Showing posts with label Papaji's garden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Papaji's garden. Show all posts

Thursday, 3 June 2021

He carried dirt under his fingernails

Many of you vising this blog may already know that I published my first e-book recently. Yay! The book's been getting a lot of love and some fabulous reviews. I'm chuffed to bits. I've been dancing and singing like the bulbuls all week. It's a happy time in a writer's life when her words find welcoming hearts.

Today, I'm here to share a poetry recital of a spoken word piece which is also the last chapter of the book. 

You can download the book for free here : And all the Seasons in between


I'd love to hear what you think of the poem and of the book. You can leave your comments here or on theblogchatter.com 

If you'd like to read a review before you make up your mind to download and read, here's one that'll convince you:-) Book Review

Have a wonderful Friday. Till we meet again. 

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. 

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 IshPinkzJz, 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

Saturday, 28 March 2020

Welcome to my A to Z Blogging Challenge of 2020

Dear Readers,

Awkward pauses hold my thoughts captive as I try to type out a post today to say hello to you after a gap of an autumn and a winter. Two seasons apart has turned me into a tongue tied blushing bride: I'm not sure where to begin and how to give form to the stream of emotions that's gurgling inside. So, I'll do as the wise people say. I'll start at the beginning.

For me, beginnings are easier to get to when I work my way back from the end. The end of 2019 threw some curve balls at us as a family and when 2020 shone on the horizon, I was in danger of boxing all of last year into one big disappointment box, tape it up with 'why us' and post a big 'I'm feeling sorry for myself' label on it.

But, someone, somewhere, in this dimension or another, was looking out for us. Hearts healed and bodies bounced back to health.

Ironically, just as I was beginning to flex my writing muscles and get the grey cells ticking to the tune of writing regularly, news of corona-virus threatened to capsize my feeble attempts to get back to blogging.

The heart said not to bother with the challenge in such challenging times and let this year's A to Z slide by just like 2019. But the shutdowns and curfews and the inability to continue with my work at the local hospital have opened up a parallel universe of unencumbered time.

So, I thought to myself, why not step into this expanse and write?

I've been toying with the idea of writing a memoir for over a decade now. But, somehow, I haven't put in any real work into the idea. So, this time, thanks to the discipline of this challenge, I hope to make a start.

For the month of April, I will be sharing stories and memories from my childhood which revolve around my grandfather's garden.

I've inherited his love for the land, soil and seed and in recalling my fondest memories of him and his beloved garden, I hope to introduce you to him, my Papaji. Of course, no mention of Papaji is complete without talking about his better half, my grandmother, Beji, who he doted on and whose kitchen will provide some of the tasty flavours of this month's posts.

The posts this month will follow only one rhythm: that which goes from A to Z. So, the seasons and the mood may change every day--be warned. Not all that you'll read here in April will be happy and full of light. Some of the posts may make you unhappy or sad. But such is life.

Apart from my grandparents, you may meet a few other members of my family, but the focus of this month is Papaji and Beji. So, come along and meet them and some flowers, fruit and vegetables that grew in a plot of land I remember as heaven.

It all happened in the mid nineteen seventies in Dehradun in a garden that was attached to a house built for refugees who'd left their homes and lands and moved to the newly formed India in 1947.

Papaji and Beji were two of the fifteen million people who were uprooted from their homes to honour a line drawn on a map by Sir Cyril Radcliffe.

Roots and branches will keep you company on this blog during this month of A to Z.

See you on the 1st of April 2020 with the first offering of "Papaji's Garden".

Keep safe and healthy.

Love

Arti