Hi Googlies, 20/4/10
PTL! Thank you Mama Mary!
On 15th, I finally sent a letter to Maria, the Junior Herald Editor, asking her for the negative ltrs and pleading for my fortnightly slot. I haven’t got any reply letter but today one of the middles was published. It was a great relief, I tell you! I started sobbing when I saw my name. Actually these days I have been going to the paper reluctantly esp. on my allotted day i.e. Fri and today too I just didn’t want to be disappointed because none of my features or reports were being published and I felt I was being boycotted. I was doing some work on the comp and Glenn comes into the room and say, “You’re back!” and I was like ‘What?’ Then I saw they had published ‘P’ for politics, ‘P’ for prayer. Of course, they had used the scissors profusely so I’ll post the original version here as well as the edited one. Mama Mary worked this miracle for me coz I prayed to her with tears yday at Mass.
Celia just called to congratulate me and Ophelia and Anthony S. sent smses. I send the alert to 10 friends in a distribution list whenever my article comes in Herald so they can read. They have been following my work and enjoy them.
Before that, she worked another miracle: Glenn had said No to being Rosemary’s Godpa. I had already booked myself as Godma even before she was born. Yday after we returned home from mass, he came by himself and said Yes. Maria had told me to pray and ask again on 19th but I was feeling bad to say its No so I waited till we came home. Imagine my surprise and delight when Glen changed his mind! So I say it has to be Mother’s doing.
The parish is having their fete from yday evening. Kirsten is volunteering in one of the games stall. We went down for the entire show yday and will go again today and tomorrow. On 22, Glenn & I have a date – we are going for the tiatr while Kirsten babysits. Russel is here to stay for these three days; he’s my s-i-l’s son and our godchild. He has grown so tall; my eldest son looks like a dwarfed version of him. They both are like bros and so they roam together and tease girls together and …
Chalo, bye for now. Got to cook lunch for the hungry bunch. Just making chicken as Glenn made a huge stack of chapattis to go with it. We snack at the fete in the night so I don’t have to cook these days. Small mercies, huh?
From the heart.
Auriel.
Article Follows:
‘P’ for Politics, ‘P’ for Prayer.
‘Mr. M.P. charged in land-filling case’, ‘Mr. J.F. held for rape of R…’, ‘UP Minister caught in sleazy video’, ‘CM runs away from home’. Oh, I can go on and on and on. A single thread runs through all these headlines – a politician’s human failings and subsequent falling. As recipients of the decisions these men and women make for our welfare or ‘woe’fare, we have the right and responsibility to act. Often, however, we only react. Either we get volatile, spewing venom, or we remain passive, ‘tut-tut’ing in protest. In rare cases, we act, as the villagers did at the rally on March 4th to implement the RP.
I must admit, at the onset, that I too am guilty of reacting to the deeds of our politicians. Who likes to hear heinous tales of a hormone-hippy MLA or a money-mad MP? Whether one rapes a woman or a piece of land the havoc created is the same. People are hurt, lives are destroyed, trust is lost. Of course, it angers me when I see the poor victimized so that the rich can buy them with their own money. It saddens me to think of women treated like prostitutes in their homes or workplace, abused and misused just because they are dependent on their ‘bosses’. I am aghast to hear that hospitals leech their patients dry when they should be giving them a new lease of life. And I have to hang my head down in shame that I have elected to the chair a person who is most likely going to bring the downfall of my country or state.
So I urge my fellow compatriots actively engaged in the battle to create a change of heart in our leaders, to get down on your knees with me and pray for them.
Jesus said once, “Have the faith to move mountains.” Is our faith that strong? When Joshua believed God and circled the mighty wall of Jericho, it came crumbling down. David defeated and killed the giant Goliath with stones, flung from a child’s catapult. Daniel was protected by God in the lion’s den and Joseph was given the post of governor in Pharoah’s court so he could save his family. God is definitely all-powerful. I am certain He alone can turn things around, if we only give Him full control. We need do only whatever he tells us to, and our actions should always be coupled with compassion - for our politicians were created as pure as we were in their mother’s wombs.
Pray for them – ‘They do not know what they do’. When the rich man died and went to Hades, he realized too late that all the ill-gotten wealth he had accumulated was of no use. It could not even get him a drop of water to assuage the heat of Hell’s fire. Many of our politicians amass wealth for their children and their children’s children at the cost of our children and our children’s children. They need our prayers desperately for their children will inherit their sins as well.
Pray for them – ‘They do things so that people may see and praise their deeds’. Ever heard of the herd mentality? We see it in young men and women, teenagers especially. ‘Everybody is doing it so I too must join the bandwagon. If I don’t I will be sidelined, ostracized even. I will lose my position, my power, my prestige.’ Our leaders too are rarely ‘one of a kind’. They all ‘herd’le together forming a well-knit family of fiends. The Zilla Parishad elections have been a classic example of this herd mentality. The fanaticism each party exhibits and upholds so fervently is distressing. So pray for true democracy and for ‘one of a kind’ leaders like we had in the past – Gandhiji, Nehru, and now Rahul Gandhi.
Pray for them – ‘Their God is money.’ All politicians begin with good intentions but somewhere along the line they forget these and embrace the immoral ideals of stalwarts in the field. Who ever heard of leaders having cars and houses on a meagre salary in the past? Even if they claim to be doing honest work, is that the right example to give the aam aadmi who has to walk with blistered feet and live in thatched huts? Even the attire they don is as expensive as their taste in branded models. Khadi, once spun by Gandhi on a chakra for a song, now costs a bomb. Visits to casinos, fist fights in airplanes, manhandling reporters are all signs of a power-puffed politician.
I have great faith in prayer to move mountains, and in God to achieve the impossible. My only fear is that he will ask me to find five righteous people so he can avert the destruction of the ‘Tower of Babel’ing fools and I will not be able to get even one, not even myself. (823 words)
This edited version came on 20th April 20, 2010
‘P’ for Politics, ‘P’ for Prayer.
‘Mr. M.P. charged in land-filling case’, ‘Mr. J.F. held for rape of R…’, ‘UP Minister caught in sleazy video’, ‘CM runs away from home’. A single thread runs through all these headlines – a politician’s human failings and subsequent falling. As recipients of the decisions these men and women make for our welfare or ‘woe’fare, we have the right and responsibility to act. Often, however, we only react. Either we get volatile, spewing venom, or we remain passive, ‘tut-tut’ing in protest.
I too am guilty of reacting to the deeds of our politicians. Who likes to hear heinous tales of a hormone-hippy MLA or a money-mad MP? Whether one rapes a woman or a piece of land, the havoc created is the same. People are hurt, lives are destroyed, trust is lost. It angers me when I see the poor victimized so that the rich can buy them. It saddens me to think of women treated like prostitutes in their homes or workplace, abused and misused just because they are dependent on their ‘bosses’. I am aghast to hear that hospitals leech their patients dry when they should be giving them a new lease of life. I have to hang my head down in shame that I have elected to the chair a person who is most likely going to bring the downfall of my country or state.
So I urge my fellow compatriots actively engaged in the battle to create a change of heart in our leaders, to get down on your knees with me and pray for them.
Jesus said once, “Have the faith to move mountains.” God is all-powerful. He alone can turn things around, if we only give Him full control. We need do only whatever he tells us to, and our actions should always be coupled with
Pray for our politicians They do not know what they do’. Many of our politicians amass wealth for their family and descendents at the cost of ours. Pray for them. They do things so that people may see and praise their deeds’. We see it in youngsters, teenagers especially. ‘Everybody is doing it so I too must join the bandwagon. If I don’t I will be sidelined, ostracized even. I will lose my position, my power, my prestige.’
Our leaders too are rarely ‘one of a kind’. The Zilla Parishad elections have been a classic example of this herd mentality. The fanaticism each party exhibits and upholds so fervently is distressing. So pray for true democracy and for ‘one of a kind’ leaders. All politicians begin with good intentions but along the way they forget these and embrace the immoral ideals of stalwarts in the field.
Who ever heard of leaders having cars and houses on a meagre salary in the past? Even their attire is as expensive as their taste in branded models. Khadi, once spun by Gandhi on a chakra for a song, is now exorbitantly priced. Visits to casinos, fist fights in airplanes, manhandling reporters are all signs of a power-puffed politician. (513 words)
_____________________________________________________________________
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
Hi Googlies, 13/4/10
PTL!
Things are looking up with Herald. They are still allowing my poems and today my debut short story was published in Junior Herald. But I miss my ‘middles’. I’ve done so many and really feel stifled not to display them if you get my drift. Some have such important messages, others are for fun but with a meaning. The bottom line is light-hearted humor but there are serious people out there who misunderstand and I hope God will vindicate my cause for I work for Him alone.
Posting the story; only part 1 as part 2 will come next week. Also the poems.
Hols are in full swing and boys are driving me nuts. So I resort to my favorite pastime- reading and eating chocs. Bet I’ll cross 75 kgs this summer. I do the ‘middles’ writing as and when a topic excites me so now it’s done for me alone and I’m Lovin It!
Glenn is hooked onto Radio Mirchi these days so we are enjoying all the Hindi oldies in the nights. Aaron began his summer camp today; basketball coaching completes a week. Nathan longs to go but he’s too small. Maybe next year. Baby is my main problem right now; she makes me carry her and it’s terrible climbing slopes with her. In another two years, all this will be over and I can go for walks with her.
Gilroy, your pics of the kids were super! They are such cute babies. Say hi to Ruby and Mum.
Saju, I know you read so Hi to you too. Did Sahir love seeing his name in the papers?
You’ve been a great support to me these awful awful days. God bless you, dearest.
Anyone else out there, Hi to you and do post mail so I can respond. I can’t do Facebook because Glenn does all my emailing. You can email to him at glenn@microngold.com Just type ‘AurielBlog’ in the subject slot, ok?
Chalo, bye for now.
From the heart.
Auriel.
THE PIECES OF THE PUZZLE- PART I
Sahir woke up early, jumped out of his bed and ran down the stairs. “Mama, Mama” he shrieked, running to hug his mother in the kitchen. “It’s my birthday today, today. Yipeee!” His mother looked down at him, ruffled his hair and smiled. “Yes, I know, beta. And you must be wondering what present you are going to get from us, hah?” Grinning sheepishly, Sahir acknowledged her query with an excited nod.
After breakfast, she took him to her bedroom and rummaged through her pile of clothes. There, nestled under her huge mound of saris, was a rectangular package all dressed up in attractive shiny wrapping with a huge bow around it. She gave the package to Sahir with a “Happy Birthday, sweetheart” and a kiss on his forehead.
Sahir ran up the stairs to his room, hoping against hope that it was the gift he had been praying for. Of course, he had hinted to his parents many days before that he hoped for an Optomus Prime but knowing that his parents were short of money, he was not sure that they would buy it for him. Still, one never knew! Mum was persuasive; maybe Dad had relented to her pleas after all.
With trembling fingers, he opened the wrapping, carefully saving the bow to use later for his craftwork. As he opened the box, his face fell. It was not the toy he had hoped for after all; it was just a jigsaw puzzle. He looked at it with disappointment, tears trickling slowly down his face. The puzzle was that of the map of India. A puzzle- and a map at that! What was his mother thinking of? “It must have been Dad’s choice.” he mused, grumpily.
Sahir tossed the box and its contents in disdain onto the bed and went out to sulk in the balcony. He could see the children going by on their way to school. He decided he was not going to go, just to spite his parents. Engrossed with his plan for revenge, he did not hear his mother come until she whispered, “Sahir, are you still angry?” Then he remembered the gift and, with a grimace, he turned to his mother, sighing, “Mama, you know how much I wanted the Transformer toy. Just this once couldn’t you have bought me something I wanted?”
His mother didn’t know how to pacify the distressed boy so she hugged him to her bosom soothing him with gentle caresses instead. Then, taking his hand, she guided him slowly back inside and sat him down besides her on the bed. She opened the box and laid out the pieces of the puzzle on the Micky Mouse bedsheet.
“See, Beta, this is our state.” she pointed as she picked up Goa and placed it in the centre. “And this is Kashmir, right on top, close to Pakistan.” Sahir did not bother to look. Instead, he folded his hands across his chest and stuck his chin into his neck in rebellion. Realising that she had a battle ahead of her, Sahir’s mother continued to place the pieces on the sheet so that the whole map was in position. She then said “Come down soon” and walked away.
Sahir looked up after she had left, at the door, and then at the pieces of the puzzle on the bed. He felt like throwing them into the wastepaper basket. But he knew his father would throw a fit if he did that so he began to pick the pieces up one by one to put them back into the box.
Suddenly, he spotted a familiar name. “Delhi”, he said, as he looked closely at the piece. “Why, that’s where Nani lives.” In bold letters across the piece were the words “HARYANA”. He quickly ran to get his Geography text book and learnt that Delhi was the capital of India and that it was in Haryana. The puzzle suddenly became exciting for the little boy and he began to piece it together, checking with his book all the time. “Here goes Jammu & Kashmir, just above Himachal Pradesh.” He checked with the picture on the box, then searched for Punjab. “There it goes. Now to find Rajasthan.” Sahir thus grouped the pieces into North, South, East and West. Then, beginning with the four Southern states, he placed the Western ones above them and finally the Northern states right on top. Next he did the Eastern side and, putting Madhya Pradesh last, he finally completed the map. He counted the number of states; 28 in all. WOW! He dismantled the puzzle, put the pieces back into the box and glanced at the clock on his study table. It was time to get ready to go to school. Quickly donning his uniform, he grabbed his satchel and the box, carrying both down with him. (To be Continued)
The first part was published on 12 April 2010 in Herald on page 17.
MY SEARCH
The world is going, going berserk
With all its toil and hard work
There seems no time for leisure
For little joy, a simple pleasure
Life is, oh, so machine-like
Every hour, every day seems alike
The futility of living bores me
Its importance I just cannot see
Where can I find the kind of life
That’s free from every war and strife
My soul longs for that inner peace
From pain and sorrow final release
Worries will haunt me not
When I have found what I have sought.
COMMUTING
The mad, mad rush
To catch a train, a bus.
The jostling, pushing, pulling claws,
The spewed venom, the fight of jaws.
The cackling, chattering, bickering mob.
The utter indifference to an unheard sob.
Litter litters around the floor,
Heavy luggage blocks the door.
Beggars, fishers, eunuchs enter,
Hawkers pile on, right, left and centre.
Uncensored displays, perverted lines,
Juvenile feelings and lovers’pines.
Fetid smells - they often appear
Warning people to steer clear.
Warning signs, the signal light
Don’t come within the focus of sight
People walk and talk and sing
The cacophony is shattering.
A sudden halt; a thousand curses,
A shroud is brought and nurses.
Blood shed all in vain
A reckless man dies in pain.
Crowds gather; a splendid hall
Papers read; policies passed
Applauses; great speeches heard.
Its all finalized in written word.
Tea served; gossip spread
Praises sung of the Head.
Then in pomp they all file out
The path with paper strewn about.
A silver dawn; new hope is born
The railway starts another day
Alas! But just like yesterday.
These poems were published on 11 April 2010 in Sunday Mirror
PTL!
Things are looking up with Herald. They are still allowing my poems and today my debut short story was published in Junior Herald. But I miss my ‘middles’. I’ve done so many and really feel stifled not to display them if you get my drift. Some have such important messages, others are for fun but with a meaning. The bottom line is light-hearted humor but there are serious people out there who misunderstand and I hope God will vindicate my cause for I work for Him alone.
Posting the story; only part 1 as part 2 will come next week. Also the poems.
Hols are in full swing and boys are driving me nuts. So I resort to my favorite pastime- reading and eating chocs. Bet I’ll cross 75 kgs this summer. I do the ‘middles’ writing as and when a topic excites me so now it’s done for me alone and I’m Lovin It!
Glenn is hooked onto Radio Mirchi these days so we are enjoying all the Hindi oldies in the nights. Aaron began his summer camp today; basketball coaching completes a week. Nathan longs to go but he’s too small. Maybe next year. Baby is my main problem right now; she makes me carry her and it’s terrible climbing slopes with her. In another two years, all this will be over and I can go for walks with her.
Gilroy, your pics of the kids were super! They are such cute babies. Say hi to Ruby and Mum.
Saju, I know you read so Hi to you too. Did Sahir love seeing his name in the papers?
You’ve been a great support to me these awful awful days. God bless you, dearest.
Anyone else out there, Hi to you and do post mail so I can respond. I can’t do Facebook because Glenn does all my emailing. You can email to him at glenn@microngold.com Just type ‘AurielBlog’ in the subject slot, ok?
Chalo, bye for now.
From the heart.
Auriel.
THE PIECES OF THE PUZZLE- PART I
Sahir woke up early, jumped out of his bed and ran down the stairs. “Mama, Mama” he shrieked, running to hug his mother in the kitchen. “It’s my birthday today, today. Yipeee!” His mother looked down at him, ruffled his hair and smiled. “Yes, I know, beta. And you must be wondering what present you are going to get from us, hah?” Grinning sheepishly, Sahir acknowledged her query with an excited nod.
After breakfast, she took him to her bedroom and rummaged through her pile of clothes. There, nestled under her huge mound of saris, was a rectangular package all dressed up in attractive shiny wrapping with a huge bow around it. She gave the package to Sahir with a “Happy Birthday, sweetheart” and a kiss on his forehead.
Sahir ran up the stairs to his room, hoping against hope that it was the gift he had been praying for. Of course, he had hinted to his parents many days before that he hoped for an Optomus Prime but knowing that his parents were short of money, he was not sure that they would buy it for him. Still, one never knew! Mum was persuasive; maybe Dad had relented to her pleas after all.
With trembling fingers, he opened the wrapping, carefully saving the bow to use later for his craftwork. As he opened the box, his face fell. It was not the toy he had hoped for after all; it was just a jigsaw puzzle. He looked at it with disappointment, tears trickling slowly down his face. The puzzle was that of the map of India. A puzzle- and a map at that! What was his mother thinking of? “It must have been Dad’s choice.” he mused, grumpily.
Sahir tossed the box and its contents in disdain onto the bed and went out to sulk in the balcony. He could see the children going by on their way to school. He decided he was not going to go, just to spite his parents. Engrossed with his plan for revenge, he did not hear his mother come until she whispered, “Sahir, are you still angry?” Then he remembered the gift and, with a grimace, he turned to his mother, sighing, “Mama, you know how much I wanted the Transformer toy. Just this once couldn’t you have bought me something I wanted?”
His mother didn’t know how to pacify the distressed boy so she hugged him to her bosom soothing him with gentle caresses instead. Then, taking his hand, she guided him slowly back inside and sat him down besides her on the bed. She opened the box and laid out the pieces of the puzzle on the Micky Mouse bedsheet.
“See, Beta, this is our state.” she pointed as she picked up Goa and placed it in the centre. “And this is Kashmir, right on top, close to Pakistan.” Sahir did not bother to look. Instead, he folded his hands across his chest and stuck his chin into his neck in rebellion. Realising that she had a battle ahead of her, Sahir’s mother continued to place the pieces on the sheet so that the whole map was in position. She then said “Come down soon” and walked away.
Sahir looked up after she had left, at the door, and then at the pieces of the puzzle on the bed. He felt like throwing them into the wastepaper basket. But he knew his father would throw a fit if he did that so he began to pick the pieces up one by one to put them back into the box.
Suddenly, he spotted a familiar name. “Delhi”, he said, as he looked closely at the piece. “Why, that’s where Nani lives.” In bold letters across the piece were the words “HARYANA”. He quickly ran to get his Geography text book and learnt that Delhi was the capital of India and that it was in Haryana. The puzzle suddenly became exciting for the little boy and he began to piece it together, checking with his book all the time. “Here goes Jammu & Kashmir, just above Himachal Pradesh.” He checked with the picture on the box, then searched for Punjab. “There it goes. Now to find Rajasthan.” Sahir thus grouped the pieces into North, South, East and West. Then, beginning with the four Southern states, he placed the Western ones above them and finally the Northern states right on top. Next he did the Eastern side and, putting Madhya Pradesh last, he finally completed the map. He counted the number of states; 28 in all. WOW! He dismantled the puzzle, put the pieces back into the box and glanced at the clock on his study table. It was time to get ready to go to school. Quickly donning his uniform, he grabbed his satchel and the box, carrying both down with him. (To be Continued)
The first part was published on 12 April 2010 in Herald on page 17.
MY SEARCH
The world is going, going berserk
With all its toil and hard work
There seems no time for leisure
For little joy, a simple pleasure
Life is, oh, so machine-like
Every hour, every day seems alike
The futility of living bores me
Its importance I just cannot see
Where can I find the kind of life
That’s free from every war and strife
My soul longs for that inner peace
From pain and sorrow final release
Worries will haunt me not
When I have found what I have sought.
COMMUTING
The mad, mad rush
To catch a train, a bus.
The jostling, pushing, pulling claws,
The spewed venom, the fight of jaws.
The cackling, chattering, bickering mob.
The utter indifference to an unheard sob.
Litter litters around the floor,
Heavy luggage blocks the door.
Beggars, fishers, eunuchs enter,
Hawkers pile on, right, left and centre.
Uncensored displays, perverted lines,
Juvenile feelings and lovers’pines.
Fetid smells - they often appear
Warning people to steer clear.
Warning signs, the signal light
Don’t come within the focus of sight
People walk and talk and sing
The cacophony is shattering.
A sudden halt; a thousand curses,
A shroud is brought and nurses.
Blood shed all in vain
A reckless man dies in pain.
Crowds gather; a splendid hall
Papers read; policies passed
Applauses; great speeches heard.
Its all finalized in written word.
Tea served; gossip spread
Praises sung of the Head.
Then in pomp they all file out
The path with paper strewn about.
A silver dawn; new hope is born
The railway starts another day
Alas! But just like yesterday.
These poems were published on 11 April 2010 in Sunday Mirror
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Hi Googlies, 8/4/10
PTL!
My friend Maria delivered a beautiful baby girl Tuesday morning. Her name is to be Rosemary Blossom and I am to be her godmother! I am so thrilled. Maria wanted to name her Rosa Mystica but we all told her it wouldn’t be a good name for a child. She will dedicate her to the Blessed Mother of course and so the name Rose and Mary. I don’t know why Blossom is chosen. Shall ask and let you guys know.
Gilroy, Hi there! Good to see you at my blogsite. Hope you enjoy the articles and the ltrs. Do reply if you find time. I am just waiting for people to write in and give me some feedback.
My beloved Dida (she lived above us in Mumbai) finally made it to Goa and we went to pick her up from the Aguada Hermitage where she was putting up and brought her home. It was great to see her after ages but it was as if we had just parted yesterday. For me, she is like my second Mom; she was there for me when Mom couldn’t be there and her advice ‘Sar Akhon Par’.
Kids are on hols and giving me hell! Nathan has been promoted to Std I; he is excited to go to Aaron’s school and we have already given his uniform for stitching. He is in Green House. Aaron began basketball coaching on Mon and is driving me crazy bouncing his ball all over the house. In the morning, I make him read his Konkani text for Std IV and give Nathan two words to copy-write in cursive style. Then we do some trash craft; today I showed them how to use ice-cream cone covers with used ice-cream sticks/ toothpicks-matchsticks to make attractive mobiles. I enjoy doing it with them, esp. the painting.
Glen is gearing up for the fete; our only bright spot in an otherwise dull holiday. I’ve also told him he must take the boys swimming on Sundays. No other holiday plans. I fill the swimming pool at home every alternate day so the ‘smallies’ can enjoy playing in it but is a colossal waste of precious water so I do feel guilty. Now I collect the water as much as I can and use it to flush the toilet.
Do pray for me to get my writing career on track. I don’t know why things have happened but I trust God to do the right thing by me. Shall keep you posted on the outcome. Next week maybe my first short story will come, God willing. The play ‘Message in A Bottle’ got me several compliments for which I am grateful. It shows that not all have scanty brains, no? Hope you’ll enjoyed it too!
Chalo, bye for now.
Signing off with luv from the heart.
Auriel.
P.S. This got delayed; in the meantime I found out why Blossom was chosen. Seems the second son Kevin chose it coz he saw it on a tissue carton and loved the name!
PTL!
My friend Maria delivered a beautiful baby girl Tuesday morning. Her name is to be Rosemary Blossom and I am to be her godmother! I am so thrilled. Maria wanted to name her Rosa Mystica but we all told her it wouldn’t be a good name for a child. She will dedicate her to the Blessed Mother of course and so the name Rose and Mary. I don’t know why Blossom is chosen. Shall ask and let you guys know.
Gilroy, Hi there! Good to see you at my blogsite. Hope you enjoy the articles and the ltrs. Do reply if you find time. I am just waiting for people to write in and give me some feedback.
My beloved Dida (she lived above us in Mumbai) finally made it to Goa and we went to pick her up from the Aguada Hermitage where she was putting up and brought her home. It was great to see her after ages but it was as if we had just parted yesterday. For me, she is like my second Mom; she was there for me when Mom couldn’t be there and her advice ‘Sar Akhon Par’.
Kids are on hols and giving me hell! Nathan has been promoted to Std I; he is excited to go to Aaron’s school and we have already given his uniform for stitching. He is in Green House. Aaron began basketball coaching on Mon and is driving me crazy bouncing his ball all over the house. In the morning, I make him read his Konkani text for Std IV and give Nathan two words to copy-write in cursive style. Then we do some trash craft; today I showed them how to use ice-cream cone covers with used ice-cream sticks/ toothpicks-matchsticks to make attractive mobiles. I enjoy doing it with them, esp. the painting.
Glen is gearing up for the fete; our only bright spot in an otherwise dull holiday. I’ve also told him he must take the boys swimming on Sundays. No other holiday plans. I fill the swimming pool at home every alternate day so the ‘smallies’ can enjoy playing in it but is a colossal waste of precious water so I do feel guilty. Now I collect the water as much as I can and use it to flush the toilet.
Do pray for me to get my writing career on track. I don’t know why things have happened but I trust God to do the right thing by me. Shall keep you posted on the outcome. Next week maybe my first short story will come, God willing. The play ‘Message in A Bottle’ got me several compliments for which I am grateful. It shows that not all have scanty brains, no? Hope you’ll enjoyed it too!
Chalo, bye for now.
Signing off with luv from the heart.
Auriel.
P.S. This got delayed; in the meantime I found out why Blossom was chosen. Seems the second son Kevin chose it coz he saw it on a tissue carton and loved the name!
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