Meera Aunty with a steaming cup of coffee
It was a lazy afternoon, during our summer holidays, I hopped over to our neighbor Meera Aunty’s house as usual, opening the gate, I went in and rang the door bell. Nobody opened the door. I hung around for a bit, went over to her little garden of beautiful flowers – purple sweet williams and magenta zinnias were nodding to the breeze, right beside the huge papaya tree. Continue reading
A rare picture of my brother with me and my mother
It has been a whole year, since she has been gone; I feel a strange sense of calmness today. Isn’t she the one who had told me Shraddhs [ritual performed to pay homage to one’s dead parents] are not required, the essential thing is to remember our Creator, the Creator of this beautiful universe at all times. Continue reading
Me and a mile run… never! It is too boring and too exhausting… I haven’t done it in ages, but I was convinced I could do it the other day, after all I was in a fitness boot camp. My trainer jogged slowly with me every step of the way, quietly instructing me to keep an even pace, even stride and a rhythm. He had a backpack on him filled with bananas and water, just in case I need energy. I took a short water break or two, but surprised myself by finishing the mile run in 12 minutes 0r was it 13.
We were watching the movie, “Boy in the striped Pajamas,” where Bruno meets Shmuel. Bruno is a privileged nine-year-old while Shmuel, is in striped pajamas. What separates them is the barbed wire fence. Bruno envies Shmuel, as he imagines him playing with other kids his own age behind the fence, in the comfort of his Pajamas, while he is all alone in the open world outside the fence. Bruno is unable to comprehend the horrors of living in a camp, as he offers simplistic solutions to Shmuel’s problems. When Shmuel talks about being hungry all the time, Bruno gets him food from home.
I think of my most-prized possession, I draw a blank. I think harder and realize, I have many, in fact so many that I couldn’t possibly talk about them all. So, I look around the room and find one. It is one of my many prized possessions…
I was making matar paneer, – Peas with homemade cheese, when the aroma jolted me back to my childhood, in India. It used to be my favorite dish, especially the way my mother made it. Cubed pieces of paneer – homemade cheese floating in a delicious orange colored sauce. I could hear ” Chalte Chalte ” Farewell – blaring from a neighbor’s radio at 6:00 in the morning. Watching movies and listening to movie songs is a huge part of people’s lives in India. All my friends saw movies. So, I expressed my desire to see the movie Chalte Chalte a popular movie in the mid 70s, my mother glared at me and firmly declared, “No more movies for the next few years, they promote wrong values.”
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