My school bag

Do you remember the first bag you carried to school?

I was coming to work today. With school that just started at beginning of September, there are many excited first graders around in the morning. All holding their prized possession, their school bag, wearing the reflective collar were eager to go to school. I watch them every day. However, today, I just noticed this girl with her pink Disney princess bag, and went back to my first school days. Well, actually the first school bag.

In India, children start school 2-3 years before the first grade. The pre-school or nursery school. Though similar to a kindergarten in concept, it is somewhat different. In all these 12 years of school, plus 3 years of pre-school, I possessed many bags in all fancy colors and shapes. However, I really do not remember them. I do not even remember the first day to school. It is a very fuzzy memory overlapped with memories that I suspect are from later days. However, I remember in all details, the simple bag I was carrying the first day to my school. And the water bottle that hung around my neck.

It was the simplest bag I ever had. A little rectangular bag in the strangest shade of grey-brown. I cannot even describe the color. It was not exactly grey. If one imagines grey with a splash of brown thrown in, maybe one would get the color. The borders were in black. There were two black buckles strapping the open flap to the bag. On the flap, on a small black tag was written ‘Duck Back’ in cursive white. The bag’s rectangular shape would stick a bit out of the narrow frame of my body. Inside there were three pockets. The long big one was for my books and exercise books. The other part stitched in the middle formed two smaller pockets. The right one was for my lunch box. The left carried my pencil box and the hardbound school notebook. I remember how I found the plastic buckles interesting. It appeared such a smart mechanism to the three year old me. I liked fastening my bag often.

I remember how my books used to be arranged inside my bag. Bigger ones at the back and the smaller ones in the front. The small exercise books would be made into two neat equal piles and put in front of the books, side by side. I remember one particular incident. I wished some change in the arrangement of the contents of my bag. However, I could not figure out a very distinct variation. Only decided to carry my lunch box and notebook together in the right pocket. However, by the time my teacher asked for the notebook (it was used by teacher to write notes to parents etc), I had forgotten all about it. I told her I had forgotten to bring it. My surprise knew no bound when it appeared from the right pocket along with my lunch box during the lunch break!! Oh, silly me, I had just kept it in the right pocket!

My water bottle was another prized possession of mine. It was transparent, with brown belt, and cap with the nozzle. However, the cap covering the nozzle was not just a cap, but a mini box! No one in my class had a water bottle like that, and I was so proud of it. Ma would often times put something little in that box. A candy, some fruit, some sweet. A little treat in the little box!

I like carrying a backpack. Often I find it very practical and useful. My present one is an indigo blue with black. I am planning to replace it soon. And I am sure, I will not remember this current one for long after I stop using it. But, I know, I will always remember my first bag. I was proud of my bag. Of myself. I can close my eyes and see the color, the brand, the make, everything. I do not know if I have a picture of the bag. Maybe someday I should check my first day school pictures. But I do have the picture in my mind. And there it will forever stay. My bag and the delight of a three year old.

The cows in a parade

For two years, I wished to go to this event. Finally, last Sunday I went. When I came to know about the event in 2009, I decided to go the next year. However, last year we were all set to go, but the weather was not on our side. First, it was postponed by a week due to heavy rain. Then, as there was no improvement in weather after a week, the Sunday event was finally cancelled. The forecast this year was also not good. Rain was predicted for the afternoon. However, we decided to pay no attention to it. The event was not cancelled. ‘We will go and see what happens, if weather turns too ugly, we will simply return’. This is what we thought, and set out in the morning. And what a day we had!!

I am talking about the ‘Kravji Bal’ or the ‘Cow ball’. It is one unique and maybe one of the lesser-known country festivals in Slovenia. By the beautiful and pristine Bohinj lake with the lofty Julian Alps looking over, Slovenia welcomes its cows back into the valley after a summer of grazing high up in the pastures of the Alps. Local farmers proudly decorate their fattened cows with wreaths and bells and walk them in a parade. Later the healthiest and best-looking cows are awarded. The herd keepers walk proudly by their herds, back in the valley after a summer-long hard work. Dairy families dress up in traditional dresses. There is folk song and dance. Fresh homemade chesses, butter, yogurt are for tasting and buying. There are also small stands with honey, wicker baskets, sheep wool, woodenwares, and many other local traditional handicrafts. For eating, there is the usual sausage, sour cabbage, porridge etc. Everyone merry and gay!

In the morning, I woke up excitedly with the thoughts of finally going to the festival. After a quick breakfast, we started towards Bohinj. The weather though cloudy and hazy, was not very bad. And we were keeping our fingers crossed. Though Bohinj is one of my favorite places, I was visiting it after long time. I had forgotten the roads, and enjoyed driving by the Sava river, in the valley. Soon there in front of us was Bohijn lake in all its pristine beauty. On a clear sunny day, its still water mirrors the majestic beauty of the overlooking mountains. However, this time it was not meant to be so. There were already a few drops of rain.. 

We parked the car. I could already hear the lively folk music from the festival ground, and could barely keep my patience to reach there. The sky in the meantime was dark with clouds. As we were walking, there started a heavy downpour. The person on stage commented that it was high time for some rain, as past weeks had been very very dry. Within me, my heart sank. I knew if it continues raining like that, we would just have to return.

Before going in the ground, we decided to walk by the stalls on the road. There were all sorts of things. Wooden work, wind wheels in traditional shapes of bee, roster etc, wicker baskets, woolens and so on.

Everyone at the shops was busy protecting their merchandise from the rain. People were taking shelter under the plastic roofs of the shops. At one end, there is this big demonstration and advertisement area for wood machines. One was demonstrating the making of sawdust from logs. People gathered around there. Even grandmas! Their lives in farms have made them interested in these kinds of machines. And as we were watching it for fun, the rain slowly stopped. The wind pushed away the clouds, and the sky cleared for a bit.

The folk music was so catchy; we slowly headed towards the festive ground. In the center, there were wooden tables and benches for sitting down to have some lunch, drink, or for simply chatting. Surrounding the sitting area were different stalls for handcrafted traditional objects. Wicker basket, woolen from sheep wool, laces, crochet works, cloth dolls, little trinkets, wooden souvenirs etc. There was a stall where they were making nets and meshes from horsehair. There were stalls selling Slovene honey in all different flavors. And of course there were several stalls selling homemade dairy products! We tasted the samples of yummy cheeses. There were different spreads made of young cheese and spices. Then there were fresh cottage cheese, sour milk, milk, yogurt and so on… All fresh, celebrating the authentic flavors. We decided on the cheeses we would like to buy before going.

On one side, there was a stage for the music and dance performances. And in between the conductor was keeping us entertained. The merry sound of the accordion enlivened the whole place. And with its rhythm men and women dressed in folk dresses tapped their feet. Men made the cherry ‘ya-ho’ sounds, and the women in white apron swayed their long colorful skirts in style. All around it was celebration with sounds and colors of olden Slovenia. People danced in organized performances. People danced just because it was fun to do so. There were children from elementary and high schools performing. There were professional groups. And just any other person of any age. Some dressed up in traditional dresses. Some were just in some bright colors. People were drinking beer. Children were running around.  It was so vibrant all around me.

The dairy families

The cows were about to come at 1 o’clock. And I couldn’t wait for them. In the meantime, we decided to visit the horses and cows in the fenced area.

 Aww, do not they have the most gentle and calming eyes? There was a brown horse getting ready to give rides to children. As the owner was tending to its shoes, it had put his face on his back, rubbing its face against the owner, licking him. Then the horse looked out at its audience. Sniffing a bit, it would bring its head closer for a gentle patting. The cute animal was just trying to be so friendly as it was getting my attention and pampering. There were two little brown calves and a brown bull in one fence. The bull tried to put up a serious face, looking all smart in its headgear. With an air of pride, it ignored all the visitors. The calves were just enjoying the attention, pampering, and food (pears) they were getting.

They were already starting to put the temporary fence for the cow parade. We headed towards having lunch. Sausage, sour cabbage with cracklings. We found a seat, but could hardly pay attention to the food. The minute it was getting closer to 1 o’clock, the more impatient I was getting. I simply wished to get a place by the fence and wait for the parade. Soon we were there in place. And a bit past 1 o’clock, the parade started. 

First came two little girls dressed in cow costumes. And then came the cows. Each group at a time, along with the owner family, the herd keeper. All were dressed in traditional costumes. Herd keepers dressed in their traditional working style, check shirts, long boots, the hat and carrying the basket-like-thing on their back. They carried with them all the supplies that would be required for their mountain months. There were explanations about the things required by a herd keeper, a short description about his life up there in the mountains with his cows. Women and little girls were dressed in bright colors carrying baskets with dairy products. There was a huge cheese block drawn on a cart. And then there were the cows!

 So cute and endearing they were. Some had little bells by the ears. Some had their horns decorated with pine greens. Pine greens and flowers made wreaths around the head for some. They walked in lines. They ran a bit, confused. They stopped to approach the people standing by the sides. They pushed each other for fun. They mooed loudly. Made their bells ring. It was the most adorable, charming and funny parade I have ever seen. And the show stopper was of course the youngest one. It was only a 22 hours old calf. Named Sobotko (Saturday). Warm brown color, with a white tail, it had the silliest face ever. It looked in wonder and amazement. Walked in its wobbly style by the mother. And then, it stopped posing for photographs!

The star of the show - Sobotko

The cows were led to their respective group fences where they would be judged. The crowd was gathered by the fences. And of course the largest crowd puller was the new born Sobotko. It was in its fence with two females. Sobotko was inquisitive, trying to approach the people gathered a bit, but never too confident to come very close. Then it would rub by its mother, and drink her milk. Enjoy the attention of the crowd again. Every time a cow mooed, Sobotko mooed back in a silly voice. It was like a game to him. And he was visibly amazed. I moved around, looking at other cows. I loved most the young ones, most inquisitive and playful they were. By the time, I returned to the fence where Sobotko was, he was cuddled up on the hay, and peacefully resting. A cow from the adjacent fence was licking his head.

Now it was time to go home. We decided not to stay until the end, a few more hours. Therefore, it was time for shopping before leaving. We bought two varieties of cheeses. Unfortunately, the last liter of milk was bought just before us, and I could not get the fresh creamy cow milk. It did make me a bit sad. 

Pleasantly tired, we started walking towards the car. I always love to be a part of any festival. Whatever the reason is, people are always so happy. And before you know, you are also one among the many smiling faces. I was a happy girl. Enjoying by tranquility of Bohinj would have to wait for another day. This time it was just to enjoy the warm cherry colorful mood of a country festival and go home with the sound of music, laughter, and of course the ‘moo-s’, echoing around me.

Lazy Saturday

I like all the hustle bustle. I like all the activities. And this is what it was like for the past several weeks, months. Something or the other was always on cards. Therefore, when I woke up last Saturday to the lazy morning, I just realized that it was exactly what I was wishing for quite a while. A lazy Saturday.

I think when I finally checked the time it was 9:30, or maybe 10. I do not remember. I was awake for quite some time, but did not at all bother to check the time. And when I did, it was just to enjoy the pleasure of the clock testifying that I was actually late. My hand searched for the magazine. I did not even trouble myself with lifting my head from the pillow. Inside the cozy warm wrap of the blanket, I started reading a short story. Some casual story in some casual magazine. My toes moved in the rhythm as it always does when I am in a relaxed mood not thinking about anything.

I was still in the bed long after finishing the story, just closing eyes and listening to the sounds of activities outside. “Okay, maybe now I can get up, and brush, and take a shower”. All refreshed, I slowly went down to see what was up there. It was the same lazy picture also there downstairs. As I looked out, it was soaked in the vibrant summer sun.  Flowers were smiling bright. Bees were busy collecting honey. It was too late for breakfast and I was not hungry in particular. I fiddled with a few roasted peanuts. Peeked inside the fridge. I walked around the house. The pumpkin in the garden was getting bigger each day. However, I think, for the moment the pumpkin flowers were alluring me more. I wished to have them crispy fried. I decided to sit for a while outside.

Soon however, I decided to go upstairs. “Maybe I will call my grandma”. Instead, I got busy with emails, youtube videos etc as soon as I switched on the computer. There were good reviews of a recently released Bengali movie. Surprisingly it was already available online. I put it for downloading. “Oh no, it is so slow!!”. I was just feeling like having some chips. Blaž came in the room. Before, he was busy cleaning the car. Now, he would like to put the bed linens for washing. After a long time he got a free weekend and just wished to do what all had to be done. Good boy! On the other hand, I wandered around in the virtual world. I did not feel like doing anything. Not even what was required to be done. “Tomorrow”. Then again, I got absorbed in the supplementary pages of the Bengali newspaper online.

It was late afternoon in India. I wondered what dida was doing, and called my grandma. As age has made all her days like my lazy Saturday, my calls always bring a smile to her face. The story about one of her silly childhood prank made me smile.

After the lunch, I was sitting on the couch with a bowl of ice cream. What can be a better image of a lazy noon? Then we decided to go and visit our urhek-s (yellow-bellied toad) in some nearby water. “Are they there this year too”? It is always the ‘right time’ for me when it comes to frog watching. Spending the noon idly sounds good. Spending the noon spotting and gazing at frogs sounds even better!

 There is a small abandoned quarry nearby. During its functional days, there used to be a small decorative pool, which has now turned almost into ruins. During one of our walks, we noticed yellow-bellied toads (urh in Slovene), great newts, and other water creatures in the little water of the pool. Last year we saw the tiniest possible baby urhs in it. Hence was our trip to the pool. The pool this time had much more water from the past days of rain. Thick algae and weeds covered it. “Will we be able to spot any”? We carefully began scrutinizing the pool.

There, there is one. Just floating in the water. And another one, floating grabbing a weed. The third one had only its eyes peeking. The fourth one was a small one by the edge. I spotted one between some submerged rocks. Then another one. Six we saw in total! Sometimes they felt our presence as we approached close and hid in the water, the hind legs propelling away the water quickly. Sometimes they were oblivious of our advance. We touched the webbed foot of one gently. It simply ignored the touch. Blaž even touched one’s nose, and quickly it hid. The yellow-bellied toads are the silliest ones possible. And we played on them our silly trick. We grabbed a grass weed and put it very close to one of the toad’s mouth. Then gently I swayed the weed. For a second it waited in attention. The next instant, it tried to grab it in mouth. Opening its mouth in quick succession, the toad even tried to use its front leg to grab the ‘insect’. After a while, we found three of them resting in a line!

An urh (yellow-bellied toad) floating

The amount of water made it impossible to see other amphibians and insects. I hoped to see a newt. We were however too afraid to overturn the rocks in the pool. After all, we did not wish to accidentally harm one or intrude their natural abode. There was also some strange insect, which we had not seen before. And the only other creature was the European wall lizard making circles on the warm rocks. I rather wished they were not there. Blaž just wished to grab one and even tried!

There are many wild blackberry bushes around. The red berries were ripening into plump black ones. I collected a handful. They were sweet with a hint of tart. Delicious!

Our next stop was a ditch where we mostly see green marsh frogs during our bicycle rides. The marsh weeds and plants were growing lush green.  The purple weed flowers created a nice picture on the border of yellow crop and green field. The sky was preparing for an afternoon shower. And far there, it was already raining. Blaž stopped to take a picture. A black kitty was sitting in the field. Two crows. There was an unknown bird on the electric wire making a shrill sound. Two grandmas passed by. They wished me one all smiley and most friendly ‘dober dan’. Unfortunately, there was no frog in the ditch. I am sure they were just hiding a bit.

Soon after we reached home, the rain caught up with us. It was a few minutes of heavy downpour. The sun was then again smiling. I transferred our frog pictures in the computer. The movie was still downloading! After dinner, Blaž’s mama asked if I would join her for a short walk. I was talking all the while like always. As the sky turned dusk colors and we headed homewards, we saw a deer. Ears pointed, it looked at us a few times, and then vanished inside the thicket of corns.

The rest of the evening just went by. Sitting on the couch chatting. Maybe I was watching a bit of TV. The rest I do not remember. Maybe I just drifted away in the world of slumber. Or did I?

Cheesecake Factory

I love eating. I like trying different cuisine and great dishes. As long as I have variety and quality, I am happy, and I generally do not eat large portions. Therefore, it was very hilarious when someone was surprised to see me finishing a large entree portion along with the dessert. He was surprised enough to even loudly say so!

Last year in Washington, we had a lovely Saturday exploring the Air and Space museum. We had plans of an early dinner at Cheesecake Factory that afternoon. Therefore, we did not really eat any lunch. The museum interested and intrigued us, and we forgot all about food. There was so much to see! However, at the end of the day, on way back home, we did start feeling hungry and exhausted. And as previously planned, we went to Cheesecake Factory for a heavy lunch-dinner.

I had never had cheesecake before. Hence, it was the reason of the whole plan in the first place. And like always, I found myself pretty excited about trying something new, some delicious dessert.

A waiter led us to our table, a cozy one by the window. Already hungry and tired, we quickly started going through the menu. The cheesecake was supposed to be the focus; therefore, we decided to skip appetizer and simply start with the main course. Blaž and his dad ordered some fried meat and seafood dish; and I decided to take grilled Mahi-Mahi. The portions in USA are quite large than in other countries. So, when our order came, it looked quite a lot. Besides the main protein, our plates were also loaded with mashed potatoes, grilled veggies and so on.. It was almost a bit intimidating. Nevertheless, the plates looked appetizing, and the delicious smell made us even hungrier. Without wasting further time, we just concentrated on our plates. My fish was succulent and flavorful. Though I was daunted initially, the tasty fish and grilled vegetables soon made me feel comfortable. It was a happy lunch with everyone enjoying the food.

Well, half way through the lunch, both Blaž and his dad said they were enough full. I was not. While they were requesting for doggy bags, I finished my plate. I am not sure whether I would have managed to do so if I had ordered something similar like they had. Something thickly coated with crumbs and fried, especially if it is meat, is quite heavy for me. It makes me easily full, and I cannot eat much of it. However, two pieces of fish, and an assortment of vegetables is almost staple for me. It was just with a different flavor. Now which Bengali feels overstuffed eating two pieces of fish, some vegetables, and a bit of potato (treating it as rice)? None! Therefore, being true to the 'food-lovers' tag given to us Bengalis, I finished my plate and was even ready for the dessert. The others had had enough, and could not even imagine of ordering a generous slice of cheesecake at that moment. I however, did order one slice of cheesecake in the classic flavor with fresh strawberry. After all, the whole purpose of going to that restaurant was having cheesecake. I could not possibly leave that out. Especially as I had never tasted it before. The surprise was not my ordering the cheesecake but ordering it for there and not for going. The waiter was visibly surprised and could not hide that. It was so funny to notice his expression.

My cheesecake came adorned with juicy red strawberries and generous dollop of whipped cream, looking all yummylicious. It was so tempting that I could hardly wait. A spoonful of the creamy delicacy made me want more. I loved the subtle play of flavors and the rich creamy texture melting in my mouth. I do have a sweet tooth. And with one spoon, this cheesecake easily made a place in the list of my favorite desserts. Each spoon was an indulgence. The dessert was such a great treat. I would have had another one if I had not just finished a complete entree before. I was just craving for more of that creamy delicacy.

As I was finishing the last few of spoons, the waiter came to ask how everything was. It was delicious, I said. And we asked for the bill. It was my last spoon, when the waiter came with the bill, and the requested doggy bags. I was so pleasantly full and all happy after my food, and specially the dessert. My plate was nicely empty and enjoyed. He could not just contain his surprise. He said, in his whole career of serving at the Cheesecake Factory, he never came across one who finished his large portion of main course and even enjoyed a slice of their delicious namesake. Everyone requests for a doggy bag. He was like ' look such a small looking girl, and yet finished the whole food and dessert'. As he was saying so, I drank my lemonade. He had to comment in a jest, 'well, and the lemonade too, and done'. It was hilarious, the way he said all that. We all were smiling. And I must admit, I was quite a bit embarrassed too. I never ever imagined that my eating would possibly make a story to tell later to friends. It was just grilled fish, not fried, and something light. Something that is staple to me. As I was enjoying the food and had finished it, I never realized it would make such a funny situation. We were all laughing as we left the restaurant. The same girl who need coaxing often times to eat a bit larger portions, made a story with her eating! The waiter must have thought that I eat like monster! I was embarrassed, but it was fun.. I had to tell the story to everyone later, and we had a good laugh.

This weekend, I will be a tourist around the Union Square of San Francisco. There is a Cheesecake Factory just there. Of course, I am going to get a generous portion of the tasty creamy cake. And will have a hearty laugh over it.. Only I will just pack it to go :)

How are you?

'Hi, how are you?' They ask and do not even wait for the answer. And sometimes the answer is repetition of the same question!

We are running everyday and trying to fit in this busy world, leaving us with little time to spare. We are too preoccupied with our own lives to care to know what others are doing. Yet, often when I observe how people greet each other, it never fails to surprise me. A few words, a few lines, somehow are capable of revealing a whole lifestyle.

On way from local market in Kolkata, when you meet your neighbor, despite the presence of the very visible shopping bag, you will hear, 'ki dada, bajar theke firchen (Are you returning from the market)?'. A unique a way to say hello. Often times when there is no time, we offer a friendly smile to a familiar face on the roads. Maybe a 'hi' or 'hello' will accompany the smile if one belongs to the younger generation. When there is a minute to spare both stop to ask 'kemon achen (how are you)?' before departing for their respective destinations. In other cases, a smile and nod of head do the work. Then, one never stops to say hello to a stranger, only maybe a quick smile sometimes is shared. Bengalis do not often care about these too polite formalities; we are more chatty and informal people.

You are in the elevator in your office building in Ljubljana. And as you leave on your floor, you go away saying a 'dan' to wish the others a good day ahead. In Slovenia it can be a friendly 'živjo (hi)' or a bit formal 'jutro (morning)'. Even when one is meeting complete strangers in elevators or on a hiking trail, they pass a quick 'dan', shorter version of dober dan (good day). Depending on the person in front, these compliments are friendly, polite, and sometimes just a formality, following etiquettes. Sometimes when people are meeting a familiar face after long time, they take time to start a little conversation with a 'kako si (how are you)?'. These are friendly, sometimes chatty. It is always so nice to hear the warm and enthusiastic hellos in the less formal settings. But when addressed to a stranger, often times it seem more mechanical to me. Yet, one can get a feeling of belonging together in a same place if the response is a friendly one.

'Hello', 'how are you doing?', 'have a nice one'.. You can hear these one-liners all around San Francisco all the time, addressed to friends, acquaintances, just a known face, and complete strangers. While it can lead to a quick short chat among friends, colleagues who are catching up with each other or discussing business, often times I find it not to be so. Specially with acquaintance or stranger, the lines somehow seems to be thrown to the other person in a hurry. Then without waiting for a response, one moves on. And worst is when the response is just the repetition of the same question. In such cases, it seems not like a polite greeting but a hurried formality dumped on another. It is of course nice and polite to wish people one meets around during the day. However, when people are so rushed, this same act of politeness does not look polite anymore.

When we ask 'how are you?’, except for a few exceptions with close friends and family, we are not really interested in the answer. Both the person asking and the one being asked know it. We all do. This question is more a way to start up a conversation than a sincere one. When people are hurrying to keep in pace with this ultra-fast life, they just try to squeeze out a minute to have a quick chat. People ask how the other person is doing. And these hi-hello-how-are-you chats are always pleasant and fun when there is a moment to spare. But then, why bother to ask 'how are you?' when one is not even pretending to be asking? Then one even gets as an answer just the same question asked back with the similar nonchalant tone. Both rushes off with their life, without waiting for any answer at all. Well, the answer never comes, and actually, no one was expecting an answer in the first place! We cannot possibly spare time to engage in a chat with all the familiar faces we meet each day. However, in such cases a smiling nod, a hi, a good day etc show very well the acknowledgment in a polite manner. Asking a question without wanting to hear an answer or answering back with the same question is strange to me! It is even rude to a certain extent instead of being polite. It may not register to us as we go away in haste. No one thinks about the exchange in any negative way. It is just a style of greetings, a lifestyle. But, in a way it makes the fact more evident that how little we care, if at all. Everyone of us.. And that is one sad thing to realize..

Daisies

My first English book was the Grimm’s Fairy Tales. A world of princes, princesses, angry witches, cute animals, gingerbread houses, and magnificent palaces it was. I just loved reading the stories and adored the pretty illustrations. And besides all those pictures of handsome princes and pretty dresses and silly animals, there was this one picture that stood apart to me.

It is a picture from the story Little Red Riding Hood. Red Riding Hood on her way to her grandma is passing by the woods. There in a little open of the wood, the green is dotted white with gentle daisies. She stops to pick those up. Her basket is lying there on the grass, unattended. The big bad wolf is there from somewhere far peeking at her. She is sitting there, busy picking daisies. Her hands are already full. But she wishes more. Oblivious of everything she is lost in those gentle beauties.

This particular picture gave rise to a whispering wish in my heart. There was something very simple and innocent in that picture, which the little girl in me longed to experience. And along with many dreams from the fairy land, this wish was kept safe.

I have loved being in nature and amongst flowers from always. It showers me with some calming happiness. And the wild flowers growing for its own happiness always made me smile. I love wild flowers more than those in tended pretty gardens. The wild mountain flowers growing carelessly by the road filled me with such happiness during our summer mountain holidays. Sometimes I plucked a few. Sometimes I just admired their beauty from far. However, among all these wild flowers, the dream still remained untouched. But it was not lost. Someday, just someday, it will surely come true.

I reached Slovenia among all the hues of red autumn, and then witnessed a glorious winter. Then as the snow melted and the first blades of grass peeped out, I could see the footsteps of spring. It was my first spring in Slovenia. Flowers started to wake up from their winter slumber. Everything started to bloom. And also daisies. Lots and lots and lots and lots of daisies...

Daisies were everywhere. By the side of the road, on the green of the pavement, on the endless fields, and in the shade of the wood. Adorning the lovely green meadows, their gentle petals fluttered in the breeze. And how delighted and happy my heart was.

Every morning on way to work, I enjoyed them. Early morning, they were still sleeping, all curled up in a circle. Some had faint pink on the tip of the petals. Those looked like white discs with a pink dot. And as the gentle sun and morning dew touched them, they slowly woke up. They opened up to the warmth of the sun and freshness of morning breeze. The whole day long, they were just be there, smiling to the world, swinging gently, and again stopping to wonder. They said hi to bees and other flowers.

Over the weekends, I went for long walks in the nature. The sun, the green, the colors, and the daisies, it was such a beautiful spring morning. I picked one. I picked another. And.. Then slowly I went into the meadow leaving my road behind. I forgot other things. The only sound was the buzzing of bees. I was just enwrapped in the innocence of the daisies. My hands were full. But I still gently plucked another one. I had touched my dream..

Gentle and pristine were those daisies. And so was that little dream. Such precious little piece of happiness could this simple wish bring with it. I was happy and happy. My heart was fluttering.

I have so many dreams in life. Fulfillment of those makes me happy. Always makes me smile. And among those big big dreams, a little dream like this one, wrapped in fairytale, always remains as one most special. Because, like those daisies, these little dreams are also simple, gentle, and true in its essence. These dreams are the true whispers of my heart.

How much will you pay?

A few weeks ago, I was walking around at Hyde Street Pier, enjoying the view and maritime history. The roadsides were busy with vendors, most selling fashion accessories. There were also some painters making portraits and caricatures, along with some scenic views of San Francisco. Watching these street artists always remind me of the painters in Kolkata Book Fair, and recently of the artists in Rome. And, along came the memory of a little incident from Rome that had stirred me to the core.

Rome was a perfect destination for my summer holidays, a city of art and history. Rome presented to me a rich collection of paintings, sculptures, architectures, mythology, religion, culture, and practices. Every day I was just enjoying the glorious Renaissance arts; and was revisiting history in the heart of Roman Empire and Catholic world where all truths and myths became indistinguishable. But this is not about Rome. It is about a small insignificant incident I witnessed there, and which many may have witnessed in other touristy corners of the world. An incident so normal and usual to us, that it rarely leaves any mark.

You go to any famous Piazzas of Rome, there are many artists sitting there and painting, like many other tourists spots. There are many painters giving life to the history on the paper with their colors. Some are students from art colleges. Some enjoy painting as a hobby. However, for most it is a means of livelihood. They are selling those paintings to the tourists. They are painting portraits, caricatures, historic Rome, or some beautiful scenery of nature. And all these paintings too my amateur eyes looked really beautiful. Like always, I was admiring the works of these street painters as I was walking around in the afternoon.

We were on the top of the Spanish steps. Looking onto the lazy touristy city, we were enjoying the Bernini designed Piazza di Spagna with the interesting Fountain of the old boat and the famous steps lit in the afternoon sun. Like in other corners, here also were some artists. I could hear some woman bargaining with the artist somewhere close by. However, this bargaining was only like some background noise, as all my attention was to the famous display of architecture in front of me. Yet, soon, a single statement called all my attention to this bargaining.

Not satisfied with the price, the lady had decided to not buy the painting. As she started walking away, the artist in his last effort to sell, said, “okay madam, how much will you pay?”

'How much will you pay?' 'How much will you pay?' The question instantly struck me somewhere. In one moment, I was on the busy roads of Kolkata. 'O didi, bolun koto deben?' one of the most heard lines on the vendor busy sidewalks of New Market, Gariahat was echoed in a different language there in the streets of Rome. The last effort of one seller to sell a particular commodity. But.. Is a painting same as cushion covers, handbags, and fashion jewelry? A painting by Raphael is priceless, while that by some unknown artist is just a commodity! The words 'commercialization', 'market value' etc have made most creative art forms a commodity in today's practical world or have made it a lost art. Those who could make their name a brand get the price they ask. And for whatever practical reasons, many creators are forced to go through bargaining to sell their creations and earn bread. I am well aware of this reality. Standing there, I was not really questioning it. My heart was lost in some different thoughts.

I have never really learnt painting, but I enjoy doing it. It is something very close to my heart. I know my inexperienced efforts are neither perfect nor something great. But they are priceless to me. I create them with lots of love, respect and leave a piece of my heart in each of those creations. My drawings or any creation is very close to my heart. I am very possessive about them. And somewhere I believe, each one thinks the same about their own creations.

Standing in the city rich with art, I wondered, what did this particular artist think? What did he feel? What do they feel? Are these unknown artists thinking anything when the price of their creations is just limited to the price tag? Or is he not thinking anything at all? Trying to meet the ends in this everyday bargaining, is he then just another seller? Reality is keeping away his thoughts and feelings. Or is it that, everyday somewhere deep down, his creative soul is getting hurt? I do not know... I do not..

Houses in rows

I love houses in rows. Standing together, sharing walls, and yet they each have its own character. It is somehow to me a symmetric assortment of differences. Sometimes they look all same with a bit different colors, or bit touches here and there to reveal their individuality. Sometimes they are just all different in every way. In any case, they create some sense of uniformity. There is some element of belonging together in a community attached to it.

I never really saw row houses in India. It is not in the culture. Nowadays, some modern housing complexes have these symmetric looking houses. However, these do not share walls, and are somehow not the same. They do not also have this age associated with them and are simply too modern to be as charming. There are also these big old houses. Once belonging to a single family, now several people own them. A few families live together in complete separate units of these houses. They often color the outside walls of their portions in different colors. To me they are more like strange apartment building arrangements. The antique maze of these old houses has some appeal different from the row houses.

Walking around in Prešeren square, I for the first time saw real row houses by the side of the river Ljubljanica. They are old, and yet looked warm and inviting. Mostly in apartment style, they are not identical and even have a bit differences in heights. Colored in pale pink, green, yellow, cream, and with dark wooden roofs, they make a perfect picture by the riverbank. Some houses have these tiny rooftop balconies or rooms. I always imagine how nice it must be to have a bedroom up there and wake up to the bustling city center on some Saturday morning. The facades have little simple decorations from olden times. The windows are bright with red flowers in spring and summer. This place, the houses, I simply love so much. They have such a charming spell on me that one day I even dream to rent one of those apartments if possible. Often times when I am walking around the old city center, I enjoy and admire these houses. They form a perfect picturesque postcard, holding onto memories from good old ages.

My another very vibrant memory of these row houses are of those around the U-Street region, close to African-American Civil War Memorial in Washington DC. There houses are all painted in very vibrant colors of bright red, yellow, blue, pink, green. It is as if the whole neighborhood is celebrating in some party. Similarly colorful are the roads with bright row houses close to Georgetown University area. They look like wrapped in colorful papers into little presents. This brightness can make one's mood instantly cherry.

If one walks past the famous and busy skyscrapers, and the glitter of Times Square, the New York City neighborhoods present a very different ambiance. With many ethnic communities living in different parts, each has its own style. The common elements are only the row houses and the iron structures. Some areas have this monotone of different shades of cream or concrete colors. Some neighborhoods though painted in monochrome were sporting bright red or similar reddish hues. Some had the row houses painted in different colors. What make them more interesting are the iron structures. I loved the iron fire-escape ways and other iron details on windows or front doors. It looks all very interestingly symmetric. Then you turn the corner and it changes to a different sort of symmetry. But all changed dramatically when we reached the Chinatown. The row houses became more colorful, and with the traditional red gold decorations. It is like a crowded fair, the touristy roads. Lined with busy shops and their banners hanging by the side of the houses, these row houses presented a very festive mood.

In Washington and New York, I was a tourist. The row houses and neighborhoods I observed, therefore, were from a different point of view. I did not have the time to wander around leisurely. Living in San Francisco for 3 months allow me to do so. San Francisco is this city of mixed cultures with many cultural groups making the city colorful. I am staying in the Haight-Ashbury region where the bohemian subculture from during the 'Summer of Love' has left its impressions, making the neighborhood interestingly colorful. The wooden row houses in all shapes and sizes with very elaborate and gaudy facades line the roads. Being a hilly city, the row houses are somewhat elongated in shape. Their multistory structure enhances the impression. The houses are also characterized by a steep flight of stairs leading to the front door. What is interesting is that rather than sharing walls, most houses have the tiniest gap of barely a centimeter between the walls. Each house has a very different architectural design from the other. The colors range covers all hues in the palate. The highly ornate frontal in gold, silver, and white colors make the houses look very antique. One can just stand and admire one house for minutes before moving to the next one.

Row houses for me are somehow a presence of asymmetry in symmetry. Even though standing together, each is somehow a bit different from the other. All the different colors, decorations, sizes standing in a neat row make them interesting. Even when they are looking all same, small things like the window curtains, the little plant on the windowsill, the letterbox, the nameplate on front door etc, are all somehow telling stories of different families. Each somehow is like one individual, characteristic of its owners. I enjoy their colors, the neat postcard look, and the architecture. And then often times I just wonder about the families looking out through the similar windows. For me, each of these houses in rows has a different story to tell.

Y or Z??

I am talking about my kezboards. Ooops! Keyboards.

It was the first day of my visiting UCSF. I had to type in my name. And wow, I made spelling mistakes!! Z-s had replaced the y-s of my surname. Confused I looked at the keyboard. Welcome back to QWERTY keyboard. I had typed in like always without much looking at the keyboard, and failed to notice that the Y and Z kezs have interchanged positions. Oh there, it will be 'keys' not 'kezs' in the previous line. If I am not careful, I just continue making several mistypes.

It instantly reminded me of my first days with computer in Slovenia. The keyboards there have QWERTZ layout with additional special characters. The first days at work, I would just search around for a particular character for minutes. I interchanged y and z the thousandth time, and was searching for simple punctuation marks. I would simply forget the existence of the 'Alt Gr' key and try to figure out how to type in the curly braces while writing small scripts! I slowly started to get used to the new layout. But that would bring another problem. I still had my old laptop from India with the y and z in their old positions. New layout at work, old layout at home, it was such a confusion! I would mistype, and look at the keyboard and type again. Writing took like forever.
Anyway, after sometime, I got used to the new layout. I got a new laptop with QWERTZ keyboard. And life was again back to normal with one layout.

When I was visiting India last year, it was a bit funny using the home computer. However, I was not using computers much there, and that was rather amusing instead of being annoying.

But now I am back to square one.

I type z in place of y and y in place of z. And same thing happens when I am on my laptop. Each ';' of my scripts get replaced with a ':'. I do not know where to find the curly and square brackets. A few of the special characters are missing from work keyboard, and hence the keys are spaced differently. I am just slow and searching each character, making mistakes all the time. Often I search for the 'Alt Gr' key to type the '@' but do not find it on my keyboard. And then I forget about its existence and try to type '@' with a 'Shift'. It is a complete mess. I am working and concentrating on writing some commands and scripts, and then I have to shift all my concentration to the search of keys. Back in my room while going with the flow of my thoughts and writing, I again make mistakes. The keyboards are simply driving me crazy. Who will not be annoyed!?

So, if there are some exchanged y and z here, and spelling mistakes, you know who to blame..

Animal Planet

Animal planet is one of my favorite TV channels. When I was in high school, I was completely addicted to it. Now I am out of my 'addiction', but still love watching the channel. Discovering the wild secrets and peeking inside the world of animals is both fascinating and adorable. Wild, adorable, and magnificent, is the definition of animal world for me. So how much I am scared of dogs and do not really like to be in close proximity with animals, I do love them and like to know about them. Therefore, I like going to well-maintained zoos, or watch birds, and butterflies, frogs, insects and deer during some walks in the nature.

When I was planning this San Francisco visit for work, I was also happy to get a chance to explore a new city besides being busy with work. I always love traveling. And guess what my main attraction or interest was? No, it is not the famous Golden Gate Bridge. The Pier 39 sea lions were what I longed to see. Of course, I was also excited about the Golden Gate Bridge and planned to enjoy all other sites this colorful city has to offer. However, Pier 39 sea lions were on the top of my list. I wished to visit them before anything else. The first weekend after reaching San Francisco was rainy. As the sun shone the next weekend, I ventured out with all excitement to make friends with the sea lions.

Maybe some changing climate (? 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake) forced the sea lions to make the west Marina of Pier 39 their home. And then, the abundance of food and protected environment helped in their flourish until soon there were hundreds in the docks attracting tourists. However, in 2009-2010 the number of sea lions dropped down drastically for unknown reasons. Now, even though they have started returning, their community is not as big as before.

It was a bright sunny crisp Sunday and tourists filled the streets. Pier 39 was a cheerful assortment of all sorts of colors, sounds and activities. Shops were inviting and busy, people were busy walking around or sitting down lazily enjoying some fast food, live performances were going on. Finding my way through the colorful maze, I reached by the sea. White yachts and private boat lined the bay, Alcatraz island was in front of me. Sea gulls were flying and floating around making sharp calls. It was time for pictures and to admire the blue sea. Suddenly I noticed a sea lion in the sea. Away from others, it came out in the bay to explore and play around. Then soon it disappeared in the waves as a cruise boat passed by. Some animal sound was becoming distinct among all the noises, and as I walked ahead, the noise grew louder, like almost a barking sound. Cheering of people now joined in the sound. It is coming from the sea lions, I happily realized.

Crowds gathered at the edge to look at these adorable pinnipeds. There were around a hundred or so of them spreading over several empty docks. Most of them were lying and enjoying the nice sun. They were lazying around on top of each other oblivious of their surroundings. Some were busy swimming around, and going from one plank to another exploring them. Some were engaged in playful banter.

One was lying by the edge of the plank with its front flipper just touching the water. Gently playing with the water, it was lost in its own thoughts. Often they sat up, slowly scratched their chin, changed position, and then went back to sleep. Their lazy mood perfectly suited the lazy Sunday atmosphere.

Suddenly one started making sound, and others joined him one by one. Stirring the quiet air their loud 'unk unk' sound echoed around. And then, like it had started abruptly, their calls soon faded. It was such fun to watch these sloths walk over each other and go to the other side of the plank. Some liked to slide down in the water to enjoy a cool swim and then moved on to another plank for a rest. Or, it just went to a plank and put its front flippers and head up, observed for a while and then continued swimming.

One of the sea lions maybe wished some time alone and moved to an empty plank. It just got ready to enjoy a lonely rest, when another one joined in. Instantly the first one was annoyed. It wished the whole plank for himself; after all, he had got there first. So, he started to push this newcomer, frightening him with loud cries. The newcomer of course also did not give up so easily. And there started a fight. The timid newcomer however could not keep on holding to its position for long, and was soon pushed into the water. Instantly, the entertained crowd burst into a loud clap. The victorious sea lion turned around with an air of pride. However, now there was a sea gull to bother him. Amused by the previous fight this sea gull had come to enjoy the fight from close, and was sitting on the further edge of the plank. The sea lion barked long and loud enough until the sea gull was forced to fly on top of a nearby pole. Finally alone, this sea lion now laid down for its solitary rest.

I captured the sloth yet playful creatures in their several moods and poses. I also took a few short videos, as still pictures cannot do proper justice to these adorable characters. Slowly, I moved behind from the edge of the pier and gathered myself on one of the elevated platforms. I just sat there and looked ahead, relaxed and happy. In front of me was live Animal Planet. The sea lions continued their idle playful day....