writing – Page 5 – Nourish-n-Cherish

Exploring Dragons: Myths to Movies

No!

“You’re inviting me to a movie?” I asked, incredulous.

Usually, I am begging to go to the movies with them, and the response is “No!”. Curt no’s, polite no’s, humorous no’s. But ‘No’. The fault, I admit, is on both sides. I fall asleep before the movie starts, but the theatres make you fall asleep even before the movie starts. What’s with all the dimming of the lights, and the trailers for every movie they are thinking of releasing in the next decade? What’s a good, hard-working woman to do in a comfortable reclining seat at the end of a long day with some inconsequential music playing in the background, and the popcorn butter doing its magic in the old intestines, huh?

I start with a simple meditation technique involving closing the eyelids for a few beats of music longer, and then a few frames of trailer longer, and before I know it, the magical lands open to the subconscious mind throw open the cosmic doors, and I float in with a smile on my lips. The theatre hears a dramatic hiss at this point in the proceedings: “Amma! Get up! The movie started and you missed the opening!”

Anyway, this time, the dragons of sleep may have made valiant attempts to snatch my consciousness to their realms, but I was firm, and resolute. I was going to watch the dragons take the sheep in the movie, not in my dreams.

“Wake me up when the movie starts!” I said before starting the m. technique.

“If you don’t get up, I’ll…I’ll”

“What? Tickle me?! Please!” said I, and drifted off.

I was happy to learn that I was invited because the movie was good for me: not too much violence, has a happy ending, is not too depressing, and has dragons and humans in a beautiful setting.

How to Train your Dragon

Based on the novels by Cressida Crowell, this is a wonderful story of a boy who seems to be a reluctant heir to the vikings chief, and a soft-hearted, intelligent misfit in a bunch of knuckleheads who all value brawn over brain. I have always liked the series, and when I read Cressida Crowell’s article on her childhood influences, it only made the series dearer.

However, I still do not understand the impulse of large studios to remake the same stories over and over again. Did you really have to take the same movie again?

Does Harry Potter really need a remake this soon?

Our Fascination with Dragons

In any case, the fascination of humankind with dragons is millennia old and the number of dragon stories is near inexhaustible. So, I am sure there isn’t exactly a dearth of dragon content.

Why do so many cultures have dragon legends? – Timothy J. Burbery

How could human imaginations in the absence of social media have imagined similar creatures (Fire breathing, of giant aspect and size ) the world over?

Our tales speak of dragons across time and geographies too.

Ancient Aliens: Mythical Dragons Across the Ages

“Speak politely to an enraged dragon” – JRR Tolkien

The metaphors of inner dragons are just as widespread

“You can’t map a sense of humor. Anyway, what is a fantasy map but a space beyond which There Be Dragons? On the Discworld, we know that There Be Dragons Everywhere” – Terry Pratchett

“This Marcius is grown from man to dragon: he has wings; he’s more than a creeping thing.” – Shakespeare. It describes the transformation of the play’s protagonist, into a figure of immense power and ferocity.

With all the imagery, humor and wit we have humankind must continue on in its quest to slay its inner and outer dragons, with the motto of Hogwarts in mind

‘Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus’ – which means ‘Never tickle a sleeping dragon‘ – J K Rowling

P.S: The children did tickle me when the movie started, and I am happy to say I enjoyed the movie.

Finding Calm Amidst the Chaos of Life

May seemed to me an especially fast merry-go-round. The spinning was fun, the laughter for all those involved loud, and the merriment infectious. But as June came around, I had the feeling of being dizzy without the fun bits. The world still seemed to be spinning, but the merry-go-round had stopped. Life had resumed. Normal life had resumed, I mean.

One rare afternoon, I sat trying to soak in the quiet of the evening, and felt strange. I usually relish these moments of solitude. I reached for my books, and found that the mind and body were racing far too much for quiet contemplation. Even though the book I had in my hand was a perfectly good one on Writing, exhorting me to pay attention to the following aspects of life (Attention, Wonder, Vision, Surprise, Play, Vulnerability, Restlessness, Connection, Tenacity, Hope), I could not slow down enough to take it all in.

I gave in to the impulse of watching Instagram reels, and got a ridiculous song stuck in my head, I went into Facebook, and scrolled – joyless and felt more drained by the end of it. That is when I knew that what I needed to get back to a slower pace of activity was to reach for a tried-and-tested book: Changes in Fairacre – By Miss Read. I took a deep breath as I entered the village of Fairacre.

For some folks, music does the magic. The mother-in-law said she listened to Amaidhiyaana Nadhiyinilae Odum – a tamil song whose lyrics evokes the imagery of a smooth flowing river and all its associated imagery. I can see how that can be a calming influence on the senses.

For Yours Truly, it was a Fairacre book, By Miss Read. The slow and endearing life a village school mistress leads, is therapeutic. Maybe it takes me back to the idyllic times of my own childhood – growing up in a small village community, where both my parents were school teachers. The imagery she evokes of the beautiful countryside makes you think of the maxim:

Nature never hurries and yet accomplishes everything – Lao Tzu.

Nevertheless, that evening when my restless legs stepped out for a walk, I forced myself to slow down, to feel the breeze, to look at the rays of sunshine shining like little sparkling diamond strings through the evening air. The smell of sage and lavender crushed in my palms like a beautiful balm for the soul.

It helped but it still took some time. For those of us who refuse to do the hard work of trying to still our senses and the world around us, the merry-go-round can keep going. That night I thought of Miss Read’s observations on modern children (her books were written a good 30 years ago, but it seems truer today than ever before)

“What I do feel that the modern child lacks, when compared with the earlier generation, is concentration, and the sheer dogged grit to carry a long job through.”

― Miss Read, Village Diary: A Novel

Truly chastened, I settled in with a mellow light throwing a comforting gleam on my bedside table, took a deep breath, and immersed myself as best as I could in village life. Sturdy, slow, and reassuring.

The Poochandi: Fear, Eunoia, and Allodoxaphobia

The Poochandi

“Acchichoo – Poochaandi varum!”

Many of us growing up must’ve heard of the famed poochandi. He is ominous and omnipresent. The poochandi is the South Indian version of the bogeyman

In one of R K Narayan’s stories in the Grandmother’s Tales or Malgudi Days, I forget which one, he writes about this vague poochandi. The poochandi is a ghost or nefarious persona, whose purpose in life seems to vary: Frighten children into swallowing the next morsel of rice, or getting the slightly older ones to come home soon, or the daughter-in-law of the house to light the lamps on time every time.

I remember thinking that the poochandi seemed like a busy, if slightly jobless character.

As we grew older, the poochandi was replaced by ‘They’ as in Society.

What would They say?

🫠 You aren’t making a 5 course meal in between the 3 course meals that are each 4 hours apart? What would They say?

🫠You aren’t wearing a 9 yard saree so you can pour water droplets on a coconut? What would They say?

🫠You aren’t making murukkus as well as halwa for Diwali? What would They say?

They were all-knowing & all-judging.

If you were perfect, They knew all the ways in which you were not.

So imagine finding out that fear of what They would say actually has a word?

Allodoxaphobia & Eunoia

Allodoxaphobia: fear of what other people think of you.

I first read the word in the book, Build the life you want – by Oprah Winfrey, Arthur C Brooks

Allodoxaphobia can work in strange ways – sometimes, it can make us function in ways that enhance our positive qualities. Other times, it can burden us with a mindset that we neither grow out of, nor discard easily.

They and the Poochandi worked full-time to keep you pliant.

In the face of this, what can we do to retain and maintain our eunoia?

Eunoia? You ask. I am glad you asked. You didn’t? Well, here I go anyway.

Eunoia – is a beautiful word that signifies a positive and kind disposition. The kind of personality that develops out of cultivating beautiful thinking or a well-balanced mind.

The ability to choose without spurning, live without hurting (others or ourselves), etc are extraordinarily hard things to do. It is why philosophers set great store by it and acknowledged this to be a great thing.

Sometimes what They say, and what the poochandi threatens aligns with our inner sense of eunoia. But when they don’t align, how do we balance the cultivation of eunoia against what They will say?

Eunoia means doing the hard work of finding our morality, and sticking by it regardless of what They say, even if the Poochandi will find you for it. Eunoia means being personable and helpful without giving yourself over to Them and Their demands.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I’d like to find the poochandi and work with them to change what They say. A Poochandi who will give you a nod or a pat on your back when you clip unkindness in the face. A Poochandi who will not turn a blind eye to cruelty, and arrogance, say?

Here is a two-part question to you?

What would you like your Poochandi to do?
How do you cultivate Eunoia?

20 Years of Blogging: Cherishing Ordinary Lives and Moments

Two Decades of Writing

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

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.

Spring Adventures: Watching Nature Unfold

We had plans for a lovely bike ride by the bays and knolls near our home, a hike in the verdant hillsides, or even a walk by the stream/river by our home where all our fellow creatures are preparing for the year ahead. Soon, the ducklings and goslings will hatch. Everywhere you see, there are signs of nest building and it is endlessly fascinating to sit and watch the frenetic spring cleaning happening, even if it isn’t happening in our own home. I empathized with Mole in the Wind in the Willows : Who wants to wallow inside the home, dusting old furniture and mopping dusty floors when the world outside is so full of beauty and promise?

The son and I had our spring hopes dashed for us with a bout of flu. That feeling of enormous promise that accompanies spring was dampened somewhat by the high fevers, and we moped about the house.

Watching Spring

When the fever subsided, we pulled ourselves to sit outside and watch spring at least. The crows and wrens stopped flying and did a double take mid-air seeing our watch-fest. If AI interpreted their language, I am sure we’d have some semblance of this:

“These two restless souls – what are they doing sitting and watching?”

“I know – been seeing them for the past few minutes. Nothing? Are they really doing Nothing?”

“Strange!”

But this Nothing gave rise to something marvelous. We noticed the fresh green leaves sprouting in the ginkgo and maple trees. Some of the cherry trees had blossomed out of their flowery cloaks into their leafy ones, while others were still in their efflorescent robes of pink and white.

“See this leaf? “ said the son. “It is shaped so that it can fly very fast and the seeds within can spread when it falls!”

I peered into the leaves he was showing me, and it was true. I remember learning to make a paper airplane in a pattern like that once, and watched mesmerized as it floated down and away every time we launched it. What a brilliant inspiration?

Right enough, we searched for the tree in question, and it is called the Hot Wings Tartarium Tree. The Hot Wings maple tree is a low maintenance beauty whose seeds are called Samaras.

Nature is astounding – every leaf, seed, flower, tree, shrub, plant, trunk, twig is a marvel in itself and sometimes sitting and watching is the best reward.

We came back inside flush with the knowledge of having seen a new wonder, and felt better.

Poems & Trees:

I think I shall never see

A poem as lovely as a tree

– Joyce Kilmer

The poem finishes on these wise lines:

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

Only Nature can do accomplish this fest without fanfare.

How COVID-19 Shaped My Blogging Routine

Syzygy

The blog is a familiar topic with the nourish-n-cherish household.

“How many posts have you written this month, amma?”

“This is going on the blog isn’t it?!”

“You should write about this in the blog, amma!”

The subjects who appear most often are by turns eager, resigned and accept their lot with good humour and grace.

When I published my 1000th blog post, I was encouraged to write a special blog to celebrate the syzygy (aligning of the stars) that enabled me to continue writing.

1000 posts : A Special Post to Celebrate Syzygy

Now there is a different milestone – a smaller one, a different one. But something.

Atomic Habits

Half a decade ago, when Covid-19 hit the shores of America, something phenomenal happened. Travel stopped, non-essential services providers could not sustain, and I found myself faced with time that had been hitherto dedicated to shuttling to train stations, and standing up in crowded compartments being squashed with my fellow commuters, now available for something else. So, I landed up doing the things I liked most – hanging out with the family, walking, biking (we actually bought bikes just before the shutdown), reading (the library was a savior to so many families during this time) and of course, writing. My writing increased from a 4-5 posts a month to a 7-9 posts a month.

Well, it is half a decade since this happened. 5 years in which I kept the pace of the increased frequency. Even when the world around us opened up, economies fluctuated, inflation rose, elections came, and post-election yelps are still being heard, I kept the pace.

Covid and how it changed the world around us

Atomic Habits

“You don’t have to build the habits everyone tells you to build. Choose the habit that best suits you, not the one that is most popular.”
― James Clear, Atomic Habits

Doing something as a labor of love regardless of what it leads to seems to be my strength and my weakness. This month marks 7-9 posts a month for the past 5 years.

A Lament for Short Stories

Give me short stories over real news or fake news any day

The clouds are wondering whether or not to drizzle. It is the perfect weather for musing and meandering thoughts.

I wonder how I meander to the thoughts on short stories – maybe a recent conversation. But I feel the short story is one of the most poignant losses of literary fiction. As children, magazines were filled with short stories and the thrill of finding a short piece contained in and of itself providing the nourishment of the soul was brilliant. What happened to short stories these days?

Give me short stories over real news or fake news any day. Please.

Stories in their natural length: stream, or rivulet, or tributary, or river

I’ve read stories stuffed into tweets – threatening to spill over, and bulging in all the wrong places.

And Then.

I’ve read stories watered down and stretched into novels. The original essence there, somewhere perhaps, but too watered down like homeopathic medicine.

What I’d like is a story – at its length. No fluff. No dilution. Just essence.

If a story is meant to dance and spurt joyously like a stream, let it. If it settles in, and flows like a river, let it. If it is a tributary and wants to join the main river, let it. If it is vast and encompasses depth adn breadth and expands into an ocean, let it.

Kindle Singles came up with the idea – I wonder what happened to it. They fizzled out.

There are anthologies – but they are few.

Reading the first half of The Overstory by Richard Powers made me yearn for short stories again. I think it is time to revisit Golf stories by P G Wodehouse or a little visit to Malgudi to reacquaint myself with all the characters. Tales from a Village School would be welcome too, wouldn’t it? Miss Clare Remembers is a wonderful book of short stories all woven around the fallen giant – the elegant, thin, straight-backed kind teacher, Dolly Clare.

Give me short stories when my attention is wandering. Enough to keep me stimulated, and wanting more.

Recommendations Please

Are we losing another art-form altogether? What would Somerset Maugham say, what would Alice Munro say? I remember the thrill of liking an author’s story, and then finding a whole book written by them. How marvelous it would be to crack open any magazine and find short stories there?

If you do read short stories, which magazines do you get your source from? Apart from The New Yorker I mean.

P.S: I have written a collection of short stories of my own too – both singles & themed collections. Written to its natural length, and savored from time to time by Yours Truly, but otherwise waiting – wondering where they can be published. So, if you have any recommendations of publications for short stories, please let me know.

How Reading Changes Our Understanding of the World

Reading, Absorbing, Retaining

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

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

Aah….here it is:

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

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

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

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

The OverStory – Subtle Influences

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

There is a timeless charm to a tradition like that.

Reading is a critical part of Becoming

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

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

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

Read Across America Week

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

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

Anantha gyana, gewaltiger umfang, enorm kunnskap, Abhijñā

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

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