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

Bye, bye, Shanghai!

 Bye bye, Shanghai! 

On to CGD. 10:00 sharp and in my seat and belted. 5D and A is in 3A. Older looking upholstery in the 777 800 Boeing. Nice menu but not going to eat, as 12 hours overnight flying and we arrive CGD in the early morning, then another short flight to BHX. Yeah, Australia is far away.

Internet available inflight here as well. Was hard to connect in the lounge, so could not post what I wrote earlier. 

1:03 am my phone time. 11:10 hours left to destination. What a blessing my white head of hair is to me. The flight attendants fuss over me so much. Closed my cubicle and wished me goodnight. Hope I can catch a nap! 

5:38 am now. We flew over China, the Gobi desert (read about it in geography in school!) and are now flying over Kazakhstan. Cockpit shows flying towards and just about at the Arab Sea. Then veering leftwards, probably go over the Captain Sea. I think we’re not allowed over Russian Airspace so avoiding that. France supporting Ukraine so their flagship carrier is denied the convenience. Probably turn back up over the southern Black Sea, Turkey and then back up over Bulgaria, Slovakia, Austria, and Northwards to France. 🇫🇷 

See a place on an island called Cagliari and Ajaccio to its South, where it borders the Ligurian Sea. To its left is the Tyrrhenian Sea, and upwards to t Jr e left Albert Sea. Just hearing their names. Also the island Palma with the Belarus Sea separating it from Spain! All these unknown to me seas! 

More new names, Laghouat, Ouargia, Timimoun, Adrar, Aoulef, Bordj Badji Mokhtar, Mopti, Tamanrasset, Niamey, and Kano, many Islamic sounding names. 

Another 6 hours and 5 minutes left in flight. And ve 6:10 am on my phone, so China that many hours ahead. Not sure time in France, but they’d be same as Amsterdam and an hour ahead of GB, Great Britain as it comes up on some systems. 

Map shows we just skirted the Aral Sea. To the left of it, cities such as Nukus, Chimboy, Tagta, Khiva, Urgench, and Turtkuk. Wonder what place that is, a piece of green space surrounded by light brown, clay colored land. 

Messaging on Clan while writing this. How far flying has come, to have this available however many feet high in the sky! This app not providing that information. 

5:45 minutes left to destination now. I’m a little hungry. Hadn’t eaten much dinner as was late and also full. 

8:49 as per my phone time. 3:25 minutes to go still. Watched Bkack Bag the movie, as recommended by K and V who both watched on their flights. It was nice, but watched it with subtitles like I always do. No headphones as I find the noise offensive. Not a movie person so this is a lot of movies. One full movie on each flight. The flight tracker is more exciting. Flying over Türkiye 🇹🇷 now! 

11:03 according to my phone, so must be Shanghai time morning. We have an hour and 11 minutes left to arrival in Paris, and it’s supposedly around 6:00 am local time, since arrival at Birmingham is GMT 9:15 am. So one more plane ride, then an Uber or a taxi home to our city. 

Had requested the mushroom quiche mid flight as was hungry and they had given two options by request, the other being shrimp and beef noodles. So the attendant took it out and proceeded to bake it freshly. Brought it to my seat about 20-25 minutes later, so not frozen and microwaved. Had a proper crust

They call a mushroom omelette vegetarian. Seriously. 

Also had tea, was a Ceylon black. Now 12 minutes to arrival and seatbelt sign just came on. Thank you God for safe travels. Thank you for the joyfully blessed moments with old friends and with new adventures. Brings a lump to my throat and tears on the verge of spilling thinking about the ‘mundane’ activities of grocery shopping and travel in Sydney and Canberra. 

In the old was so much that was new, as it has gone through regeneration and revitalization of new proportions. May all who dwell in the land Down Under thrive and prosper and stay united in their diversity. Till life or travel brings me back to those shores again, I remain ardently in love with a land that allowed me to start life again. Thank you Australia 🇦🇺 and Advance Australia Fair! 

Veenu Banga

November 17th, 2025

Somewhere over Paris, one minute from the runway at Charles De Gaule airport. And an effortless smooth touchdown!  

12:10 on my phone and 5:10 Paris time! 

It’s 6 C in Paris, feels like 2C. High today of 10. 

Rugby is now 3 and feels like -2. High today if 8C ad low of 1C. Sydney was 30C high on Adi Sunday when we left. 

Au Revoir Sydney!

 Au Revoir Sydney! 

Until we meet again, my love, I carry you in my heart. Au will always be home, an anchor, safety. Of all the adventures and comings and goings, none felt so personal as this visit. Cementing that the heart lies here, and why am I not where the heart is?

Despite the noise and crowds, the air just felt familiar. Moreno in CBR, where 8 days were not enough. 

Writing from seat 11 L on an A 350, of China Eastern enroute to Shanghai. My first time on mainland China. 🇨🇳 Decided on “Follow the Plane ✈️ option on the Flight tracker option in my TV screen. Have about just shy of three hours there, before boarding to CGD. Then on to BHX from CGD, arriving Monday morning in the UK. 

Left the hotel early enough, Pakistani taxi driver who’s been here since 2012. From Lahore. Airport was not too busy though checkin took time. Had to miss going to the Sky Team lounge as TRS lines too long, and decided not worth the wait. Was sucky, as Sydney lounge would have been awesome. The amazing quality of produce. Had mangoes and lychees and oranges, 🍊 fingerling banana and apple, delicious golden and geeen kiwis purchased at Fyshwick Markets. And in Sydney from Paddys  Market. Shopped at Coles and Woolies in CBR, and at the IGA in Haymarket- full of Asian groceries. The IGA at Redfern was a class apart. However it’s not surprising since the whole area is so gentrified. 

Abel was right. I’ve moved on from Meadowbank. The high rises told me Meadowbank has moved on. So got some closure there. It’s become congested and just not the same. The trees have grown larger and the canopies are taking up more airspace. Which is not a bad thing. 

Our attendant is He Jing, and she just laid the table for me, and told me, “we have WiFi to connect to the Internet.” She brought out a card with instructions on how to access it and handed it to me. So perhaps I’ll post this inflight, instead of leaving it in my notes. 

Was such a hectic trip and when meeting up with folks, did not seem like the years have gone by at all. Seemed like yesterday. We were able to catch up from where we left off. 

William, the Yugoslav landlord of our Airbnb in Canberra was a great bloke. Very spacious two bedder, two bathrooms and large living areas, in Braddon, very handy to Civic. 

They just came offering wines, juices and drinks and I asked for ginger ale. She said Ginger Ale and showed me an orange can with all Chinese wring. Poured it in a glass and left me with the rest of it in the can. Honestly, doesn’t taste like ginger ale to me. Should have just asked for sparkling water. A gave me the window seat and took mine across the aisle. Clear blue skies outside- the happy blue of Australian skies. K thinks it’s the thinning ozone layer in the atmospheric conditions. 

The first meal just served and done, as we’re flying over Rockhampton. The salad was interesting with a balsamic vinaigrette and one half a cherry tomato with greens and asparagus tips. The balsamic must have dripped on my shirt as it left a spot! 

Too much food, but then I hadn’t eaten breakfast or anything since morning, except two cups of tea! The stain on the left side of my shirt is annoying and tacky. Tried to scrub it with a wet towel, but not successful enough. Should carry a Tide pen- how could I not remember that?! Should have asked for a bib, but not sure they have them. Restaurants in Amsterdam do. 

It’s almost 2:00 pm, so about two hours after take off. I think I’ll nap. It’s a 10 hour flight and they’re offering two meals. I hope the other is breakfast and not sure if it’s the light meal, but I think they both offer what I want. Congee with Chinese pickles! They used to serve it in the Singapore Conrad, and it was very nice. Fresh natto too. Wonder if the Chinese pickles will be something similar? 

The window shades are electronic. So I’m quite impressed with China Eastern. Going to stretch out and maybe take a nap. Not changing just yet. If I write, the trip will go faster and happier. Or perhaps edit and finalize the scripts languishing in Pages. Anyway, A is going to spoil me if he keeps on doing this! 2:19 pm Sydney time. 

Okay, I’m impressed. Wasn’t expecting much, but the service is very attentive. Restrooms clean and they’re folding the toilet paper after almost each visit. Opening doors and the toiletries are pretty good too. An adjustable magnifying mirror built into the wall mirror, which slides in and out depending on which part of the face the focus is required upon. 2:42pm on the phone so presuming Sydney time. Becoming teary eyed at the thought of leaving my country behind. Even the Uber driver, Shahroze, said, “Australia bahut accha hai, sirf door bahut hai.” So true, far from everywhere else in the old establishment world, a hidden gem of bountiful resources to be shared by so few. Was population 21 million when we left, small than the population of LAX and now I think it’s over 25 million perhaps? 

Should get a shut eye, last night woke up every. Single. Hour. Feared the alarm may not go off. So puffy eyes from lack of sleep. Want to tell her to wake me up for congee. The hand lotion is non greasy and pleasantly fragrant. Not too overpowering. 

4:16 pm Sydney time. Had a power nap and woke up some minutes ago. Very thirsty and should have been drinking more water. Was exploring the Cities of the world they must fly to, as seen in the Flight Tracking App on the inflight entertainment screen. 

Going to explore movies and settled on Gems of China category. 5:40 hours more to go. Going to watch The Dumpling Queen. 

6:41 pm. Finished watching The Dumpling Queen. It was based on a true story, and I was reminded of Mummy’s life. Not easy with a loser husband. Losers pile lies upon lies to save face while the women carry on carrying on and keep the fires burning. 

3:20 hours more to go. We’re flying past Iligan City. Sounds like a Philippine name, not sure. The other end of the island was Davao City. To the West I presume, as it’s to the left of the map, is Cotabato City. To the far left is Zamboanga. We’re between the Sulu Sea and the Celebes Sea. Never knew these places existed. What a vastly magical world. Such unusual names. Our souls can choose to be born anywhere. I think it might be Indonesia 🇮🇩 as such a scattered place, clusters of islands spread out in the ocean.

Right at the far top left edge of the sphere, which is our beautiful world, I see New Delhi. Mummy’s Karam Bhoomi. At the top right of center is Tokyo. Below is Port Moresby with the tip of Australia visible. Hong Kong, Beijing and the Russian cities up top. Wonder where Mummy chose to born again, very far from me I’m sure. I wasn’t a good daughter and let her down. Let them all down. BA, and JM and all those who looked up and at me for support. Loved, cherished and nurtured me. Hope and trust wherever she is now, she is happy, loved, appreciated and cherished. 

Did not connect to the internet, may do so. They want the seat number and last four digits of our travel document, so will have to retrieve it from the overhead bin. Or else will post from PVG upon landing. 

On the way in had barely enough time in Seoul as inclement weather across Europe had delayed our flight, among many others delayed and several cancelled altogether. 

3:11 hours to go. Ate Chinese snacks and feel like hot tea. The map spun around and zoomed back to Australia 🇦🇺 highlighting Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane. Possibly cities this carrier flies to. We’re going over the Sulu Sea. Must go home and see where that is! How little we’ve seen of this part of the world. Far Southeast Asia. Kota Kinabalu beneath us, though I see only the blue of the waters. A small island or large island in the middle of the sea? 

Iloilo City and Bacolod showing up as the map zooms in and out! Now all the major cities in China. 🇨🇳 

Cotabato City. Taibei! Possibly Taipei, just as I thought of Taiwan. Remember visiting Kaoshung and Keelung ports so many years ago. Walking on the streets in a bright pink saree and cars slowing down to gawk at me and smile. Same bright pink saree in line at Disneyland in Long Beach and a Caucasian child touching my saree and asking me, “Are you a fairy?” 

In Long Beach being approached by a very young lad and he asked, “Can you spare me a nickel?” So that’s how people beg in America I had then thought. 

Connected to the internet and at 38002 feet high. Maybe this will be a new first! Posting from the skies flying over approach approach to Lipa, and Lucena to the right. Flight path goes directly over Manila! Flight MU562 with 2:39 hours to arrive Shanghai from Sydney. 

Veenu Banga

November 16, 2025

7:29 pm Sydney time 

Couldn’t open the blog website so unable to post. Sent a message to Dr Jean as I had been thinking about her. 

1:36 hours to go. They had the second meal service. Took orange juice and water. Wish they had pineapple juice. 

The Timeshifter App is asking me to take two hour nap. Did not follow through with much of it on this trip. A had told Kevin about it as well, and I believe he was following it. Thanks to Abel for telling us about it. 

Had an awesome last night in Sydney at Abel’s! Dinner and conversation. 

“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

And I cried too, with them..

 Around at 8:00 minutes into the show: https://youtu.be/6fcdMg-NrcA?si=9PcV9FEWSs4Ue3N9 and more damning was part two: https://youtu.be/CPlaJxLJDwE?si=dPtkFRKZoqUkNm0a which was truly very shocking in the latter part. Classic Daddy. Could understand my father better, and some other people. Folks that have the irrepressible urge to harm, to cut down their perceived opposition, be it their own child. Just to spite their partner- to hit below the belt, they will use anything, even their own flesh and blood. As the saying goes, to cut one’s nose to spite one’s face. For them, it’s just collateral damage. The stuff of life. Seriously. I don’t think this man deserves any more attention from me. Flawed human being, and no, not the perfect artist- because he decapitated (strong word, but yes, that’s what these @%& do!) the competition. Flawed psyche. As I feel about, well…he’s either really very sick, or he’s truly evil. Perhaps both. 

On another bizarre, but not really- note. Early this morning, woke up much rested, as had not slept, literally for four straight nights- and had been crying with pain. So thought, that’s a nice heading for a blog. And mentally, wrote out the blog’s title, “Today I cried…” and then was going to continue, with relief, after four days of crying with a terrible toothache, that obliterated my ability to function normally. Had to cancel my flight as was in terrible pain, and change that ticket to a later date, and buy a new ticket to go back. An emergency dental visit and regulate dentist visit later, begged for antibiotics, which is the second time for me this year. With all the very highs and some very lows, life has a beautiful way of balancing out. 

So bizarre I had said? And while not bizarre, it’s prophetic how some words we utter come to pass. So yes, today I really cried, watching this video about a woman who very much intrigues me. Tomorrow, I will be happy, as I am now, having spent time with Greg Braden; and will say to myself. Today is a good day, it’s the first day of the rest of my life! 

Veenu Banga

December 10, 2025

9:13 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.

Day 9 already!

 Where has the time flown. Remember tearing up as the coast first came into view from the window of the plane, as we approached the airport and descended quickly lower. The froth of the waves, clearly folding over and over in a layer of twos and threes rolled over to touch the shoreline. 

How Sydney has changed from when I last visited for an extended stay such as this one. We’re almost halfway through to our vacation. The biggest shocker has been the high rises that have cluttered the skyline. The horizon marred by overly tall cell phone towers. 

The other things MIA are the Bubble and Squeak patties by Birds Eye which were a staple burger to make a sandwich with. The cheesecake shop has far fewer locations in Sydney, so will probably wait till we’re in Canberra next week and get my Fruit Flan, which I so loved, could eat the whole in three days, all by myself. However, I’m sure my digestion is not what it used to be. I’ll give it a shot anyway. 

On the plus side found my Cole’s Muesli that I loved and have been eating it. Coles in the City, on George Street is where I did my first shop this trip. It was about 10 minutes from the hotel. 

Still haven’t gone to Meadowbank, but have been looking at it on Google Maps. With lots of Nostalgia. Met up with Baljeet and Harleen, our Meadowbank neighbours, one of the very few Indians there, who have moved out west, into a lovely home with stone floors. They’ve been there 23 years. She drove us to the Glenwood Gurudwara and we had an awesomely delicious Langar which runs all day to support the many 

Doesn’t feel like my Sydney, from when last we were there in 2003, except the one night with Latha in 2012, when flying back to Orlando after K had moved to Canberra in 2003. What even is my Sydney. Baljeet remembered things I had forgotten and remembered moments she could not recall. It was good to hear about the children. 

The city seems a bit soulless with so many high rises. I’m not sure I can get over the claustrophobia of the concrete overwhelm. I loved going to work wearing pantyhose and jacket, as Sydney had a very formal workplace culture, with regards to attire. 

I wince seeing the high rises, with no consideration of the weight of concrete the housing situation puts on Mother Earth. A tells me people have to live somewhere, Mum. Yes, but it’s not really living, is it? Sydney has so much more to offer, glimpses of which I saw as the scores of new Indian migrants thronged the green spaces, which lined the train tracks. People making the most of a muggy Spring Sunday, after a coltish and fairly wet week, that stole four days from me as I came down with a cold, fever and scratchy throat. 

The trains are newer, and Sydney now has a Metro system and trams, just like Amsterdam. I used to watch them from the hotel window. Moved to Abel’s apartment today for the rest of the week before heading to Canberra for the next week. The monorail is gone. So many people I meet have not heard of the Sydney sights I remember, the newer migrants and so very many Indians! Amazing how young the population is here. 

I remember all the train coaches made of wood, (an all wood train) when we took the train from Sydney to Kiama in 1992. Those trains were called bone rattlers, (officially Red Rattlers,  because they were painted red) because they rattled on the tracks. Quaint seats also all wood, can’t recall details. It was winter in July and the guard had come with a tall pole which he pointed up to a box up high on either end of the coach and lit a fire at each end,  Eva use there was no air conditioning. Beats me how they had a fire burning in a train car made of wood? It’s too long ago! 

So many memories, and making new ones now. Explored Chinatown like never before due to proximity to the hotel, a new.y opened Hyatt, not quite a month old. Of course the changing face of the population, more migrants, and the Napalese here are what the Mexicans are to the US. The maid who came to do our room, the chefs and servers in Indian restaurants, I noticed several Nepali people. 

Unplanned and unexpected trip must be the highlight of my year which has had its ups and downs, and can’t say more downs now, especially because of Sedona, Peru and now Down Under. Finally got my sleep settled. Somewhat. Oh, the jacarandas. Everywhere, heart hugging, joyful to beg\hold. The flowering trees, the sun strong when it appears, all marking of Spring and a summer to look forward to!  

Veenu Banga

November 3, 2025

9:45 pm.

The things we do for Love

 There is an unspoken happiness when we are so absorbed, that nothing can disturb our focus. I’ve known to smile to myself in one of those sublime moments, as have many others. Those moments for some become their life’s longing. 

Such people intrigue and hold my attention. I’m almost envious of their focus, and their commitment to their cause. Madness of a kind- to let it consume you. The richest kind of people, the energy that surrounds them and the glow on their faces, instills in me a deep desire to get to know them, and perhaps have some of their magic rub off on to me. 

The Aranmulla Kannadi mirror makers are perhaps a handful of people in the world, to have the exclusive rights to make this choice. This is a Love that you cannot choose, it chooses you, you have to be born into it. My next item on a very small wishlist. Actually, this would be number 2 on my list. https://youtu.be/FAd2zmj9ajI?si=Dsj81UNcAFjy-72F 

And then there’s the flute makers https://youtu.be/ftltGIElKY0?si=4XqUwAwje7byH3g- Perhaps not on my wishlist, but definitely arouses my curiosity, as it’s an instrument that can penetrate my heart with its sounds. Carry me away. Invoke surrender. 

They fascinate me, these kinds of people. You meet them in the Karigars who craft with purpose. Thank goodness the Industrial Revolution did not destroy everything. The engagement to their craft is supreme, and when they are working, the external does not matter, for the internal is so absorbed in its task, that it creates its own world. 

My heart yearns to feel such joy again. My hands have not forgotten the feeling of my creative endeavors. The colors, the cords, the paint, the brushes, the fabric, the sitting up all night doing my deed! Indeed, I know the feeling, and while the feeling is not lost, I am. 

Maybe I can make a fresh start. Maybe just start with writing? Putting pen to paper, finger to keyboard, instead of burdening my brain with what longs to be set free and to flow? 

Veenu Banga

10/15/2025

10:49 pm

My dearest Neeru

  Words fail me, yet they do not. They’re constantly buzzing away in my mind- speaking in long and short sentences and sometimes repeating themselves. They’re just words, yet not quite. We talk with words, and yet, I cannot conjure up the courage to call and say something to you. That’s where words fail me. Where words do not fail me, is here, on the keyboard. I can write my heart out to you, but I cannot respond to the ache in your voice, or face you and say anything, because the heartbreak on your face will be evident with or without words. And what words can I have for that? 

What words can one offer as consolation when consolation is not justified? It wasn’t his time, and despite his health struggles, he persevered on. And people may say, it was your love, Neeru ji, and that it was your devotion that Subhash ji did so well for as long as he did. However, I beg to differ. What I was privileged to observe was the love Subhash had for you, it was his love, his love for you, that kept him going, because he had in that love, a thousand reasons to stay, he had in your face, a thousand sunrises to witness, he had in what you had both built, a thousand reasons to feel proud. And while I may tear up as I write this, I know words will fail me if I were to try to speak to you. What can I say? What is there to say? That God Almighty prevails, yet somehow, even He refrains from anything drastic, anything hasty in the face of such a loving man. 

Across the oceans, over a poorly connected Zoom call, I was with you at the final moments of goodbye to his mortal remains. Your heart-rending sobs in your uncontrollable grief moved me to tears, and in the sense of helplessness, seeing you, Neil, Neha, Bablee, Barjinder, and all the others present, there was a sad sense of finality that was hard to accept. 

Is that it? Such a precious human life, and how quickly they rushed him away, and the shutters dropped as he was taken away, out of view. Such a quick sense of finality, just like the suddenness of the last breath. One breath and then, no next one? Were you with him? All the finer details- none of that matters, none is essential. When he is gone, what does it matter how? 

When I finally meet you, sweet Neeru, my precious, gentle Neeru, my dearest childhood friend, when I eventually meet you, we will celebrate Subhash’s life. I will tell you how much I loved listening to him recount all the stories of your life together. All the moments we missed in each other's lives as we went our ways and raised our families. His voice is fresh in my memory, and so is his laugh. 

Subhash making light of his machine’s ringing, which used to frighten me so much. He laughed. He made light of it. He was calm, collected, and composed, so well-balanced—most of the time. However, there were profound moments when he was preparing you for it. These lasted but briefly, almost spent in passing. Then there were the reminiscences, from the early days, till the now. 

I loved listening to his stories, and when we are together, I will ask you to repeat them. Remember the time he was going to get the Franchise you had both decided on? The lure of those Golden Arches could not seduce him enough, because when the call came from home, he rose to the occasion and allowed that one phone call to change the trajectory of your future. He never looked back; there was no remorse, just a forward-thinking spirit of entrepreneurship that rewarded you for his good intentions. 

How was he so wise, I wonder? And why was I so fearful that I couldn’t allow him to see my messy home? That he would be disappointed in your friend? How stupid was I? I now feel blessed that we shared a great sense of camaraderie around our dining table, breaking bread together, and making memories with dear Bablee and Barjinder. Those were special moments. How much of an effort he had made to drive down, despite what he was stoically going through. 

How quick Subhash was to conjure up a plan for my kitchen, as I complained to him about the dissatisfaction I had with my kitchen’s layout. He was sharp, astute, intuitive, and insightful. No wonder he was such a success. How brave to leave his job and confidently march towards a future that he envisioned, and make a success of it. 

Besides his stories, there were all the moments that wrote your own story. Subhash’s decisiveness, his vision, and how he purchased the house for your retirement. How the community and activities fulfill all your needs. How he remodeled and refurbished it completely, into your beautiful and comfortable home. He spared no thought or expense for your comforts. How can one not celebrate that? 

When we meet, we will surely miss him, miss Subhash very much. When we meet, we will gather all the memories we can and cherish them to our hearts' content; we will celebrate him. 

Look after yourself, Neeru. Your Subhash would not have it any other way. Keep up your self-care. He’s going to be watching over you. Keep your beauty Parlour appointments, your hairdresser, your yoga classes, your water aerobics, and enjoy your clubhouse. Enjoy everything he built for your pleasure. Give him that, don’t let your sadness take away his joy from you. That which he has built for you, let his love continue to nurture you, so that all his efforts are not in vain, but instead reap the benefits that he intended for you. 

So sweet, Neeru. Forgive me, but I’m not able to justify any condolences because I see no justice in his passing so soon. All I’m trying to find is understanding what remains, what remains of him, and that would be everything you and the children have. What makes up your psyche, your memories and moments, and what houses you and what resides in you. They’re all the color of Subhash. The color of a fine human being, a noble soul, and someone who is being remembered with reverence and appreciation. And he was yours, Neeru. All yours. 

With lots and lots of love to you, my sweet Neeru. 

Veenu Banga

12:33 am on October 9th, 2025. 

Subhash Dhawan: A life of Excellence

 Two short lines from Neeru in a text message. Telling me her world will never be the same again. 

“My Subhash left me alone. He is gone.” And, “I have no idea how will I live without him.”

We last met them in June of this year, when we all, as a family, visited them at their home in South Florida. Neeru and Subhash were always welcoming, with a large-hearted graciousness that made one feel valuable and a cherished visitor at their beautiful home, which Subhash completely refurbished to a very high standard. It had to cater to all of Neeru’s desired comforts in their retirement years. Who knew that would be the last time we would meet Subhash? 

Neeru and I are childhood friends, and in our earliest photographs together, we are around two years old. She lived diagonally across my grandparents' home on Babar Road, where I was raised in my infancy and early years. We were constant playmates and grew up together as children. Our bond continued into our adolescence, and during our teenage years, we shared our crushes and heartaches. Our sari-wearing phase occurred at the same time, ushering us into our marriageability. 

Neeru was the first amongst us to get married. We were in awe of her groom, with his “sone ke Baal,- with golden hair” as Neeru described him with a nervous excitement, after their first meeting. Subhash was a swashbuckling, tall, and handsome man. He really had “golden” hair, as bleaching hair was then in fashion amongst youth in Canada. 

I clearly remember attending the wedding. Neeru recently shared a wedding photo that shows her friends, including me, watching the couple as they took their vows and performed the wedding rituals around the sacred fire. Subhash soon whisked her away to Canada. 

As girls in proximity physically for long periods of time, we had developed emotional attachments and a secure complacency in our friendship. This was quickly reestablished when we reconnected, since Neeru’s move to Atlanta. 

Subhash always exuded a genuine hospitality which was all embracing, and never wavered, in the years since Neeru and I reconnected as adults, several years ago. My awkward trepidation at our ‘first’ reunion meeting was soon dispelled as the decades gap was closed by the warmth with which we were greeted at her home. Subhash had a good-hearted, cheerful dignity and reserve about him. He displayed genuine care, and I felt protected around him, as if I were in a safe place in their home. 

Subhash, even more so than Neeru, made me feel that I was not just Neeru’s friend but a valued addition to their lives. Subhash brought a proactive sincerity to his relationships. This aspect of his friendship helped nurture a deeper bond between us, and the frequency of our meetings increased, aided by the proximity since they moved down to Florida. I enjoyed their hospitality on numerous occasions, even staying overnight, with the persuasive encouragement from Subhash. 

As we interacted more often and caught up on our lives over the years, I learned more about Subhash. He had been a good son, brother, and uncle. Subhash deeply cherished his own family and nurtured their two children, Neha and Neil; and fostered a strong marriage in which Neeru blossomed and grew more beautiful. 

Earlier this year, Subhash and Neeru renewed their vows in bridal attire in the temple, with family in attendance. 

Subhash was a good provider and devoted father. They put Neha through medical school, and encouraged her to complete her Residency in London, where Neeru also visited her. They were both very proud of Neha, and Subhash adored his granddaughters, Anaya and Siana. Neeru indulgently brags about the girls, especially Siana’s love of books and her reading stamina. 

Neeru proudly recalled Subhash braving the early winter mornings in Toronto to take Neil to his hockey games, and he never wavered in his commitment, come hail, snow, or storms. They felt extreme pride in Neil’s success as a lawyer, and even more so as a wise, wonderful, and caring son, as well as a devoted husband to his lawyer wife, Catherine. The apple did not fall far from the tree. 

Subhash’s open-door hospitality fostered strong family bonds, and Neeru’s younger sister, Archana (Bablee to us), and her husband, Barjinder, along with their children, often visited from Vancouver for extended stays. In fact, Bablee’s children were so close to Subhash that they trusted him with their confidences and valued his advice. Coming from a place of abiding love, Subhash built trust and respect with ease and efficiency. He could exert influence over the younger generation, who knew they could trust Subhash with their confidential issues. 

It was lovely to meet with Bablee and Barjinder recently on one such visit, thanks to Subhash and Neeru, who drove down to Orlando with them. Despite his respiratory health issues, Subhash retained his zest for life, and living large. In this age where secular families have become a fashion and a norm, Subhash’s household flourished with the welcome additions of family and friends. I always felt at home around him. 

Subhash had an excellent sense of design and an impeccable style. Their home reflected his good taste, his love of life, and his generosity with his own and others. 

The void left with Subhash’s passing already echoes with the deep sense of loss felt by those who knew and loved him. With some people, it’s personal. That’s how I feel Subhash’s loss. It is hard for me to offer my condolences in just words. How can I, when I feel the loss too? 

Subhash belonged not just to his own family, but to all of us who knew him and loved being in his presence, knowing that the precious friendship he offered was a rare gift to be cherished by all who were touched by his life. Those feelings, memories, and moments shared with Subhash are all part of life’s joyful days. 

Neeru’s life will indeed never be the same; it will be colored with happy memories built with this lovable man. She will be kept busy carrying on his legacy. A giant amongst the generous. A class above the classiest. A husband who was the heartbeat of his wife. A father who showered his children with the priceless gift of Presence. 

No one left empty handed from meeting him, whether they wanted or not. Being in the presence of Subhash was a gift. You will be dearly missed, dear Subhash, by all who knew you. We feel blessed to know you, and my family is the better for having benefited and been honored by your friendship. 

Neeru, Neha, Neil, and their families will keep the torch burning bright. The world needs the illuminating example of such a life as yours,  richly lived, with charity, determination, resilience and shared good fortune. Thank you for your friendship. 

Veenu Banga

October 3, 2025. 

2:57 am

There’s a new Angel in Heaven

  There was a soft knock on the door, almost inaudible. However, it warranted answering. When I opened the door, I looked down to see two small hands clutching a small box of Mithai sweets, with a bright, elaborately made Rakhi placed on top of the box. There was a tentative smile and an uncertain look on the face of the little boy holding this treasure with a questioning tenderness, and a hope that he put into words, saying, 

“Didi, will you tie this Rakhi on my wrist?” 

Thus began our relationship. One that would endure over time, distance, silences, and the vagaries of life’s ups and downs, expected and unexpected travels and turns. 

This became a ritual that continued over the years, and with each passing year, as he grew older and I gained maturity, a steadfastness in our bond resonated, which did not require constancy of proximity. 

Sanjay Dhir and I were ‘neighbors’ who lived diagonally across from each other, our homes in a block of flats were on opposite sides of the two rows of Central government dwellings, separated by common well-maintained lawns, playgrounds for the children, in this very desirable enclave called Pandara Road. Many of the allottees, such as my mother, arrived in the late 1950s when the housing was constructed and stayed on until retirement, so deep bonds were forged among residents, and festivals were celebrated together despite regional and cultural differences. 

Sanjay’s family came about a decade later, so he was initially an outsider and subject to some banter and bullying. He was a well-behaved and calm child who did not exhibit these tendencies. Sanjay was also of a gentle disposition and prone to cold and respiratory illness, which prompted his mother to keep his head and ears covered with a scarf. He was the only child with the scarf tied under his chin, like girls do. My mother called him her “little girlfriend.” 

Sanjay often fought off sniffles that were easily triggered by the Delhi winters. That set the scene for him to be quietly introspective, though not without the boyish nuances which he indulged in a restrained and balanced manner. His personality, therefore, developed differently from the other boys of his age. As he grew older, this became increasingly evident. He was the kind you could depend upon, trust, and know that, above all, he would be respectful, lacking all vindictiveness. He knew a lot more than he let on, and I was to discover later that he kept the adolescent secrets of the girls and boys of his age group. 

By now, his mother had acknowledged me as “Sanjay’s didi,” and our relationship had an unspoken promise of commitment, without any expectations. Our paths would soon diverge as we headed towards our futures. 

Sanjay came to me one day with the good news of his success in being selected for the National Defence Academy (NDA). I had no idea that was in his plans, and I was happy for him. We discussed it, and the patriotism and flamboyance of the Defence Services uniform had influenced his excitement. He asked me which branch of the Services he should choose. I don’t know if that was a serious question, and if my answer really had anything to do with the choice he would make. It was just one of those things that Sanjay reserved for our conversations. Never frivolity, just a sincere deference to life’s defining moments as we traversed the coming of age. I truly felt the “Didi” in our relationship. Our closeness was on an as-needed basis, devoid of regularity or expectation. 

When Sanjay retired as a Wing Commander from the Indian Air Force (IAF) and later joined Air India as a commercial pilot, it seemed the plan had panned out as envisioned when we had discussed it. By now, we had gone our separate ways, but Pandara Road still kept us tethered together.

Another thing we had in common was the discovery of Shirdi Sai Baba’s temple that had opened up in the Lodi Road area around the early 1970s. It was in the same Lodi Institutional Area, near the DTEA (Delhi Tamil Education Association) Senior Secondary School, where many of the “Madrasi” children (a common name given to all Indians from the Southern Part of the country) lived. Many Tamilians began to frequent it. 

True to the camaraderie of the residents of Pandara Road, the Panjabis and other diverse communities were also initiated into the temple, including my mother. She devoutly observed Holy Thursday by making and sharing the prasad of Chana dal khichdi and rice kheer. This became a tradition for life. 

Sanjay’s mother, Mrs Dhir, also became a Shirdi Sai Baba devotee, and so did Sanjay. We all were children of the Colony, in ways both comforting and inspiring, influenced as we were by the activities of the various communities. One of my friends, Vijaya, a Tamilian who lived diagonally downstairs from us, sang Bhajans there every Thursday, which was Sai Baba’s day, and we frequently went with her to pray in front of the framed photo of Shirdi Sai Baba. 

I have clear memories of when the temple installed the white marble statue, and the Pran Pratishtha of Sai Baba’s Statue was celebrated. Vijaya was singing in the front row as I, along with just a couple of others, diligently swept the continuous flow of milk and water, mixed with Haldi and fragrant pastes, which was being generously applied and washed down several times with milk and water, poured continuously over the Holy Statue. The fragrances and chanting surrounded us, and I often reflect on the fortuitous moments that allowed us to proactively be a part of that great day—another opportunity to unite all of us neighbors in that ceremonial moment. 

The temple tied our families together spiritually, and the Bhakti to Sai Baba became another commonality, strengthening the foundations of our community with our neighbors. Those were magical times, when diversity was celebrated. 

Sanjay had a spiritual commitment, and he was not shy of flaunting his devotion. Around the time Sanjay went to the NDA, he also visited Shirdi for the Darshan of Shirdi Sai Baba. He brought back a gift for me from Shirdi, which I have traveled with me over continents. 

Sanjay had a reserve and discreet maturity that was uncommon for his age. Just yesterday, I found out from my friend Neelam, who lived diagonally below our house on the other side of Vijaya’s, that Sanjay studied Mathematics with her and Jyoti, her elder sister. That Sanjay’s mother credited, “Neelam and Jyoti for his acceleration in academics, especially Maths,” and “Veenu for his increased confidence.” It was heart-warming to re-live those transitional years on the periphery of adulthood.

We were not in touch for some years. While Sanjay attended my wedding and I was in Delhi to attend his, in subsequent years, our paths diverged and took us in different directions. Sanjay was a devoted son and elder brother. I met Sanjay’s mother in Atlanta where she was visiting her older son and his family. It was good to see Mrs Dhir again. 

I had found out that Sanjay had become a single father to his beautiful daughter, Niharika, ‘Noni’, when she was a small child. He poured his affections into the love of his life. I met Noni for the first time in London. She was studying law at King’s College. I was in London for a week, and Sanjay facilitated a meeting. At her suggestion, we had decided to meet at the Lahore Kebab House. 

We took a bus from White Chapel, where we had our Airbnb, and headed to the location. A few minutes later, two girls of Indian appearance boarded the bus chattily, and I gasped in recognition. It was Noni! She favored Sanjay in appearance, and I recognized her immediately. 

Sanjay was the kind of person who could be a rock for others in relationships, but after we reconnected, I could feel a difference. A passing fragility brought upon by life, that all of us have moments of, had touched him too. That notwithstanding his resolute nature, his generosity of spirit and all-embracing compassion never left him. We had one conversation over the phone, during which I poured my heart out to him with as much brevity as I could muster in one of my own fragile moments, and he was present for me. 

Another time, I unhesitatingly reached out to him when I needed to pay INR 200 in India for a book that an editor friend of mine, the author, wanted me to review. This, even though we hadn’t really been in touch, I knew I could ask him and feel no obligation. 

So, yesterday, when Rajiv, another friend from Pandara Road, called and gave me the news about Sanjay, I was deeply shocked. It was the first thing I saw when I opened Facebook, and I knew Rajiv was right. I was not yet ready to offer my condolences to his family because it could not be true, but what could it be? Perhaps I expected a follow-up to confirm that Noni’s and Sanjay’s Facebook pages had been hacked, and that this news was not trustworthy. I called Neelam, and she was just as shocked. 

My heart has been restless since yesterday. I did not feel like cooking or eating. Sleep did not come easy. I told a few people close to me, still in disbelief. Woke up at 4 am and 5 am, and restless thoughts returned to all the moments shared with Sanjay, seeing him in my mind's eye, as a child, then a teenager, and now, reflecting on the family photo of Wg Cdr/Capt. Sanjay Dhir. On September 8, 2025, he posted pictures from San Francisco. 

Captain Sanjay Dhir. Wing Commander, Sanjay Dhir, IAF. Captain Sanjay Dhir, Air India. From a cherished resident of Pandara Road to a beloved and revered resident of Nirmal Vihar, which embraced and honored this hero, a gem of a man. This was the man who raised the flag at all the community National festivities functions at Nirman Vihar. On Independence day there he was in the Facebook photos saluting the flag as the neighbors cheered him and honored his Service. 

Today is Dussehra day, and the flames at the Lodhi Road crematorium must have hungrily fed on the mortal remains of a pure soul, the likes of who don’t come easily anymore. Fly away, free bird, fly, Sanjay, fly! Touch the sky on your way out to Heaven. 

Heaven has gained a new Angel. What we have discovered is that goodness lives on. I have personally come to understand that some love never truly dies. Love evolves with us. Some relationships are so cherished and so worthy that they cannot be tainted by sorrow and are to be celebrated. Sanjay was such a personality, such a life. In all his mortality, his love, compassion and dignity survive. An extraordinary human being who was one of us, as I speak for all of those who were privileged to be a part of his life on Pandara Road. 

Veenu Banga

October 2, 2025

3.39 pm.