Living a small life

In one of my book clubs, I asked a question to my participants (mostly retired women), “How do you make friends at this age?” We were discussing How to Age Disgracefully by Clare Pooley. In the book, one elderly woman is determined to make friends so she makes a list of what she needs to do. I was curious. How do people at a certain age make friends? The resounding response was it is hard. One has to get oneself out there. Some said they joined book clubs at the library to meet people, one person throws parties at their house, some joined kayaking groups, gymnasiums, hiking groups – all in an effort to form a connection with another human being. One person said they are so comfortable in their home that they would never come out if they didn’t have five book clubs to go to. Some had lost their partners, the children have grown and moved away, and now they are alone.

I thought about my life. I am in a new phase in life. The youngest is still in college but he is far away. And when he comes home, it seems like he has outgrown this home. He is eager to make it on his own. The oldest has made it on their own, moved out, doing well. That stage of insanity in terms of work, dinner, practice, homework, swim meets, basketball, baseball, softball, choir practice, cello lessons are behind me. Now it is work and then home. A walk after work, quiet dinner, and then a book. On Mondays each week, I think this coming weekend I am going to do something, maybe go to the city, see some excitement. Then Thursday comes around and I get tired. The weekend plans hardly materialize. Some close friends from India asked me the other day, “What’s going on with you? What’s new?” I have no answer to that. My life truly is simply going to work and coming home. A small life, as I learned from the book Mrs. Queen’s Rise to Fame by Olivia Ford.

If I hadn’t read Debbie Tung’s Quiet Girl in a Noisy World, I would worry something is wrong with me. I say that because this small life suits me well. Even as a teenager, I loved staying at home. My mother was surprised when I didn’t put up a fight when she dictated that I was responsible for walking the dog each day at 5 pm right after college since the dog was mine. While all my friends went to movies, stayed at campus spending time together, I dutifully got on the public bus and headed home. After walking Nabab, I stayed home to read, do homework, hang out with Ma. I did complain a few times but my love for my dog obviously was more than my desire to spend time with friends after class. I never truly had FOMO (fear of missing out, a term I learned from my kids) and I don’t have it now.

I was talking about the small life I lead with a friend at work who also likes to stay home. And she correctly pointed out the difference between being lonely and being alone. Are you content being alone? Yes. Like the participant in my book club, if I didn’t have to go to work, I could stay home all day and not talk to a soul. Having said that, I work at a public library, where my people energy is depleted after spending time with people for 7 and a half hours. I don’t know if I would feel the same way if I did not have a job. Will I seek out company? I will find out in a few years. Retirement here I come.

How will my children remember me?

I just finished reading an incredible memoir in graphic novel by Tyler Feder. The book is called Dancing at the Pity Party. Feder chronicles her journey in grief after losing her mother to uterine cancer when she was nineteen. This book has both humor and heartbreak as Feder paints the beautiful relationship that she had with her quirky, funny, extremely creative mother, her diagnosis of cancer, her physical decline and ultimately her demise. There is nothing funny in death but Feder’s mother found ways to keep her girls smiling even through extreme grief. After her death, Tyler, her two younger sisters and their father need to relearn to live life without the bright, shining light that was their mother.

Tyler Feder remembers the memories she created with her mother. And this made me think how my children will remember me when I am gone. Don’t get me wrong, I do not plan to go anywhere for a long time if it is in my hands. But there will be an ‘after me’ and what memories will my children have when they think of mom.

My fondest memories of my mother is our reading time together. And seeing her laugh. Her laughter did not remain just in her face, it traveled to her eyes and eventually to her whole body. She laughed with her whole being and it is the most beautiful visual I have of her in my mind’s eye.

I will venture to guess what my two kids will remember of their mother:

Numerous trips to the library.

Cuddles and reading books together.

Whenever Sean traveled, our tradition was to make kathi rolls and eat them sitting on the kitchen floor Indian style.

Many hours spent petting Sage. Many, many hours of laughter over Sage’s antics.

Buying burgers and fries from the concession stand in the ball fields and eating on the grass watching a little league baseball game.

Eating dinner in the back deck while solving the problems of the world. Now that I think about it, our dinner time conversations were always very deep.

My gullibility? My first reaction to a comment is to believe it. “Really?” “No, mom. That was a joke.”

Listening to music together in the car while driving to sports events.

Days of making quick pesto pasta for dinner due to lack of time (and planning).

Alu bhaja and patla dal.

Being a sounding board.

Yelling/nagging.

Also laughing (and not being able to stop).

I don’t know if I will be remembered as a shining light. I hope to be remembered as a constant light. I want them to remember me as “Mom was there when I needed her.”

Light But Not Fluffy book club

There was a time in my life, not too long ago, when my brain rebelled against deep, thought provoking books. I grew up with the message from my teachers and extended family that one should not fill up one’s mind with irrelevant things. One should always read unabridged classics, books on history, science, philosophy. Books that will enlighten, inspire, expand your knowledge. In other words, read with a purpose. So I savored my Amar Chitra Kathas, comic books, Mills and Boons romances in secret – away from public eyes. Fortunately, my mother did not care what I read. I also had a couple of fabulous teachers who introduced me to poetry and prose that broadened my horizon, taught me how to think, enjoy, and appreciate written words. When I went to college to study English, I met very well read peers. They helped me with my reading too. I read serious, thought provoking books to keep up with the conversation, to show off and yes, to enrich my mind. Even as an adult, I read to learn something. I read to escape, empathize, decipher and of course, be entertained. I was and still am a fan of literary fiction.

Then Covid ravaged the world and my life. During those difficult days, I picked up literary fictions only to put them down again. I think I experienced the biggest reading slump that I have ever experienced in my life during Covid and especially after my parents died. One day, I picked up a lighter book and found myself turning the pages. I think the book was The Bookish Life of Nina Hill by Abbi Waxman. I finished the book in two sittings, enjoyed the story and thought about it for a while. The book was funny, well-written, and most importantly, hopeful. It was a romance but it was more than the formulaic romance that I used to read at age 16. I started reading more books that were light but full of of grace and hope. I wondered if there were people out there who have had enough of angst and sadness. We could get plenty of those if we opened the newspaper or turned on the news channels on television. I wondered if I could gather some people together to read and discuss lighter books in a book club. The caveat being the books needed to be uplifting, hopeful, and meaningful enough to generate conversation.

My bosses at work were willing to let me try out a book club like this. I gave myself 6 months and decided that if nobody came to the book club, I would move on to something else. My supervisor encouraged me to go for it so I did. On March 16, 2023, Light But Not Fluffy book club was born. Within the first 2 weeks of opening up registration for this book club, all the spots were filled and people kept calling to register. We opened with 18 people.

It has been a year now that we have been meeting. The book club has grown even larger. We range from 20 to 23. I have been facilitating book clubs for the last 8 years now and my mantra for facilitation is ‘be a guide, not a hero’. I ask a question and let the conversation grow organically without too much input from me. I am comfortable with silence (silence that neither of my book clubs have very much). I think silence is important to let people collect their thoughts. I watch out for interruptions and make sure everyone gets a chance to speak. Some want to listen and I respect that too. I was a little apprehensive at the beginning with such a big group that people will break out into private conversations and I will have to be that facilitator who has to bring the house to pay attention to the speaker. But the ladies who joined me never did that. Each one of them is respectful, attentive, and willing to listen. They are never shy to offer their opinion. They don’t always agree but they listen. What more could a facilitator ask for? We came together for the conversation and we stayed for the laughter.

Today is the birth month of Light But Not Fluffy book club. This book club is special to me for a couple of reasons. First, it came at a time when I was very sad and did not know how to get out of the quagmire of grief. Books helped. The hope that books provided and the people who gathered to talk about such books helped. The laughter helped. Second, in our endeavor to teach at the library, we sometimes forget about fun. This book club is just for entertainment. And that is all we get out of this book club apart from a camaraderie of strong, opinionated, and fun people. Perhaps we come away with some new thoughts about the book or life in general. We learn a bit about each other too. No research of the setting or culture or author is done in this book club. We simply read the story and talk about how the story made us feel, what did the characters do, did the plot make sense, what are the anomalies?

So happy birthday, book club. May there be years and years of laughter ahead, may there be hope, may there be grace, and yes, also snark. What is life without a little snark?

If you want to use any of these books for your book club, here is a list of all the books that we have read this year:

The Bookish Life of Nina Hill by Abbi Waxman

Evvie Drake Starts Over by Linda Holmes

The Kitchen Front by Jennifer Ryan

One Plus One by Jojo Moyes

Dear Mrs. Bird by A. J Pearce

Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet by Becky Chambers

The Hired Girl by Laura Schlitz

Killers of a Certain Age by Deanna Raybourn

The Story of Arthur Truluv by Elizabeth Berg

Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt

Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus

A perfect day off..

My driver’s license almost feels like a waste these days. Since Ryan started driving, I have relegated the wheels to my two kids so they can go to their jobs, practices and occasionally social engagements. Unless the husband has meetings in far away places, he also works from home. Most days when I am off from work, I am pretty much home bound due to lack of a vehicle. I can always go for walks which I generally do but I did not go anywhere today.

Today I woke up determined to vacuum the house, weed the flower patch, cook dal and sabji, launder the towels and mop the kitchen floor. As I sipped my coffee this morning, I questioned why I put all that on my to-do list on my one day off. That list, on this beautiful morning, seemed ridiculous so I scrapped it. One should be flexible, right?

Instead, I cooked dal and sabji, warned Ryan to hand me back my tablet once I finished cooking. He was finishing a math packet and watching Seinfeld simultaneously – I worry about accuracy of those math problems. He handed my device back without a fight so I could read Emma Donoghue’s The Pull of the Stars (in e-book format). I finished the book, wrote a review on Goodreads and pondered upon the story of Nurse Powers trying to help pregnant women afflicted with Spanish flu in the maternity ward of a hospital in Dublin, Ireland in 1918. The book is relentless, honest and a stark narrative on the condition of women and the expectations that society placed on them.

Anyway, after finishing that heart rending book I needed something light and entertaining. I am also queuing up books for the book club that I hope to start – Light but not Fluffy. And Julie Murphy’s If the Shoe Fits seems to be a worthy candidate…..so far.

Between those two books I thought a lot about Sage, once I found out today was National Dog Day. I also thought about our back to back losses. Sage died in 2020 and ma, baba died in 2021. As a Hindu, albeit a non practicing one, my thought goes directly to bad karma. What did I do in this life or my past life so bad to deserve such sorrow? Death is natural and a part of life I know, but this absolute truth is still hard to swallow.

I mindfully set those thoughts aside as I tried to lose myself in Julie Murphy’s story of modern day Cinderella, If the Shoe Fits. The heat is not oppressive today. There is a light breeze. The sky is bright blue and the clouds are snowy white and fluffy. The sun is sweet and golden rays are reflecting the rich, shiny green of the trees and bushes in our backyard. The majestic oak tree at the fringe of our property is lopsided now. Part of its limbs fell on the ground after some severe storms in the past but it still stretches its remaining limbs up to the sky. It is undaunted despite its loss. I think there is a lesson to be learnt there.

I see it. I am still new at it.

No matter, this moment is good. I will take this moment and consider it a blessing.

Space on your book shelf.

A friend shared this beautiful quote with me, which I promptly shared with my book loving daughter, as well as my book loving friend:

“There is space on everyone’s bookshelf for book you have outgrown but can’t give away. They hold your youth between their pages, like flowers pressed on a half-forgotten summer’s day.”

I left my country for love with simply the clothes on my back and just a couple of books that I could not leave behind. And then, I brought back books after each trip home. I think hard on which books made the first trip with me, but unfortunately I don’t remember. They are mixed in with all the books that I have accumulated over the years. I wish I could remember.

However, I have brought back books that transported me to their worlds temporarily during half forgotten summer days in my youth. Books like Adorsho Hindu Hotel by Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay holds my youth within its page. Tenida Shomogro by Narayan Gangopadhyay holds my youth like pressed flowers within its pages. There are too many to name – Chander pahar, any book written by Nabonita Debsen, Shirshendu Bandopadhyay, Rabindranath Tagore, Ashapurna Debi. Along with these stalwarts of Bengali literature reside one and only Jane Austen, Gerald Durrell, Somerset Maugham, Charles Dickens, Enid Blyton….

Memories of devouring the pages of Adorsho Hindu Hotel is always a soft place where I land when I think back on my reading memories. I remember our cool first floor room darkened by thick curtains to keep the angry sun out during summer afternoons, and I, half inclined on our bed, reading about Hajari Thakur, a cook in a cheap roadside restaurant in rural Bengal – a man invisible to society due to his poverty, slowly becoming visible because of his humility, work ethic and integrity. It is a story of the success of ‘everyman’ without compromising his ethics. Weaved within the story is the fabric of humanity, complete with love, greed, exploitation and opportunities. The story pulls at my heart string to this day when I think about it. And when I think about the book, I think about my mother. They are synonymous because in my mind’s eye she is always present next to me when I am reading this book. She reads her own book as I read mine. I see this scene vividly when I close my eyes.

The “goods” in the week of September 20th.

Not just good, the amazing event this week was how my coworkers surprised me by engraving two paving stones in memory of my parents in the garden of our library. My baba loved nature and ma loved books. There can not be a more perfect place for the two of them – a garden in a library. Now I have a clear destination to go to during my breaks and lunch.

I cried when I saw what they had done. My family was there too. I cried because I feel the love that envelopes me in my universe. I don’t realize it every day but when I think about it, I know. Ma and baba, if they are watching over me, must be smiling.

I continue to read The Book of Delights by Ross Gay and continue to be amazed by the poet’s depth of perception and his ability to acknowledge delights.

I made it to one of Ryan’s water polo games. They won and Ryan played so well. I blew him a kiss from the stands and he acknowledged it with a shy smile before their game started.

Sahana is finishing up one of her jobs this week. She will become my colleague from today. She is joining my library system. I hope she has a great experience. The job of a public librarian is one of the best.

I am savoring the book Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell. That is my book suggestion for this week if you enjoy historical fiction as well as literary fiction.

I wrote not one but two book reviews for our library blog after many, many months. It was not easy putting thoughts into words after such a long interval but I did it. Fortunately we have great editors.

After a year and a half, my co facilitator and I started our historical fiction book club at work. Both of us were slightly apprehensive about face to face interaction with participants but it turned out to be wonderful. The book club members even clapped for us for doing this. It felt meaningful.

The four of us went for dinner last night as a family. That certainly goes into my list of “goods” because what used to be a norm even a few years ago, has become an exception due to the different schedules of my family members. Dinner time was always special for me. It makes me sad that we do not eat dinner together anymore.

Before dropping Ry off at the dorm, we sat next to each other as he worked on his English paper. These short moments of sitting together before going our own ways to tackle the work/school week are precious.

And lastly, a word about my “obstinate ma plant.” As my summer plants are winding down and I am considering putting the garden to bed, obstinate ma plant sprouted some new buds. She is holding on to life. I just wish her namesake did the same.

Hope your list of “goods” is long. Have a great week.

The obstinate ma plant.

Ma died on what was Mother’s day in my part of the world, May 9th. It was morning of May 10th in India. I had wished her “Happy Mother’s Day, Ma” for the last time that morning and she also wished me back happy Mother’s day from her hospital bed. Then she closed her eyes saying she was staying at her sister’s place for a while and she will go home in a few days. Those were our last words to each other. She fell asleep thinking she was at her sister’s house and never woke up.

Next day I planted a small geranium plant in my freshly weeded flower bed in her memory. I think back now on my mental state on that day and all I remember is a numbness and a desire to cultivate life. I planted that little sapling which had vibrant red flowers – a gift from Sahana on Mother’s day. After ma’s death and while we fought for baba’s life, I often sat next to the little plant and felt ma’s energy within me. In the next few days, I asked Sahana to buy whichever plants she wanted and bring them home. She bought some beautiful perennials and annuals and I planted them indiscriminately, almost feverishly. Gardening became a physical need in those days. Baba was still alive and the doctors were giving me hope. So while I planted my garden, I held on to positive thoughts – I will have one parent. I will have someone to go home to. But nine days later, he packed up and followed her as well while I was left with my flowers.

While my other flowers bloomed, the ma flower (I had come to call the geranium ma plant or didiya plant) shed all its flowers and became bare. The leaves are still alive and green but it does not have a single bloom. I ask it sometimes what it’s plan is. Why won’t it give us flowers any more? Sahana says “Didiya is just being obstinate or she got a hair cut.” We both laugh.

Ma was never into nature. She liked a pretty flower or green grass just fine but her joys were books and shopping. When they visited us in USA, baba sat outside looking at lush green and blue sky. He had a stillness about him that attracted bunnies and birds. Sage sat with him and kept him company. Ma on the other hand puttered around the house, cooked Indian food, played with the kids and gossiped with me. She loved when I bought salmon and when I took her to Target, Kohl’s or the mall. She went down to the basement and read my Bengali books, a collection which she helped me build up. She read those books several times while she stayed with us for months. She revisited her old friends, her favorite authors again and again.

It almost seems like ma is sending me a message through her non blooming alter ego, ma plant. She is telling me “Enough with all this gardening, get back to books, hit the stores, buy something nice.” Okay, obstinate woman, I will get back to books. I have not been able to read anything since I seem to gloss over life and words right now, but I will try to get back to reading. I draw a line when it comes to shopping though. I can not do it. I will not do it. I will just look at the glossy leaves of the obstinate ma plant instead of vibrant red flowers but I will still not hit the stores!

Tag book post

Lately I am copying a lot of ideas from my friend and fellow blogger The World Common Tater. Imitation is a form of flattery, Tater. I am sticking with that story. I found this fun post on his blog site.

This is hard, though! This is like choosing your favorite child!

What are 1-3 of your favourite books of all time?

Mahabharat by Vyasa
Persuasion by Jane Austen
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith

What are 1-3 of your favourite authors of all time?

Jane Austen
Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay
Geraldine Brooks

Who is your favourite female character from a book?

Satyabati from Prothom Protishruti by Ashapurna Debi

Who is your favourite male character from a book?

Feluda from Satyajit Ray’s Feluda Shomogro

What’s your favourite fictional world?

The land of OZ from The Wizard of Oz

What book has your favourite book cover?

The Girl with a Louding Voice by Abi Dare

What’s your favourite book-to-movie adaptation?

Shonar Kella by Satyajit Ray

If you could make any book into a movie, which would it be?

The Rising Man and the sequels by Abir Mukherjee

What was your favourite childhood book?

Pather Panchali by Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay

Fantasy or Sci-fi (or neither)?

Definitely, fantasy. However, neither genres are my absolute favorite but I would read a fantasy over a sci fi.

I hope some more people do this. I would love to see your answers – says Tater. My choices may not excite folks who read books written in English. But how could I leave out my first love? Treasures of Bengali literature.

Book Evangelist

In this blog I will write about my two annoying habits. I am living the age old adage, ‘old habits die hard’ but I am making an effort to change – at least one of them. I will start with the one I am unwilling to change.

The first habit (or perk) is my obsession for checking out books from the library. For my work, I subscribe to different publication houses and I also do a fair amount of handling books – shelving, pulling for requests, scanning. Yes, you guessed it, I work at a library. As I shelve a cart, at least 3 or 4 books from that cart end up coming home with me. Do I have time to read all of them? Nope! But the possibility of perhaps having the time to read them is wonderful. Then after 3 weeks when I cannot fit any more books on my book shelf designated to library books or my bedside table, or the coffee table in the living room, I put some unread books in my work bag, go to work and sadly check them in. I have analyzed this habit and I have decided it is an addiction. An addiction for which I will seek no help. I will live in that wondrous possibility of being able to read all those books that I bring home – one day.

The second annoying habit is showing my disappointment on my face when someone does not share the same enthusiasm for a book that took my breath away. I do quite a bit of reader’s advisory for work and also outside of work. I give completely unsolicited book recommendations to folks who have not even asked for suggestions. If I have read one of THOSE books (you know what I am talking about, the books that you cannot stop thinking about), I make Facebook posts about them. Talking about books and sharing book suggestions is my way of connecting with fellow humans. If you don’t read, I am sorry, are you even worth connecting with? Just joking!!

When I was young and naïve, this is how my reader’s advisory played out. I would swoop down on an unsuspecting victim, start talking about the amazing book that I just finished, gush, gush, gush. I would talk up the book so much, the victim would often times read the book just to shut me up. The next time we met, I would ignore the victim’s shifty eyes, not question why s/he was not making eye contact with me but delve right in, “So what did you think?” I would also have a wide smile and expectant eyes. Most folks would simply say it was good (many would have loved it as much as I did) but of course some did not love the book at all. And they would say to me. “It was okay. I did not love it!” Before I became conscious of my annoying habit, I know I showed my feelings on my face. The judgement on my face was evident. You did not love the book I adored? That is it! I am judging you.

I spoke sternly to myself about this as part of my personal growth. Not everyone likes the genres I enjoy, not everyone relates to the story/facts the same way I do, not everyone interprets/perceives the events in the book like I do. And that is completely fine. I loved the book. That should be enough. I do not need to be a book evangelist.

So I want to apologize to all those folks who have been subjected to my judgement because you did not share the same enthusiasm as I did about a certain book. I still love you. We are still friends.

Here are a few (very few) titles that took my breath away. I am not evangelizing mind you, I am simply giving suggestions, and yes, unsolicitated.

The Fair Fight by Anna Freeman

Once Upon a River by Dianne Setterfield

Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City by Matthew Desmond

Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret by Judy Blume

The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett

Finding Langston by Lesa Cline-Ransome

I will stop here…… for today.

No man’s land in my reading journey

Do you know what I am talking about? It is that space when you are between books. You finished a book late at night. You perhaps cried a little at the turn of events, or laughed, or smirked at the predictable anticlimactic end of the story. No matter what your reaction was, you stayed up late to finish the book. You were invested. Now the book is done, you are sad or relieved depending on how much you loved the book but the possibilities ahead of you are endless. You lovingly look at your pile of books waiting to be cracked open on your bedside table, or you go to your bookshelves where you have library books on separate shelves and personal books on others. You peruse them lovingly, perhaps open a few to read the jackets. Which one or ones will it be? To add to the joy, it is your day off. The weather outside is frightful. There is a pandemic too. You really can not do anything, go anywhere. But you want to savor this excitement of making a choice. So instead of choosing a book right as you wake up, you cook an elaborate Indian meal for the family while listening to Hindi music of yester years. After cleaning the kitchen, you go back to the book shelf. Stroke some books lovingly. You are close to making a choice. Is it going to be Diane Setterfield, Isabel Wilkerson or Laila Lalami? No, not yet. You will extend this delicious feeling of happy possibilities and go clean the bathroom. It really needed cleaning. How about throwing in a load of laundry? It is only 2:25 in the afternoon. The rest of the afternoon and lazy winter evening stretch luxuriously ahead of you. It is a dark day so you will light up the house with Christmas lights. Plug in the lights of the Christmas tree. Now you will make your final decision. You will fold yourself up in your reading chair, and then you will lose yourself.