Beginning Proust, and other recent reads

I have decided to finally take the plunge. I am now reading Marcel Proust's epic work, 'In search of lost time'. What possessed me to embark on this journey that many have avoided, and too many have abandoned mid-way, I cannot explain (may have had something to do with chance encounters with this and this). All I know is, so far (I am half way through volume 1) I have got goosebumps several times as something that he has written has struck a firm cord, or something he's said has thrown a fresher, clearer light on an issue that lay murky and unclear in my head. Several people with interest in literature say they wish they had written 'In search of lost time'. I think I am only just beginning to see why.

Apart from Proust's absorbing tale, there is little time for anything else. I did manage, however, to finish some stuff that was being recommended at work. It started off being interesting, but the idea of allowing employees greater autonomy over their work is not entirely revolutionary. It has been around for a while, only now some handful of organisations are actually doing something about it. Till such time as there is greater trust that every employee can and will take care of her work without having to be 'managed', lip service is all we will ever have regarding greater work autonomy.

But then, management was never my cup of tea. So, pursuing things more amenable, here is a book that just makes you fall in love with winter. Because it gives you a reason for wanting to create these beautiful patterns and cosy knits. It is the idea of gloomy, wet, cold winter evenings magically transformed into those of endless possibilities and creative pursuits. Just the thought of having a gorgeous yarn to keep you company makes the prospect of winter, dare I say, enjoyable. So much can be done, not just to satisfy one's innate need for creativity, but also to engage the mind in the process of making something beautiful, yet functional, with one's hands. The only time I find my mind relaxing into a cheerful hum is when I am knitting a familiar pattern - of course, after I have resisted the urge to compete with myself and make even the most calming act of yarn over needle into a race against time.

In other stories, N and I are reading lots of lovely picture books. Some super favorites are:

• Babies love books
• Stones
• I took the moon for a walk
• Say goodnight
• Ten little fingers and ten little toes

He is going through this phase where on a given page in a book, he will point to every little thing (cat, tree, sock, ball, whatever) and then ask "Eeya?" which is his word for "What's that?" And then I have to say "That's a duck!" and he goes 'Ya! Ya!". Like he knew all along and was just testing me! It is so much fun!

Happy reading to you!

Just being

*

I have lost track of the time that I have been away from this space. The trouble is, when there isn't much activity on the blog, there is usually a lot happening in the background. So much that there isn't the time or the energy to make time to blog.

So the last couple of months have been about a pressure cooker situation at work, parents over from India, a holiday in the Peak District, N coming down with yet another gastro bug, and A and I losing sight of what's important, and losing it over and over again. And before I knew it, it was Diwali, yet again catching me totally unprepared.

Two aborted desserts and one banging-head-against-wall-in-tears-session later it was time to pull oneself together. There were four hours to go before the guests arrived and I had a lot to get through. I will not lie, thirty minutes before their arrival I was once again in tears, frantically trying to get the besan to mix with the spinach and the onions.

I remember being told that the pakoras came out well. It was already half way through the evening before I decided to forgive myself. I don't do forgiving myself well. It was a call that had to be taken at that moment - forgive self for not being the ultimate-well-planned-party hostess or lose the night forever in blame and remorse.

I chose the former. I think it has to do with age. And with trying to learn from previous mistakes.

It was a great party, I'm told. I wouldn't know, I was too busy just being, not judging myself, just having fun.

* Two beauties at The Heights of Abraham in the Peak District

Must remember...

It has been a very different weekend from the ones that I usually have. I mean, from the ones that I have gotten used to having. I mean, the ones where being a mum just spills over from weekdays into weekends and back into weekdays. From nights into days and back on into the nights. You get it right?

So it's been a bit different. Got a few hours out to do some no-running-after-toddler adult conversation. It felt super amazing to just be able to talk about something without a thousand interruptions. Or without the fear that the boy is going to walk into traffic. Or fall into the river. Or try to eat a brick or something. You get the picture.

So having had some time out, one came to the conclusion that one makes decisions and then one forgets to stick to them. Like the decision to not get too worked up by the slightest of provocations. Therefore, a 'must-remember' list is in order I'd say.

Having had some time to reflect upon what this list should comprise of, I think I can, pretty much, distill it down to one little thing.

I must remember... to forgive. Not just verbally, but mentally.

And cut the people who are doing a fair job of allowing me this much needed 'me-time' some well-earned slack.

Must remember to do that.

Of trust, and the like

What is trust? Do we really know at all? When we were younger, in the comforting days of life in school, we played a game.It was called the trust-game. You had to close your eyes and face your friend. Then, with your eyes closed, you had to fall into her arms. Easy.

Not quite it seems. The trouble is the mind. It won't let you let yourself fall. It takes a lot of trust in the other person to be able to fall into her arms, with the confidence that she will hold you and not let you fall.

Now let us imagine, you have worked hard with a friend on this game. And you have brought yourself to let yourself go. Slowly and gently you have built your trust in her, to the extent that you know that you can safely leave yourself in her hands.

And then, one regular day, in a fairly normal session of the trust-game, she backs off. You fall flat on your face. Both body and pride are bruised extensively, pride more than anything else. What do you do? How will you react? What's the status of your trust?

Once the shock of the event and the bodily pain have gone, how do you deal with the injured sense of self? You ask your friend why she did what she did. She had her reasons - you had wronged her, in her opinion, the day before and so she decided to hurt you. When you explain to her your point, she apologizes and promises never to break your trust again. All is well in paradise and she is keen to resume the trust-game.

What do you do? No, seriously, what do you do?

I have been away, mostly battling medical issues and thwarting life's cruel plans to make things more and more difficult. Can't say I've had much success, but hey, I'm alive still. And N gives me a few reasons to smile everyday. He is now saying 'Mamma' and melting my heart constantly. The one silver lining to what seems like a thunderous jet black cloud ready to explode without warning.

Actually, make that one of two. Couldn't have survived the last few weeks without this brilliant man.

The only way to do it

Get away, that is. The only way to do it is suddenly. Drop everything on your plate, except the baby, who in any case will be in your arms and not on the plate, and make a run for it. That is exactly what we did last Friday.

Not that we intended to, and that is the precise point. N had been grumpy lately, thanks to the not-so-nice after effects of the MMR jab. A quick trip to and chat with the doc revealed nothing to worry about. So when he got up Friday morning, whining and generally grumpy, A and I knew what the rest of the Easter break was going to be like - not very pleasant, to say the least.

A few phone calls, and we were off. Record breaking time taken in packing self, luggage and baby. All aboard A's much-loved automobile, and we were on our way to the Midlands, on a genuine, spur of the moment, fully impulsive getaway.

And what a wonderful time we had!

To more impulsive decisions - the ones that turn out alright!

Ladies in lavender

Few slow films have the capacity to move you so much. Ladies in lavender is a beautiful story about two sisters who rescue a young foreigner washed ashore. Their feelings for and around this young man make the movie. The direction is subtle yet crisp, the story flows slowly, gently but decidedly. Judi Dench and Maggi Smith are stars in their simplicity. The variety of emotions they are able to convey without speaking a word - acting at its best, at least from the little cinema that I have seen.

On another note, the picturisation of Cornwall, the sea, the pebbly sand, the rocky shores - oh what absolute beauty! The quaint village life, the tiny lavender wreaths on old china, the fireplaces and the cut-work on the cotton night gowns, what loveliness! I want to go to Cornwall and stay in exactly that cottage by the sea!

T asked me today if I had seen any new movies lately, and I told her, quite honestly, that I had seen one in the last twelve months. This makes it two, the other one being this.

The first birthday party

It came too soon. We celebrated with some close friends, lots of baby food for the little ones, and a very fruity cake.

I guess this is what they mean when they say, "they grow up so fast!". There is so much to catch, and such little time.