From Bangalore to Byndoor

The beach at Sai Vishram Beach Resort, Byndoor

It was supposed to be the worst of times, but it ended up being the best of times. It was neither the spring of hope, nor the winter of despair:  it was late January, and to those of us who flew in from Bangalore, it was hot as hell. But it felt like heaven.

Last week, I took my first flight in fourteen years, to Mangalore, on the west coast of southern India. My final destination was a seaside resort at Byndoor, about 120 km by road.

This was also my first trip to Mangalore and its neighbouring districts in twenty years. This trip was special for me, not just for breaking my non-travelling jinx, but mainly because my father was born here, and I have many relatives living in the region.

The last time I flew in an aeroplane was back in 2002, when I left my advertising career in Bahrain and came to "retire" in India and be nearer my parents. Full of my usual and quite unnecessary fears, I had been dreading the flight. There was an emotional departure from the safe walls of my little Bangalore flat (well, emotional on my part:  the flat remained quite unmoved). I went armed with half a pharmacy, and left my Will prominently on my desk back at home.

The flight was just an hour long, and although it was one of those small propeller-driven planes that had to be landed on one of the world's tougher runways (Mangalore's airport at Bajpe has what is called a "table top" runway), it was a smooth and easy journey.

Then we got into my cousin's car to make the long drive to Udupi. That journey was a whole other story! My fear of flying has now been replaced by a more tangible fear of national highways.

Come back for more tales of this not-so-intrepid traveller's adventures tomorrow!

What did you do with yours today?

There's this thing about us humans.
No other species has it. Not like us.
This wonderful, awesome thing.

We don't use it very often
and we don't get to see it very often
but when we do...

When we do, and we recognise it,
we give each other goosebumps
and bring tears to each other's eyes.

When we do see it, we know it in every cell,
that this is what makes everything worthwhile,
this rare, precious, and yet so easily available thing.

If only we could remember to ask ourselves,
What did I do with my humanity today?
Anything? Nothing? And ask again tomorrow.

A Liebster for me!

                  
I love the definition of the word "liebster" because my name means the same thing! Thank you, Barb and Groundwell Farm for nominating me for this award!

For those of you who don't know what a Liebster Award is, it's an award given by bloggers to other bloggers to help discover small blogs and give them recognition. It works a bit like a chain letter (without the dire consequences!) in that each nominee gets to pay it forward by nominating other blogs they like; there's also a fun question-and-answer section that I'm looking forward to.

Eleven questions I got asked
Here are the questions that were put to me, and my answers:


1. What do you think about sheep?
 I do not get to meet very many, but there are two sheep that will always remain in my memory. They had the most serene, beautiful faces. I would sit by them every afternoon and sketch them. I was 16 or so at the time. I did not realise that the reason they were tied up behind my landlord's house was because they had been selected for sacrifice on Eid Al Adh'a (this sacrifice is a reenactment of the prophet Abraham's sacrifice, and performed on the last day of the Haj pilgrimage). The halal ritual (similar to kosher)  involves calming the animal down, being gentle with it, praying and giving it water to drink first. It is quick and painless in comparison to the usual type of commercial slaughter.  I once read of a German study that compared the two methods, which found that when animals are stunned first they die slowly and painfully, but with little outward expression of pain, due to being stunned. The animals slaughtered in the halal method lose consciousness - and consciousness of pain - within a few seconds, and pass quickly. Outwardly, however, from a human's perspective, there is a lot of blood flow, and the animal's muscles continue to have involuntary contractions even after the heart and brain have stopped. I had no knowledge of all this at the time, so needless to say I was horribly traumatised by the sight before me. I was even more horrified later that morning when the landlord's driver showed up with a gift of fresh mutton for our family - a gift made out of my two serene, beautiful friends. For a while after that incident, I became a vegetarian. Whenever I think of sheep, I remember these two.

2. Identify your most unloved possession.  How did you acquire this thing?
My grandfather's sword. A ceremonial British Army sword - he was the Inspector General of Police (in the days of British India) and used it only in parades. I doubt it has seen blood, but I, being a writer and a stumbling follower of non-violence, have always thought of the pen as being mightier. My cousin inherited it, but when he moved to Australia, he gave it to me.

3. Why did you think you needed it?
I didn't, but as it belonged to my mother's father, I have kept it out of some sense of obligation. Although I do hope to pass it on to my brother or nephew at some point.

4. How did it disappoint you?
It didn't, but a weapon, even a ceremonial one, is an ugly thing to display. So it somewhat distresses me that I have to store it in my home. Its length makes it hard to put away in a drawer! So I'm forced to let it lay flat on top of a cupboard or cabinet, and worry about whether or not it's being correctly stored, and also have to dust it every once in a while.

5. What is your favorite gardening tool?
I have to say, my hands! My gardening is limited to potted plants on the balcony, and I like interacting with them gently. As far as actual tools go, the one I've enjoyed most was a pick axe I used to dig great big holes in my backyard in Bahrain, in the year 2000. I was in the midst of psychotherapy to process my childhood sexual abuse experiences at the time, and I would come home shaken, disturbed and relatively spaced out. Digging the holes felt great, and let out a lot of anger and pain. It was hard work, but made easier by pretending that I was digging graves for the relatives who sexually abused me. Of course, pretending is as violent as I get:  the holes were actually intended for tree saplings. I planted seven, and heard recently that they have all grown into fine ficus trees.

6. What got you started blogging?
I really can't remember! I've just been a huge fan of the internet from the start, so as soon as I discovered Blogger, and found it easy to use and with nice features to organise everything by date and with labels and widgets, I jumped on. I originally had close to ten separate blogs, until I decided it made more sense to consolidate them into one - this one - as they all had something to do with art, earth, ink, and/or soul.

7. What is the best way to build community?
I think you need to personally be what you want to achieve for a community. And to me that means feeling and acting with sincerity, compassion and respect for everyone and everything. You start with yourself and then the people nearest to you in heart, blood or proximity. And you move outward from there. You don't need grand gestures or huge investments, you do it like a ripple, and somehow that connects and saves the world.

8. When was the last time you grew something and produced a yield?
I would love to be able to answer this question differently, but all I've done lately is plant mint cuttings. I use the mint in salads and tea, and my little bird Hello likes to sit on top of his cage and have me feed mint leaves to him.

9. Did you save seeds from your yield?
It has only just struck me, after reading this question, that there might be something in existence known as a peppermint seed.

10. The last time you entered the wilderness, what brought you there?
I know this refers to the actual wilderness, and that would be I-don't-know-when. I'm not sure if carefully preserved US national parks count, but if so, then it's Yosemite or the Grand Canyon. Otherwise it would be picnics with friends and family out in the Bahraini desert, when I was younger. That phrase, though, "entering the wilderness" has a whole different meaning for me, as I have Major Depressive Disorder, and on the occasions when I've had a severe depressive episode, this is what it feels like:  entering the wilderness. (I am not there now).

11. ?
So it was ten questions I got asked. But here's an 11th question:  Where is my 11th question?


Eleven random facts about me
1. I sometimes forget to brush my teeth.
2. I have three piercings in each ear, but don't usually bother with earrings.
3. I had the reading level of an 11-year-old when I was 6.
4. If I could live a long and healthy life on pizza and vanilla ice cream, I would.
4. I am a huge Harry Potter fan.
5. I do not know what my purpose in life is.
6. I used to work as a clown.
7. I would like to be immortal.
8. I once tried to kill myself.
9. I talk to myself, and I reply too.
10. I collect unusual alphabet books.
11. I have been scared of swimming in the deep end of the pool ever since I saw Jaws.


Eleven blogs I nominate for Liebster Awards
And now, here are my 11 nominees (in no particular order):

Lunar Hine

Which Main? What Cross?

Diary Of A Street Coin Collector

Home Is Where The Art Is

Infinite Souls Farm and Artists' Retreat

The Phytophactor

Handwritten Recipes

Letters of Note

Muttering Fool

Advanced Style

Serpent Mandalas


Eleven questions for my nominees to answer on their blogs
here are my 11 questions for you to answer if you choose to accept your Liebster Award (scroll down after the questions to see the rules and guidelines for how to go about accepting the award).

1. Does your mother know you're here?
2. What do you like shopping for?
3. What is your favourite time of day to sit down and blog?
4. What is the most magical place you've ever visited?
5. Have you ever cried with joy?
6. If you could meet me, would you want to?
7. What inspired you to start this particular blog?
8. Have you ever written fan-mail to a celebrity?
9. What's the first thing you do in the morning when you wake up and open your eyes?
10. What's the last thing you do at night before you close your eyes and go to sleep?
11. Where are your keys?


The Official Rules of the Liebster Award:
(thanks to Lorraine Reguly for providing this information)

"If you have been nominated for The Liebster Award AND YOU CHOOSE TO ACCEPT IT, write a blog post about the Liebster award in which you:

1. Thank the person who nominated you, and post a link to their blog on your blog.

2. Display the award on your blog — by including it in your post and/or displaying it using a “widget” or a “gadget”. (Note that the best way to do this is to save the image to your own computer and then upload it to your blog post.)

3. Answer 11 questions about yourself, which will be provided to you by the person who nominated you.

4. Provide 11 random facts about yourself.

5. Nominate 5 – 11 blogs that you feel deserve the award, who have less than 1000 followers. (Note that you can always ask the blog owner this since not all blogs display a widget that lets the readers know this information!)

6. Create a new list of questions for the blogger to answer.

7. List these rules in your post. (You can copy and paste them from here) (and link to Lorraine's blog to thank her if you like, as I've done above - Naz.)

Once you have written your post, and published it, you then have to:

8. Inform the people/blogs that you nominated that they have been nominated for the Liebster award and provide a link for them to your post so that they can learn about it (they might not have ever heard of it!)

I would like to add that you can nominate someone who already has been given this award, as long as they have less than 1000 followers/subscribers. The idea behind this award is to recognize new bloggers and help promote them! The benefit is that you get from doing this is that you get some promotion, too!"

For Lunar.

The decluttering goes on. And so I find scribbles and doodles I'd forgotten about. Here's one I did one day last year, after visiting a fellow blogger's site.   I was thinking about her courage and indestructability.

Check out the alphabet.

Have you noticed the pages I've added to this blog (on a ribbon
at the top of the page). Each of them contains an alphabetic list
of places - the places my readers come from. Every so often,
I check the map at the bottom of my blog, and update the list
with new visitors' locations.

It's my way of acknowledging and appreciating your visits.
And it's also just fun, because I love making lists and putting
things in alphabetic order.

Do go have a look. Start with the page Thank You, World
and then click away. It's more interesting than you'd think.
Or maybe not. Maybe it's just more interesting than I'd think.

P.S. I also write posts that are inspired by my list - you'll find
them under the label "EARTH places".

Agarbatti

And when the scented smoke rises,
what does it bring to you?


Amber.
I call back a moment by a grave in a township by the sea
where they prayed to a different god,
where I first found the agarbatti.


Sandalwood.
With a painted hand she holds them into a kerosene fire
then blows the flame into a dull orange glow.
In a corner by a picture, by a finger-painted Om,
she fills the room with its perfect scent, and makes a temple of her new home.


Musk.
He strikes a match, and starts to sing.
A raga fills and lifts itself into the air
to mate with a fragrance that waits silently there.


Jasmine.
She covers her head and bows in prayer. Behind her it burns.
She turns. She turns. She folds the corner of her mat.
She blows a blessing on her baby's face and lifts him, laughing,
to the flower-filled air.


Frankincense.
She wraps herself in white and turns
from the heavy fragrance that will haunt her forever,
as ashes fall softly to the floor.


We light the incense to meditate.
We light the incense and say, He is Great.
We light it to mourn and to celebrate.
We share it with the ones we love,
and with the ones we hate.

#

(written after Ayodhya)

I wrote this poem after the tragedy of Ayodhya - the destruction
of the Babri mosque, the riots and communal violence that followed.

Raju, my dhobi (laundryman) was from Ayodhya. He told me
that his hometown had been a place where Hindus and Muslims
lived together peacefully. When he fixed his daughter's
wedding plans, he went, as is the Indian custom, first
to the elders to get their blessings. The first person he went to
was Chacha, the eldest of them all. 'Chacha' is an Urdu word
for 'uncle', more specifically: father's younger brother.
Generally speaking, only Muslims have Chachas.
But Raju is a Hindu, and he has one.

Raju and I sat there that evening in Bahrain, surrounded
by fresh crisp linen, wondering how it was that such things
as division and hatred come to be.

And so to the poem, again, which wonders this too.

My associations with those fragrances are quite specific:
Amber is meditative. I first found it at Pondicherry,
a place for seekers. Sandalwood is sacred. Musk is
sensual and heady, much as our music can be. Jasmine
is pure and innocent. Frankincense is sometimes all
that lingers when the men take away a body for burial
or cremation. None of these fragrances belong exclusively
to Hindus or Muslims or any other form of spirituality.
But the smoke disappears into the air, the ashes are swept aside,
and so we hardly notice how much we share.

A second postcard

Finally. Postcard #2 is done and ready to be mailed. What I'm enjoying
most about this project is finding three unrelated people - the person
in the picture, the person whose words I've quoted, and the person
who receives the postcard - and creating a connection between them.

Beads for jewels

I always say that Manipal Hospital's greatest asset is its nursing staff - they are gems. My mom, dad and I have all had our turns in the hospital's Intensive Care Units, and every time, the nurses have taken such excellent and sincere care of us.










So when Daddy went in for bladder surgery, I decided I needed to do something special for these gems of the Urology department. I'm fascinated by all things Native American (I would like to believe that somewhere in my ancestry there is a Cherokee soul) so when I discovered the craft of cording with beads, it became a hobby. However, I didn't think the nurses would appreciate little beaded lizards, so instead I decided to make each of them a beaded name-tag on a key-ring. They were thrilled with the results, and so was I, so decided I must share some pix here.

P.S. The hand is mine.

Plant me a tree!

This year, I turn 42, and I couldn't think of a nicer
birthday present than a garden of trees growing for me around
the world. Over the next year, I hope to find 42 people who
will plant and nurture a tree for me.

Here's what I want you to do:

1. Find me a tree: a sapling of any tree you think appropriate.

2. Next, find me a spot: a space waiting in your garden, perhaps.
Or a neighbourhood corner. Maybe even a large pot for your
balcony (some trees will grow in pots - though not as large
and healthy as those planted in the ground).

3. Take a picture when you plant it, and send me a copy
of the picture, along with a bit of information about the tree -
what tree it is, where you got it and how, why you chose
this particular tree, and anything else you'd like to say.
And in the future, at least once a year, send me a picture
with the tree in it, so that we can all see how it's growing.
You could also send pictures in different seasons, if you like.

4. Look after it for me. Let it grow as long and as strong
as it can, so that there will always be a bit of green for
someone who feels they may never see enough.