Leh. One more week to go. Less than a week. That hollow-gut feeling. Wondering what 16 deg C and 6 deg C (and lower) will feel like, after the salubrious climes one is used to.  Well, when it rains here it rains the hell out, but that’s it.  Since one had booked oneself way back in March, its not as if this is a surprise.  Even if flight no’s have changed, flights dropped without any notice --that got me scrambling for the workplace travel desk. Volunteering . This time the living is going to be different. No qualis, no hotel room, no chattering tour group “safety in numbers”. I have a sleeping bag meant for the Arctic. And I will find my way there. This season the air will be very thin and oxygen scarce. Last week I was worried about the weather there, but this part of the state seems to have been saved of the natural disaster that has finished Srinagar for now. The Chini do periodically threaten, but that is par for the course, in the army museum one gets the feeling that this particular war was not over, it was just put on hold a few decades.

For some reason it seems important to remember the rain in A’bad that afternoon. Where did the gentle rain I was familiar with back in the 80’s go? This was pelting, drench to the skin rain, wading required—though I compulsively carry rain gear wherever I go. The home situation was sobering. Hammers home the point—life is a privilege. Life is too short. Do what you must do.

9000 full-grown , magnificent trees. That’s what BMC will massacre to widen one wandering lane (that was once a walking track) so as to join two suburbs better. I’d like to box their collective ears. For each full grown, few decade old tree they’ll plant 5 saplings and not one will survive past week 1. What rascals. The group ought to be airdropped on Khardungla and asked to breathe—that, gentlemen, is what low-oxygen  content air feels like. And yet we have people like Dr. Usha and Renee to honor and cherish the green we have left—the teak are in bloom.

How can this scoundrel carry this off so well?

http://www.livemint.com/Opinion/boyUkBCBuR0qJtc5pyTTMM/The-curious-case-of-a-Citibank-fraudster.html

Today I've cancelled, booked and rebooked tickets. Maniac style.
How quickly bad goes to beyond worse. How quickly the big C takes its dues, wipes one out, no mercies, no quarter given.
Even if you've read someone's face month after month, seen the writing there.Yet.
Chilling.
I'm all right. This is not about me. Other than the much-ignored wake up call not to take life for granted.

Cat-and-dog and the zoo rain where the heavens send sluices of water on hapless denizens. Just after I assured someone monsoon was over and done with.  Sneaky rain this, the gardener at the park had to lend me an umbrella. One minute sunshine, next rain. Like life!

Behadd was so GOOD. Why can’t we make TV programs half as good as theirs, considering we have almost the same gene pool etc etc? Had stopped watching Sat. night taken aback at what seemed like a standard storyline. So glad I caught up with the rest y’day.. superb storyline. Umera Ahmed is a stunning writer.

Model Town Andheri W Ganpati. That’s where these pictures are from. Beautifully crafted.

Space is a luxury in this city. Yet the 1970’s style institute by the sea, abundant with space, so empty,  their equipment very seventies too, should be interesting volunteering there—if they’ll have me, that is. Getting there and returning will be a challenge, took me about 2 hours and jumping in and out of multiple modes of transport one way. Phew.

Now some luxury I have seen, but nothing quite like this—marble lined parking lots, garages at Pali Hill. Old money speaks quietly.

From Ujjain you take a train to go to Maksi. From Maksi village you either take a tempo or call and ask to be picked up…a dirt track with tons of potholes and bumps leads to Luniyakhedi, to Padma Shri Prahlad Tippaniya’s home and institute set in the middle of nowhere amongst miles and miles of green fields…

Maksi station has a platform at ground level so you have to climb down the seedi or jump a bit…

This time it has not rained enough… the ponds were not full… but enough rain to give a gentle green cover and get a cool wind blowing…unlike Mumbai, Malwa rain is gentle rain, falling softly on the ground

We were about 18 people at the institute, though a few people left after 1-2 days… about 8 people stayed on for all five days. It was a motley mix—a few people had been there previously as well. Shabnam Virmani joined us for a few days—she’s a documentary movie maker and  was one of the pioneers of the Kabir festival. Linda Hess joined us too—she’s a  Prof at Stanford , now is in her seventies and VERY lively—has done a great deal of scholarly work on Kabir, living in Malwa for 12 years, going from village to village in a jampacked car for performances… Also met a young boy Vivek who is teaching at UCLA—he was living in the institute and documenting the work for his PhD thesis…superb dholak, tabla and harmonium player too…Ankit Chadha, the dastangoi—famous storyteller  in the Persian style was with us too…

Living arrangements were basic—simple poly-fiber matresses , grab a pillow, sheets—though I had taken my own. Many people preferred to sleep on the terrace. The mosquitos were powerful. But what a sky! So many stars… I saw jugnu—fireflies—for the first time ever..magical!

Most people would be up by 6-6.30, go for tea—with milk from the homestead’s buffaloes and cow – they actually bought a new buffalo for the workshop. J Then a bath, the bath water heated on a choolah—a few bathrooms on the first floor and also a row of nicely tiled bathrooms behind the institute…Then breakfast and then the singing lessons would begin about 9.30 AM or so…breaking for lunch around 1, reassembling around 2.30 PM and continuing till about 5 PM.. most people would go for a walk to lake or just roam around …dinner around 8, and then more singing or talking…someone would begin and the rest would just join in…Prahladji spent his entire day with us, and the women from his household cooked for us and looked after us, pampering us.

5 days of no internet, no newspapers , no TV…perfect!

As you can imagine, the goodbyes were quite emotional. The last  session was a feedback session and a few people cried…

Will share more memories as they come to mind. Right now, the music echoes.

Random observations

Almost empty trains rattle and sway, cutting through the night. trains that have passengers plod through, steadily.

At the park: Such a cascade of song from a  delicate bird. Droplets in a line trace a pine branch.

Layers…  what you see is not what is… revelations you had never guessed at. Such sadness. Despair. In sharing, so much of the past comes to life. So much seeps through, shapes the present. And now it’s too late. Life is a privilege.

Now I’d gone to the bank for signature verification… didn't know I’d end up with a lesson in history and Indus valley civilization!

“So you’re from Surat, are you?” I asked the young bank manager out of politeness after we’d established that we were both from the same state. “No, actually from Harappa… you know, Mohenjodaro and all that…”  he said, and sketched the grid of homes on rough paper, narrating where the water and drainage lines were.

And then talked about how his community had fled what must have been Sindh, to settle somewhere in Kutch. And then he recounted the tale of Moomal and Mahendra… His extended family worships Rani Moomal as their deity. Her sacrifice and lifelong penance seemed as real as an event that happened a day ago.

http://www.rajputana.myewebsite.com/articles/rajput-love-story---mumal-mahindra.html

http://indiatoday.intoday.in/story/excavation-of-ancient-site-in-rajasthan-village-by-asi-gives-local-folklore-a-fillip/1/193383.htm

I was familiar with this story from my 2012 visit to Jaisalmer—I’d gone to Lodhruva as well.

All this seems like it has happened yesterday, not centuries ago.

Okay, confession time. Never quite thought I’d begin watching TV serials again. Until Zindagi, that is. Excellent story lines, solid acting, good sets—the poor look poor, the rich look glamorous but not garish. Add to that the curiosity about the “other”… people who are so very similar but not quite. What a relief to watch TV without cringing. 

Everything else has taken a backseat. Looks like I’m not the only one…

http://epaper.dnaindia.com/story.aspx?id=67879&boxid=72028&ed_date=2014-07-20&ed_code=820009&ed_page=10

Yesterday I finally finished reading R K Narayan’s The Painter of Signs… what a brilliant story, what pacing and crafting… my copy dog-eared, yellowed pages, circa 1986, cost Rs. 17/ ! The book lives up to the accolades on the back cover. Well worth the trouble of reading in a shaking, moving train hurtling through the country at 100 kmph. Totally unexpected ending, this one. What terrific characterisation...Will track down and read the rest.

There are so many different kinds of peace. I discovered a different peace during a short trip to Ajmer and Pushkar. At the dargah, we were blessed and had excellent prayers without jostling crowds. The place was serene and somber, minus the crowds on account of their religious month. Pushkar was peaceful too, minus the priest at the lake who wanted to assist, and whom I had to politely tell I didn’t need help. Pushkar—the first temple to Brahmaji that I’ve prayed to…That underground cave where Lord Shiva is prayed to… looked ancient, why is it underground, how old was it, who built the temple there and why? So many questions. Also insisted on visiting the Gorakhnath temple as a mark of respect to the evolved soul.

Rain! Sheets of water hitting the ground. Enveloping the vehicle, drawing a furious water curtain close...like someone marooned on a mist-covered island...that was yesterday...

We desperately need the rain...June was v bad. More, please!

I had a very interesting experience the other day. Someone asked me for advice, and perhaps that person didn’t care for what I said, possibly that person’s mind was already made up and they were just looking for a reaffirmation. Which was the problem--I had quite the opposite view. In the end the person did as they pleased. Quite interesting, this whole episode—taught me that people have already made up their minds about what they want to do when they ask for advice. One shouldn’t view this advice as a thing to give serious time and thought to, not more than superficial thought at any rate.

Somedays back I cancelled one of the newspapers I used to read. Added google alerts for specific journalists I liked to read and companies Added email subscriptions for several newspapers. Added email subscriptions for several GOOD blogs like dividendmantra, dividendgrowthinvestor, mrmoneymoustache. Have been A Simple Dollar loyalist for very long. And Subramoney, freefincal, 5 minute wrapup, Jagoinvestor, Moneylife, Morningstar and Onemint… among others for India.

Why didn’t I do this any earlier? No clue.

May not make a difference but sure FEELS good.

If this unwinding is the epilogue, the prologue was written in 2005. How prophetic that realization of what was to happen, would happen,  certainly come to pass in the next few years strike me right then-- that the sand under my feet was shifting and would leave me adrift—that occur right then in that historical trading room, the rotunda at the nation’s major s. exchange.

I will never doubt my gut feel ever again.

The indices inch higher. Only to fall someday I’m sure. But I am at peace.

I choose  the light… as the prayer goes, asamo ma sat gamaya… from untruth to truth, from death to light everlasting.

I want to get back to being what I was.

A peaceful  Sunday after long. A productive day, I get over a month/ fortnight? long translation block and feel elated at a page!

My sis-in-law visited, the first family guest  in this not-so-new house even if it was only for half an hour.  I feel blessed.

How does one wipe out the negativity that has been built over the years of making do, adjusting?  Gratitude for what one has…openness to the world around…and?  I’m working on it slowly, what a weight off my shoulders.

VODAFONE, in its infinite wisdom, has blocked all Loop users.

WHY?
Because Loop didn't pay up. But I did. Loop's problem is not my problem.

This means I cannot call my doctor, or my lawyer. Or the Police, if I have to.

What if there is an EMERGENCY?

What &*(((%%#$-- must be the latest business practice in the UK. 

Nasty PIRATES!

Try doing this in the UK, VODAFONE!

PS: To their credit, they replied to my mail to the UK CEO. Even if that was the fifth assistant to the big man.

PSS: Now I know why phones have dual sims.

So what do you say to someone close.  Just as one had foreseen the illness has spread, and every medical intervention merely a short term band aid. Plus the weight of having to put on a happy face. Life is so short, so beautiful…Life just IS …and yet.

Everything else pales in comparison. Life takes you by the collar, demanding to be taken seriously.

This first stage of monsoons, when one is grateful for the skies opening up…may the Gods be kind, we need the water… later of course one shall crib about the incessant rain and dark skies

What brilliance and kindness… looking at you, I can only imagine what Lord Rama must have looked like. May your life treat you well.

Clear skies… humidity 66%... waiting for the clouds to roll in and thunder.

This morning I got an armful of flowers from the garden…hibiscus and kailashpati … a fitting offering for the Gods.

So you put all your guts together and walk up and say what has to be said. What a relief. 

Goodbye Amby. At peace,GJK 6280. Hindustan Motors is ceasing production of the good faithful. Finally.

Yes, a solid car… but with hidden ambitions of being a truck. How else can you explain a 1967 model functioning and taking on long road trips in the 1980’s? Taking unheard-of loads—at one count we were so many I and a cousin sat first in the luggage compartment and then on the roof… what fun, we still laugh about those days… and when she began to get really old and worn the battery was the first to go, and all of us would be busy pushing her to make her start… and inevitably she would, a few paces down the road. GJK… first a rich jade and then silver-grey…but solid metal none of your flimsy ABS or tinplate... I had tried to drive her too, after my first lessons on a tiny fiat… had driven into the gate, knocking down a pillar-- which so mortified me that I gave up driving all together until the second license in 2010 and driving in my suburb which is a life lesson in patience , fortitude, compassion for the other so keen for getting his way....The Wagon R is light on her feet, responds to a feather touch.. but no way she will last a decade, alas, and it is unlikely that one speeds down a highway singing songs with her.

So humpty dumpty had a fall… didn’t notice the ripe fruit of the umber/guler that had plonked neatly near the office gate, and I slipped, and fell…I think the sunlight I soak in every morning on my walks is the reason I stood up, dusted myself and limped away… And yesterday I walked for an hour in the evening…Much gratitude to the Gods…

One advantage of old places such as the one I live in, are shortcut walking-only lanes that twist and turn, remnants of times when these were tracks that crept uphill through tangled forests… now that the said forests have been replaced by concrete, the tracks survive and cut short a 1.5 hr walk by 45 min.