there's work and then there is wo....rk ...

Caution! Men at work!

overtime

Just thinking of this scene makes me laugh out loud. Well, I guess it is the intention that counts. They should be paid for that.

Asterix aficionados will know this from "Asterix and Cleopatra". Where the heroes are in Egypt taking in the sights, and are introduced to the people and their customs. What makes me laugh even more is when I think of some of my volunteer jobs. Let's just say that I wasn't needed that much at those places, that I did not make that much of a difference. Or, the brick did not budge an inch, or less. Of course not all volunteers or volunteer posts are like that. No offence intended. Once I was reminded of this scene when I saw a lone construction worker in the driver's  seat of some equipment on a Sunday, in one of the construction zones on the expressway. He may have been doing something useful surely, but I couldn't help wondering what the heck he was doing there? :)

This is what the work really looks like, by the way.

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a woman's sphere

spheres in the setting sun

There was a time when my main job was to oppose vehemently the strict, confining definitions of a woman's sphere. "Marginalization", "life on the periphery",  "legitimization of femininity", "debunking of the feminine mystique" -- all these were the usual concepts that were bandied about by me. Little did I know that there would come a time when I made spheres.

This summer I was engrossed in a project that made me work on my patience and fortitude( yes, I exaggerate ). Inspired by the myriad diy sites on the web, where they give detailed instructions on how to make concrete spheres, I ventured into it. It was a  totally satisfying, tactile, energizing and therapeutic process.  The one part that tried my patience was the making of the molds. On the net, everyone seemed to be using discarded dome light shades, which many got from thrift shops. I went to one thrift store near where I live and there was nothing like that available. So I got some kids' rubber balls, which I  reinforced with several layers of  papermache( which took me weeks, kind of tedious - some vouch for using the balls as they are, but placing them in wet sand so that they retain their shapes - but I did not feel I had the patience to deal with deflated rubber ball and wet concrete)  and then used a waterproofing spray. The concrete was mixed, poured into prepared molds. That part is easy - like mixing cookie dough. I waited from a week to two weeks before un-molding. Then I soaked them in tubs of water for another week. Curing, they call it. At last they were ready to be finished. Another step where I used resealing cement to smooth the imperfections, and kind of re-shaped the spheres to my liking. Again, drying time. Finally, I could paint them. At first I had thought to leave it unpainted. But I changed my mind. Of course I had to make a couple of stepping stones too. That was like making mud pies - fun and fast.

My front yard has a lot of flowers. Bees, butterflies and hummingbirds and finches have a party in those beds. After the riotous living there, I wanted a place of peace and quiet. One for meditation, kind of. And so this one flowerbed at the back came in handy. Once all the overgrown plants and weeds were cleared off, I planted a Japanese maple . And then placed my spheres. My eyes are drawn to them whenever the sunlight hits them from different angles, at different times of the day. They catch my attention  even when they lie there just like the inanimate lumps of concrete that they are. :) Something grounding, calm, and clean about them, don't you think? But then the play of light and shadow begins and they assume altogether different personalities. Endless variety! fascinating!

rising sun on my little earth!

I got a little universe in my backyard.

or a half-moon

PS: I guess the easier way to make the spheres would be to make 2 hemispheres and then seal them together. But somehow I rejected that idea. This unveiling of a whole sphere seemed to be stuck in my head. But for my next set, I might do the 2 halves thing.

on a rainy evening

whatever happened to Asha Joseph. M?

Asha Joseph M circa 1991

Have you seen her? Missing for about 20 years. This is to those who knew her a long time ago. Some were at that time, thought to be very close friends. Never to be parted from completely. What do we know when we are at that age! For that matter, at any age! The only difference between now and then would be  that back then we thought we knew everything, as we all know. Coming back to the old friends and acquaintances,  they themselves are probably busy looking for their old selves now. And that leaves no one else -- since Asha was never famous. Still, admit it. some of us did fear, albeit slightly, that Asha Joseph M may get famous some day!

So let this Asha speculate. And wonder. May be Asha Joseph. M died. Or she lives on in some faraway land, an island perhaps. Perhaps, mishaps. Or, she may be living in a convent! Or better, walking on the moors with the Bronte sisters on cold winter days, and later huddling close to the fire, busy pretending to write the next novel about doomed lovers. 

By all this I hope she doesn't think I am making fun of her. I just write this in fun. Her sense of self-importance may take it as a blow to her great dignity and noble pride!Please do not take umbrage, Asha! Your oversensitivity is notorious! After all, Asha may very well be leading a happy, contented life somewhere. If so, that is if she is completely content, then that either makes her a simple saint or a fool. To quote Edison, ( I am afraid, like those annoying quote posts on social media), "Restlessness is discontent — and discontent is the first necessity of progress. Show me a thoroughly satisfied man — and I will show you a failure.”  Well, that is neither here nor there. Quoting some famous person   is not that different from a hypocritical overzealous sanctimonious bible-thumper quoting the scriptures. Still doesn't tell me where the heck Asha Joseph. M has got to!

 This came to me suddenly - could she be languishing in some prison cell of a dictator? No, Asha's activism was never of the suffering kind. Her ideas never left her armchair set in that rarefied atmosphere of like-minded revolutionaries. Quite safe. But then she could be in that little cottage at the edge of the woods, near a stream, with a vegetable patch in the back yard,  and with a few hens, and a dog, for company. While we are at it - she could very well be in a big city in a little room overlooking a busy street, where after work, she writes stuff that no one wants to read. Why do I always picture her alone? For all I know she could be surrounded by a half a dozen children or even grandchildren! Wherever she is living, she will go on living, and then she will have to die one day.

Let's retrace her steps from the last I had seen of her. That is how a detective usually starts, I have heard.. Where did I see her last? At her wedding? Or before that in that magazine office? What did we talk about then? Did she seem like she had any solid plans as to her future? Not really, I should say. Mind you, she looked like she knew what she wanted. Not at all the clueless person that I now know her  to be . She was a dreamer all right. Lived in the world of dreams. Some vague idea about the immediate future, probably. Ah! I know! She must have got lost in her own thoughts! And is still wandering in those lanes, alternately elated and despondent, relieved and frustrated, all the while growing older and weaker. Soon she may lose her memory, thus all her thoughts, her consciousness, and fall down, never to wake up. Natural selection at work.

Another set of questions arise now. We all know Asha Joseph. M. has disappeared. Now is there foul play here? After all, I knew that she had secret plans for world domination, no one else knew, by the way. Yep, that disinterestedness, that air of nonchalance, that was all a facade. Inside she was a scheming Dr No. Total fraud (fraaad) case. as our Jagathy would say. (If there is foul play, there is every chance that she did it. no, the B did it!) Why? How? Who? Well, the good old motive and opportunity. Who stands to gain from her disappearance? Who couldn't stand her so much that they had to delete her (so to speak)? We have to be honest here - she really was the limit, sometimes. Someone had to try to stop her. Or was it a crime of passion? Jealousy? Love? Lust? Or sheer pigheadedness? Someone just did not like the way she looked? Or was she the woman who knew too much about someone or something, and had to be silenced? For instance she may have seen some crime being committed. Or, was she a victim of diabolic revenge ? For some imagined or real slight that someone endured from her? Will we ever find out?. (Did I cover all points? Now that's me being her - with her irritating habit of , that compelling need to cover all points, every eventuality.)

Anyway what do I care where Asha is! For that matter, where I am! There is no point in knowing either, seriously. Her own child would not recognize that Asha from the past. Even her mother wouldn't be able to recall that Asha. As far as I am concerned, Asha Joseph.M could live or die or vanish into thin air. Or take a running jump at herself or off a cliff, off even one of Brontes' cliffs. She is history. Or, herstory. Just covering all points again. :)

one of her permed hair phases

asha's "twin" 

asha in the "dog days"

PS: Do let me know if you happen to find her!

a chicken flight

Back to school night again. That day when you get to meet your child's new teachers for the first time.  Sounds simple, doesn't it?  It was simple - till high school. Once you are in high school, things get complicated. First,  you cannot get away with sitting in just one classroom. Classes take place in different rooms.  Oh, it's an efficient system, all right. The bell rings at the start of every class. The parents go to the classroom and meet the teacher till another bell after 10 minutes or so. Then they go to the next class. and so on. But the classrooms are scattered all over the building. So we get a taste of what our children have to go through everyday. With a five minute break they have to get to their locker, get their stuff, and reach their classes on time through crowded corridors.

Second, most parents have no idea where the classrooms are, and there is so little time between bells. Sure, we are given maps and schedules. At the beginning of  the freshman year, everything is new to the parent. Armed with that map, and holding onto that schedule for dear life, I rushed through the hallways looking for the rooms. Some rooms seemed to be deliberately hiding from me, in never to be found corners. One classroom would be at  one end of the school, and the next one, at the other. I walked fast, ran, dodged other  rushing parents, stopped, came back, made detours, asked for directions to the students assigned to guide us hapless adults, and on the whole, got some exercise. In the end, after that mad dash, I would reach the intended classroom hot and sweaty and already worried about finding the next room.

When I came home and told my son of this, and asked him for clear directions for the next year's back-to-school night, he laughed, and politely refused. And informed me  that they all made fun of the parents' helplessness and ignorance. They enjoyed our confusion, and had this pact that they will provide no help in this matter - he gave me another laugh. So that was that. And I went through the same agony and ecstasy the next year too.

By the third year, I was prepared. I went 15 minutes early.  I was reluctant , naturally chicken, to do this before -- did not know if parents were allowed to roam around the halls ahead of time. But by then I was desperate (well, sort of - I have a tendency to exaggerate, if you haven't noticed it ) and was determined to do this right. So I ran around and found the whereabouts of all the classrooms. When the first bell rang I was pretty excited . Yep I am that eternal student who likes to be the (invisible) teacher's pet! Not that anyone is going to applaud me here for finding the classroom and turning up on time. hmpf! In other words, I was more interested in congratulating myself on my accomplishment rather than paying attention to what the real teacher was saying. Well, mostly. All in all it went well, but for one little part where I went and sat in one extra class, (which was not for that semester). hehe.

But this year, I was perfect! Again I went early, especially since I knew that construction had been going on during summer, and there were even more corridors, and even whole new floors to get lost in. And this time around, it was a breeze. I flew around as sure as a breeze too. No more the headless chicken! A young lady did help me when I asked her at one point. All this was done way before the bell, and I was ready. I found all the rooms, got inside each on time and did not go in to any unnecessary rooms. But I did laugh at myself when I caught myself always finding a seat near the door, as if ready to flee, the moment the bell rang. And I laughed at my glee when I got to the next one with time to spare. It seemed like a race that I had set against myself, and which I won. I patted myself on the back - not literally. I think there were points in time when listening to the teacher, I almost asked him or her  if I could leave early! So that I could run to the next one. kidding!

Anyway, it is over and done with. By this fourth year, I am an expert at navigating the labyrinthine routes of my son's high school. As I walked out of the building, it struck me that this is the last time I'll do this. This is my son's final year at high school. End of the road here. This has been a sort of learning for me as well. While in the before-high school period, I was a mess of nervous tension regarding the kind of teacher my baby was going to get, I find that now I am not as worried about that. I have learned that there is no point in worrying about something on which I have not much control. And by now my son has grown, and I trust him as an intelligent, well-adjusted human being. Well, he is still a teenager, so fingers crossed! While I won't miss the panic, I realize I will miss the back to school nights. By the time I learned to do it properly, it was time to leave for good. Unbeknownst ( ya, right!) to me, time was passing by, and I will have to do it no more.

on a lighter note

The local homeowners association annual  meeting announcement -- a couple of days later. thought-provoking.

gift horses and astrology

Susan Miller

Susan Miller is a star in the zone of astrology. A darling of cyberspace. Much admired by her twittering followers. But recently I distinctly hear a sour note. Or like we say back in the old country, we note "a sting-y ant in Heaven".  Some of the loving followers are disgruntled. They do not care how or why, they just want it now.


When I see the miffed tweets and snide comments of some of Susan Miller's readers now, I am reminded of the above episode from "Friends". The demanding public. Like spoiled, entitled children they wear down the patience and good will  of even the most saintly and attention/admiration starved person. Mind you, I am in no way saying that Susan Miller is admiration-starved. Actually, I think she is a loving person who sincerely believes in the service she provides, and really want to help people. Obviously she has to be business-savvy - she is no idiot!- but she tries to infuse kindness and accessibility into her profession. Like many astrologers, she provides a free monthly general horoscope for all signs. On her Twitter page, she gives a day-to-day report of her activities, an edge-of the seat anticipatory minute by minute commentary of her frantic writing process, a thorough build up to a  final countdown to her popular monthly horoscopes, and tries to answer many questions from her followers. But unlike many other astrologers, she exudes genuine warmth and concern for her fellow human beings. I can see that she tries very hard to juggle many things at the same time. And remember, it is free. But then there is no satisfying the mob, is there?  The minute she is late, people clamor at the door  impatiently. Very flattering. But sadly, when she says she has been severely ill, and so could not post the free material on time, some of these readers are disbelieving, and get madder. Some jump ship, which is fine, but it would be  nice and mature not to say mean things  about a person whose work has given you moments of good feelings.  Now, I am not a follower of Susan Miller on twitter, even though I read her free horoscopes, and enjoy them. And that is because I have my own ego problems. :)  But I am grateful for the wonderful , uplifting writing that she does. It would be great not to punish someone who reaches out to you, someone who tries to bridge the distance. Having said all this, I have a feeling that Susan Miller won't be taking umbrage at all in this, she is sure to take the high road. But then I always have to find an excuse -- to protest.