tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17180323063513814012024-02-21T02:03:17.200+05:30A wrong turn, a lost path, just carry on mate !Not all those who wander are lost......I would love to share the places I visit with anyone who happens to pass by this way !Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-45135459959070107922022-07-29T11:12:00.005+05:302022-07-29T11:12:33.878+05:30Lost and forlorn <p><b><u> Home becomes a house </u></b></p><p><br /></p><p>I went into the empty house today</p><p>The four walls and lifeless furniture</p><p>They were once home.</p><p>The walls echoed our laughter </p><p>The dining table laden with delicious dishes;</p><p>The kitchen bubbling with activity </p><p>The floor busy with running feet. </p><p><br /></p><p>Home is not the four walls or the </p><p>Beautiful paintings that adorn it; </p><p>Or the carpet that was a favorite with mom </p><p>Or the table and chairs bought with so much haggling and choosing. </p><p>Not even the kitchen and the dainty china tea set </p><p>Look inviting now.</p><p>All have memories </p><p>But those who created the memories are not there </p><p>One of the two is no more with us.</p><p>And the other so independent, so loving, so strong </p><p>Perforce leaves her home to be dependent.</p><p>And the home is just a house </p><p>Plants watered, her birds looked out for her for some days</p><p>And then flew to other places.</p><p>This home is just a house now.</p><p> </p><p>20th November 2021</p>Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-90496414018110832972022-05-18T19:04:00.000+05:302022-05-18T19:04:14.090+05:30Lost life <p> The dreams there are none now</p><p>I cannot see ahead</p><p>Do not look forward to the next day </p><p>A day struck off my life as night falls. </p><p>Counting them on the calendar</p><p>Just bottles inside</p><p>Holding all my emotions</p><p>Noticing with mask on</p><p>And a zip on the lip</p><p>I cannot speak my mind</p><p>I live a life inside my head</p><p>A place where I am laughing</p><p>And crying</p><p>Shouting</p><p>Loving</p><p>I am hysterical</p><p>Delirious</p><p>I jump with joy</p><p>I fight</p><p>Where I get up in the morning with a smile</p><p>A lazy stretch</p><p>Look around to see the morning sun in my window Look forward to the day</p><p>Sing my favourite song</p><p>Hum a tune</p><p>Embrace the day.</p><p>The dreamer just dreams</p><p>And lives shadow lives</p><p>With open eyes the dreams vanish</p><p>And inside the head a world is vibrant And the heart beats to a different song.</p><div><br /></div>Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-55780964823285447122021-10-19T14:29:00.000+05:302021-10-19T14:29:16.541+05:30Wisdom <p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Travel times are always the best times</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">lands of different cultures</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Different history,</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Different geography</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">A world so unknown </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">every region,every piece of </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The earth</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Has a history as old </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">As our Planet </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Grandmothers who weave stories</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Grandfathers whose faded eyes are </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Clouded with memories</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Customs and traditions </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">And the music and dance </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">From the great great great and </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Many more </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Grandparents </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The once upon a time, </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"> Retelling,</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Story times </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The traditions of gathering </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">And recounting </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">So that ancient wisdom survives</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Struggle stories pass on </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Ancestors live through us </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The past is the present </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">In the future </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Each piece of this planet </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Has a tale </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Rich,</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Learning from nature </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Being one with her. </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Ancient wisdom</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Was taught </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Listening to the winds </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">And understanding them </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Watching the sun’s path </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">And marking it </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Feeling the farmlands </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">With the heart.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13.1px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The birds,the trees </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The wild and the tamed </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The lion and the snake </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The dark forests and </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Mighty mountains </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">When men were part of them and they </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Of the men </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Stories and tales woven around </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Worshipped </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Part of the household.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Worship rituals and divinity </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Habits and daily routine </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Sun worshippers and </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">the sacred moon </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Solstices and equinoxes </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The waxing and waning </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The folklore of the earth </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">On a tortoise </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Every corner has its interpretations </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">And oneness with Nature.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13.1px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13.1px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13.1px;"><br /></p><p> </p>Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-48243119803215314662021-08-04T18:59:00.002+05:302021-09-07T10:20:53.325+05:30Morning peace <p> <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px;">Every morning before dawn</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px;"> </span></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I wake up to see</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The first blush of the day</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I feel the pleasant breeze that brushes</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">the leaves </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Caressing the birds nests</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">To awaken them </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I hear the early songs </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Under the</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Morning star </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">And the pale moon merging in the blue sky</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Wisps of clouds float </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Before the mighty sun </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Melts them </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I close my eyes,then look up </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">My heart is open to </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">the morn’s delights </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">My soul is blessed </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">With divine rays </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">In those silent moments</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The universe sends a message </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Of peace and comfort.</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I am one with nature and</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">United with the cosmos. </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 27.4px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 23px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 27.4px;"> </p><div><br /></div>Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-2539561948952426732020-09-13T09:29:00.003+05:302020-09-13T09:30:43.304+05:30Spoiler Alerts and end is the beginning<div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have started reading a thriller and I turn pages part skipping,part skimming so that I can reach the end quickly and know whodunit. At home my daughter laughs at me.She tells me not to see a movie backwards or to open a book from the last page."Mom,you are killing your suspense!What remains in the book if you know the killer?" I tell her the book itself remains.The words remain.The skill of the author in weaving the story remains. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>I cannot savour the words,the plot,the characters.My mind is always focused on what will happen in the end.Who was the murderer,who was the perpetrator of the crime,who married whom? I just cannot wait till the end to find out.Are you also one of this type? Of course I do not start reading the book from the back but do read the first few pages to get to know the plot.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>After that it is a rush to reach the end.Once I come to know the end,I let out a sigh,I feel relaxed,I am patient and I start reading the book again.This time I enjoy each character,each description,I marvel at the beauty of the places,at the wonderful way a scene has been described.I read slowly appreciating the way the plot has been woven,a thread leading to another or I find fault at some loose end.I find a discrepant note and frown. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>I do not want to have the thought creeping up again and again of what will happen in the end.I want to finish with that doubt and then enjoy the book.The journey is more beautiful than the destination. Haven't we all read and re-read a favourite book hundreds of times? Haven't we all watched a movie nth times ?We may know the dialogues by heart and can mouth them before even before they are uttered on the screen.But we find the same happiness and pleasure in all those re-reads and all those re-runs as we had in the first time.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Many a times I have read some reviews of TV series and it warns me of spoiler alert.No problem ,say I. I don't mind them at all.For me the pleasure lies in the acting,in the way a character is formed.I am not half thinking of what will happen at the end,nor sitting at the edge of my seat.I feel the end is already fixed and whether I read it now or reach it in the proper sequential manner it will not change.So I opt for knowing it before hand and then reading the book leisurely,enjoying each tiny bit of the author's penmanship. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>But this is true not only for mystery books,thrillers,Agatha Christie,PD James and the likes.Even when I am reading a romantic novel or a PG Wodehouse or something as predictable as a Mills and Boon,after reading the first few pages I jump to the last page after starting the book,so that I am convinced of the end.Then I come back to where I had left it and continue with the book.In the case of TV series I search and search till I find reviews with spoiler alerts.For movies I do go to the reviews or the Wikipedia and read the plot of the movie,the cast,the story and then sit down to watch it.In case of some movies and serials I am banned from opening my mouth because others in the family want the suspense to continue.So I am gagged when we watch a serial together.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>I wonder if it happens to other people?What would the psychiatrists say about it?That I cannot take pressure?That I do not have nerves?That I am impatient?That I cannot handle the intense suspense?That maybe I cannot handle tough situations? Afraid of the unknown? Sometimes even though I know the end,I keep hoping that by some extra terrestrial miracle,the end might be different.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Despite what everyone says I still love to read the ending of a book,puncture the suspense and then sit back read and enjoy every nuance of the plot.And yes I so love party spoilers too !</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div></div>Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-47019508826517273612020-07-13T15:43:00.002+05:302020-07-13T15:51:28.330+05:30National Simplicity Day 12th July 2020<div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbnLF43HyXU">Talk on National Simplicity Dayatch?v=cbnLF43HyXU</a></div><div>Do you remember the one golden saying that our parents used to repeat often was "Simple living,high Thinking".सादा जीवन उच्च विचार। </div><div>This one single thought,just four words make our life so blessed, so uncomplicated so joyful. Today we celebrate National Simplicity day which is observed every year on July 12 to honour the life, work and philosophies of Henry David Thoreau. Born on July 12, 1817, Thoreau was an advocate of living a simple life and wrote a number of books around the subject. He was an American philosopher, environmentalist, poet and essayist. He is best known for Walden or Life in the woods, published 1854.The book is an account of a simpler life lived in natural surroundings. He described ways people could tap into themselves and be happier through a less hectic lifestyle. Thoreau was also a tireless champion of the human spirit against the materialism and conformity that he saw as dominant in American culture in his times.</div><div>In Walden he writes and I quote:</div><div><br /></div><div>"Our life is frittered away by detail. An honest man has hardly need to count more than his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and lump the rest. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb-nail . . . Simplify, simplify. Instead of three meals a day, if it be necessary eat but one; instead of a hundred dishes, five; and reduce other things in proportion". unquote </div><div><br /></div><div>Even after more than 200 years the concept of this simplicity holds true as much as it did in Thoreau's time. Look around us.Do we not find ourselves surrounded,in fact weighed down by so many things which are really just the trimmings to our existence.We value the mobile phone we hold in our hands though it just a means of communicating. Our communications have become minimal but the means have become disproportionately important. Our houses have all fancy gadgets,yet we suffer from lifestyle diseases.Our minds are cluttered with thoughts and not a single one brings us peace or tranquility. As part of the complete ecosystem of the earth,we are part of nature herself. But we are getting further away from her,isolated in our airconditioned houses,concrete buildings and mechanical devices. We have forgotten to listen to the song of the birds,the rustling of the trees,the vibrant hues of the sunrise and the colours of the setting sun. Relationships are becoming complex,they are becoming taxing and like taxes they weigh us down and sap our energies.Make them simpler,say simple words and relate to each other honestly. Our daily living fills us with anxieties.Do we really need to compete with our friends for a holiday abroad? Our existence is not defined by what we wear it is defined by who we are.The consumerism all round us has instilled in us a sense of constant competitiveness,a constant nagging of being left behind and in today's terminology of having FOMO or fear of missing out. </div><div>A simple living is a way of life that focuses on simplicity, intentionality and living life with regard to simplifying your activities, eating habits, home, emotions and thinking. There is happiness in lifting our heads from the social media platforms and the movie streamings and looking around us to find joy and beauty in the sonorous singing of the bird,in the fun of doing routine chores,in the watching live videos made by nature and her creations.</div><div>Leonardo de Vinci said:"Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication". Isn't this a truth we all know?We need to acknowledge and accept it and integrate it in our lives.Simplicity should manifest itself in everything we do and where ever we are.Just be true to yourself and cut out the excess everywhere.It does not really mean living the spartan way or living in poverty.With riches also you can be simple.You can be setting up a big business empire but you can be simple.A Head of state and yet simple.Mahatma Gandhi who led our freedom movement yet his core was simplicity.Simplicity is contentment.Mahatma gandhi said,</div><div>"Man falls from the pursuit of the ideal of plan living and high thinking the moment he wants to multiply his daily wants. Man's happiness really lies in contentment."</div><div><br /></div><div>Even Steve Jobs,the co founder of Apple computers has this to say</div><div>"“That’s been one of my mantras – focus and simplicity. Simple can be harder than complex. You have to work hard to get your thinking clean to make it simple. But it’s worth it in the end because once you get there, you can move mountains.”</div><div>So simplicity is not about lack of ambition, or about being dull or boring or unenterprising.It is about being in harmony with nature,with your own true self ,about less is more and about throwing out the non essentials.</div><div>Let us see what Thoreau has to say about the simple life since we are celebrating his life this day.</div><div>As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler; solitude will not be solitude, poverty will not be poverty, nor weakness weakness.</div><div><br /></div><div>But let me end with a quote from my favourite physicist Richard Feynman.</div><div>"There is always another way to say the same thing that doesn't look at all like the way you said it before. I don't know what the reason for this is. I think it is somehow a representation of the simplicity of nature."</div><div>And that is what we should aim for, a simplicity in everything we do, say and think.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div>Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-426199534849584672020-06-29T08:32:00.001+05:302021-09-07T10:25:53.654+05:30Road not taken <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Road not taken<br />
<br />
As I grow old and sit on my verandah<br />
Everyday pops up a new memory<br />
Of days gone by, of evenings spent<br />
Moments that I cherish, years that I regret.<br />
<br />
I close my eyes and see myself<br />
Standing at a crossroad or was it a fork<br />
I wonder why I took a road<br />
Opted for one and left the one<br />
<br />
What would have happened if<br />
I had travelled on the road not taken<br />
Where would I have been if<br />
I had opted for that not this.<br />
<br />
Would Destiny still have led me here<br />
To this family, to this armchair<br />
To this wrinkle, to this white hair<br />
To the same heart and same hearth?<br />
<br />
The road not taken is so unknown<br />
I can only see where it begins<br />
There is no algorithm for a path not travelled<br />
Nothing to say how it would have unraveled.<br />
<br />
But how many times have we shaken our heads<br />
And those dark thoughts crept on to us<br />
If only I had done this or done that.<br />
Just remember the road not taken<br />
was not meant to be.<br />
<br />
A road less travelled or a road travelled well<br />
Both have their rewards and Karma coins<br />
Just be true to values and humanity<br />
Just do everything with integrity.<br />
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Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-77330332518587178252020-06-23T09:41:00.000+05:302020-06-23T09:41:23.606+05:30Priceless<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Priceless<br />
<br />
The priceless are ours for the taking<br />
No wallet to be opened,no card to be swiped<br />
A hand in ours<br />
A smile of gratitude<br />
A heart bubbling with joy<br />
The first dada gurgled<br />
The first step taken<br />
An old parent's shaking blessings<br />
A laughter that resonates<br />
On the grass with faces upturned<br />
A sky full of stars<br />
Waves that crash at our feet<br />
Despair turned to hope<br />
Eyes that glow at your sight<br />
A picnic basket<br />
A hop,skip and jump<br />
A tumble in the mud.<br />
<br />
The price for priceless things is but<br />
Forsake the rat race,<br />
Slowdown.,shed the mask.<br />
<br />
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Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-70037222581157511242020-06-15T19:36:00.002+05:302021-09-07T10:29:56.923+05:30Tiny wonder <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A tiny flower I may be<br />
Among the bed of green<br />
But I still raise my head<br />
And don’t go unseen.<br />
<br />
15th June 2020<br />
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Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-68611566505844157322020-06-15T16:39:00.002+05:302021-09-07T10:33:07.281+05:30Memories of summer past<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There are some memories which I do not<br />
Look into often<br />
Some which lie deep down in my heart<br />
No one knows I have those memories<br />
Of moments that did not last<br />
Of summers past<br />
Of sunny afternoons and sultry evenings<br />
When I looked up to find your gaze upon me<br />
And I held that gaze and kept it in my heart<br />
When I felt the cool breeze of a sigh<br />
I made that a memory too<br />
A helping hand outstretched<br />
Yet loathe to touch me<br />
I have kept that feel without the touch<br />
And whenever summer comes<br />
And some times become unbearable<br />
I peep into memories<br />
Of the summers past<br />
And get the cool breeze, the helping hand,</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">the loving gaze<br />
To see me through.<br />
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Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-57269166096950306662020-05-08T13:55:00.002+05:302021-09-07T10:37:37.588+05:30When will it end?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<br />
Walking in Mighty Corridors and shuffling files<br />
No life at stake and no walking miles<br />
No nights spent in bunkers with bullets whizzing by<br />
No son of theirs wore a uniform proudly<br />
And put his life on the line<br />
Young wives, young kids<br />
Sons gone before their parents.<br />
Cushioned,armchair lives have no glory<br />
Send your sons to the frontier<br />
Tell them what pride it is to<br />
To lay down one's life<br />
for the motherland.<br />
And then when you will plan you will know the value of each life,<br />
How we spend our lives measuring each breath that we take<br />
How we laugh in tomorrow's shadow<br />
When you will wait for promises of returns<br />
that he made<br />
And wait in vain<br />
Then when you plan and strategize<br />
You will do with your heart<br />
And do it knowing that a loved one<br />
Is ready to take the bullet<br />
And then you will do it to end this caravan<br />
of Tricolour wrapped<br />
Treasures<br />
Just send your precious ones to the border<br />
Then when you write a note<br />
it will be different.<br />
<br /></div>
Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-75455823413264667062020-04-01T13:43:00.001+05:302020-04-01T13:46:40.524+05:30The awful Covid-19 pandemic<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Note:This was broadcast on the ESD service of AIR on 30 th March 2020 </i></div>
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The world is in the grip of a pandemic caused by the novel Corona Virus or COVID-19.Though there are a number of diseases like polio,measles,flu and the common cold caused by viruses, problems arise when the body encounters a virus it has not seen before. Corona Virus is one such instance. There are three reasons why it is dangerous.Firstly it is a respiratory disease that spreads from one person to the next. Secondly our body has no natural immunity to this virus, there are no vaccines for it and no pharmaceutical products have yet been shown to be safe and effective for the treatment of COVID-19. Thirdly for some of the infected people, the disease can be fatal.<br />
The symptoms of having been infected with this virus are almost like flu. This may include high fever,a dry cough and exhaustion. There may be body aches,shortness of breath ,muscle and joint pain, sore throat, headache and sometimes diarrhoea. It appears to affect the elderly more and those with a pre existing medical condition like hypertension, diabetes, heart ailments, lung disease or suppressed immunity.<br />
The disease spreads largely through droplets that are emitted when someone who is infected coughs or sneezes. These droplets hang on to surfaces like someone’s hands, doorknobs, rails etc and when you touch them they get transferred to your hand and then reach your lungs when you touch your mouth or face. Therefore to prevent spread of this disease a number of precautions have to be taken. One is washing hands with soap and water thoroughly or with an alcohol based sanitiser. Then we should also avoid touching our face with our hands. The most important way to prevent spread of this virus is “social Distancing”. A safe distance from people is about three to six feet. One should avoid crowds so that there is no physical contact. Greet people with Namaste or adab or just a verbal greeting instead of shaking hands.<br />
Many countries of the world including India are now in a state of lockdown. This has been done to ensure that there is no physical contact between people and the spread of the virus is contained. People have been asked to stay indoors and all schools, colleges and a large number of offices and institutions have been closed.<br />
During this lockdown period when we are required to stay in our homes and not venture out a number of situations may arise. When venturing out people should stand at a safe distance from each other. There is no cause for panic if precautions are taken. At home children will be restless. They need to be kept busy. Everyone in the family will have to take on responsibility of household chores as house- helps may not be able to come. In an enclosed space tempers may rise. Keep cool,keep calm. Watching the television, playing board games, learning new skills from each other or the internet are good ways to pass the time.Listen to the radio esp All India Radio which has some of the most educative and informative programmes on air. Go back to the ways older generation used to keep themselves busy with story telling or playing Antakshari.<br />
The government has taken steps to make life smoother for the citizens by arranging for food and vegetable supplies. Chemists shops and other essential goods shops like groceries and home delivery of food are still open.With active help from all its citizens Let us hope that this lockdown will help us fight the pandemic and India will be able to contain and control it.<br />
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Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-28605628854599137642020-03-25T13:12:00.003+05:302020-03-25T13:12:40.407+05:30Pongala Mahotsavam—A Festival of Women<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">India is land of diversity and its different regions have
customs and traditions which are very unique and hold a lot of significance.
The home of an ancient civilization it has traditions which have been carried
on for centuries. It is a land of gods and goddesses. God is worshipped not
only as the only absolute “one” omnipresent and omnipotent but also in
different and manifold manifestations and with different names, forms and
divine attributes. According to ancient puranas, Shiva and Shakti both were
worshipped. In India the female form of God has been worshipped with as much
devotion as the male form.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">No wonder then that in one of the southern states of this
country we witness the largest congregation of women for a religious activity. In
fact this gathering has even entered into the Guinness Book of World records in
1997 and 2009.The certificate given by the Guinness Book of world record states
that: ‘<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The largest annual gathering of
women is achieved by 2.5 million women in an event organized by the Attukal
Bhagvathy temple in Kerala India on 10<sup>th</sup> March 2009’.</b> A gathering
of 25 lakh women in one place. Isnt it amazing? The number is increasing every
year and has reached upto forty lakh in recent years. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Attukal Bhagvathy</b>
temple in Trivandrum is an ancient temple and is also known as the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sabarimala of Women</b> because most of its
devotees are women. So much so that during the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Pongala<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mahotsavam</b> men are
forbidden to enter the temple. Several legends are associated with this temple.
According to mythology, Attukal Bhagvathy is an incarnation of Kannaki who was
the heroine of the Tamil epic Chilapathikaran written by The Tamil poet Ilango
Adikal. Her husband was falsely accused of theft and beheaded by the king. Kannaki
cursed the city of Madurai and left the city. On her way to Kodungallur she took
a sojourn at Attukal. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kannaki is also
the incarnation of Bhagvathy hence Bhagvathy is the presiding diety of this
temple.<span style="background: white; color: #222222;"> Another story says that
‘Attukal devi’ is Bhadrakali, born from the third eye of Lord Shiva to kill the
demon king Daruka. Mother Bhadrakali is a form of Shakti (Mahakali) worshipped
mainly in Kerala. ‘Bhadra’ means good and ‘Kali’ means goddess of time. So
Bhadrakali is often referred as the goddess of prosperity, time and salvation.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Whatever be the origin, the
Goddess in the temple of Attukal is worshipped as the Supreme Mother, creator
of all living beings and the mighty preserver as well as destroyer of them all.</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Pongala is a ten day long festival Oof this temple and commences
in the Karthika star in the Malayalam month of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Makar-Kumbham</b> which is February-March by the English Calendar. The
festival begins with <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Kappikettu</b>
ceremony when the idol of Devi is adorned with Kappi or bangles.The ceremony is
accompanied by musical renderings of the story of Kodungallur Bhagvathy
annihilating the Pandyan king and symbolises the victory of good over evil. The
temples and the nearby area are decorated and bear a very festive look. The
musical offerings, bhajans and chanting of the various names of the goddess
continue for nine days. However it is on the 9<sup>th</sup> day, when the
Pooram Nakshatra coincides with full moon night that this festival reaches its
zenith. All roads in Trivandrum are lined with brick hearths and earthenware
pots. The area in a radius of five kms from the Attukal Bhagvathy temple is
treated as consecrated ground for this ritual and all houses, shops, commercial
establishments keep their doors open on this day for thr devotees. Women from
all over Kerala start converging to this temple in the very early morning hours
of the 9<sup>th</sup> day. One can see crowds and crowds of women carrying
earthen pots, jaggery, rice, coconut, firewood and going to their designated
places on the roadside to build hearths and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>cook the Pongala or the sweet jaggery rice in the open, as an offering
to the goddess. They wear new saris called Pongala saris. For Pongala shops
keep saris for as low as Rs 75 so that even the poorest can afford to wear a
new sari for this ritual. The signal for lighting of the fire in the hearth is
given by the head priest of the temple at the auspicious time or <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">muhurtam</i></b>.
First the fire in the temple kitchen <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">thadippaly</b>
is lit by the chief priest. Then the hearth or the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">panadara aduppu</b> prepared in the temple premises is lit by the co
priest to prepare the Ponagala. This is followed by a beating of drums and then
lakhs of brick hearths on the roadside of Trivandrum are ignited and women
prepare varieties of sweet rice as an offering to Attukalamma to bless them
with prosperity and fulfill their wishes. Of course no traffic movement is permitted
in the area around the temple that day and all schools, colleges, offices are
closed. No men are allowed entry into the consecrated grounds. The devotees do
not eat till the Goddess has been offered Pongala in the nivedyam ritual. This
can be sometimes around two pm in the afternoon. After the offering the priests
extinguish the fire in the temple hearths.This sanctified water is supplied to
all the devotees on the roadside to extinguish their hearths. Now the devotees
can go and distribute their Pongala to friends, neighbours, relatives and their
family members. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It is indeed an atmosphere of festivity but also of devotion
and faith. The women sitting on the sides of the roads, in new saris under the
scorching sun cooking on brick stoves with firewood and in earthen pots have a
prayer on their lips at all times. Their faith in the goddess is unflinching, pure
and absolute. They have lit the flames of faith and offered to the goddess her
favourite food.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioolUMDDcXnYgfwDAxwzlBSZoeq8nTSDX3-3_GQTj_KORkR493zspV2Ecgb0GUyiLYdqhhpNaRo0QHnp7Nmss-bvuh6Ynm6iZiG-WDrn6B5gTWZS3OstZ15KgX6hjn-V0R2wvHa0Ta4C8/s1600/IMG_7246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1152" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioolUMDDcXnYgfwDAxwzlBSZoeq8nTSDX3-3_GQTj_KORkR493zspV2Ecgb0GUyiLYdqhhpNaRo0QHnp7Nmss-bvuh6Ynm6iZiG-WDrn6B5gTWZS3OstZ15KgX6hjn-V0R2wvHa0Ta4C8/s320/IMG_7246.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Pongala also has two more rituals. One is the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">THALAPPOLI</b> by young girls who make
offerings to the Goddess for health wealth and happiness.The other is <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kothiyottam by boys under the age of twelve.They
are considered to be the wounded soldiers of the Goddess Mahishasur Mardini . The
boys<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>have done a week long penance in
which they have to sleep on the mat, observe strict diet restrictions,stay in
the temple, perform 1008 prostrations before the deity in the morning and
evening. On the ninth day they perform the Kutthiyottam with the hope that the
Goddess will bless them with inner and outer beauty and health,wealth and
happiness.They accompany the Goddess when she goes in a divine procession to
the Sastha temple in Manacaud reaching there in the wee hours of the morning. After
a few rituals she comes back to Attukal and is welcomed with a “<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">deeparadhanam”</b>. The boys are delivered
of their penance in an orderly manner. The ten day festival ends with the
ceremonial removal of the Kappu and a sacrificial offering called <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“Kuruthi Tharpanam</b>” at night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Witnessing this unique festival and the faith of the women
devotees is a moving experience and representative of the diversity and
richness of our ancient heritage.It is a land where the continuity of our
heritage has been preserved. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-9353981160700730292019-09-08T17:04:00.001+05:302021-09-07T10:39:55.137+05:30Us is just a bundle of emotions<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
What is us if not just<br />
a bundle of emotions<br />
Not work, not just a job<br />
Duties and obligations must<br />
Yet with no feeling, no love,<br />
Where is the passion?<br />
You look at years and years<br />
And make sense of what you have done<br />
Excellence and success<br />
And all things right.<br />
Touch your heart, look deep within<br />
darkness<br />
No laughter, no tears, no surrender<br />
No one<br />
Just a long line of<br />
Works well done!</div>
Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-42657764365310237742019-09-08T17:01:00.002+05:302019-09-08T17:01:19.229+05:30We are killing the trees <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There were lakhs of us here<br />
Looking at each other<br />
Growing,deeper and taller<br />
Shadier,<br />
Sheltering lives,nests with little ones<br />
The breeze through the leaves<br />
Humming a melody<br />
Holding life together<br />
The clouds stopped to drain<br />
The ground received bountifully<br />
Holding firm the earth .<br />
Sunlight filtered through small holes<br />
Now there are only holes left<br />
Big gaping holes<br />
No breeze sings a melody now<br />
The earth gives way<br />
The sun batters<br />
The nests are going away<br />
Searching for their lost homes.</div>
Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-16456108944625356862018-11-06T12:18:00.001+05:302021-09-07T10:44:40.272+05:30The path to light <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
And when the lights shine and<br />
banish the darkness<br />
And a hundred thousand diyas show the path<br />
Evil hides its devilish face<br />
And yet has nowhere to go<br />
It disappears,it dissolves<br />
And negatives words and thoughts<br />
Have no legs to stand<br />
In the dictionary or our minds<br />
The flame twinkles and lights a flame in our eyes<br />
We see the world devoid of anger and hate<br />
Love for everyone and like Ram the honourable king<br />
Whose return to Ayodhya we celebrate<br />
Honour the smallest the humblest<br />
And speak alike to the mightiest<br />
Respect adversaries for their virtues<br />
And wisdom guide us always<br />
And so when the diyas are lit<br />
And the lights shine<br />
Let us be gentle and kind<br />
And respectful<br />
Strengthen and protect our lights<br />
And be mindful of others lights<br />
And so when the mud Diyas are lit<br />
Let us go back to the earth<br />
Repay its debts and promise to<br />
take care of it<br />
And light our paths forever !<br />
HAPPY DIWALI<br />
<br />
(Poonam 6th November 2018)</div>
Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-53526556506873714072018-08-01T14:09:00.000+05:302018-10-07T19:31:00.319+05:30A Beginners guide to the Green <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">It has been six years now since I first touched a club<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">A day that made me wander into many a tree and many a shrub.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">It was the damndest day I tell you and I cannot decide till now<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Whether I call it sad or happy 'cos I really got hooked and how.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">The Irons, the woods, the driver, the putter not to forget the
wedges<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Looked quite pretty in the bag but drove me to the hedges!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">I practised and learnt for quite a while and then I hit the course<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">And mistakenly thought I'd perfected the swing with just the right
force!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">The small dimpled devilish cheeky thing looked up from
near my feet<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Seemed to say you may have the balls to swing but I refuse to
meet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">You have the back swing wrong my friend, your hand has not to bend<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">And when I had straightened my hand just so, there was no ball at
the end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">I looked up puzzled, scratched my head, I thought I had got
it right<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">The know-all with me smirked and said you raised the arm too
tight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">He knows the shots, he knows the distance he knows the club to use<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">He knows what went wrong with you and his looks will cook
your goose.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">So the arm was raised just right and the ball was smacked so
good<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Happy I looked straight ahead to see it vanishing in the wood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">I found I had violated another rule the golden one of all<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Sure you may watch nature's best,with your eyes on the ball.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">I sighed, frowned, stamped about and I worked myself
into a lather<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">And I swore to keep my bloody head down till the ball lost its
swagger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">I hadn't reckoned for another error in this unfolding comedy of
errors<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">The follow-through had not been followed through and that was a
terror.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">The ball is lost, it had to be found or count an extra stroke<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">While others give you dirty looks as if I was a joke.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">The putting hole I can clearly see and think the ball will sink<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">However it thinks differently and from the bunker gives a
wink.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">The club is wrong, the birds chirp too much, the sun is in my eye<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">I knew I could have got this one but for this twitch in my thigh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">I swore I would never set foot on this or any course again,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Never would I touch a club or look a ball or suffer so much pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">But come morning and I knew I had to go back to the green<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">'Cos I knew just what I'd done wrong and what should have been.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">And so there I was day after day swearing and muttering a
threat<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Thinking I would quit today and sell my rotten set!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Just then my second was on the green on a hole par five no
less <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">And I knew nothing was over yet and 'fore' was shouted with
happiness! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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</div>
Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-38605789361222048162018-04-12T15:44:00.005+05:302018-04-12T15:44:53.142+05:30Seven kings and a Begum -Qutub Shahi Tombs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Hyderabad is a city of history,of culture,of romance,of culinary delights,of pearls,of Dakhni,of tradition and of monuments.The awe inspiring majestic Golconda fort looks down on the city from its perch and was the seat of power of the Qutub Shahi kings of this land.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have been an ardent fan of the Heritage walks in any city.For the layperson it gives interesting insights into the history and stories that go with each monument.So it was gladly that I signed up for the Jashn-e-Hyderabad trails and joined a large group to discover the very intriguingly titled "Seven kings and a Begum Sahiba". From the Cantonment side we pass through the Fateh Darwaza of Golconda fort,go pass the fort on the left and reach the Qutub Shahi tombs.It is a royal graveyard where the seven kings and one queen of the Qutub Shahi dynasty are buried along with about 40 other tombs of their relatives and doctors and even two courtesans.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjId6NEaPHz-grr8C8KA8TBqhMi2iX6kMTVqZXMHukvdhIq90FNnmflmfhSiSzZMAFSpVd45yeI7EPWgQhhCRHflnxJ59hoaF0eaRRILRUKm5je5b779zdAyfKtAylzvAqNFtjx2ovEDWk/s1600/mosqueview.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="229" data-original-width="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjId6NEaPHz-grr8C8KA8TBqhMi2iX6kMTVqZXMHukvdhIq90FNnmflmfhSiSzZMAFSpVd45yeI7EPWgQhhCRHflnxJ59hoaF0eaRRILRUKm5je5b779zdAyfKtAylzvAqNFtjx2ovEDWk/s1600/mosqueview.png" /></a></div>
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We assemble at the ticket counter and promptly at 4.30pm Gopalkrishna calls us to order.It is a large group and it is a happy thing to see so many people from different spheres showing an interest in the history of the city.We move towards the tombs and assemble in the gardens of the tomb of Abdullah Qutub Shah.<br />
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In the days when the city was not so crowded and there were no high rise buildings the eight domes of the bigger tombs were clearly visible from almost anywhere in the city.The tombs are about 2 kms north of Golconda fort.Going for a Heritage walk is like a moving story telling session.Just before we enter the main gate where our tickets were checked is an unfinished tomb on the left.This is the tomb of Abdul Hasan Tana Shah,the last Qutub Shahi ruler who died a prisoner of Aurangzeb and is buried in Daulatabad .He lived the life of a mendicant in his early years and was named Tana Shah by a Sufi saint meaning child saint.A benevolent ruler he spent the last twelve years of his life as a prisoner and sadly is not buried with his family.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeIo300v-SkmnNY_xzI7BDsQpZIDbOocLvPxUZw_OxJT5P09YA56lz0RGAXq5voK2-AS0mcu2TDhuT_Kcs1M_RH2HMbrQ6RnXO52aUU8RycIwcEc-q-jXpZ9wmNBD_6yBxV5NpoI8010/s1600/tanashah.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="229" data-original-width="229" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeIo300v-SkmnNY_xzI7BDsQpZIDbOocLvPxUZw_OxJT5P09YA56lz0RGAXq5voK2-AS0mcu2TDhuT_Kcs1M_RH2HMbrQ6RnXO52aUU8RycIwcEc-q-jXpZ9wmNBD_6yBxV5NpoI8010/s320/tanashah.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Incomplete tomb of Tanashah<br /></td></tr>
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We enter the main complex,assemble at Abdullah Qutub Shah's tomb and start a voyage of discovery of the kings who found this remarkable city and gave a century of peace and prosperity.All tombs are surrounded by gardens and are made on raised plinths.Bulbous domes, parapets, columns,arches, minarets and spires on top resembling the spires on Hindu temples.We are introduced to the lotus designs,pineapple motifs,some blue and green tiles which originally had been used for the overlay design of the tombs,arches,minarets,galleries,Hindu brackets and pendants Gopal points out several unique features of the architecture and the motifs.<br />
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We assemble again at Mohammad Quli Qutub Shah's tomb,the man who founded Hyderabad,built the Charminar and whose 453rd birth anniversary is being celebrated this month.We hear of court intrigues and conspiracies and to the south we can see the Golconda fort clearly where Jamsheed Quli Shah murdered his own father to sit on the throne and how Ibrahim Quli Shah was sent to and brought up in the court of the Raja of Vijaynagar to protect him.He learnt Telugu and literature and became a patron of art and culture. Ibrahim married a Hindu girl and was thus a tolerant loved ruler.He tells how line of sight and being in the visual space is very important and hence all temples or palaces were built on hills. The Charminar, visible from Golconda fort and from even his tomb, built by Quli Qutub Shah in the village where for a girl he loved lived so he could see the place always.But that is nother tale with different versions.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZFqQVxSU5wqm4rZn7RLo7bcqEXH-2GfQuVXjJUFRXM9MwxMMCHmDT3XWMj6pGlnYp-F4ntyJ6BCuvzn1NwpboAFJu6Pbpex3hHUVHdlF8U99xLHibfXUCSTaYaHE9MMWm-s_drw2ULvU/s1600/qulishah.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="229" data-original-width="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZFqQVxSU5wqm4rZn7RLo7bcqEXH-2GfQuVXjJUFRXM9MwxMMCHmDT3XWMj6pGlnYp-F4ntyJ6BCuvzn1NwpboAFJu6Pbpex3hHUVHdlF8U99xLHibfXUCSTaYaHE9MMWm-s_drw2ULvU/s1600/qulishah.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quli Qutub Shah lies here and in the backdrop is Golconda Fort<br /></td></tr>
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There is a mortuary bath nearby where the bodies would be dressed before their burial.Interestingly the gate or tunnel once used for a funeral procession from the Golconda Fort to this necropolis would be sealed forever so that spirits of the dead do not go back.The Hamam is in Persian style and hs channels for the water to flow.<br />
We move to an interesting tomb of Hayat Bakshi Begum,the daughter, wife and mother of kings.Stories say that Aurangzeb came to meet her and was so impressed by her wisdom and dignity that he married his son tio her younger daughter and did not trouble Golconda for next thirty years. Her mausoleum is truly befitting such a great lady the Ma Saheba of Golconda.Next to it is a mosque with pineapple motifs, mashaals and corns,two imposing minarets and calligraphic inscriptions Folklore has it the Aurangzeb being an austere Muslim did not want to offer prayers in a mosque which was so embellished.So there stands a small mosque just at the entrance of Bakshi Begum's tomb,small,simple,built in a day so Aurangzeb could offer namaz. Another account is that one of the motifs on the arch of the wall looks like a lion and hence Aurangzeb did not offer prayers there and got another small mosque built .Whatever be the truth it all adds up to the mystique of these historic monuments.There were times when days when they would be covered with carpets,ceilings with chandeliers,and tombs with velvet canopies and tops with golden spires.Readings of the Quran held at regular intervals.Time is a great leveller.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi37qMRdt2y3igMKgdvjjswy7wjBVwrqKE3oK1l1skUpXCtlw4rFobLk3DVxd_qTQeGyctGUTyLsaLxQxgnevvBNvfIFpVSTj1UGaX2yuquOZll6tq-OrG2Xi1R6X4e2LzngO6u82kgzHk/s1600/insidetomb.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="229" data-original-width="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi37qMRdt2y3igMKgdvjjswy7wjBVwrqKE3oK1l1skUpXCtlw4rFobLk3DVxd_qTQeGyctGUTyLsaLxQxgnevvBNvfIFpVSTj1UGaX2yuquOZll6tq-OrG2Xi1R6X4e2LzngO6u82kgzHk/s1600/insidetomb.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside the tomb of Ma Saheba Hayat Bakshi Begum<br /></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjId6NEaPHz-grr8C8KA8TBqhMi2iX6kMTVqZXMHukvdhIq90FNnmflmfhSiSzZMAFSpVd45yeI7EPWgQhhCRHflnxJ59hoaF0eaRRILRUKm5je5b779zdAyfKtAylzvAqNFtjx2ovEDWk/s1600/mosqueview.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="229" data-original-width="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjId6NEaPHz-grr8C8KA8TBqhMi2iX6kMTVqZXMHukvdhIq90FNnmflmfhSiSzZMAFSpVd45yeI7EPWgQhhCRHflnxJ59hoaF0eaRRILRUKm5je5b779zdAyfKtAylzvAqNFtjx2ovEDWk/s1600/mosqueview.png" /></a></div>
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Some other interesting tombs are those of two physicians in the court of Abdullah Qutub Shah,which are open from all sides because anyone should have access to hakims at anytime.The famous courtesan Taramati and Premmati are also buried here in the complex of their patrons.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsFQkt417eJQbFvgKeG9um9y7_koEJF76ZJjgPyn_BkjXVFsn75j_EcCPAfQEsCk2lEWSdo6t8WOKmGZ-cBQKul7lWG4q2wNZ0T9v5Q1PUWRxdRRa7ESr6QavTXpP2p8EZ8R4IfEAYXTs/s1600/baoli2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="229" data-original-width="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsFQkt417eJQbFvgKeG9um9y7_koEJF76ZJjgPyn_BkjXVFsn75j_EcCPAfQEsCk2lEWSdo6t8WOKmGZ-cBQKul7lWG4q2wNZ0T9v5Q1PUWRxdRRa7ESr6QavTXpP2p8EZ8R4IfEAYXTs/s1600/baoli2.png" /></a></div>
We visited the Baoli or step well three tier structure which has been restored some three years ago by conservation efforts.The rainwater collected here and was used to water the gardens and orchards of this sprawling necropolis.The walls were cool to the touch and the water collected is now being used for irrigation of the place.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0T5KlC3oiU4mJ3SlBlkj0N-phNmR4CloB715sC-zyRnC0s6bS5llhBemndWXFhra1vrphyIzKckMoHicYnpuiBHTMsIenXcL2fB0aWa9B2vix-KwbGK1Rfhwb4F9vSezpG6768Zm-OWY/s1600/corridor.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="229" data-original-width="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0T5KlC3oiU4mJ3SlBlkj0N-phNmR4CloB715sC-zyRnC0s6bS5llhBemndWXFhra1vrphyIzKckMoHicYnpuiBHTMsIenXcL2fB0aWa9B2vix-KwbGK1Rfhwb4F9vSezpG6768Zm-OWY/s1600/corridor.png" style="cursor: move;" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corridors of time and spirits past and present </td></tr>
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The Qutub Shahi tombs covers a vast area and it would take much more than two hours to explore it.Fortunately l<a href="http://www.akdn.org/sites/akdn/files/media/publications/2015_annual_report_-_qutb_shahi_heritage_park.pdf" target="_blank">ot of restoration work is being undertaken </a> and one can see signs of work going on.This is indeed a boon for the city and monuments. But the graceful tombs of this Royal graveyard warrant another longer visit to appreciate the dynasty that gave Hyderabad to us,the city,its monuments and its culture.<br />
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Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-8401475824588461072018-04-01T10:42:00.001+05:302018-04-02T08:55:27.269+05:30There he is on Rainbow Bridge <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The doctor told me it is time to let Simba
go. She gave him two days or at the most a painful one week. He gave
himself just one day and passed away late at night on 17th of January. A tumour
in the back pressing his intestine, hind legs weak with arthritis and bearing
the weight of his tumour and then two days ago his front legs refused to
support his weight. It was time for him to say good bye to us. The doctor had
advised us to put him to sleep instead of prolonging his agony and pain. It was
a tough decision for which we were unable to prepare ourselves. How could we do
this to Simba who just put his head in our lap and trustingly accepted any
number of injections in his body when he was unwell. No anaesthesia, no muzzles
were ever required. Just our comforting trusting presence. His faith, trust and
uncomplaining loyalty towards us could not be broken;</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">we could not even think
about it.Through an uncomfortable evening and late night spent with us,he had already decided he would not let us go through this agony and torment. While we
slept The Saint just trotted off to the Rainbow Bridge where only
goodness, hard-to-guess grins,wagging tails,wise eyes beneath bushy eyebrows,padded soft paws, trusting hearts,tilted heads, belly rubs and friendly growls
abound.As they say,“The dog is a gentleman;I hope to go to his heaven not
mans". </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> But Simba is to be remembered for
all the lovely times he left us with enriching our lives with his hugs and his
nuzzles. Full of energy, playfulness and love he was everywhere, wherever
he went. In this house in Hyderabad he made each corner of the huge compound
and the house his very own territory. He would be with us, with the men working
in the gardens, with those taking care of the house inside, with all the
visitors who would come, with the trees, with the flowers, the ducks and
whatever was left. He loved company and would feel mighty offended and even
sulk if we did not introduce him to the guests at a party. A friendly bark
here, a step back and a lifting of the head to give a long howl to say this my
house and I am the boss here but never a low growl at the guests.And soon he
would make himself comfortable in some corner or right in the centre where
everyone was sitting.He says I could not help you in preparing the food or
doing up the house but surely I can be of help in the conversation!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I look at the corner, empty today,where
he would have his food.There was a food corner for him in every house that we
lived in and he would not take any titbits from the dining table.You
don't serve a gentleman by giving him food under the table! Oh no sir,I will
dine in a proper way at the right time and please ensure good clean water.When
he was a pup I recall giving him an omelette each day once the kids had left
for school.He would be sitting by the kitchen door at 8 am everyday waiting
patiently for me to give him his morning breakfast.But never a bark out of
him.Not demanding just patience unlimited. That was the way he was.Patient, knowing
that his meal would eventually be served. And this was true for everything all
the time. And the faith in us that we would not fail to serve him.A faith so
immense that he never barked for his food. When he was hungry he would just go
stand near his eating bowls and if they were empty at the kitchen door.No
barks just patience and trust.A trust I agonise to think we would have
been forced to break to save him from suffering. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">His huge body and large size ensured that
his presence could not be ignored. Sprawled in the corridor,near the bed,I n
the garden, just outside the front door,often outside in the garden, no home
was too big for him.In his younger days he would be sitting by the gate at a
vantage point to look at the traffic outside Now in his 11<sup>th</sup> year
he was not bothered. But he waited for all the family members to come and meet
him. He waited for Christmas vacations for my daughter to see him,he waited
for my son who was to be back in India from Germany in January and he waited
for their grandparents who had looked after him when he was a pup. And then after
seeing everyone the grand old member of
our family made a graceful exit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I just planted a tree by your grave Simba
and I hope you wagged your tail when I did that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-6646909808031044702016-09-01T22:37:00.001+05:302016-11-05T12:04:22.108+05:30The lane that leads to school<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZVoGmRJBbv3Rlj-_q0BQXn2DFtDA6y0sj9x3cvabaxXyjuTdYEKBGrAbtyLgfclmSuDI68LixfcWBsHORfgZ3Gk6TxzWSS94e7jRxZ8GgEjrg_2DSrsAi24K4VwZ79Z692R2QVLU4SI/s1600/13958164_10154498413004444_7307497842346594068_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZVoGmRJBbv3Rlj-_q0BQXn2DFtDA6y0sj9x3cvabaxXyjuTdYEKBGrAbtyLgfclmSuDI68LixfcWBsHORfgZ3Gk6TxzWSS94e7jRxZ8GgEjrg_2DSrsAi24K4VwZ79Z692R2QVLU4SI/s320/13958164_10154498413004444_7307497842346594068_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">It was a pilgrimage. It was a homecoming.
It was a memory lane. It was yesterday once more. It was a bunch of yapping
fifty plus menopausal women who rediscovered their giggles and howls of
laughter. Laughed like they had they had forgotten what it was to shriek and
laugh. And inside they cried for the years gone by. They cried for the school
which was still the same and yet had changed. They looked into each corner
trying to remember the way it had been.Trying hard not to hide the disappointment
at seeing the changes,taking it in their stride and yet in their heart of
hearts missing the ways that were. 36 years on,things have to change.The old order changeth to give place to the new. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">We closed our eyes to recapture what was ours. The uninhibited running to meet each 'girl' as she entered the gate was the hi of every morning as we cycled ,came on rickshaws ,dropped by parents or walked down to school. The embraces had a warmth which comes from a flame which has been kept burning in some subterranean region waiting for this very moment to come out. There was the basketball court ,the baskets difficult to uproot I suppose. The familiar blue checks led many a hand to unconsciously touch their collars resulting in some silent,some loud sighs. The discipline of the years were lost. Teachers, Principals, officers, mothers all became an unruly bunch. So good it was a Saturday and school was having some Saturday activity. We had young curious onlookers who were in turns aghast, amused and puzzled by our very rowdy, very excited behaviour. We crowded in to the assembly hall tempted to fall into lines according to our houses. We climbed on to the beloved stage.That at least was still the same except for a lone table tennis table in one corner. We never did have table tennis in school. The piano,to whose cords we had marched out of the hall after morning assembly was missing,discovered later in the adjacent room. Nothing could discipline us now.We posed,we touched the walls with affection, we peeped into rooms and moaned the rooms we could not find. We literally ran from one end of the school to the other, commenting on the changes, the was and the is. We could not believe that so many of us ,fifteen almost could have met after decades in the school.We could not believe that we had managed to plan a trip to the school together.Our class 10th was todays class 9.Our chemistry lab was now class 10.Oh, and our teachers were all gone. Many have passed on to the other world, many have retired. None from our days remain. It made us feel so old.Our age hit us. School was not the same without seeing those much loved,much admired, much feared faces.They who have given us values ,our education, our moral strengths ....she came to met us at just one request from us. And then the school came alive for us.This is what we have imbibed in school, the large heartedness, the connect ,the bond of being a family. The 'miss' who took us under her wings when as five year olds many of us left our parents fingers and held on to our teachers' or the 'miss' who was a terror yet opened the world of Shakespeare ,the poetry of Keats , the stories of Premchand and even the sound of music to us came alive then. Each breath we took was of memories and names and faces; of incidents, of friends, of activities, of clubs and the ice cream and chiclet man.It was as if the present was no more, just the past gloriously golden in memories. The rough edges smoothened by that very heady drug called nostalgia!I thought I saw the swish of a crisp cotton sari behind that desk, someone else heard the beat of march past drums. A 'present miss' echoed in the classrooms and the charts on the softboard behind bore our mark. So many moments to relive,so many years and days tumbling over one another.So much just pouring out from our hearts.Nothing can keep pace. And then it was time to go. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I won't say I've had enough. But enough to make hearts smile for many a while. Enough to put the skip back in the steps and the head a spin. Enough to be fifteen and less .Enough to be grateful.</span></div>
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Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-65469092426281508802016-06-13T17:27:00.002+05:302016-11-05T12:06:15.725+05:30Love is a four-legged word!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span><span style="font-family: "calibri";">When does a family of four have
five members? When does one pair of eyes
drown all the shouting and shrieking tantrums of kids? When do you love to take
a walk even if it is two at night? It
happens only when there is a dog as a pet in the house. Life changes and how! So it happened when Simba entered our lives as
a lively two month old. He walked into our house all hairy coat and tail, white
with black spots, huge for a pup with eyes that could melt the Arctic ice and
paws that took him straight in our laps and onward to our hearts. He resides
there ever since.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"> Simba is our majestic St Bernard,
now of course the elder of the family at his dog year age of nine and a half
years. Sadly the years show. We reminisce of the time when he would climb over
us after having had his meal or when he was feeling particularly affectionate. He
is huge and so his expression of love would be a knock down 55 kg hug with his
paws on our shoulders and nose nuzzling our necks. We had to firmly plant our
feet on the ground to steady ourselves. Simba is a part of our family and has a
different relationship with everyone. He is friends with Akanksha, after all
both are children. He fights with her, plays with her but is a little scared of
her too like all younger siblings. Harsh is not a keen dog lover so Simba keeps
a distance from him, a very working relationship with the son whom he meets
very infrequently. Harsh comes home only on vacation so Simba goes to him for a
bit of scratching under his chin or a little petting and that’s that. With me
he knows who rules the kitchen and where he should go when he is hungry. But
his best is reserved for Amit, the man of the House and the Master of Simba’s
heart. He is the one Simba idolises. There is no one else for him when Amit is
around. Amit back from office is the highpoint of Simba’s day. “First pet me”
says his bark and frisky impatient body language, “then do anything else”. When
Amit comes back from TD one should see Simba’s tail. It wags violently in
happiness on seeing anyone of us after a few days absence but with the master
it goes round and round in joy and bliss. It is a moment of unalloyed happiness
to see Simba like this. His favourite place is laps either Amit’s or Akanksha’s
and sometimes mine too. He thinks he is small enough to fit in there! There is
a lot of difference in the young Simba and the old. Earlier he would be all too
eager to sit in the lap, now he just puts his head there and is at peace.
Simba’s affection is overwhelming and over powering. But he is protective too. He
is wary of strangers and will continue to bark and make life miserable for a
person who is scared of him or whom he does not trust.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: calibri;"> </span><span style="font-family: calibri;">But if you were to ask me about
what Simba likes best then I’d say it is travelling. We go on long trips in our
Qualis with Simba at the back. He simply adores it. He has enough space at the
back to move around or sit on one of the seats and look out of the window. If
he gets bored with the window view he will stand up and look out of the rear
door or just face the front with his head resting on someone’s shoulders. I
remember a time when we had driven up to Kasauli. Simba refused to come out of
the car wanting to go further! We were dog-tired but our dog was fresh as a daisy!
If he finds any car door open, he will swiftly get into the car ready to go.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: calibri;"> </span><span style="font-family: calibri;">I could go on and on about him. He
is a gentle giant, big body ,bigger heart!And in his heart resides boundless
love for us, our extended family members, our friends,puppies and would you
believe it , for corncobs and Shrewsbury biscuits. He can smell if we are
having hot ‘bhuttas’ or Shrewsbury biscuits a mile away and will come running, drooling
and tongue ‘a lapping’. He will stand there waiting for his share and a short sharp
bark if we ignore him. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: calibri;"> </span><span style="font-family: calibri;">As I write this he is sleeping
near my feet, stretched out on the floor. Occasionally I feel a paw urging me
to scratch him, or a head coming stealthily nearer to rest on my foot. I move
my leg and he will raise his head cocked to one side as if to say “Hey,Can’t
you sit still” and then he is off to sleep again or if I scratch him he turns over
and lies on his back all his four feet in the air, his most ecstatic position.
Difficult to judge from his face but I can imagine he is grinning. As am I. Smiling
fondly and thinking,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">“A dog doesn’t care whether you
are rich or poor,</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Smart or dumb </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Give him your heart and he will
give you his!”</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi35uYM4WPJLWTIflud01XEPsmqjm_tUXV6VRN7Ul8VosdMMNETErTqo1fDwibjsm0WP41bXtqYh-sc41rP7DxTIfvLJm4VWeqagMdg_KeiM3G00pdaPfUvDYa2Xl1bHPezSjZ54C-bGg/s1600/1546424_10202449731032139_1706191481_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi35uYM4WPJLWTIflud01XEPsmqjm_tUXV6VRN7Ul8VosdMMNETErTqo1fDwibjsm0WP41bXtqYh-sc41rP7DxTIfvLJm4VWeqagMdg_KeiM3G00pdaPfUvDYa2Xl1bHPezSjZ54C-bGg/s320/1546424_10202449731032139_1706191481_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-51559692598297330702015-05-28T12:54:00.001+05:302015-05-28T23:02:37.338+05:30Lets start at the very beginning.......First day in Leh <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<o:p> </o:p>Acclimatisation was the buzzword
when we announced our
plans to travel to Leh and the
rest of Ladakh. The oxygen levels at 10000 ft are much lower than in the plains
and we were forewarned of
breathlessness, headaches and in case we over exerted ourselves on the first
day even damage to our very limited
stock of grey cells! So when the Air India flight landed at about 8.30 in the morning we were whisked
away to the excellently located Indus cottage and the first thing was the medical by the good
doctor. Once we were declared fit and fine, given a list of dos and don’ts and medicines to gulp down before breakfast and dinner to avoid HA aka
high altitude sickness and told to beware of any headaches or sleepiness we looked around to the place of mystique , of
Buddhists , of army posts ,of prayers wheels and Gonpas and huge intimidating mountains encircling us.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
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The first day advisably is to be
taken at a leisurely place to give the body time to adjust to the decreased
oxygen levels. So we set out to sit
beside the gurgling clear waters of the Indus River.The eponymous Officers mess where we stayed was right
on the banks of Indus and we enjoyed the absolutely beautiful view of the
mountains in the distance and the not so very wide river meandering around the
curves and passing us by on its onward journey to Pakistan. We dared to dip our
hands in the water and were punished for our impunity by a chill that almost
froze them. Even in mid May the water is still cold coming as it is from way high
up somewhere in China and fed by glaciers. The pilot had announced a
temperature of 13 deg centigrade but the wind made it colder. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The mountains surrounding Leh are not the green ones that one sees in
the Himalayas. They are barren and rocky and from a distance a very foreboding
brown .But more about them when we see them up close. The valley has few trees
,apricots and apples ,some poplars but not much more .The army is a major
presence here and our first stop was the
Hall of Fame both as a mark of respect to the indomitable spirit of our
soldiers and to be acquainted with Ladakh ,the land ,the people ,the
culture,flora and fauna and also with work and the sacrifices of our armed
forces. A model of the map of Ladakh gives us a fair idea of the geography with
the mountain ranges, the river systems ,
the borders with China and Pakistan and
the passes marked very creatively . <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY-FULYHDtr1tW-vgGZI64V0zCzOHVYHbhAyD4jSt_IQlvBQ4es_hMsnbZ50oA2mk4bWZFTc19suTfXOF4DasHNp8nrAuZ5coTm4cE6cNLr-CMVWpp0_J8RW4FDiFAFSO6FSbMtn1IY74/s1600/DSC_0154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY-FULYHDtr1tW-vgGZI64V0zCzOHVYHbhAyD4jSt_IQlvBQ4es_hMsnbZ50oA2mk4bWZFTc19suTfXOF4DasHNp8nrAuZ5coTm4cE6cNLr-CMVWpp0_J8RW4FDiFAFSO6FSbMtn1IY74/s320/DSC_0154.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside The Shanti Stupa </td></tr>
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Equipped with this knowledge , we felt we knew Ladakh …”the land of
passes” a bit better . Our next stop was the Shanti Stupa , a stupa built by
the Japanese. As we stood at the railings of the imposing structure we had a lovely birds’ eye view of the city of Leh below. Photographs done we came down and made our
way back to have some lunch and “to take it easy” on the first day . Evening was spent in the Main market , the “Connaught
place” equivalent of Leh and the Tibetan market down the slope selling mostly
Made in China stuff . Pashmina, Kashmir embroidered jackets and trinkets were
aplenty .<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2F3MbeX97uW8wAbA1kT8Sar2GL1bKRVzHA5LvupWCus3IixH_hzU3bx70guh7GrWvzlySttJCpw1TE57_isX96CHtW1cMqQ-ZrkFmRyWC8C6GvsL76lr4hMfae0Zf4sQ7A65xNVvkUfI/s1600/DSC_0176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2F3MbeX97uW8wAbA1kT8Sar2GL1bKRVzHA5LvupWCus3IixH_hzU3bx70guh7GrWvzlySttJCpw1TE57_isX96CHtW1cMqQ-ZrkFmRyWC8C6GvsL76lr4hMfae0Zf4sQ7A65xNVvkUfI/s320/DSC_0176.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leh from atop the Shanti Stupa </td></tr>
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The next day we woke without a
headache and any visible signs of restlessness or fatigue except for the cold
.So we were all geared for exploring Leh and then some more. Our first stop was
driving along the Indus to the Alchi
monastery , established sometime in 1020 AD by the Rinpoche Zangpo. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTzfvqQjJa7QQGbSga_mAJ488a4Ahjqgt37XfUL6CAs_GDP8mbiTq4QPZq5XC76OIG_j0pPRqG26VE5RxJcyuMo8x5rNtyRT8ZB-HNImd5gr0YfoBRoeRJLEvq8ng2uxq8M7zEjFn5Whk/s1600/DSC_0022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTzfvqQjJa7QQGbSga_mAJ488a4Ahjqgt37XfUL6CAs_GDP8mbiTq4QPZq5XC76OIG_j0pPRqG26VE5RxJcyuMo8x5rNtyRT8ZB-HNImd5gr0YfoBRoeRJLEvq8ng2uxq8M7zEjFn5Whk/s320/DSC_0022.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prayer wheel at Alchi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It is part of the
bigger Likir monastery headed by the Dalai Lama’s brother. A fee of 20 Rs per
head and the treasures of the monastery were opened to us.The Sumtsek temple
with imposing statues of the Avalokeetesvara Buddha,the Maitreya Buddha or the
future Buddha and Manjushree , the
Buddha of knowledge is the most important ones . The more than 1000 year old
wooden temple had hand paintings of
Buddha avatars and miniature Buddha on the wall and a quaint
wooden ladder leading to the first floor which is closed now. The structure
looked fragile ,not surprising, considering that Alchi is the oldest monastery
in Ladakh. There were three other smaller temples to each of these Buddhas with
mandalas and Bodhisatvas painted on the walls.The lama in charge of Alchi is
deputed from Likir and in his gentle way took us around this ancient place of
Buddhist learning.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
If the monastery took us back centuries , the next stop took us forward
to the wonders of science and engineering. We were
headed towards Alchi dam or the Nimmo Bazgo Hydel Project <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2LSDZXu9syatBczhQvTBUTusA_e-6FT3FTkMY4-zSweTt4BKGqbN1Oy_07BC-is1hROp1F5EHCWqOF0h47ibdHDXIL-slm593dWNOgV9jE7YWHzWBJQvAGJIh7EwxzXqQi0PMmWDnzpU/s1600/DSC_0029+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2LSDZXu9syatBczhQvTBUTusA_e-6FT3FTkMY4-zSweTt4BKGqbN1Oy_07BC-is1hROp1F5EHCWqOF0h47ibdHDXIL-slm593dWNOgV9jE7YWHzWBJQvAGJIh7EwxzXqQi0PMmWDnzpU/s320/DSC_0029+-+Copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view of the dam</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
the highest hydro-electric power station in the
world .Highest is a common adjective
here given the place’s elevation. Enroute we had passed the highest filling
station of Indane , not to forget the highest airfield,the highest HP Petrol
pump etc etc . The construction of this hydro station and its operation is a
remarkable engineering feat since the river freezes in winters
,temperatures drop to something like -30deg c ,the landslides and the Indus
water treaty with Pakistan. The Chief Engineer’s tales of how the Zanskaar river was blocked by a part of a
mountain , which toppled in a landslide
and stopped its flow and then as the
summer came and waters melted it caved in to let out a rush of water which
submerged some villages and would certainly have submerged the power station if
not for their engineering foresight not to forget the havoc further downstream
, were riveting. Sadly the full
potential of this generation is not being used fully for lack of
transmission facilities. But the city
of Leh and surrounding villages , the Army and Air Force now have electricity
24×7 . I had never seen a hydro project at such close quarters .<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ0Wl_gqD-1HGPN-_MKDB8WPwfwzC026qMk03AX11ffL8NQuCdd38wZKsEdTTUzm1eSGJSMsbXp3Zw4ANB-l-_LD43k0FqV1nJp85NBxL5GzQ90M18OJq_yveZAMq0z1LZ0VqB70m1DMc/s1600/DSC_0073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ0Wl_gqD-1HGPN-_MKDB8WPwfwzC026qMk03AX11ffL8NQuCdd38wZKsEdTTUzm1eSGJSMsbXp3Zw4ANB-l-_LD43k0FqV1nJp85NBxL5GzQ90M18OJq_yveZAMq0z1LZ0VqB70m1DMc/s320/DSC_0073.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Magnetic Hill</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
A destination very famous is the magnetic hill and our driver took the
vehicle to a spot and left the gear in neutral. The car rolled back despite the upslope of the
road. Some say it is an optical illusion and that there is not an upslope
there. Be as it may , the words “MAGNETIC HILL “ is painted on a hill near
the road and there is certainly an
attraction in the place(pun intended) .The magnetic power of the road tested we
move on to the view the confluence of Zanskaar and Indus. The clear waters of
the Indus and the muddy of the Zanskaar form a distinct line at their meeting
point from where the river continues on its downstream journey as Indus. There
is some river rafting here , but the snow had just started to melt so there
wasn’t enough water for a good rafting experience. Of course an operator did try
to tempt us with an offer of Rs 600 per person , but we did not take him
because of the shallow waters and the strong winds. It was two pm by now and
there was a strong wind blowing . A
tourist centre is now being built at the confluence with some facilities. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif4m6hGe0ESQKuc92n69HxgVLGIfotbeBPPqoJtXzxddh0RLXaV-mTDqD2HTQGBwZJbaeVVQHoHC1b60osD2RIIR6SPdaezQCkZcLA2ve-yyIl83o347qu8YipHWkWNg3BDygdIy27hFw/s1600/DSC_0068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif4m6hGe0ESQKuc92n69HxgVLGIfotbeBPPqoJtXzxddh0RLXaV-mTDqD2HTQGBwZJbaeVVQHoHC1b60osD2RIIR6SPdaezQCkZcLA2ve-yyIl83o347qu8YipHWkWNg3BDygdIy27hFw/s320/DSC_0068.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sangam of Zanskaar and Indus </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
There is a fair amount of greenery along this road and we stop to admire
a lovely view of the Valley . On our way back
we stop 25 kms before Leh at Gurudwara
Patthar Sahib .The Gurudwara is managed by the Army and we were fortunate to
have prasad at the langar there . The Gurudwara has a rock inside said to be
thrown at Guru Nanak by a demon when the Guru was meditating here .The rock
turned to wax .The rock is kept in the Gurudwara . We were advised to visit a
hill across the road from where the demon threw the stone.Its a long climb of
some 300 steps and we gave it a skip for fear of exhaustion.But the view ,they
say, of the Valley and the surroundings from there is incredible.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGRbSLSXcusN6gIqog8-f404fvS95bOXy6mBkxWA-5zzvzFsf5x9edQi4YSjg_hz_GBLptLxxktkI9OQRObSlMPXDoThnITd_UXC6qOjvbsX-NfyorQHfsfwDI9LrFpKyvU_lCVx8EJEg/s1600/DSC_0233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGRbSLSXcusN6gIqog8-f404fvS95bOXy6mBkxWA-5zzvzFsf5x9edQi4YSjg_hz_GBLptLxxktkI9OQRObSlMPXDoThnITd_UXC6qOjvbsX-NfyorQHfsfwDI9LrFpKyvU_lCVx8EJEg/s320/DSC_0233.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Indus in the evening </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
This was enough for the second day and it was time to relax , so as not
to over exert ourselves . Next day was going to be hectic ,interesting and very
exceptional .<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY09B_zSOygSa_XfilCA3hSgHbGXZ01JQHeO5FhyphenhyphenJQwj7vVJSDQHf9Y09sSINuhxuSMnGde6xyIVHx3ytmkD05xlSPhwRx8vOzZRnk-keIALKeigowTgwL6e72K5Zx8KfTy8CJ_I_bqc8/s1600/DSC_0169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY09B_zSOygSa_XfilCA3hSgHbGXZ01JQHeO5FhyphenhyphenJQwj7vVJSDQHf9Y09sSINuhxuSMnGde6xyIVHx3ytmkD05xlSPhwRx8vOzZRnk-keIALKeigowTgwL6e72K5Zx8KfTy8CJ_I_bqc8/s320/DSC_0169.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Shanti Stupa</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrhpRl7kob9DqyXB3FB-_yWYehs9JKtTru46q5AETGXRBauajHJC4KPgTE926H_f1547zIk3CNkQlc_uYUjHAc9DCxA1mLapAf37l65bN9dVzYePJr0cjRY7W_Ooc9NV03WIIM5e5c3c/s1600/DSC_0225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrhpRl7kob9DqyXB3FB-_yWYehs9JKtTru46q5AETGXRBauajHJC4KPgTE926H_f1547zIk3CNkQlc_uYUjHAc9DCxA1mLapAf37l65bN9dVzYePJr0cjRY7W_Ooc9NV03WIIM5e5c3c/s320/DSC_0225.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roadside stalls but most stuff is from Delhi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK0jPWti4_1l_8V8HF9s-iwGdxt0frnljBTdemwReZSpq96Wtxtk0lIbJCSntLdEpE5fhJuKad-RdvAznlH7aHAVtRIJ9ZzLAPorGJ9GLq-LHjkYkUoi1Xsn-n4ijJZfjJTLlCDzZzYQE/s1600/DSC_0215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK0jPWti4_1l_8V8HF9s-iwGdxt0frnljBTdemwReZSpq96Wtxtk0lIbJCSntLdEpE5fhJuKad-RdvAznlH7aHAVtRIJ9ZzLAPorGJ9GLq-LHjkYkUoi1Xsn-n4ijJZfjJTLlCDzZzYQE/s320/DSC_0215.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Main Bazaar .Beautification is on </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-85528750135124811282014-04-08T16:35:00.000+05:302014-04-08T16:50:02.952+05:30Goa the beach hub of india<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3bED8NabtjnwHaiLDwzqOtU-4Uf5Z8q4Itm9IeqV4AnprXadxIVqq1ahRM6oFGkPzVbC3j7tstAvzL-vbqMmyn13Klencyh3VDx5z7EVCnQKUQJBxlubyND9MdPEv4r34fsVWKJAif2Y/s1600/060220141129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3bED8NabtjnwHaiLDwzqOtU-4Uf5Z8q4Itm9IeqV4AnprXadxIVqq1ahRM6oFGkPzVbC3j7tstAvzL-vbqMmyn13Klencyh3VDx5z7EVCnQKUQJBxlubyND9MdPEv4r34fsVWKJAif2Y/s1600/060220141129.jpg" height="320" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise Arlem Goa</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-bidi-language: HI;">British rule in India gave us an inheritance that has
been difficult to shrug off. So if names like Connaught place, Dalhousie, Elgin
road, Chelmsford Road and the likes are common in most of India,the Portuguese
gave Goa a culture distinct from the rest of India. So when the D’Costas, the
Braganzas ,the Farias and the Carvalhos <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>greet you as you land in this very delightful
state ,you know there is a wonderfully different experience in store for you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-bidi-language: HI;">The small Goa airport seems distinctly incapable of
handling the number of tourists that must be visiting this place, so high on
the must visit place on every tourists list. Come out of the Dabolim airport
and take in a deep breath to inhale the very pure air of nature. I have a three
day stay in Goa but only a one day and a little more of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>touring itinerary. As we move away from<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>crowds at the airport , we pass the Verna
Industrial area and I spot a graffiti on the wall which is a sign of the times
I will spend here. It reads “Goa where you can hang out all day”. But I hope
the busy manufacturing units of this area, I can spot Siemens and IFB ,do not
follow this dictum ! The Sumo driver drives at a pace which belies the laidback
attitude of the Goan people. I think he is not from Goa whispers Harsh . We
head south to Arlem, Margaon reaching Arlem circle, in 30 minutes, crossing
“many thank you for visiting …” boards. The smallest state of India has to have
small handkerchief sized towns.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgmey8e5izbL1Vau0ln8d6l4pMwmgC9SNvHEdVBphKavLQ1G7PbASuASlJtE3lQrwh_6YeXQRPyOuGgfH_q4UoBEN7jCe9OedrkEyrJ4HorSbNzZcizoQAHy_zOkX8qcocEgTr7o8U2n0/s1600/060220141132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgmey8e5izbL1Vau0ln8d6l4pMwmgC9SNvHEdVBphKavLQ1G7PbASuASlJtE3lQrwh_6YeXQRPyOuGgfH_q4UoBEN7jCe9OedrkEyrJ4HorSbNzZcizoQAHy_zOkX8qcocEgTr7o8U2n0/s1600/060220141132.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">It was the second day of my trip which
had been slotted for a Goa darshan,by which time I had got a glimpse of the
relaxed pace of life of this beautiful city.The shops open late ,close for
siesta at one in the afternoon and then reopen at four in the evening .No brisk
commercial oversell here, atleast not where I was staying. In one day we
decided to pack in old Goa,Panaji and a beach ! A cross-section of Goa I
thought. So come morning and Harsh and I <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>set off for Old Goa or Velha Goa.The roads are
two laned in most parts and traffic is comfortable. Our driver was an
enthusiastic young fellow, Shiva,who drives such that the wind catches in my
hair and my breath almost stops a few times.Though the roads are not so wide
yet there is something so expansive about the place, with its swaying palms, its
red laterite soil covered ground, its fields of lotus and the general
atmosphere of peace fills me with such a pleasant feeling of relaxation that I
do not reprimand him ,but let him continue with his mad driving.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">We pass through the old Goa and I want him to slow <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>down to get a <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>look at the lovely houses which are the architectural
inheritance of this place. The gated villas with<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>rundown gardens<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
fantasise, a piano kept in the sitting room, a grandfather chair, pink and
violet flowers in vase , a picture of Mother Mary with <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the Baby Jesus and strains of jazz wafting in
the air. I wish I had the time to walk through the lanes and admire the charm
of these villas . But time was scarce and we drove past a group of young girls
coming back from school all with hair done in almost identical two plaits and a
group of old women chatting in a veranda wearing pretty flower patterned
dresses. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS0Y3fmiXT4YGpVydlLK7zwarRYxW7Cfwh-u7qqO3afGiH1QJrF_iUaMvQUR-hJbcsJdfIxm0_IO5RA8-Rr9FKvooc7fQ3WF_4c0IuFo0_WVmPa7aUt6VKAwLYWcl4gecagCJQXB-svBE/s1600/060220141135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS0Y3fmiXT4YGpVydlLK7zwarRYxW7Cfwh-u7qqO3afGiH1QJrF_iUaMvQUR-hJbcsJdfIxm0_IO5RA8-Rr9FKvooc7fQ3WF_4c0IuFo0_WVmPa7aUt6VKAwLYWcl4gecagCJQXB-svBE/s1600/060220141135.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">We reach the main square of old Goa, the part of Goa where the
Portuguese had their capital and built their magnificent churches and cathedrals,
convents and e.We had decided to see the most famous church of them all the
Basilica of Bom Jesus and <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGOFGr28wNzjsNgC7E7MhsmRhCazF4do0P8Z1Mcy1h7ufiwSP6HJp6MG8mXNxCB-hDegUUOL2Gw7nNeIkC5Z9lyTmZp9D0U9kfaXGCx8TCZqSbWl-y8W4c-i1R0P-Yw1Ll6nDgBXix7s/s1600/060220141140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGOFGr28wNzjsNgC7E7MhsmRhCazF4do0P8Z1Mcy1h7ufiwSP6HJp6MG8mXNxCB-hDegUUOL2Gw7nNeIkC5Z9lyTmZp9D0U9kfaXGCx8TCZqSbWl-y8W4c-i1R0P-Yw1Ll6nDgBXix7s/s1600/060220141140.jpg" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Acts of Faith at Basilica of BOM JESUS</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
then the Se Cathedral . The Basilica is the oldest cathedral
in India<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and we <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>go inside to see the very elaborately gilded
altar<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and the glass casket where the
body of St Francis has been<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>lying for
centuries. The vestry is closed for the public but we also see the original
casket made of silver. A wooden staircase leads up to an </span><span style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">old world wooden
floored room which houses an <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>exhibition
of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>statues of saints and other<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>assorted revered ones and photographs of the
church and Goa by the <a href="http://benoykbehl.com/goa_exhibition.html" target="_blank">famous photographer Benoy Behl</a>. Though we clicked
photographs in the church below, posing for photographs was not permitted and I
saw someone being chided for standing in front of the altar and getting clicked.
No photography is allowed in this photo gallery but the displays are
breathtaking and capture the spirit and history of this place. We come out and
look back at the h<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7xcrZRnohE0y7VnvLY0XCSsfvz3QSXfvH_cH8kNRrdRCjWso191R3dYNKw40UOoYdwaQeftes6N90UomXDDpj6SgNRWC00FsU0x0gL60MAGfJG5WaSk6EUm_ld9ZRWwHHakWKHQ86q-0/s1600/060220141148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7xcrZRnohE0y7VnvLY0XCSsfvz3QSXfvH_cH8kNRrdRCjWso191R3dYNKw40UOoYdwaQeftes6N90UomXDDpj6SgNRWC00FsU0x0gL60MAGfJG5WaSk6EUm_ld9ZRWwHHakWKHQ86q-0/s1600/060220141148.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a>uge exposed brick 16<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> century church again and
then cross the road to the new cathedral .The new is always relative and this
new cathedral is actually <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the Se
Cathedral ,also dating <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>back to the 16<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>
century. This is the largest church in Asia ,with a building that <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>is all white and renovations are going on. It’s
an imposing church and I saw a belfry with a large bell, called the Golden bell
because of its rich sound . The main church has the altar of St Catherine of
Alexandria to whom this church is dedicated .And on the sides are small <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>chapels and altars like the “Cross of Miracles”
,Our lady of Doloures Chapel of Blessed sacraments .</span><span style="color: #484848; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">We spotted near the altar of St Joseph a slab which could be lifted
and we made up stories of the secret tunnel that led all the way to the sea and
then on to Lisbon<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>,if you please !
Nothing like an overactive imagination to make a trip exciting!</span><span style="color: #484848; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"> <span lang="EN"><span style="font-size: small;">However the </span></span></span><span lang="EN" style="color: #484848; font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>slab actually
covers the bones of Dom Gaspar de Leao Pereira, First Archbishop of Goa</span><span style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"> Next door was the convent which has
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>now been converted to a museum. The
museum has exhibits from the past when Goa was also predominantly Hindu and
took us through history ending with life-size portraits of the Portuguese
Governor Generals till 1961. A lovely lesson in history. A quick visit to the
adjoining church which was undergoing massive renovations and then it was lunch
time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpfsz7Z_xddkmZw6kbj_eJCAH26y3oOm_EPNgx6ReICtUlHqfIlUaDn1b63zlCJORzlySEQvT92KKUf-mDw29WSmjJFlmIr92ERlsXwmt2n5H6hvtUGOcSI2WR7aT2ltF7fSn6L60QFwI/s1600/060220141142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpfsz7Z_xddkmZw6kbj_eJCAH26y3oOm_EPNgx6ReICtUlHqfIlUaDn1b63zlCJORzlySEQvT92KKUf-mDw29WSmjJFlmIr92ERlsXwmt2n5H6hvtUGOcSI2WR7aT2ltF7fSn6L60QFwI/s1600/060220141142.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">We decided to go to Panaji where we could have found a vegetarian
restaurant in this fish crazy place. The road to Panaji ran parallel to the
Mandovi river on our right and we enjoyed the sight of several casinos at one point
on the way. Did not stop to try my luck, I was lucky enough to be cruising
along in a relaxed sleepy pleasant place. Panaji, of course is a little more crowded
but has its very own character. In the main market, we reached the Church
square and on the road which ended at the church of Our Lady of Immaculate
Conception made famous by the Aishwarya- Shahrukh film Josh ! The <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>white church flanked by flights of stairs on
both sides was splendid. But we went instead to search for our eating place and
found Kamats. Neat and clean we were served a huge dosa enough for both lunch
and dinner I thought. And then we walked along the streets enjoying the market
and its shops. I was particularly fascinated by the hats and caps and the
lovely bags. Even though it was afternoon and warm, we loved walking and doing
some window shopping .I am not much of a shopper, it was fun to see the lovely
cotton <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>dresses, the strappy sandals and
the bright umbrella so correct for a day at the beach.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Our next stop was decided by Shiva who wanted us to see the Vasco
da Gama beach . We let him have his way because Harsh had never been there .We
drove past the airport, to Mormugao and its dockyards, lots of iron and metal
and unfinished ships being worked upon there. Ahead was a coast guard and a
naval establishment<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and next to the
Mormugao Port trust residential flats was our beach . The Vasco beach was
beneath a small hill and a garden called the Japanese garden <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and we had to wind our way down to the sea
shore.Interestingly the beach is also called the Grandmothers hole beach or
even the Japanese beach . The place was isolated with hardly a soul to be seen.
While descending there was a Durga Shiv <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>temple. We just saw <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>two groups of five or six people in the garden
up on the hill where we were descending. But the beach had nobody except for a
family which stayed near the temple and their women were busy in making some
yarns .We did not linger much there, I am not given to a lot of bravado and
instead of regretting later, I thought it prudent to go back .Anyways it was
too hot and the sand fairly scorched our feet . We ascended the narrow path and
were off to our home for some rest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7SVVEe784J6MMRGnO79l2QMzgyzcj7CWh5V405tHV4ZcgBFZO5MnWOBHUoM_Q6H-t9yU_krLSpXsHnztVYfK-bdGOdzzvjgRiPs7X9iU_Y6QCT6DZIP0l-8cjBihG56U1NCTXkOM-SSQ/s1600/060220141160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7SVVEe784J6MMRGnO79l2QMzgyzcj7CWh5V405tHV4ZcgBFZO5MnWOBHUoM_Q6H-t9yU_krLSpXsHnztVYfK-bdGOdzzvjgRiPs7X9iU_Y6QCT6DZIP0l-8cjBihG56U1NCTXkOM-SSQ/s1600/060220141160.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">GRANDMOTHERS HOLE BEACH</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">As a reward for having given Harsh and his flatmates <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>homemade breakfast, hot tea, dinner and lots
of motherly affection, the boys<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>took me <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to a dinner on the beach . So in the evening
we went to Benaulim beach some 5 kms away from his house . Motorbike is the way
to travel in Goa and so I pillion rode. It was cool, the not so distant sea
breeze fanning, the roads narrow but vehicular traffic was minimal and the joy
of riding a motorcycle very invigorating and “being young once more”! On the
way we saw some low mist crossing the road and I learnt that a ghost had been
sighted in this stretch . <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was already
dark when we reached the beach but the lighted shacks, the food and the music was
so much fun. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2DG9MzC85mJ-Mi5_zTMl-076nJnDC3V2F2UyjYz2_mML088Niyla6laTT7iK4rV4kidbe6Q7LbfCYjSjkQ0Hfp9tKeTacyh3mtQNDeqMD0Mg_0qw1udwok7LFcQuTZ3tg4of_1B01oZ0/s1600/060220141162.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2DG9MzC85mJ-Mi5_zTMl-076nJnDC3V2F2UyjYz2_mML088Niyla6laTT7iK4rV4kidbe6Q7LbfCYjSjkQ0Hfp9tKeTacyh3mtQNDeqMD0Mg_0qw1udwok7LFcQuTZ3tg4of_1B01oZ0/s1600/060220141162.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AT BENAULIM BEACH</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;">Goa is a fun<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>place and the
the gentleness of the place infectious. I promise myself a longer trip soon .<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Mangal","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-bidi-theme-font: major-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-bidi;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-33155019436467459962014-03-06T21:09:00.001+05:302014-03-07T14:48:40.956+05:30I must have flowers, always, and always.(Claude Monet)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When <a href="http://journeytothegraveandotherplaces.blogspot.in/2013/03/lost-in-my-spring-garden.html" target="_blank">I lost my way in my spring garden last year</a> ,I hoped I would not find a way out of it and the romance with flowers would spill over to the next spring too. But come October and the unseasonal rain dampened (pun intended) my spirits, the nurseries,the seeds and the dream of another brilliant flowering season . All the seeds I had so carefully preserved from last years bloom would not germinate and even if they did the saplings would be destroyed by excess water. I was miserable .I visited the nurseries in the city .The private small nurseries charge exorbitantly and are undependable .The Goverment nursery is a paradise and very economical selling a hundred saplings of lovely flowers in not more than 60 rupees . .But this year their seeds had also met the same fate and they had only a few plants on offer .In fact the demand was so high that the gardener there had rationed his supply to all garden lovers .We bought seed packets and continued to plant them in sheltered spots and in pots. So we had a late flower planting and then the rains again in January .Yet persistence has paid off and here is my spring 2014 garden with many flowers and some new ones too. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim7oTXkA_WNzdeld3ogPbHS41AcdO_ifjqafpS91jMr7_yvYpLQMN_2jMNcvc6SDLPwctFuOH0t-ChS1njiYybtyNSIB3hMLXU4YCk871xJbMadN9LM_cQjeInj5bOEXl1Zt6CS6YcRtQ/s1600/WP_20140307_002%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim7oTXkA_WNzdeld3ogPbHS41AcdO_ifjqafpS91jMr7_yvYpLQMN_2jMNcvc6SDLPwctFuOH0t-ChS1njiYybtyNSIB3hMLXU4YCk871xJbMadN9LM_cQjeInj5bOEXl1Zt6CS6YcRtQ/s1600/WP_20140307_002%5B1%5D.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Petunias ,Cineraria,Salvia</td></tr>
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The Cineraria with its purple mauve flowers is lavish ,though it has been planted in a place which gets too much sun .I must remember to plant it in a more shady corner. But its flowers continue to burst forth .I learnt that each petal is in fact a flower. So what we call a flower is actually a collection of flowers !The irony of my garden was that initially we had very few saplings and I had to fill my garden beds accordingly, though later we did manage to have quite a few but by then my flowery mural had already been made. Anyways candy tuft was in abundance and so I planted them next to the Cineraria and also along with Salvia to get a red and white form. But Salvias were very few so I did not get the desired effect .But candy tuft the small white flowers have flowered profusely and though I was not very fond of them ,I fell in love with these delicate white blooms this year. I can imagine how good they will look if I can plant them in a rockery ,whites peeping from behind boulders.An idea I must use sometime . Next to them also in a reddish hue are the sweet Williams ,but the January rains has delayed their flowering . Their other cousins, the Dianthus , on the other hand has been a pink delight.It has a dark pink centre and the edges are of a lighter shade. They started flowering early with their zigzag petals and are still a row of lovely daintiness. The other flowers in shades of pink is the Ice plant ,which is one of my favourites. I have made a ground cover of the ice plant and also planted them in a now defunct circular fountain . So with the sun shining bright, these small flowers open up and are such a breathtaking sight. The new flowers this year are the antirrhinums ,the lupin the godetia ,the sweet sultans . All of these are upright flowers and have given pink blooms this time. Alongside the pink flowers are the shades of purple ,mauve and violet .The larkspur or the delphinium is a new entrant in my garden and I have planted it around my garden lamps. They look wispy and delicate their stalks bending an waving in the wind.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz_SR9b1hpGi7RjOn4d3YAOPbqG69rq0hUXBNLT-aYvQVK8kH8Pq-aKxbnLyk4A5DTkt8AxrvWxjdDrsaifuySUUh1rv9fOtmO3HQcv1exeqGK0SOWHTAkWN4M7YInDSn7LVvHwXy39qM/s1600/WP_20140221_007%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz_SR9b1hpGi7RjOn4d3YAOPbqG69rq0hUXBNLT-aYvQVK8kH8Pq-aKxbnLyk4A5DTkt8AxrvWxjdDrsaifuySUUh1rv9fOtmO3HQcv1exeqGK0SOWHTAkWN4M7YInDSn7LVvHwXy39qM/s1600/WP_20140221_007%5B1%5D.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a> And then their is the cornflower,also called the bahelors' button......... the only blue flower amidst a bewildering variety of pinks and purples ,yellow and oranges.Yet it holds its own and as if to say I am one of you too ,gives pink blooms too. But the blue are really my favourite ,reminding me of glass beads .Its florets spread like a ray and interestingly I found out that if it is worn in a button by young men in love.If it faded quickly it was a sign that the man's love was not returned . I Guess that is why it is also known as the Bachelors buttons!Can one imagine it can be used to cure conjunctivitis !These are more than two feet and I have used them along the walls .</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjkG0r0U2N-B5ZQUlto3Oan4majCJLJHETUzc739qxJIinaIgQRQIUJmjD6eC8mjKAmATHWb6tEjZq6WUb75Zy1F_J65i-s0ka9Rb0dQGX8iE0Nruo0jWqMli2llSSNIhnvGu-e6Y0Vvw/s1600/WP_20140221_008%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjkG0r0U2N-B5ZQUlto3Oan4majCJLJHETUzc739qxJIinaIgQRQIUJmjD6eC8mjKAmATHWb6tEjZq6WUb75Zy1F_J65i-s0ka9Rb0dQGX8iE0Nruo0jWqMli2llSSNIhnvGu-e6Y0Vvw/s1600/WP_20140221_008%5B1%5D.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cornflower</td></tr>
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I had planned to plant Hollyhocks ,another one of my favourites nearest the wall and keep the shorter flowers progressively near the garden .But I miscalculated the height of cornflower and now I have a row of larkspur hidden between the hollyhocks and the cornflowers . Blunder in designing. Holly hocks grow tall ,even taller than us and give a column of flowers ,lasting well in to summers .I have them against the wall ,against a window ,anyplace where a tall vertical appeal is required. And the best thing about these plants are that the seeds fall and they sprout up again next year . These are yet to flower fully but I don't mind that because they will be the last flowers to be uprooted. I have them in pinks till now. I am hoping for some reds and yellows too !</div>
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When I think of long lasting flowers there is the petunia too. They are in full bloom now, prolific ,in shades of pink,white, purple and growing larger and denser as the sun becomes stronger . Also flowering more with the sun is the marigold ,again forming a border of my garden . Alongwith the yellow marigold are my other yellow golden herblike the calendula .They were the first plants to flower. I had a row of marguerite daisy ,tall about 6 feet high ,followed by cosmos and then lower still the calendula . yellows and oranges ,they gave a bright sunshine look to my garden .The bright deep orange of the nasturtiums ,I call them the free spirit flowers, brings a richness to the spring .And they grow with no restraint,no holding back ,climbimg ,spreading and their deep orange is fiery . </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEl0vTsaaeYN8nPV4nA15i0OHFzIXwpt_R8kdAL2RrHWKqN7uJx-4GGBAm_LQtPmv_pHrzEPcnN9xer-y_EwaSnOPq6PT4Ho87spOUhyphenhyphenLNUfnxOxizQdzXNxNGkpUU3KBMtpp5AWUG778/s1600/WP_20140307_003%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEl0vTsaaeYN8nPV4nA15i0OHFzIXwpt_R8kdAL2RrHWKqN7uJx-4GGBAm_LQtPmv_pHrzEPcnN9xer-y_EwaSnOPq6PT4Ho87spOUhyphenhyphenLNUfnxOxizQdzXNxNGkpUU3KBMtpp5AWUG778/s1600/WP_20140307_003%5B1%5D.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poppy,Dahlia,Nasturtium ,marigold in heavenly paradise </td></tr>
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If I have the exuberant nasturtiums ,I also have the tall merry dahlias .This time I planted the single flower ones ,because of the pastel colours which gives a very very soft look ,so gentle nodding their heads in a very joyous yet graceful manner . If the dahlias are very elegantly merry ,the pansies seem like small elves smiling naughtily as if winking with their velvet petals and monkey faces .</div>
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But the garden merriment is full of some other fillers too like the stock which has just started to lower, a couple of geraniums ,gazania which have not flowered as yet ,the dogflowers ,the aster ,the carpet of phlox ,verbena and the climbing sweet peas ,making a pretty curtain on my mesh . </div>
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Oh well despite the October rains ,the November rains, the January Rains and the freaky weather my garden has come out tops .......a paradise for my feasting eyes, a riot of colours for the soul , a palette of incomparable exquisiteness for my mind !</div>
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Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1718032306351381401.post-48233325468823282922014-02-25T21:52:00.000+05:302014-02-28T09:50:58.786+05:30Yeh hai Mumbai meri Jaan !<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What can you possibly see of
Mumbai in a day and a half ?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “I can spare just that much of my
time ,” says I ,as I land at the Santa Cruz airport from Goa at around 7.30 in
the evening and am being whisked away by my sister’s husband to their house in Kandivili
. He gives me a rundown of the city while we<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>get stuck in some heavy traffic. Mumbai is all longitudinal , unlike
Delhi which is expansive in all directions ,someone had once told me a few
years ago. Yes travelling in Mumbai does not give one a big city feel . The
roads aren’t really wide,the houses all look dumped together <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and yet its vibrancy and modernity is visible,
palpable. There are just three major roads all north- south ,he tells me, the Western
Express highway,the Central express Highway and the Harbour line and we are on
the Western <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>as we speed past the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oracle office ,metro overbridge and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oberoi Mall, Goregaon .The cab is a rundown
Padmini and shudders when the driver applies the brakes ,but he takes us to our
destination safely . </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> But cabs are an expensive means
of travel <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>if you haven’t travelled in its notorious yet
superbly efficient<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>local trains ,you
haven’t seen Mumbai .And so the next day I boarded the 9.25 am local from
Borivili ,much safer to catch it from a terminal station rather than the closer
Kandivili because by that time ,there would be no space left to even stand comfortably . And my
sister who was accompanying me had taken care of the sensibilities and ineptitude
of a non Mumbaikar and had wisely decided to go to Borivili ,despite it being a
second Saturday and most offices closed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On normal days she tells me she does not wait for the passengers to
disembark and the train reverse for its return trip. She has learnt the agile
art of getting on to the slowing train if she wants a seat to sit down for her
one and a half hour journey to Churchgate everyday. The local train is a whole
world of its own , and travelling in Mumbai would have been near impossible
without it. Efficient,timely and so much time saving, it chugs on.Crowds
flow in<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and out <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>at Borivili,Kandivili,Jogeshwari,Goregaon,Andheri and others and finally Vile Parle. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s where I have to go<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and I stand close to <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a number of ladies standing at the gate , asking
everyone where they want to get off,to ensure that I am in the crowd with the
same destination . I get smoothly pushed along to the platform , no effort
required except to ensure that the incoming travellers don’t push me back
inside ! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Now I meet my brother who stays
at Vile Parle . And then the Mumbai Darshan . Since we are near Juhu ,I choose <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the most iconic of experiences for this day's
visit .Those that define Mumbai . The Juhu beach in the evening and the street
foods of Mumbai. On the way,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a
motley crowd of onlookers catches my attention and I am told it is Jalsa, home
of the one and only <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amitabh Bachchan and
his equally illustrious family members . Its dusk when we reach the beach .
Joggers, cosying couples,children , the monkey man ,the chaiwaala ,and so much
more<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>all give the beach a life and
colour .But we find our own space there and play<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>with the waves of the Arabian Sea ,almost
tamed by urbanisation yet forbidding . Its pleasant and the children get
busy<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>racing each other to the sea and
then building sand castles. The sea is dirty ,occasionally a polythene packet
gets washed up to the shore ,but there are also waste collectors with their
gunny sack collecting rubbish thrown by uncaring revellers. Fun,frolic makes us
tired and we head back to the stalls of pav bhaji , chat,vada paav,ragda patis
,sandwiches . But we decide to give these ones a miss ,and have chaat at Sharma
chaat near Kala Niketan on SV Road . I love paani puri and this <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>pani was spicy and makes my mouth water as I
still savour the tanginess even as I write. I save the golgappe ,(another name
for pani puri which goes by several names for the last always) having delicious
chatpati aloo tikkis before that . But there is more street food in Mumbai and
I reluctantly<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> control my gastronomic impulses </span>and very bravely forgo the
temptation to have more of the chaat ,leaving place in my hungry stomach for
other tastes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> We move towards Vile Parle
station , and stop at a corner under the flyover ,a stone’s throw from
McDonalds." Lucky sandwich and Pizza Corner" has a recommendation<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>hanging on his corner shop from the Times of India for a best street
food award and we queue up too .There is everyone there from an Aston Martin to
a young couple on a bike,from 10 year olds to grandparents . And there is a
sandwich for everyone there too . You want grilled with veggies inside, cheese inside, a Frankie or just a plain one with only boiled potato pieces and yummy sour green chutney<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>.This is the one my niece raves about. We
have the grilled vegetable one, delicious and so filling . It is a small meal in
itself and I agree the recommendation by TOI is not unwarranted. Next to him
stands a kulfi chap ,no crowd here .Is it because the weather is slightly cool
today ? We have one kulfi with paan flavour and we know why there is no crowd.
But a dosa walla nearby does brisk business . </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> It’s about 10 at night ,but
Mumbai comes into its own .We get an auto to take us back the 2 km distance.Autos
are easy to get , though earlier<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it
hadn’t been <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>so easy getting an auto to this place from
Juhu beach where we asked almost 8 fellows before one of them agreed and not before
we had also walked some 500 metres away from the beach by then. The long
distance travellers lure the auto drivers and makes them refuse a short haul
passenger. Delhi at night is only cars and road traffic. Mumbai at night, is
about girls, women, boys,everyone on the streets ,animated ,happy ,enjoying,
comfortable ,brisk ,laughing and joyousness. There is a comfort in the air, of
being able<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to stand outside street shops
and eat, of no pretentions , of shops open till late evening , of being able to
catch a bus or an auto easily ,of just enjoying life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Our plan to see the beach on a
Sunday morning ,in its peaceful avatar were thwarted by the laterisers<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and the working couples need to finish their
pending weekly jobs . So we started the day late and were out of the house only by noon . In the spirit of seeing
things defining Mumbai we planned to got to Gateway of India and the places
thereabouts .This time another local and being Sunday it was a comfortable ride
,getting off at Churchgate and then a cab .The Kandivili folks also decided to
join us later and so instead of a family get together at somebodys’ house we
had one later at the museum. The Gateway ,was seen by yours truly some 30 years earlier , more
crowded now and with another landmark the Taj being pointed to all visitors. Too
many Sunday visitors each one of them being followed by photographers with
promises of instant photographs ,the most popular demand apparently of the one
where you hold the Taj or the Gateway between your forefinger and thumb. The
Gateway itself appears to stand immune to everyone crowding around below it,straddling
the entrance to Bombay ,welcoming and yet unfeeling. You are welcome here but
find your own way , it seems to say . </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZd8uSdSVpG6T3ECE-c-M3iYjN0aung8JNA-fUFskj2AaHKN32w_perBw1XwDlv7RCDeBEig346LhxmZpfytBNgRRzKud8V054_inLmYV1yal_rPC2xNec1ql7bf3Io2M54qkok81EDTM/s1600/090220141170.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZd8uSdSVpG6T3ECE-c-M3iYjN0aung8JNA-fUFskj2AaHKN32w_perBw1XwDlv7RCDeBEig346LhxmZpfytBNgRRzKud8V054_inLmYV1yal_rPC2xNec1ql7bf3Io2M54qkok81EDTM/s1600/090220141170.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> On the way we had seen billboards
of the Hindustan Times Kala Ghodha Visual Aarts festival and so we walked back to
the erstwhile Prince of Wales museum,now renamed Chhatrapti Shivaji museum . And so we saw an exhibition of the paintings of the Flemish masters
! Landscapes, still life, black and white<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>and from the most famous of them all ,Rubens. There is nothing so
frustrating than to see a masterpiece and realise your own inadequacies of not
having the eye or the knowledge to really appreciate the finer points of a
masterpiece. Must join an Art appreciation course ASAP ! But time was short and
we criminally skipped the other parts of the museum to go to the festival next door . The
museum was there to see anytime ,the Kala Ghodha comes once a year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> T</span>he crowd there was enormous and most of
the visual delights were lost in the pushing ,jostling mass. The artists who
had created some pieces were shunted to the background by people more keen on
posing for photographs rather than enjoying the beauty of a horse made of gears
,a monumental structure of empty water bottles,some triangular mirror structure, and many such creative ad absolutely stunning works of art . A childrens workshop warmed our hearts . </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsm23Q9okag06xGjIzHOtKfL-uk-q56cus3DY2GmEgvgHKHcvVTRLU45an3xD1mWUFzeMc2X6OeEWTiwIZQUWEstbDmF6l8moL8Ulb9a5hOngp9jA-aZOWz-eJRoN5dv_rpfNFq7eYenI/s1600/090220141176.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsm23Q9okag06xGjIzHOtKfL-uk-q56cus3DY2GmEgvgHKHcvVTRLU45an3xD1mWUFzeMc2X6OeEWTiwIZQUWEstbDmF6l8moL8Ulb9a5hOngp9jA-aZOWz-eJRoN5dv_rpfNFq7eYenI/s1600/090220141176.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And then the pride of Mumbai ,the
Marine drive ,the Queens necklace ,the Fort Area. Walking by this very crème de
la crème of Mumbai city , with its imposing buildings,its cobbled pavements
,its very historical antecedents . The Gaylord restaurant where Raj Kapoor
would drop by for a meal . Areas familiar to us by movie scenes, where across
the road we spotted a film shooting was going on . The evening at Marine drive
where we sat on the embankments like so many others watching the sea below
,waves breaking on the rocks and the promenade with its breeze and history ,Nariman point a short distance away ,Shanti
Kuteer,Oceana and other residences of the rich ,wealthy, royals etc etc. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the
Marine Drive is egalitarian ,the sea is for all to see,the sea breeze fans
every face and in each Mumbaikar’s heart is a piece of this beautiful view of
the setting sun a ,reddish blush in the sky and then sinking in the sea far
on<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the horizon . </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Time<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to go back . We missed the 7.05 ,which
started moving just as we reached the platform on Churchgate station ,but the
7.11 was ready on another . The ladies compartment was empty when we sat down
and I felt a little apprehensive .We thought of moving to the general but
another passenger boarded just when the train was about to move and slowly at
other stations ,it started to fill .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
group of three hawkers selling cheap jewellery board</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">ed, trustingly handed there
baskets in willing customers laps for them to go through and take them back a
couple of stations later .A group of chattering Gujarati women livened up the
compartment and got down at Dadar .</span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> In a day and a half window Mumbai
had been well covered ,I thought. </span><br />
</div>
</div>
Poonam Misrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08526492616367277544noreply@blogger.com6