fun – Page 3 – Nourish-n-Cherish

Rainy Day Reminiscences

Rainy Day Song

I had been for a school reunion a couple of months ago to the Nilgiri Hills. While waiting for another event to start, we found ourselves in a position of waiting. The traffic snarls to and from the school meant going back to our hotel rooms for a much needed rest was out of the question. Instead, this became an afternoon I can look back upon with fondness.

It was Raining. Yes – that was a capital R. Actually, it was Pouring. The kind of rains that made our child selves sing the silly rhyme:

It’s raining,

It’s pouring,

The old man is snoring.

He raised his head, and bumped his head, and couldn’t get up in the morning!

Hey Puddle Puddle!

While we were waiting for the rains to stop, we were watching the parents and students, past and present, mill around. It was then, that a child, not more than 10-11 years old, strolled past kicking a stone into a puddle as he went. The water from the puddle splashed onto his overlong pants, and this juvenile act brought a smile to my face. The little fellow was probably going to be miserable later with the water dripping into his socks. But then, what is a little misery when you got to see the satisfying plop of a stone land in a puddle? He had a blissfully happy moment and couldn’t hide it. His smile brightened, and the future footballer had a glimmer of hope as he saw his future scoring a satisfying goal. He had launched the stone smoothly with his polished shoes, and it had landed exactly where he intended it to.

I looked around and exchanged a look with my friends and siblings with whom I was whiling away the time, and we burst out laughing after the briefest of pauses. The luxury of being happily stuck, without having anywhere else you would rather be, was in itself a blessing. But this little juvenile act sealed the beauty of the moment.

All things wet and beautiful!

It launched us on several fun conversation threads. Rain, and the love for it, pluviophilia (a lover of rain is called a pluviophile), may have originated for us in the Nilgiris, but it followed us around the globe. I smiled thinking of the children’s books we used to read most often: A Rainy Day Adventure, Spot goes Splash, and so many more rain related adventures. I thought of the simple games of riding through a puddle, and how it has morphed into a drive through a puddle in recent years. Always a splash with the kids. Because they expect maturity when presented with a puddle the size of a pond, an empty footpath, and a car? PFFT.

All of us had rainy day stories and memories, and the afternoon was spent most pleasurably.

The little fellow, bless him, may never know the mirth and joy he brought to a bunch of middle aged folks that afternoon, but such is life. We never know the light we spread just by being happy.

The Joys of Library Browsing

Yap Yap, Chat Chat, Chop Chop!

“Enough yapping! Chop! Chop!” I said trying to herd the children out. We had worked hard to carve this time out for ourselves and I was excited. We talked the whole way there. Or rather, they yapped, and I listened. I can’t say I understood- but the number of phrases and words that seem to make no sense seems to increase over time. Age really is a funny thing. It takes everything mutable, garbles it with time, and presents a slightly unintelligible version to you.

“Anyway – excited?”

“Yes Mother!” They chanted. How one phrase can hold both a dutiful and a sarcastic response I don’t know, but that, right there is another thing the young seem to have down. Sigh.

Library Browsing

It seemed like a long time since we’d had a children’s book read-a-thon, and so off we were, to the library. We meandered through the library shelves each of us taking our time, wondering how long it would take us to find things once the reshelving was done.

Library browsing is one of the most under-rated pleasures of the world. We each came back with a stash of books in our hands, and picked out a sunny nook in which to curl up and read for just a few minutes before heading back home to hole up in our home.

If we run out of words – By Felicita Sala

One of my favorite books from this haul happened to be – If we run out of words – By Felicita Sala

It is an innocent earnest worry of a child’s turned into a book. What if you run out of words to speak?

The increasingly exaggerated lengths to which the father would go to find words makes it a sweet story and finishes on a predictable, but heart-tugging phrase that remains unspoken. That is how you bring a smile to the face of children and adults reading the book. Well done Felicita Sala!

When there are words everywhere, words can be swords, pinpricks, thumps just as much as they can be balms of kindness and encouragement. I closed the book, and realized that fears, worries and anxieties come in so many forms. Speaking about them to the ones who matter is the key, says every wise one, but that remains the most difficult thing in the world. For don’t words spoken have to be heard?

The children (one a teenager and the other a young adult) picked up the book, and eloquently summed the book up “Duh! Bruh!”

Musical March

March is one of the most beautiful months in the Bay Area. Poets have tried over the years to capture some of the rapture of the month. But even poets such as Emily Dickinson (Dear March—Come in), Or William Wordsworth ( Written in March) seem to do the month justice.

Maybe they lived in colder climes, and the month did not yet burst forth in glory the way it does in California. You see? This is the month of rainbows, clouds and sunsets, golden california poppies, fields of yellow flowers, green grass knolls, sunshine and rain, oranges, cherry blossoms…I could literally go on and on.

The time change happens in the first week of March, and suddenly, cold and bleak evenings seem to shed their winter cloaks and don resplendent spring robes billowing in the wildflower scented breeze. The squirrels are chippier, the birds chirpier, and the breezes gentler.

A run along the river/stream by our home is a joy to endure. There are many places in the trail where the heart bursts with joy. All around you are gentle green hills adorned with wildflowers, the rivers are flowing, the birds are nest-building, and all of nature seems to be in one harmonious, vibrant orchestra.

It is so fitting that the month hosts lesser known festivals for the two things that appeal to the nourish-n-cherish household: whimsical & geeky. St. Patrick’s Day in the Jungle & Pi Day

St. Patrick’s Day in the Jungle

The son & I listened to Irish music on the way to school this morning. The music had us humming along even though we were sleepy. I came home and opened one of the favorite books of mine, St. Patrick’s Day in the Jungle. My friend, Krishna Srinivasan , worked on the musical track for the book St. Patrick’s Day in the Jungle. It has the same vibrant quality to it.

This is the sort of music that makes you peer out to see if a rainbow is there, and if the birds and animals are playing hide-n-seek too. Not to mention the sweet voice of the daughter, who has lost the childish intones in that beautiful book now. So, please do give a listen to the books, and enjoy the music, narration, and pictures for this story – even if you are having a stern day full of important things to do.

Also, any recommendations for Irish music, March poetry, and the general splendidness of Spring is welcome.

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.

Stories Meant for the King

The husband was narrating life in his humble abode as a child to the children. “My ‘room’ ” he said, picking the quotes like the children do, “was under the steel cot. I was the Hero there. If my brother decided to join – then We Were Heroes There, or We Were Devils There. But it was all good fun.’

The children guffawed with laughter. This narrative was a familiar one, and I smiled. I remembered those steel cots. Appalling things they were – with steel rods painted dark green with apparently no aesthetic appeal. They were sturdy – I’d grant you that. They were the mainstay in almost every middle class home in India in the 80’s. As children, we had stress tested them by leaping on to them from cliffs on high cupboards, using them as rafts from oceans of swirling creatures below etc, and they did not break. Steel, you know?

How we carve out space for ourselves when there isn’t any can be a problem. But children seem to find solutions to this problem in the most creative manners possible.

The husband’s abode growing up was a small house – children did not have separate rooms. “Just the reality!” he shrugged when the children looked at him surprised.

“Under the bed is a spacious place for a small boy, you know?” he said.

The daughter and son exchanged glances.

The daughter said, “We love having our room!”

“Decorated just the way we want too!” said the son.

“Our room under the bed was too – we had cobwebs in the east-facing courtyards, and well, lizards on the south-facing side. Beat that!” said the husband to his awed audience.

Raja Kadhais : Stories meant for the King

The husband was reminiscing about his ‘room’ under the steel cot, “In there we listened to all sorts of ‘Tea’ (teenage slang for hot-off-the-stove spicy news). Things we should not be listening to. Things that we should, we ignored of course. Your grandmother was particularly adept at noticing when one ear would dance for the juicy tales. I tell you, she could see the ears squirm, and she would send us out to play – “This isn’t for you – Raja Kadhai. (Meaning stories meant for the King )” she’d say. Well, she didn’t receive the memo about my kingdom under the bed I suppose! Anyway, those Raja Kadhais were the best!” said the husband grinning from ear to ear.

I always like the way the daughter finds her space wherever we travel. In the cramped space of a car, she’d make her ‘room’. In a shared hotel room, she’d put up a sheet like a tent and make her ‘castle’. Her ‘room’ is not always a room, but she manages to make it so. Her space.

When AirPods Snuffed out Stories Meant for the King

That day, though, I was annoyed at her for not listening in. Here we were discussing things that would’ve been amazing for her to know, and she had plugged her ears in with noise-canceling headphones, pulled a blanket in the back-seat and gone on to tune us all out. Raja Kadhais, Tea – nothing.

“Is this how life is going to be with these blasted devices? In one room, yet so far away?”I ranted to the husband later.

“Leave her be! She is a teenager, and teenagers require space.” he said, taking his daughter’s side (as usual).

I rolled my eyes at this. “Isn’t receiving this kind of input critical while growing up. How many stories we’d heard in this manner? Not explicitly told to us, but enough to give us an idea of the world around us.”

“They’ll find ways to get it – social media?”

“Instead of stories from adults in hushed tones?”

Imagine my surprise then when I saw these Japanese headphones that promised to pop the bubble of silence : Popping the bubble of noise canceling headphones. These headphones are supposed to let background noise in, so we can still receive sensory information.

I admit, I rolled my eyes like a teenager at this. Really – all this progress. I wonder when we reach a point of diminishing returns and have to return to the tried and tested good old fashioned ways. You know? Go back to fiddling the knob on the rusty old radio with one channel to tune into.

https://www.newyorker.com/culture/infinite-scroll/popping-the-bubble-of-noise-cancelling-headphones

Which of the current technology trends do you think will bear the test of time? I thought noise-canceling headphones were the thing – but apparently not.

Hum of Chitter-Chatter

I’d had a trying sort of morning – my attempts at speaking had come to nought. I was speaking English, folks around me were not. I asked for chips, they told me it was several hours for nightfall. I asked for honey, I was given a shrug and a look reserved for the village fool. I left the chips and honey – life is great without chips and honey, thank you.

So, I veered off civilization and went off to moon in the woods.

It isn’t often that we stop to revel in the orchestras of everyday life. That morning I did. When I did, I found myself transported. I had rarely seen this many hummingbirds together in one place and the noises they were making chittering together was music. What were they saying to one another? Were they discussing plans for the day?

I smiled and reluctantly moved on – human beings had meetings of their own didn’t they?

A few days later, I stopped listening to the chatter of the crickets starting up in the evening, even as the sun dipped into the horizon bathing the skies in robes of pink and orange. The deer grazing glowed, the blackbirds fluttered while singing, but the crickets were the loudest of them all. Enough to make you stop and wonder what they must all be saying to one another.

I exchanged glances with the son who’s come on a stroll with me, and we headed back musing.

Later we had a frenzy of celebrations planned – gatherings and people. I stopped to listen to the chatter around me. It was a feeling – not voices that I heard. It was a festive occasion, so all I heard was a pleasant hum – interest, friendship, camaraderie, laughter.

What is it about communication that enthralls us so much? I remember reading a short story by Louisa May Alcott a while ago in which a young girl acquired the ability to understand animals and birds for a short period of time. She is baffled to realize that they can actually communicate amongst themselves as well as amongst other species. A woodpecker could talk to a squirrel and understand each other perfectly. So, they could unite and we wouldn’t have a clue.

It was a beautiful touching story, for it helped me laugh once again at our own follies. It would serve us right if that was truly the case – too smart for our own good, but all the time being pitied by the wiser creatures of the Earth. Between all the languages we’ve managed to create as humans, it is truly humbling if that were the case. (No mishaps with honey and chips I assume.)

It also made me stop and wonder what animals hear when they us jabbering. Many times on my walks, I come across people talking shop – serious talks on finance, technology trends (I live in the Bay Area – it is a way of life – you can’t throw a stone in any which direction without someone yelping ‘AI’ – whether as an expletive or not), movies, music, other people, offices, sports, etc.

What must they make of it? I wonder.

Sunrises and Sunsets: An Opacarophile’s Notes of Magic

Every time we go on vacation, I proclaim proudly the first night, “I am going to go for a sunrise walk in the morning. Do not look for me!”

It is old hat by now. The children and the husband exchange amused looks and say, “Sure! Of course!” Followed by a chortle of such mirth that it should offend me. But vacations and all that – I let it slide. You see? I am rather a slow starter in the mornings. The caffeine tries, the shower tries, the folks around me try. But it takes a good hour or so before the spirit can rise and shine and birds chirping can become song to my ears and all that.

This time though, I surprised everyone including myself.

I set off on my sunrise, sunset and starry strolls every day I was there. It was marvelous – one morning, I sat trying to discern all the hues and colors in the sunrise, the shapes of the clouds, the fast disappearing mists that were clinging not a moment ago, making way for the humid day ahead of us.

I could hear my heart rise in song without emitting a single chirp – trying to keep in tune with the little palm warblers, and the mynahs reminding me of a silly rhyme we would chant as school children, giggling ourselves silly every time.

One for success

Two for a toy

Three for a boy (giggle, giggle)

Four for a girl (giggle, giggle)

Five for a letter (we were in a boarding school)

Six for something (can’t remember)

Seven for a secret (Secret Seven By Enid Blyton must’ve inspired that one!)

And on and on, it would go.

I smiled thinking of that rhyme – something I hadn’t chanted in three decades, and yet, it came to me that morning looking at the little birds hopping about the island. The brain really is marvelous. Scents, images, words, phrases can all evoke associative memory – it truly is powerful.

Taking in the slow way in which the island is drenched in its beauty, I walked back to our cozy lodgings, feeling very smug, and proclaiming that all those who missed the sunrise .. well, missed the sunrise.

“The sun will rise again tomorrow, Mother.” the children chorused looking gobsmacked that I had taken a sunrise stroll.

I somehow managed a sunrise stroll every day that we were there. On the last day, the husband joined me, and the island, to show us how special that was, even greeted us with a rainbow by the Buddha statue overlooking the ocean.

We were quiet for sometime wondering how a simple play of light and moisture can produce something as beautiful as that. Even the birds seemed to have fallen silent. Then the birds chirped, and the husband chattered again.

An opacarophile is a lover of sunrises and sunsets

A solist is one who loves events of the sun (sunrise, sunset, eclipse) etc

A heliophile is who loves the sun

A photophile is a lover of light

I feel the importance of this quote – for both sunset and sunrises

“Never waste any amount of time doing anything important when there is a sunset outside that you should be sitting under.” – C Joybell.C

🌊 Mystic 🌊 Manta 🌊 Rays 🌊

🌠 Astrophiles 🌠

Knowing that you are floating on a tiny island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean – the satellites only see a speck from space. Gazing up and seeing that band of the sky is amazing. It is also such a rare luxury for lovers of the night sky. Astrophiles the world over swear by it.

My friends have asked me – curious sometimes, amused other times, and occasionally frustrated too. Why the wonder? I don’t have a proper answer. It is what we see everyday – knowing there is a big universe out there is rarely helpful to those of us trying to make a living, improve ourselves in our pursuits, live a meaningful life, and yet …

🌊 Thalassophiles 🌊

That peek into the universe every night reminds us also to keep our perspectives. That night, I felt unmoored, overwhelmed as I sat watching the sky. I had gazed into the ocean earlier that day. We had been manta ray diving. Wait.That sounds way too cool. What that means is that an experienced set of deep sea divers took us out to the ocean on their speedboats, set out floats that we could hold on to, and gave us snorkeling gear to peek into the waters, while they kept an eye on us in the choppy ocean waters.

Manta rays are plankton grazers – both phytoplankton and zooplankton. During the day the plankton float lazily at different depths spreading themselves in the ocean. And the manta rays follow them. At night, however, the plankton rise up towards bright lights. A chance observation when some construction was happening 30 years ago near Kailua Kona apparently. So, manta ray gazers use blue ocean lights under the rafters. The lights attract the plankton, the plankton attract the manta rays, and the attraction of seeing one of the world’s most beautiful, wisest, and calmest creatures in its natural habitats becomes a reality for thalassophiles (ocean lovers).

The manta rays are astounding. There aren’t words to truly describe them. When I saw the manta rays in the Disney Pixar movie, Moana, I assumed it was a special effects dream come true. But it goes to show that nature is leaps and bounds ahead of us. In how many forms can life exist? In how many ways can life astonish us? The manta rays with their wing-span (or is it the fin-span? ) can be quite astounding even if you have been briefed. The female manta rays can grow up to 16-18 feet in width, while the males can go up to 13 feet.

There are about 300 manta rays in the area we went to. They each have names. I don’t know the names of the ones who came to see us that night. We were told about Old Bertha. She is estimated to be a 100 years old, but she could be older. Nobody knows how long they live. Maybe 250-300 years. Like a venerable sea turtle. They are also incredibly intelligent creatures. (For amateurs such as us, I could not dream of taking pictures, so a google screenshot would have to do)

Did you know?

A manta ray’s brain to body mass ratio is even better than dolphins. That puts them as one of the smartest creatures of the ocean. These curious, playful creatures show they enjoy interacting with pesky creatures who need rafts, masks on their face and a boat to navigate their dear waters. They flip up to see you, they swim and move with a grace that we can only aspire to.

Evolution really has outdone itself on our planet earth. It is a marvelous to go out into our ecosystems and see what it is that we need to protect, and also give ourselves a dose of humility. See how it is that a creature with no bone structures is able to survive so beautifully in an environment we gasp and splutter and struggle to be in. How the very things that can destroy us can make another species thrive.

The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.

Jacques Yves Cousteau

Naturalists have, of course, written about the beauty of the oceans and the lifeforms they hold. But seeing the manta rays, each one with a different pattern on their backs, flip by you as they gracefully swam? I don’t think I have words for something like that. They glowed. Philosophers and mythology often speaks of the inner glow of the wise and enlightened. Did they see the sea creatures luminescence, and try to look for that in humans?

Manta Ray Facts

I felt a shiver as the image of the beautiful glowing manta rays swam up in my consciousness, and I looked up at the night skies once again.

Astrophiles & Thalassophiles

The numerous stars – billions and billions of them, all holding their own in a marvelous dance of the universe, twinkling down at you. The billions and billions of creatures in the ocean navigating the oceans with every swish of their fins and swirl of their fins. How many worlds out there holding out the promise of life? With all the different ways in which life evolved in each of them. I did not think I could sleep that day – the soul so full. The lights we carry within ourselves and the beauty of life so all-encompassing.

But I did. Dreaming beautiful dreams of manta rays, bioluminescence, ocean depths, twinkling stars, heaving oceans, and brimming lifeforms.

Each Day An Adventure

I can’t help but think of one of my favorite authors, Gerald Durrell and how he describes the greek island, Corfu and its environs. The colors of the island, the vibrance of everything around them.

Hawaii is similar. It isn’t lost on me how very lucky we are to be able to visit the islands

I was trying to write about our recent vacation at Big Island, Hawaii. But I found myself strangely tied up for words. I could babble, I could close my eyes and let the images of the island rise up and shine out of every cell in the body. But I was having difficulty writing posts for them.

Hawaii is a sensation. A feeling that seeps into every pore, a light that illuminates every cell. It was the only possible explanation. How else could one feel surrounded by tropical flora, the full Milky Way galaxy overnight every night, the ocean and its abundance weighing down on you from every side?

Hawaii-COLLAGE

The colors, scents, warmth, waters, stars – many island destinations provide this feeling I am sure. But there was something special about the Hawaiian islands this time. It was an impromptu trip planned on the spur of the moment, each day unfolding as it came with not much thought or action plotted. Yet, every day seemed like a perfectly planned eternity that heavens boast of. We swam in the beaches, occasionally catching glimpses of colorful fish, or be gazing out at the changing landscapes on a drive and wonder how in one moment you felt like you were in the moors of Scotland with its brambles and heathen covered vegetation and the next in the misty mountains of Nilgiris with rain spattering your windshields; and the moment after gazing upon an ocean so blue and in so many blues that it surely could not be real, could it?

Every morning, I set off on my sunrise walk – quietly taking in the changing skies, soak in the light illuminating the island, and wonder about the stark difference to our work-a-day life and mornings.

Every night, I would set off on my good night walk gazing up at the skies illuminated beyond anything I remember – maybe it was the fact that we were on an island far away in the Pacific Ocean with nothing for miles around, or something else, but the skies felt fuller – darker. Nothing but the piercing light of the stars to behold.

“Gradually the magic of the island settled over us as gently and clingingly as pollen. Each day had a tranquillity, a timelessness, about it, so that you wished it would never end. But then the dark skin of night would peel off and there would be a fresh day waiting for us, glossy and colourful as a child’s transfer and with the same tinge of unreality.”

― Gerald Durrell, The Corfu Trilogy

Rediscovering the Art of Play: Exploring the Wonders of the Solar System

I vividly remember one Science class in which my teacher explained the solar system, our place in it, and how fast we were traveling through Space. It is an incredible concept, and when explained well, can spark interest and curiosity in a young child. I remember being flushed after that Science class, maybe because I was chosen to be the Earth. I had to rotate and spin around one of my best friends who was the Sun. What greater joy could there be?

As interesting as the lesson was, what sealed the memory in my mind is the fact that the chosen sun that day was exuberant, the chosen earth was joyous, and the rest of the class giggly and slightly jealous that they weren’t the ones to be given the chance to get up from their seats. The latter point gave way to some accusations about being picked by the teacher “How come you both were picked? Sitting right next to each other too?”

I saw their point. Usually, teachers are careful about picking volunteers or nominees from opposite ends of the classroom. These little dramas are part of what makes our time together memorable.

The little upset may have dampened our spirits somewhat, but we were quick to regain lost ground. To children who generally liked the joy of spinning, the morning lesson was a gift indeed. To those of you who have not experienced the heady giddy sensation of going round-and-round recently, please try it again. It is marvelous. If you can find a giggly companion, young at heart, please do so, and it enhances the experience in no small manner.

Hypothesis, Conclusions, Fact-Checking & Collaborations

I remember it was during our little spin-ney-spin-ney sessions that one of us had a question as to why we feel giddy when we spin. Science is full of people who came up with their hypotheses and then set out to prove it. Our little band of scientists was no less committed. I came up with a perfectly wrong explanation for the phenomenon and it shows the sturdy nature of my friends that no one laughed at me that day. Instead, they indulged me in an experiment.

“Maybe the Earth is already spinning and when we spin in the opposite direction, it makes us feel dizzy.”

There were some thoughtful nods at this – “Then we should be able to spin even faster if we were to go the same direction right? “ said one. There was only one way to check – spin in both directions and find out for ourselves if this was the right theory.

“Which direction does the Earth spin – do you know?” A collective wave of shoulders shrugged at the same time, but little things like this do not deter the determined. Someone said we will just time each other for 10 spins in each direction, adjust for right-handed, left-handed, ambidextrous, null-i-dexterous (the opposite word for being equally clumsy with both hands is called ambisinister, but I think null-i-dexterous sounds kinder) and we would be set.

That’s what we did. The exercise resulted in loud laughter, and the sound waves brought the earlier complainants to the fold wanting to join in the game too. All recent rancors forgotten, the experiments were done with rigor, encouragement and accuracy.

While we are always in awe of the creative thinkers who take us a leap forward with their works, I have always wondered how each moment came to be: how Thinking Man figured so much out. This is one of the best ways in which I have seen the sentiment expressed.

Excerpt from The Book That Nobody Read – Chasing the Revolutions of Nicholas Copernicus by Owen Gingrich

“The greatest of scientists have been unifiers, men who found connections that had never before been perceived. Isaac Newton destroyed the dichotomy between celestial and terrestrial motions, forging a common set of laws that applied to the Earth and sky alike. James Clerk Maxwell connected electricity and magnetism, and showed that light was electromagnetic radiation. Charles Darwin envisioned how all-living organisms were related through common descent. Albert Einstein tore asunder the separation between matter and energy, linking them through his famous E=mc^2 equation.”

Scientists do not always know what to expect and can sometimes be surprised at the results. That is what happened to us. The results were inconclusive and resulted in:

* One of us falling to the ground laughing heartily

* Another banging their head against a conveniently placed pole nearby

* Another giving off an inaccurate imitation of a drunkard, which was impressive given that this was happening prior to the Internet or Cable Television, and the child’s parents were teetotallers

* Two subjects crashing into each other mid-orbital, resulting in tummy aches and headaches together

Our motley band of scientists had by this time dissolved into a fit of giggles. Good naturedly, we shrugged off the theory, accepting with grace that it may be an erroneous hypotheses and moved on to the next thing to play together. Consensus, criticism, fact checking, and collaborations had been achieved with the greatest of unity and hilarity.

The Art of Play

In every problem, creativity and imagination are our solid allies. The simple act of playing together and collaborating to solve problems, keeping each other true is now more valued than ever. Today to see that school recess times have come down; children do not play out on the streets in free play mode anymore, but are rather being ferried up and down to supervised, classes with rigid rules of social conduct usually in the presence of adults; and the playgrounds in our neighborhood have become safe havens for spiders to spin their webs.

Could we add in structured unstructured time – so we can all benefit from free spirited Play once again?

Those who were never exposed to Play may not miss it, but those who know the beauty of it, will always feel the richer for it. Much like Art, Play is Art, and I pray we do not lose the Art of Play.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: