Wednesday, May 31, 2006

By Maya at age 12

Blue is the fountain pen's flowing ink
Blue is the smooth ice in the skating rink
Blue is the wide expanse of sky touched with white
Blue is the color of a diamond shaped kite
Blue is the color you need when you're wed
"something old, something new,
"something borrowed and something blue"
Is what they said.

Blue is the crashing waves smoothing over the beach
Blue is the color in the rainbow you just cant reach
Blue is the color of a sweet baby's eyes.
Blue is the flower sprinkled with dew at sunrise.

Blue can be the gloom you feel inside
But Blue has another side
Blue can be hope, happiness, and delight
Blue is the color that makes everything allright.


Tuesday, May 30, 2006


We see so many images in books, , Magazines, The Internet and on TV. It is getting harder to tell whether it is Fake or real. It challenges our ability to tell if it is a real image or one that was generated by computer software. Can you tell?


Sunday, May 28, 2006



Saturday, May 27, 2006


She stands at the door, her eyes travel to the end of the long dusty road, straining to see the image of the postman on his bicycle. He is no where to be seen and she is sad. She waits untill noon hoping he would come, but he does not, because there is nothing to deliver. Before the days of Western Union, courier services, E mail, and electronic money transfers, there was a very important person the postman .He was the bearer of news Good and Bad , Births and Deaths, Arrivals and Departures, sickness and Health, Failures and Success via the Telegram. He also brought letters from loved ones near and far. Packages of food and clothes and most important was the Money Order. It was the only way people sent money across the country.And this was what she was waiting for, money that her husband would send every month to pay the rent , bills and to buy food and clothes.The money was important but the note at the bottom of the money order was what made her heart pound and her eyes light up.It said P.S. " I love you and I will be home soon."

She looks around and sees the hungry faces on the children, so many mouths to feed. She can get by without paying the rent and the bills on time but the children need food. He works in another state coming home only twice a year.Happiness and joy floods her life when he arrives and all caution is blown away and another child is born. The sun is setting its beginning to get dark and the children are crying, she gives them water to drink, wipes away their tears and rocks the baby to sleep. She walks into the darkness , frequently looking behind her, not wanting the neighbors to see she walks fast. In the stillness of the night only the rustle of her saree can be heard. She arrives at the Pawn Shop, the place she detests because she has been here before giving away the things that were dear to her. All she has left is a set of gold bangles given to her by her father. She trades it in hoping in her heart to buy it back later. She needs money to feed her children.

She stops by the same grocery store that refused to give her credit, they have always been good to her before.She buys bread and milk and walks home hoping no one had seen her. She feeds her children and puts them back to sleep.She lays her weary head down and falls asleep for tomorrow is another day, and the Postman will arrive.


Wednesday, May 24, 2006

My Heartfelt wishes to all my blogger friends out there. This is what I wish for all of you. Please click on the link and have the volume turned up and enjoy this blessing movie. It made me feel happy that I am here on this earth .
Though not always visible, there is within everyone and everything a divine and holy spark of goodness. Whenever we bless any person, situation, or thing in our lives, we are, in essence, recognizing that goodness, acknowledging its inherent value, and in so doing, fanning the spark into a flame. Each and every time we bless another, we don't just make a difference, we heal the world.
"one million blessings."

Click on this link
We Send You Our Blessings


Tuesday, May 23, 2006


I have been having mixed emotions , some of joy and some of sorrow. I was thinking to my self how can one feel both these emotions at the same time. I came across this in the book "The Prophet " By Kahlil Gibran and wanted to share it with my friends. the meaning of joy and sorrow.

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the same well from which your laughter rises was often times filled with tears
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being,
The more joy you can contain
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potters oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit,
The very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find,
it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
And when you are sorrowful look again in your heart,
And you shall see that in truth you are weeping
for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say "Joy is greater than sorrow" and others say "Sorrow is greater"
But I say they are inseperable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.


Monday, May 22, 2006

My Garden....

Every morning when I come downstairs to make "J" and myself a cup of coffee, I peek through the kitchen window which overlooks my back yard. I can see all the beautiful flowers and plants. On my kitchen counter is a curry leaf plant growing ever so slowly in a colorful pot. The flowers bloom at different times of the year, and each time I look at them I am reminded of my family and friends.

The Irises remind me of my dear friend E who gave them to me when I was ill,

The roses each one of a different color were planted by my brother

The Asian apple planted because its J's favorite.

Is yet to bear fruit that he can bite into.

The periwinkle reminds me of my sister.

The Jasmine given by my brother is yet to have a flower.

The pommergranite given by a friend, has only leaves from stem to stem.

The guava tree is a must see, because it is just thin and tall with barely any leaves.

The grape vine loves the freedom of not being tied down so he just roams all over and onto the neighbors grounds.

The honeysuckle bush is so thick that animals and birds are attracted to it.

The Ivy creeping all over the walls was planted by another

Who did not think it would be a bother.

The day lillies were planted by a stranger

Whom I asked to plant, because I could stand the bare spot any longer.

So this is my garden that I love because it reminds me of family and friends

Who took time and showed their love by just giving me a plant.


Saturday, May 20, 2006


She is barely four, she looks out of the window every morning at the children boarding the bus to school "Mama I want to go to school in the yellow school bus" she says. This goes on every day , later that fall I register her in school , maybe a little too early but I think she has enjoyed the journey, bringing home awards year after year for good behaviour, academics, Poetry and creative writing. winning spelling Bees and short story contests. Concientious and hardworking always doing her best. Today she graduates , words cannot describe how proud we are of her achievements.
She wrote this poem at age 8.
Written by Maya

I wish
I was a graduate
At a university
Or college
Wearing a long
Flowing robe.
To rip off my hat
And throw it in the air
And let the past drift away
And let the future come through.

Today this is what I say to her in a poem written by Dr Seuss..

To My Daughter The Graduate.....Congratulations

This is your day!
You'r off to great places
You'r off and away
You have brains in your head
You have feet in your shoes
You can steer yourself in any direction you choose

You'r on your own and you know what to do,
And you are the gal who will decide where to go.
You'll look up and down streets Look 'em overwith care
About some you will say " I dont choose to go there."
With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet
You'r too smart to go down any not-so-good street.


You wont lag behind, because you have the speed
You'll pass the whole gang and you'll soon take the lead.
Wherever you fly, you'll be the best of the best
Where ever you go you will top all the rest
Except when you don't because sometimes you wont.
I'm sorry to say so , but sadly its true,
That hang ups and bang ups can happen to you.

On and on you will hike
And I know you will hike far
And face up to your problems whatever they are.
You'll get mixed up of course, as you already know
You'll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step
Step with care and great tact
And remember Life is a Great Balancing Act.

You will succeed, Yes you will indeed
98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.
Kid, you'll move mountains.
You'r off to great places!
Today is your day
Your mountain is waiting so......Be on your way.


Wednesday, May 17, 2006


While I was thumbing through the Blogger profiles I came across quite a few people who had read the book " The DaVinci Code." The movie is premiering in just two days, there has been some controversy over what it portrays. The movie stars.. Tom Hanks and is directed by Ron Howard .I want to know what you bloggers out there think. Please comment.


Tuesday, May 16, 2006


The skies are blue, the air is crisp and everyone is at the farmers market. There are many vendors and goods to pursue. A variety of herbs boasting of medicinal value and promising cures, fruits from many different lands. Nuts, grains, granolas and cheese . Home made honey, organic meats and vegetables. This networking of vendors makes you feel at home. I am reminded of the many trips I took with my mother to Rusell Market in Bangalore , the similarity lies in the aroma of the fresh fruits and vegetables that fill the air and the wheeling and dealing that takes place between vendor and consumer.

When I am at the farmers market I am always looking for something new or different, while I am searching I am directed to a basket full of brown stuff, I take a look and what do I see ? Tamarind Pods, I stop and gaze at the fruit, through the slightly cracked hard brown shell I can see the brown pulpy fruit . I stand there looking and suddenly I am transported back in time , to when I was a little girl, visions of me playing under the tamarind tree come to my mind.

The tamarind tree holds many memories for me, especially during the summer holidays, this great big tree with its green leaves intertwined in the branches was like a large umbrella protecting us from the hot summer sun. Under this tree I met my best friend and we are still friends after all these years. We would hold hands and walk around the tree collecting all the small baby tamarind that fell to the ground. ( that is what we called them). It was fun to see the many distortions the face would take once you put it into your mouth. This is where I got a cut on my head from a stone that my brothers threw at the tamarind which landed on my head . Many hours were spent on the slippery slide which was under this tree, many bruises and falls.

When I was in second grade , outdoor lessons were conducted under this tree and for me it was the next best thing to being at home. There were games of Hop-Scotch and Hide & seek and many fights inbetween. I think my mother considered this tree as a baby sitter because during the summer holidays many hours were spent here, with no worry as to where we would go. Suddenly I could hear my mothers voice in the distance asking us to come home for dinner, I turn my head and realize that I am in the farmers market. I pick a few good pods of tamarind, place it carefully on top of all the other things that I had bought and go home taking with me my memories.


Monday, May 15, 2006

A wave crashes softly against the shore.
A seagull screeches as he dives for his dinner
The sun is slowly setting behind a distant mountain
The sky is red with passion
They walk along the beach holding hands
The sand squishes between their toes
The evening air and the oceans gentle breeze send goosebumps up their spine
She is in love with the hand gripping her own
They stand together looking into the horizon
No cares, no worries there is no life without the other.

M. Powell


Sunday, May 14, 2006


On this mothers day
The children are away
It is just me and "J"
I think of mothers days gone by

I reach into my special box
Inside are crumpled pieces of paper
Which say "I love you Mom" with
A smiley face or two
Colored pictures with crayons and markers
Imprints of tiny hands with clay,
Made in school and at play.
Dried flowers and petals,
Imitation pearls and stones,
Poems and songs.

Now its Hallmark cards,
Bouquet of flowers
Real diamonds and pearls
The things I treasure most are those given
By my children on Mothers Days gone by.


Friday, May 12, 2006


The things my mother taught me.

"All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe it to my mother."
Abraham Lincoln.

Few words can sum up the meaning and significance of the word mother. It stands for Patience, Unconditional love, Sacrifices, Grief, and worry.
When I think of my mother I see a woman who was strong, patient and kind, loving and at the same time was able to enforce discipline. was forgiving, tolerant and was rich in knowledge.
I did not see these attributes when I was young , it was only as I grew older and had children of my own did I appreciate who my mother was.

My mother was capable of doing right and wrong, this showed me that she was human.

She was not here when my children were born and at times when I needed her, this made me realize that life does not go on forever.

She took time from her busy schedule to go to church, this taught me that I should always find time to put God in my life.

The next thing that set her apart was her love for her children, and her intent that they should lead normal, well adjusted lives. She sacrificed a lot of things in her life to ensure that we got the best.This taught me that I have to do everything I can to teach my children right. The importance of family and how to give of myself.

By taking me back to school when I refused to go, she taught me the importance of school and an education. She taught me to set goals and to believe in myself.

She was always standing in the crowd watching me at school plays or on sports days, cheering me along even if I had a small part to play, or came last in sports. This taught me that no matter how big a part my children played in a school play or a game, just me being there would make a big difference and would make them feel important.

She always made sure that a family she knew, who would otherwise go hungry, was able to have atleast one good meal. It was not with the abundance , but with the little she had, that she gave. This taught me that I can always make a difference in other peoples lives, and that it does not take riches to be generous.

During my teenage years, she put up with all the mistakes I made, when my spirits were down she consoled me, when I thought I looked ugly she made me feel beautiful. She endured my many mood swings. She wiped away my tears and just understood . This taught me that I should be patient with my teenage children, just as I was allowed to make mistakes and learn from it they should be able to do the same.

When I failed she was there with open arms, pretending that I could do no wrong, helping me to learn, to find strength and to carry on. She taught me to be there for my family with unconditional love, to allow them to fall and to help them to get up and stand tall.

By welcoming and treating all my friends the same, regardless of race or religion she taught me the meaning of acceptance and tolerance, she also made me aware that we may look different, speak a different language, worship different Gods but in our hearts we are the same.

When I wanted to marry the man of my choice, she supported me in my decision even though in her heart she felt differently.She gave me away with some advice and her blessings. This taught me to accept other peoples decisions even if it did not match mine, to look at the best in the person and pray for everything to turn out well.

My father travelled a lot and the burden of runing the home fell on my mothers shoulders, she never complained, just went along the daily routine as if he was there . This taught me to be strong and to be independant. Whenever I feel that I have too much work to do , I think of my mother who had to do it alone.

My mother standing beside my father through good times and bad taught me that I was in this marriage for the long haul, and I had to give it my all.

My mothers thirst for knowledge and her love of books made me want to do the same.

The many trips that I took with my mother to visit someone who was sick or who was just down, taught me to be more compassionate, and sensitive to the needs of others.

The many times that she set aside her own worries and problems to listen to mine, has taught me that other people have problems too and that I should take time to listen, and not dwell on my own.

By accepting and facing the many challenges that life presented to her, she made me aware that life has its ups and downs and that I should try to face it with a smile.

BY her life she taught me dignity, respect, confidence, courage, sincerity, and understanding.
I wonder if I will ever be like my mom, she was always doing good deeds, and planting acts of kindness. She gave me roots to grow and wings to fly. I have not followed all the lessons my mother taught me and I have a long way to go, but I try.

There isnt a day that goes by without me thinking of her and wishing she was alive.I want to live my life just like my mom so my children will have lessons to follow.



Thursday, May 11, 2006

Written by vijay

The harsh wind lunges at everything in its way,
resulting in several dust whirlwinds
coming through like a tornado.
The trash is scattered throughout,
Thoughts of lunch and games penetrate the mind.
Birds flying and thrashing through this malicious wind,
are looking for a place to hide
The evenly cut green grass stand strong,
waving similar to the American Flag seen from afar.
The wind is even stronger, thrusting mounds of dust into a battered face.
Skin shivering, goose bumps come alive as this cold but intense wind
makes its way through.
The smell of desserts, sandwiches and other worldly pleasures fill the air
One shove of this wind inputs different aromas.
I like the wind.


Wednesday, May 10, 2006


I was so eager to leave a comment after reading scribblez to wake up's post that I missed these instructions. "Comment and I will give you a letter, write 10 words with that letter including an explanation of what those words mean to you and why." I was given the letter D. First I was mildly Distressed, then I was Delighted and later went into a Deep thought. I had no clue what to write, so all through the malayalam movie , all I could think of was the letter D .

And this is what I came up with.....

DANCING...... Love to dance but dont know how. Thats something I want to do, every time I hear music I just want to get up and dance.

DIARY..... A place where I can write my innermost thoughts, my wishes , my hopes and my dreams. only for me and me alone to read.

DREAMS.... I think dreams are necessary in our lives, to accomplish great things we must first dream.

D N A.... Because forensic scientists can use it to solve crimes, and because of this many innocent men who have been in prison for many years for the crimes they did not commit, were set free.

DRINKS.... What would a night out be without a nice glass of wine or a couple of beers, and for those who do not drink maybe a soda or two.

DISILLUSIONED.....I am a bit disillusioned with God and with what is happening in this world. How can a good God bring DISASTERS and poverty, and allow all the DESTRUCTION and DEATH that comes with war. And for people to be aware of the genocide in DARFUR.

DEMONSTRATORS...There were more than 300,000 people demonstrating in LA for a change in the immigration policy. It was Human Life vs breaking the law. It was hard to see people only supporting the law regardless of how peoples lives would be effected.

DEATH PENALTY.... I am always sad when someone is put to death. I think no one gives us the right to kill another human being.

Now on a lighter note I like DAISIES, DAFFODILS and DAHLIAS, they herald spring and
their vibrant hues takes away the blues.

DARING... I would like to do something daring before I die , maybe Bungee jump or ride the tallest rollercoaster in the world.


Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Love Isn't Love ('til You Give It Away)
(Reba Mcentire)

A smile's not a smile till it wrinkles your face
A bell's not a bell without ringing
A home's not a home when there's nobody there
A song's not a song without singing
Love isn't love till you give it away
Love isn't love till it's free
Love in your heart wasn't put there to stay
No love isn't love till you give it away
You might think love is a treasure to keep
A feeling to cherrish and hold
But love is a treasure for people to share
You keep it by letting it go
Love isn't love till you give it away
Love isn't love till it's free
Love in your heart wasn't put there to stay
No love isn't love till you give it away
Love can't survive when it's hidden inside
And love was meant to be shared
Love isn't love till you give it away
Love isn't love till it's free
Love in your heart wasn't put there to stay
No love isn't love till you give it away


Monday, May 08, 2006


We all go through life comparing things , from homes to cars , people, jobs, prices, places and things.We even go to the extent of comparing each others spouses . When it comes to children should we compare? When I was growing up my parents would always compare us to the neighbors children or to one cousin or another. Sometimes it made us happy to know that we were better and sometimes it made us sad that we could not live up to our parents expectation. I never gave this much thought and I am guilty of doing this to my own children.

Children are different, even if they belong to the same family, one may take life seriously while the other is a little more laid back. One may excel in studies while the other in sports, one may be more sensitive and kind. Each child comes with his or her special quality that makes them unique. I was like most Indian parents only worried about how well my child did in school, that I missed seeing the other qualities in the child who did not do so well .

I came across a poem that my son had written for a poetry assignment , it made me sad that this is how he felt, I made him live in his sisters shadow, I had not allowed him to be the person he should be. I think children should be allowed to see and learn from the examples or goals set by others and learn for themselves instead of constantly being compared . I wanted my son to be like his sister instead of helping him grow into the person he really is. I am so glad that a little poem has made me more aware of his feelings. I will instill in him the importance of an education, not because of his sister but because its good for him.

Written by Vijay age 15

My family is an active volcano that at any time may erupt
My parents are the rocks battling for position
My sister is the lava, the spectacular performance everyone awaits to see
My father is the mountain, stands tall and proud, waiting for people to admire its sculpture
My mother is the crater, wounded but survived, takes one for the mountain, unselfish until death
I have no place on this volcano, the skills that I posses do not fit its purpose or design.


Friday, May 05, 2006


She sat in front of a large studio audience, and was being watched by millions of T.V. viewers to tell her story, her face was disfigured , her hair charred and her arms were hidden. She appeared poised, trying to be brave but at the same time you could sense she was afraid and embarrased. This was a 31 year old wife and mother who was burned alive ,but beat the odds and survived, was willing to face the public and tell her story to make other women aware of the signs of abuse.

Behind her on the screen were pictures of her, looking beautiful, immaculately dressed , pictures of her graduation day, with her friends looking happy and smiling, and one on her wedding day,
most probably the happiest day of her life. She was looking up at the man she had married, she was in love and knew that he was going to protect her from harm and love her.

He had romanced her with flowers, elegant dinners, expensive presents and promises of a beautiful life together. She was smitten by his good looks, his clothes and by the way he treated his friends and family. This was the man she was going to marry.

First there were occasional bursts of anger and criticism, she overlooked it, always blaming it on him being tired and overworked, slowly as the years went by another side of him emerged. The occasional anger and verbal abuse became more frequent. Then started the jealousy and posessiveness . She tried to hide the signs of physical abuse from family and friends by wearing dark glasses and long sleeved clothes. But her eyes told another story, she felt guilty about leaving him because of her upbringing and she wanted her daughter to have a father.

Finally after much persuasion she seperated and asked the judge for a restraining order because she was afraid of him. The judge denied the petition because there were no outward signs of abuse.

One summer morning he followed her to her job, doused her body with gasoline and set her on fire. He left her burning and did not look back . Fifteen surgeries and three years later she was here to tell her story. She wanted the world to know what had happened, she wanted to let other women know that it was better to leave a relationship because of abuse. She wanted to be an example to her daughter.

This was a woman who was always into her clothes and good looks . Now her face was scarred and she had to cover her body .When asked if she looks at herself in the mirror. She replied
" I do, but I only see the beauty within'." Through her pain and suffering she had evolved into a beautiful woman, strong and willing to face the world one day at a time and to tell her story so that abused women all over the world would be able to recognize the signs of abuse and have the strength to leave.


Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Author unknown

For the Flowers have the Gift of Language

Speak, flowers, speak! Why do you say nothing?

The flowers have the gift of language.

In the meadow they speak of freedom,

Creating patterns wild and free as no gardener could match.

In the forest they nestle, snug carpets under the roof of Leaf and branch, making a rug of such softness.

At end tip of branches they cling briefly Before bursting into fruit sweet to taste.

Flowers, can you not speak joy to our sadness? And hope to our fear?

Can you not say how it is with you That you color the darkest corner?

The flowers have the gift of language.

At the occasion of birth they are buds before bursting.

At the ceremony of love they unite two lovers in beauty.

At the occasion of death, they remind us how lovely is life.

Oh, would that you had voice,
Silent messengers of hope.

Would that you could tell us how you feel, Arrayed in such beauty.

The flowers have the gift of language.

In the dark depths of a death camp They speak the light of life.

In the face of cruelty They speak of courage.

In the experience of ugliness They bespeak the persistence of beauty.

Speak, messengers, speak!

For we would hear your message.

Speak, messengers, speak!

For we need to hear what you would say.

For the flowers have the gift of language:

They transport the human voice on winds of beauty;


Monday, May 01, 2006

Poem By Maya

I want to share a poem written by maya at age 12.

I am a shy, quiet girl who loves to write
I wonder how some people live without sight
I hear the sound of royal trumpets blaring
I see pristine white unicorns and the pixies they're carrying
I want people to live without the need to fight
I am a shy, quiet girl who loves to write.

I pretend I am a star in a studded sky
I feel sad and lonely way up high
I touch the lace and gauze of a fairy's bow
I worry that people will lose the happiness they once used to show
I cry when I think of fear and sadness at night
I am a shy, quiet girl who loves to write.

I understand you can't change what people do
I say if you believe, you can do anything you want to
I dream about a place with no fighting or crime
I try to help the homeless, even if all I can give is a dime.
I hope to make a difference with all my might
I am a shy, quiet girl who loves to write.