Timeless joy

I am quite sleepy, and decide to call it a night. I set the alarm on my phone for six thirty in the morning. Ah! the absolute joy of sleep – after what’s been a really long day! The cool sheets are soothing, and the soft hum of the aircon lulls me to sleep.

I am far away in a land unknown; a land that is inhabited by people that I don’t recognize. And as I am fully engaged in my dreams, my phone trills loudly. The trilling cuts like a saw through the soft layers of my sleep. I groan in irritation, is it morning already!!! “Not fair”, I mumble. It feels like I just went to sleep. I stretch out my hand to switch off the annoying alarm.

I open my eyes into thin slits to press ‘snooze’, but it’s only then that I realize that it is my daughter who is calling from a different time zone. My irritation vanishes; I am alert and fully awake now, and I pick up her call with a huge smile on my face.

She sounds so excited when she greets me! We exchange sweet pleasantries! And then she says, “Amma, I am in a quaint bookshop and I just found a collection of poems for you.”

She knows my love for books and poetry! I am very excited. She adds, “Guess what? This book was published in 1929. Can you believe that? 1929; it’s ninety-two years old!”

She quickly turns her phone’s camera towards the book. The book has a faded blue cover. Its pages are yellowed with age. My daughter points out to the first page. It has the name of the owner and the name of a college. Inside the book, at many places, one can see pencil annotations.

Image courtesy – http://www.pexels.com

I sigh in pleasure. My daughter reads out the names of the poems that are featured in the book. I recognize some of them.

I wonder how many people have read this book over these ninety-two years. The contents of the book have not changed, but the poets who wrote those poems are no longer here. The world has also gone through so many changes!

My daughter says that she has to go now. As I hang up, a sense of timelessness pervades me. Most things around us keep changing, but good books and poetry remain for all time, lighting up our lives with their beauty and profundity.

I go back to sleep with a sigh of pure contentment!

My new e-book – Simple Sojourns

Dear friends,

Hope all of you are safe and well. I am sorry that I have not been very active on WordPress for the last two months. I have missed reading all your blogs. But I am happily back now and look forward to catching up on my reading.

I am also happy to share that my book, SIMPLE SOJOURNS – A collection of everyday stories from India, is now available on Amazon Kindle as an e-book. The paperback version will be available at a later date.

This book would not have been possible without all your encouragement for my blog all these years, which made me believe that I could actually write this book. Thank you all so much.

Nimi

Scratches on the table

I sit on the dining table, working on my laptop. I absently run my hand on the surface of the table, and realize that the surface has become rough and filled with scratches – the result of Bayblades tested on the table, and school craft projects built on its surface.

Picture courtesy – 123rf.com

My eyes scan our home. There is an incense holder that has been around for many years, unobtrusive and remembered only when I light an incense stick. Then there is the coin box, where all members of the family drop coins from their wallets and purses.  There is the fruit bowl, and the dessert tray, the umbrella holder and the kitchen plates, the key holder and the wooden stool, the bottle-opener and the coffee mugs.

All these objects are integral parts of our lives, but we do not stop to think or remember when we bought them or from where. They are mute spectators to our successes and failures, our joys and grief.  

The printer paper, mobile charger, blender, gas lighter – they are our silent supporters and back-office team. Even if one of them stops functioning, there is an impact – the smooth flow of life is broken – it can be as simple as a missing key or a missing bottle-opener.

The scratches on my table remind me that these little memories are what make up our lives – a scratch here, a stain there, a chipped ceramic mug here, a well-worn carpet there. 

Scratches that store fun family memories in their grooves, stains that show that we have been careless and silly at times, doodles on the walls that speak of a child’s creative expression, old fridge magnets that bring back memories of family holidays, dog eared books showing time spent on reading…and many more such.

Life is in simple, everyday things.

A good book

I have not been myself this week. My mind has been sucked into the pages of an ‘unputdownable’ book.

This week, I live my normal life like an automaton. My brain, my attention and my senses have all been hijacked by the complex plot, and the gripping action.

I cook, and I think about what’s going to happen next. I feel as if I am floating in the real world and my identity exists only in the world inhabited by the characters in the book. This is the only reality.

Any small break, and I am nose-deep in the book. I am amazed at the power that words can have over me. Words that, when combined just right, narrate a powerful story. Words that grip me, make me laugh, make me cry and make my heart thud with the excitement of what is going to happen next!

And when the book ends, I am sure I will have difficulty coming back to the real world, where work and school and chores beckon. It will be an arduous task to leave the characters behind, but there are some that occupy permanent residence in my mind. They will probably join some of the other memorable characters, who already live there. People whom I know and love from those lovely books I have read, people who have influenced me and who have opened my mind to new thought.

Image courtesy – http://www.clipartfest.com
Reading a book is an indescribable pleasure. Whenever I finish a great book, I yearn to write one too. This is what reading does to me. There is a  ‘wannabe writer’ in every bookworm’s head. I am no exception.

I dream of dialogues between imaginary characters and look at interesting people, who will fit into the book that I will eventually write. 

A bookworm’s journey

I remember some of the first books I read as a child. I must have been six or seven, when I got two books of the pop-up variety – one was Cinderella and the other was Snow White & the Seven Dwarfs.

Each time I turned a page, magical things happened. I still remember a page from the Cinderella book, which showed Cinderella sitting by the fireplace, looking pensive. On that page there was a broom that popped out, and three small kitchen jars that popped out.

I must have read those books a zillion times. Then started the love for comics, devouring every neatly drawn frame, enjoying the dialogues, more magic.

And then, suddenly my sister thrust an Enid Blyton into my hand and said, “Read this.”

It was the first book of the Secret Seven series. I was initially reluctant to read a book that had no pictures. But my sister  sold it to me!

I had taken an important step in my reading journey. Now, I could read words and imagine the scenes in my mind. This was a whole new experience. I gobbled up the entire collection of Blyton books.

‘Twas time to graduate to a new author, but again there was reluctance to move from my comfort zone. My sister was my role model, soon I was trying new books and new authors and new genres.

The years have flown by but my love affair with books continues to this very day. I love their titles, their smell, the many genres, the plots, the stories.

What’s your bookworm journey like? Would love to know.

Bliss stop

I stand transfixed, like I do each time I am here. I am in one of my favourite bookstores, surrounded by hundreds of thousands of books.

After a mean cup of coffee, a book store is the second best ‘bliss stop’ for me.  I perform a ‘mental jig’ in anticipation.

I am here to pick up a particular book, but my mission takes a back seat as I start at the must reads section, literature section, and then work my way down all kinds of genres, books and authors.

  Courtesy – publishingtrendsetter.com

My stroll is punctuated by small treats, where I take books and look at them, read the synopsis, and unconsciously start carrying them with me.

Each book alley calls out to me, I keep walking and stopping, browsing….! It is therapeutic. Time is a very elastic rubber band as it stretches for me, keeping pace with my joy and excitement.

There are people like me everywhere, their minds transported into a world of words, their eyes scanning for new journeys into this world. I walk multiple circles around the store. 

Millions of words, millions of thoughts, millions of hours of creativity trapped in millions of pages. So many, many stories, so many emotions and so much power in these shelves to change lives.

I soon realize that I am carrying seven books, and that I need a shopping cart to continue my journey.  I find the book that I had come to buy.

I soak-in the peace of the place for some more time. I pay for my books, and walk out into the hot afternoon, totally satisfied.

Overflowing bookshelves

Most days, we allow our lives to flow along, performing everyday chores and keeping our appointments.  Then again, some days, we wake up with a sense of purpose, where we plough through tasks and chores methodically, and feel a strong sense of achievement at the end of the day.

Yesterday, was such a day for me.  I woke up with a clear sense of purpose.  The list of tasks was long, but manageable. So, I wrote it out on my notepad.  I  decided to work my way down the list, not for a moment doubting my strong will power or its ability to drive me to task completion. Enough said.

The first chore on my list was – ‘Clean the two bookshelves’.  See, I had it clearly stated – half the battle won.  Each of these  bookshelves has four racks. Each of these eight racks is crammed with books, and more books.  The books, poor souls, have no breathing space.  I  wanted to give them some respite from being smothered by words!

I first took down all the books from the shelves.  And then, the fun started.  I dusted each one, and sorted them into piles – Must have, Can go, Not sure!  But each time I sorted a book, I flipped through its pages, and sat down cross-legged, just to jog my memory. Aha, the sheer pleasure of reading, surrounded by books.  Soon, I was nose deep in Ayn Rand and R.K.Narayan, Hilary Mantel and Amitav Ghosh.  Time tip-toed around me, giving me complete ownership of those moments of bliss.  I made a mug of coffee for myself (after all, how can reading ever be complete without coffee!).

The children have their term break, so when they saw me busy with the books, they sifted through their own, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Lord of the Rings, Amelia Jane, Jungle Book, Noddy, Malory Towers and many, many comics.  They refused to part with any of their books.  They suddenly wanted to re-read all of them.

So, to cut a long story short, all books went back to their shelves, clean and comfortable.  I hope they love being in our bookshelves as much as we love having them with us.

I shelved my chores and settled down to read.

Bookworm silence….

Last night, both my children were reading, and when I asked them to go to bed, they pleaded repeatedly to be allowed more time to finish their books.

Being a bookworm myself, I could not deny them that pleasure, so motherhood took a backseat, and the book lover in me enjoyed their happiness at this unexpected treat.

When I was growing up, we lived in a modest house, in a joint family. At night, my sisters, grandma, aunt and I shared one room.

It was a cozy room, filled with comfy quilts, soft mattresses, my aunt’s knitting paraphernalia, my grandma’s prayer books and our entire collection of books. 

      Image courtesy – en.wikipedia.org

Our Dad was very particular that the lights had to be switched off by 10.30 pm, unless we had exams (this, when we were older).  As any bookworm would agree, the joys of reading late into the night, without interruption, are indescribable.

Our grandma was usually asked to ensure that we followed the rules. But once my Dad went into his room, my sister and I would stuff pillows below the door, so that light wouldn’t escape from under. We would then read our books till late into the night, especially during our summer vacation. Our grandma’s pleas usually fell on deaf ears and we bribed her with lots of hugs, kisses and granddaughterly love; and it worked everytime.

She probably realized the joys of reading too, and wanted us to enjoy it. And right through the year, when the bright moon shone through the windows, or monsoon winds howled past,  or soft frost fell all around the countryside, we read on, falling in love with so many, many books.

I come back to the now. I pull out the book I’m currently reading, and savour this pleasurable bookworm silence.

What is happiness?

What is happiness? Happiness is anything that gives you joy and peace. Happiness is inside each one of us and all around us in simple, everyday things…

To me, happiness is….

….watching a little puppy prancing around and greeting its mother

…..watching the ecstacy on a child’s face as his/her eyes track a bubble

……the bliss of that first gulp of water after a strenuous workout

…..that first spoon of a scoop of ice cream

……the aroma and taste of that first sip of my morning coffee

….diving into the pool on a hot day

…..writing my name on a creamy white new notebook

…..that moment after piping hot food is served on my plate, and before I eat that first mouthful

….cuddling my children in the morning

…..sitting in companionable silence with my spouse, reading a book

…..laughing at a silly joke

…..coffee with one of my dear friends

….that unique smell when the first drops of rain meet parched earth

…..having lots of things to do

……having nothing to do

…..watching a great film, munching popcorn

…..going on a long walk on a bright, sunny day

…..tucking into a good book, with a cup of coffee, with rain lashing outside.

….writing my blog

….writing my first book

Happiness is in the simplest things.

What are the simple things that make you happy? Would love to know.

A Muggle Spell

Both my children are voracious readers, my son, more so.  Many years ago my daughter went through the Harry Potter phase, and our home echoed with Potter stories and spells.

My son is now going through the same phase. His Muggle world is filled with the many exciting possibilities of magic and spells.

He has fashioned a magic wand made out of paper, for himself. The gleam of joy in his eyes is priceless.

His sister threatens to tell him the plot much before he has read them, in the way only siblings can irritate each other.

So, a few days ago, my husband and I had to be away for the whole day. The kids were happy at their grampa’s.

Just so that the two did not end up troubling their grandparents too much, I asked my daughter to take care of her brother and generally ensure that they did not fight over anything and nothing.

My daughter smiled.

My son said, “No mom, you don’t know what she’s like when you make her the boss.”

My husband and I were in splits, as my son whipped out his paper wand and said, “I need a spell for protection – PROTEGO.