Showing posts with label A to Z blogging challenge 2020. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A to Z blogging challenge 2020. Show all posts

Friday, 15 January 2021

Happy New Year!

Dear Readers, 

Happy New Year!

I hope you've all been well and healthy.

My January turned joyous when I saw this animated illustration yesterday. It's been done by the amazingly talented @bohrasisters. 

I've been following them on Instagram for sometime. One of their recent animated illustrations reminded me of my grandfather. So, I sent them a message and we connected.

I wasn't sure why I reached out but I could see my memories reflected in their art. So, I shared a couple of my A to Z (April 2020) memoir posts with them.

Then magic happened.

They were as thrilled as I was to illustrate some of my memories. 

Here's the one that arrived yesterday:

It's a scene from the post that follows. You may have read it in April, but if you've not, then enjoy:) And even if you have, come along for another reminiscing...
This post is an amalgamation  of genres. Imagination has been allowed to fly to the land of  fantasy despite the lockdown. Names of  two main characters have been picked purposefully: one from a children's book and the other from Greek mythology. Their names may be imaginary, but all the characters in this tale are real. All events are real too, well mostly. 

Thank you and I hope you enjoy it.
(Picture: clicked in 2019, Jhinjhi Village, Uttarakhand, entroute Kuari Pass)

                                                                                                                        

Milk for Radishes

Surrounded by High Mountains of the Himalayas in the north and Shivalik Hills in the south, lay a valley called Doon. The green, green valley gurgled with gushing waters of River Ganga in the east and River Yamuna in the west.


Legend has it that a wise Wizard once lived in this land. The people of the valley called him Papadash the Perfect. No one knew where he had come from. Some say he hailed from a faraway Western Kingdom of the Northern Frontiers: the land of Perpetual Spring. But, everyone in the valley knew one thing for sure: the fact that Papadash the Perfect had magical powers. 


People of Doon, the Valley of Green, had heard stories about the wise Wizard's ability to talk to plants to help them grow. It was believed by the young and the old that he sang lullabies to the climbing vines so they could sleep peacefully at night. 


For it is common knowledge that only a well-rested vine can bear sweet grapes and this is the way of the world.


Also, in the Valley of Doon, not far from Papadash's Great Garden, there lived a little girl whose only dream was to be the Most Green Gardener of all times. 


Her name was Artemis.


The Moon had hung so low and so full on the night of her birth, that her mother decided to name her after the Goddess of Moon.


“We shall call her Artemis.” she told her husband.


Artemis grew up in a field of Wildflowers where her mother and father lived. They were the Beekeepers of the Valley.


“Half for us and half for the bees.” Her father would sing when they went collecting honey.


For it is common knowledge that Man was assigned by the gods of All Things Sweet as nature's Beekeeper, so the bees would never, ever go hungry and this is the way of the world.


 By the time Artemis was six years old, her dream to become the Most Green Gardener of all times had taken root in her heart. 

 

 “Why don't you work as an apprentice with Papadash?” suggested her mother who wanted to help her daughter but didn't know how.


Artemis's big brown eyes opened up like saucers. She dashed off before her mother could finish saying what she had to say.

 

Dragonfly’s wings, transparent and tender, rose up in protest. She had spent the entire summer teaching Artemis how to dance like a Dragonfly ballerina. In fact, Artemis had only recently mastered the art of hovering still in position 5 on the very tip of the guava tree branches. It was a secret the two friends shared. They were preparing a dance to surprise mother and father on Summer Solstice day. This apprenticeship would get in the way, thought dragonfly and decided to follow Artemis.

   

With her wild hair blowing in the breeze, her apple red cheeks flushed with excitement, Artemis reached the Big Metal Gate of the Great Garden where Papadash the Perfect lived. 


"Ah...Ah…hh..." Artemis huffed for breath as she stood face to face with the wise one, looking up into his gentle eyes, trying to get a few words out. 


"What is it child?" Papadash asked.


"I want to be your apprentice forever and ever and... I want to be the Most Green Gardener of all times and ...I want to most certainly I want to and ....you have to say yes... and I cannot go back now... And I want to and... please and..." Her words rattled off like a woodpecker's drumming: on and on with no gaps for gulps of air.

 

Dragonfly flew in. She hovered anxiously between Artemis and Papadash.


"Child." said Papadash softly and put both his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. "What took you so long? I've been waiting for you all these universes."


He smiled. His eyes twinkled. He patted Artemis's wild hair and took out a twig that had hopped on for a free ride.


Artemis's heart was singing like a lark. She was trying really hard not to jump up and down. Instead, she used the back of her hand to wipe off drops from the tip of her button nose. All that running had made her nose run too.


Before taking her hand to lead her down the crisscross bricks of the path that led to the Great Garden, Papadash bent down to pick up a bottle of milk that was lying by the Big Metal Gate and slid it inside the deep pockets of his robe. 


Blue Bird of Middle Himalayas, perched on Mulberry, watched as they reached the shade of her tree.  Papadash turned to Artemis and said, "Now, I know I said I've waited for you for many galaxies which is true, but this apprenticeship is very, very special. You have to accomplish a Task before you can be accepted. For this is the way of the World of the Wizards."


Artemis's eyes opened wider. She shook her head up and down to show the Wizard that she was listening.


"You can be my apprentice for ever and ever as long as you can spend One Day--Today, with me in the Great Garden without asking a single question."


"That's easy!” chimed Artemis, cheering up at the thought of such an ordinary Task.

 

Dragonfly, too, cheered up.

 

Papadash the Perfect nodded kindly and carried on walking holding her hand. He bowed his head low as he passed under the pink blooms of Bougainvillea. 


For it is common knowledge that all blooms and flowers are a gift from the gods of All Things Beautiful and bowing to show them respect is the way of the world. 


The first stop they made was by a short Pomegranate tree. 


Papadash picked up some mud, mixed it with water in his bowl of brass and turned it into a paste. Artemis watched silently.


He then took a big helping of the paste and applied it on the trunk of the tree like balm.


"You'll be fine young man. You'll survive. Those silly cats don't know how to climb. I'm sorry! Here... here." Papadash kept talking to the Pomegranate in his soothing voice while applying the paste.

 

“You can ask him, he won’t mind.” Whispered Dragonfly in Artemis’s ear softly.

 

“No, Dragonfly. I want to pass the test.” Artemis stated clearly to her friend.


Next, he took a long strip of cotton cloth and wrapped it around Pomegranate's trunk like a bandage. 


"There!" exclaimed Papadash, happy with his workmanship. "This will do."


A tiny whirlpool of questions was beginning to churn inside Artemis's tummy. Bandages for trees? But she reminded herself of the Task and kept quiet.


They bid Pomegranate goodbye and Papadash added, "Get well soon." before he turned towards the patch that was the Giant Bed for Radishes.


Artemis saw rows and rows of bright green leaves sitting up straight in the Giant Bed. 


"They like their Bed fluffy like you do." smiled Papadash. "So, I rake the soil and mulch and mulch. Air loves to tickle Earthworms you know. And when Earthworms are tickled happy, they make the Bed fluffy like clouds."


"How does he know about my bed?" wondered Artemis but bit her lips hard to stop the words from escaping her lips. This Task was making her tummy ache with all the questions that were piling up inside her belly.

 

“Go on….you know you want to ask him.” Encouraged Dragonfly.

 

Artemis ignored her and carried on.


Next, Papadash took out the bottle of milk he had been carrying in his robe and undid the lid. He bent down towards the Bed of Radishes and poured out a little bit.


"There...there...my babies...drink up the sweet milk. It's fresh from Cow. She knows you need it to make you sweet and ripe." whispered the wise Wizard to each Radish as he poured a little milk down into the soil.


It was getting too much for Artemis. She had never been silent for this long. And the whirlpool of questions was churning inside her like a hurricane now. If she kept quiet any longer, she'd burst open like a seedpod, she thought.


The wise Wizard uprooted a Radish. It shone smooth and white like the moon in the afternoon sun. He shook it a few times to get rid of the fluffy soil and gave it to Artemis to eat.


She was happy to take a bite for this would stop the question from escaping her lips. 


"Crunch...Crunch..." Artemis could not believe how sweet the Radish was.


She thanked Radish and the fluffy soil for giving her such a tasty treat. 


For it is common knowledge that all food is a gift from the gods of Soil and Earth and saying thank you to them is the way of the world.


By the time she had finished eating the Radish and saying her thank you, Dragonfly had filled her ears with more questions.

 

Artemis could hold back no more. She blurted, “How do you know Radishes like milk Papadash?”
    

But, before she could finish her question, she was back at the field of Wildflowers, under the guava tree where Dragonfly had taught her all the movements and poses.

 

 “No!” sobbed Artemis. “This cannot be.”


The Mountains High of the north and the Shivalik Hills of the south still recall tales of the wise Wizard who lived once upon a time in a Garden where Radish drank milk. The River Ganga and the River Yamuna babble about his magic that turned the whirlpool of questions inside Artemis into songs of belief, of magic and of the way of all the worlds across all galaxies and universes. The Wind carries tales of Dragonfly’s selfishness who wanted her friend to be only hers and how Artemis worked hard for a whole long year before she found the path that led her back to the Great Garden to ask Papadash once again if he’d take her as his apprentice.

 

For it is common knowledge that dreams are worth pursuing through disappointments and hardships and that is the way of all the dreamers of this world and beyond who are able to turn their dreams into reality.

 

************************
Papaji, my grandfather did indeed bandage his plants and feed milk to his radishes. He even soaked seeds in milk before planting them. Whenever we asked him, he'd say it makes his radishes sweet like milk. We often ate vegetables pulled straight out of the ground, unwashed. And if Mummy complained about hygiene, he would say: "A little dirt will make them stronger." 

I continue the 'talking to our plants and trees' tradition in my garden in Doha. 

A note about the names:
Papaji's name was inspired by my daughter's favourite book character when she was a toddler. He's called Balderdash the Brilliant. Artemis was an easy choice. 

Friday, 30 October 2020

Good news comes in twos

Dear Friends and Readers,

I hope you've been well and healthy. 

The year 2020 seems to have played a trick on us. Every time I write a blog post, it feels like I'm near April somewhere. How could I be looking at the beginning of November already? I'm not complaining. As a matter of fact, I'm here to share two tasty pieces of treat i.e. good news with you. But before I do, a little preamble to how the news came about.

As you may recall, this year's A to Z Blogging Challenge took me down memory lane where I met my grandparents: Beji and Papaji. Some of the posts I wrote introduced you to them and their love of land and food and their devotion to us, their grandchildren. I chose to call myself a princess in one post and Artemis in another. What they call pride/hubris in the real world is known as imagination in the land of stories, right? Those posts were received with so much love and appreciation that when a call for stories for an anthology of feel good stories rang out in these parts, I rewrote a post into a short story and sent it.

Guess what? It got picked! And the book was launched on the 28th of October 2020! Miracles do happen. I'm sharing all the links. I'm not getting paid or anything but half the money raised from the sale of the book will be used to support an animal charity called 'Prani, The Pet Sanctuary' in Bangalore. I think it's a win win. My dream of seeing my work in print is helping to support a charity. What more could I ask for? I'm happy:) 

You can read 'Kingdom of Kitchen' and 27 other stories in the collection.

Presenting: Tea With a Drop of Honey by the Hive


Please leave helpful reviews if you can.

Covidkaal (the Covid Times) brought out another passion of mine to the fore. It happened by chance. And once again, it's thanks to the A to Z Challenge of 2020 where I met a kind soul and my namesake, Arti of my space who introduced me to online open mic sessions. One thing led to another and I found myself reading out my stories on zoom calls and Insta live sessions in June and July. By the time August rolled in, I had even started 'performing' poetry! It felt like I was back in school, on stage, debating and reciting. The thrills and chills felt exactly like they'd done more than 3 decades ago.

Then, last week, someone I'd met online on one such session asked me to send him some of my work and informed me that he hosts Mirchi Scribbled, a poetry/spoken word/storytelling platform affiliated to a well known radio channel in India called Radio Mirchi. He liked the pieces I'd sent him.

Artemis was back -- she even did a little victory dance to celebrate:)

When a piece was picked and okayed, I took it with me on my morning walks, sat with it under our neem tree and let the words that were written on a laptop screen become one with me.

Then last Friday, the husband and I teamed up to shoot a video of my poetry recital. I wore a grey Coimbatore cotton saree with a gorgeous black and mustard border, my favourite Kali locket, a pair of jhumkas and a big red bindi. I was ready.

We should be done in an hour, tops. I figured. We'll eat lunch after.

Two and a half hours of forgetting a line, knocking the phone off its stand, forgetting to push the record button, loo breaks, umpteen emptying of full glasses of water in single gulps followed by more loo breaks later, we agreed to stop and send the best recording we'd managed thus far. Lunch couldn't wait any longer.

Thanks to Parth Vasani of Mirchi Scribbled who did a stellar editing job, our amateur attempts at recording look pretty neat.

Presenting, my debut performance:
So, that's all folks.

I know Covid Times have been tough but all this sequestering has been like a hatching for me. I'm the egg that's had enough time and warmth over the last six months to crack open tiny parts of my creative spirit from the safety of my nest and peek out a little.

Wishing you a wonderful Halloween if you celebrate and a magical weekend if you don't.

It's a very special full moon tonight. Do go out (if it's possible and if the skies are clear) and let the Moon bathe you in her moonlight.

I owe all the above to the world of blogging and to the A to Z Challenge this year. And to you my dear friends and readers.

Thank you.

Love and prayers,

Arti

Monday, 4 May 2020

Reflection Post 2020 #AtoZChallenge

Dear Readers and Bloggers,

Thank you for joining me today as I reflect upon 
an April that has just gone
'twas full of words galore
wrote plenty and shared even more

This Challenge of A to Zee
of the year Twenty, Twenty
was a foraging for me:
harvests rich with words obsolete
of poetry and poems and funny treats
of history too that read like rhyme
I gathered a lot of knowledge this time

Jade's herbs and Deborah's dreams 
snuggled under Frederique's quilts 
and asked for more extraordinary
tales of The Multicolored Diary

Then there was our rambling Keith 
who often made us bare our teeth
For he made us laugh and explode
such funny stories of old words he wrote

Srivalli's poems as delicate as dew
Nourished hearts and souls quite a few

Namratha's lyrics were no less magical
In fact, every Minute she wrote was quite capital

Ira, living her life to the fullest
added many deep thoughts into my basket of harvest

While I pondered upon dear Ira's words
my namesake Arti carved out her space 
and stuck a maroon bindi in its heart shaped place.

Poetry penned in Moon Dust,
Spoke of care for the old who may have gathered rust
of forgotten routines, memories and such.

Pradeep's X was a treat
Which followed a delicious dosa of wheat
He shared too a new spin on Do Re Me

And Karen's posts spoke of many things that bring her bliss
From goats to Puffins to Xmas trees and taking risks

Then there were Viyoma's tales of cities three
She filled them with monsoons, Windsor castle and '5 flavored pachadi'

Nisha, too, of travel spoke
to Riga and Prague with Rum and coke
and sometimes of Triya and Sid, her bloke. 

Succinct and unusual were Shweta's definitions
of nouns such as salt and revenge who were sent on missions
to destroy my belief that less is not more in writing compositions

Lessons were learnt of History, both old and not so old
While Kristin shared letters 
and memories of her ancestors
Sonia, the one with hundred quills 
mentioned warriors and forgotten keys
and strung out songs that are not often told
From History of Human, young and old

Then there were those who visited
my blog, read and commented:
the ones who weren't to A to Zee bound
Friends in virtual land and around
who over time have gotten close and kept me company--
Cheers Ish, Pinkz, Jz, April and Yamini

Dear Vidya and Nisha shared generously
memories of their lives
in Kota and in Mumbai

Sahitya and Seema
Simmi and Sharmila
stopped by when they could
and posted comments as they should
for I had sent them messages in advance
to inform them of my April plans

Those of you who were tagged
on my facebook page and nagged
to read and comment by me
Deserve a special trophy
for your reading loyalty
All I have to say is this 
Thank you all--dear Mr. Mrs. and Miss.

Thank you too 
to the ones who
visited me once or twice or maybe thrice
Your presence here made me feel real nice

So, if you'd like to check out a few
names I've mentioned in my review
click on the link that is hyper
and discover many  a poets and writer

But the biggest thanks of all you'll agree
is for the fabulous team of A to Zee
Who made this frolic happen
in a far away magical memory garden

And if perchance
you've missed the dance
of words of plenty
Worry not
just click on a title below
and jump into a garden where memories overflow...










W for When Papaji swore               X for X my Heart             Y for Yours Truly

May your May be filled with colours and panache
Like the Great Garden of Artemis and Papadash

May many hands of May fill our hearts with gratitude
for those who serve at times of such magnitude
nurses, doctors, porters and personnel
on shift after shift like a carousel

May our hands in May
I pray
Be filled with flowers and plants and vases full of kindliness
"Laughter is carbonated holiness."
is an Anne Lamott quote
that Deborah wrote
and I added to my harvest for I found it noteworthy
'cause, you see
my mother who was fond of learning had this philosophy:
"Be like the bumble bee..." she used to say "visit all flowers to collect your honey."

If, you'd like to see me again
Catch me on Instagram
as arti.a.jain
for I'll be posting a photo a day
to celebrate May
in a series focusing on the right attitude
of Ma(n)y hands of gratitude

Remember this:
Gardens don't need soil to sprout
"Wonder wanders within and without"
commented Yamini on my day of Zee
If lack of space ever bothers me
I paint on walls and plant a tree
Got a beating once for decorating walls which was bizarre
But all those memories will have to wait for my next memoir:)

Till we meet again 
So long
Times are tough
I know
So leaving you with words
I adore
of Tagore
"The butterfly counts not months 
but moments, 
And has time enough."
Antwerp. June 2019

Thursday, 30 April 2020

Z is for Zarrā Zarrā #AtoZChallenge

An Urdu phrase today:  Zarrā Zarrā [Devnagari: ज़र्रा, Urdu: ذرّہ, pronunciation: Zarrā] 

I hope this last post of the challenge will make the meaning of this phrase clear to you.
Papadash and Artemis are back today. They'll help you get there:)
Marigold Yellow and Dahlia Maroon were opening their buds when Artemis heard Mother tell Father that Papadash had sent word with Breeze of Gentle.

"The Wizard thinks she's ready to go back to the Great Garden." Mother's words sounded as sweet as the song Koel sang in Tree of Jamun.

"Hmm." agreed Father.

When Artemis reached the Big Metal Gate, Papadash, the Perect was waiting. His eyes twinkled in the morning sun. 

Artemis ran straight into his open arms and immediately felt at home.

"You've grown my child." Papadash kissed the top of her head. 

There were many more Twigs in her wild hair today. They had all begged her to take them along as she'd run past first the Grove of Mango and then the Grove of Litchi. They cracked and creaked till Artemis agreed.

"I missed you so much Papadash." Artemis felt a tickle in her throat. So, she cleared her words out.

"Why?" 

Artemis looked up surprised. Her eyes were filling up with Drops of Dew. Did you not miss me then? She thought but didn't say anything.

"But child, how am I to miss you if you never left me?" Papadash asked as they sat under Tree of Mulberry.

"I don't understand." confessed Artemis.

"You must be hungry." the wise Wizard said and pulled out an Orange Orange from deep inside his pockets and started peeling it.

Artemis was too happy to be back to let anything bother her. Leaves of Mulberry danced to the tune of Bulbul  while Perfume of Rose skipped around them. Even the Bags of Cloth who never looked happy for they often complained about Sour Grapes seemed to have mellowed with age. 

Papadash peeled the skin of Orange carefully. He split it into two halves and gave one half to Artemis.

She popped a segment into her mouth as soon as she got it. The juice was sweet and cool. She rocketed the pip out. Sunflower Bright moved his head to see how far the pip would fall.  

"How was it?" 

Artemis turned to see that Papadash hadn't touched his share of Orange yet. She felt a little embarrassed about finishing her half so quickly.

"Look." he said and peeled the web of veins that held the segments of Orange in place and showed it to her. 

Artemis watched spellbound as Papadash picked out a segment, slowly and carefully: just like Mother picks baby brother out of his cot. He asked Artemis to notice the veins, the transparent skin and pay attention to the promise of juice that lay within. He spilt it open. The strands full of juice opened up like a fan. Hidden inside the orange strands, lay a pip. 

"What do you see?" asked Papadash holding the pip between his thumb and finger.

"A pip."

"Child, look closely and you will see you, the world and me." 

For it is common knowledge that all of  Earth's Trees live inside Seeds -- from Orange Sweet to Mighty Oaks and even the Mulberry and that has always been the way of All you See.

"But Papadash I can not see you or me or the world! I only see a pip very small." protested Artemis.

"Give it time and look deeply--not to see that which it is but to see that which it can be."

Artemis nodded her head. Some things were starting to make sense.

Papadash offered her the juicy segment fan to eat.

"But, I've eaten mine already."

"Did you really eat it child? Or did you gobble it up? Did you pay attention to the millions of molecules and aeons of atoms that visited your tongue so you could taste Orange of Orange?"

"Does taste have colour too?" wondered Artemis.

Papadash smiled.

"Every thing, every little thing--Mountains High, Streams Shallow, Rose Pink, Pip Bitter, Particle of Flavour, Drop of Ocean, Wisp of Cloud, Breath of Baby, Dark of Womb--every Sigh, every Cry, every Heart, every Touch, every Bite, every Smell, every Tweet of Mynah bird--every little Zarrā inside every atom of every molecule of every Galaxy of every Cosmos has its own Colour."

"Really?" Artemis' saucer eyes widened and she shook her head to see if all the information Papadash was giving her was fitting in or not.

"Heads can see that which is. Only Hearts can see that which can be. When you said you missed me and I asked you why--this dear Artemis is my reply to those Drops of Dew that filled you eyes."

Papdash pulled her closer to him and started untangling her wild hair, one strand at a time.

"You see, dear child, we are all Children of the same Light. Pip Brown and Artemis Curious come from the same place. Every atom and every molecule holds the Light of Eternity as its Guide. So, when I want to talk to you, I think of you and see your light --from here." Papadash put his hand of many wrinkles on his heart and patted it.

"Next time you eat a piece of Orange or watch the Cloud roar, pay attention to that which can be -- for one day, you may be the drop that floats in Sky and who knows I may become a newborn's cry!"

Sky of Doon, the Valley of Green, was getting ready for the Night. His Star children had started coming out one by one. Koel and Bulbul were singing their last evening songs when Papadash looked at Artemis and said, "That's enough for your first day back. Now go home and tell Mother you were late for I told you another. Go and let April sleep in this Soil of Blog Deep; for tomorrow it will be May and all will wake up to a brand New Day. Go my dear child but remember this: His Light is all we need to see for it lights up every Zarrā  in every stone, every leaf, and every single bumblebee."
Dear Precious Readers,

Thank you for being my companions during this month of unusual April. I'll miss the daily posts and your visits but as Papadash would say--All I have to do is look with my heart and I will see all of you in your Galaxies.
I bid you adieu for now.
May will be here tomorrow. I've asked her to show me the light just like April did so that even if this is my last post of A to Zee, our paths may cross, more often than intermittently.
What do you think Zarrā Zarrā means? 
Do tell me what you think of this tiny little Zee which reminds me of Rumi:
"You are not a drop in the ocean. You are the entire ocean in a drop."
Thank you.

Yours truly and always gratefully,

Arti

For those of you who understand Hindi, here's a short recital of beautiful poetry: Enjoy.
Punjabis have trouble saying crisp goodbyes. They linger on at doorsteps and garden gates for ages.
And as I am of Punjabi stock, I feel like saying more--yes, greedily so!
 Hence, sharing a poem I wrote a while back, in case you have time to read. 
And if you'd like to visit this sacred grove I talk about, just click on : Of Sacred Groves

But before you enter the sacred grove,
Take off the cloak, the mask, the camouflage.
Bring in the real you--
bare and brilliant
single and sufficient
older than time
younger than the last breath
timeless
formless
no body
no mind
no iffs
no buts
no good
no bad
no likes
no dislikes
no memories
no plans
no past
no future
no family
no friends
no ties
no loose ends
no laughter
no sadness
no highs
no lows
still
calm
eternal

a drop in the ocean
an ocean within a drop

Like a ripple seeking its shore

Come ...

meet your shore

He's been waiting for you all his life too.
**********
Stay safe and healthy.
I'll see you on Reflection Day.