The Emerald Isle - Ireland

Green hills roll by, lots of little women with little scarves on their heads, and pretty skirts with patchwork. Lush greenery, untouched land, lots of rocks and lots of myths floating around the horizon.
Ireland. The land of my dreams. I can't remember ever being so content, so satisfied. All just because I can see the scapes of Ireland. Cobh, Dublin, Cork, Galway, Waterford. All of it.

When realization dawns, I am struck. Spell-bound. I just saw an entire country zoom past my eyes, even though I have never been there. Never seen it. The only times I have seen this beautiful land is through the eyes of one of my favourite authors, Nora Roberts and Mauve Binchy. Most people read her because she writes irresistable romance weaved intricately with thrillers and suspense. I read her works because they describe Ireland to me. And all things Irish. The Gaelic language, Gaelic mythology, thier stories, their faith in faeries, princes living within the mountains and hills and their little tales about jewels on the moon, sun and within the sea. Its about celtic myths and folklores.



Ireland is about the warm people who tell tall tales knowing that they are accepted as tall tales. Its about chilling with a keg of beer or relaxing after a tedious day with a pint of Guinness.

Did you know that the post box has been invented in Ireland?? When on the way to USA, I will definately try to get a stopover in Ireland. I know its a ridiculous thing to wish for, but if I can, I want to catch a glimpse of the country that has captivated me so. That has arrested me with it'z undeniable charm, and beauty. And its underlying current of culture, ethos, myths and mystical stories.

But I dont want to just see Ireland, I want to feel it, strengthen my faith in it and live in it. Thanks Muave Binchy, because you introduced me to the real Ireland, and the people there and the life there. And thanks Nora Roaberts, because you introduced me to the beauty, charm and culture of it.

The entire day spent at town..

My day at the gateway is described and visualized with pics on Mubai metblogs. For those who want to see those pictures you can visit the metblogs site.




On the longg path to Haji Ali





Haji ali entrance to the shrine...




the insides of the shrine. Piya haji ali.. piya haji ali.. piya haji ali.. piya ho...




The dargah inside.. very very very crowded.




sonali didi males a wish with the orange holy thread




Nishita tries to please her Muslim boyfriend!!!




mm.. me making a wish.. as usual i had a huge wish list...





The tower of Haji ali.. i dont understand what the green net is for..










FOR SOME REASON THE REST OF THE PICTURES REFUSE TO GET UPLOADED.. I will retry tomm..

Small silly things about mumbai..

Its when guests (and especially guests from USA)come that you realize the small silly things in India. Things so small and silly that you just laugh about it when brought to your notice.

Some questions asked to me by my guests right now..

What does "HORN OK PLEASE" mean??

Shouldn't it be "PLEASE HORN OK" instead?

Why do cars drive this close by?? they can almost peep into our window and say something to us.

What does "HARAMI" mean?

Does everyone break signals here (run redlights is what they call it)??

Do they serve vegetarian food in MEC DOENAALDS here?? (they were trying to imitate the desi gujrati twang of english)

Why has it suddenly become so hot?? (when they came to town, it was the peak of the rains that time)

How can you use the hand shower in the toilet, how can you not get wet and HOW can you not use the tissues??

Why are their so many bugs here??

Is that it?? that cheap??

Why does the maid enter without wishing a good morning and leave without saying bye??

Can I bargain here??(they wanted to start thier bid with One rupee)

Does Sancha icecream mean icecream that has Sanchad in it?? ( Sanchad is black salt in gujarati)

and the best one:

Is that a drive-by mandir, or a walk-thru darshan temple?? (the small temples painted on tree trunks on the pavement with bells hung above it)

I hardly know what to answer. I have vowed to raise some of these topics on the Mumbai metblogs so that maybe I can have an answer ready soon.
(I really dont know wht HORN OK PLEASE means)

I have been on my feet from last thursday slogging every minute out. Every minute. The balls of my feet hurt terribly and all my limbs have turned to dust. And I feel girlishly happy. Exhaustedly happy since I have been shopping every waking minute in this last week. More saris than I can count, more salwar-kameezs than I care for and oh. jewellry enough to fill a queen's chest. Lol before you gasp out letme tell you that only 0.5% is for me. My mom's best friend's daughters' are in India for a vacation/some shopping/and lots of socializing. I was always very fond of them, more so because of the way they took care of us when we were in chicago a couple of years back. This trip has brought me a lot closer to them. And when i like people, and am close to them I like taking care of them too. I love pampering them.

I had them eat all the best junk food in India (cooked not raw ofourse which they were allowed to.) I took them to all the best hangout I could (more are left but that will be comvered soon). I went sight seeing with them to places I had nt been to earlier ( flora fountain and Haji Ali) and stayed up till 5 30 every night- chatting to each other, just chatting, or watching movies together.

Rain and what it does to me..

Rain.. rain completes me. It erases that feeling of emptiness that nothing else can erase. When rain drops drench me completely.. it feels satisfying, as if, for once I have found exactly what I need to find in my life.

Like I'm gonna be right here all my life.. even if I am not here, not in Mumbai.

Rains and the combination of the stormy choppy sea brings flashes of past event in front of my eyes. The sea mist envelopes the entire atmosphere and fogs the mind and everything around. It muddles the mind and makes me yearn for more, want to reach out for more, go somewhere where I can be something more.

Riding fast on a bike in the rain, brings back all the pain one has ever been thru in life and the wind and rain drops whipping by feel as if that pain is being wrenched out of my soul.
The smacking whip of wind on my face, the lightness of heart and heaviness of wet clothes feels like its going past all the facades put up by my ego, my attitude and it strips my soul to its bare minimum.

Rain exposes the vulnerable and protects it.
Rain loves the lovers and makes them too.
Rain hurts the innocent and the guilty too.

After so much, maybe rain has a life, a soul too??

Its raining..