my life, my stories

As the world goes into phases of extended lockdown, all of us have been forced to stay at home. Home is where we have been trying to work from, and   spending our days seeking entertainment , comfort and safety. Which started a train of thoughts ; questions about what is a home, how do I make my home feel more homely? And what do I do if I don’t like the home that I am in? We might have travelled the entire world, and stayed in the plushest of hotel rooms, cosiest of inns and even been mesmerised in the grand outdoors, but the four walls of home is more than just a place to stay and sleep, if one is to believe the ‘School of Life’ – Homes have a memorialising function, and they help us to remember ourselves. It creates a sense of identity, and that is why we create temples of prayer, that house our idols and ideals; and just like temples of prayer, our own homes embody our values and merits. What does that mean in simple terms? It means that the chair which is more function

Is it inconvenient to talk about death on a Sunday morning? Would it be better if we talked about it on a Tuesday afternoon? The thing with death is that it never comes at a convenient time, especially the ‘untimely deaths’. That does make one question, what is ‘timely death’? One would argue the death of someone who is old, ailing, is already in the ICU on life support, the entire family is in town, and every one has taken a weeks leave from work, just waiting for the inevitable. Just a friendly wave at death ‘Ready when you are ‘, would be called a ‘convenient death’. Convenient, for the person who passes away, also convenient for those who must attend to the aftermath. But, untimely death is rarely convenient. The last week my whatsapp groups has been rife with untimely deaths : A badminton player was just 2 points away from victory, when he collapsed and died. A surgeon had just finished surgery, and dies before he even makes it out of the scrub room, a noted scholar dies on

Bougainvillea are getting their time in the sun! I always thought that the humble bougainvillea must definitely have been the step child of the flower God. I mean, to be stuck with a name like THAT! It's okay for a French Navy Admiral to be called 'Louis Antoine De Bouganville' but the narcissist named a flower after himself, what had the poor thing ever done to him? So, now you have the bougainvillea, a humble little flowering plant.   Just an average plain jane, even the petals aren't pretty, they aren't even called petals. The faux petals are actually 'bracts' and they look like coloured leaves more than petals. Miss plain Jane isn’t as talented as her pretty cousin the rose, you see it doesn't smell sweet either. I mean imagine Shakespeare saying… 'What's in a name.. a bougainvillea will never smell sweet even if it were called a rose." And so, I was surprised to see the celebration of Bougainvillea recently. To begin with, an