The secret to a perfect daal now is to sprinkle stardust,  admix soul breath to a blend of spices, mix gently.

sunshine lazes

On silver mane

Winter morning

 Unseasonal rains again. 

The banyan tree has fruited.

The badam sprang to life with new flowers. The panchang, almanac, has an extra month but they didn't get the memo.

Rain drizzles, manna from the heavens. Like a prayer, answered.

2020. Anything can happen.

Something I was waiting for very keenly, didn't happen. At the back of my mind I knew the work was good, but not good enough, not great, and it may have used a few more tweaks and turns.
So why am I upset at the result? Perhaps I miss that "soaking in the pit of morose sentimentality".
Amusing, all.

In The Deccan Herald!

My first ever opinion piece. Whoever thought it would be about politics.Still reeling.

https://www.deccanherald.com/lok-sabha-election-2019/opinion-who-is-the-most-arrogant-of-them-all-733145.html


 Amazing turnaround time.

Much gratitude.

At the SWA event yesterday, Uri writer director Aditya Dhar interviewed by veteran screenwriter Robin Bhatt.
A full house. Standing space only.

So much energy in the room you could send a spaceship to the moon.
Long time tryers. Freshers with stars n hope in their eyes. Several one of a kind..Like the Amritsar businessman who had ideas but no time. Or the tall, muscled Uttarakhandi with flowing hair n rhyming verse. The boy from the home town who gets up at 5 AM to write n juggles his software job...so many stories in  that room.
Mr Dhar spoke about how his 2010 short , Boond, worked as a visiting card lever into the industry.  And yet 13 years to where he is today.  The script itself written in 12 frenzied days...after 6 months of intensive pursuit of research.

So many stories....

The yatra of many lifetimes...

Registrations for the Kailash Mansarovar Yatra have begun.

SEE: kmy.gov.in

Trek the Lipulekh route, to know how the ancients went.  Govt. takes diligent care of each batch, each yatri.

Yet you may reach the final pass into Tibet and not make it. Or you might, leading from the front, like our Bajpaiji, the oldest in our batch.

Jaisi Bholenath ki marzi.

If you've ever dreamt about it, GO!

Rakshas Tal

Enroute Deraphuk 

Madhuradhipatey akhilam madhuram!

Lines from this song took me back over 40 years almost instantly. 1974...

The Spring festival, Vasant Utsav, at the school on the hill. Walking in procession with music and cymbals honoring the King of Spring. 

With a special volume of verse and prose written in our best 4th standard handwriting.

I hear the maestro and can hear our childish voices... madhuradhipate akhilam madhuram!

Sunswept

Sunswept...
Today morning two complete strangers remembered and asked about Baba.
it's been 8 years and counting.
Sunshine n joy, that's where he is.

Thrilled with Coming Home published on Kitaab.

https://kitaab.org/2018/04/23/short-story-coming-home-by-pravinsinh-chavda/

"Bambai mein paisa hawa mein udta hai... aapko pakadna aana chahiye"

Money flutters about in the breeze in Mumbai, you should know how to grasp it.

Wisdom from a rickshaw walla.

Dear crows
Thank you for residing in the banyan tree outside, I enjoy your company and your antics.
But why have you taken to cawing piteously?
You craved bread. You got bread.
Rotis were not good enough. I understand. Dry, non-ghee rotis are a cultivated taste. Gourmet.
Now you don't want bread anymore.
Suddenly. Like the change in the weather.
Why?!
I hear your piteous demands and cringe.
What?

Bridging the gap between 8/70 and 66/70... that is the real challenge then.
To address both groups in the same class, keep them involved and keep them active.
A 4th std kid was struggling with b's and d's to my dismay... and then I reminded myself these were slum kids.
Change takes work.

I had forgotten what 42 deg C feels like. Scorching. Searing.
The last few days were a grim reminder-nudge.
A kinder version of what summer feels like back home. Not 47 deg C, no not yet.
Back to a mild 27 deg C now... a salubrious breeze wafts.

The photos will have to wait some till I figure out how up upload from my phone. But saw something amazing...a thirst for life...a tree decimated with zero leaves on it springs back to life...another tree a giant ficus that fell to its knees after a storm putting out new leaves from the trunk...to Life!

Too many movies, my nagging brain alerts me.

At times it can be therapeutic. Plus I missed the film festival this year, so that’s 40 movies that I’ve not watched. Surplus movie quota!

Somewhere I’ve lost my mojo. Which is why Tumhari Sulu was like a shot in the arm. I remember and take away Vidya Balan’s confident stride. Her laugh, her can-do spirit. It tugged at a part that I once was. A gentle reminder .I walk taller.

Nebraska at the Express Film Club for the brilliantly stark photography as much as the realism of the story. The post film discussion as captivating. Thinking minds.

Secret Superstar. Quarib quarib singlle. For the pace, the content. The hope. The reminder that technology is a lifechanger. Enabler.

About the mojo, it can’t be life events because life is pretty even keel. I volunteer, even if the kids got 3 on 50. I walk. I dutifully visit the temple twice weekly and chant. I rustle up a new recipe every now and then from vegrecipesofindia.  I give placeoforigin more business than I ought to .I plan my next trip—next year for sure, I promise myself-- to the beautiful  big mountains.

What probably needs to happen is more butt in the chair-work. More brainfood. More structure.

Less antsy.

images for now as I scramble for the words
this yatra of many lifetimes
the trek to Mt kailash-mansarovar
in the footsteps of the great
humbling

Climbing Chialekh, Uttarakhand

enroute Deraphuk

Mansarovar

that magical first glimpse, Darchen

on the way to Budhi, Uttarakhand

yamdwar

Shravan, the holy month, draws to a close.
It has been a peaceful time.
In tribute, some images of temples dedicated to Lord Shiva -- these were taken when I rushed through a few states down south last year.

At the garden in VIZAG

Sringeri gate

the ancient temple in Sringeri

Suchindram temple

the ancient shrine in Bora caves

What a a magical trail ... Silonda, in SGNP... the absolute thriller was listening to the call of the drongo...such variety of the calls from one diminutive bird.. unbelievable.(blurry pic, hence not posted). Huge huge thanks to Ushamaam, Renee maam and the TAW...

kusum

Incredible how busy one can be-- without much to show for it.  Days have fallen into a predictable pattern now--  a longish walk in the morning, afternoon nap, evening time  a Turkish serial and then a temple visit. Yes, for the first time in years I collect and arrange flowers, and for the first time ever, I tried to decipher the meanings of the verses I have long recited by rote.

I did some volunteer work too, but may need to shift back to teaching English instead of science, my students have gone AWOL,they preferred coaching classes.

Have been caretaking with hospital visits for some people too, but fortunately that phase seems to be over for now.

Writing got difficult with all the free time...  Some translations got done, but my speed has halved now as the author has turned extra particular...

I did watch some great movies—Sairat, Waiting, Udta Punjab, Dhanak—and that’s from the last two months only. Finished “Being Mortal” by Atul Gawande…. Gave my grey cells a workout.