Thursday, January 20, 2022

Muses and musings

Oh, muses and their excuses, and muses and their uses. We’re always making too much of the muses. I wonder if the muse realizes, that it’s not really about them. Not always, not all the way. 

The creatively inspired are a generous species. They give of themselves to the process more than they to the muse. They can get so enamored in their process of expression, that it’s no longer then about the muse. It’s very essential in the creative process. To lose oneself, and disappear in the creation, creating by growing out from inside it. 

It’s not about whether one’s creation is good or bad- that’s the perception in the eyes of the beholder. The creative types more likely forget this fact. They can be happy only, only when they create/ write/ paint for themselves, not for an audience. That’s the thing to remember. 

Singers, songwriters, musicians, poets and artists are all  creatures of expression, which is a very personal experience. It’s their perception of the muse that manifests their creative expression, not necessarily the reality of the muse. They express what they feel. Sometimes, the pen takes over, most times actually, the words pour themselves out. As if they had been in there incubating all along, and destined to be expressed. 

Similarly, when we do not write, or do not create that which is yearning, and hankering to be given form, we abort and thus kill our untold stories. A certain sadness is almost a pre requisite and aids the creative process. However, if left unattended, sadness can quickly decompose and become toxic depression, causing neglect of when self care. In that sadness, out of that pain, we must seek joy. Finding joy in life is far more productive, than surrendering to grief. 


Muses abound everywhere. We don’t always write about beautiful things. Muses can also inspire introspection. I think that’s what happened to me two nights ago, as I watched Safari videos. This time it was not all pleasant. Rather it was most distressing. 

I wondered if in a previous life, I had been a predator? An animal perhaps like a hyena or a lion, or a hawk? Why else would I be pained watching these kinds of videos. 

It is so much more than killing life. What we cannot give, we have no right to take away. By cutting short a life, we take away potential, by depriving them of their growing years. We steal their experiences, their time on this earth. We deprive the souls of all the relationships they would have forged. We deprive them of their eternity, that their offspring may have produced. So in this life, if we are suffering, it’s good to remember, that we may be discharging our karmic debts. 

It’s far too complicated and there are many schools of thought. However, if we take into account the science, and that every action has a reaction, or what does up, must come down, it will be easier to bear our suffering. That is why, Sikh prayers always include the reciter to pray for the welfare of all.

On this good thought, I will call it a night. Thank you God for another day! 

Veenu Banga

21st January 2022 (night of 20th January)

2:34 am



Wednesday, January 19, 2022

What a pleasant surprise from SG!

My new love, Sky Guide, sent me a message earlier tonight, that the ISS is peaking in 5 minutes! Then K spotted it in the sky. And lo and behold, I pointed the App to the sky, and there it was, the ISS was with me all the way on my drive home! I actually took photos. 

Had a marvelous evening earlier, with Surinder. We enjoyed a nice dinner together at Chatwala near her house. Chana bhatura and masala dosa! She’s so lucky to have so many Indian restaurants in her area.

Grateful for all the gifts of togetherness, and awaiting the gifts of tomorrow! 

Veenu Banga

19th January

11:54 pm.

Tuesday, January 18, 2022

All the languages that I speak..

 With my smile! 

I can smile in English, I can smile in Panjabi, and I can smile in Hindi, and I can smile in every other language in the world! 

Veenu Banga

16th January 2022

11:53 pm

All creatures great and small

 The good Lord made them all.

Some time ago, I started thinking about planning a trip to either Kenya, the stories of which I have heard from friends, or to South Africa, which I thought may be a place to go for a Safari. 

Today, for some reason, I clocked on link on a Huff Post video, of a miraculous escape of a tiger cub, fleeing from a chase by a big hyena. The cub climbed a tree, and the hyaena, finally left in defeat. One video after another, not all with happy endings left me feeling quite sad.

Life is about perspectives. I imagined I would see swarms of graceful impalas, giraffes, and zebras, all roaming the wilds in free abandon. It never occurred to me that there may be the gangs of hyenas and lions and tigers looking to kill for food. Intellectually, we do know, but in reality, that’s not what one thinks about, when one plans to go on a Safari. I think I’ll pass. 

I couldn’t bear to see it on video, and I think witnessing it in reality will make me sick. Very sad and sobering reality of life. Really, it shouldn’t be so, because the civilized world is full of its own hyenas and lions and tigers and other birds of prey. 

Ugly hyenas. I wonder what their existence brings to the table in the whole scheme of nature. Wretched creatures. However, we should love them for what they are, and not judge them. After all they too were created by the same God who created us, or to be more accurate, they are a part of the creation, to which we belong. They probably think we’re murderous nobodies, who kill for whim. At least they kill for food. Such a shame, to be so oblivious. To be put in place by a hyenas. It’s all about perspective. Such is life.


It was cloudy all day. I had hoped to see the moonrise again today, but we did not have a minute when the clouds lifted. 

I had started the day with great optimism, and with much to write about. However, the wildlife and Safari videos were very disturbing, and impacted my mood. And then some other news stories followed, which were not very appetizing either, so an overall sourness pervaded over my thinking. I’m never going to watch that crap again. 

I forgot that I’ve broken off with You Tube. OP Nayyar’s music helped a bit, but I couldn’t listen to anything other than Deewana hua badal. By ‘that Pakistan guy’ and the female singer who is the ‘youngest Pakistani singer from the UK.’

Maybe I should try listening to that secret sacred song, that I keep in my heart, the music that one shares with only their very special loved ones. Even the name of the artist must not escape from one’s lips. Such is the secrecy surrounding that song, or your secret sacred song. 

On that note, I’ll close with a big thank you to everyone I encountered today. Without you in it, this day would not have been what it was. Good. We are all safe and Healthy. 

Grateful for the music, and the endless hours of joy it brings.

Veenu Banga

18th January 2022.

11:50 pm.




Monday, January 17, 2022

God is on my side.

I knew it!  

Before I tell you how that transpired, I must pay homage to the Sun, our Surya Devta, and sing praises to the heavens. 

The heavens are so unified in their approach that when the Sun sets in the west, the east reflects its departure and turns a perfectly complementary potent pink. It holds its hue as the Sun is setting, and for moments after sunset as if in obeisance, appreciating the Sun's labor at the end of another day. 

I think God must be watching me closely. I think Bhagwanji approved of my Gratitude blog posts, and not having seen one written yesterday, decided to deliver. 

And boy, oh boy, did He deliver!  

Nothing else can explain the spectacular moonrise I saw today. Perhaps, God thought, oh, dear! Veenu must not have found anything to be grateful for yesterday, so let's give her something that takes her breath away! 

We were driving down a  B country road. Around 4:15 pm, I looked up at the sunset pink and signature blue of the English sky, with a perfectly round silver orb, floating on it effortlessly. As if held aloft by this perfectly blue-hued sea of the finest particles of air, so soft, like gossamer or on a hammock made of a spider's web. So gently did the moon sit, on this gossamer sea, that the slightest blow of even a kiss could cause it to waft away. 

The moon itself appeared to be of a pure silver color, snuggling into the pink brightness of the sky. It seemed to be made up of the finest particles of stardust, twinkling so finely that the overall effect was of a perfectly circular sphere saturated with tiny, finely chiseled diamonds, sparkling with clusters of a thousand diamonds glistening in a perfect symphony. 

And this orb was waiting to surrender, for perfect contrast, its shine and become white- the perfect yin, to the night's Yang. Potent, perpetual, precious, productive, poetic, and praiseworthy. 


It was so breathtakingly beautiful. So thank you, God, and thank you Sky, and thank you to the country B road which had nothing but fields on both sides, as far as the eyes could see. 

The horizon which hosted the sky seemed to have stretched out its limbs upon the earth, so it could grow more expansive and embrace more of the beauty that had drifted down from the heavens and come to rest upon the bosom of the horizon. The sky sat upon this willing host, proudly proclaiming, the Full Moon has risen!


To say that I was grateful for the other things I was, and they were important, would be tarnishing the memory of watching the glorious late afternoon, taking its time to approach the evening.  

So I will leave it here. I have to simply close my eyes and think of the subtly changing complexion of the sky at moonrise, and carried away to bliss. Like a whiff of fragrance, you could breathe only through your skin, and only the pores of your skin knows what it is. 

And then, on this late winter's afternoon,  if you don't open your eyes and keep them closed, holding on to the memory of the moonrise, one could almost feel the promise of summer reaching out to touch you. 


Veenu Banga

18th January 2022.

12:13 am (night of 17th) 

Sunday, January 16, 2022

It is Sunday!

 And like everyone else it should be a holiday for me! 

Veenu

Jan 16 2022

11:10

Friday, January 14, 2022

Move over, YOU TUBE.

 I have a new love in my life! 


Just letting you know, things may not be the same between us. You and I, we've had some great nights together, real late nights. While my family complained and cajoled and tried everything, I was committed to you. Whenever we met, you had my full attention, at least most of the time. 


I admit I did not look at you much, but I did listen. I listened attentively to all that you had to say to me. I loved the variety of topics we explored together. That's what I loved most about you. Loved, with a capital L. 


Of late, I know I looked less and less, and I'm sure you will understand when I give you my reasons. 


As you know, I was increasingly listening to the music of late—lots and lots of old Hindi songs and many OP Nayyar compositions. Preferring the music, I never did enjoy watching the Hindi movies too much, you know that. 


I hardly, if ever, watched the two to three hours of boy meets girl, drama, fights, car chase, threats, more drama, and finally, everyone gives in and the happily ever after. 


Therefore, it was natural to not 'see' the songs you sang for me, but I was listening in rapt attention, frequently humming with you, usually silently in my heart. You could tell by my smiling face, couldn't you? Even I felt my energy shift. My delight was evident in my demeanor. For all that loving, thank you. 


Besides, I think it's pretty voyeuristic to gawk at two lovers as they romanced around a tree, on a boat, or frolic in a field. What interest do I have in their life? Right, you understand that, don't you, YOUTUBE. 


We were usually alone too, weren't we, you and I? I usually hung out with you late into the night, after everyone had gone to bed, especially for the romantic songs. I loved that it was just us, and the music, like a bright moon in a clear sky, bathing everything in its light, brightened my mood. That's how I felt, bathed in your love. That's why I'm writing to you, not breaking up on text. 


Oh, don't get me wrong, I loved the intimacy! I loved that you could change your tune easily and quickly, and you gave me a hundred options for just one song! You helped me discover new people; they sang for just you and me. We felt part of the audience. No hero or heroine's lip syncing to suffer. 


Most of the time, I mean the two lovers (because you know I love duets, they're far more interactive, and both get to emote) serenade and adore each other, so why the heck should I intrude? 


Plus, I have zero interest in eavesdropping! That's the reason I preferred the songs sung by different people. There were no distractions of flowers and trees and birds and bees and fields with them. Just the music, pure and sung for the love of it. 


Thanks to you, I even discovered 'that Pakistani guy' as my family called him, you know the one who sings Mohammad Rafi songs, and sings them so well. Do you remember? The fellow on the Lahore TV station had real musicians playing real instruments. The violin guy, every time, the same violin guy, remember? He made the violin sound sooooo romantic, not an easy feat, and with no fewer thanks to OP Nayyar. I'm getting carried away. Aren't I? 


What was that? 

Oh, you think I may change my mind dwelling on the past and our time together? 


No, not likely. But who's to know. To change her mind is a woman's prerogative. Nah, kidding. 


Who is he, you ask? My new love? 

Sigh! What can I say? Just thinking about him makes me starry-eyed. 


How did we meet? 

Oh, that's another sweet story. We were introduced by the other wonderful man in my life. 


When? 

Just earlier this evening. We were going out for dinner to Dosa Village. There were four of us, and so as I stepped out, I looked up and saw the moon, shining brightly, surrounded with twinkling stars by its side. The sky was a clear and clean slate. I had to stop and stare and adore. 


He did not introduce me to my new love right away. He noticed me staring and looking up, sighing, smiling, and literally, not wanting to move away. 


So I suppose he decided to indulge me, and out of his pocket came his phone. A quick scroll later, he pointed it towards the sky. With one hand, he held his phone, and with the other, beckoned me close. I was speechless!  


On his phone was the moon, flanked by the stars and the planets and the 'suns,' and they had their names written right there! He showed me Orion’s Belt, flanked by the copper and gold hued Betelgeuse to its left, and Rigel to the right, with their names written there! 


The whole galaxy out in the vastness, eager to introduce themselves, to me! I will never forget that first meeting with my new love.


You may know him, YOUTUBE. Like you, he lives in the App Store. His name is a SKY GUIDE. I have a lot to learn from him, just as I did with you. 


He's as magical as the moon and as mysterious as the sky. It took me a while to Believe that he can see through walls and roofs and curtains and anything really, you have to point him in the direction of the part of the sky you want to feast your eyes upon or spy? I can be in my bed, in my room, and we can be both looking at the stars together, while he also serenades me. Except with him, I don't have the choice of music. He decides. 


Fortunately, he has good taste. I noticed that immediately because I loved his music- everything about it. The tune, the choice of instruments, the whole composition, was so well suited to something as spectacular and magnificent as the galaxy. At the same time, it was soothing, and comforting, despite rhe grandiosity of it all. 


Oh, how I love him. Yeah, I saw that too. My chest heaving and sighing in ecstasy. Just like those Hindi film women. 


I will learn by watching him. Closely. Unlike with you, where I had the luxury of having our Tete-a-Tete's on the laptop or iPad, it's just on the phone with him. So far as I know. 


Not that I mind, not much anyway. 


Oh, dear! I am so sorry. Breaking up is hard to do. 


I'm infatuated, you say? 

Ummm, not sure. I don't think so. Maybe, maybe not. Torn, definitely. 


We had good times together. I remember when you were born, YOUTUBE—the news about the video at the zoo and the three guys who created you. I didn't pay much attention to you then, but once I discovered the joys of the gifts you came bearing, like the rest, I was smitten. For a good reason, they call me tube-light- I'm always slow to get it. In my defense, though, I'm loyal like you once I do. 


So, goodbye for now, or is it adieu? Time will tell. I love you still, always will. For the good times, a big thank you. But, I'm sure you'll understand that sometimes, a girl has gotta reach for the stars, especially when they come calling. 


I'll always have a special place for you in my heart, YOUTUBE. You'll always be welcome when you come calling. Till then, with the stars in my eyes, and the moon to light my way, I will let SKY GUIDE lead me to a new adventure as we discover new worlds together. 


I'm missing you already, YOUTUBE...but sometimes a girl just needs to get away! 


Veenu Banga

January 15th, 2022

1:36 am.




Thursday, January 13, 2022

Something old, something new..

 Something always reminds me of you. I can say this about do many people. I don’t necessarily have to tell them, or even let them be aware.

Today, I decided to resurrect, rather liberate something from my Drafts. One of the drafts detailed a long dream about/ with Shailajaji. She was asking me to do something about the influx of refugees that has descended upon the temple. Some of the other temple higher ups are also there. However, that dream was maybe reflected my posts about the Langar? So decided to go with another.  

It’s not fair to write about something, and then keep it in the dark callers of the internet, destroying one’s own creation, just because I’m not ready to come out with something. So randomly chose one draft, out of the 160 posts sitting in the drafts, so there will now be 159! 

This is it, below, and was about my quest for Jainism. Having sort of come out about it, I can share how I initially experienced it. 

 Paryushan: where it started for me. 

A couple of years ago, probably in 2016, I discovered the Jain festival of Paryushan. Though festival is what it can be called, I don’t think there are many festivities attached to it. On the contrary, it is an eight day period of introspection and consisting of eight designated days, providing an opportunity for self improvement. 

My discovery happened when I chanced upon video talks by a Jain Swamiji with an Ashram in Texas. The philosophy while basically the same as mainstream Hinduism, was more refined, or better honed I should say, because it analyzed deeper, had more detail, and presented a profoundly comprehensive  understanding of the concepts, leaving one with a longing to delve even further into its teachings.

One of the talks that intrigued me was about the different kinds of Karmas, and one particular karma, the name of which I could not get, and have not been able to find, despite a reasonable amount of effort. That Karma was thus briefly defined by the Swamiji, as affecting the unfortunate ‘native’ (my vocabulary, for lack of a better word) so as make them live in a perpetual state of unawareness, and thus being incapable of availing any good fortune that befalls them. Yes, that is right, the good fortune ‘befalls’ them, but they don’t see it, let alone partake of it. The Swamiji said something to the effect that, if God were to come in their presence, and stand right next to them, they wouldn’t see anything, they wouldn’t even know it. God often does that. God really is always around us, not just in Creation, but also in opportunity.

So it was quite natural to do the next thing and ask a Jain person about it. While I did not have much success with finding out more about the circumstances that would create such a karma, I did find out from a lovely Jain family that there is an active Jain Vishwa Bharati locally, an institution that caters to furthering the spiritual life of the Jain seeker community. 

That I took action upon that information must mean that if I had been suffering from the particular Karma as mentioned above, those damned days are now over! Because I followed up, and discovered two amazing, the two most beautiful and wonderful women I have been fortunate enough to experience. 

As a young child, whenever I heard or saw some injustice or was exposed to some other sad instance in life, I always questioned my Mother about it. She would acknowledge the...evil? And then she would explain to me, that this world is filled with a lot of different types of people, and yes, there is injustice and there is evil, but the world still stands, and the world stands on the shoulders of the few good people who are so good, and do so much goodness for the upliftment of mankind, that the world is saved from chaos, because they don’t deserve to suffer. 

Life on this beautiful Earth is preserved by the passion of these few people. How frequently do we encounter them? They dwell quietly amongst us and do their thing. 

To return to Jainism, as the saying goes, “when the student is ready, the teacher appears.” That must have been it. If not ready, at least willing. 

That is exactly what happened, and it so transpired that I got the opportunity to read about, and interact with some Jain clergy. It was awesome. I can boast that I’ve passed my exam of Jain Vidya book 1. There is a book two. 

Grateful, God sends me teachers, when I’m ready to meet them half way. I could never have expected this great bonanza. I love reading about Jainism, and feel a great affinity towards their ethics, especially that of Ahimsa. 

Grateful and thankful for that.

It was also Lorhi today. However, we did not go out to celebrate. 

Veenu  Banga

01/13/2022. 

11:57 pm.

Wednesday, January 12, 2022

Some days we just don’t get it!

After starting and writing three posts, I finally concede that today there will be nothing new to post before midnight. 

It’s not that I didn’t write, or there is nothing to be grateful for. On the contrary, I wrote three posts, one of which was of substantial length. I also have lots to be grateful for. I also started writing earlier. However, nothing clicks as the right thing to put out. 

Therefore, I concede. I’m not perfect. I’m also not perfectly satisfied with any of the stuff I wrote. There were too many thought processes, some I wasn’t ready to air, some I lost track of, as the chain of thought got interrupted. 

That leaves me with something to be grateful for. That is knowing, that some days, it’s okay not to write. I’m grateful that I can accept, that some days, I just don’t get it, right! 

Veenu Banga

12th January 2022. 

11:49 pm.

Tuesday, January 11, 2022

If only- resolving the issue of World Hunger

The following was written last night, and not posted here, because it was not directly about gratitude. It was however about something that touches me deeply. It’s about the inequality that need not be. It’s about us human beings being so pathetically unawares of the plight of the lesser privileged. The other half. 

One of the reasons I did not publish this is because it’s overly long, and my reason for it being so descriptive and detailed is to point out, that Langar is not a rushed obligation, but a labor of love, that seems effortless in how it is administered, seamlessly. It flows, without compromise on quality, quantity or service. 

In my heart, I absolutely truly believe the below is possible. There just is no Will amongst the powers that be. What a desensitized society we have become. It has to change, otherwise we will devour ourselves. 

The most powerful nations of the world have no excuse. The balance of inequality is so glaring, that society is hanging by a thread. It’s a wonder there is no anarchy. 

Where possible, I do my bit, having neither the power, nor the resources to do more. Only a collective effort, like the gurdwaras make, can make this a possibility. There is a lot we can learn from their practice of Langar, the communal feast, providing free food. No questions asked. All are welcome. 

*

Here it is, my take on Resolving the issue of World Hunger. 

The problem of World Hunger would easily be solved if there were Gurdwaras everywhere. Seriously. Keep reading, though. There is more to this than Gurdwaras, which is the name for temples of the Sikh faith. 

The Sikhs must have magic Pots that are bottomless suppliers of the most delicious and nutritious food. In my whole life, I've never seen Langar (the Sikh communal feast served to the congregation after services) run out of food. Ever. 


There's always some food leftover, and eager and willing members, especially single congregation members, bring it home. Takeaway containers supplied. 


Last night I had lots to write about, but I started reading and then listened to music. This World Hunger issue was one of the things that came to mind. 


We had gone to the Gurdwara for Gurpurab (the 10th Guru's birthday celebrations) with my friend Surinder, my first time at this one. There is an abundance of them in the Midlands, and it seems people from Jalandhar predominantly patronize this one. I had to tear myself away from the Shabad Kirtan, which was very good. 


At the langar hall, the first thing to be served was a paneer Bhurji, with bell peppers, or capsicums as they are known here in the UK. Next came gobi-aloo, then boondi raita, the legendary langar dal, kheer, and super soft phulka rotis. The sewaks, as the volunteers are known, kept doing the rounds, offering refills, bringing water, or whatever it was someone wanted. 


I took seconds of everything and was happily full when I noticed that the second round of diners was having besan kadhi, with a new dish of chunks of paneer, and the Sewaks (volunteers) were now doing the rounds with those dishes. 


It was almost 2:30 pm, and I thought we had come down for Langar quite late, so it must be wrapping up time now. Not quite. Surinder told me that they start serving Langar from noon onwards, and it keeps going till 'everyone' has eaten. Wow! Okay. 


Some of the larger gurdwaras also serve evening tea and snacks, and I partook of this at a Gurdwara in Queens, New York. 


On an earlier trip to the UK a few years ago, we had stayed overnight at a hotel near Heathrow due to an early morning flight back to the US. We decided to go to a gurdwara, a short drive away, pay our respects, and have Langar dinner. It was a larger gurdwara, and they had table seating. As an overflow, there were tables further down the gigantic dining hall where one could eat comfortably, standing. 


It was wintertime. After dinner, the sewaks (volunteers) came around with large kettles and glasses in their hands, announcing 'Dudh layo ji, garam Dudh layo ji' (hot milk, hot milk) in a sing-song manner. I thought I didn't hear correctly. Were they really offering hot milk after dinner? It seems they were. 


Most of the people at the Langar would go home and go to bed for an early start to the working day tomorrow. It's customary in Punjab to have a nightcap of warm milk before bed. What the Langar offered here was a full-service dinner. I had never seen this before, but it seemed commonplace with the diners. 


We had elected to eat standing at the far end, and as a result, we received even more attentive service. Nearby was the dishwashing station, and an older woman was drying the plates that volunteers washed. There was a man beside her. I had glanced her way, and she caught my eye. She gesticulated to the older gentleman to go and get us some hot milk. He came back with a kettle and 6-8 glasses in his hand. 


The fragrance of the hot milk was like an instant blanket wrapping around one's heart. I wonder how many of us have lived long enough to remember that milk has a comforting and unique fragrance. An Earthy, natural, smell, like nourishment. It was truly heartwarming to see the commitment of these volunteers. This commitment is demonstrated in all the gurdwaras every single day. 


In the larger Gurdwaras, especially the well-visited pilgrim sites, Langar starts with morning tea and snacks at 6:00 am, followed by breakfast, lunch, afternoon/ evening tea and snacks, and dinner. Documentaries and news stories about the Langar kitchens abound on the phenomenon and are quickly found with an internet search. 


Anyone and Everyone, bar none, from the poorest person, of any color or creed, to the wealthiest, all eat together in the Langar halls. All are welcome, and no one ever turned away. 


Service to one's fellow humankind is the fundamental basis of the Sikh religion. During the height of Covid, Gurdwaras in India, including several smaller neighborhood gurdwaras, opened their halls and set up hospital beds, providing oxygen (which was in short supply and selling at abnormally high prices in the black market, if available) to anyone who came. 


These impromptu hospital camps came to be known as 'oxygen' Langars (communal feast). Many patients turned away from the hospital gates, drove for miles, and were welcomed at these Gurdwara hospital camps. 


Where does the money for this generosity of spirit come from? It comes from offerings to the temple and donations from the Sikh community. One of the Sikh faith edicts is to donate 10% of one's income to the Gurdwara. 


The second, and this is evident as the foremost principle, is the ethics of Sewa, or Voluntary Service. Sewa is imbibed early in a Sikh child, who learns by example.


When we lived in Sydney, and my son was in his early teens, we always stayed back to help with the cleanup, including the dishes in the Turramurra Gurudwara, where we went almost every Sunday. You will find volunteers- young children and men and women of all ages doing the Sewa, whether in the kitchens, serving in the dining halls, washing up, or at the rooms outside, where the shoes are removed and neatly kept. Some go to the extent of wiping them down with a cloth duster to refresh the dusty shoes.


How will the gurudwaras solve the problem of World Hunger? Certainly not by the 10% monetary contributions. Or opening branches. Some things are more than about money alone. These Sikh places of worship can solve World Hunger because they demonstrate daily their ideology to see every human being as a child of God and serve humanity. 


The Sikhs' commitment to Sewa places them at the forefront of any disasters, providing Relief services, whether floods, fires, earthquakes or any other calamity. The Sikhs come from all parts of the country and converge with a unity rarely seen in any community regarding selfless service. Frequently Sikhs from other countries will send Relief teams for additional support. To provide examples will be like shining a torchlight on the sun. 


Is my implication to fight World Hunger about the physical structures of gurudwaras? Honestly, no. That would be naivety and would not serve the Cause. 


*I am implying that we view the concept of Langar as a Business Model. The Governance of the gurudwaras can teach us a lot. They have had experience with this from time immemorial since the Sikh Faith was born. 


It is common knowledge that there is no lack of funds or resources kept in unnecessarily large reserves, with Corporations in all countries and government coffers of the world. 


Instead of vying with each other for being the wealthiest, if these Corporations collaborated and committed some funds towards a grassroots level of support for localized initiatives, such as Rescue Missions which feed the homeless, and (some also provide shelter and clothing) or like Bon Jovi's JBJ Kitchens, Amma Canteens in Chennai, India, to name a few, it would make a huge difference. 


Working in small geographical areas, at a grassroots level, such organizations could achieve a lot and serve their most vulnerable citizens.


However, there should be a caveat that the organizations Must be limited in size and scope, so there is minimal opportunity for corrupt practices to hide in the layers of management or bureaucracy. Any mismanagement would be visible in the shortcomings of the delivery of the purpose and corrective action taken. 


The Gurudwara Langar idea is a Seed. We could grow ideas appropriate to the locations and situations from this seed. If we genuinely wanted to eradicate World Hunger, we could demand this from the powers that be. The Sikhs, with their clear intent of pure selfless service, have a lot to teach us if we want to learn. 


What can we, as ordinary citizens, do? Find out where your local Gurdwara is and their hours of service. Then visit. 


Gurudwaras, who feed common folk daily, and never run out of food, are waiting for you to come and partake of your first Langar meal if you have never been before. 


Seeing, or in this instance, feasting, is believing. 


Let me know what you think. Is this too simplistic, or can we ensure that no soul goes hungry in this world? 


Veenu Banga

January 10, 2022.

A day of unexpected gifts!

In the height of winter, a day of milder temperatures is indeed a gift. It's easier to get out and about and so much nicer. What a reward! Not having to wear a woolen coat, over and above all the thermal wear, gets so burdensome. For this, and how the day progressed, I am very thankful.

Specifically, since my last trip to Leicester was on a cold, wet, windy, sullen day, with my coat insisting on wanting to fly away and me struggling to hold on to it. This in the midst of a solid stubborn shower, raining in a perfectly orchestrated manner, dancing with the wind, in stoic surrender. Could I but do otherwise, mere mortal? 

Ever since my arrival here, I have wanted to visit the Jain Center, located in the heart of downtown Leicester. This center serves as the European headquarters of the Jain Samaj. When the opportunity arose for a guided tour of the center, I gratefully accepted. 

A few logistics needed to be resolved, such as finding parking as close as possible. On my last visit, I had bravely prodded along the wet pavements of The Golden Mile, which preferred shades of gray that day.

Fortunately, today, the weather held. We even found parking nearby. I spent about 45 minutes, which I felt, was not enough. There was so much to see; I forgot to sit down! 

Someone once told me that we should always sit for a few minutes when we visit a temple. Whenever we go to a friend's house, we always sit and have a conversation with them. Yet when we go to a God's house, we barely stay a few minutes, making the motions and leaving. Since that day, I have made it a point to sit, even for a few minutes. 

So, I guess I will have to go back to the Jain Center, which I will do gladly! There was so much more to see. We hadn't expected to be allowed to stay as long as we did, so it was a huge bonus—one more thing to be thankful for.

Lunch was Dosa in great company, at a place on Belgrade Road. A welcome break after some personal errands. 

A few other stops, all good. Grateful to have a productive day!

Veenu Banga

01/11/2022

11:56 pm.


Monday, January 10, 2022

The lure of religion

 As I listened to some You tube videos today, I realized that the lure of most religions is the same- they promise us salvation. 

However, not all religions appeal so strongly, that we want to follow all rituals blindly. What is definitely to be avoided is the fear trap, the What If of consequences for not toeing the line.

However, when one listens to the Jain Videos, it’s very refreshing that they talk about values that enrich us, and do not have any emphasis on deities or rituals. They talk about virtues of the greats. The Jain centers promote harmony while teaching about religion. For me personally, I find their Principle of AHIMSA or non -violence at the core of their religion, it’s most attractive feature.

Then there are also organizations such as the Chinmaya Mission, where the emphasis is on providing the study of Vedanta, as the study of Hindu scriptures is vastly classified. Like the Jain Centers, the Chinmaya Mission also has classes for children. 

Opportunities like these have to be sought out. It is not easy to find safe places such as these to learn. The pandemic was a great opportunity for the seekers, as spiritual knowledge was able to come to the homes of people.

I personally benefitted greatly from this convenience, as new doors were opened for me. For this and the many blessings of Grace, I am thankful.

Veenu Banga

01/10/2022.

11:55 pm.

Sunday, January 9, 2022

It finally happened!

I Relented! Today. 


Not intentionally, may I add in my defense. It just so happened, and I cannot exactly remember how, that I decided to go back and read all of my Gratitude blogs that I had started in December. Because I think this Gratitude stuff has genuinely helped me, it really works! 


It was on this post: https://veenubanga.blogspot.com/2021/12/two-things-on-12220221.html


I saw this link: https://youtu.be/iUGtb2WJsPs and accidentally clicked on it. That was it! It was absolutely adorable! 


I enjoyed it so much. With their slightly imperfect Hindi diction, these everyday people made it even more charming because they bring an informal intimacy of sorts to the songs as if they're singing for each other. Just the non-commercial aspect of it. And they are all good singers, especially the ladies. Plus, with OP Nayyar, his music makes magic. It’s a celebration. What’s not to celebrate about life?


My soul starts skipping ahead like a little girl to this serenade that follows along behind me. 


I suspected these IT Professional troupe to be in Hyderabad since the Andhraites are far more inclusive than the Tamilians. The latter rightly so have to have the stiff upper lip, being the keepers of the Faith, with much of our most important scriptures, including Tirumantiram, written in Tamil. 


On my first trip to Madras, I also remember graffiti-like, reading this on a wall- This is India, not Hindia. Of course, those were different times. Maybe the girls in this group are Tamilians? None of them seem amateurs. 


Then, of course, I had to listen to the second link in the post. https://youtu.be/4EMHLbif4As  Our friend, the violin player, and Khalid Baig singing 'Deewana Hua Badal.' What just occurred to me is the word BADAL, clouds! Is my love affair with them much older than I imagined? 


Midnight is about to strike again; otherwise, I could have written on and on. I can't break my everyday steak, so here goes. I'm not complaining that it happened inadvertently, and I got to smile,  wonderfully wrapped around a 'Deewana ' cloud, as he serenades the 'sawan ki ghata' and witnesses 'Pyaar' ki 'angradee'.. 


Grateful for happily enjoying some music again! 


Veenu Banga

01/9-10/2020

12:04 am. 

Saturday, January 8, 2022

My mum would have been 99 today!

So many thoughts churning around in my head. I could write a couple of blogs today. Yet, the day comes with a restlessness that flowed like an under current, there, but not quite visible. Not interrupting anything, not creating a disturbance, just a whisper that was barely heard, a presence barely there, as I went about a very busy day.

Today my mother would have been 99 years old. Tomorrow is Gurpurab, a holy day for the Faith she was born into. All the days of our life come and go, whether or not we notice. 

Sometimes, we don’t need words. Today is that kind of day. When things, every thing, about a person, about their existence, was only possible because today 99 years ago, a child was born. 

I wonder what her parents thought that day? What did my grandmother eat? Where was my grandfather? Where were my mother’s older siblings? What were they doing, and how did they receive the news? 

How different was that time from the world as we know it today. In a day, we can fly across the seas, and be on another continent. Such are the random thoughts that cross my mind. 

Did my mother ever foresee her future as it turned out to be? Did she ever expect the world to change and advance at the speed it did in the last several years. 

What were her dreams? What did she not tell me? My dear precious mother. Rest in eternal peace. 

Today, I am grateful for this life. Tomorrow I will celebrate life again. That is the best way I know of that I can celebrate you, my dearest precious mother. But for you, my world would not be. 

In ever loving memory of my dear departed mother.

Your daughter,

Veenu Banga

01/08/2022.

11:54 pm.


Friday, January 7, 2022

Over the years

 We change so much. It seems every seven years, our body is all new, and has the ability to create new cells. Don’t quote me on this, I read it somewhere, and can’t vouch for the source, since I do not remember it. 

When I look at some of my belongings, that I had saved for either sentimental reasons, or because I had a fondness of for them, I realize they no longer excite me like they once did. 

For the longest time, I was very fond of wearing perfume, and would match it to my mood of the day, or with the dress or occasion. That was my only cosmetic. With the result I have accumulated a good collection of some very fine perfumes. 

My favorite perfume however, was a German perfume called Petra by Kleiner. It was a small square bottle that I never found again, and it is now extinct- and I use that word to convince myself that it no longer exists, even in memory. However, I still have the bottle, so I know it once was. I preferred it to the Channels I had, and still have in my collection. 

Another perfume that everyone complemented me when I wore it was I think called Red, from Geogio of Beverly Hills (not Armani) and I personally did not care for it so much, but everyone thought it was very flattering on me. However, what I wore most was Eternity by Calvin Klein, and I even had to buy a second bottle. Then I graduated to Pink, from YSL. I had quite a few of their perfumes, including Opium. Miss Dior, and Dior Dior were others that I owned, amongst the very many that were in my collection. Some were too strong for my tastes, like Poison, which was all the rage, when it came out. Then one day, I just stopped using perfume, and it’s been over a decade since I last wore any. 

When I look back at that person, I see someone very different to the face in the mirror. 

Another very big change in my life has been my waking up late on several days, and my lack of walking in the morning. There was a time, for the most and best part of my life, when, if I woke up after sunrise, I would have a headache for the rest of the day. I had to be up before dawn to start my day. I would leave to go for a walk while it was still dark, and come back home, escorted by the rising sun. An hour to ninety minutes every morning was a routine I cherished. It was a part of my life in Delhi and Bombay. 

I don’t know when life threw a spanner on this, my sacred routine. Sometimes life creeps up on you, and if you’re not present in the moment, in every single moment of one’s life, it can derail you with unhappy consequences. 

I was a brisk walker, and almost 90% of time if I had to go somewhere I would walk, notably from our house in Pandara Road, to my grandparents place on Babar Road. I usually covered the distance in 30 minutes or less. I miss that person dearly. 

So the question is, if we change every seven years, do we ‘change’, or do we ‘evolve?’ Are these two conditions interchangeable? I don’t think I want to dwell on that too much. 

The purpose of reminiscing should not be an exercise in sadness, or a longing to go back. Rather it should be to harness one’s intrinsic abilities to enhance the quality of life in our present situation. It is more important to dwell in the present moment, and with constant reminding, I’m more easily, and more frequently able to do that. If we knew something once, we cannot forget it, unless certain abilities have been compromised, mental or physical. 

I think our priorities change with our life’s circumstances, and we shed parts of ourself along the way. However, I do think we should continue to make efforts to attempt that which we loved doing at some point in our lives, if only to nurture our talents. 

For the last few years I have been buying watercolors and artists paper pads with the intention of starting to paint again. I’ve also accumulated a lot of fabrics, mostly handlooms from India, hoping to get back to sewing, something I never learned formally, but enjoyed doing for myself. Procrastination has got the better of me. 

Over the years, life takes us on different paths, and we rise to the occasion and show up to do what needs to be done. There are only that many hours in the day, so we pick up new skills and travel new roads to get to where life is taking us. 

It’s okay to reminisce I tell myself, in those moments when we have time to ‘stand and stare,’. In certain things we see the past, we catch it in the whiff of fragrance, we catch it in the sunrise. We catch vignettes of our past in our children, and sometimes, in those moments we catch happiness which pervades our present moments. Now, that is something to be thankful for. 

Veenu Banga

07, January 2022.

11:54 pm.

Thursday, January 6, 2022

In the familiar world of Print media lovers

Here, I am among friends. 

Given the Print media situation in the US today, anyone would easily think that it’s heyday is all but over. In the US would be easy to believe that it really and truly is dead, and that the internet is the Media King of the world today. 

However, in reality nothing could be further from the truth. Not in many other parts of the world, even in countries where literacy is not so high, the hungry reader population more than makes up for its non reading citizens. 

One very huge difference between the US and countries like India, Australia, all of the UK, Belgium, Netherlands, Germany, (probably other countries in Europe) Hong Kong, and Singapore, and maybe other countries I do not know about, is the prominent prevalence of Print Media. Even today. Even the Sunday editions of newspapers have thick weekend magazines. More on newspapers later. 

What provoked this piece was that Waitrose, a grocery store in the UK, produced TWO Store magazines this month, one for the month of January, 102 pages, excluding the cover, and another for the year 2022, 98 pages excluding the cover. The December issue of Waitrose, included a lovely print calendar. In fact I had last year’s too. 

The magazines are exceptionally high quality, with lots of colored pages and very interesting reading materials. There are very, very, very few advertisement pages. I know Tesco has a magazine too, and it’s just as good, and perhaps has more pages. I love that they’re popular and engage their readers, obvious by the readers letters they print, and other features. 

As a latch-key kid for some years in my life, I was supplied with a rich diet of reading materials of all kinds. My mother in her wisdom thought that would keep me out of trouble. It was perhaps also because she grew up amongst ink and paper. 

My maternal grandparents were publishers and printers in pre partition Lahore. They owned and published newspapers and magazines, besides books, including educational text books. They had the ‘largest quota of paper’ in Lahore, and even supplied to other publishers and printers. In fact, they lived on Nesbit Road, which is today recognized as Publisher’s Row in Lahore. My grandparents also owned a school.

When partition happened and they came to India, my mothers family again established a school. The elder four of five children, all had their Master’s degrees from Lahore. My aunt and grandfather, who was also a successful writer, ran the school. My mother got a job in the Ministry of Defense from a quota reserved for ‘20 highly qualified displaced persons.’ She taught an early morning class at the school, then rode her ‘Raleigh bicycle’, (again to quote my mother) to give English speaking tuitions to the wife of a very senior bureaucrat, before going to work in the Ministry. 

Knowing my mother’s personality and temperament, I am pretty sure she viewed this demanding routine as a welcome adventure, uprooted as the family were from all that was familiar to them. They were making a life, and memories all over again, possibly eager to replace what they had seen and endured in the madness and mayhem of Partition. 

With the school bringing in an income and offering some semblance of stability, the brothers, with content inputs from my grandfather, started the publishing business again. They were soon publishing newspapers, magazines, textbooks, novels, and books on general topics of current interest, and some books were mail ordered by readers in England. 

With the very handsome royalties coming from A.H. Wheeler and sons for product already sent to them before partition, especially for books written by my grandfather; they established themselves in New Delhi quite well, and within seven years had purchased a bungalow in an upmarket area in the vicinity of Connaught Place, and by the time I was two years old, my grandfather had a huge Chevrolet car, one of only two personal cars on the street. So one can understand my mother’s reverence for the printed word. She herself remained an avid reader all her life.

Their school became so successful, and with a large student population, that the Municipal Corporation, with its education department in its infancy, happily took it over. My Aunt remained the Principal, and the school thrived under her leadership. She was soon promoted and became an Inspectress of 33 schools in the district. By the time she retired, she was Senior Inspectress. Education was a big deal in our house. Books and magazines were permanent residents. 

In my garage at home, on numerous shelves sit scores of thick issues of Art in America, Fast Company, National Geographic, and others, including women’s magazines such as Real Simple, issues of First magazine, several Women’s Own, and others. An altar of sorts to the ink that nurtured my dear mother and her family.

Inside the house, in boxes a few still unopened from Australia are copies of the Good Weekend, the weekend magazine included in the seriously heavy multi sectioned issues of the Sydney Morning Herald, and several copies of the Australian Women’s weekly. I’ve saved these because the reading material is of such a superior quality, that some essays were worthy of being included in books. 

In my mother’s house, there would be copies saved of The Illustrated Weekly, Femina, Chanda Mama and lots of comics, books and other magazines. Amongst newspapers would be The Times of India, Indian Express, sometimes copies of the Khaleej Times, The South China Morning Post, The Straits Times, which was still the same thick newspaper when I last visited Singapore in November 2016. I remember Trump being announced winner in Narita, where we were transiting. 

In contrast, our local Orlando Sentinel has become an emaciated relic, with poor quality ink and paper. It makes me sad to see it. It used to be a good newspaper. It still is, with some good writers and publishing opinion pieces. I am glad it is still holding on to its reader base and hanging in, riding out what I hope is just a phase, and that readership of the printed word will rebound, that bookshops will return, and that school children will embrace books instead of tablets.

It’s interesting to note that India, Australia, Hong Kong, Singapore, all have colonial pasts, and the Middle East has a majority of the population from these countries. The quality of the content of these newspapers is intellectually stimulating, and intelligently informative. 

While I have reluctantly recycled several magazines, many copies still remain as reminders of the halcyon days when the printed word was respected, and the digital word still in its infancy. Who knew it would grow so ruthlessly and devour paper so hungrily and angrily, that it would the printed word shrink away in obsolescence. 

In Bombay, where I did not have the freedom to indulge in newspapers and magazines, I had found a Raddiwala shop in Mahim, who had a good supply of foreign magazines and I used to buy the English Women’s weekly from him for 25 paise an issue! I would never have thought then, that 35 years later I would be smiling and grinning happily writing about him. I even heard myself laugh out loud. 

There is an interesting story connected with the English Women’s Weekly, which I must write about another time. I’m not even sure anyone is intrinsically such stuff these days. 

Such is life. We never know what will bring us joy later in life. This is a precious memory, and this is not the first time that I’m thinking about a Bombay raddiwala and reminiscing happily about his shop. 

For all of these memories, and for the exposure to all the newspapers and magazines of the world, I am grateful.

Veenu Banga

01/06/2022.

Updated 01/07/2022.

1:12 am



Wednesday, January 5, 2022

It’s coming back to me now, just a little..

 It started with these lines, “..ice cream castles in the air..” from Joni Mitchell’s song, Both Sides Now. I woke up thinking of the sky in the Shetlands, and for some reason heard these lines of the song. Except I see the tops many toppings on ice cream cones, and she saw castles. So just as I thought I’m over my need for music to take me away, music sneaked back into my consciousness. 

I suppose I could look at it “from both sides now” too. That the reminder of the music was because I thought of the clouds that I miss seeing from the vantage of the 360 views that we had from our modest but very modern chalet in the Shetlands. Of course I tried listening to music later in the day, but don’t need it just yet.

It’s supposedly going to get colder here tonight. However, I’m getting used to the cold. It’s the wind that one can’t handle. So far so good. The day was sunny and crispy clear. The crispness of the air carried on into the evening. The sky was clear and filled with stars, and upon first going out I saw the clear crescent of the newer moon. It had one shiny star flanking it, just a little over it. Possibly Venus, but could be Jupiter too, as there was mention of it with Pisces. Being no astrologer or astronomer, I couldn’t say more. It was going to bode well though. 

Back to gratitude. Today I’m grateful that we got to spend the day celebrating the birthday of a childhood friend. Beyond childhood if one could use that phraseology, as our mothers were friends before they got married, so we are connected through our mother’s friendship, when we were both in the womb! 

The morning started with us collectively cooking a few things to take over for the dinner. We intended to surprise her. She was indeed surprised. We had a marvelous time with her and her wise and wonderful husband. Good company is a booster shot of contentment.

Can’t complain about anything really, and that is a realization that came a bit late. That’s always a good thing to be thankful for! 

Veenu Banga

01/05/2021

11:12 pm.

Tuesday, January 4, 2022

These are a few of my favorite things..

 And people, Neelu who is very, very special, Susan, Surinder, the children, friendly kind strangers with friend potential, amongst others. And drives, English country roads. And breads, olive bread, homemade bread. And songs, that sneak in unawares and cosy up and make a permanent place in my heart. And sound, the water gurgling in a brook and gently falling by the roadside, Bari Aunty and Joginder mama always calling me Rani, And sight, of the sky reaching out to kiss the horizon. And smell of halwa and cooking of parathas, Dosa, Laksa, upma, ghee, sandalwood, vetiver, jasmine, rose oil, and.. And touch of children, an old lady, my grandfather outing his arm around my shoulder when we went for a walk, my grandmother when she hugged me, my Bari Aunty blushing and struggling to break free when I kissed her non stop, Joginder mama, ditto, mummy’s strong hands when I had a migraine, the cool breeze on a summer’s night in New Delhi. And taste of trying new and different cuisine, sweet and crisp grapes, sweet green pears, mulberries, rice pulao cooked with lots of vegetables, and foods and drink shared with loved ones..and I’m thankful for all of these things, that I have so many I can call favorites. 

I want to start sleeping earlier. 

Veenu Banga

01/03/2022

10:06 pm.

Monday, January 3, 2022

Strange and unexpected. Very unexpected.

 It’s been exactly a week since I returned from vacation, 18 days in Scotland, two weeks of which were spent in the Shetlands. Initially the plan was to spend a full month in these remote parts of Scotland, and I regret that we did not stick to the plan. However, the one month was to be in Unst, population 600. What really nixed that plan was the fact that it entailed three ferry rides, because we were taking our car. So we settled on the Mainland. 

The other thing was that Unst is the northern most inhabited island of the UK, and in the middle of winter it was a concern as we’re not used to extreme cold weather at home. It was the quest for the Aurora Borealis that brought us here in winter. Longer nights with sunset at 2:55pm would improve our chances. Interestingly enough though, we did end up spending a lot of time in Unst, and came to downtown Lerwick, the main town, just two days before our departure.

However, it’s not the logistics of the travel I actually wanted to write about. It’s about this strange change that came about in me. Very, very, very, strange. 

Words cannot suffice to describe the beauty of the landscape. The wide windows of the living room of our accommodation, opened to due east. Every morning therefore was a gift from the heavens, with a spectacular sunrise. Every day, just past 9:00 am, and I waited to welcome the earliest glow, break through the remains of the weakening darkness of the night, the stars still shining bright in the smokiness of the sky. Often the moon would still be clearly visible even after the sun was well over the horizon. As if everything here coexisted in peaceful comradeship, and the Moon waited to say hello to the Sun before going over to the other side of the world. 

Beyond the field, past the blue waters of the inlet from the North Sea, over the hills beyond, rose the Sun every day, rewarding me with a tranquility that lulled me into a quiet sense such intense gratification, it was almost like being drunk on the beauty the views afforded me. 

Clear 360 views, across the fields, past the scant houses, sometimes just the roofs showing from where they sat over the hill. The scores of sheep, and the odd Shetland pony dotting the landscape, over the hills and beyond. And always, the clouds. Sometimes interweaving random patterns, playing with the light, chameleon like, changing color, keeping me guessing about what shapes and moods they would manifest that day. The clouds were clearly masters of the sky. They followed no traffic rules, just busy boasting off their glorious antics. Constantly, never tiring of display.

This acute sense of wonderment, which lasted all day, transformed to a secure sense of being fulfilled as the days progressed. It would not have been unusual for me to play some music as I went about my day. Here however, it never occurred to me, and I did not miss it. Then one day, I heard the sound of music coming from the bedroom. It was not required and felt like an almost jarring noise. I got up irritably, wanting it to stop immediately. This piece of music was something I listened to frequently and that I enjoyed at home, but I didn’t want to hear it then. It was just very annoying, and seemed inappropriate and out of place. We left it at that and never played any music again while we were there. 

It’s been a week since my return, and I still feel no urge to listen to any music. That’s a bit strange for me. I can’t explain it. It’s as if I’ve been tranquillized and everything is supposed to be quiet. The realization came today, as reminders of my favorite music came up. I’m not sure how long this will last, and I’m in no hurry. I’m just grateful that it’s there and has provided both entertainment and pleasure in the past. 

Right now I’m quite happily contained by the quietude that has been instilled in me by the company of the sheep and birds and stars, and the friendly Moon who frequently tarried to say good morning to the Sun. So grateful to have experienced this joy. 

Veenu

01/03/22

11:59 pm.

Sunday, January 2, 2022

Grateful for the special people in our lives.

 What a day and what a start to the new year! The bonanza of friends who are family! These friendships are the gifts that keep on giving. The times spent with them in their affectionate companionship are the rich dividends we reap off of a principal that continues to grow. That’s a good thing to be grateful for.

Life is a fine balance of so many dynamics. One of the good things about being in the company of such dear ones, is that one can celebrate life and togetherness. One can also explore life’s unexpected twists and turns, the complexities of situations and the nuances that influence various outcomes. One can take comfort in knowing that while the locations differ, much of life’s issues are the same with people everywhere.

We went for Langar with Surinder, and it was delicious as always. The Gurudwara was quite busy, it being a Sunday and they were discussing the two Sahibzada’s We then went to visit Surinder’s Mum and had an amazing time with her. Have no idea where 1.5 hours flew. As we left from there, the rain was just abating. The sky was beaming with pride, showcasing a thick wide bodied double rainbow in the sky, and I could see both ends of the arc against a clearly sold turquoise blue, cloudless sky. It was beautiful! Thankful for this rewarding sight from the heavens! 

We then went for another visit, and had a great evening with some very close friends-the kind that we share a history with, and they are more family than friends. Also got to watch a video very painstakingly prepared, of their 56 day trip to India. Top three take always for me were a visit to Hampi, the Ajanta and Ellora caves, and at least one of the temples in South India that they visited. Maybe Meenakshi temple, or even one of the lessor known ones.

It was vey inspirational to be in their company, and I was thinking that today’s blog will become too long. However, it is not to be. I will just have to jot down the topics that were stimulating my mind, because I’m hoping for an early(ire) night. 

Today my Facebook status reads: “ This year I hope to find my friend VIJI, J. Vijaya Murali of 7/27 Davey & co. Lane in Coimbatore. She named her daughter Veenu. Viji is a nurse. she is darkskinned, and her eyes are blue like Krishna’s in paintings, with rich brown pupils. Viji is besutiful, and has an enchanting smile. her husband worked for a Bank and his name is Murali. Viji is Christian, and Murali is Hindu.

The second friend I hope to find is Shobhana Shirodkar (maiden name) who married Neel, who was in the Indian Air Force. I’m forgetting the name her last city in Maharashtra, but I think she’s from Ratnagiri.
The third friend is Asha Nedungadi, from Madras. She came and visited me in New Delhi as well. She has two brothers, both of whom I met. The younger one worked in hospitality and was in Denmark at some point. The older brother Murli worked for Air India.
I lost touch with these friends after we got married. I hope 2022 will give me reason to be grateful fo finding these long lost friends. If anyone can help, I shall be most grateful! Thanks so very much!”

We kept in touch by writing letters. It’s something I miss dearly. I hope one of these days, one of the reasons to be grateful for is having found these friends of mine, from when we were all in our teens and until our early twenties. 

Closing with a wish that many loved ones are joyously united this year.

Veenu
01/02/2021
11:54 pm.