Lavendermistwithglitter

“Special like stars” – the journey of Sitaara crafts

January 31, 2023January 31, 2023 by lavendermistwithglitter, posted in Autism, Life Lessons, Me, relationships, Uncategorized

Sitaara has been a journey like no other. A journey of two daughters and two mothers, and how, through helping their daughters stand independent, the mothers also gained independence and a deeper sense of purpose. I write this on behalf of myself and my partner-in-crime and now good friend Divya.

We together interviewed my daughter Tarini, 14 and Divya’s daughter Muskaan, 16, both children with special needs, about Sitaara. ‘Sitaara Crafts’ was launched with the intent of becoming a platform for children with disability to showcase their crafts, and took shape on 17 January, 2022 with the launch of its Instagram page. Through the months, it brought us so much joy, many achievements, some heartbreaks, lots of learning, and huge aspirations in terms of the road ahead for Sitaara. We hope you will share their story widely.

Q: So how did Sitaara come about?
Tarini: I had been asking my parents for some time to help me start an initiative as I was bored in COVID. I wanted to do something for other kids with disability. My mom agreed to support me, and she suggested the name “Sitaara” because it means star, or starlight, and my own name is so much like it. She chose the name “Sitaara” simply because it implies that all children with special needs are special like stars. My younger brother, Aadyant, 11 years, designed our logo. My great grandmother was born on 17 January, and we decided to launch on the auspicious day of her birth anniversary. We were soon joined by Muskaan. Muskaan and I were excited to get our stickers and visiting cards printed!

Q: Thank you. That’s interesting. What all does Sitaara showcase? What are your bestsellers and how did this evolve?
Muskaan: We try making crafts from waste or recycled materials. We want to make cloth totes fashionable for people. I have decorated so many white tote bags which have been a great hit on different festivals. My mom has scraps of cloth which we repurpose into small totes which people have loved to carry their books in!

Our “colored” totes, ideal for carrying books and other knick-knacks, have been a big hit!

Tarini: We also make jute coiled coasters on cut outs of old cardboard. These have been our bestsellers too. Also, when we receive an order, we use only recycled packaging – my mom has a ton of old Amazon and Myntra packets which we decorate and paint on to make them look different. We also make newspaper bags and paint them for our exhibitions.

Jute coiled coasters! They are all made on recycled cardboard pieces

Q: Wonderful. So tell us about your experience selling on Instagram, and also exhibitions. What challenges did you face?
Tarini: Selling through Instagram has been a wonderful experience. It is exciting to get orders. We have shipped to 20 states and 2 UTs in only the last one year. We use speed post which is economical and reliable. We have had hardly any cases when a packet did not reach, and even then, it comes back to us. On the challenges through social media, there are cases where people have canceled orders after we shipped, and 1-2 rare cases when they were not satisfied with the quality. So, we now try as much as possible to take advance payments because we now have a fair idea of shipping costs to almost all states! For the cases they were unhappy, we simply refunded. We want all our customers to be happy.

Muskaan: Our first exhibit was in October at my house society grounds. I felt so excited when our totes were picked up so fast, it was like they were flying off the table! At exhibitions we get to interact with people and tell them about us. But then exhibitions can get tiring and you need to stand for long so we try and choose wisely which ones Sitaara will take part in, and our moms help us decide.

Sitaara’s first exhibition in October 2022

The exhibit had totes and other crafts flying off the table! We used newspaper painted bags

Q: Your experience in both selling through IG and directly sounds awesome, that too at such a young age. Tell us what you think your biggest achievement is, so far?
Tarini: I think the fact that we have such a large and satisfied clientele all over India already.
Muskaan: That we got more than 150 orders, many of them repeat orders, in our very first year.

Sitaara’s first collection this year, called “Basant” marked the new year and the onset of spring

Q: Do you have other children collaborators too? How does one collaborate?
Muskaan: We have another young adult named Sunny who is hearing impaired. Bhaiya makes beautiful rakhis, origami products, and envelopes. We have a classmate Harshita who makes amazing hand-made rakhis and painted dupattas. We are open to more children and young adults with disability joining hands with us. They can simply send us pictures of their work, which we upload. When there is a sale, we arrange to collect and deliver the products. We then pay them either immediately or month end.

Rakhis (symbols of love between brothers and sisters) by our child collaborators were a hit

Q: So how is the work divided between you two?
Tarini: I take care of the social media marketing, I enjoy interacting with customers online. Where I have a doubt about what to reply, I ask mom. But I love designing too, whenever I can.

Muskaan: I paint and decorate the pouches and totes, which mom helps get stitched. I have also created and decorated bookmarks, tags and envelopes in my art classes for Sitaara. Tarini too creates things whenever she feels like, although her main job is marketing and for me it’s design, so our jobs are cut out.

Q: That’s super. We wish you both great luck as you move ahead. Any exciting plans for 2023?
Tarini: We also have special collections for each festival. Right now we have a cute Valentine’s collection of earthy kulhars (clay pots you have tea in) and painted glass jars filled with candy. We got these kulhars all the way from Jaipur on our holiday in early January. Whenever we had tea, we saved a kulhar to bring home. We made a hole in them and they can now grow plants. We love it when we reuse something instead of throwing it. It makes us feel important.

Muskaan: Thank you. We are excitedly looking at opportunities for exhibitions, and also keep trying for a collaboration and doing hands on work with some of the bigger NGOs. We would love to go there, spend time with people with disability, and help them. We are very excited to get an opportunity to showcase Sitaara on ‘Satviki’, the SpecialSaathi online shop where many autistic kids are getting an opportunity to display their crafts. SpecialSaathi is a community for autistic kids’ parents. We hope we will be able to bring our products to more people who will enjoy them. Do help us spread the word.

Thank you Muskaan and Tarini. Wish you all the best as you try and reach further for the stars. God Bless!

Hi I’m Tarini with mum Rashi. Here we are learning block printing from a neighbourhood aunt

Proud to be called my parents’ daughter

October 15, 2021October 15, 2021 by lavendermistwithglitter, posted in family, learnings, life, Life Lessons, relationships

“Rashi, can you and Tarini block print another ten bags, Meenakshi needs them by the 12th…”

This message from Aditi, who spearheads community initiatives in our colony, popped up on a Friday afternoon in the middle of yet another webex call. The weekend ahead was chock full with chores. No I couldn’t add block printing ten bags to my already crammed list! My immediate answer was a polite no, it would not be possible sorry Aditi. I thought I had set the matter to rest there, deleting the message with a flourish.

But it was not meant to be that way. Tarini saw the response to my message and immediately knew I had let an important opportunity pass. She likes being involved in community activities, and to the extent I can, I try and involve her and myself.

What followed was a Friday afternoon lost in a cloud of smoke, if I could put it that way. She had her way and the next day we collected the bags to be painted. Arranged to get the block seals back from Amita Aunty who had kindly taught us this art. Managed to complete all ten bags by Saturday noon, amongst sundry other activities including getting 1.5 years of pending work done by the carpenter.

But in case you’re wondering what exactly this post is about, it isn’t about the beautiful art of block printing nor about community work. It’s about the lady who wanted these bags (to give her Prasad in, a wonderful idea) and how I discovered over the phone call to decide how to deliver the bags, that she had a long long association with my parents. My mom had been her daughter’s first doctor when she had landed in Delhi and my dad had fixed a badly broken arm. She almost begged that my mom come over to see the Puja she had kept in her house, even if for five minutes. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and even Amita Aunty had turned out to be my mom’s former patient.

Amita Aunty, who taught us block printing at the local park

We made our way to deliver the bags. It was an experience seeing the lovely and intricately decorated “Golu Puja” at Meenakshi’s house and we came back showered with gifts and blessings.

My point about writing this post is one, that I should perhaps not be too quick to say no. Had Tarini not forced me to do this, I may never have met Meenakshi nor discovered the connection she shares with us.

Two, very near my parents’ 51st wedding anniversary and my dad’s 79th birthday which went by this 11 October I also want to convey to my parents that I’m proud to be called their daughter.

Their lives, lived with grace and dignity, above all with honesty, may not have taken them to the pinnacle of success measured in the conventional way. But if success is a life lived for others, serving and helping them in every way, they reached way beyond. I have a rich legacy to carry forward, as you see. 😊

The wondrous morning sky

June 1, 2021June 2, 2021 by lavendermistwithglitter, posted in learnings, life, Life Lessons, Musings, nature, observations

Stringing together my thoughts over several days and several tweets, I put together what the morning sky has taught me:

1. Life is about surprises: The sky on no two mornings is the same. It never fails to surprise.

Same balcony, same spot, but thousands of different sky pics!

2. But only if you look: For it to really surprise you, you need to look at it with the wonder of a child.

3. Impermanence adds to sweetness: The colours are ever-changing, and often ephemeral. The beauty of the sky is in its impermanence. Blink and you miss it.

Beauty in fragility
(image courtesy Ana @ANA33969822)

4. About never losing hope: The darkest nights produce the brightest stars. And even the darkest night will lead to dawn.

5. About resilience: “…the blue sky above never leaves…”

The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse by Charlie Mackesy
(thanks Michele @_naturesoul for introducing me to this series)

“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add colour to my sunset sky.”
Rabindranath Tagore

Raindrops

May 20, 2021May 21, 2021 by lavendermistwithglitter, posted in flowers, life, nature

…almost always make me smile.

Droplets from heaven on Morning glory or Ipomoea

A surprise, this flower. It sprouted within days of the seeds being thrown in and then climbed everywhere. The first bloom was a surprise, a total joy, but each subsequent set has brought me happiness. The flower seems almost luminescent! A real delight to photograph.

Then there’s this little pink flower called Vinca and it’s actually Periwinkle! I fooled myself thinking it’s something different 🙂 Resilient and pretty, it perks me up every morning.

And the third, this Balsam flower, another surprise! It survived in this little pot (matka) my mom gave me. I painted it, and one strong stalk of Balsam grew in it. Perhaps the colour, or the shape of the flowers reminds me of orchids and takes me someplace exotic…right from my balcony. Call it flower-portation!

If there’s one thing that helped me survive the utterly gloomy days of loss we have been through, it’s these plants 🪴 that became an island of solace and relief amongst the pain.

Five things I wish for after my trip to this hill station

December 9, 2020December 9, 2020 by lavendermistwithglitter, posted in travel

I was reading thru my posts again, and this one took me back to the old world charm of the town of Landour…so here it goes again, for you!

Lavendermistwithglitter

Mussoorie has been on my “wish list” of places to visit/re-visit for some time. We decided to make a trip to the “queen of the hills”, as it is known. The trip was nice and the place beautiful. But here are five things I wish for after getting back:

1. I wish getting there was easier.

I know the journey is as important as the destination and all that, but when we had to do a 2.5 hour taxi ride after landing from Delhi in one of the propeller planes that I absolutely hate, the trip didn’t seem as glamorous as I had imagined. One tip for those arriving by air – take the bypass road from Dehradun, not the highway. The driver gave us a choice, and we being clueless, opted for the highway as the bypass has a “kuccha” road for the first 3 km. But this easily…

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F is for Flower

November 16, 2020June 18, 2021 by lavendermistwithglitter, posted in life, nature

A uniquely shaped flower I found once upon a time, Mussoorie, March 2018

Also February, the month I was born. They say every flower is a soul blossoming in nature.

If I see my life as a string of flowers, here are the ones that have been most special to me through the years.

Dahlia, my birthday flower: My earliest flower memories are those of standing with my mother and sister in front of a bed of dahlias, a big one almost hugging my face (I am trying to dig out a picture, please wait for it!). My mother used to tell me when we came home from hospital after I was born we were welcomed by huge blooming dahlias. The dahlia is therefore my birthday flower, always special, and has taught me to look for the beauty in spring as the days turn warmer.

My signature flower 🙂 From a special visit to Sunder Nursery with my father, January 2019

Champa – of evening walks in my childhood: Champa reminds me of walks during summers long past and the joy of finding the perfect flower and inhaling its sweet fragrance.

This perfect flower! – ‘Champa ka ek phool’ (‘A single flower of Champa’, a story by Rabindranath Tagore)

More recently I discovered that this lovely flower is not unique to India. I found a slightly larger version during my visit to Sri Lanka, and it had the most beautiful name – Araliya. I bought incense sticks from the airport with an Araliya fragrance and they are my most precious purchase. My friends on Twitter (@MahendrawathiER) tell me this flower is found in other parts of Asia as well. It is known as Kamboja in Bahasa Indonesia, Jepun in Bali…or simply, Plumeria (Frangipani). So many beautiful names, one beautiful flower.

The Araliya – associated with worship in Sri Lankan tradition

Jasmine, my string of pearls: Further on, I remember those days spent with my aunt (masi) who taught me that strings of jasmine placed strategically in front of an air-conditioner will produce a sweetly fragranced room. I loved that! And still do now. My mother has these pots of jasmine that give us a bounty of flowers every summer. A few on the desk and the fragrance lasts through the day.

As my “pinned” tweet on Twitter says, jasmine is my favourite summer flower. I call it my “string of pearls” when they string them together and sell them at crossings. Do you know why?

In remembrance of a little boy I met at a crossing once, back in May 2017 selling strings of jasmine flower. I realized I hadn’t money to buy even one. The boy perhaps felt my disappointment. As the light turned green, he pushed a string through the window, then disappeared in the blink of an eye. I’ll never forget the gesture nor that particular string of jasmine flowers. Jasmine thus became my string of pearls.

The original “string of pearls”, May 2017

Chameli, of stars falling on earth. Of late, I have been fascinated by another species of jasmine, the “chameli”. We have a “chameli ki bel” (vine) growing in our terrace. The flowers remind me of fallen stars.

If stars were to fall down on earth, they would take the name “chameli”

Shiuli, the flower of grace: Pretty and fragile, the Shiuli or Parijat flower signifies Autumn, the onset of the festive season. I would see carpets of fallen Shiuli during my early morning walks in October, and try and grab a few from the ground to bring home. As the pretty white flower with its orange stem falls soundlessly, the sweet smell of the Shiuli lingers. A flower that truly symbolizes grace, fragility, beauty. I once asked my Twitter friend Norann (@NorannV) to define grace. “Endless amounts of undeserved love,” she says.

Fallen Shiuli at my morning walk, a symbol of eternal grace!

Periwinkle, my little flower of resilience: More recently, I have been inspired by the ‘sadabahar’ (ever blooming blossom), i.e. the periwinkle flower, also known by the lovely name ‘nayantara’ (star of one’s eye). It grows in the toughest of situations, sometimes out of a cemented wall. It has taught me to bloom, whatever the circumstances. Flower of strength, flower of resilience.

Periwinkle – even if alone and against all adversity, I stand tall

Marigold, flower for all seasons: Nothing spells Diwali quite like the rich marigold. The distinct fragrance of this flower holds special festive memories. My mother gifted me this African marigold plant this year, one of the best gifts I could ask for as I embark upon creating my own garden.

Madhumalti, my lockdown flower: A flower that blooms in summer, and grows in our driveway, which transformed from being a place of transit to the outside world, to being that world itself, during the summer of 2020. These bunches of Madhumalti, also called Rangoon Creeper, or Chinese honeysuckle, will be an enduring reminder of the Corona lockdown of 2020.

Bunches of the Madhumalti flower from our driveway

Rose, the world’s most beloved flower: How can it not be mine? A rose memory I have is naming the roses in our school garden with my best friend. I especially remember “butter and jam”, a pale yellow rose with tints of red. Over the years, roses have been testimony to special occasions, but none have been as special as the ones my mother has in her terrace garden – they bloom when the jasmines do, and the mix is a heady one.

My mother’s rose bush…which she has nurtured through the years

Life has many seasons, and through all of these flowers have defined my changing identity. They have taught me at various points about the joy of spreading happiness, the impermanence and fragility of life, but also about the immense beauty and grace there is to appreciate and enjoy in nature. I hope we can celebrate flowers, the same way they celebrate us!

It was not easy selecting the pics of flowers to post – I have so many of them

P.S. More recently, I rediscovered my love for flowers through my Twitter community of friends. I love to see and share flower pictures, as much as I wait for special days and hashtags (#flowersonfriday, #sixonsaturday). But this post is especially dedicated to my mother from whom I learnt everything I know about gardening and flowers.

“Above all, I must have flowers, always and always” – Claude Monet

Chilli plant in a bathtub

October 23, 2020December 5, 2020 by lavendermistwithglitter, posted in life, relationships

“And the memories bring back, memories bring back you…”

Maroon 5 (Memories)

Chilli plant? In a bathtub? Let me begin by telling you a story…

There was once a daughter-in-law. Young, and despite an inherently docile nature, rather stubborn and fiery, if instigated, and also very sensitive. When she got married about 14 years ago into a strange new family, having led a very sheltered life so far, she had to face new people and new challenges, one of which was a not-so-easy relationship with her father-in-law.

It wasn’t that she had not been warned. Maybe just a couple of days after she entered this new house, her sister-in-law, who had been married in the family for a few years before her, gave her some quick advice. What she said proved prophetic.

Mother-in–law and father-in-law (the latter known by all as “daddy”) are both nice people, but there will be those minor, day-to-day issues, nothing big, but minor, irritating issues. You have to deal with them. And one thing, always remember – daddy is the mother-in-law in this house.

She perhaps did not understand the full import of her sister-in-law’s words, nor did they make much sense to her, until the sparks started to fly. If she needed anything, she was usually too shy or maybe too proud to ask it of daddy directly. This would hurt his large-sized ego, and his complaints would in turn hurt her. In her confidence she thought she could handle anyone and anything. But it turned out, not him. The first few days and weeks went by with one storm too many. She would “hate” him, as she would tell her father, who would counsel her to be at least mindful of him being more than double her age.

Daddy in healthier times, playing along with granddaughter trying filters on him — Not too long ago, fooling around with granddaughter

Things changed when she had her first baby. This was when she first saw the soft side of daddy, who transformed into the most loving grandfather, showering his new grandchild with everything she could need and also sometimes being the only one who could soothe her. He was also always the first to get her things they did not even know the child would graduate to – her first Lego set, her first Beados, her scootie (which her younger brother still runs) and lots more. She had to only say she needed something, and old as he already was, he would rush to the market and procure it like magic. One of these was a cream-colored Mothercare baby bathtub, which became a prized possession, also used by the baby brother, born three years later.

By then of course Daddy was older, with a bed-ridden wife to look after, but who loved the company of his first ever grandson (the other three are granddaughters) and often got into loving fist fights with him. He still “controlled” the house. Anything you needed, you had to ask daddy. Still.

Then came the illness that changed everything. One day her husband asked daddy why he had started walking so slowly, with his head bent. He laughed it off saying it was just old age. But soon whatever this was (a neurological condition, largely undiagnosed, probably Parkinson’s ++) seemed to take over everything, all his muscles slowly, and then even his lungs, until one day in July 2018 that she was unlikely to forget in her life, he had to be rushed into hospital with low oxygen.

There he remained for over two months fighting through episode after episode, after each of which his family thought they’d lost him. But a great fighter, he seemed to come out of them all. When breathing through tubes became difficult, he had to have a tracheostomy, which took away his voice, but gave him relative stability for over two years, on and off the ventilator he had at home, with a very dedicated male nurse who still serves him to this day. A week ago however daddy slipped into unconsciousness. Busy with her own problems and challenges over the last six months, she had taken his presence for granted. Where she used to meet him weekly, she had stopped stepping out due to Covid.

So yes that daughter-in-law is me, now 14 years older and perhaps wiser than I was back in 2006. Through the weekend when daddy slipped into unconsciousness, I too slipped back in time and reflected on my relationship with this man which had over the years turned from one of hate and conflict into one of love and mutual respect. Where he was once proud and straight, he was now bent over and dependent on his nurse and anyone else for the most basic of needs. When I would meet him and give him my hand, he would almost always say he was fine (thumbs up), even if he was not. He would signal and ask about everyone else even though he was not okay. Shaken by this last episode, I realized how the tables were probably turned.

Daddy more recently, with his tubes, speaking through his eyes — A more recent pic – how do I caption this? Speaking thru’ his eyes

I wandered into the balcony where in the same cream-colored Mothercare bathtub which my children had long since outgrown now blooms a chilli plant that my husband planted. Was this ‘chilli plant in a bathtub’ a metaphor for my relationship with daddy? Spicy at the beginning, nurturing and life-giving now because of my children, his grandchildren. The delicate, bowing flowers always reminding me that life is fragile and, well, humbles us as we age.

Daddy, I was always too proud to call you daddy. In your life however you taught me that it is in humility and grace that we become taller. It is in bending that we become straight. And that in the end it’s just the memories that sustain us.

The bath tub with the chilli plant. It sometimes gives us green chilli, sometimes red chilli, but there’s never a dearth of chilli in our house 🙂

P.S. I wish to thank my lovely friend Norann Voll at Bruderhof (@NorannV on Twitter) who through her comments on my draft encouraged me to use the powerful image of the ‘chilli plant in a bathtub’ as a metaphor for my relationship with my dad-in-law, and thus helped me write a special piece for him.

Mickie and Winnie – a tale of two guinea pigs

April 12, 2020December 5, 2020 by lavendermistwithglitter, posted in life, relationships

This is a tale of two guinea pigs, part joy, part sad. And I don’t know exactly where to start telling this tale. To cut a long story short, my 12-year old daughter, a girl on the autism spectrum, had always wanted a pet. She had her heart set on having a hamster or a guinea pig, and did endless research on how to take care of these pets, actually believing that we would one day get her one. I, however, had no such plans, and made elaborate reward charts that ended up not working. Finally, a difficult phase in her autism journey meant we had to end up in hospital this March 11. I call the hospital visit part trauma, part healing. Healing because of the large garden where we were allowed to walk in during the day, and also because of these tiny creatures – the guinea pigs – she herself discovered the hospital kept, which meant daily visits to their enclosure and endless waits for the caretaker to open the gate and feed them. The girl would not budge till the caretaker appeared with food and hay. The animals would squeak loudly each time we went near their enclosure, and seeing her joy, we finally agreed to carry back not one, but three of them, when she was discharged. She had her heart set upon this little brown one which looked different from the others – she and her brother named him Rusty. So in went Rusty, along with Chip and Plag.

Where we first saw the guinea pigs…hospital

Part 1 of the tale is simply that we kept these three for only a few days. Being autistic, she felt stressed that she was not able to look after them. We too felt worried that we had made a mistake to bring in these animals at the time of coronavirus, however misplaced the logic of their being carriers. When we saw a window of willingness to give them away, I got my husband to pack them up, put ribbons around their heads, and take them to the deer park, which has a huge enclosure for rabbits and guinea pigs. The caretaker put up a valiant fight about not accepting them, but gave in to my husband’s persistence. He however said firmly that he would not, under any circumstances give them back, else he loses his job.

But sure enough, things are never linear with an autistic child. Within days she regretted giving the guinea pigs (and especially Rusty who she had wanted to keep back) away and wanted them back. We did try to do the impossible, climbing over the deer park gate (by then a partial lock down was in place) on 23 March, almost begging to get those three, or any, back. The caretaker flatly refused, and since his job was at stake, we left it at that. We were left with no choice but to go to the hospital and try and get more. With the partial lock down on, the hospital too refused to give any more guinea pigs. That sounded like a death knell, what would we do? How would we make her understand? I told my husband to stay on and not return too early so I had time to prepare her and myself. He finally called that he had been successful, and came home armed with these two guinea pigs my kids called Mickie and Winnie. They came just a day before my daughter’s birthday on 24 March, and they were really her best birthday present ever. They even made it to her little birthday celebration, in a basket. I always joked that she had to finally go to hospital to get her pet. 24 March was also the day the PM announced a complete shutdown. We were just in time.

Part 2 of the tale is that we slowly got used to having these pets at home. There were huge tantrums as their cage, which had been ordered before the lock down, had never reached us. It was at the warehouse, and couldn’t be delivered. I made at least ten frantic calls to Amazon requesting them to mark this “essential” and get it delivered. They too may have wondered how a rabbit cage had become an emergency. For us, it certainly was.

Finally, my daughter agreed to have them in her balcony, which has grills with very small holes. I convinced her that they were perfectly safe there, and had enough sunshine and air, and space to run. For three weeks they remained well. While she initially found them boring, she slowly grew to love these gentle and docile creatures, and spent entire afternoons playing, building tunnels and hideouts out of empty boxes and cans. Mickie was the bigger one, the extrovert, foodie, who would squeak loudly when we came, and definitely each morning when he saw anyone near the balcony, as he would be hungry. Winnie, the small one, shy, would eat when no one was watching. My daughter would love to pick her up and play with her as she was also the cuter one. “Winnie, you’re so cute,” was her favourite sentence. I too, while initially grudging the presence of these animals which had increased our work at a time when there is very little help at home, and also because I always got hyper about hands not being washed after touching them, slowly got fond of these pets. I took to wishing them good night every night. “Good night Mickie, good night Winnie.” They would just stare. I would feel bad to leave them, but there was always the morning to play more, when they would squeak and welcome us. Last night I didn’t know it would be the last time I wished both of them good night.

This morning, April 12, eerily exactly a month after her hospital admission, I noticed just one guinea pig staring out of the mud house (a bird house from my mom’s terrace). It also didn’t squeak when I went in. In my hurry to get my chores done, I left it at that, thinking the other one must be around somewhere. However, soon, our house help who cleans out the balcony every morning, announced that there was only one guinea pig. Winnie was missing.

We initially didn’t believe her, searched the balcony as well as the house, only to not find her. There was still hope until my husband went down to investigate and found Winnie lying lifeless on the ground floor balcony. I don’t know how it happened and how it was possible for her to fall through the small grills or maybe the drainage pipe which too was small. But she was small and may have tried to squeeze her way through some crack. I don’t think we will ever know, and I do not want to. But I feel guilty about being so confident that the place was completely safe. Later, we noticed an extra space just under the grills.

For the first time also, I do understand why pet owners feel sad when they lose a pet. Things didn’t seem quite the same without Winnie. I used to joke to my son every morning, come let’s at least see if your guinea pigs are alive or dead, he would joke back, why would they be dead?? I feel bad about that joke now.

Mickie the foodie…
(See that toilet roll my daughter placed for fun? I sometimes wonder if there is a scientific explanation for Winnie being able to squeeze thru a round hole easier than a square one?? Could she have gone thru that?)

The bird house converted into the guinea pig mud house

Tunnels and hideouts brought in immense fun…

I also debated whether to tell my daughter the truth. I first thought I would lie, saying we really don’t know where Winnie went. She is a sensitive kid, and may not be able to take it. But I underestimate the girl’s sixth sense. She instinctively knew Winnie was gone. She asked me, just tell me if Winnie is alive or dead. Out tumbled the truth, hard to deal with, but I think it is important she faces it and finds her own ways of coping with it. It is heartening to see her play with Mickie again, who had gone silent today, and to see the children trying to keep him amused with their soft toys so he doesn’t feel alone. She told me that she wants to look after Mickie till he is alive. At least we still have him.

We are still dealing with the loss of Winnie the guinea pig. Just an experimental animal? Just a rodent? Not really. These little things brought a lot of joy to us, a lot of healing for my daughter, and taught me about the transience of life. One minute there, the other minute gone. I have promised her more if she still wants them (she wanted to build a guinea pig farm but now feels bad thinking about it). Meanwhile, all I want to say is RIP Winnie, you cutie pie. Thanks for bringing us joy and showing us what it means to love a pet.

Job loss: The hidden side

October 2, 2019December 6, 2020 by lavendermistwithglitter, posted in life, relationships

I was at my son’s Parent-Teacher-Meeting (PTM) last Friday and had just finished speaking with his teacher when my husband called. 8 am. Why was he calling so early? There was an uncomfortable pause. I sensed something wrong. A horrible feeling that something had happened to my father-in-law, who had been ill for months came over me. “…what happened?,” I asked finally. “My services are getting terminated,” was what I thought I heard. Did I hear correct? Wasn’t this something that only happened to others, or in nightmares? I quickly told him to come back (he works in Mumbai, a different city from where we live in Delhi), cut the call in shock and then proceeded to try and act normal, meet with other teachers, my head in a whirl and my heart thumping. That very moment my dad was at his cardiac checkup, and my mother sent me a message that his ECG was being done. But here I was, unable to share this with anyone. Not yet.

As the day wore on, the shock and pain remained raw. My husband has worked for the same bank these past 13 years, and had joined it just before we got married in 2006. For the past nearly eight years he had been shuttling between the two cities, back only on weekends, and travelling on late night and early morning trains and red eye flights. My mind went back to all those years, all the times he had traveled to and fro, and how although it had not been easy, I had always taken over seamlessly, hoping that the children would never feel his absence. Now this was seemingly his last visit back, home. That night I couldn’t sleep. I waited to receive him.

In the days that followed, there was mostly sadness and despair that followed the initial shock, and what I perceived as extra responsibility on my shoulders as the only “earning” member of the family. The first weekend after the job loss was perhaps the most painful. While we usually always suffered from “Sunday evening blues” thinking about the working week ahead, suddenly, there was no job to go to. Unusual, because I don’t remember my husband taking many days off in the years he has worked, even if he were ill.

I nevertheless saw silver linings. The friends, my “network” although I do not like to call them that, with whom in the rapid pace of life I had not bothered to really spend time with, rushed to help with just a call for help. My family pitched in quietly with help when most needed. Everyone came forward to offer whatever best was in their hands. Some offered counselling, support, and sharing their own painful experience and what they had learnt. I will tend never to forget these people and the feeling of comfort and support I got.

A few things I learnt through the ordeal:
1. If someone reaches out for your help, then do anything, but help them. Yours may be just the line of hope that can make all the difference to them.
2. Cherish your friends that stood by you in times of need. Make sure you are there for them when they need you.
3. Be grateful for your job, your family, and everything else that you have. We tend to realize the value of things most when they are taken away from us.

I am not sure how long this will go on or how it will end. But I see value in taking one day at a time and following my father’s dictum that “something good will come out of this also.” Keeping that in mind, and keeping the faith, I move on, but will hopefully not forget the lessons hidden in there. I also hope this experience teaches me to be more sensitive if I ever find a friend or co-worker in a similar situation. As an old friend who had gone through a similar experience said with the benefit of hindsight and on a lighter note, “it’s an amazing experience, actually!…you will never forget it your entire life.”

What Sweden taught me about sustainability

June 19, 2019May 21, 2021 by lavendermistwithglitter, posted in travel

The Funicular rail at Skansen, Stockholm, is a great way of going up and down this open air museum which showcases the Swedish way of life — A view of the Funicular @Skansen, Stockholm

All I could see from the airplane window were rows upon rows of coniferous trees, no buildings at all. Although not quite until we were in the open did I feel the strong chilly winds, this place seemed different. The wooden floors at the airport made it feel different from any place I had been before, leave aside London perhaps. This was Scandinavia! And I did feel like I was in a Nordic country, close to the North Pole. Here’s what I took back home from this visit:

Segregated garbage bins (waste, plastics, paper, glass & metal) outside the Nordiska Museet (Nordic Museum) show how recycling can be a way of life — Please help us recycle…Nordiska Museet, Stockholm

Make sustainability part of your daily life. Perhaps because the climate has always been harsh (if summer is so chilly, I shudder to think what winter must be like), Swedes have learnt to adapt, and make the most of what they are endowed with. Also importantly, to build sustainability into their daily lives. This was visible everywhere. Outside the Nordic museum where segregated dustbins for waste, plastics, paper, and glass/metal, urge you to dispose of waste responsibly – “please help us recycle”, the sign said. Inside it, where the drinking water fountain is turned off when not in use (realized this only after a bit of struggle). At the Vasa museum cafe where a sign nudges you to take only the number of tissues you really need. At the hotel in Stockholm, where instead of rows upon rows of mini toiletries, were found two of the thinnest slices of soap, and a hair & body gel you could squeeze out, and therefore take only as much as you used. At the airport where a machine asks you to feed it used bottles and cans.
The cloth bag can be your style statement. This is a separate point, because it is so important. I saw the locals carrying their own cloth bags everywhere, in shops, on public transport, most anywhere. And they carried them proudly. Almost like a style statement. Most shops there do not provide free bags. They will ask – “do you need to buy a bag”? Note the word “buy”. Not, “do you need a bag”? The word “buy” at once makes it clear that you are paying for the bag. Sustainability messaging, here too, exhorts you to carry your own bag. “Do you really need that plastic bag?” – one of the signs (one of the few I missed clicking!) at the airport shop said.
Go “fika” like the Swedes. One can never be too busy for a fika (used both as a noun and a verb). Often translated as a “coffee and cake break”, the fika is “a concept, a state of mind, an attitude, and an important part of Swedish culture”. It means making time for friends and colleagues to share a cup of coffee and “something sweet”. Importantly, it is never alone, and is as much about socializing as it is about the food. I saw Swedes out in coffee shops early mid-day, having their fika. I too had my fika moment with this giant cinnamon bun from Cafe Husaren in Gothenburg (see pic). Couldn’t finish even a quarter of it, but the Hagabullen had to be experienced (“it’s famous for a reason”)! The taste of cinnamon rolls (kanelbulle) with coffee (kaffe) may be my most lasting memory of this beautiful country.
Prioritize safety. The biggest reason I was here though was that I had been hearing for years, not only about how Sweden is consistently amongst the top countries on quality of life ratings, but also about how safe its roads are. Was there something in the culture that makes them so? After a few days of walking about (much like a queen) on those pedestrian crossings and sidewalks both in Stockholm and Gothenburg, the answer came to me, quite suddenly: it’s the way they have built (or rather, as I read later, completely re-built) their roads to prioritize safety over speed and other considerations. I found that the crosswalks were very narrow, making crossing the streets a breeze. There were signs and reminders everywhere, on the streets and also the highways. Even if you did make a mistake, the road design would “forgive” and save you. Second, it’s in the discipline in the drivers. You could walk blindfolded across the street, and come away unscathed.
“Where the streets are meant for walking (or cycling)”. A traffic sign with a father and child holding hands and walking caught my attention on the road from Stockholm from Gothenburg. After some research, I found that this means – this is a “pedestrian street”. Signs for pedestrian streets or “home zones” mean these are streets where vehicles have certain speed and parking restrictions, and they must give way to pedestrians.
Thus making it very easy to walk and cycle. On a Monday morning I found so many people cycling so busily to work on the bicycle lanes that I got a huge complex thinking how I would be in a car at this very time, had I been home, in Delhi. What a healthy mode of transport! With zero pollution around, and also no contribution to it.
Make public transport the default choice. Like all developed countries, the public transport system is so efficient, I wouldn’t imagine why one would need a car. At Stockholm, the station for the light rail (Tvärbanan), which helps extend the bus and rail network, was literally outside the hotel. The “last mile” was therefore some 10 steps of walking. Buses mostly run on biodiesel. The Stockholm subway system, modern and efficient as it is, also happens to be the world’s largest art exhibit. At Gothenburg, the tram has an old world feel but lends to the city its very distinct charm and character. You see it slithering around the whole city (it did remind me of a snake now, it did!). Where you do see cars parked, it is common to see them charging. The passenger ferry makes for a calming ride (there’s something about water and calm, I’m convinced).
‘Tis an equal society. Nothing says this clearer than the traffic signs – the father and child at the pedestrian streets, and the soon ubiquitous Ms. Pedestrian, who alternates with Mr. Pedestrian at pedestrian crossings. At first this was a shock to me, but I slowly got used to seeing the “lady” at the crosswalks in Stockholm.
Sometimes, it’s ok to pay for services we take for granted. Though not expensive, it did come as a bit of a surprise that public restrooms all over Sweden often cost money (about five krona) to use (and it has to be the exact change, please, which may be a bit inconvenient). At a restaurant, you may have to ask your waiter for the bathroom lock code. Restrooms are modern and clean however. Although this took some getting used to, I realized sometimes, it’s ok to make people pay, in return for better services and perhaps in the interest of sustainability.

The water fountain at the Nordiska Museet (Nordic Museum) in Djurgården, Stockholm, Sweden is left closed when not in use. — The drinking water fountain at the Nordic museum is turned off when not in use

Sustainability in the hotel industry, Motel L Hammarby Sjöstad, Stockholm, Sweden — Sustainable practices in the hotel industry

Recycling your bottles and cans at a Pantamera machine in Gothenburg Landvetta Airport, Sweden — Where recycling is a way of life…

Vasa Museum (Stockholm, Sweden) messaging for sustainability: take only the number of napkins/tissues you really need — Sustainability messaging

The souvenir shop at Liseberg, Gothenburg (Sweden) selling cloth bags — Choose the cloth bag

At the Haga, Gothenburg, Sweden: a Swedish Fika break — Going *fika*!

The Hagabullen and cafe latte (for Fika) at Cafe Husaren, Haga, Gothenburg, Sweden — My Swedish *fika* with the Hagabullen

Pedestrian sign, Gothenburg, Sweden: This is a pedestrian street — The pedestrian street sign

Home Zone pedestrian sign at a street in Haga, Gothenburg, Sweden — This is a “home zone”…

Showing the bicycling and pedestrian streets near the Hotel Waterfront, Gothenburg, Sweden — Where the streets are meant for walking/cycling (Gothenburg)

Monday morning at Stockholm, people cycling to work — Monday morning @Stockholm

Stockholm tram station showing the crosswalks and pedestrian crossing signs — Couldn’t get easier to cross a street

On a Swedish road (by bus) - from Stockholm to Gothenburg — On a Swedish road – signs (and crash barriers) everywhere

Solna Tram or Light Rail (Tvärbanan) Station, Stockholm, Sweden — Home is where the tram drops you off (Stockholm)

Göteborgs spårvägar is part of the public transport system organised by Göteborgs spårvägar. Gothenburg, Sweden — The efficient little tram (Tvärbanan) snakin’ thru’ Gothenburg

Stockholm underground (metro), the largest art exhibit in the world — The Stockholm metro – the largest art exhibit in the world

Buses running on biodiesel, at Djurgården, Stockholm, Sweden — Biodieselbuss

Electric car charging in Gothenburg, Sweden — Charging up…

A passenger ferry at Djurgården, Stockholm, Sweden — Sailing on calm waters

Lady at the Stockholm, Sweden crosswalks (pedestrian crossings) — The “lady” at the crosswalk

After a whole week of walking around, clicking the traffic signs (and the scenery! – Sweden is beautiful wherever you look), observing the crossings, having my fika, and wondering how they built such a sustainable society, I do not think I came back with all of the answers.

I do suspect however that those coniferous trees, standing silent and tall in the frosty air, whisper many, many more secrets.