Melting snow
slides down the window.
Frozen rain
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
'Kaluribenta gapa'
I came across a review of the book called "The tenth rasa: Anthology of Indian Nonsense" today while browsing the internet. The book describes folklore and poems children memorise while playing or typical colloquial stories that have no sense, but are passed down from generation to generation unchanged.
Instantly i recalled all such stories that were an inseparable part of my childhood; stories which i had heard again and again everyday for a good part of my young life; stories that put me to sleep. After decades, I could still remember every word, every small poem associated with the story vividly. And believe me or not, i felt glad.
My favorite story was that of a crow, an old lady and a ripe bitter gourd. A crow eyes the old lady's ripe bitter gourd and expresses its desire to eat it. The old lady tell him that he can have it after washing his dirty beak. The crow goes to a well, and then to a framer, a cow, a potter, a deer and a blacksmith to wash its beak so as to eat the fruit but is killed by the blacksmith's hot scythe. Each section of the story was small poem,depicting the entire journey the crow makes.
Memories came flooding by. A hot afternoon, after lunch. The windows closed shut to keep the sun out. Laying on cool sheets in a cool dark room with my eyes closed, arms and legs around my grandmother who was fondling me and telling me the 'kaluribenta gapa'. And checking on me intermittently whether i am asleep or not. And I falling asleep before the story ends.
I realize now that I have never slept like that after those days. In this busy life I often end up sleeping over problems of issues at work or home and sleep fretfully. Perhaps stories like Kaluribenta, being so nonsensical that they were have the power to free the mind of thoughts and soothe a overworked brain.
I am going to recollect those stories henceforth when I have trouble sleeping. And this is going to be the way I am going to put my children to sleep. With the 'kaluribenta gapa'.
Instantly i recalled all such stories that were an inseparable part of my childhood; stories which i had heard again and again everyday for a good part of my young life; stories that put me to sleep. After decades, I could still remember every word, every small poem associated with the story vividly. And believe me or not, i felt glad.
My favorite story was that of a crow, an old lady and a ripe bitter gourd. A crow eyes the old lady's ripe bitter gourd and expresses its desire to eat it. The old lady tell him that he can have it after washing his dirty beak. The crow goes to a well, and then to a framer, a cow, a potter, a deer and a blacksmith to wash its beak so as to eat the fruit but is killed by the blacksmith's hot scythe. Each section of the story was small poem,depicting the entire journey the crow makes.
Memories came flooding by. A hot afternoon, after lunch. The windows closed shut to keep the sun out. Laying on cool sheets in a cool dark room with my eyes closed, arms and legs around my grandmother who was fondling me and telling me the 'kaluribenta gapa'. And checking on me intermittently whether i am asleep or not. And I falling asleep before the story ends.
I realize now that I have never slept like that after those days. In this busy life I often end up sleeping over problems of issues at work or home and sleep fretfully. Perhaps stories like Kaluribenta, being so nonsensical that they were have the power to free the mind of thoughts and soothe a overworked brain.
I am going to recollect those stories henceforth when I have trouble sleeping. And this is going to be the way I am going to put my children to sleep. With the 'kaluribenta gapa'.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Meaning of the word "Affection"
Words can be time machines, sometimes. It is strange how a single word can evoke memories of bygone years...and recreate a scene from the past so vividly that you relive that moment once again.
For me, it is the word 'affection'. . The mere mention of the word brings forth memories of a crisp winter morning, of gentle warn sunshine and dewy grass. I grew up at a home built within an orchard with numerous trees..mango, guava, custard apple and chickoo, tall coconut and betel nut palms, and vast open grassy spots shadowed by the trees. My grandfather was a nature lover and the orchard was the only reason he bought that particular plot for building his dream house. I was perhaps four years old then.
On the property, we had an elaborate cowshed with 10-15 of large Jersey cows. At one end of the cowshed was the caretaker's small hut where he lived with his family. His wife did chores at our house and his kids were our playmates. At the other end was a small room, which served as my grandfather's study. It was in this room that I started learning my alphabets and numbers, my rhymes and stories. And also my love for all that God has created, plants and animals. Little that I realize then, and I do it now, that my personality was a perfect genetic replica of his.
My grandfather tended the cows himself, feeding them, cleaning them and milking them. I used to be with him during his rounds at the cowshed, observing him and asking this and that. All my childish 'whys' were patiently answered.
It on one such morning that I observed a cow licking its calf, with its tail around it, as if holding its offspring in a tender hug. I then asked my grandfather " What is the cow doing to the calf? why is it licking it all over?" And he said " Affection. What you see is affection.". It was the first day I heard that word and it created such a beautiful picture that the scene, that morning and that fragment of my childhood has become memorable. As memorable as the person who introduced me to the word "affection".
For me, it is the word 'affection'. . The mere mention of the word brings forth memories of a crisp winter morning, of gentle warn sunshine and dewy grass. I grew up at a home built within an orchard with numerous trees..mango, guava, custard apple and chickoo, tall coconut and betel nut palms, and vast open grassy spots shadowed by the trees. My grandfather was a nature lover and the orchard was the only reason he bought that particular plot for building his dream house. I was perhaps four years old then.
On the property, we had an elaborate cowshed with 10-15 of large Jersey cows. At one end of the cowshed was the caretaker's small hut where he lived with his family. His wife did chores at our house and his kids were our playmates. At the other end was a small room, which served as my grandfather's study. It was in this room that I started learning my alphabets and numbers, my rhymes and stories. And also my love for all that God has created, plants and animals. Little that I realize then, and I do it now, that my personality was a perfect genetic replica of his.
My grandfather tended the cows himself, feeding them, cleaning them and milking them. I used to be with him during his rounds at the cowshed, observing him and asking this and that. All my childish 'whys' were patiently answered.
It on one such morning that I observed a cow licking its calf, with its tail around it, as if holding its offspring in a tender hug. I then asked my grandfather " What is the cow doing to the calf? why is it licking it all over?" And he said " Affection. What you see is affection.". It was the first day I heard that word and it created such a beautiful picture that the scene, that morning and that fragment of my childhood has become memorable. As memorable as the person who introduced me to the word "affection".
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Someone Mine
Eyes that speak my secret codeA warm hand to hold when the sun departsA special smile, just for meAnd loving looks to melt my heart
A fond name that no one knowsAt tender moments, ceasing timeAll,with the one in my dreamsSomeone who is mine, only mine......
Sunday, January 6, 2008
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