Magic Moments

Every year December comes with a baggage full of delights. It bids adieu to the passing year, and welcomes the arriving year wholeheartedly. It brings with it the much awaited winter (and relieves us from the perpetual heat), Christmas celebrations and New Year revelries. Reasons for which we love December (I love..) are numerous. In a brief… Of the Wintry Connections The nip in the air, especially in the evenings; the warmth of sweaters, shawls and soft fluffy blankets; the various types of delicious soups, pakodas , and numerous cups of coffee with family and friends, describe winter for me. And that also includes spoonfuls of Chawanprash, and honey every morning by my nagging mother. There’s a continuous good, blessed and happy feel, and everyone’s mood swings are at bay. Winter most certainly casts magic spells. Of the Marriage Season Attending marriage ceremonies of relatives in December is fun. It’s like a family get together. With all the siblings, cousin...

Alone in her chamber, Sitting by her wheel, She made some yarn From some cotton. Pulling one string Entangling with the other, She tailored me dresses, For the balls I did not give a care; Knit me mittens, For the chipped fingers that hurt; Made me sweaters, For the chilly cold winters. She weaved me a cocoon of love, And a haven of warmth. She weaved me happy good nights, And sleepy sweet dreams.

Today’s the last day of The Write Tribe  Festival of Words, I’m taking part in. The last writing prompt is ‘Dreams’. Taking part in it has been a wholesome experience. Churning out new ideas for the different posts, struggling to make the creative juices flow, and reading the other blogs- it was quite a learning time. I hadn’t been this creative for months. I give my thanks to ‘Write Tribe’ and all the bloggers who took part. I have blogged about dreams earlier too. You can read it here: Follow Your Dreams . Dreams are very mysterious things. More like the soul, the actual identity of dreams is unknown. Where the consciousness goes and where the mind wanders when we are in sleep dreaming, is still a big question. Is it some corner of our brain or some other unexplored dimension outside our body? This continues to be an enigma. The very idea of our soul leaving the body while we are dreaming, and visiting unchartered lands, is quite fascinating though, even...

Every person we meet leaves a mark in our lives, however minute it may be. The people at our home are the family we are born into. Mother’s love and scolding, father’s pampering, sibling’s fights and reconciliations, and grandparent’s adoring shapes us up. Learning begins at home, builds our nature and character. But then, there’s a larger family that we sometimes choose for ourselves and sometimes not- our friends, hostel roommates, chance acquaintances and encounters in the larger circle of friends-of-friends. Some of them add spice to our lives; make memories with us and last lifelong. Some of them are the pretentious lot, add fun at times but mostly take advantage of us. Some of them are the real ‘friend in need is a friend in deed’. They support us, and give a shoulder to lean on when we are down and low, but for some reason drift apart. We hold unto them as much as we can, the real and rare gems in our lives, but circumstances distances them more and more. And all...

Siddharth rested his head on the steering wheel. Three meetings in a single day was too hectic for him. Now the damn Bangalore traffic wouldn't let him reach home. Ruhi must be waiting for him, his loving daughter. After two long hours Siddharth finally reached home. Ruhi came running towards him in her baby feet. ‘Papa…papapa…’the two and a half year old sang. He lifted her into his arms and magically the whole day’s exhaustion vanished. ‘O, my little princess, give me a kissie,’ he said pointing to his cheek. The little one was too happy to oblige. ‘Aw, it hurt…’ she said, hands on her lips. ‘Oh, sorry, papa has forgotten to shave,’ Siddharth touched his ears. The smiling face returned, Ruhi laughed. Next morning, Ruhi was early at the breakfast table. She sat on the table at the centre, and everyone sat around her, taking a morning kissie from her in turns, as if a ritual. She was everyone’s darling. But when her doting father’s turn came, Ruhi cried, ’Aw, it hur...

Like most people out there, I too nurture a dream to travel around the world. Well, it hasn’t to be in 80 days. J I want to go street shopping in China and South Korea (buying beautiful charms, trinkets, dream catchers, etc.); view cherry blossoms in Japan; click a selfie with Moais in Easter Islands; visit Buddhist monasteries outside India; ride in a gondola in Venice and every roller coaster in the world; admire the Hagia Sophia in Turkey and churches in Vatican; tour entire Europe and marvel in its beauty, history, culture, and antiquity. Yes, Zindegi Na Milegi Dobara, and Yeh Jawani Hei Diwani have enraptured my imagination. They have me yearning to know and understand every culture, custom and tradition first hand. But the starting point of this wish was quite early. It started with ‘ SOTC-Musafir Hoon Yaaron ’ series on Indian television with Deepti Bhatnakar. Be it Indian places of worship like the ‘ Char dham yatra ’, places of vacation like the hill stations...

My tryst with music began quite early, inside my mother’s womb. I danced to my mother’s heartbeats, as she would put it. That was a nine month introductory session to rhythm, beat, and music in its crude form.  I grew up to granny’s lullabies, and grandpa’s chanting of prayers. I lived three of my early schooling years with them in Bhubaneswar- kindergarten and grade one, as my father was posted in Daitari where there was no school nearby. I was introduced to ‘Jana Gana Mana’ and ‘Vande Mataram’ at school. Grandpa had a collection of cassettes and a cassette player. I remember wrapping one of the bed-sheets around me like a sari and dancing to the Hindi bollywood songs on the double bed. We would visit grandpa’s home in Nayagarh in holidays, a joint family, a heaven for me in those days. We were like nine kids of the same age group in a single household. It was fun; running about in the corridor, playing in the veranda, playing flying dish with Jimmy- a street dog w...