tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12659878429960138842024-03-19T14:33:03.259+05:45A Blue Dot of ThoughtsAtoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.comBlogger169125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-69435338229605001802024-02-08T14:24:00.004+05:452024-02-08T14:24:48.013+05:45Sights and Seasons of Paradise: Of Cherry Blossoms and Tea Gardens<p></p><div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGMAlx59Jny_6JtNCH2qQR3MZO-h_3KWIfBVm8yJdAFnAn2dou1R2g__BXN3SCn4iEbKuQDGyAMUHKTKad9Xfv6IcYMDfHBT609gJEeeKwCNH-ue0rt0Uog3gSdbZsM9S7kAm82FeMmMguT4YlFoPo3e9Rs0ycHKN5sh-7FsHeyEFsR_tfYSrKROe2b-Ke/s1440/DSCN0338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGMAlx59Jny_6JtNCH2qQR3MZO-h_3KWIfBVm8yJdAFnAn2dou1R2g__BXN3SCn4iEbKuQDGyAMUHKTKad9Xfv6IcYMDfHBT609gJEeeKwCNH-ue0rt0Uog3gSdbZsM9S7kAm82FeMmMguT4YlFoPo3e9Rs0ycHKN5sh-7FsHeyEFsR_tfYSrKROe2b-Ke/w400-h300/DSCN0338.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Kerala landscape is a shade-card
of green hues. When I look around, I find the deep green of hibiscus bush, the
dappled green of jackfruit tree, the jade green of paddy fields, fern green of
overgrowth on the roadsides, sea-green backwaters, bluish-green Malabar parrots
and the velvety moss green on the walls after rains. But my favourite green is
the glowing green of tea gardens. It is a saturated, neutral, mature green with
a slight undertone of golden. It makes my heart jump every time I see it. I had
two back-to-back visits to Munnar on weekends in last two months and was fortunate
to feast my eyes on this tea-green of Munnar hills. But the recent February visit was
a double bonanza as along-with tea-garden green, the valley was also decorated
with cherry blossom pink. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicZ9hgWpn65SpTjPnkfvecnVlot17jxYFN0sQxBjDv4m1ZtzO69TT4ouGXZ8Iv5jl12bjbntINGWdw70laJaX-GC2cLAFahR0VIU_3MZR00x_X-vEa7Mqxpyw2buiXYD7YNnSKFAzQU4Pew658BwFrFkutNrswcKLRV98ux-BnC1JUPLGP3pXNsbiSQPyn/s920/DSCN1118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="690" data-original-width="920" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicZ9hgWpn65SpTjPnkfvecnVlot17jxYFN0sQxBjDv4m1ZtzO69TT4ouGXZ8Iv5jl12bjbntINGWdw70laJaX-GC2cLAFahR0VIU_3MZR00x_X-vEa7Mqxpyw2buiXYD7YNnSKFAzQU4Pew658BwFrFkutNrswcKLRV98ux-BnC1JUPLGP3pXNsbiSQPyn/s320/DSCN1118.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Munnar lies in the idyllic western ghats of Kerala as
a picturesque hill station, full of tea plantations and flowers. But to watch
the delicate pink and white cherry blossoms in the background of tea gardens,
harmoniously blending with the lush greenery
is a sensory pleasure of another level.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRnJLQBldzebyzFNJS6iLQ8dgL0RoRm3lKRHez4nrFb2q5mRadR6gmDQXsalIx7npTCCsEv6mJ8OqIrr-ylvuLqI3uJ48RvBT88mA4GT_YAJCCZ6e6Mv0K230hU8fbEH2GmExvq_qKzhoIpgra0MEilZACYSOnUpF0-DxhXxlhBKR_ru54a7YmIqZGVw5q/s1440/DSCN1341.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRnJLQBldzebyzFNJS6iLQ8dgL0RoRm3lKRHez4nrFb2q5mRadR6gmDQXsalIx7npTCCsEv6mJ8OqIrr-ylvuLqI3uJ48RvBT88mA4GT_YAJCCZ6e6Mv0K230hU8fbEH2GmExvq_qKzhoIpgra0MEilZACYSOnUpF0-DxhXxlhBKR_ru54a7YmIqZGVw5q/w400-h300/DSCN1341.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The delicate flowers of cherry
tree hold a special place in my heart. They have inspired artists and poets for
centuries in eastern cultures and even have festivals organized around them in
Japan and Korea. I have drooled over them in Washington, Copenhagen and Nanjing
and I dream of visit Japan someday during Sakura season. It, however, came as a
surprise to me to find cherry blossoms in the hills of Munnar. The place where
I was staying had 4-5 trees and back in December 2023, while zooming my camera
to click a sunbird, I suddenly noticed a single pale pink flower at the end of
the branch. It was then that I realized that I was looking at a cherry tree. By
my February visit, the trees were full of flowers in that guest house and
everywhere else.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF7shyphenhyphen4gvlkDg_n4Z6gT32tw1Io09zDyrSk7OVT7blw-gWl5syg7SggcnrMxNes7UlfeqaYunoZMFujZ3vsHmsN-Q5vA2LZ_72tct8TRGuQtdkxraPkrO6d-IHA8MgjVdsHHNoneBrWHWu8lsKRq8uQKWWCMZhYBIEXa1u2VdLsMdUolRjhkIDPw3C5VCE/s1440/DSCN1265.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF7shyphenhyphen4gvlkDg_n4Z6gT32tw1Io09zDyrSk7OVT7blw-gWl5syg7SggcnrMxNes7UlfeqaYunoZMFujZ3vsHmsN-Q5vA2LZ_72tct8TRGuQtdkxraPkrO6d-IHA8MgjVdsHHNoneBrWHWu8lsKRq8uQKWWCMZhYBIEXa1u2VdLsMdUolRjhkIDPw3C5VCE/w400-h300/DSCN1265.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="text-align: left;">What a strange thing!</i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;"><i>to be alive<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;"><i>beneath cherry blossoms.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;"><i>--Kobayashi Issa</i><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">Cherry blossoms hold elevated
status in China, signifying love and the female mystique but nowhere in the
world are these elusive flowers more cherished than in Japan. The floral
imagery permeates Japanese paintings, films, and poetry.Much like my other favourite
flower of waterlilies, Cherry blossoms also have a very significant place in
Buddhist philosophy of east. They are often
tied to the themes of mortality, mindfulness and living in the present, and are
used as a timeless metaphor for human existence. Their blooming season is
powerful, glorious and intoxicating, but tragically short-lived — a reminder
that our lives, too, are fleeting.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDuKePB01yihTA_D49Bb4NuEDiysG8W1iXdsAkrCPzCwH3ZME-lp2iwk07lnbpaUBpzirJHi7wzgwonPq-s2hqkfC4TcvWtr4U5ztQQ0G8vToPZNBTI6yIHKpqd0VH1ZMmAmZIJ5-Uqa7Gr1NIaCjwcPnynRVeoJiew3eenpq_GGNE8sWK63YdR_zXSrAF/s1440/DSCN1349.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDuKePB01yihTA_D49Bb4NuEDiysG8W1iXdsAkrCPzCwH3ZME-lp2iwk07lnbpaUBpzirJHi7wzgwonPq-s2hqkfC4TcvWtr4U5ztQQ0G8vToPZNBTI6yIHKpqd0VH1ZMmAmZIJ5-Uqa7Gr1NIaCjwcPnynRVeoJiew3eenpq_GGNE8sWK63YdR_zXSrAF/w400-h300/DSCN1349.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"> Finding bulbuls, finches and shrikes
enjoying these beautiful flowers in the mornings made my heart filled with joy.</p><p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">While cherry blossom and the
birds nibbling at these flowers was my top attraction of Munnar visit, there
was much more to explore and see in this beautiful landscape. The hills, the
mist, the valleys, the streams, the waterfalls, tea plantations, rare flora and
fauna, Munnar is definitely mother nature’s favorite land.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFizGwMgIDLeknsQrF8ZB8bjy7zSh8tqkJESkTZvrTZNV0hecwvrKAd5yxs2MF7IfLhs2bq2d_Mj9eOkIyiCREnYlrIDvGf5mzUeZ7yQKcuy7vSCSK0nqZzYcxMo0IYggMkH_mDtW5o_UUkLU0Fy5UtPnVJbpo1D9Kkugl9-X0VfXVFVSoK8yQvfk_1xuw/s1440/DSCN0481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFizGwMgIDLeknsQrF8ZB8bjy7zSh8tqkJESkTZvrTZNV0hecwvrKAd5yxs2MF7IfLhs2bq2d_Mj9eOkIyiCREnYlrIDvGf5mzUeZ7yQKcuy7vSCSK0nqZzYcxMo0IYggMkH_mDtW5o_UUkLU0Fy5UtPnVJbpo1D9Kkugl9-X0VfXVFVSoK8yQvfk_1xuw/w400-h300/DSCN0481.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>I was told that, Munnar got its name from its
strategic location at the confluence of three rivers – Kannimalai, Nallathanni
and Kundala Rivers. 'Moonu' means 'three' and 'Aru' means 'river'. Today the
place is bustling with tourists, honeymooners and hikers and is full of
charming sights and places to enchant them.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAR6953bgnxHnqaf2bzcGX8mbQcfI_5SbTkYXXssonbCuN722tGzQY70xZ67eQCYEo-U9X-4HHkmIpiCgSYcwKSe_77H-yKoR0AoYaV3Lm-KpSkkjuv2MB1AjAtmQLBH0VbYqijCX_4fh8neGYPt0FZEZm0gLPX27rnQ9FflVuO9V_uqPmb9YmG6AxL08T/s1564/IMG_20240208_140307.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1564" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAR6953bgnxHnqaf2bzcGX8mbQcfI_5SbTkYXXssonbCuN722tGzQY70xZ67eQCYEo-U9X-4HHkmIpiCgSYcwKSe_77H-yKoR0AoYaV3Lm-KpSkkjuv2MB1AjAtmQLBH0VbYqijCX_4fh8neGYPt0FZEZm0gLPX27rnQ9FflVuO9V_uqPmb9YmG6AxL08T/w400-h400/IMG_20240208_140307.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It is however funny that this gem
of a place was not so famous till 150 years back. It is believed that John
Daniel Munro, the British Resident of Travancore kingdom introduced the world
to Munnar in the 1870s when he visited the place to solve a border dispute between
Travancore and its neighbour Madras. Munro convinced the royal family to lease
the land to him and started transforming the area by forming the North
Travancore Land Planting & Agricultural Society in 1879. The cultivation of
crops, including coffee, cardamom, cinchona and sisal in various parts of the
region started soon afterwards. But within years, tea plantation arrived at the
scene with AH Sharp who planted tea in around 50 acres of land at Parvathy,
which is now part of the Seven Mallay estate. Tea replaced all other crops in these
sloping hills soon. In 1895, Finlay Muir & Company (James Finlay and
Company Limited) entered the scene and bought 33 independent estates. The
Kannan Devan Hills Produce Company was formed in 1897 to manage these estates.
Today most of the states are either owned by Tata or by Kannan Devan
Plantations.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnTQvngugjiiTcBTG_DneKBiVwPJgM_k4YnXDgcrmCv7Aj9dwD5x7qBwvXgz_QUCbaAa4ZnX2XVFDtsiT_zUPDnWSgrAbEkWAxMX0aQHFYgISLY0WNWaV7S8RCR3EiMYF-wDVWWZu-T6bpaSOWDfcCSMRi-rSTK_S_sUyOFTe5rS1WtcqZ5rVDDMcfuuQW/s4032/20231218_102126.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnTQvngugjiiTcBTG_DneKBiVwPJgM_k4YnXDgcrmCv7Aj9dwD5x7qBwvXgz_QUCbaAa4ZnX2XVFDtsiT_zUPDnWSgrAbEkWAxMX0aQHFYgISLY0WNWaV7S8RCR3EiMYF-wDVWWZu-T6bpaSOWDfcCSMRi-rSTK_S_sUyOFTe5rS1WtcqZ5rVDDMcfuuQW/w400-h300/20231218_102126.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;">I have come to believe that one
cannot visit any part of Kerala without encountering some legend or story from
the Ramayana or Mahabharata. </span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify;">The moment
you step out of Trivandrum to Kottayam, you find Jatayu rock, where the
legendary bird Jatayu stopped Ravana during abduction of Seeta. Close to
Munnar, in the most beautiful surroundings of Devikulam reserve forest is a
hidden lake called- Seetha Mata Lake where Seeta supposedly took bath. The
magnificent yet secret lake lies amidst the majestic woods in Devikulam at a
distance of 13 km from Munnar. Many believe in the therapeutic powers of the
water. I cannot vouch for the legend and authenticity of it but the lake was a as
pristine as it can be. Though I happen to see the place on a rainy day, it is
not hard to imagine the beauty of the place on a clear sunny day.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyyzINPLTZKTwUEPcMe2tKPsEEK5A0HhmeF6r4GvQ_y85egeMsphkQyzjMGtU3XkXq34Y18rRP8-sHwxhZfjy9zOLvxA05tOpbR5eqq8XGGnzvmf01MxECB1fd31VPvUxb3OEO5O9ckY6tCAmpaJOmzD9-tzF7HYxrd3tPVhfdoL29pUHfrF3A2ban4pjJ/s4032/20231218_111818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyyzINPLTZKTwUEPcMe2tKPsEEK5A0HhmeF6r4GvQ_y85egeMsphkQyzjMGtU3XkXq34Y18rRP8-sHwxhZfjy9zOLvxA05tOpbR5eqq8XGGnzvmf01MxECB1fd31VPvUxb3OEO5O9ckY6tCAmpaJOmzD9-tzF7HYxrd3tPVhfdoL29pUHfrF3A2ban4pjJ/w400-h300/20231218_111818.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="text-align: justify;">On my way back from Munnar, travelling through the serene tea estates on sloping roads, I was
again reminded of the philosophy inspired by nature. How in all world cultures,
humans pray to the forces of nature, rejoice the change of seasons, and find
consolation in the natural transitions of beauty. Cherry blossoms, for example,
have long represented the impermanence of beauty and how despite their short
life, they have a lasting impact on our minds. The first novelist </span><span style="text-align: justify;">Murasaki Shikibu</span><span style="text-align: justify;">
of Tale of Genji, expressed the similar sentiment when she wrote-</span><span style="background: white; color: #999999; font-family: "Open Sans", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify;">“Yes, the cherry trees
put this truth very plainly: none of the glory of blossoms and autumn leaves
lasts long in this fleeting world.”</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-52171302012548826992024-01-28T15:45:00.000+05:452024-01-28T15:45:16.767+05:45 Sights and Seasons of Paradise: Deities, Temples and the truth about religion <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjdQWxlIL2v7Hvuu3M-ClgRhShr3Uin2WQ5dZ2RBJOuneO4KmEhsoVcoRXfusml5nedThFl9By87IsZo_Z_FohfTPXmIesUQ3npTVSQQcmlCGnfhaRmvHaEq9ItBcYIeRMnzEn9M3GLkOUAR4h_zkHhiy2xNEEOnoiPPo6dYklpwhbSQCkugUQfj_5oAKgc" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="951" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjdQWxlIL2v7Hvuu3M-ClgRhShr3Uin2WQ5dZ2RBJOuneO4KmEhsoVcoRXfusml5nedThFl9By87IsZo_Z_FohfTPXmIesUQ3npTVSQQcmlCGnfhaRmvHaEq9ItBcYIeRMnzEn9M3GLkOUAR4h_zkHhiy2xNEEOnoiPPo6dYklpwhbSQCkugUQfj_5oAKgc=w397-h400" width="397" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: #2b00fe; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: LiberationSerif; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-language: HI;"><b>As a Hindu I follow a faith that offers a veritable smorgasbord of options
to the worshipper of divinities to adore and to pray to, of rituals to observe
(or not), of customs and practices to honour (or not), of fasts to keep (or
not). As a Hindu I subscribe to a creed that is free of the restrictive dogmas
of holy writ, one that refuses to be shackled to the limitations of a single
volume of holy revelation</b></span></i><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"><b><span style="color: #2b00fe;">.</span></b><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><i><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">-Shashi Tharoor<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">It is said that whatever you can rightly say
about India, the opposite is also true. The same can also
be said about Hinduism. Shashi Tharoor in the initial chapters of his book ‘Why
I am a Hindu’ lists out how Hinduism is different from other religions and what aspects of it appeal to him personally. Many of these like
absence of dogma, no declaration of being the ONLY-truth, a fair amount of
flexibility in practices and the deep philosophical traditions – are my reasons
too for appreciating the religion I was born into. I consider myself a
believer. Though I do not follow any specific ritual or sect, I acknowledge the
presence of a superior power and I do bow to Her pretty often. I express
gratitude when good things happen to me, I pray when things go tough. That
said, my religion is a very personal and private matter. As taught by my
parents, both of whom were against any pomp or show of religion, I don’t
believe in showing my faith in the way I dress, decorate my house etc. Much
like most other Hindus of liberal upbringing , I have no problem in accepting
other beliefs, visiting churches, dargah, mosques or other religious shrines.
Neither I face any problem in visiting various kinds of temples that exist in
India. I was born in a family that professed Arya Samaj hence there was no
specific significance for any idols for me. Yet I face no dilemma in appreciating
a work of art in a Ganesha statue and I have a whirling dervish next to a
Buddha figurine in my drawing room. I do not relate that to religion as such. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">But occasionally I wonder if the kind of liberal
intellectual “fit” of religion which I inherited in my family, is now a thing
of past. We are passing through a time when in India a temple has become a
socio-cultural, political and even legal issue. It is a time when the lines
between my truth and your truth have been blurred and there is a frenzied
search or rather declaration of ‘the’ truth. I find myself unable to agree with
the violence, self-glorification of football-hooliganism and a very male
-chauvinistic interpretation of rules of Hinduism. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEie18SVgnFmEGB_7D3q045Q3s4PCYbH9nSeFGeSuCN-SJYWI78PIpTlmO1HWL2kxQuEiR5Ln9kvesTQQVCxAYDMfyy8Csh4E-L-3BgxMgU0Wi8JKi6nJHRhA5ADIBEvzzAEE_CwRiVz9-F9G5O7uTB6AZGKy9SAMnDR7czwt-uhpvraHxm7h4IwvLml42hz" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="720" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEie18SVgnFmEGB_7D3q045Q3s4PCYbH9nSeFGeSuCN-SJYWI78PIpTlmO1HWL2kxQuEiR5Ln9kvesTQQVCxAYDMfyy8Csh4E-L-3BgxMgU0Wi8JKi6nJHRhA5ADIBEvzzAEE_CwRiVz9-F9G5O7uTB6AZGKy9SAMnDR7czwt-uhpvraHxm7h4IwvLml42hz=w400-h278" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">That brings me to my problem with temples in south
India and why I am always torn in visiting them. South Indian temples are far
more exquisite than the northern temples and are architectural marvels. Many of
them have huge historical significance as well and are associated with many
stories of past. But these temples today are a strange amalgamation of faith, culture,
business, and society around them. In many ways, they are materialistic enough
to have a separate VIP darshan line (where you pay more to cut the crowd) and
in some cases they are extremely misogynistic taking shelter of tradition or
modesty.</div></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Kerala temples have been in news for many wrong reasons.
When I started this series of posts, I mentioned that I am in the city of
Padmanabh Swamy. The city not only derives its name from the reigning deity of
the temple- but it is also in many ways, still a temple town. A town which
despite being a seat of political power, very stubbornly shies away from the
look of a big city. It is as if, the city is very content, even takes pride in
its image of a temple town. I am very curious about the temple in more than one
ways, but I am still postponing my visit. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">The thing is the temples in south India do not allow
you to have a worship of the deity on your own terms. Entire event is closely
regulated and controlled by temple administrators (all men). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">As per my Hinduism, there should not be any
restriction for non-Hindus in entering Hindu shrines. History provides ample
evidence when Hindu temples welcomed believers of other faiths and even
felicitated them. But today, in some of
these temples there are ban on entry of non-Hindus. The ban is quite ironical
as many temple group take great pride that they also have an affiliated temple
in US or Australia. The hypocrisy of such restrictions has come to light in
many cases. There is a famous case of legendary singer K.J.Yesudas, a Catholic
by birth. His devotional songs are played in many of these temples where he was
refused entry many times. Finally in 2017, at the insistence of a Ex-Royal
trustee, the temple board of Padmanabh Swamy temple did an exception for him. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> Furthermore,
there are dress-codes and even within dress-codes there are restrictions for women.
At times some parts or even some temples are kept out of bound from women.
These aspects make me uncomfortable. Though I am a saree clad person on all
workdays, I find it difficult to accept a dress-code for visiting the deity.
While men cannot wear shirts and have to be in traditional mundu / dhoti ,
women cannot visit unless they are in saree or covered till toe. In 2016, after
a court case, temple authorities allowed salwar suit or churidar for women –
though I am told that in practice, it is still not adhered to. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyzyLNaD-oqEztWYGx5Jn_geFUxzi0h2Jgyji5vlogU6W2npaOv-uuc0ppoUvetXMPGQuW-QTCI4EkE7qoaYhGfsi_PFg_OnRfee5PEN59SzPa6cn2GR8H7ee4dDNbTlyDfV2xangmGhWbeGbOekEr_jnBd1Q293E9UZ-TIRTJydiAkpxdH-9ExZSWbkXY" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="805" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjyzyLNaD-oqEztWYGx5Jn_geFUxzi0h2Jgyji5vlogU6W2npaOv-uuc0ppoUvetXMPGQuW-QTCI4EkE7qoaYhGfsi_PFg_OnRfee5PEN59SzPa6cn2GR8H7ee4dDNbTlyDfV2xangmGhWbeGbOekEr_jnBd1Q293E9UZ-TIRTJydiAkpxdH-9ExZSWbkXY" width="373" /></a></span></div><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Modesty or decency in clothes is an ever-changing
societal yardstick. There is nothing traditional or religious about it. For women specially, it emanates from a
regressive patriarchal thinking that some men sitting in temple authorities
need to dictate what women should wear. In the same temple, few decades back
women were not allowed to come <i>wearing </i>blouses. The ongoing “tradition”
being – 3 unstitched clothes for men and 4 unstitched clothes for women. That
was changed with time – then it was decided that saree <i>with blouse</i> is
decent but not other Indian or western dresses. Now Salwar and churidar are
accepted but not pants and shirts or other dresses. End of the day, the rules
that dictate what women can wear or not, the changes in those rules and the
decisions on those changes, is an exclusive male domain. It is some men sitting
in positions of power who decide and dictate terms on modesty and decency. I
find this unpalatable. Specially so in a state where till few decades back
women did not have a right to cover their upper body. The right was granted and
now temples take a 180 degree turn to impose covered dresses in the name of
religion and tradition. Same holds true for mensurating women. The dress-code,
the restriction on the entry of women and an option of VIP darshan- takes away
all spirituality out of a temple visit for me.</div></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Let us not forget, this is the land that gave eighth
century Vedic philosopher and the high-priest of Hindu Sanatan dharma Adi
Shaankaracharya. Shankaracharya’s philosophy, his travels across the country
and his deep philosophical treatise is a treasure trove of knowledge of this
most fascinating ancient faith. But for me one event of Shankara’s life stands
out as a defining moment of Hinduism. It is his meeting with the Chandala or an
‘outcaste’- the man who works at crematorium, lowliest of lowly caste of
people. The event it is believed
happened in the narrow alleyways of the embankment of Ganga in Varanasi. Shankara was going for holy dip in the river when he came upon
the chandala. True to the prevalent belief of those days that Brahmins would to be
'defiled' by the very shadow of those of this caste, the disciples of Shankara asked the
'outcaste' to move out of the way. However, the chandala retorted by
asking the question: </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Mangal, serif; font-size: 11pt; text-align: left;">अन्नमायादन्नमयमथवा
चैतन्यमेव चैतन्यात्</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal",serif; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">यतिवर दूरीकर्तुं
वाञ्छसि किं ब्रूहि गच्छगच्छेति</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> <b>To move matter from matter, or to separate
spirit from Spirit? O best among the twice-born, which of these two do you wish
to achieve by saying, “<i>Move away, move away”?</i> <o:p></o:p></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">(That is how will you become impure
by touching me? How do you differentiate between a Brahmin & a Chandala, because both our bodies are made of the same
elements: earth, water, fire, air and space, even though we look different. Our
aatman (Brahman) is the same and is absolute. This one aatman is expressed in
all living beings. So tell me, when we are made of same elements and same
aatman, how can you ask me to move away and not touch you?) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">That is when Shri Adi
Shankaracharya realised the Chandala was teaching him his own philosophy of
Advaita Vedanta, and prostrated before Chandala and composed <i>Manisha
Panchaka.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I consider this anecdote, a defining moment for Hinduism as it
demonstrates how the religious truth often clashes with the societal norms and
how a true sage of faith needs the rationality to go beyond the ever-changing
rules of society to accept the manifestation of divinity in all forms and ways
and in all creatures of God – even if they do not profess your own faith.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> When I read in
history books about Vaikom Satyagraha in 1920s when people had to agitate to
get their right to access to public spaces in this land of Shankara, I found it
strange. Stranger perhaps is the insistence a century later in 2020s to keep
the temples closed and rigid , in the name of tradition to fit the understanding
of few men. But then, strange things happen in the name of religion all the
time. People fighting, killing and spreading hate in the name of religion often
forget what Hindi writer Sardar Pooran Singh wrote in his famous essay
‘Aachraan ki Sabhyata’ ( The Civility of conduct ) <span style="font-size: x-small;">“</span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">सच्चा साधु धर्म को गौरव देता है</span><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">, </span><span lang="HI" style="font-family: "Mangal",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">धर्म किसी को गौरवान्वित नहीं
करता।"</span></span>A true saint gives glory to religion, religion
does not glorify anyone .</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-language: HI;">I
feel distraught at the pomp, show and politicization of my faith because in
this process we are not only discarding the deep spiritual legacy of Hinduism
but we are, in many ways acting just like the people of other religions professing
their truth as the only truth. </span><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: LiberationSerif; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-language: HI;"> With eclecticism
as its core competency , my faith does not believe in rejection of other forms of worship and other
ways of seeking the truth. Stopping other forms of worship, objecting to a
dress or a food – for me is not the way of my religion.</span></p>Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-59446120551168773652024-01-21T12:47:00.003+05:452024-01-22T12:16:22.547+05:45Choice of Adjectives- Remembering Empress Sisi<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5Da8xqheCsyIdmvSo1qPNftQ2jOv4lgIhoqO7Dwmiy_XhyphenhyphennQ2uFP3ry0NlZQ7yEPN86ZFpsmBCSZr6Tsmh_s3TjKGVwrSi30rOXsBukz46ndZVGzU9n9iWmPoS7gUbeT8AjhwOkFZpyi6-EXxD2XG8VgklH52dJ5Nb9zfb9YCGzV8OtuSgDA8tnOW9Zb/s800/fsgdfgs.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="800" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5Da8xqheCsyIdmvSo1qPNftQ2jOv4lgIhoqO7Dwmiy_XhyphenhyphennQ2uFP3ry0NlZQ7yEPN86ZFpsmBCSZr6Tsmh_s3TjKGVwrSi30rOXsBukz46ndZVGzU9n9iWmPoS7gUbeT8AjhwOkFZpyi6-EXxD2XG8VgklH52dJ5Nb9zfb9YCGzV8OtuSgDA8tnOW9Zb/w400-h240/fsgdfgs.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><b style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;">"I am a seagull, of no land, I call no shore
my home, I am bound to no place, I fly from wave to wave.</span></i></b><p></p>
<p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: right;"><b><i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;">Empress Elisabeth of Austria<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;">If you have been to Vienna, it is difficult to miss
Empress Elisabeth or Sisi, as she is often called. From chocolate boxes to
posters and from museum tickets to souvenir shops – she is everywhere. A true
popstar of her time, the biggest icon of Austrian Royal family, compared with
Lady Di by biographers, subject of novels and movies- she is presented as a
glamourous but depressed queen. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Hofberg
palace has a full museum dedicated to her – displaying her personal articles,
her chamber, her letters, and her famous dresses. It was first in this museum
that I read her poetry. It is sad that with so much emphasis on her doll like
persona of a fairytale princess, her other remarkable characteristics of being
a poet, an avid traveller, reader and an intellectual – a woman very aware of
her socio-political situation, are never highlighted. Her concern for women
suffering in lunatic asylums of Europe of her time, is often ridiculed and so
is her free spirit and constant demand for privacy even as an Empress of Europe’s
biggest empire of that time. Her media avatars are either of innocent young
girl trapped in court politics or of a cold-hearted vain woman obsessed with physical
beauty. In fact, her insistence for physical exercise by installing a gym in
every palace she lived in, is also depicted as her unreal desire to be ageless.
In today’s vocabulary, she would be a health enthusiast, a fitness icon even. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
suddenly reminded of this as I was watching a DW documentary - Sisi’s Legacy </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/L6LeyYMa9_o" width="320" youtube-src-id="L6LeyYMa9_o"></iframe></div><br /> this morning and I noticed something. In this documentary as well as in
numerous articles written about Sisi or the TV series or movies based on her,
the choice of adjectives is very problematic. The documentary calls her eccentric,
narcissistic, obsessed with ageless beauty, a mother who neglected her
children, a woman who refused to stay on with her husband and finally someone
who was reckless enough to get assassinated. She is also guardedly blamed for taking
her first daughter on travel with her causing her death. The commentary is
quite easy to the fact that she was fifteen when she was made empress, sixteen
when she was a mother and that she was unaccustomed to the ways of the most
proper and stifling court of whole of Europe. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><b><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;"><i>Oh
swallow, give me your quick wings<o:p></o:p></i></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><b><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;"><i>And
take me with you to distant countries.<o:p></o:p></i></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><b><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;"><i>I'll
be happy to break the chains that hold me<o:p></o:p></i></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><b><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;"><i>And
to break the bars of my prison ...<o:p></o:p></i></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><b><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;"><i>If I
could fly with you<o:p></o:p></i></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><b><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;"><i>Through
the blue eternity of heaven<o:p></o:p></i></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><b><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;"><i>How
I would make thank you with all my being<o:p></o:p></i></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><b><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;"><i>The
Goddess that men call freedom!</i><o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><i> -- </i></span></span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;"><i>Empress Elisabeth (1856)</i><o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPtUKNIibCqDDQUtDADZ-2eff6Qh4NQv8DDTsdBk1LwNtsFI5N09ATjGaUO5EJ3U3fH6_7W6gCvRiebUXQs2ivcIAnrGumsEz2WNgy-tiHXgLdRkSjba_JCjI53mThSeqN3nWBi1xtDjgAMXJVtDrBHp8SE8-i9lVGCeGraTGw1KSVNIb18i8ryT3eCYTV/s1023/corsage.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1023" data-original-width="753" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPtUKNIibCqDDQUtDADZ-2eff6Qh4NQv8DDTsdBk1LwNtsFI5N09ATjGaUO5EJ3U3fH6_7W6gCvRiebUXQs2ivcIAnrGumsEz2WNgy-tiHXgLdRkSjba_JCjI53mThSeqN3nWBi1xtDjgAMXJVtDrBHp8SE8-i9lVGCeGraTGw1KSVNIb18i8ryT3eCYTV/w295-h400/corsage.jpg" width="295" /></a></b></div><b><br /></b><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;">Last year another movie titled ‘Corsage’ came in
European theatres. Once again , Sisi is the unhappy Royal who is hysterical and
irresponsible. Forcing modern feminist sensibilities on her is hardly doing any
justice. Most of her biographers are sympathetic towards the shy, young girl,
miserable at court, but then they start to chide Sisi for her selfishness in
disregarding her husband's concerns, neglecting her duties, feigning illness
etc. While there may be some truth in all these – the contemporary portrayals for
her husband and son are not this harsh despite their very questionable personal
and public conduct.Neither there is any probe in why an Empress had to feign
illness or avoid public scrutiny ? Even
in this documentary, there is no judgement of Franz Joseph for subjecting his
son for very cruel “physical and psychological hardening” (which eventually was
put to stop by ‘irresponsible’ mother Sisi) but Sisi is repeatedly judged for
leaving her children behind for her travels (‘on State Expense’) or for not
staying in the court. Her son Rudolf, similarly, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>is painted as a man ahead of his time in his
views- while underplaying the fact that he neglected his wife and daughter, had
series of affairs , got a STD due to his visits to brothels <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and killed his mistress before committing
suicide. Sisi, however is judged even for smoking, wearing black after the death of her
son or refusing to get photographed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwTpZFw-5lb-VsQCsAx-iiys3EYF9quT986Id3HM44XocydZ24BhSAkD9219odWG3D3dWxz1wLv7nH-8QXh3ShdbunIb1v7BqGtH8__j6KevXCNOkdgQfjuMLgcYxLEXc1Mb_aIsvLTrz9o69wARR0cGoFWpf_MAQThw2bzN5MLUCYdKYUdTLkwA-052T/s1800/1_Aa6wCc2pKHQQfpb0Q1cW7w.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwTpZFw-5lb-VsQCsAx-iiys3EYF9quT986Id3HM44XocydZ24BhSAkD9219odWG3D3dWxz1wLv7nH-8QXh3ShdbunIb1v7BqGtH8__j6KevXCNOkdgQfjuMLgcYxLEXc1Mb_aIsvLTrz9o69wARR0cGoFWpf_MAQThw2bzN5MLUCYdKYUdTLkwA-052T/w640-h320/1_Aa6wCc2pKHQQfpb0Q1cW7w.webp" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: "Cambria",serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; padding: 0cm;">My friend Zehra recently wrote on Facebook how
women are accused of not knowing their mind, though the reality is that most of
the times, they do know exactly what they want. The problem comes in acceptance
from community and family on ‘what’ women want. Our family and society are yet
to mainstream the true wishes of women and are very quick in judging them for
their conduct and desires with wrong set of adjectives. Even in popular media,
for every portrayal of a woman who speaks her mind there are ten where the stereotypical
loving wife, mother and the sacrificing woman image is reinforced. It is often
the fear of being judged, labelled as ‘difficult’ that makes women hesitant and
unclear in expressing their mind. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I
see women politicians and actresses being shut down from serious discussions and
being judged so unfairly and blatantly on their appearances, accessories, and
private lives, I wonder how we blame women in families to be shy in expressing
their true wishes and opinions? It is a bane of our times that at times in ordinary houses people are willing to take steps in the right directions yet our system, our organisations and even our courts paint it the other way. It is still rare in communities and public forums
to allow women space to express themselves freely. to shake off the stereotype and not being subjected to
scrutiny and judgment. From Empress Sisi to Mahua Moitra and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>from mythical Draupadi to Sunny Leone – it is
a continued stream of judgement <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and use
of negative adjectives that colour the narrative of what women want.</span></p>Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-55846326906503218552024-01-15T15:00:00.005+05:452024-01-18T19:56:48.013+05:45 Captivating Calicut - Vasco-da-Gama, Mangroves and Uru Boats of Kerala<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbNj62HpVepAx6_1ryINqS61gKQ0z0e2tMLAbH7VZvkImBaTWgjZg7PRXdfZYuIjH2fzkVQvyssLeJWL5okA-4CkSB7GIwGEAFY9EESYQ6c1xJ6XA148lX2kUiEVI1peX4IlL3sAqmfMZfU-jjC1-kBQiNrxhQTFRdEBAKBwGdL5PZT-gItv1lAeZWIW2e/s1440/DSCN0688.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbNj62HpVepAx6_1ryINqS61gKQ0z0e2tMLAbH7VZvkImBaTWgjZg7PRXdfZYuIjH2fzkVQvyssLeJWL5okA-4CkSB7GIwGEAFY9EESYQ6c1xJ6XA148lX2kUiEVI1peX4IlL3sAqmfMZfU-jjC1-kBQiNrxhQTFRdEBAKBwGdL5PZT-gItv1lAeZWIW2e/w400-h300/DSCN0688.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p><span style="text-align: justify;">History and life often do not agree on importance of events and things. Both also suffer from lack of true perspective- some very important stuff may at times look like insignificant and vice verse. It is quite an humbling experience to find how with time, the so called "game changing" moments are not even remembered by the communities and places affected by them. I was fortunate to witness one such moment of collective amnesia in Kozhikode recently. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEFVlznAwlq2HG8crlIFlwYw_CWSROggvCkEantsLJM1seUkqAiZqNWC-m2LS-rcHtJ_TfBfNfdTDRBJ2ktCIRk42ydYzUtMkIPRie97p7tRZWokUyoSW_EOIeKSadZZMIc63jX3b50ne3ovS8xQrTcDQCPKzU_UwSOHguyfk43lsHBc9D1yqLjyFthl77/s4032/20240112_174507.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEFVlznAwlq2HG8crlIFlwYw_CWSROggvCkEantsLJM1seUkqAiZqNWC-m2LS-rcHtJ_TfBfNfdTDRBJ2ktCIRk42ydYzUtMkIPRie97p7tRZWokUyoSW_EOIeKSadZZMIc63jX3b50ne3ovS8xQrTcDQCPKzU_UwSOHguyfk43lsHBc9D1yqLjyFthl77/w300-h400/20240112_174507.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;"> I love my work when it takes me
to new places and helps me discover the magic in them. The visit to Kozhikode
(Calicut) was for purely office work, till it was not. Kozhikode, the capital
city of historical Malabar was the seat of Zamorin. It was also the place from
where Portuguese finally entered India. In fact near the golden beach of Kappad
, there is still a board declaring that Vasco Da Gama came to India in 1498 AD </span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify;">and landed at that beach. Interestingly, except for this hardly noticed plaque there was nothing much to link the place with such a significant moment of history. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYRRSsWpwPCogiWJ3KZMIBbe2A8_rVNf1MfNh2g-haMtkE-AX0Lz9Iq57hQ31OFQ_-FkO_GHJubEoW0DY_dEOvM2RXbIvSAnbAfZ9Ee1oT-HfW56DxdcsiTMD06AVhqJAwPePBHIHHEqInLWTXXdmz7yS7ktdT6OiJZU7upodtY2MYmDmtSA__mO95Z6yu/s1600/IMG-20240112-WA0042.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1600" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYRRSsWpwPCogiWJ3KZMIBbe2A8_rVNf1MfNh2g-haMtkE-AX0Lz9Iq57hQ31OFQ_-FkO_GHJubEoW0DY_dEOvM2RXbIvSAnbAfZ9Ee1oT-HfW56DxdcsiTMD06AVhqJAwPePBHIHHEqInLWTXXdmz7yS7ktdT6OiJZU7upodtY2MYmDmtSA__mO95Z6yu/w400-h270/IMG-20240112-WA0042.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="text-align: justify;">Kappad beach was magnificent and surprisingly
secluded and pristine. Except for a small portion where one could spot tourists
and local children- it only had birds and crabs as visitors. The golden sand glistened
with the waves and the egrets and storks jumped with joy. Even on the part with
human presence, the children merrily played, and the fishermen haggled cost of
fresh catch straight from sea. It was as tranquil as a poem. I wonder how this
gem of a place has stayed away from the touristy gaze and I thanked God for
that.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtx90cg5UUMWTPky1rwtdcD8kWuUVYv_tA82YEZ-wCxCMeH-HCrQN9XzHIirJHektvzDz3p9Ey7mnljnU9GjY1PlZHk3cB78C60QD544TRNHPIOrQPpi5FN9H7-03RmZxQxU7Z6tUlX3XZXY0ntisDkvfOT0ThgH1SUHK2rELQqes6Tty9T4gAKFVmJ-i-/s1440/DSCN0693.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtx90cg5UUMWTPky1rwtdcD8kWuUVYv_tA82YEZ-wCxCMeH-HCrQN9XzHIirJHektvzDz3p9Ey7mnljnU9GjY1PlZHk3cB78C60QD544TRNHPIOrQPpi5FN9H7-03RmZxQxU7Z6tUlX3XZXY0ntisDkvfOT0ThgH1SUHK2rELQqes6Tty9T4gAKFVmJ-i-/w400-h300/DSCN0693.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The city beach of Kozhikode was a
stark contrast with this. It was full of noise, human activity, and plastic.
There was Kerala Book Fest going on and it was difficult to find an empty spot.
Stalls of vendors and groups of students had taken up all the space. Even on a
hot and humid afternoon, the extent of cacophony of human activities was too
much to bear. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdnVcgU2bXQcM_G6vMnVhQ0BEm5_pBTJ_ExSqwgAhD1sSrL0MaKa0wYECQ39a5izikmk3D-fyAVTn5hF-XUul-Z9uRQjf5WGiMEzejY_Pt9tdr2OCDTjf3-mQF9DuHvT2gGfUYixoX6HOlChlhf_wq_9RqUwnLZUgnVvDETl05oha6OWsxbUeiU55kmQ9P/s4032/20240113_083844.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdnVcgU2bXQcM_G6vMnVhQ0BEm5_pBTJ_ExSqwgAhD1sSrL0MaKa0wYECQ39a5izikmk3D-fyAVTn5hF-XUul-Z9uRQjf5WGiMEzejY_Pt9tdr2OCDTjf3-mQF9DuHvT2gGfUYixoX6HOlChlhf_wq_9RqUwnLZUgnVvDETl05oha6OWsxbUeiU55kmQ9P/w400-h300/20240113_083844.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"> The magic of Malabar was yet to show another
act. Early morning at sunrise, I reached Kadalundi, some 20 Km away from Calicut
city. Kadalundi–Vallikkunnu Community Reserve is an estuary and India’s first
riverfront community reserve in Malabar Coast. There is a Bird Sanctuary and beautiful
mangrove swamps – providing home to varied native and migratory birds and
insects. It was quite an experience to enter the mangroves in a boat and
witness the ecosystem with such close quarters. A big colony of seagulls was
merrily chatting and nesting on an island and the damp soil was full of
seashells and corals. It was by far my best encounter with social forestry and
what wonders it can bring to the lives of people.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvhJaskU-stL0Lhv712d2AHmRYCKwkQewPsq5M1Wj4_rS7S2Vmp5NITs56iXJC9PmG_VZ2pGDP1aHHff_vm0b1A2IAD6XKsmfxOTUjbcqqpTD1DTWwpiO_xB8dFajo76AqjUB87s8ozktYw30a3S7q56JaHrw4IXZKo_w58VqvqQ8DaVELqa0q5jsZxI5r/s824/2024-01-10.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="742" data-original-width="824" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvhJaskU-stL0Lhv712d2AHmRYCKwkQewPsq5M1Wj4_rS7S2Vmp5NITs56iXJC9PmG_VZ2pGDP1aHHff_vm0b1A2IAD6XKsmfxOTUjbcqqpTD1DTWwpiO_xB8dFajo76AqjUB87s8ozktYw30a3S7q56JaHrw4IXZKo_w58VqvqQ8DaVELqa0q5jsZxI5r/w400-h360/2024-01-10.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">We started back from the dense
mangroves of Kadalundi to Beypore later that day. The shores of Beypore, carry
a secret that is only known to them. Uru or dhow was the traditional Arabian
trading vessel, associated with the ship building culture of Kerala. And the
art and science of making these ships are still only known to the craftsmen of
Beypore. On the face of it, this looks like just some ship building yards,
located near a port but once you look behind
the obivious, it is a mesmerizing tale of India’s centuries old maritime trade relations and skilled craftsmanship.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Since the early days of India's
maritime trade relations with Mesopotamia, on the southwestern coast of the
subcontinent, skilled workers have been building handcrafted wooden boats
called Uru or Fat boats. Today these are world's largest handcrafted boats and
you may still spot them on the Dhaw at Dubai and other Arab countries. Now they
are no longer trade vessels and are usually taken as luxury yachts in Gulf
countries. Traditionally made with teakwood of Nilambur forest, islands dotting
the Chaliyar river near Beypore port have continued the tradition for over a
millennium. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhLyNPaeLmkvDmSUkhYbk7j_Vwp52N9DZzyksPLbj72q1S0-A_MvO6gcYovRHL1RVmNuitsn9XAQpwKoQtuN-po2BzE2ePiRgUvi7-JYzihqWYgUnexUe1y3ieWBbcmflnWFi0jC4cALfJq-9zLaLdtx3MiDlDK1SES8Yupn2eVcyJ2YzeBydIFpcZCeefk" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhLyNPaeLmkvDmSUkhYbk7j_Vwp52N9DZzyksPLbj72q1S0-A_MvO6gcYovRHL1RVmNuitsn9XAQpwKoQtuN-po2BzE2ePiRgUvi7-JYzihqWYgUnexUe1y3ieWBbcmflnWFi0jC4cALfJq-9zLaLdtx3MiDlDK1SES8Yupn2eVcyJ2YzeBydIFpcZCeefk=w400-h225" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">These boats present a unique architecture expertise of a specially
skilled group of people from Malabar. There are no plans, sketches, drawings, or
blueprints that the makers refer to. In the traditional methods, no iron nails
were used either to prevent rusting and consequent leakage in sea. Instead of
using nails, the planks of a boat were "sewn" together with rope and
then sealed. From conception to completion, it is all in the mind of the master
builder or maistry (same as maestro) of a yard - and it works like magic -
every single time.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"> Associated with this, is the seafaring
tradition of Mappila Khalasis dating back to hundreds of years. There is a
saying in Malayalam ‘Othupidichal Malayum Porum’. This translates as ‘team work
can move mountains’. Anyone who has seen the Khalasis of Malabar region in
action will feel the ring of truth in this saying. Watching the Khalasis at
work is an amazing experience. The heavy objects they handle could be a ship to
be launched or a huge girder weighing tonnes. They use common sense, experience
and ancient wisdom passed down over the generations. Their techniques are not
found in text books on Engineering. They work with enthusiasm chanting their
traditional songs. The group work of Khalasis need unity of mind, spirit and
body. Visualize a giant size Uru, weighing hundreds of tons being drawn
smoothly to and from the sea, not with the latest hydraulics machines but
simply with some ropes, wooden logs, pulleys and an unmatched physical effort
of a dedicated group of khalasis. It was fascinating to see these boats in
making at a construction yard near Beypore. It is difficult to comprehend the
massive size of these boats- well, unless you climb onto one
like I did !</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdfhlfniWmlk6KPLz2AEcAgU1X4xv-fvt0mPJ57pfa8Q5tbwj2BBIdgret2TCr0GaDiY0e2E02n-ErmwWW5SH-tus8bMhzVvkirX55Nt-jK5aoI26vDNmNMWEJFAkhSwaLkH6H2cKBeTjFzMQ_4dfx4TQzlqiC8zmBc3hXEaeOerp-gxMK8TQIbu0Y35RS/s4032/20240113_111322.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdfhlfniWmlk6KPLz2AEcAgU1X4xv-fvt0mPJ57pfa8Q5tbwj2BBIdgret2TCr0GaDiY0e2E02n-ErmwWW5SH-tus8bMhzVvkirX55Nt-jK5aoI26vDNmNMWEJFAkhSwaLkH6H2cKBeTjFzMQ_4dfx4TQzlqiC8zmBc3hXEaeOerp-gxMK8TQIbu0Y35RS/w400-h300/20240113_111322.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The post will be incomplete
unless I mention the cuisine and spices of Malabar. After all ,
Kozhikode(Calicut) is the mecca for the spice trade. Best quality peppers and
other spices are grown in this area, bringing much prosperity to the region for
centuries. The cuisine and hospitality that comes with it was equally
enchanting. The legendary restaurant of Paragon – the Malabar parotta and its
sexier cousin the Nool parotta was quite an experience , even for a staunch
vegetarian like me.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">On my return journey from the
train, I again spotted the mangrove swamps and to my surprise, this time the
entire landscape evoked a deep sense of nostalgia and a sudden realization hit
me hard that I am far away from the places I stayed my life till now.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha9kBGBcLgjQbLaGEbtNl7IbJLM3WH5etpyuZEkNVVni328HJQGbb-AeU7PSkOY5Ct-ajogHEhEt-aZNOBamVAiuwZy_xc5vX_041tCBzasnzc2mvTTuGGEibnZ9BHpLPgb6KSG4Qe8GoPhf7eQ3nY2hqi4HTbkI43xxW0hm_D3AGiz6ds6QW_I_pZ2EJL/s1440/DSCN0717.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha9kBGBcLgjQbLaGEbtNl7IbJLM3WH5etpyuZEkNVVni328HJQGbb-AeU7PSkOY5Ct-ajogHEhEt-aZNOBamVAiuwZy_xc5vX_041tCBzasnzc2mvTTuGGEibnZ9BHpLPgb6KSG4Qe8GoPhf7eQ3nY2hqi4HTbkI43xxW0hm_D3AGiz6ds6QW_I_pZ2EJL/w400-h300/DSCN0717.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-84304270208910524932023-12-31T11:46:00.006+05:452023-12-31T11:46:50.572+05:45Sights and Seasons of Paradise : 2. The Backwaters and the Changing Indian Families<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3OGmzGohT82qQLH6D_Q_-82u6gK2I6o2JTsePz8YHraNjYfykgAKFJ0VZJVvP2-3OTA2qjJWiv0ApBVrwQvgZEpEE2rZXtCAbZX38jjYL_K38-2yOU_79Q3yHsyGccyHWdWyLzj1pFq4T32OYPZBd2Le_yu3_YaKo5WnLmdi-9jZqmd4FsfOyCmCiGJLk/s2700/IMG_20231024_105256_625.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="2160" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3OGmzGohT82qQLH6D_Q_-82u6gK2I6o2JTsePz8YHraNjYfykgAKFJ0VZJVvP2-3OTA2qjJWiv0ApBVrwQvgZEpEE2rZXtCAbZX38jjYL_K38-2yOU_79Q3yHsyGccyHWdWyLzj1pFq4T32OYPZBd2Le_yu3_YaKo5WnLmdi-9jZqmd4FsfOyCmCiGJLk/s320/IMG_20231024_105256_625.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><p> <b style="text-align: justify;">Let me start with a fun
question- What is found commonly on every nook and corner of Kerala, every mall
and every scenic ‘view-point’ and is neither a coconut tree nor a jewellery
shop?</b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, if you have lived few days in Kerala,
you cannot miss the Gen Z and their digital content creation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At every public (and not so public) place you
have a youngster posing for a selfie, making a reel,vlog or insta-story or a professional
photographer making young couples do weird poses for pre or post wedding
shoots. Numerous shops of wedding photographers are found in every market and
there are any number of viral posts of couples in most impossible poses doing
round (As I write this an image of young couple wearing white sheets posing in
Munnar tea Gardens strikes to my mind). But not everything about these
photo-shoots is funny. To an outsider like me, the reels of most unknown places
are a good way to get to know of hidden treasures of the state and I am
thankful to these good Samaritans for telling me about the unknown water-streams,
hiking routes and a wetland attracting migratory birds. It was in one of such
viral pre-wedding shoots , during covid years, that I first time saw the pink
waterlilies ((Nymphaea Stellata or ambal in local parlance) of Malarickal. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKG0pLh1JJu_tGVB6jrKPndJvexDoqS3GRfE0tjUWVrmIKXfLT0xZ9SFouK8tQIPAgJLyqtNEgpL4EY_cyz-m4P5ZKm0edRcoZZk0IEtQzB12eYFBp7MvOar__U9Jf8tldqi1NLINcKSD5r4KlsWFlNGBH8CoQ2iw6VKd3KhTLW37cml1EDtRuvZe1B_7e/s1680/272191374_1526710244351043_2152901570891933115_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1120" data-original-width="1680" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKG0pLh1JJu_tGVB6jrKPndJvexDoqS3GRfE0tjUWVrmIKXfLT0xZ9SFouK8tQIPAgJLyqtNEgpL4EY_cyz-m4P5ZKm0edRcoZZk0IEtQzB12eYFBp7MvOar__U9Jf8tldqi1NLINcKSD5r4KlsWFlNGBH8CoQ2iw6VKd3KhTLW37cml1EDtRuvZe1B_7e/s320/272191374_1526710244351043_2152901570891933115_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">(PC:https://www.facebook.com/keralaweddingphotographi)</div></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The awe-inspiring photos of dark pink waterlilies
for miles and a boat with the young bride coyly playing with them, was quite a
pretty sight. I told my friend Archana back then that I will visit the place one day
to click picture of waterlilies. The day finally came in October this year.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIIVIZwq4LfMMOfiiLp7ln4mR4wWpy71sz9IbAHzhee7C3IDdxEXJji6Ag6ni6nDGOwP7k7xvCwb_xqveiJsYfYEqytFtNLM4UvJrX_ZdFZx9zL0aK2s_sFIvIX0ZN2z8zXl0uZR-Jhzevo755nAMkUWDgYdgYxGAum7VfEMElRuyTs0JJyr8d5xwTSiwV/s4618/1190069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3464" data-original-width="4618" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIIVIZwq4LfMMOfiiLp7ln4mR4wWpy71sz9IbAHzhee7C3IDdxEXJji6Ag6ni6nDGOwP7k7xvCwb_xqveiJsYfYEqytFtNLM4UvJrX_ZdFZx9zL0aK2s_sFIvIX0ZN2z8zXl0uZR-Jhzevo755nAMkUWDgYdgYxGAum7VfEMElRuyTs0JJyr8d5xwTSiwV/w400-h300/1190069.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">When life throws you in muddy water, bloom like a
waterlily- Follow the light, rise above the dirt and smile at the world</span></b></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">As my blog design shows,waterlilies and lotus flowers
fascinate me. I think it is a cultural thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our classical literature and arts are full of them. While visiting
southeast Asia, I saw these flowers everywhere from posh resorts to deserted
waysides. But surprisingly, in north and west India, you do not much of these
flowers unless some crazy gardeners like me grow them in their gardens. So when actually landed up in this part of the world, I remembered the
fields of Malarickal with breathtaking shades of pink water lilies (<i>Nymphaea
Stellata</i> or ambal in local parlance) and decided to visit Kumarakom to see
waterlilies. Much to my disappointment, I was warned that ambal season was just
over and there were just few waterlilies left. But when I reached the serene backwaters of Kumarakom, I did actually manage to see some waterlilies – nothing
like the pictures,but still very pretty. I do hope next season I will get lucky
to witness the sea of flowers as I imagined.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55jchYkNrIdD7_pGZiMDYd_4pV9aX9QlwwoMXpZAKh44fdFWlpOpHhdDroC31QVzJ2UMOIEBOWuBabQrhCYdb9Wu2IfjhFV5OxZxQtid1_yaqjQw7lL-gGWeJQLLGHvG_xktolOcrxRfIx4WhlPVtsLQi_Nnkr3B8D5fOHhVzaRrSkOUi_vfLLhIxFQDc/s2711/IMG_20231024_105533_750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2711" data-original-width="2711" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55jchYkNrIdD7_pGZiMDYd_4pV9aX9QlwwoMXpZAKh44fdFWlpOpHhdDroC31QVzJ2UMOIEBOWuBabQrhCYdb9Wu2IfjhFV5OxZxQtid1_yaqjQw7lL-gGWeJQLLGHvG_xktolOcrxRfIx4WhlPVtsLQi_Nnkr3B8D5fOHhVzaRrSkOUi_vfLLhIxFQDc/w400-h400/IMG_20231024_105533_750.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">However, waterlilies were just
one of the reasons to visit the enchanting backwaters of Kumarakom. On the
shores of Vembanad Lake, this quiet, rustic town of Kumarakom is a haven just
outside the humming market town of Kottayam, deep in Central Kerala’s wealthy
and lush belt of rubber plantations.A bird sanctuary for native and migratory
birds, a lake giving heavenly view of sunsets and sunrises, an intricate web of
backwaters, small villages lined with paddy fields – the place is as
picturesque as it can be.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1PsnajLJvq8nCUiKwV3UZjndkCDbyTNwMyD412nQra8ZCCvY6TezyVBrypTvoUR4Hhg5VsgvAGGn6zpGY7aSMhnOqZ2FtLK-MmE1bhT22auUYiuUskf9g4P4et34WwPWh4uG6rPVtX5tsrj1ImMKiwLRYoLlSNGesnwGhwO7VyilJ6DKazBk6EzzOhqNJ/s4634/1180836.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3104" data-original-width="4634" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1PsnajLJvq8nCUiKwV3UZjndkCDbyTNwMyD412nQra8ZCCvY6TezyVBrypTvoUR4Hhg5VsgvAGGn6zpGY7aSMhnOqZ2FtLK-MmE1bhT22auUYiuUskf9g4P4et34WwPWh4uG6rPVtX5tsrj1ImMKiwLRYoLlSNGesnwGhwO7VyilJ6DKazBk6EzzOhqNJ/w400-h268/1180836.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The place confirmed my belief that “God’s own
Country” is not just a tourism slogan. If I was God, I would have liked living
in a place as pretty as this was. It is interesting how most of us imagine paradise
and what traits we put in that imagination. My imagination, even as a child, always had lush
green landscape with waterbodies and birds and flowers. All these elements and
much more greeted me in Kumarakom. There were rain-soaked evenings and shy
golden mornings, the drizzling during the day gave me a lot of time to treat my
senses with the landscape of Vembanad lake with beaeaters and kingfishers doing
their rounds. I even get to spot two Black-hooded Orioles chasing each other. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlpGFkQf7B4XhNZxWIZUz04XREZMjyX3-1NoGsfr5kVdBQu7FTuZYzBe4KbxMzcuNVUN7WKNgejRslgzIYeydaRZjAV3hyphenhyphenX_dMP1xw6eK1JnBoiScG2cAFY1cv6EdGG4gIaLAK0rAe-3CbBAsaVWZQYlBH2D52_agNLp3tHSEpMGydCd7eYNFSVCXDFedF/s1564/IMG_20231231_112745.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlpGFkQf7B4XhNZxWIZUz04XREZMjyX3-1NoGsfr5kVdBQu7FTuZYzBe4KbxMzcuNVUN7WKNgejRslgzIYeydaRZjAV3hyphenhyphenX_dMP1xw6eK1JnBoiScG2cAFY1cv6EdGG4gIaLAK0rAe-3CbBAsaVWZQYlBH2D52_agNLp3tHSEpMGydCd7eYNFSVCXDFedF/s320/IMG_20231231_112745.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Stay at Kumarakom was quite
enlightening for an unusual reason. It confirmed my belief in changing Indian
families. A typical holidaying group in
India, is either married couples with children or families- parents, uncles-aunts and cousins. I was
pleasantly surprised to find a place
which was offering a package exclusively for ‘solo female travellers’. It was
interesting to even know that this category of tourists exists and is big
enough for a commercial outfits to notice and cater to. But there was more in
store for me .In the dining room of my resort I got into conversation with a
graceful lady. In her sixties she was
staying with a friend of hers. The two ladies worked together for 3 decades ,
knew each other for now 40 years and were settled in different cities
post-retirement. They were travelling without any husbands, kids or families.
Just the two of them- chatting away most of the days happily. The lady smiled at my astonishment
and said that they tried meeting in each others’ houses but as it happens for
women- household duties never let them have free mental space to enjoy.
Sometimes grandkids are coming or husbands want
their attention . “So I told my family” she said,” Now I am going on for
vacation with my friend, away from this daily list of chores”. Her story made me felt bit ashamed, how many
times in our families, we fail to give this space to our elderly women. They
are suppose to be in the background always ready to be useful to us with a hot
snack or a comforting word. Even the most woke of us do not bother for the
me-time of our moms and grandmoms and somehow view their lives only for
“duties” for others. Perhaps much change is still needed in the way , we look at lives and joys of our elderly , specially women. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">There were other guests too in the resort. There was a
group of friends from Bengal<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– all male,
planning a hike somewhere, two families of friends travelling with kids<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and a father daughter duo. The last one was
again an interesting pair. The daughter had got into a university abroad and
was due to join there in two months. Father took leave from work to have a road
trip with her alone. “She may decide not to come back once she is there” the
father said, “I would like both of us to have some memories and some
conversations which are often not possible at home.” I found this very
heartening that those days of distant fathers only meant for providing money
and occasional scolding, are becoming a thing of the past. Fathers today are
much more invested in upbringing of kids. While my own father was way ahead of
his generation in this regard, I find every such small gesture from young
fathers, even in my office, very heartwarming. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It is not just a coincidence that
all such modern expressions of relationships and families find expression in
this land. Kerala is very safe<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and
despite its own struggles of alcoholism and even crimes, a solo female
traveller or a young couple posing for photoshoot are less likely to get
unwanted attention than elsewhere in the country. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I am aware that this is not whole
truth and for every expression of liberal relationships within family there are
ten re-emphasising the stereotype. But then, that’s the thing about revolution
within families- it happens one tiny step at a time. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">A revolution is also brewing in
Kerala about themes and portrayal of cinema stories. Many of these revolving
around stories of changing dynamics of families and issues of gender. But more
on that in a separate post.<o:p></o:p></p>Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-64380456793497400002023-12-28T17:59:00.006+05:452023-12-29T10:16:11.073+05:45Sights and Seasons of Paradise: The Beginning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5YFveDwXDnlWfnCDU1LU375uQjkhgotJC-5tgpzYxIpDnq4C7RpEXqHYH_1CnSHfjqORAz7zd-A2r9BVvNtxekVSdOuaol5gUe3Ap8ysXQLBKHoq9TEr1EwSre6yOGcvHcpHa9xyUTzQmwWRJ7UPWB2OAPCtuVMiGRqLSjZGhmpTW3GTZptnVBTvPCRHq/s4032/20231022_132811.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5YFveDwXDnlWfnCDU1LU375uQjkhgotJC-5tgpzYxIpDnq4C7RpEXqHYH_1CnSHfjqORAz7zd-A2r9BVvNtxekVSdOuaol5gUe3Ap8ysXQLBKHoq9TEr1EwSre6yOGcvHcpHa9xyUTzQmwWRJ7UPWB2OAPCtuVMiGRqLSjZGhmpTW3GTZptnVBTvPCRHq/w344-h258/20231022_132811.jpg" width="344" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"> <b><i><span lang="EN-US">Sometimes
you have to let go of the picture that you have thought it would be like and
learn to find joy in the story you are actually living.</span></i></b></p>
<p align="right" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: right; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>
</b></span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><b>Rachel
Marie Martin</b></span><span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"><b> </b> </span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: -18pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Life, as John Lennon said, is
what happens to you when you are busy making other plans. My plans got
unsettled in a very poetic way this year. I was gazing at Cleopatra’s pool at Pamukkale,
Turkiye on 12th September and the alignment of stars changed somewhere for me. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Cut to scene two. It was mid-October,
and I was in “God’s own country”. Thousands of miles away in a part of the
country where I have not been for last twenty years and language and ways of
which I was blissfully ignorant of. Well, the common wisdom says that
mortals have no control on the invitation from Gods. It is supposed to be
sudden and so it was. But again, can a mere mortal resist the invite- I could not
and so here I was- in the city of Padmanabh Swami. A city which has seen an amazing milieu of
history. A city where at different points of time – artists, traders and
intellectuals took refuge and got settled. Also a city, where you come and
leave only with the divine will. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPxhO_uL_QUOP07Ghm0-MZqhtuKmfaZR0N1B9T7rmffOtjn25B0EyqfL5IGYiEpBpmqzu4W5494to3fvuXV5QROgQQ9JKOJpiisw25WPoPn7YINn5fKb17Xds1gGul8ZK2RZYjW0oX9snJJgKb8SmI0if24QuvkfzcFNSwdBmcBo8R4epVkdTP-avHTUkQ/s4634/1180836.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3104" data-original-width="4634" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPxhO_uL_QUOP07Ghm0-MZqhtuKmfaZR0N1B9T7rmffOtjn25B0EyqfL5IGYiEpBpmqzu4W5494to3fvuXV5QROgQQ9JKOJpiisw25WPoPn7YINn5fKb17Xds1gGul8ZK2RZYjW0oX9snJJgKb8SmI0if24QuvkfzcFNSwdBmcBo8R4epVkdTP-avHTUkQ/w372-h249/1180836.jpg" width="372" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It did not take me long to get lured
by the sights spread out before me. The colourful floral tributes outside
temples for Navratri puja, tall trees of jackfruit, coconut and more, the
heritage buildings with their wooden roof and ex-royal emblem – they were all
very inviting and I gaped like a tourist. It rained every now and then and the
weather was warm. The entire scene was so unlike north that on some nights I
got up just pining for the familiar sounds, tastes and sights.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">My welcome was amazing and the gestures
for help- a plenty. Yet it took me time to push back the fear of unknown from
my mind. Once in routine, my mind wandered on what I would like to fill my days
with. Luckily, it was just then the state festival started. Criticized by some
and attended by all, it was a crash course of state culture and mindset for me.
I was floored with the variety of events and exhibitions, discussions, and
debates. But first impressions barely give you the full picture. The depth of
the issue often hits you much later. My introduction to Kathakali masks, for
example, came in the most unusual way. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqYL0r1RhjLMWHlgUlrUpkwVNuM2EYlC2WiJ92OA3RYS6PmSsDjBL11SpOa8mggEl8D7qtwTg8P4vOdQJhyphenhyphendVkDfg-sfik7YNAny68CS7S9ZatjIkbwkWjeV2pct_zU3lRTDLalvFUYzP9EZ6P3oOzP0FnZ-Y5N7V2p9hQZOWwDtJNcY05ewGNji4nMalT/s4523/1190170.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3537" data-original-width="4523" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqYL0r1RhjLMWHlgUlrUpkwVNuM2EYlC2WiJ92OA3RYS6PmSsDjBL11SpOa8mggEl8D7qtwTg8P4vOdQJhyphenhyphendVkDfg-sfik7YNAny68CS7S9ZatjIkbwkWjeV2pct_zU3lRTDLalvFUYzP9EZ6P3oOzP0FnZ-Y5N7V2p9hQZOWwDtJNcY05ewGNji4nMalT/w358-h280/1190170.jpg" width="358" /></a></div><b><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Building of Fine Arts College, Trivandrum</span></b></div></b><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It was just an art exhibition at
the Fine Arts College. I went there just for curiosity and to admire the
college building. I saw some strange exhibits (as usual) and some good ones.
But what I found most creative was a re-creation of Da Vinci’s The Last Supper,
with Kathakali artists. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyP7aLwGEIzN4GDKr6dAfVMzEKtMJeRpx6Ggi-axeiBc3PcSrfPNGP4Ev1waJHsxs92bAA0IzJEK9IdMfYBbquwXt4rGbVxinyaEmyWyQND5hTFo9GqlpxJTlXM6n_FpE-Tlf1beBiQvhq9ydUc1I1MUVZxRr0zrOSKi2mX9JUMdkx-LrHzj_RW7BIejTv/s4891/1190168.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2277" data-original-width="4891" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyP7aLwGEIzN4GDKr6dAfVMzEKtMJeRpx6Ggi-axeiBc3PcSrfPNGP4Ev1waJHsxs92bAA0IzJEK9IdMfYBbquwXt4rGbVxinyaEmyWyQND5hTFo9GqlpxJTlXM6n_FpE-Tlf1beBiQvhq9ydUc1I1MUVZxRr0zrOSKi2mX9JUMdkx-LrHzj_RW7BIejTv/w379-h176/1190168.jpg" width="379" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I marveled at the art and creativity of the
photographer (Vivek Vilasini), took and shared pictures of it with friends. It was only the day after,
when a learned acquaintance pointed this out that I realized what these masks actually
represented! The photograph was not only
creative, but it was also provocative as Jesus and his apostles were wearing masks
meant for negative characters. It was an interesting first introduction to city’s
love for breaching the line of social sensibilities and rules in all aspects of life.
Well, I guess, that is how they are a city of thinking people. Where classical
arts and radical Marxism thrive side by side. Where, as a colleague pointed out
to me – even Christian and Muslim communities have a <i>Vidyarambha</i> ceremony and the
child is supposed to write” Om shree ganapataye namah”, where all communities happily
enjoy dishes made out of beef (while rest of the country can’t dream of that) and
where Virgin Mary in some village churches merrily dons traditional Kerala cream
saree with golden border.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZDvikTvYCOYRSlcB0tjC7gkci1afpIX4kgTxESI3s8g0aTMa_TtIfnkh9Aplz4Lvv985vM1SytgO3hXwafrehmVjxTonBMv39VD2dJrUNvORptUnjM7UFbrBtSfSM_64zkF019esKCydoFrYLeLPqcFMGRaTTQNc15ctqs1phlgcvkc9KtadwjViAkkP/s1564/IMG_20231228_171303.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZDvikTvYCOYRSlcB0tjC7gkci1afpIX4kgTxESI3s8g0aTMa_TtIfnkh9Aplz4Lvv985vM1SytgO3hXwafrehmVjxTonBMv39VD2dJrUNvORptUnjM7UFbrBtSfSM_64zkF019esKCydoFrYLeLPqcFMGRaTTQNc15ctqs1phlgcvkc9KtadwjViAkkP/s320/IMG_20231228_171303.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Arattu Procession on the Runway</span></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">But then, I should not be surprised about the contradictions and incredibility of things in this state. Certainly not after I came to know
of Arattu procession, which happened just days after my coming here. The day
when international airport suspended services to give way to a temple
procession. Well, I have seen enough number of Mazars and temples inside
public institutions, but this was a first for an international airport. As it
turned out, twice every year, the beloved deities of Padmanabha temple of
Trivandrum, take their ritual bath or Arattu . The idols are taken from temple
to the Shangumugham beach for this purpose, following an ancient path. This is
going on for last few centuries as per record. Now in 1932, when the airport
was to be constructed and the runway design fell on the traditional route of
this procession. The land belonged to the temple through the Royal Family of Travancore. Temple happily gave the land ( you see, Indian Gods are
never in the way of progress and modern ways) but the condition was - twice every year, planes will halt to give way
to the Gods. Even now this continues. This, for me was very symbolic of the soul
of this city and this land of Gods. Always open to progress and new ways and
yet deeply rooted in the traditions of history.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOK5YMQET7AoRltHXrkXxOYfoQQFFQuK-_v8pv7RQ7V8LLVU5DvzZ52FEpvNXzf45RVX4tvUxJA1JghV2VIkL6Si6ksy-2aSBsCTYHxSvG0uCLk79KGe1FXhTKKB-xqLAJ4fXyn_Pj4aI4BgN1DTWilrMJ_gqsR4vklnj2fxVUQ9sxuaohjYA-PALcTgm-/s4896/1190162.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4896" data-original-width="3672" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOK5YMQET7AoRltHXrkXxOYfoQQFFQuK-_v8pv7RQ7V8LLVU5DvzZ52FEpvNXzf45RVX4tvUxJA1JghV2VIkL6Si6ksy-2aSBsCTYHxSvG0uCLk79KGe1FXhTKKB-xqLAJ4fXyn_Pj4aI4BgN1DTWilrMJ_gqsR4vklnj2fxVUQ9sxuaohjYA-PALcTgm-/s320/1190162.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">So that is how it began, I in the
divine land. Much like the fabled ships of King Solomon landed in a
port called Ophir (now Poovar) in Thiruvananthapuram in
1036 BCE, my ship has landed here. The thought of chronicling the
experience came couple of days back while enjoying a golden sunrise surrounded
by lush green tea gardens of Munnar- but more on that in a separate post.
Hopefully I will try to capture the sights and seasons of this amazing place
regularly for a year. <o:p></o:p></p>Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala, India8.5241391 76.9366376-24.368908454932864 41.7803876 41.417186654932863 112.0928876tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-14310582280691063842020-10-14T15:02:00.000+05:452020-10-14T15:02:19.365+05:45The Old New Tale <p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KAFDmE7L6Ac/X4a8824yF8I/AAAAAAAAwdg/Z_y2XgfFLG4CrEet0nyzxBEkensNc3PRgCLcBGAsYHQ/s926/zthtkqbg-1355972397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="926" height="264" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KAFDmE7L6Ac/X4a8824yF8I/AAAAAAAAwdg/Z_y2XgfFLG4CrEet0nyzxBEkensNc3PRgCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h264/zthtkqbg-1355972397.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span><p></p>“...the secret of the Great Stories is that they <i>have</i> no secrets. The Great Stories are the ones you have heard and want to hear again. The ones you can enter anywhere and inhabit comfortably. They don’t deceive you with thrills and trick endings. They don’t surprise you with the unforeseen. They are as familiar as the house you live in. Or the smell of your lover’s skin. You know how they end, yet you listen as though you don’t. In the way that although you know that one day you will die, you live as though you won’t. In the Great Stories you know who lives, who dies, who finds love, who doesn’t. And yet you want to know again. <br /><b>That is their mystery and their magic.</b>”<div> ― <b>Arundhati Roy,</b> The God of Small Things<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Like any other reader, I too have my favourites tales which I like to read and re-read. Characters who are as real as my real life friends and some more. Places which I have visited only in these tales and yet they are so much my own. The quote above resonates in more than one ways. Familiarity with a favourite story adds to its charm. I always find difficult to deal with sequels and prequels written as fan-literature. I read many of them as they bring back to life, some of the favourite characters and sometimes add to the stories known till then. But at the same time, the new twists and new plots sometimes disappoint even enrage me. Fan literature of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice is a good example of that. There have been numerous searches into the finer points of Elizabeth’s and Darcy’s characters. Some sequels make monsters out of them others try to find modern sensibilities in their tale. I am not sure I like either.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #181818;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-63VUTwcS0Wc/X4a-JDmb-oI/AAAAAAAAwds/RCl_vCjncWQxocUdpLkzVbwG50dp_rqFQCLcBGAsYHQ/s910/thequint_2017-01_591e0e51-1417-4b2d-9f29-010b33618058_princess%2Bcard5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="728" data-original-width="910" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-63VUTwcS0Wc/X4a-JDmb-oI/AAAAAAAAwds/RCl_vCjncWQxocUdpLkzVbwG50dp_rqFQCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h320/thequint_2017-01_591e0e51-1417-4b2d-9f29-010b33618058_princess%2Bcard5.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">But retelling of stories is not limited to modern classics. Fairy tales have been written and re-written with numerous versions over the years. From Victorian purists to BBC and Disney’s adaptations, several changes have been attempted in the tales of Cinderella, Rapunzel, Snow White and even Aladdin. Many of these tales originated in China, found their way to middle east and then reappeared in Europe. At each appearance, they changed colours and subtle nuances of the tale. Back in India, traditionally, there have been infinite versions of stories of Ram and Krishna. Many add local flavours, others omit some unsavoury detail or end with very charming twists in the tale. In modern times, stories of Ramayan and Mahabharata have been written from the point of view of several different characters including women characters. Some of these retellings appeal to me. e.g. when they make women characters more independent, strong and significant or when the fairy tale princess is not only a blonde with blue eyes. (Writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie brilliantly sums up the sentiment of the <a href="https://www.ted.com/talks/chimamanda_ngozi_adichie_the_danger_of_a_single_story?language=en">danger of a single story</a> here. )</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/D9Ihs241zeg" width="320" youtube-src-id="D9Ihs241zeg"></iframe></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: justify;">But I thought of writing this post due to two attempts of retelling of myths/ stories, which I came to know in last few days. First was Luciano Garbati’s sculpture “Medusa with the Head of Perseus” which was unveiled on 13th October 2020 in Lower Manhattan.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G_OJ73mwUoU/X4a-dg3VvxI/AAAAAAAAwd0/JYpEwuKfE3MWIJcEnYjN74OXQ5J1iwj_QCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/merlin_178477200_92913ceb-ba82-4775-9311-e65a2fc70ca6-superJumbo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1366" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G_OJ73mwUoU/X4a-dg3VvxI/AAAAAAAAwd0/JYpEwuKfE3MWIJcEnYjN74OXQ5J1iwj_QCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/merlin_178477200_92913ceb-ba82-4775-9311-e65a2fc70ca6-superJumbo.jpg" /></a></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"></div></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> I do not think the sculptor has feminism or #metoo movement in
mind when he inversed the sculpture. He stated that he was inspired by a
16th-century bronze: Benvenuto Cellini’s “Perseus with the Head of Medusa.(
Perseo con la testa di Medusa)” which
stands in Loggia dei Lanzi, Florence In that work, a nude Perseus holds up
Medusa’s head by her snaky mane. Mr. Garbati then thought of a sculpture that
could reverse that story, imagining it from Medusa’s perspective and revealing
the woman behind the monster.</div></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #181818; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vXGTzsBAhg8/X4a-wUNZeQI/AAAAAAAAwd8/9pFYyAzRnp87HWrdUv0KVmcZpX2gDFOlQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1208/800px-thumbnail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1208" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vXGTzsBAhg8/X4a-wUNZeQI/AAAAAAAAwd8/9pFYyAzRnp87HWrdUv0KVmcZpX2gDFOlQCLcBGAsYHQ/w265-h400/800px-thumbnail.jpg" width="265" /></a><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Well,
undoubtedly, like many other myths whether Indian, Egyptian or Greek - the
original Greek myth of Medusa offers plenty to be angry about. The monstrous
being with snakes for hair starts out as a human woman, who Poseidon rapes in
Athena’s temple. The goddess then punishes Medusa, the rape victim, by turning
her into a Gorgon and exiling her. Perseus is later sent on an errand to bring
Medusa’s head to King Polydectes. Equipped with a mirrored shield, winged
sandals, and a special sack for her head, Perseus creeps up on Medusa while she
lies sleeping, cuts off her head, and then uses it as a weapon for turning
enemies into stone. No wonder, the retelling of inverted story by Garbati today
provides a powerful symbol of women’s rage against violence and injustice. While I do admire the symbolism of placing
the Garbati sculpture in front of the court where many cases of crime against
women including rape come for hearing. The timing too could not be better.
World over the anger is coming to surface against ongoing injustices and most
violent crimes against women. Except for the fact that I would have liked
Medusa to hold heads of not only Perseus but also Poseidon, the man who raped
her and even Athena, who punished the victim, I find the sculpture very
powerful. It is a retelling of a tale we need in the world today.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_zBNeZUbcRI/X4a-3AKvQgI/AAAAAAAAweA/E2cJZHvnHxkQZ7fTIseJ-vSPt9_L_08IgCLcBGAsYHQ/s960/7e9e54b065cb9d08ed2e0024409ac25b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="633" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_zBNeZUbcRI/X4a-3AKvQgI/AAAAAAAAweA/E2cJZHvnHxkQZ7fTIseJ-vSPt9_L_08IgCLcBGAsYHQ/w264-h400/7e9e54b065cb9d08ed2e0024409ac25b.jpg" width="264" /></a></div></span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: justify;">The
second provocation for this post came from much closer home. I am an avid
reader and collector of Amar Chitra Katha Comics. I always adored their titles
and have written about my love for ACK in this blog also. Of late, I do not
like the new titles as much as I like the old ones. the charm of hand drawn
illustrations and the level of research has gone down over the years. Just by
chance I came to an ACK title Shakti – the tales of Goddess, and while I can
find many details either missing or incorrect in it, I loved this book. The
book is very sensitive to the classic tales of mother goddess and also to
modern sensibilities. Surprisingly, it was a good read.</div></span><p></p>
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">These two retellings, made me think, why it is important for us to add new details in the old stories or to change the end of familiar tales. Is it our obligation to the next generation to tell them that the stories can have alternative endings too? or is it because the alternative stories were always in our minds and they just came out now? I think I agree with Mark turner who said - </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><i>“Narrative imagining — story — is the fundamental instrument of thought. Rational capacities depend upon it. It is our chief means of looking into the future, or predicting, of planning, and of explaining.”</i></b> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I am sure with each new reader, a story adds another name to its owners who have every right to add their own narrative, their own experience, their unique prediction of future to it. Some of that may feature in other retelling and thus continues the tale. After all, after nourishment, shelter and companionship, stories are the thing we need most in the world.</span></div></div>Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-19310696398728543602020-03-19T10:35:00.000+05:452020-06-05T10:43:25.238+05:45Garden Diaries: March ( A season passes by )<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A time to be born, and a time to die; a
time to plant, and a time to pluck up <i>that which is</i> planted;</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ecclesiastes
3:2</span></b></span><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">On 5<sup>th</sup> March, my
garden was on full bloom. Sun was shining bright and birds were chirping as
usual. When I went home for lunch around 2 PM, I happily checked my flowers and
my seedlings (sunflower and zinnia) and even took some photos of Delphiniums,
Larkspurs, Nasturtiums and Cineraria.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2xgYbnbjlLw/XnLz1CBHJYI/AAAAAAAAvNM/YTtdf5XwuooP5J8Y6VtvTXd7GqWwym1TACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/P1070083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2xgYbnbjlLw/XnLz1CBHJYI/AAAAAAAAvNM/YTtdf5XwuooP5J8Y6VtvTXd7GqWwym1TACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/P1070083.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hailstorm</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Around 4 PM, there was a
sudden hailstorm……. the lawn turned white and the flowering plants were slayed
within minutes. Hailstones of the size of golf ball were too much for my
delicate flowers to bear. At the end of it Nasturtiums, cinerarias and Petunias
were gone completely. Few pots and flower beds in shade of trees survived the
worst. Kalnchoes and Impatiens suffered
major damage and in short, the garden was ruined. It was a sad sight and it
broke my heart.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FA6GBLVrwvE/XnLzrvBVrJI/AAAAAAAAvNI/8ql89sBbnDw2H5eZwAAsQwUfw9ltS64tgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/P1070065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FA6GBLVrwvE/XnLzrvBVrJI/AAAAAAAAvNI/8ql89sBbnDw2H5eZwAAsQwUfw9ltS64tgCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/P1070065.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Orange blossoms</span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Next morning, the sun was
back, so were the birds and while I was still mourning the destruction of
yesterday, nature had started building up. The geraniums started showing new buds
in few days and even the petite pansies fought back. The water in waterlily
tubs had turned black but soon, I saw new leaves of waterlilies too. The
calendulas and Helichrysum braved the damage and again stood tall.</span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tU4Bf51POGU/XnL3h9nqdVI/AAAAAAAAvSE/vYa5HD1wHZQsUAl9IstH_Z5oqe2XBRkYQCKgBGAsYHg/s1600/20200307_140155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tU4Bf51POGU/XnL3h9nqdVI/AAAAAAAAvSE/vYa5HD1wHZQsUAl9IstH_Z5oqe2XBRkYQCKgBGAsYHg/s400/20200307_140155.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was still sad thinking of the premature ruin
of my pretty flowers. Then on a Saturday, standing out in bright sun I saw a
blue sunbird happily frolicking among the larkspurs. It was such a
heart-warming sight. Standing in the middle of ruined flowerbeds, I smiled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EPu-QbDp85c/XnL0EiGVRfI/AAAAAAAAvNU/287vOwnjkZYPVu1rC2ZFVeS64qfwf_QgwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/P1070097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EPu-QbDp85c/XnL0EiGVRfI/AAAAAAAAvNU/287vOwnjkZYPVu1rC2ZFVeS64qfwf_QgwCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/P1070097.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">Since then, slowly but
surely things have warmed up in the garden. Nastratiums are now replaced by the
tiny seedlings of Zinnia and in place of my pretty pink petunias, I have
planted Giant Russian Sunflowers. Gaillardia and Vinca will be next and of
course Kochia and Portulaca. </span><span style="text-align: center;">It is said that “A good gardener always plants 3 seeds -one
for the bugs, one for the weather and one for himself.” But well, I did not.
Hailstorm also killed many of the seedlings. The mis-calculation has costed me
one full month. At present I have vacant flower beds but nothing to plant. My
Mixed Zinnia seeds are coming up slowly and hopefully in another 20 days I will
be all set to face the summer with my summer flower garden.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4y2cGuJ3wWM/XnLzGaAuJvI/AAAAAAAAvM4/lHhgC-Os_mgLc6eegY5teboA1089JiW9gCKgBGAsYHg/s1600/20200221_174704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1111" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4y2cGuJ3wWM/XnLzGaAuJvI/AAAAAAAAvM4/lHhgC-Os_mgLc6eegY5teboA1089JiW9gCKgBGAsYHg/s400/20200221_174704.jpg" width="277" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Trays of Succulents </span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;">Meanwhile,
I had collected some succulents and had arranged two trays of them. They also
suffered some damage in the storm but these tiny plants are known for
their sturdiness. So they are doing fine. I am still not too enchanted by them
as I find flowers much more delightful. But who knows? I also got some more
succulents as gift and may be another arrangement will soon follow.</span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbIkW-M_S20Czojo3-I95qlvmg-VJ4NqbBHtE1sFy3j_Q-lDD1lCqRmvLvkmFSuUj0yWTEhxpJgQF8wjzDzO76J2V-fuTCoLuhvyeKJwxZZPAtrNPyv1SZkIWhdU9o3GuUXHW28TVzn7c/s1600/1070047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbIkW-M_S20Czojo3-I95qlvmg-VJ4NqbBHtE1sFy3j_Q-lDD1lCqRmvLvkmFSuUj0yWTEhxpJgQF8wjzDzO76J2V-fuTCoLuhvyeKJwxZZPAtrNPyv1SZkIWhdU9o3GuUXHW28TVzn7c/s400/1070047.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; text-align: justify;"><b>Helichrysum- the everlasting flowers</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild
flower Hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> --
William Blake<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;">That is funny
part of being a gardener. Your garden often knows better than your imagination
and skill. The storm had damaged one part of mango blossom also and yet the
other side of this good old tree is still
a sight to behold – full of pale yellow blossoms. As I have always
believed – Mango blossom is the true portent of summer. So here it is – the
summer of 2020.</span><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Nfhk9ULZuArTYfUw-G7dqFbkZIcbm7e1OBkpXD0ENW1HEQcrcCMsX31fVfrUQP4I6TELmN10fk0Rrt_rYjKNGag0RglO-DDKhkEg5JbxLaqXRCoG5qriYKJqQatNxCR-G2i66XWwTZM/s1600/P1070119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Nfhk9ULZuArTYfUw-G7dqFbkZIcbm7e1OBkpXD0ENW1HEQcrcCMsX31fVfrUQP4I6TELmN10fk0Rrt_rYjKNGag0RglO-DDKhkEg5JbxLaqXRCoG5qriYKJqQatNxCR-G2i66XWwTZM/s400/P1070119.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;">Outside the
limited world of my garden, there is a real scare of an epidemic. The virus is
spreading world over and the normal life has been shut down in so many
countries. For the first time the scorching summer sounds very welcoming.
Temperature in the city is touching 32 and hopefully, we won't be affected much
with the deadly virus thanks to the heat.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-upNjohLiqOk/XnL3AmV2VtI/AAAAAAAAvRk/xu_sO2lDFLYiOUN68rarTaxPITAdkweGwCKgBGAsYHg/s1600/IMG_20200313_094242_332.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-upNjohLiqOk/XnL3AmV2VtI/AAAAAAAAvRk/xu_sO2lDFLYiOUN68rarTaxPITAdkweGwCKgBGAsYHg/s400/IMG_20200313_094242_332.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt;">I just remembered that this is the 12th edition of
my garden diaries. It was fun writing these posts. I do hope I will read them
in future and remember the joy my garden brought me whole year through. It was
a great learning for me as gardener and also as a person. I learnt the lesson
of patience and moderation, a lesson of learning the skill right and most of
all, I learnt that it takes a dallopful of faith and trust in nature for a
garden to bloom. I am ever so grateful that I could hear the music of the earth
and could hum its tune this whole year through.</span></div>
</span></div>
</div>
Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-55100571550414431022020-02-13T16:19:00.000+05:452020-02-13T16:19:06.256+05:45Garden Diaries: February (It’s springtime)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TrWeoPfdwCg/XjkyfLyqhwI/AAAAAAAAvDI/QyQV7Buzh9sTV_Eqn8E5Q3RJ-OJS3v1LwCKgBGAsYHg/s1600/IMG_20200204_110840.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1564" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TrWeoPfdwCg/XjkyfLyqhwI/AAAAAAAAvDI/QyQV7Buzh9sTV_Eqn8E5Q3RJ-OJS3v1LwCKgBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_20200204_110840.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><br /></i>
<i><b><span style="color: #741b47;">"Was it the smile of early spring</span></b></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #741b47;"><b>That made my bosom glow?<br />'Twas sweet, but neither sun nor wind<br />Could raise my spirit so.<br /><br />Was it some feeling of delight,<br />All vague and undefined?<br />No, 'twas a rapture deep and strong,<br />Expanding in the mind!"</b><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: #741b47;"><br />- Anne Bronte, In Memory of a Happy Day in February</span></i></b></div>
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Spring has officially arrived in
my garden. Flowerbeds are bursting with colours, birds are chirping, sunshine
is bright and golden and the breeze is fresh and welcoming. I can spend all my
waking hours in my garden and not get tired. There are so many kinds of flowers
around that I often lose count of them.It has always been an issue with me whether to plant a single flower in a bed or have a mix of 3-4 kinds of flowers. This year I have gone for mixing...mostly . The result is not too bad. Well, there is only a finite number of plants one can have in a garden and however big is the garden - it is always a dilemma to choose the best place for each variety . I am sure I have about 20 kinds of flowers blooming right now in the garden. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirKLHjt7JX_TgINBrmeQYgT9gc5cdFIZQJ7m1xEBKlMs1TYBUlg4pl1J10O0Ox8oiQ-mzPwBztA7TJo54UhbLpAknSTlJUkiHFPnsLL9Co_Y4NEYQnb2xJvXHIUQt0eGtUDipt6YgrzsE/s1600/IMG_20200204_110011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirKLHjt7JX_TgINBrmeQYgT9gc5cdFIZQJ7m1xEBKlMs1TYBUlg4pl1J10O0Ox8oiQ-mzPwBztA7TJo54UhbLpAknSTlJUkiHFPnsLL9Co_Y4NEYQnb2xJvXHIUQt0eGtUDipt6YgrzsE/s320/IMG_20200204_110011.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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So let me try to list them – Impatiens,
Salvia, Petunia,Begonia,English daisies, Buttercups, Primroses, Mimulus , Kalanchoes,
Gazania, Dahlias Pentas , Nasturtiums,
Geraniums, Verbena, Pansy, Dianthus, Larkspur, Cosmos, Marigold, Calendula and Roses . Next in line are Cineraria and Sweet peas.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3WzXRpJRu-Q/XjkBzcW6YSI/AAAAAAAAvBM/mJ6_g6qhZ442In3yE5eF2cFxVDHCguxcQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/P1060219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3WzXRpJRu-Q/XjkBzcW6YSI/AAAAAAAAvBM/mJ6_g6qhZ442In3yE5eF2cFxVDHCguxcQCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/P1060219.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Pretty buttercups</b></td></tr>
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But the thing with gardening is
that there is always so much to do. Chrysanthemums are almost over and need to
be saved for next year. There is always need to cut worn out blooms and clean
the flowerbeds. With dozens of squirrels around (who love to eat my French marigolds),
there is always so much action in the garden. They chase the birds and cut out
all leaves and wires.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uTdn1HAI_HQ/XjkB63x6tsI/AAAAAAAAvBQ/oYZXsaxQJD4yOrmtHVhro1A9qsiNb96gwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/P1060786.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uTdn1HAI_HQ/XjkB63x6tsI/AAAAAAAAvBQ/oYZXsaxQJD4yOrmtHVhro1A9qsiNb96gwCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/P1060786.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Sitting in my garden during weekends,
I cannot help feeling grateful. It is such a marvel that nature expresses
itself in so many colours and patterns. Just to give an example of Larkspurs,
the tall and graceful flowers – they stand out because of their blue-purple
colour and their graceful waving in the wind. Then there is verbena, tiny small
groups of flowers, they come in all possible colours and can melt even the most
stoic hearts. Not only flowers, the variety of birds I see daily in my garden
is pretty amazing too.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hbNmAvtu7kI/XjkB_PcObMI/AAAAAAAAvBU/XJN-e4coT_sGT9UaeBfkJuRZSNsSINI_ACKgBGAsYHg/s1600/IMG_20200204_110127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1564" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hbNmAvtu7kI/XjkB_PcObMI/AAAAAAAAvBU/XJN-e4coT_sGT9UaeBfkJuRZSNsSINI_ACKgBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_20200204_110127.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Some birds sighted in Bharatpur</b></td></tr>
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Talking of birds, in late last
month I went to Kaleodeo Birds Sanctuary at Bharatpur. I will be honest; I had
never seen so many birds at one places ever before. Gosh! What variety of birds
it was! From tiny Siberian blue throat to huge painted storks, from owls to
vultures, from kingfishers to greater pelicans - it
was an actual carnival of birds. Even
the place where we stayed (Bagh Resort) was full of ducks, peacocks and all
kinds of birds.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCRBQ9NzLwVLAUSX4rLnEWSjOlgOoIndjdAiZu0UzlvpzyZkY0eJjicRpOnuNAbD_XB5v6sikeftTE91yqpZQjBnbQDD02e27cqBChTIJ2iyzZ9TD2GPenO4rUHfiS5jEPR1edkPCaqp4/s1600/P1060562.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1201" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCRBQ9NzLwVLAUSX4rLnEWSjOlgOoIndjdAiZu0UzlvpzyZkY0eJjicRpOnuNAbD_XB5v6sikeftTE91yqpZQjBnbQDD02e27cqBChTIJ2iyzZ9TD2GPenO4rUHfiS5jEPR1edkPCaqp4/s400/P1060562.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: blue;"> <span style="background: white; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Every spring</span></span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 10.5pt;"><b><i><span style="color: blue;">I hear the thrush singing</span></i></b></span></span></div>
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</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="background: white;">in the glowing woods</span></span></span></i></b></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="background: white;">he is only passing through.</span></span></span></i></b></div>
<i></i><br />
<div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<i><b><i><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="background: white;">His voice is deep,</span></span></span></i></b></i></div>
<i>
<span style="color: blue;"></span></i>
<br />
<div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: blue;"><b><i><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="background: white;">then he lifts it until it seems</span></span></span></i></b></span></i></div>
<i><span style="color: blue;">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"></span></span></i>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10.5pt; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: blue;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><b><i><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="background: white;">to fall from the sky.</span></span></span></i></b></span></span></i></div>
<i><span style="color: blue;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">
<span style="background: white; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt; font-weight: bold;"></span></span></span></i>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: blue;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="background: white; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt; font-weight: bold;"><b style="background-color: transparent;"><i><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">I am thrilled.</span></span></span></i></b></span></span></span></i></div>
<i><span style="color: blue;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="background: white; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt; font-weight: bold;">
</span><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10.5pt; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="background: white;">I am grateful.</span></span></span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 700;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background: white; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt; font-weight: bold;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-size: 10.5pt;">― </span></span><span class="authorortitle"><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Mary Oliver</span></span></span></i></div>
</span></span></span></i><o:p></o:p><br />
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<b><br /></b></div>
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Back home, our spotted owlets’
family continue to sunbath in the mornings, two young peacocks knock the glass
doors very often in afternoons and groups of jungle babblers, magpie robins and
brahminy starlings hop around the garden. As for noise, no one can beat the
parakeets who make it their business to make their presence felt. A pair of koels are nesting in a neem tree in
my house and I often spot grey hornbills on the same tree as well.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp7Hw_7jtL74Zpqh4h9gTgiNOUjMhQE2pjL4bslVU4p-06JzzBzPI6ebAnuWloy8jigBTszr2Zth2DdqI0Hc7yE08Vvq_I3mv-iq5uNT024cl2a9lAaXB_I3pUBUUwlciJtLO022GZSXY/s1600/P1060750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp7Hw_7jtL74Zpqh4h9gTgiNOUjMhQE2pjL4bslVU4p-06JzzBzPI6ebAnuWloy8jigBTszr2Zth2DdqI0Hc7yE08Vvq_I3mv-iq5uNT024cl2a9lAaXB_I3pUBUUwlciJtLO022GZSXY/s400/P1060750.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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By the way, the honeybees
deserted the other beehive also soon after I wrote my last post. While I see
plenty of honeybees collecting honey from cosmos and marigolds, I have no idea
where their new hive is located. I would like to have more butterflies around
and I do hope they will get lured by the flowers. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUYCouiX2icnjyGrNMA2jYqwhPYBlk_l6ZiaxTcI0UIEcjBkDkOxeYevg3AW8sTMCGdapzNka-Y4GqkP7NM1FtSHDprI_3egMuH4KrJU0sEfHc8kSm_H_Z7-_w0_q5U2xf6WytiFhMfRQ/s1600/P1060784.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUYCouiX2icnjyGrNMA2jYqwhPYBlk_l6ZiaxTcI0UIEcjBkDkOxeYevg3AW8sTMCGdapzNka-Y4GqkP7NM1FtSHDprI_3egMuH4KrJU0sEfHc8kSm_H_Z7-_w0_q5U2xf6WytiFhMfRQ/s400/P1060784.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Amidst
all this, like an anxious gardener I am dealing with the dilemma of whether I
should start planning for Zinnias, sunflowers and Mexican cosmos right now or
wait for few more days. Learning from my experience at the beginning of winter,
I think I will wait for some more time. Though it is true that spring won't last very long and even before we know, the days will start burning and the summer will arrive . I have always felt grateful that I live in a country where each season is so beautiful and the change of seasons is full of so much anticipation and excitement . It is inevitable that the seasons will change and the flowers will wither , but as for now, let me soak in the beauty
of my February flowers.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMszTQPxjsE5OyHVOOT6cB7EdSyAhnU-Af7AS6I-l7yA9k-83_AO7U972_37MC-NokntcNVTfGph2hUF9dVMp0wndkqSe4Cvgb0W4K26nfJr2cJitBCBiVzfHWRsDrKsZ6JDRAH3eWDw8/s1600/20200201_150105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1138" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMszTQPxjsE5OyHVOOT6cB7EdSyAhnU-Af7AS6I-l7yA9k-83_AO7U972_37MC-NokntcNVTfGph2hUF9dVMp0wndkqSe4Cvgb0W4K26nfJr2cJitBCBiVzfHWRsDrKsZ6JDRAH3eWDw8/s400/20200201_150105.jpg" width="283" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Larkspurs </b></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt; text-align: left;"> “We
need beauty because it makes us ache to be worthy of it.”</span></div>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="background: white;"> ― </span></span><span class="authorortitle"><b><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Mary Oliver</span></b></span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></div>
Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-89824768394078259282020-01-10T21:51:00.000+05:452020-01-10T21:51:50.953+05:45Garden Diaries: January Celebrations<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiC-6InGJgU9ZxNQTg5WaXtjRbWA-o3rW7KGU49DHp2SK0CBlJiDwG0qdCRoCSR2j1DO9LXqj5LbP09TtVJSl8yaTg5OvgUHbZ5I8YGO2LFBBkOga5eGXqlPOSTt-JtiSnW1XwbFHhQ4g/s1600/P1050986.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiC-6InGJgU9ZxNQTg5WaXtjRbWA-o3rW7KGU49DHp2SK0CBlJiDwG0qdCRoCSR2j1DO9LXqj5LbP09TtVJSl8yaTg5OvgUHbZ5I8YGO2LFBBkOga5eGXqlPOSTt-JtiSnW1XwbFHhQ4g/s320/P1050986.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i>“Which
month shows our garden at its best? Each month we exchange old beauties for new
ones. If we could have them all together, what a wealth of loveliness it would
be. Since we cannot, which month shall we choose to throw a small party?”<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>~A.A.Milne <o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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My answer to the
question above is undoubtedly January. Well, I may not be a great fan of
parties or socialising but I like this month. Somehow, in my mind, this is “my
month”. Other than the fact that the month starts with my birthday – I kind of
like it for what it represents. New beginnings, a celebration and lots of
introspection for the year gone by and of course, eating. But more on that
later. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Few days back I
came across two Japanese words/ concepts which very deeply explain my feelings
for my garden this month. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r8TJJV1ppWk/XhibJc6y1lI/AAAAAAAAuxI/0j3ezsXJrRk299jrNGxpNi5bufx48DaJgCKgBGAsYHg/s1600/20200108_090946.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r8TJJV1ppWk/XhibJc6y1lI/AAAAAAAAuxI/0j3ezsXJrRk299jrNGxpNi5bufx48DaJgCKgBGAsYHg/s320/20200108_090946.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dahlia- the big and beautiful</td></tr>
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The first was <b><i>Mono-no-Aware</i></b> (MOH-no no
ah-WA-reh). Mono-no-aware says that beauty is subjective, and it’s our
sensitivity to the world around us that makes it beautiful. In particular, the
transience of the physical world and our awareness that beauty is impermanent
makes us appreciate it more. It is considered that the epitome of <i>mono-no-aware</i>
is the sight of cherry blossom petals falling in the springtime. I often look
at my flowerbeds and think of their impermanence. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-51VU8HLpHOQ/XhidtJOraoI/AAAAAAAAuyE/7VjLDMWaFeQLSCDk4eWepu5S0gGkfd9bwCKgBGAsYHg/s1600/IMG_20200105_230707.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1564" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-51VU8HLpHOQ/XhidtJOraoI/AAAAAAAAuyE/7VjLDMWaFeQLSCDk4eWepu5S0gGkfd9bwCKgBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_20200105_230707.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>A pink rose in different stages </b></td></tr>
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That kind of make me greedier
in savouring it. Every morning when I step into my garden, I can’t help
remembering that it won’t last forever. Sooner or later – I will leave this
station, this office, this garden. It fills my heart with gratitude that I got
to enjoy and savour so much beauty here. A true mono-no-aware sentiment.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1_dQI6Dv-PQ/XhiertqZPII/AAAAAAAAuyk/B3xrDjzFVSIxCyogSChOznM4eobULrzpwCKgBGAsYHg/s1600/IMG_20200110_211332.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1564" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1_dQI6Dv-PQ/XhiertqZPII/AAAAAAAAuyk/B3xrDjzFVSIxCyogSChOznM4eobULrzpwCKgBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_20200110_211332.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Tiny pansies</b></td></tr>
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The second
concept is <b><i>Oubaitori</i></b> (oh-buy-toe-ree) – an idiom made from the
characters for the four trees that flower in the springtime, cherry, plum,
peach, and apricot, this means that people shouldn’t live their lives comparing
themselves to others, but instead value their own unique traits- like the
unique traits of the four spring trees. It is also so true for the gardens. While
all gardeners compare and take pride in their gardens, it is actually quite
meaningless. No two gardens are same – no two plants are same. Each has its own
beauty. Just to cite an example, in colder countries I have seen very colourful
and sturdy stock flowers. They are tall healthy sticks in unbelievable colours.
In my own garden, my stocks are never so tall. It may have to do with climate
or soil or even seeds……in comparison they may look petite, but I love them.
They look so fresh and so welcoming.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>My not-so-tall Stocks</b></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: #fffbf0; text-align: left;">"In my garden there is
a large place for sentiment. My garden of flowers is also my garden of
thoughts and dreams. The thoughts grow as freely as the flowers, and the
dreams are as beautiful." </span></div>
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<span style="background: #FFFBF0;"> - Abram L. Urban</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Garden provides
one an ideal setting for introspection, for reflection and for getting
nostalgic. How can I not feel nostalgic in January when the month starts with
my birthday and ends with the day I lost my father 20 years back. Two decades
is a long time and yet every time I look at my Cineraria plants I think of Papa,
every day when I check on my sweet pea climbers, I remember him doing that
years back. In those days we did not have so many hybrid seeds available as we
have now. Also many foreign flowers have now made their way in Indian gardens.
I am sure Papa would have been delighted to have primroses, buttercups or purple
salvias in his garden. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuRAXDh7yi0qJolODLzjdysg4NSsnQFoP5M8uo5rT5jQS5Hwm5aUOR-Ok-WfIWdmB17yXnjoWaglyHFN2DlkeD_cep5PF34OutRxoXvj-ZANlnLOrm2dZ8_1jd9E7im162F5lkYe5QXFY/s1600/20200107_172956.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuRAXDh7yi0qJolODLzjdysg4NSsnQFoP5M8uo5rT5jQS5Hwm5aUOR-Ok-WfIWdmB17yXnjoWaglyHFN2DlkeD_cep5PF34OutRxoXvj-ZANlnLOrm2dZ8_1jd9E7im162F5lkYe5QXFY/s320/20200107_172956.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Ranuculus- Buttercups</b></td></tr>
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My garden in
January is full of flowers- the newest entrants are stocks, buttercups, primroses,
calendulas and lot more pink cosmos. Of course we are still waiting for the ice
flowers, paper flowers and Larkspurs. The fun part is, you always enjoy the flowers which are difficult to grow and make you wait , much more than the easy ones. Even better are flowers that surprise you completely as you never knew they were coming. This month , suddenly one of my Cactus bloomed. I only found out later that it is called Christmas Cactus and it normally blooms around Christmas. Well, it bloomed in January and it was profuse flowering . It has beautiful pink flowers which make my heart dance every morning .</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HgIkOpRNpH4/XhifyLaTVVI/AAAAAAAAuy0/RO_mD8rvq5gp5dUAy7i2RuNfk-KgVoGIACKgBGAsYHg/s1600/20200109_091650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HgIkOpRNpH4/XhifyLaTVVI/AAAAAAAAuy0/RO_mD8rvq5gp5dUAy7i2RuNfk-KgVoGIACKgBGAsYHg/s320/20200109_091650.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Christmas Cactus on Bloom </b></td></tr>
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But then, a garden is not made just with
flowers or grass. The other essential ingredients include sunshine, trees,
birds, bugs and bees. Yes, bees are
important for any eco-system. For last year and half there was a huge beehive
on a big tree, just opposite my gate and naturally many honeybees came to the
garden. Late in December one day all of a sudden, I found that the bees have
left the hive <i>en-masse<b>. </b></i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>An abandoned Beehive</b></td></tr>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br />The abandoned hive was there and two brave
squirrels were licking the remaining honey out of it. It made me curious. On
reading more about it I learnt that it is called absconding and it is a
well-known behaviour pattern of bees. Absconding is when the bees completely
abandon their hive. All or almost all of the bees leave the hive along with the
queen. They may leave behind young bees, who cannot fly, unhatched brood and
pollen. . </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ggWOvvAZQo6_izZz0mxfMU7pG8o0_wc4gKdbAM9ePwZA0PqOFruDHRDv7rK-yJkAYxDby3_-_sHU_eFcJwuP6s2o97mKv_W2jj9sNJBNn-6Hh_J_DfEdrSoHlIpDI8mKAsMGgLEoPJ8/s1600/P1050969.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ggWOvvAZQo6_izZz0mxfMU7pG8o0_wc4gKdbAM9ePwZA0PqOFruDHRDv7rK-yJkAYxDby3_-_sHU_eFcJwuP6s2o97mKv_W2jj9sNJBNn-6Hh_J_DfEdrSoHlIpDI8mKAsMGgLEoPJ8/s320/P1050969.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">I am not sure what was the reason here but luckily for my little eco-system,
there is another beehive on the mango tree which is full of activity and is
bursting with bees. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WhIZbGIRRng/XhicBti7t4I/AAAAAAAAuxY/EArlcOLnppATg7EyQ7gLDeg4-vbI-nQCACKgBGAsYHg/s1600/20200105_101851.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WhIZbGIRRng/XhicBti7t4I/AAAAAAAAuxY/EArlcOLnppATg7EyQ7gLDeg4-vbI-nQCACKgBGAsYHg/s400/20200105_101851.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Much like flowers,
even the kitchen garden is looking superb these days. The joy of plucking a
cabbage from your garden and cooking it , has a pleasure of its own. Well, we
also have Cauliflowers, Green garlic, Radishes, spinach, tomatoes and of
course, gooseberries. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Cosmos</b></td></tr>
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The last year in
garden was an amazing learning. This year too seems so full of possibilities.
Hope to grow many more new flowering plants and learn new tricks of gardening
in coming months. </div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-10550923435528925272019-12-21T17:29:00.000+05:452020-06-05T10:49:26.670+05:45Garden Diaries: December (Winter in its glory)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hsV1OO_Kc1k/Xf4FHH-_BxI/AAAAAAAAupU/v_hScW0AlWgFJBPjo9ONJOkDGHOMEwxBQCKgBGAsYHg/s1600/1050928.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hsV1OO_Kc1k/Xf4FHH-_BxI/AAAAAAAAupU/v_hScW0AlWgFJBPjo9ONJOkDGHOMEwxBQCKgBGAsYHg/s320/1050928.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: #e06666;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #666666;">I catch the
sweetness of thy latest sigh...<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #666666;">Here in the dim
light of a grey December<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #666666;">We part in
smiles, and yet we met in tears;<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #666666;">Watching thy
chilly dawn, I well remember...<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #666666;">Farewell, old
year; we walk no more together;</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>~Sarah Doudney
(1841–1926), "A Parting"</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 150%;">I was not ready for December, it kind of came too
soon this year. November went flying – and just like that it was December.
Well, I was not ready but finally my garden was ready to embrace the glory of
winter. Misty mornings which makes you believe in life and all good things,
followed by golden afternoons, which envelop plants and the creatures of the
garden to turn them beautiful like never before. Yes, the short and sweet days
of winter are here. Sunshine makes you feel loved and winter flowers make the
landscape pretty. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fImBmpASaDA/XfJo2ZNZeXI/AAAAAAAAunA/23U0w1cbW9UGuyswiTtXZaVgaYqBFDG6ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/P1050669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><b><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fImBmpASaDA/XfJo2ZNZeXI/AAAAAAAAunA/23U0w1cbW9UGuyswiTtXZaVgaYqBFDG6ACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/P1050669.JPG" width="400" /></b></a></div>
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<b>Kachnar flowers</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;">We are essentially a summer country and we do not glorify winter
all that much in India. But the fact is, Indian winter is also beautiful in its
own ways- it is the time for many celebrations, travels, culinary delights of
the season and of course the gardens showcase a riot of colours. When it comes
to gardens in winter, it is easy to recall the seasonal winter flowers and
winter vegetables. Surprisingly, the typical image of winter, in my mind is
also made up of flowering trees. I would specifically mention three -
edible Kachnar blooming everywhere in the city and neighbourhood, silk
floss tree- which made our Delhi campus pretty in winter months and a very useful drumstick
tree. They are all flowering at present with purple-white, hot pink and white
flowers respectively. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;">But they were not what kept me occupied this month. It was tending
to my flowerbeds of winter annuals that kept me busy. I am now happy to
see the result of all that endless planning and planting. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;"> The crowning glory is of course chrysanthemums. It is now blooming
all over in many colours, shapes and sizes. The Chrysanthemum, or <i>Kiku</i> in
Japanese, is a symbol that represents longevity and rejuvenation. It is said
that, when this flower was first introduced to Japan during the Nara period
(710 – 793 AC), the Japanese Royal Family was fascinated with the
Chrysanthemum. It started appearing in their crafts, dress designs and seals
soon thereafter. Eventually, the Chrysanthemum become the
imperial family emblem and continues to be so. To this day in Japan there are
two imperial garden parties given each year: that celebrating the cherry
blossom and the formal rite of the chrysanthemum. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YCNOkhH1AP0/XfJl0d2DXaI/AAAAAAAAulk/SEZ6TyHk0icvmdROTimm7AJIxgGrobM8wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/P1050843.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YCNOkhH1AP0/XfJl0d2DXaI/AAAAAAAAulk/SEZ6TyHk0icvmdROTimm7AJIxgGrobM8wCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/P1050843.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;">Interestingly, in the second chapter of
The Tale of Genji, the 11</span><sup>th</sup> Century
Japanese classic, a remarkable reference is made to the revered chrysanthemum.
At one place it says: <i><span style="color: #833c0b; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">"The
chrysanthemums had turned very nicely, and the autumn leaves flitting by on the
wind were really very pretty."</span></i><span style="color: #833c0b; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;"> </span><span style="line-height: 150%;">The footnote explains that “Frost withered chrysanthemums
were prized." How odd? One can perhaps understand another reference to chrysanthemum
buds with beauty of a young woman, but withered chrysanthemums? And then
recently, while admiring my partially withered flowerbed of Magenta Mums, it
came to me that maturity has its own beauty- in people and in flowers. Once the
joy and anxiety of growth has faded, it leads to contemplative deliberation,
retirement and peace - all the qualities that contribute to patient and
graceful endurance. My beautiful Mums, some gracefully past their prime and
others just a bud, are a delight to my heart. No wonder in many eastern
cultures, these flowers have inspired poetry, art and philosophy<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 150%;">.</span> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Delicate Begonias</b></td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;">Other than the Mums, I have delicate
begonias, colourful Dianthus, Asters, Impatiens and lovely Geraniums. Of course
the Pansies are also on bloom but I know they will get better next month.
Begonias have a succulent stem, designed for storing water which is used during
the dry periods of the year. I like its small flower as well as ornamental
foliage. But honestly, last year I did not have much success growing them. I am
told one has to be very particular about the amount of sunshine they get and
save them from morning frost. Hoping for better luck this year.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;">This year is
a year for many firsts in the garden. This is the first time I am growing
Geraniums and Impatiens. This is also the first year when I am trying hand at
many exotic vegetables like Broccoli, Lettuce, Peppers etc. Of course I have
earlier grown Rocket leaves and cherry tomatoes, quite successfully and I hope
to repeat the performance this year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Pretty Geraniums</b></td></tr>
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<o:p> </o:p>Coming back
to flowers, it is funny how marigold, while widely popular in Indian gardens is
also generally neglected. We kind of take it for granted. Perhaps because it is
found in flower shops all year through and is grown quite easily. I like this
flower. While my favourite is red Jafri (French marigold), I am very fond of
the usual yellow –orange African marigold. Unfortunately, the squirrels share
my love for marigold and saving this edible flower from them is always a
challenge.<br />
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Talking of squirrels, this is the
time of the year when many migratory birds come to this part of the world.
There are many lakes and forests around which host thousands of these birds. I
am planning to see some of them in the days to come. My garden of course is
full of tweets from the branches. Afternoons are specially very noisy.</div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iwUMv_ug0yM/XfJnCJJx1OI/AAAAAAAAumY/EGzO3ch_W1ErmFnBrL_5HSlq0X3RDRApgCKgBGAsYHg/s1600/IMG_20191212_212616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1564" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iwUMv_ug0yM/XfJnCJJx1OI/AAAAAAAAumY/EGzO3ch_W1ErmFnBrL_5HSlq0X3RDRApgCKgBGAsYHg/s400/IMG_20191212_212616.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Just a few days back I spotted a pair of white wagtails strolling in the lawn. They are pretty birds and perhaps visit this city in winters every year. The usual birds viz. spotted owlets, red Wattled Lapwing, Paraakeets and black Drongos are of course there most of the days. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>White Wagtail - a migratory guest </b></td></tr>
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Another flower, we often miss out
on is omnipresent bougainvillea. The roadsides are full of them and the hedges
around my house are now bursting with colours. It is true that the flower has
no fragrance, it also not a very delicate plant but just the abundance of
flowers makes it worth a while. I have now four colours of bougainvillea. </div>
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Earlier this month, I had a
problem of fungus in some flowering plants but a timely spray of fungicide was
able to take care of that. My much awaited pink cosmoses are finally ready to bloom. While they will get even better in January, they are a tonic for sore eyes,
especially in the morning sun.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Hope the new year will bring more
beauty, more sunshine<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and more wisdom in
my garden.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-88065151710125236012019-11-21T16:14:00.000+05:452019-11-21T16:14:04.923+05:45In the Land of Apsaras<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_ElUde3i5Cg/XdUUIM5Ke8I/AAAAAAAAuZM/b4QMMP674hUPJPJMFD1OrjJ2ZBNbtoxmwCKgBGAsYHg/s1600/P1030866.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_ElUde3i5Cg/XdUUIM5Ke8I/AAAAAAAAuZM/b4QMMP674hUPJPJMFD1OrjJ2ZBNbtoxmwCKgBGAsYHg/s320/P1030866.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Cambodia for me is a country of light and
darkness- both metaphorically and literally. Years back when I first read about
the temples of Angkor in history books, I assumed that the history of these
sites is fully known and documented. Well, it is not. There are gaps in our
understanding of why these marvelous places were built and abandoned. In my
imagination, the scale of these temple was also far smaller than I actually
found them. World’s largest religious sites of Angkorwat temples is spectacular
in its scale, design and motifs. It was enlightenment at its peak- before
nature engulfed it in its roots- literally. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Earlier this month, standing in the Phnom Penh
Genocide museum, I felt a chill down my spine. The audio guide in my ears was
narrating one horror after the other inflicted by Khmer Rouge, and my mind was
struggling to accept that the people whose ancestors in 12<sup>th</sup> century
achieved such unconceivable engineering feat at Angkorwat , can go so foolish
in their attempt to turn the clock back, to carry out such inhuman atrocities
on their fellow men and women. And then for two decades there was darkness. And
now again, the country is raising a toast to its heritage as well as its future.
A zigzag of light and darkness- very much like the Indian myths. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LTwiia4cgas/XdUUR5hPfBI/AAAAAAAAuZU/ORe1E84sMOMokGm7-iF6orwnYz_VXYbggCKgBGAsYHg/s1600/P1040021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LTwiia4cgas/XdUUR5hPfBI/AAAAAAAAuZU/ORe1E84sMOMokGm7-iF6orwnYz_VXYbggCKgBGAsYHg/s400/P1040021.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It is always interesting to find your childhood
motifs and characters in far off lands. I was mesmerized by Bali few years back
to see the sameness of culture. Now in Siem Reap, it was again the statues of
Ganesh, Varun, Vishnu and Buddha that reminded me of India’s centuries old
international relations. But historically, the influence came to these part not
directly from India, but via Sri Lanka. But there is so many Indian tales
around Angkorwat that one cannot mistake the cultural continuation. Now that
the west-propagated theory of “discovery” of these temples by a lone European
in the dense jungles, has been junked, one would like to believe that these
monuments continued to be revered by local Khmer people always. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It is believed that the spatial dimensions of
Angkor Wat Temple parallel the lengths of the four ages (Yuga) of Hindu
thought. Thus the visitor to Angkor Wat who walks the causeway to the main
entrance, is metaphorically travelling back to the first age of the creation of
the universe. The central tower is Mount Meru, with its surrounding smaller
peaks, bounded in turn by continents (the lower courtyards) and the oceans (the
moat- Big Barray). The seven-headed naga (mythical serpent) becomes a symbolic
rainbow bridge for humankind to reach the abode of the gods. To top it on 4
sides of the city there are bridges adorned with the statues of Devas (Gods)
and Asuras (Demons) in the famous “Amrita Manthan” – Churning of sea to get the
pot of nectar. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But what many people never realize till they
reach Angkor is that Angkor Wat is just one of the many temples in the Angkor.
Each temple is unique in its own way. I still dream of the unbelievable roots strangling
the ruins of Ta Prohm and the 216 smiling, serene faces were carved onto gigantic
towers at Bayon Buddhist temple. I fell in love with the smaller but uniquely
built temple of Neak Pean , the entwined serpent . The entry to this temple was
through A fascinating fact about all these temples is that unlike in India,
existence of Buddhist statues with statues of Vishnu marks no contradiction or
inconsistency in their beliefs. After all, Buddha was among the ten avataras of
Vishnu. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8qVrzvNrFSU/XdUVGTKq3rI/AAAAAAAAuZk/ScS6u4DyFfQAEocy3DR7TTPcTfl0O-uvgCKgBGAsYHg/s1600/P1030709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8qVrzvNrFSU/XdUVGTKq3rI/AAAAAAAAuZk/ScS6u4DyFfQAEocy3DR7TTPcTfl0O-uvgCKgBGAsYHg/s400/P1030709.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Yes, all this was very impressive and spectacular.
But even beyond temples, Siem Reap was a delightful place. Though we never
managed to see the famed sunrise, the beautiful waterlilies and lotus in every
pond on both sides of the road was a sight to behold. Equally charming was the
Apsara (nymph) motif which was present everywhere. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The roots of strangler fig tree
were so dramatic and were adding to the romance of the place. Not to miss the
unique TukTuk as our mode of transport was superb. Luckily for us, mostly
during our stay it was a light drizzle or overcast. While it may have affected
the dramatic pictures adversely, it was great help to me in climbing those innumerable
stairs of temples and other complexes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-55184572843958879402019-11-20T12:40:00.002+05:452019-11-20T16:46:27.542+05:45Garden Diaries: November (Winter is here!)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "bahnschrift light" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: red;">“Welcome sweet November, the
season of senses and my favorite month of all.”</span></span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "bahnschrift light" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: red;"> ― Gregory F. Lenz</span><o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
It seems bit
late to welcome November. Yes, the month went by in a jiffy. It was a happy
month, as I was traveling to the lands full of waterlilies and coconuts. I saw
some beautiful countries and some stunning scenery. But that will be subject of
a different post, hopefully soon. By the time I was back to my garden it was
already mid-November and finally the arrival of winter was very apparent. If in
nothing else the hundreds of Chrysanthemums made it sure that we know about the
arrival of flower-season.</div>
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<o:p></o:p><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-54rNdGaO-gI/XdThThQE86I/AAAAAAAAuYI/NIOPQZZMWyUpSEey1r75i3nefltfq1_dwCKgBGAsYHg/s1600/20191116_104943.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-54rNdGaO-gI/XdThThQE86I/AAAAAAAAuYI/NIOPQZZMWyUpSEey1r75i3nefltfq1_dwCKgBGAsYHg/s320/20191116_104943.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Magenta Mums</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A newbie
gardener friend asked me the other day, how do I pick colour of flowers while
planting seedlings. I had told him earlier that I grow most of my seedlings
from seeds saved from last year. I had no response to his question. I do not do
colour wise sorting of seeds. Very honestly, I just look at the seedlings and
say – “Now come on, surprise me!”. More often
than not, they do. So this time the Mums planted from the cuttings of last year
in one long flowerbed turn out to be of same colour…. surprise! The flowerbed
made up of bubble-gum striped Petunias (pink and white), Asters (purple, white
and pinks) and now, Mums of predominantly magenta looks
very different from what I imagined while planting these. To add some more
colour, I have now put a line of Calendulas and Dahlias in it. I hope they will
even out this predominance of pinks.</div>
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<o:p></o:p><br />
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Salvia on the contrary,
surprised me in a different way. Other than the usual classic red, this time I
am lucky to have at least 6 more colours of purple, yellow and white in my
garden. There is one orange colour flower with white inside. It made my heart
jump with joy. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Last year I spent some anxious days planning
what to plant in two flowerbeds that are below the big mango tree and thus in
shade mostly. I could only think of Cineraria. While it did flower there
finally, I had to wait till almost February to see some flowers. This year, I
am experimenting with Impatiens for the first time. I had planted them just
before I left for my vacation and now- in almost a month, they are already
showing a flower here and two there. I
have seen Impatiens in other countries many times but for my garden this is a
first. So far it shows promise. It is so difficult to find shade loving plants
that have flowers – so, I patently wait for my Impatiens to grow. <o:p></o:p><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a07pIOv8jOg/XdThW8JKFvI/AAAAAAAAuYM/tv-Lo0EbgTgUWAC-bgu9fAFgDFgBuuqGwCKgBGAsYHg/s1600/20191120064349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a07pIOv8jOg/XdThW8JKFvI/AAAAAAAAuYM/tv-Lo0EbgTgUWAC-bgu9fAFgDFgBuuqGwCKgBGAsYHg/s320/20191120064349.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Impatiens so far</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Other than these,
after months of fighting with earthworms, the lawn is now coming to normal. The
other winter annuals- Pansies, geraniums, Cineraria, Antirrhinum (dog-flower), Nasturtiums
and Marigolds are coming up nicely. After two unsuccessful attempts even pink
cosmos plants are finally growing well behind a flower bed of Mums. In the seed
trays – I still have ice plant, Helichrysum (Everlasting flower) and larkspurs.
I want to grow a lovely bed of purple larkspurs for a friend who loves them.
Though she is not in the same city, I am sure she will be delighted to see
images of my garden with larkspur, if I am successful in growing them.</div>
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<o:p></o:p><br />
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The real delight
of coming back home after two weeks was in the vegetable garden. Our radishes
are ready to be consumed- white as milk and juicy to the core . Spinach,
fenugreek leaves (Methi) and tomatoes are also almost there. Cabbages and
carrots are growing well and though I don’t eat them Brinjals are available in
plenty. My two Amla trees are full of Amla (gooseberry) and it makes the
yummiest of chutney. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In the early days of November, soon after Diwali, Delhi and region
around it faced terrible bout of air pollution and smog. It had reached
hazardous level in Delhi NCR but had some effect even in Jaipur. Now that we
are back of the bright sunny days and almost blue sky, we should be thankful.
Every morning, when I read the news of thousands of birds dying in Sambhar Lake,
it pains me. We do not realize the value of clear water, blue sky, birds and flowers,
till we don’t have them anymore. I think a gardener can truly appreciate the
value of these things and be grateful for them. I feel grateful for each plant
that is blooming in the garden, each dose of fertilizer that is nourishing them
and each bird and squirrel that comes to share my garden.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
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Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-23768439302421351772019-10-19T18:47:00.000+05:452019-11-20T12:46:53.838+05:45Garden Diaries: October (Desperate for Winter)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<h3 style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><div style="text-align: center;">
― <span class="authorOrTitle" style="color: #333333; font-family: "lato" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">L. M. Montgomery, </span><span id="quote_book_link_9645629"><a class="authorOrTitle" href="https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/3464264" style="color: #333333; font-family: Lato, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;">Anne of Green Gables</a></span></div>
</span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; text-align: justify;">I truly
appreciate the sentiment of the quote above. During my travel abroad, I have
seen the glory of autumn when every leaf turn yellow, red or orange. It is just
a riot of colours and such a lovely
transition from summer to winter. In US , the celebration of Halloween also
comes during the month and Pumpkins of all sizes are decorated.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; text-align: justify;">Octobers in India are not like that. They are,
however, lovely in their own ways. In India also this is usually the month of
festivities of Navrati , Dussehra and then Deepawali. For me October is a month
of sweet-winter sunshine, lovely mornings and planting of winter annuals. As long
as I remember, we have been planting our seedlings in October for winter
flowers.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8ANLKtU7Ytw/XasHkkUerwI/AAAAAAAAt8U/xDZ-cnasGP0ogBKDoPPXK4ZcjYl5MHT1QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/P1030036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8ANLKtU7Ytw/XasHkkUerwI/AAAAAAAAt8U/xDZ-cnasGP0ogBKDoPPXK4ZcjYl5MHT1QCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/P1030036.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">But then,
there is climate change. It is so real and obvious now that one third of the
October is already gone and the monsoon is still around. The millipedes are
still digging up my lawns and the clouds dutifully turn up every now and then. The
impatient me , is desperate for the change of weather but the day temperature
refuses to drop. In the sunny days, it is quite hot and the cloudy days are
even worse. The mornings, though cooler than before, have not reached the level
of typical October mornings. The rains
have overstayed their welcome and continue to flood my flowerbeds.</span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rNFO95--18U/XasIRDyswOI/AAAAAAAAt8o/aDdHiG2yStUCfdS5jllP0nHKNOYZBe-YACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/P1030030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rNFO95--18U/XasIRDyswOI/AAAAAAAAt8o/aDdHiG2yStUCfdS5jllP0nHKNOYZBe-YACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/P1030030.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; text-align: justify;">Yet,
unable to stop myself, I have planted some asters, petunias and salvias so far
and I am waiting for rains to go completely before I venture further with
marigolds and calendulas, Pansies, Nasturtiums and daisies. I have also put
seeds for some cosmos and cineraria and hope that the weather Gods will oblige
a dip in temperature to make germination possible.</span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZW97Yb-KH4/XasD5JijdZI/AAAAAAAAt6o/fhByfrRf3IYWcZ8uISkn3E_i3sGwXJ6JgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/P1030022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YZW97Yb-KH4/XasD5JijdZI/AAAAAAAAt6o/fhByfrRf3IYWcZ8uISkn3E_i3sGwXJ6JgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/P1030022.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Luckily,
despite the continued heat and rains, Mums are doing fine and finally Balsam is
flowering.<b> </b> Last weekend I also attempted planting some
Geraniums in pots and I hope they survive the weather. Same day, I also planted
my Petunia stars. It was a nice sunny day and then by the noon, the clouds
started gathering. It rained cats and dogs for about an hour. Petunias (much
like me) do not like their feet wet. But thanks to the rains, the bed was
flooded. Luckily since then, it has not rained and plants have managed to
survive the onslaught.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g2KNyoYebQM/XasEKWD-4LI/AAAAAAAAt64/Lx63sL2F_pUQJ_TOp1c0upUGENGqO4d5ACKgBGAsYHg/s1600/1020977.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g2KNyoYebQM/XasEKWD-4LI/AAAAAAAAt64/Lx63sL2F_pUQJ_TOp1c0upUGENGqO4d5ACKgBGAsYHg/s320/1020977.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">On one
such humid Sunday, I found a golden oriole on a tree nearby. I had never seen
this pretty yellow bird and was mesmerised by its appearance and its song. The Green Bee eaters are always roaming
around and the kingfisher is often seen in the afternoons on his usual tree. On
one Sunday, in an hour, I found Coppersmith barbets, Plum faced parakeets, Grey
Hornbill and even a Blue Roller. But to
make my heart glad, about a few days back my favorite family of spotted owlet
flew back. The three of them are now often seen enjoying the sun on the neem
tree. The other delightful news is about the peahen, who has chosen the roof of
our guard room to lay her eggs. She is usually sitting there whole day and only
steps down early morning to get some food. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pE24BxXc8ZA/XasETXMLa4I/AAAAAAAAt7A/Y1m5Y3jW_xo5WFevcl9oJB_IsCWmqhYtwCKgBGAsYHg/s1600/IMG_20191005_161817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1564" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pE24BxXc8ZA/XasETXMLa4I/AAAAAAAAt7A/Y1m5Y3jW_xo5WFevcl9oJB_IsCWmqhYtwCKgBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_20191005_161817.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">For the waterlilies,
our little experiment of burying 8 water tanks in the ground around fountain
seems to have worked.<b> </b> So
far, it is only an occasional waterlity or two , but I do hope that in winter
months, there will be much more beauty in my little ponds. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In
absence of seasonal flowers, plants like Anthurium (Flamingo flower), Mussaenda
and some kalanchoes are my saviours. They break the monotony of green and make
the garden look happy.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a4s8gFxgVF4/XasGqh3OVuI/AAAAAAAAt74/X3gXUwByuNUwXCOW_dznAPsHKIMyxtkyACKgBGAsYHg/s1600/P1030023-COLLAGE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a4s8gFxgVF4/XasGqh3OVuI/AAAAAAAAt74/X3gXUwByuNUwXCOW_dznAPsHKIMyxtkyACKgBGAsYHg/s400/P1030023-COLLAGE.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">October also turn out to be
a busy month for sowing vegetables and filling up patches of hedge . Now that I
will be travelling half of next month, I want to complete the work in garden a
lot more impatiently. </span></div>
</div>
Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-39865876650805879282019-09-07T19:48:00.001+05:452019-11-20T12:49:53.461+05:45Garden Diaries : September (Come September)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9wSedHnydJY/XW9naB0U4kI/AAAAAAAAtoI/iCTDPZn_DXA7ixCVac59JyhX_067GS6HgCKgBGAs/s1600/1020754.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9wSedHnydJY/XW9naB0U4kI/AAAAAAAAtoI/iCTDPZn_DXA7ixCVac59JyhX_067GS6HgCKgBGAs/s400/1020754.jpg" width="400" /></a></b></div>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "bahnschrift semibold" , "sans-serif";">“For all I can really
do is<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "bahnschrift semibold" , "sans-serif";">stand here<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "bahnschrift semibold" , "sans-serif";">in September’s rain<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "bahnschrift semibold" , "sans-serif";">savoring…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "bahnschrift semibold" , "sans-serif";">soaking it all in<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "bahnschrift semibold" , "sans-serif";">slipping..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "bahnschrift semibold" , "sans-serif";">and simply<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "bahnschrift semibold" , "sans-serif";">holding on to poetry<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "bahnschrift semibold" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">for
dear life.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="background: white; color: #181818;"> </span>― Sanober Khan, Turquoise Silence</div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "lucida sans unicode" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;">September generally brings respite from the wreckage of rains and the
news of upcoming winters. But not this time. Intermittent rains continue to
bless the garden and usually the weather is warm and humid. Generally, this
weather is good for sowing and thus I took my chance with some winter annuals.
But then Rains lashed out on the seeds and ruined them. Mistake . Big mistake. Or
should I say my impatience which led to this. But I think when you are a gardener
you do at times make this mistakes and then you learn from them. So as of now,
except from Mums, no other winter annuals yet planted. With some effort lawn
grass has improved but much remains to be done.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "lucida sans unicode" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWo-nzK8vsyx9UjFjrkNP-XQphB4eR3r5YWMYCgJRMFhvJMg2zAyDenFt7LZzE_Ad3XUmovI0g3Ror8SkVKnp-_HI4AtfAnkAOmlfZoFc0Y_A37Q-hJCH3ii9fxcMD_2vdseRxDRMOxaQ/s1600/IMG_20190904_125858.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1564" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWo-nzK8vsyx9UjFjrkNP-XQphB4eR3r5YWMYCgJRMFhvJMg2zAyDenFt7LZzE_Ad3XUmovI0g3Ror8SkVKnp-_HI4AtfAnkAOmlfZoFc0Y_A37Q-hJCH3ii9fxcMD_2vdseRxDRMOxaQ/s400/IMG_20190904_125858.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colours of Hibiscus</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "lucida sans unicode" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "lucida sans unicode" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">There is very little
colour in the garden except from Hibiscus – my showgirls of this dull season. I
have five colours of Hibiscus and all are on bloom right now. They are found
everywhere in Asia and are commonly used for various purposes. My mother in law
use red hibiscus for Puja and I have tasted Hibiscus tea, which is supposed to
be very good to cure/ control various ailments. Portulaca bravely continue to
add flowers but frankly it does not charm anyone except our resident red wattle
Lapwing.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NTOLpWfCl2I/XW9oM-DNldI/AAAAAAAAtog/PJPswJDzGNQd724g_TQsM-0GTJIOT9hbwCKgBGAs/s1600/20190825_144922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="999" data-original-width="1600" height="248" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NTOLpWfCl2I/XW9oM-DNldI/AAAAAAAAtog/PJPswJDzGNQd724g_TQsM-0GTJIOT9hbwCKgBGAs/s400/20190825_144922.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Portulaca bed and our resident bird </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "lucida sans unicode" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But then, a garden is much more than just flowers. Even though flowers
remain my </span>favorite<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> element in the garden, today I will discuss about other
plants. Last year I planted some herbs in my garden and was moderately successful
in growing Basil, Thyme, Rosemary, Lemongrass and Carom. At the moment Basil, Lemongrass
and Carom are growing like anything and the other two are not doing too well.
Though till last month even they were doing fine. I keep on searching new use
of these herbs in my kitchen. Mint (pudina) ,tulsi ( holy basil), curry leaves and
coriander are anyway staples in any Indian kitchen garden, for our recipes can’t
do without them. We are lucky to have Giloy creeper and some Aloe vera plants
as well. In winters, I am determined this time to experiment with more herbs. The
thing with herbs is that they are useful and it makes growing them even more
delight. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w2pxXCBcYOA/XW_h-0eE2HI/AAAAAAAAtp4/qRECrv4mu2s6j8ehRYsHWZwT4Tl0_gkoQCLcBGAs/s1600/final_5d6fe10c5275c30014ee6e82_922603.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1129" data-original-width="1240" height="363" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w2pxXCBcYOA/XW_h-0eE2HI/AAAAAAAAtp4/qRECrv4mu2s6j8ehRYsHWZwT4Tl0_gkoQCLcBGAs/s400/final_5d6fe10c5275c30014ee6e82_922603.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Herbs - Carom, Basil , Rosemary and Lemongrass</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "lucida sans unicode" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Other than herbs, there are always some crotons which add to the delight
of the garden. Recently a friend and me spent half a weekend discussing how to landscape
evergreen crotons and coleuses in shades to add some colours. We have carried
some of these plants with us from our previous city. One can count on these and
plants like African Grass, Jade, Asparagus densiflorus,<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "lucida sans unicode" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">snake plant, money
plant etc. to remain green and nice, whatever be the weather. That is why these
are my choices even for indoor small planters, which I keep in my house as well
as in my office room.</span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oHThZkikfJk/XW9pV5Yo3WI/AAAAAAAAtpE/IfJDjXaV6tMMFc6JLSjIw4SLUZsuAIYRACKgBGAs/s1600/20190901_101809.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="1600" height="196" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oHThZkikfJk/XW9pV5Yo3WI/AAAAAAAAtpE/IfJDjXaV6tMMFc6JLSjIw4SLUZsuAIYRACKgBGAs/s400/20190901_101809.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "lucida sans unicode" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Though this month is not the best for garden, in terms of flowers, we
already have dragonflies and butterflies doing rounds on remaining cosmoses and
other plants. Snails and worms, which end up being dinner for the family of
enterprising Hoopoe and Peacock also are in plenty. This year I learnt much about
behaviour of the birds with change in weather. It is a pleasure to look for
birds after rain has stopped. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3kX1Pvh3JyQ/XW9pbdiUW7I/AAAAAAAAtpI/_F9_U2kVfc4KbusOyueD7nOgnIxRYvK9QCKgBGAs/s1600/1020729.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1201" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3kX1Pvh3JyQ/XW9pbdiUW7I/AAAAAAAAtpI/_F9_U2kVfc4KbusOyueD7nOgnIxRYvK9QCKgBGAs/s400/1020729.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "lucida sans unicode" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I have four scented creepers in my house and at the moment all are on
bloom. While Bela, Juhi and Chameli are all white scents , Rangoon creeper
(madhumalti) adds colour as well as faint fragrance in the evenings.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "lucida sans unicode" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I think the rains will finally stop by the end of the month and then the
fall cleaning will commence in October. There is so much to look forward to in
the days to come. </span></div>
</div>
Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-81898126776127262792019-08-14T10:22:00.002+05:452019-08-14T10:22:50.400+05:45Garden Diaries: August (The Magical Monsoon)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lq5DbKC1O5o/XUlrjrfjCpI/AAAAAAAAtXg/LEbYFtIIzJkrY0lpsGbtdojBEnqui94OACLcBGAs/s1600/67305167_10157681426179905_6153038597143396352_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lq5DbKC1O5o/XUlrjrfjCpI/AAAAAAAAtXg/LEbYFtIIzJkrY0lpsGbtdojBEnqui94OACLcBGAs/s400/67305167_10157681426179905_6153038597143396352_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "franklin gothic book" , sans-serif;"><b>“And at
last it comes. You hear a patter…you see a leaf here and there bob and blink
about you; you feel a spot on your face, on your hand. And then the gracious
rain comes, gathering its forces—steady, close, abundant. Lean out of window,
and watch, and listen. How delicious!...........the verandah beneath losing its
scattered spots in a sheet of luminous wet; and, never pausing, the close,
heavy, soft-rushing noise…” </b><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">~ John Richard Vernon, “The
Beauty of Rain,” 1863<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Finally,
the Rain-Gods were happy. The city was blessed with beautiful rains, turning my
garden into a riot of green shades. The flowers are damaged with incessant rain
and wind and the weeds are everywhere. I wanted to work on my lawn grass before
the rain starts but as many good things in life, it was delayed and well, now I
will rush. There are some uneven patches which I would like to mend and the
gaps in hedges which can be easily filled during rainy season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With more rains came the millipedes and the
problem of waterlogging in plant-beds. There was so much work in the garden to
just clean and de-weed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bfpw2v-aBTo/XUlrLTaUlFI/AAAAAAAAtXU/5QkE9T0HwM8JJoS05cE4UCiSY-D4tIqzACLcBGAs/s1600/67113264_10157681426319905_427165167948660736_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bfpw2v-aBTo/XUlrLTaUlFI/AAAAAAAAtXU/5QkE9T0HwM8JJoS05cE4UCiSY-D4tIqzACLcBGAs/s400/67113264_10157681426319905_427165167948660736_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Adenium in Rain</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Rains is
a lovely period for a garden. You can grow almost all possible perennials and
creepers. Rangoon creeper and Heart-leaved moonseed (Giloy) sprang to life with the touch of raindrops. The leaves have filled the bamboo fencing with our neighbouring house. The evergreen plants
like money-plant and crotons are showing new leaves and rain lilies are the
pride of the garden. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">This
weather made me lazy and for many days I did not even think about the vegetable
beds. Finally we get an expert for treatment of soil and hope that by end of August,
the kitchen garden will be ready to grow seasonal vegetables. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Weather means
more when you have a garden. There's nothing like listening to a shower and
thinking how it is soaking in around your green beans."<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> -</span></b><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><b>Marcelene
Cox</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">August
turned out to be an interesting month for the birds. We are witnessing a baby
boom in the garden as there are nests and eggs all around. The young ones of
doves, pigeons, bulbuls are now learning the ways of the world from their
elders and the baby peacock is all grown up. The pair of peacock and peahen
frequent our garden almost every other day. And the new adult peacock one day literally knocked on our glass door . It turned out it was charmed by its own reflection in the glass and perhaps wanted to touch the 'other' bird . It persistently knocked on the door and made a very fascinating sight . </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WlmWhPPb4Kg/XVOOBCCGPUI/AAAAAAAAtgI/EU2ufoJIxGgKxacT5HAhr1Nj8B186SWmgCKgBGAs/s1600/1020570.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WlmWhPPb4Kg/XVOOBCCGPUI/AAAAAAAAtgI/EU2ufoJIxGgKxacT5HAhr1Nj8B186SWmgCKgBGAs/s400/1020570.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Knock Knock- Peacock </b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The other day I saw a pair of Greater Coucal roaming in the lawns. The news of the month however, is that on last Sunday morning, in the rain soaked garden, I was finally able to click the resident Kingfisher . And while my delight was still new, the very next day, a full contingent of Kingfisher family, with four cute baby birds in tow, was found frolicking in my garden . <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7xnIv-d5pOM/XVOJ1QLMv1I/AAAAAAAAte0/kVVZBfHfD9oOuBmNjDhMP7FyUrJerdgGQCLcBGAs/s1600/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2019-08-11%2Bat%2B13.54.44.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7xnIv-d5pOM/XVOJ1QLMv1I/AAAAAAAAte0/kVVZBfHfD9oOuBmNjDhMP7FyUrJerdgGQCLcBGAs/s400/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2019-08-11%2Bat%2B13.54.44.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Oriental White Breasted Kingfisher</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 17.3333px;">Monsoon sky is a sight to relish. Evening sky showcase so many hues of red and orange and then it turns into the deepest shade of blue-black. With the patterns of clouds changing every moment , I can sit and watch the sky for hours . Even in the nighttime , clouds play with the moon and stars and create amazing nightscapes. The only thing missing so far is a rainbow . </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgseeI8rTG_KvBADZ1nKd_ab8XMSPleoNCOQDAYN-BsP6oNpj8_QAHHOax9BmHMo33ua5mR-m3rGeE8NL6-gfOSCRJSVrXs4uJf2DtbUBRd8f05beR8EkHcraVGvh0F9dVSNYslUa0QPnM/s1600/1020595.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgseeI8rTG_KvBADZ1nKd_ab8XMSPleoNCOQDAYN-BsP6oNpj8_QAHHOax9BmHMo33ua5mR-m3rGeE8NL6-gfOSCRJSVrXs4uJf2DtbUBRd8f05beR8EkHcraVGvh0F9dVSNYslUa0QPnM/s400/1020595.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Evening sky after rains </b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">I am not sure whether this is already the time to sow winter annuals' seeds or wait till the best of rains are over. Reason says it should be latter. My gardeners suggest that it is already time for early annuals like salvia and marigold to go for sowing . C</span><span style="font-size: 17.3333px;">hrysanthemum plants saved from last year are already up for their first round of pinching . I am also determined to try some new flowers in the upcoming winters. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 17.3333px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Other
than this and the need for always cleaning the garden beds , it is just the
magic of monsoon all around . And when it rains, one can just </span><span style="font-size: 17.3333px;">savor</span><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> the
delight of it, preferably with the fritters of your choice. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Monsoon and the display of green </b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">As wisely said – </span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial rounded mt bold" , sans-serif;">For after all, the best
thing one can do<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial rounded mt bold" , sans-serif;">When it is raining, is
to let it rain.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="background: white;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: blue;">~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Tales of a Wayside Inn, 1863</span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-24133650591563233562019-07-16T21:31:00.000+05:452020-06-25T16:51:07.922+05:45Garden Diaries: July (Arrival of Rains)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJam4FJf6GQYRwxAYNMuU9UWZhEtMnp9efN_79uCSlGRzvG5_gUP6qXEmmF7NH73od4EWRb8iijVZbiBnTsu_ZsY8bDpohIgVB38TLEBWVDMXgtYBgwsGHW4qry4AyhQevRJROl7A_mnw/s1600/WhatsApp+Image+2019-07-16+at+1.06.38+PM.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJam4FJf6GQYRwxAYNMuU9UWZhEtMnp9efN_79uCSlGRzvG5_gUP6qXEmmF7NH73od4EWRb8iijVZbiBnTsu_ZsY8bDpohIgVB38TLEBWVDMXgtYBgwsGHW4qry4AyhQevRJROl7A_mnw/s400/WhatsApp+Image+2019-07-16+at+1.06.38+PM.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b><b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In the harsh
season of the hot sun</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Men and
animals alike languish<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">While the pine
burns<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The cuckoo
unlocks his voice and in quick accord<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Both dove and
goldfinch sing along</span></b><span style="font-family: "bahnschrift semibold semiconden" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bahnschrift semibold semiconden" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;"><i><b>----Sonnet of
the Summer Concerto Antonio Vivaldi</b></i></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">As if
following an ancient calendar, clouds arrived in my city on the first day of
Hindu month of Ashadh. Centuries back, Sanskrit poet Kalidas had begun his
famous poem Meghdutam (Cloud messenger) by narrating arrival of clouds on this day.
It rained well for two days, pleasing all of us around. The plants half burnt
in heat, were suddenly alive, the lawn turned green and the
rain lilies bloomed. Even the peacock danced more often than earlier.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tCeuntCJhIc/XS1_zgfwYII/AAAAAAAAs_U/Ye34Mw3nfgEZkWPMzSK_YkOYzfHb5GS3gCLcBGAs/s1600/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2019-07-16%2Bat%2B1.05.40%2BPM.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tCeuntCJhIc/XS1_zgfwYII/AAAAAAAAs_U/Ye34Mw3nfgEZkWPMzSK_YkOYzfHb5GS3gCLcBGAs/s400/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2019-07-16%2Bat%2B1.05.40%2BPM.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
happiness was short-lived. After 2-3 showers, while the weather remained humid
and sultry, there were no more rains. But the weather decidedly moved towards
better and the rain soaked breeze stayed on till now. The temperature is down
by several points and there is humidity in air. It might be very distressing
for humans but humidity is great for the garden. Within days, Rajnigandha
plants flowered and even the seedlings of Gulmehndi(Balsom) came out like magic.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8dk06loTO9M/XS13FLXhCXI/AAAAAAAAs-E/U1_wqzdcJDQjn8BOCq6OJKBxrU1OxbONgCLcBGAs/s1600/rains.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8dk06loTO9M/XS13FLXhCXI/AAAAAAAAs-E/U1_wqzdcJDQjn8BOCq6OJKBxrU1OxbONgCLcBGAs/s400/rains.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After the rains </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The next
two months belong to green-ness and the white scents. We have Juhi,
Rajnigandha<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and bela blooming and the
entire garden is enveloped in green . Sadly this also means weeds in the lawn
and there is no escape from that. A considerable time goes in weeding and
weeding again. Scents of course make the air fragrant, especially in the
evenings. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RyO8D6FM8qM/XS3uEPeLsXI/AAAAAAAAs_o/cdf-_nB4e9U6ZarcMP4YzvV2tV7QDfWRwCLcBGAs/s1600/P1020115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RyO8D6FM8qM/XS3uEPeLsXI/AAAAAAAAs_o/cdf-_nB4e9U6ZarcMP4YzvV2tV7QDfWRwCLcBGAs/s400/P1020115.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rajnigandha- the fragrance of the rains </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">The birds
to seems too have found their voices back. In fact early mornings are full of
their chirping. So usually around 6 am, I have koel singing on mango tree,
Peacock screaming from far away and parrots talking all around. To add to this
melody, I have put a metal chime on the frangipani tree in the centre of my
lawn. The concerto is superb …that is if you have an ear for these unique garden
melodies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 17.3333px;">For flowers , I have nothing much to boast right now. Zinnias and Cosmos continue to delight and there are plenty of colorful Portulacas to add charm and colour in the flower beds. Now, here is the funny thing about flowers , it is very interesting how they spread geographically. Historically, tuberose or Rajnigandha is native of Mexico (Aztecs used it first to decorate their house ) and is now an integral part of every floral perfume of Europe( including supposedly Queen Marie Antoinette's perfume called <i>Sillage de La Reine</i> ) . It is also used extensively in </span></span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 17.3333px;">weddings or funeral decorations in India and so on. Even my petite Portulaca are native of South America( Argentina and Brazil )and are now used all over the world . I have already discussed in previous post about the incredible journey of sunflowers across the globe . Talking of sunflowers, </span></span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; text-align: justify;">I was worried that arrival of rains will be
end of my glorious crop of sunflowers. But no- I still have plenty of them
despite rains and more importantly, despite the families of parakeets. </span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V-gRcQ-_Vnk/XS1539UbukI/AAAAAAAAs-g/0DloeTB0gjMAb_c8ushOKZRqXOF2ah-XACLcBGAs/s1600/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2019-07-01%2Bat%2B9.28.48%2BAM.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="774" data-original-width="1032" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V-gRcQ-_Vnk/XS1539UbukI/AAAAAAAAs-g/0DloeTB0gjMAb_c8ushOKZRqXOF2ah-XACLcBGAs/s400/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2019-07-01%2Bat%2B9.28.48%2BAM.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Portulaca beds</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; text-align: justify;">Parakeets somehow, seem to be more interested in now almost-ripe mangoes and
are always attacking them. At times they also drop the half eaten fruit for the benefit of other creatures of the garden you are not daring enough to go to the upper branches of the tree . </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2xI1ugMB0LQ/XS16V7Ce7ZI/AAAAAAAAs-o/_1reosbFAyIuxuaUGheyugxE8eNwXvysQCLcBGAs/s1600/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2019-06-29%2Bat%2B10.06.14%2BPM.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="1280" height="281" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2xI1ugMB0LQ/XS16V7Ce7ZI/AAAAAAAAs-o/_1reosbFAyIuxuaUGheyugxE8eNwXvysQCLcBGAs/s400/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2019-06-29%2Bat%2B10.06.14%2BPM.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>A plum face parakeet going to attack a mango </b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;"> Interestingly the first day of showers also brought
a pair of Black-rumped Flame back and a bunch of little green bee-eaters to my garden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">The flameback or the woodpecker in layman
words are beautiful birds and have found a place in Amla tree. There are many younger
birds around, including a little baby peacock, who roams under her mother near
the hedges and pond. There are several nests with eggs or little birds in them.
I even had a cuckoo nest with blue eggs but duly warned by a bird-enthusiast, I
never dared to go too near.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LRXv4gLlsSY/XS17HS0tUwI/AAAAAAAAs-0/gIiPbLv8UO4ySe2sGCwWke1V-wag3yVOQCLcBGAs/s1600/327721-min.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LRXv4gLlsSY/XS17HS0tUwI/AAAAAAAAs-0/gIiPbLv8UO4ySe2sGCwWke1V-wag3yVOQCLcBGAs/s400/327721-min.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Black-rumped Flame back </span></b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">This
month among the surprised pleasures in the garden – I had two plants of Blood lily
(football lily) which suddenly flowered. And just after that, an adenium of
dark maroon colour flowered like never before.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pwXXynqVQ8U/XS17XRDKsDI/AAAAAAAAs-8/wTkxkllyNTEVvxhYqrg_U4rRgFNXKM8sQCLcBGAs/s1600/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2019-07-11%2Bat%2B3.21.34%2BPM%25281%2529.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1032" data-original-width="774" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pwXXynqVQ8U/XS17XRDKsDI/AAAAAAAAs-8/wTkxkllyNTEVvxhYqrg_U4rRgFNXKM8sQCLcBGAs/s400/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2019-07-11%2Bat%2B3.21.34%2BPM%25281%2529.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Adenium </b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">I am
praying for more rains in the days to come so that I have lilies and more fragrant
flowers. I am also determined to grow some vegetables this time. Let’s see what
August has in store. </span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt;"> </span></div>
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Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-82923515091322075592019-06-08T13:11:00.003+05:452019-06-08T13:11:49.740+05:45Garden Diaries- June (Sunny days)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zOJrK-wIgEQ/XPS4StWclCI/AAAAAAAAsi0/KGmT2QlLo4Yk4t446sEDt48janhEbM0gwCKgBGAs/s1600/P1010945.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zOJrK-wIgEQ/XPS4StWclCI/AAAAAAAAsi0/KGmT2QlLo4Yk4t446sEDt48janhEbM0gwCKgBGAs/s400/P1010945.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="color: #555555; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15.0pt;">Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June
trembled like a butterfly. </span></b></div>
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<span style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 20px;"><b><span style="color: #555555;"> -</span><span style="color: blue;"> </span></b></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic;"><span style="color: blue;"><b>Pablo Neruda</b></span></span></span><i style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: #555555; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">No,
the light was not wet at all, in my part of the world. It was dry and blazing
sun. Comparatively, the garden was silent – as the birds and squirrels were too
hassled with heat. Yet the month of June arrived and is almost half done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yellow was the dominated colour this month. The
sunshine was bright since early hours and there were plenty of Coreopsis (Tickseeds)
and Cosmos all around the flower beds. Even the hedges were turning yellowish
green with the mercury rising to 46 degrees. Of, course there were Amaltas flowers
spreading a carpet of yellow on green grass every morning but none of these were
the crowning glory of the month. The month fairly and squarely belongs to my
sun-enchanted, tall giant Russian Sunflowers. Even when I got the seeds, I was
not sure how tall they will be. By the time flowering started, the plants were a
good 7 ft <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>tall and had a thick stem to
support multitude of big flowers …….and then, they bloomed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j8Alliz0qlw/XPS4iHvBfMI/AAAAAAAAsi4/JH-nSZJH6AAcdQmxtWZXvZ7gHgcflLulQCKgBGAs/s1600/P1010919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j8Alliz0qlw/XPS4iHvBfMI/AAAAAAAAsi4/JH-nSZJH6AAcdQmxtWZXvZ7gHgcflLulQCKgBGAs/s400/P1010919.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sunflowers, in all their golden glory, are a
happy sight to behold— they can brighten up a dull day for me. I always fancied
a bunch of sunflowers in a tall vase by the window. But in my childhood, we
mostly had smaller varieties of sunflowers, which were easy to grow and gave
plenty of flowers. Few years back when I was passing through north Karnataka on
a work assignment, I saw fields of sunflower plants. They made an incredibly
beautiful sight. It was like a flood of yellow for miles together. Since then, I
wanted to grow big sunflowers in my garden. This was my first experiment with
Russian Giants and I am elated with the result. There is so much to admire
about these lovely flowers. The multipurpose plants deliver healthy
snacks (seeds), useful oil, and attract numerous birds and bees. But that is
not all, they have a fascinating history and legend as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy86EDhgqjQ-0Nk8_38ZDUYz0Tv9oAtdycwXIT42kuJcZcwD10AZ8sV_F51pQsVCPOiJEucAnlR6WGiGeBvFRkaQR6vW5NJJlXgTh2DyjKl4NHBiynbZ5nQgIp1tshJyn_JXpHmLk5nM4/s1600/20190607_185814.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy86EDhgqjQ-0Nk8_38ZDUYz0Tv9oAtdycwXIT42kuJcZcwD10AZ8sV_F51pQsVCPOiJEucAnlR6WGiGeBvFRkaQR6vW5NJJlXgTh2DyjKl4NHBiynbZ5nQgIp1tshJyn_JXpHmLk5nM4/s320/20190607_185814.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">I
may be happily growing them in South East Asia today, but like potatoes,
tomatoes, and corn, these sunny plants came from the Americas, though the
commercialisation happened in Russia first. Evidence suggests that the plant
was cultivated by American Indians in present-day Arizona and New Mexico from about
3000 BC. Some archaeologists suggest that sunflower may have been domesticated even
before corn. It was used traditionally as food, medicine, dye, and oil. Spanish
conquistadors exported it to the rest of the world (i.e. Europe) by around
1500. For next three centuries, the plant was spread all over Europe and was
mostly used for decoration in vases. Talking of decorative sunflowers, it is difficult
not to remember the famous Van Gogh paintings of sunflower in a vase or </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">The
Painter of Sunflowers</span></i><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">, the painting
by Paul Gauguin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1Cht-deE-bc/XPS81zi3FpI/AAAAAAAAskI/_kL03gBNiQUwZ79dg-kvXAgmWptJC_tmACLcBGAs/s1600/61OcpnZwRpL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="357" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1Cht-deE-bc/XPS81zi3FpI/AAAAAAAAskI/_kL03gBNiQUwZ79dg-kvXAgmWptJC_tmACLcBGAs/s400/61OcpnZwRpL.jpg" width="285" /></a></div>
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The
credit of bringing these flowers to Russia goes to Tsar Peter the great. It is
believed that he first saw sunflowers in Netherlands and was so fascinated by
them that he took some back to Russia. By the 19th century, the country was
planting two million acres of sunflowers every year. In 2018 also Russia remains
the top grower of Sunflowers, followed by Argentina and China. Interestingly,
evidence suggests that the plant got widespread approval in Russia not by the
insistence of the Royalty but by the fact that the Russian Orthodox Church
exempted the sunflower seed oil from the banned oils during the month of Lent.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnpGRD4JpVdi6diXiQIlLn7BKMCCL03a8S8GL5jeww8CF3Acz7EB5eXihpMGnBzGCWdKGYPoFaK2wgWci_9sBb11v8BPnxHTIQDJ-Peaa9qu4Du0CmRAQd96yIUr6N3RUSedqBnEgu3LE/s1600/P1010926.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnpGRD4JpVdi6diXiQIlLn7BKMCCL03a8S8GL5jeww8CF3Acz7EB5eXihpMGnBzGCWdKGYPoFaK2wgWci_9sBb11v8BPnxHTIQDJ-Peaa9qu4Du0CmRAQd96yIUr6N3RUSedqBnEgu3LE/s400/P1010926.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">History
came to a full circle when Russian immigrants to USA in
the 19th century brought back highly developed sunflower seeds that
grew bigger blooms, and sparked a renewed interest in the native American
plant. The native North American sunflower plant has finally come back home
after a very circuitous route around the globe. Today in many states of US,
they have sunflower competitions to measure the biggest ever flowers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Talking
about the global spread of sunflowers, thanks to space-gardener astronaut Don
Petite, who is famous for growing zucchini and Broccoli in space (at
International Space Station), Sunflowers also reached space. Well, Mr. Petite
came to an amusing (yet true) conclusion when the flower did not turn out as
big and grown as its cousins back on earth. He concluded that “plants are like
people. They are intrinsically lazy and, they only put out as much effort as
the environment requires.” I could not agree more. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;"><i><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">Ah, Sunflower! Weary of time </span></i></span></b></div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="color: blue;"><i><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">Who countest the steps of the Sun </span></i></span></b></span></b></div>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="color: blue;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: blue;"><i><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">Seeking after that sweet golden clime </span></i></span></b></div>
</span></span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit; line-height: 24px;"><b><i><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">Where the traveller's journey is done</span><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">…</span></i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit; line-height: 24px;"><b><i> --William Blake </i></b></span></div>
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Coming
back to my own garden, the flowers started very slowly and then there was an
unparalleled bloom of yellow all around, with one plant supporting as many as a
dozen flowers. Well, it went all fine, till a pandemonium of parrots discovered
their location and then the nightmare started. The flock ruined some plants
within seconds till I drove them out. Luckily, I have many more plants which
survived this vandalism. Incidentally, each sunflower's head is made of smaller
flowers. The petals we see around the outside are called ray florets. Sunflowers
can self-pollinate or take pollen blown by the wind or transported by insects. The
flowers not only look like the sun; they need a lot of it. And what is
more, they track sun- <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a behaviour
called heliotropism. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The flower
buds and young blossoms will face east in the morning and follow the sun as the
earth moves during the day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AvIUkV3-ot4/XPS4qCLwizI/AAAAAAAAsjA/I4eBb9y3kXMYL4RUNJDFOhzaK-iPaQ2jwCKgBGAs/s1600/P1010826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AvIUkV3-ot4/XPS4qCLwizI/AAAAAAAAsjA/I4eBb9y3kXMYL4RUNJDFOhzaK-iPaQ2jwCKgBGAs/s400/P1010826.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">What
is even more interesting is that these amazing flowers are nature’s prettiest
demonstration of famous Fibonacci sequence,</span>a set in which each number is the sum of the previous two
(1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377, 610, ...). This sequence
is nature’s favourite as it is found in everything from pineapples to pine
cones. In the case of sunflowers, the tell-tale sign is the number of different
seed spirals on the sunflower's face. If you count the clockwise and counter
clockwise spirals that reach the outer edge, and you'll usually find a pair of
numbers from the sequence: 34 and 55, or 55 and 89 <span style="background: white;">,</span><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;"> I think it is so because the
nature strives to accommodate maximum possible spirals in the available space
and this sequence is the most efficient way to achieve this.</span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NJILghwlGmI/XPS8vDUJp_I/AAAAAAAAskA/co1QCEAO8wMNLZ0XQeLTkZbpG_hfXsiSQCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20190603_114948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1564" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NJILghwlGmI/XPS8vDUJp_I/AAAAAAAAskA/co1QCEAO8wMNLZ0XQeLTkZbpG_hfXsiSQCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_20190603_114948.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">Now,
before it appears that my garden had nothing but sunflowers during the month,
let me quickly add that to break the monotony of yellow all around, my brave
little Zinnias continue to provide a colourful spread. They are impossibly
pretty and even in this terrible heat give a glimpse of meadow like scene –
with butterflies fluttering on them. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">This
month was exceptionally cruel for poor birds. Global warming is absolutely real
and the temperature was soaring – making poor creatures of my garden, queue up
to the water pots I have kept for them. In the afternoons, the sight is so
dramatic when birds of various species flock together to jump in the water pot
for a quick splash. Even my favourite owlet family is often seen near these
water pots.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4oVo_Xwemjw/XPS7Uz_QFsI/AAAAAAAAsjY/cVg4px7aN-Urjnaiq_to_NQo_4YOGh-FgCLcBGAs/s1600/61614381_10157544610894905_2374580958604034048_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4oVo_Xwemjw/XPS7Uz_QFsI/AAAAAAAAsjY/cVg4px7aN-Urjnaiq_to_NQo_4YOGh-FgCLcBGAs/s400/61614381_10157544610894905_2374580958604034048_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.0pt;">It
is almost middle of the month and yet, no showers. Monsoon has actually arrived
in other parts of India and I do hope it reaches us soon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /></div>
Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-45906058329654305312019-05-17T21:41:00.000+05:452019-05-20T11:16:53.471+05:45Garden Diaries- May (It's May, it's May, the month of great dismay)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2x8g3C1UYOg/XN7WtQbls2I/AAAAAAAAsXo/zC9MfiOLkDcDt6E1zpWKSKqnTjHpo4ddQCLcBGAs/s1600/P1010839.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: 18px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2x8g3C1UYOg/XN7WtQbls2I/AAAAAAAAsXo/zC9MfiOLkDcDt6E1zpWKSKqnTjHpo4ddQCLcBGAs/s400/P1010839.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Glorious Amaltas- the Golden Shower</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Summer has set in with its usual
severity.”</span></b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 150%;"> --Samuel
Taylor</span></b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The sunshine is bright and blazing
almost whole day. Even a sight of shade provides some relief to the eyes. Birds
are always looking for the bowls of water to splash in and the plants get dried
up however much we water them. Well, it is the desert land and you cannot
expect an easy summer. This month and the next is harsh to get by for the
birds. Even local newspapers appeal to put water for birds and set up
birdhouses on trees. The usual chirping comes down from 9 in the morning till late
evening (barring some parrots of course who continue to engage with us in a
battle of wits over ownership of raw mangoes – Needless to say they win).</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cQbCD61nEQE/XN7U1S7vupI/AAAAAAAAsWg/v0TAJ-8gecQHTDaPztuoPfUYlxwWBp86QCLcBGAs/s1600/P1010742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1411" data-original-width="1600" height="352" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cQbCD61nEQE/XN7U1S7vupI/AAAAAAAAsWg/v0TAJ-8gecQHTDaPztuoPfUYlxwWBp86QCLcBGAs/s400/P1010742.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parrots attacking raw mangoes</td></tr>
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<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;">Earlier this month, on a Thursday
morning – the sky was pale blue with no clouds in sight, weather was getting
warmer and as usual, this peacock came to our garden. It happily ate its daily
staple diet of the bird feed and insects, took a stroll around flowerbeds and
suddenly, it was dancing. Oh, what a performance it was. No words
can suffice to that display of colour and I guess contentment (which no doubt
came from a good meal). And this is how, ordinary Thursdays turn magical in the
marvelous month of May.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9dgRSkx_D30/XN7VcLoVL_I/AAAAAAAAsW8/ILzrdZLLggIi7lKjj21VGk71tZiwZnZswCLcBGAs/s1600/P1010750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9dgRSkx_D30/XN7VcLoVL_I/AAAAAAAAsW8/ILzrdZLLggIi7lKjj21VGk71tZiwZnZswCLcBGAs/s400/P1010750.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Dance Performance in the Garden</b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;">AA Milne wrote somewhere that “</span><b style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;">I
regretted that the loveliness of May was lost for so many in the clamour of
elections when the only 'issues' which really mattered were the apple and
cherry blossom, the budding flowers, and the fresh pale green of birch and
beech.”</b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mjd7nssMvrM/XOI7gDIEx4I/AAAAAAAAsYg/6E00NGZ-3GA4RjeiWz4J_IABavjfFqcMwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20190518_191035_196.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mjd7nssMvrM/XOI7gDIEx4I/AAAAAAAAsYg/6E00NGZ-3GA4RjeiWz4J_IABavjfFqcMwCKgBGAs/s400/IMG_20190518_191035_196.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;"> If I think of the Indian Summer alternative to English
apple and cherry blossoms, it would be definitely yellow Amaltas (Golden Shower
tree) and red Gulmohar (Delonix regia). Yes, election talk even here
overshadowed every other </span><b style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;"><i>real </i></b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;">issue. But for anyone
keeping his/ her eyes open, it is difficult to overlook the beauty of trees
turning the brightest of yellow and red. In India, it is typical to line up the
streets with these trees. They flower simultaneously and make such a delightful
sight in summers. For me, these flowering trees of Amaltas and Gulmohar and the
cuckoo singing on the mango trees are two most endearing sights of Indian
Summers. I feel lucky to have many Amaltas and Gulmohars around my house .</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; line-height: 27px;">जियें</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; line-height: 27px;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; line-height: 27px;">तो</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; line-height: 27px;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; line-height: 27px;">अपने</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; line-height: 27px;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; line-height: 27px;">बग़ीचे</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; line-height: 27px;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; line-height: 27px;">में</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; line-height: 27px;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; line-height: 27px;">गुलमोहर</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; line-height: 27px;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; line-height: 27px;">के</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; line-height: 27px;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; line-height: 27px;">तले</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; line-height: 27px;">,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;"> </span><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;">मरें</span><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;"> </span><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;">तो</span><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;"> </span><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;">ग़ैर</span><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;"> </span><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;">की</span><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;"> </span><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;">गलियों</span><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;"> </span><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;">में</span><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;"> </span><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;">गुलमोहर</span><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;"> </span><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;">के</span><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;"> </span><span style="color: black; line-height: 27px;">लिये</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;">May is not a very forgiving month for
flowers but then you have some brave hearts. I am specifically partial to
Zinnia- which bloom from summers to monsoons with great gusto. This time we are
particularly lucky with Zinnias. We have all possible colors and shades in them
and they provide a delightful respite from the dearth of colour in my
flowerbeds otherwise.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VKOxLr-YUkU/XN7XW7Xv8-I/AAAAAAAAsX0/1DMjEWgFqTcGnoTru23SDuNzkbJQCG8mACKgBGAs/s1600/1010766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VKOxLr-YUkU/XN7XW7Xv8-I/AAAAAAAAsX0/1DMjEWgFqTcGnoTru23SDuNzkbJQCG8mACKgBGAs/s320/1010766.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Colors of Zinnia</b></td></tr>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;">My giant sunflower plants are now much
taller than me and are full of promise. Buds are already opening and I do hope
to see the most beautiful shade of yellow in the garden. Meanwhile, birds are
building nests all over the house – inside the hedge, behind the ACs, over the
telephone box and of course, in the shrubs and on the trees. Many nests also
have eggs. The family of Grey Francolins (Teetar) gleefully march with their
latest generation, reminding me of the old film song (Teetar ke do aage teetar
……). In the wild mulberry tree, I have noticed a small nest built by a robin
and you can see blue eggs inside. I have been warned by a birder friend not to
go very near the nest, in search of a good photograph, as that might attract
predators to the nest.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Two happy updates from last month- my
owlet family has a new addition too. The junior is very shy and hardly steps
out of the tree hole but like all kids, it is curious enough to peep now and
then. The eyes are still white, unlike parents and the little one is
exceptionally cute.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6V9jNR1fbT4/XN7VS0OgMBI/AAAAAAAAsW0/cHLlBzZKoJ0WYoLMKaKYRnsBQlxprzmtgCLcBGAs/s1600/P1010795.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6V9jNR1fbT4/XN7VS0OgMBI/AAAAAAAAsW0/cHLlBzZKoJ0WYoLMKaKYRnsBQlxprzmtgCLcBGAs/s400/P1010795.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Baby owlet i.e. Ullu Ka Pattha</b></td></tr>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Also in my little waterlily pond, we
have finally got another colour. Most adorable shade of peach pink which melts
my heart every morning. I wish the pond was bigger to accommodate more of these
waterlilies.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">By the way, some Mangoes have survived
too, despite vicious continued attacks from parrots and pigeons. Now they are
big enough to be used for pickles, chutneys,panna and all such delightful
recipes which taste of summer and we are taking full advantage of them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">While the city regularly faces evening
thunderstorms followed by some raindrops, by the morning it is again hot. Hope
June will bring some real rain showers.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXMCh7xlW6Rnt_kpW3pBAJ2-nZgAsLozeUxXbwHaa7s4T8le1LP1fQuvo6QsShp56Xy9jFxUUPfNL2rAHKWuRx2GLA3DONjXtvJAqQ_uTP9io7BkgS3aA8_njwETBCUQXKNEVfqRix90/s1600/P1010844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXMCh7xlW6Rnt_kpW3pBAJ2-nZgAsLozeUxXbwHaa7s4T8le1LP1fQuvo6QsShp56Xy9jFxUUPfNL2rAHKWuRx2GLA3DONjXtvJAqQ_uTP9io7BkgS3aA8_njwETBCUQXKNEVfqRix90/s400/P1010844.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>New colour of Waterlily( Nilopher) </b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-20209225985441720622019-04-17T22:08:00.000+05:452019-05-13T14:41:28.842+05:45 Garden Diaries – April ( Hope is in the Air)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gysxUdDdBRk/XLdOO7ZzyfI/AAAAAAAAsFM/iHIP0zzNIEA-rfgBbp7ddOmsMe4Qk8eEwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20190417_161543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1564" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gysxUdDdBRk/XLdOO7ZzyfI/AAAAAAAAsFM/iHIP0zzNIEA-rfgBbp7ddOmsMe4Qk8eEwCKgBGAs/s400/IMG_20190417_161543.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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<span style="color: #385723; font-size: 14pt;">"O Day after day we can't help growing older.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #385723; font-size: 14.0pt;">Year after year spring can't help seeming younger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #385723; font-size: 14.0pt;">Come let's enjoy our wine cup today,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #385723; font-size: 14pt;">Nor pity the flowers fallen."<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<br />
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<b><span style="color: #385723; font-size: 14.0pt;"> -
Wang Wei, On Parting with Spring<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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Yes, it is April and the spring is very much over. In fact, it has left us in the end of March itself when the flowers started withering and the
sunshine became sharper. Now, almost in the middle of April, I see all the
portents of Indian summer around me. Neem trees are flowering, Amla tree is
showing new leaves and most importantly, Mango blossoms have turned into small
raw mangoes. In my part of the world, it is not easy for mangoes to ripe
peacefully.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First you have pandemonium
of parakeets who find them irresistible – though half the times they just peck
the fruit and play with it rather than eating it - and then almost every second
evening, there is a thunderstorm making little raw mangoes fall. Well, as of now I still
have some <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">kairi </i>(raw mangoes as they
are called in Rajasthan) on the tree and I do hope they will survive all this. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l5sR4fdVs-M/XLdOvci5aqI/AAAAAAAAsFY/TrEOff-2nNg2MunKc_QRSzI6jmynI22xQCLcBGAs/s1600/P1010655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l5sR4fdVs-M/XLdOvci5aqI/AAAAAAAAsFY/TrEOff-2nNg2MunKc_QRSzI6jmynI22xQCLcBGAs/s400/P1010655.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>Brave little Amiya/ Kairi still surviving Birds and Thunderstorms</b></div>
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But before we go any further, a word (or two) about my garden
diaries. The inspiration came from Katheleen N Murray’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My Garden in Wilderness</i></b>.
It was such a delightful read, suggested to me by my friend Rajneesh. The joy
of growing a garden is something only a gardener can understand. You are so fascinated
by the changing scene in the garden- the first flowers, the attacks by birds,
the swarming of bees and the never-ending weeds that you end up talking about
it all the time. In my case, I found almost all my google searches and social
media shares were turning to be about my garden. Like Ms. Murray, I am sure, I
would like to read about my Jaipur-garden-experience again in future and may
be re-live the joys and anxiety of a gardener. So the diaries are primarily for
my own future reading. I am putting them on my blog, because this is where I
write about things dominating my thoughts including gardening. I have earlier also written about my love for gardening and even my <a href="http://atoorva.blogspot.com/2010/11/my-gardening-genes.html" target="_blank">Gardening genes</a> , my childhood summer days with<a href="http://atoorva.blogspot.com/2008/05/days-of-khus-scented-seista-and-mango.html" target="_blank"> Khus scented siestas</a> and <a href="http://atoorva.blogspot.com/2009/03/waking-up-with-cuckoos-song.html?m=0" target="_blank">waking up with Cuckoos song</a> .<br />
So here we go – I hope to come up with monthly
editions of my garden diary. Suggestions (on gardening) and comments on my post
are welcome, as always. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqERPjht6CRdA_QQRvoXn1CXoMIcF28XhQt521HJQ0ScMJtavs-5NJHHUsvW7pIshy_WDQNmAyLCujFQUUIKitQQXVfJANVZNJrE7Ub-UZK0jWrBeNsxAZM4N88b0f2OddBJicL8KX9KU/s1600/P1010615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqERPjht6CRdA_QQRvoXn1CXoMIcF28XhQt521HJQ0ScMJtavs-5NJHHUsvW7pIshy_WDQNmAyLCujFQUUIKitQQXVfJANVZNJrE7Ub-UZK0jWrBeNsxAZM4N88b0f2OddBJicL8KX9KU/s400/P1010615.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>My waterlilies</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Back to April , it is
not the prettiest month in the garden. In Jaipur where I live, it is getting
hotter by every passing day and the beautiful days of seasonal winter flowers
are long over. Luckily, I was prompt enough to grow seedlings for my
sunflowers, Zinnias, Celosia and Cosmos in February end and that's why the flower beds are now full of
neat rows of plants …and a hope of flowers very soon. In fact Zinnias are
already showing early blooms. Of course, I had to pinch many buds so that the
plant <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>grow better and thicker , but I do
have some flowers here and there .</div>
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<o:p></o:p><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WG6H3_bc91o/XLdQGKdUS6I/AAAAAAAAsF0/AgPZReEluMwQmvdOaX1O5kBm6Rcx9e_BACLcBGAs/s1600/P1010646.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WG6H3_bc91o/XLdQGKdUS6I/AAAAAAAAsF0/AgPZReEluMwQmvdOaX1O5kBm6Rcx9e_BACLcBGAs/s400/P1010646.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Buds on Bela plant</b></td></tr>
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However, the flowers which make my heart dance with joy these
days, are none of these seasonals. It is our good old Bela – also called as
Mogra or Motiya in India and Arabian jasmine elsewhere. Interestingly the botanical
name <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jasminum sambac</i> is supposedly
derived from Sanskrit word Champak. The fragrant white flowers, are loved all
over Asia. It is national flower of Philippines and also Indonesia. In China it
is used in Jasmine tea and in India, it is used to make gajras- the flower ornament
for hair. Just a handful of these in a room can fill the room with intoxicating
fragrance. The variety I have in my garden in the creeper and it is full of
flowers every night. I keep them in my flower bowls, on my office table and
even next to my pillow.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Surprisingly, the heat is suiting my herbs. Carrom, Rosemary
and thyme are all suddenly full of life. I am growing lemongrass for the first
time and even that has responded pretty well to summer. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8aypAW5mdZw/XLdQl2oCnUI/AAAAAAAAsGA/S3pC7hBWa2scUzG_oGUOZjzzs_yYapfeQCLcBGAs/s1600/P1010657.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8aypAW5mdZw/XLdQl2oCnUI/AAAAAAAAsGA/S3pC7hBWa2scUzG_oGUOZjzzs_yYapfeQCLcBGAs/s400/P1010657.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Amla tree showing new leaves </b></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "bahnschrift" , sans-serif;"> “</span><b style="color: #741b47; font-family: bahnschrift, sans-serif;">And
so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the
trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that
life was beginning over again with the summer.” </b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bahnschrift" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><b> -― F.
Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></div>
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A delightful scene change in April is bursting new leaves on
all trees. There are new leaves all around. I saw the Amla growing new leaves
for the first time and it is beautiful. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My lone Frangipani, the centerpiece of my lawn
is full of new leaves. In the mornings it is full of chirping bulbuls, mynas,
parrots, magpies, cuckoos and of course, squirrels. It attracts a lot of bird and
squirrel activity around it partly because <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it is
in the center of the lawn and partly because I put bird feed and water in
terracotta bowl under it. Most of the bird feed however is either taken by
squirrels or a pair of Yellow-wattled lapwings ( Titehri in Hindi ) – who are
always present in the garden. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lVnAozjcuO4/XLdRZraRokI/AAAAAAAAsGI/srl_J8_WWCIgtbR1mt1F7vf4hC2x4-ZMACLcBGAs/s1600/P1010651.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lVnAozjcuO4/XLdRZraRokI/AAAAAAAAsGI/srl_J8_WWCIgtbR1mt1F7vf4hC2x4-ZMACLcBGAs/s400/P1010651.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Fragrant Desi Gulab</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="text-align: justify;">Few plants of Desi Gulab are thankfully giving some flowers. They add to the aroma of morning breeze full of mogra fragrance and also add some colour. The Indian desi Gulab or musk rose (Rosa moschata), a very
fragrant rose variety, is closely related to the Damascus rose that originated in Persia. It produces small flowers with pink petals. The petals retain their delicate fragrance long after
drying. I dry some of these and use them in my recipes too.</span><br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Other than my seasonal Kochias and Portulacas , there is
nothing much to plant in pots . Some Adeniums were flowering till now but
nothing much to add colour. In the climbers, I have a Rangoon creeper (Madhumalti
) full of pink and white flowers and then there are couple of Bougainvilleas .
Not much flowers in Bougainvilleas this season as the plants were recently planted.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_AqzBMVZ-58/XLdRggj_jLI/AAAAAAAAsGM/GUvl1FPxS0wqyVw7lgA23Mj6aBNzcKRgwCLcBGAs/s400/P1010658.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Rangoon Creeper i.e. Madhumalti</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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While the other birds – pigeons, doves and bulbuls seem busy
all the time either collecting food or collecting straws to build nests, the
peacocks scream early mornings and evenings – perhaps hoping for a rain-shower. They even provide us with an occasional dance performance in the lawn after a heartful meal of bird feed and well, insects from the waterlily pond.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dgHgqjUk8Rk/XLf-ki6vGdI/AAAAAAAAsIA/v8OOyvH9HCsrFTJeojQ1qq20HpGpwLS5QCKgBGAs/s1600/1010678.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><b><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dgHgqjUk8Rk/XLf-ki6vGdI/AAAAAAAAsIA/v8OOyvH9HCsrFTJeojQ1qq20HpGpwLS5QCKgBGAs/s400/1010678.jpg" width="400" /></b></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Mukund during his morning performance</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
The only bird who seem to be ill at ease with summer heat , like me, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>is the family of owlets who live in a tree
hole nearby. The heat seem to be bothering them so much that these days they make
appearance even in day time. The one owlet (I have named him Peetaksh-the one
with Yellow eyes) usually see me off when I get into car for office. On Sundays
also, it often peeps out of its hole and occasionally in late evenings even
daringly come to the water bowl for a sip or splash.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--EV7dsV1tJk/XLdSNBPwooI/AAAAAAAAsGY/FTyJocvbb8whmHG89DnC6hHhkq6xY8hMQCLcBGAs/s1600/P1010294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--EV7dsV1tJk/XLdSNBPwooI/AAAAAAAAsGY/FTyJocvbb8whmHG89DnC6hHhkq6xY8hMQCLcBGAs/s400/P1010294.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>It is too hot to stay inside all day -Peetaksh</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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As I look at it, April is a month full of hope. Hope of ripe
mangoes, hope of sunflowers and hope of surviving the green lush of the lawn in
the heat. More than anything, hope that the May will be kinder to the garden
and its beings. As someone said - <span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><b>April
is a promise that May is bound to keep.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><b><br /></b></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2RCoV5aR3C4/XLf9H_ZeTkI/AAAAAAAAsHo/ZThzor0hhvIat7ZiUh8aaKFUdOYrKNH6ACKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20190418_095341.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1564" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2RCoV5aR3C4/XLf9H_ZeTkI/AAAAAAAAsHo/ZThzor0hhvIat7ZiUh8aaKFUdOYrKNH6ACKgBGAs/s400/IMG_20190418_095341.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Flowers in April -Zinnias, Cosmos and an occasional Rose</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-45626746018662971972019-02-04T17:27:00.003+05:452019-02-04T17:27:48.875+05:45Your one Wild and Precious life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Su7muMBC0wA/XFglGTIyHlI/AAAAAAAArmE/Q3aH7aD9NxMtF_d597Vn0SF6kbUToLcoQCKgBGAs/s1600/P1000725.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1201" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Su7muMBC0wA/XFglGTIyHlI/AAAAAAAArmE/Q3aH7aD9NxMtF_d597Vn0SF6kbUToLcoQCKgBGAs/s400/P1000725.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">which is what I have been doing all day.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Tell me, what else should I have done?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Tell me, what is it you plan to do</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">with your one wild and precious life?</span></div>
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<b>-- Mary Oliver , 'The Summer Day'</b></div>
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Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-79495407873038984822017-09-22T12:40:00.000+05:452017-09-22T12:40:44.940+05:45We live in what we imagine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">“Bless
the spirit that makes connections,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">for truly
we live in what we imagine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Clocks
move along side our real life<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">with
steps that are ever the same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Though we
do not know our exact location,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">we are
held in place by what links us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Across
trackless distances<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">antennas
sense each other.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Pure
attention, the essence of the powers!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Distracted
by each day's doing,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">how can
we hear the signals?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Even as
the farmer labors<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">there
where the seed turns into summer,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">it is not
his work. It is Earth who gives.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 107%;">~ Rainer
Maria Rilke ~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-32973092511320435262017-05-23T16:31:00.001+05:452022-09-20T17:00:30.321+05:45Castles and Cold Waves of Copenhagen<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If
Copenhagen were a person, that person would be generous, beautiful, elderly,
but with a flair. A human being that has certain propensities for quarreling,
filled with imagination and with appetite for the new and with respect for the
old - somebody who takes good care of things and of people.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 150%;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Connie
Nielsen</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">It
appears that Ms. Nielsen was describing my Danish landlady when she said these
words. At the age of 82, Eva was standing outside her Osterbro home, wearing a
warm smile on that chilly morning. She was braving the cold wind to welcome me
to Copenhagen on the Monday after Easter. One look at her and I felt at home.
If you go from one of the most populous countries of the world to Scandinavia,
you marvel about many things. To begin with, octogenarian landladies who wear red
lipstick and ride bicycle, live alone, plant flowers, bake cakes and are perhaps
fitter than you. The warmth, pride in Danish culture coupled with eccentricity runs in all
streams of Danish life. It reflects in their majestic castles, their cuisine
and also in their quirky designs. But at some level the life is much evolved.
Luckily, I got to decipher this Danish puzzle in the best season of the year – spring.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PtHNZ5Irk_E/WcOVQruBC0I/AAAAAAAAoSM/_764DKtKFic5k3EGf6mc0pIvCO8rbBVlQCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_9831.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PtHNZ5Irk_E/WcOVQruBC0I/AAAAAAAAoSM/_764DKtKFic5k3EGf6mc0pIvCO8rbBVlQCKgBGAs/s400/IMG_9831.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Talking
of weather, April was supposed to be warm and welcoming. Then why there was this skin piercing cold wind
which not only moved the gorgeous windmills in the sea but also quaked my bones
covered with multiple layers of clothing. The trees on the road were bereft on
any leaves and the green grass below was only half awake after the harsh
winter. There were hardly any flowers in sight – even in the famous King’s
Garden. To my Indian mind, this was no spring. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">For me
the first look of the city was of a deserted town. There were absolutely no
signs of humans on street. First I blamed it on winds, then on extended Easter
holidays. Finally on the third day, the
realization dawned that perhaps there are not many people in the city. Well,
this was true till the weekend came. As Helen Derbyl writes in her guide on
Denmark that the population is scant unless the weather is very sunny or the
Swedes very thirsty. So it was only on the first weekend that we saw people and
cycles – people on cycles and people walking on the streets…mostly to the beer bars .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for copenhagen cycle with baby" height="266" src="https://familiesonbikes.files.wordpress.com/2014/11/yepp-maxi-bike-child-seat-orange-use.jpg" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-align: center;" width="400" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> It’s a strange capital city- a place
where pedestrian set the pace not the automobile traffic. It was rather common
to find in Copenhagen mothers safely parking baby carriages (or the famous
Christiania bikes with a cart to carry stuff/ babies in front) outside bakeries
while outdoor cafés fill with cappuccino-sippers, and super fit lanky Danes
pedal to work in lanes thick with bicycle traffic.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">In my 11
minute walk to workplace in Mormovej every morning , it was a sheer delight to
face the crisp morning air punctuated by golden sunshine in the pedestrian
streets redolent of baked bread, baskets of organic strawberries and soap-scrubbed storefronts. If there's such
a thing as a heartwarming city sight, this was it!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">No wonder
that when today’s glittering world metros with their high-rises and traffic troubles , seek enlightenment, they
commonly look to Copenhagen. The Danish capital regularly tops world
liveability lists. This is one of the globe's greenest, cleanest, most
sustainable urban centres, a place where cycling is serious transport, where
buses and the metro run frequently and around the clock, and where the harbor
is squeaky clean enough for a bracing dip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">But
Copenhagen has always been far more complex than Denmark’s “happy nation”
reputation. It had other layers to show as well- in all shades of greys , much
like the designer coats I admired people wearing there . The
gorgeous old town with splendid historic buildings stands near areas that have
only recently seen a renaissance after years of gang violence, prostitution and
ethnic tensions. The in-famous Freetown Christiania was just a walk away from
the city centre with its cannabis selling Pusher Street. In my tour of
“alternative”-Copenhagen, I saw some of these areas and was amused to find the
unique “solutions” devised by the policymakers to deal with these. To quote
one, the state funded designer drug consumption rooms providing a safe haven
for drug addicts to inject themselves in calm surroundings may sound weird to
many of us. But as the experiment shows, it has proved to be an effective
method of bringing down the drug menace and making the neighborhood safe for
kids.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 17.3333px;">For me the more attractive were the places associated with city’s history of witch hunts, executions, mobsters and murderers. With such morbid details of history, it is funny that the city is also reputed to be the fairy tale city. When I set out to explore the Fairy tale side of the city, I went in search of Hans Christian Anderson’s Little Mermaid and almost accidentally discovered magic of Danish weather. In the Langelinie Park, the trees which were standing bare just the other day were almost bursting into pink Cherry Blossoms. With a cute little English Church in the backdrop, combined with the imposing Gefion fountain depicting the Norse goddess Gefjun, the cherry blossoms were on a bloom leaving no doubt that the spring had finally arrived. It, however took me another weekend to realize that there can be an even better place to admire cherry and almond blossoms – Bispebjerg Cemetery. The explosion of a pink and white flower sky was mesmerizing in sprawling space of Bispebjerg Cemetery.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">While the
little Mermaid surrounded by selfie clicking tourists did not impress me much-
it opened my mind to the idea of discovering fairytales at oddest possible
places. And then I found them – underwater bronze statues of the family of
Agnete and Merman, twisted dragon tales on the old Stock Exchange (Borsen), the
spiral stairs to (almost) heaven on the baroque Church of Our Saviour , snow
leopards and wolves adorning the town hall building …and of course , Holger the
Dane who sits asleep in the casemates of Kronborg Castle - until the day when
Denmark is in real trouble and he will wake up and defend the mother country.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">After a
month of stay, I came to the conclusion that despite all jokes about their
language and behavior, Danes definitely have their lives sorted like none of us.
They do appreciate what really matters – clean air, green grass, blue waters of
the sea….and perhaps a good drink to go with it. </span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">They live simple lives enjoying
and not destroying nature. They peddle their cycles with great joy – without
any pretensions and consciousness of wealth or class . </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In the words of Xenophobe’s Guide to the Danes –<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“For<b> the Danes, culture is a way of shedding the modern world and retracing
their roots. All Danes are inveterate nature lovers. They cultivate an almost
masochistic feeling of insignificance coupled with awe at nature’s power and
the forces of life. Danish literature is full of examples of characters trying
to come to terms with man’s essential loneliness and unimportance.”<o:p></o:p></b></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%;">If you
ask me that is the way to go.</span></div>
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Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0Copenhagen, Denmark55.6760968 12.56833719999997455.532822800000005 12.245613699999973 55.8193708 12.891060699999974tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-83973560002177675682017-04-20T14:17:00.001+05:452024-03-06T16:19:42.483+05:45Yerushalayim Shel Zahav - Jerusalem of Gold<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IuWdMsWk4_A/WcN1a8gqQcI/AAAAAAAAoRE/zWBWfS4f-xYQF4eL8wG_0Z8splXBHur4ACKgBGAs/s1600/20170403_134106.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IuWdMsWk4_A/WcN1a8gqQcI/AAAAAAAAoRE/zWBWfS4f-xYQF4eL8wG_0Z8splXBHur4ACKgBGAs/w640-h360/20170403_134106.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;">There can be various reasons for never ever
visiting Israel and if you ask me, the rude airline staff of El Al should
feature in top 5. But that is not all. Visa interview for Israel is a unique experience too. On the day of my visa interview at Israel embassy I was asked, along with other two visa aspirants to stand 250 meters away from the gate in blazing sun so that we are no
security threat to the embassy. After one hour of wait, in the interview I was
asked (very politely) that how do Israel Embassy assure itself that I do not
intend to take up a permanent employment in Israel. I was clueless how to
politely convey that I am not mad enough to leave a steady job of 17 years in
Indian Civil Service to think of migrating to Israel. But the guy was not just
completing the checklist. It was a serious question asked earnestly. So I
responded with a serious face and luckily was able to satisfy him that someone
who is neither Christian nor Muslim nor Jew may also consider to visit
Jerusalem for vacation. The person before me was not so lucky, when he explained that he has no intention of staying in Israel beyond 7 days of
vacation, and that he has a comfortable life and business in India, the Embassy
officer shrugged with disinterest. He said “Prove it.” Visibly baffled, the
person exclaimed – “How? And with such rude behavior, I doubt if I would like
to go there at all.” </span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; text-align: left;">The embassy clerk looking straight into the visa aspirant’s eye and told
him “As you wish. You wanted to visit Israel, we never asked you to.” That was
my first introduction to Israel’s paranoia with security.</span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NmUcu7qXsQw/WcNzw9C8W4I/AAAAAAAAoQo/IJBux-mqetQfg8pM_RcTbtaB-WDNgncHgCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_9495.JPG" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NmUcu7qXsQw/WcNzw9C8W4I/AAAAAAAAoQo/IJBux-mqetQfg8pM_RcTbtaB-WDNgncHgCKgBGAs/s400/IMG_9495.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;">However, with all the problems of getting visa, firming up travel
and logistics and the scolding of people around us (“Israel! Who travels there
for leisure...go to US or Western Europe.”), the bunch of crazy five (actually 4.5)
landed at Tel Aviv earlier this year. And looking back, what an
experience it was! Unique. Incredible. Breathtakingly thrilling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tETW2QYWIgU/WcN0nk4GTYI/AAAAAAAAoQ0/kKYzzHNuBrEXEmgUXGnwuRzPw7ALehJNQCKgBGAs/s1600/20170329_161408.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tETW2QYWIgU/WcN0nk4GTYI/AAAAAAAAoQ0/kKYzzHNuBrEXEmgUXGnwuRzPw7ALehJNQCKgBGAs/s400/20170329_161408.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;">Israel is spectacular. It
is nothing like Europe or Asia or any other place in the world (perhaps). Tel
Aviv the cosmopolitan city stands next to Jaffa old city, which is still frozen
in medieval age. Israel Philharmonic Orchestra was divine and the Museums were
world class. Haifa the port town is picture perfect. Dead Sea
is seen-to-be-believed kind of place. Even the barren hills of Masada
fort leave you so awestruck. Haifa, Caesarea, Jaffa ...all places are beautiful
but nothing prepares you to face Jerusalem. There is something about this
ancient city, a disputed city that is so important to people of three Abrahamic
religions - Judaism, Islam and Christianity. It is so mind blowing that it
attracts - or perhaps even causes - a special kind of madness. For some people,
Jerusalem is a condition, like being in love; for others, it is a state of
mind, a constant tension between rival flags and faiths, or members of the same
faith. You may feel moved, energized, or swept into the maelstrom of
contemporary or even historical issues—but the city will not leave you
unaffected. No, none of us came back with the famed Jerusalem syndrome but
then, it was nothing less than a mad plan for us to go there in the first
place.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; text-align: justify;">The parallel with two other cities – Varanasi and Rome comes to
mind when you think Jerusalem as an eternal city. Now that I have been to all
three I can say with certainty that each of these three sacred cities have
their own character – they do have great energies but apart from that each one
is unique. </span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YNONFHBvyv8/WcN0ngQtd9I/AAAAAAAAoQ0/5tDDHKBN0DcpIpicsGS4rkkDEKHRWoViACKgBGAs/s1600/20170329_161406.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1104" data-original-width="736" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YNONFHBvyv8/WcN0ngQtd9I/AAAAAAAAoQ0/5tDDHKBN0DcpIpicsGS4rkkDEKHRWoViACKgBGAs/s400/20170329_161406.jpg" width="266" /></a><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;">Jerusalem is a city suspended between heaven and earth, East and
West, past and present—parallel universes of ancient wall with wailing pilgrims
and trendy coffee shops not so far from it. The first thing you notice in this
holy city is that the past is not past but it is still passing. Whether it be
the past associated with biblical tales or that of holocaust, it continues to live
in every moment of the city. The stories of Jesus’s life do not seem to be mere
stories written in some ancient sacred text- they suddenly appear to be very
real. The grief of Holocaust is not a thing of past- it still guides the minds
of the people in their individual and national decisions. And ironically, this is perhaps the only city
where facts are irrelevant. Beliefs , sayings, traditions and even dreams rule
the flow.</span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RhKw92IFEjY/WcN3npCE2AI/AAAAAAAAoRY/jY4vm-gKi3YxB43Hcr-dFy41PO-dwxItgCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_9484.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RhKw92IFEjY/WcN3npCE2AI/AAAAAAAAoRY/jY4vm-gKi3YxB43Hcr-dFy41PO-dwxItgCKgBGAs/s400/IMG_9484.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;">And so, as we continued our exploration of the Holy City of
Jerusalem, we too began to take things on faith. The guides issued repeated disclaimers while showing sites and parallel sites of the
same events but after a while, it simply
didn’t matter . If you are a Muslim, you believe that the Prophet Muhammad
ascended to heaven from Temple Mount, conversed with God, and returned to
inspire his followers. If you are Christian or Jewish, you believe that the
stone inside the Dome of the Rock is the place where Abraham was ordered by God
to sacrifice his son Isaac. Druze, Samaritans, Bahá’í, Coptic Christians,
Ethiopian Christians, and Armenians all believe that miracles of faith occurred
in this ancient city. And almost everyone chooses to believe that if you write
a prayer on a slip of paper and shove it into a crack in the Western Wall, your
prayer will be granted. Like everyone else, we descended to the wall and dutifully
left a note. I am not particularly a religious person, but my rational mind
tells me that there must be something in this land that faiths which otherwise
do not agree on most things, agree on the sacredness of this place.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt;">Like Varanasi for Hindus, the faithful of the Abrahamic religions
aspire to be buried on Mount of Olives. From atop the Mount of Olives we surveyed
the Holy city of Jerusalem in all its glory. Directly below us, white marble
caskets in the Jewish cemetery tumbled down the hillside like giant rows of
dominoes. This cemetery may be the most expensive real estate in the world as
the tradition holds that those who are buried here will be the first to be
resurrected when the Messiah appears. No wonder that people from all over the
world pay thousands of dollars for one of these tiny plots. The price of eternity, however, is escalating
as the cemetery is fast running out of space.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;"> But the mountain in not only just
the cemetery. It is also ( believed to be ) the place from where Jesus ascended to heaven , Garden
of Gethsemane where </span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;">Christ prayed before God
for the very last time before being betrayed by Judas and Chapel of Dominus
Flevit, the place where, according to the Gospel of Luke, Jesus wept over the
fate of Jerusalem. </span><span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "cambria" , serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 150%;">Travelling in and around Jerusalem is mystifying. There is so much
history, so many legends and so much to understand. How do you cram 4000 years
of history, faith and myths in one week? For some of us it is also our first encounter
with the world of Jewish ideology and symbols - I mean beyond books and movies.
For the youngest member of our group it was also her first introduction to the
horror of holocaust. For all of us it was a happy introduction to the “food
that Jesus ate” but most importantly it was our first experience to the great
divide between the places where Jesus was born and where he was buried. The
physical distance was not much but the political divide made such visible
difference between Philistine and Israel. The tensions are all-around. The
paranoia with security is very visible (and very irritating). There are claims
and counter claims. But the golden Jerusalem stands strong amidst all these -
this is after all , not the land which grows on worldly facts – it is a land
created on beliefs and legends of
centuries and thrives of those too. </span></div>
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Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com0Jerusalem, Israel31.768319 35.21370999999999231.552388 34.89098649999999 31.984250000000003 35.536433499999994tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1265987842996013884.post-75618855153373323872015-05-14T17:10:00.000+05:452017-09-20T13:32:12.746+05:45Veggie Delight<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To tell you a fact, my favourite
dinosaur has always been the Brontosaurus. Like me, it must have also known
what it feels like to be a vegetarian wandering amongst the world of
carnivores. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">Last month, a Norwegian friend, turned towards
me during a dinner in Vienna and asked with a twinkle in his eyes, “So why are
you vegetarian?”. As always, I began my oft repeated explanation - I was born
in a family where everyone was vegetarian, so I too started as one and now I
truly believe in vegetarianism etc etc . And then I continued, “Some people do not
eat non-veg due to religious reasons in India, some now converting for health
reasons”. He calmly listened and then shrugged carelessly, “In Norway, the only
reason we eat is -because we are hungry”. I sighed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It is difficult to explain others,
why you have a particular dietary habit. More so, if you are Indian. In India,
we have so many varieties of vegetarians that to expect anyone else to
comprehend our habits and the reason behind them, is expecting too much. We
have people who do not eat non-vegetarian food on some particular days/ meals ,
people who do not eat particular kind of meats , people who do not cook non-veg
food at home but would eat otherwise and
then you have “pure” vegetarians like me
who irrespective of days, meals or location remain true to vegetables, fruits
and grains . I respect individual choice in matters of food,
religion and dress. I do not question or ridicule it and expect the same from others.
But then, we vegetarians, while being accused of being food snobs, are also
butt of numerous jokes and taunts because of our food habits. But, believe me,
life at the dinner table is not always fun, if you are a vegetarian, foodie and
a frequent traveller.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My own experiments with
globetrotting on veg diet are nothing less than hilarious. And the fact that
far from going extinct like poor Brontosauruses I am plump and happy, proves
that I managed the journey so far pretty well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The year was 2008. We were on our
first ‘real’ foreign visit to China. In a group of 10 , we were 4 vegetarians .
Our Chinese hosts left no effort wanting in treating the group in best possible
eateries. Yet we four vegetarians came out with only fruits and juices in our
stomach even from the best of places. For us even the cooking oil was non-veg,
which ruled out any chance of any cooked food. So while our other colleagues
were savouring all kinds of Chinese soups, dishes and desserts, we were
desperate to find “anything” to eat. The worst came in a formal sit down dinner
when our hosts decided to treat us with ‘mock meat’. Even though we knew it was
not meat, the look and the smell was so meat-like that we daren’t touch it and
since we were scared of causing a diplomatic fiasco with our hosts, we
pretended to like the meal . After the 11 course ‘hearty’ meal, four of us,
famished and tired of pretending to eat, rushed to our rooms for emergency
supplies of food brought from home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was fearing a similar fate even
in Africa, but there for the first time I realised power of one billion plus. Both
Uganda and Kenya have a sizable Indian population and eateries there knew about
the finicky Indian vegetarians. More so because the communities settled there
are traditionally vegetarian communities ( Marwaris , Gujaratis and Jains ) .
So not only we got our Indian roti and curry but also all favourite Gujarati
snacks and delicacies neatly arranged in a “thali” . In many cases the best
eateries were owned by Indians or had Indian chef. Then on many trips to various other countries,
I did not face much trouble with food. Both Italy and Austria were very kind to
vegetarians with lots of variety and options. South Korea proved to be tough
but still manageable as, by then I was a veteran traveller and knew how to find
my kind of food in alien lands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">In my search for Veg food abroad, I found some
pretty unusual places too. E.g. in Seoul , I found temple restaurants run by monks and nuns serving outstanding vegan food . The place I visited was “Balwoo
Gongyang”, specializing in traditional temple food, where you can taste the
carefully prepared dishes, handmade by Buddhist practitioners. It was an
amazing experience to eat that food. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Like places, in my veg-food pursuits,
I often had very unusual partners. E.g. in South Korea I found many Arabs
joining my Veggie gang as they were not sure of getting halal meat. In Bhutan
my entire team from Kolkata office, otherwise hearty meat –eaters, turned
vegetarian when they did not like the dry meat being served there. To my
credit, I usually try to find vegetarian local food also and mostly get it. I
have tasted vegan Bibimbap and vegetarian Kimchi in Korea, eggless Sachar Torte
in Vienna and even yummy vegetarian Arabian food in Dubai. In Uganda my hosts
treated me with delicious pumpkin soup, roots and salads prepared specifically
for me in veg- versions. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But then there were also
occasions when the buffet breakfast at the hotel was my only meal in a day as I
could not find much to eat at Lunch or Dinner. Luckily, the foodie in me is
always ready to research and find out local options beyond Subway sandwiches
(which by the way are lifesavers). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now on my present work charge, I
see many Indians travelling abroad with full preparation to cook their meals themselves.
Some do it to save money, others because they can’t do without their familiar
food and most others to avoid hassle of
searching options abroad. As for me, my learning from my travels is that I will
invariably find something to eat with my dietary restrictions and with some
effort will be able to find some local food too. For many this may be a hassle
in an unknown city, but to me finding suitable food and the joy of tasting
something new is part of knowing the place, and I would not like to miss out on
that. Poor hubby keeps on hoping that I might return bit slim after my tours
abroad for lack of food. Alas, he hopes in vain- I remain pleasantly plump with
my hearty diet of Falafels, fruits, juices, salads and cheese and worse, every
time I come back from a trip I add new food items in my list of must-eats . </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Atoorvahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02418441265991097209noreply@blogger.com3