My 4 something little tot has been especially recalcitrant this morning before school. He hides under his little blanket, claims to be tired, to have a fever, to have a tummy ache. Stay calm, I tell myself, stay calm. But the little monster refuses to move, and I get him to bathe and dress and eat only after I give him two smart smacks on his little bottom.
“You’re a very naughty little boy, Pramath.” I tell him as we drive to school.
“See, now you’re late for school, and Amma is late for class.”
He sits there looking forlorn, bites his lip, sniffs. I hate myself.
“Baby, I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry I hit you. Give me a smile.”
“No.”
“Please, muddu.”
“No.”
“If it doesn’t rain today, we’ll go the beach.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
It begins to drizzle as we reach school, and I watch my little one plod off, dwarfed by his huge red umbrella, tiny against the big grey sky. He forgets his lunch bag, and I catch up with him, give him the bag. He grins at me, eyes shining with innocence and affection, the morning quarrel forgotten, and tells his pal proudly -
“See? This is my mama.”
Dear God, I don’t deserve this kind of love from him, I don’t, but …thank you.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Meditation, morning
In the din of the gym, music on at full volume, feet pounding on the treadmill, sweat pouring down my face. The lady by me suddenly turns to me and says “Meditation has given me so much strength. Just a few moments at the beginning of each day with God and his grace has poured in to my life. Why don’t you try it?”
Now, I’m a habitual cynic and a hardnosed rationalist, and if something cannot be measured and quantified and proved, I tend to disbelieve. However, this lady is one of the best doctors in town besides being someone I truly respect. So I tell myself, why not give it a try?
So I’m up early next morning perched on a chair in the balcony, wondering how to start, what to concentrate the mind on.
I look around, feeling a trifle sheepish, wondering what on earth I’m up to.
I take a deep breath – Mmm the air sure smells different at this hour - crisp and clean with a hint of incense from the pooja next door. The sun rises, and probably the beauty of the world at this hour, the shifting from darkness to light inspires the birds to sing. I hear the cheep cheep of a sparrow, the harsh caw of a crow on a coconut tree as he surveys his domain, and the distant sweet melody of the koel.
My eye falls on the tulsi plant – its barely there fragrance, the subtle green, and the shape of the leaf bearing the signature of the maker. A warm rain falls upon us like a benediction.
I begin the day with a sense of gratitude, and the reflection that perhaps meditation is not a matter of closing your eyes, but getting them to really open.
Now, I’m a habitual cynic and a hardnosed rationalist, and if something cannot be measured and quantified and proved, I tend to disbelieve. However, this lady is one of the best doctors in town besides being someone I truly respect. So I tell myself, why not give it a try?
So I’m up early next morning perched on a chair in the balcony, wondering how to start, what to concentrate the mind on.
I look around, feeling a trifle sheepish, wondering what on earth I’m up to.
I take a deep breath – Mmm the air sure smells different at this hour - crisp and clean with a hint of incense from the pooja next door. The sun rises, and probably the beauty of the world at this hour, the shifting from darkness to light inspires the birds to sing. I hear the cheep cheep of a sparrow, the harsh caw of a crow on a coconut tree as he surveys his domain, and the distant sweet melody of the koel.
My eye falls on the tulsi plant – its barely there fragrance, the subtle green, and the shape of the leaf bearing the signature of the maker. A warm rain falls upon us like a benediction.
I begin the day with a sense of gratitude, and the reflection that perhaps meditation is not a matter of closing your eyes, but getting them to really open.
Sitting still
Some mornings find me bursting with energy, full of get up and go. I work hard at the hospital , rustle up desserts at home, make up new stories to tell my little one…I’m full of ideas, I’m sure that from today onwards, I’ll be good, make a difference.
On other days, I oversleep and spend the day jaded and inert. I can barely move myself, and moving the world seems to be like a very poor joke. I hate myself on these days, but, I’m wondering now, must I? Is it so difficult to accept 2 phases - the awake and rest cycles - of my own body and mind?
And here’s a thought – if the earth moves to some pre ordained rhythm, perhaps I am doing less harm – more good? by sitting still…
On other days, I oversleep and spend the day jaded and inert. I can barely move myself, and moving the world seems to be like a very poor joke. I hate myself on these days, but, I’m wondering now, must I? Is it so difficult to accept 2 phases - the awake and rest cycles - of my own body and mind?
And here’s a thought – if the earth moves to some pre ordained rhythm, perhaps I am doing less harm – more good? by sitting still…
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
T.rex
I’m sick, all shivery and blue with a bad cold, and my 4 and a half year old mite decides to tell me a story to cheer me up.
He has a Tyrannosaurus rex doll to illustrate his tale.
“ And the bad T. Rex ate up all the people and the animals and the cars.”
“But, why, darling?” I ask.
“Because, it is bad, Amma” he explains patiently.
“But, why is it bad?”
“Because, it is also scared, suppose somebody eats it up…”
I think about this concept of evil for a long time, and wonder, maybe my tot does have it right. Maybe you have to be a child to see the truth.
He has a Tyrannosaurus rex doll to illustrate his tale.
“ And the bad T. Rex ate up all the people and the animals and the cars.”
“But, why, darling?” I ask.
“Because, it is bad, Amma” he explains patiently.
“But, why is it bad?”
“Because, it is also scared, suppose somebody eats it up…”
I think about this concept of evil for a long time, and wonder, maybe my tot does have it right. Maybe you have to be a child to see the truth.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
London with a baby
London with a Baby
I finish some exams, and finally am due for admission in to the Royal College of Physicians. My husband and baby have been the victims of my mood swings, angst and insecurity during the difficult study period, and to make up to them I decide to take them on a trip to London during which I will be a model wife and mum.
Travelling with a half ticket bundle of mischief is certainly not easy, but it is doable. Read how.
This trip, I design an itinerary made to gladden the little heart of a 4 year old boy. On day 1 we take a tour round London on an open top bus, to get our bearings. The day is bright, and most people are reveling in the good weather, but I feel a little cheated as I surreptitiously stuff my 3 umbrellas, 2 windcheaters and baby raincoat in to my tote. The tour is fun in spite of the guides uninspired commentary and stale jokes – we goggle at a gentleman holding forth with great volume and eloquence to a motley crowd at the speaker’s corner near Hyde’s park, sigh at the posh environs of Belgravia, and photograph the memorial for animals killed in the war. My son too is happy “I saw a man take his teeth off”. He informs me excitedly. We drive past many landmarks – the Dorchester hotel owned by the Sultan of Brunei, Harrods owned by the Egyptian al Fayed. it seems that much of prime British real estate is owned by foreigners.
The bus tour is followed by a cruise down the Thames. We glide down the river, and float past various London sights. There is a small arch on the bank that separates the city of Westminster (greater London) from the city of London. The city of London is one square mile within greater London which is a major business and financial centre. It has its own mayor, laws and police force.
The guide has in thrall – we learn that the Big Ben is a misnomer; the huge clock is actually called the Westminster clock – Big Ben is the name given to the sound of the bell marking each hour. He tells us about the shaky opening of the wibbly wobbly millennium bridge, about the couple that got married on their way up the London Eye, and how life went steadily downhill thereafter.
We are nearing a bridge and the guide asks us to wave at the pedestrians above us. The sight of 40 passengers waving in unison upsets a toddler on the bridge, and he retaliates by emptying his glass of strawberry milkshake on the people sitting in the front of the boat. It is the funniest spectacle I’ve seen in a long time, and I spend the rest of the journey giggling hysterically.
A trip to the London Eye is perhaps part of the itinerary of all first time visitors to London. It lives up to some of its hype. It is big giant wheel with 32 enclosed glass cubicles , each representing a borough of London. The ride is worth it for the view. London from this distance is very beautiful indeed, and the adults gaze at the spires of Westminster, the ‘gherkin’, a cucumber shaped glass building and the lovely London skyline – a combination of cathedral spires and domes and skyscrapers. Children, depending on their age, are either thrilled by the boats on the Thames or the wheels which are part of the mechanism of the eye or the sheer joy of floating over London.
The bank side walk near the London Eye also has plenty to engage the attention of the young at heart. Little children leap with glee and somersault on a super trampoline. “May I?” my son asks me. "No." I reply. "May I?" I murmur to my partner. "No." he says, a little too emphatically.
Oh well , there’s plenty of fun anyway, stalls selling cotton candy, characters with false teeth dressed in red spattered garments advertising a horror show , and to my little ones great delight a statue of batman. (It is futile to expect children to be interested in what you want them to be – the greatest city on earth with amazing history, art and literature is up on display, and the little menace to sanity refuses to look at anything but the statues of comic book heroes and jets crisscrossing the sky.)
The Tate Modern gallery is a converted power station, and it is truly fun. I drift to the upper floors where modern art hangs – I do so vibe with the clean lines and bright colours of Kandinsky and Matisse. There is a sculpture called the definition of space. I wonder what it is about some art that – you identify with it – no actually you recognize it? Why is the definition of beauty different for different people?
At the basement there is an incredible interactive exhibition in which children and their parents enthusiastically participate. A white plank is poised at the tip of a pyramid, and four people stand at the edges of the plank trying to balance it. A toddler rolls a big white sphere down a curved path; there are wooden blocks with clean lined upon which kids clamber…it is a carnival!
Thereafter, a short walk on the much acclaimed Millennium Bridge leads to St. Paul’s Cathedral. Two very different kinds of beauty - one minimalist and high tech, one decorative and extravagant, how do they meld together so well?
The underground is a continual source of fun to kids, and the bright side is children under 11 travel free. In a day or two, children learn how to swipe the oyster card, alight at the right station and most important, to “mind the gap – between the train and the platform”. It’s fun for adults too – at various stations there are areas demarcated for musicians. They sit in front of a sign saying “let the music transport you” – the sweet notes of the violin and flute hang over the energy of the crowds rushing to work, rushing home, rushing everywhere.
On a rainy day the Covent Garden market is good fun, though a little touristy - tea and crumpets are especially delicious if imbibed while watching a man with a meter long hat balance on a unicycle.
One surefire way of keeping the kiddos happy is a day long visit to the London zoo, though getting there is a little involved - by tube to Regents Park, a short bus ride, and then a long trek through the rain. It is a wonderful place, and families with young children should spend a whole day there. The tigers and lions are disappointingly asleep, but a yawn to reveal rows of terrifying yellow teeth slightly makes up for the disappointment. A surefire winner is the striped backside of the okapi, and the snooty giraffes are a good photo op. There is a hands on section, where you are allowed to hold and feed the animals, and children predictably love this. Again, with all the interesting animals around, I’m not surprised when my son is attracted by a merry go round and a mechanized dinosaur skeleton.
A visit to Harrods, umm, predictable, touristy and not great fun. The Egyptian escalator is merely ok, the Diana - Dodi memorial a little cheesy, and the statue of the chairman Mohammad al fayed is frighteningly lifelike, so much so that my little boy tries to talk to it and wonders why the old gent does not respond.
The nice thing about children is their adaptability, and the fact that they extract as much joy from paying 30 p to use the station toilet as an adult would from say a Ritz tea.
The Ritz tea …expensive yes, but what an experience. We feel so regal, partaking tea in the gold and marble Palm Court, listening to the piano, and breathing in the perfumed air. The service is solicitous to say the least, the waiters urging us to eat more of the scones with clotted cream, the Ritz chocolate cake (to die for) and the pastries. I express disappointment to the maître d that we are not permitted to take photos, and he brings me a lovely card with a picture of the palm court ion it.
The science museum is brilliant and good fun for adults as well as children. There are various games you can play- be the energy minister for a day, and try to make popular but energy saving decisions, measure your carbon footprint and so on. There is a motion simulator, from which adults descend looking a little queasy. The kids however seem to think it is the highlight of the trip – little monsters.
The natural history music is crowded on a rainy day, but we don’t worry too much about the queues. There is a frighteningly lifelike animatronix of a Tyrannosaurus rex which gives the kiddos pleasant shivers, and is good for another month of “ the dinosaur will get you if you don’t drink your milk” threats.
We are doubtful about the Tower of London visit – it is expensive, we have been warned about the queues, and we wonder whether if it might be too much like a 5th grade history lesson. But it is one of the best parts of the trip. We join a yeoman guard for the guided tour. These guards have been attached to the British army for at least 22 years and are dubbed beefeaters because of the high rations provided to them to perform their task – guard the tower of London and its jewels.
The stocky guy who is our guide has an amazing sense of humour – he has us in splits as he describes how an American paid 2 million dollars to buy ‘London Bridge ‘an uninspiring structure, when he actually wanted the romantic ‘Tower Bridge’ with its many historical associations He then goes on to describe enemy soldiers fighting their way through the moat full of tower sewage, the lives of the tower residents, their complicated love affairs. He breathes life in to the bricks of the building with his descriptions.
This palace is a real live castle and is thus interesting for the children, and it has plenty of history and therefore is a great learning experience for the adults. We walk past the Traitors gate where prisoners were brought to the tower across the river Thames and then past the moat which is now a green garden. We are led to the inner courtyard where an expressionless guard keeps vigil. We stop in front of the church, where there is a memorial to the many people executed at the tower.. It reads
‘Gentle visitor pause awhile, where you stand death cut away the light of many
days. Here jewelled names were broken from the vivid thread of life, may they rest
in peace while we walk the generations around their strife and courage under these
restless skies’
Though the beefeater tells the story well, it is a sad one, young people and lovers and noblemen beheaded for trivial reasons, and our mood is somber as we walk in to the chapel.
Sightseeing is all very well but I think it is in quiet moment s that you put your finger on the pulse of the city. My son and I go for a morning walk in the park just opposite the house we stay in. It is a memorial park, dedicated to the memory of those lost in the bombing of Kensington in World War II. It is beautiful in the sunshine – a blind lady with a big guide dog bends to sniff the roses. Two children revel in the sunshine, their high pitched squeaks of joy a counterpoint to the birdsong. A young lady suns herself on a bench, a volume of Vikram Seth poetry in her hand. The traffic and power of London is a distant hum on this peaceful sunny morning.
One more fun place to visit is Greenwich. We take a cruise down the Thames and then climb a hill to reach the observatory. The view of London over the Thames is breathtaking. Standing on the prime meridian, where Greenwich Mean Time is measured from brings all those long ago childhood geography lessons to life. The Royal Naval Observatory and the Trinity College of Music are close by and we regret having only one afternoon to spend in the place.
The reason for this trip is of course the convocation in the Royal College of Physicians at Regent’s place. It is a lovely building, and the garden is fragrant in the late afternoon sunlight. There is something about champagne in a garden on a sunny London afternoon, it goes straight to the head .It is a beautiful ceremony at the Dorchester library – the grandeur of the building is set off by the astringent humour of the college censor and president. By now the champagne is making me feel very happy indeed , and I peer owlishly at the president of the royal college as he hands me my degree .We walk back in the starlight through Regent’s park, and get home to our last night in London.
The next day we start back on the long journey home, and once more at Gatwick airport, we see the kindness of strangers. As we get in to the elevator, 2 soldiers with machine guns enter. My son watches them with fascination but we are a little anxious about the reason for their presence. One of the soldiers shows my son the gun and the other tells us that they are just doing a routine check. As we fly over London saying goodbye to this ancient modern funny city so full of poetry, my son wonders aloud “when can we come again?”
I finish some exams, and finally am due for admission in to the Royal College of Physicians. My husband and baby have been the victims of my mood swings, angst and insecurity during the difficult study period, and to make up to them I decide to take them on a trip to London during which I will be a model wife and mum.
Travelling with a half ticket bundle of mischief is certainly not easy, but it is doable. Read how.
This trip, I design an itinerary made to gladden the little heart of a 4 year old boy. On day 1 we take a tour round London on an open top bus, to get our bearings. The day is bright, and most people are reveling in the good weather, but I feel a little cheated as I surreptitiously stuff my 3 umbrellas, 2 windcheaters and baby raincoat in to my tote. The tour is fun in spite of the guides uninspired commentary and stale jokes – we goggle at a gentleman holding forth with great volume and eloquence to a motley crowd at the speaker’s corner near Hyde’s park, sigh at the posh environs of Belgravia, and photograph the memorial for animals killed in the war. My son too is happy “I saw a man take his teeth off”. He informs me excitedly. We drive past many landmarks – the Dorchester hotel owned by the Sultan of Brunei, Harrods owned by the Egyptian al Fayed. it seems that much of prime British real estate is owned by foreigners.
The bus tour is followed by a cruise down the Thames. We glide down the river, and float past various London sights. There is a small arch on the bank that separates the city of Westminster (greater London) from the city of London. The city of London is one square mile within greater London which is a major business and financial centre. It has its own mayor, laws and police force.
The guide has in thrall – we learn that the Big Ben is a misnomer; the huge clock is actually called the Westminster clock – Big Ben is the name given to the sound of the bell marking each hour. He tells us about the shaky opening of the wibbly wobbly millennium bridge, about the couple that got married on their way up the London Eye, and how life went steadily downhill thereafter.
We are nearing a bridge and the guide asks us to wave at the pedestrians above us. The sight of 40 passengers waving in unison upsets a toddler on the bridge, and he retaliates by emptying his glass of strawberry milkshake on the people sitting in the front of the boat. It is the funniest spectacle I’ve seen in a long time, and I spend the rest of the journey giggling hysterically.
A trip to the London Eye is perhaps part of the itinerary of all first time visitors to London. It lives up to some of its hype. It is big giant wheel with 32 enclosed glass cubicles , each representing a borough of London. The ride is worth it for the view. London from this distance is very beautiful indeed, and the adults gaze at the spires of Westminster, the ‘gherkin’, a cucumber shaped glass building and the lovely London skyline – a combination of cathedral spires and domes and skyscrapers. Children, depending on their age, are either thrilled by the boats on the Thames or the wheels which are part of the mechanism of the eye or the sheer joy of floating over London.
The bank side walk near the London Eye also has plenty to engage the attention of the young at heart. Little children leap with glee and somersault on a super trampoline. “May I?” my son asks me. "No." I reply. "May I?" I murmur to my partner. "No." he says, a little too emphatically.
Oh well , there’s plenty of fun anyway, stalls selling cotton candy, characters with false teeth dressed in red spattered garments advertising a horror show , and to my little ones great delight a statue of batman. (It is futile to expect children to be interested in what you want them to be – the greatest city on earth with amazing history, art and literature is up on display, and the little menace to sanity refuses to look at anything but the statues of comic book heroes and jets crisscrossing the sky.)
The Tate Modern gallery is a converted power station, and it is truly fun. I drift to the upper floors where modern art hangs – I do so vibe with the clean lines and bright colours of Kandinsky and Matisse. There is a sculpture called the definition of space. I wonder what it is about some art that – you identify with it – no actually you recognize it? Why is the definition of beauty different for different people?
At the basement there is an incredible interactive exhibition in which children and their parents enthusiastically participate. A white plank is poised at the tip of a pyramid, and four people stand at the edges of the plank trying to balance it. A toddler rolls a big white sphere down a curved path; there are wooden blocks with clean lined upon which kids clamber…it is a carnival!
Thereafter, a short walk on the much acclaimed Millennium Bridge leads to St. Paul’s Cathedral. Two very different kinds of beauty - one minimalist and high tech, one decorative and extravagant, how do they meld together so well?
The underground is a continual source of fun to kids, and the bright side is children under 11 travel free. In a day or two, children learn how to swipe the oyster card, alight at the right station and most important, to “mind the gap – between the train and the platform”. It’s fun for adults too – at various stations there are areas demarcated for musicians. They sit in front of a sign saying “let the music transport you” – the sweet notes of the violin and flute hang over the energy of the crowds rushing to work, rushing home, rushing everywhere.
On a rainy day the Covent Garden market is good fun, though a little touristy - tea and crumpets are especially delicious if imbibed while watching a man with a meter long hat balance on a unicycle.
One surefire way of keeping the kiddos happy is a day long visit to the London zoo, though getting there is a little involved - by tube to Regents Park, a short bus ride, and then a long trek through the rain. It is a wonderful place, and families with young children should spend a whole day there. The tigers and lions are disappointingly asleep, but a yawn to reveal rows of terrifying yellow teeth slightly makes up for the disappointment. A surefire winner is the striped backside of the okapi, and the snooty giraffes are a good photo op. There is a hands on section, where you are allowed to hold and feed the animals, and children predictably love this. Again, with all the interesting animals around, I’m not surprised when my son is attracted by a merry go round and a mechanized dinosaur skeleton.
A visit to Harrods, umm, predictable, touristy and not great fun. The Egyptian escalator is merely ok, the Diana - Dodi memorial a little cheesy, and the statue of the chairman Mohammad al fayed is frighteningly lifelike, so much so that my little boy tries to talk to it and wonders why the old gent does not respond.
The nice thing about children is their adaptability, and the fact that they extract as much joy from paying 30 p to use the station toilet as an adult would from say a Ritz tea.
The Ritz tea …expensive yes, but what an experience. We feel so regal, partaking tea in the gold and marble Palm Court, listening to the piano, and breathing in the perfumed air. The service is solicitous to say the least, the waiters urging us to eat more of the scones with clotted cream, the Ritz chocolate cake (to die for) and the pastries. I express disappointment to the maître d that we are not permitted to take photos, and he brings me a lovely card with a picture of the palm court ion it.
The science museum is brilliant and good fun for adults as well as children. There are various games you can play- be the energy minister for a day, and try to make popular but energy saving decisions, measure your carbon footprint and so on. There is a motion simulator, from which adults descend looking a little queasy. The kids however seem to think it is the highlight of the trip – little monsters.
The natural history music is crowded on a rainy day, but we don’t worry too much about the queues. There is a frighteningly lifelike animatronix of a Tyrannosaurus rex which gives the kiddos pleasant shivers, and is good for another month of “ the dinosaur will get you if you don’t drink your milk” threats.
We are doubtful about the Tower of London visit – it is expensive, we have been warned about the queues, and we wonder whether if it might be too much like a 5th grade history lesson. But it is one of the best parts of the trip. We join a yeoman guard for the guided tour. These guards have been attached to the British army for at least 22 years and are dubbed beefeaters because of the high rations provided to them to perform their task – guard the tower of London and its jewels.
The stocky guy who is our guide has an amazing sense of humour – he has us in splits as he describes how an American paid 2 million dollars to buy ‘London Bridge ‘an uninspiring structure, when he actually wanted the romantic ‘Tower Bridge’ with its many historical associations He then goes on to describe enemy soldiers fighting their way through the moat full of tower sewage, the lives of the tower residents, their complicated love affairs. He breathes life in to the bricks of the building with his descriptions.
This palace is a real live castle and is thus interesting for the children, and it has plenty of history and therefore is a great learning experience for the adults. We walk past the Traitors gate where prisoners were brought to the tower across the river Thames and then past the moat which is now a green garden. We are led to the inner courtyard where an expressionless guard keeps vigil. We stop in front of the church, where there is a memorial to the many people executed at the tower.. It reads
‘Gentle visitor pause awhile, where you stand death cut away the light of many
days. Here jewelled names were broken from the vivid thread of life, may they rest
in peace while we walk the generations around their strife and courage under these
restless skies’
Though the beefeater tells the story well, it is a sad one, young people and lovers and noblemen beheaded for trivial reasons, and our mood is somber as we walk in to the chapel.
Sightseeing is all very well but I think it is in quiet moment s that you put your finger on the pulse of the city. My son and I go for a morning walk in the park just opposite the house we stay in. It is a memorial park, dedicated to the memory of those lost in the bombing of Kensington in World War II. It is beautiful in the sunshine – a blind lady with a big guide dog bends to sniff the roses. Two children revel in the sunshine, their high pitched squeaks of joy a counterpoint to the birdsong. A young lady suns herself on a bench, a volume of Vikram Seth poetry in her hand. The traffic and power of London is a distant hum on this peaceful sunny morning.
One more fun place to visit is Greenwich. We take a cruise down the Thames and then climb a hill to reach the observatory. The view of London over the Thames is breathtaking. Standing on the prime meridian, where Greenwich Mean Time is measured from brings all those long ago childhood geography lessons to life. The Royal Naval Observatory and the Trinity College of Music are close by and we regret having only one afternoon to spend in the place.
The reason for this trip is of course the convocation in the Royal College of Physicians at Regent’s place. It is a lovely building, and the garden is fragrant in the late afternoon sunlight. There is something about champagne in a garden on a sunny London afternoon, it goes straight to the head .It is a beautiful ceremony at the Dorchester library – the grandeur of the building is set off by the astringent humour of the college censor and president. By now the champagne is making me feel very happy indeed , and I peer owlishly at the president of the royal college as he hands me my degree .We walk back in the starlight through Regent’s park, and get home to our last night in London.
The next day we start back on the long journey home, and once more at Gatwick airport, we see the kindness of strangers. As we get in to the elevator, 2 soldiers with machine guns enter. My son watches them with fascination but we are a little anxious about the reason for their presence. One of the soldiers shows my son the gun and the other tells us that they are just doing a routine check. As we fly over London saying goodbye to this ancient modern funny city so full of poetry, my son wonders aloud “when can we come again?”
Thursday, July 2, 2009
The Monsoon on the Coast
We are travelling on the Konkan railway between Mangalore and Goa and the monsoon makes a lovely movie outside the window.
The first thing I learn about the monsoon is that it makes the world very colourful indeed. The black track against the silver stones near the red mud by the green field and the gunmetal blue sky.
There are so many things to watch - both in the train and outside. Opposite us a man with a sensitive face kisses his sleeping child. Outside, a man walks on the fields with the tread of a man on his own land. We cross bridges across rivers swelled with the rain. Women in bright saris, pink, blue and red, till the pale green fields. Some ladies walk in a line holding cane baskets full of bright green paddy and a man cycles on the road holding a bright orange umbrella in one hand. Raindrops fall on the trackside touch me not plants, closing them gently. Raindrops dance on the window bars, to the rhythm of the movement of the train.
There are so many patterns, so many songs. The plough drawing pictures in the mud, the patterns of the clouds, the cycles of growing things fitting in to the larger rhythm of the seasons.
I look out of the window wondering which is more beautiful - the rain or the land that it falls upon.
The first thing I learn about the monsoon is that it makes the world very colourful indeed. The black track against the silver stones near the red mud by the green field and the gunmetal blue sky.
There are so many things to watch - both in the train and outside. Opposite us a man with a sensitive face kisses his sleeping child. Outside, a man walks on the fields with the tread of a man on his own land. We cross bridges across rivers swelled with the rain. Women in bright saris, pink, blue and red, till the pale green fields. Some ladies walk in a line holding cane baskets full of bright green paddy and a man cycles on the road holding a bright orange umbrella in one hand. Raindrops fall on the trackside touch me not plants, closing them gently. Raindrops dance on the window bars, to the rhythm of the movement of the train.
There are so many patterns, so many songs. The plough drawing pictures in the mud, the patterns of the clouds, the cycles of growing things fitting in to the larger rhythm of the seasons.
I look out of the window wondering which is more beautiful - the rain or the land that it falls upon.
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