Sophie's Spring Collection

Sophie is the admin of our school chat group.  
She's nice. And sensible. She would never ever post junk. That's why she is a most respected group admin. 

It came as a surprise when about a week ago she posted this message:

Hello everyone!
I have been working with a friend of mine for some fashion accessories. If you guys don't mind, can I please introduce and post some pics of my Spring Collection out here?

Nobody responded to this on that day. It was so unlike Sophie to 'use' her friends like this. 

The next day Deepa posted:
 
Sophie please feel free to post whatever you wish. Repeat jokes se to accha hi hoga.
(Three winking smileys with tongues sticking out.)

Deepa is quite concerned about the issue of jokes being repeated on our chat group. 

Sophie responded:

Thanks, Deepa, for being kind enough and let me present my Spring Collection 2015.
(A smiley with laughing tears.)


And then Sophie posted this pic.

Leena said:

Wow Sophi! What a collection! 

More and more smileys followed this.

Sophie (blowing a kiss):

Will give you all discounts. Start imagining where you can hang the springs! 
 

 

A Town of Teachers

"If you are a teacher's daughter and if you want to marry,
You would marry a teacher's son more than anybody..."

These are lines from a picnic and party song which was popular when we were in school. The song goes on to say that a farmer's daughter would marry a farmer's son, and how a milkman's daughter would have no choice but to marry a milkman's son, and so on.

In the 60s,70s and 80s, many people from our hometown of Vasai took up teaching careers to explore new job opportunities in and around Mumbai city.  The earlier generations had led a more agrarian lifestyle till jobs in Indian railways and Mumbai Port Trust hired people with basic school education. Some had taken up practical occupations like carpentry and construction. 
However, with the growth in education, thanks to the priests and nuns who ran strict schools, a teaching job in a government-aided school offered a favourable option. Many young men and women in the 60s became teachers. Among them were my parents. Their academic lifestyles, moral values, and a light but regular pay packet at the end of the month attracted many youngsters into this noble profession.

During the 80s, almost every school in Mumbai had at least one teacher from Vasai. The culture of studiousness and the confidence that this crop of teachers instilled in their own offspring led to the next generation aspiring for diverse professional courses. Presently, in Vasai, you will come across physiotherapists, dentists, engineers, air hostesses, sailors, builders, interior designers, architects, and so on. But by and large, for the girls, a teaching career is still a popular option.

On a personal level, I started my career as a journalist and eventually walked in my parents footsteps to become a teacher. On the other hand, my brothers and husband chose the technical field.
As the song above goes I did marry a teacher's son, after all.

(Photo courtesy: Pearl Ferreira and friends)

One Book - A Thousand Films

The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy is one of my all-time favourite books.

It is a most strange novel in which the story is revealed in the first few pages. 
It tells the story of a Syrian Catholic family in Ayemenem, Kerala. It is the story of people who broke the "Love Laws that lay down who should be loved. And how. And how much."

It has all the elements of a blockbuster - scenic location, innocent love, the scent of scandal, the tragedy of death, and so on. 
Well, that is not the reason why I like this book. 
On another level, if you see, the book is a linguistic feast. The words have a magical quality in the way they are combined. The sounds of the phrases, the word pictures they create in the reader's mind, and their meanings are a rare treat.

The book won the 1997 Booker Prize and made big waves as the first novel written by a young and beautiful girl. 
One very interesting fact is that Arundhati Roy had several offers to adapt the book into a film. Yet she refused because she feels that a film creates a single image of the story for the audience whereas a book creates a thousand different images in the minds of the readers. 

Therefore, I read the book again. And again.

Silver Leaves

I will never forget the first time I saw it. In primary school, a friend smiled secretively and opened her notebook. Inside the pages lay the most exquisite thing I had ever seen. It was a tender folded leaf with a silver velvet texture.

...

The second time I saw it was on a nature walk with my boyfriend. It was raining heavily and we didn't carry an umbrella. As we turned a corner to take shelter under a big tree, we saw a creeper with large heart-shaped leaves embracing the tree. The leaves at the tip of the vine were silver! My companion reached up and plucked a leaf. It was one of the first gifts of pure young love.
...

This monsoon, when we visited our hometown, the first thing we saw as we looked out of the back door was a vine with the silver leaves entwined around a papaya tree. It was the best welcome gift we could have wished for. To have something so utterly precious growing in our backyard was a blessing.

Looking beyond, we saw the same vine growing berserk like a giant beanstalk on a tall palm tree. At the top it was crowned with tubular purple flowers. 
...

Some research informed us that the botanical name of this vine was Argyreia Nervosa and it was commonly known as Elephant vine (because of its large elephant-ear leaves) or Hawaiian Wood rose (because of its woody-rose-like seeds).
Ancient ayurvedic texts claim that it has aphrodisiac properties. It is used to delay old age and to strengthen the body.
...

Well, useful or not, the vine has an unparalleled majestic beauty and it is a pleasure to have it naturally growing in our backyard. 

The Journey to Ithaka

Poetry has the power to move us. 

Some poems stay with us and guide us on this journey of life. 

I read C.P. Cavafy, one of the finest Greek poets, in my final year at college. 
He published poetry only for close friends and gained international fame after his death in 1933. 
His poem, Ithaka, was published on the front page in our annual literary journal which was also titled Ithaka. Just reading the poem out loud is an inspiring experience. 

 Ithaka

 As you set out for Ithaka
hope the voyage is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:
you’ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope the voyage is a long one.
May there be many a summer morning when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you come into harbors seen for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind—
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to gather stores of knowledge from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you are destined for.
But do not hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you are old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you would not have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you will have understood by then what these Ithakas mean. 

(Illustration courtesy: Anna Lemos)

 

A Secret Space

It was a challenge.
Aurea, my neice, had to draw a sketch and write an essay on the topic 'Secret Space'.
If the selection committee found her entry interesting, she would be called for an interview.
Presently, securing admission in a degree course of architecture in Mumbai is quite challenging. There are entrance tests, several admission rounds and a limited number of seats.

What do you think of when you think of a secret space?
Our family comprising of the youngest grandchild who is five to Daddyda who is eighty-two, gave it a thought and came up with interesting secrets locked in mental spaces we didn't know existed. How little we know of people around us!

While Aurea made notes, we discussed hiding places in the house, the interiors of pyramids, castles in the clouds, different perceptions of a sticker in the bathroom, concentric circles of positive and negative thoughts, creative spaces where artistic imagination originates, and the silent secret spaces of oysters and wombs.

Aurea who is born with artistic talent, amazed us with this drawing: 

The essay explaining this sketch talked of Man's dreams and fears. It gave an insight into our minds as secret spaces which inform our decisions.

After a successful interview, our Aurea now goes to an innovative School of Environment and Architecture which gives it's pupils the freedom to explore the landscapes of their imaginations.

Home!

Welcome to our Vasai home

There's no place like it

At arm's length from the kitchen window

From the backdoor

On the right

On the left

Come,  let's chat while I put out the bedsheets for drying