Sunday, November 8, 2009

days of life

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace.
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child is far to go.
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for living.
And the child who is born on Sunday,
is healthy, wealthy, happy and gay.

Not one of the best opening lines for a post? Nonsensical. I know.
And yet I woke up with this nursery rhyme in my mind. I think I was reciting it in my dream..or was I? Dunno. But nothing new. I wake up every morning with a different song/poem/rhyme/jingle, planted absolutely randomly in my head. There have been 'Sirf ek saridon aur sardard se aaraam' mornings, as have been 'Ek chatur naar' mornings. Sometimes I wake up and sing ' hum honge kaamiyaab( I miss our music sir ;) ) and then on other occasions I have to quell my desire to sing sutta out loud. Yesterday, I sang the Nescafe jingle and sometime in this week I woke up crooning a beautiful english stanza of a hindi song(The one Elizabeth sings for Bhuvan in Lagaan :) ). Anyway, I've been singing this rhyme out loud, throughout the day. I've also borrowed Phoebe's 'Smelly Cat' tune for this. Works well. Really! That reminds me. I fed the cutest cat today :) It, like a lot other stray animals and especially birds, is my mother's discovery. One fine day, she must've heard a distant meowing and must've peeped down from the kitchen balcony only to spot a feline, conspicuously hungry.
This takes up the count of the numerous creatures to whose dietary requirements my mother is committed to. Half of our food grains, I suspect, are consumed by the birds she feeds twice a day ( thrice when she has holidays), and the nuts she argues, would go waste anyway if she doesn't give them to the squirrels-as I'm not too fond of 'em. Monkeys drop by infrequently, and are always welcome with chana, biscuits, bread, at times bananas. Dogs bark during mornings to get their regular dose of chappatis and when she has morning school on saturdays, she makes it a point of pack some food for the lonely,hungry cows on street. She never lets the house maid to leave until she's eaten her freshly prepared breakfast, and nobody in my living memory who has asked for food to my mother has ever returned empty-handed. She is so generous. All mothers are actually. They say one should judge a person by looking at how they treat their inferiors,not equals. If that be the parameter, she not only passes, she probably tops. The way she can bond with the house-maids,vegetable vendors, peons, sandwichwallahs..I can never blend in that well no matter how hard I try. I remember how I had to survey various people from different economical and social backgrounds for my twelfth class english project, and she practically did it for me. I didn't need to go to subjects as she already knew everything about them! I love her even more for all this than for the fact that she's my mother. I might not be as beautiful a soul as she is, but on some levels I think I have both inherited and imbibed a fraction of this philanthropic trait of hers. I wish I was half as nice as her. I'd be such a better person then. :)