The Saree

It might sound strange to my American friends, but among the things I miss most about my life in India is my daily Indian attire: the saree, six yards of seamless fabric.

For much of my working life, spent in the metropolitan cities of Delhi and Mumbai, I draped a saree every weekday morning. This garment defined me. Its flowing contours characterized my personality, the choice of color spoke to my mood and the fabric changed with the passing seasons. Each Springtime Holi festival signaled the time to bring out starched cottons and delicate chiffons. Each Diwali, with winter at the threshold, it was time to bring out precious silks from carefully lined metal trunks.

One cannot argue with the modernity or freedom or convenience of Western attire, but most Indian women of my generation (and even more of my mother’s generation) still have a deep affinity with the saree. It continues to be worn, in different ways across the different regions of our country, and it magically adapts itself to each lifestyle.

The saree was also intrinsic to my mother’s persona. All my adult life I borrowed her sarees and frequently wore them with my mismatched blouses! Mom had morning sarees and evening sarees and dressing-up sarees; she even had soft nighttime sarees. Even today, her precious sarees carry her fragrance as they hang in my closet, to be worn during visits to India or Indian celebrations or when I am overcome by homesickness and nostalgia…

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/the-saree/

Rain

Most Indians love the rain. As temperatures rise across our country and India’s great plains grow steadily parched, through April and May, all thoughts turn to the Monsoon. We wait breathlessly as it progresses towards our West Coast and watch anxiously for any sign that it might be late or veer off track. (Talking about the weather is serious business in India!)

Indian literature and music and poetry are steeped in the romance of the rainy season, with endless analogy between the promise of rain-laden clouds and a lover’s dark hair. The impatient wait for the beloved is oft likened to waiting for the monsoon rain, which will magically transform the thirsty barren land into moist and fertile earth.

My rain legacy stays within me. I equally enjoy the gentle summer shower and the magnificent stormy downpour – I actually have a storm CD to help me sleep on too quiet nights! Last week, I discovered I am a Pluviophile (described in the dictionary as a lover of rain and someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days) and perhaps there is a tribe of us.

I’ve never really understood why rainy days are characterized as bad weather in the West. Yesterday, as I walked to the metro station with my umbrella and outdoor shoes, I found myself stepping deliberately into some of the splashier puddles…

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/rain/

Home

For decades now, I have lived a life of temporariness, travel and transiency. Wherever I have arrived, it is with the knowledge that I will depart. The excitement of every arrival is tempered for me with the knowledge of my imminent departure.

On the one hand such a life is liberating, an untethered spirit with a kaleidoscope of endless novelty. I have been unbound in this life of adventure and remained free to embrace beloved people, stunning locations and wondrous experiences all around the globe.

On the other hand, I wonder what is home. Is it a house or a place or a person? ‘Forever’ is a word I do not use and it is a very long time since I stayed in any place long enough to witness a seed grow into a sapling and then a tree.

Only now have I started thinking about permanence, a house to buy and perhaps a place or person to call home…

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/home/

Bianca

My beautiful Bianca came into the world over three decades ago, filling me with wonder and making me such a very proud mom. She continues to make me proud as she grows steadily into the woman she is meant to become, her initially tentative steps turning increasingly into bigger confident strides.

From the toddler with too much attitude (she was barely five when she declared she could not live in the same house as me!) to the high-spirited school girl with a mind of her own, Bianca could never be ignored. From the feisty young woman navigating the gritty world of Mumbai’s street children to the competent wife and mother, learning independence and raising two children in distant Canada, Bianca has remained a force to contend with.

Now, Bianca is poised to move from a decade of full-time motherhood into a new phase that will see her step into a space beyond her home. I watch with a heart overflowing with love and pride, as she steps into this brand new arena. I pray that she will use her intelligence and learning and kindness and compassion to realize her true potential and make a difference in the world. Mostly, I marvel that my curly haired little baby has grown into this remarkable young lady, brimming with more courage and assurance than you’d imagine could be contained in her tiny five foot frame!

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/bianca/

Mothers and Daughters

I have a bias towards women – I tend to allow them more leeway and sometimes make excuses for them, at least secretly. Each day one hears tales of extraordinary women, who unhesitatingly embark on seemingly impossible journeys and then display remarkable fortitude and ingenuity in the travel. I am particularly fascinated by the roles that generations of strong women (are there any other kind?) play within families.

I dwell upon the connection I had with my mother and how it evolved over the years. This provides insight on my bond with my own daughter and how it grows stronger every day. From this vantage point, I can look back toward what I remember of my mom’s relationship with her mother while also viewing the beginnings of my daughter’s relationship with her precious little girl!

My perspective reveals a pattern that is wonderfully reassuring. I see each mother morph from commanding to mellow, as she willingly relinquishes authority. I see each daughter soften from combative, even competitive, to thoughtful and caring. I see the unmistakable pride each mom feels to see each daughter come into her own. I see those ‘aha’ moments of empathy, as daughters appreciate the challenges of managing families and raising children! Most of all, I see a strong foundation that supports a stronger edifice, both weathered gradually by the changing seasons and the passage of time…

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/mothers-and-daughters/

The Women I Know

International Women’s Day is dawning as I write this piece, so what else could I possibly write about today?! My inbox is flooded with sentimental greetings (mostly from men) that laud our gentle natures, admire our inner strength and commend our untiring perseverance. Many of these messages are framed in delicate pink and embellished with flowers and bows and butterflies.

And then, there are my girlfriends… K sends me a story where the frog aspiring to be prince ends up as ‘sautéed frogs legs, seasoned in white wine and onion cream sauce’! J cares less about a man bringing flowers than his knowledge of the G-spot. T is dealing stoically with the passing of a spouse, who was nowhere near perfect, and doing what she needs to do right now. V is caught up in the whirlwind of planning a daughter’s wedding. J2, M and R bravely face the dreadful prospect of losing a beloved, sick and aging parent; each remains strong and no doubt resorts to the timely glass of wine.

Each precious girl supports and sustains me in her own unique and irreplaceable way. J3 knows that nothing is unbearable if you remember to breathe and brew a cup of tea. A can always be counted upon, no matter when or for what. M is the strong ‘roll up your sleeves and fix it’ girl, but I have known her to shed the occasional tear. M2 was with me last week as we were transported by the St. Petersburg Philharmonic. And there are so many others!

I am fortunate to be surrounded by remarkable women — each with an amazing story, an incredible personality and the ability to nourish. Thank you to all you special ladies, celebrating you today and every day. I could not live without you and more power to us!

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/the-women-i-know/

Victoria

Victoria is a striking black cat with piercing green eyes, that change easily from almost emerald to several shades of onyx. A distinctive white blaze runs down her face, from forehead to nose, before continuing under her chin and spreading across her chest. Victoria is aptly named – she is nothing if not regal and certainly queen of all she surveys.

Unlike children or dogs (even some men!) who can be needy and dependent, cats are sure and secure and self-contained. It is easier to love a dog and takes little to win its loyalty and adoration. He is always happy to go for a walk or chase a ball or fetch a stick. Not so with a cat. A cat questions authority, prefers to come and go as it pleases and tends to turn its nose up at your suggestions. And, she also really enjoys her own company! You can feel hurt and continue to behave like a dog owner. Or you can evolve to respect your cat and learn that its affection must be earned each day.

Watching Victoria now, as she stretches languorously on a sunny patch of warm carpet, it occurs to me that I’m like her in some ways and perhaps even share her world view… I’d certainly like to live her life!

http://www.5oclockreflections.com/victoria/