Love is 'like this only' !!!

 Love is 'like this only' !!! 😅

A few months ago, when I started on a new crochet pattern, in my favorite shades of blues, I had no specific intention or purpose in mind. Athough yarns, needles, and hooks is a any-season joyful engagement for me; crocheting during this pandemic season has been more of a 'breath-in-breath-out' therapeutic 'release' of sorts. The end product has been small amigurumi dolls, stoles, scarves, etc almost all 'taken' by near and dear ones 'virtually', to be claimed when we meet in person post pandemic scare!!

But this blue Throw grew to be special! In my mind and heart, it was meant to keep someone warm 💝 at his new base in a new country!! Without telling him, I continued working at it lovingly. But, it soon, quiet literally, grew HEAVY with emotion!!! Cozy and warm and very pretty....but a bit bulky! I very nearly gave up the possibility of him carrying it given the limited baggage allowance  he had. He'd seen me crochet the Throw everyday, inspecting and appreciating my skill,  and effort. But, you know these Millennials! These Gen Z kidz! What with so many 'super lightweight' warm clothing, thermal options in stores to choose from.....why would he lug this all the way, right? 

In any case, I hesitantly asked if he'd like to take it with him. And he said "Oh wow Ma, sure!! I'd love that!" 

And here it is. Pride of place in his new abode. Uses it everyday, keeping him warm 💝 That said, he still hasn't sent me a pic with it drapped over him!!! These Millennials,  I tell you......🥰

Summer vacations at Viyoor

 Summer vacations were almost always opposite the Viyoor Central Jail in Trissur 😜 And rains were early then....full-on by May. The moss ridden walls, the tee-vandi millipeedes, crotons and jasmines, night long thundering and clapping on the tile roof, power cuts enabling the longing to sleep on the cool black or red oxide shiny floors.....so so many memories. But the most lingering memory is waking up early, on your own wish, to a rain drenched morning, and meandering aimlessly, in my maternal uncles old ancestral home, in a daze through the smoky and deliciously flavored firewood kitchen, to watch the cows being milked in the cow shed, trying out the umikari mixed with salt to brush my teeth instead of Colgate, and reaching the well in the backyard kitchen garden to finish off washing my face and return back to the kitchen, to watch with amazement the dexterity with which the women of the large household managed the  flames and huge vessels, in-between flitting across the adjacent treasure trove of a store room....while I was served steaming hot puttu (poootu in Trissur lingo 😀) with sugar on top  and milk in a steel glass on a bench and desk kind of dinning arrangement inside the kitchen 😍  For a city kid from hot, dry and relatively barren Gujarat, this was magical... Nothing remains now, neither the house or my loving uncle...my ma's only sibling, the hoard of cousins all dispersed. No scanned photographs for instant uploads. In my mother and with her I relive these memories....and of course, in the surviving tropical greens and laterite walls of KeraJoseph PadukadadJoseph Lazer LSijo Johny JAbraham Muringatheryatheryatheryery,

Fabric love 💘

That saree collection of yours 👌👌👌

I love fabric. I don't let go of even an inch of fabric. If it is a garment in good condition which can be  donated or 'handed down' to a needy person, I do that. But otherwise it is recycled or upcycled however which way you like to perceive it. But most Indians do that. Compared to more 'developed' nations, we are far more mindful of how best we can reuse anything. This feeling may not necessarily stem from the feelings or concerns we may have for the environment, or humanity. Instead perhaps, it could well be a way to squeeze the products 'value for money' worth till the last straw or thread. In any case, it is a worthwhile excersise.

Especially cotton fabric. They grow on you. Becomes more and more dear as the fabric grows old and older. And then, very reluctanly, you let go of it.....only in it's use in its original form and purpose. Like a much loved turkey towel, becomes a mop, or a duster, or a foot wipe, etc (away from the glare of  visitors to your home, mostly in the kitchen, store, or bedroom.)

When my eldest niece was to be born, four decades ago, I overheard my Ma and Sister in law discussing 'old cotton mundu'!!! My 12year old mind was busy figuring out the purpose, till I was explained how used, clean, soft, white cotton mundu (used by the men / women of the household) were best to tear apart and made into hand-stitched nappies!!! Or for swaddling the baby, or making bedding for baby, and so many other uses. 

Even now, whenever I foresee the possibility of some excess or leftover/Baki material from the fabric I take to the tailor, I request them to keep it safe for me to take it back with me when I go to collect the stitched garment. Especially jeans fabric, when I take it to alter length. Tailors are often surprised, and then I sheepishly explain why I need those (and not because I'm a miser of sorts, who doesn't even let go of bits of fabric!!!) Appo, Madame taiko? Machine undo?? Some tailors get seriously interested in the possibilities of turning small bits of cloth into pouches, coasters, headbands, dolls, so much more.

And that's where I'm most interested in a saree. This 6 meters of gorgeous fabric (and weaves, the story, the heritage, the history, 😍)....what happens to it finally?? A drape garment that is so beautiful, and elegant. Basically, a very long yardage of beautifully crafted fine fabric that is so versatile that it can be draped in any which traditional or modern way you wish.

We give away some to our less privileged helps, we gift the more expensive ones to dear relatives who value it and is happy to posses it,  some we cut and remake into pavada/blouse for little and young girls in the family, some we make into salwar kameez for ourselves, into curtains, covers, quilts, the possibilities are innumerable.

I'm not a saree wearing person. But for me, every saree seems like a treasure. The last time I wore one was a few months ago, and before that a few years ago!! In this group someone mentioned that she buys at least a100 sarees a year!! And I got thinking of the innumerable possibilities with the fabric yardage 😊

The photo is just one option with fabric, the possibilities are innumerable 😎

Growing up with kids

 We grow with kids around us ❤️ Discover new strengths and abilities while on the job as mom, dad, grandparents, aunts, uncles, babysitters or ayahs. Like making up abnormally impossible wild 'neverending' stories, 'formal' story telling and writing, singing, knitting, baking, and what not!

I became an aunt at age 12. Then again, five more times. I began and gradually became a 'professional' at engaging these bunch of nephews and nieces with stories....long, endless 'serial' stories. Some that were so gripping, they actually continued over my visits home from college hostel. A little rewind of the past episode by the eager kids and I was back on track  to add more  🤔

Then when I became a mother, besides memorizing and singing old hindi movie lullabies, my favorite genre of hindi film music btw, I refreshed my collection with memories of Malayalam lullabies sung by mother and older aunts. My son at age 3 could sing "Chanda Hai Tu, Mera Suraj Hai Tu" and "Hush a by baby" and "Aara Ponne Vandile, Kochu Ousepum Kettiyolum" with equal ease and delight.

I also started getting better with 'speed' story telling, which began and ended with my son eating his meal or drinking milk! He would be zapped at how stories lasted exactly the time he took to eat or drink 🙄 And he knew he'd have to wait for another meal time, or milk time, or bed time for the next story. As he grew older (to differentiate between nonsensical and sensible stories) I would indulge him with nice, proper, stories from aesops fables, or the panchatantra, or makeup super abridged versions from mythology or religious texts, or classics, etc.

This was also the time I started writing stories for children. I had a regular column in a newspapers bi-monthly supplement for children. This was also the time I discovered Calvin and Hobbes. My son was six and so was Calvin. As he grew older, children in my stories also grew. Most of the stories were true to life instances and incidents.

I also brushed up on my knitting and crochet skills to make cute, tiny clothings for the little ones in my life. For my son, around the time when microwave ovens were becoming a household must-have, I too bought one and made a sincere attempt to bake. But that attempt was not succefully accomplished. Let's just say, it was a short lived preoccupation 😣 the batter didn't rise beyond a couple of carrot, banana, and date cakes.....which incidentally tasted good. Trust me 😁

My Deccan College 💝

This beautiful photograph brought back memories of the morning I landed in Pune..... a May morning in 1989. And the city became home for the next 18 years!!! First as a student, then a research fellow, and several life phases followed. Coming from a relatively dry and dusty Baroda, Pune's green and blooming welcome filled my heart with love and positivity. The river on the banks of which the city is based, also flowed next to the college (now University), full and cascading over the bund a little further downstream. Everything about the campus was charming,  it's vastness, the Gothic heritage structures, it's history and  legacy, home and hostel to stalwarts, the people.... everything.

A lot has changed in the past 30 years. This historic capital of the Peshwas, which later became famous as   'bicycle city' , 'pensioners paradise' 'cantonment town' etc is now like any other growing city in the country.  The campus is no longer 'far away' away from the city, and with it came road widening, new bridge, over and under, traffic, loss of trees, the old bund was broken, river was reduced to a trickle most of the year..... every visit is a far cry from the Pune that was. But yet, college campuses are different. They are still charming, unchanging, alive with memories of old and new students, teachers, and staff 💝

Pc Pratik Savale , Gulmohar and history preparing to brave the dark clouds of Cyclone Nisarga tonight.  Pune is far away from the coast, and protected by hills on all sides. But yet....