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Posts about photography (old posts, page 12)

Happy Birthday Abbygail!


You turn 34 today!
I’ve known you for seventeen of those years.
(I’ve known you half your life! :)
We’ve been in love, eight.
And I’ve been privileged to share my life with you,
and walk with you for nearly, six.

I cannot imagine life without you.

You love crazy movies;
(Which you drag me to.)
You can engineer anything out of anything.
(rain gutters out of old bisleri bottles,
window screens out of old packing material.)
You fill our home with warmth.
(occasionally by burning stuff on the stove,
mostly with love and cakes.)
You keep me sane.
(by reminding me, that all we ever need is love and fresh air.)

You’re wiser than me,
stronger than me,
and way cooler than me :)

Happy birthday, sweetheart ❤️
I love you!

A Tale of Bougainvillea

As a kid, I lived in what my relatives called the back of the beyond.
Oh, it may be all the rage now, but Thane was a small sleepy town in the 80s.

Not that it mattered to me.
Home was full of wide open spaces, where we ran and climbed trees and skinned our shins and ran some more.
Home was full of lakes and trees.
And home was full of bougainvilleas.

Bougainvillea pic 1

I was crazy about them.
On the way to school, mummy picked them for me.
On the way to the church, mummy picked them for me
I close my eyes and I can still picture her, all of her slight 5 feet frame; stretching, slightly leaping, to get her son, his bougainvillea.


As I grew up, and we faced tough days, I could never afford to buy mummy anything.
So every Mother’s day, I’d gift her a big bunch of bougainvilleas.

Bougainvillea pic 2

And her face would light up!
Some of it would go into her hair, some on the altar at home.
And she’d look so proud.
And I’d secretly, sadly wish I could buy her something more substantial, more significant than my pretty, soon to be wilting bougainvillea


Years have passed by.
We’ve had so many ups and downs.
Mummy’s been our lighthouse, one that we all hew to.
And I’m all ‘grown up’ now.
I can afford to buy her pretty things.
I gifted her a watch yesterday

Raga Watch pic

And I saw the same joy on her face, the same silly goofy grin, the same hearty laugh.
And the same face, full of love.
And that’s when I realised…

Mummy never cared about what I gave her.
A bunch of bougainvilleas was as precious as a gold plated watch.
As long as I loved her, she’d be happy.

Happy Mother’s day, Mummy!

Lots of love from your two beautiful daughters and three dumb sons :)
And Daddy too!


Toasty Nuts! (Or a toast to Natanya)

Nuts & Me!


(My toast at Nuts’ communion reception on the 3rd of January, 2016 … posted for posterity)

Hello!

Good Evening to all you warm folks …
and a Happy New Year!

That gorgeous girl (sorry not this one – that one) over there is my wife of four years :)

She is Natanya’s much, older cousin :)
Which is how I met Natanya four years ago.
I wanted her to be my flower girl, but when I saw her, it was love at first sight and I asked her to marry me instead!

She very wisely, and very selflessly, asked me to marry Abby and walked us down the aisle along with her handsome brother, Joshua.

She was 4, turning 5 then.

At age 6, she saw her favorite uncle (that’s me), getting fat and so she volunteered to teach me Yoga.
She has helped me stay in shape ever since :)

At age 7, she taught me how to sing my heart out, because she thought I had a nice voice!
So now, nobody beats me at singing “Beautiful Sunday” on karaoke, other than the equally talented Tanya

When Natanya was 8, last October, her Abbygail Aunty fell really, really sick.
I had to take her to a big old hospital in Mangalore for a big operation.
And it was big.
And it was long.
And it took 7 whole hours.
And then, after all that, the doctor said, it was going to take a long, long while before she got well again.

There I was alone, nervous, scared and praying really hard.
And then Natanya (through her daddy) sends me letters.
One, for every day we were there.

  • How is Abbygail Aunty?
  • I really miss you.
  • I really, really, really, really, love you.
  • And just to make sure, that her dumb uncle understood, she drew a heart and explained that, that was the symbol of love; she drew a small sad face crying, and said that that was the symbol of missing some one.

Comforting messages, letters of hope, written by a child who did not ostensibly know any better.

Out of the mouth of babes and nursing infants
You have ordained strength …

goes Psalm 8:2

And that was when I knew, all would be well.
That was how Jesus comforted us, and took care of both of us, and got us here today.

So you see Natanya, Jesus has always been there inside you, guiding you.
And today is when He makes His presence felt, to you and all of us,through the Eucharist that you received this morning.

So, on this special day, I have no special advice; just a small reminder.
To do for everybody, what you have always done for me.
To do what Jesus says with his commandment.

Love one another, as I have loved you.

To love, like you always have.
Everytime we meet, you make me a better person.

  • Through your kind words,
  • through your concern,
  • through your little pieces of advice,
  • and through your big, big, smile!

So with Jesus’ help, leave every one you meet everyday, a little better than you found them.


A New Beginning

Abbys hospital tag


It’s been two months since we checked you in.
Four, since we figured out what was eating you alive.
A year and two months, since we started battling it.

You’ve been so brave, through it all!
Through scans and needles and burning meds
Sleepless nights, and broken muscles, and
A lost voice, unable to eat, to speak

And even though you’re tired,
I’m so glad we made it through.
Time to soldier on.
Time to pick up the pieces of our life.

Time to start again…
I love you, wife!


Abby