I finally got time today to blog. Other than the quick post on Amritsar, which I began while I was still at home, in Dhaka, and only required to complete before publishing, I haven’t had the time or inclination to write. Don’t get me wrong. I haven’t lost my love for writing, but I’ve been on the move, and it’s been difficult to find the time and the space to write. I’m not traveling in the literal sense of the word, and yet, I’m not home. I’m kind of in-transit. I’m in the city that I studied in, where I have classmates, where I have houses but no home because I haven’t lived here since school and I don’t have family here. But it’s a city with loads of memories of when my parents were alive. Anyway, I’m not going to speak in riddles anymore. Here’s why I haven’t had the chance to write.

It’s been hectic since the day we began our journey on the 23rd of November. Since there are no direct flights to Bangalore (India) from Dhaka, we had to travel to Kolkata, which is a half-hour flight, and then from Kolkata to Bangalore, which is a two-hour flight. However, with all the time in transit and check-in, we were on the move for 12 and a half hours!

We checked in to the hotel at midnight, which was effectively the 24th, my older daughter’s birthday. The hotel had very kindly arranged a birthday cake for her and placed it in her room on our arrival.

24th, also marked the first day of the Black Friday sale. Given that we hadn’t bought the birthday girl a gift, the timing of the Black Friday weekend proved to be perfect, and so, come morning, we were out store hopping. We also went bowling and dined out. It was a fun weekend. My heart felt grateful for multiple reasons, the main being that all four of us could be together on her birthday. I drowned the sad memories that tried to resurface as it was dad’s death anniversary on the 26th.

I’m glad we were in India this year for dad’s third anniversary because we could follow the rituals and offer a puja ( prayer) in the temple on the day. To remember good times with him, we went to a standing restaurant and had the kind of food that he would have enjoyed. The children loved it because it brought back fond memories they had of him taking them to it.

I wrote a poem in his memory, which was published by Masticadores USA. I’m grateful to Barbara Leonhard for providing this poem a space in the literary journal.

Memory is a sadist-

the prosecutor in the game she plays-
covering the good with the bad.
The things we spoke about-

growing anticipation,

fear, anxiety, constipation.

A refrain-

cancer, dread, falling
punctuated only
by CT scans, MRIs, endoscopies,

X-rays, hospitals, colonoscopies,

the growing pain in your bones.

I listen. I don’t know what to say.
Nothing I say can make it better.



If you’d like to read the rest of the poem, you can read it here.

On the evening of the 26th, we moved into an empty apartment from the hotel. It is to be our home for the next two months as my daughter does her internship here. That’s kept me busy as I’ve had to get the apartment up and running. It didn’t take too long thankfully to do it. We rented furniture for two months which came in on the day we moved. The gas cylinder required for cooking took three days to come. But food’s the easiest to get, in Bangalore. With a number of restaurants selling local, regional and international cuisine, the ease of online delivery, food’s a click away as long as you can pay. Getting the internet connection took lesser time. And the mall which is twenty minutes away from home by car provided a one-stop shop for utensils crockery, bed linen, towels, a clothline etc. All it took was for me to be on my feet. We had a few hiccups along the way but none of it was a show-stopper and come 1st of December, my older one went for her internship carrying her lunchbox with lunch cooked by Mamma. I’ve been managing the household chores without any househelp and I’m pretty proud of myself. I mean I did it during covid.But after a year of expat life in Bangladesh, I wondered if my joints had rusted. But thankfully not and I’m grateful for it.

The weather in Bangalore has been pleasantly cool since we landed. It generally is at this time of the year. However, I remember it as being warm when we came two years ago and I was a little apprehensive about leaving Dhaka just when the weather was getting better there. However, Bangalore welcomed us with cool climes, flowers in full bloom and a peaceful though not boringly quiet environ. I’m loving the constant chatter of birds, the flapping of wings as they take off from the ledge in the balcony and the sound of hymns (God’s songs) coming from the temple nearby. I haven’t visited the temple where it comes from yet because whenever I pass it, I find myself inappropriately dressed. I’m either in workout clothes or jeans. Also, the fact that I understand the language spoken in Bangalore which is Kannada is making me feel more at ease here than I have felt for a long time.

Coming back to why I’ve been busy other than the fact that I’ve been setting up a house to live in. The Bangalore Lit-fest was held on the 2nd and 3rd of December. I wanted to go for it ever since I heard about it. But, being the introvert that I am, on the 2nd of December, I found other ‘important’ things to do. But I knew I needed to go. I wanted to go. So, being the kind of person who pushes herself to step out of her confort zone, I attended it on the 3rd and at the end of the day, I wished I had attended the Fest on the 2nd as well. What an amazing experience it was to be surrounded by readers of all ages,aspiring writers and newbies like me, and get to listen to veterans in the field like Abraham Verghese of ‘The Covenant of Water’, Shashi Tharoor and Smita Tharoor, Paul Zacharia, Anjum Hassan, Vivek Shanbhag and many more.

The Lit-Fest proved that reading is not a dying art. It not only exists but thrives in this beautiful city. The energy, camaraderie on the lawns of The Lalit, could be matched to the Cricket World Cup. Abraham Verghese is the author of ‘The Covenant of Water’ which was Oprah’s Book Club Pick for 2023. I will be reading it after 2 other books that I’ve earmarked for reading. I also attended Vivek Shanbhag’s talk. He is a regional language author whose book has been been translated into several languages. Having heard an excerpt from the English version called, ‘Sakina’s Kiss’, I couldn’t help but pick it up. I was lucky to get the author’s signature. He was on his way out when he noticed me walking around looking for the author of Sakina’s Kiss (I had passed by him and failed to recognize him). He said, ‘You must be looking for me. I was just about to leave when I saw you.’ I think it was extraordinarily generous of him to return for me to sign the book. Last but not the least, I attended Dr. Shashi Tharoor’s talk with his sister, Smita Tharoor; and got his book signed by him, too. Shashi Tharoor is a politician, author, also known for his talk ‘Dr Shashi Tharoor MP – Britain Does Owe Reparations’ at the Oxford Union, UK. I would have liked to give him my book (that would be a dream come true) but I made do with a signed copy of his book instead. Smita Tharoor, is a corporate trainer, triathlete, author, standup comedian, and business school professor.

As I waited for Abraham Verghese’s signature, I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation of two men standing in front of me. One of them had read 138 books in 2023! They were strangers when we got in line, but by the time they had got the author’s signature, they had exchanged numbers and shared their book club names.

Another heartwarming experience I witnessed was at the cash counter when I was paying for books I had purchased. A little boy, not more than 6 or 7, was telling his mother, who was standing ahead of me, to buy the books and leave. He had picked up a few of his favorites, too. The mother explained that they needed to get the books signed by the authors. The little boy did not seem to understand why it was important. So, the mother said, ‘It’s a way of saying ‘Thank you’ to the authors because we enjoy their books.’ The little boy, tired, I presume, refused to relent until the mother said, ‘The authors will feel bad and stop writing. Then what will we read?’ The little boy gave in. It’s lovely when parents not only encourage reading but thoughtfulness and kindness, too.

It’s my friend’s son’s wedding on the 22nd of this month. The wedding festivities will last for 3 days and there will be a function in the morning and the evening on each of the days. I don’t think I will attend all the functions because, it might be a bit much for my ‘introverted’ nerves. Not ‘might’. I’m certain. But, I’ve been busy shopping for clothes for me and the girls. That’s been exhausting because I’ve realized that I no longer enjoy shopping as much as I used to. I prefer sitting down in a cafe’ talking or reading. I have grown old.

I’m participating in Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday. This week, I’m going to try writing a Kimo. Kimo is a tristich, a poem of three lines with 10/7/6 syllables. To read more about it, click here . The poem should focus on a single frozen image.

Cold wind blows, sending shivers down the spine.

Curl up under the blanket.

At six a.m., sun asleep

And, this is the last Thursday Doors for the year. I took these pictures today, on my way to the ATM which is a kilometre away from where the house.

That’s all from my side for now. I’ll come back with more on the city over the next few weeks. Until then, I wish all of you a very Happy Sunday!

Last but not the least, here’s the international link to my book, ‘Coming Home’,  if you enjoy a story on love, life, loss, relationships and family, set in India.
And if you’re in India, this is the link.
‘Coming Home’ is available on Kindle as well as Paperback. It’s free for KUL subscribers. Check out what others say about the book on Amazon and Goodreads.

Copyright@smithavishwanathsblog.com. All Rights Reserved.