My Daily Routine


What are 5 everyday things that bring you happiness?

Soon after the first surgery….

Nephew calls, “How do you spend the day?”

” Get up, brush my teeth, clean myself, have something to eat, do the breathing exercises and pray…

sit in the sun, read the daily, have breakfast and pray…

endure the pain, feel immensely grateful that I am still alive to feel the pain and pray….”

Have I learnt to surrender ?

Penitence is the best form of submission…

,,,

On one of the subsequent follow ups with the surgeon, ” This won’t do. Go back to your daily routine…hobbies.”

Is there any left?

I tell sis, “I am going down…”

She ineffectively hides her worries, ” Do come back at night…”

For more than a month I am under her care.

Life goes on like a well scribbled planner.

No meal planning,

no household chores,

no clearing of pending jobs,

no waiting for house assistants.

Result ?

I sleep on alternate nights…

Sis’s BP rises, 

head aches return,

checking on me in the dead of the night, “Are you in pain?” …

occasional bouts of nervous ventilation with house helps…

Life is a baggage

…

I dodder down the steps … my personal attendant to lend a hand.

“How do I breathe in a space stinking with memories… losses…?”

I get down to ‘normalcy’…

Air the rooms …

Oh the stench of deaths!!!

Into the kitchen…

The first meal after ages…

Clean… clean …clean

the dust and debri away…

The familiar sounds of life from the adjacent flat…

a consolation!!!

“Are you better now?”

“Where is Rinky?”

“Gone for a walk…”, 

attendant’s prompt answer.

Smart!

…

My housemaid  opines, “You look better…”

“Get out  and walk…” the presswallah’s son. Loud and clear.

“Didi, get well soon,” says the seamstress.

How I wish…

“Take good care of her”

the house painter to the attendant.

She doubles with laughter.

I shoo him out.

…

The neighborhood buzzes with the news.

“How do they know?” I ask irritatedly.

“They are concerned,” says sis.

I water the plants.

Gardening is therapeutic.

“Keep a journal.”

Write how you feel everyday.” Says sis.

…

These infuriating paper works to prove my presence on  earth.

Takes time.

A painstaking visit to the bank.

The relationship manager quietly wraps up,

“Take care aunty.”

Everyone stares.

Quite a sight!

A drawn face, 

bones poking the skin,

the slow walk, 

the hobble down the stairs.

A spectacle unimagined.

Will it be like this forever?

…

Then the follow ups…

And the unexpected agonising of a diseased body.

…

I cajole Kali to come in, make her bed, tempt her with stix.

My puny guard.

(She looked depressed and wouldn’t talk to me for days.)

Didi calls, “How was the night?”

“I took Kali in,” I said.

“I thought as much. You’ve fared well “

Yes, armed to battle my demons…

For insomniac nights I have a moody soldier…

Am I happy?

Again A Bunch Of Haiku


There are books in my collection which I did start reading but couldn’t finish. Not because they were not good reads but because I was not prepared for them. Do you think that’s strange ?  It has happened with me so often that I have come to apply the principle of “things happen when you are ripe for it” to reading as well. I say so because reading is just not turning pages but ‘experiencing’ a book.

It was 2021 when Kala, my haiku mentor, shared  her “gathering of tanka verses”, a Harper Collins Publication, with the world of haiku followers. I knew I had to, as I said earlier, ‘experience’ this book. But as soon as I got down to reading  I knew this was not the time.

It’s 2025. As I maneuver unsteadily through life’s thorny path, Kala’s  the forest i know – a good four years later –  gives me the required strength and solace. After all haiku does heal.

For a reader easily intimidated by untamed emotions, Kala’s the forest i know can be overwhelming. So it was when I first made a go at it. A journey through innocent aspirations to soul wrenching deception to imperceptibly gathering the courage to embalming the inner being with subtle realizations to finally becoming one with the elements, Kala walks through the “forest” to fulfill her quest of “knowing”.

Along with the poet parambulate the readers on the “pathless path” as Kala puts it

loneliness

isn’t as bad

as having to face

fearful eyes staring back

at me in the mirror

In the deeper realms, the self is  a tricky shadow which dissipates faster as you try to catch up with it

the magician

       always acts

              surprised

by his own

magic

It’s easy to suppress yourself but difficult when you are in the vortex of somebody else’s turmoil

having to wear

several masks in life —-

if only I could

drift away between scenes

like a dragonfly

The sudden reality of lapse of time compels an inward scrutiny

mango blossom

all over

how soon

how very soon

spring has come!

Is this an oblique allusion to how very soon winter may arrive ???

the forest i know by the internationally acclaimed haiku poet, Kala Ramesh – a brooding anthology of tanka prose (in the line of haibun), tanka doha (couplets) and tanka sutra (stringlet) – is more of a self seeking journey which may in the long run take you through a process of healing the wounds inflicted by the adventure called life you over indulged in.

Dive In Dive Out


What’s something most people don’t understand?

As I grow older I realise what a fool I have been. If only I could relive my life it surely would have been better, wiser and more peaceful. However, it’s just an illusion. If I could get an opportunity to start all over again I would not have stopped making mistakes. It’s human to feel we can undo many things in life if given a chance. What we overlook is the fact that in doing so we may again make some wrong choices hitherto unthought of.

A Bengali to the core I cannot stop myself from being proud of my intellect. I have never done anything which I have not been mentally convinced of. Not realising that it has been my biggest folly and hurdle in the path of growing. This innate habit of trying to comprehend everything mentally is, now I know, my strongest drawback. The truth is learning is experiential. Our scriptures tell us to realise and not understand. We realise through our experiences. No syllabus can teach us how to go about life. It is revealed to us as we get along. The day we start believing in our paper degrees it’s the beginning of our downslide. Our educational institutions do not teach us to begin by knowing that we do not know anything.

Once, one of my superiors told me that I lacked preparedness. From that day onwards I made it a point to be proactive to the extreme. I would not only plan ahead but also try to preempt any disaster that could possibly befall in the way of achieving the results. The process required meticulous forecasting of requisite actions as well as imaginary hindrances that could disrupt attaining the desired outcome and their antidotal remedies. It was my idea of minimising the scope of failure. But what I did not take into account was in life things never happen as planned. In fact, what happens is sometimes so unexpected that all our detailed plannings fall short. At the same time going about unprepared is deviating from an age old habit. I am yet to figure out what is the best course – to be prepared for the worst or to cross the bridge when it comes.

In spite of the wisdom gathered in hindsight we still resent our past and wish to time travel to rectify our mistakes. We foolishly believe we are the most intelligent and invincible species in the whole of the universe. We worry, we dream, we aspire high, we feel anxious about our future forgetting that the journey is more important than the destination.

No wonder it is said that to err is human.

What we do not understand is that we are supposed to stumble along in life through pitfalls and  shortcomings, we are not supposed to know everything and life is too unpredictable for our formulaic approach. To be in flow is the order of the day.

Alas! As I write I think of setting the alarm for the day next to follow the routine….

Thoughts And Thinking


These are my days of very unsteady recovery from my first surgery. It’s also the reason why I am very irregular on WP and unable to read and comment on all my co-bloggers’ posts. I owe you all an apology. Also I wish to convey my heartfelt gratitude to all my fellow bloggers’ who have wished me well and speedy recovery.

This is the time when my brain is clouded with worries and what ifs most of the time. To divert the mind I have tried watching movies/series, read the newspaper/books, listen to enriching podcasts, play word games and even write blog posts. But no activity has given sustainable relief. Nevertheless, I still continue to do all these activities just to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

However, I do not intend this post to be a drone about my physical and mental sufferings. It is more about sailing through the situation.

One of the books I started reading while in hospital was Don’t Believe Everything You Think by Joseph Nguyen. As I said I did not have the mental focus to read it at a stretch. But whenever I picked up the book it’s every page, every para, every sentence, every word gave me an alternate perspective. As is with such books, they say what we have already read or learnt through varied sources or media but as usual forgotten those learnings with time. So these books are reminders of those forgotten gems with invaluable add-ons.

Nguyen begins with distinguishing between thought and thinking.  Thoughts, he says, are neutral but thinking gives them colour. Human brain’s function is to produce thoughts. No thought is good or bad. It’s our thinking, rather  overthinking, that renders them negative or positive. A lot of energy is consumed in overthinking which is enervating. Overthinking also leads us to set goals out of desperation. Such goals are not end-goals by themselves but means to achieve further goals. Goals set out of desperation are heavy and burdensome.

For example, when the medical counselor told me to build my body nutritionally stronger in two months’ time to sustain the second surgery, I set a goal out of desperation to do so. But on the contrary, even after regular diet, medication and exercise, when I underwent weight loss, I panicked.

Soon I realised that instead of panicking I should let the process of healing take its own course. I am at peace now leaving the outcome in the hands of the Universe and the Divine. This does not mean I have stopped making my own endeavours but I persuade myself not to be overwrought with worries if the end result is delayed or is not according to  plan or expected timeline. This new goal is  set out of inspiration. Nguyen says that goals set out of inspiration are expansive as its source is the Universe.

Nguyen says we achieve the most in a state of non-thinking. The Japanese word for this state is Mushin. How to attain this state is to constantly tutor our minds not to think too much on a thought. This does not mean thoughts will not come. They should float by like clouds. Focussing on a particular thought leads to continued toying with the thought or thinking which hampers mental peace and energy. The next most natural question is then should we stop reflecting ? Should we stop aspiring or having ambition ? What do we do if we do not think because it comes so naturally to us ?

Nguyen says rationalising and overanalyzing do not always pave the path to the best of achievements. It’s the state of non-thinking that keeps us connected to the Infinite Intelligence.

This Infinite Intelligence guides us and gives us direction in life. We worry and over think because we want to figure out and control the next best course of action for ourselves. Nguyen says let life be guided by intuitions which are directly sourced from the Universe or the Infinite Intelligence or God. As soon as we start thinking we get disconnected from this immensely powerful, omniscient and omnipresent inner wisdom or  our intuition. And that is when we falter in self doubt.

The state of non thinking is thus a state of absolute submission to a greater , deeper and vaster source of supreme, all encompassing and ever present Intelligence or Knowledge. This , of course, does not mean we stop making efforts. We should keep doing our work without figuring out or deciding how our efforts will bear fruits. Life has  infinite possibilities, ways and means of achieving desired results. Let the orchestration of how our efforts are going to bear fruit rest with the Universe/Infinite Intelligence/God.  As soon as we start thinking about the ways and means to achieve the end result we limit the possibilities of achieving it. It’s not in our hands. So stop thinking about it.

I have tried to give very briefly the essence of what Nguyen has to offer in Don’t Believe Everything You Think with live illustration. This post is what I have understood of the discourse in the book. It is not a review.

This is a book which explains in great details  to the readers not only what but also why and how to ensure unhindered joy, peace and freedom in life. This is a book to which one has to go back again and again so as not to stray from the path of happiness and abundance in the chaotic whirlpool of life.

A highly recommended read in times of need and even otherwise.

Again…


If I am not raving about my latest watch it does not mean that I have stopped binging on K Dramas. Well, to be precise, I do not binge any longer but see them one episode a day. Nevertheless I enjoy them as much and more.

Cutting short on binging is just my way of reducing screen time because of other preoccupations. And of course I do realise that it’s not a healthy habit. Moreover, not binging does not mean I am enjoying them less. In fact it’s more so.

In this post I talk about a few highly acclaimed/watched serials and why they are so with a special note on what I have learnt from them or what I felt watching them.

My Mister

It’s the story of a middle aged, married man who has lost the charm of life. He works in an architecture firm ridden by survival politics. His superior is a man who was junior to him in college and having an affair with his wife. In this firm works a young girl with a scarred past. She is a temporary on contractual basis. The two of them also stay in the same neighborhood. Eventually, both come together and bond in an unusual manner giving meaning and hope to each other’s existence.

This serial takes human relationship to another level. A man woman relationship need neither be physical nor platonic yet remain undefinably supportive and understanding.  It’s also about social alienation and community nurturing. How an entire neighborhood emancipates a young soul mistreated by life ! Human relationship is on one hand so fickle and on the other surprisingly and unexpectedly deep and strong.

Our Blues

This is an omnibus series about the habitants of Jeju Island – the commoners – some of them have risen in life and some have merely survived. It’s the heartwarming story of  their day to day struggles, their dreams and aspirations, their expectations from relationships, their heartbreaks and their rejoices and reunions and  momentary happinesses.

This serial gives you life lessons very unobtrusively.  Though the series walks through the ups and downs of lives yet ends on a very positive note on seeking happiness in life.

Thirty Nine

Three childhood friends from different walks of life grow and bond together till an annual health check up reveals that one of them is terminally ill. The diagnosis shatters the friends emotionally and psychologically. How they grope with reality, life, friendship and grief is the theme of the series. It may sound morbid and melancholic but it’s not as the three of them decide to make the most of life knowing they have limited time in hand. The two of them decide to make their terminally ill friend the happiest terminally ill patient.

Interweaved with hilarity and poignance this series is worth watching because it tells  so much about depth of relationship and female bonding.

Welcome To Samdalri

A very successful fashion photographer’s rising career is doomed by her deceitful and jealous junior. Losing everything overnight she with her two sisters and niece return to her homeland, Samdalri, to her parents. At first she is too embarrassed to reveal why she has come back to her neighbours and friends. However, thanks to the internet, her friends come to know the real reason and support her unconditionally to reset her career and gain fame.

This is also the story of her ex-boyfriend who refuses to forget her and leave the island in order to take care of his ex’s mother. Again community bonding, deeper nuances of relationships and unshakable faith and friendship with each other play a very important thematic role in this series.

Do watch these Netflix series in case you find the narrative interesting. With the ever encroaching internet we have forgotten our roles as social animals, nurturing through community, human bonding and the layers of relationship which give meaning and strength to our existence.

These series are just to remind us not to be alienated from ourselves and society.

Mrs. M


What are three objects you couldn’t live without?

Bhaiyaa, me and Chhotu were super excited when  father said this time we were going to settle in the mountains “for a year and may be more”. Though mother did not look too happy what with packing and moving the entire household to another location, we siblings jumped with joy. Mountains were so mystical!!

Father had a transferable job which meant frequent travels from one city to the other at regular intervals – change of places, schools and friends. But this time it was way different. We were to reside in the lap of a valley surrounded by majestic peaks.

***

It did not take time to settle down in our new locale. Our cottage overlooked a winding path getting somewhere lost in the woods up one of  the ranges of the Himalayas. From my bedroom window I could see the peaks getting drenched in colours at dusk and dawn. The tall deodars stood like stern sentinels around the cottage. Every morning we were woken up by chirping of birds. Every evening cloaked the surrounds with a silence which intrigued us into believing all the bewitching stories that we had heard from our new found friends and neighbours about the mountains.

***

Our friendliest neighbour was Mrs. M who lived down the winding alley. She had a welcoming smile on her face whenever we greeted her way to and fro home. She was always in her garden tending to pots and plants. Her cottage seemed neat and inviting but she was not the one to call anyone inside though she visited everyone else’s. She wore her saree ankle high with sneakers as though ready to rush somewhere. Her snow white hair was tied up in a tight bun. Her eyes always had an impish glint while the cackle of her laughter could be heard miles afar.

I asked Bholu, the know-it-all of our neighborhood, what did the initial of Mrs. M’s  name stand for. To my chagrin Bholu, for once, did not have a clue.

***

Mrs. M would visit us often late afternoon when we were back from school, sit in our porch and regale us with funny stories.

We enjoyed her company which was not less than an hour long. It seemed she had a bagful of amusing grandmotherly tales which kept us occupied even after she was gone.

Sometimes she brought with her home baked cookies and cakes which were delicious to say the least. When mother got free from household chores she would thank Mrs. M for keeping us engaged. Mrs. M would only wave a hand in the air and say that she loved our company as much.

***

Kuku was my best buddy in school. I asked him if Mrs. M often visited his home too. He said she used to but now no more. The last was when Kuku’s cat went missing. The visits ended suddenly thereafter.

***

Lately  mother had been complaining that her brooms were missing. She had four and all vanished one after the other strangely.

***

It was a week later Mrs. M just disappeared. Nobody had seen her since. I sorely missed her afternoon tales. She was not to be seen in her garden, neither skipping down the alleyway nor chatting in the marketplace.

***

Lately, there was a rumour going round the neighborhood. A funny comet like object was being  seen flying past the woods brushing the heads of the deodars. Children were told not to stray outside homes after dusk.

But Bholu did.

He was late from his coaching class. It was late evening. As his house was at the far end of the alley he was hurrying past the woods when he heard this loud swishing noise right up his head. As he looked up some funny object with a bushy tail flew past right across the sky. Higher and higher it went as Bholu stood rooted to the spot mouth agape.

Next day we all pounced on him to describe what he had actually seen. He still looked confused and kept nodding his head. So at the end of it we couldn’t elicit much from him.

***

Quite a few weeks later, one desultory afternoon, me and Bholu were just sitting by the stream our ankles dipped in the running water when Bholu suddenly opened up, “You know Tuku, I am quite sure that it was not a comet.”

“Then what was it?” I asked.

“I don’t know. It had a tail.”

“Comets are said to have tails.” I said

“But do they fly so close ? And … and … Make noise like…” Bholu sounded indecisive.

“Like ?” I pressed.

“Like as though laughing…?”

I looked dubious.

***

The comet story subsided in due course overtaken by another juicy gossip. Mrs. M was not to be found in the neighborhood. Some said she had moved up the mountains. Some said she had just vanished. Nobody knew  exactly.

But there were nights when the silence of the woods was pierced by cackles of laughter now and then.

You could ask Bholu if you did not believe me.

***

Postscript : My instant response to the prompt was three Ps : Peace, Prayers and Pious Pursuits.

But the child in me took over in a jiffy.

What is life without the three Ms ?

Magic, Mystery and of course Mrs. M ?

Pics from Pexel

Mrs. M is hugely inspired by Ruskin Bond’s short story “The Black Cat”

Need More Than Medication


I lost my mother on my last birthday. I do not know whether this was a blessing or a curse. It was certainly a relief for my long suffering mother.

I did not know how to deal with her absence. I prayed for her to go to a good place. It was this time when I read a lot of haiku. It gave me solace. But not for long. On 17th of January I had to be rushed to Emergency of a Super Speciality Hospital with acute abdominal pain , motion and vomiting.

At first my family physician who is also attached to the same hospital could not connect the pain to the ailment. It was only after a CT Contrast that it was diagnosed that I had a perforation in the intestine/colon which had led fecal matters to spread in my stomach.

I was immediately referred to the surgical team headed by a very experienced and eminent senior surgeon who in his very gruff way scolded my sister that we had inordinately delayed the case which now had to be treated in three parts which implies three major surgeries. It was no time to explain that the fault was mine. I could not focus on my own health because of my mother’s decade old critical medical condition.

Immediate surgery took care of the draining of absecc, adhesions, infection and puss but a five day stay prolonged to fifteen days because my Total Leucocyte Count refused to come down below worrisome range.

I was discharged on 1st February. Since then every day is a fight for better, healthier , normal life. Somedays I cannot stand straight and have to be carried to the bathroom. Other days I console myself that sunnier days are ahead. My days are spent in prayers and I am learning to surrender totally to The Almighty.

Here I would like to mention about India’s medical treatment with gratitude. Yes, it is expensive. There are more patients that the hospital can handle at times. There are queues and sticking to system which takes time  yet the doctors don’t leave you midway. They provide utmost care so that you don’t have to come back again after leaving.

The staff is kind and sympathetic. The nurses  friendly and joke. I was the universal aunt. I miss their care.

I hope my next two scheduled stays will not be too painful and discomforting and less complicated. But the doctors counselled me well. The only thing is I cannot think beyond what will happen two months hence. Will I survive or succumb? My recovery graph is not very smooth.

Pray God be with me.

Inshallah!!!

Har Har Har Har Mahadev.

Rain And Shine


Again a collection of haiku, senryu, haibun and tanka prose by Geethanjali Rajan with illustrations by Dhaatri Venugunad.

Reading haiku is therapeutic.

Though I cannot claim expertise I oscillate… revelling in just exploring. It’s a new kind of adventure. I am intoxicated.

Geethanjali’s longing for sun longing for rain is understated, elegant and very, very Indian. Her conversancy with Japanese perhaps gives her an edge. There is an unmistakable matter-of-fact-ness. A directness which is sharp and fresh.

The book is divided in seven parts –

a flower strewn path

start of a new term –

children in a hurry

to fit in

river of stars

eclipsed sun

the squirrels’ chatter

suddenly goes silent

on the Buddha trail

(A haibun)

Ayutthayya

“The headless Buddha statue sits in Padmasana. What gesture were his hands holding when the marauders had chopped off the arms?

the teacher speaks

of balancing the elements

Dhyana mudra

Centuries later, still exposed to rain, wind and sun, the idol rests in meditation.”

heave of the sea

a homing pigeon

on the temple roof–

I too must return

this stone path

(A tanka from a tanka prose)

streaks of sandal paste

on my ragged prayerbook

this year

I am the chief priest

and the lone devotee

a rippled sky

eclipsing

a night of coal-black…

mud lamps

dots of a kolam

grandma’s prophecy

this year’s harvest

will overflow the granary

tinkling bells

the farm’s only bull

nods assent

A little about the author

Geethanjali discovered haiku in 2003. She has been widely published. Geethanjali edits haiku at Cattails , the journal of Japanese short forms of poetry. She is also a part of the editorial team at Cafe Haiku on WordPress.

Dhaatri is an artist and illustrator. Her illustrations in this book are in shades of grey black and white which heighten the mysticism of the genre.

Secret Of Christmas Movies


November and December of every year are dedicated to watching Christmas movies on Netflix. So all other “To Watch” movies are set aside for the time being.

This year too is no different except that  I have been wondering why at all watch a film till the end which is so predictable. Nonetheless I have already watched quite a few. The storyline of all of them have been more or less the same. Girl  suffering from a  painful break up of a long term relationship. Her family has other plans for Christmas or has moved abroad. So no celebratory dinners with parents, siblings,  friends and relations. She invariably plans to submerge herself in work and spend the Christmas night mooning over lost hope, love, happiness and dreams. In comes the invisible Santa who swishes a wand so to speak and lo walks in the Prince Charming without any attachments. Of course it’s love at first sight and after a few twisty tweaks of fate the story ends with a promising kiss of happily ever after. 

Yet I never get bored of witnessing the same make over of life’s monotonous ways over and over again when I know in the very first scene what’s going to happen in the last one. Why ? I ask myself. The answer is here.

I have always seen Christmas as not something inextricably associated with religious celebration. Though it is. But Christmas has always had a standalone significance of its own. And that is what these movies underscore. Notwithstanding the family rituals, gathering, revelry and sparkle Christmas also is the harbinger of a new beginning. And that MAGIC!

I remember when I was small I would forcibly keep myself awake to see Santa. Inevitably sleep would take over. The next morning I would just shove my hands under the pillow my eyes still shut. Unfailingly, the fingers would close in on a GIFT!!! When did He come ? How did He enter? The doors and windows were latched tight. It was much much later that the TRUTH dawned on me that SANTA was right inside the house.

Yes, family always takes care of the MAGIC. The serendipity of unexpectedness. Christmas teaches us that. The JOY of being together in times of need as well as times of festivities. To enjoy and appreciate the little moments of vivre amidst a sea of sudden turmoils. That is the GIFT of life we live for. That’s why it’s always  optimistic to look forward to what next.

This year when I am deep in despair, sorrow and hopelessness these Christmas movies tell me tomorrow may not be the same. When the girl in the movie finds meaning in her life I too feel I am not completely lost on purpose. When loneliness is replaced by delightful company I believe it’s also in store for me.

And that my friend is the secret of Christmas movies. It’s always been. It’s uplifting. It revives FAITH in something beautiful, everlasting and peace giving. The only thing is that I feel it more deeply this time in the midst of desperation and longing for better days.

I must not forget that anything and everything is possible in life more so when it is Christmas.

Here’s wishing you all a Very Happy Christmas!!

Bless You All

Be Happy and Healthy always

🙏🙏

Pic from Pexel

Sea And Me – Part III


This post is the last in the series and should have come much earlier. But  I held back  because meeting the sea was not a great experience the third time. 

It was Mumbai stretched on the Arabian Sea. I had been there more than three times  and every time I disliked it more. It’s a busy city. Mumbaikars  are rather brusque. Time does not stand still here.

Twice I visited Mumbai for official training. Once to reunite with school buddies. Twice for presentations – very short trips.  With office colleagues it was fun the first time as we explored the city together post training session. It was a mixed group – male and female of different age group. We experienced the local train, the citylights from the sea on steamer, the temples on foot. The only beach ( never seen a dirtier one!)  we visited was Chaupati.  Still we walked quite a distance by the shore avoiding the trash strewn around. The food at the sea side kiosks were unimpressive compared to Delhi’s yummilicious street food.

I liked Marine Drive more. It was cleaner and orderly. The sea lapping around  Mahalaxmi Temple was frolicsome. The temple was a bit intimidating. Sea at Bandra was shocking. Deep brown in colour the waters were absolutely polluted. My nephew gave me a morning ride the day I was to leave Mumbai on my third visit. The Worli Sea Link was interesting which connected two parts of the city. However, I loved Pawai the most as it gave me some sense of the city.

I have always felt nice about the organized chaos of Airports except Mumbai’s. I once got stuck there due to torrential downpour. The Airport was closed  down for quite sometime. The flights were inordinately delayed. Even after boarding it would not take off as the pilot on duty was stuck in a massive traffic snarl because of the incessant rains. He apologized profusely upon arrival.  The whole episode was exhausting to say the least. 

If I have to define a city – sea side or otherwise – it will be by its people, culture and food. People of Mumbai  seem to be all the time running against time. I am told it’s  work culture is very professional. Many of my colleagues say that the city grows on you. I am afraid the way they cook the food never appealed to me. I have more of a North Indian taste buds.

I do not know why I could not connect with the Mumbai sea. Whether it was the city pulling me back or the sea failing to draw me closer ? A true traveler may have unraveled the mystery by revisiting but I am not the one for it.

Pics from Pexel