Happy New Year!

 

Come December and my thoughts turn to winter vacations and to Delhi.  People are always startled by our choice of city- why leave Bangalore and go to Delhi in December??

But Delhi is always Delhi - crisp winter mornings, sometimes foggy, sometimes clear with golden winter sunshine that one soaks up whenever one has a chance.

The Delhi of music - where Nayan and I learn to our heart's content and, sometimes get to hear a concert or two.  Delhi brims over with music and dance in December.

The Delhi of Humayun's Tomb, walks in Lodhi gardens, strolls down little lanes - trying to choose uncrowded byways like Sundernagar where we can drop in to buy some Darjeeling tea and fresh spices.

The Delhi of winter feasts - deep red gajar (carrot) ka halwa, crisp pakodas, winter greens, fresh fish and shellfish, roasted sweet potatoes and more.  Never do the naans and kebabs taste better than in December.

December is also a time of reunions - when old friends travel back home and get in touch.  Of sending cards and wishes to all those we know and catching up on their news.  Of savouring sunsets and awaiting sunrises.

The Delhi of ancient monuments and memories- where old compositions like dhrupad spring naturally to mind.  My son sings one such composition (set to raga bhoopali) in his music class and we wonder at the words - tu hi surya, tu hi chandra, tu hi pavana, tu hi agana (addressed to the energy that is everywhere- "you are each of the elements in my life - the sun, the moon, the wind, water and fire").  Its profound beauty and wisdom always moves me.  My son, Nayan, requests the music teacher to join him as he sings and together the notes resound - a beautiful way to usher in a new year.  Nayan asks why we address this energy as 'tu' (a term meant for our equals or those younger than us), why not use aap, which is the respectful or more formal word for 'you'?  The music teacher explains that it is because of familiarity.  The energy or spirit of the world is so close to us that we don't need to use words that keep it far apart from us.  This is a recording of the song that was sung-  Dhrupad

I realise then that we are singing, in a sense, for ourselves.  And my heart fills with a burst of joy at this reminder.  All aspects of nature and life that I love, are, in essence, a part of me.  My new year resolution takes shape at this moment.  I hope that I remain connected to this energy and that I allow it to lead me forward to fulfilling new experiences in the coming year.

 I wish all my readers and their families a wonderful year ahead!

Lessons From My Son, On Perfection

The pursuit of perfection is instilled in us at an early age, perhaps to develop certain qualities that will help us in years to come.  And it does have a place in our lives as do rigour, a commitment to excellence, diligence, analysis, the process of checking, cross-checking, sifting, unearthing...  But there are times when the pursuit of perfection is self defeating and often, the adult world cannot easily see this.  We need other eyes and ears and tiny  new voices to tell us that we should rethink.

Perfection comes into play quite often in times of self expression - when one is creating something new or just trying to express oneself through appropriate channels.  It is important to remember that when we are driven from within to express ourselves, we do not really know the purpose of the expression or what lies ahead for our creation - where it will go and who it will touch.  Even if we try, we cannot repeat ourselves for each situation is different- the moment is different, we are internally at a different state from the previous time and the space and environment we find ourselves in is never the same.  That is the beauty of our individual efforts and what makes it satisfying is not just the shape it takes but the process involved.  And at some moment we need to let it go, drift away and find its goal.  Many times, our concern about our own inner standards prevents us from expressing what at a very deep level we would really like to.  We hesitate, preferring to wait for a better time, and the moment is gone (other moments do come of course).

Long, long ago, I stopped singing (as I could not sing at the pitch desired by my primary school teachers!).  I do hum and whistle and, like many people, some music does move me enough to sing on my own at times.  But not very loudly.  After my son was born, I realized that he much preferred to hear my voice rather than the tapes I would play and nothing could make him sleep better than my own bedtime songs.  So I began to sing, just for the two of us, and now there is so much joy in the process because, at his prompting, we are learning new songs together and singing them loudly and unabashedly.  The first day that he settled into school, I found I was free to shop in the morning and it was only after spending quite some time in the shop that I realized I had been humming away to myself, and no one had raised an eyebrow.  A gift I need to thank my son for.

My thoughts turn also to a friend who derives tremendous satisfaction from perfection.  Photography is one of his interests, and when he visited India, he carried his equipment around, taking pictures everywhere he went.  There were so many photographs and not enough time to edit them so they lay around for a while until he decided to send them to us anyway.  It so happened that they arrived on a day when my little son returned from school in tears.  He had taken his collection of wildlife pictures (cut out from the newspaper) and someone had trashed them saying they were not meant for his school work,  and my son desperately wanted them back.  As I wondered what to do, there appeared on my computer screen, shot after shot of pictures taken at a wildlife sanctuary.  My son and I went through them with great delight.  We thought they were beautiful because they had a spontaneity and because they were just what my son was missing at that moment.  My son was happy to have a new collection (though he said there were not enough monkeys and also cautioned the photographer not to wander about at night taking pictures because a Brazilian wandering spider might dig its fangs into his foot!).  Perhaps these pictures would not make it into a fancy photo gallery in their current form but my son and I could not have asked for anything more perfect at that moment.

The Baul's Song

It's Christmas time in Calcutta, everyone is on holiday and making the most of it.  Even the non-resident Bengalis come home to visit old haunts.  Shops and restaurants are packed, loudspeakers are blaring, streets are filled with cars and pedestrians.

In the midst of all this, I feel truly blessed to have our local Baul visit every Sunday morning.  He walks down the street, playing his simple string instrument and singing his soulful songs.  Hardly anyone listens but he always stops in front of our family house, where he knows someone or the other will emerge.  And if I am there, I always do.  I love listening to these down to earth songs with mystic roots.  Songs which remind us that God must be searched for (and discovered) within our own hearts, by ourselves.

Bauls- the wandering mystic minstrels of Bengal used to travel from village to village, bringing these messages and their wonderful music to the common man.  Each village would provide them with food and shelter and take care of their needs.  Now things have changed, the Bauls have to fend for themselves and their travel is restricted.  They are hardly seen in urban settings, except for a few high profile ones, who perform periodically in concerts.  These performances are quite powerful but they often lack the spontaneity and simplicity found in a more natural setting.

This time I was fortunate enough to have my cell phone with me while rushing down to hear the Baul.  And so I made my first recording of one of his songs, the link is given below.  There was plenty of neighbourhood action at the time of the recording (and my hand finally shook when my little son made a beeline for the road).  People were coming and going, the driver was revving the car, the dhobi arrived with his bundle of freshly ironed clothes, an irate crow was demanding his biscuit breakfast and so on.  But the Baul was lost in his music and in his world - which is as it should be - and it reminded me to search for what gives my life meaning and pursue it without distraction (or at least attempt to)!

https://youtu.be/3IZiTYb_YqA 

Christmas In The Air

We usually do not celebrate Christmas, but it's always very much a part of our lives, for it is in the air, everywhere greeting us.

This year, with my son just beginning to learn music in school, I get to hear Christmas songs at home when he returns.

My husband, who is in Delhi, has ordered some of the most delicious Christmas cake and pudding (from IIC) which he will bring back.  Thus I have saved my Christmas cake recipe for next year.

We have a tree in our little garden, but as we will be in Kolkata over Christmas this year, I have kept the decorations for next year (when my son will be older and able to reach the top branches).  This is prudent because our garden is full of leaping monkeys, inquisitive squirrels and nosy ravens right now.

Christmas in Kolkata has its own charm, even if Park street is too crowded to walk down, even though the old jazz haunts are now hard to find, even if our favourite traditional bakery closed its doors last year.  Christmas is still Christmas, and spending it with family and friends is always special.

Here are two old versions of my son's favourite Christmas songs -

Rudolph the red nosed reindeer-
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ara3-hDH6I

Jingle bells (apparently the first song to be played in outer space, which gives it an added appeal, in my son's eyes)-
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FAxAfn-7JBg

And here is my favourite song (which was also Elvis's favourite Christmas song, as sung by him)-

Blue Christmas-
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tAy8y5lEy9o

Listening To My Spirit

The end of the year is just a calendar reminder to stop and think of one's resolution for the year to come.  It's something I always like to do and the best resolutions are the ones that don't wait for the year to end before being implemented!

Sometimes, it's not very easy to think of one particular thing, but there are times when a specific thought slips itself into my mind effortlessly, as has happened this year.

This year has been marked by great changes in our lives, and  for me, the most important, through the ups and downs, has been the expression of the spirit (as I perceived it, in myself and others).  I usually refrain from dwelling overly on personal details but have decided to do so, for this blog.

As I write, my son, Nayan, weaves his way through nursery school, with optimism and determination; qualities that I hope will serve him well through his life.  He is learning how to deal with things he doesn't understand, things that scare him or worry him.  As we ourselves are.

An unexpected death in the family left us grappling with pain, wondering how to deal with it and what to make of death - and life.  I am grateful that my mother-in-law lived an active and happy life almost upto the end, and left with very little suffering.  I am grateful also for parts of her which live on in spirit- in the things she did and, in some way, in Nayan.

This year, my husband found an opportunity to extend his scientific creativity (an essential part of his life) to do some of the research that he was not able to easily do in his academic life (which continues alongside).  He has started a company to design new flu vaccines.  This is a big leap of faith that appears to be leading to much satisfaction (and fatigue)!  It would not have been possible without his business partner, ex-student and old friend, Gautham, who complements, supports and sustains the company.  They are the only two employees, as of now!

As for myself, life has taken me down yet another untraversed path.  I'm just beginning to pick up the threads and feel my way through.  I have a new routine (at least on school days) that I had not really planned in any way.

My yoga practice has restarted, in a slow but definite way.  I sense the presence of my yoga teachers and something leads me on, one small step at a time.

At the start of the year, I had a head full of ideas for books and I wrote one (a children's book called 'Marco Polo Gets A Job!').  As months went by, most of the other ideas evaporated, leaving me in blankness.  Blankness is not something I despair of or dread, it usually indicates a period of shifting and refocussing of energy.  I just let things be.

Finally, this month, I got the feeling that the most fulfilling thing to do (fortunately I have the option!)  is to listen to my spirit.

Dentists' clinics have their advantages!  While waiting for yet another filling to be done, I began reading Walden and came upon this line- "The finest qualities of our nature, like the bloom on fruits, can be preserved only by the most delicate handling.  Yet we do not treat ourselves nor one another thus tenderly."  I had plenty of time to dwell on it (and hope the dentist did too!) and it resonated somewhere deep within.  Soon after, things began to get a little clearer.

I awoke the next morning (pain free!) with the thought that I was really missing my diary.  I had kept a diary for years and had abandoned it at some moment when other forms of writing emerged.  While I express a few of my thoughts and experiences through my blogs, I realized that I would like to spend a little time on writing for myself.  Jotting down thoughts and stray bits of information that might be of no particular interest to anyone else.

Memories flashed through me - not of my own diaries- but those of my mother and grandmother.  Very distinct and different from mine, and from each other- providing just a glimpse of their lives, with gaps to be filled through knowledge or imagination.  As time and energy is limited, I know this will cut into my professional or everyday writing, but it feels like the perfect thing to do at this moment.

This was by no means the end of my instinctive decisions.  Things got curiouser and curiouser.  The next change involved my reading.  I have a large collection of cookbooks and books on food that I have not had time to look at.  It seems a bit ridiculous to spend a precious hour perusing these when I cannot possibly try the recipes immediately, and when there is a long list of already pending chores to be attended to.

But I just felt like reaching out for those books - and so I did; thus I began reading about food once more.

This feels absolutely right and it leaves me with happy, intriguing thoughts on cooking and eating.  To my surprise, this has also led to ideas on clearing and tidying up, beginning (not surprisingly) with the kitchen.  One step paves the way for the next, and I find myself carrying out my pending chores in an unplanned but simple manner (they are far from over, in case you would like to know!).

I have seen this ease and efficiency when the spirit (a word I use, but others may put it differently) expresses itself - a non linear, ill defined path that a computer would not be able to traverse, but which humans can do effortlessly at times.  Often it results in the feeling, "Why didn't I think of this before?"

I am grateful for all the help and happiness I received this year through various people, near and far.  Many friends reached out to us during our time of grief, the thoughts and feelings they shared helped to comfort us and fill a void.

Apart from this, there were acquaintances and friends, new and old, who made a difference to my life this year.  I'm mentioning a few of them-

Our cook in Delhi, Pushkar, who spent his own money in keeping the household going while my mother-in-law was in hospital, and did not even mention it until he was asked when his last salary had been paid.  He knows what each person likes to eat and makes a special effort to cook these when we visit, without our asking.

My driver, Busanna, who received a call yesterday morning, telling him that his young nephew had died in the village.  He was driving Nayan and me to school and did not tell me until we reached.  He tried to make arrangements to go home once his driving duty for the day ended, but this meant he would miss the funeral, and so he decided not to go.  I was making arrangements for another driver but he said it would not be necessary.

These are the kinds of people upon whom we depend, without whom our lives would be much harder and less happy, and it is only fair (as Pushkar requested while talking at my mother-in-law's memorial) that they be treated with consideration and compassion.

Other people, who, by being what they are, have enriched my life, and that of my family-

Nora, a wonderful friend, and a gifted acupuncturist, whose wisdom and love always help me while I am faltering (and whose writing I love to read).

Danny, whose quest for tribal carpets leads him to central Asia, but also to Bangalore, where his carpets now have a happy home.  He spontaneously and very kindly offered his newly set up carpet studio as a place to hold a memorial for my mother-in-law, and it was the perfect place for such an occasion.  His family- Renuka, Luri and Tulu, who bring us great happiness in little ways.

Prakash, one of the last few accordion players in the country, who plays just because he wants to (and has an immense repertoire of music stored in his head) - who deals with family responsibilities with the same apparent ease that he displays while playing his music.

Amit, the jazz guitarist, who is trying to make a place for himself in busy LA, but who always has time for us when he's visiting Bangalore.

Vikram, a new friend discovered during my son's swimming expeditions, an author who spends his time writing and swimming and occasionally giving me advice on how to get published (with no success so far)!

Tanu, sister-in-law, but more of a sister and friend, the one I turn to for all my needs in Delhi (and who never fails in her attempts to help!)

Andrej, the scientist of Slovenian origin, with an extraordinary mind and heart, who stepped into our lives quite by chance.

To these, and others who  make our lives rich and complete- and to all my readers - for helping me sustain this blog!  A big thank you (for wading through my writing) and a happy new year!

Tones of Autumn

Yesterday we went to see Carpet Stories, Danny Mehra's beautiful exhibition of rare tribal carpets (and ended up buying yet another of them!).  These carpets have a way of transporting one to faintly familiar yet unknown and unencountered worlds. A reminder of the vast sky above and the bountiful and sometimes harsh land around us. Of perhaps a simpler life, more rooted to the natural world.

We selected a carpet that had a beautiful combination of unusual, soft colours, that reminded me of autumn.  Blue skies, pink hued leaves, browns and mustardy yellows.  Not the freshness of spring, not the heat of summer and not the bareness of winter.  Just a soft, mellowing season of change.

After that we went across the road for dinner.  Ate slow cooked lamb with tiny carrots and baby potatoes and hand made ravioli with light creamy pesto.  The band next door was playing 'Autumn Leaves' and the gentle notes drifted in (fortunately it was instrumental; no one can sing it quite like Edith Piaf).  All in all, it was a very satisfying, very autumnal day, at the beginning of winter!

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=n2s2tPORlW4

Small Poems

My son seems to spend his time whirling together all the words he has heard and stringing them into unlikely verses, which sound very poetic as he says them aloud.  His world revolves around machines and motion (and food!) so these figure most often in his conversation.  Here are a few examples of the little bits of poetry-

Oh, look, that silly excavator

Is going on the escalator..

Now, the tanker sings 

A penne song

And a benne song

And a fusilli song

And a spaghetti song

And songs of all

The food he is eating

That spaghetti 

Has electricity!

Now that earth is spinning

And gravity is spinning

Like a top.

Carpet Stories

All crafts tell tales.  In my view, master crafts tell extraordinary tales that come straight from the spirit- talking of love, life or nature.  Mass produced crafts often talk of life in factories or life in the modern world with its lack of time and concern for detail.

Some months ago we visited Danny Mehra's extraordinary exhibition of tribal rugs from central Asia.  Danny is not a craftsman but a collector and he has an unusual eye and a deep interest in tribal carpets.  (This blog is weeks overdue.  My apologies, I am still learning with my little boy, as his routines change and grow.)

We bought a carpet at the exhibition, which spoke of different things to each of us.  Danny said he originally bought it because of its golden hue.  My husband felt it was like an impressionist painting - colours melding into each other and producing a certain effect that the individual colours would not.  The carpet spoke to me of days in the sun - wandering through fields of wheat and poppies.  My son likes it because it is soft and has pretty flowers and an interesting (and sacred) pattern of interwoven turtles.

Danny is exhibiting his carpets in Delhi from December 18th to 28th at the India International Centre (for readers who live in Delhi).  The exhibition is titled Carpet Stories and Danny will display rare tribal carpets from Persia, Anatolia, the Caucasus, Central Asia and various Kurdish enclaves.  It's worth seeing as our museums do not really have collections of tribal carpets from these regions.  (For anyone who would like to know more about them, Danny can be contacted at dannymehra@yahoo.com )

There will also be a few talks at this event.  Danny strongly denies professional knowledge in this area, emphasising that this is his hobby, but his knowledge accumulated over the years is quite vast, and he is always happy to share it with people.

I'm ending with a few words from Danny's mail and some pictures I took from his earlier exhibition.

I would like to personally invite you to my exhibition and will be delighted if you are able to come!

All the carpets on display have been selected from my personal (mad) collection and are my humble tribute to the rich weaving traditions of prominent tribal groups from various regions outside India.

The exhibition will run daily during December 18-28 from 11 AM to 7 PM.  A summary of additional events is given below...please join us for as many of them as you can!