Sometimes...

Sometimes you want to write, but the words just do not flow...


HAPPY BIRTHDAY AB! And thanks for the birthday treat! That was the quickest way to help me get you out of my system.

Jive Bunny

Woke up this morning with a song in my head. Lipstick, powder and paint. Shakin’ Stevens, if I’m not mistaken.

And it’s still in my head and I wanna learn to jive.

Lipstick powder and paint,
lipstick powder and paint,
lipstick powder and paint,
is you is, or is you ain't.

It looks like so much fun, so energetic. I think full skirts flying, and twirls and dips. Not just random jumping up and down, but actual steps… so much FUN.

There goes my baby up a tree,
a-giggling and a wiggling her toes at me,
Let me put my glasses on,
Haven't had such fun since she's been gone.

Fink I’m gonna sign up for the classes!!

Hound dog scratching fleas,
looking like she's in love with me.
Licks my hand everywhere I go,
I wish my baby loved me so.

Sights, Sounds and Smell

The brain is a highly complex organ, and scientists are slowly figuring out how it works. They know a little bit, not much, but they're still at it. They do know that there are nerve connections linking information whooshing in from the different senses to memory. In fact, what is memory really but a juxtaposition of all that we sensed at that moment - the smell, the taste, the feel, the sound.

I've an elephant's memory and remember things right from Age 2. My Mom is pretty amazed at the things I can remember from my Toddler days. I remember the sights, sounds and even smell. Yes smell! I have a keen sense of smell and a strong association with memory. Over the course of the day, familiar odors waft to my nose, triggering bouts of nostalgia.

The smell of Johnson & Johnson baby talcum powder reminds me of cute and cuddly Baby Naina. A curious mixture of gutkha and cologne reminds me of Grandpa. A particular odor of agarbattis takes me back to the dark, quiet prayer-room in my ancestral house.

The smell of crushed Strawberries reminds me of T and the Strawberry body shower she uses. A particular antiseptic cleaner smell transports to the bathroom in my Aunts house which all the cousins use to transform into a swimming pool during the summer vacations. The smell of Jasmine brings to mind the flower buds my Grandma placed in little katoris of water overnight, their fragrance freshening our bedrooms. A particular smell of methi chicken curry, brings back glimpses of my Dad bustling in the kitchen - no one can make chicken like he can! (This was in the days when I was a carnivore) The smell of rain-drenched earth and grass, brings to mind my beloved school - TAPs, quietly nestled in verdant Ridge Wood in the middle of bustling Delhi.

I would rather not dwell on the stinks and the negative memories they bring back. Yes, the sense of smell can be extraordinarily evocative, bringing back pictures as sharp as photographs of scenes that had left the conscious mind.

And then there are the vague smells, so faint you can barely describe them. They waft wispily about, teasing and tugging at blurry memories. My heartbeat quickens and my mind sharpens as I struggle to recollect what the smell reminds me of. The struggle is often futile; and the smell just leaves me with an unexpected emotion - longing or contentment, melancholy or happiness.

Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains; another, a moonlit beach; a third, a family dinner of pot roast and sweet potatoes during a myrtle-mad August in a Midwestern town.

Smells detonate softly in our memory like poignant land mines hidden under the weedy mass of years. Hit a tripwire of smell and memories explode all at once. A complex vision leaps out of the undergrowth. ~ Diane Ackerman, A Natural History of the Senses

Happy Rakshabandan!

People that have a brother or sister don't realize how lucky they are. Sure, they fight a lot, but to know that there's always somebody there, somebody that's family, is very assuring.

Yes, people with siblings are lucky! I am very lucky to have A as my bro, however irritating he may be. In our country we have special festivals like Bhai dooj and Rakhito mark our day. For years, I have celebrated it like yet another festival, not reading much into it and sometimes even underestimating its importance. Its only the years apart that make me miss it. For many years now, we have been celebrating rakhi in absentia. But this year was different. It was special!

Well, for starters, we were together after a gazillion years and we decided to play rookie from work and spent it together. Anu treated me to Mangal Pandey in Gold Class at PVR, followed by a sumptous lunch at Spiga and loads of shopping..

Found this poem (from an Archies card) very fitting :-)

As kids, we lived together,
We fought, we laughed, we cried.
We did not always show the love,
that we both had inside.

We shared our dreams and plans,
and some secrets too.
All the memories we share,
Is what bonds me now to you.

We grew to find we have a love,
that is very strong today.
It’s a love shared by our family,
that will never fade away.

You are my brother not by choice,
but by the nature of our birth.
I could not have chosen a better one,
you are the BEST on earth.

Happy Rakhi, Anu!

With much love,
GG

Happy ID Day!

Independence Day always brings back childhood memories of the FORCED march past parades at school. All of us kids were made to line-up a month in advance (house-wise: I was in Cariappa "Yellow" House)and made to march (Left-Right-Left) for the D-Day, all of which used to eventually take place in the HOT SUN in the afternoon. We would hide in the loos or get fake medical certificates to escape the torture but there was no respite. The experienced teachers would search the loos and spot out the fakes. The punishment for delinquent students was an extra hour of Marching practice.

On the I-Day, after the parade, the flag would be hoisted and all of us would be sent home with some snacks or some such thing. It never made any sense to me and I was a most reluctant participant and attendee. To force patriotism is like praying because your parents say one should pray. There is no individual choice in the matter. Ironic isn’t it, that one is forced to do something like this on Independence Day?

How is one supposed to develop a sense of patriotism when all you are told about freedom and independence are read in textbooks with such monotony that they might have never happened or happened in a past so far removed from us that it no longer matters?

Independence made much more sense to me when I heard my grandpa talk to me about running on the streets with India's flag when they heard about the withdrawal of the British. Independence matters more to me when I hear of the blackouts that my mother's family used to have in the early 70's and the food packets my paternal grandma prepared with her friends and distributed to the soldiers whose trains crossed our hometown during the war with Pak. And of course the war stories my dad regaled us with, in his typical fauji style, with loud sound-effects and full-action. I felt so proud to be my dad's daughter and how he serves country with honor.

Here's wishing New India on her 59th birthday a very bright and prosperous future...

Miles to go, hurdles to cross,
May she survive all her lows!!

Vande Mataram! Jai Hind!!