A bonus of the Saturday lunch ritual is that I get to hear tales from my parent's youth, from the time they were growing up or were newly married. I often wish I could be writing them down as they speak, because I sometimes forget an important event or detail by the time I actually get down to writing it. The stories are fascinating because they paint a picture of the that particular time in India. I shall jot these down as I hear and remember them. And perhaps one day I will have the opportunity to record them in some order.
Mummy finished her daily fruit inspection and declared that there would be no mangoes today. The Kesar mangoes were too juicy. She had tried to cut them into cubes yesterday (because to cut them into wedges with the skin on would be completely unacceptable in our household) and they were too pulpy. And the Hapus is not quite ready for eating. They need to sit wrapped in newspaper for one more day before they are ready.
So I innocently asked if we could ask Radhika to make aam ras today - cos its Sunday and I have the time to have a leisurely meal. From there we digressed into the jamanvars of Kishore Bhuvan.
Every year, during the mango season or "Ras no Galo" the l in Galo to be pronounced with a bit of a roll. All of Bhai's sisters and their children would come over - Aam Ras from 3 kinds of mangoes would be extracted - Mankhulas for Hira Foi's family, Paa-eerie for Moti Fai's family - and whatever else for the rest.
There were no refrigerators back then for chilling the ras.. not that one could find a household refrigerator large enough to chill the quantity of ras required. So mom's brothers would be dispatched to bring home ice from the ice factory. Mota mama, Bhagwan mama, Vallabh mama would bring home large slabs of ice wrapped in kantaan (jute fabric) . They would load it up into a Ghoda-Gadi (the horse drawn Victorias of that time). The ice would be washed at home and then used to chill the ras.
The Kishore Bhuvan jamanvars used to be major events. There were 4 of them each year. And everyone (meaning mom) looked forward to each of them. There was one during the Ras no Galo, another during Diwali, one on her grandfather's death anniversary which was on Kali Chaudas which is the day before Diwali - man that must have been a lot of feasting around Diwali.
The fourth was when Kanta foi (who lived in Patan) came to town. It was always a major celebration when she came. For Kanta foi was bhai's youngest sister. She had a great zest and enthusiasm for the good things in life, and ba and bhai always wanted to make her time in Bombay special. So there would be things like Thandai and other special treats that were made up Kanta foi was around. Her visits provided a good break from the ordinary routine and was looked forward to with great anticipation and always included many trips to the ice factory.
Speaking of ice factories, Papa, who spent much of his middle-school years tagging along with his grandfather - the Judge, had a very different kind of experience. He recalls summers in Sahranpur, a town that lies somewhere between Haridwar and Rishikesh. The Judge was advising or associated with a wealthy land owner who owned many mango orchards, gardens, elephants and ice factories! They would ride out on elephant back into the mango orchards and do a "pick-your-own" mangoes - kinda like what we do with strawberries and apples in New York, though its not so grand without the elephants - they would eat whatever they wanted right inside the orchard. Baskets of mangoes would be collected and sent to the ice factory and the chilled mangoes were eaten later in the evening or transported to Agra for the rest of the family.
Today, we send my driver Suresh out in a car to fetch the mangoes from either the Star Bazaar or the fruit vendor who plies his trade on a cart in the Sixth Block in Koramangala. We stick them in the refrigerator once they are ripe and then mummy peels and cubes them for us, and we eat it with a fork. These stories may span 70 years, but they still have the same constants - chilled mangoes and good times.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
City Life – Kandivali Style
Bombay – the Gateway to India and the riches of the East India Company is a city that sits on India’s west coast. In the late 1800s and early 1900s the British invested a lot of money in the city’s infrastructure turning it into a magnet for the young and the ambitious.
Several young men came to Bombay to find their fortunes. Many of them came from little villages and towns from the State of Gujarat. And most of them found their way to a little part of town called Bhuleshwar. My maternal great grandfather was one of these young men. So also was my paternal grandmother's father. My mother grew up there, and my father spent a few years of his youth sleeping in the balcoy of one of Bhuleshwar's crammed tenements.
Over the years, Bhuleshwar transformed itself into one of India’s largest wholesale markets. And less than 150 years after it was formed, Bhuleshwar had burst at its seams, incapable of supporting the very large community of traders and commerce that it had given birth to.
It has been said, and not entirely in jest, that if you were to simply stand still in Bhuleshwar – you would soon find yourself in a different part of town, propelled there by the sea of humanity that inhabits it. In 1970, it had a density of 1500 people per acre (contrast that with .5 per acre in little known Stormville).
Several of the markets have been moved to other parts of town. And new generations of Gujaratis are moving out to the distant suburbs where they can have a little more room to raise their families.
Kandivali is one such suburb in Western Mumbai. Instead of the crammed 150 sq ft tenements, they now live in 1000 sq ft skyscrapers, most with little lawns and gardens. In the evening the men and women congregate in the compound in groups, recreating that lost sense of community they had in the old neighborhood.
I’ve been spending a lot of time in an area called Mahavir Nagar as I shuttle between my parents home and that of my sister-in-law. Actually, its probably even just a subset of Mahavir Nagar, because it is just one big block of buildings.
And I am fascinated by the mom-and-pop stores that line the streets. You can find everything one could possibly want in Mahavir Nagar. There is the grocery store that carries normal Guju vegetables as well as exotic things like mushrooms, asparagus and yellow peppers. There is the fruit store with its fruit juice vending area – hand squeezed in front of you mosambi juice for ten rupees or 25cents. Fresh jalebis, mithai, pau bhaji, the Bombay sandwich walla, vada pau, furniture, farsan, a dairy store, an optician, printing and copying shop, photographer, wedding supplies, supplies for a religious ceremony, dry goods, clothes, a liquor store that carries champagne, supplies for funerals – the list is only as short as my imagination.
I don’t feel like I’m in some big alien city – no the sounds, the smells it is all familiar, and strangely, despite my alien looks and clothes I feel a part of this community. My mom does too... perhaps it is just a more spacious, modern version of Bhuleshwar.
Several young men came to Bombay to find their fortunes. Many of them came from little villages and towns from the State of Gujarat. And most of them found their way to a little part of town called Bhuleshwar. My maternal great grandfather was one of these young men. So also was my paternal grandmother's father. My mother grew up there, and my father spent a few years of his youth sleeping in the balcoy of one of Bhuleshwar's crammed tenements.
Over the years, Bhuleshwar transformed itself into one of India’s largest wholesale markets. And less than 150 years after it was formed, Bhuleshwar had burst at its seams, incapable of supporting the very large community of traders and commerce that it had given birth to.
It has been said, and not entirely in jest, that if you were to simply stand still in Bhuleshwar – you would soon find yourself in a different part of town, propelled there by the sea of humanity that inhabits it. In 1970, it had a density of 1500 people per acre (contrast that with .5 per acre in little known Stormville).
Several of the markets have been moved to other parts of town. And new generations of Gujaratis are moving out to the distant suburbs where they can have a little more room to raise their families.
Kandivali is one such suburb in Western Mumbai. Instead of the crammed 150 sq ft tenements, they now live in 1000 sq ft skyscrapers, most with little lawns and gardens. In the evening the men and women congregate in the compound in groups, recreating that lost sense of community they had in the old neighborhood.
I’ve been spending a lot of time in an area called Mahavir Nagar as I shuttle between my parents home and that of my sister-in-law. Actually, its probably even just a subset of Mahavir Nagar, because it is just one big block of buildings.
And I am fascinated by the mom-and-pop stores that line the streets. You can find everything one could possibly want in Mahavir Nagar. There is the grocery store that carries normal Guju vegetables as well as exotic things like mushrooms, asparagus and yellow peppers. There is the fruit store with its fruit juice vending area – hand squeezed in front of you mosambi juice for ten rupees or 25cents. Fresh jalebis, mithai, pau bhaji, the Bombay sandwich walla, vada pau, furniture, farsan, a dairy store, an optician, printing and copying shop, photographer, wedding supplies, supplies for a religious ceremony, dry goods, clothes, a liquor store that carries champagne, supplies for funerals – the list is only as short as my imagination.
I don’t feel like I’m in some big alien city – no the sounds, the smells it is all familiar, and strangely, despite my alien looks and clothes I feel a part of this community. My mom does too... perhaps it is just a more spacious, modern version of Bhuleshwar.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
No More Books ?
Read an article today about how the iPad and the Kindle are changing the book publishing indusry completely. I must confess to feeling rather sad by the news.
For despite all my talk about a paperless office and how we must embrace technology, I like having my stories delivered to me in a good sized book. There is a sense of comfort, a sense of taking me back to a favorite place, that a book delivers, that I've just not been able to get with a digital book. Perhaps because the book is there even after the power fails, the book is not as fragile as the digital version, and it takes effort to destroy. Perhaps that is why it conveys a sense of permanence and authoritythat I have not been able to get from a digital book.
And yet, have I really tried ? Do I really know what the digital book has to offer, and how it could change my reading experience ?
I saw a Kindle once and loved it. I had no use for it, because the Amazon network has not extended to India, so it would be a pretty static library out here.
Perhaps it is the return to India that has allowed me to get a grip on the mad dash to digitality and appreciate the more traditonal or legacy stuff.
Whatever it is, I do know, that when I dreamed of writing a book - I intended for it to be a paper book, one that I could hold in my hand and display, not a digital version. And then again - I'm having so much fun blogging!
For despite all my talk about a paperless office and how we must embrace technology, I like having my stories delivered to me in a good sized book. There is a sense of comfort, a sense of taking me back to a favorite place, that a book delivers, that I've just not been able to get with a digital book. Perhaps because the book is there even after the power fails, the book is not as fragile as the digital version, and it takes effort to destroy. Perhaps that is why it conveys a sense of permanence and authoritythat I have not been able to get from a digital book.
And yet, have I really tried ? Do I really know what the digital book has to offer, and how it could change my reading experience ?
I saw a Kindle once and loved it. I had no use for it, because the Amazon network has not extended to India, so it would be a pretty static library out here.
Perhaps it is the return to India that has allowed me to get a grip on the mad dash to digitality and appreciate the more traditonal or legacy stuff.
Whatever it is, I do know, that when I dreamed of writing a book - I intended for it to be a paper book, one that I could hold in my hand and display, not a digital version. And then again - I'm having so much fun blogging!
Friday, April 2, 2010
The Yoga Lesson
Dhruti, the intrepid niece that got me blogging, sent me a link to Home Yoga instructors in Bangalore. People who would come to your house and teach you yoga. "Its the only way," she said , "that you will excercise. So go and do it. " I read her email, felt good and moved on to the next email.
She called me up the day after mom and dad arrived and reminded me - "Did you call those people... ?" Since the right arm, shoulder and neck was suffering from a severe case of mouse-itis an affliction resulting from overworking the mouse (on a computer keyboard), I thought I should do something. What have I to lose ? I'll hate them anyway and that will be the end of it.
The instructors arrived the next morning to introduce themselves, discuss and negotiate. The yoga lessons started a day later. I got suddenly very interested when I heard that one of Supriya's skills is Yoga Nidra - the aspect of Yoga that helps you get into a state of deep and relaxed sleep.
So she arrived yesterday, and we had a reasonably good session. Papa had his lesson, and came out feeling very energized and refreshed . She showed him excercises that started to get his blood circulating. But mummy was a whole different matter.
Mummmy showed Supriya all the excercises she had done that morning (since no one has actually witnessed her doing them, we don't know for sure - but then we have no reason to doubt her). Supriya said she thought that that was just enough for one day. She suggested a few improvement in techniques and then proceeded to discuss recipes, life and other more interesting things.
Mummy told me that she would prefer to have her Yoga lesson in the afternoon, cos the mornings seemed so packed!!! I told her that would be tough, cos i needed to have my lesson in the morning. She said she understood.
Supriya told me at the end of the yoga lesson, that mummy was going to give her cooking classes in the afternoon, and she would try to stop by 2-3 times a week, and no I did not need to pay extras, she was doing it cos she needed to learn how to cook!.
She called me up the day after mom and dad arrived and reminded me - "Did you call those people... ?" Since the right arm, shoulder and neck was suffering from a severe case of mouse-itis an affliction resulting from overworking the mouse (on a computer keyboard), I thought I should do something. What have I to lose ? I'll hate them anyway and that will be the end of it.
The instructors arrived the next morning to introduce themselves, discuss and negotiate. The yoga lessons started a day later. I got suddenly very interested when I heard that one of Supriya's skills is Yoga Nidra - the aspect of Yoga that helps you get into a state of deep and relaxed sleep.
So she arrived yesterday, and we had a reasonably good session. Papa had his lesson, and came out feeling very energized and refreshed . She showed him excercises that started to get his blood circulating. But mummy was a whole different matter.
Mummmy showed Supriya all the excercises she had done that morning (since no one has actually witnessed her doing them, we don't know for sure - but then we have no reason to doubt her). Supriya said she thought that that was just enough for one day. She suggested a few improvement in techniques and then proceeded to discuss recipes, life and other more interesting things.
Mummy told me that she would prefer to have her Yoga lesson in the afternoon, cos the mornings seemed so packed!!! I told her that would be tough, cos i needed to have my lesson in the morning. She said she understood.
Supriya told me at the end of the yoga lesson, that mummy was going to give her cooking classes in the afternoon, and she would try to stop by 2-3 times a week, and no I did not need to pay extras, she was doing it cos she needed to learn how to cook!.
The Aundh Connection
This is a long but fascinating story... I urge you to tolerate the meanderings of my mind.
So while mom was having her yoga lesson this morning, papa and I were sitting in the living room and chatting. He was telling me about how he first learnt about Surya Namaskar when he was about 12 years old. He learnt it from an instructor who had come to teach Yoga to the Maharaja of Tehri-Garhwal.
Now if you've been following these stories carefully, you might have picked up that my Great Grandfather Ghanshyam Das was a Judge in Agra. In the early 1930s my grandfather, Brijbhushan Das - a lawyer, gave up his practice in Agra and moved to Haldwani to become a farmer. Dad stayed with Ghanshyam Das in Agra to continue his studies. A few years into this, Ghanshyam Das started to travel to Tehri to advise the Maharajah. Dad spent a couple of years in Tehri as the guest of the Maharajah.
A delegation from Aundh had arrived at the palace in the Garhwal mountains, leaving behind the Marathi speaking Yoga instructor. The Raja of Aundh - Appasaheb Pant - had a passion for the Surya Namaskar and the Maharajah of Garhwal ensured that not only did he and his family learn how to perform it, but so did all the visitors and guests at his court, including papa who at that point knew nothing about Yoga, Marathi or Aundh.
Hmm.... I said.. wasn't there a movie or something, I said ?
"Ahh yes", he said. "You know I first learned about photography when I was in Tehri. I had never seen photographs before. But all these royals were constantly being photographed, and that is where I developed an interest in still photography and motion picture".
So all those pictures we have chronicling our lives -that is all thanks to the Maharajah of Tehri...
"But Aundh....?"
"Oh yes, years later when I came to Mumbai, I decided to acquire a motion picture projector to display his 16mm movies. He had traded his Rolliflex still camera for Raval kaka's (a neighbor in Nutan Nagar) 1600mm motion picture camera. Raval kaka was a professional photographer, and it is hard to understand what he was doing with the 1600mm camera in the first place, especially if he did not have a projector to display his movies.
Anyway, papa had been looking at the shops in Opera House. Nothing was fitting the budget that he and mom had carved out for this.
One day a shopkeeper told him about a used projector that his neighbor was disposing off. Address in hand, Papa tracked down the Nepali watchman who had been given the task of disposing off the equipment. The Nepali watchman had just sold it to a shopkeeper in Chor Bazaar. Papa followed the trail to Chor Bazaar and found the next shopkeeper. This fellow had bought it just to show his kids movies.
Papa bought the projector and all the movies the guy had for Rs 400, a princely sum that was almost equal to a month's salary. He loaded into the car and brought him - and that is how come every one of my birthdays from the time I is captured in Ektachrome color.
"But Aundh..?" "Oh yes, in the stack of movies I brought back from Chor Bazaar there were 3 or 4 in which I recognized the Maharajah of Aundh, whom I had met briefly at the palace in Garhwal. There was even one which showed Pandit Nehru arriving at the Aundh railway station and being greeted by a group of lejim players and then reviewing a group of people performing the Surya Namaskar. Appa Pant's passion for Surya Namaskars was very well known by then, and he himself was a public figure." This was in the late 1950s.
These movies sat in our home in Bandra alongside my birthday movies, and movies recording our trips to Haldwani and Nainital and movies of weddings of my uncles and aunts. Cos dad was quite the avid photographer back them, and our home was equipped with all kinds of audio-visual equipment.
Years went by the 16mm projector was traded in for 8mm and then Super 8 before succumbing to the Analog Video Camera and most recently the Digital Video camera. Meanwhile this set of movies sat there being dusted occasionally and people saying "What is that ?" And mom going "Do not ask, it is your fathers and he won't let me throw it out.".
In the late 80s, papa was spending a lot of time in Pune - his company did a lot of business in rural Maharashtra. One day, the cab driver asked him if he would like to go to Pimpri via Aundh. "Aundh ? As in the Maharaja of Aundh ?" "No no sir, that Maharajah lives in another place. Yes, I know that place. In fact I know the Maharajah. " "Oh ?" "Yes, I park my cab opposite his house. The Maharajah is an avid gardener, and he likes to work in the garden. So I've even talked to him sometimes."
So papa asked the cab driver to bring the Maharajah of Aundh aka Appasaheb Pant a letter describing the movies he had in his position and where he could be reached. Appasaheb called him almost immediately upon receiving the letter. Told him he wasn't aware of any such movies. They agreed that papa would bring them the next time he came to Pune.
Appasaheb was delighted with the movies. He called up papa and thanked him for restoring what he could only describe as a family treasure. Those old movies were so precious and irreplaceable. He was convinced that he and papa must have a connection from another lifetime. Papa and mommy got invited to several events featuring Appasaheb in Bombay. And Appasaheb gifted papa with a copy of every book that he had ever had published. And everyone felt very good.
And then everyone went back to the way things were, until this morning when we started talking about Surya Namaskars!!! So if you've ever been irritated with having to pose for a photo and wait for Uttam bhai to compose the right shot, or for papa to get the light just right - we know we have the Maharajah of Aundh to thank for that. Just as much as we do for all the beautiful photos and movies that have chronicled the lives of the Chokseys and the Shahs. That dear people is the Aundh connection.
So while mom was having her yoga lesson this morning, papa and I were sitting in the living room and chatting. He was telling me about how he first learnt about Surya Namaskar when he was about 12 years old. He learnt it from an instructor who had come to teach Yoga to the Maharaja of Tehri-Garhwal.
Now if you've been following these stories carefully, you might have picked up that my Great Grandfather Ghanshyam Das was a Judge in Agra. In the early 1930s my grandfather, Brijbhushan Das - a lawyer, gave up his practice in Agra and moved to Haldwani to become a farmer. Dad stayed with Ghanshyam Das in Agra to continue his studies. A few years into this, Ghanshyam Das started to travel to Tehri to advise the Maharajah. Dad spent a couple of years in Tehri as the guest of the Maharajah.
A delegation from Aundh had arrived at the palace in the Garhwal mountains, leaving behind the Marathi speaking Yoga instructor. The Raja of Aundh - Appasaheb Pant - had a passion for the Surya Namaskar and the Maharajah of Garhwal ensured that not only did he and his family learn how to perform it, but so did all the visitors and guests at his court, including papa who at that point knew nothing about Yoga, Marathi or Aundh.
Hmm.... I said.. wasn't there a movie or something, I said ?
"Ahh yes", he said. "You know I first learned about photography when I was in Tehri. I had never seen photographs before. But all these royals were constantly being photographed, and that is where I developed an interest in still photography and motion picture".
So all those pictures we have chronicling our lives -that is all thanks to the Maharajah of Tehri...
"But Aundh....?"
"Oh yes, years later when I came to Mumbai, I decided to acquire a motion picture projector to display his 16mm movies. He had traded his Rolliflex still camera for Raval kaka's (a neighbor in Nutan Nagar) 1600mm motion picture camera. Raval kaka was a professional photographer, and it is hard to understand what he was doing with the 1600mm camera in the first place, especially if he did not have a projector to display his movies.
Anyway, papa had been looking at the shops in Opera House. Nothing was fitting the budget that he and mom had carved out for this.
One day a shopkeeper told him about a used projector that his neighbor was disposing off. Address in hand, Papa tracked down the Nepali watchman who had been given the task of disposing off the equipment. The Nepali watchman had just sold it to a shopkeeper in Chor Bazaar. Papa followed the trail to Chor Bazaar and found the next shopkeeper. This fellow had bought it just to show his kids movies.
Papa bought the projector and all the movies the guy had for Rs 400, a princely sum that was almost equal to a month's salary. He loaded into the car and brought him - and that is how come every one of my birthdays from the time I is captured in Ektachrome color.
"But Aundh..?" "Oh yes, in the stack of movies I brought back from Chor Bazaar there were 3 or 4 in which I recognized the Maharajah of Aundh, whom I had met briefly at the palace in Garhwal. There was even one which showed Pandit Nehru arriving at the Aundh railway station and being greeted by a group of lejim players and then reviewing a group of people performing the Surya Namaskar. Appa Pant's passion for Surya Namaskars was very well known by then, and he himself was a public figure." This was in the late 1950s.
These movies sat in our home in Bandra alongside my birthday movies, and movies recording our trips to Haldwani and Nainital and movies of weddings of my uncles and aunts. Cos dad was quite the avid photographer back them, and our home was equipped with all kinds of audio-visual equipment.
Years went by the 16mm projector was traded in for 8mm and then Super 8 before succumbing to the Analog Video Camera and most recently the Digital Video camera. Meanwhile this set of movies sat there being dusted occasionally and people saying "What is that ?" And mom going "Do not ask, it is your fathers and he won't let me throw it out.".
In the late 80s, papa was spending a lot of time in Pune - his company did a lot of business in rural Maharashtra. One day, the cab driver asked him if he would like to go to Pimpri via Aundh. "Aundh ? As in the Maharaja of Aundh ?" "No no sir, that Maharajah lives in another place. Yes, I know that place. In fact I know the Maharajah. " "Oh ?" "Yes, I park my cab opposite his house. The Maharajah is an avid gardener, and he likes to work in the garden. So I've even talked to him sometimes."
So papa asked the cab driver to bring the Maharajah of Aundh aka Appasaheb Pant a letter describing the movies he had in his position and where he could be reached. Appasaheb called him almost immediately upon receiving the letter. Told him he wasn't aware of any such movies. They agreed that papa would bring them the next time he came to Pune.
Appasaheb was delighted with the movies. He called up papa and thanked him for restoring what he could only describe as a family treasure. Those old movies were so precious and irreplaceable. He was convinced that he and papa must have a connection from another lifetime. Papa and mommy got invited to several events featuring Appasaheb in Bombay. And Appasaheb gifted papa with a copy of every book that he had ever had published. And everyone felt very good.
And then everyone went back to the way things were, until this morning when we started talking about Surya Namaskars!!! So if you've ever been irritated with having to pose for a photo and wait for Uttam bhai to compose the right shot, or for papa to get the light just right - we know we have the Maharajah of Aundh to thank for that. Just as much as we do for all the beautiful photos and movies that have chronicled the lives of the Chokseys and the Shahs. That dear people is the Aundh connection.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Speech for Sr Maria Rosa
When I first told my classmates that I was to come and speak here this evening, they told me no one would understand my accent. Then they asked if they could all come join me on stage !!
Over the past 12 months I have had the opportunity to reconnect with several of my classmates from around the world, several of whom I had not seen in 35 years. The thing that struck me is that each and every one of them is an absolutely incredible woman. They are daughters, sisters, mothers, homemakers and career women. There are lawyers, teachers, doctors, mathematicians, IT people, I don’t think there are any politicians or nuns. This school and the teachers have equipped us to handle the challenges and opportunities of our times.
Those of us who went to school here in the late 60s and 70s are especially fortuntate, for we had Sr Maria Rosa as our principal.
Sr Maria Rosa came with her own special brand of energy and enthusiasm for everything she did – be it playing the violin at assembly or cultivating her roses – everytime I see a multi-colored rose, I am transported back in time to when I was in the 7th standard being introduced to Sr. Maria Rosa’s roses.
But there was a lot more that Sr Maria Rosa did for us. She got us our first library. And that library has instilled a lifelong love of reading amongst several of us.
She had us compete in the Paranjyothi choir contest – and we won.
On the technology front, she was well ahead of her times. Businesses are only recently getting comfortable with concepts like Audio calls and Voice calls. Back in 1968, Sr Maria Rosa had intercoms installed and started conducting Morning Assembly remotely.
My class mate Sita reminded me that you had introduced us to the Speed Reading - SRE system in our school. And to particularly thank you for that.
For me personally, it is the memory of the Valentine Day’s Fete – a 3 day event. I later heard you describe it as “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread”. Your conduct of the entire event was a lesson to me personally, a lesson in courage and execution.
In preparing for this evenings address, I polled my classmates from around the world – and yes there are many who could not be with us today, though they are wishing they could have been – I asked them if they had any special messages for you Sr. Maria Rosa.
From around the world, the answer was unanimous :”Tell sister we love her.Tell her we remember her in our prayers and in the way we live our lives.
Thank you sister for leaving such a strong and indelible mark on all of us.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Darek vacha ma vedna nathi hoti
Pun
Darek vedna mathi vachna tapakti hoi che
Darek aanso dard na nathi hota
Pun
Darek dard ma aansoo chupayela hoi che
Darek bhootkal itihas nathi hoto
Pun
Darek itihasne bhootkal banvu pade che
Darek ekant moun nathi hotu
Pun
Darek moun ma ekant samayelu hoi che
Darek soundarya ma sugandh nathi hoti
Pun
Darek sugandhne potanu aagvu soundarya hoi che
Darek mandirma pavitrata nathi hoti
Pun
Darek pavitra sthan mandir bani jaye che
Darek premi paagal nathi hoto
Pun
Pagalpan e premni parakashta che
Darek vacha ma vedna nathi hoti
Pun
Darek vedna mathi vachna tapakti hoi che
Every message does not contain sorrow, but there is a message hidden in every sorrow
Every tear is not a tear of sorrow, but, every sorrow has tears hidden somewhere in it
Every past is not history, but every history is required to become the past
Every loneliness is not silence, but every silence has loneliness inherent in it
Every beauty does not contain perfume, but every perfume has an intrinsic beauty
Every temple is not pure, but a pure place can become a temple
Every lover is not insane, but insanity is the ultimate expression of love
Every message does not contain sorrow, but there is a message hidden in every sorrow
Pun
Darek vedna mathi vachna tapakti hoi che
Darek aanso dard na nathi hota
Pun
Darek dard ma aansoo chupayela hoi che
Darek bhootkal itihas nathi hoto
Pun
Darek itihasne bhootkal banvu pade che
Darek ekant moun nathi hotu
Pun
Darek moun ma ekant samayelu hoi che
Darek soundarya ma sugandh nathi hoti
Pun
Darek sugandhne potanu aagvu soundarya hoi che
Darek mandirma pavitrata nathi hoti
Pun
Darek pavitra sthan mandir bani jaye che
Darek premi paagal nathi hoto
Pun
Pagalpan e premni parakashta che
Darek vacha ma vedna nathi hoti
Pun
Darek vedna mathi vachna tapakti hoi che
Every message does not contain sorrow, but there is a message hidden in every sorrow
Every tear is not a tear of sorrow, but, every sorrow has tears hidden somewhere in it
Every past is not history, but every history is required to become the past
Every loneliness is not silence, but every silence has loneliness inherent in it
Every beauty does not contain perfume, but every perfume has an intrinsic beauty
Every temple is not pure, but a pure place can become a temple
Every lover is not insane, but insanity is the ultimate expression of love
Every message does not contain sorrow, but there is a message hidden in every sorrow
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