Tag: Family

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.

The Stars Shine On

It was the 4th of July. The 250th anniversary. While the younger ones braved the crowds and went to the city to watch fireworks, we stayed away from the crowds and went to see the fireworks nearby in the residential neighborhoods instead.

We were high spirited after a fantastic dinner topped with ice-cream – sugar high as it were. That’s why you may or may not have found us slightly dizzy chanting the Pledge of Allegiance as the stars shone down on us – maybe from the fluttering flag or the skies above. Who knows?

We found a beautiful park after driving around looking for fireworks . It turned out to be one of those places folks like to give fancy names like ‘Cultural icon’.

Zoetropes 

The son keeps talking about zoetropes. I never knew what they were. “They are cool!” I agreed after he showed me what zoetropes were. Much like kaleidoscopes – tricky to get right and innately interesting once you do.

The son has always liked animation, so he has been babbling on about the zoetropes for a while now. I suspect it has to do with the ice cream store nearby, rather than the zoetropes themselves. Nevertheless, we were properly enthused after an evening admiring fireworks from the distance (fireworks aren’t allowed in our city, but the neighboring city goes nuts every year, and we get to watch).

Fireworks always brings the magic or the yearning for magic in us. So, we went looking for the zoetropes – animated films captured magic, didn’t they? After all, this was one of 1st places in which Hollywood would’ve been had it not been for the city of angels taking it on instead. We spun the zoetropes admiring the initial attempts at animation.

Really, human beings are marvelous; I don’t know whether any other species writes draws and paints the way we do! I thought of all the beautiful murals on buildings in San Francisco, so many underground passes and bridges with graffiti on them (aspiring to be art in some cases, but good in other cases).

After an evening of popping and flashing fireworks, and a set of spinning zoetropes, I felt a little dizzy, and steadied myself looking up at the stars.

The Stars Shine Down

It was a beautiful evening. The stars do shine down with an exaggerated brilliance after the artificial brilliance of the fireworks, don’t they? The spinning must be the zoetrope-effect, but it made for a Starry Night feeling.

After some time, we bought our gaze down towards the American flag fluttering in the breeze and felt a sense that in time all will be well. We just need to keep the magic of life alive. The stars shine on. The flag flutters on. America goes on. 

It was time to chant the Pledge of Allegiance and we did just that. Beautiful evenings come in various forms. As we headed home afterwards – flushed with fireworks, zinging after the zoetropes, spinning stars, fluttering flags etc, we were filled with hope. 

Equal opportunity mispronunciations

I was attending a graduation ceremony in the USA and wondering how they managed to get so many of the names mispronounced. In fact, at that point, more than 3/4th of the names were mispronounced in one way or the other. Latin American names, Indian names, Chinese names, Jewish names, African American names, Greek names, Arabic names—everyone’s names were equally butchered. Equal-opportunity mispronunciations.

The world, whether we like it or acknowledge it, has become more global in its make-up than it has ever been. So, learning how to say each other’s name, is more important than ever. For that, learning the importance of one’s name is quite as important, isn’t it?

Sitting outdoors on that sunny afternoon,  I reflected on Suma Subramaniam’s book, My Name is as Long as a River.

My Name is as Long as a River By: Suma Subramanian

Suma Subramaniam writes about South Indian life, and is a member of the WNDB (We Need Diverse Books) initiative.

This particular book is especially relevant as there are many children with long names in schools these days.

In the book, the child is named after the river Kaveri. In fact her full name is: Kaveri Thanjavur Jayalakshmi Ganesan.

Kaveri : the name of the river she is named after. A beautiful river in South India, it is the harbinger of prosperity in the South. The rice fields, temple towns, and estuaries are the centres of culture and history millennia old. The Kaveri river waters literally help feed millions of people.

Kaveri is embarrassed by her long name in the USA, and has shortened it to Kav because it is consistently mispronounced, but after visiting her grandmother along the banks of the river Kaveri, she learns the significance of her beautiful name.

“Ganesan is my father.

Jayalakshmi is my mother.

Thanjavur is where I was born.

Kaveri is who I am.

My name is: Kaveri Thanjavur Jayalakshmi Ganesan.”

Tara Anand’s illustrations combined with Suma Subramaniam’s writing makes it a truly wonderful book, and one I think many teachers will love to use in their diverse classrooms.

What’s in a name?

For a person whose name is as long as a river, I loved the book. I know that the daughter has shortened her name with a beautiful Tamil meaning to mean something ‘brave and bold’ in Irish. I have a Starbucks-name, a more lilting explanation for those who are in the mood to try a few Hawaiian excursions into the language if they really want to pronounce my name, and so on.

I‘ve often asked children to help me understand the significance, meaning and cultural importance of their names. There are so many origins of names – some religious, some mythical, some nature-based, some philosophical references: the list is truly as varied as the names themselves.

It is curious how willingly they answer this question when younger, and then seem to almost drift away as teens for the same question. Like they would all just love to be called the same thing: wall, plant, brick. I understand it, wanting to blend in is an innate characteristic (Be a Roman in Rome & all that – the adage didn’t start yesterday did it?)

At some point in early adulthood though, the innate need to return to your unique name, hopefully, kicks in.

The magic of names

My thoughts drifted to Ursula K Le Guin, whose writings, if I remember correctly, also had a lot of interesting names. Naming was important to her. It set the place, the setting, even the story forward. How easily we can imagine an island kingdom, separate from a desert oasis town, or a hillside rural area by the names alone?

Now, pluck all these characters and have them live together in a university, and the resulting entertainment from the names is enough to tide guests through a whole afternoon.

“To weave the magic of a thing, you see, one must find its true name out… for there is great power, and great peril, in a name.” — A Wizard of Earthsea

In a non-fiction essay , Ursula Le Guin talks about the responsibility of choosing names. 

“To make up a name of a person or a place is to open the way to the world of languages the name belongs to. It’s a gate to Elsewhere.” – Ursula K Le Guin

J K Rowling’s Harry Potter series has so many interesting names, and etymologies once you get past the story, and actually delve into the details. The first time I realized Sirius & Remus names with respect to their alter-ego/animagus forms, I felt a jolt of pleasure.

Mythologies the world over have fantastic names for their characters. What is in a name then? Is it’s meaning important? Is there a specific magic to what we have been named? Is it linked to something greater or is it just a name?

The first sounds to which we respond uniquely.

What does your name mean to you? I’d love to know.

Free Play: Free to Play? Play to be Free? Just Play!

“Many animals learn by playing.”, my professor said, as she laid things out on the floor.

I nodded. I knew it. I have watched children play, I remember playing for many pleasurable hours myself. It is why I can be entranced watching squirrels play. I have always appreciated imaginative play.

What I did not realize is that I have forgotten how to do so myself.

I watched with a little awe and some glee as our professor set out things for free play. There were sticks, magnetic stickers, crochet scarves, yarn, finger puppets, lego blocks, kidney beans. Piles of things to play with, and I suddenly felt a sense of overwhelm. You see? I don’t remember when I played without an expected outcome. Years? Decades?

Didn’t I have to make something?

What do you mean – I can just do something that I like?

It was then that the activity really hit me. Unstructured play is a luxury – even for the children. When told to do anything, we do not know how to do that.

AI generated from article

Play morphs with age too

Thinking back, even play has morphed with time and age. Rules came into play – team games, board games, level-based games: they all tried to make their way into your life. But playing just so we could? The more adult we became, the less we did that. Even though, we tried our best to incorporate games into our lives, the nature of the games morphed. There were competitive games, skill-based games, team-based games. But just playing with the materials available to us?

How long since you just took some play-doh and squished it? Without making a fish or a heart out of it?

At the end of the 20 minute session, I realized that I was still quite confused. Did I play correctly? Our training to play it right meant we have forgotten what it is to play.

Did I feel happy? I genuinely do not know.

Did I feel satisfied? I am not sure.

Did I have a good time? Maybe – I meandered, but I was assured that was the right thing.

I came home, expecting to regale the husband and children and ask if they are willing to entertain free play. The son had gone for his running practice, the husband had gone for tennis, and came home miffed about a game they should have won but didn’t. And I stood there, running awfully late behind my dinner making schedule to be chatting about playing.

Is Play the Basis of Culture?

I remember writing about the recess being the basis of culture in an article over a decade ago. I relished that thought now. Why do we not have scheduled recesses in offices and work spots? A time when everybody is expected to be doing nothing?

I spent the next hour and a half cooking, cleaning, scrubbing and taking out the trash, with no energy left to think of playing. But I thought to myself. How wonderful it would be if household robots enabled us to play again. Just for the sake of it.

Wishful thinking I know. But I did know that of all the laments of adulthood, the fact that we no longer skip while walking, prance while doing the laundry, or twirl while making toast, or have free play  sessions with our pals is my biggest lament.

As I sank into bed, exhausted by my day, I reflected on the unstructured play session: Did I enjoy it? I still do not know. But I remember golden shining moments like little fireflies in a jar of moments when we played as children. Joyously, without agenda, and without expectations.

It is a happy talent to know how to play.

– Ralph Waldo Emerson

How do we relearn that art, and embrace it in our lives again?

Sunsets, Asanas & Aces: A Magical June 21st

Yesterday was a beautiful summer day – it was a culmination of 3 days that are all uniquely loved in the nourish-n-cherish household. Any guesses?

Father’s Day:

This year, father’s day coincided with the summer solstice, which means the loved father in the house got to play his tennis, lounge around with the kids in the pool, and enjoy a quiet evening while the sun was still out.  

Other Father’s Day posts: Fathers

International Yoga Day:

June 21st is also International Yoga Day. So I was genuinely thrilled to start the day with an early yoga class. My muscles were just waking up- sure. The limbs not yet nimble enough – yes. The breaths not yet the even meditative quality – of course. But in spite of that, or may be because of that, the yoga class felt amazing. For all these elements had somehow been made even better by the end of the class.

Buddha in Lotus?

 

Summer Solstice:

June 21st is the summer solstice. We love the summer solstice. The son, even as a young boy, would have his friends out all day playing dawn to dusk on the longest day of the year. It was something that strangely excited him. Osmosis of energy – is that a thing? But in time, we all look forward to seeing the sunrise and sunset on summer solstice too.

When it turns out to be a pleasant day temperature-wise, breeze-wise, clouds-wise, moons-and-planets-shimmering-wise, it turns into a magical day. We went swimming, lazed around watching the sunset, moonrise, and the beautiful cosmic planets shining near the moon. Jupiter, Venus and the moon truly look beautiful in the evening skies.

Summer Solstice related posts

How did you spend the summer solstice, father’s day & yoga day?

🥬🌿 Cabbage extravaganza 🥬🌿 & 🥬🌿 Coriander dhamaka 🥬🌿

The Buy-more-save-more theory in economics

Which one do you buy?

  • The $0.50 for 1 coriander bunch OR
  • The $1 for 3 coriander bunches?

There is a theory in game theory that Mark Whatzisname wrote about. The Paradox of Choice. Give people a choice of buying 3 cokes for a dollar, or 1 coke for 50 cents, and most people would buy 3 cokes.

The pater would have bought 15 cokes for $5.

He calls it Economics (Buy-more-save-more) . The rest of us call it a variety of names – well, this is a family-friendly blog, so let’s keep away from that shall we?

Anyway, what I am trying to say is that I could have bought 3 coriander bunches. I bought 1 coriander bunch for 50 cents. 

The economic upheavals of choice

In that one second interaction, in which I told the billing clerk – ‘It’s okay. I’ll just take this.”, it is astounding the number of things that went through my head.

🥬🌿 The father’s disappointed face. As mentioned, he is a big connoisseur of the buy-more-save-more theory. He is proud of it. He says that is the path to economic prosperity- so in that small act, was I rebelling against the pater? Delayed as far as rebellions go – who rebels after leaving teenage behind so long ago? The pimples a distant memory of turbulence on the face.

🥬🌿 The potential chutneys and thogayals the extra 2 bunches could have gotten me.

🥬🌿 I was already long in line. I had to leave the store in minutes – did I really need to hold up the line for 2 bunches of coriander that cost less than a dollar? Not to mention the half-rotting bunch already in the fridge. There is only so much coriander a nuclear family can consume.

Now, there are people who will come and tell you not to let things like occupy your mind for longer than its worth. I ask you. Who is to tell my brain this?

Paternal disappointment is a hard thing to swallow. I saw the pater’s face across all the decades, across the churning oceans, and across the continents on Earth crumple in disappointment. And I felt a stab of guilt. I almost gave in and went back to running across the aisles of the grocery store. Luckily I had places to be.

🥬🌿 Cabbage-o-phobia from Cabbage Extravaganzas 🥬🌿

I called the parents that evening, and was greeted with the mother’s characteristic shriek. “Your father has bought a large cabbage again! What am I do with 3 large cabbages for a family of 4?”

I shelved the coriander problem to attend to the more urgent cabbage problem, and asked the pater what he was thinking. Did he not know there were two large cabbages at home already – given that he had bought them himself the previous day?

“Yes kondhai (child) – but they were on sale. Yesterday, it was a buy-one-get-one cabbage sale. Today was a cabbage extravaganza.” He said looking befuddled as to how his sound economics was landing him in trouble again.

“There are so many cabbage dishes – you can make cabbage curry, cabbage kootu.” Then, he looked lost again – his cabbage repertoire seems to have given out at this point, and he looked to me for help. I laughed, and gave the mother ways to hide a cabbage in cooking – “You can boil it, and mash it for pav bhaji, sneak some into soup, without everyone developing a cabbage-o-phobia.”

Note to reader: There  is a phobia of cabbages that falls under the Lachanophobia bucket, also known as  Brassicaphobia.

“Do you know what I sent him to buy? Ladies finger (okra). The child has been asking for vendakkai (okra in Tamil)  curry – so I sent him to buy just that since he already went grocery shopping yesterday. He came back without vendakkai and a large cabbage the size of his head instead!” She said.

Cabbage extravaganza & Coriander dhamaka indeed!

I laughed, and felt this was a good point in the story to lord my superior decision making skills with the coriander bunches.

Really, after all these decades on this planet as a daughter to these two, I have learnt nothing I tell you.

The moment I said it, the father moaned. “You left free coriander on the table? Have I taught you nothing?”

The mother who was shrieking about cabbages not even half a minute ago, turned on me with equal disappointment, “You could have made coriander pickle and stored them for over a month! “

“Yes – why don’t you call me after you are done pickling the cabbages?!” I said smartly, and put the phone down. Grocery stores really don’t realize their social responsibilities, the time and effort their deals cost us. Indo-US relations

Cabbage extravaganza & Coriander dhamaka indeed!

🫐 It’s a 🫐 Plum 🫐 Life! 🫐

🫐 It’s Plum Season 🫐

I’ve written about the Joys of Jam Making.  I do love the fruitful camaraderie from plum season.

I waved at the Fed Ex truck driver as he turned into our street. The son said, urgency dripping in his voice, “Quick ma! Now you’ve established contact – you can give him some plums!”

I stared at him.

A beat.

Then. I started laughing.

The wag!

I have been accosting all those who come home with delicious plums, but this felt a bit much. Plum season in our neighborhood arrives with a splash. Suddenly, there are dozens of plums plopping all over the backyard. Ripe, tasty, beautiful plums.

🫐 Plums in a Splash 🫐

I cannot help missing the mater. If she were here, she would be making plum jams, plum chutneys, plum pickles, plum juice, plum rasam till we all heartily felt sick of plums. I myself have been going in and picking up plums by the dozen and bringing them in to share with friends. I can barely understand how quickly the bare tree, bloomed into the prettiest blossoms, and gave in to the light green beautiful leaves before sagging with fruits at every point.

It is a miracle, and yet, every year, I am mesmerized.

One day, I felt three plums hit me from the topmost branch. I was picking those that had fallen, and then realized that these three could have been the handiwork of squirrels. I looked up at them beseechingly. What was the point of all that exciting running around and chasing each other on fences if they weren’t helping out with the plums? As if responding to me, one cheekily stopped and held my stare, as if to say, “I have had my fill. A fella has got to jump and run!”

🫐 Did You Know? 🫐

Fruits arriving in bounty are a blessing. The children, despite my best retreats, continue to resist the lure of fruits. Every year I start it up – each time with a different taste-bud related tip. “Did you know? Your taste buds change over time?”

“Did you know having a fiber-rich helping of fruits helps your gut bacteria?”

“Did you know fruits help make you happier because the gut bacteria love digesting them?”

“Did you know this?”

Or

“Did you know that?”

To which, I also receive a plummy reply, “Did you know we don’t like plums?”

What I did not know until recently, is that not all plums dried become prunes. Of course I had a gooey rotting mess before I learnt that particular fact, but apparently, only a certain variety of European plums can be dried to be preserved as prunes. Oh well.

If I could send some plummy goodness via the internet, I would. But as it is, somethings still require physical proximity. But if you are in the vicinity, please stop by. We’ll have a plum time!

Moon, plum blossoms, this, that, and the day goes

Kobayashi Issa

21 Years of Blogging – My Blog is now an Adult!

21 years of blogging

Just like that, my blog has become a proper functioning adult. 

21 years of selectively writing about what matters to an ordinary person. Somehow, reflecting on the writing makes it seem like our lives were more adventurous, humorous, and fun-filled. 

Now, isn’t that a lovely gift? 

I was reading Bill Bryson’s book, The Body, and in it, he says something incredible about memories – that we can predominantly choose what we want to remember. That often our most colorful memories aren’t the original ones at all – but rather deepened by the feeling and retelling of it. We’ve seen it in the stories we love to tell each other all the time. Every time we laugh about our own foibles, it makes the memory a more endearing one, doesn’t it? 

Where am I going with all this?

Curating the blog’s theme

I realize that I am probably tending to what gets on my blog. I tend to actively gravitate towards what I want to cherish in life – beautiful moments, humorous moments, peaceful moments, intellectual moments: in short, moments of awe, curiosity, love, levity, and transformation. The negative rooted out like weeds (which is not to say that I don’t have them. I do, of course. Just in measured quantities on the blog.) 

Anyway.

There are no awards given for 21 years of writing 1-2 blog posts a week, every week for 1092 weeks. 5-9 posts a month for 252 months. The award is the writing, and the wholly generous readers who stop by to wave, hopefully feel a moment of peace, get a laugh or two, and encourage me endlessly. 

So, go ahead – this is a party! 

Get drunk – I mean on the posts in the blog. I don’t actually offer alcohol. Please head on over and randomly click on any month, read a few, and let me know what you think, or you know, just have fun. 

“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?

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?

To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work. – Mary Oliver

P.S: WordPress tells me I have a significant achievement: World Domination – for receiving visitors from over 150 countries – with the sweet caption: The United Nations has nothing on you.

The Gravitas of Governance

The Paradox of Fame

We were in Washington D C – traveling on spring break.

Like the son said one morning as we legged it from the Senator Hart Building to the Capitol Building for a tour, “Anyone on this street could be an important person huh? A senator, judge, lawyer!” 

I paused at this – this was true. That guy shoveling a bagel into his mouth could be representing a state in the senate. That man, with an important looking suit and tie, and a crooked nose, could be working on the next piece of legislation. That woman with the heels could be presenting something today. 

Some of these folks were famous even. We just didn’t seem to know them. Huh? That is an interesting perspective of fame isn’t it? You can be thoroughly famous and yet be in the company of somebody who has never heard of you. Maybe we should ask a famous person what they think of this particular paradox. Does it seem freeing, or does it hurt their ego? Even if the answer completely depends on the person and their development/maturity in life, it would be lovely to explore this angle.

“Ma! Come! We’re going to miss the signal!” The son said, and we bustled off too. 

The Capitol Building

Later in the day, after the Capitol building tour, we were in line waiting to watch the House of Representatives and Senate in action. This, arguably, was the most exciting part of the day for the son, who likes the sort of thing that I tend to glaze over. Like what percentage of votes guaranteed a motion, or whatever it is that excites all those suit-wearing folks we had seen bustling to and fro in the morning. 

 

Wynken, Blynken & Nod

“Let’s go! “ The doors had opened, and we were being ushered into the House of Representatives to watch the session in action. I do not know what I had been expecting. But it was not what I was seeing. That much was clear.

We watched folks socialize and make small talk for quite some time. Were they showing each other pictures of their grandkids? Then, the session started, and at first, the son & I thought we were in on a joke. The updates from one state included the baseball high school league that had a good season? Fascinating? Yes. Informational? Depends on the kind of information that excites you. Stimulating? NO. 

A few more updates like this, and I was nodding off. I may have dreamt of penguins, but it could have been the pictures I saw on instagram before heading into the House of Representatives. After some time, the penguin grew a bony hand and nudged me deep. I jolted awake. There was a person who was somewhat passionately talking about the ICE, and the son thought it might be more interesting than the baseball updates.

We had a somewhat more fruitful senate session. In both the House of Representatives and the Senate, the only person who showed any sign of animation was the stenographer, who was typing everything with remarkable speed, and not relying on AI recordings at all as far as we could tell. She was on a typewriter after all. 

Flashback Time

The son & I exchanged glances. This was nothing like the West Wing episodes we’d watched. Where were the scurrying and worried looking staff lobbying folks in the hallway just as they walked into the voting rooms? 

“Reminds me of the time I was all excited to go visit a courtroom with my cousin when I was ten or eleven.” The son looked at me to see if I was sleep-talking and sleep-walking. “I had only seen court room scenes in movies, and they all looked impressive as they made impassioned arguments, perfectly quoted and researched in a speech style that bowled the audience over. Then, I go there, and I see a bunch of them mumbling here, and then moving over and mumbling something there. Then the judge came and he mumbled something. There was a stenographer who kept typing – god knows what. Then the court adjourned. I was so stunned!” He laughed. 

“Yes, it was a bit like that today huh? But I supposed we came on an unimportant day.”, he said, ever the voice of reason and looking at the possibilities and leaning into the considerate side of things. I smiled at him.

“All this politicking has made me hungry.” I said, and we both agreed. The next stop was the famous food trucks. “They might actually have more insta followers than the senators!” I said cackling, and the son looked around to make sure there were no affronted senators around. “Relax! They are busy enjoying their lunch!” I said pointing to some folks in suits and formal wear. 

Law-making, governance and structure are all ventures with gravitas: what would we do if we didn’t have levity to brighten our days?

The Grind Before the Grand

I suppose the most important take-away from the day was how the day-to-day affairs of even the most glamorous sounding places is nothing but one moment after another. Showing up. Doing the work. Being present. The grand sometimes comes, but the grind has got to be put in.

The Beauty of Butterflies

It was one of those beautiful days March casually throws at you. When in one of these days, it is almost easy to forget that there are unbearably hot days or bitingly cold days – and what’s more you might have endured them as recently as the previous day or week. Halcyon days.

On one such day, I had no idea how I found myself sitting on a park bench and watching a butterfly. Well I do – always pottering about on a day like this, aren’t I? A neighbor caught sight of me after I had wandered around for a bit, and laughed, “I was wondering why you aren’t fluttering about with the butterflies, and there you are!”

Ectothermic Poikilotherms

Anyway, the butterfly was beautiful – aren’t they all? I remembered something I had read about butterflies. Jogging the science lessons in the old brain – They are ectotherms. Err… that means they do not exactly preserve heat well. Technically they are ectothermic poikilotherms. Seems like a such a heavy term to describe such light creatures, no? Like naming a baby Rajavardhan Gopikrishna Muthu Narasimhan, when Chikku would’ve done the trick.

I watched as it flitted about in the sunlight clearly trying to catch the sun’s rays and get a good days’ work in. I envied it somewhat. I myself had no intention but to bask in the glory of the day outside, not to head inside and look at some documents and spreadsheets. After a while, its industriousness must’ve rubbed off on me for I made my way in.

The Day’s Achievement

I can’t say I achieved much. But maybe that was the day’s achievement: imagine how marvelous it would be to answer the question: What did you achieve today?

With this:

Well, I mused upon a butterfly’s wings, and admired its flight.
I wondered whether it preferred the pink cherry blossoms to the white ones.
I wondered whether the rose bush or the lavender patch tempted it more.
I wondered whether the vegetable patch held any appeal.
I wanted to ask it which succulents flower had sweeter nectar – the aloe vera or the ruby lips.

In the end, I did none of that. Too lethargic to even whip out my phone for a good picture of it flitting. The images fluttering behind my eyelids are enough.

“The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.” — Rabindranath Tagore

Maybe that is the gift of the butterfly. In revelling in the present.