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 WASHED

O thy pour from distant lands;

Delight of the dickens,

You waddle in puddles;

To splash the soul of muddles

O thy pour from distant lands

You are the tender whispers ,

On the dew drenched leaves;

Of a lover in peace

O thy pour with cracker

Respite for the cropper;

And hopes to prosper,

Blooms every Harper

O thy pour in rambles,

Pitter patter on roof tops

Shades of grey overcast;

Music for the peacocks

O thy pour and refresh

Parched soul replenish,

Life is all to relish;

Do away with the blemish
Sitting in the balcony of my terrace I watched the rain splatter down the roads. It was the year’s first shower in Pune. The initial rain is always nostalgic and always takes you down the memory lane. The aroma of wet mud is so very tempting and overwhelming. I find it difficult to refrain myself from swallowing some and for that matter I can’t blame the kids.

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Dear Kavya,

Hope you are doing well. I am sure as usual you would be well prepared for your forthcoming exams. My best wishes are always with you. Just yesterday I was thinking that soon you would be out of college. Now that you have spent two decades of your life in your academics I am sure you would have learnt a lot. You have always been well read and up to date with the latest happenings.

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As I set my foot outside the Kochi Airport I was greeted to the sweltering heat and the sight of the ubiquitous mundus.  This cotton garment from Southern India is worn around the waist and is mostly white or off white in colour.

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I was intrigued by this structure but couldn’t fathom what is it? I tried checking with the locals but was unable to decipher their language and they in turn couldn’t  converse in English. Finally when I met Noong Noong (our local guide) I found the answer. It is a shrine, shaped like a house and found in most houses, shopping malls and offices across Thailand. This edifice is called The Spirit House. Read More

As I entered the capital of Thailand a country with a history of seven hundred and fifty years I was greeted to the vibrant and multicoloured cabs plying on the roads of Bangkok. Well travelling by road in Bangkok is an experience similar to India albeit the traffic here is disciplined and noiseless. Noiseless I say as people here refrain from using the horn a stark contrast to our friends back home who consider honking as their birth right and a savior from the menace called traffic 🙂 You could find long rows of cars lined up during the rush hours.

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I sat beside her as she washed the vessels with ash. She was a septuagenarian draped in a kasta. Kasta is a sari draped in the Maharashtrian style by tucking it at the back around the waist. I couldn’t stop thinking if I would be so fit at her age. Though she spoke the local dialect Malvani, I could decipher it due to its Marathi influence.

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I reached Kolkata in West Bengal one afternoon to be a part of the vibrant colours and extravaganza of the Durga Puja Festival. This Hindu festival has many mythological stories to relate and is rejoiced for ten days in the Sep-Oct time frame every year. Each day has its own significance and importance. Here are six different ways to witness the fervour and pomp of this festival in the City of joy.

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I had traveled down South to meet my grandmother during my college holidays. I was seated on the sofa next to her ailing self. Her movements were restricted due to rheumatism and she required support. As we sat catching up on the happenings in each other’s lives we heard someone at the door. My mother’s distant cousin had dropped by.

She looked quite pale and weak. Her shoulders were drooping and her hair was disheveled. After the initial greeting the cat was out of the bag. Her husband had suffered heavy losses in business and they were in a hand to mouth situation. My grandmother heard her gravely. At last she spoke out, “Veena have I taught you this all throughout my life, to wallow in self-pity and low self-esteem? “ I was surprised by Grandma’s sudden outburst. She had always been the magic magpie with a word of advice for the needy, but then I couldn’t decipher Grandma’s displeasure.
Veena Aunty sat in silence. She dare not back answer Grandma out of fear and respect. Grandma looked at her and said sternly, “Get out of these insecurities which have no value. Support your husband when he needs you the most. Stand by his side. This is a passing phase and isn’t constant. You need to be strong and remove the cobwebs of negativity that you have spun around yourself.” That day Veena Aunty left with a ray of hope after having a steaming cup of coffee prepared by me.

 

Courtesy Jandofabrics.com

But I couldn’t get to the core of Grandma’s message. This incident left me thinking. After our dinner I sat next to her as she lay on the bed. Whenever we would visit her, she would talk till the wee hours.  I ruminated on the day’s happenings. She saw my look of perplexity and retorted, “Are you thinking about Veena?” I nodded. She kept mum for some time, then spoke, “Do you know the pumice stone? It was used in the olden days by ladies to remove unwanted hair from the body. Today you have razors that glide on the skin and do stuff in a jiffy. We weren’t that lucky though. We would scrub this stone for a while to exfoliate the skin and remove the hair. The result, glowing skin with dead cells and hair removed. In real life too you need to remove the unwanted debris (read thoughts) and go for the best in store for you. Only when dirt, dust and overburden is removed do we find diamonds in the deepest pockets of earth and mind. You need to shave the undesired to scale new heights.”

That night I lay on bed thinking of the day’s happenings. What Grandma spoke made sense to me. It was years of experience and wisdom that had spilled out. I thought what would happen of Veena Aunty.

I wish she had opted for her hair removal. But then it is never too late ….isn’t it? After all it is rightly told …. Better late than never!

 

This post is a part of the Gillette Satin Care contest in association with BlogAdda.com