Tag: writing

Imagination: An Instrument of Ethics

I was excited to discuss the first two stories of Exhalation by Ted Chiang in our book club that evening. So, when I had a few minutes to myself, I decided to write up the notes on Ted Chiang’s brilliant book.  I did not have the book with me, so I used AI to get me going. 

Human Intelligence Vs Artificial Intelligence

It is a book of short stories, and several times, I stopped to re-read the stories to make sense of them. A hidden clue, a brilliantly woven story somehow loops backs to some reference earlier in the story. Now, when AI was giving me salient points about the story, I did not remember reading any of that. It spoke eloquently of characters I did not remember, and with so much confidence! 

I had read these stories a while ago, so I still wrote down some of the things AI said, knowing fully well that it would have to be redone with human intelligence soon, faulty as it may be.

I came home, and skimmed through the stories and right enough, it had not even got the characters name right. I smiled at this almost-human folly, but the source of the error was not far to find. There wasn’t too much material on the book, and the blog post that it had relied on had it all muddled up.

I tucked it away in a corner as an example when I caution a class in the future. I also remembered a professor smiling at her own brilliance when she told us that her trick included a question that ChatGPT got wrong to see who had relied on AI instead of HI. 

For those of you who are looking at truly different ways in which to stretch your modes of understanding, Exhalation is a good place to start.

The themes and universes in which each of these stories is set is different, and still somehow manages to touch human experiences of empathy, trials, love, failure, revenge – all woven through the different ways in which time is measured. 

The Merchant & The Alchemist’s Gate

This one is a tale that has a very interesting narrative structure. A time portal and stories within stories. This is one of those tales where the nested tales create an interesting portal between the narrator, his stories, and the reader. Written clearly in simple language, the beauty lies in the subtle hints embedded in each level of narrative.  

These are apparently called Matryoshka structures as they are similar to russian nesting dolls in thematic. I am in awe of the technique and if anyone has recommendations on multiple levels, please let me know. For those wishing to try a short story to see if his writing appeals to you, this is a good story. 

Exhalation

The next story is also the title of the book. This story refers to an alternate universe in which the beings function on argon. The pressure differentials in the surrounding argon somehow seems to be the cause for their world to function as well as their own bodies. 

This was an interesting story to discuss as each of us had a different understanding of the story. The protagonist is able to perform ‘brain-surgery’ on himself to examine the workings of his mind, as he is trying to figure out why time is slowing down in their universe. I do not have a proper understanding of the link between time and the brain-surgery. But I think it has to do with the fact that time slowing down is a manifestation of their brains slowing down because of the reduced pressure of the argon surrounding them and not time itself slowing down. 

In any case, this story is one that when discussed in a good high school classroom moderated by a competent teacher is worth listening to. 

 

The remaining stories proceed in the same vein. One on free will, another on nurturing online pets and robots as a method to nurture connections, and so on. 

Just like AI can lead you down a wrong path when it is a path less-trodden, this book can lead you down paths forcing you to think of alternate worlds and realities in the confines of your mind.

Ursula Le Guin’s Essay on Science Fiction & Fantasy

I have been looking for several years for this essay by Ursula Le Guin on Science Fiction and Fantasy as a genre. It is not available online. I borrowed a copy of The Left Hand of Darkness in the Hainish Chronicles from the library, and there, as an introduction by the author, was this gem of the essay. There are times I wish I had an eidetic memory, and this was one of those times. 

This book, too, is determined to set us thinking of alternate modes of living, societal norms etc.

However, for those looking for a good essay online on Fantasy, here is one:

https://www.ursulakleguin.com/some-assumptions-about-fantasy

Imagination is the instrument of ethics. 

  • Ursula K Le Guin

Often, I find that is exactly what a good, thought-provoking piece of science-fiction does. It helps us examine where we land on certain issues – morality, reactions, acceptance, and therefore leads to ephemeral moments of examined living.

First Week Jitters

First Day Jitters

It was the first day of school. I had the First Day Jitters book read aloud to me by our professor, and was still as nervous as Ms Sarah.

All the advice from the children, fellow teachers, professors, aunts and parents who’d been teachers, friends and family rattling away merrily in my head.

Do I smile? Should I be friendly?

Strict? No nonsense?

If only the children knew! I felt like they were observing and wondering what to make of me.

Trying their luck?

I saw over the next few days how exactly they tried their luck.

“Can I sit there next to Joseph?”

“Why? What happened to your spot?”

Shrug.

“Usually no. But I’ll allow it today.” I said. I was telling the son all the ways in which they were asking me for this and that as I picked him up from his high school, and he drew in his breath sharply.

“Oooh! Rookie mistake Amma!”

I looked over at him puzzled.

“If they are asking you – they k-n-o-w it isn’t allowed! It’s why they aren’t asking the main teacher – because it will be shut down so quickly!” , he said zipping his hands through the air, and I blinked, and then laughed.

“You’re right. So initially, say no to everything?”

“Most things! You want them to like you too. And only for the first few days. After that, they’ll get used to getting directions from you.”, he said sounding sage-like.

It is true. Children are like that, aren’t they? I thought of all the little ways in which they settled in  with their new teachers.

  • They pushed in their chairs when they got up. Yes.Good Job.
  • They did that thing where they lean back on their chairs on two legs.No.We do not that. It is dangerous.

 

  • Thank you for listening.
  • People who do not listen are going to miss this.

 

  • Thank you for doing your classroom jobs.
  • Why didn’t you do your job?

The human spirit

I also saw plenty of things that warm the human spirit too. The kind of things that I hope we retain as we grow older. For instance, we played a small game to wrap up the day one day. The children partnered up with each other and played. It was a quick paced game based on reflexes and the children were quick to react.

“So how many of you didn’t win a single round?”, asked the teacher, and one of the children raised their hand. “Got to work on your reflexes buddy!” She said good-naturedly and moved on.

I watched the game with interest and smiled at the moans when they lost and the whoops of joy when they won.

At the end of the game, she asked the partners to agree on the winner between them and come for a quick treat of candy. One of the children who sat many desks away from the child who hadn’t won a single round walked around in the mayhem and shared his candy with him. No fanfare – just friendship.

The bond between them was laughter. They were able to see together the same absurdities and incongruities in things. The most trivial and unnoticeable thing to others would tickle them to death.”

R K Narayan – Swami & His Friends

I smiled the whole way home.

 

Erik Erikson’s 8 stages of life

Learning to Teach

For those of you who do not yet know – I am choosing, and learning to become a teacher.

A good part of learning to teach is grounded in psychology. Developmental psychology. Vygotsky, Bandura, Piaget, Gardner, Erik Erikson – they are all rattling in the brain after a fascinating few months of learning.

I have always been interested in the kinds of problems and things that occupy our lives at various stages. Even the upanishads had the 4 stages of life laid out for reference. One particular psychosocial theory resonated with me:

Erik Erikson’s 8 stages of life.

Here is a quick overview:

  • Basic Trust Vs Mistrust (birth – 12/18 months of age)
  • Autonomy Vs Shame/Doubt (18 most – 3 yrs)
  • Initiative Vs Guilt (3-6 yrs)
  • Industry Vs Inferiority (6-12 yrs)
  • Identity Vs Role confusion (adolescence)
  • Intimacy Vs Isolation (Young adulthood – forming intimate relationships, love, family)
  • Generativity Vs Stagnation (Middle adulthood – parent/mentor)
  • Ego integrity Vs Despair (Late adulthood – retirement)

These 8 stages are largely an indicator for folks in their stages of life. For instance,

Basic trust vs mistrust: Birth – 12/18 months of age.

Largely shaped by their relationship with their caregivers, this determines how they learn to be trustful. Having stable and loving caregivers is usually key to successfully being able to form trusting relationships.

Autonomy vs Doubt: 18 months – 3 years

Most parents have experienced the ‘terrible twos’. How many perplexed parents are left wondering why their thus-far pliant child throws a tantrum for no reason? It is all about building autonomy.

I still remember this 3 year old who sat next to me on a long flight more than 2 decades ago. I was in my mid-twenties, had not yet become a mother, and always loved children. His mother, the child, and I got to chatting, and became friendly. His mother was just happy to have him talk to someone else, I think, and we hit it off.

At the airport a few hours later, this sweet boy threw himself on the floor and gave himself up to a truly fantastic tantrum with flailing arms, wailing shrieks, watery eyes – the works. I had gone to get myself some coffee, and came back to find this child making a spectacle. I crouched down, and asked him, “What are you doing?”. He looked up at me, recognition dawning on his face and smoothing out the wrinkled crying face to tell me soberly, “I am throwing a tantrum!”

How I laughed! Luckily, this seemed to break his meltdown and he became a happy child in our midst once more. I have never quite forgotten the little fellow – he must be a young man possibly doing his graduate studies or working by now.

But there you go : Autonomy

According to Erik Erikson’s psychosocial stages of life, I am currently in the Generativity  Vs Stagnation stage of life. This is usually the stage in life when people are starting to turn their minds towards mentoring, guiding, or otherwise becoming more community-minded. I have seen many folks in my parents’ generation where the generativity did not quite happen and led to stagnation instead. But where it led to generativity,  it coincided with the phase in life where wealth generation and / or philosophical musings tended to occupy their thoughts and actions. New goals, new purpose. Some drastic, and some not so much.

Starting a new career at this stage of life? Mine is drastic, I think.

I am nervous, excited and hope that this stage is both fulfilling and interesting. So that, I may when my time comes, look back upon retirement age with ego integrity instead of with regret or despair.

 The Husband’s Perspective

எட்டு எட்டா மனுஷ வாழ்வை பிரிச்சுக்கோ

“I don’t about know Erik Erikson! But I know Rajinikanth’s song!”, said the husband. I laughed and vaguely remembered the song too. So, I went you-tubing to check for it, and ridiculous as the dance and visuals are, the concept only roughly matches the psychosocial stages as mentioned by Erik Erikson. Maybe the lyricist (Vairamuthu I think) started off with this, and then ran away with it.

Loosely speaking, according to the song:

  • The first 8 years are for playing
  • The second 8 for learning
  • The third 8 marriage & settling down
  • The fourth 8 children
  • The fifth 8 is for wealth building
  • The sixth 8 is for traveling and globe-trotting
  • The seventh 8 is for rest and ticking off your bucket list
  • The eighth 8 isn’t worth it according to the song. For you’ll gain no additional peace of mind.

The Daughter’s Perspective

The daughter scoffed and said, “I know Erik Erikson! It is a psychosocial theory Amma! Not a psychological one. Want to bet that there are at least a few in there who are taking this and running away with these theories and diagnosing themselves?!” At this point, she raised her hands in air quotes and continued, “Oh you know? I am just a terrible person because there was this one person when I was 1 year old who was not nice?!”

I can’t say I agreed with her, but it is always interesting to see how the 8 stages of life theories can be interpreted in 8 different ways.

So there you go, what to make of Erik Erikson’s psychosocial stages of life is entirely upto you. But I did find it an interesting theory to think about, especially when you look at all the people in your life – younger, older, your peers etc.

So, which stage of life are you in? And when you look back, how do you think you have fared in each stage?

Black-out Poetry

“MGR is dead?”

“MGR is dead?”

That’s the joke in the house when I tell folks I learnt of something. The joke is on them of course. Because MGR is dead. But the cultural reference is to a Tamil movie in which a comedian says, “What?! MGR is dead?!”  years after he died. In fairness, I am unusually dense when it comes to cultural trends, and so many times entire songs or references that rocked the younger generation just pass me by. Usually, some kind child enlightens me and by then of course the joke is gone. Very tiring – especially now in the age of social media. Remember when 6-7 was a thing? Now it is not a thing, it is a cringe. Things 15 year olds get called ‘gramps’ by 10 year olds for. Sigh.

So expecting some similar response, I told folks about this latest thing we learnt called Black-out Poetry. As expected, the children had heard of it, the husband thought it was cool. Poets have been running channels and videos posting how it is done for over a decade. So, all is well. MGR is dead.

What is Black-out Poetry?

As it turns out, this is an amazing thing to do while riffling through old magazines or you just want to do something creative in a short span. Pick out random words or phrases across the page, and try to frame a poem from it.

I tried it, and even for an amateur, I loved it. The process, the words, the picture it conjured in my mind. It was all beautiful.

I chose an article in the magazine, The Outlook Traveller, which was an absolute delight to fish for words and phrases in.

The finished piece is here:

The Silence is Broken

Dawn is breaking
over 20000 ft
in the Himalayas.

The silence is broken
I 
          b
       m
      i
    l
 c
with a q    u   i  e  t  thrill
to accept the GIFTS of the forest.

The silence is broken.

Your One Marvelous Life

Now, I am sure poets will do a fantastic job with this sort of thing. I shall be looking for exemplary black-out poetry from now on. Really! The world is full of creative souls. 

So, what do you plan to do with one marvelous life ( to paraphrase Mary Oliver)? Would you try your black-out poetry and share it with me?

Equal opportunity mispronunciations

I was attending a graduation ceremony in the USA and wondering how they managed to get so many of the names mispronounced. In fact, at that point, more than 3/4th of the names were mispronounced in one way or the other. Latin American names, Indian names, Chinese names, Jewish names, African American names, Greek names, Arabic names—everyone’s names were equally butchered. Equal-opportunity mispronunciations.

The world, whether we like it or acknowledge it, has become more global in its make-up than it has ever been. So, learning how to say each other’s name, is more important than ever. For that, learning the importance of one’s name is quite as important, isn’t it?

Sitting outdoors on that sunny afternoon,  I reflected on Suma Subramaniam’s book, My Name is as Long as a River.

My Name is as Long as a River By: Suma Subramanian

Suma Subramaniam writes about South Indian life, and is a member of the WNDB (We Need Diverse Books) initiative.

This particular book is especially relevant as there are many children with long names in schools these days.

In the book, the child is named after the river Kaveri. In fact her full name is: Kaveri Thanjavur Jayalakshmi Ganesan.

Kaveri : the name of the river she is named after. A beautiful river in South India, it is the harbinger of prosperity in the South. The rice fields, temple towns, and estuaries are the centres of culture and history millennia old. The Kaveri river waters literally help feed millions of people.

Kaveri is embarrassed by her long name in the USA, and has shortened it to Kav because it is consistently mispronounced, but after visiting her grandmother along the banks of the river Kaveri, she learns the significance of her beautiful name.

“Ganesan is my father.

Jayalakshmi is my mother.

Thanjavur is where I was born.

Kaveri is who I am.

My name is: Kaveri Thanjavur Jayalakshmi Ganesan.”

Tara Anand’s illustrations combined with Suma Subramaniam’s writing makes it a truly wonderful book, and one I think many teachers will love to use in their diverse classrooms.

What’s in a name?

For a person whose name is as long as a river, I loved the book. I know that the daughter has shortened her name with a beautiful Tamil meaning to mean something ‘brave and bold’ in Irish. I have a Starbucks-name, a more lilting explanation for those who are in the mood to try a few Hawaiian excursions into the language if they really want to pronounce my name, and so on.

I‘ve often asked children to help me understand the significance, meaning and cultural importance of their names. There are so many origins of names – some religious, some mythical, some nature-based, some philosophical references: the list is truly as varied as the names themselves.

It is curious how willingly they answer this question when younger, and then seem to almost drift away as teens for the same question. Like they would all just love to be called the same thing: wall, plant, brick. I understand it, wanting to blend in is an innate characteristic (Be a Roman in Rome & all that – the adage didn’t start yesterday did it?)

At some point in early adulthood though, the innate need to return to your unique name, hopefully, kicks in.

The magic of names

My thoughts drifted to Ursula K Le Guin, whose writings, if I remember correctly, also had a lot of interesting names. Naming was important to her. It set the place, the setting, even the story forward. How easily we can imagine an island kingdom, separate from a desert oasis town, or a hillside rural area by the names alone?

Now, pluck all these characters and have them live together in a university, and the resulting entertainment from the names is enough to tide guests through a whole afternoon.

“To weave the magic of a thing, you see, one must find its true name out… for there is great power, and great peril, in a name.” — A Wizard of Earthsea

In a non-fiction essay , Ursula Le Guin talks about the responsibility of choosing names. 

“To make up a name of a person or a place is to open the way to the world of languages the name belongs to. It’s a gate to Elsewhere.” – Ursula K Le Guin

J K Rowling’s Harry Potter series has so many interesting names, and etymologies once you get past the story, and actually delve into the details. The first time I realized Sirius & Remus names with respect to their alter-ego/animagus forms, I felt a jolt of pleasure.

Mythologies the world over have fantastic names for their characters. What is in a name then? Is it’s meaning important? Is there a specific magic to what we have been named? Is it linked to something greater or is it just a name?

The first sounds to which we respond uniquely.

What does your name mean to you? I’d love to know.

Sunsets, Asanas & Aces: A Magical June 21st

Yesterday was a beautiful summer day – it was a culmination of 3 days that are all uniquely loved in the nourish-n-cherish household. Any guesses?

Father’s Day:

This year, father’s day coincided with the summer solstice, which means the loved father in the house got to play his tennis, lounge around with the kids in the pool, and enjoy a quiet evening while the sun was still out.  

Other Father’s Day posts: Fathers

International Yoga Day:

June 21st is also International Yoga Day. So I was genuinely thrilled to start the day with an early yoga class. My muscles were just waking up- sure. The limbs not yet nimble enough – yes. The breaths not yet the even meditative quality – of course. But in spite of that, or may be because of that, the yoga class felt amazing. For all these elements had somehow been made even better by the end of the class.

Buddha in Lotus?

 

Summer Solstice:

June 21st is the summer solstice. We love the summer solstice. The son, even as a young boy, would have his friends out all day playing dawn to dusk on the longest day of the year. It was something that strangely excited him. Osmosis of energy – is that a thing? But in time, we all look forward to seeing the sunrise and sunset on summer solstice too.

When it turns out to be a pleasant day temperature-wise, breeze-wise, clouds-wise, moons-and-planets-shimmering-wise, it turns into a magical day. We went swimming, lazed around watching the sunset, moonrise, and the beautiful cosmic planets shining near the moon. Jupiter, Venus and the moon truly look beautiful in the evening skies.

Summer Solstice related posts

How did you spend the summer solstice, father’s day & yoga day?

21 Years of Blogging – My Blog is now an Adult!

21 years of blogging

Just like that, my blog has become a proper functioning adult. 

21 years of selectively writing about what matters to an ordinary person. Somehow, reflecting on the writing makes it seem like our lives were more adventurous, humorous, and fun-filled. 

Now, isn’t that a lovely gift? 

I was reading Bill Bryson’s book, The Body, and in it, he says something incredible about memories – that we can predominantly choose what we want to remember. That often our most colorful memories aren’t the original ones at all – but rather deepened by the feeling and retelling of it. We’ve seen it in the stories we love to tell each other all the time. Every time we laugh about our own foibles, it makes the memory a more endearing one, doesn’t it? 

Where am I going with all this?

Curating the blog’s theme

I realize that I am probably tending to what gets on my blog. I tend to actively gravitate towards what I want to cherish in life – beautiful moments, humorous moments, peaceful moments, intellectual moments: in short, moments of awe, curiosity, love, levity, and transformation. The negative rooted out like weeds (which is not to say that I don’t have them. I do, of course. Just in measured quantities on the blog.) 

Anyway.

There are no awards given for 21 years of writing 1-2 blog posts a week, every week for 1092 weeks. 5-9 posts a month for 252 months. The award is the writing, and the wholly generous readers who stop by to wave, hopefully feel a moment of peace, get a laugh or two, and encourage me endlessly. 

So, go ahead – this is a party! 

Get drunk – I mean on the posts in the blog. I don’t actually offer alcohol. Please head on over and randomly click on any month, read a few, and let me know what you think, or you know, just have fun. 

“I mused for a few moments on the question of which was worse, to lead a life so boring that you are easily enchanted, or a life so full of stimulus that you are easily bored.”

― Bill Bryson, Lost Continent: Travels In Small-Town America

Is there more to life?

Is there more to life? Our lives? Most lives? I don’t know. But I know that ‘this one precious life’, as Mary Oliver puts it demands our attention. What you value, and what you remember over the moments of your life, becomes you, doesn’t it?

To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work. – Mary Oliver

P.S: WordPress tells me I have a significant achievement: World Domination – for receiving visitors from over 150 countries – with the sweet caption: The United Nations has nothing on you.

Imaginating Nothing

 

Nothing Good!

“How was your day?”

“Good!”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing!” 

For years, this was the standard response I got. It takes grit and determination to get past that answer every day for years. My school’s motto was Never Give In for a reason. I plunge on. “So when is Dr Seuss week? Should we buy a Dr Seuss hat?” (We still have the hat somewhere I think.) “It’s read-across-America week right? What should we read for our read-a-thon?”

You see? The thing is, I cannot imagine their school to be a place where nothing happens. It can’t be when they are making diasporas of dinosaur habitats, writing book reports of The Magic Tree House, learning about exotic animals – supposedly in preparation for their field trip to the zoo, and making art so their little fingers look like they dipped their hands into a rainbow. 

Yet. Nothing and Good. Good for Nothing answers both.

Then, something wonderful happened. 

Literature Lives

I started volunteering in elementary school classrooms. Sometimes, as a volunteer teaching experimental science, other times as a connoisseur introducing fine books of literature. 

“Oh! You’re a Booklegger lady now? Cool Amma! I used to love when they came to school.” said the son one day when I told him that I had signed up to become a Booklegger volunteer at the local library. 

“You knew about this program?” I said, stunned.

“Yeah, of course! It was always fun when the Booklegger people came.” He said.

“All those years I asked you, how was your day? And you never said a thing!” I said, somewhat stung at this omission. The children knew I would have loved to hear about volunteers from the library coming to introduce new books to them. Especially when I had to beg them to read books other than Captain Underpants and Dog Man all the time. He shrugged, and said “Eh!”, good-naturedly and moved on.

Nothing – by Michael Molinet

One day, I read the book, NOTHING – By Michael Molinet

“You have to read this. “ I said pressing the book to the son as he pranced into the house after biking with his friends one evening. 

https://www.amazon.com/Nothing-Michael-Molinet/dp/1733354840/ – NOTHING by Michael Molliner Book 

You see? The book even starts off with the exact sequence I wrote about earlier. How was your day? Fine! What did you do? Nothing.

The book captures the spirit behind the word ‘Nothing’ the way the son says it so perfectly, it is like the author has been around watching the son imaginate.

Imaginating Nothing

He loves to imaginate. A verb he coined himself and a word that has become a household word in the nourish-n-cherish home. It means actively imagining scenarios and living them. I know he fights off pirates and takes on armies when he leaps off the bed to the carpeted floor. The fake swords may not survive an actual duel on the battlefield, but the cushions in the house don’t stand a chance! 

So many times, the only thing that has stopped me from running out of the house fearing an earthquake, is the fact that earthquakes are felt from the earth, not from the bedroom upstairs. When his friends are over to play, the Richter scale shivers and stutters. 

Please head on over to the book to see what Nothing means when your child says they did ‘Nothing’ all day. I assure you it is more exciting than anything any of us do.

If only the Good days on which we do Nothing are half as exciting!

Good! Nothing! Good-For-Nothing Answers!

Nothing Good!

“How was your day?”
“Good!”

“What did you do?”
“Nothing!”

For years, this was the standard response I got from the children after school. Never one to be deterred though, I’d redirect, prod, ask specific questions: What did Shriya say about your new drawing pencils? Did Shrinik do somersaults after lunch today also?

You see? The thing is, I could not imagine their school to be a place where nothing happened, and the best adjective for the day was ‘Good!’. I knew for a fact that they listened to their teacher read out stories, they hopped along the number line, slid up and down through graphs, chased butterflies, had turf wars with sticks and stones, played sharks and minnows in the playground, were enthralled as they enacted civil wars, made the artwork that papered the walls of their colorful classroom, and so much more.

Yet. Nothing and Good. Good for Nothing answers both.

Then, something wonderful happened.

Dancers Move!

I started volunteering in elementary school classrooms, as a volunteer – sometimes reading out books, other times, teaching experimental science.

One day, we were experimenting with air pressure and force with the kindergarten children. One of the experiments was to blow bubbles to see how the bubbles stayed airborne. It was a lovely windy day, and the bubbles were a joy to teacher, volunteers, and students alike. There were delighted gasps as large bubbles drifted off into the air, and much chasing after the smaller bubbles.

When finally, the class was done, and we headed back into the classroom, the teacher said, “Oh! They have too much energy. They’ll never settle down to sit and do anything now. Let me get them to release some energy first!” I wondered what she would do, as recess was behind us, and lunch time was a while away.

I started laughing when I saw her switching on some music. “Dancers Move!”, she said, and the children seemed to know what to do. I watched mesmerized as the little ones danced to the music. What a wonderful way to blow off some extra energy?

“Education is what remains after one has forgotten what one has learned in school.” —Albert Einstein

I thought everyone danced!

I narrated the whole thing to the teenaged son later that day as went on a windy day walk, and he laughed, “Yes! I remember doing that all the time!”

I tell you.

“All those times I asked you how was your day, and you said ‘Good!’, you danced in school?” I said, flustered more by this than the whipping winds.

“Yes…but don’t you see? It was good. Yes. But we did it all the time. It was nothing new.”

“Why do you think I yearned to hear about your days? We didn’t dance in the office!”

“Yes, but we didn’t know that! I thought every one danced!”

I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. It is true isn’t it? He didn’t know what our days were like. If anything, our days were good too. Just not listening-to-stories, playing-with-air-bubbles on windy days, and dancing to let-off-steam good.

So, what do your good days look like? You know? The days you do nothing.

Please share, I’d love to hear.

Dance-wherever-and-whenever-you-wish Month

April Dancing

Spring time walks are meant for dancers. But human beings, especially as adults, develop this appalling habit that we associate with dignity. We curtail our movements. Getting stiffer and stiffer as we age, and then complain about the loss of agility. We have International Dance Day on April 29th. Why don’t we make dancing in public – just like that – in April a social convention? 

Look at all the world in April.

Is this Dignified?

The hares don’t just move – they hop, they hip, they hip-hop
The birds don’t just fly – they flit, they swoop, they skim
The dogs don’t just run – they wander, they romp, they swagger
The snakes don’t just slither – they rattle, they pulse, they coil
The plants don’t just grow – they blossom, they reach, they sprout
The trees don’t just become green – they flower, they photosynthesize, they crown

I, too, feel the urge to prance and skip
But adults don’t just dance in meadows – they think, they weigh, they worry
When the mind leaps, and the body stays still
Where does the energy go?
It sings, it muses, it writes.
All the while asking: Is this dignified?

The other day, I walked with difficulty – you see what I wanted to do was skip, prance and twirl a jig or two. That’s spring time – like a coiled spring waiting to release its energy. I was on a trail with people. Adults who all seemed to be in a similar state of imbalance between the internal energy and what the world expects from us. I could see it in the size of their smiles.

How do you do Mrs Potts, and you, Mr Binns?

How marvelous it would be if we could do just as we please? Skip and sing. So what if Mrs Potts scowls or Mr Binns purses his lips. Alas! We do not do that. Not when one’s hair is graying. That’s when you are supposed to know better isn’t it? I could not help thinking of the young child who skipped to school as she was dropped off by an adult one morning. Most adults had the ‘office look’, but even they could not help smiling at the spring time exuberance of this child.

Mating in Springtime

As I walked on musing thus, I stopped to watch the spring time mating rituals with amusement. There were two wood ducks chasing after a female. Their bluish green heads glinting in the morning sunlight.

Elsewhere, a couple of blackbirds, and a pair of hummingbirds swooped in circles. Teasing each other, attracting their mate. That’s when the western grebes grabbed my attention. They ran, nay skipped and danced, across the waters – is there a touch of the basilisk in them?

I am not sure I recognize giggles in birds, but if I could anthropomorphize, that is what I would say – they giggled and reveled in each other’s company. They danced together on the waters, and then skimmed below the surface for, what I can only assume is, frolicking underwater.

When finally, they surfaced one after another, as though daring each other to see who could hold out the most, I laughed. They were far from where they swooped under, they managed to continue their play and resurfaced together before running on the water again.

Apparently, that is their mating ritual. Really – birds have the most beautiful mating rituals. Take the peacock for instance- this bird isn’t leaving anything to chance. 

Talk about dancing your way into hearts.

Dance-wherever-and-whenever-you-wish month

“I wish we would dance!” I said to the son later that day when I told him about International Dance Day.

“I think you already do that, amma. You just think you don’t. I saw you wiggling your hands just now!”

I laughed. “But I want to properly dance you know? Tap dance, ballet dance, classical dance, jazz dance. ”

He rolled his eyes.

Who would like to join me in petitioning for a dance-wherever-and-whenever-you-wish month?