MONSOON in Mount Abu

With eagerness, the arrival of the monsoon is awaited by the people of Abu as well as the rest of the country. It is an exalting relief after months of excessive or subtle heat , mild drought and dust, to smell the delicious scent of wet earth once more, to see the trees, bushes and hill sides cleansed of dust and to see the greenery springing to life.The rain seems truly beautiful and provider of food to India's millions. Yet after the monsoon has been unusually active for some weeks, it is often cursed as heartily as its arrival was welcomed. And, mind you rain is a blessing as far as water does not leak through the roofs or seeps through the walls. But water flowing in the meandering scenic hill streams tops the reservoirs for  regular supply of the Elixir of Life and imparts infinite beauty to the picturesque and brimming Nakki Lake, the one and only beauty spot of the hill station.

Paying for sex — and love. What A Life!

Paying for sex — and love

The Book I Managed To Miss

Over last 70 years, say since my early school days I have been a diligent and voracious reader, in my mother tongue Sindhi and my prime infatuation English and of course Hindi, Urdu and Gujarati fiction and translations there of in English.

Yesterday during the monsoon cleaning of my book racks I stumbled upon a paperback edition of " Six Great Modern Short Novels". The inside cover had an inscription - Nirmal Kumar Dhadhal 1955. I immediately and nostalgically recalled the gentleman. He was the enigmatic ruler of an erstwhile small state in Saurashtra, India. He had settled down in Mount Abu with his privy purse to educate his children and lead a sedate life.I came in touch with him when he had visited my curio shop. Somewhat depressed, he was impressed by a couple of  books lying on my counter and marveled as to how I combined serious reading with my vocation.

The next day he returned, bringing with him a copy of " Six Great Modern Short Novels " and handing it to me shyly confided that he had bought the book for the heck of it but never got around to reading it and that I should read the same. I took the book home but lost touch with its owner. Some days later rumour circulated that Nirmal Kumar had disappeared under mysterious circumstances,leaving his family distraught. Side by side, the book was either misplaced or lost in my array of unread books , thus I managed to miss the extraordinary read for around 57 years.

Finding the book after so many years is the best thing that has happened to me lately,as I had been hard up for suitable reading material. I have started with ' The Overcoat' by Nikolay Gogol. It is an immortal and exhaustive short work of fiction set in Russia and so must be the rest with the following titles:
The Dead  by James Joyce.
Billy Budd Foretopman by Herman Melville.
Noon Wine by Katherine Ann Porter.
The Pilgrim Hawk by Glenway Wescott.
The Bear by William Faulkner.

The Keeper of the Bees

While relaxing in my garden, one fine morning, a couple of bees buzzed by and then were back instantly to refresh my otherwise active memory about having read 'The Keeper of the Bees' by Gene Stratton-Porter in my school way back in 1953.

The narration, a classical environmental read is about an immaculately laid out Bee Garden- Apiary in California, its elderly keeper, the Bee Master and his very young girl friend and honorary partner, an impish tomboy, who while wisecracking incessantly and humorously claims to have lived happily, every minute of her teenage years.

The book also centers on a Scottish immigrant, an ailing war veteran who while hitchhiking enters the Bee Garden, well in time to see its master afflicted by a seizure and then to phone the doctor and provide first aid as instructed. While awaiting the doctor's arrival, the Bee Master moved by teh sicerity f the unexpected visitor, implores him to be his guest and stay put till his return from the hospital. So the story moves poignantly

The book published in 1925 is still in print and can be read online. Here is to Happy Reading!

Where The Years Went

On August 10, 2012 completed 77 blissful years. How and where the years are gone? For me the journey has been swift and sans qualms. But still a lot remains to be done and accomplished. The foremost on my agenda is my grand son, Saahil Ailsinghani. On July 21, 2012 he joined the International Institute of Hotel Management, Ahmedabad. At the Induction ceremony I was genuinely impressed by the IIHM and its young team. Needless to add,the Hospitality Industry is the need of the time and a presentable candidate has all the chance of success.So good luck Saahil! Try to EXCELL.

Arravali BHALOO - The Hill Bear

" Horrible, hairy human with paws like hands in prayer,

Thus rises the stately bear

Seeing its towering shoulders and paunch's swing

My heart is touched with pity for the monstrous pleading thing

But beware! The nearer he comes with paws like hands that pray

It may mangle and rip your face away. "

To most of the people in India and abroad, the bears are begging animals, seen in zoos, as harmless and comic beasts, dragged around in the streets and made to perform for amusement. But, wild bears are in fact a constant menace to the humans and their vocations.

The bears, mostly live in hill forests and make short trips to villages around to seek a change of diet or due to unavailability of sustenance. They have poor hearing and poorer eye sight and are acutely irritated at being surprised or approached by humans and so, in a fit of temper tend to attack and viciously maul the unfortunate and unintentional cause 0f their annoyance, mostly human beings.

All Indian bears are black in color. The biggest, the Himalayan bears living in high altitudes, surprisingly have a short coat of fur and are aggressive. Their counterpart, the sluggish sloth-bears thrive in warmer locales of lower altitudes and the foot hills. Comparatively, they have long shaggy fur. The beasts are some what docile, more intelligent and thus, more interesting. Then there is the smaller species, that is most amusing and active , very easily trained and a source of joy to the spectators.

" So life is indeed enjoyment for Bhaloo, he lives with zest

Grumbling and tumbling through the forest hills he goes

The nocturnal robber, much to the awe and mirth of friends and foes."

The World of Limericks

A limerick is a light humorous on nonsensical verse of five anapest lines, ending in a rhyme.

This year is the 125th death anniversary of Edward Lear, the creator and exponent of satirical and nonsense rhyme known as the limerick. Lear was an artist and a naturalist and with his 'Book of Nonsense' published in 1846, launched a literary diversion that continues to interest and engage good writers with wit and humor universally. However, no one seems to know as to why the limerick is so called. But it has been vaguely associated with the Irish county of Limerick for no rhyme or reason. Now there are limericks galore, penned over the years by acknowledged authors that circulate and humor and intrigue many enthusiasts. To cite a few:

There was a young fellow of Lyme

Who lived with three wives at a time

When they asked, why the third

He replied " One is absurd and bigamy, Sir, is a crime.

A silly young man named Hyde

In a funeral procession was spied

When asked "who is dead?"

He giggled and said

" I don't know; I just came for the ride."