Tag: Humor

20 Years of Blogging: Cherishing Ordinary Lives and Moments

Two Decades of Writing

Some gifts are marvelous in how they keep giving. Writing is one such gift: a gift that enables us to find light and joy in our lives. Just like that, this month marks two decades of my blogging journey. 20 years or 1040 weeks in which I wrote 1-2 posts a week, every week. (#syzygy)

Read also: Why do I write?

Two decades in which the husband and I filled our lives with children, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends – young and old, colleagues, mentors and mentees. Many of whom made an appearance on the  blog in some form or another. (#MyFamilyandOtherAnimals) I am always grateful for this journey of love, joy, friendship, and learning. The blog is a reminder for me that our extremely ordinary lives are filled with extraordinary moments and people.

A Tall Order

Chronicling all our lives is a tall order given the chaos and activity surrounding our modern lives. Yet, this little place in my mind always looked and mined for moments of reflection, growth, joy, and laughter, to record in my little blog. In recording these moments, I felt we were reliving these moments of beauty, and savoring them over again.  Even as we worked, grew, read, wrote, painted, danced, traveled, hiked, biked, ran, walked, enjoyed the eternal gifts of nature, and relished the spots of solitude that came our way, we were growing older. 

I spent a beautiful walk one evening reflecting on some of the extraordinary things that life has taught us, and that I learnt through the art of reflection, reading, and writing. 

When finally the epiphany came, a startled blue jay squawked and gave me a baleful look before taking off to saner pastures. 

Want to hear it?

As young adults, we are conditioned to crave fame, money, looks etc. But during the past two decades, we have all come to realize that working towards their less glamorous cousins: renown, wealth, and well-being are the secrets to happiness. Building habits around lasting happiness meant that indulging in the steady and sure work of building relationships, gaining education and experience, generating wealth, and focusing on mental, physical and spiritual well-being were the secrets.

We have enjoyed living in a time of relative international peace and cooperation thus far. I don’t know what the coming decades will hold for all of us. The world order is changing after all. But through it all, I hope the quiet reassuring ways in which we have led our lives thus far will help us. I hope the finer aspects of living will continue to enthrall us, give us hope, make us resilient, and do the best by those around us. 

Thank you to my readers

Of course, the whole journey might’ve sizzled out if not for those of you read what I wrote. Many of you sent me further reading materials, or told me hilarious anecdotes knowing it is blog-worthy material.

To all of you who not only acknowledged, but also encouraged  my efforts – thank you. I am eternally grateful – please continue to encourage me with your greatest gift of attention.

Upanayanam: Insights into a Traditional Ceremony

Upanayanam – Thread Ceremony

The husband and I found ourselves stupendously stumped. You see? We celebrated the son’s thread ceremony. We had managed to get in the middle of organizing and executing a function that smacked of our curious mixture of naïveté and fun. 

So much so that a lot of people were very happy, a few people held their tongues with pursed lips and stiff jaws (some even graciously told us that it is indeed what they were doing), and a precious few reveled in their self-glorified role of saying things-as-it-is (any politically savvy person knows what this means. But seeing as Yours Truly is particularly poorly suited to this, took some getting used to).

Summoned like a Woman!

Like all religious functions, this one excluded women, but insisted they were there for all the work. The organizing, the decorating, the gift-giving, the hosting. Just nothing religious. Every time I looked particularly bored on that stage, the priest would give me something to do.

 “Take that drop of water, and drip it on the coconut, amma!”

“Hold this bunch of dried grass against the shoulder, amma!” 

Then, a chuckle. “Not that shoulder amma, this shoulder!”

While all of these tasks weren’t exactly skillful, they ensured it kept me there. Otherwise, the poor priest found me wandering off the stage to talk to people. 

Then, summons were sent. Summoning the lady of the house on stage at a religious function is a curious case study of sonar technology and people movements. Every one calls out for you, and nobody realizes or remembers why I was summoned. Like a wave gathering in intensity before crashing on the shores.

Summoned!

Smiles to go before I sleep!

“How come you are smiling in all the pics, while I…”

“Look like you’re having your tooth extracted?” I finished smugly.

The husband paused to frown and then smiled, “Yes – like that!” 

“Easy! I had absolutely nothing to do but smile at people. Also, I looked for the phones and smiled pointedly. There’s a lot of time for not understanding a thing, and being dressed to the nines up there.” I said. 

“Talk about unfair – look how I looked in all the pics: confused, concentrating on getting the words right, while you…”

“Pranced and fluttered about the room? There are advantages to being a butterfly.”

So, that is how we survived a thread ceremony, without storm warnings.

Nilgiris: Nature’s Abundance on an Early Drive

“We need to leave by 4:30 a.m. if we are to beat the traffic!” the brother said. 

There were enthusiastic nods. I kept the alarm for 3:30 a.m, confident in our abilities to get going that early in the morning. After all, there is nothing as pleasant as a drive up to the Nilgiris from Bangalore. 

The route passes through two beautiful national forest reserve areas – Bandipur and Mudhumalai. The hills are usually green and welcoming at this time of year. Early summer in the Nilgiris is a joy – there are flowers blooming everywhere, the rivers and streams are flowing with healthy levels of water, and all of life seems like it should be: Full of beauty and abundance. 

I had quite forgotten the true splendor of a gulmohar tree in full bloom, but oh! What a joy to see these resplendent looking trees! 

You can spend all day gazing up at the branches – all the different ways in which the light dances and trickles through the very orange blossoms, all the different shapes the branches have spread themselves – no two trees the same, yet distinctive enough that they cannot be misunderstood for another tree.

The brother who is always in his element when he is driving anywhere other than city roads, shook his head as he saw me bouncing in my seat. He pulled over by a side road, and if you were to ask me the previous evening to imagine this road, I would not have been able to do it justice. I grew up in the Nilgiris, and have visited many times in the past two decades, but every time the hills surprise me (mostly good ways, but the increasing population and traffic snarls contribute to the bad ways) 

I tumbled out of the car, my heart bursting with song. Luckily it was just my heart that was singing, for who wants to frighten a bunch of elephants taking a calm dip in the Moyar River? 

The peacocks cooing in the distance provided a musical backdrop.

As we headed back to the winding road of 36 hairpin bends, all of the forest seemed to have risen. There were peacocks, sambar deer and spotted deer, iguana-like creatures, monkeys, langurs, and elephants. I cannot think of another experience where the soul feels as nourished or sated. 

By the time we had passed through the forests, we had been filled with the beautiful imagery of flora and fauna of the Nilgiri Hills. It is always so humbling to call this marvelous place home along with the thousands of creatures who live more unobtrusively in these parts.

The cheeky road signs only added to the allure of the morning forest scenes.

“Watch for deer crossing the road, remember the road is crossing their home!”

“Attention: Crocodiles in the River – do not swim. Survivors will be prosecuted.”

Celebrating World Quantum Day: History and Fun Facts

World ⚛️ Quantum ⚛️ Day – April 14th

“Oh wow, ma! Today is Quantum Day!” said the son. Actually yelped the fellow, like the words were yanked out of him by the excitement coursing through him. For some weird reason, even as a young toddler, he loved the word, ‘Quantum’.

Maybe it was Iron Man or Ant-Man – that movie in which they use the word ‘Quantum’ every time they did not want to explain something. Or maybe it was the fact that we all liked watching The Big Bang Theory television series in the house so much when he was a child, or maybe the Cosmos shows by Carl Sagan, or the fact that I like reading about Physics. 

In any case, Quantum. He lights up when you mention Quantum-This or Quantum-That. 

I smiled at him, and said, “Wow! I didn’t know they had a day for that!”

2025 is also the International Year of Quantum as designated by the United Nations. 100 years since Quantum Mechanics became a part of higher education science and research. 

From Book: My First Book of Quantum Physics – by Sheddad Kaid-Salah Ferron & Eduard Altarriba

⚛️  My First Book of Quantum Physics ⚛️

This seemed to call for a little nostalgia. I opened a favorite book of ours – as a child, I remember getting this for him and he spent hours looking through the pictures. 

My First Book of Quantum Physics – by Sheddad Kaid-Salah Ferron & Eduard Altarriba

It really is a beautiful book. Sheddad Kaid-Salah Feroon & Eduard Altarriba do a fantastic job of the illustrations, explanations of difficult concepts and providing a general feel for the subjects.

It is why we were excited to visit the CERN supercollider in Switzerland.

Sheddad Kaid-Salah Feroon & Eduard Altarriba have a series of books covering topics such as: 

  • Quantum Physics
  • Relativity
  • Electromagnetism
  • Cosmos
  • Microbes
  • Evolution

Please check these books out if you get the chance. It is always fascinating. Especially, when in our everyday lives, even if we are professionals with science backgrounds, we hardly set aside the time for this type of shoshin (the wonder of the beginner’s mind)

In one time and place, when not observed, if we can find that joy of wonder, that would be Quantum, wouldn’t it?! Get it? Get it?!

Taming the Ego: Embracing Irrelevance

Taming the Ego

One of the biggest achievements of growing old has to be the achievement of realizing our own diminishing importance in the world, and gracefully succumbing to a life that is finally galloping past us. This can be a phenomenally difficult thing to do. I am well aware that I may have this very article picked up, printed and taped to my bedside as an octagenarian or a nonagenarian by the younger ones in my life. (I shall have a laugh then!)  

But right now, writing this in my forties, I feel that day is far away and can therefore hope to lord my philosophies of life over everyone.

I suppose Taming the Ego is a theme that these Zen and Buddhist teachings harp on quite a bit. Confused with humility, this often manifests as a tool for diminishing our accomplishments. What I think it means is letting go of our perceived importance in the world, and seeking irrelevance.

The world of work is already changing quickly enough to ensure that senior citizens feel a bit frazzled by the nature of it all. So the work world is quite easy to relinquish our control over. The harder aspects to relinquish control are over the other aspects of our daily life.

The promise of the future vs the nostalgia of the past.

I was reading a fascinating children’s book, If You Come to Earth – By Sophie Blackall, that deserves a post all on its own about how you’d feel if you were an alien visiting Earth. Not exactly a new theme, but the book is engaging enough to introduce us to Earth with all its quirks and attractions. 

There was a page in there that quite neatly summed up aging. 

Older people are good at telling stories about the world when they were young. Kids are good at making up stories that haven’t happened yet.

– Sophie Blackall, If You Come to Earth

What a marvelous way to sum up humanity’s youth against the aging process? The promise of the future vs the nostalgia of the past.

The Tyranny of Technology

I remember an incident a couple of decades ago when I took the just-retired father into the ATM with me. It was a swanky little ATM – all polished floors and gleaming surfaces, the cameras concealed in the false ceilings etc. The pater came in gaping at the wonder of it all. Thus far, he had walked into the State Bank of India office in our little residential town, wished all the staff a good day, asked about the teller’s son’s progress after his recent surgery, withdrawn money from his account and scurried home to put it in the locker in the Godrej cupboard.

Suddenly, here he was, no teller in question. No human in question. With a machine that gave money. He said, all agog, “Kondhai (child) – can you take out 1000 rupees at a time 5 times so I can see what is happening?” 

I laughed and complied.

But it was just the beginning.

Where previously, our parents’ generation dealt with money, now they too have to contend with credit cards, ATMs and electronic banking. The few banks that continue to offer in-person services are heavily sought after. It is also becoming easier than ever for scams to take place. After all, the teller no longer knows that you already withdrew cash for your grand-daughter’s wedding a year ago. 

The Tides of Time

So, how to stay relevant in a time when the ground is shifting so rapidly beneath you? 

What can one do but to embrace those rascals of emotions that sidle up the moment they find a sliver of chance to get in: insecurity, anxiety, fear? How can one not parrot the beliefs and rituals of the past when it is all that seems to make sense to you?

The enormous pressures of technological advances mean that life expectancy has increased, and the tyranny of these advances means that you have to try and stay relevant. Our parents’ generation learnt to use electricity, radios, television, internet, mobile phones, social media – all in a race to stay relevant.

So, when does it all get too much? 

I don’t know. 

Is the journey to realization of our diminishing importance in the world the ultimate test of spirituality? 

After all the tides never stop coming in and going out – they just don’t seem to care about the fish in them.

13 miles while 13 years old!

The Weight Charts

The last time I took the son for his annual health checkup, the doctor seemed to give me a look as if to say, “Have you tried giving him more high calorie foods?” The children have always been on the lower end of the weight charts – sometimes barely clinging on, other times falling off the charts altogether, especially when they have a growth spurt with their height. So, this is a familiar enough scene. I braced myself, and told the doctor about how he seems to be eating well enough, seems to enjoy his food, and eats more than me etc. He wasn’t impressed and asked the son to eat more and be back in two months time. 

This was about a year ago. Also coinciding with a time the old mother was here a-visiting. A grandmother being a g.m., and all that – she was plying her grandchildren with ‘good food’ and this wasn’t having the effect it needed to have. Nevertheless, a watered down version of the doctor’s regimen were relayed to her, and she fed him more ‘good food’ to get him on the weight scale. 

Diets & Grandmothers

Around the same time, the husband had decided to go on a strict diet – a no-carb diet, which in a household filled with South Indian grandparents and grandchildren who love their food, can be a carbolicious nightmare. The mother would periodically cast doubts on what sort of husband I was raising if I wasn’t cooking him what he wanted.”We raise children, not husbands!” was poorly received. 

Yours Truly was on a low-carb version, having realized the futility of cooking and nutrition in this household, and merely settling for the occasional serving of quinoa instead of white rice when possible. 

So there we are: I hope I’ve painted a nice cozy domestic scene for you. The mother, able to chastise me and wonder how my husband was eating, how my son was eating, how my parents were eating, how my nephews were eating. The daughter and I, the low maintenance ones, reveling in the glorious sort of peace that comes with being forgotten. 

13 miles while 13 years old!

Anyway, it was a few months later, that the son said he wanted to run a half-marathon when he was still 13 years old. “13 miles at 13 years – that’s cool, right?”

I nodded, taking in his reedy body. He could build stamina, weight would still be a problem, but it already was. So, we said yes and started training together. The son and I,  running our ways through the emerging springtime. It was a beautiful time to train. The cherry blossoms, the crisp rain-washed earth, the beautiful skies and green hills around us all proved to be a wonderful backdrop to our runs. It was tough going given the demands on our time, and a full school schedule in session. But we managed it.

Yesterday, we finished the Oakland Half Marathon together. 

Well, not together.  The son was, of course, far faster than Yours Truly, but as the daughter kindly put it, “Aww! Good job Amma. I am proud of you. You can’t help it if you’re old and gave birth to two children!”

His paternal grandmother is here now and is tutting about how little he eats. “Don’t you feed him?” she asked.

I said, “Clearly not as well as you can!” and ducked out of the kitchen looking pleased. I heard her fussing over him with a bowl of something. We had run a half marathon and, sore as we were, it was a wonderful feeling of accomplishment. 

“Paati – I can’t eat anymore. I am already full!” said the son, and I smiled to myself. 

All was well.

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

St. Patrick's Day In The Jungle
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.

How Reading Changes Our Understanding of the World

Reading, Absorbing, Retaining

We were discussing books and one of my friends said wistfully, “I like what I am reading, but I don’t know how much of it I will be able to retain afterwards.”

The rest of us nodded. It is a problem and one that I have yearned to be better at too. How marvelous it would be to quote with ease from our various influences! The internet truly is a savior for folks like me who have a vague idea. I don’t think stunning speeches are made by saying things like: “Remember that saying by Shakespeare where he said something about wise men knowing they are fools, and fools being very sure of their awesomeness? Or something like that?”

Aah….here it is:

“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool”.  – Shakespeare

So, it is with knowledge. The more one yearns to learn about the world around us, the universe, and the lives we lead within it, the more one realizes how little one actually knows. There is no surer path to humility than learning.

“Even if that is the case, I suppose we retain things that appeal to us subconsciously.” I said.

The conversation meandered after that  but I found myself thinking back to that statement. It was true enough.

The OverStory – Subtle Influences

I read The OverStory by Richard Powers a few years ago, and loved many aspects of the book – its lyrical language, the poetry of the trees, the rich interweaving of nature in its stories etc so much that I wanted to read it again with my book club. It is when I started it again that I realized the Hoel family tradition of photographing their old chestnut tree must have appealed to me. Why else would we have started taking photographs of this particularly gorgeous maple tree every fall? I did not even realize this till we started re-reading the book, and I visualized the hundreds of pictures taken generation after generation. The only surviving chestnut tree for hundreds of miles in every direction. 

There is a timeless charm to a tradition like that.

Reading is a critical part of Becoming

Reading is a critical part of Becoming. Things we read voluntarily, can influence how we think. The characters in stories that appeal to us? They appeal to us for a reason. The actions of flawed individuals? They appeal to us for a reason – maybe we learn to be more forgiving towards follies – our own and of others when we catch them.

There are many studies proving fiction readers were generally more empathetic.

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/novel-finding-reading-literary-fiction-improves-empathy/

Read Across America Week

It is Read Across America Week in schools honoring Dr Seuss’s birthday, and I found myself loving the rich world of stories once more. We each have a world of stories within us – stories that shaped our beliefs, joyously transported us to different realms, acted as escape mechanisms at times, stress busters at others, and just a marvelous source of shoshin otherwise.

Languages all over the world have a phrase or word for the vastness of knowledge, and I suppose I am grateful for it all.

Anantha gyana, gewaltiger umfang, enorm kunnskap, Abhijñā

Happy Read Across America Week – may we all read more about hopeful, brave, courageous, witty, humourous, compassionate, kind, vibrant personalities, and become like them.

Witnessing Nature: A Baby Egret’s Journey to Independence

 

No swimming No diving No fishing

The sign that greets the visitor to the riverside can be daunting. 

If one wonders why they never heard the whooshing sounds of the gushing river waters as they made their way up to the riverside, it is because there usually isn’t any. The mighty river retains its classification by becoming a river for about three days a year when there is heavy rainfall. Like a courtly princess who only dresses in regalia at Christmas.

The rest of the year, it trickles like a stream, while the major portion of the riverbed is lush with vegetation. It is the teeming home to plenty of wildlife – deer, blue herons, geese, coots, ducks, grebes, red tailed hawks, blackbirds, egrets, harriers, turkeys, turkey vultures, owls, wild cats, squirrels, rabbits, the occasional fox or coyote, possibly small snakes and fish in the simmering strip of waters. 

The trail by the riverside is, however, a charming place and one that always manages to lift your spirit. The stirrings of spring are in the air all around us, and we decided to go for a run / walk / bike / drive (No guesses for matching the family member with mode of transport ) to enjoy the river. Pale pink and white cherry blossoms on thick dark brown branches, clusters of chamomile in gardens, squirrels bustling up and down garden fences and hugging trees, geese squawking their way out in the world. It is a beautiful world and one that can ensure one forgets all the breaking news if only for the hour or so by the riverside.

An Egret’s Dash For Independence

A few minutes into the run, I watched fascinated as a baby egret chick stood by its mother in the marshy waters. Even in my first glimpse, my heart leaped, for the egret chick showed a fierce determination for independence. It edged away – throwing a look towards its mother, and the mother let her (or him) go. By this time, I had jogged on a bit, and the egret chick had clearly had enough of waddling away from its watchful parent and took to flying. The mother let it go, and then followed a few minutes later, setting herself down a little further upstream so she could keep an eye on the little one. It was a charming scene, and the egret and the watchful mother kept me entranced for several minutes. 

There is so much to learn from springtime with regards to parenting. Nest building is happening in earnest, and it is a common sight to watch a crow or a wren pick up some twigs to line their little nest. The geese will have their goslings soon, and those are the best to watch. The same loud, sometimes rude geese, somehow have the most obedient goslings. 

I was attracted once again by the egret chick and found myself looking for the mother. This one had certainly taken off a ways, and I watched a little nervously as a rambunctious dog broke into a run and came careening into the riverbed. I almost stopped and called for the egret mother and urged the chick to run. But I needn’t have worried. Long before I saw the dog, the chick had heard, and flippantly flew across the stream landing elegantly on the opposite side. The egret’s mother flew by too, and went back to fishing a little further away. 

I was impressed – she kept an eye on her chick, gave it the space to learn to navigate danger, and kept giving the little one the space and security to grow. 

All was well. Everyone was having their fun, their adventure and their springtime joys. I smiled and peered ahead to see the son way ahead of me.

Did You Know? Fun Facts About Mailboxes and Family Humor

The husband had a Did-You-Know look on his face as we pulled out of the driveway on the way to school. The son was peering at him agog – the kinds of information these fellows find interesting is worth a list one day, but I shall leave it for now.

Ever since YouTube shorts and streaming services made everything from byte-sized to bit-sized I’ve been somewhat helpless at the enthusiasm for these Did-You-Know fests. Typically brain fuzz takes over as all sorts of things are bundled together and dumped my way. This is what it sounds like to me, when presented with facts related to cookies, Poland, lizards, ferns, and the first world war in one shot:

🦎Did you know a lizard can eat three cookies at a time if it suns itself for 4 hours a day? 

🪴Did you know that Poland’s alternate timeline means it could have produced hundreds of pteridomaniacs? (before the intelligentsia comes after me with pitchforks, I think that means people who love ferns) 

Still, stoic as ever, I said, lowering the car window even as we pulled out. “Just tell us quickly – we’re already late!”

He pointed in triumph to the red lever by the postbox. It was raised like a flag in protest. Upside down. “This is how to position the lever when you want to show that you have mail for the mailman to pick up. So, even if we don’t receive any mail, the postman or postwoman knows to open the mailbox and take the letter for delivery.”

Here’s What It Means When a Red Flag Is Up on a Mailbox – Reader’s Digest

The son looked awed. “Oh I didn’t know that!” The husband swelled with pride at a piece of useful information. 

“Me and my friends never knew that when we were little. So, we used to put the lever up on all the mailboxes in our street!”.

The husband and I felt a startled bubble of laughter escape almost simultaneously. Seriously! Children do the darndest things! 

I pulled out of the driveway still laughing and asked the fellow whether they just walked about lifting the red levers, and he gave me an offended scoff. “We weren’t that jobless!”

He must’ve seen my face for he said, “Okay we were – but no. We just used to do that as we ran around playing tag. Got to multi-task. That explains why the mailman was sometimes irritated with us huh?” he said, with a meditative glaze in his eyes.

“Yes – glad that was straightened out!”