Category: Humour

Embracing Nostalgia & Innovation in Switzerland

Is Nostalgia Good?

The trip over the winter break seemed to have a fair share of nostalgia. It reminded me of this scene in Inside Out – 2 where the teenage brain is filled with a whole new range of new emotions: ennui, embarrassment, guilt, anxiety, nostalgia etc. When Nostalgia comes in, they all tell the poor emotion that the girl is perhaps too young for nostalgia and I remember laughing. So what does that say about us now that we are nostalgic?!

Switzerland

Twenty three years after we’d last visited Switzerland, we went there again. I am not sure it felt like 23 years had elapsed between the last time we’d been there and now, but the magic was still there. The US has spoilt us in the intervening years with its spots of unimaginable scenic beauty, so that the awe that I had on my first visit had subsided somewhat. After all, 23 years ago, it was the first time I was reveling in a snow covered countryside.

For someone who had only seen pictures of it, or seen the Himalayan snow from afar, the joys of freshly fallen snow cannot be described. Add a happy newly-wed husband to the mix, and there can be no higher form of magic.

“The first snow is like the first love. Do you remember your first snow?”

  • Lara Biyuts

Even so, this time around, it was still unimaginably beautiful.

There were a great many things to love in Switzerland in the winter. For instance, the rains and snowfall that swept the entire nation in one grand stroke. We are used to localized rainfall, and maybe slightly larger areas being affected at once, but it was brilliant to see it raining all across Switzerland one evening. We knew because we drove from Geneva to Spiez via Bern and Lausanne through the pouring rains and it never let up. By the time we reached Bern, it had started to snow mildly making it a beautiful ride.

“The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of a world and wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment then where is it to be found?”

― JB Priestley

The Magic of Snow

The feeling of getting up to a snow covered landscape, as overnight the skies worked their magic, is breath-taking.

When first you open the curtains and look out into the world outside blanketed in snow, there is a sense of the precious, the divine, and the surreal. How could a cold brown, green and gray world be transformed into one of such purity and innocence overnight? One must be lucky to witness the first heavy snowfall of the season. The transformation could lead to closed roads, snow chains and winter storms, yes, but it could also lead to an expansive imagination of our senses. Our senses, so often honed to look inwards, and be busy as we let moment after moment flit by us, suddenly seems to hold in its power the ability to remain still, quiet and the beauty to examine the infinite within and around us.

The simple pleasures of blowing smoke out your mouth, of watching the bare tree branches glitter and sparkle with the new snow, of seeing beautiful hillsides blanketed in fresh snow never gets old. That is always joyous I think.  And life, marvelous life, in these environments! It was astounding how we were standing atop the very top of the Jungfraujoch – nicknamed the Top of Europe, feeling like we can never feel warm again in the cold that was enveloping us, while ravens were enjoying the lift of the winds there to have a perfectly nice day. No thermals, jackets or socks for these birds – no sir! Just a swirl and twirl of the wind would do.

Really! Lessons of joy and resilience can be found anywhere, anytime if only we care to look.

Embracing Innovation: Automobiles in the past two decades

Automobiles have come such a long way in 23 years – ABS, automatic lane detection systems, navigational systems, Google Assistant for cars. They are game changers – we had rented an XC90, and it was truly amazing in its capabilities. 

No more fumbling with paper maps, wondering how long it would take to go from Place A to Place B etc. For those of us who hark back to the simpler times, this is one arena in which I would not. Technology companies have made navigational capabilities so fantastic, one wonders how we managed before the advent of these technologies – maybe that’s why we sat around singing sad songs lost in the countryside, or fumbling about and trying to draw rabbits out of stars to help guide us through.

Verdict:

This nostalgia is good.  The power of the infinite beauty held in each snowflake, that is able to transcend time is very good.

Journey Through Timezones: 15 Destinations in 15 Days

In what turned out to be the journey of clocks – we managed to visit 15 places in as many days over three distinct timezones. I wondered where we were, how we got up, and how we made it from one place to another at all. But it seems we did, and we made it in one piece back to our home, so all is well.

Sometimes, I’d get up – the biological clock warring with the physical ones, and the expectations of the day starting in whichever language, country you were in. Orienting oneself always seemed to take a few minutes. I loved the sensation of relief as one realized one was supposed to be on vacation – so it must be alright.

Pack Mules

Packing for a European trip along with an Indian one seems good on paper but involves logistics that would have had a royal ensemble perplexed. With baggage restrictions, it turns out that nothing prepares us for two different cultures like this:

  • One requires thermals, caps, gloves, socks, closed-toe shoes, sweaters and jeans
  • The other requires sarees, in-skirts, blouses, salwar kameezes, cotton kurtis, sandals, and jewellery.

Planes, trains and automobiles

For you see? We also seemed to use every mode of transportation available: planes, trains and automobiles. (The boats were given a sad miss on this trip), though there were plenty of lakesides in which to catch our breath.

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We travelled by trains in India, slept through the night on berths, shot our heads out into the cool morning air as he watched the moon shine through the countrysides. We travelled by trains in Switzerland, where the freshly fallen snow on the countrysides made it all look like we had woken up in a picture postcard.

We travelled by automobiles – in deft contraptions boasting of 4 wheel drives, automatic braking, abs-something, in hilly regions both in India and Switzerland.

We braved the holiday crowds in airports and felt for the airline staff dealing with large swaths of humanity who all seem to have decided to take a holiday just then on an airplane.

Trains

One time, I woke up as a night train in India jolted me awake from a semi-state of sleep. Then I remembered why I was semi-awake. The son had gone to use the restroom minutes prior, and I suddenly felt wide awake. Could the jolt have meant … but mere seconds later, the fellow came back beaming like the waxing moon outside, “Amma! Luckily I had not yet let go when the train jolted – otherwise, my shoes would have definitely been gone!” he said.

I threw my head back laughing, and couldn’t stop for a few minutes. It was his first experience on Indian Railways for on overnight stint, and he was excited to be in the middle berth, and everything from how the iron chains held a person’s weight, to the loos, to the open doorways seemed to fascinate him.

Planes

Another time, we were prodded out of our console screens by our excited co-passenger. She was a professional photographer of sorts (who was also a nurse), and she took a picture of the clouds outside our airplane window to show us what we were seeing. She had identified it correctly – we had a brilliant look at the dancing skies of the night over the Arctic circle, and we caught the aurora borealis in its glory. It was marvelous. 

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Automobiles

The ability to catch a marvelous sunrise over the Swiss Alps, or to catch a glimpse of an elephant by the roadside was all the magic required for the automobile sections. We managed to eat exotic fruit in Kerala (nongu), and stop for a quick snacks by the roadside in India. It was all a-thrilling, till we found ourselves snoozing on the uber-ride home after all of it. 

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We travelled by planes from one continent to the next in the peak holiday season, braving crowds, and delays, and cacophonous announcements. How we managed to get from one place to another inspite of all the things conspiring to derail things was beyond us, but we were grateful for it all. Once we landed back home in San Francisco, the very air around us seemed to ease us into being.

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It also seemed like the problems we had temporarily left behind, were lurking on the corner of our home, and ambushed us as soon as we came in.

Books – The Truest Brilliance of Humankind Captured

One of the most pleasurable tasks in December for me is to go back and wander over my reading lists for the past year. It is always a source of pleasure, and sets the intent and purpose for the year ahead at the same time.

Book Club:

This year, I joined a book club and that provided for many hours of companionship with an eye to discussing the books afterwards with your friends.

We managed to do a variety of genres in our book club too.

A broad array of topics can be discussed with this set of books, and the cups of tea, and the sparkling conversations were truly delightful. Feminism, colonialism, sexism, sense of purpose, and so much more.

Booklegger Books:

I volunteer from time to time in elementary school classrooms and the Bootlegger Volunteer program is one such where I get the opportunity to talk about and discuss books in classrooms.

  • Van Gogh Deception – By Deron Hicks 
  • Life in the Ocean – Oceanographer Sylvia Earle – By Claire Nivola (author of Wangari Maathai – Planter of 30 million trees in Kenya)
  • The man who dreamed of infinity – the life of genius Srinivasan ramanujan by Amy alznauer illustrated by Daniel miyares
  • The Firework Maker’s Daughter – by Philip Pullman
  • Firefly Hollow – by Allison McGhee
  • Tesla’s Attic – By Neal Shusterman & Eric Elfman

Guilty Pleasures:

It is the reason I pick up books and authors whose work feels like home every so often. There is familiarity in their worlds – a safe haven for those looking to be refreshed without too much effort. The worlds where humanity has all of the problems we do – only with an eye for humor, magic, and simplicity that we crave to build for ourselves in our real lives. Malgudi, Fairacre, Thrush Green, Hogwarts, Corfu, Blandings Castle, the idyllic worlds of Bertie Wooster and Jeeves, and many more. 

  • Miss Read
  • P G Wodehouse
  • J K Rowling and many fan-fiction authors who are frankly brilliant and so deserving. Many times, I’ve hoped I could know if they went on to write other books, for I knew I would read them.
  • R K Narayan
  • Gerald Durrell

Children’s Books:

I don’t know why people go in for self-help tomes when there are brilliant children’s books for all of us to enjoy and devour. Who was it who said, It takes a true genius to explain things simply? I agree with them.

Some of these authors and illustrators are truly unsung geniuses – I wish there was a way for all places of adult work such as financial hubs, hospitals, Houses of Parliament, civic offices, transportation hubs, technology companies, insurance companies, retailing outlets etc to have a good library with children’s books to dip and delve into for a quick refresher of spirits.

I used to work at a company with an exemplary work culture. (sadly the company is no longer there) The walls were adorned with beautiful artwork, we received books as gifts every now and then, authors came to visit, and we had library nooks – surrounded by excellent books in design, literature and philosophy. I have done some of my most rigorous work in these hallowed halls of the library.

If you had access to places like this, it is truly life-changing. Some noteworthy books:

  • The Shape of Ideas – By Grant Snyder
  • On Tyranny – By Timothy Snyder (in progress)
  • The Oboe Goes Boom – Boom – the band book on the kind of instruments and the brilliant way in which the names in each of the pages actually refers to a famous player of the instrument.
  • You Can Learn to be an Artist – this book was brilliant, but it made me want to cry. It made me want to rage against the world for creating AI and taking away that simple joy of art from humans – for those who say you can do the same with the screen and a prompt now, my response is, “Why can there not be any pursuits left to mankind that is not dependent on a screen?”
  • A Songbird Dreams of Singing – Poems about sleeping animals – by Kate Hosford – Illustrated by Jennifer M Potter
  • Astonishing Animals – Extraordinary Creatures and the Fantastic Worlds They Inhabit – Tim Flannery & Peter Schouten
  • Worldwide Monster Guide – By Linda Ashman, Illustration by David Small
  • Sometimes, I feel like an Oak – By Danielle Daniel & Jackie Traverse
  • My name is as long as a river – Suma Subramaniam
  • The fox and the star – Coralie Bickford Smith (brilliant artwork – sweet story – truly captures the loneliness of being – read again)

Understanding Ourselves

What makes us human? How do we know whether we are keeping healthy in our minds and bodies? These are topics that cannot be easily answered – and yet so many philosophers and writers attempt to do just that – understand our complexities.

Alternate Universes

“I do not miss childhood, but I miss the way I took pleasure in small things, even as greater things crumbled. I could not control the world I was in, could not walk  away from things or people or moments that hurt, but I found joy in the things that made me happy. The custard was sweet and creamy in my mouth” – Neil Gaiman in The Ocean at the End of the Lane

  • The Lefthand side of Darkness – By Ursula K Le Guin
  • Goddess of the River – Vaishnavi Patel
  • Our Missing Hearts – By Celeste Ng
  • The Ocean at the End of the Lane – By Neil Gaiman
  • Generosity – By Richard Powers
  • YellowFace – By R F Kuang ( about the publishing industry)

“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.” -J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

I would probably add books and nature to the list by Tolkien.

How Children’s Books Teach Life Lessons

I don’t know why we bother with thick repetitive self-help books, when children’s books can give us all we need with beautiful pictures, simple messages and heartwarming characters all at once.

I Can Be Anything – Don’t Tell Me I Can’t : By: Diane Dillon 

I Can Be Anything! Don’t Tell Me I Can’t

This book was such a surprise because it captured that inner critic in us so well. 

Don’t we all know that voice? Sometimes nasty, other times discouraging, but also quite ready to remind you that it’s there. Over time, we do try to overcome its influence, and try to rationalize with it, but still it rears its head every now and then. Evolutionarily, it may have saved us from trying to leap across high-ledged craigs better suited for mountain goats, but in our modern world, it simply tries to save us from failures. It is an important feature but only when called upon. 

The book captures it so well.

BeAnything

If you’d like to be an artist, the voice would ask you what you would do if you simply didn’t have the talent for it.

If you’d like to be an astronaut, an archaeologist, a president, it has something to say for every aspiration.

You don’t know what you want to be do you? Said the voice.

But I’m always with you, you know. Said the voice. No matter what you do.

You are a beautiful beginning

By: Nina Laden Illustrated by Kelsey Garrity Riley

You Are a Beautiful Beginning: Laden, Nina, Garrity-Riley, Kelsey: 9781250311832: Amazon.com: Books

Another beautiful book on the beauty of embracing You. As a child I found the message to be You very confusing. How could you know who You were? Were You a doctor, engineer, lawyer, or were You a leader, or were You a friend? 

It all got increasingly complex when people kept telling you to be this or that, or like him or her, how could you just be You? Was it enough?

It’s not about being cold, it’s about finding the warmth in the cold, or how it isn’t about losing, but about playing. 

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Simple messages with beautiful pictures. Every couplet in the book isn’t particularly life changing, but the book feels like a lovely reminder on what we strive to be. 

Isabella: Artist Extraordinaire – By Jennifer FosBerry, Illustrated by Mike Litwin

Isabella: Artist Extraordinaire: Visit Famous Art With This Inspiring Story About Creativity For Kids (Includes Guide To Art And Artists Like Van Gogh, Degas, And Warhol)

If we have to decide what separates humanity from the remaining species on this planet, I think the paradoxical nature of time and how we choose to occupy it must be the deciding factor. Most other creatures raise their young, spend time procuring their food, and spend the rest in seeming companionship of their fellow creatures. But humanity seems to be the only species where we want to be efficient about time, and also try and figure out how best to occupy it. Knowing how to be happy with yourself, your imagination, and using your time well has to be one of the greatest gifts to receive from the muses. 

In this book, Isabella has a day off from school, and her parents are giving her options on how to occupy it, saying that if she cannot decide on something, she may well have nothing to do but to stare at a starry sky. 

A day at the lake, or the park? A horse rodeo?

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But then, Isabella shows them that all the inspiration she needs she gets from her own work on her art gallery. 

It is, of course, a beautifully illustrated book and the book shows the inspirations behind each of the images in the book.

There were quite a few other books – I wish I could write them all up, but even more, I wish you all have an equally exciting time in your library looking through these marvels.

The Oldest Trick in the Book

Flittable Flipperbits

It was one of those days when I felt speed and productivity were playing a cruel joke on me. It bonked me from chore to meeting to event to missed messages, and by the end of it all, I had a vague sense of all the things that didn’t feel quite right because the important had been muddled in with the unending stream of the banal.

In all the melee of rushing about the day, I realized that I had missed an important piece of communication, which, had I picked up at the right time might have saved me about two hours of turmoil, but there you are. 

Later that night, I felt foggy. Nebulous clouds, misty and mysterious as they seemed, I knew I needed to sit and stew for a bit for them to take shape. But then, of course I was too stimulated to do that – flittable flipperbits!  I marveled yet again at the highly energetic, always-on-top-of-things folks we meet in our daily lives. They sparkle with busyness, and seem to be happy about it too. I felt that strange longing to be like them just for a day perhaps! 

By the end of the day, the world seemed to laugh at me, and I had no choice but to join in. So, I did. 

The husband gave me a curious look and said, “Well – you just did get a day like that, and you seemed to have managed pretty well – you were busier than you wanted to be – a day filled with things to do, and jobs to get done, buzzing about. You seem to have missed out on some important things, but you took care of them. And you seem to be laughing at the end of it, so what’s wrong?”

I gave the poor fellow a look that I usually reserved for poorly cooked cabbages, said he wouldn’t understand, and swished off to bed. I felt like a cooked cabbage myself, how was that any good? 

Dreamy Strawberries

It was all made clear to me the next morning when I awoke from what seemed to be one of the strangest dreams that even I have had in a while. It involved marriage halls with catchy music, social situations that I fervently hope and pray I shall never find myself in, and feeling like I was run over by a truck that had strawberries in them with flowing taps of chocolate (but not dark chocolate – for some reason, this seemed like an important thing for the brain to remember the next day) 

So I decided to meditate today – the diagnosis was clear: this was an over-wrought brain. Nothing else. I shall meditate and all shall be well. By the time things pick up in a few hours, I shall have the world in control again, I said, and sat down to it. The oldest trick in the book really, but the most effective.

How did we muddle it all up?

I thought of all my wonderful yoga and meditation teachers, and invoked their calming voices. They floated up, and did their job, and I spent the next few minutes thinking about a conversation I had with my friend – who is a poetic soul brimming with love, and we had chuckled about it. How the world of remuneration is all inverted. The ones who really should be the best compensated are the ones who teach us to spend time with ourselves, taking what is available and trying to help us shape ourselves into something far more beautiful – our teachers, coaches, mentors, yoga, art and meditation teachers – and yet, the world has somehow played a cruel joke by compensating those who make the very algorithms and enable the lifestyles requiring these things to dance to the bank, and not the other way around.

I thought, I’d share this video though – for it says a lot of what I’d like to say – only a lot more cogently:

Rory Sutherland – Are We Now Too Impatient to Be Intelligent? | Nudgestock 2024

“Let’s let go of all stray thoughts – acknowledge them, but tell them, you’ll come to it.” said my meditation teacher’s voice in my brain – forgiving yet insistent, and I chuckled. How did she know where I had gone off to – even when I was only bringing her up as a figment of my imagination?

Meditation done, I felt like I could begin the dance of a new day with fresh energy, and rather looked forward to seeing how I would muddle it all up again. Somehow, that felt right.

Inspirations for Writing

Talented Inspirations

I recently read The Firework Maker’s Daughter by Philip Pullman

I’ve always wondered about the series of books that are titled thus: Galileo’s Daughter, The Clockmaker’s Daughter. The appeal of the daughters of men with interesting careers is an interesting premise. For so many years, women were denied the opportunity to consider interesting careers.

Like Elinor Dashwood (of Sense & Sensibility fame) says of women and careers:

“You talk of feeling idle and useless. Imagine how that is compounded when one has no hope and no choice of any occupation whatsoever”.

  • Jane Austen, Sense & Sensibility

If ever I am grateful for anything, it is that women’s talents are now nurtured and recognized. After all, talent does not distinguish between the crude lines drawn out by humanity – it does not care about race, caste, creed, sex, religion.

Fascinated as I was by the book, The Firework Maker’s Daughter,  I loved the colorful cast of characters, and  what is required from them to succeed in their profession. It also got me interested in the writing style of Philip Pullman – his was witty, whimsical, and oh-so-light.

Pullman on Writing (Source: Wikipedia)

“I have stolen ideas from every book I’ve ever read. My principle for researching a novel is ‘Read like a butterfly, write like a bee,’ and if this story contains any honey, it is because of the quality of the nectar I have found in the work of better writers.” 

  • Philip Pullman

A better imagery for writing I could not think of. If one thinks about it, life itself presents all the inspirations we want. Even when is in the midst of the Thanksgiving week-end, and may be busier with spending time with family, friends, trips etc, the inspirations are all around us. 

If you are looking for that November spark, look at sparkling fireworks of Diwali, the colorful trees of the fall foliage around us, the many friends and family one meets during November’s Diwali & Thanksgiving  seasons to gain your sense of well-being, gratitude and inspirations!

Manathakkali Keerai

Poetic Greens

Manathakkali Keerai has a beautiful name in English – they are called Sun Berry or Wonder Berry or Black Night Shade greens.

What poetic names for such an unassuming plant?

It was a variety of greens that both my mother and father-in-law seemed to adore, and I was slightly taken aback to see the way they were thriving in our little vegetable patch to be honest. It was nice enough to pick the little black berries and pop them in, but the greens? I had no idea what to do with them. The mother donned her expression of helping the local village fool and said, “Make keerai out of it!” and so there we were – harvesting. 

Do we take the stems? 

Just the leaves? 

Cook the green berries or just the blackened ones?

Cut them or strangle them from their stems?

The husband, clearly out of his depth, had taken to advising me on harvesting techniques.

“Dude! We’re both doing this for the first time ever as far as I am aware. And you know even less about this than I seem to know, so why exactly are you giving me directions?” I said, frowning. 

“Yes! But do you really mean to say that women don’t like being told what to do?” he said. At least he looked abashed.

I laughed at that and we both went ahead with butchering the plants we were supposed to be harvesting.

Cooking the Greens

We managed to get a few leaves for the dish, and I made them. “So, what do you think? These are extremely healthy!” I said pointing to the cooked greens – I had to admit that they looked a little disappointing. 

The children both winced.

“Hmm…They look healthy.” 

“See? Already looking green!” I said and they both glared at me a little. “Remember those mouth ulcers you were telling me about? Well – these are supposed to be the very best cure for that.” I said. 

“Yes mother – thank you! But I had the mouth ulcers months ago!” the son said.

“Well – it takes a while to grow, doesn’t it?” I said weakly and encouraged them to eat up like good children. 

After they took their first mouthfuls, it was priceless. The daughter said, “Hmm…it’s a bit bitter, but does it have to be so stringy?!”

I gave an uneasy laugh. Were they stringy? They looked, well, green.

The son had a dubious look, and prodded it a bit, he put some in, and then gagged. Spectacularly. And went running to the sink. 

I could have tried the strict got-to-eat-up routine, but it is difficult when the dish looked that questionable. So, I tasted it too, and oh lord! What kelpie crying in the kitchen could eat that?! It was … well…as the children kindly put it, “Not exactly disgusting, but close!”

Maybe I hadn’t made it quite right. Oh well. 

November’s Purpose

The world seemed to be buzzing with purpose, and I set out thinking about lofty human ‘angsty-things’ as the children called it too. What was our purpose – is there such a thing? Did ducks, hawks, deer, dogs pander after silly existential questions? We would never know!

It was a beautiful November day – one of those days that poets and artists can spend all their lives dreaming about. It truly was a delight to step out into the sparkling cold air, raise your head to take in the glorious panorama of the skies above through the glorious reds and yellows of the maple, beech, sycamore and willow trees.

As long as autumn lasts, I shall not have hands, canvas and colours enough to paint the beautiful things I see

– Vincent Van Gogh

The yellow leaves were looking golden in the sun’s rays, and the reds were nothing short of royal. We took a dozen pictures but knew there was nothing to be done but to sit and soak into the world around us. So we did.

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I set about closing my eyes to try and capture the day in my memory under a particularly fetching set of trees – it was after some time that I found myself called back by a bird. It wasn’t the shrill call of the california blue jay or the titter of the wrens, or the frenzied call of hummingbirds. Curious, I opened my eyes to see which bird it was. Imagine my surprise when I saw it was a woodpecker. It swooped low by me and flew to an adjacent clump of trees, and I followed as silently as I could. Though I realize that for birds and animals I must sound like a stampeding rhino. 

There – up above the smooth branches of some beech trees were a whole family of woodpeckers. They weren’t hammering their heads as they were known to do. The baby woodpecker’s downy feathers were still growing, and the sight made my heart still – more effective than any form of meditation I have ever attempted. 

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It was like an invitation to witness the simple pleasures of nature on a glorious day. I don’t know how long I stood watching the woodpeckers, but the head’s questions of purpose and meaning seemed rather meaningless just then, for the simple beauty of being alive on a beautiful day like this and being able to bear witness to the passing seasons with a heart full of gratitude felt like purpose enough.

Peeking out after the rains

Novembers in the Bay Area are beautiful. It is the time when the world around us turns colorful – assures us that the seasons are turning. The fall colors, never as resplendent as in the East Coast, are inviting, and the son & I spent more minutes walking gleefully into crunchy leaves in the past few days than was necessary. We also gazed upwards into maple trees – the greens, yellows, reds and maroons like a beautiful artist’s palette in the world around us. 

Regardless of how we started out, we’d come back smiling widely and happy to be out in the world. The days drawing in closer also means that we had to really try to catch all of this in a narrow window before the skies draw the screens on them. That sense of urgency adds to the thrill. 

“She had always loved that time of year. The November evenings had a sweet taste of expectation, peace and silence.

And she loved most of all the quiet of her house when the rain fell softly outside.”

– Louisa May Alcott’s, Little Women.

The squirrels, deer, water rats – they all seem to be more at ease with the time-change than we are. Probably because they don’t peer at the clocks before heading out for a walk. They rise with the sun, and rest with the dark. There is a profound kind of philosophical simplicity there.

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Yesterday was Veteran’s Day and a holiday for schools. So, we decided to make a song-and-dance of it, and headed out for a walk after lunch. The rains had lashed down all morning – the first rains in November in the Bay Area always make me feel warm and special. By afternoon, the clouds were scuttling away, leaving a delicious moist, clean Earth behind. We walked around a lakeside – watching the pelicans, sanderlings, geese and ducks catch the sunshine after the rains too. 

There is a strange solidarity amongst creatures in that simple act. Peeking out after the rains.

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Exploring Deepavali Through The Firework Maker’s Daughter

I glanced around me – it was Deepavali, and all of us children, parents, and grandparents at the  party, looked delighted. Who wouldn’t be? Many of us were clutching sparklers, and watching the tiny stars produced by them in awe. The beautiful fountain pot spouted its joy towards the world a few feet away, and the oohs-and-aaahs were enough to melt hearts. Deepavali fireworks, especially in the US, are not exactly spectacular, but it is joyful all the same. 

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Watching fireworks has always been magical. The little sparks ignite something else altogether in our spirits.  Watching everyone around me, I could well imagine the children of ancient China watching in wonder as the first gunpowder produced magical effects. Or the hobbits as they all watched Gandalf’s spectacular fireworks in Hobbiton. Every time we go to DisneyLand, waiting for the fireworks in the cold, with thousands of people, it is magical. 

I was so glad to have an equally delightful book  to read that week-end, The Firework Maker’s Daughter – By Philip Pullman.

The Firework Maker’s Daughter – By Philip Pullman

A delightful tale of adventure, replete with a plucky heroine (Lila), a hero (Chulak) with gumption, and a talking elephant (Hamlet, who is in love with the elephant at the zoo, named Frangipani). 

In the Firework Maker’s Daughter, the firework maker, Lalchand’s daughter, Lila, wants more than anything to become a fireworks maker. At a young age, Lila invented Tumbling Demons & Shimmering Coins.

“My father won’t tell me the final secret of fireworks-making, “ said Lila. “I’ve learned all there is to know about flyaway powder and thunder grains, and scorpion oil and spark repellant, and glimmer juice and salts-of-shadow, but there’s something else I need to know, and he won’t tell me.” 

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But of course, the poor girl is not allowed to become a firework maker, for her father intends to get her married off. So, with the help of the white, talking elephant, Hamlet and his keeper, Chulak, she takes off to find the secrets of firework making all the same.

It is a whimsical book, and the descriptions of the fireworks in the end makes for a marvelous read.

If only the joys of learning to do these things (like making fireworks), were still available to us, instead of being locked behind factory doors, how wonderful it would be.  As I remembered all the different types of fireworks – the ones that burst into a thousand patterns in the sky, the ones that take their time like a rocket lift-off, the spinning chakras, the little pops of bursting noises, the ‘Lakshmi bombs’ ( the loud bombs), and the serial-wallahs,(the strings of explosive that went off for minutes at a time) – the imagination took off with the fireworks too.  How could it not? How inventive these firework makers must be.

I sat down willing to write about the marvelous joys of fireworks, but came up wanting. How can you capture the soaring of the heart in words? How can show  feel a definite lifting of the spirits when only you can feel it?