The days..

 Just get away, and time indeed is felt as flying. The year started with huge expectations, I was glad 2025 was over. It was hard for so hang of us, and like so many others, I had convinced myself of new beginnings and being consistent with my blog. 

February came and went, and Spring has finally sprung, the birds are singing, and little mulberries, like time caterpillars populate my mulberry tree, vying with the ,eaves that are as young as the mulberries. Two weeks to go, and I wonder if the mulberries will ripen before I leave again. I’ve been missing the peak of their season, and this year, it may be that I miss the first flush of the fruit. More for the birds and the squirrels I suppose, and the time fruit flies that descent in throngs when the fruit ripens and ferments on the ground, a squishy, sprawling carpet of purple. 

Early on in the year, I signed up for a Postcard Exchange with a group I discovered via Emily Jarrett Hughes, who has some lovely videos, especially one about water. Every day in the month of February, we were to exchange postcards with folks on a list provided to us. I received the most wonderful postcards, all handmade, as suggested. I’m enjoying reading them and admiring them again and again. They bring me so much joy. I love writing letters, ‘real’ letter writing, not emails. I’m quite shocked that days go by without me checking my emails. However, I betrayed myself and did not keep my end of the bargain, despite purchasing more than the required number stamps in mid January. I intend to make up for that.

What one plans to write, in this instance is very different from what one was going to. Today, I revisited and read my blog and it brought back memories. Revisiting a YouTube link with lots of different singers singing “Abhi na jao chod kar..” brought back the delight that music affords me, and how much I’ve neglected my one need that feeds my soul. I realized that I’ve been so immersed in my scrambled energies, that I’ve been neglecting that very important aspect. The designs we try to live by, and what we need are two very different things. Why the heck do I forget that?! 

Some memories also do not leave us, and that leads us into a quagmire of despondent thinking. Not too much this year though, in my defense. On the plus side, I finished two books by Rosalind Pilcher in quick succession. After a long time, I savored the written word with an urgency, as if I was in the world of the characters, and needed to see the outcomes and issues of their lives resolved. 

There was so much to catch up on, with my return delayed far beyond than expected, over five weeks. Virgin are getting richer with my cancellation fees, and on a handful of occasions the change fees. Not cheap. Any way, no complains. 

Lots of magic happened too. Let me begin with the flight home this January. I was unexpectedly the recipient of extreme kindness from a very lovely flight attendant called Paula, and her friend Jules. Since I had ordered a vegetarian meal, I wasn’t sure if I would get their delicious scone with clotted crème and sandwiches for high tea, or some other vegetarian special meal offering. So I had requested that, and also the very lovely tea (Twinings) that Virgin serves. I think it’s also that they make it just right, with a perfect brewing time. And me and black tea, we have a close and intimate relationship. So Paula the beautiful (that’s how I have saved her phone number) actually brought me a selection of teas! There was more, and that I’m going to keep private. I wished I was carrying my books so I could send them for her children. Anyway, that was rectified. We talked and just as we started our descent, I rushed to the galley on an impulse and gave her my number, asking her to call me when she has time during their layover in Orlando. I honestly and truly did not think she would. They meet a thousand people a week, and I may have read too much in her kind gestures. However she did get in touch, almost immediately on her return home, and I still remember my happiness on connecting with her. Not the first time I’ve connected with strangers, but Paula is special, very special. She’s so authentic, and so lovely, I feel I’ve known her in a past life- lives? 

The second magic happened on Shivratri day. That was really something else- truly a play of the divine. In fact, I had thought I should write a blogpost about how it unfolded, it could only be that God himself invited me- us, K and me, to the temple that day. We were planning to just go for a short time, do Darshan and return home. V was traveling for work, and reminded me to please go for Shivratri. I think K is also opening up and enjoys the temple. We no longer feel like a deer in the headlights, but I’m still not that comfortable with knowing how little I know of what to do. Mummy was a staunch Shiv Bhagat, and she was influenced by her grandfather, but that’s a story for another day. 

We parked at the main temple, and first walked over to the Chinmaya building for Darshan. There was chanting going on, so we sat briefly, got the Prasadam on our way out, and then made our way back to go into the main Hindu temple. Almost immediately on entering the premises I saw vine eat and her husband, and we said hello. I have no idea how, but K and them got chatting, and they invited us to do a Parikrama of the temple. She knows so much an] out Hinduism, so much more than I do. Rather, I do not know anything really! Anyway, we went along with them, and I liked doing it. K is quite open to it as well now. 

Once inside, we all went our own way, and I did a round of all the deities. Upon my Darshan and obeisances being done I came around looking for K. She was still with Vinita and Stein, so I went over to them, thinking K will be ready to go home. However, they seemed to be in the long queue of people getting in line for Darshan and to make the offering to the Shivalinga. They were still talking so I joined them, and thinking we will leave once they’re done. Then Vinita remembered that they are one of the sponsors. Having seen a separate entrance for the sponsors, I pointed that out to her, and that there was no queue there. She and Stein both invited us to join them, and of course we said we could not. She was quite insistent, she’s such a pure soul, saying that we are just like their family, and it was almost embarrassing to argue, because she sincerely meant for us to come with them. I have no idea, how I was bold enough to do so, despite K’s and mine initial protestations. It was a divine calling- except the divine came in the garb of Vinita and Stein. So there we were, at the Shivalinga, while a couple of hundred folks stood in line. I met Lakshmi, and before we knew it, Stein was offering the milk and we were all in line behind him. Then, just as I was following Vinita out, the young man offered me the cup of milk for the Shivalinga. I looked at Hime incredulously and in askance, saying, “can I offer this too?’  “Yes’” he nodded his head. Still in disbelief, and almost as if I was swept away into the motions, I made my offering, with K by my side! How did this happen? Mummy must be smiling in heaven. If she had orchestrated this to awaken my long lost piety, she succeeded. From the very next day, I started the puja at home, at our altar. Guided by a divine hand. Still indebted to Vinita and owing the temple the sponsorship monies, I decided to make it a regular offering, whenever I’m in town. 

Had a lovely dinner at Susan’s house with her and Harold. Then K took us for a short walk. Looked at planes and then saw the stars. Which reminds me chow I was thinking of the stars just a day ago. Saw my Earth Sky newsletter come in and read the headlines. Came to the realization, that here we are, living among this great universal home of all mankind, with the stars shining above us, the moonlight, the sun giving life to or days, the rivers and oceans and forests and birds and trees and flowers provided us on this beautiful Earth, our home. And how we forget that, for get the wonders and the magic, and instead focus on our emotions, and allow the negatives to get us down. What a waste of a life when every single moment, we are a part of that magic, or the stars that twinkle and smile fine at us, of all that is beautiful in the world, of  what not human band can create- nature’s endless, limitless offering. That’s who we are, the stars are our family, we are related. Wow! What a realization. There’s so much to live up to. No more looking crack or looking down. The stars are shining for me and for every loving creature that walks this earth. 

On that note, with the stars up in the heavens and a clear balmy night, goodnight to me, and sweet slumber. The heavens are watching out for me, and I’m grateful for a warm bed to call my own. 

Veenu Banga

June 7th 2026

2:14 am. 

https://youtu.be/I3JcIszYn8w?si=4P1X5gJ8tnXRBaAX

Woke up to snow on the street..

 Which lasted all day, despite the sun being out. Beatitiful FULL MOON in the evening sky. Was low of -3 today, and high of 1. Low of -4 tomorrow and high again was 1. 

Thinking back to other New Year’s days and while I’m home, I’m not exactly and yet I am. Second day of snow overnight, but a lot more this morning.

Some thing beautiful to share today: 

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, who emphasized the importance of art and poetry in maintaining one's humanity, has a widely circulated quote:

"A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul." 

Another powerful, related quote about why people in general—not just men—should read poetry comes from the film Dead Poets Society, delivered by Robin Williams' character, John Keating: 

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." 

Of course, I do not take offense to the word ‘man’ being used, because I understand, what’s implied ‘mankind’ and not the male gender. At least that is how I choose to interpret it. 

The new year is here, and another year has truly begun. May it be good and kind and bring peace in the minds of all of us. Including our world’s leaders and preachers. 

With that, a good night and may all be well with the world this year. 

Veenu Banga

January 3, 2026

12:24 pm.

They have something

 No one can take away from them! “Sur!” They can sing.

https://youtu.be/H4gi7aI4zpE?si=dUNjFvYWHqBiRgrp

This just came up randomly when I opened You Tube tonight! My Christmas gift on Christmas Eve!

Veenu Banga

December 24, 2025

11:46 pm

Tis the Season

 Of Christmas and special days for all the children of the book! Seasons Greetings and Joy and Peace to the World!

 https://www.jacquielawson.com/ecard/pickup/r8aed400112fc4100985367a8dca04b03?source=jl999&utm_medium=pickup&utm_source=share&utm_campaign=receiver

Veenu Banga

12/24/2025

1:01 pm

Christmas Eve already

Came home close to 11:00 pm, (technically yesterday, 23rd) after a Tesco run, and having watched the second Panto of the season, Snow White. It was lovely! Best two and a half hours of stage presence that flew by in a flash. Ate ice cream in the intermission. Absolutely delicious- British whole milk and full cream. With bits of strawberries that brought a smile at every bite. :-)

Finished watching the whole series of Lark Rise to Candleford, after a quick bite to eat, as we were all hungry having eaten dinner much earlier. Cold will do that to you. 

Lark Rise is such a sweet name, but the farming community is depicted as a forgotten hamlet of the working class farm hands, living off the land owned by rich farmers. Candleford is the nearest town. Lark Rise to Candleford has the most thought provoking dialogue, and if I were to watch it again, I should do so with a notebook and pen, to write down those phrases and sentences that the characters speak with such earnestness; and the reading of which would regale me when I revisit them. Like savoring some deeply penetrating flavor or soul searching wisdom. That sounds just like the language of these charming hamlets with their endearing characters, my favorite being Minnie, in her effusive simplistic mannerisms. 

Winter has its own charms, and I'm not feeling it so much, probably because it's steadily and slowly crept up and grown on me. It did feel like a blast upon our return from Australia, in November, not just because we were coming from summer (which felt like winter on some days) but also because when we left in October it was still warm here, not even autumn cool. Now that winter has truly settled in, its presence is more defined, being felt inside the house and outside, in the weather, but more strikingly in the landscape and how it defines our days.

Putting my pure Italian wool coat to full use. Remember buying it in Berlin, where we visited all their nine major Christmas Markets. I had gone ill prepared for the German winter in December. It had even snowed while we  were there. The perfect coat was hard to find, and after looking at so many shops in the big mall there. It is perfect for me, not heavy, just the perfect length and an ever durable style, the kind that cannot go out of fashion, is smart and has just the right touch of formality, without being fussy. 

Back to the Panto. It was a much better production than the production at the Belgrave Theater we saw last month. Cheaper and better. The theater scene at Rugby never fails to surprise one. I think that's one of the joys of life in the UK- loads of theatrical productions, like the fabulous show we saw at the Isle of Wight in August. Anywhere we go in the UK, there's always good theater!  

On that note, it's hello to one day closer to Spring!

Veenu Banga

24th December 2025

1:44 am

“There’s a kind of hush…

 ..All over the world tonight, all over the world. You can hear the sound of lovers falling in love..” sang Karen Carpenter. Oh, how we all loved The Carpenters in the days of my youth! 

But this is not the hush I had in mind, when I started to write this, the words of this song just came on as my Autonomic Nervous System just kicked in.  

The Hush I had in mind, was the hush of my surroundings on the drive home last evening from Waitrose in Daventry. The sun sets around 3:52 pm, so dusk falls around 3:30pm. The trees stood bare and their skeletal canopies against a grey sky devoid of clouds had a certain restfulness about the whole landscape. Yet so deceptive, not a cloud to be seen because it was overcast with a tightly melded cloudscape that asserted an early close to the day. I did not know if the trees were resting or they were cold. All I knew was that they were very brave. 

And my heart aches for them, I don’t know why. It’s not as if they grow old and die, they resurrect every spring. Is that the message for us humans? About resurrection, rebuilding and regeneration? About..what exactly? I’m sure there’s the science, but then what about our emotional and genetic connectivity with everything in the Universe? They’re a part of us and we both are of the Earth, and also of the stars and the wind and the rivers and the oceans and the clouds and the mountains the cloud breeze through? 

I very much wonder why God forgot to create a plan where these dear beloved trees could be naturally ‘clothed’ in some kind of blanket that Mother Nature would weave around them in winter, at least just for the coldest nights and days of the season. 

Came home and wrote a long soliloquy about them in my paper journal notebook. What had triggered the empathic outpouring was the sight of nests starkly visible, the twigs firmly holding together in the leafless dry branches high up on the trees. These must have been the childhood homes of someone, I had thought, thinking of the baby birds. This was the trigger thought. Someone’s childhood homes, these nests. Do they, the baby birds raised herein, come back with their partners or their babies and show them where their childhood stomping grounds were? 

Perhaps one of these nests was built by a bird raised in and around this area, perhaps even on the tree next ‘door?’ My other thought was as parents, when we become parents, something kicks in and the responsibility teaches the bird parents to build architecturally robust dwellings for one’s off spring. So robust that in the middle of winter, they still stand strong, surviving the summer rain and autumn and winter winds. Come spring, and the circle of breeding and new life stars again in the avian world. 

Not us humans though, seldom do we follow the laws of Nature, especially not in this century. I think that’s why the routine of the seasons has not changed. God knew we would eat the forbidden apple, and lose our senses, so the make-up of winter is such that the needful is achieved by design. 

Anyway, I wrote all about the story of the birds and the tres and the uncanny connections we do not think about as zombie like we traverse through this life. There is certainly something about the winter that invites us to retreat, so I do see the point of it. Also, winter is the bait for the Aurora, which likes cold and dark wintery nights, in the extreme latitudes. 

The Aurora have so far eluded me, as we have chased after them in the Shetlands and in Sweden, they have played catch (a glimpse of) me if you can and won against me every time. Knowing how much I’ve longed to be with them, in awe and praise. We’ve driven through the forests to climb up a hill in the dead of night near Ronninge, around Aberdeen (where they showed up soon after we sailed for the Shetlands) and all over the Shetlands and they’ve managed to elude us with the help of rain, wind and cloud cover. Strategic alliances. 

Three weeks in Sweden and not much luck- except once from the windows of our Airbnb high on a cliff, I could see them through the camera. Ditto in Shetland. 

Well, so be it for now, but some day..perhaps next year. Meanwhile, I’m embracing the quiet time of hibernation, below ground for the bulbous flowers, the alliums and the potatoes and above ground for the bears and whatever else takes the time off to replenish their reserves, or just rest while God’s plan and Nature’s Will work in harmony to prepare us when they present the bounties that Spring ushers in and Summer squanders for our benefit. 

I’m thinking of the apple trees, pear trees, blackberry brambles, flowers and long days of glorious sunshine and gluttonous pleasures. I think I’m not in a rush, not at all. Winter, thank you for your long nights of cosy rest, thank you for the opportunity for reflection, and for the internal resonance that can be orchestrated only by the Divine’s imposition of external forces perfectly placed to ensure the world is ready to participate in and partake of the bounty that awaits. 

With the Solstice, the countdown has just begun. And happily, I surrender to thee my Lord, my masters, my Samanijis and my teachers and celebrate in gratitude those that came before me and those who are with me as I have traversed far and found home wherever this world has embraced me. Thank you, Universe.

Veenu Banga

December 22, 2025

10:55 pm

Meadowbank, a lot of emotions and surprisingly, a closure.

 At the end of two weeks, just as we are preparing to leave Sydney for Canberra, we finally made time to go to Meadowbank. I was teary eyed and also in shock, as the train went across the Paramatta river and the Meadowbank skyline came into view. Shepherds Bay, they had called it, when the first building over three floors was taking shape. Today it stands dwarfed amidst the dozens of high rises that have sprung up there. It wasn’t the same. I had been warned, but couldn’t believe it. No, I couldn’t come back to live here. It’s not Au Revoir Meadowbank, it’s not even goodbye. It is just moving on as one grows away and upwards, to the next chapters of life. 

It was dusk, it I don’t think it matters. I was thinking that when we return to Sydney next weekend, perhaps I should go back again, maybe we will, but I know that magic is lost. Yet, not quite. Not having heard any birds, I heard my first kookaburra of this trip as we walked down through the wooded park, towards the ferry terminal. 

Veenu Banga

6th November 2025.