Pencil sketch of hand painted swedish blue pottery

A lone bird

This photo was taken in Dubai on a
foggy morning in January 2013

a lone bird
paused in flight
seeing the brooding gray
stretching in front

amid the gray
dawn breaking
through the seamless fog
only severed light
coming through

croaks, squawks, chirps
clicks 
sings
communicates

taps the window
to get direction
take shelter

waiting before
taking flight again
rises above
having wings

Refreshing Green

Plants have been a fairly major part of all my homes. Potted plants formed my balcony gardens when we lived in apartments, and when our homes had outdoor gardens I felt doubly blessed.

I always put in my best efforts to care for and nurture these plants (with a vested interest, selfishly, knowing the pleasure they would provide me in return).

Some indoor varieties always made up part of my interiors as well, in living rooms, kitchens and even bathrooms, bringing in nature to give a fresh, vibrant feeling.

But uncharacteristically, when we moved to Chennai, I held myself back and decided not to keep any plants in this flat here, for two reasons: one, I wanted to keep life simple, and secondly, so as to not have to worry about who's going to water them during my recently fairly frequent travels. I've just been pacifying myself with the greenery outside, the gulmohar and peepal trees our balcony oversees, and the neem tree which literally droops into it.

But how could I not have any greenery inside the house?! To try and add some green inside I replaced the potted plants by cut stems of a variety of greens, mainly money-plants. I grew up hearing the saying that if you stole a piece of money-plant and it grew and flourished in your house you would prosper and get rich. I don't know how much truth it holds (it certainly doesn't seem to have got US anywhere! at least, yet) but do know for a fact that these plants are hardy and thrive with a minimum of fuss, while adding the required refreshing, green hues to my immediate surroundings.

Balcony Garden

After every shower of rain ...

After every shower of rain

the drive gets strewn with red

the rain brings down

the summer blooms of

the gulmohar

while a confetti of petals

spreads a red carpet below

some flowers lie silently

giving out the last of their

delicate beauty

until day's end.

The fragrance of the wet earth

remains, leaving one

happier and lighter.

Music, a gift of God

Musical instruments used to be around in our house ….. a harmonium, a set of tablas, a sitar, a guitar… my father always hoped at least one of us three kids would pick up something seriously … my youngest brother does have a very good natural ear for music, and plays a number of instruments well, like the guitar, or keyboards, or tabla.  But all impromptu, he doesn’t read music. Plays really good jazz, just makes it up as he goes along.

I was exposed to some amount of music within and on the fringes of my family. My mother and also father's sister played the Sitar. As a child I remember attending music performances with my parents (this was in people’s homes), where kids would sit and listen, or otherwise drop off to sleep on their mothers’ laps out of sheer boredom, more like being serenaded to sleep. One of my mother's brothers is quite an accomplished Sitar player, and gives performances.

So it was natural that as a teenager I learn to play the sitar.  But sadly, after three years I gave up.  I often wish I had taken my training more seriously, and continued with it. But with this little exposure to music I’ve at least become a fond listener, if not a player!

I listen to Indian classical music, and some evenings, depending on the mood, some western Jazz. And of course a lot of Bollywood music. I enjoy going to concerts whenever I get a chance.  There’s nothing quite like attending a live performance. But I always envy people with knowledge about different styles of singing Ragas, etc.

I wish I were a singer. Not the performing kind but one who can at least break into song and sound reasonably in ‘sur’. I do often sing along with songs played on the radio or TV, though sounding quite besura.

Anyway, the nice thing is that having had some little exposure to music in my family, I’m now getting to know about the musical side of IS’s family!

As a child IS learnt to play the piano, but didn't keep it up beyond junior school.  Since the days of The Beatles he's always enjoyed listening to Western pop/rock/blues.  His father used to enjoy Western music contemporary at that time (a favourite being "Eternally", composed by Charlie Chaplin, with first line of the song "I'll be loving you eternally ...").  As someone put it, Music is a connection to people who've gone ...  His mother was more comfortable with Indian classical, as seems to have been the case with most of her family.

IS's niece Vrinda is a Hindustani classical vocalist. This is not a recent discovery, we’ve known she was training to be a singer when I first met her in the mi-80s. IS's mother’s side of the family (Konkani Saraswat Brahmins) had more or less severed relations with his mother when she married his father, a Muslim. But a few relatives did make efforts to get back/keep in touch with IS’s mother and him, this niece’s family included.

Before a visit to Bombay a couple of years ago IS made contact with Vrinda again, and she (and her husband) visited us in Bandra. Such a warm, knowledgeable person. After she updated us on some of IS’s mother’s family background our conversation converged to music.

She explained her style of singing very simply, singing little examples to us in the process.

Vrinda’s mother Aruna Rao is IS’s first cousin, an artist herself in the field of literature, painting and music.  IS met her many years ago in Bombay, and when much younger, he also remembers briefly meeting Aruna’s mother, his mother’s sister!  Though she lived till 1986 (when she was 89 and IS was 33), imagine they met just once or twice!

I listen to Vrinda now and then and although we hardly meet, keep connected to her through her music.  At this stage in my life I seem to be getting more inclined to immersing myself in music.

Hydrangeas - two impressions

Happy memories, old friends and a super holiday

Earlier this month we took a road-trip up to Ooty, in the Nilgiris mountains.

It was not just to be a holiday but to fulfil my husband’s long-felt wish to attend his school’s annual Founders Day after decades (The Lawrence School, Lovedale, or LSL).  We planned the trip with old friends who go up to Ooty quite regularly, who this time had rooms to spare in their friend’s holiday home. We lost no time in grabbing the opportunity, and a few days later set out by car, just the two of us.

The road was surprisingly good all the way from Chennai to Mettupalayam (via Ulundurpet), and the drive upto Ooty quite scenic (via Kotagiri).

The Guest house (Bela Nilayam) where we stayed was away from the hustle and bustle of Ooty town, which seemed much more crowded than on our last visit in ‘94. This lovely place was down towards Masinagudi on the 1^st hairpin bend (of 36)! With lots of space, an award-winning garden and a lovely view.

Of course the fact that this time we were in Ooty during the 1^st week of May, when it’s also the best time of year also had something to do with the population density.  Not only do you have parents of  LSL students and Old Lawrencians (OLs) all up for Founders, Ooty bursts at the seams with tourists as well.

Obviously the town’d changed tremendously in 19 years.  The greenery was clearly less than remembered, and instead numerous small dwellings now reached to near the golf course.  Not to say there aren’t large properties left, the Ooty Saits (“Egg-House” Saits, by virtue of the shape of their guard-booth) stubbornly hold out in their large compound cheek-by-jowl with new multi-storey hotel monstrosities, car dealerships and what-have-yous, when in the old days they were quite out of town.

Ooty old-timers can’t get over the new situation of extreme water-shortage, bound to affect the hill-station’s reputation for healthy vegetables, fruit and flowers, or (despite the impressively efficient traffic police), the daily traffic jams.  Not to mention the air and noise pollutions.

The first 2 days we relaxed and drove around Ooty, seeing some areas for the first time (like near Good Shepherd School, Sterling Resorts, emerging near Fern Hill Palace, etc.).

Evenings were well-spent in lively repartee in the guest-house’s large drawing room. Joined by more Old Lawrencians, the conversations always seemed to converge to talk of school. Being the only non-OL I promised to bear this no matter how silly it got sometimes.

Then the school celebrations began.  Till recently the LSL Founders was a 3-day affair, this seems the first time the program was crammed into 2.  If you don’t count the previous eve’s 155^th Founder’s Memorial church Service, with prayer and benediction for the Founder and forthcoming celebrations.

For IS the 1^st day’s events of interest began with the OL lunch (which I joined as well), followed by the OLA General Body meeting, and then the School Play (Night of January 16^th by Ayn Rand, very well done).  He decided to forego the Exhibitions (student projects), the Book Reading session (which we regretted missing, the authors this year were Ms. Aruna Gill and Ms. Saaz Aggarwal, both OLs), the Past vs. Present matches and PT Display.

The 2^nd day we both attended the “Trooping the Colour” parade in the morning, and “Beating Retreat” that evening, missing the intervening events like the Equestrian Display and Variety Entertainment.  As well as that night’s OLA Dinner Dance at the Fern Hill Palace hotel.

As for IS’s visit to school, certainly it a great thrill and very nostalgic for him to go back after so many years, more so for a Founders when friends from his batch (or a year or two up/down) were there, specially if from his houses Kailash or Aravalli.

Left to right : Sait, Elizabeth, Johny, Suri, Jojo, Murugu (batch of 1970)

Perhaps a quarter of the boarders are children of former pupils, and as with most boarding schools, the LSL Alumni have very strong loyalty to their school.  In fact, after some years of seeing the school decline, a few OLs are now directly involved with its management as Board of Governors office-bearers.

We took a round of “cem”, the old cemetery associated with juicy horror stories (and some scary ragging).  Though the junior school has been completely rebuilt, IS well remembers the old dormitories and being put in by his parents in ‘66, the initial hours moping around before the train-batches and other students arrived, the “interview” by ‘Woody ‘Vyas (Senior Master); it must be one of the saddest ever feelings, being wrenched away from one’s family at a young age.  Specially for an only child.

Founded by Major General Sir Henry Lawrence to provide education to children of serving/deceased soldiers/officers of the then British Army in India, initially there were totally four “Lawrence Military Asylums”, at Sanawar (established 1847), Mount Abu (1856), Lovedale, Ootacamund (1858) and Ghora Gali (1860, near Murree).  The younger two were established after Sir Henry died early in the 1857 Indian Mutiny.  The schools underwent several name changes, being known variously as The Lawrence Memorial Royal Military School (L), Lawrence Royal Military School (S), Lawrence Memorial School (L), Abu Lawrence School (MA), Lawrence College (GG).  The Mount Abu school no longer exists (the campus now houses the Internal Security Academy), while Ghora Ghali is in present-day Pakistan.

As a result the sense of history, and tradition of military training at Lovedale (as well as its sister schools) has always been strong, and these schools are possibly the only educational institutions in India to continue “Trooping the Colour” and “Beating Retreat” as part of their Founders' Celebration.

Other strong associations include the school song and hymns, the nicknames (Mrs. Bhalla was Ma Balls!) and of course the special Lovedale slang.  Fall in after chhota for a skinning-up if you can’t figure out what this means: stop fudging piza, croak for your junk!

For me it was a great experience to see these school-mates of all ages bonding (regardless of whether they were in school during the same years or not) through their close ties to their school, something I had not encountered before with alumni of other schools, including my own.  This was the big bonus from our wonderful holiday, the nostalgia of all the OL fraternity that stays with you like the fresh green of the tea slopes and the heady scent of eucalyptus.