O Winged One.

  You wake at the break of dawn
Filling the air
With the sweetest birdsong.

You collect twigs and sticks
To build a nest small or big
You soar high in the sky
Inspiring me to spread my wings and fly. 

Happy birthday folks!

The month of September is a 'happy birthday' month in my home. This year my mother turned 84, a on the 8th of September and my sons will turn 23 and21 respectively. Ah, yes, the better- half turns 63 on the 22nd.
Mom at 84 is not doing too badly. She may be feeble and slow of gait but she gets around. She remains prayerful and a voracious reader. Reading the daily newspaper is a must. At home with me for the past few months, she has had very little to do and is happy to catch up on her reading and bonding with her two grandsons who regale her with tales from their ever-so - busy lives. Mom can still sew a button or alter a hemline and am I grateful for that!

Born within two years of each other on the same day, my sons are temperamentally as different as chalk is from cheese. Besides a common date, they share little else. The older is easy going, rectient, generous and musically inclined. The younger who turned 21 is thrifty, hot-headed,  extroverted and an artist in his own right. Quite the foodie and sporting a hopeless sweet tooth, he can rustle up tasty fare.

It's hard to say goodbye,
As you spread your wings,
And get ready to fly.

The years have flown,
How you have grown!
The child is gone,
The man is born.
Fare thee well,
As on greener pastures,
Sons you venture to dwell.

The better - half, well, what do Isay? A tremendous source of strength and support, he has remained by my side for 'better or worse', in 'sickness and health'  for the past 24 years, although I strongly suspect that being a pianist, his first love was and is the piano. He has been listening to my rants and raves interrupting with a word of advice or helping me to look at situations from different angles. My better-half has always stood by me.

He is also a hopeless foodie and adept in the kitchen, his valuable help in the kitchen takes off the load from the routine, 'everyday cooking'.
At 63, he still remains young at heart and quite the party-man.
Oh yes! we disagree and have have our 'cold and frozen shoulder' moments but the silver-wedding bells will chime soon and there is a lot to celebrate.

And I am back

And I am back..
                             My life changed on the April6th, 2019, when I was officially proclaimed 'sick' I am on

the road to wellness. It has been a long and anxious 5months but I am better now and hope to get completely well soon.

I have learnt that there is no greater wealth than good health. If you are healthy, you are strong, positive and happy. So take charge of your health.

Thanks to the awesome support that I received from friends and family, I was able to negotiate every twist and turn that the illness brought.

I learnt that self-pity is a total no-no and you just had to snap out of it.  Wallowing in self-pity just made you more sick and miserable.

Spiritually, it has brought me closer to God. I have begun reading the Bible and praying like I never have in my 55years.

Illness changes you in more ways than one. It may temporarily physically weaken you but will also bring to light changes that you may have to make in your lifestyle. Illness will also make you a stronger person both mentally and emotionally.

Oh yes! there are days, when the climb to good health may seem long and arduous when you want to give up, but you have to keep going  - summon every ounce of your strength and positivity and knock out every trace of the disease from your body.

Your body can heal itself. Take charge of your lifestyle and your food habits and keep disease at bay.

Hope and believe that you are going to get well and you will get well.

Borrowing a  phrase from Cancer warrior Sonali Bendre, I say, "switch on the sunshine'. 

ERASE

Erase hurt and pain,
Forgive, and you will gain.

Erase blindness,
Let there be kindness.

Don't misjudge,
Erase  mistrust, 
Work on a relationship
Don't let it rust. 


Erase the 'cannot', don't tie a knot,
Let positivity be your mascot. 

Erase envy, anger and fear,
Hold close love and good cheer. 

Erase the bad and the ugly
Wear a coat of goodness snugly. 
Always be happy and bubbly!

Be Not Afraid..

On disappointments

It is okay to be down in the dumps
To experience  life's many bumps
Don't fret for too long anyway
For tomorrow is another day
A new beginning is on its way. 

The storm was fierce
The night was long
I prayed, I trusted, 
And there was a rainbow one morn
Thank you, Lord, for the happy song.   

Life is ...not a bed of roses.

It precisely 4.27pm on this 27th day of March and the evening sun is streaming into the living room bringing with it the scent of summer.  How

lovely it is to hear the cuckoo call in the

early hours of the morning. 

I feel bored, disturbed and restless. The results of a job interview were not as I had hoped for. I try and tell myself that whatever happens happens for the best and there could be something better in store for me.

A cheat meal was in line.  I treated myself to a yummy banana and peanut butter smoothie a while ago. That is hardly something you have when on a diet. Since my head is all messed up, I might as well take refuge in comfort food. 

The maid is in the grip of wedding fever. A nephew's wedding is on the horizon which will be followed by the weddings of her own son and daughter. She will go on leave and is keeping a substitute. The substitute is another young girl. I can hardly tell her age. She could be 14 or 15 or even younger or older.   What pains me is their ignorance and illiteracy. The mothers are subject to a life of hardship, usually supporting the entire family, while the husbands waste their time drinking and gambling. The children especially the daughters follow in the footsteps of the mother. 

My maid has still not quite found a groom for her 20-year-old daughter but is anxious to get son and daughter married at the same time to cut costs. The girl has been through two broken engagements. I pray that she is lucky the third time. 

I wish that those in authority would do more for these hapless victims of circumstances - change mindsets and take education to the remotest corners of the country. It is the need of the hour. 

Flower Power

I have not had the Monday blues this week, instead, a deep purple has been the colour of the day. Two lovely deep purple Portulaca flowers greeted me this morning and set my heart aflutter. I bought the plant last week in Pune and carried it all the way to Mumbai. Luckily it survived the journey and now shows off its blossoms in all glory and splendour. The younger son who is quite a pro helped me transfer it from the little packet of mud that it travelled in to Mumbai to a medium-sized pot. 

My gardening skills are improving slowly but steadily. I do not have many gardening tools, in fact, I get by with just a broad blade knife at the moment.  I have learnt a little about mulching and watering and compost and manure. It is nothing but exciting to watch a plant sprout tiny leaves and then watch the leaves grow. You impatiently wait for a bud to open, checking on it every day and when it opens you are thrilled to bits.    There is

a pale peach  Hibiscus bud unfolding and a tiny orange rosebud that will add to the riot of colour in my balcony. The Periwinkle continues to thrive, the branches and flowers growing right outside the balcony.   A

plant bearing deep crimson flowers keeps the purple variety company now.

Age is just a number and here I am to prove the adage true. It is never too late to cultivate a hobby or pursue a passion. Just go with it and let it light

up your life... 

The Happiness Quotient

  A picture  is worth a thousand words. When the above picture,went viral, it received brickbats and bouquets. 
 At face value the picture is nothing but heartwarming. The children are happy as happy can be.
 The real smartphone eludes them, but they make the best use of and find happiness in whatever comes their way even if it is a slipper. We adults spend our lives hankering for more...bigger, better, fancier...it goes on and on. 

Making the most of what you have is what happiness is really about.

 

This post is part of BlogchatterBlogHop link.

So Proud of You.

I was born to middle-class parents who were raised by hard-working and god -fearing ladies and gentlemen. Here I pay tribute to mom's side of the family.  Mom was the third of nine siblings. Two were taken in their youth.  The oldest was a boy and the only son of his parents. Two of the sisters joined the convent and two remained unmarried.

Nana Dorothy and Papa Joseph raised their nine children in a four-roomed house in suburban Mumbai which must have not been quite enough for them. Nana reared pigs and kept poultry in her backyard.  Papa worked at the Port Trust and did voluntary work in the church. The church was close to his heart as it was to his home.   The family saw some very difficult days but coursed through.  As adults, every one of them was able to fend for themselves. My uncle, Berchmans also my Godfather bought a pressure cooker for his mother with his initial earnings. He stood by the family in thick and thin. Generous to a fault, he spoiled rotten his nieces and nephews plying us with presents and treats.  He was simply such a lovely man. Also very pious, he devoted large chunks of his time to church work. I have vivid memories of him calling the family to recite the rosary at 8.30pm every evening. We sat around the dining table and prayed the rosary. He inculcated in his children Savio and Cheryl Ann values that he stood for.  None of his nieces or nephews called him uncle.  He was godfather to three of us but was called 'Godpa' by the rest of the nieces and nephews. 

My grandmother trained her daughters well. Their housekeeping and cookery skills were more than adept. There was aunta Signa, the oldest daughter who turned out some marvellous chitaps and fugias. (traditional East - Indian fare)  and cooked well. She suffered an amputation of her leg but that never turned her into a 'homebody'. She was up and about doing household chores, engaging in outdoor activities and generally living life to the fullest.  My godmother Majorie generally cooked up a storm in the kitchen and sent our taste buds into a tizzy. Her talents went beyond the kitchen, to the beautifully embroidered cushion covers in the living room and the embroidered bedspreads in the bedroom. She was extroverted, generous and jovial and enjoyed a good laugh.   Aunta Grace was a stickler for neatness and cleanliness and put together some amazing croquettes and cutlets.  Aunta Baby(Bernadette) dished up the worlds best pani puri, while my mom juggled housekeeping with a teaching career and managed to turn out some amazing dishes. Mom also supervised my brother David's and my homework.  She sewed as well as she cooked. I can proudly say that many of my dresses were embroidered and tailored by her.  

The aunties who joined the convent were talented in their own right. Sr. Regina or aunta Rega as we fondly addressed her and who left us a year ago spent a major part of her life in Bangalore and knew how to cook South Indian cuisine like the back of her hand. Generous, kind and loving she won the hearts of many.  Sister Pamela's salads are good looking and tasty. She makes a mean Cassatta and gives the words 'cut finely' a whole new meaning. I don't know why hwe addressed them as 'aunta' and not 'aunty' but the name stuck as we still refer to them as 'aunta'. 

Aunty Colette, my godfather's wife, a gentle and patient woman was as talented as the rest of the family.  She did magic with Marzipan, fashioning flowers and fruits with her bare hands. They were so beautifully crafted and tasted so good that you stared, drooled and wolfed them down at the same time.  An excellent seamstress she tailored many of her own clothes as well as her daughter's.

One by one they passed leaving behind a legacy of virtues, values and talents unsurpassed. My mother and aunty Pam yet keep alive the flame of this wonderful family. 

This tribute would be incomplete if I did not mention my uncles - Uncle Steven, aunta Grace's husband and father of my cousin Sinclair and uncle Constance husband of aunta Signa and father of my cousins, Jude, Cabrini, Belinda and Vanessa. Sadly Jude and Vanessa are no more with us. Jude, your wit is sorely missed.  Both uncles,  Steven and Constance were jolly, honest and upright men and are sorely missed.  Uncle Steven was the life of any party or wedding reception as he shook a leg to Marathi and western tunes with equal aplomb. and sang the night away. Uncle Constance will be remembered for his kindness and humour as much as for his pork roast and chicken lollipops. Last but not the least, was my dad - a big burly man with a song on his lips who claimed that he had met my mom while he was on his way to the seminary. I guess dad seriously  believed that laughter was the medicine as he kept us in splits. 

A page from the homemaker' s diary.

Today's Times of India carried a piece by journalist Jug Suraiya titled Unpaid COOs and here's a page from one such unpaid Coo's diary...read on. 

As a regular homemaker, my day begins pretty early. The 'cheerful' buzz of the alarm awakens me to the sights and sounds of the day. it is 7am and ever so cold these days. I reluctantly drag myself out of bed. My youngest has already left for college at the unearthly hour of 5.45am.Being quite adept in the kitchen, he rustles up breakfast for himself. I have much to be thankful for.   I remind myself to practice my breathing exercises and then trudge to the kitchen.

My 'ginger -infused' warm water is all ready for me to glug down. (Thanks to my significant other)While tea happily brews on the stove, my significant other is busy pottering around in the kitchen, preparing his starters as in a smoothie. Now that water and tea both have been drunk, it is time to get down to the business of taking on the day. 

The firstborn needs breakfast and a lunch box. I get started on those. I must keep in mind his likes and dislikes and prepare something. Preparing a lunch box is by no means an easy task. Most days, I am like," what do I give him today?"  Significant other chips in and am I grateful for that! Once done, there's our breakfast to be prepared - When you are looking to lose weight, you have to weigh the benefits and damages of one food item against another.  Looking at shedding some flab, the latest on my breakfast menu is overnight oats.

Breakfast over, we await the arrival of the maid. Punctuality is hardly her thing. Ten could stretch to ten - thirty. Every maid is differently made. The last one did a pretty good job but attendance was weak. It's vice -versa now. After she is gone I get to work on the lunch. Cooking is not really my cup of tea these days. Planning the daily menu sometimes drives me crazy.   I would rather blog about how much I hate cooking but with 3 grown men in the house, cook, I must. I have come to rely heavily on Facebook and YouTube for recipes and yes, they have been quite a help.

. " I wish my bank balance would fill up as quickly as my laundry basket", said another harassed homemaker. Tackling the laundry is another detestable chore. I guess I find it so detestable because that teetering pile is staring at me right from the time I open my eyes. To further my annoyance significant other provides the background chorus - "the basket is overflowing, when are you going to load the washing? tra - la, la, la, la..."   I categorize delicate wash, hand wash and normal wash and load and unload the washing machine almost every day of the week.

After lunch, it's a catnap followed by tea. The significant other leaves for work late in the afternoon. He is one of those lucky ones who loves what he does and is able to fill the home coffers too. My husband is a pianist who strikes the right chords for pleasure and paisa. I am mostly left to my own devices after he leaves, as the youngest who is home by tea time or even earlier is usually immersed in social media. Despite unfinished chores, I do look forward to that 'me time'.

Post-tea is when I usually plonk myself in front of the computer to catch up on my daily dose of writing and surfing. There have been intermittent work from home jobs. I enjoyed the little financial independence that I derived from those. I sincerely hope something comes up soon.   It is at about 6pm that I head out to the neighbourhood joggers park for a brisk forty minutes walk. Back home after the walk and some grocery shopping, I treat myself to some telly time.

An early dinner is part of the 'lose weight, keep fit programme' and that is what I  strive to do. Dinner is over by 8.30pm  and I am back to completing the laundry. The firstborn returns from work at around 10pm and significant other around 11pm. I am pottering around the house until then. Firstborn has some unearthly timings which we still haven't quite adjusted to. He heads to the gym at 10.30pm  returns 12.45am and then sits down to dinner.

As parents, we are wont to worry about the hours he keeps but "you must learn to sleep" says he. Sleep I do but only after we hear the key turning in the lock at 12.45am.

Oh yes, I have a houseful and there is always plenty to do but I am thankful that I have always been spared the agony of juggling homework with a job outside the home. 

Give thanks for them.

Today on world leprosy day, I quietly slip into memory lane. My thoughts are with a group of 10 lepers who came to our door every Saturday begging for alms. They held tin cans and we dropped 10 paise into each can. Ma prepared jaggery sweet for them as a special treat for Christmas. How happy they were and it made us so happy to witness their happiness. 

  My thoughts are also with Father Damien who served the lepers of Hawaii tirelessly and finally succumbed to the disease on April 5th, 1889. 

January 30th is also observed as Martyr's day in India. It was on this day in the year 1948 that Mahatma Gandhi was assassinated by Nathuram Godse. On this day, the president, vice president, three service chiefs gather around the samadhi of the Mahatma and lay wreaths. The last post is sounded by the Armed forces and a two-minute silence for Indian martyrs is observed throughout the country at 11am.  

In remembrance of two extraordinary men who walked the earth.

Bapu

The Little book seller.

He must have been five or six years old. Unaccompanied he deftly made his way into the ladies compartment of a Mumbai local at peak hours in the evening. 

What struck me as remarkable in this quite unremarkable child was that he was cradling a pile of books written by popular authors desperately looking for a good bargain. There was Durjoy Datta, Twinkle Khanna, Khalid Hosseini and a host of others to choose from. 
Most of the women gave him a cursory glance or just smiled sweetly. One straightened a book in the pile and went back to her cell. 


He continued to look imploringly and expectantly at the ladies but none obliged. Then suddenly lady luck did smile on him when a young college girl made her choice and bargain. He quoted Rs250. "Rs200," said she. The deal was struck. 


The little bookseller had money in his pocket and and one book less to carry.
My heart went out to him. Did he at least know the alphabet? I think not. Most probably he would grow up to be a street smart businessman unless there was at least some basic education in store for him.

I believe the little lad should have been kicking a ball somewhere or doing his homework. Alas! somebody thought differently. It is truly a sad state of affairs. So many children are spotted begging or trying to sell their wares at traffic signals. Quite a few work in factories for paltry sums. A few are rescued but many remain hapless victims of the system. 

A stitch in time and being fit and fine.

 A nasty freakish fall in my kitchen does damage to the palm of my left hand, which is also my working hand and has me literally in stitches this New Year. Praise God, it could have been worse. My head is intact and I do not have to contend with any broken bones. 

There are all these diets flying around, I have tried a couple, succeeded and failed and tried again. At 54 you want to dress well and look good. What does looking good entail, especially for women of 50+? 

• A healthy weight. For some of us, a healthy weight is hard to come by. One is called upon to garner every ounce of self-discipline and motivation in order to achieve that ideal weight.
  
  I have burnt my fingers and presently struggling with weight issues. The festive season did not help. It is going to be a long uphill climb. God help me!

• A haircut that does not add years but dignity to your face and elegance to your being. On the matter of hair, while some of us are just fine with salt in our hair, others may prefer a different colour and hue. 

• Age appropriate clothes and shoes. 

My son brought to me a lovely red dress, that I had worn to one of my wedding receptions 23 years ago. he looked me in the eye and said, " Can you get into this now?" Wistfully and sadly I replied, " hardly, the dress is 23 years old."

There are a lucky few who may still fit into a 23-year-old dress, but is it really important to fit into an old dress or simply stay healthy, not necessarily very wealthy and wise?