“What do you think I should put up today?” the son asked us one evening. The daughter was home for the Thanksgiving break too, and we were making more noise than was necessary while snacking and exchanging the news of the day.
“How about this? Going …. Going …. “ I held up my phone, showing him some of my pictures of fall colors on the phone. When had he become this much taller than me? The beautiful fall colors glistened and sparkled, and I could feel my nerves dancing with the rays of the sun shining through them.
“Amma! That’s – there’s no need to be all poetic and cringe.”
“What’s cringe about that? The fall colors are going…going… but not yet gone. Huh?! Get it? Not yet gone!”
Scales of Cringe
He rolled his eyes. I swear his eyes roll more when his sister is around. I have statistical evidence.
There are categories of social media posts apparently. They fall in scales of cringe, try-hards, to meh. One child who wished her father a happy birthday was in the try-hard category. I found that unfair. “Come on! So sweet of the child to wish her father. You know? That reminds me – where’s my post wishing me on my birthday huh?”
The pair of them exchanged looks that suggested I’d lost it, and giggled some more.
“So what if you have a few posts on the scale of 6-7?” I said, looking as smug as it was possible for me to look, while attempting the cool, nonchalant look.
“On my goodness! Did you just? I can’t – okay! That’s going to be my post. My mom just made a 6-7 joke!” he said clutching his stomach and laughing.
My Mom!
I narrowed my eyes at the fellow. “There’s no need to say ‘my mom!’ in that tone of voice.”
He laughed some more, and the daughter ruffled his hair, looking proud.
“I am not sure I appreciate this your-mom thing being used as an insult.”
“I know your mom wouldn’t either!” the daughter said, cackling some more, and joining in.
I huffed and I puffed and drew myself to new heights.
The daughter patted me patronizingly on the head, and said, “Now now Mother! There is no need to be all small and mighty!”
I gave up. Newly minted high-schoolers and newly minted adults having ice creams with chocolate chips and melted brownies crushed up in them, cannot be expected to be sane. My mom would agree.
That’s when it occurred to me that the comedy writers have all moved to other venues.
Screenwriting
The writing in sitcoms is excellent. No chance for a joke is lost. The jokes themselves are honed, and planned, every episode polished with alpha groups/ beta groups, and by the time we get to watch them on our little televisions at home, the humor is top-notch. Starting with Seinfeld I suppose (personally, my humor sitcom experience started with Friends), Everybody Loves Raymond, Big Bang Theory, Modern Family, Young Sheldon, and our personal favorite, Corner Gas.
I love it. I love the way a joke lands. I love the way the story’s narrative is held behind the scenes with out-loud laughs and merry chuckles along the way.
Standup Comedy
The snap humor in the standup comedy is there in reels, hour long stand up shows – it is everywhere. Talent is bursting at the seams, and it is all available for us to laugh. Instantly. The variety and availability of humor from comedians who are able to weave social messages with humor is truly astounding. Trevor Noah, Alex in Wonderland, Aiyyo Shraddha. Who are your personal favorites?
Book Series
But for a bibliophile who is looking for an equally funny book experience, it simply isn’t there anymore.
P G Wodehouse is credited with coming up with the first versions of sitcoms. P G Wodehouse himself acknowledged that many times he had wondered whether he should move towards who-dunnits instead. He was a big fan of Agatha Christie, and the money was really in the Mystery section of the bookstore – even then. But I am so grateful he stuck to humor. #ThanksgivingGratitude
Humor is one of the hardest things to write. So, I am glad to see the humorists moving to arenas where they can really be paid for the most difficult things. But the book world is really lacking a P G Wodehouse of modern times. Nobody has the time for a book anymore. Humor writing takes a long time, and is really quite difficult. Humor is a very serious business.
So, I understand why the humor writers have moved from books, but I miss it.
I miss books like those written by R K Narayan, Gerald Durrell, Miss Read. There are a few that still cater to simple pleasures and joys in living like Alexander McCall Smith.
If you recommend any really funny authors, please let me know. Comedy of Errors, Comedy of Manners, Comedy of Society, Farce, Satire- but in book form please.
We decided to read Hail Mary by Andy Weir in our book club, prior to the movie’s release early next year in 2026. This book proved to be delightful pick for all the different discussions we could have:
There were many fascinating areas in which our discussions went:
It takes enormous creativity and brilliance to pull off a face-off between his microscopic light warriors that he christens, astrophages, vs taumoeba who are the only known predators of the astrophages.
Encountering friendly alien-life
Encountering alien life and making it a friendly encounter, instead of the usual fear of an alien takeover is a bold move. As humans, we think of conquering and owning the next available world – so why would aliens be any different? Yet, in this tale, the first Eridian he encounters isn’t antagonistic, simply curious, and our messenger from Earth reciprocates.
A tale of cosmic cooperation is uplifting and it led us to a wistful wish about having more uplifting literature to read too. Why are we this enamored by war and angst?
Eridian Art & Culture
The alien-life encountered in the movie comes from a civilization where their planet is enveloped by an atmosphere that is 29 times thicker than the one that protects Earth. This results in a life-form evolving without sight since light is not a viable input source for them. They rely rather heavily on sound.
Of course, for a culture like that, I am curious to hear their music. Will their tonal variations be the same? Can their music encompass the range of hearing of whales and dogs? Or more?
Absence of Light
Towards the end of the book, I couldn’t help wondering how much we would miss light and its effects , if we were to live on a planet like Erid. It isn’t that I have a ritual singing praise to Ra, The Sun God, Surya, etc, but I do love sunlight. Especially the periods of transformation – the sunset and sunrise. Even this evening I sulked unduly because the sun sets so early these days, and I had barely time to close up my laptop when the day was gone.
We all loved the book, and of course, saw the trailer at the end of it all. The choice of one of my favorite songs, The Sign of the Times, by Harry Styles is already promising.
We have been reading Hail Mary, By Andy Weir, ahead of the movie launch for our book club. I must say it is a fantastic book for discussion: Andy Weir’s astrophages and their taumoeba are microscopic thrillers playing out on the scale of the universe. His hypothesis is solid, the design and procreation for his microscopic protagonists is brilliant. There are so many concepts he introduces – all slowly but surely. The pacing in the book is truly amazing.
Small Wonder
I suppose for beings such as us, who believe in free will, thump our chests on all the great things we can accomplish etc; finding microscopic life is the surest way to humble us.
During the course of the discussions, one of the many things that stood out is how it is we found out about microscopic life. The microscopic world is a marvelous one. Revealed to us 350 years ago by the talented man Antony von LLeuwenhoek. He is often hailed as the Father of Microbiology.
How did we discover how mitochondria works, how genetics works, and how life can be protected with all its worlds within us? The fact that we contain multitudes has always been fascinating – we have more than 100 trillion microbes in our guts while our Milky Way only presumably contains 100-400 million stars.
Speaking of the universe and the many million stars, the book’s premise is that the astronaut from Earth encounters, befriends and teams up with an alien from Planet Erid. An earthling and an Eridian putting their heads together to solve a problem that is crippling the universe.
There have been many theories on why we have never encountered alien life before. I remember reading in one of Carl Sagan’s books that the reason may be temporal – meaning there is a progression to advancement in intelligence levels. The intelligence levels at which human beings find themselves, may well be a blip in the universe. We are already quickly evolving past the phase when we were so excited by beaming our rays into the universe, that we may not be excited about finding someone else in our range of intelligence any longer.
Now considering the different levels of life: microscopic life, multi-celled organisms, animal and plant life enough to sustain ecosystems, evolved intelligent creatures such as humans, advanced intelligence creatures – way past the levels of humans, we can see why finding life on the same scales of intelligence and tool usage is truly a daunting task. Either, civilizations evolved past it, died down, or never got there at all.
Given this, it is a big wonder that the book tries a premise of intelligent alien life. I suppose the possibility will always remain an exciting one.
In any case, reading Hail Mary is an interesting exercise in imagination. I am excited to see what the movie does with Rocky the Eridian and how they visualize astrophages & taumoeba.
I remember singing the hymn ‘All Things Bright & Beautiful’ in school. It is an uplifting hymn with truly beautiful imagery of purple headed mountains and tall trees in the greenwood. Life on Earth is beautiful. Life could be just as beautiful elsewhere. The possibility is exciting.
Have you read Hail Mary, and what are you looking forward to in the movie?
The fifth book has had its time coming. Partly due to life’s pressures, and partly due to the fact that my own children, nephews and nieces were past the age of reading children’s books.
I started writing the series for them more than a decade ago. I had just got off a video call with the daughter talking to her charming little cousin in India, who’d asked her, “What’s Halloween?” To which the daughter explained with all the elder sister energy and confidence of a seven year old she could muster. “It is when you can be anything. My brother is going to be a monkey (Curious George), and I am going to be a fairy (Tinker Bell)!”
Bless children, really! This statement might’ve confused her cousin, but she was more than willing to go with the premise. Not stopping to ask why her baby cousin-brother would become a monkey or why her cousin-sister would become a fairy. She just asked if she could become a fairy too.
The characters in the books (Janny Rat, Oby Elephant, Zebo Zebra and Tango Tiger etc) however, continued celebrating different festivals in the jungle. Every year, I would read to my children’s elementary school classmates, and get reviews from them real-time (Alas! they did not get to record their ratings and reviews, but I remember them all fondly.) The animals celebrated Halloween, Christmas, St. Patrick’s Day, and Mother’s Day. So why not have them celebrate Diwali too? After all, California is now officially celebrating Diwali!
What happens when the animals try to celebrate Diwali in the Jungle? The animals make bright rangoli patterns, light diyas, and share a delicious feast. But when a plan to startle Tango Tiger gets a little too noisy, everyone remembers what the festival is really about—light, friendship, and compassion. A joyful read-aloud that introduces young readers to Diwali traditions.
Illustrations
The previous books in the series were illustrated using digital imaging techniques. A decade has since passed. When AI imaging emerged, the itch to bring these characters back to life was there. So, I started with the simple story, and numerous attempts to generate the illustrations.
It took several attempts, several different styles, and several mistakes before something emerged. The problem is that AI has no idea that a bison has 4 legs. When illustrating a children’s book in which the Bison is attempting to shake pepper, it will give the Bison two hands as well as four legs. Want to get an elephant to sprinkle sugar? Just use another trunk!
That, right there, is both the limitation and amusement of using AI techniques. It genuinely has no clue what is commonplace, what is ludicrous, and what is downright wrong. You tell the prompt that you want the image generated again and say, “Make sure the elephant has one trunk only.”, and it responds, extremely politely, “You are absolutely correct. An elephant has one trunk only. I will correct it and generate another image for you.”
And then go ahead to generate an image with the elephant having 2 trunks, and 4 legs and 2 hands for the next 15 attempts. Frustrating? Yes. Funny? Yes. Time-consuming? Yes. Worth it? I hope so.
After literally days and days of generating images with several different prompts, styles, and character looks, I settled on the images used in this book. I hope it works for the story. There is a certain continuity in how the animals look across the different books, though published a decade apart.
What’s Next?
The animals still have a lot of festivals to celebrate in the jungle, don’t they? Maybe they will celebrate Father’s Day in the Jungle next. It was a book conceptualized years ago with a story involving hiking, star-gazing and more.
In short, every book was a celebration in our household.
I hope your young ones enjoy the stories as much as my family and friends did putting it out for them. The books are all dedicated to everyone who tries to find joy and happiness in our daily lives.
In the book, The Anthropocene by John Green, there is an essay in which he he mentions Mark Twain’s life being sandwiched between the two appearances of Halley’s Comet 76 years apart. He was born the year it was born, and he wrote famously the year before his death that he hoped to go out with it, and he did.
When I read that the first time, I felt sorry for him. He was born in 1835, and died the day after its perihelion in 1910. I hope he got to see the second occurrence. Imagine being alive for 2 appearances and not being able to see them both times. I suppose there is a poetic beauty to being born and dying between the spectacular cosmic events. But then, plenty of people did not see Halley’s comet even when it was visible in their lifetimes, so what’s the big deal?
Halley’s Comet
I remember being excited about Halley’s Comet in 1986. I was thrilled at being included in the viewing party – it was for my older sister’s classmates, and they had agreed to let her little sister tag along.
I remember peering through the telescope. I cannot say with any conviction that I remember the comet itself. Some blurry recollection is all that remains. But the feeling of the evening remains. The excitement at being included in an elite group of senior students, the protective aura of having my older sister and her friends look out for me, and the cold temperatures of the night. That cup of Bournvita before bed was enough.
Astrophilia
Nights and stars seem to have similar experiences ever since. The feeling more important than the viewing itself. For a star is a star. A celestial object – a celestial object – nothing more. Yet spectacular enough to be other-worldly. To tap into the possibilities of a vast universe.
One night, we were out looking for a star system, Delta Cep in the Cepheus constellation, and I could not help wondering what their Delta-rise and Delta-set looked like on the planets in that star system. Did they have moons beaming the reflected lights of the stars to them? Were there any microscopic creatures willing its way into rudimentary life? Life seems to be so hardy and resilient and willing to thrive, it seems a little surprising that we have yet to discover traces of life elsewhere.
We were reading The Martian by Andy Weir for our book club, and thoughts of life elsewhere held all the more appeal. One only had to peer at the way weeds take root and crack through pavements, to see how resilient life can be. (It is another matter altogether that the plants I do try to grow on purpose seem to fizzle out on me, and routinely droop and call it a day, but that is a post for another day. )
In any case, it got us all thinking about all the things that enabled a planet full of sentient life, and how we sometimes forget to marvel at the sheer beauty of it. Wrapped up in our worries, anxieties, and livelihoods.
The son is doing a science experiment in which they are experimenting to see how microbial colonies develop in slice of bread under different conditions. In a fit of whimsy, he spoke and sang to the bread (gave it lectures on George Washington – his latest obsession, sang a Hamilton song) – to get the microbes on the slice, and has placed them in airtight containers in different conditions throughout the kitchen – in the dark, in perpetual light, and in freezing cold conditions. It will be interesting to see where life can thrive.
That life had a starter kit is miracle enough, but the fact that it thrived enough to produce the kind of beings we find on this planet is astounding, and, yet, we forget it everyday.
The book of essays in The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green is an interesting read. For it each is an essay about a different topic – short but through provoking. Covid-19, geese, Halley’s comet. Combined with the kind of scientific and regimented problem solving that a book like Martian makes you think about, the possibilities to keep oneself occupied is manifold – like the possibility of life itself.
“I am going to indulge myself in something that I haven’t had the chance to do in some time!” I said – throwing it over my shoulder casually in a manner intended to intrigue and mystify.
“Going to the library? Good job ma!” said the son, and I moaned. Mystique and I. My foot.
I guarded the time I had between a drop-off and pick-up session like it was precious (because it was) and headed towards the library. I fended off requests for the grocery store, deftly ducked under an amazon return order request, and dodged an enticing offer to search for missing documents in the house.
When finally I walked into the cool library that hot summer evening, I felt something like an adventurer. An explorer who found their way to treasured lands. It was beautiful.
The display stacks groaned with new children’s titles, the popular books section assured me that the authors displayed there had been continuing to do their good work of broadening children’s minds.
I cannot adequately state how marvelous it all is.
The son was bemused at how enthusiastically we wanted to help in this particular homework assignment. He, of course, in the innocence of youth cannot understand our childish enthusiasm for learning new things, finding out about new things. “Did you know that if we scale our universe, if the solar system is a football field in California, the nearest star, Alpha Centauri, is in the East Coast of America?”
“Really?”
See? Amused at the awe shining like Alpha Centauri on our faces.
Anyway, he said it was difficult to find Delta Cep in the summer skies because of the light pollution in city areas. It isn’t the brightest star system. The husband asked his talented photographer friends for the best places to go, and off we went. For half an hour, we forgot about all the travails that seemed to be whipping our daily worlds. Maybe Delta-Cep had a better time of it. A place where peace and harmony prevailed. A star-system in which the greatest turmoils were mild-summer-breezes that rippled through their atmospheres.
That is the power of story-telling isn’t it? The ability to transport us to realms other, feelings exalted, and wholesome?
What whimsical names would you give our fellow creatures? Karen’s names were fascinating: Fox (Swift Legs) , Fish (Shiny Scales), Deer (Tiny Hooves), Woodpecker (Strong Beak)
Come Home – Swift Legs
Furry Schemer
Red-tailed Dreamer
Karen Jameson, Picture by Marc Boutavant
The lyrical poems she gives for each creature was enough to bring a smile.
And so it went, a little reverie of my own every time I picked up a book. It was the rare book that disappointed. Most children’s books had a sweet emotion it evoked – warmth, beauty, companionship, safety, love, growth.
“So, how was it?” said the son as I picked him up.
“It was amazing! I wish you could’ve come!” He beamed. “Yes, next time. Tell me which ones did you like the best?”
I told him about all the ones I had read, and we chatted about them all the way home. He listened, an indulgent look on his face, and I felt a pang – he was growing and children’s books seemed childish to him just now as a newly minted teenager with a reputation to grow into. I hope he’ll come back to them one day like C S Lewis said to his niece for whom he had written The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe
“Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” C S Lewis
“You know that old man with a dog? He spoke to me the other day, I was pleasantly surprised by what an interesting conversation it turned out to be.” said the husband, sounding impressed.
I nodded, adding, “I read an article that hit this problem on the head: It is the fact that we truly become invisible as we age.”
I hastened to explain as we leaped past the nightly sprinklers that had started up. The horologist’s gleaming success – timed sprinklers. Anyway. “Our achievements, our agility, or even our experiences fade to the background. You become that old man with a dog. He could have been a scientist in a space program, or a high-ranking official in some administrative service, a doctor, or a professor/teacher. But none of that matters – a true lesson in time and humility and all of that.”
The husband looked thoughful, and I waited.
“Yes – I always only had the time for a hello, and a how-are-you. Never really stopped to talk to him.”
On the way from somewhere to something
I nodded. We all do the same. On the way from somewhere to something.
From there, our conversation went on to how we may, in our times, in our awesome ways, not fall into the same traps.
Except that we will.
We already do.
“Old age is always fifteen years older than I am.”
– Oliver Wendell Holmes
We may even be hastening and accelerating towards it just like we accelerated and hastened towards everything in life. It is why we feel the sting when we don’t understand the emoji-lingo anymore. It is why we feel bewildered, and scramble to understand when a new career path we’ve never heard of before, comes up for discussions by the younger ones in our lives.
Gerascophobia is real.
Aging brings with it frailty.
Failing health means a fall from the bed after an afternoon nap, or the unexpected reaction to a medication. Somehow, life manages to strip everything away from us. Degrees, achievements, resumes – everything whittles down to blood pressure and blood sugar readings.
“It’s paradoxical that the idea of living a long life appeals to everyone, but the idea of getting old doesn’t appeal to anyone.”
– Andy Rooney
So, how may we stay relevant?
A few people in my parent’s generation still retain the spark. They work towards spreading cheer, being loved and loving, and retaining their intellectual curiosity in ways that means they have defied age in a way. They are the ones who still bring a smile to our faces when we think of them. It seems like a simple thing to do, but it isn’t.
Maybe that is the change in life’s purpose. Learning to cultivate joy in the small moments, so we may remember to be happy when invisibility hits, when loneliness hits, or when health fails.
“There is a fountain of youth: it is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring to your life and the lives of people you love. When you learn to tap this source, you will truly have defeated age.” – Sophia Loren
Humans of New York kind of initiatives show us the stories behind everyone.
P.S: The article ( I truly wish I had saved the link, but I didn’t. So, if someone knows the article I am referring to, please let me know, and I shall link it here. ) was a well-written one that had me nodding in several places.
“ I love the range of emojis we have at our disposal!” I said beaming at the children, as I texted one of my friends for an evening walk, sipped a cup of tea and impressively ignored what they were watching on the television.
🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃
The daughter peered into the phone, and had a closed off expression that reminded me of geese trying not to laugh.
“Mother! How long have you been using that emoji while inviting people for walks?” she asked. This time, it was unmistakable. The dam of laughter waiting to burst.
“I use it all the time. Such a pretty one it is for windy evening walks, no?” I said admiring the little emoji in question. Leaves being whipped up by the winds. 🍃
“Ummm…yeah! Luckily, you text other … ummm … Aunties with this I guess!” she said.
“Well! Why not? I put different emojis for different things!” I said, though I could feel the prickling sensation that meant I was going to have the carpet not gently removed but swiveled out from under my feet.
“Nothing! Just the emoji you just used – *pause for dramatic effect* – means – well, you know, come while we whirl and twirl, you know, up there?” she said, raising her eyebrows, holding in a laugh, and shaking with it, all at the same time. She was giving me what authors call ‘meaningful looks’. It was honestly impressive. They should have an emoji for that. I looked like a pile of leaves twirling in the wind myself – confused.
She waited for me to catch on, and when I didn’t, said, “Mother! That emoji means you want to get *high* – not with alcohol but marijuana!”
I gasped.
“NO! How could that be?! How come no one ever told me before then?! I love that emoji and use it all the time!”
“Like I said – your friends are all … goodies!” (delivery with laughter)
I felt like Ms Malamoji.
( Ms Malaprop – you have my sympathies. Malapropism is the use of a slightly similar sounding word with an entirely different meaning, usually having a comedic effect. It is attributed to Ms Malaprop – a character in a 18th century play who used this and made the audience laugh. (Ex: Miss Pringle often does this in Miss Read’s Fairacre series) )
Skibbidi Toilet
“Ugh! This is like that skibbidi toilet thing all over again!” I said to the son later as I recounted it.
“Ugh! Amma – Keep with the times. Skibidi toilet is so 2023! It’s honestly cringe if you say that now!”
Author commentary: Where are we writers to go if phrases become ‘cringe’ in a matter of months? Sigh.
Also, for my friends who don’t know what Skibbidi Toilet means: here it is. It is a web-series where humanoids have a war with singing human-headed toilets.
🙄 I know. (That is the rolling eyes emoji – I think)
It was all the rage among the simple minded laugh-sters in our midst – two years ago.
The week-end evening was pleasant after a hot week, I sat relishing the quiet: the especially large magnolia blossom on a tree, the clouds in their pinks, lilacs and greys before they embraced the inky blues of the night, and the gentle breeze through the leaves and waters nearby. It truly was idyllic.
The long summer days always make me yearn for the different colors of dusk and night. Our home is bright and filled with natural light which is a blessing, but it also means that late risers like Yours Truly do not get to the see the colors of dawn. The days start with light and then go on burning bright with every passing hour.
Last night, I had time on my hands. I watched the dusk turn to night. A slow stroll through the moonlit streets of our neighborhood made for a different rhythm. There was a mellow joy to it – not boisterous, but buoyant. Moonlight can be tender, but it also can throw everyday objects into harsh contrast.
Not just our homes but our heavens too
Maybe it was the lackadaisical nature of the stroll – one I rarely permitted myself to do. Brisk walks, phone calls while walking, chatting – they were all absent. I watched a cloud flit over a sinister looking tree, and looked on passively as an owl flew past and perched itself on the very tip of the tree-top. We stood there each surveying the other, and finally, of course, I lost. Can we ever win out against the stillness of predators?
I heard the sounds of animals scurrying outside – every sense accentuated by the lack of electric light. Even the olfactory senses seemed to be enjoying this – Some flowers that wafted their fragrance only into the night, and I stopped to sniff and smile every so often.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the owl swoop.
“Our village of Fairacre is no lovelier than many others. We have rats as well as roses in our back gardens…. But at times it is not only home to us but heaven too; and this was just such an occasion.”
Reluctantly, I headed back into the home, and insisted on switching off all the lights for the rest of the evening. Even when I watched a movie with the windows open, I kept sneaking glances at the moonlight pouring in through the slats in the window.
The evening reading fare was equally marvelous. A magical book with fantastic beasts, beautiful illustrations, and oh so much imagination! What a book, Stephen Krensky!
On the different kinds of fairies, Stephen Krensky has this to say on the Asrai:
Asrai are rare creatures that live in the water and only come to the surface once every hundred years. Asrai grow only by the light of the moon, and if exposed to sunlight, dissolve into the water and are never seen again.
-Stephen Krensky on the Asrai Fairies
When I read about the magical Asrais, I felt it was time now to go to bed and continue the beauty of simply watching the moonlight through the windows. Maybe it had been an evening when an Asrai had come out to the bless the lands. Who knew?
Nourish-n-Cherish 