From despair to hope

Yesterday I felt like Hannah in the bible. There I was in a hospital room having a raging battle with God. First was pleading,begging,which then slowly turns to anger,to despair. What happens when one is prisoner of ones memories. A first traumatic experience of seeing life ebb away was enough to scar me for life. Much as I deny its existence the memories pop up like bad pennies. More so when a medical crisis occurs involving an old parent. The need a blood test they say and try to draw blood. Twenty minutes later there is no progress....the last time this happened it was the end. This time I am furious with God. Why oh why I ask do you test someone so much. What did my mother do to deserve to go through this trauma. Why do some people live medical emergency free lives and drop dead without much ado ? Questions for which I have no answers. I pray for twenty minutes and nothing happens. Few hours later the doctor arrives. She as usual is well groomed,ready smile on her face,twinkling eyes and a positive attitude. She is pretty much half the solution. She always focuses on the positives while delivering not so good news in a way that doesn't get one all het up. She tells my mother she is on the mend however slowly,tells her she should be able to go home soon. Gets a lot of stuff organised the moment my mothe complains of pain and leaves the room with good cheer behind. My mother comes to life again. Then her cousin decides to visit. A cousin who have been in and out of hospital,who is so ill that I wouldn't recommend she travelled as far as she did to meet my mother. Her husband all of ninety and suffering dementia also comes along. The laught and the warmth they radiate is so uplifting. She is such a source of strength. Nothing worries her,she can laugh at her lack of hearing. She tells my mother it's a huge joke that they meet despite my mother saying they may never meet again. She tells my mother that she is going to be fine,sharing similar experiences that she has survived. As both ladies are deaf to a degree,her son and I do all the transcriptions. Her son has to deal with both parents single handed and he is calm and patient. I watch and marvel at their attitude. What am I complaining about. Here I am with enough infrastructure on hand so why a, I raging with God. They visit ends and my mother and I have a good gossip session . She talks nineteen to the dozen and I am happy to go along. She tells me how frightened she was and we share our fears. At the end of the day I am far more cheerful than when I started,having had a bath,a good sleep and seeing my mother in better spirits. It's a far more humble person talking to God now,someone who has learnt that as a human it's ok to argue with God,it's ok to despai but in the end there is a quiet confidence that the good lord above has enough ways to deal with my pain,enough ways to teach me things I don't understand and in the process make me a better person

Dull July

When July came along i was quietly thankful for the blessings of six months. Months that went by without much drama. When one lives with an old parent then every day is a miracle. Every day we live to tell another tail so no drama on the health from is good. Unfortunately when one has old parents,chances are that most of ones friends are in the same boat. Most of the old people are the ones we have known since young adulthood so any tragedies that strike our friends parents ,strike us too ...in many ways it's a shared pain. So when at the turn of the month my friends mother was diagnosed with cancer at the ripe old age of 88,it was a shared pain. How does one comfort when one is too involved. Messages and emails don't convey the empathy one feels at such times. But we muddle along offering small comforts. Sometimes it's just knowing that ones friends are around for moral support and that's the best we can do. This news was followed closely by a sister having all kinds of problems with her health which ended up in her needing surgery. The sister in question is a bit of a drama queen and while she is low on facts (simply because she probably thinks it's too boring to share) she is full on stories. Unfortunately as I relay her stories to my mother (always censored for her ears) the mother goes into a tizzy. Not being a mother I can't relate a hundred percent to her feeling of anxiety but I have to deal with that. The second sister in question only adds to my stress levels as she imagines the worst possible outcomes but these fears are not relayed to the mother but between the two of them and their stress,my stress levels go up. The moth in the meanwhile went through a painful process of what we call old age aches and pains,which gets me all nervous in the light of all the ill health that was happening around me. I did wait for the month to get over as soon as possible.

While it wasn't a bad month,suffice to say it wasn't a happy one either but in the end it was over and am I glad of that.

The best of friends

We met some thirty odd years ago and the only thing we had in common was to use the same bus stop or to make a dash for the loo which was two buildings away and still manage to get back to class on time. Over three years or so a bond formed and though we were like chalk and cheese there was something in the relationship which kept it going. We continued to visit each other in different cities and while her friends were the pot smoking,rock music types who talked philosophy over drinks,I a managed to blend in a bit. Was it just curiosity on my part or just the need to meet people outside of my comfort zone. I was the conservative type and wanted to finish college,get a job earn some money and get on with it. She wanted to do research ,practise psychology,become a therapist,travel the world and do fun stuff. I also wanted to travel and do fun stuff but economic security took precedence over all else. I saved,she spent. I jumped relationships got my heart broken,picked myself up and finally met someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. She had plenty of friends the world over,never had a serious relationship,lived hand to ,mouth and was happy. In fact we were  both happy in very different ways. Somewhere over the years our bonds grew stronger. She moved countries but we stayed in touch,technology came to our rescue and we kept in touch more often. We even managed to meet in different countries and despite being so different we could come up with identical lists of things to do. I worry about her,that's my job. She will talk me out of it. Long after other relationships have fallen by the wayside we continue to be friends,the telepathy continues as it does in relationships that have survived over the years. Would marriage and a husband play havoc with our friendship would my priorities change?. I did wonder but it seems the husband and she get along like house on fire. They can discuss me like I don't exist and I am greatly amused. They talk cricket,I can't stand the game,they discuss my total lack of discipline which gets their collective goats but I couldn't care less.They have tried knocking sense into my fairy brain but I continue to dream and all the while the twosome friendship has now become a friendship triangle. It's wonderful when one can marry ones best friend and keep the other best friend at ones side. As we grow older we thank technology which allows us to text when our hearing slows down,we can FaceTime and see each other and despite and ocean and a continent separating us,we stay firm friends. I am still wondering how we can be so different and still have so much common ground but such is human behaviour and I for one am happy

No time to live

Some twenty odd years ago when home loans were being made available,and buying an apartment meant a big of scrimping and saving,I decided once and for all to buy and apartment. A roof ove my head along with a job meant independence from the tyranny of the landlord and living in constant fear that just as one was getting comfortable one would be expected to up and go. Hunting for an apartment wasn't easy and one had to consider many factors before one ventured into buying also one had to like the place,the locality,take into account cost of transport vs savings etc etc. Most important of all after identifying these parameters ,was to actually like the layout of the apartment. I was looking for light airy and spacious ones and find it I did. Not much space but perfect for a couple. The second time around after some five years I found another apartment applying all the same rules. A few modifications later I had what I wanted. 

Now I read some of the glossy ads for buying apartments and I am totally baffled. Did the world change so rapidly. Did requirements change so much.i ask myself (after reading about private terraces,swimming pools,tennis courts etc etc....) how does one buy a home looking at these ads. I am yet to see an ad that gives the layout of the flat. I am assuming most people still live in apartments and not in swimming pools and gardens. Let's look at things one by one. The private terrace garden. For once gardening is a tough ask. One must like it as an activity and it takes a lot of time and effort or before you know it it consumes you with weeds. So how does one find time for this assuming one is working. Really one has to be working to afford any of these apartments ( they don't come cheap). Not only must you be working,the salary should be fairly fancy,which means blood sweat and tears. So while it's nice to come home to a garden,who exactly is going to look after it. Alright let's get to the pool and the walking track and the yoga studio. Let's assume you leave home at 9 am (lots of people with this kind of money and that kind of location ,are working shifts so 9 am is a tall orde) and come home at 9 pm....it's too late to garden as one won't know the weeds from the plants even in a well lit one and plants do go to sleep you know. So let's assume it's time for a swim. Till ten pm for a one hour swim,dinner at ten thirty,watch some tv admire the view and hit the bed at midnight . Wake up at five,go for a yoga class till six,read a paper,grab some packaged microwaved food for breakfast. Rush out of the house at seven thirty to beat rush hour traffic....you get the point. So what if there are all the amenities for a fantastic live. It defeats the purpose. In the rush to get so much done one is left with little time to enjoy it all,food become some processed stuff which one is picking off the shelf of a store so gone are the fresh produce which you the ad claims will be eating because,and this takes the cake and the baker....you will be gardening in your own vegetable patch....laughable or what. I read it all again and realised that marketing today is building up dreams that have nothing to do with reality. I wonder if the copywriter in question has even seen a garden or spent time running around growing vegetables and doing yoga and swimming etc and yet getting a life. By the way not one word about the. Size of this fancy apartment one is going to be living in but if my guess is right,it might resemble a five star hotel room in any city simply because that's what the clientele is used to. Thank god I don't need to buy an apartment in this day and age ....happy am I who can swim,do yoga, garden and grow my own veggies and eat fresh,get time to smell the roses....but I had to give up a fancy salary to get all this...and that my friends is the reality.

Summer

I did promise to write up a review of the month that was,just to keep up with my failing memory and to count my blessings. All to often we focus on the negatives,the things that went wrong and in the daily grind of day to day living it's all too easy to forget the good times. It seems May and June and gone by and for some reason I haven't made a single note of these months so let's club them together.

Every year the advent of May is not a happy time ,for those of us who live in this city it spells dog days ,blistering heat and untold misery as we sweat and tire ourselves out coping with the heat. This may our prayers were for courage and fortitude to be able to face it all despite growing older. It's also a scary time when one has an old person to look after (though the old person in question just gets on with it and can't understand what the fuss is all about. However we were in for a surprise. Not only did the temperature not cross into the 40s ,we actually had some rain and pleasant weather. My guest in May was the nephew who stayed for a week. Normally I don't entertain guests in May and June but thankfully he came with good weather following in his wake,so it was a good visit with plenty of good food which didn't give us heartache or rIse our blood pressure. The mother was glad to have her grandson At home and we were glad of the company. All in all a good month. 

June I am happy to say was one of the better June's in a long while. An unexpected visit from my sister was fun for us and after a break we were invaded by my neice and her brood. Having four children in a house that is essentially child free,meant that we had to child proof the house. Off went cushions ,table cloths (small children have a habit of pulling at tablecloths and bringing everything crumbling down) indoor plants were sent out and all breakable so were kept out of reach. Menus were drawn up,entertainment rosters dealt with and we got down to business. All children were read the riot act as soon as they arrived (in the past they have broken a few things so rules were framed to prevent such disasters)... They arrived and in a small flat four children and two adults kind of filled the place so in five minutes gone was our well planned child safe environment. Mercifully these are by far, well brought up children who actually understand the meaning of no and yes (in my limited experience most kids think these are words to be ignored especially coming from adults). Our neighbours dogs kept the youngest child entertained though at one point I was worried that the dog mistook the child for his dinner (not that he looked anything like the dogs dinner). The husband was official child minder while I retreated to the kitchen which is my place of refuge. My mother ofcourse simply got down to enjoying her grandchildren and her great grand children and basked in it. Ofcourse snacks were her doing so banana fritters which are a favourite with the kids was very much on the cards. All too soon three days were over and our guests were ready to leave and a few days later the month ended but not before I got myself off for a few days of swimming which thanks to the mild weather was possible.

So despite all the gloom and doom in the world two of the worst months turned up to be by our standards,not bad at all.

April is the cruelest month

April is the cruelest month wrote t s Eliot and it sure was one for us. As April began so did the heat,from the first week to the next the searing heat intensified into a heatwave across the south with madras being by far the coolest hovering between 39-40degrees c. It was also a month when my mother turned 85. Eighty five holds untold terrors for me. At 85 my father had a stroke and a man who was very much master of his life,grew old and grey overnight,his memory at odds with him,struggling to maintain his sense of ease and for me that age will always remain a frightening prospect. Small wonder then that I wanted to indulge my mother,something I never managed with my father and which to this day makes me feel guilty,but as I can't change the past I decided to control the present. My sisters were informed that it was a special day(something they should have known for themselves but one can never depend on my siblings to do much about it,hence the reminders). Miracles do happen and both turned up as promised (I neve take their promises too seriously ,they being infamous for breaking them,actually just one of them but then...) and my mother was super delighted. Our ex cook also turned up and cooked up a storm which made things a lot easier( my mother at best of times refused to exit the front door so all celebrations must come to her).

In the midst of all the happiness was great sorry. One of the cousins,the one who help everyone of the cousins on my moms side together,who was the fountain of all news....suffering from cancer she was on her last legs and as April came along I was mentally prepared for her death. But it's never easy especially to think of a brave woman (who in the face of suffering,could still crack jokes and keep us amused) dead at 63. We believed she had more years left but that was not to be and two days before my mothers birthday she passed away. To keep a grip on grief and to pretend that all is well,isn't easy either but knowing my mothers fragile psychological state,I kept the news for until after her birthday. The rest of the month passed in sadness. There was a wedding which wasn't talked about much,coming as it did soon after the death. The heat took over my sadness and as i wilted and suffered through the days,I did stop to count my blessings. I was happy that the birthday went off as it did,I was glad that the heat was not as bad as it was in the other states,I was happy that despite the heat the mangoes ripened and the market was full of fruit.

As May is on us I wait for the dog days to begin. 21 days of relentless heat is what I am in for and every year it gets worse,and every year my friends and I mourn about it like its something new and by the end of it we learn to adapt and forget as the weather turns .

Mad March

Mad as March hares I've been told from early days. It's a birthday month and we didn't have a single guest. After the hectic February March was relatively tame. Twice a year both times in March we make it a habit to go out for lunch ....it used to be dinner but that has stopped since the old mother came to stay. Having been doing this for eighteen years and having come away disappointed because the food wasn't so great or the price didn't justify the quality and realising that if one is a good and innovative cook then (other than the hype and the chance not to be in the kitchen for a day) it really isn't such a big deal after all to be eating out . This year we called out ex cook back to cook for both days. He made all my favourites,entertained us with tales of his life and cooking and all in all saved me the cooking and we enjoyed it all and we're happy not to have gone out after all. 

The heat on the other hand has been edging up to summer levels and the air conditioning had to come on. On the exercise front we managed a respectable number of hours and I for one managed to stay meat free thanks to a group challenge for lent. Not to say I wasn't looking forward to Easter. By good Friday my meat cravings looked like it would make me give in to temptation but one did manage to last the course. Unfortunately nothing positive in terms of weight loss or even lost inches to talk about so other than proving to myself that I could handle a food challenge,nothing else to write home about.

My straggly container garden long in need of some attention got a much needed makeover thanks to unearthing a Gardner who actually knew his job. Suddenly it's all looking a lot better maintained and some fresh soil had done wonders. My vegetable garden had come down to some basics so the chilli and tomato ,basil and rocket are all flourishing and it's a great joy to harvest ripe red tomatoes and birds eye chilli. Considering chilli hasn't been my strong point it's great to see them bloom and ripen .

A quiet March and a restful one at that and once again a prayer of thanks for seeing us through the third month of the year.

Farmers markets,Indian style

Many trips abroad to little villages have made me an ardent fan of the farmers market. To me it represents all that's good about food producers knowing their food and being passionate about it. It's a hunting ground for home made produce,cheese from small farms,olive oil and the handmade soaps and other produce. Ofcourse cured meats are a big part of it. The emphasis is on healthy eating and nothing commercial is sold. It's all about small holdings who use the traditional ways of farming,cheese making and curing meats. There are no labels screaming vegan ,gluten free or organic. I must admit that my experiences abroad have been limited to European villages.

In India the farmers markets are mostly about fruit and vegetables,also some baskets and other home needs. I love going to them as the vegetables and fruits are fresh ,most often than not the farmer has grown it himself and it for a short durations thanks to not having the benefits of refrigerators. There are no fancy produce there just locally grown produce. In the hills ofcourse one get a differs kind of fruits but they will be misshapen but sweet and natural.

In madras I have been searching for a market but most of them are in the part of the city inhabited by the well healed (read rich and famous) and are frequented mostly by people who suffer from what I call food guilt. Most people are on diets,giving up on one food or the other because it's the current trend but they will have enough research to prove all its benefits. To someone like me (who believes in eating all foods that are local and in season and who has no fear of oils and fat and who eats anything that once walked the earth or swam in the sea) food guilt I can't relate to. Last Sunday I finally got an opportunity to go to a farmers market. The address already told me the kind of folk that would frequent it but go I did. There were many a wilting vegetable and all of them said organic and farm fresh. Kiwi fruit on the table. Since when did that become local?. Home made cakes and brownies and cookies yes very nice . Cheese from the hills was good too. Honey from farms all over India. Good but not enough information on how the bees are kept,the farms that they are reared in but the people in the stall wer friendly and knew some stuff but I suspect they are distributors and not the actual bee keepers. Some of the flavours were suspect but I did buy a natural honey. Homemade pickles ,yes I did pick a few but sad to say my mothers pickles are far far superior. The soaps all handmade and well packaged but having bought some handmade soaps from a farmer in Germany I was a bit disappointed at the total lack of fragrance. Plenty of clothes but sadly nothing suited for the heat of madras why not just stock cottons linens and mulls. There was one shop with linen but ofcourse it was way too expensive. The herbs sold were all from the hills and no one in the stall could tell me if they could be grown in madras. Ofcourse enthusiasm was very much in evidence and all of them telling me it will grow but having tried my hand at growing them and knowing full well that it won't take root,it was disappointing to note that no one in the stall who claimed to be farmers ,had actually grown them in the city and tested it out. Altogether not a bad experience but as expected the place was full of well dressed stick thin women and the stalls were mostly manned by young things with their Apple computers at the ready,well dressed,very much on diets and a passion for food guilt. We wer allowed to taste a lot of the produce so I had stuff made of mullets,rice with husks still in evidence and everyone beaming at me and telling me it is all good and healthy . Point taken but what about taste. Thank god for samples,honestly if healthy means tasteless I would prefer an early grave thank you very much. So for now I will continue to research the so called farmers markets until I find some where the farmer (even if he or she can't speak English) will be on hand to explain what it takes to have grow the produce and why he thinks his methods are good and sustainable,until then it will just be another outing for me

Fun February

February is one month that's short on days and full of demons for me. Ghosts lurk in the corners of everyday and I live in constant fear of something going amiss. Many February s have made me fear it for its unhappy turn of events,so it's not unusual for me to not look forward to this month. This year the husband decided to disappear for a week visiting his parents so the start of the month already looked bleak. Deciding that I must lay to rest some of ,my ghosts,I decided to fill my days with company,and invited a friend over for tea. This meant having to clean the house with spit and polish and bake a cake or two,and kept me on a feverish high. The friend although she came late,cheered me up no end and it was a fun evening. Then things got a bit better. A nephew who we hadn't seen in a year landed up for two days but extended it for a week and the mother and I had company to keep us going. Being a chatty type once he gets started he kept me entertained all evenings. By the time the husband came back I was well into entertaining mode and decided to gather all my childhood friends for a meal. Ofcourse this turned into a right Royal riot. The girls all landed up loaded with sweets and all manner of  stories,jokes and laughter. Some we hadn't seen in thirty odd years turned up and the lunch extended into tea and the noise we created was so much for an otherwise silent home ,that the neighbours wanted to know what was going on. Following close on the heels of the schoolgirls was the elder sister,quiet unexpectedly. Resident clown and all round entertainer she kept us all in good humour for three days. A breather of a few days and the other sister and husband also land up in yet another unexpected visit . Their stay for a week brought to end and eventful February where I didn't have time to brood,or think and where despite all the guests I managed to keep close to an exercise routine,managed to stay off meat for lent and managed to stay sane and stress free. It was almost like Christmas came in February and for that I am greatful.

High on a bullet train

It's eleven in the morning,the train station of Santa Maria novella is crowded with tourists. It's not a very large station but is noisy and busy. Yet it's clean ,people walk off the trains and exit without a fuss. There are no large families crowing around meeting and greeting . The sign boards are clear. Our train is a high speed one to Roma termini and will go at a speed of 225 km/ hour. The countryside goes past ,large tracks of grassland mountains in the distance thick forests of pine and local trees. Tunnels abound on this stretch. People  toil on the land and it's currently sunny and hot. The train itself is far better than the etihad flight we came on. There is enough leg room ,air conditioning works, and it's soundless and fast. The husband is already comparing it to India,wondering if such a train can run between Bangalore and madras. I have to gently remind him that in India bullet  trains are the stuff of election campaigns and slogan shouting. It takes political will and a sense of duty to ones people to provide such facilities. In my lifetime I would be surprised if we saw anything like this. Ordinary people travel on this train. In our country if and when it did happen it would be out of reach of the common man. I decide that this is a futile exercise and concentrate instead on enjoying the journey. After all it isn't every day that I travel across Italy on high speed trains. 

My geography lesson

Geography,the study of regions and terrains was a favourite subject but as one grows up,it's impact on the humans living in different regions can't be emphasised more. From food to culture to attitudes geography plays a vital role. In lush green surroundings people are are passionate about gardening,growing their own vegetables and fruits,the convert excess to wines,liquor and all manner of vinegars. If winters are harsh,meat is cured,fruits preserved and vegetables pickled. The harsh winters makes for a robust physique. Most often than not the harsh winters makes people speak out exciting sport,skiing,mountain climbing,snowboarding and others. Their cultures are different too. Mountain people tend to stay close to each other knowing that the elements can change their lives in minutes.

Move over to the deserts. Flying over endless miles of sand dunes it comes to me that this endless brown arid terrain without a trace of vegetation can drive anyone crazy. The sand is fine and treacherous. It's misleading,distances become mirages and people can die in intense heat. Searching for water is the biggest obsession and when they find it then life starts. 

Brown and green,white and blue seem to be the predominant colours of geography. The Mediterranean on the other hand is all shimmering blue and rich in vegetation. Sometimes I think they have the best of everything,mild temperate climate,and vegetation that can grow in sunlight and rain and mild winters. Small wonder then that they claim to have the best diets. Talk of balance.

Then the Pacific. A large continent like Australia is a totally different place altogether. It has it all,the sea,the desert the island feel the outback and a small population so far away from the rest of the world that they are a law unto themselves. Laid back ,happy outdoor people,with the occasional headaches of migrants and boat people.

My reflections are all limited to my small holidays taken abroad. They have no factual strength but I was never strong on facts. To me watching people,connecting them to their environment,observing their lifestyles teaches me lessons that no geography class ever did. I combine my learning of geography with my study of psychology and the combination is fascinating. Listening to Europeans who lived at the time of the wars,to understand what it's like to be bombed,to watch refugees struggle to escape and then find that they have jumped from the fat into the fire,it reinforces that our perceptions move us to places,places where we think we will have a life,places closer to our homelands but entirely different and I wonder....would I have the courage to uproot myself ever from my comfort zone or does war and famine and repression render people choice less....I keep wondering and learning

Counting blessings in January

As the year draws to a close I ask myself ...was it a good year,or a stressful one...and for the life of me I can't remember. Of course my mind is like a sieve and has been so always but this year the decision was to record all the good things that happen month on month. I've decided to make 2016 a year of counting my blessings . Will I carry it through is a million dollar question but let's make a start.

Jan 2016 slid quietly by just as I wanted it too. All that noise and partying are things of the past so except for the crackers shattering the silence for an hour or two I slept the sleep of the dead and woke up refreshed. The mother for some reason gives us money as gifts for the new year and even though we don't need it we accept it with gratitude and it makes her happy. Adding joy to someone's life can be quiet pleasurable.

My container garden flourished and bore fruit despite some of my baby plants had to be rescued from torrential rain which vey nearly killed them. It is getting a kind of pattern now and doesn't look as disheveled as it did a month ago. I hope to harvest some cherry tomatoes very soon. 

 Our first guest of the year arrived and even though the visit was only for two days it was a relaxing time for me spending it with a friend and her mother,both of whom I have know for close to thirty years.

A friend who has shared many joys and sorrows and who's house was like a second home for me until she went away across the seas to England. Despite extending invitations year on year she has never come to stay but did so this year. To see her relax and to see her mom eat my food with relish was such joy. Time well spent catching up on conversations.

Our next guest was a couple very much like us albeit much younger but we share the same love of all things food and as my basil plant was growing into a little tree we invited them for an Italian meal to relive our experiences of Italy and to indulge in some good food and wine. An evening well spent and lots of fun.

Jan also saw a reasonable amount of swimming in the new pool. Smaller and shallower than the old one it nevertheless stand in the shade of some high walls and trees so swimming in the afternoon heat isn't as bad as it was in previous years. Not having a clock means that I manage to have long pleasurable swims.

My great love of all seafood has me checking prices on a daily basis and what joy to find fish prices dropped in Jan. The fridge is now so full of fish that I can indulge my passion for fish pickle,fish and chips and everything else fishy.

The mother got a clean chit from her doctor and seems in high spirits which is a blessing.

The mornings are still cool so walking hasn't Ben painful and leaving windows open to fresh air is an added bonus.

The first month of the year has sailed past and it's been a good one.

Warm January

It's a warm January afternoon and I am half way through a novel on racing. The description of the race course,the imagery of the place are all so wonderful and calming and for a moment I thought I must try and describe my surroundings. Of course compared to English country side,the dusty descriptions of an Indian city can hardly compare but this is my home and my life and perhaps,just perhaps,it may be interesting to those who live amongst beauty and don't quiet appreciate it.

It's meant to be the coldest month in this part of the world but the temperature hovers around thirty degrees centigrade,the sun shines brightly. The room is full of furniture of a bygone past,all scavenged from ansestors long gone or from parents still a around. Clothes pile up for ironing but the ironing man doesn't come (we hardly iron our own clothes nowadays,this is a land of pelenty of people and everyone needs a job).

The air is thick with traffic sounds,an ambulance with sirens blaring comes around almost every hour. The trees are heavy with dust and the only birds one hears are the crows. Silence is unheard of in this town. Houses are stark all concrete and glass adding to the insufferable heat. My thick red curtains keep out most of the light in an attempt to keep cool. The fans whirl non stop and the house is filled with the aroma of a thousand spices. Food is served piping hot and it induces a sense of lethargy which invariably means afternoon naps are the order of the day. The sound of water trickling isn't from any brook or stream ,it's from a tap, a car being washed of the grime of a journey or two. Dogs are being cooled down by warm tepid water. Hot water runs in our taps,boiled by the sun,plants wilt in the heat and it's not even summer.

I walk in the afternoon heat (with dust rising with every footstep) to a swimming pool to exercise and cool off. The water is hot but a few laps and one is happy. Desert like flora offer some shade and the afternoon calm is only broken by the pigeons dipping into the pool to drink of the water. It's all silence here and I can only hear my feet and arms trashing through the water.

This is a day in a hot tropical city where cold in unheard of,where the heat rises each year making it hotter and hotter. There is no respite but in its own way this is what I've lived with all my life and if rolling hills and horses were what I was offered ,yes I would like that too but sooner than later I would want to come back to the familiar heat and dust of an Indian city.

Goodbye Germany

Finally the holiday ends. A mixture of seeing places,living like locals and generally doing nothing. I have experienced extreme heat and cold and must admit that there is something very alluring about temperatures in single digits. A part of my heart lies in Germany simply because it's a beautiful place unspoilt by tourism. If there are any tourist they are Germans exploring thei own country. Difficult to find English speaking tours here. Most people wonder why I make my trips to Germany.  Friends apart,it is a beautiful place for many reasons. It's cities have some old building,it's weather is mild to cold everything one imagines of Europe. The people are conservative,thrifty,hardworking and practical. I rarely have come across a stylish German. Sold footwear and well wearing coats are more their thing. Contrast this with France or Italy and one has only to look at the woman. All high heels and high fashion they are a treat to the eye. The style can be intimidating but in Germany it's fine to be unstylish.

The landscape again is almost like England,with lush green fields,cows,horses and farms. Farmers markets abound and the fruits and vegetables are fresh. Small farmers sell local produce,and are proud of being local. The food unlike Italy and France is nothing to write home about. It's solid meat ,potato and salad and of course the pickled cabbage and some others. The beer is splendid in its variety. Even in the cold they can drink chilled beer and be happy. One doesn't have to worry about wine etiquette,unless one wants to or would like to be a snob. 

Quaint little dolls and garden gnomes do every garden,the forests which inspired the brothers grim ,continue to bring fairy tales alive. Many a tradition is unique to Germany.

Germans have no problem acknowledging their religion. They are Christian and proud to be so. I was surprised to see an entire story on immigrants based on the bible at the airport,but in now way does this belief infringe on another's freedom. For a history that cannot be forgotten,this belief comes as welcome fact. 

Being green is not an alien concept for the average German ,as is obeying rules. Does it ever occur to them to break a rule?. Perhaps but not too often. Trust is another big thing here. They actually trust the government and their people. They will faithfully bag garbage in to organic,plastic and paper waste. Bottles are recycled into green blue and white bottles. No one makes a mistake on the colours. In my country to get people to bag garbage is a huge task leave alone asking them to segregate it ,unless one is a snob or the foreign returned rich Indian who likes to think they are different from others and who live is gated communities where it is easy or the in thing to do.

I have learnt to wipe kitchen surfaces and keep it all sparkling something I find difficult to do in ,y own house

Of course like in all countries they have their issues but a German would be shocked if a system in his country didn't work. Efficiency is a given and for me it's amazing how everything run like clockwork. Never have I had to wait for a bus beyond the time mentioned. Trains have come to the same platform that they were promised to arrive on six months ahead. The order in contrast to ,my chaos is what brings me back. In small towns women and girls walk home late at night,run in parks any time of day and despite being deserted,they have no fear. I loved walking here in the sure knowledge that I was safe. Never in all my life have I felt so safe,not even in the suburb wher I have lived all my life. Why do I take the car out even to go a short distance in the night? I have to constantly look over my shoulder if I walk alone in a deserted street and fear is always around the corner. I know there is crime in this country as no country is perfect but one is almost certain that atleast eight percent will be punished for their crimes. Isn't that a great way to live. Yes life isn't easy. No servants,no gardeners even if you have a garden. All the work to be done besides holding full time jobs. Shops close at six thirty in the evenings. No one to iron ones clothes,or wash ones dishes.....yet for all those luxuries in my country I would happily trade it for a hard but efficient life the German way.

The past and the present

All it was ,was a memory of forty odd years ago ,of childhood summers spent in a house many miles from the place I call home. A large six bedroom house its gates heaved under the weight of colourful bougainvillea in a riot of colours. This was where we would swing to and fro just for the fun of it. The main door had four panels with wooden stoppers,those doors have long passed their prime but the old houses keep them. The garden between house and gate was filled with fine pebbles that crumched as you walked up to the front door. No one could come in unannounced you were heard before you were seen. A veranda skirted the house on all sides and this was filled with potted plants of roses,poppies,strange colourful leafy varieties of croutons. The living room had a red carpet running all the way to the back of the house. Walk through the door and one enters a room that had no real purpose except to serve as a meeting place for all the family. The dinning room was a long corridor and behind it on the outside ther was a chicken coup . Fresh eggs had to be collected everyday for breakfast.

Childhood was spent roaming the grounds behind the house where all manner of fruit and vegetables grew. Menus were decided on what was in season and children like us had the pleasure of plucking anything that was in season.

Years later with the grandparents dead the house went to rack and ruin. It's silence was defending at times,no children played on the lawns,no adults had heated discussions and slowly the flowers died of neglect and the fruit trees turned to birds to keep them alive.

I return with my memory intact to try and re create the memory that is so fresh in my mind. I remember the steep road that led to the house and I recognise the bus stop but for the life of me I cannot find the road. There is no address ,for in those days we had only to name our grandfather to find our house but finding someone of that generation is difficult. The main road is packed bumper to bumper with cars ( in our days a bus was a rare occurrence). We have to call a cousin to get directions only to find that we have gone on the road twice but haven't found the house.

Forty years and development has taken its toll. The road has been widened to accommodate all ever increasing traffic and our beautiful pebbled lawn has now become road. The wide sweep to our front door is gone. My cousins have sold part of the garden and in the place of mulberry bushes and cashew nut trees,we now have an ugly tin building. Finally thanks to a frail uncle ( the purpose of the visit besides the memories) sitting in his easy chair watching the world go by,we find the other house in the same compound. It's more modern than I remember I bu it holds no memories. I rush back to the old house to take some pictures. The backyard remains the same wild and overgrown and I recognise some vegetables of my childhood. The side road is still the narrow country parth it was those many years ago and the front door hasn't changed but it has that sad depleted look of a country house once a glorious landmark ,now stripped of its grand status or does one as a small child see things much larger than I now see it as an adult? Whatever the reason I decide to hold on to my childhood memory. It's a lot more real,a lot more colourful and no fancy photography is required to hold it safe in my mind.

The brave walk

I have been afflicted by this strange European hangover and the symptoms are quiet disturbing. Having spent twenty five days walking at all hours of the day and night -in the relative safety of knowing that crime is not as rampant as it is in India-,in Europe, I came home to a life that requires me to take the car out for even short distances. Blistering heat prevents one from walking but when it rained and the temperature dropped,I decided rather foolishly to walk some two kilometres to the library and to do some shopping. Full of enthusiasm and ready to take on the world I donned my walking shoes,took a shopping bag and ventured forth. Little did I realise that not only was it treacherous,dangerous and a totally wrong decision. For one I didn't contend with the state of our roads.  The rain had left large pools of water and the slush was engineered to make even the most sure footed to slip.Bravely I trod on the footpath only to find that most of it was overtaken by hawkers and there I had to tred back on the road,only to be met by on coming traffic which as in all of India doesn't follow any rules. By the time I dodged out of the way of two wheelers,cars and all manner of dizzying traffic I had reached the main road and unscathed may I add. The challenge was to cross to the other side. Now in India it's always the survival of the fittest. Politely waiting for the traffic light to turn green ( there are no traffic light here on this road) is silly. Waiting for vehicles to stop for pedestrians as they do in other countries is to delude oneself of ones own importance. So I straighten my shoulders,take a deep breath and plunge into the traffic as if to the road born. I make it safely to the other side having been cursed by many a driver for having the audacity to cross when they were coming at full speed but like I said what has to be done must be done and walking on Indian roads in peak traffic in the absence of footpaths is not for the faint hearted.

I reach the road where forty years ago we walked every evening stopping to talk to friends on the way. Not a car would be in sight and both sides of the road were lined with houses. Today the houses,(all but a few remain) have given way to commercial establishments,and the crowds have swelled. By the time I reached my destination,survival skills that were lying dormant (thanks in part to have taken to driving for many years now) had kicked in. The return home was a lot easier. I walked with a swagger my Europe hangover almost gone but lesson learnt not to be forgotten ,I discovered the footpath that no self respecting pedestrian in India will use,but I did use it at the risk of falling or slipping thanks to undulations,but was forced to give up in many places. 

As I braved the slush,the traffic and the maniac drivers,I felt proud of myself for taking the risk of walking in peak traffic and in the process I discovered many things about my country,the first being that pedestrians are not a respected lot. This is a country for drivers and not walkers. Will I venture out again.?....well who knows when the spirit of adventure takes over. Until then I think I shall just drive.

My travel companion

Travelling with the husband is like a walk in the park. Overly cautious and always on high alert he is my navigator ,expert map reader,accountant ,personal shopper and travel planner. The kind of person who will plan most details of trips so we have a jolly good time. He wil scan price tags and remember them do quick calculations in his head so we get the best deals and all I have to do is make shopping lists,decide what to eat,read up on enough history and follow him around. The down side(there always is one) is that we will be in bed by ten every night even in the cities with the most happening night life. We won't take very early morning flights and will always get our beauty sleep unless economy dictates otherwise. I am the kind who can depend on a mobile aap to do most of my work. I will happily use gps to find my way in strange cities as physical maps have such fine print it's guaranteed to give me a headache in minutes. I am a wanderer ,it means I can go around in circles and eventually find my way and not get too bothered,while the husband can find the shortest way to any place and get anxious if we get lost. But we make a good travelling pair with a bit of give and take and frankly I can't imagine traveling with anyone else.

The sofa diary

It's three thirty in the afternoon and as is usual for me ,I am lying on a sofa . The big difference is that this is a large roomy sofa and super comfortable,the temperature is 18 degrees c, there are dark clouds outside with a threat of rain and the defending silence is broken only by the sound of a lawn mower in the distance,children's voices in the park ,my stomach grumbles and the sound of my breathing. In my ordinary life I would be lying on the sofa,the fan at full speed,sweating despite it,wondering if silence was a sound and contemplating what to make for dinner. How different.

Morning wa spent walking down many a cobbled street up and down ,curved and hilly and then down to the river to watch swans and ducks swim by peacefully. The walk took us through a tree lined park. The trees in perfect symmetry,the paths full of fallen autumn leaves,birds singing in the branches. People browsing in shops. From one park to another to a sudden spate of shops,we ambled for hours,huddled in coats enjoying the chill air on our skin. In my other life my mornings would mean a one hour walk after which the clothes would have to be peeled off thanks to sweat. The morning would then mean watering some wilting plants ,cooking breakfast while the heat continues to a increase to uncomfortable levels....such is life ...what can't be overcome must be endured.

It's the differences that I embrace.....the present is for memories to be relived in a series of pictures. The regular must be endured and that is life. Each with its own ups and downs. Holidays are all about the ups but real life is a mixture of joy,sorrow and living. Harder yes but also to be enjoyed. The collage of my holiday memories keeps me going. Someone asks why I laze around on a sofa when on holiday. Don't I want to see places and take photos and shop. Yes I've done that too but for me it has to be a mixture. Nature in all its beauty must be appreciated in silence,unbroken and peaceful and for someone who lives in a city this is almost like seeing a place ,it's a new experience. To be in sync with all that's beautiful and wild that for me is pure joy.

The sofa takes it all.

It's a faded pink must have been red at one time. It's the centrepiece of the living room and is about ten years old. I dream about it every so often . It's kind of a premium place to rest oneself ad it's everyone's favourite. A three seater sofa it is and in terms of comfort it's the intimate. One can sink into its comfortable cushions and I don't mean sit,I mean sink. It's relaxes you instantly . Getting out is always a problem,because one never wants to. No one spends much time sitting on it. Most often than not its occupied by someone lounging on it whoever made this piece of furniture was either a pretty lazy person who imagined spending most of his days lounging or it was someone who knew the meaning of comfort and that luxurious feeling. Now don't get me wrong,it's not those designer ones with soft cushions et al. It's cushions are made of canvas,it's colour is faded and in terms of looks it's just another sofa. It wouldn't get a second glance,it wouldn't get rave reviews in the looks departments either. But like a well worn piece of furniture it's not something one would give up easily. It's everyone's favourite seat in the house and when the present owner who has no intentions of giving it up,ever decides to do so I will be standing in line for it. Never mind that I don't have space in the flat. This is one piece of sofa that I have my heart set on.

It's a little bit special

The Italy holiday is over and we are back in Germany to our friends home. This is the last leg of the journey and it's a time to spend with friends and to simply chill ,enjoy the weather and not worry about a thing. We have spent our time in the town square mixing with locals ,enjoying three market days when Italian and French farmers showcased their produce in stalls selling cheese,meat,oil and fresh food. It's a time to eat and drink and browse. Staying at home involves barbecue in the garden,eating fresh apples and plums from trees,watching hilarious French movies and talking non stop with friends. What more can one ask for.

The sun shines and the temperature is around 18 degrees. It's warm in the sun and cool in the shade. I spend my time ogling at the shops. Kitchen stuff is my weakness and I can't believe my eyes at all the beautiful things that are available. The possibilities of decorating things the little art pieces etc are so lovely and simple I want to take it all back home. But of course I can't and will it stick out like a sore thumb in my city's flat. Of course it will so I look and am happy.

Lunch is eaten is and we continue to stroll. Plenty of grape wines in the neighbourhood and I eat them with juice running down my throat. Reminds me of the poem " the goblin men" . The beauty of living in a small town in Europe is are the quaint shops,the cafes,the people and the dogs. It's a laid back life but everyone is productive in their own way. There are no idlers around,no one is wasting time. It's clean and it bright and beautiful. It's another two days and I will be back home to India and I need these memories to keep me going until the next holiday. 

The silence as usual is so unusual I can hear myself breath. This is the kind of peace one craves for. Do I every get this silence back home. Perhaps in the hills but certainly not when houses have common walls and one can literally peak into the other house. Lovely is such a sad word to describe this place because it more than lovely....it's just so special