monsoon showers

Rain is in the air. The smell of rain is in the air. Refreshing, it makes one yearn for those first few raindrops. Raindrops which'll make one's senses go mad.

For the gentle drop of water that falls from up above, for the wind which comes and laps one's cheeks.... for the sheets of water that tumbles down, as I watch it out of sheer ecstacy. When i taste raindrops, when some of them accidently make way between my lips. Pure, fresh water, that which fills up ponds, trenches, lakes, feeds river...

I sat on the steps, getting zoology into my head. That's when i sensed rain. How i wished it to rain right then. It didn't.

Rain is eluding. Being clever, it tricks weathermen. Various instruments are used to determine it's whereabouts. While we wait for it, to quench parched earth. Hoping for green fields to provide us with food.

When will it appear?

Today, tomorrow, perhaps, a week from now. It's enigmatic, yet enchanting. An entire country, millions of people wait for it day and night. Perhaps, their lives depends on it. Our lives too. And yes, my thoughts as well.

Dark clouds fill the sky, distributing a gloomy atmosphere everywhere. At times ethereal. It's contagious, the dull environment. Bleakness fill our hearts too.

Anita Desai describes the monsoon beautifully in her T'he Village by the Sea'. A boy stands on sands facing the Arabian Sea, with an elderly friend of his. They are there to offer coconuts to the sea on 'coconut day'. Thankful to the monsoon for being kind to them.

While i wait for the inner courtyard of my house to gather raindrops. Standing there, with walls enveloping me for two tiers, and the open sky beyond it. With outstretched arms, and my head bent back on my neck, to recieve them.

The monsoon is here. Well almost. Those first showers, i'll get wet for sure.

smile

This thought occured to me when i was in the middle of i-don't-know-what. It doesn't matter.

Well, i was thinking about the various things that make me smile. Whenever i see the word, or when i hear it, i fell elated. That's how i percieve it. It's something that we seek, for it brings cheer, and makes ourselves glow with goodness.

I went on to list out the things that actually make me smile. Here it is, at random:

a message from M wishing me before an exam..... hearing B chatter(she exceeds me in this regard).... when C waves at me when i leave for college, when i converse with friends.... when i read paragraphs from a particular novel(despite the fact that i've read a dozen times)...... when i paint..... when i see a nice song..... when i hear soothing music....... when i hear the cuckoo sing..... when i see the sky assume beautiful colours..... when i pronounce certain words(the affection is very short-lived)..... when i scan photographs.... when we fight at home for silly reasons....

when i answer intelligently to questions put forth by mother(one incident: she came to my room and saw me. She asked to wear something else, for i'd been using that pair of jeans repeatedly. Here's what i said, Ma, you should be proud to have a daughter like me, somebody who doesn't bother much about clothes, who concentrated on worthwhile stuff. I was given a stare.... Nevertheless i wore it.)

when i see good hand-written material, especially if it appears in good handwriting..... when i eat something tasty(ice-cream during a cold night)... when i catch a cold, as my voice becomes pretty raw..... when i see colourful flowers..... greenery freshly washed by rain... getting drenched in the monsoon showers.... the fragrant smell which emanates from wet earth.... feeling a soft breeze caress my cheeks.....

A smile on your face, what makes it happen?

talk

There are times when i feel the need to talk. Consistent, non-stop chatter. About this and that... about things that my knowledge consists of... about Ruskin Bond...... about my oil paintings...... about a friend's tale at his college.... about cousins.... anything....

Perhaps, it'll help me kill time. When i wish for a friend to provide me company for hours together, into the dark hours of the night... to share laughter... jokes.... smiles..

Or talking might provide an outlet to my thoughts, to my silence.... to get rid of the empty feeling.... when all forms of recreation do not prove their worth....

That's when i start thinking. . is it okay when i talk about matters pertaining to dejectedness... the human mind.... philosophy.... the practises on which we debate at home.... am i not young to contemplate on such subjects.....

How i wish that the vacuum completely vanishes.... i might be expecting a little too much from those who surround me....

It'll take time before i come out of this. But i definately will. While i imagine that i've a friend before me....both of us listen to the exchange of voices...

a speck of water

The sun could be seen in the western sky spreading soft yellow light around. A small ball of fire. Far away, thousands of light away. Sunrays played in the atmosphere.

While diffraction caused the scattered clouds take varied hues of pink, magenta, orange, violet. Like colours spilt free from an artists palette. At some places, they diffused into each other with ease, making it difficult for somebody who wanted to draw solid boundaries between each hue.

It seemed to mock the occasional onlooker. Fringes were distinct in other regions. A colour abruptly ended, while another began it's spread.

Buildings located on the western side acquired a surreal glow. A particular one, painted in pink, appeared orange. A result of the strange ways of sun beams. They paint a mundane environment in soft, yet eye-catching tones. For a short period of time. Blessing those eyes which caught sight of this splendour.

A drop of water fell from the blushing sky. Drops of water continued to fall from the sky. In a soft pitter-patter. That which could be heard when listened to very carefully.

The rain stopped after some time. Perfect beads of water were found everywhere. On the metal framework in the window... on the ledge on the verandah.... arranged in an impeccable fashion, an array of spheres on a clothesline.....

A slight wind picked up. Those droplets of water quivered. She touched the metal clothesline. It felt cold. Shaking it in a rhythmic manner, she displaced those droplets. All except one.

She observed it. Stared into it with wide eyes. A sudden beam of light fell on it. It glistened in the sudden flash of brilliance.

Minutes ticked by, the surroundings assumed a darker shade. The night was setting in.

The speck of water merged with an inky-blue tinge, a characteristic feature of the impending night.

road-widening = cutting down trees

Bangalore Mahanagara Palike(BMP/BBMP) has started work on widening roads. They've earmarked a few roads, which bear the brunt of traffic. Coincidently, these roads are lined by trees. And the first step in this direction is to chop down trees. Huge trees, which have grown over decades, provide the hard-to-spot shelter.

I consider it fortunate to use these roads on my daily journey to college and back. My favourite stretch lies on Palace Road and Nrupathunga Road. It is pleasant to travel on those roads even on sunny day. Moreover, potholes are considerably lesser in number. It's nice to drive on those roads.

Though Palace Road is not wide, it provides shade. I saw a photo of labourers axing a tree on Palace Road. Apparently, this is just the beginning. Various other roads are entitled to be treated in the same fashion.

Will this act really ease the situation at Bangalore??

Perhaps, it will. Making way for a increased number of vehicles to use those widened roads. Maybe, it will not, recreating bottlenecks, the same old tale.

All in the name of globalisation!

in print

Photos are great companions. They freeze precious moments, into something solid and ever-lasting. Something that can be preserved for all time to come.

Various moods are snapped into standstill. Grimaces... a sly smile.... ear-to-ear grins..... a pout.... laughs..... tears all captured in well-defined space and time periods. We look for places, greenery.... flowers..... monuments..... pillars.... friends... to make thwm more impressive, more substantial. They function as proofs, hold testimonial, indicating that one did visit a particular place.

Time flies when one gets into the act of viewing them. As one flips each one, memories make their presence felt.

Graduation day at school, when the four of us stand against the glimmering lights.... one where a young M and a still younger me stand in the terrace showcasing new clothes..... on the street when deepavali was being celebrated with cousins.... B, an infant, held in my arms, while another person encourages her to face the camera.... the trick played at the Taj Mahal where one can visualise somebody holding it.... the sunrise at Tiger Hills, Darjeeling, where all of us are wrapped in warm clothing.... father occupying the rocking chair, a book in his hands, with spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose....... mother wearing a proud smile, a result of having won a argument....

Wonderful entities, they take us back in time, help us visualise those effective memorable instances. Effective because, they seem to influence us in a strange manner. Remind us of long-forgotten friends, make us realise that a smile is that which turns a mundane picture into something very meaningful.... while everything else fades into oblivion.

Ah!! The feel of holding a photo between one's fingers... somehow seeing them on a screen does not provide the same pleasure, though the latter is convenient and easy.

a season of flowers

The other day, i brushed through some files on ms-paint. To my surprise, i found quite some based on the theme 'flowers'. I had not realised it till then. Guess, i like flowers. Now that i've worked on them, i've started to like them.

It's summer, and the sun's blazing throughout the day. Spring visited us quite some time back.

Some of these(if not all) already appear on the flickr sidebar. Anyways, some flowers to cheer various moods. Here we go:

a book sale

There is a book sale happening at The Mythic Society till the 20th of this month, morning 10:30 till 7:30 in the evening.

Courtsey Mr. Murthy of the Select Book Shop, Brigade Road.

The Select Book Shop is peculiar. It has old(really old) and new books. If one is interested in philosophy, marxism, literature(american), paintings, history(indian and world), this is the place to visit.

ps: The Mythic Society is located on Nrupathunga Road, opposite Yavanika.

butterflies

The other day, i pondered as to why butterflies were called thus. Who named them so?Words usually have histories and interesting ones at that. But butterflies?

And this is what i found :

Word History: Is a butterfly named for the color of its excrement or because it was thought to steal butter? It is hard to imagine that anyone ever noticed the colour of butterfly excrement or believed the insect capable of such theft. The first suggestion rests on the fact that an early Dutch name for the butterfly was 'boterschijte'. The second is based on an old belief that the butterfly was really a larcenous witch in disguise.

Weird. Very.

Butterflies are colourful insects, which add some cheer to the environment. I stop myself to watch at a butterfly, flitting from one place to another. Many a time. They are secretive, as all insects are.

They come in various, enchanting colours. Grabbing the attention of a passer-by. My exposure to them has been very limited. But, the monarch is one of my favourites. It can be spotted anywhere, even amongst concrete buildings. The bright orange fringed with pitch black, meandering ribs in black, colours it beautifully.

The other day i saw a similar one(if i could use this word). It had a pleasant green(what we call parrot green) in place of orange, but the black was present. I, again saw it today. I was crossing the circle, and there it was.

It vanished before i could fill my eyes with it's beauty.

gaining ground

Surprisingly the system belongs to the mind. If the mind is pleased with some idea(good or bad), the system plays along with the latter, to an extent that it can be quite disastrous.

I remember reading this particular short story(Barin Bhowmik's ailment) by Satyajit Ray. The story revolves around this person. He experiences a slight pain in this back(i'm not sure). His mind develops the small pain to something really big. Finally, the protagonist comes to the conclusion that his death is not far off. Though, he is not afflicted with any ailment. It's his mind that's wreaking havoc. A concerted response from all the body systems.

Prepostorous, yet realistic.

The same happens in our environment too. Of course without our knowledge. Or because we fail to acknowledge it.

A similar event happened at home sometime back.

Mother was of the opinion that she was weak. Well she is a little anaemic. Apart from that, she is hale and hearty. This particular thought found ground in her. Father and i had to eliminate this 'pest' from her head. We used all tactics possible, spoke to her in a polite manner... asked to her eat a little more.....yelled at her(one can obviously guess the person behind this)... requested her to reduce the work at home... to no avail.

Later, mother was taken to a doctor. The doctor drove home the point that it was the thought that was eating her body than any physical illness.

Eventually, mother did come out of her belief.

Thank heavens!! Were we relieved!!

on mothers' day

Well, world mother's day according to me does not signify much. I don't need a specific day, wherein i can appreiciate mother. But the world does celebrate this day, i too join the crowd.

Women belong to two categories, those who can bear a child form one group, those who can't belong to another. I read this piece of information, sometime ago. Absurd, yet true. Segregating womankind into two different groups, and treating them in a different manner. An unreasonable act. To bear a child is the utmost desire(?) in the heart of any lady.

Mother, father and i was watching t.v the other day. As they say, a lady becomes a woman upon giving birth to a child. Well, i don't agree with the above statement. I voiced my opinion.

This is how the conversation followed:

Mother: No Mouna, what you say is wrong.

Father: Well, afterall she(me) is a biology student, there must be a reason for her to say this.

Me: Yes, ma, father is correct.

Father: But Mouna, mother has had experience, and she speaks from experience. It has more magnitude than what you(me) understand from biology.

Me: hmmmm...

Well, i am still not sure what to gather from the above debate. Both mother and father make sense.

But, one thing surely annoys me, the way women get treated when their folks realise that a particular woman is barren. Who is to blame? Mother Nature?

I am reminded of Indira Goswami(one of my favourite writers) and the Kamakhya temple. The rituals followed there is disturbing(to say the least), a bull is sacrificed, in order to please Shakthi. Who'll in turn enhance a woman's womb to bear fruit. As one reads Goswami, one is filled with disappointment. Ghastly rituals. And this is just a sampler. Umpteen number of such incidents, practices are followed religiously.

I came across this article yesterday, in one of the kannada dailies, Praja Vani. It talks about altruism. One of the highlighted features of mankind is generosity. Though it's hardly seen these days.

I've the pleasure of knowing two women who have adopted children. Two nice women. One is a lecturer at college, and the other a friend of father's. I respect them a lot more. Their kind act makes me do so.

MCC moments... contd

When i look back upon the past three years, i smile. Almost instantaneously.

Three years; a short as well as a long time period. It depends on what i want gather from it.

'short', because i wish i could understand them better, get to spend more time with them. 'long' as three years appears to be quite lengthy.

The time that we spent with each other, those sessions of 'heart-to-heart' talks with friends and lecturers alike. Three years is very limited. The first year is spent in knowing the college (believe me, i took one and a half years to acclimatize to MCC), the next set of 12 months in selecting a bunch of friends, whom we swear by.

Final year, is confusing, to say the least. We discover many new things. A particular lecturer is actually good-natured.... the entire class is one gang.... somebody doesn't mind me planting a kiss on their cheeks....suddenly being a class rep seems nice, which had me wandering between buildings...

Final year seems fascinating. Maybe due to the sound of the phrase 'final year', one feels happy and important. Maybe because one is granted that superior position, when pride comes naturally... with lecturers holding somebody high... classes fly, become more enjoyable(for two reasons: classes get interesting, or one has more fun during classes)... every niche regarding time and space becomes precious....

Love, affection, pranks, kisses, appreciation, laughter, tears, gifts, lunches, yelling at one another, being there for a friend, pictures, videos, drawing digrams collectively, contemplation on crazy ideas...

My class has been wonderful to say the least, for all the time that was spent in each other's company. An amazing bunch of women!!

a dimpled cheek

People have been complementing her on her dimple. It was not new to her, she's been hearing it since childhood. 'complement' might be a little too far-fetched. Well, appreciation is a better word.

She nodded her head whenever somebody made a mention of it. Did it concern her? She never paid any attention to it. Guess, when something comes naturally to a person, she/he hardly spends any energy on it.

Lately, somebody made a statement regarding the dimple on her chin: 'The dimple suits you', or something to that effect.

That statement has been playing on her mind, for quite some time. Rather, she's been allowing the fiddling to happen. Was that really meant, or was it just a passing remark?

It does not matter.

It always accompanied a grin..... a scowl.... a glare..... an angry face with eyes scrunched up..... laughter which made a feeble effort on a tear-stained cheek.

There, the ends of her tender lips are pulled apart in a smile. While a dimple adds charm to it. Afterall, it's worth it's presence.

a cup of chai

We are habituated to beverages. They motivate us, provide us a 'kick', wake us up from a slumber, freshen us up... all of it implies the same.

My favourite is tea. Commonly known us chaha, chai amongst us, it is indeed a rejuvenating drink. I don't drink it very often, on a normal schedule. But, the amount consumed has definately increased. Presently, i drink it, to keep myself from dosing away. Somehow a cup of tea seems essential after breakfast.

Interestingly, i've started to enjoy brewing tea. A recent discovery of mine.

Boiling water in a vessel... sprinkling tea leaves, crystals of sugar into it... allowing the colour contained in the leaves to diffuse into the hot water. The preparation of a heady decoction. A beautiful red-brown.... a brick-red hue if i may call it. Later, on the addition of milk, the colour softens.

The smell... the taste..... the colour... pleasing the senses.

With a hot cup of tea in my hand, i occupy the rocking chair, my study material and a pencilto accompany me. On realising that the act is an improbable one(invariably something or the other falls), i gulp the tea down.

Strangely, i drink tea at specific places only. At Roti Ghar, Chalukya, MTR, Nescafe counter(at college)... Roti Ghar provides fantastic tea, a little too hot, yet simply delicious.

To my chagrin, Red Label(which is used at home) has added herbs/spices in it. Tea with additions is not favoured by me. On the other hand mother fancies it.

Why did they have to introduce something new? The other variety was better.

super!

I like the word 'super'.

Probably because it contains a lot of enthusiasm in it(?). That does sound silly, but that's how i percieve the word. Simple, yet fantastic.

And when i do use the word, i mean it whole-heartedly. Except at times, when the pun is intended, in obvious terms. When i use the word(it slips easily from my mouth), i've to assure the other person that i truly meant the word. No sarcasm... no sattire, in it at all.

Ah! The pleasure in vocalising that word! Heavenly!

a home away from home

Me: M, do you want anything else?

M: Of course, I want rasmalai, MTR dosa, pani puri, bisi bele bath.....

Thus went a conversation. The longing behind those words hit me hard. It's painful at times. There is nothing i can do, except soothe her, pacify her.... tell her that M, you can do whatever you want, once you join us. Again, i don't know whether i'm successful in convincing her.

That night, when R(M's friend) talked to me, it sounded so nice. And now, R too is far away, in some strange country.

I was selfish. I later realised, M needs me. M craves for mother, father, B, C......... those voices which give her the confidence, the strength... those few words that we send back and forth.... it means a lot to her...

This thought crept into my mind sometime back. Is it ok for me to continue with blogging? Writing about mother, father, B, C.....putting my ideas on a screen for her to see...

Doesn't it instill a greater yearning in her? To be amongst the people she knows, to participate in an environment she is familiar with.... to feel something intimate... to fondle B.... to hug father.... to play pranks on me..... to visit Commercial Street with mother......

On second thoughts, i shall carry on with my posts... which'll flash before her eyes at the click of a button. A means of communication. I say, let it be.

M: i don't whether i did the right job by posting this article. Honey, this is one of the means by which i could say, 'i love you'.

being responsible-a brighter outlook

The other day a cousin of mine helped Bruthi eat her peas. B is fussy with her food, so we let her eat what she fancies.

I thought he was being very strict with B. Later, he told me that it's our responsibilty to guide children. And that this was the ripe age to guide children(B is two years and two months). Surprisingly B didn't make a fuss. Anyways, she shouldn't have created one, simply because, she was eating something she liked.

All of us play responsible roles in life. Responsibility comes in different shades, a daughter, an aunt, a sister, a neice, a grand-daughter, a friend...... These are some of the roles that i play.

It is packaged in such a nice way that we fail to realise the weight of it. Most of the times, the happiness, joy that we obtain from it overshadows the magnitude.

Helping mother with soiled dishes... assuring father that i can pay a bill...... assisting B when she learns to associate a new word with a novel item..... wishing C on the day of her exam.... consoling a friend at college... supporting my grandma, when she climbs down a flight of stairs....

All of it appears to be mundane, yet under obligation. An obligation that we should learn to enjoy, start to derive freshness out of it.