Age-Old Colours of Devotion Sharad Purnima (the Autumn full moon), Nathdwara painting, National Museum of Asian Art, Smithsonian Institution I hope life has been treating you all kindly since I last wrote. It is Janmashtami today, the birthday of Lord Krishna. Long ago, when Mani was posted in Varanasi, my three and a half-year old woke up on Janmashtami morning, delighted to know there was no school. “Why?” he asked. “Because it’s Bhagwan Krishna’s birthday,” I said. Only very recently had he discovered that birthday meant cake, junk food, colas, and his best friend Siddharth. The idea that God’s birthday could exist without a ‘budday paaty’ baffled him. I tried explaining that we humans celebrate it for Him, but he wasn’t having it. By noon, I was tired and out of arguments, and then God Himself came to my rescue. Mani called to say we were invited to the evening Janmashtami celebrations at the RPF (Railway Protection Force) barracks. That was a big weigh...
Bhutan Diary-1 Bhutan on a platter Ever seen such a beautiful luggage conveyor belt at an airport? Does anyone ever say ‘no’ to a free holiday? Not me, for certain. Especially when it comes gift-wrapped as a joyful celebration and promises- all expenses paid. I would have to be a dunce to refuse this; after all, I love to travel, appreciate useful free gifts, and I am not doing anything earth-shaking which I cannot postpone. The occasion was a milestone birthday. A dear friend, more like an older brother, was turning the big seven-oh and h is sons, who thankfully take after their dad in generosity , included us in the guest list for a celebratory vacation. After what I imagine was some serious mental exercise, they zeroed in on Bhutan , the ‘land of the thunder dragon’, India’s small peaceful neighbour in the north-east, also known as the world’s only carbon-negative country. The vacation was co...
I Was Not Born for Couture Hamsa-Damayanti (Swan-Damayanti), painting by Raja Ravi Varma (1899); Indian women have worn saris for centuries I think it is time I publicly confessed that designer stuff is not for me. I don’t recognise it, I don’t appreciate it, and I certainly don’t have the refined sense required to gasp at its pedigree. Hand me a ‘signature piece’ and I’ll stare blankly, wondering if the designer’s name explains why it costs as much as a week-long holiday. On me, even luxury looks ordinary, as if I’ve downgraded it. Allow me to explain this embarrassing truth. This happened with a close friend, in fact she is like an older sister to me and I call her didi , (Didi is the respectful way to address an older/wiser woman). Mani and I had gone to visit them. Didi handed me a gift. Like a child on Christmas morning, I pulled a parcel from a large white bag with its brand name stamped in dull gold letters, one I’d never even heard of. One layer of fancy wrapp...
Take care, Anupama
ReplyDeletei will, thank you.
DeleteVery nice.
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