A Trip to the Royal Observatory

A friend came to visit us a few weekends back and trying to organise a Saturday's entertainment was a little difficult  since she has lived and been to visit London many times. Luckily she had never been to the Royal Observatory in Greenwich so we settled for that one. The weather prediction ranged from sunny to heavy rains, thankfully it chose to be a usual cloudy, grey day.

Once we came out of the Cutty Sark tube station, there were ample directions to show us the way. The area which is known as the Greenwich Village is very pretty and quaint with loads of nice shops and cosy cafes and restaurants and also a covered market where a Saturday market was on at full swing. After five/six minutes walk we were facing the gate of the park and a long trudge up the hill awaited us. It seemed rather a lot of walk but the hill seemed gentle enough. Do not be fooled by the gentle hill, soon all three of us were huffing and puffing. But there were so many others walking along and the park is rather nice, so without too much grumbling we reached our destination. The view from the top is worth every bit of effort in walking up that hill.

Some of the photographs:

 Photo taken from down below...

 The view of the rolling park

 Another view of the park with the Royal hospital in the background and a hilly short cut that people have created for themselves

 Now the real telescope

 Check out Bombay! By the way that is the Meridian Line in copper I think. Remember all those complicated sums that we had to do in Geography class in school, involving latitudes and longitudes? Standing here, I went back to those school days :)

 The clock...

 A slightly different view, dusk is falling...

 What they say about the view...

 Before we knew it, it was dark and all the lights came on and it looked all the more amazing...

 See the green laser light? Well it is the meridian line, lighted up like that in the dark. Isn't it really cool?

At 1p.m. every day they sound a gong, I was disappointed to have missed that. But then when I saw in view in the dark and the laser light, I was glad we came late enough to get a day view and also an evening view.

Apart from the line, there was two/three museums displaying various kinds of clocks, astronautic instruments and there is the Planetarium next door, which we covered as well. 

Sexy fellows....

Check out these sexy fellows :) A pub sign in Woodstock, Oxfordshire.

Irish women writers...

Just finished reading  'A Charming Man' by Marian Keyes. Lovely book, dealt with extremely serious issues like alcoholism and domestic violence without without completely bogging down or depressing the reader. Love the way she writes, she is so funny and I laughed so much, at one point husband thought have been struck by late night madness/mirth-ness.

Must says really impressed with Irish writers, specially the women. Fell in love with Maeve Binchy and finished all her books which are available in the Oxfordshire library. Really loved the way she writes...her books were my only friends in the first few lonely months in Oxford.

Now that no longer have any books left to read, though every time I visit the library, faithfully (like a ritual) go and run my eyes through her books, who knows may strike gold with a new arrival! Nor can afford to buy books in present circumstances, so was looking for replacement author. Found another Irish lady--Marian Keyes. This was her second book, the first one a book cheekily called "Further Under the Duvet".

My vocabulary has also expanded to boot. New words/slangs learnt are:

Cripes: Slang used to express surprise, annoyance, disgust, etc.

Fecking: Polite and socially acceptable profanity used by the Irish. 

And a lovely phrase : rough as badger's arse...to describe post drinking hang over. 

Isn't this cool? So get ready to hear these words from me sometime soon in future!

Just like that....

They say with each passing days incidents which are part of our lives become memories, then time dims them, ultimately they get pushed to the furthest corners of our brain to stay there till something triggers them back to the forefront of our consciousness.

This makes me compare memories with a trunk full of old clothes. I am sure you all have had experiences of sitting with your mothers, while they pulled out old trunks and then shook out old clothes smelling strongly of moth balls and faintly of some old forgotten perfume. I remember as a child I used to be facinated by old trunks-- they were synonymous to mystery, great excitement and unrevelaed treasure. If in the process I got sprayed with the accumulated dust from the piece of cloth which wrapped the trunk so be it. Not being afraid of lizards and cockroaches, a couple of their carcases or eggs never bothered me much. I loved it more when either of my parents explained in details each item that came out of the trunk--like this trunk was part of your grandmother's wedding trousseau, the fancy dark blue velvet blouse with beadwork was your grandmother's favourite one, it was done by Meher Ali who had a tailoring shop in New Market, she had a matching sari to wear this with, (it as a very memshahebi thing to possess and wear and was consiedered to be very fasionable at that time), an old dairy whose pages have become brittle and the ink has become faded, an old dry leaf used as a page mark, a fountain pen which someone had got my grandfather from Britain, an old cookie tin filled with stamps...a beautiful lady's evening purse and some beautifully embrodiered handkerchifs....a jwellery box stuffed with trinkets and stones which must have come undone from some necklace or some other piece of jwellery....I remember being awestruck with each item that came out....touch them lightly so that they do not dissolve into a thousand pieces...my imagination would take a flying leap....I would be transported to a time when my long dead grandmother was just a young girl. I have heard that she was married at the age of 16 which was quiet an age considering the time. I would start pestering my father with loads of questions like "did women during that time go out to shop like we do?"...."No"....my father would patiently explain, " all the trades people used to come to their home...they would be downstairs while the women would assmble in the first floor veranda and throw a rope down. The traders would tie their merchandise to these and then a servant would pull the rope up."... This seemed very limited way of shopping to me, but how can you be satisfied with seeing just a few of whatever you want to buy....my young brain rebelled at the thought to not being able to walk into a shop and choose. To explain the restriction my father would launch into a socio cultural sketch of the time. Then my mother would come and chip in with stories of her family's shopping. It seemed like most of the shopping was done by men at that time, or traders came home. This seemed very very unsatisfactory to me. Looking back at those time I smile at my naivitee and am so thankful for having been born in the present.

Snowfall...

Suddenly I look up from my laptop and look abesently outside. I am thinking about social research, if you please. Suddenly my thoughts stop and focus on the scenery outside. It is a clear day, the blue sky is looking picture postcard awesome and it is snowing lightly. For someone like me, having grown up near the Tropic of Cancer, it is indeed a pleasant surprise and a sudden thrill.
I remember the first time it snowed the winter I spent in Toronto. One day in my usual winter gear (read resembling an Eskimo of the first order) I was standing in the bus stop, suddenly I felt a white something float down from the sky. I had heard and read about this numerous times but no one could prepare me for the real experience. Soon other snow flakes followed suit. I forgot the cold and the wind and went outside. It was like today a clear clear day and the snow flakes fell down from the heavens and gently kissed my upturned face. I stood there for a long time, much to the amusement of the passers by. Some even could relate my experience and smiled at me, some showed me thumbs up as if to say "girl I felt exactly the same way when I experienced my first snow fall...". Today I am alone in this room trying to meet a deadline and there is no one to see me drool over this snow. So dear readers I am sharing this with you. I am sure you have had similar experiences. Isnt it great?
Snowfall is synonymous of magic for me and the first snowfall is always the most magical. I know that during a long stretch of winter snowfall gets really depressing but initially it is very exciting. Snowfall reminds me of a long list of things and colours like white, cold, clear blue sky, Christmas, gifts, chocolates, green tea, waffles with cream and jam, crepes with maple syrup, nostalgic music, strange countries, sweet love, home away from home, Toronto and now Europe is added to this list. What is in your list do let me know?
Have a good day folks!

Ratan...

Met this boy when I went to click photos of Ravan. He seemed very interested to see what I was clicking. So when I asked him to pose he readily agreed.

Name : Ratan

Age: 14

Occupation: Works in a dhaba (local food joint)

Lives in: Sarai Kalekha, New Delhi

Ram Lila 2008

Burning of Ravana and company which singnifies according to Ramayana demolition of the evil.

Last man standing-- Kumbhakaran and Indrajeet already torched and burnt down.

All three in a row...

The old man who created these idols and a gaggle of kids who were more nuisance than help I am sure.

Bodyless. This reminds me of an incident in school years ago. In class ix or x in our history book there used to be a photograph of Kanishka where only his face like this was shown. During one history exam one brilliant fellow wrote "though bodyless Kanishka was a great king"... I remember our history teacher fuming and the whole class erupting into load laughter when she told us this.

Half A Century...

Hey do you know in July I actually wrote 49 pieces, hence this to mark the half century. God knows whether I will write this much in any other month. Dont think I can churn out junk at this consistent rate forever.

But how to mark this half century. Ok let me share two photos with you. This was taken in Kensington Market, Toronto. This market was/is a bit hippie and bohemian. I lived just 5 minustes away from it and loved walking through the place on my way back from school. Each cafe/shop/individual of that area was/is extremely interesting.

This old and rejected car was standing in front of a cafe for a long time and then one day I saw they had started filling it up with earth. I loved what they eventually did with it. Enjoy.

Little Riya...

Riya is one year and two months old, beautiful and ever smiling sweetheart. She is my firend Jyoti's one and only daughter. They (Jyoti, Prabhat, Riya, Angira and Anasua) came to visit me on Saturday evening. Riya was hungry since her mother had left her food (Cerelac) by mistake at home. There was not much that she could eat in my house. Thoug later when I told my mother she gave n number of suggestions like a slice of bread, biscuits with milk, any fruit that I had at home. Should have called ma up, rather than wait for Jyoti's brain bulb to light on, which never did. Not that on my own I had any great ideas. Riya naturally was crying, so in order to entertain her I got out my camera. And lo and behold the one year and two month old turned model on me. She forgot her hunger and started smiling and posing for my camera. So much so that after I had clicked a smiling Riya, I could make her stop smiling and do other things for me.

Another story I must tell you. Riya's birthday came in May, I was excited, my niece was turning all of one. So I told her parents that I am going to get the cake. I went an ordered a special birthday cake but somewhere along the way i forgot her name. I called Jyoti's husband up to ask her name twice, once before going to the bakery and once from the bakery. He kept telling me 'Riya' but somehow my brain kept registering Piu. And just like you are guessing I got the cake gup to write Piu on the cake. It was a major embarassment for me when the cake cutting ceremony came and everyone went a puzzled "Piu?". Things I do, I tell you.

I Do So Love Marias...

The first time I got introduced to a character named Maria was when I saw 'The Sound of Music' at an early age of five or six. The movie along with its music made a huge impression on me but most of all I was impressed by Maria. Since then I have seen that old familar movie lots of times--times when I am feeling lost, nostalgic, bored, sad. And everytime I see the movie Maria makes a little stronger impression on me. Her character, her likes, dislikes, momentary lapses of confidence all seems stuff that happens to me.

When Maria sings

"I have confidence in sunshine

I have confidence in rain

I have confidence that spring will come again

Besides which you see I have confidence in me."

I know just what she is talking about. Even though till a few years back I had no idea how it felt to spend a really cold winter with snow and all, yet some of my favourite things bacame--

"Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes

Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes

Silver white winters that melt into springs

These are a few of my favorite things."

My next favourite fictional Maria is the Brazilian prostitute in Paulo Coelho's Eleven Minutes. I love the character for her candidness and also because she readily takes full responsibility of all her actions. If you look at how literature/media in India has potrayed prostitutes or csw/commercial sex workers politically correct term) has always been victims of society or destiny. Maybe they are, you get to hear aout women in the West who choose to trade their bodies for a better life style but Indian nari, the ever sati savitri is a whole different ball game. But I often used to wonder by turning cws as victims are we not generalising and taking away their voices? Anyways to get back to the Maria of Eleven Minutes, she is not a victim at all, she is someone who takes money for having sex with men and goes to the library in the afternoons. She knows what she is doing and happy in her own skin. This was such a change from the usual, that its freshness immensely appeals to me.

Then comes Tabu playing Maria in M.F. Hussian's Meenaxi. This Maria was an orphan in Prague who works as a waitress. I love the air of mystery that surrounds Tabu in this movie and especially as Maria.

And last but not least is the Maria who plays a character role in the book I am reading currently. The book is Paul Auster's Leviathan and Maria was one time girl friend/ Sex partner of the hero Peter Aaron who is also the narrotor of the story. According to him Maria is "...eccentric, an unorthodox person who lived her life according to an elaborate set of bizarre, private rituals. Every experience was systematised for her, a self contained adventure that generated its own risks and limitations,...". This Maria on her every birthday threw herself a birthday party and invited the same number of guests as her age, indulge in 'the chromatic diet' restricting herself to foods of a single colour on any single day or spend a day under the spell of a single alphabet. I just love this character, she is too bizarre to be true. While reading about her, I felt she vaguely resembled Maya of the movie Izajjat.

All these characters are etched by different people at different points of time and for different purposes. But somehow the name Maria threads them togather. Maybe Maria is an easy name to give, convininet and common enough but not plain like Jane. But for whatever reasons these characters were named Maria, they carried off being Maria too well. For me, when I come across the name Maria, it means interesting characters ahead. Now I have to meet an equally interesting Maria in person.

Moroccan Family, Lakeshore (Lake Ontario), Tonroto

Miss You Dear Bakery

Name: Market Bakery

Location: Kensington Market, Toronto

On Sale: All kinds of bread, pies, pastries, muffins, chocolates and everything delicious.

Price: In Canadian parlance damn cheap. $2.50 for a loaf of bread which would happily last you a week. The pies were slightly high priced around $7/8 but they were big family seized ones and the pastries and muffins all ranged between 50 cents to $2.

My Association: I lived for a year very near to this bakery and used to visit this every week, sometimes twice. I had a great time discovering all kinds of breads and deserts from different countries like potato and leak bread of the Portuguese, baguettes of the French origin, bakalava, tiramisu..you name it, I have gorged on it.

Dilli Haat...