My first step!

The sun rose slowly in the sky. You could see its glinting gaze through the clouds, like the eye of a lazy dragon in a manga anime. It felt surreal. It was over an hour since the six thousand women including myself had all assembled on the grounds. The guy leading the zumba routine and his two female sidekicks were now on a fast beat and their rhythm was catching on, much like the fun Mexican wave he'd taught us a little earlier.

And then it was our turn—the 3k participants. Like skittish livestock we took tentative steps out of the ground and on to the street. Here I was, participating in my first run. Finally. Well, I walked mostly, but also ran much more than I ever have. There were so many first timers like me and of different ages, shapes, and sizes, and we were all determined to finish what we had undertaken to do.

I had signed up for the easiest, not wanting to stretch my capability and also because my goals for 2014 had not detailed any specific target. Maybe my confidence in my effort was at a low when I was writing my goals. Well, I must admit that finishing felt good. The medallion on a pink ribbon would be a reminder that I had kept my word indeed. To myself. 5k next?

Travel Mania

I dream about traveling the world. Well, who doesn’t! Who doesn’t love the adventure and serendipitous discovery that travel provides? However, I’d like to think my yearning is much more and it stems from something deeper, and is inexplicable, even to me. So you can imagine my delight when I came across a slew of words that came close to describing this inner hankering.

Sehnsucht. It means the inconsolable longing in the human heart for we know not what, a yearning for a far, familiar unearthly land one can identify as one’s home. While I do consider Pune and India my home, deep down, I always feel I am still looking for a place where I truly belong … see, I told you it is difficult to explain this crazy dichotomy of restlessness and yearning for stillness! (There's a word for this affliction too—Alexithymia, which means the inability to express emotions in a verbal manner!)

Then there are Saudade and Hiraeth, which are related words that explain the nostalgia associated with the yearning.

So here’s the weirdness… I don’t know what I’m looking for in the first place or whether I will find it or even if it exists! Anyway, I like that the last word, Fernweh, sums up my travel craving without being overly dramatic or profound like the other three. It means being homesick for a place I’ve never been! Go figure!

Flying Mystics

So I’ve been chasing butterflies lately... Don’t ask me what my fascination is with winged creatures because I haven’t a clue. All I know is that I love the butterfly’s elusiveness, brilliant colouring, and free-spiritedness—they just seem so carefree and joyous! In Japanese culture, a butterfly is said to be the embodiment of a person’s soul while the Greek word for butterfly itself means soul. Closer home, in Manipur, the Nagas trace their ancestry to a butterfly. Whatever it is, you cannot deny the sense of mystery surrounding these winged beauties.

Butterflies are sun worshippers, as you won’t see them before the sun is up. Where they appear from is a mystery, but when the sun is shining brightly you will see them flitting, pirouetting and whooping in joy. And just how nobody knows where the sun goes at dusk, they too disappear in the fading light.

I haunt the garden and the by lanes around the house, because that’s where I find them darting and swooping, sometimes stopping by a flower or two. They love playing tag and that game where three or more chase each other in a perfect circle. I’ve given up trying to take a picture of that kaleidoscopic jig and prefer to watch them in awe instead. They torment me deliberately, flying close and then darting away in a wink. Their painted wings flashing in the sun as they weave their way through the trees and grass! I think back to the image of the butterfly catcher that was in one of the books that I read growing up…befuddled, slightly squint perhaps, but intent in his quest. I can so totally identify with him! 

Hope is the thing with feathers...

Have you ever been in bleak situations, and then, received signs of hope that restored your faith and lifted you out of your despair? I’ve often wondered, though whether it is really a manifestation of your own inner optimism that makes you see positive signs or if there are, in fact, messages from the universe.

Well, I think it takes both to work together: If we are determined to focus on the positive always, we will find the uplifting messages that the Universe leaves us to absorb from. Perhaps it is the universe’s way of encouraging us to stay strong and believe in the goodness of humanity instead of retreating from the world. Staying fully engaged in the present and being sensitive to context and perspective, we can overcome a crushed spirit by drawing hope from these signs.

Waking up to glorious bird song every day, my heart is ever so grateful for all the privileges I enjoy. And, when I stumble across special signs, how can my spirit not soar!

About Cricket, not Football!

In its intensity, its passion and its sheer scale, Indian cricket is probably rivalled only by Football. It’s no wonder really that Indian fans of the game call it their religion. One can also be forgiven for mistaking it as our national sport instead of field hockey! While my family and friends are ardent followers of cricket, I’m really more of an indulgent bystander. However, I also believe that if a sport can unite people across languages and borders and inspire feelings of national pride and passion, then we definitely need more of it!

My all-time favorite cricket memory is not about a match I watched, but a movie involving the sport. Several years ago, we watched the Hindi film, Lagaan in Chennai (notorious for its parochial pride and belief that India is divided into Chennai and the rest of India, conveniently called North India!) Set in the period of British dominion in the Indian subcontinent, the movie revolved around a small draught-stricken village exploited by high taxes. When the inhabitants of the village voice their protest, they are challenged to a game of cricket by the arrogant English commanding officer. If they won, they could avoid paying taxes for three years, but if they lost, they would need to pay thrice the tax due.

Learning the alien game and playing for a result that would give them the much-needed respite, the villagers’ travails unfolded on screen and found immediate empathy with the rapt audience. Every turn and twist in the movie was lauded and the final match reached a palpable crescendo, as though it were a live game! Never before had I witnessed such intense mass emotions and it seemed like every single person in that audience had only one life goal—to win the ruddy match! And when the villagers finally won, I kid you not; the entire theatre rose up on its feet and danced in joy!

Now stop to think: this was in Chennai where Hindi doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue easily! Was it the profound understanding that the game represented all human life in microcosm that struck such a strong chord? Kudos to the film’s makers for conveying the essence of sport in such a fine manner!

Summer Lights

They say, like air-conditioning, suntans, and chilled beer, fireflies are a sign of summer. I had to wait all these years, though to find out the part about fireflies! It was only on my birthday this May that I was introduced to their mystical allure.

Ensconced with family in this quaint little place in Lonavala (it was Toffee’s first ever night out), it was a lovely time. Having devoured dinner and some delish mango chiffon cake, we congregated on the patio that overlooked the valley. The view even during the day had been interesting with green trimmed hills and sun cast shadows. But at night it was the sky that dominated with its trillion glittering stars. The heavens seemed to reach all the way down as we noticed intermittent flickers from the garden below too. Was somebody flashing mirrors at the sky? On closer inspection, it seemed as if a carpet of twinkling lights was spread out in front of us. This was my first glimpse of fireflies and their fluorescent glow. What a spectacular birthday treat!

So enamored was I that we returned again some weeks later to see them. This time there weren’t as many, probably because it had rained earlier in the week. Standing in what seemed like an enchanted forest, we were mesmerized. The tree beneath which we stood was festooned with tiny, sparkling fairy lights with some strewn on the grass below in casual fashion. We tried taking pictures, but the magical scene before us will be etched in my memory forever. No photograph could ever do full justice.

They say fireflies are disappearing—another sign of our fast urbanization—and future generations may not see their sparkle on summer nights. I am just so glad that I was lucky enough to see them and witness their summer waltz.

Trivial Pursuits

Come to think about it, I’ve had many hobbies over the years. When I take one up it consumes me entirely. So much so that it is safe to say that the pursuit owns me! Caught in its wake I live and breathe it until I am physically sick. Then, just like that, I lose interest and want nothing to do with it!

Origami, embroidery, rock painting, knitting, beadwork, Corel draw, paper craft, and quilling—all done to death till we parted! My unfortunate family and friends are made forced beneficiaries of each of my neuroses while they last. Birthdays and anniversaries need no prompting and a million no-reason-at-all days gain significance during a spell.

The weirdest part for me is that all memory of every dalliance is erased. It is only residual evidence of each pursuit that reveals the back story. I’ve never really delved into or dwelled on this eccentricity and I guess now isn’t the time to analyze it either.

My latest obsession is photography by the way. I’ve become pretty experienced at what I call, balcony photography. I spend hours in the balconies of my house taking pictures of anything that grabs my eye. I fiddle with the settings on my camera, experimenting with different angles, modes and speeds. Sometimes I think it will be a lot easier if somebody just told me how to get a particular shot I want, but I guess I enjoy the figuring out as well! I’ve also realized that when I’m not taking pictures, I’m unconsciously looking at things and imagining how they'd look framed!

Friends say this obsession has lasted longer than the earlier ones. Again, I'm not going to analyze why. Suffice to say, I am enjoying it thoroughly...at the moment!

Sepia and Chrome

Several weeks ago, some friends and I went on a walking tour of the oldest parts of Pune. The heritage walk—organized by a newspaper—aimed to encourage citizens and visitors to take interest in the city's rich history and culture. Many of us, whose families have lived here for generations, overlook this venerable side of Pune that lies juxtaposed with its modern glass and concrete avatar!

Remnants of over sixteen hundred years dot the city that got its name from the Sanskrit word, punya—which means sacred confluence of rivers—referring to its location at the confluence of two rivers. Every building, fort and temple serves as a reminder of the power and glory that the city basked in. It was from here that a dominion spreading across India was governed between the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries and records indicate that it was a period of great development. Already conversant with progressive philosophies, Pune played an important role in the social and religious reformation of the nineteenth century and in the struggle for independence against the British. It is therefore not surprising that pioneering work in women’s education and social upliftment had its roots in this city. Or, that the first efforts to unite people and build a nationalist spirit through a religious celebration were initiated here. Placed under house arrest in Pune in the early 1940s, Gandhi’s call for peaceful resistance against the British resonated with the people of Pune. They vowed to build a strong and independent India.

It was our ancestors’ ability to blend rich cultural traditions with a forward thinking outlook that helped shape Pune’s excellent education ethos. Emphasis was laid on a well-rounded curriculum that would serve the people and land well. Even today scores of young people from all over India and overseas seek admission to the numerous educational institutes and universities in Pune, justifying its moniker, Oxford of the East. Pune’s erudite workforce is also the reason many corporations establish a base here. Everything Pune is today—as an economically successful and culturally vibrant city—is reflective of the visionary work of its early citizens. They laid the foundation for us to build on.

As citizens of a living legacy, we have greater responsibility to uphold and bequeath this vision to the generations ahead.

Reflective in nature

I’m usually swamped with mixed feelings at the end of the year. Sorry to let go yet eager to know what lies ahead.  As I grow older though, the melancholy and excitement seem to morph into a giant knot of trepidation instead. My concerns range from Toffee getting old and ill, my family and friends’ health and wellbeing to larger world issues of peace, security and global warming!

I traveled to northeast India this November and it troubled me greatly that such incredibly beautiful places did not have shiny, happy inhabitants to match! My distress would have been explicable several years ago when I was young and still embryonic in my thinking. Now that my adult awareness is able to comprehend dissonance why did it still bother me?  Maybe idealism knows no season or reason and once you’re imprinted with its gene, it follows you to the grave!

Mother Nature gifted us so many breathtaking moments on our trip—spectacular sunrises, the glorious sight of a peacock soaring majestically right above us in a forest, gentle mist filtering through trees growing in vertical uniformity, frolicking river dolphins in the Brahmaputra, rolling hills under the bluest sky, a noisy flock of scarlet minivets that suddenly appeared on the horizon and the zillion scenic views that we were treated to as we drove past tiny villages. The joy and gratitude of witnessing such awesome beauty was however tinged with sadness knowing that it was transitory in a world of strife and need.

My deepest wish for 2013 is for universal peace, prosperity and good health. Maybe if we all carried in our hearts the inspiration that nature provides us, it would be easier to attain.

A Fairy it is, a Dragon not!

Who’d have thought some chance pictures would make me a believer! I'd been tracking a pair of sunbirds as they went about setting up home and I discovered it took some agility and a whole lot of patience to get a few decent close-ups.  Sometimes as I waited, I’d snap random stuff for fun—an entire series of raindrops on leaves, flowers and wires (they looked like little fairy lights, I swear!), gossamer cobwebs billowing from withered branches and even a thorny hedge, I thought, managed to form some interesting symmetry through my lens.

I spied a dragonfly on the wall on one such wait and shot it carelessly.  It was rather plain looking and blended in almost completely with the water-stained garden wall.  I was pretty sure I’d end up deleting the pictures. After a long wait I was eventually rewarded with some fantastic footage of my feathered friends in all their splendid glory and I couldn’t wait to download and admire my latest cache!

Whoa! The birds looked great but who was this magical nymph that leapt out of my screen with delicate shimmering wings that I didn’t recognize! Was it the same dragonfly that I wasn’t interested in, at first? I was fascinated now!

My trusted friend, Google, told me that this species was called the Granite Ghost or the Indian Rockdweller and they were useful in keeping the vicious Aedes mosquito and other pesky insects at bay in a habitation. Beautiful and noble! I couldn’t stop gazing at the jeweled perfection that was its wings. Copper tints gave them a burnished stained-glass appearance and I wished I were a better photographer to capture their beauty flawlessly.

Confucius was an insightful man indeed when he said, “Everything has beauty, but not everyone can see it.”  Well, I promise to keep looking for the beauty that abounds in everything everywhere.

Framed and Shot!

I’ve been birdwatching lately. The Bougainvillea in front of the house had tangled itself wildly in the overhead cables causing power disruptions and had to be trimmed down last week. The gardener had left a dried up branch still stuck in the cables and a pair of tiny purple-rumped sunbirds promptly decided to build their home on it—a very unwise choice for a number of reasons entailing security but hey, they were offering me a ringside view of their life's construction! 

Armed with a camera, I stalk them from my balcony. Mr. Sunbird is the prettier one with flashy maroon, purple and blue-green trim on his yellow jacket while the Missus wears a somber yellow and ash grey coat with olive tints. I note that he only makes fleeting supervisory visits, chirruping instructions as he hovers at the fringes while she toils unstintingly in building their home. She makes at least a million trips for supplies and without any fanfare. I snarkily wonder whether this is the only nest Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky Sunbird is supervising but then remember reading somewhere that his particular species is supposed to be monogamous!

The nest is beginning to look like a raggedy pouch now—wispy feathers, straw and fiber, some paper and dried leaves—all protrude in an untidy mess.  My rapidly growing picture album tracks the various stages of its progress. I shoot the other inquisitive visitors who flit by to inspect the nest-building as well. A pair of fat LBDs (little brown doves), some noisy bulbuls, a couple of perky oriental white-eyes and an ashy prinia that bounces around annoyingly. 

There are the crows and parrots that throw quite a boisterous party in the neighboring trees and I’d love to train the camera on them someday soon. In the meantime, there's this cat that has caught my lens!

No money can buy...

The news of the death of an acquaintance in a paragliding accident in Bulgaria recently triggered so many thoughts. Given the risky nature of his choice of sport, he had been in several accidents, the last of which, had immobilized him completely for nine months. His family had begged him to hang up his gliding sails that last time but he didn’t pay any heed. It seemed implausible that the wellbeing of his two young children never crossed his mind. Were his priorities so misplaced that wisdom couldn’t prevail? Was it incurable deep-rooted angst that led to the self-destruction? Was there really a line between risk-taking and inflicting self-harm? 

My head was already buzzing with all these contemplations when a friend phoned. She’d visited his family and while they deeply grieved his departure from their lives forever more, there was also a feeling of overwhelming gratitude for his provision for all of them even after his demise, she said. 

This must indicate that he had weighed the consequences of pursuing his passion after all. Was this what they called intelligent risk-taking? But did this calculation really soften the blow? Maybe, I'm so gauche that I still can't see any upside or gains like the risk pundits advise. While his family might never have to worry about mundane things  such as finance, his absence from their lives is such an irreparable loss that no money in the world can assuage.

Cold Nose, Warm Heart!

Somebody abandoned this tiny bundle of chocolate fur outside my gate, one day in March eight years ago.  I looked down at what seemed like a miniature bear with these incredibly amazing grey eyes, and melted instantly. I picked her up and while she didn’t mind at first, she began wriggling and eventually nipped me with her needle-sharp teeth until I put her down with a yelp. Toffee had just walked into my home and heart!

I agree her name is a bit of a misnomer but she was really the “sweetest” looking puppy that I’d ever seen and her coloring was rich and dark like...caramel, which, incidentally is her middle name.

Her highly assertive and willful personality was evident right from puppyhood. The certified trainer hired to make her more sociable wrung his hands in despair and finally fled when she insisted on acting in direct opposition to any of his commands!

She loathes dogs, cats, birds, and barely tolerates humans!  She's also very selective of the people she is “friends” with. Friendships, too, have their limitations and crossing of any boundary is treated with a hard-eyed stare, deep throated growl or punishing bite, depending on the offense committed. She does as she pleases all the time, every time. She rules the space and we’re just fortunate she deigns to share sometimes.

She is completely neurotic, endearing and incorrigible all at the same time, and I simply adore her!