July Footnotes – In Margins & Miles

And suddenly just like that July is over. I cannot profess to regret this constant flow of time; I believe in being present and appreciative of the moment we are in but at the same time, there is no merit in trying to stop what is inherently transient, i.e. time. There is value in this continuous change and though we may not always see it, the best kind of life is one where we keep moving forward, while retaining the memories of the past that is worthy of it.

July was not a soft month, but it was a useful month filled, with self-reflection and self realization; of intense work hours that were eventually broken by days spent near the sea. In July, after several months of being away from writing, I ended my-self imposed exile and started writing and blogging again. Putting words on paper brought back clarity of deep quiet thoughts and ideas that brings a sense of incredible fulfilment. I reconnected with many of blogging pals, folks who had known me for decades and despite having never met in person, have been some of my truest and staunchest cheerleaders through all life upheaval. Talking to them again, about books, garden, life was one of the best memories of the past month.

July was also a good reading month; I shifted from my usual genres of Classics, Crime Fiction & History to thrillers that entertain and enthral as work became extremely hectic & I felt the need for some fun.

Gothic Tales by Elizabeth Gaskell was a great book to start off the reading month. This was a re-read and I thoroughly enjoyed the plot and characters of all the stories. What stood out for me besides the true Gothic nature of the collection was Ms. Gaskell’s sense of justice, equality and sense of humanity, are even more relevant today. She is the only author who could write such entertaining fiction and still convey important messages about kindness and respect.

A Pale View of the Hills by Kazuo Ishiguro was a thoughtful page turner. This was Ishiguro’s first novel and I could see the foundations of the kind of writing that would culminated in books like Remains of the Day and Never Let Me Go. Memorable characters and a storyline that can be considered complete in itself or open to interpretation based on the readers discretion, this was one of my best reads of the month.

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to Galaxy by Douglas Adams was another re-read for the month. Some books seem funnier when you re-read them and this was my experience with this novel. I enjoyed it when I first read it as a 19 year old, but absolutely loved the absurdities this time around. It was a perfect read for the time when I was in severe pain and needed a distraction. Following the crazy adventures without any logic is a very good antidote for sick days.

A Year in Provence by Peter Mayle was a joyful book that documented the first year of the author’s and his wife’s life in Provence. Filled with wit, beautiful descriptions of the land, eccentric characters & gastronomic delights, it also reminds the reader of the value of a simple life, a slow life, a contented life; the message being as relevant today if not more so as it was in 1989.

Leonard and Hungry Paul by Ronan Hession is my most favourite book of the month and one of the best that I had read in this year. The only thing I can say about this book is it is one of the most heart warming, life affirming novel I have ever read; it defies genre and I will not say another word, except read it! Read it or know that you missed on something rare!

Death in the Stocks and Why Shoot a Butler by Georgette Heyer were two solidly plotted whoddunits. Written with believable characters, hard to guess murderer, interesting twist and lots of wit, brilliant reads as always from the inimitable Ms. Heyer.

The Housemaid by Frieda Mcfadden was an fun thrillers. I did guess the why but the how was very well done. Not something I would re-read but during the very long work days, it did a very good service of providing amusement and distraction.

My Sister, The Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite left me with mixed feelings. The book was easy to read and the storyline flowed along with an authentic voice. But I was not fully convinced about the choices made by the protagonist or the end.

The Reckoning by John Grisham, sigh! What could have been a powerful and intriguing narrative was turned into a drivel of history of World War II, a wannabe murder mystery and a very pointless attempt at being philosophical about life. Badly written, boring and depressing. The only reason I still gave two stars to this book, was because of the history of the Battle of Bataan and the heroic US-Philippines guerrilla war effort after the US surrendered to Japan in 1942 . In a white washed world, it was heartening and important to read about the valiant war efforts by other countries out of the US-England-France narrative, especially ones that would turn out to be a crucial turning point in the war

I have no series or films to share because I did not watch any. I was too well entertained by the books, busy organizing a puja ( a Hindu prayer service for peace and well being ) at home and planning a vacation to the Beach with my sister. The puja is an annual event, that we have hosted since moving into this apartment last year and it was a wonderful day spent being grateful and sharing food and chatter with friends and family. Sharing some pictures below.

I called in the end of the month by the blue seas with my elder sister, in Goa, a beautiful lush green slightly hilly state in the western part of India, with miles and miles of beaches. Unlike other vacations, we did not spend time “doing things” – we did not visit too many places to eat, we never shop when traveling and this time round, there were no Forts or Galleries visiting. Instead, my sister and I spent days and evenings walking on the beach, swimming for hours by a quite secluded pool, reading whatever we wanted or felt like, eating some deliciously cooked local cuisine in the two hotel restaurants, sleeping whenever we wanted and soaking in the bright green lushness around us. It was a pause I needed from the never ending work treadmill and gave me time to reflect more deeply from my life as the first wave of changes from moving cities settled down. It helped me take back control of my life and peace again, which lately due to events at work was slipping away. In short, the vacation fulfilled it’s purpose completely. I therefore leave you with some sights and sounds that made this happen!

Here’s to a better, healthier and more tranquil bookish August.

The Flow…..

It’s been a while, actually it has been a long while. There is so much water under the bridge, that I don’t even know where to start or what is the right start. But I guess, wherever I start, is the start, and this then is the start!

My last post was in March 2024, where one day I rose above my chemo induced stupor to talk about the a book and then I drifted off in a self-imposed exile from all blogging and writing exercise, rarely if ever posting on my linked Cirtnecce Instagram account & just barely scrapping through my Candid Cancer Conversation Instagram account, despite it being a passion project. While many good things happened, somehow the self-sustaining, motivating life force in me seemed to be all spent. I felt no ambition or yearning to write, I was devoid of all joys of putting words on paper, irritated by scatter-brained tittle tattle that I saw on social media & generally feeling convinced that my writing days were a thing of the past. Opportunities to publish in journals landed uncalled for in my lap and I wavered, dithering between a positive no and can I actually do this. I read my old pieces with unceasing wonder at my articulation, coherent ideas and clean prose. That was me, I wrote all of that; but how did I? Cancer affects us in more ways than is obvious and in a recent chat with some fellow Cancer wizards, I realise that this is a far more common phenomenon than I realised. Painters did not find it in them to paint, sculptors swore off chisel and stone altogether and people like me gave up on words forever, because deep inside, our battles to just stay alive consumed all our passion and ate up all our creativity. After surviving each day of exploding minefields of body and mind, we are nothing but empty carcases oblivious to our callings or the joys that come with them. Everything after a point is rendered completely meaningless. Just memories of those pieces that we had built remain, tantalizingly inviting us to take up our tools again and plunge in and then float!

So I give in and take up the pen or rather the keyboard again. I have no ambitions or grand plans beyond completing this post and next week, next page will be, when it will be – there are no positive commitments once touched by the bony finger of this disease, only maybe an aspiration to do this again, one day, somehow.

In this one year, I unstuck my decades old life in Delhi, the city of my birth and adulthood, to move to the city of my parents, some 1800 kms to east, seeking a fresh start. It was an adhoc, on the spur decision and a year later, I must say, I am so glad that I did what I did. Kolkata was the first city in India built in European lines and has incredible natural beauty, amazing culture and perhaps some of the best food in the country. The canopy of wild untamed greens, the cornucopia of coconut, banyans and Gulmohars that surround many small water bodies around the city is kindness itself to the world-weary individual. The city lives out a life on its own – small food shacks stand next to upmarket artisanal cafes. The local folk artists display their ware with pride next to the more fashionable high end art galleries, the street hawkers and the malls vying for your attention with equal skill. But unlike the mega metropolises around India and the world, the city lives its life, slowly, almost in a dream, meandering, flowing at its own pace while the world heckles her and rushes by. But it is this very confident grace of this city, of dancing to its own rhythm, unbothered by others that I find comforting and which soothes all my angst about everyone having moved on in life except me, who seems to have completely lost the plot.

Last year without too much thought, I bought an apartment in this city, overlooking a wide green open space, dotted with some old cottages and a spectacular view of rolling blue sky, not marred with high rise buildings so high that one almost intrudes into the angels choir. My brilliant and artistic big sister, did up each room herself, scrounging market places for pieces that speak to us and of us, decrying everything that is clichéd and trending and focusing on items that would unite comfort and elegance. And despite being biased, I must say that she has created a beautiful, distinctive calm space, that we gratefully call home. Our days are spent working at our jobs, cooking (something I had completely forsaken in the last few years, along with writing ), reading and long conversations over tea. Over the weekend, we go exploring the city; because I do not have the energy to walk too much, we usually try some new eating places, the city has a profusion of quiet, delicious cafes. Or we attend concerts or spend time getting to know our neighbours over tea/dinner engagements. It is a very different life I led in Delhi, more reflective, more quiet and yet somehow busier. Time has become a thoughtful concept, that seems to work in contradiction of going with the flow and planning meticulously on the more disciplined options of life when things do go as planned. It has somehow become a more meditative life, joyful more than fun, more grown up but with a dash of innocent delights and pastimes.

I still have Cancer, I still undergo treatment and I have some very bad painful days. But those bad days are interspersed with cups of tea while the monsoon rains of Bengal washes everything and everyone anew. It has days of gorging on prawn cutlets that melt in your mouth, of deeply personal moments of watching the great Ganga river flowing by, inspiring beauty and awe; and of golden russet coloured sunsets assuring of day spent well and holding a promise of an even better one, tomorrow!

The Everyday Grantings….

Take for Granted – to value (something or someone) too lightly :to fail to properly notice or appreciate (someone or something that should be valued)

Merriam Webster Dictionary

As someone who had grown up in difficult circumstances, I was always and constantly conscious of the idiomatic phrase “take for granted”. When I started earning my own money, I was aware of the privilege of my world class education that allowed me to get a job with a financial conglomerate. The money itself I used as judiciously as possible, spending it mostly to take care of my very old parents and then living in a thrifty manner, assuming a frugal life is a good life. This was also true of my relationships; I invested all I had in making sure people around me knew that I valued them and I appreciated them and was grateful to have them in my life. I never passed up an opportunity to celebrate “my people” and every birthday, wedding or promotion was a hoopla, an event for rejoicing. Even my ruthless ambition was governed by this principle, which made me take up lost causes and a constant refusal to give into shortcuts, that cost me many promotions. I made every effort to not take anyone for granted or anything for granted, because I knew what it was to not have things, not have money, to not have friends. I had through sheer hard work and self-discipline mastered the art not taking anything lightly or not giving enough appreciation. This was one habit I was confident off and knew in my bones how not to overlook it, manage it all circumstances and mould it as per situations.

The thing about life is that there is really no knowing if you are good at something, until you are forced to tread through every possible situation that can test you. My real test came when I was diagnosed with Cancer 3 years ago and over these 36 months, I realised that I had barely scratched the surface of the habit of not taking anything/anyone for granted. The initial weeks after the surgery and especially the last 6 odd months since my metastasis was discovered have especially been crucial in learning and unlearning this habit and rediscovering what it truly means to not take for granted, those very important things in life, that we do not even know are important until we lose it.

My health and control of my body was the most important thing that I took for granted. I had always been healthy, not even a common cold seemed touch me. I could go on for hours moving from one activity to another – work for 15 hours, then cook for 4 hours and be a hostess for the evening party. I did long road trips with little or no sleep and could eat and digest just about everything. I read through long nights and then went to work and pulled of a dozen hours easy. Nothing bad was every going to happen to me physically until, something did. Cancer treatment kills the bad cells, but it also kills the good cells like the red blood cells, depletes muscle mass and bone density, plays havoc with your gut and completely destroys your immunity. These days walking from the bedroom to the dining table exhausts me. I have not left the house in the last 4 months except for 3 occasions. Taking a shower is an effort that requires hours of self-pep talk. Cooking is out of question and some work days I do the bare minimum before I can log out. Most days I cannot taste any food and someday, even talking is exhausting. Gone is my long red hair and my flawless complexion with even skin tones. Internally and externally, I am nothing but a hollow mess trying to get by one day at a time.

But because I am a hollow mess and am forced to live in a confined manner, I was forced to learn to not value the small things lightly and appreciate those every day routines, which earlier I dismissed without even stopping to see them. These days, the few foods that I can taste, are the meals that I cherish the most. Like a hot Toast with some butter or Jam; for me it equates to food worthy of Gods. Or the delicious pasta my sister makes using garlic, fresh tomatoes and some olive oil, perfection! Though I take a lot of time to take a shower, I love the sensation of the water hitting my skin and the feeling of cleanliness and rejuvenation. I love that hot cup of tea that is accompanied with long chats with my sister as the evening dusk turns into night while some jazz plays in the background. The sense of quiet bliss after you wake up in the early morning. Always a reader, these home-bound months have given me time to re-read many of the old favorite’s, rediscovering nuances I had missed and ah-ha moment when the title suddenly made sense. A care package of pickles and savories sent by my cousin 1800 Km away brings untold joy as does seeing my house plants shoot up new branches/flowers. And when I can, the little walks around the park watching the tress shake the leaves to the Windsong. And the small outings to a café, chosen carefully by a friend near the parking so that I do not have to walk too much.

These small gestures of kindness, these perfect moments in time, I have now learnt make up for most of human happiness, or atleast my happiness. Everything else is just fluff, immaterial and even pointless. There is this whole craze of “slow living” and for the first time I see the sense in it. It is only when I was forced to slow down and the road to recovery was/is long and arduous, only then I had to dig deep amongst the things around me to find true happiness and to appreciate the mundane, the everyday, the boring! I had missed years of these simple joys, not valuing them and instead trying to connect the dots of the bigger picture, without seeing what those dots were. I am not sure if I will ever regain my health, atleast the quality of health and body integrity I had before Cancer. That was one thing, that I took for granted that may never come back. But that will be the only thing; despite everything it is so good to be alive and to see, hear, feel, smell and touch all the small and big wonders that life brings with it and I am determined to appreciate all of them, live through all of them.

This post was written in response to a prompt from The Isolation Journals by Suleika Jaoud. This week’s prompt was contributed by – “Write about something you once took for granted, but no longer do“. You can read the full article on The Isolation Journal

The “Anti Blessing”

In the second week of October 2021, just 3 months after my radical hysterectomy and a month after I started chemotherapy, one late night, my sister and I booked a cab and set off for a 12-hour journey to Dharamshala, a wonderous Himalayan town, the seat of the Tibetan Government in Exile and the home of my heart. It was the place where I found peace, rejuvenation and healing and this impromptu trip which was planned and executed under 3 hours was rooted in the deep need for healing from everything life had thrown at me over nearly two decades.

I never had it easy. I know many claim the copyright to similar sentences and feelings, but I truly did not. My very very rich parents became bankrupt when I was 13 and never recovered. My adolescent and teen years were spent in halfway houses, sometimes maybe with one meal a day and spending all hours listening to the threats and recriminations of debtors and relations alike. I left my academic ambitions to help my parents pay off their debts and just when things were starting to improve, they both died in quick succession leaving me rootless at a very young age. But the best was yet to come, the diagnosis of stage 3 Ovarian and Endometrial cancer, just when my career was starting to look bright, my life was stable and I was surrounded by some great friends, who replaced the need of relations who had disappeared very early.

The thing that I did not know about Cancer when I was initially diagnosed was how much more encompassing and destructive this disease was, and not just physically. My very successful career came to a grinding halt, because my then leader decided I was a lost cause and it was better to look after others than invest in a probable here today, gone tomorrow employee. This after 16 years of top tier performance. But this alone would not have broken me as the desertion of my so-called friends. People whom I thought of as family, never had time for me. They never visited, and never called. Taking me to the hospital became an onerous task, though the initial offer was made by them. After telling me I was family and not a friend, they always found reasons to not be around me. The ones who stuck around a little longer, turned out to be grief tourists, who would find “glamor” and “feel good” factors in their occasional visits/phone calls. But that October day it had been one too many – I host a Dinner every year, after Durga Puja. I had planned for this event this year as well and told everyone to keep that Sunday free, two months in advance. A week before this event I sent out reminder invites to 23 odd people. They were all who had acknowledged that they would be available and be free to join. And every single one of them refused – there was family visits, family events and lives to be led that did not include attending a Cancer patient’s dinner party.

I was emotionally exhausted, physically drained and I needed to go away, where I could lick my wounds in peace. To Dharamshala we would go. We checked into the town by mid-morning and were ensconced in our favorite room, at our favorite hotel by afternoon. Under shadow of snow peaked mountains with the gentle sounds of Buddhist monks chanting at the nearby temple, I felt my soul reviving, a calm settling, but the healing was not complete yet; the process of transformation was still not over.

Later in the day when I logged into work, (we were all work from home then and I worked evening supporting my US market clients) I discovered two pieces of news that spiraled me into ultimate breakdown. One of those deserting friends, had been given a promotion and called my sister to share the news, without asking once of how I was, had I recovered etc. The second was the promotion itself; I was a prime candidate for the role and I had not taken any off except the three weeks of surgery and was working through chemotherapy with best possible results and my leader had not bothered to tell about the role or recommend me, the leader whom I had thought the world off. There was too much of hurt, too much pain, too many excuses of why something could not happen.

The next day, my sister and I booked a car and went further north, deeper into the mountains. After a point, the road was inaccessible by car and we started walking. Neither my sister or I were sure how far I would be able to walk in my current physical condition. But I needed to get away from the crowd, to breathe easy and shake off my frustration and anger.

We started walking. It was hard, very hard, especially the initial distance. I was out of breath and there were too many people on the trail and selfie seekers and hawkers crowded the path. But after a point, my breathing adjusted and I started walking slowly to ease the discomfort of my back and legs. We made slow progress and had several pit stops, both for me to recover and for my sister to take pictures. But we kept walking and suddenly, we had outstripped the tourists and the hawkers and the more trafficked paths. The air became even more cleaner, crisper, and even sweeter. Coniferous trees swayed gently to the breeze, sometimes scattering pine cones on the path. The mountains around me grew larger, more magnificent with a mosaic of colors, each of a different hue. The grey merged into green and the green merged further into dark green, almost black like texture as only the mountains of Himalayas can.

As the sun reached it’s summit, the peaks glittered like diamonds atop huge canvases of colors. It was quiet, so very quiet; the only sound was the sound of our feet, hitting the trail and there was no one except, the blue sky, the huge mountains, the spirit of something larger than life and us. It was beautiful, it was tranquil and it was healing and I had reached the final stop. And the one thing that seemed to encompass that moment , was a poem by Mary Oliver.

Every day
     I see or hear
          something
               that more or less

kills me
     with delight,
          that leaves me
               like a needle

in the haystack
     of light.
          It was what I was born for --
               to look, to listen,

to lose myself
     inside this soft world --
          to instruct myself
               over and over

in joy,
     and acclamation.
          Nor am I talking
               about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,
     the very extravagant --
          but of the ordinary,
               the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.
     Oh, good scholar,
          I say to myself,
               how can you help

but grow wise
     with such teachings
          as these --
               the untrimmable light

of the world,
     the ocean's shine,
          the prayers that are made
               out of grass?

It was here, at this point, where I finally found calmness in the acceptance of the rage inside me for all the unfair things, I had been subjected too for all my life. I made peace with the fact that things change, and sometimes they change inevitably. But also, somethings did not; like the mountains did not, nor my own agency through which I could do, be and accomplish whatever I want, just like completing the hike. And I was free!

We returned to a grand meal at a restaurant back in the town and that night when I had logged in, I was transformed. I understood that for the final time the job that I had was what I do and not who I was. That I will find new companionships and learn to thrive in my own company. And that there was still so much beauty in life, poetry in life, and that made everything a joy. I would go back and start advocacy work for Cancer, I would write more, travel more. Cancer would come back to me again less than 6 months after I completed my chemo, and I would have to be put on chemo for the rest of my life. I would lose other promotions and more friends. But I would also find new friends, good projects at work with some great colleagues. I would fall down , but I also would pick up the pieces again and forge forward. And I did not forget , that I am what I choose to be and as long as there were mountains, books and my sister, life was as wonderful as it could be!

This post was written in response to a prompt from The Isolation Journals by Suleika Jaoud. This week’s prompt was contributed by Kate Bowler – “Think of a time when you felt especially unlucky. The opposite of #blessed—the “anti-blessing,” if you will—but then you noticed something beautiful, funny, anything that sparkled. Write about holding the tension of both the deep terrible and the fairy dust feeling“. You can read the full article on The Isolation Journal

The Latest in the Life & Times of Me

It’s been difficult to talk books lately, though they continue to do an incredible job in helping me retain my sense of sanity and balance; but life keeps throwing out unexpected challenges and this one time I am just exhausted. Exhausted to do what seems normal, when nothing, not one element in my life is normal. I do love life and want to live it every minute, but I do want to ask the Universe, why am I denied a boring albeit peaceful life. For those seeking excitement and action, tired of their everyday jobs and other social responsibility, know that there are others who who would trade that simple everyday life in a heartbeat. Why is boring a bad thing? It is a worthy existence and much better that the constant curve balls that comes your way. Maybe boring is what we all need to aspire for instead of wealth and adventure. There is such joy in everyday routine; in the small tasks that bring comfort and add to the overall well being of our existence.

But boring is one adjective that I am denied, since I was 13. If there is a problem, life will make sure it hits me in the face and in case I still refuse to see, rub my face on it, till, I get the point. For instance, back in late August, I was set for a wonderful vacation with my sister and cousin to the southern most state of India, Kerala, a magical land of culture, beach, mountain , wildlife, all together. This was a my first full length vacation since my diagnosis last year and the north star of my life for the last few months. Physically I was feeling much better than I had in months ( re – my last post ), the chemotherapy side effects were finally in control and I was leading as a normal life as possible.

I went for my routine follow up that happens every three months with my oncologist. My blood tests were all clean and as a standard medical protocol, she advised an MRI. I went for the MRI but something kept bothering me – the what if scenario. I tried dismissing them, believing that my mind always sought out the worst, after years of trauma. But there may be science to such things like “gut instinct” etc, because turns out they were correct. In subsequent tests that followed, it was discovered that my endometrial cancer has metastasized (spread) and I have lesions in my lungs and lymph nodes. The cancer is back ( or maybe it never gone away, just hid somewhere until the chemotherapy stopped ) in less than 7 months after I finished my treatment. My second round of chemotherapy started as of September 30th and this time we really do not know much; how many rounds, how long and if it needs to be combined with such advanced medicine like immunotherapy. It’s living from one session to another, dependent on test results, that may or may not say something.

This second round of battle is making me very unwell. Far more than I was the first time, as the dosage is stronger and also my immunity is already compromised from the first session that ended last year. I am tired of the never ending triage of doctors, tests and medicines. And I want nothing more than a boring life where I do my work, read some books , write about them and go traveling every now and then. I have no ambitions of conquering the Corporate world or finding the one true love of my or being “inspiring” . I just want to be left alone to lead a simple life, but there I guess I ask too much and am being totally brazen in my greed !

However I am determined to grasp whatever I can get of my life. After my biopsy, I did take the vacation with my sister and cousin. And now prepare for another beach holiday in November. I will continue reading as much as I can and am planning to enroll for a second masters next year. I will continue raising awareness about Cancer in a society that pretends that this illness does not exist (see https://www.instagram.com/candidcancerconversation/ ). And in my own small sphere try and be as “boring” as possible, finding joy in everyday routines and tasks that enrich life – the smell of woodfire as the autumn turns to spring, a well cooked meal ( very important as most things taste like mud to me these days ) buying new books, an afternoon spent chatting with an old friend, 18000 kms away about everything and nothing and just breathing, one moment in time.

Sharing some pictures from the Kerala Vacation. It’s gorgeous country with nature and history and I am so glad I did this journey, cancer or no cancer.

To The Everest

In everyday, urban saying sort of thing, a frequently used saying is your vibe attracts your tribe. Now I know this to be wholly true because , look at this book tribe I have !! And this holds true for my non bookish world as well. At a recent professional women’s event , I met a tribe member, who loved food ( so me! ), travel ( me again ) but more pertinently, shared my abiding love for the mountains, especially the Himalayas. As we bonded over the treks and the lesser known pathways to the Himalayas , it came about that Saachi Dhillon had written a book on her trek to Everest Base Camp. Naturally the book now needed to be read!

Everest for the non initiated is the highest peak of Himalayas and also the highest point on earth. The route to this peak is challenging and downright dangerous and many have lost their lives in the quest of the Everest (George Mallory of course comes first to one’s mind). The trek usually happens in many stages , the first being reaching the Everest Base Camp. And though it’s called the base camp, the trek is nothing but difficult and not recommended for first time high altitude hikers. However Saachi believes in living on the edge and the Everest Base Camp was the initiation right she chose to kickstart her high altitude trekking adventure.

Dreaming of Everest is an account of this adventure. Saachi’s journey starts off from the small Ramechhap Airport in Nepal and with the ultimate destination being the Everest Base Camp. It follows her journey as she meets her hiking group, walks through pit stops where everything is available for an exorbitant costs to small hole in the place where only few basics are available. She would watch the film Everest at the sitting at base of the the peak and be almost thrown off by a yak. She would lose things and find many insights about herself including the courage to continue when her body was ready to give up. And through of all this, the Everest beckoned and kept her company!

This book is one of the most honest books I have read about such endeavours in a long time. There is always glorification of all kinds of extremities in such genre; everything presented through rose tinted glasses of “struggles and triumphs”. Saachi avoids this kind of literary trope completely. She writes about the challenges but there is no romanticising them. The trek is hard. After a point food options are limited. Ill health makes an arduous climb even harder, taking a toll on your health physically and emotionally. There is no shower for days and fear of germs. These are realities that Saachi does not shy away from sharing. But there is no eulogising them nor crying foul. They are things that happen through the course of the travel and that is all there is to it. Her narrative does not digress from the main theme – the trek and the Himalayas. In fact she captures the stunning and startling beauty of these mountains beautifully. While there are valleys of flowers and beautiful sunsets, there is an awe inspiring aspect of Himalayas thats does not allow simplistic idyllic narrative. These mountains are formidable and the author’s writings leaves no room for doubt that this is not a walk in a park. She expertly blends in the cultural aspects of this geography with several insights into interaction with the local populace and adding a colorful flavor to what would otherwise have been a dry retelling of an amazing adventure. I also enjoyed the little interludes of the kind of music she listened to while hiking or the food she ate, and all of this added another layer to the storytelling. Finally the story of her own personal evolution is wonderfully interwoven with the everyday adventures. And in a stroke of good hard common sense , the book is replete with good advise for first time hikers.

To end , for a short book, it packs a powerful punch. To read it is truly start dreaming of Everest or at the very least, the other peaks of this formidable mountain range !

This Day, That Year!

Oh! Joy! Oh! Celebrations!! Tis time to rejoice!!

And no, I couldn’t care less about Valentine’s Day and similar gobblegook shenanigans!

Today, 10 years ago, 14 February, 2012, I started this blog! And today we are all of 10 years old!

This is a huge milestone for at so many different levels. I made it past 10 years when I honestly had no idea what I would post the next day or next week or next year, when I began in 2012.

Bullfinch and Weeping Cherry Blossoms by *Katsushika Hokusai*, *1834*, Public Domain. The bullfinch is used in ceremonies conducted at the New Year all over Japan to protect against misfortune in the coming year (Source – https://learnodo-newtonic.com/famous-flower-paintings )

10 years ago, I had very different expectations from life, most of which did not come through (though that is not necessarily a bad thing! ) What I did not expect was to see Mockingbird, Looking Glasses and Prejudice complete 10 grand years, gather a loyal following and help me learn and survive all the curve balls of life! But here we are and still going strong and I am so gleeful to have reached this moment! I should really do a thank you speech, but these days, I am always in a reflective mood, so instead am sharing some things that happened to me over the years thanks to this blog –

I learnt to read outside my comfort zone. And how!! Before I started this blog I stuck to English and maybe some Russian fiction and some travel writings. But since I started this page, I have read Non Fiction copiously and loved it; I have read poetry and developed a deep liking for it. I have read about all other countries of the world and learnt a bit more about this great community of Homo Sapiens and how we are all very same in so many different ways!
The blogging and the interactions with everyone has made me more aware and more curious about my own country and culture. Every time I did any event like AusReadingMonth or saw any posts on NordicFinds events, I grew curious about similar literature I had in my part of the world and I wondered at parallels and the inputs from everyone made me think more deeply about my own history. In a way, as I learnt about the world, I discovered more about my own world.
My mind opened to new ideas and I believe I became more compassionate and more tolerant. I do not agree with everybody on every book and everybody does not agree with me on my thoughts. But we all exchange our ideas freely and agree to disagree respectfully and share a laugh at the absurdities. This for me personally has been an important growth both emotionally and intellectually and I could not have done this without this blog.
This blog is my stress release zone, my safe place, my zone out corner. I have always had this piece of world to share my angst, my heartbreaks, my fears without any fear of judgement or wondering how it will be interpreted. I have often found my sanity, and my ability to face another day through this world.
My booklish blogging tribe, you are my biggest gift of this 10 year journey. You all live in different parts of the world, work in different places and have different lives, but every time I had a crisis, you found time to send me a kind word, share a sensible advice and a virtual hug. Thank You for sharing your personal histories, for the recipes and book recommendations and the virtual flowers! You have stood by me through my heartbreaks, my parent’s deaths and last year through my Cancer. You have cheered me on and lifted me up and did everything you could to make my world better. You all are part of one of the best things in my life and if for nothing else, these 10 years have been so worth it, because I have found you! Thank You Stefanie, Brona, Karen, Mudpuddle, Marian and Cleo! You all enrich my life everyday

I have read more, written more, became more aware; all thanks to this wonderful journey, started a decade ago! I have evolved in so many ways that I cannot even begin to articulate. This blog truly has been a gift that keeps giving! So here’s to 10 years and more! To new reading adventures and more writing expeditions. And to blogs, that unites us and holds us all together!

Update – Shout out to my another blogging friend and mentor Jane, who along with Stefanie, guided my initial blogging adventures. Jane is taking a break from Blogging world and I thought she may need some time out but she commented and I thought, I must atleast share with the world, how awesome she has been, supporting me through all my life adventures and introducing me to some of my favorite authors like Margaret Kennedy and Margery Sharp.

The House….

I read Susanna Clarke’s much acclaimed Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell in September of last year. ( Yes, I was late to the party!) While I found a lot of great things in the book, I felt it to be needlessly verbose and the character’s problematic and once I finished reading it, there was nothing but a sense of relief that I survived till the end! Naturally this foray into the fantasy world left me convinced that Susanna Clarke was not for me and there are some books and authors that do not work for and you should not spend your limited time on them.

Then I heard that the author’s second novel had won the 2021 Women’s Prize for Fiction and this book was not as cumbersome as 1000 plus pages and instead was a mere 200 something; again belonging to the magical-fantasia genre. I heard great things about the book from everyone but I was once bitten, twice shy and I was NOT going to attempt a Susanna Clarke so soon. I needed recovery time

The one bright morning, around the last few days of 2021, I stumbled upon Brona’s excellent review of this book. I really respect Brona’s tastes when it comes to reading and her ability to discern a good narrative from an average pretending to be excellent type of writing. Besides being an excellently nuanced review, there was particularly one phrase that stuck to my mind –

In our Covid-19 pandemic world, where isolation and solitude have become the norm, Piranesi’s approach to living in his infinite world can be enlightening. His deliberate day-by-day living, paying attention to every small detail, caring for his environment and honouring those who came before him provide him with sense of peace and connectedness.

In the last 2 odd years, I have closely come to understand what this feels. First COVID and then Cancer confined me to my house and made me appreciate the simple joys of everyday things, around me. I was always a homebody but these years taught me the value of sitting in the sun in my balcony, of crisp fresh sheets on the bed, a perfectly boiled egg for the breakfast and finding contentment in them, beauty in them. This part therefore resonated especially strongly and before I knew it, the books was bought and I began reading , what I never thought I would read atleast not at such close quarters after the Mr. Strange reading .

Piranesi lives in a huge house with infinite halls that are filled with all kinds of statues. The house is divided into 3 layers; the lowest being that of oceans, the second of living beings and solid land and third being the level of the sky and the clouds. Piranesi leads a peaceful and an engaged life, fishing fish and seaweed for his sustenance from the lower levels, taking care of the other being of the house, birds or dead humans, documenting his journal and in enjoying the process of discovering the house. There is another human inhabitant in the house, The Other, who is Piranesi’s colleague and together they are in the quest of A Great and Secret Knowledge that will give them power and immortality. As Piranesi works through the halls of the house, calculating the tides and documenting the stars, that will help in the discovery of this Great and Secret Knowledge, he begins to realise that there may another person in the house. Soon he starts finding evidence of another life, finally unraveling a past and forcing choices that Piranesi did not even know existed.

I loved this book! I loved its themes of kindness and generosity and of finding joy and fulfilment in everyday life. I loved Piranesi’s character which seems to embody all that is sincere and honorable and most importantly the child like wonder that he has towards the house. His gratitude for what the house gave I think can serve as an example for many of us, stuck in a constant consumerist, where we do not stop to appreciate what we have or all the wonderful things that nature provides us. I also appreciated the moral struggle that Piranesi experiences against doing evil to someone who has done him the same; a dilemma that many grapple against everyday and not many who are able to make the right choice. There is not a usual defined plot arc; there is plotline and a sense of suspense, but there is so much more to this book that to say it is a thriller or a fantasy book. The prose is lyrical and there are philosophical insights as to what is meaningful life. This is multilayered book, that like Brona says needs a re-read, maybe several, to fully appreciate it’s narrative, beyond the obvious.

This was a magnificent start to the bookish adventures of 2022! There are very few modern authors who have provoked such sentiments in me, but this book is a keeper, an almost metaphorical tale on some of the essential truths of life!

22 Things….

Usually my year end posts are about the best books I have read in the year and similar bibliophile adventures. But 2021 has been highly unusual; it is very different from the years I lost my parents or went through heartbreaks or other distressing circumstances. All through those tumultuous times, I could and did depend on the integrity of my body to help my mind and heart through those circumstances. But this year, that very body, which I took so much as a given, called it a strike and then my mind had to lead the charge and my body followed. I have learnt so much through this year, re-discovered joys, learnt to be more grateful, especially for those who had the courage to stick by me through my medical adventures. It has not all been fun and games – there are days of never ending illness and pain ( they continue despite my chemo cycles being over ), I have lost a number of friends and had to readjust to new social set up and of course I had to give up or re-align many of my life goals. But it has nevertheless been a year where I have learnt and learnt so much, gaining new insights, re-affirming the old and facing my demons. So I thought that as I come to close of this very interesting year, I should document 22 life lessons learnt through this year which I hope will guide me through 2022 and beyond!

Saint-Georges majeur au crépuscule By Claude Monet ( 1908 )- Beyeler Foundation, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5765797

Your body is one of your biggest allies; look after it. Do not take it for granted.
You may do things with the best of intentions, but they may be perceived very differently by others. It should not deter you from doing what you think is right, but it is important to be cognizant of the fact that others may not see things in a similar vein.
Embrace the uncomfortable changes especially when it comes to relationships. It is perhaps the most difficult change to adapt to because it impacts how we think or what image we have of ourselves. There is of course the pain of separation and of parting of ways, but also a change in your belief system of how you thought of your self vs. what it really is.
Reaffirmation of the most basic truth – those who truly love you, will love you and stand by you without you making an additional and extra effort. Your you will be enough for them to stay invested in that relationship.
Accept and embrace the shit like you accept and embrace the good. Shit will happen; it is inevitable and the only real truth of life! But if we accept it and welcome it, no matter how hard, the end result is that the shit does pass more comfortably without an everlasting impact or trauma.
If you stay strong, everyone around you stays strong and together you hold on to what is at the core and important.
Enjoying your own company
Accepting and adapting the shortcomings of your physical and mental health. Only when we accept and not fight it, can we begin improving on it!
Tagging a relationship with a socially defined name has no real importance. Just because it is not in a traditional. socially approved set up, does not mean it is any less deep, meaningful or joyful.
The definition of success is different for everyone and is constantly evolving. Furthermore, there is no one defined path to that goal; it is personal and will change as your goal evolves.
Focusing on what is truly worthy and long term is important rather than chasing short term instant gratifications or goals and getting frustrated with them. Good things, the best things need time and patience.
Enjoy the physical activity – the walk, the yoga, the run; whatever sails your boat!
Home cooked meals are the best.
The best, most meaningful things, the ones worth striving for are actually very simple – a good night’s sleep, a long luxurious head bath, a phone call with your best friend, a cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter night!
Life is truly better and so much more saner with a cup of tea.
Being independent physically and to some extent mentally, is a boon and needs to be cherished and strived for.
Every time you have a body image issue, remember the things you have and you take for granted – the hair on your head, the eyebrows, limbs that are normal and functional; everything else is just accessories.
Getting a good medical team is a stroke of luck; but getting a great medical team is a matter of angels showering buckets of gold and silver on you.
Help comes from places you least expect; just believe that when all doors close, a window will open and you may not know just how close you are to your goal if you don’t look out of that window.
Reaffirmation that reading and writing are the best ways to a good mental health.
Those who enlist with you in your life’s challenges, who stick by you voluntarily through your journey on the rocky roads, are the people you need to hold on to & are your single biggest motivation to live and live well.
Despite everything, it is the greatest gift to be alive and well!

I hope to remember some of these things now and forever! It has been an illuminating year and though I have no idea, what 2022 holds and I am kind of anxious about the unknown, face it I shall, armed with an open mind and these lessons.

\What have been some of your learnings this year?

A New Mountain…

Since I promised, I delivereth! Last week, being my birthday week and a birthday year that saw literally my re-birth, my sister and my best friends decided to make this extra special by taking me to those mountains whom I love and run to always! The Himalayas. They looked up the place, the hotels, the things to do, the itinerary and just about every single logistic, including food, food, more food and some more food. All I had to do was sit in the car and enjoy some magnificent views with loads of chatter and laughter!

The place is called Sirmour in the state of Himachal Pradesh, in Northern India. The resort we were staying in was some 700 hrs. drive from Delhi and we made a pit stop in Chandigarh ( about 5 hrs from Delhi ) to pick up our other companions and have a wonderful lunch with their family, with some awesome treats cooked by my friend and her mom in law. We reached Sirmour the same day in the evening and primarily spent the evening in eating, drinking and relaxing. The next day after a 10 different courses for breakfast, we set off for Renuka Lake, a 45 mins drive from our resort. This is the largest lake in Himachal Pradesh (660 m) and is regarded as the embodiment of Renukaji, the wife of sage Jamadagini and mother of Parshuram, one of the ten Avtars of Lord Vishnu ( One of the 3 most powerful trio in the Hindu Pantheon; the other members of the club is Lord Brahama, whose lotus fell to create the lake we visited last week & Lord Shiva, the rockstar God of Hindu Mythology) . Shaped in the profile of a woman, legend has it that Renuka was beheded by her son Parashuram, following his father’s instructions. Renuka had earned her husband’s fury for not dutifully filling up water in the clay pot for his rituals, as she got distracted and infatuated by the sight of Gandharvas, who had taken the form of men, bathing in the river. Thus infuriated, he ordered his three sons to kill their mother ( Don’t even get me started!) Of the three sons, only the third son Parashurama agreed to execute the father’s orders. Later, pleased by his obedience, Jamadagni bestowed a wish for fulfilment upon his son and he prayed to his father to restore his mother back to life & thus Renuka was brought back to life! While I have many many issues with this legend, the fact remains the lake is beautiful, the wooded walk gorgeous and the temple dedicated to Renuka Devi peaceful. We had an amazing lunch and then headed back to the resort for some bonfire, drinks and snacks and at 12 in the night a birthday hoopla for me ! There was cake cutting, gift opening and a brilliant birthday video put together by these lovely people with birthday messages from all my friends and family ( these best gift ever! ) The birthday day was a lazy day spent eating a long breakfast (again 10 course ) in the sun , followed by more soaking in the sun, a delicious lunch at a quaint open air café and some more bonfire shenanigans’. The next day in the afternoon, we headed back to the city with memories of a delightful and joyful birthday, with many things to be grateful for – my health, these generous friends, who put their plans on hold for my sake and my most awesome sister! It is good to be alive and well and that in itself is best celebration of all!

I leave you all with pictures of people, places and food from this adventure!

Needless to say, these few weeks have a le grande! I am now spending some quiet time before the start of a new year which will bring what it will bring, but for now and here, things are just perfect!

p.s. Himalayas are the youngest mountain range in the world hence the title , a New Mountain!

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