Category: Humour

Tr for Teachers

Teacher’s Day

September 5th is Teacher’s Day in India. This year, I was wished by my parents and family, and I glowed with happiness. It really is a marvelous profession. The day is packed with things to do, and activities to finish, lessons to teach, and all the rest of it. But most importantly, it is filled with loving, energetic children who sometimes dance into the classroom, other times have to be coerced through a tough lesson with the promise of a treat at the end of it.

As my biological children were growing, I often heard complaints about teachers from my friends. How teachers weren’t doing enough, how their children were smart and were not being challenged enough etc etc. Having grown up in a school environment  and the child of teachers, it was interesting to see their perspectives. Like many of us do, the adults seem to have forgotten what we were capable of at every age, and the expectations from the children and teachers was especially high. We live in the Bay Area after all. A place notorious for its high expectations of its children.

But now. I am in a classroom all day long. I see what a hard job teachers are presented with everyday. There is a wide range of personalities, learning abilities, attitudes, quirks, and even motivations for coming to school. A child once confessed that the favorite part of their day was recess, and I smiled at that. How could I blame the child? After all, recess is the basis of culture, as I myself wrote. Every other place, they were being asked to do this and that. At recess, they did what they wanted. Bright sunshine, choice of playmates, choice of play, and more importantly no expectations of them. Of course they love recess! 

Nothing All Day!

I can feel their excitement seep through my ears – the cheers and moans at recess are of a particularly dramatic nature. There is drama too. The cheaters at 4-square, the one who refused to take their place in line, but that rarely walked into the classroom with the children. How can one not admire that?

Sometimes it did. Thorough investigations lead to root causes. So how is a teacher meant to juggle all of that, and ensure that the children feel sufficiently stimulated, develop good behaviors and keep the parents happy? After all, the parents think the children and the teachers happily do nothing all day.

For years, when asked about school, our conversations went like this:

“How was your day?”

Good

“What did you do?”

Nothing!

Never one to let things be, I’d prod.

Ask them about sharks-and-minnows, and their friends, they’d be eloquent, their vocabularies vibrant, and their passions evident. That too, is as it should be. Our learning is safe and steady. Our passions, dramatic and vivid. As parents, we get a tiny window into their day and it is hardly fair to form our opinions based on it. Yet, what choice do we have?

Whenever I asked about what they did learn in English, or Math, or Science, or Social Studies, the answers were hardly inspiring. I can imagine the same across millions of Bay Area homes. But our children learn to read, do math, read and analyze scientific articles, learn about community and history. The growth seems gradual, yes, but it is there, and in just a few years, it is phenomenal. A child who could barely read confidently picks up books for pleasure. A child who struggled to evenly split the pizza between his siblings does so seamlessly, and tells you strange facts about caterpillars when you’re least expecting it. 

The educational calendar reminds me more than ever of one of my friend’s favorite sayings: “We always over-estimate what we can do in one day and under-estimate what we can do in one year.”

I wish there was a way in which we could afford a better peek into their energetic days, but alas!

#TrForTeachers

My loving family in India sent me Happy Teacher’s Day wishes and I glowed all day. I had lost my voice teaching the previous week. But I still croaked to them excitedly and passionately about my children. The biological children rolled their eyes and said, “Ask Amma about her kids, and she doesn’t talk about us anymore. It is all about those 5th graders of hers!”

The parents laughed, and said, “It is what happens to teachers!”

My parents still receive wishes from their own students who are now adults. It always brightens their day, and they smile thinking of their days teaching.

“You aren’t just given happiness, you have to pick it up here and there all through the day.”

― Miss Read, Fresh from the Country

They told me that the Karnataka State government initiated a movement to give teachers the prefix, Tr (like doctors have Dr). What a marvelous idea?! I saw the campaign gain strength and the videos were inspiring and oh so loving. I wish the idea catches on. A simple idea, sure, but a powerful one. One of my professors in my teaching credential program also showed us video, and we all glowed. 

#TrForTeachers

Happy Teacher’s Day to all wonderful teachers.

The Joys of Student Teaching

This week I am with the children – a whole week in which we manage by ourselves. Me. With the children.

Trouble being heard? Or Trouble speaking?

I anticipated many problems. What I did not anticipate was losing my voice. The class has a microphone, it has a mike. In spite of all this, my voice was strained. I was croaking by the end of the day. Even the classroom Alexa refused to listen to me. I suppose my voice did not sound human at all. It was all very trying.

Classrooms are filled with technology – just like the rest of our lives. Something or the other malfunctions all the time providing for equal parts amusement, frustration, and a shared camaraderie as each of the children tries a different technique to get things going.

One time, the text-to-reader was not working. I know the children do not like listening to it either. They say it doesn’t sound like a real person. Which is fair. It does have a robotic monotone which I suppose is trying to fifth graders trying to not bounce around before recess. So, I started to read with that voice of mine.

One of the kids said, “Ms Bala, we can do popcorn reading!” I must’ve looked lost for they explained with the patience and indulgence they reserve for me, knowing I am a student teacher,  “We’ll each read a page.” And just like that, they showed me kindness and compassion without making a fuss. Or being asked to do so.

I really do love these children!

Dancing like Baboons or Flamingoes?

Just as I glowed in appreciation for them, they’d also try my patience by refusing to work out a hard math concept. I found myself coaxing and cajoling them to slide through the cubes to find the volume and surface area one morning.

“But we won’t even use this anywhere!” Whine.

“We did this all already! We filled out our answers!” Indignant.

“Not correctly! I checked your work. Most of you got it wrong. And I am so glad you brought up that it may never be used!” And I went on to tell them all the ways in which we use surface area to design products, or rooms, or cabin holds in flights, or medical instruments for that matter.

Only the promise of a dance video at the end of the lesson got them through the class. I shook my head as I watched imitate flamingoes or baboons in a dance video and moved away. But at the end of the lesson, two of them came up to me and said shyly, “Ms Bala – You really are a fun math teacher!”

I’d do the whole lesson again just for that. Don’t tell them that.

Oh the things you do!

Some days they behaved fabulously, and other days they were irritated with the fact that they were having to do work even though their main teacher was out. It was fascinating to watch.

Just as I’d admire how emotionally intelligent some of them were, I’d be faced with something like this:

“Ms Bala! He’s been saying that he’s going to take away my toys!”

“Which toys did you bring to school, Lysa?”

“I didn’t bring any toys!”

“So what can he take from you?”

I was reminded of P G Wodehouse’s quote about teachers:

“There is always something going on in a .. school. Beyond breaking up fights,…, inducing boys of all sizes not to throw stones, go on the wet grass, , tease the cat, make too much noise, …, swallow pencils, and drink ink because somebody bet them they wouldn’t, I had very little to do except teach mathematics,…,  play football, herd stragglers into meals… “

 

AIImagegeneratedbasedonthequotebyPGWodehouse:

I have James Patterson’s book, Thank You, Teachers, beaming at me from the bookshelf waiting to be read. I can already identify with it. Teachers really are as he describes it, “our last line of defense and our first line of hope.”

I am waiting to see the stories he has collected from teachers in the book.

I am full of tales every day, and I know now why there are so few teachers who are also mainstream writers. Life is so full in a classroom. It is filled with camaraderie, drama, and sweet moments that make you believe in humanity. But just like the children say “How was your day?”” Good!”” What did you do?” “Nothing!”  So it is with teachers.

You cherish the moments and prepare for the next class.

Dragons in the Dusk

Glad for the Gibbous Moon

It was a beautiful waxing moon – the sky was alight with happiness. The beautiful cirrus clouds had done a marvelous job painting the skies in pastel shades. The moon hung low and golden in its gibbous glory. (I know how that sounds – but I am glad – Get it? Get it?) 

Time felt precious, maybe because it is. The school year started for the son, and for me too. I am suddenly more strapped for time than I thought possible. I am up early, on my feet all day, doing my teaching and assignments, and barely get to see the teenage son, who has also managed to fill up his days with high school friends and activities.

It was a beautiful evening. The mind was perhaps not as sharp as it should be. I knew dinner was a half-done affair, but we decided to step out together. All of us meandering on our walk admiring the clouds and the setting sun and the waxing moon. Trying as the day may have been, there is something immensely soothing about the light of dusk.

Magical. 

Pareidolia

Of course, humans have a word, albeit a really obscure one, for our indulgence with finding shapes in clouds. Many beautiful walks have we spent looking for dragons, whales and sheep amidst our companions in the skies. It is a marvelous activity, and that day, the clouds looked like kites trailing their wishes behind them. How marvelous that there should be a kite in the skies as well?  

Spotting dragons in the dusk can be very satisfying. The clouds, kites, comets are all there to indulge us, aren’t they?

“I mused for a few moments on the question of which was worse, to lead a life so boring that you are easily enchanted, or a life so full of stimulus that you are easily bored.”

― Bill Bryson, Lost Continent: Travels In Small-Town America

Is there more to life? Our lives? Most lives? I don’t know. But I know that ‘this one precious life’, as Mary Oliver puts it demands our attention. What you value, and what you remember over the moments of your life, becomes you, doesn’t it?

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=time+of+youth

If you’re looking for more obscure words with some soothing music to accompany it, please check out this youtube channel. I have never seen this many fantastical words, and I certainly don’t remember them. But I feel happy knowing they are there, all the same.

Note: I am aware that we are well into the waning moon season now – but life was a trifle hectic over the past week, and I really could not find a quiet moment in which to post my thoughts of the clouds and the moon.

Imagination: An Instrument of Ethics

I was excited to discuss the first two stories of Exhalation by Ted Chiang in our book club that evening. So, when I had a few minutes to myself, I decided to write up the notes on Ted Chiang’s brilliant book.  I did not have the book with me, so I used AI to get me going. 

Human Intelligence Vs Artificial Intelligence

It is a book of short stories, and several times, I stopped to re-read the stories to make sense of them. A hidden clue, a brilliantly woven story somehow loops backs to some reference earlier in the story. Now, when AI was giving me salient points about the story, I did not remember reading any of that. It spoke eloquently of characters I did not remember, and with so much confidence! 

I had read these stories a while ago, so I still wrote down some of the things AI said, knowing fully well that it would have to be redone with human intelligence soon, faulty as it may be.

I came home, and skimmed through the stories and right enough, it had not even got the characters name right. I smiled at this almost-human folly, but the source of the error was not far to find. There wasn’t too much material on the book, and the blog post that it had relied on had it all muddled up.

I tucked it away in a corner as an example when I caution a class in the future. I also remembered a professor smiling at her own brilliance when she told us that her trick included a question that ChatGPT got wrong to see who had relied on AI instead of HI. 

For those of you who are looking at truly different ways in which to stretch your modes of understanding, Exhalation is a good place to start.

The themes and universes in which each of these stories is set is different, and still somehow manages to touch human experiences of empathy, trials, love, failure, revenge – all woven through the different ways in which time is measured. 

The Merchant & The Alchemist’s Gate

This one is a tale that has a very interesting narrative structure. A time portal and stories within stories. This is one of those tales where the nested tales create an interesting portal between the narrator, his stories, and the reader. Written clearly in simple language, the beauty lies in the subtle hints embedded in each level of narrative.  

These are apparently called Matryoshka structures as they are similar to russian nesting dolls in thematic. I am in awe of the technique and if anyone has recommendations on multiple levels, please let me know. For those wishing to try a short story to see if his writing appeals to you, this is a good story. 

Exhalation

The next story is also the title of the book. This story refers to an alternate universe in which the beings function on argon. The pressure differentials in the surrounding argon somehow seems to be the cause for their world to function as well as their own bodies. 

This was an interesting story to discuss as each of us had a different understanding of the story. The protagonist is able to perform ‘brain-surgery’ on himself to examine the workings of his mind, as he is trying to figure out why time is slowing down in their universe. I do not have a proper understanding of the link between time and the brain-surgery. But I think it has to do with the fact that time slowing down is a manifestation of their brains slowing down because of the reduced pressure of the argon surrounding them and not time itself slowing down. 

In any case, this story is one that when discussed in a good high school classroom moderated by a competent teacher is worth listening to. 

 

The remaining stories proceed in the same vein. One on free will, another on nurturing online pets and robots as a method to nurture connections, and so on. 

Just like AI can lead you down a wrong path when it is a path less-trodden, this book can lead you down paths forcing you to think of alternate worlds and realities in the confines of your mind.

Ursula Le Guin’s Essay on Science Fiction & Fantasy

I have been looking for several years for this essay by Ursula Le Guin on Science Fiction and Fantasy as a genre. It is not available online. I borrowed a copy of The Left Hand of Darkness in the Hainish Chronicles from the library, and there, as an introduction by the author, was this gem of the essay. There are times I wish I had an eidetic memory, and this was one of those times. 

This book, too, is determined to set us thinking of alternate modes of living, societal norms etc.

However, for those looking for a good essay online on Fantasy, here is one:

https://www.ursulakleguin.com/some-assumptions-about-fantasy

Imagination is the instrument of ethics. 

  • Ursula K Le Guin

Often, I find that is exactly what a good, thought-provoking piece of science-fiction does. It helps us examine where we land on certain issues – morality, reactions, acceptance, and therefore leads to ephemeral moments of examined living.

First Week Jitters

First Day Jitters

It was the first day of school. I had the First Day Jitters book read aloud to me by our professor, and was still as nervous as Ms Sarah.

All the advice from the children, fellow teachers, professors, aunts and parents who’d been teachers, friends and family rattling away merrily in my head.

Do I smile? Should I be friendly?

Strict? No nonsense?

If only the children knew! I felt like they were observing and wondering what to make of me.

Trying their luck?

I saw over the next few days how exactly they tried their luck.

“Can I sit there next to Joseph?”

“Why? What happened to your spot?”

Shrug.

“Usually no. But I’ll allow it today.” I said. I was telling the son all the ways in which they were asking me for this and that as I picked him up from his high school, and he drew in his breath sharply.

“Oooh! Rookie mistake Amma!”

I looked over at him puzzled.

“If they are asking you – they k-n-o-w it isn’t allowed! It’s why they aren’t asking the main teacher – because it will be shut down so quickly!” , he said zipping his hands through the air, and I blinked, and then laughed.

“You’re right. So initially, say no to everything?”

“Most things! You want them to like you too. And only for the first few days. After that, they’ll get used to getting directions from you.”, he said sounding sage-like.

It is true. Children are like that, aren’t they? I thought of all the little ways in which they settled in  with their new teachers.

  • They pushed in their chairs when they got up. Yes.Good Job.
  • They did that thing where they lean back on their chairs on two legs.No.We do not that. It is dangerous.

 

  • Thank you for listening.
  • People who do not listen are going to miss this.

 

  • Thank you for doing your classroom jobs.
  • Why didn’t you do your job?

The human spirit

I also saw plenty of things that warm the human spirit too. The kind of things that I hope we retain as we grow older. For instance, we played a small game to wrap up the day one day. The children partnered up with each other and played. It was a quick paced game based on reflexes and the children were quick to react.

“So how many of you didn’t win a single round?”, asked the teacher, and one of the children raised their hand. “Got to work on your reflexes buddy!” She said good-naturedly and moved on.

I watched the game with interest and smiled at the moans when they lost and the whoops of joy when they won.

At the end of the game, she asked the partners to agree on the winner between them and come for a quick treat of candy. One of the children who sat many desks away from the child who hadn’t won a single round walked around in the mayhem and shared his candy with him. No fanfare – just friendship.

The bond between them was laughter. They were able to see together the same absurdities and incongruities in things. The most trivial and unnoticeable thing to others would tickle them to death.”

R K Narayan – Swami & His Friends

I smiled the whole way home.

 

The Inner Self & The Outer Self

Our Inner & Outer Selves

I am sitting in a classroom, my heart bursting at the warm atmosphere. The teacher has given an activity in which they sketch their personality – their inner and outer selves. I do not remember doing something like this in school. But oh! What a wonderful activity?! I don’t think I actively thought about inner personality & outer personality the ways in which these children are taught to in as early as elementary school, and it is such a refreshing change. 

The past few months have been a completely different perspective on life than what has been playing out in the larger world and the dichotomy of being alive and welcome in a classroom seems so different from what is happening elsewhere. I cannot believe that hateful forces are at work outside our elementary classrooms. 

In all our teaching classes, we are taught ways in which we can embrace each child’s culture, make them feel like their perspective is welcome, and prepare them for the future.

The activities in our schools and with children seem so unifying and geared towards belonging. It is what the teachers are trained to do  – and they do it with competence, warmth and flair. The hum of work and chatter is a strangely comforting rhythm when monetary rewards are taken away from one. 

Teachers ask children their names – how they’d like to be called, and how they would like to respect each other, and maybe these are things that the children in adults have forgotten. But the children are marvelous teachers and I am grateful that I get to learn from them. The cheaters at four-square are not appreciated and a sense of fairness pervades the playgrounds. 

A Year to Learn About Ourselves

So what happens to all that as we grow? They vote ‘Be patient’ as a virtue to be upheld in the classroom almost universally. Yet, as adults, we seem to forget. 

The more I live life, the more I come back to the simple tenets in life. Every ten years, adults should be allowed the freedom and beautiful belonging that comes from an elementary school classroom. A year in which we are allowed to embrace art, music, dance, theatre, physical education, math, science, language and literature, history and geography with fresh perspectives, and equal fervor. 

“You aren’t just given happiness, you have to pick it up here and there all through the day.” 

― Miss Read, Fresh from the Country

Reinforce our faith in humanity through the finer things in life without expectation. Every decade. If I ever get to design a utopian society, this is just what I would do. A year in which all your worries drop at least for those few hours in the classroom.

K-Pop & Cultural References

“Would you like to explain your drawing to me?” I asked the children as they handed their drawing to me. Mild music floated around us, as the children stopped to show me what they had done. One child truly had done a fantastic job. “This, here are my favorite K-Pop albums.” she said, pointing to something that I had to squint at to decipher, while I drudged up the only K-Pop music I remembered. “Oh! The only one I know is Gangnam Style!” I said, looking sheepish. I really do need to get my cultural references in order. The other day, I told them the most recent movie I watched was Pride & Prejudice, and they gave me looks they reserved for their favorite dinosaur. It was true, but why didn’t I think of watching Spiderman the week before school started?

She gave me an indulgent look, and said, “Oh – that is good – but a little old. You can try Crazy by Le SSeraFim. ” She waited patiently as I wrote it down. I just watched it, and I can see why it appealed to her.  It is catchy with brilliant visuals.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n6B5gQXlB-0&list=RDn6B5gQXlB-0&start_radio=1

Another boy’s drawing was filled with baseball. I made a mental note to look up some baseball facts, remembering the famous Leslie Vs Recht Baseball Study on learning cognition.

I had this sudden gratitude that here I was surrounded by 30 different personalities, and I knew not what I would learn from them as I taught my way through the curriculum. The hour of art had done marvels for us all. Teachers and students alike emerged happy and refreshed from the exercise, and I smiled in thanks.

Erik Erikson’s 8 stages of life

Learning to Teach

For those of you who do not yet know – I am choosing, and learning to become a teacher.

A good part of learning to teach is grounded in psychology. Developmental psychology. Vygotsky, Bandura, Piaget, Gardner, Erik Erikson – they are all rattling in the brain after a fascinating few months of learning.

I have always been interested in the kinds of problems and things that occupy our lives at various stages. Even the upanishads had the 4 stages of life laid out for reference. One particular psychosocial theory resonated with me:

Erik Erikson’s 8 stages of life.

Here is a quick overview:

  • Basic Trust Vs Mistrust (birth – 12/18 months of age)
  • Autonomy Vs Shame/Doubt (18 most – 3 yrs)
  • Initiative Vs Guilt (3-6 yrs)
  • Industry Vs Inferiority (6-12 yrs)
  • Identity Vs Role confusion (adolescence)
  • Intimacy Vs Isolation (Young adulthood – forming intimate relationships, love, family)
  • Generativity Vs Stagnation (Middle adulthood – parent/mentor)
  • Ego integrity Vs Despair (Late adulthood – retirement)

These 8 stages are largely an indicator for folks in their stages of life. For instance,

Basic trust vs mistrust: Birth – 12/18 months of age.

Largely shaped by their relationship with their caregivers, this determines how they learn to be trustful. Having stable and loving caregivers is usually key to successfully being able to form trusting relationships.

Autonomy vs Doubt: 18 months – 3 years

Most parents have experienced the ‘terrible twos’. How many perplexed parents are left wondering why their thus-far pliant child throws a tantrum for no reason? It is all about building autonomy.

I still remember this 3 year old who sat next to me on a long flight more than 2 decades ago. I was in my mid-twenties, had not yet become a mother, and always loved children. His mother, the child, and I got to chatting, and became friendly. His mother was just happy to have him talk to someone else, I think, and we hit it off.

At the airport a few hours later, this sweet boy threw himself on the floor and gave himself up to a truly fantastic tantrum with flailing arms, wailing shrieks, watery eyes – the works. I had gone to get myself some coffee, and came back to find this child making a spectacle. I crouched down, and asked him, “What are you doing?”. He looked up at me, recognition dawning on his face and smoothing out the wrinkled crying face to tell me soberly, “I am throwing a tantrum!”

How I laughed! Luckily, this seemed to break his meltdown and he became a happy child in our midst once more. I have never quite forgotten the little fellow – he must be a young man possibly doing his graduate studies or working by now.

But there you go : Autonomy

According to Erik Erikson’s psychosocial stages of life, I am currently in the Generativity  Vs Stagnation stage of life. This is usually the stage in life when people are starting to turn their minds towards mentoring, guiding, or otherwise becoming more community-minded. I have seen many folks in my parents’ generation where the generativity did not quite happen and led to stagnation instead. But where it led to generativity,  it coincided with the phase in life where wealth generation and / or philosophical musings tended to occupy their thoughts and actions. New goals, new purpose. Some drastic, and some not so much.

Starting a new career at this stage of life? Mine is drastic, I think.

I am nervous, excited and hope that this stage is both fulfilling and interesting. So that, I may when my time comes, look back upon retirement age with ego integrity instead of with regret or despair.

 The Husband’s Perspective

எட்டு எட்டா மனுஷ வாழ்வை பிரிச்சுக்கோ

“I don’t about know Erik Erikson! But I know Rajinikanth’s song!”, said the husband. I laughed and vaguely remembered the song too. So, I went you-tubing to check for it, and ridiculous as the dance and visuals are, the concept only roughly matches the psychosocial stages as mentioned by Erik Erikson. Maybe the lyricist (Vairamuthu I think) started off with this, and then ran away with it.

Loosely speaking, according to the song:

  • The first 8 years are for playing
  • The second 8 for learning
  • The third 8 marriage & settling down
  • The fourth 8 children
  • The fifth 8 is for wealth building
  • The sixth 8 is for traveling and globe-trotting
  • The seventh 8 is for rest and ticking off your bucket list
  • The eighth 8 isn’t worth it according to the song. For you’ll gain no additional peace of mind.

The Daughter’s Perspective

The daughter scoffed and said, “I know Erik Erikson! It is a psychosocial theory Amma! Not a psychological one. Want to bet that there are at least a few in there who are taking this and running away with these theories and diagnosing themselves?!” At this point, she raised her hands in air quotes and continued, “Oh you know? I am just a terrible person because there was this one person when I was 1 year old who was not nice?!”

I can’t say I agreed with her, but it is always interesting to see how the 8 stages of life theories can be interpreted in 8 different ways.

So there you go, what to make of Erik Erikson’s psychosocial stages of life is entirely upto you. But I did find it an interesting theory to think about, especially when you look at all the people in your life – younger, older, your peers etc.

So, which stage of life are you in? And when you look back, how do you think you have fared in each stage?

Literary Conversations

I was talking to a friend recently.

“Are you driving?” She said, astute as ever. I smiled to myself in the car. She had me there. She knew from the relaxed way in which I was carrying on the conversation that I must have time and not flibberty-gibbeting around like I usually do.

“Yes!” I confessed – the sheepish feeling in my heart oozing into my voice, and she laughed.

“In that case we can talk about books!”, she said, and my heart warmed toward her. Bless her.

I told her about a book that I read recently:

The Care & Management of Lies – By Jacqueline Winspear

The tone of the writing on Jacqueline Winspear is somewhat similar to Miss Read (one of my favorite authors) – full of warmth and everyday practicality. Winspear was introduced to me by one of my son’s teachers, and I enjoyed this book more than her more famous series based on Maisie Dobbs, the detective. 

The main character, Kezzie’s treatment of food preparation borders on irreverent and artsy enough to be charming, though the food recipes do get to be a bit much towards the end.

I identified with the young bride Kezzie married to a farmer, Tom, with these short lines:

“They were in the first flush of marriage, and this was another source of fascination for the young husband, that this wife of his had no attachment to her prowess as a cook. She didn’t seem to care that pastry might be underdone, meat overdone, that bread was too doughy in the crumb, too hard on the crust, or that the men looked at their eggs and bacon and then at each other every morning. She seemed like a sprite assigned to a factory job, flitting from stove to table, then out to the kitchen garden, cutting rosemary to garnish an egg on toast-and not one of the farmworkers had ever seen garnish, nor would the word be part of their vocabulary.”

How could I not? Kezzie’s flair for the artistic, and the unconventional had me smiling. After all, I share the same sentiment towards cooking even after all these years. When I say things like, “No need to make a big deal – I’ll figure something for dinner.” I can see the looks being exchanged as though this means starving the family. It doesn’t. The family is well-fed. Ask the weighing scale. It just means, I will not think about it when I am looking for the deer shaped cloud with the sun peeping out from its antlers.

In turn, she told me about a similarly warm-toned book, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I look forward to reading it. That got us talking about how the same things that life has to offer can be written in bleak ways, or in uplifting ways. After all, the book I had just read was set in The First World War, and the whole world was buffeted by its ill-effects. It isn’t fairy-tale material. It isn’t bedtime reading material. And yet, somehow the sentiment of the book felt welcoming.

On the other hand, Grapes of Wrath – By John Steinbeck had me moping for days afterward. Good writing – but bleak in outlook.

We spoke of this and that, and hung up.

Relatable optimism?

So, what is it that makes the tone of a story appealing to you? Plenty of people like Steinbeck & Dostoevsky. I do too. Just not for comfort reading. The same sentiment seems to rule my entertainment options. Life is hard enough – I don’t need my entertainment to be the same. Maybe that is the reason sitcoms are so popular with society.

Could it relatable optimism and a familiar feeling of laughter and comfort at the end of the day?

Related: https://nourishncherish.org/2012/07/25/slimy-brazil-sprout-rice-recipe/

🌥️🌎🎨🌦️ Gaia, the Artist 🌥️🌎🎨🌦️

🌦️🌎🌥️ Pleasures of a Pluviophile 🌦️🌎🌥️

The clouds were beautiful on this summer day, and though I had a row of deadlines to meet, I took off cloud gazing. As I walked towards my regular haunt admiring the riverbed nearby, I felt a few plops of satisfying raindrops.

Raindrops in July – even the sparsest of sprinklings – is a blessing. I took my time, strolling and savoring every drop on my face. The pleasures of being a pluviophile in the Bay Area means that, that part of me only gets to come out and play rarely.

By evening, the clouds could scatter and be gone. The next day was forecasted to be scorching. And yet, I had no option but to turn back and take care of my work, instead of doing what the avocets and bluebirds were doing. Swooping and swaying to the mild breeze and enjoying the weather.

🌥️ 🌥️ 🌥️ Is there a task more important than cloud-gazing? 🌥️ 🌥️ 🌥️

Duty beckons. Life is earnest. I tried telling myself. But it was no use – how could there be anything more important than cloud-gazing? I wonder.

When I have a classroom, I shall have a marvelous lesson on clouds, replete with cloud-poetry, art, and a science lesson, on beautiful cloudy days. Cirrus, cumulonimbus, cumulus, stratocumulus. The poetry writes itself, the paintbrush yearns, and the moisture droplets coalesce, weigh into Earth without pressing down, and all of it is science and magic.

I went home, and finished up my tasks in a tearing hurry so I could step out for sunset again, all the while praying that the clouds would still be there in the evening. They were. You see? The summer thus far has had its share of sunsets with not a speck of a cloud. I know because I gaze longingly for clouds every time I step out at sunset.

🌥️🌎🎨🌦️ An Evening on Earth  🌥️🌎🎨🌦️

I sighed a gusty sigh as I saw the beautiful fluffy cirrus clouds on the horizon. No deadline was going to keep me from this sunset now. The birds chirped in agreement and the breeze swirled its approval of my decision. So, this time, I took my time. I savored every streak: every elegant swirl of grey, every blushing splash of pink, watched it turn into a brilliant orange, and then bloom into purple.

I watched the diamonds of the evening twinkle from in between the clouds.

I watched the planets shine, and hours later, the stars sparkle and tease. If I could send a snippet of this to fellow beings on other planets, I would. For what greater magic is there than the birds flying home, the crickets chirping their evening greeting, the California poppies slowly closing their petals as though trapping that last drop of golden light in them, and the deer stopping to gaze at a being admiring a sunset?

An Evening on Earth.

Black-out Poetry

“MGR is dead?”

“MGR is dead?”

That’s the joke in the house when I tell folks I learnt of something. The joke is on them of course. Because MGR is dead. But the cultural reference is to a Tamil movie in which a comedian says, “What?! MGR is dead?!”  years after he died. In fairness, I am unusually dense when it comes to cultural trends, and so many times entire songs or references that rocked the younger generation just pass me by. Usually, some kind child enlightens me and by then of course the joke is gone. Very tiring – especially now in the age of social media. Remember when 6-7 was a thing? Now it is not a thing, it is a cringe. Things 15 year olds get called ‘gramps’ by 10 year olds for. Sigh.

So expecting some similar response, I told folks about this latest thing we learnt called Black-out Poetry. As expected, the children had heard of it, the husband thought it was cool. Poets have been running channels and videos posting how it is done for over a decade. So, all is well. MGR is dead.

What is Black-out Poetry?

As it turns out, this is an amazing thing to do while riffling through old magazines or you just want to do something creative in a short span. Pick out random words or phrases across the page, and try to frame a poem from it.

I tried it, and even for an amateur, I loved it. The process, the words, the picture it conjured in my mind. It was all beautiful.

I chose an article in the magazine, The Outlook Traveller, which was an absolute delight to fish for words and phrases in.

The finished piece is here:

The Silence is Broken

Dawn is breaking
over 20000 ft
in the Himalayas.

The silence is broken
I 
          b
       m
      i
    l
 c
with a q    u   i  e  t  thrill
to accept the GIFTS of the forest.

The silence is broken.

Your One Marvelous Life

Now, I am sure poets will do a fantastic job with this sort of thing. I shall be looking for exemplary black-out poetry from now on. Really! The world is full of creative souls. 

So, what do you plan to do with one marvelous life ( to paraphrase Mary Oliver)? Would you try your black-out poetry and share it with me?