Walking the streets..

 …of Amsterdam, I heard myself say to myself, and then I smiled, thinking maybe I should title the blog, Street Walker? Simply because of its scandalous connotation, I thought with amusement! Ha, then the realization came, not in this city. They don’t have to walk the streets or haunt street corners. They have a street to themselves, nay, a whole districts of streets in fact. And I remembered passing through there on my last visit, and smiling and waving to the ladies who stood looking out their windows. Lovely ladies, and two of them waved back in response to my friendly gesture, one did not. She scowled. Why could she not see the sincerity in my heart, but the other two could? So it’s not me, it’s what was going on with her. Still, I felt sad that I couldn’t brighten her day. 

All the people I admire, including the dearly beloved Swami Jyotirmayananda, (last living disciple of Swami Sivananda,who my grandfather followed) and my Master Lin, (and Mummy and Bari Aunty, and Joginder mama) say that we must see ourselves and see God, in everyone. And I love doing that, it makes life so easy. I practice it on the street with strangers, and especially some people more than others need our compassion. 

That was a long digression, and certainly not what I had in mind to say when I started to write here. Why did I start, rather return to my blog today? Several ‘signs’ that kept tugging me, like microphones directing my small voice to make sure it’s heard. So what were these microphones? Oh, too many. One was the fact, that I love writing and with the blog, when I come back to read my old posts, it brings back those memories to relive them again, mostly a lot of fun, and I enjoy that I’ve written them because reading them again gives me pleasure. Not all of them, mind. Not the ones I’ve not written with sincerity, or written with an awareness that someone might read them, and I don’t want any voyeuristic views into my thought process or experiences. But the ones that I’ve written for myself, I love coming back to. 

The second was that I purchased 5 notebooks yesterday, (05/16/2026) with Vermeer’s “The Milkmaid” on the cover, at the Shop after we saw the “From Vermeer to Van Gogh Dutch Masters” Immersive experience, at Fabrique Des Lumieres, as part of the Holland Festival presently going on in Amsterdam. On Thursday, 05/14/2026, when we were ‘Walking the Streets’, (after a lovely surprise lunch K pulled on me, at Ottolenghi’s restaurant in the Mandarin Oriental) we wandered in to my favorite shop near Centraal, called Flying Tiger Copenhagen. I was just going to look at the ‘things’ there, and ended up with almost €50 worth of stuff, among them two boxes of pen sets, and what else, but notebooks! And a nice head massager! Really nice. One of those things one doesn’t need, but are nice to use. It’s a bit whimsically designed, and all one needs is one or two massages with its spindly arms of black coated steel, and multicolored ‘massager’ dots at their ends. Also a cardboard box with drawers.

Past midnight already, so technically going forth, I’ll be talking about yesterday! Always tell myself I’ll sleep early, and then, I don’t. Even when I was already sleepy around 9:00pm! However, today I did get done with my late nightly routine of that thing I’m doing earlier, just so could write. Had thought I’ll restart on my blog today, because I’ll get some help from Nature, it being the day of the New waxing moon. Mummy always said things you start or attempt, including and especially planting seedlings, grow with the waxing moon. So I’m hoping the moon, which watched me every night of my life, and knows all of my shortcomings, will support me to write. 

Another reason to go back to my blog, is that much as I love putting pen on paper, I can’t carry my notebooks everywhere- and they fill up fast- so I have no access to them. But the blog I can read anywhere, and whenever I have done so, it’s taken me back and I’ve looked back with joy and gratitude. That’s the other thing to do. 10 things to be grateful for, fill my days with those intake for granted. Including a good appetite and access to good produce, varied cuisine and finding friends in unexpected places. 

Which brings me to the third ‘sign’, the microphone my small voice, (with the aid of the universe) employed to tell me to write. It happened at the Amsterdam Bos Markets today. Which is the number 1 thing I love about the Netherlands, the Markets. Anyway, so after eating (and buying some to go) pies from Matias the Pieman https://piemanbakery.nl/ who has become a regular Market friend, and picking up Honey from a new vendor, a sauce from someone we are acquainted with, desserts from the lovely Surinamese lady who is the Best Baker in all of Amsterdam, and who remembers K as “my customer”as she had also ordered my birthday cake from her two years ago another bottle of Sunflower honey from Romania and Ukraine (I know, know, I know, how can it be two places?) we stopped at a double stall selling sauces, and other jars of all vegetarian products, how could I resist. I opted to pick up a pasta sauce made from sun-dried tomatoes, to have with the most delicious fresh pasta we get at Albert Heijn. After our purchase, the lady handed me a note pad with her business name on it, https://www.wijzijnoogst.nl/ A notepad! Big sucker for notepads, notebooks, drawing pads, diaries, journals, all things paper- it’s in my blood-another story, for another day! So that was the third (or have I lost count?) ‘sign’ to write, woman, write! So here she is, yours truly, writing, band loving every minute of it. Talking my heart out to my iPad, in the quiet night, with The Tree outside (my First Time Dancers poem tree) watching over me through the large wide windows. I have a feeling we will be buying their product again. 

We also discovered another new vendor selling the most delicious olive oil! They were sampling two of them, an Italian olive oil, and a Spanish olive oil, one a pale yellow and the other a not so pale with its richness showing in the fresh green of its color. Both the kind one can SA our with a simple fresh cooked pasta, or a plump ravioli, drizzled with just the olive oil, and nothing else but a dressing of fresh basil. The Italian Oil is produced by the Pisicchio Family of Bari, PUGLIA. The olive variety is Coratina, with an October 2025 harvest date. 2% acidity, and notes of freshly cut grass, green banana, artichoke and arugula. I’d say they are spot on, and even have pairing suggestions, one of which being my favorite for pasta, pesto! The oil had a perfect balance of fruitiness and bitterness, so one could tell it had been treated with respect for its natural tendencies. I think we will have a relationship with this vendor as well, the Grovehood Collective. https://grovehoodcollective.com/

After meeting with our regular vendors, we moved on from the garlic guy as had enough garlic at hime, and were well stocked on my favorite fermented black garlic. The garlic guy was swamped and despite his double storefront there wasn’t room to stand around him. We stopped and said hello to the Dadi Nani pickles and chutneys lady. 

Our Sunday Markets surprise wasn’t over yet. Finally, sat and ate our pies as they were freshly baked, hot and ready for us. The new asparagus with ricotta is awesome! Just as we were finishing up, the clouds couldn’t hold it in much longer, let out with a loud thundering noise. Off we scampered to the far end where the tables and benches had a covered roof over them. The six people at the first table scuttled in further and both of us at the ends made up a cosy party of eight. We had barely settled in when the gentleman at the far end proclaimed loudly, “we meet again!” Indeed we did. 

We had shared a table with them the previous Sunday at the Amstelpark Markets, which are much larger and more convenient to get to, so those we rarely miss. We ate at that table, and I had a vegetarian Greek Gyro, which was fabulous by the way, and K relished her oysters. These two sat next to each other and finished a bottle of wine, and the taller and grungier of the two, went to fetch another. The other guy got chatting with us, and as I sat squinting my eyes and shielding my head and face with my hands, he had offered me his hat. He said he never leaves home without it. Normally, neither do I, but it had been overcast and I thought it wouldn’t be needed. 

Today the two bottle buddies were sitting across from each other, and the hat guy raised his glass towards us, across the Brazilian tourists between us, and offered to buy us wine. I declined, and he said to me, “but you were drinking last time, I saw you!” To which I instantly replied, “you were too drunk so you were seeing a lot of things!” He laughed. Some more banter, and the other guy this time joined in and insisted they saw me drinking last time e we met, and some more banter and sudden a certain cordiality prevailed, enveloping the people sitting between us, as the rain continued to beat down loudly, with a steady stream of bubbling and bugling water running around us. 

Other notable events on my visit so far- the most anticipated was the World Press Photo exhibit in its old venue, De Nieuwe Kerk on Dam Square near Centraal. I had seen it here in 2024, but missed it last year. Before that I think we saw it in Den Haag. I think i’ e seen only these three in the NL,  it recall seeing it in Sydney as well. It’s always very sobering to watch. I think this time, it may have been a shorter exhibition but not by much. The most painful for me was the project out of Argentina where farmhands are getting sick using the pesticides on crops of soy, and how children are born with birth defects. There were similar stories in previous years with flower growers. Every project had its poignant protagonists whose lives project the pain of the subjects and subject matter. The one uplifting story which offered a new sense of hope was the story out of Morocco. Women horse riders breaking into a men’s only arena. 

It’s been cold, overcast, windy and infrequently wet, unlike previous years at this time in May. Met more strangers and new friends and old. Susan from Albert Heijn, and Tina, with whom I have so much in common as far as life journeys go. Uncannily common- the themes of our lives. How unexpectedly discovered. Thanks to her being a self proclaimed chatterbox, I think I may have met my match. 

On this note, even though there’s more, I must end dear blog. A girl (at heart) needs her beauty sleep. So, I hope you will help me blog and invite me to write sooner in the evening. As I had resolved to do, I’ve already liberated a few posts from drafts to posts. That should please you. I really shouldn’t be up so late, so going to say adieu for now, because look at the time. No decent hour for a lady to say goodnight. Hope to see you tomorrow, and you too, should t be up so late! Dank je well, Blog! 

Veenu Banga

18th May 2026

2:03am

Monday.

Can only be a good thing..

 https://youtu.be/zawL5IjjPI8?si=UQluNl6Rcp1D8FGx  Bhajan Clubbing

In my drafts, dated March 17th. 

Pushing itself front and Center..

..this blogpost, just showing top on my laptop. The Pages Gods are telling me something. I need to listen, attentively.

Veenu Banga

April 29th 2026

West Midlands.

~~~~~~~

Sat and wrote this in the dark last night, and on my phone. Thought I had published it. Published without rereading so wanted to check now. Also had thought it was December 1st. Obviously not, to both. Not posted, not December 1st, which is today. 

Many a time, I’ve been thinking something, and the internet Gods show me advertisements for the very stuff. Bizarre. Or maybe not. In this current space and state of affairs, anything is possible. Proves my theory, that we are going further and further away from creation, from our selves, from that which is at our core. That which comprised our core physical, mental and spiritual. 

It’s not all bad, and it doesn’t have to be. It’s just that the serious and universally beneficial use of technology has bled into areas of entertainment. Bleeding further and further and deeper and deeper where its roots are entangled with our spiritual growth, disconnecting us from our environments and suffocating us earlier and earlier in our stages of development. Catching them young with games and so called educational experiences. 

Educational experiences? Within closed environments? What about getting our hands dirty. The joys of feeling rain and dirtying muck and hearing the birds and smelling the sea? Tasting the salt in the particles in the air, watching the horizon with the clouds moving across the sky, playing games with the sun trying to out shine and hide, and then watching the sun scale the south going home west, at least in the northern hemisphere.

There’s magic if we only seek it- a new story written every day, and it’s not saved on any drive. You see it, or you don’t, it’s lost in the ether- and why do they call what they call Ether-net? Where does that come from? 

Anyway, 10:40 pm and December 1st is today. I had forgotten to write the date last night, wanting to get to bed at an earthly hour. Also gives me an opportunity to go over the below, or not, but the title Undressing in December refers to the below, written last night. 

Miss the good old days of writing letters, even to my friends living locally but not nearby. I’ve long thought I need a penpal! Again. It will save the USPS, the Royal Mail, Australia Post, and all the Postal other organizations of the world from becoming defunct, if we could bring back the joys of letter writing! To the post, ahoy! 

~~~~~~~

Undressing in December. 

Today was not the first time I noticed them, but it was the first time I felt this way. A little sad, maybe not a little, more than a little. Today I felt them. Really ‘felt’ them. Rows and rows of them, along the sides of the country lanes. In Clumps. Alone in a field of undulating ground, even the farmland looked lonely. But it was the trees I felt, and felt for. 

Standing naked and stark, their branches dried and still. I wished I could put a blanket over them. Now that they’re bare, even the birds do not visit. 

I wonder what they feel about the birch trees, some still have their drying foliage of their rounded leaves like gold medallions, clinging to them. They’re among the last to shed, the silver birch. Oh! and what of the firs? Their leaves are all intact. In the tree kingdom I’m sure there’s no jealousy or envy. Do the roots talk beneath the ground? 

The trees stand so patiently and seem to say, “We’re just changing, don’t look now..give us some weeks and we will be wearing our pubescent green, which will soon be a full fledged canopy.” But I don’t listen, I look. And the feeling overwhelms me again. I know that intellectually, but can’t shake the feeling of wanting to embrace them somehow and reassure them about something they already know, that Winter shall pass and give way to Spring. That winter serves a purpose. The tulip bulbs know, as do the daffodils, and all the other bulbs that like to root in winter. That’s their cycle of growth, it’s my own ignorance, not theirs. I also know that with the lushness will come the birds, the flowers and the fruits. I foolishly, the mere, mortal meanwhile indulge in a self importance of sorts. 

Thoughts of the bare trees occupy me and I feel them in my body, as though I was in the nude, in my bare bones exposed, not just physically but my unseen vulnerabilities. Some of the trees may face the axe to be kindled, collected for firewood. They stand stoic and undeterred. Always giving, dear precious trees. Why can’t we human beings learn from all that which is not manmade? Nature? 

December comes quietly for nature, not much activity, but yes, more hibernation. We humans do the exact opposite. Instead of turning inwards and undressing and discarding our wounds and vices long past and no longer serving us, we do the exact opposite. Party. 

We could take cue from Nature and slow down, focus on discarding what will soon be old. Instead, we go shopping, go crazy in the frenzy of the acquiring of the material. Instead of purging and detoxing, starting with our minds. I personally need to do that, after some dark days, pun intended, with sunset at 3:54 pm these days. 

Perhaps I will reflect on the year gone by already. Where was I and what was I doing in January? And so on. Google photos will help me with that. Two new places under my belt. Internationally, Bologna and Stockholm and surrounds. Also the many local trips often repeat, such as to the Cotswolds. First time to Somerset, Glastonbury, and Cardiff, Wales. Glastonbury was interesting, even though we visited the town only on the last two days of our eight night trip to Somerset, staying out in boonies at a Farm Lodge we had all to ourselves. No street lights for. Miles around, and the country lane meant for a single car. Sadly no view of the stars, due to cloudy skies all week, except the sun broke through on our last day as we headed out.

Meetings strangers who became friends. Çiğdem in Strasbourg and Alia in a Stockholm suburb. The Moroccan girl in the restaurant near our hotel in Frankfurt, who flies home to Morocco every weekend. She wears Musc by RodriBeautiful people and we had some lovely long conversations, 

Was looking at old photos from 12 years ago, and in many seeing the cobblestones of the places my feet trod upon. Humbling and inspiring. Grateful. Only one trip to Amsterdam. Eating at my first Michelin star at K and A’s insistence, because they had loved it earlier. Yea, it does no disappoint! And meeting the most interesting Michelin chef on a Sunday night, of  bc a magical weekend. Actually I had gotten talking to him, outside a famous ice cream shop as I noticed he was eating the same flavors I chose. Pistachios and I other, might have been pecan. 

Forgot meeting Emma and her hubby in Bologna, couple from the UK. 

Locally went to Somerset, 9 nights in the middle of nowhere. Fascinating town of Cheddar, down deep in the Gorge. Plus more. Got to save some for later. 

Veenu Banga

11:27 pm. 

——

 Sat and wrote this in the dark, last night, and thought had published it. Published with rereading so thought to check this morning. Also  had thought it was December 1st. Obviously not, to both. Not posted, not December 1st, which is today. 

Many a time, I’ve been thinking something, and the internet Gods show me advertisements for the very stuff. Bizarre. Or maybe not. In this current space and state of affairs, anything is possible. Proves my theory, that we are going further and further away from creation, from our selves, from that which is at our core. That which comprised our core physical, mental and spiritual. 

It’s not all bad, and it doesn’t have to be. It’s just that the serious and universally beneficial use of technology has bled into areas of entertainment. Bleeding further and further and deeper and deeper where its roots are entangled with our spiritual growth, disconnecting us from our environments and suffocating us earlier and earlier in our stages of development. Catching them young with games and so called educational experiences. 

Educational experiences? Within closed environments? What about getting our hands dirty. The joys of feeling rain and dirtying muck and hearing the birds and smelling the sea? Tasting the salt in the particles in the air, watching the horizon with the clouds moving across the sky, playing games with the sun trying to out shine and hide, and then watching the sun scale the south going home west, at least in the northern hemisphere.

There’s magic if we only seek it- a new story written every day, and it’s not saved on any drive. You see it, or you don’t, it’s lost in the ether- and why do they call what they call Ether-net? Where does that come from? 

Anyway, 10:57 am and December 1st. I had forgotten to write the date last night, wanting to get to bed at an earthly hour. Also gives me an opportunity to go over the below, or not, but the title Undressing in December refers to the below, written last night. 

Miss the good old days of writing letters, even to my friends living locally but not nearby. I’ve long thought I need a penpal! Again. It will save the USPS, the Royal Mail, Australia Post, and all the other organizations from becoming defunct, if we coukd bring back the joys of letter writing! 

Undressing in December. 

Today was not the first time I noticed them, but it was the first time I felt this way. A little sad, maybe not a little, more than a little. Today I felt them. Really ‘felt’ them. Rows and rows of them, along the sides of the country lanes. Alone in a field of undulating ground, even the farmland looked lonely. But it was the trees I felt, and felt for. 

Standing naked and stark, their branches dried and still. I wished I could put a blanket over them. Now that they’re bare, even the birds do not visit. 

I wonder what they feel about the birch trees, some still have their drying foliage of gold medallions clinging to them. They’re among the last to shed, the silver birch. Oh! and what of the firs? Their leaves are all intact. In the tree kingdom I’m sure there’s no jealousy or envy. Do the roots talk beneath the ground? 

The trees stand so patiently and seem to say, “We’re just changing, don’t look now..give us some weeks and we will be wearing our pubescent green, which will soon be a full fledged canopy.” But I don’t listen, I look. And the feeling overwhelms me again. I know that intellectually, but can’t shake the feeling of wanting to embrace them somehow and reassure them about something they already know. That’s their cycle of growth, it’s my own ignorance, not theirs. I also know that with the lushness will come the birds, the flowers and the fruits. I foolishly mortal meanwhile indulging in a self importance of sorts. 

Thoughts of the bare trees occupy me and I feel them in my body, as though I was in the nude, in my bare bones exposed, not just physically. Some of the trees may face the axe to be kindled and collected for firewood. They stand stoic and undeterred. Always giving, dear precious trees. Why can’t we human beings learn from Nature? 

December comes quietly for nature, not much activity, but yes, more hibernation. We humans do the exact opposite. Instead of turning inwards and undressing and discarding our wounds and vices long past and no longer serving us, we do the exact opposite. Party. 

We could take cue from Nature and slow down, focus on discarding what will soon be old, instead, we go shopping, go crazy in the frenzy of the acquiring the material. Instead of purging and detoxing, starting with our minds. I personally need to do that, after some dark days, pun intended, with sunset at 4:30 pm. 

Perhaps I will reflect on the year gone by already. Where was I and what was I doing in January? And so on. Two new places under my belt. Bologna and Stockholm and surrounds. Also the many local trips often repeat, such as the Cotswolds. First time to Glastonbury, something I had been wanting as have not made it to Sedona. Fascinating town of Cheddar, down deep in the Gorge. Plus more. Got to save some for later. 

Meetings strangers who became friends. Çiğdem in Strasbourg and Alia in a Stockholm suburb. The Moroccan girl in the restaurant near our hotel in Frankfurt, who flies home to Morocco every weekend. I admired her fragrance. She wears Musc by Narcisco Rodriguez. I like it so much I buy one at the airport on way out- can’t remember the last time I have purchased perfume for myself. Its been a long time. I have so many already. Beautiful people and we had some lovely long conversations, 

Was looking at old photos from 12 years ago, and in many seeing the cobblestones of the places my feet trod upon. Humbling and inspiring. Grateful. Only one trip to Amsterdam this year. Eventful and with two magical encounters. Eating at my first Michelin star at K and A’s insistence, because they had loved SINNE. The word means ‘senses’ in Swedish. Yea, it does no disappoint! Serendipitously, Sweden has held a special appeal this year, and we got to see it in all its moods. Almost all, just not the bitterest winters. 

And the magical rainy weekend in AMS, meeting the most interesting Michelin chef on a Sunday night, he was very much part of the magical weekend. Actually I had gotten talking to him, outside a famous ice cream shop as I noticed he was eating the same flavors I chose. Pistachios and pistachio for my two scoops! 

Forgot meeting with Emma and her hubby in Bologna, a lovely couple from the UK. 

Veenu Banga

December 1, 2024

11:27 pm. 

something I had been anticipating, wanting as have not made it to Sedona. 

Locally went to Somerset, 9 nights in the middle of nowhere.

A Prayer and a bale of hay

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. https://veenubanga.blogspot.com/2025/12/they-have-something.html 

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

January 7th 2026

2:14 am. 

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