Home

“So what does “home” mean for me?

I guess…it’s the one place I can be dressed in pajamas all day long; where the cook doesn’t raise his eyebrows if I have ice cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner ( no, I’ve never actually done that!); where I can leave my paint brushes to dry alongside my toothbrush and where I don’t have to ask permission to use the oven at 2am for firing porcelain bowls that I decorated with ceramic paint the night before. It’s where I can be rude to my house partner yet neither he nor I can throw the other out. Where we mute all the T.V. commercials and instead of being polite about watching mindless junk, we can have furious arguments; where I can have guests who irritate me rather than be the one who irritates my host; where I am the one whose signature is requested by couriers who wake me up in the afternoons.

In short, it’s the place where I can behave badly to my heart’s content! A rare and pleasurable treat."

By author Manjula Padmanabhan

over heard conversation -II

Yesterday while going back home I heard this -

An old man was standing in the semi crowded bus and his wife sitting next to me, enquiring about the address they wanted to go.

One person stepped on his feet while going ahead in the bus.

Old man: Arre dekho to sahi…

After sometime another person stepped on his feet while going ahead.

Old man: Yeh boot pahanewale logonko patahi nahi chalta shayad kisine chappal bhi pahani hai!

I kept thinking about his statement.

Love!!

'Hey, Oliver, did I tell you that I love you?'

' No, Jen.'

' Why didn't you ask me?'

' I was afraid to, frankly.'

' Ask me now'.'

'Do you love me, Jenny?'

She looked at me and wasn't being evasive when

she answered:

' What do you think?'

'Yeah. I gues. Maybe.'

I kissed her neck.

' Oliver?'

'Yes?'

'I don't just love you...'

'Oh Christ, What was this?'

' I love you very much, Oliver.'

Love Story , Erich Segal

Marriage

The bride first. Jenny stood facing me and recited poem she had selected. It was very moving, perhaps especially to me, because it was a sonnet by Elizabeth Barrett:

"When our two souls stand up erect and strong,

Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,

Until the lengthening wings break into fire…

From the corner of my eye I saw Phil Cavilleri, pale, slack-jawed, eyes wide with amazement and adoration combined. We listened to Jenny finish the sonnet, which was in its way a kind of prayer for

A place to stand and love in for a day,

with darkness and death hour rounding it."

Then it was my turn. It had been hard finding a piece of poetry I could read without blushing. I mean, I couldn't stand there and recite lace-doily phrases. I couldn't. But a section of Walt Whitman's Song of the Open road, though kind of brief, said it all for me:

… I give you my hand!

I give you my love more precious than money,

I give you myself before preaching or law;

Will you give me yourself? Will you come travel with me?

Shall we stick by each other as long as we live? "

Love Story by Erich Segal

Books I read in 2009

While relaxing on hammock at Kelva beach resort, I thought of writing the first post of new year and that is the list of Marathi and English books I read in the whole year of 2009.

1. Siddhartha- Hermann Hesse

2. Shala - Milind Bokil

3. Bandh anubandh - Kamal Padhye

4. My Autobiography - Charles Chaplin

5. P.S. I love you - Cecelia Ahern

6. The winner stands alone - Paulo Coelho

7. Like the flowing water - Paulo Coelho

8. The old man and the sea - Ernest Hemingway

9. Tales from the country matchmaker - Patricia Warren.

10. Atlas shrugged - Ayn Rand ( I was reading this from Sept.07 till May 09 )

11. The curious incident of the dog in the night time - Mark Haddon

12. Bhool bhulaiya - V.P. Kale

13. Vapunchi Manse - V.P. Kale

14. Stay hungry, stay foolish - Rashmi Bansal

15. Curfewed night - Basharat Peer ( currently reading )

16. Two States - Chetan Bhagat ( currently reading )

17. TOTTO-CHAN, The little girl at the window - Tetsuko Kuroyanagi

translated by Dorothy Britton ( currently reading )

overheard conversation

I overheard this conversation of travellers sitting next to me. It was in hindi but I have translated that at few places. This couple seemed to be from very poor background.

8:15 PM @ Mahim railway station, Mumbai

Man – When did you come?

Woman – Just now :)

Man – Woh dekha! on that train that actor in blue shirt..Ajay Devgan..woh movie ka add hai na train pe

Woman – Haan.. usaka kya?

Man - I saw him today afternoon, doing one film shooting. Many media people were there and five body guards were with him when he got out of the car. Sidha sada insaan hai!! Apane jaisa … even his complexion is like us!! Not fair. But he is very nice ..as soon as he got down from the car, he waved at the public and smiled ...waited and greeted few people and went to the location. All photographers were clicking snaps.. shayad mera bhi photo aayega news paper me.

Woman – acha hai ..woh bhi apne jaisa hai matlab!

That woman was smiling happily looking at her husband.

Happiness ...

"I realized that time and circumstances have favored me. I have been cosseted in the world’s affection, loved and hated. Yes, the world has given me its best and little of its worst. Whatever were my ill vicissitudes, I believe that fortune and ill – fortune drift upon one haphazardly as clouds. Knowing this I am never too shocked at the bad things that happen and am agreeably surprised at that good. I have no design for living, no philosophy – whether sage or fool, we must all struggle with life. I vacillate with inconsistencies; at times small things will annoy me and catastrophes will leave me in – different.

Schopenhauer said happiness is a negative state – but I disagree. For last twenty years I have known what happiness means. I have the good fortune to be married to a wonderful wife. I wish I could write more about this, but it involves love and perfect love is most beautiful of all frustrations because it is more than one can express. As I live with Oona, the depth and beauty of her character are a continual revelation to me. Even as she walks ahead of me along the narrow sidewalks of Vevey with simple dignity, her neat little figure straight, her dark hair smoothed back showing a few silver threads, a sudden wave of love and admiration comes over me for all that she is – and a lump comes into my throat. "

My Autobiography, Charles Chaplin