Mother’s Day Post

A few days ago I read a web article about a Teacher from a school in the Mumbai Suburbs about the dress code she follows to her work place. The writer referred to “ Many students and ex-students over the generation have written in saying that they have dreamt of my saris.” While reading this I realized this could have easily been my Mother talking. It took me back to memories of her getting ready for her college. I must have been 6 or 7 still going to primary school, and returning early to be able to see her get dressed for work. She also worked in a Girl’s College in the suburbs and took the college bus to work every day. She wore mostly Handloom cottons or printed cottons during summer, on rainy days she wore synthetics ( that’s what they were called then) and during the mild winter she wore handloom silks, printed silks. She accessorised her outfits with subtle jewelry. I know she had a collection of semi precious stone jewelry which I later inherited. She had her glass bangles. But they were rarely worn by the time I could remember. She wore light gold earrings and bangles and a watch with black leather band. She had progressed from the semi precious colorful jewelry to Gold, but the color wasn’t lost, she had rings made with different color stones, and matching earrings and bangles. We would go shopping for these in the city when we visited during vacations. And everyday when she got ready she would match her accessories with her saree. She seemed to do it without a hitch. I was awestruck by it. I thought someday I would be able to do the same. I remember she used to have her leather bags in the Black, Brown and Neutral color which she would pair accordingly. And her heeled Sandals, colorful and dainty but subtle at the same time. She stopped wearing heels after a freak accident at a railway station. But I still remember trying out her sandals all the time as a child.

She told me many stories of how her students would be in awe of her clothes and accessories. They would discuss amongst themselves what color outfit she would wear on a particular day. In the 80’s and 90’s the students were still respectfully afraid of the teacher so they didn’t talk about it to her in class. She found out from them during their  field trips or excursions or sometimes once they had passed out of the college and come back to join the department as juniors. The millennial student were more forthcoming. They would tell her in the classroom that they liked what she was wearing.

The day I read the article I posted it on FB and wrote a bit and while doing that I found I had more to say. So, I decided to write this post for her on Mother’s Day. For my mother, who inspired me to dress well, accessorize and show up looking ready for the job every day. I came to embrace this tenet of dressing well pretty in life. Mostly I didn’t care how I looked because I thought my sparkling personality would do the rest. In the past 2-3 years I have moved away from only dressing up for occasions to dressing right Every day. And although my choices and taste are a poles apart from my mother, I know that some part of the love for sarees come from her. I remember I was given I saree every year and slowly by the time I was working I made sure I bought one saree every year. For a young person of my generation who did not have too many occasion to wear saree I had a sizable collection and would enjoy wearing them to Family events much to the surprise of people who thought I was too young to wear a saree. The concept of saree being meant for only rare festivities is ingrained in some and hence they are surprised to see me wear a saree. However, my Mother has definitely inspired me to wear a saree at most occasions.

Thank you Mom, for the inspiration. As years go by I realize how much influence you have on how I shaped up as a person. Happy Mother’s Day!!

 

THE END.

Reading List May 2017

Juggling two very different yet similar books. One a biography and the other a story based on true events.

1. The Spy by Paulo Cohelo


2. Steve Jobs by Walter Isaacson

HUNDRED

This is the hundredth post excluding the aside pieces which aren’t titled with a number. I started this blog in 2013 as a new venture in order to be more creative or like I said earlier to move away from the usual day-to-day commentary that my earlier blogs had contained, to a more structured blog where I took time to talk about things that I like as well as to share some of those favorite. I have not been very regular with the blog, starting and stopping often. It had taken me 3 years to finally reach this post. Initially I was trying hard to push myself to finish the 100th post and complete this venture and move on. But the last few weeks have made me realize that I can do much more with this blog and I honestly feel, capable of adding more things to read on my blog. I won’t deny the fact that there are times when I really want to vent myself rather than type any sensible post, and with time an age I think, one I have developed a better control over myself and two, decided to keep those cribbing for a personal journal.

In the various categories that I created for this blog, many have gone ignored, especially the one on Poetry. It has been years since I have picked up a book of poems and read through, hopefully, in the near future this will change. My last few posts leading up to this 100th post has been about reading books. I have two more books to review after this, in order to complete the 10 book tag which I had begun 3 years ago. Those two books are, The Lord of the RIngs and To kill a mocking bird. So, my 101 and 102 post are already prepared and scheduled for later. However, before they see the light of day I felt it was necessary to prepare a more personal 100th post.

This blog was a conscience decision to flex my creative writing and to test my ability to write within constriction. It has been a good practise, one which I think I will continue. In the off time when I wasn’t blogging about my interests, I was reading a lot of blogs, and this helped me come back. The more I read I realized that blogging had to be an outlet of creative skills rather that only an exercise. So, on the one hand I needed to keep practising how to write on a particular topic along with doing research and on the other hand keep the posts free-flowing and opinionated. I was doing the first part, the research, the planning but when it came to writing ( execution) I was bored. I was only regurgitaitng what I was researching and not really feeling invested in the piece and by the time I got around to verifying the details it had lost its charm for me. I think that is one of the reason the Blog prompts on NaBloPoMo did not work for me. I didn’t feel invested in the topic and it was more of an essay writing than an invested piece.

The other thing that has been a difficulty is garnering enough readers and respondents. People read my blog as I can see from the blog view statistics but they do not leave relevant comments and that is what makes me feel as if I am writing these notes and stuffing them into and bottle and flinging them into the ocean and I don’t know who is fishing one out and whether they are reading it and if they are what are they thinking about it. What astonishes me most is simpler blogs, full of erroneous language and basically sub standard writing is being published online by websites and individual bloggers are being read and liked, whereas compared to those my pieces are more researched, at least not visibly full of mistakes, yet, somehow, the my readership does not seem to grow.

Of course, worrying about it is not going to be of any help. so, I took a  long pending advise from a fellow blogger and registered my blog with a community. I am still waiting to hear from them and who knows this may be the right push that I need to be more regular with my posts.

My blog is not completely separated from my life and hence moments and circumstances of my life does spill over and it is probably what keeps me typing. It is a strange coincidence that just when I am coming back to this blog, life is taking me back to a city where this blog was first created. Perhaps the upcoming experiences will prove to a treasure trove of blog posts.

I would like to end my 100th post with a few words on the people who have helped me come this far. Obviously I would mention my family who have really been the pillars of strength for me and forever reminding me at different times that I need to let my creativity work its charm. My friends, who are kind to me with their encouragement and motivating words that still hasn’t woken me up completely. I just hope they continue to encourage me from time to time so, that finally, I fulfill my life’s dream. And a special thank you to those who share their sub standard writing online which totally does wonders for my lazy ass to get up and start typing. In fact, next to the encouragements, I think, the poor blogs I have to read, is my biggest motivation to keep writing.

THE END.

NINETY FOUR

Each day goes by and I keep procrastinating this post , many such posts that will bring this blog to a close. About 2 months ago I was  7 posts away from completing this blog. That hasn’t changed much. I have had several occasion to write a post but have left it for too late. My new found muse left me as suddenly as it found me. So I am back struggling to write a post that is more meaningful than just randomly scribbling. A few things have been on my mind. One of them is how to close this blog? What should my last post be? What are the topics I would like to cover on my way to that 100th post? 

Ideally in the utopian world I would have written about my visit to Chandigarh and Punjab that left an indelible impression on me. But too much time has gone by and I can’t bring myself to remember the days or nights spent there. I would similarly want to write  about my expedition to Rishikesh where I went to do River Rafting ( my first experience with Adventure sports) but the feelings that were so intense post the experience have now been blunted. I am afraid now whatever I write will not do justice to the original emotional experience. I could express my political opinion on demonetization but I feel too tired to spend any time rehashing what has already been repeated.  I do want to talk about my struggle with managing my weight. My recent tryst with Chikunguniya or the latest attempt to live healthy.  

Yet I write about nothing.  Everything seems all too insignificant once the moment passes. Have I become cynical ? May be my ability to write has dwindled with my ability to feel emotionally invested in everyday life. So on one hand I am better off not losing my peace over small incidents and at the same time I simply cannot write. 

Emotions have been my true source of writing. I have  had to feel something for the subject to be able to write.  Whether it is about Sherlock or Doctor Who or about Agatha Christie, there is some eemotional connect. I worry that pretending not to care has left me unable to write . 
May be I’ll write up on some of the topics I have been thinking about . May be I will end this blog this year. Here’s hoping that plans get executed.

THE END . 

NINETY THREE

Year ends, Durga Pujo, my birthday makes me nostalgic. My nostalgia has always stemmed from melancholy, a sense of loneliness amidst the festivity. This time it is both the Pujo and my birthday that makes me nostalgic. Nostalgia is a doluble edged sword because what we remember from long ago is usually tinted with our own  desires and wishes. And then there are people who read too much into what you wrote. If you post on social media some random friend will ask you what’s wrong. If you write a blog someone who follows it ( surreptitiously) will be offended. Someone else will wonder what is going on with your life.  The thing is being a romantic has its perks, I can  look at things with tinted red eye glasses but sometimes when I look back at life I see it through some sepia tinted glasses. And in that not everything is bright, some are yellow with frayed edges turning grey, like a flower kept inside a book for long loses its color and becomes the color of the old pages of the book. That’s what happens to our memories. I find it hard these days to differentiate between one memory and another , often my mind meanders through different timelines in my life. Perhaps that’s what it means to grow old. 

Recently someone said to me that they were suddenly made aware that they were 31 years old. I chuckled.  I found it funny. I tried to think how old I feel. I always thought I would feel like 18 but turns out being 18 wasn’t all that good, although Bryan Adams still tries to convince me. But I feel myself to be at that age between 25 – 26. That time when I had made my shares of mistakes and I had thought I would never repeat them. You see now I know that I would repeat them and I also know I would survive them. So, now my knowledge makes me stronger to say yes when I know saying yes means facing yet another heartache. Over the years life has taught me more lessons about heartache that  I cared to learn. In fact I still feel they should include Relationship as one subject instead of Trigonometry at school. I mean sin, cos and all those theorems sure as hell didn’t help me when  I needed it. May be some do’s and don’t’s would have helped. But the now 30 something 26 year old likes to feel the small thrills of old music, old pics, old friends , New people ( read interesting folks) and that doesn’t make this a bad time of my life either. 

I suddenly realise I do not have the same fears of a 26 year old. And that can be liberating. It can make you feel blissful, take off a few burdens from your back, let you breath easy, enjoy your life, take it easy, smile more, and like someone said just enjoy.

I mustn’t forget it does make for wonderful day dreams too. 

So here I am turning some 30 something having started this year feeling like 40 something  ( bad influences ) now I’m back to myself. I am still the same, somewhat less damaged and confused, somewhat eager to be the oldgirl ( living up to her nickname and self image), who was “adulting” for a while. What is life if not lived in madness, Passion, in search of love and meaning of life? ! 

As I bring home this 100 days of scribbling blog, I am again beginning to look inwards than outwards for my inspiration to write, to live, to love… and in borrowed words,

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”



THE END.