Just Visiting

Inviting family and friends to visit your blog is like asking them to drop in for a friendly chat, even though the conversation may be a trifle one-sided! With cup of tea at elbow, I sit at my computer each day and put down what comes to mind. It gives me that happy feeling of being almost face to face with you, imagining your reactions, your smiles and occasional raised eyebrows. Actual visiting is fast becoming a lost art, as is the casual chat over a cup of tea. And the internet is the place to meet. The poem I share with you today, which dates back to 1972 (yes, from my collection), is about ‘just visiting’. The sentiments are still valid, even in a virtual world!

Just Visiting – Annie Laurie Dunaway

May I come in and say ‘Hello’

And stay for just awhile?

For in our hurry scurry world

It’s almost out of style.

But sometimes the heart feels lighter

When you’re sad or sick or blue;

And the day seems so much brighter

Because someone thinks of you.

If you are sick or shut inside

Then this visit is for you

And may you wait with patience

For your strength to gain anew.

And if you are discouraged

And feel misunderstood

Then turn your thoughts to brighter things

And follow up with good.

I hope that through this little chat

As I journey on today,

I’ve left some rays of sunshine

Scattered all along the way.

And the last four lines sum up perfectly what I would like to say!

Man and Dog

Every dog lover has a story to tell. Many stories actually, because dogs are such adorable personalities. My current reading, courtesy the British Council, is The Ark’s Anniversary by Gerald d Durrell (irresistible!!) and his hilarious sketches of animal behavior brought on a few recollections (in a lighter vein) of my own.

Whoever said a dog is a man’s best friend never said a truer word. With his man, the dog will ably goof off, demand hostess service and generally slouch about the place doing just what he pleases.

It is left to the mistress of the home to clean, groom, make the meals, tidy up the bedding and generally make sure all is well in the man/doggie world. The only time man and dog show any signs of activity is the time of ‘walkies’. Like all mutts they love to be out of the house, roaming in gay abandon, without a responsibility in the world. A pastime they can indulge in, while walking, is gazing at the female population and, boy, can they do it in style. Watch the man and his dog when on the prowl. Do you see a similarity? Tongues hanging out and drooling? Eyes a-pop and a general spring in the gait? Of course you do – it’s unmistakable!

When it comes to food they can be really finicky. What was yesterday’s gourmet is today’s trash. But they can gorge on leftovers from the fridge to snack between meals so that their stomachs are full at regular mealtimes, and they both self-righteously turn up their noses at veggies. As for blackmail, they are both postmasters in the art – they can look hangdog, beseech with melting eyes and flirt shamelessly. They can wrap you around paw or finger with just a glance. As for the ‘Guilty? Who me?’ nobody can do that better.

Man and dog share a strong and very visible bond which nobody has been able to come between. Distracting, exasperating, infuriating but very, very lovable all the same. And, who can do without them?!

(With tongue firmly in cheek, this is dedicated to my husband, the dogs that have come into and gone out of our lives and to those nephews who sometimes borrowed them!)

Showing Off!!

I love to crochet! My ‘heaven’ would be rather different from Capt. Stormfield’s or Cloud Nine. Mine would have a comfortable rocking chair, endless yarn, hooks and a pile of patterns. Bliss indeed.

I learnt to crochet from two of my sisters-in-law, perfectionists both. Meeting their approval kept me chained to the ball and hook and, since this was something I really wanted to do, there was much pleasure in the occupation. An example of loving what you do and doing what you love finding common ground!

Over the years, while expanding my repertoire, I have also expanded my circle of friends. While travelling to work – fortunately from terminus to terminus which allowed me a seat – I would work on my latest project and curious onlookers would engage me in conversation, some ultimately going on to work along with me. We learnt from each other, shared patterns and confidences. Finished projects were shown off and admired and future ‘must dos’ discussed. We crocheted everything from baby’s first matinee jacket to doll's clothes to monkey caps to torans. Other crafters joined the group, which expanded our interests and each parting was indeed sweet sorrow, with the next meeting looked forward to on the ‘morrow.

Then, there is my pen-pal from Yorkshire – a friendship that spans something like 25 years. We met through a letter that she had written in to a craft magazine, stating her aspiration to connect with crafters from every country. I am her Indian connection! What started off as an exchange of letters and photographs has now migrated to emails, and the friendship continues many projects later. ‘What are you working on now?’ has been the theme and closing sentence of all our correspondence.

Another crochet-holic connected with me through a mutual friend. She wanted to learn crochet and started off very ambitiously with a blouse, despite much dissuasion. We made it, together (pun intended). Now, we are in competition with each other and engage on back to back projects. Perhaps it is an addiction, but it is a nice one. There is something about the act of ‘creation’ that brings with it calmness and peace of mind – and a quiet joy – in this turbulent world which intrudes so very much into every life.

So, what am I working on now? Well, I have just finished the pincushion pictured here and am putting the finishing touches to a neckerchief (this was a long term project because it took forever to complete the 39 inches!) My next project is a sunhat followed by bookmarks. Thanks to all those lovely people out there who post free patterns on the Net, I am never going to run out of things to crochet. And since I love to ‘show off’ my work, you’ll be seeing photos of them by and by.

Be hooking up with you, soon!

Exams are Easy!

Exams are over, so why am I telling you this now? Because, while browsing among the shelves at the Examiner Press Bookshop, the other day, I came across this slim compilation Exams are Easy (When You Know How) by Mike Evans. I generally avoid ‘how to’ books because they usually turn out to be ‘how to make money’ for the authors. The tension generated by exams for students – and parents - prompted me to take a look, and I liked what I saw.

While the book’s target audience is the student – school, college, mature – who will have to take exams at the end of an academic year or professional course, here’s why I think the book is a must read for students, parents, teachers and for anyone who has an interest in education:

The guidelines provided are what any good teacher should tell exam-takers but often fails to in the pressure-cooker situation of today’s educational scene. The approach is common sense and practical, which means that the ideas are easy to follow. What is more, each chapter has a wrap of the important points, as a bulleted list, and the 84 pages are little enough to get through, even for the most reluctant reader.

Among the important points that the book covers is the one that the student must understand that preparation for exams starts on day one of the course and does not involve last minute cramming. Other important points that are reinforced are: rest and recreation time are essential; familiarity with the syllabus and hence confirmation of completion of the course or otherwise; study habits: understanding question papers and allocation of time for both study and tackling the question paper on the day.

For example, comprehending the question paper by ‘identifying’ the verbs in the question is dealt with by explaining the meanings of ‘account for’, ‘analyse’. ‘criticise’, ‘prove’, ‘review’, to mention a few, and the author shows which action is required by the examinee. The art of making notes (requiring external study and research) as against taking notes (jotting down important points which the teacher makes) and using these to reinforce learning and recall is an exercise that has served – and continues to serve – me well and I was very happy to find this mentioned in the book, along with the other useful tips. Harnessing drawbacks in order to make them work for you and tackling common problems, round off the advice. A quote: Exams have become a problem through myth, irrationality and as something to blame by those who have not worked and, therefore, do not deserve to pass.

The book suffers a little from want of editing – the author is rather repetitive with the phrase ‘we will be talking more about this later’. This is a standard lecturing technique to recall and reinforce important points and could have been left out in the print edition. All the same, it is a minor glitch.

Exams may be over for now, but a new academic year looms and this would be the right time to invest in some useful reading.

Words are what I have

Thanks to technology and the media, I was able to watch President Obama’s swearing-in in its entirety. One of the highlights of the occasion was the reading of Praise Song for the Day by its composer Elizabeth Alexander. For me, the words which stood out sharply were, “We encounter each other in words. Words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed, words to consider, reconsider…”.

Communication is how we touch each other, especially over the distances that separate us. And we communicate using words. I love words – written, spoken, sung. And because I love them so, I have over the years accumulated those that hold a special appeal. My scrapbooks are a collection of quotations, poems, lyrics and extracts culled from all that I have read and encountered and are a source of solace, humour and inspiration. A precious resource worth more than silver and gold! I look forward to sharing the nuggets and gems in future posts.

And, while we are between weeks, here is a pertinent selection from my collection:

Week Daze – R.H. Grenville

Monday is a bread day

Rather than a cake day,

A back-to-work, want-to-shirk,

Slow-to-yawn-awake day.

Tuesday, Wed- and Thursdays

Are depends-on-what-occurs days.

But Friday is a fat day,

A gay day; is that day

When ready money jingles

And anticipation tingles

Towards Saturday and Sunday,

The wine-and-dine and fun days

The lazy lie-abed days,

Leading to the lead day,

The duty-must-be-done day.

I long to sleep through

Monday!

(And this was written long before the acronym TGIF made its appearance!!)

God bless your weekend and the Monday.

Further Thoughts on a Theme

Gardens are not just for flowers. They teem with ‘wildlife’ and my return to gardens of the past brought with it memories of other visitors, all of whom gave us pleasure – some by coming and others by going!

There were ladybugs, those red and black glossy beetles which are supposed to bring good luck in their wake. The preying (praying?) mantis which was ever so hard to spot. The chirpily happy crickets, unforgettably portrayed in ‘Grasshopper Green’ lisped by kindergartens and as the keeper of Pinocchio’s conscience (by Jiminy!). Butterflies of every size and hue, fluttering between petals and filling the air with colour. Bees buzzing away stickily while pollinating the next season’s crop. And who can forget the birds? There were tits, jays, mynahs, hoopoes (surely, there is humour in God’s creation) all displaying varying talent in conversation, song and dance. There was the owl who lived in the hollow of a tree and was probably the reason we saw no rats. The occasional peacock practicing his dance, feathers unfurled. The tree lizards, sleepy and lethargic, one eye open and the other closed. Every morning brought a glad reunion with the ‘denizens’ of this little world.

And so, too, the nights. Out came the glow-worms and fireflies. The frogs and toads, big and warty. They loved our verandah because the light attracted a multitude of insects and a veritable feast. Twilight resounded with call and answer and the cadence soon became a familiar pattern of evensong.

Yes, there were the not so nice visitors too. The creepy crawlies: centipedes, millipedes (locally termed blanket boochies), scorpions, snakes. All poisonous and all to be studiously avoided. They kept their distance and we kept ours, because here was space enough for each to have its own.

This was all in the time before digital cameras or even colour photography, and the ‘pictures’ are all in the mind, in riotous recall. Which is why I number among my best friends the writings of Gerald Durrell, who captures this particular world so invitingly and allows me to return, times without number, whenever I turn the printed page.

Today, a personal garden is a luxury granted to so very few. Public gardens, too, are a rarity. So, I look out eagerly for every patch of green at traffic junctions and apartment frontage. And I chat fondly with the pot on my window sill.

Cut Flowers

It used to be the fashion to have framed mottoes on the wall in the parlour. We, too, had our fair share and one that I still remember is this little verse: The kiss of the sun for pardon, the song of the birds for mirth; one is closer to God in a garden, than anywhere else on earth. The words were superimposed on a picture of a garden and the whole framed by a circle of brass butterflies.

I grew up in gardens, thanks to my Father’s military stint. And I number among remembered friends a profusion of blooms: the delicate Cosmos tossing in the breeze (think chiffon flounce), the incredibly blue Cornflowers, velvety Foxgloves, Snapdragons (a child ventriloquist’s best friend!), Helichrysums (honestly, could they be real?), spicily scented Geraniums, chubby, self-possessed Michaelmas Daisies (my all time favourites), towering Sunflowers, and overweight Dahlias. All these, in addition to the ubiquitous bougainvillaea and lantana. Roses were mandatory and sat proudly in their separate ‘rose bed’ but these were no friends – they had large and very sharp thorns!

What set off this reminiscence? A friend dropped by with a bouquet, prettily arranged and headily scented. But my heart prefers blooms that are rooted in the soil – rooted yet free. If you had a garden to look out on, would you really swap the view from the window for a vase on the table? Close your eyes and, for a moment, picture a garden in full bloom:

Did you notice?

The scent, the mien, the style?

Flowers have personalities too!

Some are wild and wilful

Others fat and content.

Then there’s the stately lady:

Stiff, formal and unamused.

Royalty among the riff-raff?

They spring from the earth

And to the earth return

Their circle complete.

Giving life.

Bringing life.

Then there are those

Which feel the touch of steel.

Chopped, trimmed, lobotomized

Posing in sterile splendor

In vitreous bondage.

Flung by careless hand,

They exit vase for bin,

And thence to squalid rot.