Tag: My Family and Other Animals

Do Active Menaces Travel or Vacation?

She shook her head, as though explaining things to a dim-witted troll.

“We are on vacation – yes. In the sense, that you’ve taken time off and we are traveling. But we are not vacationing, we are traveling.”, said the daughter. It was during our trip to Alberta, Canada. We had been enjoying the joy and grandeur of the Rocky mountains, and trying to see as many lakes and blues in the waters and hikes as possible. The long summer days combined with the splendor of the Rocky Mountains make for pleasurable days – even if physically tiring ones after 3 days of non-stop activity, and that was the reason for the conv.

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“My friends are wondering why I can’t pick up any calls from 6 in the morning till 10 at night, and I am telling them it is because we aren’t in any place with connectivity, and they wonder what I am talking about!” she said wringing her hands as teenagers tend to do when trying to explain things to parents.

“But, don’t they go on vacations?” , I’d asked in response to which I got the spiel on traveling vs vacationing. 

“Most people, when they go on vacations, stick to the place they booked – a resort maybe, and stay there. With excellent pools, televisions and the like. Not that I am complaining – I like the way we travel. I like seeing the places, hiking and having a wonderful time. Just saying that what we do is traveling, and what they do is vacationing!”

“Hmm!” I said thoughtfully, “But these days, we do add a day of rest, or a day we have a late start here and there don’t we?”

“Yes and those days are appreciated Mother, believe me! But it is not vacationing. When you vacation, you spend all the days everyday doing nothing.” 

I nodded. It did sound nice. I’d like to try something like that. Though I am not sure the husband would be able to take it. He is a do-er, and would by the end of day two have me climbing palm trees in the nearby oasis. I said so, and the man laughed – guffawed actually, chuffed at this, though it clearly wasn’t meant as a compliment. Sigh. 

The daughter, meanwhile, gave me a diagnostic glance up and down, and said, “Yes! Yes! We all know pops is like that, but you are an active menace too. ”

I drew myself up haughtily. An active menace?

“I mean did we really have to do all the hikes near Lake Louise on one day?  30,000 steps Mother. Some of my friends don’t do that much in a week!”

“Aren’t you proud though, my dear? Aren’t your spirits refreshed and rejuvenated?” I asked.

She took a moment to answer. A faraway look in her eyes as if contemplating the joys of traveling, and said, “I like it. I like traveling and I like our trips filled with places to see, hikes to do, and all that. Just making you realize that vacationers have different expectations. “

I conceded: “Fair point. “

Dinosaurian Thoughts

“You look excited!” said the children eyeing me suspiciously. I identified that wary look and chuckled. Usually it means an additional hike or a walk, or something done ‘together – as a family!’.

I could feel the eye-roll coming on.

As a teenager, the daughter has a reputation to maintain, and as her loyal side-kick, her brother is torn between wanting to humor his mother and learn how to become the cool teen. 

“Relax! I am just waiting to start a new book tonight. It is about the era of the dinosaurs!” I said with a grand sweep of my hands featuring the landscape that just a few million years ago could’ve been home to tyrannosauraus rexes or brontosauruses. 

“Looking at the animals here, my bet would be on the runts of the species!” said the husband.

“We do have the great descendants of the velociraptors here in plenty!” I said eyeing the birds in the riverbed.

That led to an interesting discussion on dinosaurs, and how the dinosaur bones could probably have been the inspiration behind the legends of dragons. While paleontology as a discipline of study and research may be relatively recent, digging and unearthing relics of the past isn’t and neither is human imagination. From there, we somehow landed up discussing the best designs for helmets and body armors while fighting dragons and dinosaurs, and had a good time anyway. 

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Later that night, glad to have a night free of late night meetings, I swished away to sit by the window sill taking in the full moon rising outside and pondering on the lives of dinosaurs of long ago perceiving the moonlight, and the millions of years in which mammals have been fascinated by the same. 

It turns out the book I had in my hand was not one on dinosaurs but on the history of mammalian life from the shadows of the dinosaurs. Oh well!

Book: The Rise and Reign of the Mammals – A New History – From the Shadown of the Dinosaurs to Us

By Steve Brusatte (Author of BestSelling The Rise and Fall of the Dinosaurs)  

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Honestly, book covers these days are the most illuminating ( award-winning, best selling, top researching, nominated for best selling lists!) 

Nevertheless, I had a quiet few moments reading before a call interrupted the quiet of the night, and I had to set the book aside. 

The Dinosaurs seem to have gone millions of years without needing any of these to live their quiet lives on Earth. 

Does anyone miss snail post?



🐶🐾🐕 Spot Goes Splash! 🐶🐾🐕

“Don’t even think about it!” I said almost casually. I had the son in my peripheral vision as I took in the gorgeous sunset, played (s)word volley with the daughter, and screwed up my face at the husbands unnecessarily loud enjoyment at the latest the daughter had said. 

“Oh my gosh! Did you see that? She totally knew what he was going to do!” The daughter laughed half-admiring, half-worried.

“Like it’s a big surprise. Sprinklers going off and spraying cold water on the lawns, and your brother loping towards it as if without a conscious thought?! Right.” I drawled.

“I mean – look at him, I bet he’s still going to try.”, she said and I laughed. 

The subject in question, meanwhile, was wracked between playing the rebel and getting himself wet or making a joke and having a comfortable walk the rest of the way. It was a lovely summer evening – this close to the summer solstice, everything is a joy and the daughter agreeing on coming for a walk clinched the evening. So there we were.

“How’d you know he was going to try and run into the sprinklers?”, she pressed.

“Well – I raised you, remember? “ Then, looking at the husband, I shuddered a bit and said “Remember that New York trip? What was that book we’d read to her? Spotty loves the rain? Or Spot like to go Splashing? Spot Goes Splash! That’s the one.

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“A book about a little pup that loves to splash about in rain puddles. It rained for the entire duration we were in New York that visit and you were two years old! You thought you were too big to sit in a stroller, and we knew you were too heavy to carry around. Still – I had only 1 pair of shoes for you. Appa carried you on his shoulders almost the whole time to save us all the trouble. His shoulders have never been the same!” I said giving him a squeeze and a look that said, “My Hero!” 

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“Gosh! Now there are some parenting gaffes I’ll keep away from!” Said the daughter. She prides herself on being – well whatever teenagers who think they are better than their parents pride themselves on. 

The husband rolled his eyes and guffawed at this so loudly, that a pair of doves took flight squawking alarmingly. That got us all laughing, and he said, “Ha! Just for this – we’ll accompany you when you have your little ones and just stand around and laugh pointedly instead of helping.”

“I’ll write it all down so we remember to do that!” I said laughing helplessly as well.

Her brother, in the meanwhile, had opted for a compromise between running full-pelt into the water sprinklers and had splashed in the water puddles nearby instead and was trying to hide how uncomfortable wet sandals were. 

The summer solstice made for an elongated sunset and we took the time trying to see how a thread from the past could stretch into the present and be used in beautiful circle of life years later.

Spot Goes Splash!

How Daughters Protect Planets

The daughter is home, brimming with chatter and tales from college. I cannot deny that we have been counting down days to have her come home. The house feels different, quieter somehow without her, and I listened happily as she jabbered on a few miles a minute, and gushed and laughed with her little brother. I sat there letting all the flurry blanket me, and smiled. 

“What are you smiling about?”, she said.

I said ‘something soppy’ about being happy that she is home again. She looked at me appraisingly and said, “Oh Amma! Look at you. You’ve mellowed into this sad thing who is ‘just happy to have her her daughter home’! What happened to you? What happened to the fierce woman who flew about the place?” 

“I am still fierce!” I said. 

“Nah! These days – I think she is going to just say something sharp, and she takes a deep breath and shrugs! She really does miss you!”, said her little brother, and I gave him a reproachful look. 

A few hours later, she had convinced us to settle down to a week-end movie night of Our Planet II – a Netflix documentary on the state of the planet, narrated by David Attenborough. It is an excellent program of course, and this particular episode veered from the whale sharks in the Persian Gulf to the wildebeest and zebras in the Savannah to the bees in search of their home with equal ease. We sat there mesmerized by the images, occasionally commenting on how hard it must’ve been to capture some of these shots. It had apparently taken 4 years to film and we could well understand why. 

“But think about it! Most species are absorbed with staying alive – finding food, reproducing and life resets, for the next generation, right?” I yawned sleepily.

“Yes – Amma & I were talking about that. I mean, if you are a duck: have ducklings, feed yourselves and them, and make sure they are safe. That’s it. That’s their whole life.”

“Yeah!”, the daughter said, laughter ringing in her voice, “Low-key simple, but also every day is just survival! Dog-eats-dog-world. I mean look at us. Tucked into our blankets on reclining couches, watching this on TV, and popping chips into our mouths.”

“We are a spoilt species.  “ I agreed. “But I am also glad that we have sentience and energy enough to ponder on more than survival, don’t you think?” I yawned again, ready to head up to a comfortable bed, and thought about that. This extra brain power is probably a double-edged tool. If we hadn’t this extra bandwidth, would we have been happy with survival, and learned to shake down down with our cohabitants better, or can we use this extra bandwidth in ways other than what we have done thus far? Maybe there has to be another leap in our understanding and way of life to truly protect our home and those we share it with. 

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Documentaries, and books certainly help us along that path, I mused, but a true awakening and action? I yawned another jaw splitting yawn, and decided that my brain power just then had about enough to contemplate sleep and relish in the thought of getting up to no alarms the next day (a rare gift in our busy lives). 

As I drifted off to sleep, I thought of the likes of Jane Goodall, Sylvia Earle, Rachel Carson, Gerald Durrell et al, who are voices that help us see the importance of ecosystems. I thought of the question that Sylvia Earle brings up in her book on Oceans: She was asked by a journalist as she stood staring into the vast ocean on the Australian shores, “What would happen if the oceans were to just dry up?”

Flabbergasted, she attempts an answer of the all-encompassing need for the oceans for our survival. Wouldn’t we go the way of lifeless and barren Venus and Mars without the waters of our beloved oceans and its ability to nurture life?

But all of us cocooned in our daily lives of earning our living, and living our lives, and raising our children do not stop to wonder why the jellyfish, and whale sharks are important to us do we? 

That is why we need daughters to come home from college. To ponder on the beauty of life, and what we must do to sustain and protect our lovely home: Earth. 

Are Raravis Real 🕊?

Several times in the past few years, I have wondered whether we have magical and fantastical beasts amongst us. For instance, are there beasts that hide things from right under our noses just as we start to look for them? 

Or wrack spurts like Luna Lovegood says, things that get between your ears and make your brain go fuzzy?

Wrackspurts are invisible creatures that fly in through your ears and cause momentary confusion. As Luna Lovegood seems to be the only character who believes in their existence, we can guess that they spring from the fertile imagination of Xeno Lovegood.

You see for the past few days, every time I was not writing, my mind buzzed with possibilities surrounding mokeskin backpacks, and clever anecdotes involving car keys. Witty writing that I chuckled at myself while I was cutting the carrots, or cleaning the carpet. Yet, for the past couple of days, every time I sat to write a post, not one of these things came to mind. No mokes, no car keys, no fuzz. Nothing. 

Finally, in a moment of rare prescience, the next time the mind buzzed, I sent a note to myself : Remember! Car keys & mokeskin purse (which autocorrected itself to moleskin purse, and I found myself meandering to moles and badger and spring filled morning by the river) Honestly, how any writers get anything done at all is beyond my comprehension.   

Anyway, where was I? Yes : fantastical beasts that hide things from right under our noses just as we start to look for them. Yes. 

The most recent instance happened a few days ago, when I walked around the house looking for something. I kid you not when I say that I tripped over the thing every few days. Sometimes, several times a day. Then, one night, when we really needed it, the husband and I looked everywhere: the garage, closets, medical cabinets, drawers, and found nothing. Not even a whiff. It had simply vanished. So, we had to resort to a near midnight run to the medical store instead. But I guarantee you that next week we shall find the blasted thing everywhere again. 

Now, if a magi-zoologist told me that it is the work of the Raravis (biological name: Latebras Vertabrion), I might humor them. I mean, could there be bird that flies in and out with a surreal ability to foresee the future in the short term with a quirky sense of humor? I might even laugh with the bird, and pray for its mercy sometimes. (I just totally made up that being just now – so if there is a being like that in the fantasy world, I’d love to read about it. Please let me know.) 

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Here is another raravis-style-adventure: this time involving our car keys.

The son & I also recently listened to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander, narrated by Eddie Redmayne. Some creatures made an impression – we chuckled at a few, wondered at a few others, and loved them all. Who cannot smile at least a little while thinking of Mooncalves – the beautiful beings that J K Rowling claims like making crop circles?Or the moke. I am wondering now whether I put away the carkeys in a mokeskin purse (a purse that allows only its owner to retrieve its contents unless we have a mischievous moke that likes to take its owners on a dance. )

For it went missing so effectively, we had to order another one. 

We made do with one key, master procrastinators that we are, till things almost came to a head a few times. Of course, several months later, life went on, and we had still not ordered the spare keys yet. (If anyone is looking for lessons on procrastination, they will be offered next month. )

Anyway, chastising ourselves on this terrible nuisance of having one car key, we finally ordered another one and made an appointment to pick it up. We paid, we waited. Believe it or not, a few days before the spare key was to come, the husband pulled out a backpack we’d used for hiking in the mountains several months ago, and there: hidden inside an inner pocket, not visible to the naked eye, and only discernible by prodding the bag, was the key.

In any case, we now have a truly lovely story for the Tamil saying: 

வெச்சா குண்டுமி சரச்சா மொட்டை

Meaning: either a mop full of hair in a ponytail, or a bald head 🙄

P.S: This post just gave me a marvelous idea for a children’s book, and a desire to read the following books again:

  • Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them – by J K Rowling
  • Book of Imaginary Beings – by Jorge Luis Borges

Qi 🧘🏼‍♀️Yin 🧚🏼‍♂️ & Yang 🪷

I remember one rainy monsoon afternoon when I walked into my friend’s house dripping water all over the floor. Their mother (one of my favorite aunts) looked amazing in a saree and I complimented her – ‘makes you look dashing’ I said. She was reading a Sidney Sheldon novel which I found cool in and of itself since I knew very few adults who read the same novels we did. She looked at me and said, “Oh my! Isn’t that nice? I am 43 years old – so I will accept the compliment.” 

I thought 43 was ancient then- I mean I knew people are old, but to have a prime number that big as an age must’ve been quite the thing. The sentiment must’ve showed on my face for she laughed and said, “You think that is very old don’t you?” And she patted my cheeks lightly and laughed her way out. 

I am in my forties now and feel that way when the daughter and her friends look at me like I am ancient but holding up pretty well. When I tell them about taking reading choices from the daughter and son, I see their look of incredulity for one trying to be the cool reader even when that old, and I can hardly stop a full-throated laugh from escaping my heart and gurgling up through my nostrils and mouth. I hope these children will remember these little scraps when they are in their 40s and chuckle to themselves. The circle of life and all that. 

So, it was that I was sitting on the verandah one evening noodling the daughter on the phone and telling her about a book that she’d suggested a few months ago. The House in the Cerulean Sea – By T J Klune. 

“You were right! I really liked it. I really like visiting the magical world my dear. Ever since All the Young Dudes from earlier this year, there’ve been so many nice little trips to magical realms, and I feel younger up there thanks to all that. Even as the neurons doddle and wither, I see them perk up with some magic and decide to stay zippy for a bit.”

She laughed, and I was happy with that. 

“Did you know they are remaking the Little Mermaid movie again? Better graphics and live action?” I said and moaned. 

Why do we keep going back to the same movies over and over again? It isn’t like there is any dearth of stories in the magical realm. Here are a few that I would love to see made as movies.

  • 🐉The House in the Cerulean Sea – by T J Klune has excellent characters, beautiful storylines, and the redeeming quality of beings : love and sense of belonging in a world that constantly is shaping and drawing graphs of absurd belonging all the time. Who doesn’t like a story of children fighting to belong? So what if the children are garden gnomes, sprites, wyverns, or even the child of satan? If all one wants is some heart-warming action, this story has it all.
  • 💊The Apothecary – By Maile Meloy. This booklegger award winning book has a good dose of intrigue, history, potion making, and old magic. Do you want to know about how to create a potion that makes you a bird? Or a nursery that has such rare and unheard of plants that every civilization is aching to get their hands on them? Or a book that has the learnings of generation between its respectable covers? This one has your covered.
  • 🦆Twelve Topsy-Turvy Very Messy Days of Christmas – By James Patterson. This story has whimsy, humor, and magic woven from the lyrics of the Christmas song. The hilarity of the increasing chaos of receiving these gifts in a suburban home makes for pleasant drama and I am sure will make for a fairly gripping movie.
On the 12th day of Christmas

My true love sent to me

12 drummers drumming

Eleven pipers piping

Ten lords a-leaping

Nine ladies dancing

Eight maids a-milking

Seven swans a-swimming

Six geese a-laying

Five golden rings (five golden rings)

Four calling birds

Three French hens

Two turtle-doves

And a partridge in a pear tree

These books are charming, witty, intriguing and so, so open-hearted that you can’t help developing alongside them. To accept our fellow beings with all their quirks, flaws and weaknesses. 

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“Like in school y’all have literature, math, science, and history, we should have literature, art, engineering and science in our jobs! Help us stay young and all that. What do you think?“ 

“You are itching for a compliment aren’t you? Fine ma! You are young and remain kooky even at your grand age!”,said the daughter and I chuckled as I headed towards another meeting in which we may not have magic, but the magic from the books and the forced compliment was enough. The qi to the yin and yang of life and all that.

🪷Happy 18th Birthday 🍀

May is the beautiful month of beauty, warmth , work, and birthdays (including the blog’s birthday) 

The nourish-n-cherish saga is now officially an adult in the muggle world (18 years of age) 

Over 1080 posts in, the blog seems to have had its own growth.

In the beginning , it was a place for short anecdotes on family and children. 

Over time, as it neared school going age, I suppose the blog grew too

It started showing interests in varied subjects: gravitating towards science and nature based subjects for sure, but also retaining that shy curiosity about life and a sense of humor as we navigated the vicissitudes of life. 

It isn’t as personal as a diary, so I doubt it will serve as a pensieve, but it serves as a cup of joy from which to sip when in a reminiscing mood.

🧘🏼‍♀️There were times when I could philosophize, contemplate, marvel in safety.

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Whatever it’s purpose was while starting out, I think I can safely say that it has helped along several dimensions (like a snowflake) 

When first I started moving out of only personal anecdotes to writing a thing or two on a book I read etc, it seemed to have opened a door to innate curiosity. 

Suddenly, I was more interested in varied topics, trying to understand different perspectives, open my mind to areas that I otherwise might not have had the opportunity to, etc. Inevitably, with all this fodder came the benefits of cross pollination, the joys of thinking through things, or the rewards of quiet contemplation. 

In short, what started as a hobby soon became a source of such gratification, learning and joy that I could not help sharing with my friends (who, for their part have been nothing short of spectacular with reading, inspiring and encouraging me) 

There have been times I’ve wondered what it all amounts to.But then I realize that it already has amounted to magnitudes more than I thought possible (sometimes human imaginations are limited.) 

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⚡️Those moments when I am spinning ideas in my head, and have to stop mid-stride when a thought strikes.

⛈The magic of writing, re-writing and re-rewriting to get a piece right.

👻The frustration of unfinished pieces from a decade ago because of lack of time.

∫ The joy of tucking a good memory away so it can replenish us in written form later.

🪷The thrill of creativity as new ideas come in – the long list of children’s books ideas waiting to be written (also novellas & short stories) I have wisely given up on the idea of a novel given the constraints of time – but one never knows!

To all of you who have joined me on this journey, whether gamely taking it in your stride when featured, or given me things to think about as part of our stimulating conversations, or inspired me to try new things, or just being there in my life: Thank You! 

⚡️💨⛈ Gusts & Gales⚡️💨⛈

“You should write about gusts and gales! Do you like the title?” The son asked as he tried comically to keep from being veered off the garden path by the winds. He had wanted to go for a short walk to experience the winds. I told him I’d heard tales of roof tiles sliding off, and the power lines being down nearby. He looked impressed. Winds such as this , he told me, were characterized at category 2. 

“Well – in that case hold on to my hands if the winds got any stronger!” I said and he nodded solemnly.

Once out, his solemnity gave way to a wild happiness, and he whooped with the winds. “Maybe I could fly, I could run faster!”

“Or open your mouth and fill yourself with the air and start floating!” I said and he guffawed at that.

It turned out to be a marvelous walk. The trees seem to be dancing and swaying. It was mesmerizing and terrifying at the same time. When a large tree trunk is swaying with every single pine needle on it doing the same, or every single leaf wildly doing the same, it is an image that never truly leaves you. Birds veering off their path, seeking shelter in the shaking boughs of cypress trees, deer huddled under the bare branches of the oaks and other evergreens, waters in the rivers and lakes rippling with every gust of wind. Every single natural entity caught up in its movements however subtle. 

This must be a dance of the cosmos. 

Many bare branches lay broken at our feet as we stepped gingerly around the wind debris. Luckily, mankind’s sturdy homes seem to be holding up, the electric poles stood. When finally we gained the sanctity of our home, we both released our breaths: we’d been holding it in without realizing, and made for the kitchen. If ever anything demanded tea and hot cocoa this was it. 

We sipped our hot beverages in companionable silence for a few moments before reveling in the joys and trials of the windy day.

“I really liked seeing that tree shiver though. Like this!”, said the son and shook himself in a massive wave from top to bottom. His hot cocoa lurched alarmingly in his hands and I caught the cup. “Good one!” He said, and set the cup down before going on to recount how it must be to strap something to yourself and fly in these winds. We sat down to thumb through the excellent images in the Flights of Fancy by Richard Dawkins, Illustrated by Jana Lenzova.

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I wanted to fly too, and said so sheepishly. I realized it had been sometime before I had indulged in this sort of whimsy and chided myself for it. One must not work to tap into whimsy – it should be there rippling under the surface ready to tap into and draw magic from at a moment’s notice. Like children. Like they teach us to.

At night, things got even more exciting for the weather explorers. The rains had started pelting down, there was lightning and thunder, and the temperatures plummeted even further. I peeked out at the bleak scenes outside, and for some reason thought that this would be our daily life if we lived on Jupiter, and shuddered a bit at that. A bit of blue and white skies should sort out that weird feeling. (Reference:Why is our sky not green? Book: Pale Blue Dot by Carl Sagan)

I thought of the beautiful image from the previous day before the thunderous clouds rolled in. Earth held to its orbit, the planets to theirs, and the faintly visible moon to its steadfast path around the Earth. In that small image lies our constancy.

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Uncharacteristic snow seem to have dusted the hills near where we live overnight and our version of winter wonderland was marvelous to behold.

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The Nature of Sleep and Time

The evening started off morosely. At least from my side. I felt the weight of time pressing in between the shoulder blades. The vague sense of limited time against the unlimited expanse of it: both aspects ebbing and flowing like tides in the narrow confines of one soul.

“Maybe I’ll cheer you up with a Tamil movie story.”, said the husband. Have I mentioned this aspect of the man before? I must’ve. The movies themselves do not interest me. The husband as narrator, however, takes it upon himself to remove this misconception of movies I have in my mind and with his usual charm and enthusiasm tries to work his magic. I am more entertained by the narrator’s enthusiasm than by the movies themselves. 

“No please! I have limited time, and do not want to waste it on some stupid movie you watched late into the night!” I said. He gave me a “summary” anyway. 👀

“This is a summary? Please! You’ve gone on and on for 10 minutes – and you’re still meandering about with laying the ground!” I said exasperated for the n-th time. “This is why I don’t listen to your stories – you take double the time the movie itself takes!”

“Okay…okay. Almost done. Getting to the climax soon.” He said and went on for another 10 minutes.

 I realized it was time for my meetings to start and made off.

“That’s twenty long minutes I’ll never get back!”, I swished mock-irritated, though his “summary” had me laughing.

Later that night, I crawled into bed ready to let my eyelids close and drift into the pleasant land of sleep when I saw the husband looking enthusiastic and energetic. 

“What now?” I moaned. “If you’re going to tell me one more Tamil movie story, I cannot be responsible for my actions. “ I said. 

He grinned, and I flopped back onto the pillow. “What the bloom? Tell me  – maybe it’ll help me sleep. Two minutes.”, I said. “120, 119…” 

“Okay – okay!” 

After a few minutes, I moaned “Why do these movies go on-and-on?” 

“Almost done. Almost done!” Said the husband and launched into a description of a fight between two knuckle heads who should’ve been home reading about the finer points of living instead.

15 minutes later, I flopped onto the pillow, and realized that the night-time story was far from relaxing. Adrenaline based fighting – humph! 

So, I settled in to read instead. I picked up Flights of Fancy by Richard Dawkins and read about our dreams of flying. 

I was reading about indigo buntings and their sense of direction. The little indigo buntings enthrall me. Tiny little creatures with a wing span of 7 inches flitting fast between their nest building and early morning swooping. Electric blue swift against their backgrounds. Their tiny wingspans made me think of the beautiful pelicans I had seen just a few days ago while out on a walk. Large birds with 7 ft wing spans – taking to the skies with a majestic power, and gliding through the waters with elegance and grace. Both states natural and both states equally alluring. 

Both the pelicans and the buntings had my admiration, and I am often refreshed after spotting them somewhere on my walks. 

pelicans

“Shall I tell you about this book?” I said.

I knew I had him trapped. If I listened to two movie summaries in as many hours, he could listen to what one book said. He gave me a look that conceded he was trapped, and I laughed. I started and within 3 seconds, I heard the man snoring. Snoring! 

How long must those 3 seconds have felt for him? I shelved the book and let the man drift into his dreams amused. Maybe I should learn to fall asleep like that: Right when he is telling me a movie summary.

We, The People; On This, Our Earth

One evening, the son and I were milling around the kitchen making dinner. It was one of those rare evenings for no reason. Like a short pause between tides. The winter months fading and yawning before waking into energetic spring. The son was working on a school project on Egypt on the dining table while I pottered around with the onions and spices chattering of this and that. 

These are some of my favorite times. 

Finally, the curry simmering on the stove, I went and sat by him at the dining table peering into his notes for the project. 

He had done a sincere job, researching diligently and writing more notes than was required. That made me proud of him and I said so. He smiled and then it turned into a grin, and asked, “Shall we watch TV today then? Just today – you know as a gift?” The little rascal!

I threw my head back and laughed, almost ready to yield. What else was there to do? It was rainy and dark outside. School work done, just the two of us at home. But I caught myself in time. Somehow, it did not feel like a good time to zone out in front of the Television. This rare, quixotic feeling of solitude in each other’s company. So, I shook my head and said no. I saw the twinge of disappointment in his face anticipating indulgence just a moment ago, and said, “How about we read something interesting and funny out to each other?” I said pointing to The Thrifty Guide to Medieval Times – A Handbook for Time Travelers – By Jonathan W Stokes.

He agreed enthusiastically – and I loved him for it. A petulant fuss would’ve ruined the evening. This carefree acceptance of an alternate plan was amazing.

I started reading about Doctors in Medieval Europe and we both shuddered a bit. The book was written in a manner that was just enough gruesome and just enough brevity to stave off utter misery, and a good deal of humor where you least expect it. So, we had a good time rotating dismay, shock, horror and laughter in turns. 

On our recent trip to Europe, there was many a time when the mind wandered back a few centuries to Medieval Europe. While we stood there admiring the relics and artifacts saved from those truly Dark Ages, I remember thinking how we were able to passively look at the best of the Dark Ages through a museum visitor’s lens. Setting aside the utter misery of the times. Art truly did pull humankind through those times if only by a shred. 

I remember a passionate History teacher from our school days who told us about the Dark Ages, Crusades, the endless years of disease and religious warfare. As children these were disturbing. But they were also distant echoes from the past in a geography barely imaginable by school children in the South of India at the time. Many of us had never traveled past our own country or state. 

But as life went on, I understood more and more of the horrifying acts of evil that humankind is capable of: the Dark Ages become a euphemism for unspeakable things. We had heard of witch hunting but when one finds out that Pope Innocent was responsible for making it a bloody sport and sent 1000’s of innocent women to their shrieking deaths, what excuse is there really for religion or piety or righteousness?

A Handbook for Time Travelers – By Jonathan W Stokes

medieval_times

Over the next few evenings, we followed a similar routine. We read about 

  • Jeanne de Clisson – the French pirate nicknamed the Lioness of Brittany, who you definitely want to steer clear of, if invited to dinner at her place.
  • The brutality of Genghis Khan – there truly are no words, though there are thousands of words written about him.
  • Marco Polo and his explorations that gave many people a breath of fresh adventure and unheard of places – a little bit of magic in their otherwise terrible lives. 
  • The ferocity of Attila the Hun
  • The deadly female fighters of the Middle Ages
    • Blance of Castile, Queen of France
    • Countess Pertonilla of Leicester
    • Nicola de la Haye
    • Empress Matilda
    • Melisende, Queen of Jerusalem
    • The Order of the Hatchet 

It sometimes takes books such as these to journey to another horrible time and space in order to appreciate what we have now. I was grateful for that. 

It also reminded me of the children’s book, Meanwhile Back on Earth . . .: Finding Our Place Through Time and Space

back_on_earth_cover

  • 1000 years ago – when there was a conflict between x and y
  • 500 years ago – war between rats and zebras
  • 100 years ago – war between everyone

The history of our planet in conflict. It makes for sobering reading, but along with Oliver Jeffers’ artwork, a required reading too.

back_on_earth_2back_on_earth

“Nice to see what all we did in spite of all the fighting huh?” , said the son, pointing to his project on Egypt, and pulling me back from my thoughts. He had written about the culture, ways of life and the many achievements of the ancient Egyptian civilization, and I nodded. We truly are a species worth studying. The sheer potential for good. The very qualities of good fanning our bad:  ambition for instance. 

How do we constantly remind ourselves that we are remarkable in our creative quests, and not use it for anything destructive? But don’t they go hand-in-hand? I peered at the dancing Nataraja statue in the home symbolizing just that, and felt very humble indeed. Nothing new. We are all just discovering and learning. Just figuring out how to belong on our Earth.