Monsoon Mania

One of the major flaw in my character is I prepare too much. A clear reflection of not-diagnosed-but-I-am-sure OCD. 

Since it is cloudy, I made some Darjeeling tea and it turned out to be so good I made another cup. But wait,  tea in a rainy afternoon is not enough to 'set the mood' so I made some fish fingers along with it. I also searched for some classical Indian instrumental to play from Spotify.  Finally after one and a half hours I sat down and opened my laptop. However, I had to check mails and my volunteer schedule. Then I gtalked my husband how good the weather is. Contemplated whether I should read a translation of Kalidas' "Megha Mallar" to myself or just recite some Tagore poems. Then at a point when my 'sane' side was literally bellowing at me to get to the point I finally clicked the 'New Post' sign in my blog page. 

Trust me, life is not always so dramatic; however  OCD makes it. 

Or is it the rain, the clouds or... the monsoon. 

I wanted it to be perfect and it was no ordinary event of nature. Its rain. Its monsoon. (at least to me)

Its a rainy afternoon in Philadelphia. 

Not like our usual monsoon in Kolkata, India. Still its rain and it reminds of home and makes me go nostalgic, thoughtful and happy. Especially because of my window seat in the living room which looks out to a beautiful green grove and houses with cute roofs (minus the parking lot). As I sat through pondering when to start writing and how, not to mention in which language; my brain started screaming at me that 'just move you lazy bum' (read fingers over keyboard)! My brain was hurrying me precisely because the sky was changing its light and shadow game in a more dramatic fashion than my lousy 'setting the mood ' process. At first the cloud cover was so dark it did reminded of August afternoon in Kolkata, when broad day light instantly turned to evening thoroughly confusing the bird and the tree tops swayed , nay, danced to usher in the mid day shower. Ah! those four heavenly months of June-July-August-September! Heavenly in terms of beauty of nature and people even in a concrete jungle of Kolkata. Alright I admit the heat and sweat is disgusting but when mesmerized by a overcast EM By-pass the sweat takes a cooling effect. Not to mention the 'tele bhaja, beguni , peyaji' (deep fried potatoes, eggplant or onion in a batter of gramflour) 'shingara' (conical fried thing stuffed with potato) and 'cha' (ya, you guessed it right, tea!). In spite of cursing the municipality and local residents when I had to wade through water logged garbage floating streets to my home in a wet cotton saree weighing more than me; I loved, still love monsoon my city of joy. Or for that matter, anywhere in the world. 

Because monsoon is not just a phenomenon of nature. Its a culture. A way of life. Especially in those parts of the world where monsoon decides the food, the economy and the very survival for thousands. Whether in form of disaster or celebration, monsoon plays a crucial role for many of us. Since ancient times art, architecture, music, literature, folk in South Asia  has made monsoon an inevitable part of life (not even mentioning economics and various streams of science which focuses on monsoon and its tangible effect on human life). Hence its not surprising that the monsoon mania will trickle down to tweets, status update or blogs in the internet dominated age. I really feel that this is the beautiful charm of monsoon. Whatever be the age, language or medium of expression monsoon still plays a major role in our psyche. Yes, I am totally psyched by monsoon! 

Am I digressing? Oh its the rains! I blame it on the monsoon for making me thoughtful. I'll come to today's tale rather than giving a lecture on monsoon and its effect on life of humans. Let me share its microscopic effect on my life. 

 I underestimated the temperate climate thinking that it can never have the 'monsoon effect' of the tropics and hence did little to 'enjoy' the rain before. Today was different. When I looked at the tree tops in front my window after a while I could feel they were swaying to the tune of Hariprasad Chaurasia as gracefully as did the trees of tropics set against the backdrop of a wet, blue rain clouds. It made me smile and and I kept staring and smiling for many milliseconds to come. 

The rolling clouds were not cumulonimbus but had the lovely wet, dark, heaviness in them which seemed like a dark kohled eyes of an enigmatic woman. The sudden pitter-patter of rain did make my heart skip as I settled down with the second cup of tea, however it was not long lasting this time. The temperature outside cooled down and the sky remained dark and overcast in spite of the rain. 

The sky then decided not to reach the evening hours so soon. Its just 7pm and the skies of East coast is alight till almost 8.30. Hence the deep dark clouds were dispersed (who knows even man handled!) by an obliging wind. And the sunlit white clouds of the upper atmosphere began showing off its golden hue a midst the pissed off dark blue clouds. Hence, the effect was more of a spot light without an exact spot. No, its not "kone dekha alo" or the rambunctious play of sunlight through monsoon clouds which we often see in India (one of its meaning is 'bridal light' when this magnificent soft light makes a not so good looking bride also seem beautiful). However, the sun rays were no less asserting than the tropics. They too tried their best to pierce through the conglomeration of the blue clouds near the horizon,  who were more than unwilling to leave without a shower to please this lover of tropical monsoon. Although it didnt rained pitter-patter or cats dog, I still enjoyed, I will call it a 'monsoon' evening. Even though far away from the Asian tropics, my home city and its sweltering hot monsoon, I am still charmed and mesmerized by this natural phenomenon and like old times felt like expressing my heart's content. 

My parting words to the thunderstorm that didnt happen and to the now grumpy looking sky which kind of saying 'I did my best to rain'-- Its okay, I understand. We can always meet another time over another cup of tea and Pandit Chaurasia. Because whether Philly or Kolkata rain, aka, monsoon will make my heart hop,skip and dance. Always. 

Treasure Trove in the Old City of Philadelphia

Even before setting foot on this side of the Atlantic I had little regard for the metropolis of America. I mean, I have practically grown up seeing the skyscrapers in TV either a Godzilla bursting out of it or a busy office hours. The tall buildings didn't attract me at all. Hence when I saw center city Philadelphia I did marvel at the tall buildings and the engineering but somehow the awe was gone within 60 seconds. I kept nagging myself, where is the character of the city? where does the city come alive? Only during office hours? impossible! there must be the really "Philly" some where out there which I am unable to discover. The 'real' Philly to me is the art galleries, the theatre, the old pubs.

Walnut Street somewhat did quench my thirst (and literally too) with their ubercool pubs and theaters but it was only 2 months later that I bumped into a sun-kissed Old City of Philadelphia. I had visited this part of the city by the river where 'Front Street' start, but I was too cold to take a look at the buildings or the streets. Today when me and Snigdho went for the orientation at Philadelphia Animal Welfare Society of PAWS we got the chance to cultivate the streets ( a small section though) of Old Philly. In a span of 2 blocks we came across almost 7 galleries, 2 theatre, n number of Irish pubs , 2 book and 3 antique stores.

What caught our eyes and nose was the store with both antiques and books. Speaking of books, we already had got "free" books from a bookstore which laid out boxes of books of various subjects outside for people to "take" it! yes miracles do happen! ;) Anyway I am digressing, when we entered this Art-cum-antique-bookstore I felt like entering the treasure trove of Alibaba!! Not just paintings, old paintings, books, boxes, glasses, vinyl, toys, photographs, cameras, plates, mugs, mirrors, chairs, collectibles...what not! you name it and its there. any non-perishable good. the most interesting staff that had caught out heart was old post cards. Letters written almost a 100 years back...lying just like that. We picked up a letter from Paris in which the salutation and ending is written in English...to some "darling bill" from some "with bestest love". Snigdho, with his newly discovered 'Sherlock' gene, had since then got glued to his Google translator trying to decipher this French letter thinking it to hold some dramatic history changing exchanges. For all it may hold a simple letter of a mother asking about his son's welfare in during the tropical storm of 1911. That's also pretty precious.

Nevertheless, when we entered this store he first thing I did was to inhale the "OLD" smell. May be I took in some viruses who cares it was OLD, tattered, peeling off yet so so so attractive that I wished I was a billionaire or at least had a billionaire, tasteful husband.(although later I will be proved that I do have a tasteful loving husband if not billionaire). However, the next moment I was anxious that I may like something madly and would get scolded by Snigdho again for buying impulsively. So I held my breathe ( read "ooh" and "aaah"s and "wow"s) and meandered from shelf to shelf crisscrossing paintings and furniture. I did liked a piece of clay model of a breakfast table framed and the paint peeling off the frame reminding of an old French villa by some lake where you can smell fresh blossom of spring carried in by the gentle breeze of the lake. The nostalgic, old school charm totally swept me off my feet and I realised I am not the only victim my husband too did not flinch and eye against it. Readily agreed to buy. and guess what we got it for $5 !!! That's why I call it a treasure trove. Cheap and AMAZING staff!

We hurried out of the store as we were getting intoxicated and had a fare chance of losing out our already dwindling bank balance in one shot. but we promised to go back. The lady, in all probability the collector's wife was a sweetheart by default, who promised us to give us more such old, forgotten post cards if we go back. I was happy to find that my husband too was equally mesmerised by the old school charm and the aroma of the antiques. Finding this book-cum-antique store was no short of a discovery for me. And it became all the more memorable for the lovely wintry sun and the surrounding art galleries which acted like a bougainvillea boulevard adorning the streets.

I am sure like Ali we too will be going back to this treasure trove with "Chi Ching Fnak"  in our drooling mouth. 

indulgence

Life is indeed nothing but a series of ups and down in our life condition. Yesterday, when I was so bogged down with my 'race against time' this very alluding factor called time stood still when I went saree shopping today!!crisscrossing through the cascade of colours and fabrics seemed to take me to a world where time was not so fleeting. the colours, the textures, the smell, it seemed to wave at the passer-by with the same strong desire to unite with a buyer, with the incorrigible wish to adorn some female body with affection and appreciation. I gave into such a craving by a window hanging pink chikan; as if beckoned me to take it with me. I went away, then came back again, fearing what if I was too 'late'. again time took an anxious corner in my heart and I hurriedly bought it without a second thought. yes a love at first sight. no speculation. I rarely have such conviction in deciding certain things about myself. next the lazy steps took me to another emporium and eyes were running up and down, rolling and spinning on the tassar section and it stopped at a bhagal puri tassar. though it was a small fight between a rust coloured tassar and this red and gree bhagalpuri, without much fight, a simple glance at the mirror, brought the bhagalpuri an easy win. Some times, being captive of the time or better called tradition, pulled me towards a bomkai and here too without much competition, the display blue and black won with high margin! de-stressing by shopping is an extremely expensive therapy, specially for a govt.paid part time lecturer...nevertheless it was a welcome relief, despite the heat and sweat. its a pleasure only women, precisely indian saree loving women will reckon with. the soul-filling calmness and tinkling feeling when you touch the silk fabric is something out wordly at times. I can spend any given day, week, month, buying buying and buying sarees and it accessories. I Thank God for being born in India and in a city where I can easily access the various treasures of our varied stateemporiums in diverse fabrics. A day well spent. Is this a process of growing up to be an Indian women? well, I so far haven't felt the love for gold jewelry yet, when that happens, god save me! and more precisely my husband! :)

when we are racing against time whom we actually racing against? more importantly what will we win after winning this race? will I be able to freeze time? will I be able to buy more time or will I be ahead of time? I guess none. Even for the time I do win against time, I will never be able to store it or save it. Then what's the rush? why the hurry? I have no clue. I don't even have the clue why am I even writing this? May be because I am too tired in this race....may be I am too competitive or optimistic to even think I can win this race, or may be too foolish to even think I can "save" time in my bank account and reap some interest out of it..whatever is the case writing or pondering about time is a waste of time in itself. I am thoroughly overwhelmed with the supposed concept of time or more so the LACK of it, hence this gibberish coming out.

Dekho ami barchhi daddy!!!

Its been 2 years...though seems like yesterday..
My mentor understands the depth of my life so much that he commemorated this day as WORLD IKEDA KAYO KAI day...when i will be celebrating with thousands of YWDs around the world towards a glorious future without having the time to feel bad about my personal loss....the entire day's activity, the joy...the prayer, the happiness lifted my life condition to such an extent that Loss is still there...but the pain is not.. :)in fact Sensei says-- "Death will come to each of us some day. We can die having fought hard for our beliefs and convictions, or we can die having failed to do so. Since the reality of death is the same in either case, isn't it far better that we set out on our journey toward the next existence in high spirits and with a bright smile on our faces-knowing that in everything we did, we did the very best we could, thrilling with the sense "That was truly an interesting life"?"

I miss you baba...big time..

But what has become a tradition that every 4th June ( when he set off for his magnificent journey of eternity)that i report my victory to my Mentor and to you,Father.

"dekho ami barchhi daddy" ( hey wait!! i have come back to my original waist size of 28!)

dekho ami e bochhor arektu boro holam! ebochhor arektu responsibility fulfill korlam. jano?!ami ekhon computer er catridge nije nije kinte jai.me being technologically challenged, it is a big deal... ;)

[onek kichhu baba ke likhte ichhe kore, kintu bhabi chhelemanushi hoye jabe. tar cheye borong "kaje" kore dekhai tate amaro onek beshi fulfilling lage! Next year ill report more and more victory. ]

Tumi nei. tomar ostitto shobshomoy ekta VACUUM er moton kaj kore thik -i...gola ta byatha ekhono kore..kintu e shob kichhur modhyeo jeta hoy anondo...that I HAVENT FAILED YOU AS YET...and i wont. rather every day i fight, i fight never to be defeated and to make you proud. Because i am YOUR daughter..i am My MUFASA's SIMBA! and i remember who 'I AM'...i am still a cub may be..but its only a matter of time, when your little cub will grow up to a majestic Lion!!! ( i dont use gender div here)
The path of Lion is lonely.A Lion walks it alone, because its independent and i have realised that all the more in last 2 months...

Some of my closest friends & relatives (blood relatives!) dont remember..some do..but forgot..some remembered but didnt know what to say...i understand...each of them..i dont expect anymore.Because i am YOUR daughter, i have seen your uncrushable stamina..your magnanimous heart and your monumental dignity and i aspire to have that..most importantly i have SENSEI..and trust me baba, he loves me just the way you did! :) or 'do'...

In this infinite eternal cycle of life and death, i salute you BABA...i just miss your physical presence, that;s it. you are omnipresent in my BEING.

Buddhism talks of Happiness in Life and Happiness in Death...i had seen both in you..

:)

I love you

thik shondhye namar mukhe... tomar naam dhore keu dake

Parched Heart is soaked in the rain today...

"and i love her..." By Beatles in the Pan Pipe Collection once collected from a very special person.

read it somewhere in childhood that The Beatles are soul-music for Saggis..true indeed..it brings me out of blues many times..or drags me into it with the sweet nothing pain..

raining cats n dogs outside...that stormy rain where the droplets go haphazard like my thoughts.. under the influence of winds...those slanting drops...crashing down the roof...love to watch the white pearly drops gliding down the electric wire on the streets..

a day at home finally proved beneficial with this beautiful rain and enough rest on my eyes...can see a little bit better through the left eye now! gees! its really scary not-being-able-to-see...

hope the rain brings down my body temperature :)