Friday word: COLOR

I got the friday word from Mona's blog. I used to spell the word as C-O-L-O-U-R but since moving to the United States, spell it as above. “Manoeuvre” is now spelt as “maneuver,” “centre” as “center,” “kerb” as “curb” etc. Of course there are many more words but I am so brain-dead right now. Yes, people I do have a brain and you all thought that I was some vacuous blogger who wrote stories about her extremely boring and uneventful life. Well I do lead an extremely boring and uneventful life that it puts me to sleep as well. In fact the sure way for me to get sound sleep is to recollect the day’s events before going to bed and I am dead to the world! In fact I am yawning while typing this post.

Moving back to the friday word, I love colors but paradoxically my wardrobe is full of pieces in black and shades of grey. Therefore in conclusion, not only is my life boring but so is my wardrobe! The only thing colorful right now is my language. I had a post ready but the quirky and hungry blogger ate it up and it didn’t get published. I am too tired to write the post all over again. Normally I draft in Microsoft Word and cut and paste into blogger but I was lazy this evening; therefore serves me right!

I don't have any anecdotes or stories to share with the word "color." Since I will not cuss in a public forum hence there will be no colorful language in this post. I suck at poetry therefore will not have a lame-ass poem. The only other colorful things are my paintings, one of which I am sharing with you in this post. I painted this abstract representation of monsoon around ten years ago.



Those familiar with the Deccan area of India do know that summers are very hot and the overall landscape looks barren. With the advent of monsoon, however, it springs to life. There is nothing more pleasing to your senses than the fragrance of earth after the first shower. I absolutely love the monsoon season and this painting depicts my interpretation of the colors and moods of the season.

Friday Word: Bell

Sanjay's post usually mentions the Friday word. This evening, however I happened to read Maggie's post which mentioned "Bell" as the friday word. It is the holiday season and since the year is ending in less than ten days, I thought I might include one of my favorite childhood poems by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892). Today I snicker at my naiveté but then it is such an endearing quality that children possess and lose without fail on adulthood.

Ring Out, Wild Bells

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light;
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more,
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

Among other things:

Bells have a lot of significance in Hinduism and Buddhism. There are different symbols of worship in Hinduism; bells, sandalwood, camphor, light, incense. In any temple at the time of prayers ringing bells accompany the chants. This is done to shut out any external sounds and to make your mind concentrate. In fact there are bells of different sizes at the entrance of every Hindu temple that devotees ring before entering the sanctum sanctorum. The sound of the bells is supposed to be healing and is supposed to offer mental peace.

When I was a child I loved jumping up and down to reach out and ring all the bells. My father would pick me up so that I could ring the ones that were out of my reach. I was at the temple a few weeks ago and saw a five year old kid who had come to the temple with his very pregnant mother. He wanted to ring the bells and she obviously couldn't oblige him. I offered to pick him up so that he can reach the bells. The sound of the ringing bells and the child's peals of laughter were like music to my ears. His laughter reminded me of the joy I felt as a child while ringing the temple bells.



The above picture is of yours truly taken ten years ago at Swayambhunath Stupa in Kathmandu, Nepal. I was walking behind few Buddhist monks, who were chanting while ringing the prayer wheels. I do not have a single photograph of a Hindu temple bell hence the above image.

Friday Word: Gold

Sanjay mentioned "Gold" as the Friday word. Here is my lame attempt at poetry (I know I suck but it's my blog so I shall do what I please). Unlike the previous one, this one is not poking fun at my spouse.

Golden rays of the dawn
Shining on your skin
The hope of new day
Past the darkness and despair

Move on to where you are set
Divinity showing you the path
Armed with experiences of yore
Making you wiser than before

Gold which is called “Kanaka,” “Survarna” in Sanskrit has a lot of significance in Hinduism. Also Ayurveda extols the virtue of gold. Wearing gold on your person is supposed to have a healthy and positive effect on the individual. Shree Suktam of Vedas is a hymn to Goddess Lakshmi; in that her brilliance is compared to the sun and one of the stanzas say that she shines like gold. This hymn is supposed to give peace, plenty and all around prosperity.

When I was studying Sanskrit in school, I used to be influenced a lot by the “Subhasheet mala,” which translates as “String of Good speech/thoughts.” There was one about gold which was rather poignant. I am writing the gist in English as I cannot write in Devanagari on this blog for two reasons; one that I do not have the font and the other is that I cannot remember it verbatim (Damn it I have been bugging my mother to put together and send me some basic Sanskrit books but she has been slacking off). Anyway it says that gold glitters so does brass, but then what is the difference between the two. When put to test under the fire, gold shines and comes out even brighter.

Among other things:
I love sunrise; the golden rays of light accompanied by the sweet scent of dew and the sound of birds chirping. It is such a treat to your senses. In India, I especially loved listening to the melodious cuckoo during the summer months. This along with the golden colored, succulent Alphonso mangoes made it worthwhile to endure the hot and humid summers!



I painted the above landscape a few months ago on a Sunday morning. K and I went biking on the trails. I had taken my easel and paints much to his amusement. Just so that he doesn't make fun of me later, I painted for an hour, early in the morning before biking. I also took a picture in the morning light and finished the rest from the picture in the afternoon.

If you have endured this blog and read so far then I am sorry for posting touchy blogs for the past few days. I promise you that I will soon be back to my irreverent self.

Friday Word: Dark

Sanjay mentioned "dark" as the Friday word. So here is my lame attempt at it. Since it is my anniversary today, I thought I might dedicate the following poem to my husband.

Darkness of the night
The tenderness of your touch
The crescendo of your breath
As deep sleep envelopes

Your snoring is too loud
Wakes me up like an alarm
Oh my God I must sleep
Its only 3AM.

Among other things:
The word "dark" invokes a lot of emotions. It reminds me of the evening, a few years ago when I learnt that my mother had an accident. I had called her and she told me that she and my father were stepping out to visit their friends and to call back later. I had told her that I wouldn't be able to call her for a week as I was going out of town. I called my parent's home ten days later to find that she had an accident that very evening while returning from their friend's home and that very moment she was undergoing surgery. I was kept in the dark by my family because they didn't want me to worry. It really made me so angry at her, my father and my sisters for treating me with kid gloves.

I remember going to visit her a few months later and was so shocked to see her look so emaciated. I had a nickname for her, I used to called her "Jhaadee," which means plump in Marathi and it broke my heart to see her so frail. I had to compose myself and not cry in her presence. She wanted to hold me close while I pulled away and made excuses. I went to the bathroom and cried my heart out and then spoke to her with a very composed voice. I made fun of her and teased her a lot but I am sure she knew that I was hiding my emotions. She was at that time staying with my older sister. Later during the week I went to my parents home, which looked so empty without her. I saw her walking stick and the disability railing that my father had put in the bathroom for her. I realized at that time that the roles had reversed and that I must try and be their support and not vice versa.

Speaking of more positive things, I love dark chocolate and walking on the beach on dark starlit nights. Like all children I was frightened of the dark but loved to harass my older sister, who needed complete darkness while sleeping, by turning on the bright light at odd hours at night.

Friday Word: Candy

I read this blog regularly and today's post mentioned about using the friday word "candy." Candy, when I hear or read that word, it makes me happy. It is comfort food for adults as well as children. I think it links us to our childhood and through candy we hold on to our childhood and the child in us. It is so essential to retain some idealism in the otherwise cynical world of an adult. I have found some information about etymology of the word "candy" and other information, which can be found here.

I have two childhood memories that are so vivid and significant regarding the same. When I was in kindergarten I really hated school! I was more absent from school than attending it. I loved studying and my mother would teach me at home. We had a class picnic and my father drove me to school because I invariably used to miss the school bus! I used to do that on purpose. My dad gave me this piece of hard candy and told me that the picnic will be fun and I shall have a wonderful time with my classmates. I was all excited and chewing on the candy when he pulled into the school where all the kids were assembled to leave. As soon as I saw my school principal, Sister Marcia, I threw a huge tantrum. Her habit used to scare the hell out of me. I was not sure at four if she were a male or a female and that ambiguity scared me. Anyway I caused a fracas and accidentally swallowed the hard candy, which got stuck in my throat and that made me cry even more! My father could not bear to see me cry so decided to take me back home, much to the chagrin of Sister Marcia. Therefore, that is one memory that I associate with hard candy. Had it been my mother instead of my father, all she needed to do was give me one hard look and I would just have kept quiet!

My parents and their friends would go on annual vacations to Mahabaleshwar with their respective families. That is one childhood memory I associate with candyfloss! My parents were pretty strict about eating from roadside vendors. Mahabaleshwar however was an exception. We would eat that and roasted corn by the beautiful verdant Venna lake.

As a child I was obsessed with colors and forms. I used to watch the street vendors selling candyfloss and the entire exercise would have my rapt attention. Also the color change of the sugar crystals from the gaudy pink to the most beautiful pinkish hue would never cease to amaze me.

Last year I attended the Indo-American festival at the Hindu Temple in Bridgewater, NJ. Among other snacks there was this vendor selling “Buddi ka Baal” (candy floss in Hindi). I insisted on eating it and the fact that I was the only adult doing this didn't bother me one bit. I savored every morsel, which brought back wonderful memories of my childhood.

Reminiscing the days left behind

I read this blog regularly and yesterday's post mentioned about using the friday word "left behind." Therefore here is my post using the word left behind.

It is raining since morning. The leaves are changing color and the weather is rather nice, neither too cold nor hot and humid. I am craving for some chai, vada pav and kanda bhaji (onion fritters. Vada pav and kanda bhaji are popular snacks in Mumbai). I want a nice hot chai with masala and ginger.

Whenever it rains I always reminisce about Bombay and my student days (it wasn't called Mumbai then). Whenever there was a huge monsoon downpour, classes would be suspended. The train service used to be super-slow but regardless my friends and I would still go to college! Not because we were interested in studying…NO! Instead we went to college because we wanted to just hang out with our friends. Therefore, my friends and I would take the train at our usual time, around 7AM, which would reach Victoria Terminus (V.T.) Station (now Chatrapati Shivaji Maharaj (C.S.T.) Station) around 9AM (thanks to the torrential downpour). We would then go to the library, where we could leave our bags with the attendants. Of course you had to be reading or studying in the library to leave your bags as these attendants had a major attitude! Therefore we would then hang out for about fifteen minutes pretending to study but actually waiting to see who braved the monsoon downpour to come to school. Then one by one the group would quietly slip out. We thought we were being so slick but I am sure the attendants knew about this all the while and just indulged in us! We would walk all the way over to Girgaum Chowpatty, which is quite a walk from V.T. (I still prefer to call it V.T. as opposed to C.S.T. as the British built Bombay and we have to accept our colonial history and not be in denial of it! In addition, Pratapgad was not renamed Victoria Fort by the Brits so shut up Shiv Sena).

Anyway there is nothing like watching the Arabian Sea in the monsoon with the waves surging passionately towards the shore, lashing at the rocks. We would sit there for hours enjoying life's simple pleasures. Over chai and pav bhaji from Sukh Sagar, we would discuss architecture, politics, our dreams, and tease each other. There was no point taking umbrellas during such downpours. We would be completely drenched in the rain but it was so worth it!

This morning I was reminiscing those days of innocence, hope, simple uncomplicated friendships that I have left behind. I have moved on geographically, intellectually and have matured in my tastes yet the green chai latte that I am having right now does not quite cut it. I do miss the flavor and taste of the decocted chai from the local chaiwalla!