Tuesday, November 8, 2016



Tuesday, November 8, 2016

Election Day.

Election Day. All ready to vote and get a flu shot.
Four years ago I was in Mumbai. My host came and said,"Obama won. Distribute the sweets. The driver is waiting downstairs." I pick up my bag and rush to Brijvaasi Sweets in Juhu shopping Center. I buy the whole lot of Gulabjamuns and laddoos and come back.
The family cook is Nillamma. She is from Karnatak and comes around eleven  in the morning. Her kitchen is the meeting place for all other maids in the building.  They finish their morning work and congregate in Nilamma's kitchen. Since the guest room is across the corridor from the kitchen I am aware of all the activities, chatter and laughter. It is confluence of many languages, Tulu, Marathi, Hindi and Telegu. I go to the kitchen and give each woman a laddoo.
"What is is? Grandma?" one woman asks," Puja prasad?"
"No. A good man has become the President of America."
Now, they all know about me and my stay in America. It is a land of cold and snow, of English and McDonald.
They are amazed.
" Married?"
"Yes. to a very nice woman." I say.
"Children?"
" Yes. Two daughters."
They are satisfied. They eat their laddoos and go off.
Four years later.
Same kitchen, same women." Why are you leaving so early?" Shanta asks.
" I have to vote. A woman this time. A grandmother."
They know that a woman canbe the President and the Prime Minister of a country. India had both. but they donot know American mindset.
" If she wins, I'll give you all new saris."
They laugh happily.
I've often thought about them. These women who live nearby in slum dwellings. They were rehabilitated. The government built one bedroom, kitchen and indoor toilet apartments for the, but they have rented them out, built new shanties and moved back into the slum. They work hard cleaning the houses and washing dishes. Most men beat them regularly, snatch their money and blow it on drinks.
"Such is our fate." says Yashoda. She is educating her sons. She has hopes for a better future for them. Three days later she is dead, of undiagnosed Dengue fever.

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Monday, November 7, 2016

My 95 year old neighbor Jean died last week. She was more than a neighbor for over 30 years, not a close friend but a kindly adviser, gently guiding me through the hurdles of living in America and being a homeowner, a caregiver to an ailing husband, inept gardener.
For a week her house was dark, suddenly it was lit up, cars stood in the driveway. I went over there. Jean's 96 year old husband was there, as well as her four children, daughters-in-laws, sons -in-laws and many grandchildren. The house was alive with voices, activities, coming and going. Vernon and Jean came from Norwegian stock, tall, thin, good looking. The grandchildren carry those genes,all very tall, good complexion, regular features, nice, white teeth and very polite to this elderly neighbor of their grandmother.
In bed , last night I thought about this transition. The genetic legacy continues, Jean is gone but her family continues to thrive ,to live, to prosper and multiply.
Same with my husband's Danish family, his sons, taller and better looking than him and  his three grandsons even more handsome. Yet all carrying grandfather's characteristic features and genetic markings. All belonging to the same genetic pool.
I though about my family. My brother's three daughters and their 10 children, my eldest sister's three daughters and their 6 children,  my other sister's three daughters and their 5 children.  Boys and girls, all healthy, bright, pursuing various careers; pilots, managers in hospitality field,tech professionals, professors, writers, doctors, lawyers, future chefs.  All branches of the same family, same root, from my grandfather and my grandmother.
The garden will grow, though this gardener might not be around to cuddle the plants.
I slept peacefully.

Friday, November 1, 2013

Shaam to nahiN hai par dhuaN dhuan saa hai.
Not a single child came to the door for Halloween. Sitting with a pile of kitkats.
Leaves are falling,the branches are getting bare.
Lots of thoughts, ideas but no time to sit and write.
Hopefully soon.:_)

Thursday, October 31, 2013

your story

Vijayaji. I liked reading your story. Your main character is a little too bhavuk for my taste, but her sorrow and loss is legitimate. Looking forward to seeing more of your writing.

musings

A writer posted a long story on his blog. A good story. Traditional. 64 people liked it. I read it twice, first as a reader and then as a critic. I sent a response as a reader.
It got me thinking about my own writing. I am always amazed when I read the critics. I realize that there is wide gap between what I intend and what the readers and the critics get or not get. People ask why Antarvanshi? The answer is imbedded in the text, maybe too subtle. It requires close reading. Also
my writing now includes many layers of what I've read and what I write now. But how to explain? Antarvanshi first appears in Agyeya's (my favorite writer) Yayavar, Rahega yaad?
In my novel, it is contrasted with Surdas's poem of how the gopis ran out, leaving unmilked cows, house, children when they heard Krishna's vanshi. The music of inner flute, when heard is even stronger..

Friday, June 22, 2012

watermelon hit : on my head

a freak accident. A huge watermelon hit my head, left a headache and a bump.
how did it happen?
1.I was lying under the watermelon tree.
2. I was playing catch with my goldfish.
3. A Harvard professor threw it  at me because I took the last parking place in Cambridge.MA
So , what happened?

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Julie and Julia

Saw the movie on pay per view. I was envious of Julie, for coming up with a gimmicky blog and the following. Something must be amiss about my blog. Is it the name? The content?
I am discouraged, so don't post any more.

IS there a point in blogging if no one is interested? I might as well write a journal. I've found that writing a journal perpetually gets me depressed.

Things to cheer about. 19 inches of un melted, white snow on the ground. Two blue birds and one red bird on the feeder. I was worried about my resident cotton tail rabbit9 or are they deer?) residing under the deck, but he was there, leaving his dropping under the bird feeder.
I bought a new coat yesterday. Just to put on while getting the newspaper and going to the bird feeder.
Going back to julie and Julia, I learned my cooking from Julia child. I had just arrived in USA and couldn't even boil a pot of rice. I bought an old tv for $45 and watched Julia child religiously. I couldn't do much of her cooking stuff, being a strict vegetarian and somethings turned me off. I learnt to love cooking, and now I can say that I've reached a level when I can call myself an accomplished chef. I'm already a master gardener and a prize winning fiction writer. So there!!!