Leeds,dover and canterburry

This morning the rain threatened to make an appearance and I waited eagerly,took the umbrella out and set out to Victoria.It drizzled and stoped and there was that wonderful nip in the air.Finally some English weather and i rejoiced,but as luck would have it the sun was back and shinning.Nevertheless it seemed a glorious day for an outing,so with sandwiches and fruit in our bags we left for our trip.Our bus arrived a minute ahead of us so we ran(after ages,the old bones protested).The tube was also early(or rather we were late) so another mad run to get in.The one thing about the tube is that it gets stuffy and hot.I cant imagine why everyone wears sweaters and jackets as i am pouring with sweat and feeling stuffy.Our day hasn't started too well and once we are in Victoria we manage to get lost and find our way again in a brisk walk convinced we are late.We arrive at the bus station and have to wait for 45 minutes for the tour to start.By this time the heat is getting to me(unlike fans and air conditioning,the English have heaters so when it gets this hot,its impossible to handle)The bus is air conditioned(or so they claim) but it doesn't help but we are on our way to Leeds to see a castle.Once again large tracts of green fields and lush trees give us our taste for the English countryside.The Leeds castle is marketed as the most beautiful castle in the world(and considering that about 90 percent of castles are in England i am sure they are right in their claim).Our guide today is an oxford educated lawyer(or so he claims) who is a freelance travel guide.On the way to the castle he talks in welsh and asks if we can identify the language(confident that after the same routine on many trips,no one has guessed right)He is a bit put out by the fact that i get it right the first time and is dying to know how i figured it out.Well so much for that.The Leeds castle is very livable.The grounds around the place are beautiful with grass,trees and lakes.Black swans,ducks and peacocks run freely around the place and flowers of every colour and size bloom in the hot summer sunshine.The views from every window is so soothing that one could just sit and do nothing.The castle has a very lived in feel about it and not surprising as the last owner was an Anglo American who -thank god for small mercies-left a will saying that the place couldn't be made into a hotel or broken down.The is a lot of modernity but the old world charm remains.The owner also had a fascination for birds and got many varieties to come over.
Our next stop is Dover.My only connection with Dover is the song by Jim Reeves where he says'there will be blue birds over the white cliffs of Dover' and I always thought he meant snow.By now its raining and i am sure its going to wash our our trip(finally English rain).The mist comes down rapidly but we brave the rain and the mist and walk down the pebbled beach to see the English channel.On a bright day we could have seen chalis but not today.I have by now decided that the souvenir shops in England leave a lot to be desired so all my souvenirs are from the land.I pick three perfectly formed blue pebbles as a reminder that i was in Dover and though i didn't see any blue birds,I did see the white cliffs(all made of chalk) and a photograph to remind me of the lapping waters of the English channel.
We leave to go on to Canterbury.Again my connection with this church comes thanks to an elder sister who read TS Eliot and insisted on telling me the story of Thomas Becket and his murder in the cathedral.The church itself is magnificent.The number of little chapels and naves can be pretty confusing but despite the little shops and cafes in the churches in this country,they remain places of calm and peace.This being the seat of English Christianity,naturally is interesting and considering that the archbishop is the head of the church of England is also an interesting fact.Not the archbishop of Westminster.We have a hearty meal of fish and chips and our guide tells us that the fish is always caught fresh from the English channel.The fish being cod,I am delighted to be tasting it,as the nearest i have ever gotten to cod has come by way of cod liver oil capsules that I was made to take for many years of my life.A rather bland fish but nothing that a good dash of chillie sauce couldn't perk up.
Our last stop is Greenwich and we stop at a little village that has more green than people or houses.We take a long walk across the park and there are people selling ice creams of the strangest colours but i don't indulge.The best part about these parks and public places is that they all have well appointed toilets and they are clean.Our walk across Greenwich park takes us to the observatory and like all tourists we take our picture with each foot on either side of the longitude line.This done we get a panoramic view of London and a short walk away is our speed boat waiting.The ride on the Thames is fast and furious but i am more fascinated by a jack Russell pup that has come along with its owner for the ride.The owner unfortunately looked the rough kind and with more beer than he could handle,I didn't riskplaying with his dog.Finally we are home,but not before I forgot the way and had the husband in a fine fettle about all thing that one needs to be aware of etc etc.I did muddle along and find the right bus stop to get off at and the way home so despite the fuss,all wells that ends well.
Finally I must say that despite all the fun I am having,I cant help but feel sorry about Micheal Jackson dying.For me its not about the scandals,its not about his looks that have changed over the years.For me its about a child who was pushed into something that was too much too soon and who despite his great music and entertainment sense,was at the heart a little boy who lost his way and didn't know how to handle it all.Tragic but true and today I pray that we can enjoy his music as a tribute to a once great man who despite his 50 years remained relevant to all generations.This truly is greatness. and so goodnight.

Windsor,bath and stonehenge

Almost five days in London and not having done much we decide its time to take a break from the city and head out.We decide to check out the famed English country side.Poets,fiction writers and Enid Blyton together have created this image in our minds of rolling hills,green meadows,glens and dales.

An early morning start sees us at Victoria coach station(not the horse and carriage variety,rather the Volvo kind)Our guide for the day thank god is English(not eastern European,Indian or Thai)and considering I have had to hunt for an English person in London's mixed up community,this is a big bonus.He is very English,good humour and good manners keeps us going on our trip outside the city.Our first stop is Windsor castle,the home of the current queen and many before her who choose to escape the atmospher of London(and who can blame them).The country side is calming and even the one a minute plane that fly over cant dampen my happiness at seeing such a variety of green.The sun shines brightly on yet another glorious day and we approach Windsor.The castle like something out of a fairy tale rises up from its green surroundings.We start our tour and marvel at the many state rooms.I am fascinated at the number of valuable Rubens and van dyke's that are on display.What wouldn't i give to have just on of those hanging on my home walls(but I am no queen,even if I choose to be one in my own small way).The room dedicated to crockery and china has me spell bound.The delicate flowers,the pretty shapes of the dinner service has me wanting more.The relief on the dining room walls are all on food,fish,turkey fruits everything to give one a healthy appetite.The queen Marys dolls house of a sight for sore eyes.To think that every painter worth his while gave his best works in miniature as did authors.The dolls house is a must see,for its attention to detail and it beauty.How marvelous to have a hobby that could be indulged in (but to be fair to the queen she was letting us share).We move over to see the changing of the guards.All the pomp and pageantry of the English court is very much there and we watch in awe.The mascot however seems a little under the weather(he is a six month old dog of some strange English breed).Besides the show itself I am taken in once again by British humour.The guards and the police crack jokes with us,tell us that the dog will have us for breakfast or that we could be in danger of being shot for walking the lawns.The police officer who tells us that he has never raised his voice and we have made him do so....its all done with a cheery sense of fun besides keeping order.I think of a similar situation in my country and sigh.This is so unique to the British and i am enjoying the fun.

We move over now to Bath(after one heart stopping moment when I almost lost my bag thanks to forgetting it in a shop)and this quaint city is circular,dominated by the bath abbey and the roman hot springs.We walk around the bath itself but i decide to take in some literature so we make a quick visit to the Jane Austen centre.We don't have time for a tour but a character from Pride and Prejudice is there so we pose for a snap(thankfully he is a character I like,had it been Mr Darcy I may have had second thoughts)We stop to eat scones,jam and clotted cream which is fantastic despite being churned out by a french man.We wash it down with earl grey and continue to take photographs of the river with its lawns filled with families on picnics.We also meet a Pakistani fellow traveller who takes a picture for us and the husband and he quickly fall into conversation on cricket and the Pakistani victory in the world cup.I wish we could all be so friendly but that's another story.

Our next stop is Stonehenge but not before a two hour trip that takes us through the quaint villages of the Cotswold's.This beautiful part of England is full of picture postcard cottages that are so pretty one cant imagine living there.All of them look like dolls houses and the roses are huge and climbing in a riot of colour.Soon we leave this patch of woods and head towards open country and approach Stonehenge.This strange place has a history that is quiet unknown to most people but theories abound.The stones looks like silent sentinels guarding god knows what,but it has that strange remote look of something that just happened.The wind howls and twirls but the sun shines as if in tribute to the theory that this is a monument to the sun god.We take in the view of yellow corn fields and green meadows with trees in clusters.We then head back to London,having enjoyed our trip to the countryside.Its midnight now and the nights are short and by the time this post is over and done with,daylight will stream in through the windows and the birds will chirp and the flowers will bloom and another sunny English summers day will be born and therefore goodnight....

London Bridge is falling down

A few days in London and already history and reality are merging in my mind.I have lost track of time(thanks to the sun setting rather late on the erstwhile British empire)and i am not sure what I have seen or when,but let me pull out the memories before they are wiped out by the next lot.Once again we set out like dick witington to see London town.No unlike him we have no hopes of becoming lord mayor of London but that doesn't stop us exploring.Today we start at the tower of London.With all its history of murder,torture and intrigue,the tower itself is a lovely place.We see the armory that made England the power that they were,we go to see the crown jewels and are fascinated by the glitter of diamonds and stones.As Indians we stop a wee bit longer at the Kohinoor and I marvel at the patience and courage of the British monarchy (if wearing those heavy crowns is the price of royalty,then thank you a head of hair is more than enough for me).We watch the change of guard take place,and marvel at the size of the ravens on the lawns(reading Edgar Allen Po's poems never made me imagine that ravens could grow to this size)We then went to every possible place in the tower and walked the walkway over looking the river.The sights and sounds took up almost the entire morning and we stepped out to walk over to the tower bridge.Greed gets the better of me at this point and while the husband is busy capturing London on film,I indulge in one pet passion....food.Raw oysters with the smell and taste of the sea as they glide down my throat and I am in heaven.Too scared of my delicate tummy,I refuse to eat more and we walk on tower bridge and take in the sights.I want to climb to the top and that has the husband in a fit(though when I remind him of the arc the triomph he relents)For all my bravado,I wasn't prepared to face 200 odd steps but decide that somethings in life are best attempted,so we climb,slowly and surely till we are at the top(it wasn't at all that difficult) and the views of London on either side is a truly heart stopping moment.We take as many pictures as we can and come back down.We walk along the south bank in search of lunch but as the English seem to live on sandwiches we are left with very little choice.We walk then to the next bridge which is London bridge I am in search of Nancy's steps..(.where Bill Sykes kills her in Dickens's Oliver Twist,but no one seems to remember either dickens or Oliver) so i carry on.

We stumble upon the glob theater and I am once again very excited about seeing this piece of history but once again that deceptive sun has got us mixed up.The theater is open only till noon for a tour so we have to come back.My next stop is the Tate modern(i have decided to buy prints)and as we approach the husband realises that he is being lured into an art gallery and does an about march.We have to skip it and instead end up on the lawns of the Tate and like the rest of London we sprawl on the grass in the afternoon sun and catch 40 winks.Its time now to cross the millennium bridge to St Paul's.I am reminded of the song from mary poppins and as there are all the birds around it comes alive except that the little old bird woman never came.As we arrive late even for evensong we settle for a look around the outside,then walk the gardens of the cathedral.A song book and a piano are the highlight s of my visit(as I know all the songs in the song book) and we take some pictures in the rose garden and wind our way home,we have a long day ahead tomorrow so its goodnight again.

central london

One is rather foxed after three days in London.Unlike most cities the English except us to recognise their monuments,so its with a great difficulty that we wander around,stumbling on one city sight after the other.Having spent most of our time underground,we decided that walking overground is a better way to do things.Our first stop is the High gate cemetery.The beauty of England is that the graveyards are not places that are eerie,rather they are places to visit the dead and those long gone,who live today in their history and literature.We walk through the park,watch the ducks feed in the lake and walk across lawns that look like they have been brushed green,such is their symmetry of the place.The trees stand tall and there are dogs of every breed walking or playing.Small children in prams and families on picnics.In England to see the sun shine for long periods is considered a blessing(though I am still waiting to see the English rain).We walk across and enter the cometary at High gate and walk along the paths,read the headstones and arrive finally to the most famous of persons buried there.Karl Max,and George Elliot.We take pictures(husband protests about this but its brushed aside,after all graves are meant to be photographed especially of famous people).That done and a long walk uphill has made us hungry.A pub lunch seems to be the best way to get a meal,and the national dish of England doesn't disappoint(what ever happened to Yorkshire pudding and the like,the chicken tikka masala has upsurged them all).We then proceed back to central London and get off at the embankment.Fascinated at the bridge that seems to hang in mid air we don't stop to look around and proceed instead to gape at the Thames.Then we walk all the way back along the river,take in the view and the cool breeze and finally get a feel of the London of our dreams.The big Ben rises quiet suddenly and its a magnificent sight and as luck would have it it chimes at our arrival.We stop to take pictures and marvel at all that gold and glitter and stone and walk over to Westminster bridge.Some long forgotten poems on the bridge struggle for attention on my scrambled brains,but i stop to take a picture and we continue our walk to Westminster abbey.Unfortunately we have to take in evensong instead of a tour of the abbey as we are too late(the evensong was rather good and made up for the disappointment).We moved along to st Jame's park but don't stop as all the walking has got us rather tired(so much for using the car back home).We stumble on the queens guards and stop to take a picture of the solider in fancy dress(that's how it looks to us) and go on to try and get a look at 10 downing.Unfortunately one needs a pass and in a very American way the place is out of bounds unless one has a pass.The long line of men in dinner jackets and woman in evening dress tell us that Mr Brown has something up his sleeve(the speaker of the house had just been elected and we had been praying for them at the abbey).So we move on knowing that there was no way of sneaking in(sneakers and track pants are sure shot way of being thrown out of any English establishment I would imagine).We move over to Trafalgar square(unfortunately I cannot help but compare Paris with London all the time)I look in vain for the pigeons(i think they have been shot but am not sure) which are few and far between,the fountains are crowded with people and as the husband refuses to climb on to the lions(not an easy task and requires some flexibility and gymnastic ability)i decide to do the honours.Young British schoolboy is enlisted to pull me up while the husband and friend push me forward(this requires a great deal of help and willpower when the only climbing one has done is a short flight of steps to the flat).Once there i get my photo ops(being fed to the lions has always been a photo op so nothing new)That done,we are ready to go back home,so the palace and st martins in the field are given a miss.Considering that I am beginning to sound more and more like prince Charles,it may be about time I paid the queen a visit.But that has to wait,so until then....goodnight

Church and music

When one is on holiday with a jet lagged partner,one isn't quiet sure how to spend the time.Being at home seems like a pretty dismal ideas when time is limited,so it being Sunday I decide to attend church service at the local parish.A typical church building in red stone but very different inside.Instead of pews,there were chairs,modern speakers and an overhead projector completed the picture.I wasn't too sure what to expect and when this diminutive woman came up to speak it seemed strange to think of her as the priest.Neat and trim in a pant suit she didn't fit my image of priest.No cassock and all that.It being fathers day,she actually got the whole lot to cheer for the men in their lives,passed around paper and pencils for us to write things down and in between managed to give a sermon and in general made me feel rather good to be there.The whole community feeling and the fact that everyone knew everyone else added to the feel good factor.
But for a moment we need to stop and thing of the church of England.The pageantry and glamour of the weddings and funerals and coronations were missing from this small parish and the service was so different,and then we land up for evensong at Westminster abbey and the experience is so very different.What started as a typical touristy visit was cut short thanks to us loosing our way and arriving late.The punctuality of the British is alive and kicking but i cant say the same for the ques system(its dead and gone).The husband was taken kicking and screaming into the abbey for service and once we had entered and told that it was a hours service the husband was most upset.However when we were ushered into the church and made to sit in ornate throne like chairs all the disappointment and apprehensions disappeared.The church itself had numbered seats(guess with all the rich and famous under one roof some order must prevail).The service starts with the choir emerging after much chanting and organ music.The high domes ensure that the sound reverberates around the place and the sound is enchanting as it is awe inspiring.The choir then walks in with in double file and bows at the alter and takes their seats and the service begins.The congregation has very little to do and seated just behind the choir ensures that we get the best of choir music.With the priest singing prayers and the choir chanting and singing the voices rose in symphony and the hall fills with music.Its a concert and well worth the forty five minutes we were there.The entire service had all the pomp and pageantry fitting for an abbey and i thought of my two very different experiences in English churches. I enjoyed evensong at the abbey as it was a soul stirring experience and the music was soothing and beautiful,but the small church represented the cosy parish church and its personalised feel.However one thing is for sure,being a priest,artist or anyone in England requires more skill sets than the more basic one.A good voice for a priest and a good ear for tone is almost as important in the Anglican church as is gymnastics and dance for the actor,and not just dialogue delivery.Not surprising that these are viewed as careers and take so much more time to master.As the sun goes down on another day,I haven't seen most of the places that most people see,but i have got some wonderful memories thus far.To say that London disappoints is an understatement.Unfortunately far too many modern building have found their place among the heritage ones and for this I feel this place has lost out.Sometimes a bit of vanity never did anyone harm.....and so goodnight.

the london diary 2

When the sun rises at 4am its but natural that we wake up and with jet lag hitting us,our bodies are confused as is our mind.The view from the window however makes up for it.Apple and pear trees,bright flowers all out in summer colours and green grass all set in a little garden with just that nip in the air.Its something we are not used to so we dash off to make tea and soak in the atmosphere while the rest of the house sleeps.Then for a walk around the town with the sun shining bright and easy and as its Saturday the food stalls are out and every produce found locally is there.Pots with herbs,fresh summer vegetables and lovely meats.It sets the tone for the day.The we get our first dose of England.The newspapers are full of the current hot topic of MPs and their expense accounts and for someone used to corruption in high places this seems tame in comparison.We are due for lunch in Westminster so we take the car(bad decision,even on a Saturday) and soon find ourselves bang in the middle of a protest.The sri lankan Tamils are out on the streets of London in protest and that means that most roads are closed.Our poor friend takes us around all the many streets that will take us to our final destination and in the process we see the big Ben,the London eye,the Westminster abbey and all the rest of it.At Knights bridge we are stuck in front of Harrods and find that its still full of Japanese and Arab tourists who are busy spending money.Of course its hallowed gates almost makes you want to run in the opposite direction.Lunch is in covent gardens and for me my mind filled with the scenes from My fair lady,this is a bit of a comedown.The streets are narrow and the square itself is crowded with stalls,entertainers and what have you.Not a sign of the flower girls or the flowers,but of course at 3 in the afternoon its silly to expect them.Lunch is Italian as the English have given up their identity and the typical English foods that we have read so much about has all but been buried.In fact finding an English person in London is really a hard task.There are more Europeans,Chinese and Indian than English.Since we are in the theater area we decide to see a play.Once again we walk the narrow streets and get ourselves tickets for Peter Pan the play that is currently on in London.Coming as we do from a country that has clear differences between day and night,we are rather foxed by the fact that the sun doesn t set on the British empire until well after 9 pm and therefore we have lost track of time.Nevertheless we buy our tickets and make a mad dash for the tube,suddenly realising that we are bound to be late.British tube though lives up to its reputation of punctuality and we arrive in Kensinton gardens with ten minutes to spare.However we haven't accounted for the size of the gardens and we walk and half run just to find that we have missed the deadline and are a minute late.We stand outside and watch the play on wide screen and hope to go on in soon when the husband who has been strangely silent till that moment,asks me if i recognise the woman standing next to me.I look at her and realise that here is the famous Wimbledon champion,Martina standing there next to me waiting to be allowed in as she is late.I marvel at the fact that in my country she would be have been taken in to the theater at once with out any delay,she may have arrived with bodyguards and much fan fare but here she was standing next to me.I am dying to take a photo but the decent person in me says that i shouldn't impose on her privacy so i talk to her and tell her how much i enjoyed watching her play and am happy with that.We enter the theater and then all is magic.Here in a tent in the middle of kensington gardens we are transported(thanks to some excellent special effects) into the world of perter pan and tinker bell.As we watch in sheer wonder at the actors,we realise why the stars of the English stage are so sought after.Here were a set of people so talented not just as actors,but they knew dance,technology,acrobatics and the excellent light and stage design could only have happened in the drama capital of the world.I went to the play based on a review on the bbc and I must say it was worth every pound.We walk back through the streets,stop to take in the sights of the royal Albert hall,the beautiful trees and greens that dot this part of London and wind our way back home satisfied that we managed to see a lot in one day....and so goodnight

The London diary

An early morning start meant that a lot of things had to be organised,after all we were crossing oceans for a holiday.As we got ready to leave it seemed almost like fate that we decided to have breakfast.Not only was this a very wise decision,it may have also saved our lives.Our next meal much to our dismay came well after 11 am,when we had left the house at seven.Nevertheless we arrived in Colombo not very dead but almost there.The srilankan customs probably reflects the unmentioned hostility between the two countries,we were asked some unnecessary questions after which we were made to wait for another hour in a place that didn't have toilets but an Internet connection.Back on the flight,we got lunch well after lunch time and realised that the 11 hour flight was no joy ride.While the husband played games and watched movies,I made frequents trips to the loo(rather clean ones) and harassed the purser(nice boy with pleasant face) for magazines.When it got too much for him he silenced me with a German magazine and there ended all my reading matter.We watched out for all the countries,trying in vain to see anything at all from 40 thousand feet but we managed to stay entertained.The final leg to London got me all excited about seeing the English channel and the white cliffs of Dover(all those years of listening to Jim Reeves).Unfortunately though it is summer in England,the sky was thick with white clouds all in a sea of whipped cream,not a bit of sunlight passed through and we were convinced that the Aeriel view of London would have to wait,but as luck would have it the pilot was not given clearance and our view of London was almost perfect as the plane circled over ever tourist sight that there was to see.Finally we arrive and clear customs and find the tube.Considering we are in a country where we speak the language,it doesn't seem to difficult to find our way to west London but we are disappointed.Somehow we cant help comparing London to Paris and we are not very excited by the arrival.We finally arrive at the house a cute semi detached cottage in a picture postcard street and feel a lot better.Our first day in London and we are fast asleep in warm and cosy bed,and so goodnight.

Getting back

Its almost close to travel dates and my mind goes blank.A year of my own company has made me very much of a recluse,happy with my books and my space.Now I have to take a flight half way around the world because i choose to take a holiday,but the butterflies in my stomach will put any butterfly garden to shame.I am a nervous traveller and a bad travel companion,while the rest of the passengers sleep,i will be wide awake.My suitcase is a mess because i cant seem to plan how many clothes to take.Why cant i relax,why cant i enjoy the moment.Its depressing really that my mind is a total blank,that i worry that my replacement (sister in this case to look after the mother) may not arrive in time and that my mother will have to take all the responsibility of running the house.Its insane for a woman who has travelled to Europe in the past with not a single friend in those parts.I still remember the day i hitched a ride in Paris of all places at some odd hour in the night.I wandered around the streets of Paris with a map in hand and found my self lost in the suburbs and didn't stress myself out.I remember asking in french for directions from two terribly drunk chefs somewhere in a village on the outskirts of Paris.Walking back from a late night movie and getting lost in the metro but finding myself on a busy street again,and walking back to my hotel.Was that me?.Whatever happened to my adventurous spirit.I believe that years of being part of a couple has made me soft.I love not having to take responsibility but its about time I took charge again.I promise myself that I shall explore the world again,I shall not stress and I shall once again live life on my terms.Sometimes regression can be a positive thing.

My little six year old friend

We first met when we were six.I had been home schooled and was therefore terrified about being with so many children.She was made to sit next to me and she got talking,asking me a load of questions really.I was rather impressed.I had never seen anyone with such light hair or such fair skin so I assumed she was from another country.She on finding that I had no clue what school was all about(she had experience of being sent to a nursery school and was therefore a sort of expert)decided to take me under her wing.When she asked me what religion I practised and what my nationality was I answered in all innocence that I was an Indian christian.Her reaction has me laughing even today.At six and studying in an Anglo Indian school meant that most kids had grandparents who were English or Australian and the few of us who were died in the wool Indian were a small minority.She told me very firmly that I was no Injun(her way of pronouncing Indian) and should get it out of my system double quick.I was too young and too inexperienced to even question such wisdom so I fell in line.I liked her a lot.She was a regular child and what struck anyone who say her for the first time,was how dirty she was.She was a grubby child,dirt streaked her skin(thanks to sucking on a leaky fountain pen,and playing in the mud or sandpits)Her hair was always a mess though it started the day being neat and tidy.We both shared our common reading problems of Indian languages so we were sisters in arms.Naturally this reinforced her view that i was no injun.Several times we left our school campus(not allowed) to run over to her house that was pretty close to the school.Her Irish setter would slobber all over us and her grandmother would give us some cake and make beautiful cloth flowers dipped in perfume.I loved getting those and would cherish them for years after wards.We studied together till we were around sixteen and then she dropped out of my life soon enough thanks to the anxiety of exams getting to her.I lost track and some stories drifted my way of her having married a foreigner(didn't even know his nationality,and having moved to England).Some 25 years later a chance school reunion kindled my curiosity as to what happened to her.An enterprising headmistress (she kept all our addresses and phone numbers) put us back in touch.

Now its time to meet again.On an off chance I decided to write to her that I would be visiting England and would like to meet her.Her reply was prompt and a positive one.My best memories of her are as of a six year old.Well into the 40s what do i expect to find.Will she be in some ways the same girl I knew.I wonder?.The thought of seeing her again brings back so many childhood memories.Memories of small desks in which we stored all that was forbidden,sitting next to her in craft class.My famous addiction to sticking glue which i could snif for hours(in those days no one told me it was unsafe)and the many games we played,the trees we climbed and the knees we skined.

Holidays and stress

Why is it that planning holidays and packing for one is so stressful.Its starts with all the paper work,the networking,the research and then one is all ready with visas and tickets.Now begins the more complicated parts.Now for the large part of our lives we live in a city that is blazing hot,so most of the time we wear cotton,kadhi and little else.Fast forward to a holiday on an island which is famed for unpredictable weather and one is truly foxed.The general advice is light sweater(now here i am feeling hot and bothered in 18 degrees in air conditioning,I am probably the only person who was feeling so hot and sweaty in Europe that i was forced to sit in a bath of cold water to cool my system,so its not surprising that I have no intentions of getting a sweater ready(i don't own any warm clothes with the exception of my skin).All that working out at the gym means that some flab has been lost along the way,and watching many episodes of trinny and susanna have got me thinking,so there I am investing in clothes that fit right.Have decided that all those baggy ten clothes must go,a bit of daring never hurt anyone,more so when chances of meeting anyone i know is rather slim.Of course I will have to hold my breadth at regular intervals but then again do I care?.Not really,the one good thing about growing old is that one looses ones need to impress and this is licence enough to experiment.My feet are my biggest problem.Give me miles to walk and chances are that the feet are going to protest.I might be the only person alive who went all the way from India to Paris and bought shoes at Bata simply because the pursuit of style only left me with two left feet which protested loudly at the steps on monmantre.My quest for style and comfort continues and somewhere in great Britain there will be a shoe shop that will benefit from this one Indian who will be forced to buy shoes.

Now that all that stress has been handles,the thought of the journey scares me.The many reports of airbuses of every size and hue are falling into oceans or crashing into each other,does nothing for this nervous traveller who is wide awake at all times on long haul flights while the rest of the passengers snore.If ever a pilot needs company,he should call me.The prayers are said,the bible dusted from years of disuse is suddenly read for inspiration and comfort.I write wills ever time I travel out of the country and hope I can come back to tear it up all over again.

As the days pass by and travel dates get closer,my stress levels get to an all time high,all the news,and all the politics only makes me feel worse.In my mind ever thing can happen.The US may by accident(like they do most of the time) target the airplane I am using thinking its a terrorist owned one.Or Gordon Brown may call for a snap election and I may find myself in a country in a mess,or worse,the plane may crash in the Indian ocean and I don't even know how to float.As for all those safety precautions,I doubt if I will have the time to even think.And finally If I do reach the destination safe and sound,will I be impressed,will it be everything I dreamed it would be or am I setting myself up for disappointment.

Honestly the day I begin to enjoy the experience of planning and packing for a holiday,I may just find that the husband is rendered redundant,so perhaps its good that I am so stressed,after all the poor man has to put up with my anxieties and my absolute uselessness at such times.

Pondy is rather cheery

Holidays are best when they are not too well planned or so I would like to believe.A weekend getaway can greatly refresh and reenergise the soul.Sometimes it best taken with friends and the fewer the better.

This weekend my friend and I decided to get away to the seaside close to the city.A laid back French colony, it’s quaint and well planned and being French the food and wine is good as are places to stay at.

Over the years this place has grown and posh hotels are a dime a dozen, but the problem with them is that one may as well be in any city in any country.This is how standardised they are and therefore impersonal.We wanted local feel so we booked ourselves into a little guesthouse in an obscure street, though well surrounded with cafes and eating places.

Run by a woman who has turned her family home into a guest house,this old French villa has all the charm and romance of what one might expect of the French.She herself is half Indian and half French and is ready with maps and suggestions on what to do.We check in to our charming and very basic clean room,no TV no internet but yes books to read,places to sit out and sip tea and lovely garden to walk in.It lulls us into instant relaxation.I can sit at the reception desk and chat with the boys who help out,try out my French on unsuspecting French locals and do nothing at all.No timetables at this place.

The sun has decided to be kind and hide for the day, so we walk the promenade stop for a tea at the charming alliance francaise, read the latest magazines and newspapers in French and chat and gossip about our lives.

Lunch is French again,lovely cheesy pancakes,wine,grilled fish and custard,dinner follows on similar lines and the shopping is all in quaint little shops,full of local wares.Cool cottons,European designs,fragrances and scented candles,French bread and rich chocolate cake.

I forget my gym for the weekend and indulge my stomach and senses with no thought of tomorrow.Ofcourse the photos tell a different tale but this is how holidays are.We have no sense to direction so we read the map,get lost,find ourselves in new places all the time and enjoy the ride.Ofcourse my city friend wants to visit a local disco despite my warnings to the contrary and we leave as fast as we arrive.The place and its music is out of place in this small town with its style and charm and easy lifestyle.

Another simple lunch of salad and quiche and some interesting flower juice and we are back to the city but of course the drive on the beautiful coastline is well worth the drive.Its back home to all the responsibilities but one is refreshed and ready to take on the world.

prep and planning

Planning has never been my forte but planning is so much a part of life that one does have to make an attempt.I have decided to take a break from house work and routine to take a drive down to a sea side place with a friend of mine.Unfortunately this means a lot of planning,first of all the food,no not for the trip but for the family left behind at home.Ever since the mothers fractured hand,i haven't been able to leave the cooking to her so there i was this morning all charged up to do some serious cooking and freezing and I discovered there were not enough vegetables.The planning went something like this,two days and four people at home so five meals with two vegetable dishes each and the maths got me,as did the empty fridge.So I made a sambar which looks in danger of finishing tomorrow,beans porial which i put in the freezer,some beef cutlets that have been frozen and then i gave up.So much for planning.Dinner is still looming large and no idea hit me as yet.For years i wanted to be a professional chef,because i love food and its preparation but with planning letting me down its seems a pipe dream at the best of times.The mother made all the right noises of helping out and probably will so I have decided not to fret and to take things one day at a time.The thought of getting away from all responsibilities if so inviting that I just hope the car holds up and we have a good time

Agression and present society

I grew up in a generation of writing letters that later went on to the odd phone call or a visit.In fact my childhood was exactly that....childhood,reading Enid blyton,camping out with friends and eating home food or reading all the books i could possibly get.Which is why I find it so difficult to understand children of this generation.For them there is no childhood.At 12 or 13 and sometimes even younger,they are exposed to the adult world.Tv being the biggest culprit,followed by the Internet and the sheer social circles that children move in nowadays.Its not surprising to find children serving at home parties,children accompanying parents to pubs(not allowed but there is nothing that some influence cant buy).The conversations at home most often than not are peppered with fs and bs and that is almost accepted so don't be surprised if a youngster thinks its hip to use such language.In my days bad language meant that the mouth was washed out with soap if at all we used such language which frankly speaking not even the so called bad children did.Then i fail to understand the sheer anger and aggression that children today exhibit.The parents are largely to blame for this which is why we have so many bad teachers,(too scared to enfore the rules thanks to being sure of inviting the parents wrath)so much lack of discipline and the scant respect for people and authority.Parents today teach their children to be aggressive,to believe that the world is against them and to always bite before they bark.I have seen too many children and parents behave in this appalling manner which is why when I see parents and kids who don't,I know that they are the exceptions and we must give them a big hand.The west suffers today due to this scant regard for basic goodness and we seem to be going that way.Do we really care,i don't think so because its all coming down to I,Me and myself....scary but true and if someone doesn't act fast this will all end in tears.Unfortunately the very parents who so protect their children by fighting their battles,are in reality crippling the kids they love so much.Perhaps its time to go back to teaching self reliance,standing up for oneself and learning to respect another opinion.Any parents listening?

Fear is the key

I live in a constant state of panic and fear,not the visible kind but deep down in the core,there is a fear,Its irrational at times because I live in constant fear of loosing my mother,watching her suffer and worse not being able to do anything.Does this keep me on my toes,well it does and I constantly check to see if she is breathing,In fact I have been doing so since I was a child and I wonder if its just a habit that I cant break.

 

Yesterday the fear took a real turn,there I was working out at the gym and suddenly there was that little voice telling ,me that all is not well so I dash out and reach home.I watch my mother for a few hours to find that she is not focused and is being rather vague and disoriented,then she cant sit up.My first thought is a stroke,quite similar to what happened to my dad,they are not sure how to explain.Then practicality takes over and I in good faith shove some sweet horlicks down her throat and give her food and make her seem better.Its my moment of intense terror.I don’t want to have to deal with this.Added to the fact that I shouted at her for non cooperation and was feeling guilty.She seemed a lot better but I am still scared.Did the dosage go wrong did I do something to create this situation,the thoughts are endless.It leaves me tired and exhausted and I wish once again that I didn’t have to handle all this alone.

 

Of course I then went on to action mode and ordered blood tests and got the phone fixed and I will live another day but the feat never goes.Even my flowers and garden wilt with my fear,Will I ever get over it or will I always live in fear of loosing people.Strange are ones fears

The indian election result

I spent almost all of May 16th glued to the TV set (something I last did when the US elections were on).At the end of the day or rather in the middle,I was as surprised as I was when the US election result was declared.Did I ever believe that a black man could be president of the US.Well it happened.I voted and hoped the congress would win a resounding victory.The other parties had no agendas.The few local parties had demands that were so self serving that any self respecting person could see thought the fact that all they cared about was themselves and no one else(perhaps we must be thankful for their honesty)The BJP is stuck with a temple that is more millstone than agenda and all the pro Hindu and anti minority seems to have kicked in,till finally the Indian public decided this was on the way out.To have a stable government is to have governance.The good economist need not hanker after pleasing the demands of all and sundry and for the fresh faces and the education that the congress collectively has,am I glad we finally have people in power that can get on an international stage and not embarrass us.Am I glad that cast and religion and the petty divisions have been given a good and deep burial and I am glad to know that the people who lost are in do doubt that they lost.This is what a good election result is all about.A lot of people have been talking of Advanis secular credentials and how he had to bow to party pressure.Give me a break,is there no such thing as principals.A man who can resurrect Ram,a temple and create communal violence is no secular at heat.If power means giving up what you believe in then these   are not the people to be leading the country.I am delighted with the result and hope that this whole issue of caste and religion disappear from the Indian polity once and for all.

The great Indian circus

Today was a big day for the city,the streets are deserted and the only sign of life is in the public schools manned by armed police,because its election day in the city and for most people its a welcome middle of the week holiday but for those of us who cast our votes,its an important day too.Which brings me to the debate that rages among our friends and some family.Do we or don't we vote.Its interesting because a lot of us rant and rave about this miserable government,the corrupt politicians and the thugs that reign in this political arena,but when it comes to voting many of us refuse to take the plunge and do so.Some of the excuses are that there is no one worth it,or better still:I shall go an put an invalid vote(why for heavens sake must you do that).Still others opt for the option of none of the above and more often than not a lot of the most vocal people never vote.

I have been voting from the time i turned 18 thanks to my father who insisted that it was a fundamental right and i had no reason to crib if i didn't take the trouble to vote.So i did a quick check list of what I wanted in people in power(triggered by a comment by a friend who asked me if i would ever get into politics to which i replied never)For one they need to be educated.Now almost all of the candidates in this city are graduates or post graduates,so I cant afford to say they don't qualify(of course we know that education must really be a broadening of the mind and less about the degrees one earns)From their declared assets one would imagine that most of them are not very well off (funny when even one of the houses they live in will be well over 3 to 4 cores so how come their assets are only 1 to 2 cores...hmm accounting problems,I am pretty certain a pricewaterhouse coopers is involved)The I look for a secular candidate.(very tricky but essential,as most parties seem to have forgotten that the constitution describes us as a secular democratic republic,but we still talk of temple building like its the beginning and end of the world,never mind economic slowdown,poverty etc etc).Unfortunately in this political drama there are a number of small time players and most people seem to not understand the difference between local issues and national issues.So we have a jig saw puzzle of all manner of parties and all manner of aspiring prime ministerial candidates.Unfortunately since i am left to choose between the devil and the deep blue sea I simply look at some points that for most people will seem trivial.I look for those who speak good English(chances are they went to good convent schools and good christian colleges by and large,and one therefore assumes they will be more broadminded and secular).I look for people who are by birth pretty well off financially( I assume they have enough money to life by for a few generations and are therefore less prone to corruption though to think they will be clean is asking for too much)I look for people who have married into different communities or religions(this is an indication of there basic value of respecting others and of tolerance) and then I look for people who communicate well (Barack Obama may not do anything for America but he certainly captures the imagination and gives one the feeling that he may do something).Biased I may be but the congress by far fulfills ,most of these points I have raised.If I would have to choose a Manmohan Singh to an Advani I would rather have an economist who can hold his own on an international forum that a PM who is more interested in a temple (the people of the temple town couldn't care less) and in yatras that have huge religious overtones.I look around me and see the countries that are based on religion and how they flounder but wonder why these men who have been in public life for so long just seem to miss the point.After all neither Pakistan or Afghanistan are too far form Delhi right?.Well all said,I have cast my vote and now pray that a secular,broadminded and educated lot hold office in the next parliament and would I be asking for too much?....only may 16th will tell

summer delights

It’s the beginning of summer madness and I am reminded of the many temptations that came my way in childhood.Temptations that I could never give into but wanted desperately to be part of.

 

It started at school.The raw mango and chilli powder and salt,the blackberries that oozed juice.The candy floss man who churned magic with his wheel so plenty of pink fluff kid of emerged from nowhere filled with sugary sweetness.The ice man with his block of ice with no clue to the origins of the water that made the ice.He crushed the ice,added tantalising colours some of them hardly the kind of food colouring that one would imagine but the trill of sucking of sweetened crushed ice was bliss.The candy man with sticky multicoloured candy on a wooden pole that he would twist around our wrists into funny shapes.

 

We were forbidden to eat any of this on the grounds that it was unhygienic (which it was) and not safe (true again).But when one is a child these adult concerns are irelvent.So when we had collected enough change we would indulge in these summer temptations.

 

Strange but all of them have disappeared.Today I find children being treated to junk food in air-conditioned comfort and its not so different really.The chicken in the kfcs are genetically modified,the bread is industrial quality devoid of all nutrients and for all the so called hygiene its isn’t very different as the junk in the food makes up for all that.Kids are today more prone to things which as children we didn’t know the meaning of.Obesity….what was that….rickets….it existed in textbooks.We didn’t suffer sun strokes despite being in the sun ,we didn’t get fat because we had too much running around to do.

 

I wonder what life as a kid in this day and age is like,computers,tv constant reality shows….well I guess the quality of life just gets worse every year.My mother still talks of her wild childhood and I would gladly trade places just for the fun of it all.But summer still has its charms.

Hospital visits

Because the Internet connection is still playing up,this is yet another futile attempt at blogging but one never says never so here I am.

Looking after old people is never an easy job at the best of times,but its worse when one has the added responsibility of having to do it all alone.Of course if one is saddled with someone like my mother one is not entirely sure if one is to laugh or cry.

Today was a review meeting at the hospital with her doc.The appointment was fixed for 10.30am and knowing the way my mom loves to sleep late,getting there on time is a huge challenge.I plan well in advance and get tea and breakfast done,get her to brush her teeth and choose the saree that she will wear.Considering her hand is in a sling this leaves us with limited choices as the loose fitting blouses are few and the sarees that match even fewer.She being the proverbial squirrel,has many brand new sarees stored in pristine condition which she refuses to wear(her reason being that they are new and uncomfortable,never mind that i point to the fact that if worn once we could soften if and wear it again....falls on deaf ears)This morning i choose a pretty pink saree and blouse to match.Objections are raised at once,for the reasons quoted above,so i get into commander mode and issue a direct order,this or nothing.Much sulking and planning of next move follows.I have won the first round so we proceed to wear the saree.Now anyone who has to wear this five yards of material knows how difficult it can be to do,more so when one has to get someone else to wear it.Well i thought i managed pretty well and had it all under control.Oh no,perfectionist that she is,she found fault with the length of the pallu(the part which is draped over one shoulder).Then the pleats were all wrong.Now the function of the pleats is just to make movement easier,but she doesn't think so.Twice I am made to redo the whole thing.The clock by now has inched to the ten o clock mark and we are still getting dressed.Back to issuing direct order.This time its agreed to and we are somewhere close to leaving.Then she decided to pay for the hospital visit.More delays while i search her purse for non existent money(she has used up her allowance this month but refuses to admit it,and as usual she suspects me of not searching properly).Back to third direct order.I will pay and off we go.Tedious climb down flight of stairs,get into the car and the long wait at the hospital,during which time her mood has changed and she is busy passing comments on all folks visiting the hospital.Once the doctor sees her my mother is all charm.No tantrums and quiet angelic(she like the chap).Off we go to physio therapy.Now this is one of her pet hates.She dislike the word exercise,convinced that it was invented for everyone else but her so I know that this is going to be a huge hurdle to cross.But as always miracles never cease and the young man who attends to us is good looking and charming.My mother is instantly taken in(she loves young presentable men and can turn on the charm with ease,and I thank god it wasn't some very professional young woman...she would have sulked instantly).When i get back after paying the bill,there she is like a lamb,doing all the exercises without a murmur.The young man is busy encouraging her and they are getting along like a house on fire.Well he gives her a schedule and we are back home.The mother rather pleased with her outing,her meetings with nice young men who are all charm and where does that leave me.....oh well I am still,the morose daughter,who turns commander and issues direct orders....but well as far as my mother is concerned.....in life one does have to put up with some inconveniences,even when they are daughters.I am still wondering if i should laugh or cry....she can drive me nuts.But I still love her and its time for her tea

Nirvana

Nirvana....i think that's a state to reach when nothing touches you and youre beyond everything.I always wondered what it felt like.The man who wrote about it was wandering the wilderness in search of truth so I am assuming he was hungry and tired and physically exhausted.And when that happens your body and mind do reach another level.

The last few days have been one of trying to put some order into madness,but that's impossible when one is sleep deprived.So after some snatches of sleep,I get up and get going to get food ready,read the paper(an activity that can be missed and not affect life)look after the mothers need,have a quick bath and a cat nap and get going again because by then tea time has rolled around and dinner is round the corner.Do this a couple of days and the mind becomes numb and the body takes on a personality of its own.One is on auto pilot and nothing matters.One has reached that point in life when everything can just roll over,so i smile,entertain and continue to function on another level quiet apart from what i am really going through.It means that I am physically and mentally exhausted and I have attained nirvana....not a bad place to be considering I didn't have to smoke grass to get there....oops...tea time is here again

patience is a virtue

Patience is supposed to be a virtue and if that is the case then I am a little too virtuous for my own good and I don't like me.It also leaves one physically and mentally exhausted.It means having to put up with every ones whims and fancies,having to put up with inefficient service providers and not loose ones cool and having to wait in suspense for everything.How this can make anyone virtuous is beyond me.Right now I am being bounced around by one person to the next because they cant trace a courier,thanks to a local holiday and a Sunday in between.

Yesterday I was questioned on the validity of an Xray being taken.It went something like this.

She:"are you sure this X Ray was taken Madam"she asked.(Never mind that i had the bill for it.How something that didn't happen could be billed is beyond me)."

Me:"yes,is there a problem?

She:well there is no record of the same.

Me: perhaps it wasn't recorded,after all it was 4.30 am and at the emergency room

She:that's not possible,how sure are you that it was taken?

Me:(with all the patience i can muster and on the verge of a nervous collapse)Yes I am sure,I was with the patient in the X Ray room and again in the emergency room when the doc checked the X Ray...anymore details?

She:( shakes her head and says again like a stuck record)not possible madam

I was ready to throw a fit when one chap comes in and checks the computer....ah there it is...all taken and ready.

Me:(sigh of relief)

She:well i cant find it,please wait.

After much searching and numerous phone calls and endless discussions,they locate it and hand it over.Half an hour later I leave with a halo around my head...all patience and virtue,but am ready to kill the first person who come my way...

The XRay then travels all the way to its destination by courier.I have been promised a date an a time taking into account all the holidays in question.As on the date promised it hasn't reached and this is a destination I could have driven to in three hours.So what do I do,but wait patiently and hope to god that it reaches the doctor safe and sound.

In the meanwhile I answer questions and dole out good advice to a mother for who the pain is driving her mad.But its my job to hold everything together and still maintain my sanity.So I wait again patiently till I get some answers and honestly all this patience business is pure humbug,what really works is some good old kick ass aggression if you ask me