One Life to Love

...and I am talking about the love of food here :P

As Mark Twain said -

"Part of the secret of success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside." 


..and that is the diktat we follow..shoving aside guilt and remorse that will always come back later to haunt us..the ever agonizing thought of having to at least hit a road if not the treadmill sometime soon...the promises we make each other to support in our cause of collective weight loss...and the inevitable show of solidarity from the others when one of the gang skips her diet plan or gives in to temptation :))

....we ponder over elaborate menus..agonize over whether the chinese place twenty kilometeres away is a better choice than the new pizzeria much closer home..amazingly we never have the need to toss a coin! Somehow our stomachs are in sync with whichever gastronomic adventure they want to salivate on that day!



Sabine-Verde

 In this instant my friend and I decided to settle for a new Pizzeria nestled in a small corner of our favorite hangout and order a half and half Pizza - a compromise reached between us for her carnivorous instincts (Sabine - spicy salami, onions, jalapenos and chilly flakes) and mine honourably vegetarian morals (Verde - Pesto sauce, pine nuts, onion and rocket)- she believes that meat..red, orange, white can never be bad for you...although she might make a concession for the blue and green variety....(!!) and I refuse to eat anything that may end up in a grave someday.

This was clearly one of the best meals we have had...as shakepeare taught us to misquote..a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine and like (gastronomically) minded friends...is all one needs....

...there was nothing left to click once we had both done justice to our respective side of the pizza...except for long sighs ..an amazing feeling of being completely satiated......and something oddly resembling a guiltpang that continued to gnaw at us despite our attempts to pretend otherwise!!

Memories

"When you come to me unbidden

Beckoning me

To long-ago rooms

Where memories lie

Offering me, as to a child, an attic

Gatherings of days too few

Baubles of stolen kisses

Trinkets of borrowed loves

Trunks of secret words,

I Cry."

Words mean different things to different people. This poem of Maya Angelou is one of my favorites - always bringing the imminent hint of long misplaced memories. Though it talks of forgotten loves and secret rendezvous, for me for some reason this poem is reminiscent of forgotten scents and fragrances :)) 

Lodi Garden on a foggy morning

- fragrance of forgotten smells from a childhood home...morning walks in the park - of couples - young and old - walking hand in hand..and early morning joggers breaking into impromptu runs, of foggy smoky winter mornings and of blowing smokes in the air as a child waiting for the school bus...

- memories of childhood games of hide and seek and lost and found..scent of secret whispers on a misty night reading Enid Blyton, Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys.. playing at secret societies with whispered passwords and girlish games of playing house...

- memories of a kitchen after a  day's baking...steam from the nth cup of tea hitting the nostrils on a winter-y pre-exam night...of late night distress calls to friends to discuss that last chapter in the syllabus that one always thought to be unimportant but of course was not anymore..

- and later more recent fragrant memories of long evenings with friends and early morning lie ins......, playing at being grown up as a confused teenager..., the first taste of wine..., the first experimental smoke...and the guilty smell of a sudden thrill that comes from finally breaking the barriers.....

I rejoice as I recall some of those sweet forgotten smells and sounds...but there are still scores of those tiny little incidents - so brazenly important at that time but now forgotten and lost ......like the words of a much loved song that was once known to heart.......

  

Little Woman

She has the look of an emaciated child woman. Carrying her load of bundles full of clothes, she stutters along the street, gaunt and pale. Yet the smile on her lips belies her physical state. There is still that twinkle in her eyes - a reminiscent of her former self.

She walks up the two floors to my apartment, out of breath and paler for the effort. As I open the door, the shock that may have registered on my face on seeing her, clouds her own. Then she smiled. I smiled back and asked her to come in. She struggles with her shoes and I tell her to leave them on. She is here on on old errand - I ask her how is that she is back. She tells me that the doctors at the hospital told her she can go home so here she was. She may have to go back again but for now she feels fine, she says. I struggle to keep my tears in check and giver her my clothes for ironing. She counts them one by one and slyly asks for her Diwali gift. I give her a mock stare and then give in :))

As she turns to go I ask her when will I see her again. She smiles - It was only cancer. Now I am fine, she says. I will be back. Matter of fact - just like that. I am shaken by her calm, matter of fact statement. As she jumps down the stairs I call out to her to remind that I want to see her grades for the session. She nods, smiles and then laughs. I was away from school the whole year, remember? That smile again...

She leaves me wondering if I could ever find that strength to deal with such pain in such a no nonsense manner. My grandmom would have said, this is God talking to me - showing the colours of life on this earth and how it is to never give up on the face of adversity.



Colours of life....

She is more than just an ordinary child for me. She has been a face that reminds me of another..someone close ..who once was and is now lost. The little girl is all of eleven years old - the other would have been eleven now.

Kaifi aur Main

An unusual weekday evening. The play transported me into another world. A true story of a beautiful love that lasted over five decades and still exists in some other realm..poignantly portrayed by an emotive daughter and her husband..I am moved beyond words and feel the sensitive Urdu poetry sieve through my soul.

....what it is to feel a love and bond so strong?...

....to be able to live and share a life so fulfilling?..

....not to live as if apologizing for one's existence?...

....rather challenging one's dreams into reality?....

I move around the house pensive ..thoughtful...unconsciously picking beads of my life trying to string all those individual orphan moments .,,.the play has left my heart somewhat heavy ...not depressed but thoughtful...I hope (and pray) the pieces all fit together someday...!!

For once I have no picture to share....what I feel is beyond any image....perhaps each one of us would paint our own in different colors ....mine is a blank canvas for now...what could I show for a vaccum anyway?

Morges, Switzerland

Morges, a small town on Lake Geneva or Lac Leman as the French call it, near Lausanne, once upon a time was an important commercial centre.

I am told that for this reason a port, which nowadays serves as a port for yachts, was built at the end of the 17th century. The promenade along the lake shore of Morges stretches from the castle all the way to the Vertou Park and offers a fantastic view of the lake and Savoy Alps including the Mont Blanc, on a bright and sunny afternoon!

The place offers an ideal, quiet weekend getaway from bigger cities like Geneva in Western Switzerland. In addition to interesting museums and sights, the car-free Grand-Rue of Morges is perfect for a spot of shopping, and there is a market with local produce every Wednesday and Saturday. 

The people are friendly and inviting..often offering help unasked and always willing to click a picture of you if they see a camera in your
hand! J

I am learning that the world really can survive solely on the language of the eyes and that there is nothing that an engaging smile cannot achieve! The region is predominantly French speaking but so far I have survived well with my limited vocabulary of Bonjour, Merci, Voila and Au-revoir!! Despite my non existent language skills I manage to make friends in the Afghani honey seller who wanted me to tell people back home in India how much he loves bollywood (!!) or my charming hostess at the Hotel de la Nouvelle Couronne (www.couronne-morges.ch) who frantically tried to pacify a completely freaked out yours truly when the fire alarm decided to go off in my hotel for no reason!! J J

My first Sunday in Morges – and its drizzling this morning!! The first thought that came to my mind as I got up was mercy in heaven that I went out to the lake front yesterday and clicked some lovely weekend life J! As I promenaded along the lake this morning, the cold breeze stings the eye yet is so refreshing..the almost fall colors around transports one to a surreal place which seems quite close to heaven. 

The clock tower reminds me every hour that I am traveling through a time tunnel but in this place it is simply a reminder of one's mortality..as if to say that this is glimpse of what heaven would be like!!