• Photo showing the bobbin on a Singer sewing ma...
    Photo showing the bobbin on a Singer sewing machine. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

    In my quest for calming my troubled soul, I try and find different activities to help me go forward with my life. Some activities are really soothing  – yoga, long walks, meditation, yakking with friends, watching movies, and trying new recipes. Today I re-discovered an old craft and found out  how therapeutic sewing really is.

    Perhaps it is something to do with my childhood memory of my mother sewing away on her trusty electric Singer. I remember coming home every day from school, for a whole year, to find a new dress!My mother was so excited with her new machine that she couldn’t stop using it! Though I didn’t particularly love needle work at school, I loved sewing and would stitch up wardrobes for my dolls with the little scraps from my mother’s sewing. And when I grew up and had children of my own, I spent hours making clothes for them. Alas! a time came when the girls were embarrassed by their home sewn clothes and wanted more trendy, branded clothes. So I packed up my sewing machine and pulled it out only for the odd job of darning or fixing a seam that came undone.

    Two weeks ago when I was looking around for clothes for Anna Shetty I realised that I could easily run her up some tops rather than beg of the tailor who happily pushes my job in the corner when another”more urgent” one comes his way ; so I went to the market and picked up some  block printed cotton fabric in lavender and purple with the intention of making a peasant top. Today I resurrected my sewing book and made a paper pattern, cut out the fabric and began to stitch. It wasn’t easy because the machine was as rusty as my skills. I struggled a fair bit with the tension, looked for the instruction manual which I couldn’t find and almost gave up in frustration. But, I kept my cool and managed to stitch up the garment for Anna Shetty to try out. I plan on finishing  it  tomorrow.

    I am glad I persisted because the familiar rumble of the sewing machine and the even stitches in straight lines helped me get back a sense of calm. Thank you,  Anna Shetty for expressing a desire to wear something home made once again!

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  • Whenever I feel my faith flagging,God sends a sign to show He cares – the most recent one being on the 13th of November. Then again yesterday He sent a small reminder : Anna Shetty called home frantically to tell us that an errant taxi driver had bumped off her bumper. Now she was returning home from a night call and was quite harried so even though Jacob’s Circle is one of those chaotic junctions where 7 arterial roads radiate from, always choc-a-bloc full with all kinds of traffic – vehicular and otherwise – and the bumper was hanging by a rusty nail, this was one incident we could have all done without.

    Mr. Cool, our driver, quietly took the car to the neighbourhood mechanic and got the problem attended to. While the bumper turned out to be a minor job, what actually took the better part of our budget was the clutch plate which it seems was ready to be replaced. So it was just providential that the car needed to go to a mechanic or else Anna Shetty would have been in a bigger soup with a car that refused to start in the middle of the night on a crowded road!!!

    Show me the Good ! 

    But Lord, I want to ask you where is the good for me?  – what am I going to get out of four years of living in anguish? Four years of sleepless nights? Four years of slowly watching my health go to hell? Four years of watching the other members in my house slowly watch me go crazy? Four years of people deceit, lying , plotting and conniving? Where is the good in having my family slowly disintegrating?

    Dear God please help me to find what is  good in this for because I am blind and just cannot see.

     

  • Two cellphone SIM cards (bottom and top)
    Two cellphone SIM cards (bottom and top) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

    Early this morning I was in mid-conversation with someone on my mobile when suddenly the connection dropped. Since a bad signal is the direct result of our success in trying to reduce the number of Cell Phone towers in our neighbourhood, we have no one else to blame ourselves for this state of affairs. Actually I love this erratic phone connection which reminds me of the olden days when we cut off conversation mid-stream and attributed it to a faulty line…………However, this was an important call so I called back only to  tried to get an error message saying that my SIM was not working.

    So I pulled out the erratic SIM and re-inserted in not once but twice in the hope to get a signal. Of course Hubby Dear and Anna Shetty were quick to attribute this message to my ‘non-payment’ of bill which incidentally I have not yet received.

    For the major part of the day I was blissfully disconnected from the world and enjoyed hours of silence. But since mobile phones are vital to today’s lifestyle, I had to resurrect my phone for others’ convenience if not mine. Deciding which Vodafone store to go to is of vital importance because I am convinced the attendants at different locations are meant to merge with the populace in that area. So if you go to the Vodafone store on DN Road, you are bound to rub shoulders with peons and drivers of all the ‘important’ people who work in the offices close by. Similarly if you go to the Vodafone store on Girgaum’s main road you are bound to come across frizzy haired housewives, or petty shopkeeper or anyone who looks lost. On the other hand, the Vodafone store at Churchgate has an eclectic clientele and you can easily find shopkeepers, students, foreigners, posh housewives, professors , drivers and peons all moving with equal ease.

    Since my experience with Vodafone has not been very good, I didn’t want to aggravate things by choosing the wrong shop location so I went to the Churchgate store. Luckily even though my token no. was 107, my number was called out in minutes and even though I was called to the counter which was not on my token, a silent Mr. Smith took my phone and asked me what my problem was. After explaining it to him he looked at the instrument rather suspiciously so I prised it open and pulled out the offending SIM card. From then on, I couldn’t make out what was happening because I had so cleverly pulled off my reading glasses when I had put on my glares. Mr. Smith then asked some other guy to help with the problem and while he was busy punching various keys on the key board, I had a whiff of his generous BO ( my problem entirely since my nose is exactly in line with most people’s armpits at the best of times) while I tried to figure out if Vodafone was attending to my problem or some other problem.

    After scribbling on a form, my SIM card was folded in one corner and I was asked to sign my name. Before I could sign, he reconfirmed my identity by asking me  if I was MR XXX , my husband’s name on which my phone is registered. I wanted to ask him if I looked manly enough but thought the better of it and went across to the other side of the counter where I was given a new SIM card and the assurance that the phone would be activated within 2 hours.

    It is now well past the time and I am still waiting for my phone to ring………….

    To tell you the truth, I am happy to be in my silent, unreachable world.

    p.s. the Title of this rant should be sung to the tune of ‘Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree, how true you stand unchanging”

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