memories – Seasons of Life!

Etched

Life was peaceful

Running at its own pace

Riding the waves of the good

And the not so good

Drawing comfort from the equilibrium

I had found my own happy home

With checks and balances in place

Like a painting carefully laid out

Carpeting the cold tiled floor

Along came a ray of sunlight

Bursting the painting with joy unknown

Every colour sprinkled alive

Sparkling bright in their own glorious ways

Just then the season changed

Drops of rain dribbled from nowhere

The colours ran into each other

Helter skelter, here and there

Streamed onto the cold tiled floor

The painting could hold no longer

Remnants of the jubilant colours

But refuse to fade away….

The month of December had arrived quite a while back and taken a quiet seat in the humdrum of daily activities. Before I realized, we are already near the end of the month and in just another blink we will get done with the year 2018.

As I write this post sitting in a hotel room at Diu overlooking the Arabian Sea, I recall last December when I had written a similar post soaking in the winter sun trickling onto the varendah of my parent’s home at my hometown, Shillong. I clearly remember waiting for a cousin who was delayed in picking me up for a family lunch get-together. I had made good use of the waiting time reminiscing the year 2017 and writing a post about it. It feels like that was just yesterday. Where the hell does all the time go?

The years seem to be wheezing by for a while now and at the end of each year I have the same question – Where did all the 365 days go? Sometimes I really wonder if the earth has started spinning faster or if its axes has undergone any alteration. With all the technological advancements and automation shouldn’t we be having more time for ourselves? Instead, we are always pressed for time. Well, that’s another discussion altogether.

As the curtains are about to be pulled on 2018, my mind does a quick flashback on the year that was. A lot has happened and it was a mix of good and bad. However, when we reflect on the past we become consciously selective and want to remember only the good. Guess it’s a choice we make quite consciously and it also aligns to my motto of practicing positivity and gratitude.

So, here’s a quick flashback of the top 10 cherished moments of 2018:

First of all, I trekked to the Himalayas twice this year – Rupin Pass and Kashmir Great Lakes. Both these belong to the category of moderate to difficult and to think that there was a time when I used to think such treks are beyond my league.
I started running and now a 3 – 5 Km run is part of my regular workout. All thanks to the preparation for the two Himalayan treks. Again, there was a time when I used to think I can never run. I still struggle and don’t think I can ever run a marathon but I am happy to have had a good start.
This year, as always, I took off on my birthday and spent the day at Bekal Fort including two days in the beaches of Kasargod and Mangalore
A major upheaval happened at work I managed to maintain calm in the face of storm and today things are not perfect but so much better.
This year I delved a lot deeper into spirituality and discovered a couple of books that have had a significant impact on me. I feel I am a better person today or at least I am sincerely trying to be one.
An entire month of this year I spent travelling – something I had never done before.
All through the year, I had someone or the other visiting me and staying at my home. Friends, some of them long lost, surprised me and added so much colour to the otherwise monotonous everyday life.
Life threw up a tough situation at me, something that I never thought would happen to me. I have managed to pass that test successfully. And, I did that by actually putting into action certain theoretical knowledge that I had gathered while designing certain leadership training at work dealing with mindfulness and positivity and the neuroscience behind all these.
WordPress gave me a couple of meaningful connections, people I can call friends, people with whom I have connected beyond the blogging world and shared a piece of my life. I never thought something like this was possible.
Last but not in any way the least, right now I am on a trip with my parents across some places of Gujarat. What better way to end the year than doing what I love doing – traveling.

Those Morning Walk Rituals

It’s pretty late in the night and I should be in bed, yet I am not. Here I am lazing on my couch doing particularly nothing – shuffling between Instagram posts, pages of a book, and Whatsapp messages. Indiscipline makes occasional visits and tonight is one. Of late, such visits have become more regular than occasional. Walking from the living room to the bedroom becomes a herculean task requiring a huge amount of effort and will power.

“If I am to reach office at a decent time after maneuvering the crazy morning traffic, I need to be up early and leave home latest by 7.30 AM….” – The mind blabbers, as it always does, but I pay no heed and continue wasting my time on the couch.

Promises I make to myself every so often are just broken, procrastinated for another time, or easily replaced by another ambitious and taller promise.

It wasn’t like this always though. There was a time when early to bed and early to rise was the most normal thing to do.

A quick rewind to my hometown days in Shillong and I never remember being awake beyond 10.00 PM and even that was considered late. In Shillong, and in all of North East, evenings set in early – around 5.00 PM during summers and 4.00 PM during winters. Consequently mornings break in very early too.

Talking about mornings in Shillong, my mind is transported to those times when our days would start with idyllic and therapeutic morning walks. Morning walks was like a family ritual for us, not necessarily done together as a family though. Sometimes we did walk together, but mostly everyone would do it on their own time, in their own way.

*Pic 1: I do not have many pictures of our morning walks, never really thought of clicking. Feels good though to think that these were morning walks done mindfully.*

Everyone, however, took the same route. The perfectly tarred road that snakes through the neighbourhood houses sometimes climbing up and sometimes climbing down. The green hills, mildly illuminated with dawn, overlook the road as it nonchalantly passes by two government schools and into a Pine Forest towards the Sericulture Farm.

A large nursery on the left announces the onset of the forest through which the tarred road continues, occasionally broken by tiny cemented bridges over unassuming brooks and streams that melodiously gurgle happily breaking the morning silence.

Further ahead, there is a graveyard dotted with some more Pine Trees and then the road continues right up to a locality known as Lawshohtun. At times, we would turn around from the gate and retrace our path through the hillocks or the tarred road. At other times, we would go right into the Sericulture Farm and look around the already known places before walking back. Again, sometimes we would continue walking right up to Lawshohtun, much beyond Sericulture Farm.

*Pic 4: I just love ferns, these are some I had clicked last time I went that way.*

*Pic 5: The administrative office of Sericulture Farm*

Most of our mornings would start with this mandatory walk, the only exceptions were when it rained heavily and when we had exams as focusing on studies was considered priority.

Thankfully, much of this route remains the same even today and is still popular with morning walkers. However, a large part of the forest now belongs to the armed forces and access to the hills, meadows, and streams are restricted. One can only walk through the tarred road.

WP_20131230_046 — *Pic 6: Clicked somewhere inside Sericulture Farm*

*Pic 7: Clicked a few years back during one such morning walk spree*

In today’s context of chaotic mornings with mad rushes and traffic stresses, those unhurried morning walks are like unbelievable wishful tales. The hazards of metro living! The prices we pay for a livelihood. Small cities and towns do not offer jobs but offer quality life.

Back then, I never thought those casual morning walks would one day become luxuries, affordable only during vacations and that too in exchange for a considerable sum of money.

WP_20131230_047 — *Pic 8: Those are staff quarters inside Sericulture Farm*

Well, morning walks are warmly greeted and indiscipline shooed away at least once every year when I visit my hometown. I am indeed lucky to be able to revisit those morning walks. So what if its just once a year!

Six Minutes of Fame

Radio was a big thing when I was a kid even though TV had already arrived. Those were ‘Doordarshan’ days and TV programs had specific timings.

Though it seems like a distant memory, I can still see my father listening to cricket or football match relays sometimes multitasking while busily tending to the flowers and fruits in our garden. On weekends, my uncle would never miss tuning in to his favourite 30 minutes of afternoon Bollywood movie songs. Each song would be preceded by an announcement of its associated detail – name of the movie, the director, the singers, etc. Along with that would be a long list of people who have requested those songs. I have my doubts if those lists were genuine at all.

Even today the morning 8.30 AM local news that runs for 10 minutes is diligently tuned in to at our home in Shillong.

During my school days, I had once accompanied a friend and her uncle to the All India Radio (AIR) station, where we were participating in some educational broadcast program. Recording a program at AIR was a fascinating experience for the curious kids in us.

AIR Shillong used to run these educational broadcast programs for children, probably they still do. These programs were usually presented by teachers, sometimes as monologues and sometimes through dialogues in collaboration with students. A particular subject and topic would be provided by AIR to the teacher, who would then be responsible for creating the script and teaching that during the broadcast.

Most often, the teacher would arrange for the students as well – usually 2-4 of them. On that day, me and my friend were the two students. It was a science class but I can’t recall the topic. We even got paid – a cheque of Rs. 200 each. That did qualify as the first income of my life.

AIR — *Pic Credit: All India Radio News Shillong Facebook Page*

The recording happened and a date for the broadcast was notified. My friend and I had proudly announced to our entire class in school. At home, my parents had informed our relatives. Some of them, who lived in other cities, had requested that the program be recorded through a tape recorder and a blank cassette as was done during those days.

The D-day arrived.

The 30 min program was set to be broadcast at 2.30 PM. It was a weekday and I came home early from school. That morning, I had handed over a neatly folded letter within a white envelope from my father requesting a half-day to my class teacher. My large joint family got together and the radio was switched on 5 mins before time. The program started with the presenter announcing the name of the program and providing a brief about the participants. As my name was announced I could see the proud smile on everybody’s face.

It was my quick six minutes of fame.

Today it feels funny thinking about all the brouhaha over such a trivial episode. But then it’s because of all that it became so special and memorable, otherwise it would have been long forgotten.

Much later while in college and university, I participated in several of these Educational Broadcast programs in the role of a teacher. Besides AIR, ‘Prasar Bharati’ (a statutory autonomous body that comprises Doordarshan Television Network and All India Radio) would also organize youth programs, usually debates and discussions on certain topics. I participated in several of those as well, which were a lot of fun.

There’s another interesting story from those days. A close family friend whom I fondly call uncle, used to be friends with someone senior at AIR. His affection and love for me drove him to narrate some exaggerated stories about my capabilities to his AIR friend. That person then wanted me to come up with a play to be enacted for children that would be recorded and broadcasted on Children’s Day, Nov. 14^th.

Uncle promised that I would do it and quite nonchalantly dropped the bombshell on me. My jaws dropped and I was in trouble. This was something out of my purview. Fictional stories, poems, and the like – No Way! I don’t have it in me.

Thankfully a highly creative friend came to my rescue and she did everything starting from conceptualization, to scriptwriting, to song writing and everything else. All I did was arrange for the children – 2 boys and 3 girls and being present during the rehearsals and also the final show. The play turned out to be hugely popular and was aired several times. I was named as the Producer of the show without even doing anything.

And I had my six minutes of fame once again even though I did not deserve it.

 Post in response to Day-6 prompt'Six Minutes of Fame!'for Bar-A-Thon: The Blogging Marathon

When I said Wah Taj!

On a very special trip with my parents

The other day I came by an article that listed out quotes of famous people who have visited the Taj Mahal. Amongst the great names of Rabindranath Tagore, Lord Curzon, etc, the one that caught my attention was Bill Clinton, the former President of USA, who said:

There are two kinds of people in the world, those who have seen the Taj Mahal and love it, and those who have not seen the Taj Mahal and love it. I would like people to watch the Taj Mahal and fall in love with it.

I could instantaneously relate it to my own experience of the historical monument. Memories of my visit to the Taj Mahal came flooding by and I thought I should write about it.

And so, here it goes…

395 — Pic 1: A very special moment with my parents

“I’m very satisfied with your service. Thank you so much!” I heard my father say to the guide who we had hired for a tour of the Taj Mahal and who had painstakingly explained every little detail taking care to answer all the questions asked by us, especially my father.

We let the guide leave while we sat on the marble floor just outside the main dome to rest for a while. It was late morning on a sunny October day and the monument was teeming with tourists from all over the world. I sat there feeling gratified looking at my parents who seemed quite delighted with their tour of the iconic monument. This trip was for them and I couldn’t be happier.

This was my second visit to the ivory-white marble mausoleum that grandly stands on the banks of River Yamuna in the city of Agra. My first visit had been seven years back. Needless to say, I was floored when I saw this exquisite piece of marble for the first time. I was with a friend and her husband. As we entered the West Gate or Fatehpuri Darwaza and I laid my eyes on the monument for the first time, I was awestruck. Dazzling in the afternoon sun, its splendor was beyond words and somehow appeared unreal to me.

*Pic 2: Throwback to my first visit to the iconic monument 7 years back and that’s my friend*

I had read and heard about its grandeur several times since childhood – from history books to Bollywood movies, from photographs and paintings to travel stories of friends and relatives, from news feeds about the effects of pollution on the white marble to the surreal experiences on a moonlight night, and so on and so forth.

All of these had imprinted the Taj’s form into my mind’s imagery and I thought I was going to visit just another historical monument knowing exactly what to expect. But, when I saw the real structure with my naked eyes for the first time, its sparkling magnificence was something else altogether. Its prettiness was overwhelming. I had never imagined the Taj Mahal to be this beautiful.

The experience was way different from my visit to other historical monuments. Being an ardent nature lover, architectures and museums do not enthuse me much. So, I never quite get it when people stare at an Eiffel tower with those admiration-filled eyes for hours on end. With this existing state of mind, my expectations of Taj Mahal were pretty limited. Not until I actually saw it…

The stunningly magical Taj Mahal had left me literally speechless. It was only after I experienced the Taj in person that I truly understood the genius of its craftsmanship. And, I thought to myself — no wonder this iconic monument gets millions of visitors every year from across the globe; no wonder it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site; no wonder it is one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

The first thing that came to my mind at that moment was – I got to get my parents to see this. This is one of the seven wonders and it’s in my own country. This is an opportunity. It will be a pity if they were to miss this. So, here I was experiencing the magic for a second time and this time with my parents.

*Pic 4: While we admired the superb craftsmanship*

Built by 22,000 workers in 22 years, the Taj Mahal is famous as the ultimate symbol of love. That’s what I knew during my childhood and as I grew up. Later, I read some speculative counter arguments, which I think cannot be ignored (Read Here). Keeping that aside, it is the finest and most sophisticated model of Mughal architecture in India, which also incorporates elements of Persian, Turkish, and Hindu influences.

We walked our way around the tomb, my mother and I silently appreciating, the unique marble carvings, the incised paintings, the incredible Urdu calligraphic inscriptions, etc. and my father earnestly discussing all big and small historical detail with our guide. All along I was feeling deeply satisfied that I could have my parents experience Taj Mahal’s incredible wonder.

This was the Agra leg of our Golden Triangle trip (Delhi – Agra – Jaipur). The same evening, we visited the Agra Fort.

*Pic 5: While they share a special moment at the Agra Fort*

My parents love travelling and my father has taken us on many a trip across India during our childhood despite all the limitations he had at that time. It’s my turn now to take them around and it gives me immense joy whenever I am able to take them on a trip with me. However, with old age and their current state of health, they cannot travel a lot and that’s a limitation I now have.

The Poush Sankranti I Used to Know

Cultures and traditions almost extinct…..

“It’s gotten too cold and with Sankranti this weekend, I need to get some things ready for Pithes, miss you all”, said my Mom on the phone yesterday. Oh yes, 14^th of January is just round the corner. It’s time for Poush Sankranti, the Bengali version of Makar Sankranti. A major Indian harvest festival celebrated by Hindus across the country marking the first day of sun’s transit into Makara or Capricorn. Called by different names, it is celebrated in different ways in different parts of the country. Maghi in Punjab, Sankrat in Rajasthan, Pongal in Tamil Nadu, Bihu in Assam, and so on.

Poush Sankanti is named after the month, Poush, which is January in Bengali. Bengalis celebrate this festival with Pithes, or special Bengali sweetmeats made of khoya, flour, rice powder, sweetened coconut, jaggery, cardamom, etc.

The thought of Poush Sankranti suddenly brought back a flashback of childhood memories urging me to pen them down before they get washed away with the passage of time. Poush Sankranti used to be a big festival associated with elaborate celebrations and the neighbourhood homes having each other invited.

It was almost like a Pithe Festival with the entire neighbourhood merrily immersed in Pithe-making and Pithe-eating that would spread out to 3-4 days.

In our joint family, this used to be a very special time of the year. The planning would start days in advance with listing out of the kind of Pithes that would be prepared for that year. Usually 4-5 types would be finalized taking into consideration special requests from all the family members. One or two savories, Nimkis and Shingaras would also make to the list to balance out the sweet Pithes.

The entire house would then get together in a hustle and bustle of activities. Dads and Uncles would be busy making several trips to the local market to get the ingredients, especially the perfect coconuts – the ones they feel will yield substantial meat. Removing the coir and preparing the shell to make it ready for grating was their job as well.

My Grandfather’s primary job was to eagerly wait to consume the Pithes while blackmailing the rest of the family about this year being his last Sankranti and hence his Pithe wishlist better be fulfilled. As long as I remember, it was the same story every Sankranti till one fine January morning when it turned out to be real – yes he passed away on a cold January morning.

Moms and aunts would have the more demanding part of the job, grating the coconuts, preparing the khoya, making the sugar syrup, mixing the ingredients in perfect proportions, kneading the dough and shaping up the Pithes, frying them in oil on slow fire, and so on. Back then, Khoya was also prepared at home by thickening the milk – a job primarily done by my Grandmother. I remember participating wholeheartedly and lending a hand in all the activities.

Dad’s elder sister, Boropishi lived in the same neighborhood with her family. This was a great advantage as usually her Pithes would taste different and often the types would vary giving us a wide range to satisfy our palates. The women, of my family take great pride in their Pithe making skills and that continues to this day. Not the ones of this generation though, most of us have no patience, and the few of us who have tried their hands in it are hardly any good.

Back then, the youngsters of the family, like elder siblings and younger uncles had nothing to do with the actual Pithe preparations but their interest in eating them is what motivated the elders. Besides, they had another important role. They were entrusted with the responsibility of creating the ‘mera-merir ghor’, which used to be a makeshift home made out of haystack. Mera refers to the Ram, the adult male sheep and Meri refers to the Ewe, which is the adult female sheep.

So, ‘mera-meri ghor‘ refers to the house of a sheep couple.

This would be burnt at dawn on the day of Poush Sankranti ( Jan 14^th), amidst chants of “mera-merir ghor jole re hooooi!; Mera gelo bajaro, Meri gelo koi; mera-merir ghor jole re hooooi!” (The sheep’s home is up in flames hoi hoi; the ram’s gone shopping and ewe’s missing, the sheep’s home is up in flames hoi hoi). Before setting the ‘mera-merir ghor’ on fire, everyone would take a mandatory bath and stand beside the fire with a plate of Pithes. So, have the Pithes while soaking in the warmth of the fire – what bliss on a chilly January morning! A few Pithes would sometimes be thrown onto the fire as an offering.

Young boys and girls, the courageous ones who dared to brave the cold, would also spend the night merrymaking in the ‘mera-meri ghor’. Often times there wouldn’t be enough hay, so pine needles, bamboos, cardboard boxes and anything that will aid in making the fire burn strongly would be used to supplement.

I have only very early childhood memories of ‘mera-meri ghor’, a few years later as I stepped into adolescence it had disappeared altogether from the celebrations in our home. I believe ‘mera-meri ghor’ was part of Poush Sankranti celebrations only for Bengalis of North East India. I am not sure about Bengalis in other parts of India.

The Assamese people had a similar celebration and they called it ‘Meji’, experienced from the few Poush Sankranti that I spent at my maternal Grandparent’s home in Assam. Their amazing boga-pithas are still my favourite. I am not sure how much of the celebrations still exist in the same way. As for Shillong, I know there are hardly any. Probably, it is still celebrated in pockets of North East India but by and large it is disappearing. Another sacrifice at the altar of urbanization!

It’s sad that our children have no idea of the distinctive flavours of such celebrations. Today’s children celebrate a Haloween with a lot of fun and fervour but probably have no idea about a Poush Sankranti. Who else but us to be blamed!

The tradition of Pithe making at Poush Sankranti continues to this day at my home in Shillong. Though there is no mera-meri ghor and over the years it has reduced to being ritualistic with may be just one type of Pithe. However we do have our impromptu ‘Pithe celebrations’ that make up for Poush Sankranti and which happen at other special times, such as, when our parents visits us or we visit them.

Reminiscing 2017

Cherishing moments of the year that was…….

It’s the day after Christmas, the fag end of December, another year has gone by. I’m in my hometown this Christmas. Christmas celebrations in this pretty little hill station, known for its tall Pines, colorful orchids, rock music and football among many others, is one of the best in India. I will write more about that later.

Sitting in the balcony and soaking in the warm winter sun is a pleasure that I haven’t had in a very long time. The warm winter sun brings in cherishing childhood memories making it all the more comforting. I’ve come a long way since then and all those memories seem from a past life. As my mind travels back to the present, fleeting moments of the year 2017 passes by, many of which I will cherish for the rest of my life. It’s indeed been a very happening year and I am filled with gratitude.

Here’s a quick flashback of the top 10 highlights:

Started my own blog and quite impulsively so, never thought I would enjoy writing so much. I was helping a friend create a blog but landed up creating my own. Started mid-year and this is my 19th post. I was writing for myself, didn’t expect others to read them but was humbled to see people reading my posts. Besides, there are 5 people, who eagerly wait to read my posts and they sure do motivate me.
Experienced life in three remote Himalayan villages that has impacted me in ways more than one.
Traveled to China for the first time as I experienced life in Shanghai for a day.
Trekked to Kudremukha hill and experienced the lush green Western Ghats, where I also encountered leeches for the first time.
Experienced being hospitalized for the first time when I almost lost my life to Anaphylactic Shock.
Reconnected with several of my old friends with whom I had lost touch for the past few years and it was like as though there was no gap at all. At the same time, moved away from few others whom I thought to be life-time friends.
Stayed in a haunted hotel and had a brush with the paranormal.
Spent my birthday in the Himalayas once again.
Experienced the vast expanse of desert Himalayas as I traveled to the enchanting Spiti Valley.
A very important life event, which I do not wish to disclose now and will fill in later.