Au Revoir Eddie.

 Au Revoir, Eddie 

You’ve been good to me, as I’m on my way 

I’ll be off road, for some days, I’ll be away. 

So many sighting last night, you thrill me.

Today, now 11 minutes in I’ve already counted three. 

We don’t judge Eddie, the ilk of you and I

Unlike those who ride us, always projecting 

Their contaminated minds on to other. 

We don’t judge. That’s what I like about us. 

Function before form, that’s the norm

That you and I and others of our ilk, understand. 

We don’t discriminate against, color or conduct,

Knowing how we conduct ourselves is to suit the job at hand. 

Having said that, Eddie; do you wonder, like I do, 

If our Spirits align, like mine does with you? 

Of all the others that traverse the road we share,

Why is that it’s only your presence excites me, 

For the others my levels of affinity, are not the same,

Even though we traverse sometimes shoulder to shoulder 

Perhaps sometimes to a common destination 

Sometimes, to perhaps never meet again. 

Now again this crack of dawn, we passed side by side. You were a bit slower,

Responsible as you always are. 

You know Eddie, the other thing I like about us?

No pain or defeat in our gaze, no sense of confusion in our eyes,

Unlike the Spirit of those who we carry, more my kind than yours,

We don’t have the convoluted sense or non sense of identity. 

See you in the Spring Eddie, I’ll stay behind, but my humans lift off 

For a few days to warmer climes. 

What a glorious couple of days, the sun shine brightly,

With minus two below, the overnight activity of making ice, 

Left its mark everywhere. 

At 10:30 am, with the sun still quite high, 

What a display of twinkling, winking diamonds 

In no rush to go on and about. They twinkle and wink from every surface

Before they will melt away, give way to day. 

Au Revoir then, Eddie we’ll meet in Spring. 

Till then, be well, and safe wherever you come and go.

Don’t forget, to get your snow tires.   

Your friend, Mercedes E 220D 

and Veenu

12/08/2022

9:32 am

Buzz, Buzz, Busy Bees, how are things with you?

 I’m sorry there’s too many pesticides, 

And why people have no clue, 

It’s not too hard, and why it’s best 

The right thing we do! 

Busy Bee, you know hard it was for me,

To get this off the ground,

Every thing grows more complex each day,

Wish things would turn around. 

And folks would be more down to earth,

Appreciate you, Busy Bee, and 

Understand your true worth? 

I hope this will make a teeny tiny difference,

When they read what has been said about you,

And your friends in the gardens,

So here it, my little offering, without further ado!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BNYXG57V/ref=sr_1_3?crid=252HXP1P9BLWB&keywords=veenu+banga&qid=1670200623&sprefix=%2Caps%2C138&sr=8-3

Veenu Banga

12/05/2022

12:45 am.

Another year, one past, the next starts

  Time goes away, memory brings it back, round snd round, we go in circles. I thought it was yesterday, but did not feel it. My body, soul and spirit know better. It was today, and I felt it. The sadness, the tears, though far lessened, still flow easily when I miss her. Sometimes, when I think of her bravery, her fierce zest for life, I’m amazed. 

Climbing the St. Augustine lighthouse, at age 80! Insisting on using the stairs in their building, from the top third and fourth floor penthouse, in Hyderabad. Always. When the driver would come to take her out, even if he took the lift, she took the stairs.  

She was far from perfect. My dear beloved mother. But she was all I had, and with her passing, I became an orphan. Something I did not realize then.

However, I’m far from alone. Any child, every child must but have strong emotions with regards to a parent. Whatever that may be. I can say that I was blessed, but for her, I would not have been given the opportunities that I did. 

Just as we, as parents, are prone to err, she may have made mistakes, except I see none. I am amazed at her grit. In 39 minutes, this day will be over. Another year will start afresh, counting down the time. 

To my mother, grandmother and grandfather, and to all our ancestors before them, my humble obeisance. I live this day because you came before me. My children are here, because you did all things right. Why does one feel, that we don’t do justice to our ancestors? I wonder, if you all, my ancestors, felt the same in your lifetime? 

Never a moment when I do not look back in gratitude and adoration. Of you. 

Your ever loving daughter,

Veenu 

10/16/202211:26 pm

All Children are little people

Even babies. All children are little people. As adults, and especially as young parents, we tend to forget that children are little people, with personalities of their own, right from the time they are born.

When we truly engage with children, we realize how different each one is in their actions, reactions, acceptance, non-acceptance, and general outlook of their life and circumstances.

Children never cease to surprise me with their innate intelligence and quick grasp of the information they encounter. Sometimes, we as adults do not even realize how much they can grasp. Adults can unintentionally underestimate a child’s level of intelligence. In my opinion, we should not hesitate to introduce our children to new words and ideas that stretch a little beyond whatever level they are. You’d be surprised.

When my daughter was just over a year old, I hand-made her first book of Alphabet. I illustrated every picture myself and wrote the letter of each Alphabet, in both capital and small letters, using the Marion Richardson style we wrote in my school, the Convent of Jesus and Mary, New Delhi.

My daughter and I read this, her first book, every day before I read other story books to her. She was about eighteen months old when one time, as we were driving down a busy Main Street, she excitedly shouted A! She pointed her finger toward a billboard and saw the Apple logo on the computer company’s advertising. (A for apple) My daughter was a late speaker, and this A! was probably her first word! She was essentially reading before she could talk.

It was a happy surprise, and I am pleased to say that it inculcated a sense of curiosity and desire for learning in my child. Later, in high school and college, she always took on additional subjects than required and earned extra credits. She is well-rounded and extensively knowledgeable about various topics. Her love of reading has sustained her well.

Writing this blog post is to justify my use of vocabulary not usual in children’s picture books. I am not writing for the little child. I am writing for the little person.

My storylines are longer and more engaging than most books written for very young children. The reason for this is to encourage children to have a longer attention span, which is lacking in our cultural environment today due to excessive exposure to too many distractions, not the least of which is TV, with its quickly changing optical frames. The emphasis is on ‘gripping’ a person’s attention, not engaging it.

When my children were little, we read story books every day. Many that I read to them were later read and re-read by them as they grew older. They grew with the books and learned as they grew. They developed their own tastes. Now my children introduce me to different genres. They surprise me with their reading preferences, more so my son.

I sincerely hope your child finds my stories engaging, exciting, and informative. I hope your child feels they have progressed with the book and expanded their learning. As they read, they grow with the book. All children have favorite books, and I hope mine will be among your child’s favorites.

All children are little people, and all children are society’s most precious assets. It gives me immense pleasure to write for all the little people out there who look forward to having a book read to them or to read one themselves.

Veenu Banga
October 5, 2022

There should be a law..

 That every single day of our lives, we have stop whatever we are doing to watch the sunset. 

Saw another spectacular sunset, driving to Costco, about 30 minutes away in Coventry. Most of the time, it was on country roads, and not just the sunset across the open fields, and the odd village, but on the east of the horizon was a beautiful double rainbow. So beautiful, just so, so very beautiful. Open sky, shades of blue and the clouds, lined with liquid gold, as if it was a piece of stained glass and the gold edges were holding the clouds together. 

Normally I like the freedom of a watercolor effect, because the watercolors tend to bleed a little, asserting their freedom, breaking through boundaries- they are not constrained, like oils or acrylic, which btw was my mum’s medium of choice. Today, the sky was structured, though wisps of cloud still strayed away. 

So yes, about the law, it must be considered by any sane society, to encourage its citizens to feel good by being in nature. After all, we count our lives in days, everything is made up of days, like weeks, months and years, so what a shame if we’ve lived life, and to not see the day come to a close? 

The clock has just gone past midnight, so technically, while I started this on Thursday, it’s going to be published on the blog on Friday. 

I should know better. Maybe this is one more alarm I will set on my phone, to remind me to stop whatever I’m doing, and come time for sunset, I will head our, stand by the door, or better still go out to the hill in the park overlooking the Tesco’s, and admire the sky and the sunset. 

Veenu Banga

9/30/2022

12:13 am.

The worlds within our World!

 We coexist with the worlds that inhabit our world. We just never think of it. What made me realize that could well be a teaser for what’s coming from me!

Next book intro: A Fun Way To Learn! series

As we walk the earth in our day-to-day lives, are we aware of a whole world alive and thriving in the trees? 

This story unfolds the days and nights through the curious eyes of a fun-loving, friendly baby sparrow and his siblings. Meet the Sparrows' neighbors and the world they inhabit in the tree tops. Find out their fears. See their excitement when Ethan and Adelyn fill the bird feeder and when their Mama Sparrow heads to the birdbath. Eavesdrop on their conversations.

*Pictures and new words for your little ones to help expand their vocabulary.*

Been a bit grueling with this one. Back and forth, etc. And now I’m finally close to the finish like, with bringing it all together. 

Navratri started today!

Veenu Banga

09/26/2022

11:35  pm.

The rain was

 A bit of a damper. But, not enough to stop us from having a marvelous day. 

After losing a few posts when I accidentally deleted them, I hope this one survives my tired bones, but exhilarated spirit. It was such a great day. Visiting all our favorite haunts, it was like we had never left. 

Seven years is a long time, and something’s had notably changed. For starters Pinocchio, our favorite local Italian was no longer in business. In its place was another Italian restaurant. Rob the humongous store was very much there. I still remember my surprise seeing their wine cellar for the first time. It must have been the size of a regular grocery store in Florida. Then there was the cage, which looked more like a chapel, because of the ornate wrought iron gates that housed wine bottles with visibly displayed price tags of thousands of euros. 

One location of Pizza Saco was also permanently closed. Covid must have extracted it’s toll. Other changes included changing traffic patterns, with increasing padestrian areas, especially near the city Centre areas such as Centraal and the Grand-Place.  A bit of a damper. But not enough to stop us from having a fabulous day. 

The day showed us all four seasons. There was rain when we started, then it became cloudy; followed by sunny, and then rain again. A hail storm quickly followed this! Back to sunshine again, and soon dusk was asserting itself with a coolness in the air when we returned to our hotel. 

We had a great breakfast/ brunch at Le Pain Quotidien, followed by a late lunch at Bia Mara and the walkabout in the abovementioned areas. We went to St. Nicholas Church and spent about 45 minutes there. We were then shopping around the area going to our old favorites. 

We had the best intentions to go to Pizza Saco for dinner, but the Gods had a bigger and better dream dinner in mind for us. For that story, we will have to wait till tomorrow!

Veenu Banga

09-16-2022

11:26 pm. 

Magic in the sky tonight!

 Since it’s past midnight, I can’t say today, or yesterday and be speaking factually. So, Thursday night, we were headed out and there’s a very brightly twinkling light in the sky. I think it’s a plane, but it doesn’t move. So out comes my trusty Sky Guide, and it’s Jupiter! To its right is a bright big moon, growing boldly towards fullness. 

Saw them again, and on the highway or in the city, these two seem to be the only Inhabitants of the vast expanse of sky. The city lights fade out the stars. Then we went out in the fields, where there’s nary a light to be seen, and Jupiter and the Moon, are flanked by several twinkling stars. 

Magical night sky, the stuff that makes you happy to be alive. Another day, another magic, always a different display. Bring on the magic show, Mother Nature, blessed to stand witness! Thank you. 

Veenu Banga

September 10, 2022

12:53 am.

How suddenly the day turns..

What a glorious to my day! I had some great news about a friend in a faraway place. Childhood friend, I may add. While I was still rejoicing that fact, it was time to join a zoom call and the first person to join, told me I was looking very beautiful. 

While I cannot vouch for the looking part, I can certainly vouch for the feeling- yes, I felt beautiful. I immediately realized that it was because I was happy! 

Lesson to self: be happy, and you will always be beautiful.

Then, in the afternoon, news of the Queen. What a lady, working till the very end of her life, she appointed the Prime Minister on Tuesday, and departed the world on Thursday. May her soul Rest In Peace. 

Veenu Banga

September 8, 2022.

11:54 pm.

Charlene approves!

Charlene approves! Rather, Master Charlene, I should say when I refer to my qigong buddy. 

Charlene sent me her sweet message today to join her in Energy for the weekly Thursday mid-morning qigong practice class.

Charlene hadn't read my "Eddie of the green coat," which is currently my favorite poem. So, of course, I send it to her with my favorite lines: 

"..and I 

Then let my eyes gaze contentedly over 

Your green coat attired imposing self. Comforted, 

I closed my eyes, knowing that our nearness was real

And not a dream."

 I also sent Charlene a couple of photos of Eddie and "Handsome trucks," she said as she approved! 

We both must have good taste. 

Veenu Banga

9/8/2022

12:01 am 

~~~~~~~

Trying to stay the course

 When years and years of destructive behavior completely throws you off balance, it is not easy to stand back up on one's own. Except, that's the only way to do it. 

Another day, and my lack of self-discipline with timekeeping, only aggravates the issue. At some point, our failure to stand up for ourselves in a timely manner tips the balance towards self-sabotage. All this crap about going with the flow, trying to keep the peace, or being stoic is just that- Crap with a capital C. 

All this crap robs you of your resources of self-preservation and self-care ability. And that is the first step backward. In that first step, you can either stumble and get back up, or you can stumble and roll backward, which speeds up the process of getting undone. 

You allow yourself to be bullied, which becomes controlling behavior and easily slides into abuse. At some point, that hurts, but habit integrates it into one's life, and habits die hard. Then the only way to rebound is by hitting rock bottom and bouncing off that rock. Where you may land is another story. And who you follow or don't follow- will direct the outcome. 

So, when one's balance is lost, standing back up alone will have to be slow steps, not without hand-holding. Except the best help is at the end of one's arm. 

The simplest and easiest road back up is to stop in your tracks. Then, see where you are in your life. Realize that you've not listened to your small voice all the time. When you are convinced that you're mistaken, that you must be the problem, consider the possibility that you were not to blame. Then, tell yourself that you'll give yourself a chance. And do it, give yourself a chance, and do one thing for yourself, which gives you joy. 

When the wise tell us to live in the present moment, they know what they are talking about. It's up to us to learn from others' mistakes and wisdom or waste more of our life making our own mistakes to learn from them. 

Life spins by faster and faster as time goes on, and while youth tarries, late adulthood is not so patient and moves quickly. The goal should be to make self-care a habit, make what gives you joy a practice, and above all, learn to say No, and mean it. It's about how much life we can put into our remaining years. Going forwards, that is in our own hands if we can use the crutch of what gives us joy. It can help us discover and embrace our passion. 

Veenu Banga

September 7th, 2002.

2:09 am

Only this love..

From a Facebook chat: 

Relationships end when both people have learned everything that they were meant to learn from one another in this lifetime, and their auric fields are no longer in resonance. Thus, there is no cause for blame as it is simply a moving forward. only this Love ~ Cathy Ginter

Veenu: Yes, I thought this very appropriate. 

They say we change our social circle, 'friends' every seven years, I suppose another way of saying how we evolve by contacf and interaction with others. 

“When health is absent Wisdom cannot reveal itself, Art cannot become manifest, Strength cannot be exerted, Wealth is useless and Reason is powerless.”

-Herophilies ( 300 BC.)

My Eddie phase..

 I’ve realized, I’m going through an Eddie phase. I simply love that poem, and sometimes read it before going to bed. My favorite lines are, “Once we came close enough to whisper,” and 

“..and I

Then let my eyes gaze contentedly, over

Your green coat attired imposing self. Comforted,

I closed my eyes, knowing that our nearness was real

And not a dream.”

Also,

‘…we may

Again traverse together, and our paths stay steady

Long enough for us to appreciate each other better.” 

This page on my blog was open on my old phone, as I had read it last night. The reason I say I’m going through an Eddie phase is because I’m always camera ready to take a photo of the Eddie Stobart trucks. 

Today, we were on our way to Waitrose, I saw an Eddie Stobart truck standing in the Lay by, as the short rest areas are called here. I took a quick photo from the moving car, and then proceeded to look at it. My squeal of delight, startled even me. I don’t remember, ever, ever, having been so excited. It was a fairly decent photo, considering it was from a moving car, but definitely not worthy of an excited, crazed schoolgirl crush squeal. That’s when it occurred to me. That I’m being a bit silly. Let’s see how long this lasts, considering I’m over ‘that Pakistani guy’ who exclusively sings Mohammed Rafi songs, and that other person, fellow from the Islands who sang some of my favorite songs with that cute sing-song Island accent that the Islanders have. I don’t even remember his name, and that was just a couple of months ago. 

On our way back, the Eddie of the green coat was still there, in the same spot, in the same Lay by, so I know it was him. Might have been a her actually. Many of the trucks are named, and I’ve seen female names painted at the front. There could possibly even have been a female driver. Anyway, as we approached the roundabout at the end of the road, there was another truck waiting at the lights, and it turned left. Or gracefully maneuvered the turn. Took two more photos, and I have too many now. 

The thing is, I’m not alone. This is something I discovered when I wanted to share the poem with the company and was looking for their Facebook page. I discovered, not one but a few Eddie Stobart fan pages. I knew train spotting was a thing, but had no idea long haul truck spotting was a thing too. There I found out that when you spot a truck, you have to give, preferably it’s ‘name’, if it has one, and all its technical details as well, which of course I wouldn’t know. There are members of these groups, in the thousands! 

 With so many ardent and devoted followers, Eddie of the green coat is not going to give me a second look. Which is perfect. Because we love, not necessarily to be loved in return, but because of how it feels to us. For the joy we get from it. Love is a feeling, internal and personal. The fallacy of being loved in return or the unrequited love saga, don’t do the feeling of ‘loving’ any justice. So love, and enjoy loving, don’t taint the feeling by making it dependent on another person’s emotional reaction to oneself. Love is only between one’s soul-self and our Spirit. If a bond has been forged, our souls will find a way. 

Till next time, Eddie Stobart, safe travels, to both you and I. 

Veenu Banga

5th  September 2022

11:43 pm. 

 

Oranges and Lemons

 I don’t know if it’s a good thing, or not so good, that we get our fruits from across the oceans, wherever we are, or wherever we go. With that said, I think I’ve become quite seasoned and can pick good tasting fruits by knowing their country of origin. 

Oranges, they’re best if they’re from Morocco, Spain and South Africa, in this order. Rarely does the produce of Peru rise to the taste of these places. I always imagine the heat of the sun and the sands of adjoining deserts of countries like Morocco that contributes to the ripening of the fruits. However, how far from the time of harvest must the produce be, if it’s coming from such distances. 

One hopes that the exports of these countries benefit the growers, as farmers in any country are not as well rewarded for their efforts and services, as they should be. 

What is frustrating, is that in places like Florida, which has historically been known for its citrus, lemon trees are discouraged and I can’t recall when I last purchased locally grown lemons in Florida. 

Some farmers markets where farmers with small holdings are present, it’s often possible to find locally grown produce, especially berries. For mangoes, and other tropical, it’s South Florida. Merritt island has a few mango orchards, and they’re locally available. Locally grown Oranges however, are hard to come by. Which reminds me, this week we got nice South African easy peeler oranges from Waitrose, they’re super sweet. 

I think I will have one now!

Veenu Banga

Blessed with my tribe

 It took a long time, but I have finally found my tribe. While I could say we are an army, because we are, it’s because we scattered all over, that I’ll just say I’m connected to a handful, and that they’re more than enough. Kindred spirits. 

There is an inherent element of selflessness to Energy workers. My Tribe is like that. We gather together sometimes, and remain connected in various ways. What brought on this appreciation was a casual chat with Charlene. We text frequently, and I love taking pictures to send to her, and she sends me photos of her farm and her flowers. and other interesting events and milestones in their lives. She’s in NYC, so we’re not exactly close as in vicinity.

Charlene has been knitting and crocheting woolen caps for the last several months. She periodically sends me photos of her handiwork, sometimes she’s even wearing one of them and I get a photo of her modeling her piece de resistance. She’s been knitting them for an agency that supports seniors. The other day she told me that she’s going to make 50 woolen caps for the seniors to wear in the Manhattan winter. I told her, I would like to donate a few copies of my book to a shelter where there are kids, especially at Christmas time. Charlene said that’s exactly what she is doing, knitting the caps to be included in Christmas hampers that will be delivered to seniors by volunteers! 

That’s what I love about my friends, my real ‘friends’, like Susan, not acquaintances. Besides, I’m a sucker for seniors and for little kids. Both are close to God, our creator. One group preparing to be headed there, the other group have just come from there. So special. Life, in all its fragility, in all its illusionary games. It’s the only one we have. It’s something to remember, every day. 

Veenu Banga

September 3rd, 2022.

12:53 am

Ooooops!

 The clock struck 12 at midnight, it was 5 minutes ago, 

I was too busy penning my thoughts elsewhere, and did not know

Where time flew by, and while the midnight hour is done,

The night is still young and I can tarry here, no need to run.

My coach is no pumpkin, I sit at a table on an orange chair, 

No glass slippers on my feet, to be abandoned on the palace stairs. 

I have the moon for company, and witness to this night,

That I did not shirk my promise, and on my resolve will make right.

I suppose I could let, these few words do the job,

However, that’s not doing justice, my blog I will not rob.

I will say with gratitude, it was a day of one special happy surprise,

It was something kind and thoughtful, it brought moisture to my eyes.

Having said that in the spirit, to fulfill my promise for the day,

I will stop the verse for now, and in prose further have my say. 

Veenu Banga

September 2-3, 2022.

12:17 am.

Paryushan came and went

 Paryushan ended yesterday on the 31st of August. On the last day everyone exchanged messages of Khamat Khama and Micchami Dukkadam. Just a beautiful tradition, humbling and comforting. It is basically asking for and giving forgiveness for any harm or hurt we may have inadvertently or consciously caused to anyone. Fortunately, most people intellectually understand, that if they have been the cause of pain to another, they are not absolved from repeating their mistakes or future behavior. However, it is comforting to say it. 

In my personal opinion and in my life, I find that apologizing, and asking forgiveness, just humility as a core strength, or value system is the most comforting feeling. It comes to me so easily. It saves argument, which is quite abhorring really. 

I have heard Jainism described as ‘Hinduism on steroids’. One of the beauties of Jainism is that there’s minimal ritual, and an absence of priestly Pooja’s. Where priests are involved, being human, they can sometimes play favorites, and even decide whether or not they want to like you. 

The Hindu Calendar has started its busiest time of the year. At this time, India is celebrating the Ganesh Festival. Bombay will be a party city, as this religious festival becomes more and more commercialized. This will be followed by Shradh or Pitrupaksh, 15 days of piety in remembrance of our ancestors. Then the Navratri festival begins, celebrating the 9 nights in honor of the Mother Godess, in all her forms. During these months, my heart longs to be in India, especially for the Durga Puja dance, the Dhunuchi Naach. I’ve been seeing it on Yiu Tube. Navratri was a prominent festival in my mother’s life. She specifically celebrated the 8th day, and gave Kanjak to little girls, and even to little boys. That may not have been traction, the boy thing, but then, my mum preferred being fair to the kids, than to buckle to tradition blindly.

Temples arrange special festivities and Pooja’s, so it’s a great time to air your sarees and silks, as there’s lots of temple going, and lots of socializing. 

Dussehra will close out the Navratris and then everyone will be looking forward to Diwali. It’s also wedding season in India. Certainly not the time to buy diamonds or gold, as their prices peak in the season. 

Here, Thanksgiving and Christmas follow in quick succession. Another year accelerating to a close. We couldn’t wait for 2022 to arrive, after the difficult time in 2020-2021, and now 2022 is on its way out. All eyes are on 2023.  

May all our days that remain, be good to us.

Veenu Banga

September 2nd, 20200

1:29 am. 

Hello September

 All the things we think, and all the things, we remember and forget. The sum of our thoughts, memories, miseries, misgivings, mischiefs, all type of moments, make up our lives. 

This morning I woke up with the realization it was September already, that was my first thought, and September is a special month. It’s the month of the winter equinox. “Welcome September” were my first words, albeit in my mind, even before I opened my eyes. Then, I made a resolve. Let’s see, if by the 30th of the month, that resolve has held. 

For the last couple of weeks or so, the days seem to have a different complexion, and a very different feel in the air. The reluctant nip in the air has arrived here, in the UK. In Florida, we are still in Hurricane season, officially till November 1st. Hurricanes have been known to arrive even later. If like in past years, when we have not had a hurricane, it lulls us into a false belief, that the hurricanes will stay away, and sometimes, they do, but other times, we have been quite rudely surprised. 

However, we’re not going to speak to soon. To be back in the present moment, space, and place, the one big change that I will feel, is to do with the blackberries. 

One of the joys of the English summer is the wild fruits, especially berries, growing, or rather overgrown at every turn. Along most walking paths, the blackberry bushes flank both sides of the track. I’ve seen a few creep up trees and grow really tall. These are established bushes, or blackberry brambles as they’re also known. It’s a given that I would stop every few steps and pluck the biggest and juiciest, and one big blow on them, and into my mouth they went. July and much of August was especially fruitful, pun intended. 

My favorite walking path was along the canal, five doors down from our doorstep. The canal boats are tethered on both sides of the canal, and their names are always a source of delight. The last really funny one, was KNOT NOW, painted on to show it written in a sailors rope, replete with twists and a knot in its name. Because they are peoples homes, I refrain from taking photos. 

While there are other bushes, and plants, mostly natives, including several herbs that I recognized, it was the blackberries that edged their way front, forward and center, so to literally speak. They are everywhere, even on the ground, growing along the floor’s edge where it met the fence, in our parking area. Big fat ones, but I just did not want them from so close to the ground. 

What the blackberry connection to September? Well, since autumn is being ushered in this month, according to an Englishman houseguest, who accompanied us on one of our walks, it  is an unwritten English rule, that after the end of August, starting the 1st of September, no berries be plucked, so that they are saved for the birds in the area, and also for birds who who migrate here in the winter. So in honor of the tradition, and of course, in reverence to the birds,  my foraging of blackberries has come to a stop. 

Meanwhile, across the fence in the parking area, an apple tree has been peeking over the fence, branching out with its fruits still clinging on to it. They were really tiny ones in July, and then in August, I noticed that they suddenly seemed to have grown! They’re bigger now, almost to full maturity, and have been losing their green. Since it was on our side on the fence, I have actually helped myself to a couple. The crunch is just so massively satisfying. One apple fell to the ground, as I was retrieving it. It dropped in between an overgrowth of dried bushes and when I went to retrieve it, I realized it was filled with the thorny blackberry brambles, mostly dried twigs and thorn. They are very vicious, the blackberry thorns. As long as you stick to plucking berries, it’s all good, but the thorns, are rigid, strong, and very sharp. Very unforgiving if disturbed. So I just let the apple be. Hopefully some animal can get to it. 

The apples are growing bigger and redder. The cycles of nature, in perfect orchestration. Bye, bye blackberries, hello apples. Nature, always on the job, on top of things. Everything perfectly planned.

What can I say after that? 

Veenu Banga

1st September 2022.

11:52 pm.

It feels so natural

 To write.

Paryushan starts on the 24th, tomorrow. Simple things we can do, Firstly, follow the tenets of non-violence and other Jain principles. 

It is also wise to eat before sunset every day. Paryushan is also an opportunity to build up willpower and create discipline. We can refrain from eating root vegetables. Reduce the number of green items we eat, and perhaps limit them to four servings or eliminate them from our diet. After all, it's only for eight days. 

We should listen to Pravachan and meditate regularly. Spend time in Nature and discover God is everywhere, with me, and in me.

Veenu Banga

August 23, 2022.

2:33 am.

How do I address you?

 We’ve barely spoken, you and I. 

There are always folks around. You’re so much in demand. You’re adored, worshipped, approached for wish fulfillment, and invoked for the wisdom, which has been unequivocally acknowledged as the Ultimate in all that is to know about life. So, where do I stand a chance? Amidst all this cacophony, what hope do I have to get your attention, especially as I come empty-handed? 

So far, I’ve done quite well, so perhaps I’ll continue. Having said so much already to you has emboldened me. Maybe, you will forgive my lack of formally addressing you. 

So let’s talk. Please? Well, I was listening to music after a very, very, very long time. Listening, as in binge listening, alone with just my thoughts and my longings, after everyone had gone to bed. It was just me and my music. 

While it’s been on my mind these last few days to chat with you, I’m glad I refrained because my emotions were quite different then, and I may have sabotaged my chances. You see, I’ve been holding a grudge. Against you. Now, I did not say that. I just thought it. Oh, and you heard it? You knew? Really? So you do know it all then, huh? 

That’s precisely been my point. If you know it, why have you not done anything about it? Why can’t I get the benefit of your mercy? So, as I was saying, I’m deeply hurt and offended by your lack of sending any, even a minuscule amount of wisdom, my way.  

However, one particular piece of music today mellowed my misery of feeling neglected by you. I sang with the hymn to praise your glory, addressing you by your many names. Oh, I guess that solves the issue of wondering how to address you. 

Here are just some of your powerful names, Shree Krishna. Achutam, Govindam-Gopalam, Padmanabham, Damodaram, Sharanam Bhaja. Shreedhararam, Devikanandam, Gopika Vallabham, Chakradharine. Giridharinam, Poornadevam, Jagannathan, Lokanatham, Jogeshwaram, Vishwaroop Darshine, Lokanathan, Shree Krishnasharnam. NAMAH. It truly gladdened my heart just singing to the mesmerizing music with the voice. Oh, and thank you for the fragrance while I gently chanted along, mindfully keeping silent where there was a chance to mispronounce your holy name. 

My urge at admonishment already seems to have evaporated. Maybe it’s me, having spoken out at last, or perhaps you, the all-knowing? Or maybe it’s both of us, my coming to you, albeit somewhat indignant, and your mercy finally being bestowed upon me. And, because the devil is in the details, I don’t want to know the whys and hows. 

Having thus poured my heart out to you, sleep beckons. Louder than my longing to get to know you. However, we will take it up again, another time. I hope, sincerely. 

Meanwhile, please don’t forget me. Please be kind. How will you show yourself to me? I will worry about that another day, content now to know I’m within your sight. 

Maybe in my dreams? 

Veenu Banga

August 23, 2002

1:37 am. 

One word, and all that it hides.

 Kashish.

After two hours of immersing myself deep into it, listening to some of my favorite music sung by different artists, I had but one word to show for it. One word that just came to the forefront, of all the talk that goes on in the head, all the scenarios we live through, and all the places they take us, was Kashish. 

Kashish. Aggressively asserting itself. Deep from within, it showed up, reminding me that it was a part of my life and always there, just latent. That I may have forgotten it, but it had not forsaken me. I never asked what it was about today that Kasish decided the time had come for it to come out of the deep, from under the layers of life heaped upon us, and make its presence known.

While I’m no longer sure I remember what Kashish means, I will go with my gut and believe what I think it means. So Kashish for what? 

Kashish- For wanting to be back in India. Wanting to be in the audience of some of these live concert shows where the vocal artists sing, and the musicians play. Where so many souls join them collectively and lose themselves in the heavy cloud of that emotion that comes laden in the songs. 

Kashish, for returning from my morning walks and seeing the sunrise along with my return home. The feeling of my clothes wet, and clinging to me with the sweat born of a brisk walk in the Delhi summer mornings. 

Kashish for participating in the Durga Puja celebrations, watching the Dhunuchi Naach, and being mesmerized by the dancers' devotion. 

Kashish to talk with others in the audience who enjoy live concerts and bask in the collective Energy of the music and the people. Revel in the magic that vocal chords can create, and be grateful for the ability to hear and drink the magic that comes in the form of liquid silk, which can only be created by sound and tasted by hearing. Yes, the Kashish is to partake of that magic potion. 

Kashish to write to Krishna, tell Him what is on my mind, and hope I can demand an answer. After all, He is all things, to everyone, and all things. Also, thank Him for the fragrance.

Veenu Banga

August 23rd, 2002

1:15 am.

Eddie of the green coat

The back story for this little piece must come after the reading. Simply because there may be a little surprise for those not familiar with the Eddie referred to here, and there would be many. So here it is for your reading pleasure.

~

Oh, Eddie! How much I look forward to seeing you,

As you go hither and thither, far and near, on your way.

I frequently wish I could come with you, and 

See all the places you tread, 

In that smart green coat of yours.

Ever so often, I wished I could talk with you,

There are so many questions in my mind,

Once, we came almost close enough to whisper

You and I. You in your green coat,

And I, in my silver attire, we were both sailing, 

On the Northlink ferry from Lerwick to Aberdeen. 

It was a night sailing, so I did not disturb you.

I let you rest your tired mass, and I 

Then let my eyes gaze contentedly over 

Your green coat attired imposing self. Comforted, 

I closed my eyes, knowing that our nearness was real

And not a dream.

So Eddie of the green coat, or is it, Mr. Stobart 

That I should say? Do you ever glance around 

And take note of us girls, looking up longingly 

At you, as you and I, and the others like me,

Whiz past each other. Every day, 

As we keep the country well supplied. 

Till next time then, Eddie Stobart, our paths diverge here

How gracefully I see you maneuver the roundabouts

As you exit out of my sight, but only till next time, 

Then again, on a nice sunny summer’s day, we may 

Again traverse together, and our paths stay steady

Long enough for us to appreciate each other better. 

So long, Eddie. It’s Adieu, and signing off for now, 

From your longtime admirer, Mercedes E220D.

Veenu Banga

copyright August 21, 2022

Backstory:

We are a family of Road Trip lovers. One of the joys of a road trip in the UK is seeing the different trucks go about their business keeping the country well supplied. My favorite are the EDDIE STOBART trucks! 

I miss seeing them in the city streets, so it’s always a delight when I do spot them off highway. In my opinion the Eddie Stobart trucks are the best behaved and best looking fleet. So here’s a tribute to the Eddie Stobart boys in Green! I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading the poem, as much as I loved writing it. 

Thanks for reading!

Veenu

Liberated!

 How could I have forgotten! 

After months of procrastination, I liberated Bubbalou from the depths of one of my journals. While Bubbalou was created in 2006, it originally entered my life in the early 1970’s, and was soon after published in an agricultural magazine. I have carried a copy of it, on a fragile with age sheet of paper, typewritten, long before computers became a common thing. 

Here it is, with the back story, followed by a link to what’s become of him after he became Bubbalou. He’s happily delighting little children, like he once did me- he held me mesmerized and moved, pensive, thoughtful, resigned. 

The transformation to Bubbalou was required for it to be more palatable to the young and not so young minds in the west. The ‘fatality’ of “all life must come to an end,” may not have sat well with the western mind, and certainly not an ending such as met by my friend in 1971?! This is how it all happened. 

Indian Monsoon

This poem is the original of the recently published Adventures of Bubbalou, the baby water bubble. An Agricultural magazine published it, along with another poem, Sparrow's song. 

The Backstory for this poem takes me back to a late afternoon or early evening during the monsoons. It was in Pandara Road, New Delhi, where we lived for about 23 years, in government accommodation allotted to my mother. At the end of each row of flats was a deep gutter for the rainwater runoff. Being an avid walker, I always sought a reason to 'go' somewhere so I could walk. 

I remember heading out as soon as the rain stopped. The gutter was still gurgling away like an energetic brook, with water flowing at a good pace. I glanced into the gutter and noticed a big water bubble. Along with the blades of dried grass and other bric a brac from nature's excrement being washed away with the rainwater, it was jaunting along, floating in the water, meandering with the water's path, going wherever the water's flow was taking it. 

In my late teens then, in the early 1970s, I had matured enough to have a mental bent that colors much of Indian thought process and life, the feeling of a presence of divinity and the impermanence of things. From this observation, my poem, Indian Monsoon, was born.

Indian Monsoon

I am a baby water bubble 

I was born in the rain,

My life is but a short span

I'll just float down the drain.

Straws and dust are my companions

All natural gifts of God

I was born of the lady cloud

The thunder is her lord.

I sway to the water ripples

I dance to the breeze

'Midst grass and thorns and ferns,

My way, I often squeeze.

I live in muddy rainwater,

A boon to farms and fields,

For all humans bless the rain

For the harvest rich it yields.

I, too, am exposed to dangers

Encountered in human strife

I avoid those paper boats 

To save my precious life.

As gaily I sail on

Merrily to the pitter patter tune,

If I'm born at sunrise

I don't live to see the moon.

That all life must once end

To this, I am quite wise,

So before against that rock, I dash,

Just let me close my eyes.

 

Copyright 1971 Veenu Banga

Here is Bubbalou, published on July 27th to mark a special birthday. In paperback and on Kindle:

https://www.amazon.com/Adventures-Bubbalou-Baby-Water-Bubble/dp/B0B8BPCJQX/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=

 https://www.amazon.com/Adventures-Bubbalou-Baby-Water-Bubble-ebook/dp/B0B7ZLMSTF/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=

CODA

When I was planning this post, for my last ritual of the day, it was going to start with:  

This is my mother’s desk. It’s the desk which still sits in her room, which is now the guest room. It’s the desk she wrote on, painted on and even read on. Putting down her cup of tea in pauses, as she did so. 

I would have continued how it was the first day of the Navaratris today, Guddi Padwa and all the other names the first day of Navratri is called/ known by/ represents- names which I don’t remember, having lost practicing the rituals and other observations over the years. A practice she cherished and waited for eagerly, every six months. 

This morning, when I realized the significance of the day, I thought it’s a good day to begin writing my blog posts again, and to persist. Hopefully. Not fall off the wagon. That was the intention. 

However, I forget what it was that I had originally planned to write about, because the evening turned events around swiftly and most unexpectedly. 

We decided to watch CODA after dinner. It’s available on Apple TV and won the Oscar for Best Picture this year. 

CODA is an acronym for ‘child of deaf adults’. While I knew the movie was about deaf people, that was all I knew. I had no clue of the Music connection. While Music is a big part of the movie, it doesn’t stake a claim to being the star. That right remains with the British actress Emilia Jones, who is the CODA in the film, a character named Ruby Rossi. 

The theme of Music asserts itself in all the subtle references and nuances, including a reference to David Bowie passing judgment on Bob Dylan’s voice. The music teacher then calls her ‘Bob,’ which was such a fine nuance, that it’s possible to miss it if you’re not paying attention to the dialogue. 

After a very long time, I cried. Not one to see many movies anyway, I was absolutely and very pleasantly surprised that CODA showcased one of my favorite songs, Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now.”

I was thrilled to hear snatches of the song in the earlier part of Ruby’s musical journey. That they would choose it, was a very happy moment for me, and I thought the director must have copious amounts of sensitivity to choose this perfectly complimenting, off the beaten track type of song in a 2020’s movie. 

However, it’s in the audition scenes that the song totally shines, and makes the movie’s heartbeat reverberate and uplift it’s core to new heights. The movie does as much justice to the song, as the song does to the movie. And, they’ve used the full song. My tears refused to hold back and after several lip quivering moments, I let the tears flow. Later, even thinking about it, made me want to cry. 

Every word of the song scratches the surface to expose what the words so eloquently express. In those moments of the audition, “Both Sides Now” defines all sides of Ruby’s relationships with everyone who matters to her, and she emotes beautifully. She speaks the two languages simultaneously, expressing profoundly in both languages, which are like Ruby’s two nervous systems in her psyche. 

I’m afraid my words cannot do it justice. You have to see it. Some moments will just blow you away. The relationships have been powerfully explored and expressed dramatically and subtlety as and when required. 

CODA emphatically claims that the power of love and duty can sometimes clash. 

Overall, the movie has well earned it’s Oscar. 

Veenu Banga

April 1-2 2022

Copyright Veenu Banga

12:52 am

PS:The audition: https://youtu.be/qlTEAXcKssg

Here, just the song: https://youtu.be/-vbraa31zNI