Travel – Page 3 – Nourish-n-Cherish

Reflecting on 30 Years at a High School Reunion

30 years 30 minutes

When we look back on life – what do you tell those who knew you when you were but a little girl? Some had grown into more distinguished versions of themselves, few were hardly recognizable (especially those who had embraced facial hair – mustaches, beards, and the like), and a rare few looked far younger than their biological age.

There was a strange moment when I asked a fellow classmate, “I am sorry, I am unable to recognize you – can you remind me who you are?”

“Oh come on Saumya!” He said, and I felt a flush creep up my cheek.

“Not the right response man!” I said laughing, as he reminded me with a helpful anecdote to place him.

In 30 years, a lifetime has passed, and yet felt like a heartbeat.

Sounds cliched I know. Probably the thing that everyone who has attended a high school reunion feels.

As I gazed fondly around the room taking in the whirlwind of activity and the people who were at school with me, I felt gratitude first for all the memories. Even the bitter ones seemed to have attained a bitter-sweet tinge to it, which did not quite seem possible at the time.

When we left school 3 decades ago, everything felt sharp – in a way that teenagers can feel. The angst, the turbulence, the weight of expectations, the sense of trepidation for what lies ahead. And then somehow, life happened in those moments of angst. The years rolled by. Careers were made, lives were built, children were birthed and raised, and through it all, our families and friends bore the thrum of Lawrence School almost like background music.

It was fantastic to see where life had led us all in the three decades since. Many had embraced growth, some had endured it, and a few had denied it. But we were all swimming across the river and continuing to brave the currents. Some of us were still in the whirlwinds of the swift currents, some were looking forward to the quiet moments of water lapping around the shores on the opposite side. Regardless of where we were in life though, there was an enormous affection.

I remember thinking as a girl why the Old Lawrencians made such a fuss about their reunions decades later – they all seemed to be so happy to be there with their hair greying and limbic nimbility dwindling. I understand now.

People Currents

It was curious to see the patterns emerging after all these years. How we sought out the people we liked, had a polite curiosity about the people we didn’t, and found out about the ones we respected after all these years. Finding out about those who had exceeded expectations, those who braved life’s storms with equanimity and grace, and those who had simply let themselves go in the intervening years.

As we traded our life stories, it was humbling to see all the different and varied ways in which the world had tested and tried us over the past few decades. Love makes us endure horrendous things just as much as it makes us do inspiring things. It is no wonder there is a Love door in the Department of Mysteries in the Harry Potter Universe!

Life truly is a mystic game. I was reminded several times of the quote by Leo Tolstoy:

All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way

Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

As we took several walks down the memory lane, each one had recollections of their life in boarding school that was unique: sometimes traumatic, other times funny, many times reflections on moments of personal growth and realization. I don’t think I’ve laughed this much over inane things since adulthood.

Just for that, it was all worth it.

April Highlights: Poetry Month and Stress Awareness

April is a beautiful month of Spring. It also is Poetry Month, Stress Awareness Month, and plays host to several days such as Earth Day, World Reading Day, International Dance Day, and we found out quite recently, World Quantum Day.

Trying to accommodate all these different aspects into reading and experiences can be quite the adventure if you let it.

For Stress Awareness Month, we released the fourth episode of Sitare Spotlight. This time, our guest was Salima Banu Iezzey. Salima is a fitness coach, adventurer and nutritionist. The conversations with her were a good reminder for all the tenets of good living. Simple things we can do for daily well-being, bigger adventure goals and healthy eating. Please check it out here:

Sitare Spotlight Ep.4: Salima Banu Iezzey on Fitness, Adventure & Wellbeing

https://youtu.be/Tpirxjy_u8U?si=2-3P_Q7ltAgjpChA

For Poetry Month, apart from dipping into poetry collections from time to time, this time I also read about the life and times of Emily Dickinson. It was fascinating to see how the few poems of hers that did make it to publication during her lifetime were published anonymously by her friends and family members.

Book: Becoming Emily – the life of Emily Dickinson – Krystyna Poray Goddu (what a fascinating way to spell Krystyna?)

It was only after her death that her friend and niece got her poems published – a little tug of war between them to see who had access to more poems. It is also interesting to note that like Jane Austen, Emily Dickinson too hailed from a family that valued education, and somehow, even during those times of limited financial independence for women, were unmarried. That probably explains the prodigious work they were able to turn out in their lifetimes.

On Earth Day I gazed down upon Earth as we took off and flew over arid deserts, lush green forests, snowy stretches, oceans brimming with life, on my travels. All the time marveling at humankind and our ability to create a safe mode of transport in the air when we neither have the wings nor the air-borne buoyancy required to pull it off. Our innovation helping us gaze over the beautiful planet and peer into the maps being flashed on the screens”

Flying over Deer Lake, Cat Lake, Big Trout Lake, Sam Lake, Kingfisher lake, Wunnumin Lake – past Saskatchewan and Ontario

Quaktaq – Past Hudson Bay – where I remembered reading about the Great Bear Sea and the Arctic Unicorns (Narwhals)

Then I zoomed and chuckled over whimsical, interesting and beautiful names: Pikangikum, Quaktaq, Akulivik Puvirnituk.

One of the many futures of AI innovations may whisper in my head the meanings or origins of each of these names, but for now, it was enough for me to muse. Imagine nonsensical little things about their etymology, the languages, or the peoples who named them. I wonder why we don’t spend more time as amateur cartographers, naming the little nooks and corners of our daily walks. I remember telling someone to meet me at Reflection Pond, and then remembering that there was no Reflection Pond on the map. It was simply a name the children and I had come up for the dear pond on one of our many strolls. It was the time of sunset, the pink and orange hues above our heads were beautifully reflected in the serene waters below, and we sat there, each of us lost in our own reflections.

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.

Sonder and Saudade: Reflections on Travel and Books

Sonder

Traveling anywhere in the holiday season brings this fact to the fore. Airports, railway stations, bus stops, freeways – every place is packed with people, more people and more and more people. It was faintly unnerving at times to see this many people out in the world, all seemingly busy doing their many things. How many of them thought deeply, what did they do to occupy themselves, earn a living, attend to their loved ones? How many of them were loving and giving, and how many selfish and cruel?

That feeling of realizing the sentience of our fellow beings can be especially acute when traveling in crowded places. There is a beautiful word for it: sonder.

But wherever you were: one thing was apparent. Business was thriving. Clothing stores, eateries, perfumeries, jewelry stores – they dotted every city, country and airport. One time, I remember gazing out the window as we rode from one end to the diagonally opposite end of the city, and seeing shops after shops after shops. There was an apparent unending need for clothing and electronics, for consumption. One cannot help wondering about the ecological impact of all this, but there you are. ‘Better’ means the old has to go somewhere, and make place for the new. Maybe the next wave of innovations will be in making biodegradable plastics, electronics and clothing. After all, the waste that we are generating now can hardly be a scalable problem.

Lack of book stores in all the airports, cities

Even as I gazed out through the window taking in the local sights though, one thing sent a pang through me: the lack of bookstores anywhere was truly tragic. I felt their absence keenly. I had asked my siblings to fit in a visit to the bookstore. The only one in the vicinity was a little like a wild goose chase. The shop had moved they said, you cannot see the billboard from road they said. When finally, we found it, the reason was apparent. It was tucked away underground, as if hidden away from population. Only if you truly had the magical three things, could you find it: the will, the means, and the luck.

The bookstore had a passionate but regretful owner. “No space madam. Only so many books!” He said, gesturing apologetically to the small collection he had. To be fair, the little store had a fair amount of shelf space for children’s books (maybe those are the ones people are actually buying), but other fare was slim pickings. They were a few translated classics (which was a new section I admit) – it was heartening to see A Hundred Years of Solitude translated into Tamil. We picked up some books including a Tamil version of 1984 to donate to our local library in the USA.

The Hidden Bookshops of Timbuktu

But it all felt like the hidden bookshops of Timbuktu.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Timbuktu_Manuscripts

How many malls, streets covered with stores, and yet for intellectual stimulation, one had to either go scrounging or online? It was the same in many airports too. Perfumes, alcohol, watches, jewelry, clothing, chocolates, coffee, burgers: you could find these everywhere you turned, but good old fashioned books were tucked away in a corner (if at all), and hard to find.

What would it take for every coffee store, every clothing store, every jewelry store to have a reading nook that people could browse and buy books if they wanted? Wouldn’t that be marvelous? A tiny art nook that one could spend time creating their own art and craft while others shopped? I know reluctant shoppers would gladly accompany their friends and family if they could be tempted with the right incentives.

Was that utopian thinking?

Image: The beautiful hotel in which we stayed in Zurich that had a large marvelous library in its lobby. My heart sang, my spirits danced, and my soul settled, here in the presence of greatness!

Saudade

Our own town in US lost its bookstores to the great Amazonian sweep a decade ago. But luckily stores like Target or Costco still have a small pecking section for those really wanting to buy books or see them before picking them up.

Oh books! When did you go from being ubiquitous to precious to rare?

Could this be referred to as Saudade? That feeling or yearning for lost experiences?

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.

Journey Through Timezones: 15 Destinations in 15 Days

In what turned out to be the journey of clocks – we managed to visit 15 places in as many days over three distinct timezones. I wondered where we were, how we got up, and how we made it from one place to another at all. But it seems we did, and we made it in one piece back to our home, so all is well.

Sometimes, I’d get up – the biological clock warring with the physical ones, and the expectations of the day starting in whichever language, country you were in. Orienting oneself always seemed to take a few minutes. I loved the sensation of relief as one realized one was supposed to be on vacation – so it must be alright.

Pack Mules

Packing for a European trip along with an Indian one seems good on paper but involves logistics that would have had a royal ensemble perplexed. With baggage restrictions, it turns out that nothing prepares us for two different cultures like this:

One requires thermals, caps, gloves, socks, closed-toe shoes, sweaters and jeans
The other requires sarees, in-skirts, blouses, salwar kameezes, cotton kurtis, sandals, and jewellery.

Planes, trains and automobiles

For you see? We also seemed to use every mode of transportation available: planes, trains and automobiles. (The boats were given a sad miss on this trip), though there were plenty of lakesides in which to catch our breath.

We travelled by trains in India, slept through the night on berths, shot our heads out into the cool morning air as he watched the moon shine through the countrysides. We travelled by trains in Switzerland, where the freshly fallen snow on the countrysides made it all look like we had woken up in a picture postcard.

We travelled by automobiles – in deft contraptions boasting of 4 wheel drives, automatic braking, abs-something, in hilly regions both in India and Switzerland.

We braved the holiday crowds in airports and felt for the airline staff dealing with large swaths of humanity who all seem to have decided to take a holiday just then on an airplane.

Trains

One time, I woke up as a night train in India jolted me awake from a semi-state of sleep. Then I remembered why I was semi-awake. The son had gone to use the restroom minutes prior, and I suddenly felt wide awake. Could the jolt have meant … but mere seconds later, the fellow came back beaming like the waxing moon outside, “Amma! Luckily I had not yet let go when the train jolted – otherwise, my shoes would have definitely been gone!” he said.

I threw my head back laughing, and couldn’t stop for a few minutes. It was his first experience on Indian Railways for on overnight stint, and he was excited to be in the middle berth, and everything from how the iron chains held a person’s weight, to the loos, to the open doorways seemed to fascinate him.

Planes

Another time, we were prodded out of our console screens by our excited co-passenger. She was a professional photographer of sorts (who was also a nurse), and she took a picture of the clouds outside our airplane window to show us what we were seeing. She had identified it correctly – we had a brilliant look at the dancing skies of the night over the Arctic circle, and we caught the aurora borealis in its glory. It was marvelous.

Automobiles

The ability to catch a marvelous sunrise over the Swiss Alps, or to catch a glimpse of an elephant by the roadside was all the magic required for the automobile sections. We managed to eat exotic fruit in Kerala (nongu), and stop for a quick snacks by the roadside in India. It was all a-thrilling, till we found ourselves snoozing on the uber-ride home after all of it.

We travelled by planes from one continent to the next in the peak holiday season, braving crowds, and delays, and cacophonous announcements. How we managed to get from one place to another inspite of all the things conspiring to derail things was beyond us, but we were grateful for it all. Once we landed back home in San Francisco, the very air around us seemed to ease us into being.

It also seemed like the problems we had temporarily left behind, were lurking on the corner of our home, and ambushed us as soon as we came in.

Ganga & Kaikeyi : Retelling the Mahabharata & the Ramayana

During the holiday season I read two epics from different perspectives: The Mahabharata & The Ramayana.

The Mahabharata from the River Ganga & Bhishma’s perspective:

The Goddess of the River – By Vaishnavi Patel

The book started off beautifully for I have always loved myths of rivers and streams and oceans, and the gods that embody them. How they interact with the human world is a leap of imagination and faith, and when told beautifully, never ceases to make me admire the human capacity for creativity and the beautiful gifts of our imagination.

How River Ganga fell to the Earth from the cosmic skies, unbridled, full of energy and the strength of the universe behind her is a beautiful chapter, and even if told separately without the context of the Mahabharatha makes for a marvelous read bursting with magical realism. The river’s long continuing peeve against the Lord Shiva who broke her fall to the Earth, and contained her wild spirits to be nothing more than a river able to provide sustenance for humanity is well told.

The story of her curse, and how she comes to bear a mortal form, and how she comes to marry King Shantanu, and sire him eight offspring ,killing them all – save one, Bhishma, is enthralling.

Points to Ponder:

🦌Fascinating as this all was, the birth of Bhishma Pitamaha, the grand uncle of the Kauravas and the Pandavas may have set the stage for the Mahabharatha. But, once the river returns to her goddess form, her perspective and narrative is not enough for an epic such as the Mahabharatha.

Bhishma is the grand uncle, yes, but he is still forced to take sides, and the sides of the Kauravas, if it needs empathy, needs more work. Grand villainy is not an easy side to tell.

🦅The river is a river and even with divine powers is only able to be in the same plane so many times, unless she was worshipped and kept in little containers by all concerned. If everyone carried a bit of the waters of the River Ganges from whence she was able to observe, it might have worked. But as it was, from a narrative point, it might’ve worked if she stopped the story after Bhishma’s birth. The author was trying to tell the Mahabharatha from a female centric perspective, but truth be told, the best female perspective for the Mahabharatha is from the point of view of Draupadi – the princess who marries all five of the Pandava princes (Yudhisthira, Bhima, Arjuna, Nakula & Sahadeva).

🦢She might have better selected the alternating perspectives of Gandhari & Kunti (the mothers of the Kaurava and Pandava princes’ respectively) That would have been a perspective I would have liked to read, for I have always wondered how the mothers felt about their sons and nephews initiating wars, and how their hearts must remain conflicted – for love can be confusing in its loyalties and moralities especially within families. They would also have been present at all the crucial points in the story – when Draupadi was gambled away, when the kingdoms were split unfairly, when they were exiled, and when they came to the inevitable war.

The Ramayana from Kaikeyi’s perspective:

Kaikeyi – By Vaishnavi Patel

I had qualms picking this up because the previous one The Goddess of the River by the same author did not hold the same kind of sway for the epic it was trying to tell. You see, the Goddess of the River was an attempt at Mahabharata from the Goddess of the river Ganga’s perspective, which was a severely limiting perspective. If you needed a female centric perspective on the Mahabharatha, the best one still seems to be Draupadi, which is already well-written and well-received in The Palace of Illusions by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni.

But Kaikeyi was beautifully woven. The story of the warrior princess who saved her husband’s life on the battlefield and got herself two boons to use at any time. How did this particular queen manage to get on the battlefield and save her husband at a time and age when women were kept safe in their palaces at the time of war?

I always found a pang of sympathy for Kaikeyi – for I felt her life, who she was, where she came from, were all colored with the lens of her choices that set the Ramayana in motion. (Asking for the boons: Rama to be exiled and her blood-son, Bharatha, to be coronated as King instead of Rama) Could she really have festered ambitions for her birth son all that long, even as the epic says Rama & Kaikeyi considered themselves as mother-and-son throughout?

Points to Ponder:

🦌The author wisely stopped the narrative after Rama, Sita & Lakshmana went on exile. This worked very well, for attempting to provide a peek into the Ramayana from Kaikeyi’s perspective would have very limited narrative points of view.

🦅As it was a story from Kaikeyi’s perspective, it also provided a peek into her life. In this book, Kaikeyi’s maid and nurse, Manthara, is not filled with malice as many versions of the epic seem to indicate. In this retelling, Kaikeyi bears full responsibility for what she does and manages to convince the reader of her thoughts and motivations for essentially what set the Ramayana into motion (the exile of Rama for 14 years, and placing Bharatha on the throne instead.)

🦢The relationships between the people in Kaikeyi’s life were well done. Her relationship with her husband, Dasaratha, her fellow queens, Kausalya and Sumitra, and her maids, Manthara and Asha, her sons, Bharatha, Rama, Lakshmana and Shatrughna, her younger brothers – in particular, her twin brother, Yudhajit.

All in all, these two made for good reads over the holiday season, with a trip to India in the mix.

Gratitude and Intentions: Welcoming the New Year

Welcoming the New Year

It has long been tradition to welcome the new year. The hope of new beginnings, the ability to reset, taking stock of what needs to be done in the year ahead, what did not work in the year past, is always precious.

This year, I sat in an airport reading the beautiful meditations of Maria Popova on the symbolisms of the new year, and some blessings to begin the year with. She says in her beautiful essay on new beginnings:

Some Blessings to Begin with – The Marginalian

“The universe didn’t owe us mountains and music, that we didn’t have to be born, and yet here we are with our physics and our poems and our ever-breaking, ever-broadening hearts.”

Maria Popova

I found myself nodding along at her evocative language, and the beautiful blessings she envisions.

Many times in the past, I have had discussions with the children, and nieces, on why I pray or meditate , and what blessings I hope to gain from it. I love having this discussion with them, for they know I am not a particularly religious person: so why do I pray? It also allows me a glimpse into the kind of personalities they wish to become.

Why do I pray?

I tell them I pray so I am able to set my intentions for what I hope to do with this life I am blessed with. Like setting resolutions for who we are becoming.

🐘 When I pray for health, it means, I would be cognizant of what I eat, how I exercise, how to keep my mind and body stimulated and healthy.

🐘 When I pray for prosperity, it means, I will subconsciously work towards a better life – not just for me, but for those around me too – for when we all have better lives, we all prosper. (granted ‘better’ in itself is a nebulous term, and usually at different epochs in our lives, they mean different things)

🐘 When I pray for continued success, it means I will work towards having goals, and try to cultivate the motivation and discipline required to achieve them.

🐘 When I pray for good relationships, it means I would subconsciously avoid conflicts over little things, and work towards harmonious relationships.

When I pray for….you get the gist.

Do the same things then hold for blessings too?

I wonder.

For some blessings can only be recognized as such after the fact.

What are the blessings I am grateful for?

I am grateful for the blessing of life, the fragile conditions that allow us to thrive on this tiny blue planet, the people in our lives who are crucial to our happiness, the microbes and bacteria that all do their part in keeping us functioning, the interconnectedness of the universe that enables the web of rapture to continue, the curiosities of our natures that help us continually improve and problem solve, the conditions of peace-time, the opportunities, the ability to find joy in our lives, the abundance of flora and fauna on this marvelous planet, and so much more.

So what are the blessings you are grateful for, and will they translate into prayers or resolutions for you?

Elevating Resolutions for the New Year Inspired by Some of Humanity’s Greatest Minds – The Marginalian

The Beauty of Rainy Days and Mystical Mornings

Some say that talking about the weather is exceedingly dull. I disagree.

Take for instance, this adventurous morning:

Misty mornings

I stepped out to the early morning air and found myself completely enveloped in a misty, foggy, cold, moisture ridden world. I shivered delightfully at that. Somehow the atmosphere lilted the eucalyptus scents towards me even if we could not see 10 feet in front of us.

The atmosphere yanked me by my navel and took me in beautiful swirls of thought to the beautiful Nilgiri Hills – a place where the Western Ghats meet the Eastern Ghats in the South of India. Almost all of my childhood was spent in misty mornings, and rainy reveries. In my mind, if ever there was Utopia, it was there, soaked in that magic.

The slow lifting of the mists as the suns rays pierced through the clouds is divinity itself.

The crisp sunny afternoon followed by a cloudy and rainy evening sang its Christmas carols all on its own.

Heavy Downpours

We also received our first heavy downpour of the season and it brought leaky roofs, streams of muddy waters, and swelling rivers in its wake. It was delightful.

We had all been wringing our hands a bit, and saying to each with worried tones, “It is going to be a dry year again!” “Was it always like this?” and so on. Like worried climate doctors. If I remember it correctly, even a decade ago, we had pretty good rains. But maybe I wasn’t as attentive to the data before. There seems to have been whole periods in life when the busyness of it dwarfed the ability to observe these things.

I mused on these things, and read a book sitting by the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree that day.

Interconnectedness of the Universe

Some mornings, I stare up at the breath clouding near my mouth on foggy winter mornings while making a little fake-smoke-joke, and am astounded that the long dark nights still find a way to foggy mornings. If I go walking at night, to catch the Christmas lights twinkling in the community, I’ll look up at the stars if the sky is clear, and wonder whether our lives would be any different if one of those stars decided to not shine and sparkle.

Would it be a cascading effect – or would the distance protect us? Who knew?

Then, I wonder whether it is as the children say: Is it a bit odd to be this enamored by a thing as simple as the weather at my age? At any age?

Still, it is wondrous that we live on a tiny blue planet, cloaked in a delicate veil of an atmosphere, that allows for all of this to unfurl around us. If that isn’t magical, I don’t know what is. There is a word for this – the feeling of wonder at the world around us. Several words, in fact. So, it isn’t odd and I can assure entirely satisfying to be this kooky about being excited by the weather.

Exploring Deepavali Through The Firework Maker’s Daughter

I glanced around me – it was Deepavali, and all of us children, parents, and grandparents at the party, looked delighted. Who wouldn’t be? Many of us were clutching sparklers, and watching the tiny stars produced by them in awe. The beautiful fountain pot spouted its joy towards the world a few feet away, and the oohs-and-aaahs were enough to melt hearts. Deepavali fireworks, especially in the US, are not exactly spectacular, but it is joyful all the same.

Watching fireworks has always been magical. The little sparks ignite something else altogether in our spirits. Watching everyone around me, I could well imagine the children of ancient China watching in wonder as the first gunpowder produced magical effects. Or the hobbits as they all watched Gandalf’s spectacular fireworks in Hobbiton. Every time we go to DisneyLand, waiting for the fireworks in the cold, with thousands of people, it is magical.

I was so glad to have an equally delightful book to read that week-end, The Firework Maker’s Daughter – By Philip Pullman.

The Firework Maker’s Daughter – By Philip Pullman

A delightful tale of adventure, replete with a plucky heroine (Lila), a hero (Chulak) with gumption, and a talking elephant (Hamlet, who is in love with the elephant at the zoo, named Frangipani).

In the Firework Maker’s Daughter, the firework maker, Lalchand’s daughter, Lila, wants more than anything to become a fireworks maker. At a young age, Lila invented Tumbling Demons & Shimmering Coins.

“My father won’t tell me the final secret of fireworks-making, “ said Lila. “I’ve learned all there is to know about flyaway powder and thunder grains, and scorpion oil and spark repellant, and glimmer juice and salts-of-shadow, but there’s something else I need to know, and he won’t tell me.”

firework_makers_daughter

But of course, the poor girl is not allowed to become a firework maker, for her father intends to get her married off. So, with the help of the white, talking elephant, Hamlet and his keeper, Chulak, she takes off to find the secrets of firework making all the same.

It is a whimsical book, and the descriptions of the fireworks in the end makes for a marvelous read.

If only the joys of learning to do these things (like making fireworks), were still available to us, instead of being locked behind factory doors, how wonderful it would be. As I remembered all the different types of fireworks – the ones that burst into a thousand patterns in the sky, the ones that take their time like a rocket lift-off, the spinning chakras, the little pops of bursting noises, the ‘Lakshmi bombs’ ( the loud bombs), and the serial-wallahs,(the strings of explosive that went off for minutes at a time) – the imagination took off with the fireworks too. How could it not? How inventive these firework makers must be.

I sat down willing to write about the marvelous joys of fireworks, but came up wanting. How can you capture the soaring of the heart in words? How can show feel a definite lifting of the spirits when only you can feel it?

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Welcoming the New Year

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