The song is for MM, I can’t have skiing but I can still have a wonderful snow song 😉
The day was good in a lot of days, I went to Sis Ganj Gurdwara Sahib, the site of the ninth Sikh Guru, Guru Tegh Bahadur Sahib’s martyrhood. There was a time I was blessed enough to go there regularly, the start of 2014 took that away from me. I am blessed to have been given the chance once more.
The driver does not turn up, so we decide to take the Metro. While mom and I have done the ride before, it is a first for my niece (actually second, she was two and a half the first time). She is apprehensive but the minute she enters the station, she is fascinated the neat and clean station and the high tech looking trains moving with precision. The train journey is fascinating for both us, I revel in her wonder.
The Gurudwara Sahib is wonderful as usual. I try and initiate her into seva.Seva or service is one of the basic tenets of Sikhism. People go clean floors, serve in the jodaghar (literal translation shoe house) where people leave their shoes against tokens to go into the Gurudwara Sahib, there is langar or the communal kitchen. You can serve by cooking, cleaning utensils. The purpose is to teach humility as well as a sense of service that extends beyond the Gurdwara Sahib or the community.
It is like a homecoming. The journey back is a sardinish experience (ref : sardines in a tin!); it is crowded but luckily we get to seats after a couple of steps. I offer my seat, after a few stations to this really graceful lady. She is a muslim, with the sharp Pathani features , light eyes and a speaks chaste urdu, a language that is amongst the sweetest in the world. We talk of God, of seamlessness. She is almost disappointed to see us go.
My niece and I have a date with mom’s two friends. These are two of my favourite aunts, graceful, sweet and very loving. We find out it is one aunt’s birthday, so my niece goes missing while we are waiting in the car. My talented artist is back with a hastily drawn card J.We are early at the restaurant so we ensure that they have a small Birthday cake. My girl n I are like children in a Disney park.The restaurant has a real truck’s body in one of the sections. Since we are the only ones there we decide to make the most of it. We open the front, get into the helpers seat, explore the glove box (would never put my gloves in there!) and chance upon this old fashioned horn the kind that is attached to a rubber bulb. It’s loud and squeaky, it is! We take turns to plug our ears as the other blows it.
We get hugs and my girl a wonderful present, we give her a card and a hug, she is happy. Our host H aunty orders food, and she orders everything on the menu! Just for the records, I am not a fan of eating North Indian food in a restaurant. Just because they deserve the publicity, the restaurant is called Dhaba, a franchise´ of one by the same name at The Claridges Hotel, New Delhi. The food is delicious, laden with ghee (clarified butter) but I haven’t tasted such good food in a long long time. We stuff and over stuff and eat some more…By the end of the meal I have conned Auntie S, ( the birthday girl and a sensational baker), into baking me a tiny orange cake.
Her cake is cut, she is overwhelmed as are we. The spoiler to spoilt ratio is three to two. Both my girl and I enjoy it fully.
I come home and the body ache remembers to return.I am drowsy but have deadlines to meet, but I have to so I do. In the midst of it all I get a ‘selfie’ from MM, only it’s a video of the slow laden ski trails of Vermont, interrupted by groves of trees (wonder if it is the correct word). It is gorgeous and ends with MM’s selfie. As usual it leaves me with a sense of calm( haven’t been able to figure this one out) and a smile on my face. I am happy for him and just a teeny bit envious.
I finish my designated work for the day, fit in (just for your reference tomorrow, MM called at this point)…wow and now I lost track…where was I?fit in? ..God knows what I meant to say but guess must be a fancy way of saying I need to sleep…So long 🙂