His heart in his eyes.....

It is truly amazing, what blogging and a wide exposure to folks from around the world can do to a fellow lke Bozo, Mumbai's blogging dog .

He has now started paying attention to names of folks, and their various meanings
And while he has certain friends in Bandra (West) who are named after TV characters, and behave like stars, his research has really enlightened him. About himself too.

You can see it on his face and his eyes !

I meet
so many folks these days,
with so many different names,
I am yet to meet
two people
with the same name.

And although some
bearded person
has wondered
"what's in a name"
I have learned the meanings....

There are some who visit me
from far away lands,
and tickle me
with their right hand,
because ,
thats what their name,
Yamini means.

Then there are those
who stayed here earlier
but now are far away,
but so full of Sneh
or Affection
for me....

Of course,
my life road
is lit
by a guiding Light,
much like the
oil Deepaks
of Deepavali,
though
I do feel like telling
the Desert Storme
in the garage
that
she can have the Oil
and I will keep Deepak....

But the best is my name Bozo.

They say
it is the name
belonging to a clown,
someone
who continues
to bring great joy
to young and old alike...

You can see
it all
in my face,
can't you !

Tearful Designer Jewellery

Onions today , in India, are more expensive than the rupee, and petrol.  They have now hit a century in the capital and are now selling there at Rs 100 a kilogram.

My FB friend, Pandit Gourang Kodical of Bangalore , a percussionist by talent, and  a banker by training, can clearly recognize an asset when he sees one.  Like the onions, now masquerading as jewellery.   Which he just posted on FB.

It just occurred to me that this is ideal fodder for all those designer folks who keep creating and marketing designer clothes and jewellery at outrageous prices.  They ought to be thrilled.

Stay tuned for news about weddings being cancelled for non payment of Onion dowry....

आज कल के गेहेने एकदम डिजायनर वाले है.… मन का बोजा गलेपर उतारकर, एक एक प्याज को प्यार से चुनकर बनाया गया अश्रुहार , सर पर निषेध के मांग टिक्के , कोई कह रहा था की अभी आलू-कुंदन कर्णफूल की फेशन आने वाली है , और फिर पापड़ी का चोकर और चेन में गाजर का पेण्ड्ण्ट। कभी कभी लगता है, की ऐसे सब्जीयोंको गेहेने बनाने वालोंको एक बड़ा दूधि लेके पूरा पीटना चाहिये…

Welcome to the era of new designer jewellery Its all about hanging around your neck the loads off your mind, creating chunky large-tear necklaces with specially selected no-cut onions, with a maangtikka(hair ornament) of protest. Rumor has it that Potato Kundan Earrings will be the latest craze. as the Paapdis decide to curl around your neck as an expensive choker, all the while looking down on carrot pendants on chains. Sometimes it looks like these designers need to simply be beaten up and chased with a hefty doodhi..

Epitaph for a Bus

My FB friend  Amrita Thavrani  , a young mother,  an IT professional, and someone who blogs on a variety of topics like book reviews, poetry, parenting, nostalgia, women's  lives  and anything that moves her , posted this photo of the ravaged body of a bus, clicked possibly somewhere in the countryside  while travelling.

Have a look at her blog here .

This looks like a typical bus that serves mofussil areas , almost like a lifeline, that has now fallen on bad times. Probably thanks to some horrifying accident that happened head-on.  Stark holes in place of eyes, a mouth agape, with stuff dangling from nostrils, and one cant help think of better times, when the red bus would come around a corner in a monsoon green hilly ghat region, proudly showing its destination in front, and assorted messages at the back, , the main one being HORN OK, PLEASE . 

In a country where honkng the horn in traffic, is a language all by itself, and almost a fundamental right,  it is almost like an epitaph for this bus.

As Amrita says  " Every face tells a story. Of a journey it lived, conversations it shared and accidents it survived."........


(photo : Amrita Thavrani)

All the Cilia
in the nostrils
now in shreds,
were not enough
to sense
and smell the danger.

With a fractured chin
and broken jaw,
I cant even say
"Horn OK Please !"






.

"Imagining" in Gorai

An old majestic Banyan Tree, with numerous roots descending down to earth, clicked on the road to Gorai Creek , on the northwest shores of Mumbai, by my blogger friend, bike enthusiast, and excellent photographer, Deepak Amembal. 

For some reason, the prevalent green foliage , the straight descending hairlike roots,and small 3-wheeler vehicles meandering on those roads, brought to mind the old days, when Mumbai was not the automobile capital it has now become, making a mess of the environment and roads.

The roots particularly suddenly reminded me of John Lennon and his hair framing his face.

And his famous song "Imagine" .
Here is my adaptation of the song to Gorai.....  with apologies to John Lennon.

Imagine there's no traffic
It's easy if you try
No potholes below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
breathing free for today...

Imagine there's no corporators
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to cheat or bribe for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

You may say I'm optimistic
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the road will be as one

Imagine no political banners
I wonder if you can
No need for decibeled slogans
A silenthood of man
Imagine all the people
Smiling at the world...

You may say I'm optimistic
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one....

Bozo : The Earth is Round !

Believe it or not, but this guy Bozo, Mumbai's blogging dog, could teach everyone a thing or two where philosophies of living are concerned.

His dearest friend from childhood, recently here on a visit, has now gone back to her home across the seas, and although he really misses her, Bozo is already looking forward to her next visit.

How come ?  Ah.  All that TV watching with Deepak, and seeing maps, has made Bozo realize something. And although even his friend may not know when she is visiting here next, Bozo knows.

Read on. And eat your heart out Thomas Friedman ....the earth is NOT flat. Kisne Bola ?

I've learnt many things.

That life goes on.

That
when your best friend
goes away,
someones'
daughter, sister,
granddaughter and niece
also goes away,
and
so all of us come together
and remember
the fun times
 we recently had.

I've also learned one thing more
from all my TV watching
with Deepak.

That the Earth is round.

And those
that actually travel really far,
will ultimately
go full circle
and
reach back
to where they started.

To me.

Yay!

Fruit Kejriwal ?

One more lovely photo capture, by my cousin Dr Madhuri Gore, from her plantation at her native place at Naringre, near Devgad in Kokan.

So many who have seen the golden fruit sold on handcarts in cities , do not know, how the actual jackfruits look on trees.  While the ability of the tree to support so many heavy jackfruits at one point, makes one wonder about the tendons and ligaments of the tree, it is interesting to know that the jackfruit is considered the world's largest tree borne fruit. A standard jackfruit tree, bears 250 to 300 , 10 kilogram fruits per year, making it an unparalleled source for food security.  Its fruit, seeds, leaves, wood are all usable in various ways.

Despite this, the emphasis is always on fruits with external aesthetic appearance. Then someone says that the taste is a combination of mango, pineapple and banana.

I've seen this before. Ignoring of native ruggedness in favor of externally attractive features. So much so, that even the taste is attributed to the other politically powerful fruit.    Sigh.  Kejriwal, where are you ?

   

In a world
populated by
page 3 shapely
hi spending Mango Kumaries,
Hi fi made up Lady Apples
fooling around with
those Chikku copycat Kiwis
and smooth Maltas
lording it over
Santrabai Nagpure,
it isn't easy
being a Fanas.

Like an
old style tough grandpa
from a long line of
Kokan folks,
straight talking ,frugal,
and a good manager
of what resources came to him
from his green ancestors,
he never worried too much
about his looks
or his vote bank.

Not for him
all that fuss
about leaving the tree
in your teenage
to lie covered in straw,
on shelves
while people
kept spying
to see
when you could be ripe
for kidnapping.

He nurtures his constituency,
within and without.

Sometimes
raw training
for participation in bhaaji,
sometimes,
guiding softhearted golden ones
in the making of jams,
and sun dried candy;
and sometimes
offering himself
"al dente" so to speak,
for the raw enjoyment
of sometimes totally undeserving bipeds.

A Fanas is known
by the company he keeps,
and the leaves are always
able and willing
to wrap themselves in service
to various idlies
and pancakes,
with their special flavor,
while
the kid seeds usually
lay out in the Sun,
pretending to tan,
but are actually
having a last fling
before being roasted alive.

Even the ancestor tree
joins in,
offering its wood
for various purposes.

Despite this ,
you will never see
Fanas
being given a ticket
to fight the fruit elections,
for the post of King.

It is a universal truth,
that Fair folks
with fancy colored lines,
and shades
get tickets,
while hardworking,
tough
rough and
loyal folks
like Fanasrao,
who never forget
where they came from,
must sit next to
smart oily hands
and simply watch.

Nutmeg Delivery

My cousin Dr Madhuri Gore, recently posted this wonderful capture of the Nutmeg Fruit (Myristica Fragnans), from her family plantation in Naringre, near Devgad, in the verdant Kokan belt on the west coast of India. 

The pink/red coverings are used by us as mace or jaipatri, and the tough nut inside is the actual nutmeg sold as spice.  What is new ,  is that the fruit, which many of us have never seen,  lends itself to the making of some wonderful pickle, according to her.

Turns out that Nutmeg trees flower and bear fruit after  7-9 years, and continue almost till they are 20 and more. Unlike us bipeds, who tend to abuse the girl child ,  those growing these trees , go in for a grafting method to ensure a female seedling, since  male ones are useless.

There is so much we can learn from nature. But is anyone listening ? 

Lady Myristica Fragnans,
suddenly euphoric
after 8 years
of an
uneventful green marriage.

Unlike most ,
she hankered for a girl child,
to perpetuate her
family
and conceived
finally,
by ECG
or EpiCotyl Grafting,
the latest technology
on offer
in the
Kokan Institutes .

A fleshy
pale looking uterus,
with a rich
pale gold endometrium,
wrapping itself
around a
shocking pink amniotic sac.

Full term,
and the girl child arrives,
bursting through,
the amniotic sac,
as the Gynaec,
lifts her out
saying
"A mazing, A mazing...".

Last heard,
the amniotic sac shreds
were being used
and called Mace,
after the gynaec's words,
and the pediatrician ,
tapping the baby
on its head,
wondering about the pucca fontanel,
was seen shaking his head,
saying,
"Hmm, looks like
she will be a tough nut to crack...."

:-)

 

Bozoical special heart

For Bozo, Mumbai's blogging dog, this is like all the festivals rolled into one. He has waited for this day with baited breath. His best friend from his childhood, who brought him home, is visiting her parental home and he is ecstatic.

He has learned by observation , that amongst bipeds, girls get married, and go live elsewhere. He has also found out that this particular "elsewhere" is so far away, that you must fly there and not drive. He is also particularly cheesed off with airlines that dont allow him to fly (to visit her) , sitting next to Deepak.

So he is making the most of her visit. His own celebration of Navratri, as she comes home to visit her folks .

A brilliant photograph, clicked by Deepak.

 

They say
the heart has four compartments.

Mine has one more.

Occupied by
a little girl,
who took me home,
and made me Bozo Amembal.

She isnt little anymore,
and she lives
far away now,
but for me,
she is always there.

And while
Mumbai resounds
with the sounds of
the
nine day festival
in honor of the Goddess,
i just want to know,
how many of you
can lay claim
to your own special Goddess
like this,
who visits you,
plays with you,
comforts you,
and
then poses for a special photo,
before sitting
in that special
5th compartment of the heart ?

What retirement is ....

Needs no introduction. And no words will ever be enough. 

कुणा एकाच्या निवृत्ती निमित्त .... वृक्ष कधी निवृत्त होत नाहीत . आपापल्या परीने फुले, फळे, आणि पक्षी यांना जागा देणे आणि सम्भाळ्णे ह्या गोष्टी करतच रहातात. त्यांच्यात "निवास" करणारा खरा "श्री" मार्गदर्शक अस्तो. आणि काही वृक्ष सडलेल्या फांद्या, वाळलेली पानं , आणि दुसर्या कोणाला तरी आधीच विकलेली फळे कवटाळून , आपल्यातच "श्रीनिवास न" असल्याचे सिद्ध करतात

On the occasion of a retirement...  Trees never retire; to the best of their very green ability they nurture and care for the flowers, fruits, and nesting birds, much obliged to the Sri (~Lord) Niwas (~housed) that lives within and guides them. But, some trees, live comfortably amidst rotten branches, powerless lifeless leaves, and they clutch fruits already auctioned to some other monied greedy type. No Sri(Lord), no Niwas(housed) within, just someone that answers to the name N (o) Sri Niwas an....

Ode to the Kadhipatta

My blog and FB friend, Deepak Amembal, brings to life the most mundane stuff, with his excellent photography.  He recently posted a very graceful capture of the Kadhipatta or Curry leaves plant growing in his balcony.

Many of us take Kadhipatta for granted , grow it in our balconies in pots, and revel in the fact that the vegetable vendor gives it free along with other veggies.  But these greatly undervalued leaves, bring great flavor to food, and are rich with nutritional benefits .  These plants need lots of water and strong sunshine, and the leaves grow in pairs. 

 A small ode from a Kadhipatta fan ....

लहानपणा पासून जोडी जोडीने भरपूर पाण्यात डुम्ब्णे, प्रखर सूर्यप्रकाशात डोलत कोर्डे होणे, आणि कायम नवीन नवीन छोट्या मंडळींना प्रोत्साहन देत स्वतः मागे राहणे; एकत्र कुटुंबात सुखात राहणे , कुठेही तड्तड ऐकू आली कि गडबडीने मदतीस जाउन परिस्थिती सुधारण्यासाठी आपले आत्मसमर्पण कर्णे , आणि एका सुंदर आयुष्याचा सुगंध मागे ठेवणे ।; आयुष्य असावे ते असे !

Gallivanting in pairs in an idyllic childhood, playing amidst huge water showers, and then proudly drying off amidst strong sunshine rubs. Aware of new little ones, and pushing them to the front. It is all about living happily in a joint family, and rushing occasionally on hearing staccato sounds, and throwing oneself into the hot cauldrons, in supreme sacrifice, leaving behind a wonderful fragrance of a life beautifully lived. A fine example of how Life is to be lived....

The Case of the Missing Darwinian Ordinance

My FB and blogfriend Usha Vaidyanathan posted this very evocative visual of what I think is a gorilla , (please to correct if it is not), from the Woodland Park Zoo, in Seattle, Washington.

There is something about the look on his face.  That says , enough is enough.

Makes you wonder if there were other directions to evolve into ....Maybe Darwin should have issued an ordinance ?

He watches them all,
disgusted,
at what the cerebral cortex
has evolved into.
 
Greedy killings,
mindless power,
shameless promises,
protecting the loaded,
crushing the true,
lots of pointless blabber,
and zero useful action.

In the poster
that shows
him evolving into
and walking ahead
as
a straightened biped fool,
maybe it would have been better
to have turned left or right
instead of going straight ahead. ?

Zucchini ki Shaadi

My Fb friend, Rekha Kakkar, is an  Award winning Food photographer, Food stylist, Food blogger, who also does products & Interiors. 

She recently posted this visual of a Grilled Zucchini and Avocado Sandwich,  designed to actually be a very healthy breakfast choice.  While some may drool at the thought of grilled stuff wallowing amidst breads , swathed in streaks of mustard sauce, blankets of lettuce ,  and the likes,  there is another school of thought that actually sees human stories in it all.....

 Have a look , and pine for it ....  :-)

(Photograph by Rekha Kakkar used with permission)

Its been
sizzling hot
as the Zucchinibai
and the Avocadoman
do the pheras
moving around the fire,
changing directions and all
watched by tomatoes
emotionally falling apart..

The mother of the bride,
resplendent
in a studded brown
pearl encrusted paithani sari,
wraps her pallo
on both shoulders
and envelopes
the couple
in a bearhug,
so tight,
a few juices threaten to spill.

It's the Zucchini's Bidai,
and Ma'am Butter
is finally there
to smooth things over
at the last minute....

Dharti Spa & Beauty Parlour : Festival Deal

My FB and blogfriend Bhavesh Chhatbar  comes across amazing tableaux of nature on his treks through  mountains and valleys. 

One such early morning scene, at the top of a mountain, a valley spread verdantly below, and a mountain beyond  it, kind of holding up the Sun, as it slowly rises, with a preceding glow, before being the Show Stopper of the Day, finally pouring its warmth, on a somnolent, about-to-wake-up  Earth...... 

Check out his blog here . 

Notice how significant it is, that beauty doesn't have to be in color.  Both Dark and Fair adorn each other, and one is incomplete without the other.

Maybe our beauty parlours need to learn a lesson or two  from Mother Nature ?

Dharti Spa and Beauty Parlour

Whether it is
greens
trying to counter
layers of petrol exhaust
and allergic dust;
or a withering of skin
thanks to a
busy bringing up of young fruits;
sometimes marauding
by engineering types building dangerous towers;
and even
some bossing
by those being pushy
and trying to reach high up,
we offer
some specials.

A windy blowing,
a slow night moisturizing
with delicate dew
and a few gentle rains;
early morning
wipes with cold moist clouds;
and then our special treatment.

A gradual golden facial,
as you lie back,
eyes closed,
massaged by the rays
of a special Sun.

A first light touch,
a tentative advance,
and then almost
a rain of rays,
gently drizzling on
a cleansed green face.

Aiyyo !  Buy one facial, get 364 free .