There have been cats all around me since childhood. Cats of all kinds. There has beeen only ONE Kali. The cat.
Kali my beautiful ugly. The first cat to be born inside the house, a little black blob entering our world and making it beautiful.

As she grew there were yellow specks all over the black ,not many but enough to make her look a bit ugly. As cats go she was pretty, and as smart and intelligent as her mother Billo Rani.

We had an old Fiat car at that time and Kali loved sitting on the parcel tray at the back and being driven around, what she loved more was the attention she got from the passing motorists. After receiving her due share of it she would settle down to snooze during the drive.

AND the dogs in the apartment were terrified of her. She would run up to this black one and look him straight in the eyes nose to nose and the poor thing would just back off. Everyday. By this time she had stopped staying at home, happy to wander around in the premises and just come home for meals.And by then we had progressed from a Fiat to a Maruti 800. Kali loved it although it did not have a parcel tray. She was older and perhaps wanted a living,dining ,bedroom to herself.She decided to make it her home, we had no say in the matter. When I came home from work she jumped in and then did not jump out.SO! Food for Kali to be served in the car please. And please leave the windows open,dear... I plan to sleep here too.One window was left open all night for her come rain or sunshine. The neighbors were surprised when they saw my car open all night but Kali was a favorite so they quite understood.

When the kitchen was being redone she would come up as usual for her meal at night and then go around and inspect the work of the day. Give her catapproval and then go back to her car bedroom. When it was finally done she loved the new setup and came up more often.

Years later, there was some other major work being done in the house, my father was unwell and almost bedridden, when one day the car cleaner ran up and told me that Kali was lying on the sidewalk without moving.Fortunately it was my day off from work and I rushed down to see her lying there unable to get up. There were some paw marks so apparently she had dragged herself onto the sidewalk and collapsed with exhaustion. She had been possibly hit by a car earlier on and had broken a bone. I carried her upstairs and called the vet. After the x ray was taken he said he would not be able to do much except give her medicines for pain and antibiotics and that she needed to rest completely and would be better in a month. Kali and rest did not go together. She found every opportunity to get out, She could not walk or run, just hop like a rabbit and she was faster than a rabbit can ever hope to be.Several times there would be three people running down the stairs to get her back home, and it was quite a chase.She healed soon enough and was back downstairs to her car abode, but not before going to my father's room and showing him that she was well enough to go downstairs.

On normal days she would come upstairs and Mom would give her the evening meal and she would go back downstairs after eating.  One day when I came home really late from work, Mom told me that Kali had been sitting with her for three hours since about 5pm. Very strange behavior indeed when usually she would run away fast because of the other cats.

My mother died that night.Kai knew, but how? I shall never know. People say some animals can sense when the end is near specially of those that they love a lot. Kali my smart intelligent ugly angelic beauty sat with Mom at the table just to be with her in her final hours.

Miss you my black beauty!! You and Mom must be together up there along with the other cats and watching over us. Love you forever!!

Morning Mantra.

Blushing pink rays against the trees
Carpets flying against soft breeze
One merges into white
One disperses out of sight
Timeless bursts of light
Distant hours of flight
On the trail of dawn
Soft footed, sure the morn.

NK
......

In A Flap

And so I was on my way to Pune FINALLY. Had been planning for months, but something or other came in the way of the road to Pune.

Vijji had called me a month ago a month before, and said that she would be going to Pune and would be visiting a mutual friend who had been ill for over two months. I was elated to note that the day was a Wednesday  and I  could go too as it was a free day. I had decided in advance that I would take the bus as I usually did.
It had been raining cats and dogs for many days before the much awaited journey.I had been advised not travel by road as I had to come back on the same day , the traffic conditions could turn chaotic.
Just two nights before I was to leave, I decided to travel by train instead, the least that could happen would be some minor delay. So I asked Nikki to book my tickets on the net and she willingly did it and got me the printouts the next day.
And then it was GET SET GO. The taxi came at the appointed time , so did the train and the breakfast when the train chugged off, followed by the much needed sleep in the comfortable seat. All ON TIME! Just before  I fell asleep I checked my ticket once again, return in the evening at  6.05 hours. Great , now onto dreamland.
I arrived on time in Pune and took an auto to where Vijji was staying with her son. She had offered to fetch me from the station but seeing the distance I told her that I would come on my own. Vamsi , Vijji's son was to come and pick me up at an appointed place. I got a good honest auto driver and reached without any trouble.
We met and talked for some time and then decided to go out for lunch. We were supposed to go to visit our friend at about 3pm.It was all sailing along smoothly , we finished lunch and proceeded to Boat Club Road.
Once there we were happy to see that Kash was better but very tired and looking a bit peaked because of the ordeal she had gone through. Kash is such a wonderful hostess, we enjoyed the lovely afternoon and the Colonel and she kept us entertained along with scrumptious goodies for tea.
The afternoon passed much too soon and it was time for me to leave for the station for my return journey. Check ticket and off we go . Kash's husband dropped me to the station and I waved a goodbye.

I entered the station and looked at the the prompter above for my train and the platform number. I did not see it. Huh? Looked down at the printout and back up at the prompter, still no mention of my train. There was a porter standing close by, so I asked him where this train was supposed to come. He looks at me and shakes his head....... no train at 6.05pm but there is one at 5.55. WHAT? Its 5.35 pm , back to the prompter to confirm, he is right, the train are at 5.55, 6pm and then at 6.15pm and only one to Mumbai. God Almighty , now what? I then looked at the printed board showing all the trains and the timings, HELP.... my train had left at 6.05 AM. ACTION STATIONS!!  5.55 here I come, but how ? There was a ticket counter where 3 people were waiting to buy tickets, ENQUIRIES AT WINDOW 24 ONLY. Where in the dickens was number 24? Start running about like a flapping hen searching for 24 to no avail. Time ticking by. Finally find a counter which is empty and the guy behind him my ticket, he says but a ticket at any counter and take the train at DARN IT 5.55pm. There is a serpentine queue at the ticket counter, I will never catch the train.. Oh what about that counter where there were only three people? Rush back still flapping. Buy a ticket to get to the train unreserved . Its 5.45. Now flap really hard  and reach the platform but where do I board? Brain screaming at me to get on wherever there is a door. I do just that. Flapping stops and panting starts. I ask a gentleman where I go with this ticket. He points to the general compartment and I gingerly make my way there. WOW! Not an inch of decent standing space even. How will I stand there for the next three and a half hours. Edge back to the other compartment , the helpful man tells me to find a place to sit there and pay the ticket collector the extra fare for the seat when he comes around. She comes and is instantly by others with tickets like mine. So this is official, God you are really kind! Pay the extra fare and settle down , thought for a minute about taking a chance at the next station for the air conditioned coach but better sense prevailed.

Heaved a sigh of relief and settled down to sleep. Ordeal over. Peace again.

WOODS AND TREES.

All of us are attached to our surroundings, a small child to it's mother,  a husband to his wife, a student to his studies, a home-maker to his/her home and definitely our life to our breathing. A few cases in point.
We are all so linked with emotions, that we get pulled into the whirl of life, and then these emotions govern all of our thoughts and actions.
We have been often told that detachment is the only way to really be, that it answers many questions. Not many in these times would ascribe to this , for it would be equal to to non-emotion, or at living in a completely emotionless state and that would be bizarre. How can anyone exist without love or loving anyone around or anything close to you?Would it not make you mechanical in what you do and then how would you appreciate anyone or anything around you? Most human qualities are linked to emotion. Sympathy, happiness , joy, love, empathy wonder, surprise, awe are some of the qualities which make us human. We will not get into get negative emotions here because at best they debilitate the one displaying them and hurt the one they are aimed at besides souring the surroundings, at worst they impact much more.

Some years ago I had with a group from  Bombay to Kolkata for a celebration . There we met others who had come from all over India . Some of us were chatting one evening and one of the older ladies asked me why I was not married ( this kind of invasion of privacy is considered perfectly all right even if one is not well acquainted ),  and not wanting to get into details I loftily answered that I  did not want to get into the attachments which marriage brings. There was a young woman who was present there and when I asked her if this was not true, she said something which left me speechless. She was from a small town not far away and had left her family ( which is not common) to be there for those few days.  "Dekho to bandhan, dekho to koi bandhan nahin" . If you look at it (married life) it is an attachment, if you look at it , there is no attachment at all.
WOW! A statement made without any sermonizing or the need for endless debate. So true for situations we find ourselves in everyday and when seen in a larger perspective.

When I started writing this , I was veering towards writing about my view of attachment vs. the necessity for detachment. This incident came to me ( the attachment of my psyche to the memory of the incident). There is no need to say more.

Sometimes one sentence can speak a thousand words.

Trysts

As I watch the rain playing gently outside the balcony accompanied  by the odd wet caw from a drenched crow and a few random honks from passing cars, the lilting melody takes me back to childhood trysts.Of looking at the flash of lightening a pure zigzag of beauty, awed at the wonder of it. We were supposed to be in bed, it was already past 9pm and were as usual resisting sleep. Amma came in to admonish us and tuck us in when there was a loud clap of thunder rumbling and continuous. The zigzag flashes followed instantly. Mom pushed us towards the centre of the room hen like in her protection. I struggled out of her clasp and rushed to the mesh door to watch the heavenly drumbeats and laser shows mesmerised at the wonder of it.

When the hailstones used to beat down both bhaiya and I would rush out to the veranda as soon as Mom had her back turned, and into the garden to collect the ice lollies and back into the safety of the veranda and then eat them with abandon. Several times. Small pleasures, simple games with nature.

We used to spend most of our school vacations in Allahabad . Arid summers with the hot wind called 'loo' locally, a wind which causes severe illness and fatality and best avoided.We were warned by the elders not to out of the house at those times.The fun only began when they retired after a heavy meal in the somnambulent afternoon. Racing trough the house into the compound back into the dining room hiding as close to to the buckets of luscious mangoes, grabbing and sucking the juice out of as many as was possible despite the warnings by the adults.
The hailstorms in Allahabad were more severe, I have seen a couple of them in the winter there but remember the huge bullets of ice which would hurt if one ventured out.The sound beating against the red tiled roof  sounded as ominous as  thunder. The sudden blitz and the just as sudden end made us rush outside despite the shivering freezing cold.

There were two most exhilarating storms that I  have seen, the Kaali and the Peeli Aandhi, black and yellow storms, but of that later, the experience can't be described in a few lines.

When I started writing this blog , Nikki  had said 'Well begun' . I almost left it half done, an endeavor towards completion will be attempted.

Disparities

Yesterday it stared me in the face again. The vast divides in our society, chasms which one cannot cross easily. However much one may try to fill those gaps the bitter truth is that there will be always be the haves and the have nots. An ideal world cannot ever exist, it is foolish to even dream of such. Perhaps the very reason for the human endeavor is the imbalance around but then we also talk about the harmony of nature and how much we can learn just by observing it. We observe, we don't learn. Continue in our own disparate ways, each with his personal goal and agenda of life.

Yesterday I was at a radio station and met a larger than life personality, who is the epitome of humility. But this is not what I wanted to say. The  radio station radio station was was collecting notebooks for distributing to children who cannot keep up their education because they can't afford to buy books. Mission Shiksha....... I too donated my drop in the ocean worth of books.

I have always been concerned about the education levels in our country, they have undoubtedly risen considerably in the last few decades but what one sees around is the alarming number of those who do not have the means and at times the inclination to continue with their studies. (There are many success stories about people coming out tops despite the odds which continue to inspire).The dropout level in government run schools is high, many children do not go beyond the 4^th or 5^TH  class, some manage to stay on until a they complete the eighth or ninth year of school. These schools,funded by the government, for educating the economically weaker sections of society are more than less a laughing matter, there are so many instances of  teachers not coming to school at all but getting their salary at the end of the month, some which I have witnessed personally,others which are reported in the newspapers.And this is just the tip of the iceberg, there are many other irregularities which result in the high dropout rate. And if teachers behave in that way the example they set for the students is disastrous.

We HAVE TO HAVE dedicated individuals, perhaps foolish idealists,  to  change the existing situation. Why do we not question ourselves when we see children begging on the streets, why do we shrug it off as an the effect of Karma, or whatever excuse we have for our good fortune. Have we become so self centred that we cannot see outside the  well of our own little lives. We give towards charities but are we genuinely concerned or is it just for placating  our egos and dealing with the guilt of poverty around us.


We talk about a strong vibrant India, a nation on the go, where the young population outnumbers the greys. Accepted. The work force which is on the move and the youth who are with it and all there. Are we only looking at cities, what of rural India are they there if so where? Are they not left behind in the scheme of things? How many ideal villages do we have like the one painstakingly built over the years by Anna Hazare?


To come back to the main point only and only when we have 100 % literacy that we can hope for the next level, an educated and enlightened India.


We hear that the world is looking at us,  are we looking at ourselves or are we looking at ourselves with of our perceived view of the world's view.

I think I am ending a bit abruptly here. I don't know why despite all this I am so proud  of this ,my land. My one fervent wish is that it wakes up and becomes the country which Tagore dreamed of   .................


Nandita.

PS  There is some error in the format of the text hence the different sized fonts,please excuse. I have to go back to school.

Lanes

I thought I would go down memory lane today, there are many lanes which we traverse each with its own hues.
Memories of childhood, school days, which may or may not be interlinked, memories of college days, your first job, and then others in the course of ones  life. All forming a collage in before your eyes, some fading with time, a mere blur, others refreshed by looking at old photographs. Strange that a memory of a shared event  may be entirely different from that of your sibling or friend. Is that because of a difference in outlook, just mere forgetfulness, or else do we remember only what we want to?

Sorting out papers a few years ago, I came across some letters which I had not seen before, memories of people before my time, their feelings hopes expectations frustrations, sadness,a whole gamut of emotions in those lines before me,a small window opening into a world gone by,overtaken by the today's rapid constructions. Some moved me to tears, others to laughter and still others to a jaw dropping surprise. It shall begin again...... the re-sorting.................. and memories will rebound , more fresh more poignant.Distances of decades within the grasp of a hand.

I thought that I would be walking down my own lanes today. Some sunlit some in the shade the springs of youth flowing into adulthood surging into what? The sea is not visible as yet, the meandering may be slower,  the goal is certain the path unsure and once reached will be a memory once more.
  

Oft I remember those I have known
In other days, to whom my heart was lead
As by a magnet, and who are not dead,
But absent, and their memories overgrown
With other thoughts and troubles of my own,
As graves with grasses are, and at their head
The stone with moss and lichens so o'er spread,
Nothing is legible but the name alone.
And is it so with them? After long years.
Do they remember me in the same way,
And is the memory pleasant as to me?
I fear to ask; yet wherefore are my fears?
Pleasures, like flowers, may wither and decay,
And yet the root perennial may be. 

H.D. Longfellow