?.Are we just not bothered are are we just too many people?

all I know is that that level of efficiency is not just system driven it is an attitude and I don't see us getting there very soon ,but at the end of the day its good to be home.

iPad and me

If I repeat myself its only because I can't get my head around the iPad which insists on eating my words.But that's my only way go post so due apologies.

Nice experiences in Frankfurt part two

Eating cabbage soup thanks to it being the most popular.We wander around town and go to places with the largest customer base,then we ask a few suits what they are eating,and order the same.This we find is the best way to save money and get the right things to eat.

We decide our breakfast options twenty days before we plan to have breakfast.Getting organized the German way.

No frisking at the airport,everything is just scanned.

Immigration officer who reminds me of nazi all Prussian blue eyes and blond hair,he sends a shiver down my spine but is not unfriendly.My imagination works over time when in Germany.

Browsing around duty free and we are offered premium cognac. What more can one ask for ?.The liquid gold warms our insides as it makes its smooth transition from mouth to stomach.

Meeting nick the friendly Australian who gave us tips on traveling in Frankfurt.He had been there a few days ahead and was glad to meet some one who spoke English so there we were exchanging notes


The local Germans who helped us with the stations and directions without being asked.

Meeting jayanth the nine year old passenger who was traveling alone to Canada.We exchange smiles but an hour into the end of our flight he discovers that the husband in Telugu and that they share a home town.Then he makes up for list time and talks non stop giving us his entire life ,all of nine years.His wish to have a sibling and how his parents think he is more than enough as far as they are concerned.He recognized all the cars in the auto magazine and tells us which ones are bis favorite.

Solar powers scooters,men and woman in suits riding bicycles to work,even woman in skirts and high heels.

People in wheel chairs not dependent on anyone thanks to fancy powered chairs that they can drive around the city with ease,get into the metro negotiate stairs and generally live and work like the rest of us

Paying three euros for water when beer is the same price,we quickly switch to beer.

Garden shops which store so much variety and all things one may need for a garden that they can get the most die hard non gardening person to garden.


Desperately seeking vegetables other than the potato in its many avatars.

Sausages and meats in such mind boggling variety that its an insult to call myself a non vegetarian.I obviously no nothing when it comes to meat.Plenty to learn

Frankfurt airport has a flight every one and a half minutes to every corner of the world and not once in even an hour did we hear of a flight being delayed due to a teaching al fault or because an incoming flight was delayed.....in Indian as we left we heard of at least three flights delayed for the above reasons.How do they do it?

Restrooms that are clean and fragrant despite begin dry.....in contrast I had to hold my breath while using the toilets

Nice experiences in Frankfurt

Arrive in Frankfurt for a ten hour transit before we catch our connecting flight so we decide to explore the city.In the many hours we spent on flight ,in the airport and in the city there were some interesting experiences which the husband and I thought we must record.

It was the first time we had seen a child on a leash .Similar to leading a dog this kid was all over the place but his father had him on a tight leash literally.

A lady in a wheel chair had her little dog in her handbag.Only his head was out and he was a real small dog,she was trying to get him a ticket on a flight.The dog was being allowed to become cabin baggage.

The pet check in at Frankfurt airport.New to us from a country where animals are not allowed in any public place.

Out shopping in the city were a mother an daughter .The mother was around eighty and was finding it difficult to walk,her hand shook every time she needed to open her handbag,but she was well dressed and her daughter held her arm and conducted her across the streets and into shops.We had once agin had our faith in human goodness reinforced.

Mickey Mouse in Frankfurt?.Yes like in most countries here was a man dressed in a costume (looked uncomfortable and hot but it being a cool day it was fine) and entertaining kids and adults alike for a few photo ops and a few pennies.Poor man had to ask for the pennies to drop.Not very different from people all over the world.

Not knowing the language we resort to asking all manner of people to guid us.We watch while office goers all seem to tuck into a hearty soup but having no idea what it is we ask a few suits what they are eating.Its a pickled cabbage soup and while I am not sure how that will taste we go by popular demand and order it.Fantastic.

We read the menu on a small cafe in the airport and have already decided what we want for breakfast twenty days from now.Getting organized the German way.

Surprised that there is no frisking at the airport like we are used to back home.Its all something sailing from now on.When will we learn to secure our airports without all the unnecessary checking that goes on?

The immigration officer who stamped our passports was all blue eyes and blond hair and cold nazi looks.We knew we had entered Germany and i think back to those world war years.

We are browsing through duty free and this shop assistant walks up to us asking if we would like a shot of cognac.In surprise we take it and its a super surprise as the golden liquid slips down our throat

Standing on the platform to take the metro to city central we try in vain to understand the German direction when out of the blue comes a young Australian who has heard us speaking English and we slip into conversation.Nick is a young friendly chap who is half way across the world exploring on his own.He gives us a few tips he's picked up on his travels and we exchange notes.

Local Germans who help us find our trains without us asking for help

Meeting Jayant a nine year old passenger on his way to Canada and traveling alone.On the ten hour flight he and I smile at each other but don't talk.The with one hour left to end the flight the husband talks to some kid in Telugu and the little boy is all animated.He launches into his life story and won't stop.We discover that he s from the same town as the husbands parents,they seem to know all the popular haunts in that city

A walk around town

It's the fourth day of our holiday and having checked out the local markets for salad and fruit we head off to the railway station to check on our tickets for the next leg of our journey.

From the house we walk up cobbled stone roads ,past a small stream across the local river.On either side there are gardens filled with roses in a riot of color pink,red and a strange mix of orange and pink.They hang in clumps and are fragrant.We pass along and walk down a tunnel encountering a musician on the way.He is playing "Lara's theam" on a violin .Its customary to drop a few coins so we do so and head out of the tunnel and are suddenly out there amount green lawns a large lake with ducks floating on them.Huge trees dot the lawns on either side and people cycle on their way to wherever it is their are going.Mothers with children in prams amble along and dogs follow their masters on their walks.Its all peaceful and serene and one wonders how one country can alive this way while we are faced with crowds,pollution and clutter.

We reach the train station and while we sort out our tickets,another customer comes in with his dog.Animals have access into public transport and places.While he goes in the dog is told to sit outside which he does with no fuss at all.Even children in our country wouldn't be so well behaved.

Onward then across a scenic rout around town,we watch swans glide up and down river,dipping their long stately necks into the water to catch a fish or two,ducks who steer clear of the swans but manage to go their own ways.The river is muddy thanks to the rain but the banks are full of weeping willows how's branches are heavy with rain and they droop even further into the water.Uo on the bridge we are busy taking photographs of this   Pastoral   scene .Next stop to the Italian shop to check out cheese and sausages.We find cheese but not the sausages and continue on our way.All this while we see very few cars.Everyone is walking its a perfect way to get some exercise without consciously doing so.

All this walking has made us hungry s it's lunch time.We opt to eat local food but since we are clueless we leave it to our friend to choose.As we wait for our food we watch the world go by.Our friends neighbor has just got married and we watch them go by.Living in the same building one would not have imagined there was a marriage party on.Hardly any guests.This is a small party like most marriages in Germany.Around ten people make up the marriage party and they walk past the square in their wedding finery ,no fancy cars  and no fanfare.So different from the big fat Indian wedding .

The temperature has dipped suddenly and there is a nip in the air but nano thing stops people from wandering around checking out small time retailers selling all manner on items,from food to crafts.The work culture is very different here.People decide their work times so flextime while it may be a novelty in India,is common practice here, so at any given point in time people can be around and they are working people.

Having got our cultural lesson for the day we head back home to relax and catch up on conversation.

The food and wine market

The Italians and the French have arrived in tubingen.From the morning the town has been buzzing with excitement.Stalls have been put up,stall owners are busy decorating their tents and long benches and tables are  being laid out for the start of a wine,cheese and meat festival which is an annual event showcasing all produce from these countries.

By the time we arrive the place is full despite the rain.Every stall allows us to taste bits and bobs of all things available.Being a big cheese fan I am ready to sample everything but nothing prepares me for the variety of flavor that assaults my taste buds.I can taste wine,mushrooms,wild herbs,spices and sweet .Nothing prepares me for this.How does one buy anything in this place.Move over to the wine stall and we get some red wine without too much fuss thanks to our friends who are veterans of this festival.Sausage stall is next and I don't know where to start.I am given a choice of dried,smoked sausage with wild mushrooms herbs garlic and cheese.I try everything very happy that tasting is a done thing in this place.I eat a variety of hams,bacon and sausage and move on to olive oil.Now in India I have been using olive oil for years now but again the texture here is so different.To begin with the color is a typical olive green.Not too deep but more on green than yellow like the stuff we get back home.The taste us also different.Its tastes of fresh fields and meadows.It can be tasted like wine .The stall owner gives us some toast that is soaked in this oil and one taste of it and the husband is sold so one large bottle is going back home.

Out last stop is the cheese stall so we stop to taste some Parmesan cheese.The last time I bought some of this was from a supermarket and I thought it tasted fantastic but when I was giving a sample of this  I realized why people rave so much of hand made far fresh farm cheese.The cheese is so sweet,it's almost sugary with just a hint of brine.We realize finally why this cheese is far more expensive than the supermarket variety and a small slice is bought.

We come home with a variety of cheeses and oils and its back to the market for dinner.I am ready to eat mussels or oysters but by the time we finish our wine the stall closed so we settle for pasta and some pizza.All of these flavors are new to us and we mull over the taste and eat to our hearts content.The walk back home is temperature of ten degrees is also a new experience and we come home happy to have got a taste of local life in a small town in Germany.It is one more experience in my file.

country roads

A long drive is scheduled for today and it takes us through long winding country roads beautifully tarred and not a pot hole in sight.On either side the road are rolling greens and tall trees.The grass is trimmed and not a blade out of place.The only cars on the road are BMWs ,Audis and Mercedes's this is Germany after all and the speeds make me believe I am in a race track rather than a country road.

There are flower fields in the road sides and one can pick flowers of ones choice and pay for it depending on what you think it's worth.All based on trust and I think that in our country this would have meant that the poor flowers seller would be poor in no time at all.

We arrive for lunch at a Thai place and get some familiar noodles and rice all toned down to suit the bland German pallet

Our next stop is Ikea .Its our one port of call every visit just because the shop fascinates us.The displays on each floor are neat,practical and so inspiring.Add t that we can choose and write down codes then go down to the wear house
 And pick what we want.The husband is very interested in finding stuff so he is off like a dog in a rabbit chase.We haven't bought a thing simply because this time around almost all the stuff is available Ina India but the experience of this shop is what we come for.

The rain lashes down and by German autumn standards it's a crappy day but for me the cold and rain is the best thing about the place.The sloping roofs of the houses with their dormer windows and wine curling around the front door are all awash with the rain.Almost every house has window boxes overflowing with flowers of every hue.Its a visual treat and the whole picture is a picture postcard.

Our drive back is equally eventful,diversions means we take the long way around and this is like a conducted tour around the country side.The colors are all different shades of green,red,and pink.Blue skies sometimes with dark clouds lends to atmosphere.I soak it all in a file it away for when I get back.

We are worth it

The rape in Bombay of a girl has made me wonder yet again on the brutality of men in this country.This is not about sex at all,this is just a power struggle of men with small minds and cowards who cant make anything of themselves in the real world and think that this is their way of showing power.How pathetic that even in rape then need company.It shows the depravity of their minds.I have young nieces and nephews in college and school in the big cities and I wonder how they manage in this day and age.
Then I listen to television debates on what people think about it all.Yesterday there were woman who claimed that it is the business of the state to protect its woman .I agree that this is the job of the law enforcement agencies but lets face it they do nothing at all.When the state fails in its duty do we lament or decide to empower our woman.
The police force tell us every time a woman in murdered in her home that we woman shouldn't allow anyone into the house when we are alone.Haven't these people heard of single woman.Tell me if I live alone do I have to not open doors to the electrician,the plumber and all manner of other suppliers?.The stupidity of these diktats is what gets me.Get real there are few solutions to this increase in rape.But there are solutions if the government will only enforce it.
What prevent the government in punishing a rapist as fast as possible? Why is a woman's claim alone not good enough.I understand that this can lead to many misinterpretations,it can mean innocent men will go behind bars.Yes that's true but while we worry about the misuse of the law,innocent woman are being raped and should we in the interest of few good men,delay justice? The answer if obviously a big no.Quick punishment is the best deterrent for crime.Remember the rapist is a man of low self esteem,and a complex (otherwise he would be having normal sex) and fear is the only way to stop them.This is the responsibility of the government and the police
But what about the woman themselves.Once again there are solutions.When I see parents spend hours sending their girls for dance class,grooming class and when they talk fashion,marriage and beauty contests to young girls,i wonder why we stick to stereotypes.When are we going to teach our girls martial arts,self defence,high self esteem (not the kind that comes from the catwalk).When will we teach our girls that they are equal or better than the men,that they can hold their own in any field and that only they can protect themselves.When will we teach our boys that woman are equal citizens,that they have brains,opinions,and intellect and that no man has a right to a woman's body without her consent.Its about time the men in this country realised that woman are not playthings (go to the toy shop for heavens sake if you are so inclined) and are capable individuals.Unfortunately in a panel discussion on tv where the large majority were woman ,only one woman believed that her destiny was in her hands.
Ambition and career are all very well unfortunately in our country we haven't evolved to a time when a sexual abuse complaint against a boss will get the justice it requires,unfortunately the law will not protect us and the tv discussions and the media circus will not protect us.We need to protect ourselves.We are worth it.

A strange encounter

The India I know has changed so much in the last few decades and unfortunately not always for the better.My friends and I grew up in innocent times,most of our worries were about being caught by parents talking to boys from our school or neighbourhood,we worried that parents would find out that we had run off to see a movie when we had promised to be visiting friends.Those were the days when we didn't have a lan line phone let alone a mobile so there was no way we could be traced.We wandered the streets without a fear in the world.A lot of us hadn't heard of rape (except for rapeseed oil) and our newspapers didn't have rape and murder and sexual abuse as main stories.Our parents were parents not friends,they didn't dress like us and there was no question of being friends on facebook.We lost touch with our friends after college and when we did reconnect after years of being out of touch,our friendships simply started from where we had left.Not being in touch every minute of everyday did not damage our relationships,we had built rock solid ones so no worries.
Today when I read of all the rape that seems to happen and the reaction of people and the acceptance that this is how we live,I am pretty shocked.The number of times I have been in danger (as in this day and age) in my twenties would have a modern day parent worried.
I remember one such incident.My dad worked for the railways so I always travelled first class on the Indian railways.This was long before the days of air conditioned second and third class travel The first class compartment had four occupants and because my name is so unindian  (the railways never did know my sex by my name) most of the time i ended up in a compartment with all men.On the Tamil nadu express bound for Delhi I was in this situation and thought nothing of it as I had never travelled to the north and had no clue that woman in the north were in far more danger than us fortunate one in Tamil nadu (where its relatively safe).There was a man also bound for Delhi when we started the journey and another couple.Somewhere in the north the couple left and were replaced by two huge men (most people in the north are taller than us south Indians) and their friends.They entered the compartment at ten at night and were pretty drunk.Then the left and continued to drink near the toilets.While they were out my travelling companion from the start,told me that he had informed the men that I was his sister.I was truly puzzled.My name I told him would be a give away along with the fact that I spoke no Hindi and couldn't understand a word.The man insisted and told me to stick to the story for my own safety.I didn't understand what the fuss was all about and as I was ready to ask the drunks to leave (youthful bravado was a sign of our times,not knowing that rape existed and how much in danger i was) I wasn't sure but since he seems so terrified for my life and safety I decided to go along with the story.The drunks came back and i went off to sleep (fitful) and the so called brother kept watch.We got to Delhi in good time and with no harm done.What I didn't realise at that time (thanks to not understanding the language) was that the men had made comments about intentions which had got my travel companion so terrified.I never gave the incident a thought  all these years but today when I read about woman in danger I wonder who that nice man was who insisted I was his sister.I don't know which state he was from,his English was pretty bad and he wasn't sophisticated either but his heart was in the right place and maybe the fact that he was so concerned (about an innocent south India girl clueless in Delhi)  makes me remember that for all the miserable men out there who prey on helpless people simply because they don't have the guts to take on someone their own size,there are the nice people who will stand up for others protect and look out for some stranger in danger.To that nice man I salute you and may your tribe increase.

lessons from the veg

Brave attempts at food security saw me planting all kind of vegetables on my terrace.Now while they have not managed to bring down my food bill they have nevertheless taught me a few lessons.Lessons in patience,love and inter race relations.

It started with a tomato and the okra,both of them grew well and flourished until a little bug got both of them and with that all my efforts at organic farming went right out of the window.It was chemical pesticide as the bug was resistant to all manner of organic remedies.My next attempt was to grow bitter gourd and ridge gourd (both creepers)who needed a fine trellis to grow on.In the absence of any kind of prop,I spent three hours working my way with rope and twine to make a fine cris cross of trellis and there it was.Enough place for my plants to grow and flourish.The plants like me unfortunately have a mind of their own so in their own way both of then ignored my labour of love and climbed instead onto a rough wall.My morning are spent training them on to the trellis i have created.This morning however love and fresh air seem to have taken over.The gourds have now got so involved with each other that they have wound themselves against each other in a serious love knot.The husband had plenty to say about the affairs that were happening on the terrace.Now here was a true inter caste marriage if ever there was one.Same family types but different caste if one is to use the Hindu cast system as a base.As a not very amused parent (by virtue of being the grower) I tried to disentangle them but they held tight.I decided that those whom god has brought together let me not put asunder.So they continue to hug and grow and flourish.

My beans on the other hand grew beautifully considering I had tilled the soil and enriched it with all manner of organic manure.They were green and tall and beautiful until a few days ago when they wilted and I found them covered in fine dust particles.Much hosing and cleaning did nothing to them hence it was back to chemical pesticide.With a heavy heat i sprayed them and plucked out all the infected leaves and like the doctor (who prescribes antibiotics in the hope that an infection will go away ,only to find that he has to re prescribe a new set) i watch them everyday to see if the pests are back.

If anyone wonders why I don't give up on my plants when it is so labour intensive to look after them,its simple.Nothing is more fulfilling that watching little shoots become big plants,which then yield good fruit.The joy of plucking vegetable and serving them up in less than an hour from plant to table is something that any one who has taken a turn at gardening will understand.I can spend hours tending to my vegetables and have learnt so much in the last few months more than i could have by reading or attending courses.I have learnt a lesson everyday about the soil,about the behaviour of different plants,who loves the sun,who doesn't,who wants to be left alone and who wants all the attention I can offer and each of them has their own personality even the weeds.....gardening even when one has limited space is a happy pastime

Habits....die

Habits they say die hard,yet in my case habits are not even born to die naturally.I looked it up and found that if one did the same thing at the same time everyday it tends to become a habit,or just doing some routine things could become a habit.I was also told that if one exercised or did a new activity for 21 days at a stretch then it would become a habit.In the days when we poured over zodiac signs to find out what kind of persons we were or would become I was forever warned that drug abuse and alcoholism would be my downfall if I didn't watch out.I tried one but not the other but haven't become addicted to either.

In all the years that I have lived on this earth I am yet to form a habit,consoling myself of being unique or extraordinary or an exception to the rule is actually some rubbish rationalization,the face of the matter is that laziness is so strong in me that sticking to a routine is just too much.

let me tell you of my numerous attempts at forming habits.I told myself that when i finally hung up my boots and quit the rat race,then I would sack the maid ,do all the housework like my sisters in western countries,exercise everyday and generally loose weight and become some kind of super woman.Well not exactly super (that would have been too aspirational even for me)....well I did sack the maid,i do do all the work at home and i do exercise pretty often,but what drives me is not habit forming ,it a whole lot of guilt and dirt.I started off rather well.In my enthusiasm for new found goals,i swept and wiped the house and dusted and cleaned and cooked like there was no tomorrow.Then i discovered that i didn't have to slog so much so i cleaned once in two days,then it became one a week,then one thing or the other and it became cleaning day when the dirt got too much even for me....so much for habit forming ....Now i am back to twice a week but cant stick to my timetable of cleaning days.Why is it that on cleaning day mornings,I develop a cold (me who never gets a cold) or I end up feeling so tired that i cant lift the broom?( laziness rears its ugly head).The the exercise.....i have an exercise buddy (if it wasn't for her I would do nothing) .the thing about doing things with people is that one is forced not to let down the other side,there is a certain responsibility that comes into the picture so since it will be my turn to pick her up for yoga class,guilt will make sure that at the first ring of the alarm I am out and about.Now the funny part....for years now i have been waking up at 5am to go for a walk or a swim or for yoga.One would imagine that by now my mind and body were conditioned to be awake at that time.Ha so much for conditioning or learning theory.I am no Pavlov dog,my brains refused to be conditioned.Hence like this morning (forgot the fix an alarm) the phone was in one room and me in another hence no alarm bells went off.I was in deep slumber well after the appointed hour and even guilt took a back seat(the friend was left high and dry thanks to me sleeping the sleep of the dead).The husband who is a prime candidate for conditioning and who will get up at 5.15 sharp a full fifteen minutes before his alarm goes off (he has been doing so for just over a month as opposed to my years) work me up to ask why I was sleeping when the friend was waiting for me.Deep slumber is not a good place to have a conversation with me so in half sleep i dashed off a short message on the phone to said friend saying i couldn't make it.Without the aid of my glasses I wonder what the message was (some garbled rubbish no doubt) but said friend would have understood and there i was back to sleep only to wake up to find the husband gone and the clock showing a good 9am.Scrambling out of bed i dashed about watering my plants,making some tea deciding meals etc until the husband came back having has breakfast outside.
So much for habit forming....is that a good thing that my habits don't take birth,well looks like its fine considering i have lead a sober life despite the naysayers and looking at the bright side,how boring may i have been if everything ran according to plan?...for now i like to see myself as extraordinary and fun so habits well.....we keep at them even the good one in the hope that in some unpredictable future I will wake up at dawn without the aid of an alarm clock,exercise everyday and keep a neat house and end up being the super woman i have read so much about....until then its back to bed....zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Visa,dosa and scraps

Today was the day we had an interview with the German embassy for a visa.Honestly the number of times we have to go to various agencies with proof that we have enough money to take a holiday,that we wont stay back in Germany and become a burden to the German economy etc its all a bit much.Seriously is there someway i can become British ,it may allow me to travel without the red tape but of course that's impossible and lets face it can i imagine myself in England earning a living?...i think not.

Now the fun part of all this is that we go armed with proof and more proof ,we get up early to make it on time to the embassy.We remember are dealing with the Germans who we all believe live by a time table and schedule,are known for their efficiency etc etc.So we are told to be there ten minutes before the time allotted to us.We make it in fifteen.We are frisked at the entrance and ushered into an ultra cool room except that this one looks a bit like a prison in some third rate Hollywood blockbuster.The counters (there are four) are shut and the only way one can talk to the person on the other side is to pick up the wall phone.We wait and as the minutes tick by our impatience grows.The husband is ready to burst a blood vessel at the delay and I do my best to keep him calm.Finally fifteen minutes after our allotted time the counter opens.Please note only one out of the four is open and there are already some twenty people waiting.The the slow process of asking questions begins.Its a full forty five minutes before we are called.Then we are asked some questions that have already been asked by the previous agency.Now tell me why reinvent the wheel and do the same job twice?.Funny how they ask the husband where he works,then looking at me she ask if i work (please note no where i work,so i guess some gender issues rears its head here) no I say and its accepted.Some more paper pushing and we are done.Now why exactly were we called when all the paper work had already been done.Oh yes the best part is that the person who decided if we get a visa or not,hasn't even seen us.So much for German efficiency.We come away deeply disappointed and cant help comparing this experience to the UK visa process.Efficient and effective they have systems in place that take minimum time if the paper work is in order and things move fast and easily.Small wonder then that they resist being part of the EU so much.

All the red tape has given us a serious appetite so off we go to the local joint to get some breakfast.No parking at nine in the morning and having to put up with a surly attendant has us loosing our appetite so we drive away to the next place only to be greeted by an affable chap and pleasant people who smile and are welcoming.We place our orders and the husband is in the mood for chit chat but i have my back to a couple who are in the middle of a seriously good scrap.Considering the voice levels I signal to the husband that i have become part of a far more interesting conversation and while he tucks into his vada and sambar i keep my ears peeled to the scrap that's going on behind me.Its like reading a book,the girl accused the boy of seeing some one if office who she thinks is up to no good.How can he not stand up to her,why does he have to have anything to do with her etc etc and in that vein it goes on in Tamil and English.The boy obviously is used to dealing with this on an everyday basis and steers the conversation to safer areas.Before my dosa arrives they are laughing about something and all is forgotten,so I turn my attention back to the attention starved husband and we continue to trash the German embassy and its silly practises.

Two hours of life in the city has given us enough fun for a day hence the need to write about it.Will I get to Germany eventually?.....only time and the German embassy will tell

Normal people fine examples

Ever since I have become a stay at home,I make it a point to go out at least once a day not too far but just around the neighbourhood to look at things to see changes and to enjoy myself.Every journey has a lesson or a truth to uncover but I don't always record them but sometimes a thing just hits me so I do.

For sometime now I have been witness to a lot a hatred between people based on religion and politics or gender and it disturbs me this trend.When I was growing up in this multicultural country we went to christian schools and colleges.In my day they were the majority when it came to educational institutions.We never once saw children as Hindu,christian or Muslim.They were just children and we were friends.We never worried about safety,we didn't worry about being raped,or killed or kidnapped.We were told not to speak to strangers,to always use well lit streets,to always look both sides of the road before crossing and to never lie,cheat or speak ill of people.Simple common sense,I thought.But obviously the world as I know it has changed.On facebook I shudder at the kind of hatred and venom that is unleashed at people because of their religion or politics.The one sightedness of our debates disturbs me because it means we have lost our ability to empathise and to appreciate our differences.Unfortunately the more affluent the more intolerant,the educated people seem to be worse off than the rest.Which is why i see simplicity and togetherness in people who don't have much.

Yesterday for instance I was driving by a slum (a lower middle class community that was once a very poor slum) and there was a woman fast asleep on the side of the road with not a care in the world.She was sleeping the sleep of the very tired.In madras she also slept without fear.I wondered if she had done the same in Delhi.Wouldn't she have been gang raped and then the action justified as "she was asking for it".I sent up a silent prayer for living in this city.Then I went for  a swim and in the pool was a father and son.The boy is around 18 and mentally challenged,but his father comes every single day to swim with him for an hour.Such dedication and the boy enjoys it.Well as we went about doing our laps,the boy came very close to me almost within bumping distance.Since this is a common occurrence when the pool is crowded,I moved away despite hearing the father telling him to shake hands.I wasn't sure what he was trying to communicate so i went away but turned around as I thought I has missed some communication.The boy actually wanted to shake hands,it was some form of communication and me with my education didn't get it.The coach on the other hand who is around twenty saw this and swam over and shook the boys hands and was so gentle and understanding (despite being in the middle of coaching a class) that I waited to see what happened.The boy was obviously overjoyed and I continued to swim albeit a little ashamed of myself.On the way back through the same slum there was biryani being prepared by some Muslims,the Hindus waited patiently for a taste and a christian was being buried in a funeral a few feet away.Another example of communities living together and dying together.Recently a Muslim shopkeeper lost all his earnings when his shop was gutted in a fire in the early hours of the morning.The neighbours,one a builder and another a government official turned up to help him get back on his feet with an interest free loan,christian,Muslim and Hindu helping each other simply because they are neighbours.I emphasise the religion because we tend today to always talk of minorities in derogatory tones and as being non Indian.The people who rise in politics today are those that pursue rabid doctrine and disharmony and unfortunately we the so called educated elite fall prey to it most of the time.My forays into my neighbourhood continue to teach me that the differences exist only in the minds of the petty few but to the people who care to go out and have a look there is goodness in people if only we choose to see and learn and appreciate.I have lived in this city all my life but I can say without doubt that this city has a lot more to offer than hate or communal discord.small wonder then that I love living here.

Living a miserable life

for years now I have fought an ideological battle with my mother and am yet to score a point.Clinging like a limpet to petty differences,so called slights and imagined grievances are my mothers forte.She holds long standing grudges and cant go beyond them to even forgive or forget.Yes she will never remember the good things of life ,the happy moments,the joys.For her its always been about negatives.Its a long and loosing psychological battle that leaves me drained.I wonder why I even bother but to see such negativity irks me.I cant imagine being 83 and not remembering a single good thing in life.She keeps count of all the good things she has done for others and then laments that nothing good came to her.Never mind that she lives in happiness and in a stress free environment while many people of her age we know are in old age homes and forgotten by their children.They learn to accept but my mother hates it when I come up with alternatives.She knows that I have a point but is too proud to accept it.Comparisons have been another great asset in her life.From the time i was a child she told me how every other child was better than me in every way.Not once did I receive praise for anything.Till today my mother will lament the fact that she doesn't have a son to look after her (never mind that most sons we know have no time for their mothers).She has one set of rules for men and another for women.My mother will be happy to see all woman covered from heat to toe and sitting at home.She would like every young woman who has lost a husband to moan in self pity and shut themselves up.She has no sympathy for the brave and the ones who get on with life.Its a sad commentary on the life of a woman who has so much going for her.Everything is about her and her life.All comparisons will come back to how good she has been and how miserable her life has been.I wonder is this what keeps her going.Will positive emotions kill her because its all so alien a concept for someone whose way of life is to wallow in self pity.To live in the past is my mothers greatest virtue (at least  according to her).Everyday I battle with this attitude.I have made small headway in the many years that I have lived with her.My only course of action thank god is to be everything that she is not.To see life as it is with all its faults,to enjoy the moments,the share the sorrow,to escape into fantasy if need be but for the life of me I refuse to hold on to grudges,to constantly tell myself I am not good enough.Facts have no meaning for my mother,its all about conditioning of an extreme kind.Its sad to see people waste their lives to see them spend all energy of being miserable.Will the god who provides ever forgive?I wonder and while I still have life I will use every weapon to fight this attitude.Some day somewhere I hope to see results.

I dream a dream

Its blazing hot outside and this is the worst time to be in this city.Its hot and tempers are frayed,people are tired and there is no end in sight.Till around September we will complain and cry over our fate but we do this every year and the sun doesn't listen.
I dream a dream every summer .While i lie on the floor (cant use a bed or mattress as it will leave one in a pool of sweat) trying to beat the heat,I dream of a little cottage in the hills.It will have a large expansive kitchen with an array of pots and pans.It will constantly smell of sweet herbs,hot soups and the rich smell of baking.The garden will have the finest of vegetables all organic all grown by me according to the seasons.I can see myself with a big hat on my head,tilling the soil,planting seeds,weeding and then gathering them all into the kitchen to make meals that will have friends and family asking for more.The cottage will have a large terrace deck surrounded on all sides by flowers of all colours.It will be my evening retreat from where i will watch the sun go down on the valley.There will be strong cups of tea and cake to see me through sunset.
Evening will be spent in front of a roaring fire in a comfortable chair with a great book in hand.At my feet a dog or two.The husband is very much part of the picture and he is the one to whom i will turn for a nice long chin wag at the end of the day.The fire will be fed with twigs and leaves which the husband and i will gather as we take a stroll in the crisp morning air,listening to birds singing in the bushes.The village will provide the milk and chickens and the trip to the market should be the highlight of the week.
And as I dream this dream the sun goes down on another hot day and its time to wake up and make the best of the evening and then  to sleep in an air conditioned room for what we city people hope is an uninterrupted rest.

Reality

Reality,what does it mean?.For me its the everyday living which involves so much of myself and other people.Its shared joys,sorrow,pain,conversations and all of life as its thrown at me everyday.Some days are dull with nothing much happening and others leave me so tired that I cant think.Some are just so much fun that one knows its not an everyday event.Some are just so unpredictable that I am left wondering what happened.But the long and short of it is that its many emotions and many facets.
Someone I know sends me regular updates on all that she does and to me it seems like one long party.This person is never called upon to do anything that is in anyway emotionally taxing or unpleasant.All that is required is to be there and enjoy the things that are thrown at her.From the outside it looks like there are no responsibilities or demands.Perhaps that's the image she projects and the reality is very different.I find it strange that one can go through life without taking responsibility.Then again what is responsibility.Does doing only what one wants to do and not any more make one responsible?.I asked many people this question and found many interesting outcomes and reactions.Some one told me that some of them keep such a tight hold on emotions that it is no longer a feeling.It means that one becomes detached and unemotional.While some people are proud of this I believe it leads to emotional poverty.Can we subdue out emotions so much that we become machines?.
Today I heard of a person dying,alone and unconscious and in the final stages.A life well led in that the person took responsibility for her life,didn't impose on anyone emotionally or financially and while I admire the person I wonder when I look at some others who acts helpless and unsure....and get all the attention and love and comforts....is it all worth it.Does anyone appreciate you for being independent or is one leaving oneself open to being ignored and uncared for?
I have the time to mull over thing,to look at peoples lives to understand what it take and the conflicting images are all confusing.Some people lead lives living their own reality and in the process hurt others and don't care,others live in a reality that involves so much of themselves and it leaves them drained and tired.I am still finding my own reality but for now I am happy to laugh ,cry and rant and rave.To me being emotionally aware is as important as being intellectually aware.It completes life.Its holistic and that for now is real.

The Goldilocks syndrome

We live in a three bedroom apartment with three baths which is convenient all around,for guests,for us and for my mom.The thing is the mother lives in one room and has it done up her style,the master bedroom belongs to the husband and i (me being the minority partner....i get the TV remote after he falls asleep) and the third one is for guests.
The mother and husband are territorial creatures so there is no way you will find them in any bedroom other than the ones they belong to.Me ? I am the Goldilocks of this house so I change beds at random.You see I am king of referee in the house.I play wife daughter independent thinker etc etc so my role dictates my choice of rooms.
When the mother is under the weather I need to sleep on her spare bed.Not a comfortable compromise for either of us.In the heat of an Indian summer I need the air conditioning at full blast,the fan at the highest speed and I am fine.My mom has other ideas.Her idea of cozy night is to lock and bar all windows,turn the fan to lowest speed,leave a night light on (this one is as good as daylight,no dim lighting here) and she is fine.Now we have worked out a mid way path (after emotional blackmail of varying degrees) that the windows remain open to allow fresh air and the fan can be at mid speed.Enough incentive for her to get better just to get me out of the room.
The master bedroom as you may have guessed is ruled over by the master (yes the husband gets first rights on the TV remote.)Here the rules are different.If the man is on an austerity drive or on his latest project of saving the earth,then the air conditioning is ditched,the fan will run at full speed and the windows remain open.Needless to say yours truly will bake in silence.Of course as equal partner to this room my will will prevail and the air conditioning will come on but please note it will be on economy mode.Here the rules are different,he watches TV till he falls asleep and i read a book always.My side of the bed is stacked with books.At all times when the husband is in residence the choice of reading is gruesome murder,spine chilling thrillers and anything scary.I am a big goose so I need the husband there so i can scare myself safely.The moment he leaves town the choice of books will turn to the mushiest of romances.I am convinced that no romance can scare me so I gobble up a lot of mush and stay happy.
Like I said I am a bit of a nomad so when the husband is out of town the master bedroom seems like not a very nice place so I relocate to the guest bedroom.Now this room has TV,music Internet access and air conditioning that is turned to the bed so I can freeze if I want to.This is by far the most liberating room in thi s house.The music will be at highest volume (the mothers hearing is not what it used to be so no objections there) the TV will also be on and I can watch mindless TV news and get all worked up so if I am too bored then I will skype to friends far and wide.
This access to all areas comes with its own pitfalls.Invariably after a stint in any bedroom for longer than a week and I am a confused piece of work.So clothes will stay in one room,towels may be in any bathroom (invariably I have a bath and then realise that there is no towel in the room)...soap is always missing  and the long and short of it is that I end up with half baths that need to be finished off in the bathroom of origin.Today was one such day hence the post.All round confusion and with cricket in full form ( I haven't the faintest idea about this game despite being Indian) and having forgotten to stack up on books (cant read in bed in my moms room which is where i was resident the past few days) here I am pouring out my confused existence to  anyone who finds it interesting. And now to bed.

Weddings and summer

Much is happening in the neighbourhood.The trees are full of mangoes,the cats are in heat,weddings are in the offing and the heat is killing.Its that Indian summer when people actually get married in front of sacred fires and yours truly has to be in attendance.
The fun of functions in India are that they are all grand productions,lasting a few days.Everyone dresses in the best silk that money can buy never mind if one is melting slowly in the heat that it creates.Gold is the choice of jewellery and flowers,plenty of them adorn the hair,the home and whatever else.
Our neighbours have wedding in their homes and we have been invited .The husband gets away in jeans and shirt but I have to unearth a silk saree.Now luckily for me I don't have too many and the ones I have are thin silks but nevertheless I am now ready to get soaked.The air will be humid,mingling with the scent of jasmine,incense,and stale sweat.The idea is always to go just in time for dinner,wish the couple and vanish as fast as one can into the welcoming air conditioning of the car.But as duty goes one just has to do this.
Oh how I wish all wedding has to be in the so called winter or at least when the sun had cooled his heals for the better part of the year.How I wish the sacred fires would be replaced with electricity,how I wish the guest dress code was come as you are.....hmmm but I live in a country where the majority has three day wedding as opposed to the one hour church weddings I am used to.I live in a country where woman love to show off their jewellery and the more the merrier,were saree buying is a fine art (the one I have never mastered).I live in a county where the joys of marriage start with noise,fire and loads of family....and as I continue to live here i am off to tie five yards of silk around myself,prepare myself to smile at everyone and hold on to the shreds of dignity despite the sweat pouring down my face.Fortune favours the brave and so does a good meal and goodwill so for the next three hours I will suffer in silence and let the neighbour's know that I mean well...

The germ of an idea

Working for someone and working for oneself are two completely different experiences.For the better part of my life I worked for a company,loved it,hated it,got fed up and quit when I figured I could manage on my own.For the last five years I have been on my own doing things I like,not earning any money but at peace all the same.

When one takes responsibility for someone else it can be a bigger job than a sales target hanging over ones head so for all the years that I looked after my dad and mom I grappled with the demands of looking after old people.Quiet like children they need a lot of special attention and one can get a bit impatient and hopeless once in a while.The experiences of most of my friends in similar situations is that medical care for the elderly in this country is pathetic.In a country obsessed with youth and a population in billions,the elderly and the handicapped both get the wrong end of the stick.Gone are the days when doctors visited patients at home,made housecalls and actually knew their customers.Nowadays the banks know more about us than the doctors.

My mother recently had mobility problems and having searched high and low for a doctor to come home I gave up.It seems we have to live with the problem and not do a thing about it.Her doctor being the gem that she is is trying very hard to give us some support and I am so grateful to her for just trying.Which set me thinking.Having worked for so many years I do have a pretty decent hold of my ideas.I know how to make a business plan,know how to plan things etc.So the germ of an idea comes to me.I need to get down and dirty ,get organised and get hold of a network of doctors and nurses who can and will commit to doing house calls.I want a group of volunteers who can look out for old people in their neighbourhood and I need to work this thing through.

Will the idea take off?.I don't know but having called a couple of services I did find that they were way out of the reach of ordinary people like me.Most old people live on pensions or on the grace of their children who most often than not don't have the time for them.The organisations that exist are for the rich or the very poor.The middle class as usual are left behind.My intentions are good but will they find a voice?.Will I come up against official red tape or what?.Only time will tell but I have an agenda.I am thinking that the church will be my first port of call.Then some well meaning friends,then some more people.Gardening has taught me some patience so I hope this idea will find fruit.If I cant learn from my experience and help people like me cope then life is a wasted exercise.All help and suggestions of course are taken on board.

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?