Karishma - Don't worry be Happy | This too shall pass - episode 2

Karishma

Don't worry be Happy | This too shall pass - episode 2

" Amma Namaste ", as I opened the door, little Karishma wished me in a polite yet confident voice, looking straight into my eyes. I smiled at the little daughter of Manju, wife of Shankar who is a caretaker in the next door apartment building.

Manju comes home to help on some days when my regular maid can't come because of the lockdown restrictions. On some odd days, Karishma, her two year old daughter accompanies her.

I always marvel at the way Manju has brought up her little daughter. Though she stays at home with her mom and yet to be admitted to a school, the little girl is always well poised, polite yet confident, bold and articulate. When she answers the phone call on her mom's behalf, one can't believe that one is talking to a tiny toddler.

Karishma sat on the corner of my sofa as Manju got busy with her work and I opened the fridge to select vegetables. My eyes fell on the laddu I had kept on my dining table and handed it over to Karishma.

Karishma's eyes brightened looking at the laddu and she ran to her mom. I overheard Manju chiding her to eat it only after going home and not to spill it anywhere and " Amma ko pareshan mat karo ". ( Don't trouble Amma )

I stopped in my track when I heard Karishma's reply. She said " Amma ko pareshan karoongi toh woh naraj ho jayegi na?

Tab woh hame kam nahi degi na?

Toh phir hame paisa nahi milegi ma.

Aur hamen khaneko kuch nahi melega......"

Seriously?????

Those were heart wrenching words and I could not control my tears. No doubt in their little harsh world it may be partially true and to discipline the child it might have been warned on those lines.

But imagine a two year old being bogged with such harsh cruelties of life. And here we are, bothered that we may not get the slot on Big Basket or may have to miss eating our favourite mangoes this season.

It is high time we stopped sulking, being pessimistic and complaining about the present day situations. Those of us who are sitting at home and assured of having enough stock of provisions and vegetables at home, with having swiggy and Dunzo at our fingertips, with the confidence that our near and dear ones are sitting safely in their homes cannot possibly imagine what thousands of less fortunate souls are suffering either because of Covid or worried if they would be able to get their next meals.

So friends, cheer up. Extend help to those who are in need in any and every possible way and stay calm, stay home and stay safe.

This too shall pass.....

This too shall pass.... Episode 1 - Parijatha

This too shall pass....

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Episode 1 - Parijatha

I love plants. Period. Anyone who has read my blog and watched my YouTube videos or has been my friend on Facebook or just interacted with me knows that gardening is my passion.

I am having around a hundred pots and plants in my terrace garden and an array of plants and creepers in my front yard filled with beautiful colourful flowers.

Every little shoot, sprout and bud in my garden lifts my spirits and fills my heart with joy. If there is anything or anyone very close to

my heart in my life after my children, it is these little babies who are my extended family members.

However tiny little a flower or leaf may be, I love and care for them when they take birth, feel proud when they grow and flower and feel sad when a leaf withers or a little stem breaks or bends. Nothing escapes my eyes and my mind.

This is the beautiful Parijatha plant in my front yard and she came home around five years ago. I put her first in my terrace pot because she was small and needed all the sunshine to grow.

Once she grew up and started flowering, I decided to bring her down to the mud and soil and earth so that she can grow further and fill my little aangan with tiny white and orange Parijatha flowers and their devine scent would fill my home and my rooms.

I transplanted her from my terrace pot to the little elevated place in front of my home so that she can spread her branches in the sun and grow well.

True to my belief and her spirits, she grew beautifully, spread her little slim branches and was dancing and smiling in the sun.

Until last week.

As I mentioned, I keep a watch on each and every plant and leaf. One day last week suddenly I looked out of my window and was shocked to see her dull leaves. I ran outside and checked. There was no problem with the water, sun, mud or soil. But day by day, each day, the leaves started drying up right in front of my eyes and I kept looking at her helplessly, not knowing what was the cause of her misery. Finally my dear Parijatha was no more. All her leaves were looking dry like they were burnt.

Today as I sat looking at her sadly, my eyes fell on a little bottle kept on the soil by my servant. Suddenly it all fell into place. It was a bottle filled with some sanitiser liquid kept by my maid. God only knows what chemical it contained. When I lifted that bottle there was a tiny little crack in the bottom and the droplets from that bottle must have seeped into the soil at my Parijatha's roots and must have burnt her. 

I should have checked. I should have saved my Parijatha. With this lockdown, with this fear to come out of home, I have lost my dear baby. I sat there numb with shock and sadness for having lost her, my heart feeling heavy with grief.

But still I am thankful for just a little ray of hope, of positivity. Just by her side, I have two big creepers of Jasmine, Jaaji flowers which are budding with fresh leaves and beautiful fragrant flowers. I should thank God that I found the culprit hopefully before it is too late and I should be able to save all my other babies.

And to replace my lost Parijatha, I have a new baby Parijatha plant which has grown about four feet tall in my terrace and hopefully she will soon grow and take the place of pride again in my front yard and fill my home and my rooms with her fragrant flowers.

Amen.

Create your own happiness - Find your own happiness - Don't worry Be happy

There are some memories etched deep in our psyche. Similarly some smells. They stay with us. We may temporarily forget the event, the situation, even the person associated with the events. But the smell lingers. Not on the surface. Deep inside the heart, like a pearl in the ocean, it stays. Only to be picked.

Do I pick it intentionally? On purpose? Never. It surfaces. Just the way it has touched my senses for the first time, just the way it had made its own space in my memory, it comes back to me bringing a little nostalgic smile to my lips.

Today I was picking flowers in my garden. These are the beautiful yellow Spatika flowers. The ones you won't get in the market. They are only tucked lovingly in the little home gardens.

After coming to Bangalore from Gulbarga way back in 1987, I hadn't seen them. Aren't they grown here in Bangalore? I think they are. But I haven't seen. My sister Geetha bought a sapling all the way from Gangavathi to give to my sister Shobha. This beautiful lady became a mother giving birth to many more little saplings and one little girl came to my home, to my garden.

When I was plucking the flowers today again that smell, that memory, that nostalgia came back rushing to me filling my heart with a longing to look back at those beautiful days.

Though these flowers don't have a distinct smell, the memory does create a smell. Those were the good old school days I spent in Gulbarga in the company of my closest friends Shobha, Geetha, Pamma, Sudha.....

In the childhood they were not just friends, not just an extended family but  they were your alter ego, your other half. The life was so simple, so beautiful and so memorable.

I, along with my sister Shaila would go to their house for sleepover and in the morning before rushing to catch the bus to the school, in between eating Bhakri, packing our carriers and tying our plaits, we would rush to the front yard garden to pluck these golden flowers. And tie them while someone was tying our plait from behind. It used to be two plaits and these flowers would adorn one and while running for the bus it was such a thrill when my flower mala would swing on my ear.

Similarly, there are varieties of Jasmine I am growing in my garden. Always their fragrance fills my home, my bedroom, but there are only a few fleeting moments that this smell creates that same magic. May be it's the combination of the climate, the weather and the fragrance, I am not able to put my finger on the exact situation but suddenly a memory floats. Of the wedding day of my sisters in Gulbarga when we used to get these flowers all the way from Bellary. Loose flowers packed in a patroli ele ( sal leaves pack ) would be brought from some relatives from Bellary and on the night before the wedding all the ladies would sit around, chatting, singing, joking while the fingers deftly tied the flower malas. I feel exactly that aroma, that sweetness floating from my flowers on some rare magical moments. It's here now and then it's gone.

And then when I was in my mom's place in Bangalore during my pregnancy where the neighbours were into flowers business. I would be lying on a cot by the window, it used to be summer evenings and the intoxicating smell of Dundu mallige would waft through the window and it would have such a soothing effect on my senses - it is to be experienced to be believed.

It has to be a combination of late summer evening, the cloudy sky and on some days there would be little drops of rain sprinkling on my face through the window while the beautiful smell would engulf me. How beautifully nostalgic!!

Life is too short and too precious. It's all about creating beautiful memories when you can, enjoying beautiful smells, which come back to you to be cherished again and again and again in the evenings of your life.