Ideas for Appetizers on Toothpicks - All Topped Up!

 

 

The Poser!

This happened the other day, on a late afternoon. It was the 12th day of hot, searing May when we experienced the first Summer Rain in Doon.

I was in the back Verandah craning to capture the beauty of Lucky Manzil in the pouring rain and its aftermath when all the flora and fauna and the giant trees glistened with raindrops and shone a sparkling green with their faces freshly scrubbed.

There was a symphony being played by a combination of bird sounds - crows, the lone Hawk, doves, mynahs, koels, sunbirds and others were all playing their gig for the divine conductor.

My eye caught a Spotted Owl sitting atop the Mango tree in the centre of our orchard-like Backyard. As I got busy shooting him, I heard an incessant hooting sound coming from a few inches below. And it seemed to be calling out to me. I looked closely to find another owl - of the pair - perched on a lower branch and seeking my attention. It saw me clicking it and began to preen and sit pretty. The more I clicked the excited bird's pictures the more it posed for me - first looking at its left, then gliding its neck to the right.

And the charade went on for sometime. You may not believe my word. So here's the proof through the sublime pictures!

At home! At Lucky Manzil!

In the land of bliss

where the breeze is still cool
the air not so darn polluted

the night still with just 
the staccato sound of crickets
and not shrill with mindless noise
of rude brakes and ruder honks

the view, through craned neck,

of the 'Queen of Hills'
and its gem of lights like a lop-sided crown
atop the side of the sky

where a myriad birds still drop in
to chat away the afternoon
as you tweak your ear
to listen to the tales they carry

where you boast a rose garden
in your front lawn
and trees of Mango, Litchi and Pomelo
sway in your backyard

where the time is told
by the booming sound of the Azaan
where the white cross of Christ
makes for the guiding light
in the dark of the night.

At home! At Lucky Manzil!

The Son sets on Ibaadat! An era comes to an end!

My most precious Son, Pasha Baba, died in my arms in the wee hours this morning.

And this is the way he passed on from this life to next - cradled in my arms, his tired head resting on my bosom, my one hand patting him and giving him a light massage. Pasha Baba went away with a strong reassurance of the profound love that existed between him and me as I showered innumerable kisses on him through the night, sang his favourite lullaby with a choked throat and stayed up and alert along with him to note every little change in his breathing, each shiver, every twitch and strain and each rattle of frayed nerves.

But eventually, he went away peacefully, with hardly any pain or discomfort and no vestige of all that he went through in the past two years.

And here is the sense of dichotomy I am grappling with - My heart is devastated as a big part in me has died, yet again. But the mind feels a huge sense of relief for there is no pain now, no heart condition or bladder condition to battle, no immobility issues to contend with, no slowing down of the system at large. Now onwards it is onto new promise of another journey and bounding around in God's own garden, perhaps also a chance meeting with his sister, Princess Cinderella.

Yet, I feel somehow reassured that such deep bonds are not meant for one life. Our souls, so strongly intertwined, keep meeting again and again in different forms and time zones.

Pasha Baba has been one of the most loving, adorable and exemplary babies in all respects. May every Mother be blessed with a child like Him.

Rest in peace Pasha Baba and add your special magic wherever you go.

11th July 2001 to 8th April 2017

Pushkin and his pompousness!

Let this be said that Pasha Baba - our Labarador Son with Pushkin as his "good name" - is far more propah than I could aspire to be. And he has higher levels of OCD than I do.

With his age having advanced and mobility of his limbs reducing, we have begun using diapers on him. And our goldie boy has got so used to them that it is not funny anymore.

Our dear, dear Man Friday - bhaiya to Pasha Baba - tries to get by with using lesser number of pampers in a day. The operative word here is "tries to" but with very little success.

Even the Chemist has been a bit taken aback. He first quizzed us as to why did we need so many packets, telling us that in the case of human kids the contraptions are not changed so frequently. And then tried to give us cheaper options, the Good Soul that he is!

But who will bell this Pushkin Cat of ours?

Each time our Man Friday tries to stretch the use of one pamper - telling us that it has not been optimally used yet and just has only a few drops in it - our Son literally kicks up a storm - first flailing his limbs maniacally and then letting out a cry, so sharp and piercing that even the hardest of hearts would melt.

But Pasha Baba knows that we are weaklings with soft hearts and he always gets his way.

He thinks that his Dad is a bloody Ambani or a Rockefeller - I guess in Pasha Baba's eyes he is.

So what's a few extra packs of Pampers, anyway!!!

The rise and reign of the Gargoyles!

A friend shared her most recent, unpleasant experience with this increasing tribe of people who are too disrespectful towards everything and everyone around and have no sense of decorum or principles to guide their behaviour by.

The friend talked about an ill-mannered urban parent who allowed her one-year-old to create havoc in a bookshop, topple books to the ground and stomp on them to the utter shock of the Shop owner and other buyers, also with kids. When my friend expressed her displeasure, the erring mother - all made up physically but with nothing polite or proper about her - picked up a fight and used colourful language to express her misplaced anger.

I met similar kind of trash with fake accents, blonde hints, red nails, too much use of perfume - all give away signs of people who are trying too hard - at Shoppers' Stop a couple of years back. Both Husband and Wife had pushed past me, rubbing against me rudely to reach across to the Attendant. When pointed out, a verbal battle ensued with both of them trying to get improper and vicious with me. I think at that juncture Le Husband must have stepped in to say some wise words at which point the nasty couple moved elsewhere, after grunting loudly and uttering some more bad words.

We all continue to bump into such uncivil, uncaring, unpolished, uncivilized people at Malls - who will push and jostle and brush past us to the teller mindless of the queue; at Cinema halls - who will get into mobile conversations and disturb others by the noise they create or continue to surf on the handsets disturbing the film watching experience of others with the irritating blue flash from their phones; at religious places - who will either do their business in a loud and disturbing manner or discuss their personal matter while others are trying to seek spiritual silence; in hospitals - with no care or thought towards the ill; in public transports - with utter disregard for the old or the ailing and so on and so forth.

These people depict too much ego, too much impropriety, too much disregard for everything and everyone and too little values.

Our society abounds with such utter garbage. What a sad state. And it is always people in the right who get shaken with the sour episode.

But the scariest thing is that they are passing these personal traits and bent of mind to the next generation, letting the rot deepen in our society. And they are omnipresent - in our schools as teachers, at home as ill-mannered, undisciplined parents, in society as unruly neighbours.

What do you think can be done to rectify this decay?

Note - Picture courtesy - Google Images

The scourge of Social Media!

I don't know about y'all but here are the sins I commit -

1. Be more inclined to put up a Facebook post rather than finish the important piece of article that has been left in the doldrums.

2. Read and react to comments on posts rather than submerge in essential research.

3. Look at a beautiful thing, pull out a camera to shoot and run to post it on Social media rather than live in the moment, soak in the beauty, reflect, daydream, stare into the sky and think ahead.

4. Read inane stuff on Social media more than engage in good, honest reading.

5. Write on Social Media more than write out the pending manuscript(s).

6. Run to post stuff on FB, sprint to share an update on LI and race to put those 140 characters out on Twitter much more than getting on the keds to run outdoors, walk or play!

And you??

Cartoon courtesy - Google Images

Meeting the Treepies for the first time!

It was a quiet afternoon in the Delhi Autumn. The Sun was not yellow hot but was sharp enough to make the day balmy. And perhaps just that tad bit warmer because the trees were mostly disrobed.

The air was still. There was not even the light swaying of the thin branches on top of the Neem trees, which normally would move at the slightest nudge of the wind. The October breeze, it seemed, was enjoying a quick siesta.

The surroundings, this Saturday afternoon, were so starkly silent that you could hear even a leaf fall. Strangely, there were no pigeons roosting on the Sunshade at this hour. No parrot, or two, sat on the barren, unclad branch of the Frangipani tree on the neighbour's terrace.

The resident Peacock and the bevy of peahens strained one long neck to look around and finding nothing of major interest sat themselves down on the giant Neem tree, nuzzled their faces into their hind feathers and collected themselves for a shuteye.

And in this stage of stillness and silence, I witnessed another drama unfurl. I had left the bedroom window open to keep the stuffiness out and allow the pleasing scent of the Rangoon Creeper float in.

As is the case on good days, I was at my workstation thinking up a clever idea to flesh out into a business article. The chain of thoughts was broken by a sudden surge of shrill, squeaky noise from the adjoining garden. The avian sound was unfamiliar. It was constant and seemed to be in some sort of an angry monologue.

I got up to move in the direction of the sound and peered out my bedroom window beyond the green iron grills and at an angle to the slanting Banana tree. There, perched on the low-hung branch of the medium height bottle brush tree with its red flowers, were two birds engaged in a serious confabulation. They were definitely a couple, it was decidedly a heated exchange and most certainly one-sided.

A few minutes of eavesdropping and it became clear to me that one party was quite displeased with the other. But it must have been something grave for the erring partner to bring such fury upon themselves. The heckled, cantankerous mate made no bones about letting their umbrage amply known with high pitched, scathing, scolding, shrieky bird sound, accentuated with angry eyes and a severe silhouette that towered over the meek one.

To my stereotypes-strung mind, it appeared that the silently suffering partner was a male who had stepped on the wrong side of his visibly infuriated partner and was now showing a semblance of wisdom by being quiet and letting the scorching winds of wrath blow over. The sagacious soul suffered the scourge with steely resilience till the vexed bird seemed to quiet down.

The interesting scene played out before me for the better part of the hour; depicting how similar we all are, regardless of our habitats and outward physicality.

And this is how I made my first acquaintance with the Rufous Treepies. These striking birds are known to have a wide repertoire of bird sounds ranging from squawks to musical notes. But this pre-winter day it stayed on the clear notes of a harsh call!

Note 1 – Incident happened on 17^th September 2016

Note 2 – This piece was penned on 19.3.17

Sparkle with a Champagne Party!

Note - This article was first published on Purple Velvet Project on 1st March 2017
Link - http://purplevelvetproject.com/champagne-party-aruna-dhir/