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I started Saraswati poojo the year Chibu flunked Math. I cried thinking my son has inherited my defective Math genes.

My friend Mamtu's solution was to appease the lady in white, the one stop remedy for an upgraded report card. And my father was an active participant. So it became a ritual with the three of us. There are many stories to go with it. Once we selected a saraswati murti, got her face covered with paper, and then suddenly her palm moved like saying bye bye... The shopkeeper was aghast as we rolled with laughter.

And then we had our lucky Saraswati. Who stayed with us for 3 years, ensured Chibu passed math and engineering and got a job!

It all ended with Baba leaving in 2015.Our last 3 generation poojo.

At Mainak, I started the poojo since last year, as Chibu is back, and Bhaskar 's Dadi's saraswati needs a homage. And it's an occasion to dress traditionally on a working day.

And the lady remains an eternal favorite.

From fixing the math gene to playing the guitar.

She aces it with a zing.

Love for books, over lucre... My thing!

Comments

A holiday with self :)

A long overdue blog about the path that I was seeking , or did the path seek me out ? Over the years the sheen of belief was wearing off and I was beginning to question the master about the magic - about faith becoming commercial, about what Bhaskar stated, "This is all about money". Packing my bags off and going solo isn't very uncommon in my life, but this time I was not on work per se. Checking-in into the Ashram, was on my bucket-list for ever-since, and it was an amazing experience. Despite the crowd, the ambiance just reverberated with a mix of reverence, energy , faith, hope, prayer - and questions too ! Like I mentioned before meditation was not about spiritual pyrotechnics, but a metaphor connected to life. Like the corner I chose had a vantage view of the stage and despite a stench that started emanating from the corner, I just could not leave that place, for the view that corner offered got me stuck there. Life is like that, we are often stuck in the rut , ...

Morning bells are ringing ......

Heidi lived in Alps with her Alms uncle - I read this story in a book that was called The Big Big Story Book and it had a compilation of amazing stories that were my first foray into the world of English story books. Recently on a long flight I watched the movie much to delight of the young steward who was our attendant that night. My first glimpse of the Alps was from our flight ...the dawn breaking to spread the orange hues over the snowy terrain...looked mesmerizing even to someone who is not too fond of the mountains. Switzerland was beautiful, with its manicured terrain and flowers like pretty maids all in a row, picture perfect setting and breathtaking, like a touch me not porcelain beauty. Coming from my "elo melo" city I wondered how people managed to keep a country so organized , I have trouble keeping my room in ship shape...... No, I would not like to live there ......it's too distant and too cold ,but what I will carry in my heart is the awesome time .......

rain on me .....

And the rains came....after days of heat, sweat and grime, suddenly everything looked washed clean , like freshly soaped linen ! The droplets hung on the leaves and the single rose in the bush, and the car got badly sprayed with mud....but who cares ? The sound of rain is the best music I heard in a long long time. And I could finally spot the elusive squirrel that was making a racket all these days and I just hoped the cat doesn't kill the squirrel.... It is a dog eat dog world...both the kittens died, one killed by the dog and the other run over. Only last Monday I was watching them frolic as I sipped my tea. Terrorism and unmindful killings do not have a boundary, from my garden to the world outside , no one is safe anymore. Just the other day I was thinking , these kittens are safe within the four walls of the garden and good that they have learnt to climb trees....but I did not foresee that they too would venture out. And my Tarot prediction on Facebook was ...

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