Enthralling Trails

29 th November  “Perfection is such an unrealistic expectation which is discouraging too for those who feel they must live up to an adult’s expectation of perfection ” Jane Nelson Winter mornings are gloomy and frosty at Durga Tekdi, a man made forest which has got its name due to the Durga temple on the hills. No one likes to discard the warmth of a blanket to hustle for a morning walk into a dingy dark forest where you see ethereal human figures till the sun rises to illuminate the beings around. As habitual we reached the outskirts of the forest area, parked the car and started walking briskly to overcome the chill. While walking along the long stretch guiding the walking track in the forest we felt warmth enliven us. We could see many vehicles parked in the parking lot. The cars were sheltered in the huge ground and the scooters and bikes along the core path. Outlying the main gate at the entrance a striking long log is mounted vertically on two forked logs on e

As I kept the book “Positive Discipline” aside, memories deluged and everything seemed as if it had transpired recently. It was a rainy day, the morning attendance time for the class. I had begun with the prayer as the school assembly was cancelled. I noticed a couple standing at the doorway with their daughter. I gestured them to wait as I completed the prayer and led myself towards the doorway. The parents told me that she was admitted in class eight. I acknowledged being the class teacher. I glanced at the girl who was a little plump and short with two plaits, immaculately dressed. Her mother longed to speak something more but decided not to. I smiled at the girl who was looking at me predisposed. I took her aside and asked her to introduce herself to the class as usual. She declined. I made her sit in the first row as I always did to make the child feel at home. Since that day she sat on the same bench at the same place and refused to move according to the rotation of seats. Sh

“Perception of disability lies in the mind ” A P J Kalam He was fair, short, emaciated, wearing slackly appropriate clothes and had black glasses on his eyes for protection. You are right in your presumption; he had undergone a cataract operation. He was standing out side the office chatting amicably to others. I understood that he was the caretaker. We entered the office of Nachiketa Bal Gram, a home for the destitute children after crossing the narrow road on the Gurudwara lane at Akurdi in Pune.There were a few more elderly men who were chatting in the open yard of the orphanage. The place was large, well kept and spotless. The building was tinted yellow with blue doors and windows which were in good form. The office was a tiny space with a table and three chairs with space just adequate for these. We went in to take our seats. My friend has adopted the dependability of two children at Nachiketa. The intention of our visit was that my friend wanted to arrange a workshop by an

I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by conscious endeavour-Henry David Thoreau It was late in the evening. Me and my husband were rushing back home after a customary visit to the kocchu Guruvayur temple at Nigdi which is a miniature Guruvayur temple at Trissur in Kerala. We had parked our car in the by lanes of Pradhikaran which is a well planned locale at Nigdi and walked to the Temple .  In reality we find these walks irresistible as we are able to meet people and we rejoice looking at the far off starry skies, the exquisitely lit monuments and the demanding market. Nigdi is known for Bhakti Shakti square where Emperor Shivaji’s and Saint Tukaram’s huge statues have been mounted at a height depicting Shivaji’s undying faith in his teacher. It is surrounded by green vegetation and curved paths leading to the figurine. As we entered the open area we met Mrs.Varghese who has been a good friend of ours for the past eleven

The wedding preparations were in full swing. Kaaki was cheerful and perpetually had a beaming smile on her face. She was a proud mother with her two fair ,tall ,fine-looking sons who were well settled.  Her would be daughter in law belonged to a wealthy family at Mahim in Mumbai where most of the affluent Gujaratis resided. It was prestigious when a family owned an accommodation in central Mumbai or near about for those mumbaikars who reside in western suburbs. Mrs Patel was addressed Kaaki despite the fact that she wasn’t many years older than us as she got married at the age of eighteen and was blessed with two sons before her twentieth birthday and her life revolved around her family. She entered the family as a young bride to take care of her husband and father in law as this was an elucidation provided by nature when the lady of the house was no more. Kaaki treasured serving people and executed her house hold chores with utmost sincerity. Her evenings were spent meeting in the

The marketplace was crammed with wares. New shinning steel utensils, latest cookware, gas stoves, dish stands and many more festooned the steel shops. The flower vendor had an unusual order of sacks of marigold flowers; there were pale yellow marigold with smaller florets and finer petals. The orange ones were the poor man’ delight which was low priced. The shop keepers had a tough time overseeing the sales and the orderliness of their shops. The shops had to be cleaned and the pictures of Gods also needed the obligatory gleam after all it was to summon the goddess of wealth. Yes, it was all groundwork for the laxmi pooja, the goddess of wealth and prosperity. Few were getting their houses painted, yet others were emptying the junk away from their homes. Every one seemed busy and eventful abruptly with an evocative seriousness which a marathon runner faces when he stands ready to out beat all to prove a do or die situation. Aroma of goodies was wafting out of kitchens. Chakli, ch