The cannon ball tree

This sight that met me when I walked into my grandmother’s house in Kerala last week had me worried. I thought a hurricane had hit it selectively.

The 70 year old cannon ball tree or nagalinga pushpam tree (originally a native of South America) sheds its leaves three times annually. I am told the mighty tree sheds all its leaves over a period of one week. A part of all my memories of summer vacations while growing up, the tree was planted by my grandmother in her front yard around the time she had her first child. Grandma now in her nineties reminisced about her trip to Madurai all those years back where she saw the tree for the first time and decided that she wanted to have one at home.

A closer view

The view of the top of the tree.

an update on my previous post

The child welfare people came home today, collected available information, and are following up to intervene if required. I am impressed at their immediate response.

the little bee catchers

Yes, the photograph is wanting. Badly focused and bad lighting, but you cannot miss the innocence and the camaraderie between the two lads. The little one is Shahrukh Khan and the older one is Akshay Kumar. They proudly informed me that they had a brother Salman Khan. You are wondering now what these celebrities were doing in my house and together (the real ones are no longer on the best of terms, if page 3 gossip is to be believed). They are the little bee catchers. They came to ask me to shut my window because some neighbour had engaged their services. I asked them if they got stung often, but they were nonchalant and informed me that they had been trained well by their parents.

Now the question, I have often asked myself. Should I call the child welfare helpline and report? Will the authorities or NGO’s or whoever take some action? I don’t know and I am hesitating. Frankly I don’t have any idea what exactly will be done to help these children. I don’t want to experiment without knowing the consequences. Will they be taken away from their parents? Will the parents get into trouble? I don’t know. But halfway through writing this post, I decided that I could not ignore the issue either and decided to write a mail to dial1098@childlineindia.org.in and inform them. I am a little wary. I don’t want to meddle if no good will come of it, but I am hoping for the best.

in a lighter vein

He tries, but he just cannot get it right, he says,

Vadaphone for Vodaphone
Standard Chartered is esstandardchatarjee
Microsoft me heat kar dhoo – He means can I heat it in the Microwave
Sanghvi madam unfortunately is Sandwich madam

I cannot help but laugh, to which he says...mai tho unpad adhmi hu, madam aap kyuo hasthe ho.

Our brothers in khaki

Just went down to buy some vegetables with my SO (for the newly initiated bloggers like me - SO means ‘significant other’). Suddenly halfway through weighing our eggplants the vendor lifted the weighing machine and ran, the co-vendor started mouthing aloud “no don’t panic, everyone calm down, and don’t run”. Looked around to see, and there they were, our brothers in khaki, looking as menacing as they do in bollywood movies. One of them came by and said the CI (I am assuming he was referring to the Circle Inspector) was on his way and the vendors had to shut shop.

What transpired thereon:

 I pretended to be an innocent bystander, which I was.

 SO protested saying that we had no vendors within the 200 acre township we stayed in.

 Brother in khaki sarcastically suggested that we give the vendors a shop within the premises if that was the case.

 Two minutes passed, an understanding was reached (did not see the negotiators), the brothers in khaki jumped back into their official blue jeep and sped away.

 The vendors cribbed that they would have to pay a couple of thousand bucks, and they would need to take a collection.

 I innocently enquired if all was well and would the brothers be back.

 Vendor thought that maybe latter that night.

 He said now that the warning had been issued, they would have to wait and see.

 Would money work or would they have been assaulted and their carts damaged. Time will tell.

Read my blog for an update (if at all). Who cares what happens to vegetable vendors? Did you say? Meantime some poor vegetable vendor in Mumbai is waiting for dusk and our men in khaki to pay another visit.

Who is a friend?

Is she the girl who sat next to you in school?
Or the dame you thought was so cool?
Is she your friend because you have a shared memory?
Or was that friendship just temporary?

That colleague you befriended the first day,
And sat over many lunch boxes, discussing non issues with everyday.
Is she your friend, because you can giggle with her over nothing?
But does she help when you need something?

I don’t know, for I’ve never had that kind of friend.
Is it just me, or are there more around,
who do not understand the rules of friendship?
Is it a kind of relationship?

I’ve a few friends, but they may never know.
They have no tags, to show.
Best buddy or bosom pal, they are not
But in my heart
They are my friends.
                                                 ...Anjana

All you poets out there, please forgive this feeble attempt at poetry, all rhyming and childish, but it is the thought that counts..dont you agree?

Beehive in my balcony

Balcony may be too sophisticated a term for that grilled apparatus that you find in most Mumbai apartments. You know the place where you hang out your clothes to dry, but can barely stand. Anyway last year my “balcony” had a few visitors of the stinging kind. Just below my kitchen window, couple of feet away from my bedroom window. At first husband darling was excited and decided not to chase them away. He wanted the hive to be populated so that we could take some nice photographs. The maid was definitely not amused. She was still left with the task of drying out the clothes. Husband was stung, his enthusiasm dimmed, but his resolve remained. I protested then but was too lazy to ask the security man to call the bee catchers. Many a neighbour had dealt with the menace and we had some professionals at work here…but the bees prospered, my maid (a sweet docile lady) did not complain…and we did not get any snaps either. Finally four to five months down the line the bees left. On packing day I caught the last few in action.

Observed:

Manicured, pedicured, waxed, thick line of kajol, long silky hair, sleeveless short kurta adorned with glass baubles, shiny tights, matching sandals, expensive cell phone carefully wrapped in her hanky, cheerful, chirpy, full of life, a ring in every finger, three on each ear.

Nail filer in hand, sensible clothes, hair in a knot, purposeful look.

Mid summer, noon sun, glares on, leather handbag, long flowing hair, silk kurta, gold bracelet, two inch heels.

Cheap plastic clutch, saree clad, flat sandals, hair in a plait, couple of slides on her hair, black mangalsutra, plastic bag in hand.