an old colleague called me up after 6 years, yesterday. he who used to be so shy and reticent was talking nineteen to a dozen about how i have been the best 'boss', how i kept my team together, how there used to be a feelgood feeling when i was around. how i should be back in that organisation since now it is ridden only with talkers and no doers, he said.
i did roll my eyes once a while and tried to cut short his 'appreciation' since he seemed to be going overboard. Being appreciated, i do love and gloat at as well, but when one trips over his tongue, it reeks of a desperation which i would rather do without. and then i got to know that he had been negotiating over something and was asked to leave the organisation instead.
okay, so this explains it, i thought. i ofcourse know that my team was good and i was good but it made me nod my head again, thinking that ...
we generally like and appreciate things in comparison. one thing is good because the other is not good enough.
and how beautiful it is to like something just for what it is without any comparisons
Jenna came into my life by accident. Like when you press * by mistake and the good people keep changing your dialler tune for you.
She professes through countless emails that she ís my friend and sends across psychic reading for me. (I might have done some good deeds in my past life for her to worry about me so much). Imagine, in today's world when you have to pay even to take a leak, Jenna does not mind that I have not paid her the $ 45 that she had once asked me for.
She is more regular in keeping in touch with me than I am with even chatting up with my folks. My Dad would have loved to have her as his daughter. Once she sent me pictures of some strange looking men and horses. Here...
I should have thanked her for the postcard. She might have really loved it coz she went on and on about some chariot and # 7 and how the man with the funny hat was standing. I hope she does not see me as a man coz she kept on comparing me to him.
September, last year, she was very excited that I would be entering into an Astrological Transit which would, she said, have an enormous importance in my life.
She said, "Reena, I know that each one of us counts on our own intuition but believe me, in my experience, this is often not enough. As far as you are concerned the Transit which you will soon live through is too important for you to risk missing out on it, I could even go so far as to say that after having analyzed and reanalzyed your astral skies I can see that this Transit could really play a very decisive role in your life if you are able to get the very best out of it. "
She was even at my disposal, she said, to do whatever she could for seeing me through the transit.
I wonder if I should have told her about the golden and purple costume I thought of designing for my Astronomical Transit (even the golden sun kissed hairdo I had in mind). It does go with the image of Astronomical Transit, does'nt it? But I forgot. What a relief it was to know that Jenna was not angry with me for long.
She still keeps sending me those nice colourful postcards. I do not have the heart to ask her to perhaps send me postcards of some movie stars or even mountains.
She would be sending me a book written on me. A book of Revelations, she said. I have always fancied a book on myself. But I would not want everyone to see it. Given her love for colours, she might just put a picture of me in purple pants.
Happiness, Content, Joy. The meanings for the Sun are fairly simple and consistent. Young, healthy, new, fresh. The brain is working, things that were muddled come clear, everything falls into place, and everything seems to go your way. The Sun is ruled by the Sun, of course. This is the light that comes after the long dark night, Apollo to the Moon's Diana. A positive card, it promises you your day in the sun. Glory, gain, triumph, pleasure, truth, success. As the moon symbolized inspiration from the unconscious, from dreams, this card symbolizes discoveries made fully consciousness and wide awake. You have an understanding and enjoyment of science and math, beautifully constructed music, carefully reasoned philosophy. It is a card of intellect, clarity of mind, and feelings of youthful energy.
the village was one among many which was flooded not directly by the swollen kosi but by incessant rains trapped in faulty infrastructure. this is a yearly feature though this year it is worse because of rivers on the rise everywhere.
this online music site has made me waste time. made me upload download whatever 15 artists then upload download whatever 45 songs then it does not play. it is not fair. i am a simple small town woman. this should've been simple. all i wanted was to listen to music.
I had similar clay dolls, bought at a Durga Puja fair (way back) I had christened them as Mr. and Mrs. Dutta.
Mrs. Dutta was voluptuous in a green saree and red blouse and wore a big red bindi Mr. Dutta wore white dhoti-kurta and carried a black umbrella What better name than Mr. and Mrs. Dutta, right?
They were quite famous with my kid-neighbour The kid would love to shake their spring-heads Jing-jing-jing Up and down…. He would make Mr. Dutta look down And Mrs. Dutta, head up, as if she was commanding Mr. Dutta, “To-bey Thaak…”
One day Gopal- the kid, came running to our house asking to play with Mr. and Mrs. Dutta Mr. and Mrs. Dutta, the real ones (who were Dad’s friends) had come visiting us that evening, Needless to say, they did not look too amused
Nevertheless they said….. “yeh bachey…”.
The real Mrs. Dutta was actually really good She would make out-of-the-world dal-luchi (back then, Durga Pujas used to be quite a treat)
The real Mr. and Mrs. Dutta had a parrot called Polly. Polly would screech himself shrill….. “P-A-U-L-L-L-E-E…tumor naam ki” “P-A-U-L-L-L-E-E…tumor naam ki” “P-A-U-L-L-L-E-E…tumor naam ki” “P-A-U-L-L-L-E-E…tumor naam ki”
Could and Would anyone be able to resist pulling his long tail?
I should have introduced Gopal-the–kid to Polly He would have made P-A-U-L-L-L-E-E’s head go jing-jing-jing…. Up and down…
i made this tiny frock from a tiny piece of flannel for my niece jia. for 5-day old jia (Dec. '07). i took ages to stitch it and poked my finger more times than through the pink flannel. And touched and glossed over it more times than it was actually worn.
@ some village road beyond Khandala. (Here: Urmila and I).
This picture reminds me of Bela and Bahadur (God knows why). Bela of Indrajal Comics. Girlfriend of Bahadur. I remember liking Bahadur because he did not appear to be the type of man who would say or even think "Me Tarzan...You Jane"...
And Bela rode a bullet (if I remember correctly). Skilled in martial arts, she lay flat the dacoits and robbers. Tall, svelte and beautiful, she worked hand in hand with Bahadur to rid Jaigarh (I think) of its nefarious elements. In bell-bottoms and fitting tops (mostly green, I think), she did not need to wear high heels or show cleavage in order to look smart.